'.Uttittitit v^ <■ '"/:->->>- /^;, /^^*^\ .^/.v-. c<^' .^~^ 't.. ^^' U ■^ o. ■ O ■5' '^^. ^.•~. -^-^ .^ , 1 ' « » ■^. .^^ -n*-. ■-'V '>, cP ■^.^^ iN ** '^^ <^ ../ i f' / \ > ^ 'i^/r iMiJr/^e: ^T KC e: t e i>/l f X-. e o c3- xj e lever,." THE WORKS OF CHARLES LEVER, (HARRY LORREQUER.) EMBRACING THE FOLLOWING VOLUMES OF HIS WORKS: HARRY LORREQUER; CHARLES O'MALLEY, THE IRISH DRAGOON; PAUL GOSSLETT'S CONFESSIONS; JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN; THE O'DONOGHUE, AND ROLAND CASHEL. |;IUtstratert WITH THIRTY-TWO FULL-PAGE CHROMO-LITHOGRAPHS FROM DRAWINGS BY H; K. BROWNE. THE COLOR DESIGNS ENGRAVED EXPRESSLY FOR THIS EDITION. TWO VOLUMES IN ONE. THE TEXT COMPLETE AND UNALTERED. ?/? ci NEW YORK: POLLARD & MOSS, PUBLISHERS, 47 JOHN STREET. t88o, 'Y^'^ ??^ A \^^- u"isriiroi?.ivj: Vv^iTti TKCis voi-.xj:m:e. /A^ PJ!£SS FOR [MM ED/ ATE PUBIJCATION. THK Second Series of Charles Lever'S Works, embracing the foli.owikg volumes: tom burke of "ours" ; maurice t/ernav, the soldier of fortune; the nevills of garrettsville ; martins of cro martin; con cregan. the irish gil fll.as; and gerald fitzgerald, the chevalier. With thirty-two full-page illustrations, PK.1NTKI> IN EIGHT COLORS FROM NICW AND ORIGINAL DKStClN.S MADE EXPRESSLY FOR THIS EniTION. TWO VOLUMES IN ONE. Ijcxi.3P©3:?iaX S-'cr-o, ooix-bai±xi.±n.g o-v-ei? 1,200 ]pag:©s. Copyright, "The Templeogo'e Lkver," by POLLARD & MOSS, 1880. ^)-.0 CONTENTS HARRY LORREQUER. Preface 17 CHAPTER PAGE I. — Arrival in Cork — Civic Festivities — Private Thealrical.s 18 II. — Detacliment iJuiy — The ' Burton Anns," — Callonby 24 III. — Life at Callonljy — Love-maliing — Miss O'Dowil's Adventure 28 IV. — Botanical Studies — Tlie Natural System Preferable to the Linnxan. . 32 V. — Puzzled — Kxplanation makes Bad Worse— A Duel 33 VI. — The Priest's Supper — Father Malaehi atid the Coailjutor — Major Jones and the Alihe ... 37 VII. — The Lady's Lcttci — Peter and his Ac- quaintances — Too Lale . 44 VIII. — Congratulations — Sick Leave — How to pass the linaid ... 4S IX. — The Roail — Travelling Acquaint- ances — A Packet Adventure. . . . 50 X, — Upset — Mind — and Body 52 XL — Cheltenham — Matrimonal Adventure — Shov\ing how to make Love for a Friend 55 XII. — Dublin — Tom O'Flaherty — \ Reminis- ence of the Peninsula 6l XIII. — Dublin — The Boarding House — Select Society 66 XIV.— The Chase 71 XV — Mems. of the North Cork 76 XVI.— Theatricals 78 XVII —The W.ager , 82 XVIIL— The Elopement 87 XIX — Detachment Duty— An Assize Town. . SS XX — The Assize Town .......... . . 93 XXI. — A Day in Duldin 96 XXII.— A Night at Plowth q3 CHAPTER XXIII - XXIV.- XXV.- XXVI.- XXVIL- XXVIII. - XXIX.- XXX.- XXXI- XXXII. - XXXIII.- XXXIV.- XXXV - XXXVI.- XXXVII - XXXVIIL- XXXIX - XL.- XLL- XLII - XLIII. XLIV- XLV- XLVI - XLVII - XLVIIL- XLIX- L.- LL- LIL- LlII - LIV.- LV- LVL- The Journey , loi Calais. , , , . . 10 j •The Gendarme. . ... ■The Inn at Chantraine ■Mr. O'Leary , , .. . -Paris ^ ■Paris. Captain Trevanion's Adventure ■Diliiculties ■Explanation -Mr. O'Leary 's First Love Mr. O'Leary s Second Love -The Duel -Early Recollections — A First Love. . . . ■Wise Resolves ■Tltc Proposal ■Thoughts upon Matrimony in General, and in the Army in Particular — The Knight of Kerry and Billy M'Cabe. . -A Reminiscence The Two Letters. . ..... ; ■Mr O'Lcary's Capture -The Journey ■The Journey ■A Reminiscence of the East. . . ■A Day in the Phcenix An Adventure in Canada ■The Courier's Passport A Night in Strasbourg ■A Surprise Jack Waller's Story -Municli. . .. .. Inn at Munich ■The Ball .. . ■A Discovery , -Conclusion lot. Ilci 115 lU) 124 127 130 132 131 137 I4(J 144 147 151 152 icb 15S l?9 161 162 164 165 lC() 171 174 177 182 184 185 iSS 192 CHARLES O'MALLEY, THE IRISH DRAGOON. Preface CHAPTER L- II.- III.- IV.- V.- VI.- VII.- VIII.- IX.- X.- XI.- XII.- XIIL- XIV.- XV.- XVI.- XVIL- XVIII.- • • iQd PAGE Daly's Club House 197 ■The Escape 199 ■Mr. Blake 201 ■The Hunt 204 -The Drawing-Room 207 -The Dinner 208 -The P'iight from Gurtna-Morra 212 The Duel , . 21; -The Return 217 The Election 219 -An Adventure 222 -Mickey Free 224 -The Journey 228 -Dublin .... 231 Captain Power 234 The Vice-Provost 239 ■Trir.itv College — A Lecture 240 The Invitation — The W.iger 243 CHAPTER PACK XIX.— The B.all 244 XX. — The Last Night in Trinity 249 XXL— The Phoenix Park 2S-5 XXIL— The Road 256 XXIII —Cork... 25S XXIV —The Adjutant's Dinner 2t(. XXV.— The Entanglement 262 XXVI. — The Prepaiation 26-» XXVII.— The Supper 265 XXVIII.— The Vny.age 269 XXIX. — The Adjutant's Story — Life in Derry. . 271 XXX. — Fred Power's Adventure in Philips- town 275 XXXI— The Voyage , 278 XXXIL— Mr Spai-ks's Story 23o XXXIIL— The Skipper 283 XXXIV.— The Land 289 XXXV. — Major Monsoon 2gt XXXVI.— The Landing, . 294 C O N T E xN T S . CHAFIER PAGE XXXVIl.— Lisbon 29S XXXVIII. — The Kua Nuova 300 XXXIX.— Tlie Villa 303 XL. — 'I'lii; Dinner 304 XLL — Tlie Route 305 XLIL— The Farewell 306 XLin.— The March 308 XLIV.— The Bivouac , 311 XLV.— The Douro 314 XLVL — The Morning 318 XLVIL— The Review 320 XLVIII —The Quarrel 322 XLL\. — The Rouie 324 L. — 'Ihe Walch-Fire 325 LL— The March 32S LIL — The Page 329 LIU. — Alvas 331 LI V. — The Supper 333 LV. — The Legion 335 LVI. — The DeparLure 336 . LVII. — Cuesta 340 LVIIL— The Letter 341 LIX. — Major O'Shaughnessy 342 LX. — Prelnninaries 343 LXL— All Right 344 LXII.— The Duel 345 LXIII. — New.s from Galway 347 LXIV. — An Adventure with Sir Arthur 349 LXV. — Talavera 350 LXVL — Night After Talavera 352 LXVIL— The Outpost , 354 LXVIII.— 'ihe Doctor's Tale 357 LXIX.— The Skirmish 361 LXX. — The Lines of Ciudacl Rodrigo 364 LXXI.— The Doctor 367 LXXIL— The Coa... 36S LXXIIL-The Night Marck 371 LXXIV. — The Journey 373 LXXV.— The Ghost..., 375 LXXVL— Li>lmn 378 LXXVIL— A Pleasant Predicament 381 LXXVIIL— The Dinner 3S3 LXXIX. — The Letter. 384 CHAPTF.R PAGE LXXX.— The Villa 387 LXXXI— The Visit 390 LXXXII. — The Confession 393 LXXXIII.— My Charger 394 LXXXIV.— Maurice 396 LXXXV. — 'Ihe Masquerade 398 LXXXVL — The Lines 402 LXXXVII. — The Retreat of the French 404 LXXXVIII. — I'airicli's Day in the Peninsula 405 LXXXIX.— Fuentes D'Onoro 412 XC. — The B:itlle of Fuentes D'Onoro 413 XCI. — A Rencontre 417 XCII. — Almeida 419 1' XCIII. — A Night at the Azava 420 XCIV.— Mike's Mistake 426\. XCV. — Monsoon in "I'rouble 428 \ XCVI.— The Confidence 432 XCVII. — The Cantonment 434 XCVI II. — Mickey F'ree's Adventure 436 XCIX.— The San Petro 43S C. — The Count's Letter 442 CI. — The Trenches .... 443 CII. — The .Storming of Ciudad Rodrigo 44^ CIII. — The Rampart 447 CIV. — The Despatch 449 CV.^The Leave 451 CVI. — London 454 CVIL- The Bell at Bristol 456 CVII I. — Ireland 460 CIX. — The Return 464 ex. — Home ... 465 CXI. — An Old Acquaintance 469 CXIl. — A .Surprise 472 CXIIL— New Views 476 CXI v. — A Recognition 478 CXV.— A Mistake 481 CXVL— Brussels 485 CXVII —An Old Acquaintance 488 CXVIII. — The Duchess of Richmond's Ball 492 CXIX. — Quartre Bras 497 CXX.— Waterloo 504 CXXI. — Brussels 510 CXXII — Conclusion.. 513 PAUL GOSSLETT'S CONFESSIONS. My First Mission under F. O 517 AS TO LOVE. CHAPTER PAGE L— "In Doubt," 525 CHAPTER PACK II. — The Rev. Dan Dudgeon 528 III. — The Runaway , 530 AS TO LAW. As to Law 533 HARRY LORREOUER. " We talked of pipe-clay — regulation caps — Long twenty-fours — short culverins and mortars — Condemned the ' Horse-Guards' for a set of raps, And cursed our fate at being in such quarters. Some smoked, some siglied, and some were heard to snore, Some wished themselves five fathoms 'neath the Sohvay; And some did pray — who never prayed before — That they might get the ' route' for Cork or Gahvay." PREFACE. That some thirty years after the sketches which form this volume were written I should be called on to revise and re- edit them is strange enougli to me ; well remembering, as I do, with what little hope of permanence they were penned, how lightly they were undertaken, and how carelessly thrown together. But there is something still stranger in the retrospect, and that is, that these same papers — for originally they were contributed as articles to the Dublin Univiisity AAi^vzhie — should mainly have directed the course of my future life, and decided my entire career. I may quote from a former preface, that I was living in a very secluded spot when I formed the idea of jotting down these stories, many of them heard in boyhood, others con- structed out of real incidents that had occurred to my friends in travel, and some again — as the adventures of Trevanion and the French duellist for instance — actual facts, well known to many who had formed part of the army of occu- pation in France. To give what consistency I might to a mass of incon- gruous .adventure, to such a variety of strange situations be- falling one individual, I was obliged to imagine acharacter, which probably my experiences — and they were not very mature at the time — assured me as being perfectly possible ; one of a strong will and a certain energy, rarely persistent in purpose, and perpetvially the sport of accident, with a hearty enjoyment of the pleasure of the hour, and a very reckless indifference as to the price to be paid for it. If I looked out on my acquaintances, I believed I saw many of the traits I was bent on depicting, and for others I am half afraid I had only to take a peep into myself. If it is an error, then, to believe that in these Confessions I have ever recorded any incidents of my own life, there is no mistake in supposing that — without being in the least aware of it — in sketching Harry Lorrequer, I was in a great measure depicting myself, and becoming, allegorically, an autobi- ographist. Here is a confession which, if thirty odd years had not rolled over, I might be indisposed to make, but time has enabled me to look back on iny work, and even on myself as I wrote it, with a certain degree of impartiality ; and to feel, as regards both, as the great Paley said a man feels after he has finished his dinner ; " That he might have done better." It is perfectly unnecessary that I should say when and where I wrote these sketches; no thought of future .author- ship of any kind occurred to me, far less did I dream of abandoning my profession as a physician for the precarious liveliirood of the pen. Indeed, their success, such as it was, only became known to me after I had left Ireland and gone to live abroad, and it w,a5 there — at Brussels — my publishers wrote to me to request a continuance of my Confessions, with the assurance they had found favor with the world, and flattering notice from the press. Though I have been what the sarcastic French moralist called "blessed with a bad memory" all my life, I can still recall the delight — I cannot call it less — with which I heard my attempt at authorship w.as successful. I did not awake, indeed, "to find myself famous," but I well remember the thrill of triumphant joy with which I read the letter that said " Go on," and the entrancing ecstasy I felt at the bare possibility of my one day becoming known as a writer. I have had, since then, some moments in which a partial success has made nie very happy and very grateful, but I do not believe that all these put together, or indeed any possible favor the world might mete to me, would impart a tithe of the enjoyment I felt- on hearing that Harry Lorrequer had been liked by the public, and that they had asked for more of him. If this sort of thing amuses them, thought I, I can go on forever ; and believing this to be true, I launched lorth with all that prodigal waste of material which, if it forms one of the reasons of the success, is, strictly speaking, one among the many demerits of this story. That I neither husbanded my resources, nor imagined that they ever could fail me, were not my only mistakes ; and I am tempted to show how little I understood of the responsibilities of au- thorship by repeating what I have told elsewhere, an inci- dent of the last number of Harry Lorrequer. The MSS. which contained the conclusion of the story had been sent through the Foreign Office bag from Brussels, and possibly had been mist.aken for a despatch. At all events, like King Theodore's letter, it had been thrown to one side and for- gotten. In this strait my publishers wrote to me in a strain that the trade alone knows how to employ towards an un- known author. Stung by the reproaches, and they were not mild, of my correspondent, I wrote back, enclosing another conclusion, and telling him to print either or both — as he pleased. Years after, I saw the first sent MSS., which came to hand at last, bound in my publishers' library, and lettered "Another ending to H. L. " When the great master of fiction condescended to inform the world on what small fragments of tradition or local anecdote the Waverley Novels were founded, he best exalted the marvellous skill of his own handiwork in .showing how genius could develop the veriest incident of a life into a story of surpassing power and interest. I have no such secrets to reveal, nor have I the faintest pretension to sup- pose the public would care to hear about the sources from which I drew either my characters or my incidents. I have seen, however, such references to supposed portraiture of individuals in this storj', that I am forced to declare that there is but one character in the book of which the origin.al had any existence, and to which I contributed nothing of exaggeration. This is F.athcr Malachi Brennan. The pleas- ant priest was alive when I wrote the tale, and saw himself in print, and — worse still — in picture, not, I believe, with- out a certain mock indignation, for he was too racy a humor- ist, and too genuine a lover of fun, to be really angry at this caricature of him. The amusing author of " The Wild Sports of the West" — Hamilton Maxwell — was my neighbor in the little water- ing-place where I was living, and our intimacy was not the less close from the graver character of the society around us. We often exchanged our experiences of Irish character and' life, and in our gossipings stories were told, added to, and amplified in such a way between us that I believe neither of us could have pronounced at last who gave the initiative of an incident, or on which side lay the authorship of any particular event. 18 HARRY LORREOUER. It would have been well had our intercourse stopped with these confidences, but unfortunately it did not. We often indulged in little practical jokes on our more well-conducted neighiiors, and I remember that the old soldier from whom I drew some of the features I have given to Colonel Kam- worth, was especially the mark of these harmless pleasant- ries. Our colonel was an excellent fellow, kind-hearted and hospitable, but so infatuated with a propensity to meddle with every one, and to be a partner to the joys, the afflic- tions, the failures, or the successes of all around him, that with the best possible intentions, and tlie most sincere de- sire to be useful to his neighbors, he became the cause of daily misconceptions and mistakes, sowed discord where he meant unity, and, in fact, originated more trouble and more distrust than the most malevolent mischief-maker of the whole country-side. I am forced to own that the small persecutions with which my friend Maxwell and myself followed the worthy colonel, the wrong intelligence with whicli we supplied him, par- ticularly as regarded the rank and station of the various visitors who came down during the bathing season ; the false scents on which we sent him. and the absurd enterprises on which we embarked him. even to the extent of a mock ad- dress which induced him to stand for the "borough" — the address to the constituency being our joint production — all these follies, I say, more or less disposed me, I feel sure, to th.at incessant flow of absurd incident which runs through this volume, and which, after all, has really little other than the reflex of our daily plottings and contrivings. I believe my old friend the colonel is still living ; if he be, and if he should read these lines, let him also read that I have other memories of him than those of mere jest and pleasantry — memories of his cordial hospitality and genial good nature — and that there are few things I would like better than to meet and talk with him over bygones, know- ing no one more likely to relish a pleasant reminiscence than himself, nor more certain to forgive along-past liberty taken with him. If there are many faults and blunders in this tale which I would willingly correct, if there be much that I would cur- tail or cut out altogether, and if there be also occasionally in- dents of which I could improve the telling, I am held back from any attempts of this kind by the thought that it was by these sketches, such as they are, I first won that hearing from the public which for more than thirty years has never deserted me, and that the favor which has given the chief pride and interest to my life dates from the day I was known .as Harry Lorrequer. Having given up the profession for which, I believe, I had some aptitude, to follow the pre- carious life of a writer, I suppose I am only admitting what many others under like circumstances might declare, that I have had my moments, and more than mere moments, of doubt and misgiving that I made the wiser choice, and bating the intense pleasure an occasional success has af- forded, I have been led to think that the career I had aban- doned would have been more rewarding, more safe from reverses, and less exposed to those variations of public taste which are the terrors of all who live on the world's favor. Strangely enough, it is my old doctorial instinct which should suggest the consolation to this passing regret. The life of the physician has nothing so thoroughly rewarding, nothing so cheering, so full of hearty encouragement, as in the occasional friendships to which it opens the way. The doctor attains to a degree of intimacy and stands on a foot- ing of confidence so totally exceptional, that if personal qualities lend aid to the position, his intercourse becomes friendship. Whether, therefore, my old career gave me any assistance in new roads, whether it imnarted to me any hal)its of investigation as applicable to the full in morals as to matter, it certainly imparted tome the happy accident of standing on good terms with — I was going to say — my patient, and perhaps no better word could be found for him who had heard me so long, trusted me so much, given me so large a share of his favor, and come to look on me with such friendliness. It would be the worst of ingratitude in me if I did not own that I owe to my books not only the pleasant intimacies of my life, but some ot my closest friendships. A chance expression, a fairly shadowed thought, a mere chord struck at random by a passing hand, as it were, has now and then placed me, as mesmerists call it, "t'« rapport" with some one who may have thought long and deeply on what I had but skimmed over ; and straight- way there was a bond between us. No small satisfaction has it been to me occasionally to hear that out of the over-abundance of my own buoyancy and lightheartedness — and I had a great deal of both long ago — I have been able to share with my neighbor and given him part of my sunshine, and only felt the warmer myself. A great writer — one of the most eloquent historians who ever illustrated the military achievements of his country — once told me that, as he lay sick and care-worn after a fever, it was in my reckless stories of soldier life he found the cheeriest moments of his solitude ; and now let me hasten to say that I tell this in no cpirit of boastfulness. but with the heartfelt gratitude of one who gained more by hearing that confession than Hany Lorrequer ever acquired by all his own. One word now as regards the task I am immediately en- gaged in, and I have done. My publishers propose to bring out in this edition a care- fully revised version of all my books in the order in which they were written ; each story to be accompanied by some brief notice explaining the circumstances under \^hich it was written, and to what extent fact or fiction had their share in the construction. If such notices may occasionally be but leaves of.an auto- biography, I must ask my reader to pardon me, and to be- lieve that I shall not impose my egotism upon him when it be possible to avoid it, while at the same time he shall know all that I myself know of the history of these volumes. If to go over again the pages I wrote so many years ago is in a measure to revisit in age the loved scenes of boyhood, and to ponder over passages the very spirit of whose dic- tation is dead and gone — if all this has its sadness, I am cheered by remembering that I am still addressing many old and dear friends, and have also for my audience the sons and grandsons, and, what I like better, the daughters and granddaughters, of those who once listened to Harry Lorrequer. CHARLES LEVER. Trieste, 1S72. CHAPTER I. ARRIVAL IN CORK — CIVIC FESTIVITIES — PRIVATE THEATRICALS. It was on a splendid morning in the autumn of the year 181 — ' that the ^i77C(7;v/ transport, with 400 of his Majesty's 4 — th Regiment, dropped anchor in the picturesque harbor of Cove ; the sea shone under the purple light of the rising sun with a rich rosy hue, beautifully in contrast Avith the different tints of the foliage of the deep woods already tinged with the brown of autumn. Spike Island lay "sleeping upon its broad shadow," and the large ensign which crowns the battery was wrapped around the flagstaff, there not being even air enough to stir it. It was still so early that but few persons were abroad ; and as we leaned over the bulwarks, and looked now, for the first time for eight long years, upon British ground, many an eye filled, and many a heaving breast told how full of recollections that short moment was, and how different our feelings from the gay buoyancy with which we had sailed from that same harbor for the Peninsula ; many of our best and bravest had we left behind us, and more than one native to the land we were approaching had found his last rest in the soil of the stranger. It was, then, with a mingled sense of pain and pleasure we gazed upon that peaceful little village, whose white cottages lay dotted along the edge of the harbor. The moody silence our thoughts had shed over us was soon broken : the preparations for disembarking had begun, and I recollect well to this hour how. HARRY LORREQUER. 10 shaking off the load that oppressed my heart, I descended the gangway, humming poor Wolfe's well-known song : — "Why, soldiers, why Should we be melancholy, boys .'" And to this elasticity of spirits — whether the re- sult of my profession or the gift of God — as Dog- berry has it — I know not — I owe the greater por- tion of the happiness I have enjoyed in a life, whose changes and vicissitudes have ecjualled most men's. Drawn up in a line along the shore, I could scarce refrain from a smile at our appearance. Four weeks on board a transport will certainly not contribute much to ihe personnel of any unfortu- nate therein confined ; but when, in addition to this, you take into account that we had not re- ceived new clothes for three years — if I except caps for our grenadiers, originally intended for a Scotch regiment, but found to be all too small for the long-headed generation. Many a patch of brown and grey variegated the faded scarlet of our uniform, and scarcely a pair of knees in the entire regiment did not confess their obligations to a blanket. But with all this, we showed a stout, weather-beaten front, that, disposed as the passer- by might feel to laugh at our expense, verv little caution would teach him it were fully as safe to indulge it in his sleeve. The bells from every steeple and tower rang gaily out a peal of welcome as we marched into "that beautiful city called Cork," our band play- ing "Garryowen" — for we had been originally raised in Ireland, and still among our officers main- tained a strong majority for that land of punch, priests, and potatoes — the tattered flag of the regi- ment proudly waving over our heads, and not a man amongst us whose warm heart did not bound behind a Waterloo medal. Well, well ! I am now — alas! that I should say it — somewhat in the "sere and yellow;" and I confess after the ex- perience of some moments of high, triumphant feeling, that I never before felt within me the same animating, spirit-filling glow of delight as rose with- in my heart that day as I marched at the head of my company down George's-street. We were soon settled in barracks ; and then be- gan a series of entertainments on the side of the civic dignities of Cork, which led most of us to be- lieve that we had only escaped shot and shell to fall less gloriously beneath champagne and claret. I do not believe there is a coroner in the island who would have pronounced but the one verdict over the regiment — "Killed by the mayor and cor- poration," had we so fallen. First of all, we were dined by the citizens of Cork — and, to do them justice, a harder drinking set of gentlemen no city need boast ; then we were feasted by the corporation ; then by the sheriffs ; then came the mayor, solus ; then an address, with a cold collation, that left eight of us on the sick- list for a fortnight. But the climax of all was a grand entertainment given in the Mansion House, and to which upwards of two thousand were in- vited. It was a species of fancy ball, beginning by a d^jei^ner at three o'clock in the afternoon, and ending — I never yet met the man who could tell when it ended ! As for myself, my finale partook a little of the adventurous, and I may as well relate it. After waltzing for about an hour with one of the prettiest girls I ever set eyes upon, and getting a tender squeeze of the hand, as I restored her to a most affable-looking old lady in a blue turban and a red velvet gown, who smiled benignly at me, and called me " Meejor" I retired, to recruit for a new attack, to a small table, where three of ours were quaffing ponelie a la Romainc, with a crowd of Corkagians about them, eagerly inquir- ing after some heroes of their own city, whose deeds of arms they were surprised did not obtain special mention from "the Duke." I soon ingra- tiated myself into this well-occupied clique, and dosed them with glory to their heart's content. I resolved at once to enter into their humor ; and as the " ponche" mounted up to my brain I gradually found my acquaintanceship extend to every family and connection in the country. " Did )'e know Phil Beamish, of the 3 — th, sir ?" said a tall, red-faced, red-whiskered, well-looking gentleman, who bore no slight resemblance to Feargus O'Connor. '■ Phil Beamish !" said I. " Indeed I did, sir, and do still ; and there is not a man in the British army I am prouder of knowing." Here, by the way, I may mention that I never heard the name till that moment. " You don't say so, sir ?" said Feargus — for so I must call him, for shortness' sake. " Has he any chance of the company yet, sir ?" " Company !" said I, in astonishment. " He ob- tained his majority three months since. You can- not possibly have heard from him lately, or you would have known that ?" " That's true, sir. I never heard since he quitted the 3 — th to go to Versailles, I think they call it, for his health. But how did he get the step, sir ?" " Wh)', as to the company, that was remarkable enough !" said I, quaffing off a tumbler of cham- pagne to assist my invention. "You know it was about four o'clock in the afternoon of the i8th that Napoleon ordered Grouchy to advance with the first and second brigade of the Old Guard and two regiments of chasseurs, and attack the posi- tion occupied by Plcton and the regiments under his command. Well, sir, on they came, masked by the smoke of a terrific discharge of artillery, stationed on a small eminence to our left, and which did tremendous execution among our poor fellows — on they came, sir, and as the smoke cleared partially away we got a glimpse of them, and a more dangerous-looking set I should not desire to see : grizzly-bearded, hard-featured, bronzed fellows, about five-and-thirty or forty years of age ; their beauty not a whit improved by the red glare thrown upon their faces and along the whole line by each flash of the long twenty- fours that were playing away to the right. Just at this moment Picton rode down the line with his staff, and stopping within a few paces of me, said, 'They're coming up : steady, boys ; steady now : we shall have something to do soon.' And then, turning sharply round, he looked in the direction of the French battery, that was thundering away again in full force. 'Ah, that must be silenced,' said he, ' Where's Beamish ? ' " " Says Picton !" interrupted Feargus, his eyes ?0 HARRY LORREQUER. starting from their sockets, and his mouth growing wider every moment, as he listened with the most intense interest. " Yes," said I, slowly. And then with all the provoking nonchalance of an Italian improvisa- tore, who always halts at the most e.xciting point of his narrative, I begged a listener near me to fill my glass froni thd-iced punch beside him. Not a sound was heard as I lifted the bumper to my lips ; all were breathless in their wound-up anxiety to hear of their countryman who had been selected by Picton — for what, too, they knew not yet, and, indeed, at that instant, I did not know myself, and nearly laughed outright, for the two of ours who had remained at the table had -so well employed their interval of ease as to become very pleasantly drank, and were listening to my confounded story with all the gravity and seriousness in the world — "'Where's Beamish?' said Picton. ' Here, sir,' said Phil, stepping out from the line, and touching his cap to the general, who, taking him apart for a few minutes, spoke to him with great animation. We did not know what he said; but before five min- utes were over, there was Phil with three compa- nies of light-bobs drawn up at our left ; their muskets at the charge, they set off at a round trot down the little steep which closed our flank. We had not much time to follow their movements, for our own amusement began soon ; but I well re- member, after repelling the French attack, and standing in square against two heavy charges of cuirassiers, the first thing I saw where the French battery had stood, was Phil Beamish and about a handful of brave fellows, all that remained from the skirmish. He captured two of the enemy's field-pieces, and was ' Captain Beamish' on the day after." "Long life to himl" said at least a dozen voices behind and about me, while a general clinking of decanters and smacking of lips betokened that Phil's health with ail the honors was being cele- brated. For myself, I was really so engrossed by my narrative, and so e.xcited by the " ponche," that I saw or heard very little of what was passing around, and have only a kind of dim recollection of being seized by the hand by "Feargus," who was Beamish's brother, and who, in the fulness of his heart, would have hugged me to his breast, if I had not opportunely been so overpowered as to fall senseless under the table. When I first returned to consciousness, I found myself lying e.xactly where I had fallen. Around me lay heaps of slain — the two of " ours" amongst the number. One of them — I remember he was the adjutant — held in his hand a wax candle (two to the pound). Whether he had himself seized it in the enthusiasm of my narrative of flood and field, or it had been put there by another, I know not, but he certainly cut a droll figure. The room we were in was a small one off the great saloon, and through the half-open folding door I could clearly perceive that the festivities were still con- tinued. The crash of fiddles and French horns, and the tramp of feet, which had lost much of their elasticity since the entertainment began, rang through my ears, mingled with the sounds " Down the middle," "Hands across," "Here's your partner, captain." What hour of the night or morning it then was, I could not guess; but cer- tainly the vigor of the party seemed little abated, if I might judge from the specimen before me, and the testimony of a short plethoric gentle- man, who stood wiping his bald head, after con- ducting his partner down twenty-eight couple, and who, turning to liis friend, said, " Oh, the distance is nothing, but it is the pace that kills." The first evidence I showed of any return to reason was a strong anxiety to be at my quarters; but how to get there I knew not. The faint glim- mering of sense I possessed told me that " to stand was to fall," and 1 was ashamed to go on all-fours, which prudence suggested. At this moment 1 remembered I had brought with memy cane,which, from a perhaps pardonable vanity, I was fond of parading. It was a present from the officers of my regiment— many of them, alas! since dead — and had a most splendid gold head, with a stag at the top— the arms of the regi- ment. This I would not have lost for any con- sideration I can mention; and this now was gone! I looked around me on every side; I groped beneath the table; I turned the sleeping sots who lay about me in no very gentle fashion; but, alas! it wasgonel I sprang to my feet, and only then remembered how unfit 1 was to follow up the search, as lablts, chairs, lights, and people seemed all rocking and waving before me. However, I succeeded in making my way through one room into another, sometim.es guiding my steps along tlie walls; and once, as I recollect, striking the diagonal of a room, I bisected a quadrille with such ill-directed speed, as to run fold of a Cork dandy and his partner who were just performing the " en avant;" but though I saw them lie tumbled in the dust by the shock of my encounter — for I had upset them — I still held on the even tenor of my way. In fact, I had feeling for but one loss; and, still in pursuit of my cane, I reached the hall-door. Now be it known that the architecture of the Cork Man- sion House has but one fault, but that fault is a grand one, and a strong evidence of how unsuited English architects are to provide buildings for a people whose tastes and habits they but imperfectly understand — be it known, then, that the descent from the hall-door to the street was by a flight of twelve stone steps. How I should ever get down these was now my difficulty. If Falstaff deplored "eight yards of uneven ground as being three score and ten miles a foot," with equal truth did I feel that those twelve awful steps were worse to me than would be M'Gillicuddy's Reeks in the daylight and with a head clear from champagne. While I yet hesitated, the problem resolved it- self; for, gazing down upon the bright gravel, brilliantly lighted by the surrounding lamps, I lost my balance, and came tumbling and rolling from top to bottom, where I fell upon a large mass of some soft substance, to which, in all probability, I owe my life. In a few seconds I recovered my senses, and what was my surprise to find that the downy cushion beneath snored most audibly! I moved a little to one side, and then discovered that in reality it was nothing less than an alder- man of Cork, who, from his position, I concluded had shared the same fate with myself: there he lay, " like a warrior taking his rest," but not with his HARRY LORREOUER 21 "martial cloak around him," but a much more comfortable and far more costly robe — a scarlet gown of office — with huge velvet cuffs and a great cape of the same material. True courage consists in presence of mind; and here mine came to my aid at once: recollecting the loss I had just sustained, and perceiving that all was still about me, with that right Peninsular maxim, that reprisals are fair in an enemy's camp, I proceeded to strip the slain; and with some little difficulty — partly, indeed, owing to my own unsteadiness on my legs — I succeeded in denuding the worthy alderman, who gave no other sign of life during the operation than an abortive effort to ''^ hip, hip, hurrah," in which I left him, having put on the spoil, and set out on my way to the barrack with as much dignity of manner as I could assume in honor of my cos- tume. And here I may mention (in a parenthesis) that a more comfortable morning-gown no man ever possessed, and in its wide luxuriant folds I revel while I write these lines. When I awoke on the following day I had con- siderable difficulty in tracing the events of the past evening. The great scarlet cloak, however, unravelled much of the mystery, and gradually the whole of my career became clear before me, with the single exception of the episode of Phil Beamish, about which my memory was subsequently refreshed. But I anticipate. Only five appeared that day at mess; and. Lord! what spectres they were! — yellow as guineas; they called for soda water without ceasing, and scarcely spoke a word to each other. It was plain that the corporation of Cork was committing more havoc among us than Corunna or Waterloo, and that if we did not change our quarters, there would be quick promotion in the corps for such as were "seasoned gentlemen." After a day or two we met again together, and then, what adven- tures were told! — each man had his own story to narrate; and from the occurrences detailed, one would have supposed years had been passing in- stead of the short hours of an evening party. Mine were, indeed, among the least remarkable; but I confess that the air of vraiscinhlance produced by my production of the aldermanic gown gave me the palm above all competitors. Such was our life in Cork — dining, drinking, dancing, riding, steeple-chasing, pigeon shooting, and tandem driving — filling up any little interval that was found to exist between a late breakfast and the time to dress for dinner; and here I'hope I shall not be accused of a tendency to boasting, while I add, that among all ranks and degrees of men, and women too, there never was a regiment more highly in estimation than the 4 — th. We felt the full value of all the attentions we were re- ceiving, and we endeavored, as best we might to repay them. We got up Garrison Balls and Garri- son Plays, and usually performed once or twice a week during the winter. Here I shone conspic- uously; in the morning I was employed painting scenery and arranging the properties; as it grew later, I regulated the lam],)S and looked after the foot-lights, mediating occasionally between angry litigants, whose jealousies abound to the full as much in private theatricals ns in the regular corps dramatiquc. Then, I was also leader in the or- chestra; and had scarcely given the last scrape in the overture before I was obliged to appear to speak the prologue. Such are the cares of great- ness; to do myself justice, I did not dislike them; though, to be sure, my taste for the drama did cost me a little dear, as will be seen in the sequel. We were then in the full career of popularity — our balls pronounced the very pleasantest, our plays far superior to any regular corps that had ever honored Cork with their talents — when an event occurred which threw a gloom over all our proceedings, and finally put a stop to every project for amusement we had so completely given our- selves up to. This was no less than the removal of our Lieutenant-Colonel. After thirty years of active service in the regiment he then commanded, his age and infirmities, increased by some severe wounds, demanded ease and repose; he retired from us bearing along with him the love and regard of every man in the regiment. To the old officers he was endeared by long companionship, andun- deviating friendship; to the young, he was in every respect as a father, assisting by his advice, and guiding by his counsel; while to the men, the best estimate of his worth appeared in the fact that corjioral punishment was unknown in the corps. Such was the man we lost; and it vnay well be sup- posed that his successor, who, of whatever he might be, came under circumstances of no common difficulty amongst us; but when I tell that our new Lieutenant-Colonel was in every respect his op- posite, it may be believed how little cordiality he met with. Lieutenant-Colonel Garden — for so I shall call him, although not his real name — had not been a month at quarters when he proved himself a regu- lar martinet ; everlasting drills, continual reports, fatigue parties, and ball practice, and Heaven knows what besides, superseded our former morn- ing's occupation ; and, at the end of the time I have mentioned, we, who had fought our way from Albuera to Waterloo, under some of the severest generals of division, were pronounced a most dis- orderly and ill-disciplined regiment, by a colonel who had never seen a shot fired but at a review at Hounslow, or a sham battle in the Fifteen Acres. The winter was now drawing to a close — already some little touch of spring was appearing — as our last play for the season was announced, and every eft'ort to close with some little additional eclat was made ; and each performer in the expected piece was nerving himself for an effort beyond his wont. The colonel had most unequivocally condemned these plays ; but that mattered not — they came not within his jurisdiction — and we took no notice of his displeasure further than sending him tickets, which were as immediately returned as received. From being the chief offender I had become par- ticularly obnoxious ; and he had upon more than one occasion expressed his desire for an oppor- tunity to visit me with his vengeance; but being aware of his kind intentions towards me I took particular care to let no such opportunity occur. On the morning in question, then, I had scarcely left my quarters when one of my brother officers informed me that the Colonel had made a great uproar, that one of the bills of the play had been 22 HARRY LORREOUER. put up on his door — which, with his avowed dis- like to such representations, he considered as in- tended to insuh him : he added, too, that tlie colonel attributed it to me. In this, however, he was wrong — and, to this hour, I never knew who did it. I had little time, and still less inclination, to meditate upon the colonel's wrath— the theatre had all ray thoughts ; and indeed it was a day of no common e.xertion, for our amusements were to conclude with a grand supper on the stage, to which all the elite of Cork were invited. Wher- ever I went through the city — and many were my peregrinations — -the great placard of the play stared me in the face ; and every gate and shuttered win- dow in Cork proclaimed "The part of Othello Bv Mr. Lorrequer." As evening drew near my cares and occupations were redoubled. My lago I had fears for — 'tis true, he was an admirable Lord Grizzle in Tom Thumb — but then — then I had to paint the whole company, and bear all their abuse besides, for not making some of the most ill-looking wretches per- fect ApoUos ; but, last of all, I was sent for, at a quarter to seven, to lace Desdemona's stays. Start not, gentle reader, my fair Desdemona — she '"who might lie by an emperor's side, and com- mand him tas.'^' — was no other than the senior lieutenant oi^.he regiment, and who was as great a votary ( '.ae jolly god as honest Cassio himself. But I must' hasten on ; I cannot delay to recount our successes in detail. Let it suffice to say, that, by universal consent, I was preferred to Kean ; and the only fault the most critical observer could find to the representative of Desdemona, was a rather unladylike fondness for snuff. But what- ever little demerits our acting might have dis- played, were speedily forgotten in a champagne supper. There I took the head of the table ; and in the costume of the noble Moor, toasted, made speeches, returned thanks, and sang songs, till I might have exclaimed with Othello himself "Chaos is come again ;" and I believe I owe my ever reaching the barrack that night to the kind offices of Desdemona, wiio carried me the greater part of the way on her back. The first waking thoughts of him who has in- dulged over-night are not among the most blissful of existence, and certainly the pleasure is not in- creased by the consciousness that he is called on to the discharge of duties to which a fevered pulse and throbbing temples are but ill-suited. My sleep was suddenly broken in upon the morning after the play by a " row-dow-dow" beat beneath my window. I jumped hastily from my bed and looked out, and there, to my horror, perceived the regiment under arms. It was one of our con- founded colonel's morning drills ; and there he stood himself, with the poor adjutant who had been up all night, shivering beside him. Some two or three of the officers liad descended ; and the drum was now summoning the others as it beat round the barrack-square. I saw there was not a moment to lose, and proceeded to dress with all despatch ; but, to my misery, I discovered every- where nothing but tlieatrical robes and decor- ations — there, lay a splendid turban, here, a pair of buskins — a spangled jacket glittered on one table, and a jewelled scimitar on the other. At last I detected my "regimental small-clothes," most ignominiously thrust into a corner in my ardor for my Moorish robes the preceding evening. I dressed myself wi:h the speed of lightning; but as I proceeded in my occupation, guess my annoy- ance to find that the toilet-table and glass, ay, and even the basin-stand, had been removed to the dressing-room of the theatre; and my servant, I suppose, following his master's example, was too tipsy to remember to bring them back, so that I was unable to procure the luxury of cold water — for now not a moment more remained, the drum had ceased, and the men had all fallen in. Hastily drawing on my coat, I put on my shako, and buckling on my belt as dandy-like as might be, hurried down the stairs to the barrack-yard. By the time I got down, the men were all drawn up in line along the square, while the adjutant was pro- ceeding to examine their accoutrements as he passed down. The colonel and the ofhcers were standing in a group but not conversing. The anger of the commanding officer appeared still to con- tinue, and there was a dead silence maintained on both sides. To reach the spot where they stood I had to pass along part of the line. In doing so, how shall I convey my amazement at the faces that met me — a general titter ran along the entire rank, which not even their fears for conse- quences seemed able to repress — for an effort, on the part of many, to stifle the laugh, only ended in a still louder burst of merriment. I looked to the far side of the yard for an explanation, but there was nothing there to account for it. I now crossed over to where the officers were standing, determining in my own mind to investigate the occurrence thoroughly, when free from the pres- ence of the colonel, to whom any representation of ill conduct always brought a punishment far ex- ceeding the merits of the case. Scarcely had I formed this resolve, when I reached the group of- officers, but the moment I came near, one general roar of laughter saluted me, the like of which I never before heard. I looked down at my costume, expecting to discover that, in my hurry to dress, I had put on some of the garments of Othello. No: all was perfectly correct. 1 waited for a moment, till, the first burst of their merriment over, I should obtain a clue to the jest. But there seemed no prospect of this, for, as I stood patiently before them, their mirth appeared to increase. Indeed, poor G , the senior major, one of the gravest men in Europe, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks; and such was the effect upon me, that I was induced to laugh too — as men will sometimes, from the in- fectious nature of that strange emotion — but, no sooner did I do this, than their fun knew no bounds, and some almost screamed aloud in the excess of their merriment. Just at this instant the colonel, who had been examining some of the men, ap- proached our group, advancing with an air of evident displeasure, as the shouts of laughter con- tinued. As he came up, I turned hastily round, and touching my cap, wished him good-morning. Never shall I forget the look he gave me. If a glance could have annihilated any man, his would have finished me. For a moment his face became purple with rage, his eye was almost hid beneath ''*. V, "c^e. Its"'* ,a^^ ^yyrf//><7 //^//r'// Jjr///r/J a/^/uw//(7/ya