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 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
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 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 
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 1888 
 
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 THACKERAY'S COMPLETE WORKS. 
 
 THE STERLING EDITION. 
 
 With 325 Illustrations by the Author, Du Maurier, Cruikshank, 
 Leech, Millais, Barnard, and others. 
 
 THE MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 BARRY LYNDON, Esq. 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF 
 
 DENIS DUVAL 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 
 
 BOSTO 
 ESTES AND LA 
 1888 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF BARRY LYNDON, Esq. 
 
 Chapteb Pagb 
 
 .1. My Pedigree and Family — Undergo the Influence of 
 
 the Tender Passion 3 
 
 II. In which I show myself to be a Man of Spirit ... 27 
 
 III. I make a False Start in the Genteel World .... 41 
 
 IV. In which Barry takes a near View of Military Glory . 54 
 V. In which Barry tries to remove as far from Military 
 
 Glory as possible 62 
 
 VI. The Crimp Wagon — Military Episodes 76 
 
 VTI. Barry leads a Garrison Life, and finds many Friends 
 
 there 91 
 
 VIII. Barry bids adieu to the Military Profession .... 101 
 
 IX. I appear in a Manner becoming my Name and Lineage 108 
 
 X. More Runs of Luck 118 
 
 XI. In which the Luck goes against Barry 133 
 
 XII. Contains the Tragical History of the Princess of X 141 
 
 XIII. I continue my Career as a Man of Fashion .... 159 
 
 XIV. I return to Ireland, and exhibit my Splendor and Gen- 
 
 erosity in that Kingdom 173 
 
 XV. I pay Court to my Lady Lyndon 183 
 
 XVI. I provide nobly for my Family and attain the Height of 
 
 my (seeming) Good Fortune 195 
 
 XVII. I appear as an Ornament of English Society .... 210 
 
 XVHL In which my Good Fortune begins to waver .... 228 
 
 XIX. Conclusion 249 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. The Family Tree 281 
 
 II. The House of Saverne 287 
 
 III. The Travellers 308 
 
 IV. Out of the Depths 323 
 
 V. I hear the Sound of Bow Bells 337 
 
 VI. I Escape from a Great Danger 352 
 
 VII. The Last of my School-days 366 
 
 VIII. I Enter His Majesty's Navy 380 
 
 Notes on Denis Duval 397 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Pagr 
 Little Denis dances and sings before the Navt Gentlemen 286 
 
 Last Moments of the Count de Saverne .... 323 
 
 Evidence for the Defence 362 
 
 Denis's Valei 391 
 
THE MEMOIRS 
 
 BARRY LYNDON". 
 
THE MEMOIKS OF 
 
 BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MY PEDIGREE AND FAMILY — UNDERGO THE INFLUENCE OF THE 
 TENDER PASSION. 
 
 Since the days of Adam, there has been hardly a mischief 
 done in this world but a woman has been at the bottom of it. 
 Ever since ours was a family (and that must be very near 
 Adam's time, — - so old, noble, and illustrious are the Barrys, as 
 everybody knows), women have played a mighty part with the 
 destinies of our race. 
 
 I presume that there is no gentleman in Europe that has not 
 heard of the house of Barry of Barry ogue, of the kingdom of 
 Ireland, than which a more famous name is not to be found in 
 Gwillin or D'Hozier ; and though, as a man of the world, I 
 have learned to despise heartily the claims of some pretenders 
 to high birth who have no more genealogy than the lackey who 
 cleans my boots, and though I laugh to utter scorn the boasting 
 of many of my countiymen, who are all for descending from 
 kings of Ireland, and talk of a domain no bigger than would 
 feed a pig as if it were a principality ; yet truth compels me to 
 assert that nry family was the noblest of the island, and, per- 
 haps, of the universal world ; while their possessions, now 
 insignificant, and torn from us by war, bj' treachery, by the 
 loss of time, by ancestral extravagance, by adhesion to the old 
 faith and monarch, were formerly prodigious, and embraced 
 many counties, at a time when Ireland was vastly more pros- 
 perous than now. I would assume the Irish crown over my 
 coat-of-arms, but that there are so rnanj 7 silly pretenders to that 
 distinction who bear it and render it common. 
 
 Who knows, but for the fault of a woman, I might have 
 been wearing it now ? You start with incredulity. I say, why 
 
4 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 not? Had there been a gallant chief to lead my countrymen, 
 instead of puling knaves who bent the knee to King Richard 
 II., they might have been freemen ; had there been a resolute 
 leader to meet the murderous ruffian Oliver Cromwell, we should 
 have shaken off the English for ever. But there was no Barry 
 in the held against the usurper; on the contrary, my ancestor, 
 Simon de Bary, came over with the first-named monarch, an, I 
 married the daughter of the then King of Munster, whose sons 
 in battle he pitilessly slew. 
 
 In Oliver's time it was too late for a chief of the name of 
 Barry to lift op his war-cry against that of the murderous brewer. 
 We were princes of the land no longer ; our unhappy race had lost 
 its possessions a century previously, and by the most shameful 
 treason. This I know to be the fact, for my mother has often 
 told me the story, and besides had worked it in a worsted pedi- 
 gree which hung up in the yellow saloon at Barry ville where we 
 lived. 
 
 That very estate which the Lyndons now possess in Ireland 
 was once the property of my race. Rory Barry of Barryogue 
 owned it in Elizabeth's time, and half Munster beside/ The 
 Barry was always in feud with the O'Mahonys in those times; 
 and. as it happened, a certain English colonel passed through 
 the former's country with a body of men-at-arms, on the very 
 da}' when the 0'Mahon3's had made an inroad upon our ter- 
 ritories, and carried off a frightful plunder of our flocks and 
 herds. 
 
 This young Englishman, whose name was Roger Lyndon, 
 Linden, or Lyndaine, having been most hospitably received by 
 the Barry, and finding him just on the point of carrying an 
 inroad into the O'Mahoivy's land, offered the aid of himself and 
 his lances, and behaved himself so well, as it appeared, that the 
 O'Mahonys were entirely overcome, all the Barrys' propert}' 
 restored, and with it, says the old chronicle, twice as much of 
 the O'Mahonj-s' goods and cattle. 
 
 It was the setting-in of the winter season, and the J'oung 
 soldier was pressed by the Barry not to quit his house of Barr}-- 
 ogue, and remained there during several months, his men being 
 quartered with Barry's own gallowglasses, man b}' man in the 
 cottages round about. They conducted themselves, as is their 
 wont, with the most intolerable insolence towards the Irish ; so 
 much so, that fights and murders continually ensued, and the 
 people vowed to desti'03' them. 
 
 The Barry's son (from whom I descend) was as hostile to the 1 
 English as any other man on his domain ; and, as they would 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 5 
 
 not go when bidden, he and his friends consulted together and 
 determined on destrojing these English to a man. 
 
 But the} T had let a woman into their plot, and this was the 
 Barry's daughter. She was in love with the English Lyndon, 
 and broke the whole secret to him ; and the dastardly English 
 prevented the just massacre of themselves by falling upon the 
 Irish, and destrojing Phaudrig Barry, my ancestor, and many 
 hundreds of his men. The cross at Banycross near Carrigna- 
 dihioul is the spot where the odious butchery took place. 
 
 Lyndon married the daughter of Roderick Barry, and claimed 
 the estate which he left ; and though the descendants of Phau- 
 drig were alive, as indeed they are in my person,* on appealing to 
 the English courts, the estate was awarded to the Englishman, as 
 has ever been the case where English and Irish were concerned. 
 
 Thus, had it not been for the weakness of a woman, I should 
 have been born to the possession of those very estates which 
 afterwards came to me by merit, as you shall hear. But to 
 proceed with m}' family history. 
 
 JVLy father was well known to the best circles in this king- 
 dom as in that of Ireland, under the name of Roaring Harry 
 Barry. He was bred like mairy other young sons of genteel 
 families to the profession of the law, being articled to a cele- 
 brated attorne} 7 of Sackville Street in the city of Dublin ; and, 
 from his great genius and aptitude for learning, there is no 
 doubt he would have made an eminent figure in his profession, 
 had not his social qualities, love of field-sports, and extraordi- 
 nary graces of manner, marked him out for a higher sphere. 
 While he was attorney's clerk he kept seven race-horses, and 
 hunted regularly both with the Kildare and Wicklow hunts ; and 
 rode on his gra}- horse Endymion that famous match against 
 Captain Punter, which is still remembered by lovers of the 
 sport, and of which I caused a splendid picture to be made and 
 hung over m} r dining-hall mantel-piece at Castle Lyndon. A 
 year afterwards he had the honor of riding that very horse 
 Endymion before his late Majesty King George II. at New- 
 market, and won the plate there and the attention of the august 
 sovereign. 
 
 Although he was only the second son of our family, my dear 
 father came naturally into the estate (now miserably reduced 
 to 4.001. a year) ; for my grandfather's eldest son Cornelius 
 Barry (called the Chevalier Borgne, from a wound which he 
 
 * As we have never been able to find proofs of the marriage of my an- 
 cestor Phaudrig with his wife, I make no doubt that Lyndon destroyed the 
 contract, and murdered the priest and witnesses of the marriage. — B. L. 
 
6 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 received in Germany,) remained constant to the old religion in 
 which our family was educated, and not only served abroad 
 with credit, but against his most sacred Majesty George II. in 
 the unhappy Scotch disturbances in '45. We shall hear more 
 of the Chevalier hereafter. 
 
 For the conversion of my father I have to thank my dear 
 mother, Miss Bell Brady, daughter of Ulysses Brady of Castle 
 Brady, county Kerry, Esquire and J. P. She was the most 
 beautiful woman of her day in Dublin, and universally called 
 the Dasher there. Seeing her at the assembly, my father be- 
 came passionately attached to her ; but her soul was above 
 marrying a Papist or an attorney's clerk ; and so for the love of 
 her, the good old laws being then in force, my dear lather 
 slipped into my uncle Cornelius's shoes and took the family 
 estate. Besides the force of my mother's bright eyes, several 
 persons, and of the genteelest society too, contributed to this 
 happy change ; and I have often heard my mother laughingly 
 tell the story of my father's recantation, which was solemnly 
 pronounced at the tavern in the company of Sir Dick Ringwood, 
 Lord Bagwig, Captain Punter, and two or three other young 
 sparks of the town. Roaring Harry won 300 pieces that very 
 night at faro, and laid the necessary information the next morn- 
 ing against his brother ; but his conversion caused a coolness 
 between him and my uncle Corney, who joined the rebels in 
 consequence. 
 
 This great difficult}* being settled, my Lord Bagwig lent my 
 father his own yacht, then lying at the Pigeon House, and the 
 handsome Bell Brad}* was induced to run away with him to 
 England, although her parents were against the match, and her 
 lovers (as I have heard her tell many thousands of times) were 
 among the most numerous and the most wealthy in all the king- 
 dom of Ireland. They were married at the Savoy, and my 
 grandfather dying very soon, Harry Barry, Esquire, took pos- 
 session of his paternal property and supported our illustrious 
 name with credit in London. He pinked the famous "Count Tier- 
 celin behind Montague House, he was a member of " White's," 
 and a frequenter of all the chocolate-houses ; and my mother, 
 likewise, made no small figure. At length, after his great day 
 of triumph before his sacred Majesty at Newmarket, Harry's 
 fortune was just on the point of being made, for the gracious 
 monarch promised to provide for him. But alas ! he was taken 
 in charge by another monarch, whose will will have no delay or 
 denial, — by Death, namely, who seized upon my father at 
 Chester races, leaving me an helpless orphan. Peace be to his 
 
BARRY LYNDOX, ESQ. 7 
 
 ashes ! He was not faultless, and dissipated all our princely 
 famiby property ; but he was as brave a fellow as ever tossed a 
 bumper or called a main, and he drove his coach-and-six like a 
 man of fashion. 
 
 I do not know whether his gracious Majesty was much 
 affected by this sudden demise of my father, though m}* mother 
 says he shed some royal tears on the occasion. But they helped 
 us to nothing ; and all that was found in the house for the wife 
 and creditors was a purse of ninety guineas, which my dear 
 mother naturally took, with the family plate, and my father's 
 wardrobe and her own ; and putting them into our great coach, 
 drove off to Holyhead, whence she took shipping for Ireland. 
 My father's body accompanied us in the finest hearse and plumes 
 money could bivy ; for though the husband and wife had quar- 
 relled repeatedh* in life, }-et at nry father's death his high- 
 spirited widow forgot all her differences, gave him the grandest 
 funeral that had been seen for many a day, and erected a monu- 
 ment over his remains (for which I subsequently paid), which 
 declared him to be the wisest, purest, and most affectionate of 
 men. 
 
 In performing these sad duties over her deceased lord, the 
 widow spent almost every guinea she had, and, indeed, would 
 have spent a great deal more, had she discharged one-third of 
 the demands which the ceremonies occasioned. But the people 
 around our old house of Banyogue, although they did not like 
 my father for his change of faith, }*et stood liy him at this mo- 
 ment, and were for exterminating the mutes sent b} r Mr. Plumer 
 of London with the lamented remains. The monument and 
 vault in the church were then, alas ! all that remained of m} 7 
 vast possessions ; for nry father had sold every stick of the 
 property to one Notley, an attorney, and we received but a cold 
 welcome in his house — a miserable old tumble-down place it 
 was.* 
 
 The splendor of the funeral did not fail to increase the widow 
 Barb's reputation as a woman of spirit and fashion ; and when 
 she wrote to her brother Michael Brad}', that worthy gentleman 
 immediately rode across the countr}' to fling himself in her arms, 
 and to invite her in his wife's name to Castle Brady. 
 
 Mick and Barry had quaiTelled, as all men will, and very 
 
 * In another part of his memoir Mr. Barry will be found to describe 
 this mansion as one of the most splendid palaces in Europe ; but this is a 
 practice not unusual with his nation ; and with respect to the Irish princi- 
 pality claimed by him, it is known that Mr. Barry's grandfather was an 
 attorney and maker of his own fortune. 
 
8 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 high words had passed between them during Barn's courtship 
 of Miss Bell. When he took her off, Brady swore he would 
 never forgive Barry or Bell : but coming to London in the year 
 '46, he fell in once more with Roaring Harry, and lived in his 
 fine house in Clarges Street, and lost a few pieces to him at 
 play, and broke a watchman's head or two in his company, — 
 all of which reminiscences endeared Bell and her son very much 
 to the good-hearted gentleman, and ho received us both with 
 open arms. Mrs. Barry did not. perhaps wisely, at first make 
 known to her friends what was her condition ; but arriving in a 
 huge gilt coach with enormous armorial bearings, was taken by 
 her sister-in-law and the rest of the county for a person of con- 
 siderable property and distinction. 
 
 For a time, then, ami as was right and proper, Mrs. Barry 
 gave the law at Castle Brady. She ordered the servants to and 
 fro, and taught them, what indeed they much wanted, a little 
 London neatness; and ,l English Redmond," as I was called, 
 was treated like a little lord, and had a maid and a footman to 
 himself; and honest Mick paid their wages. — which was much 
 more than he was used to do for his own domestics, — doing all 
 in his power to make his sister decently comfortable under her 
 afflictions. Mamma, in return, determined that, when her 
 affairs were arranged, she would make her kind brother a hand- 
 some allowance for her son's maintenance and her own ; and 
 promised to have her handsome furniture brought over from 
 Clarges Street to adorn the somewhat dilapidated rooms of 
 Castle Brad}'. 
 
 But it turned out that the rascally landlord seized upon every 
 chair and table that ought by rights to have belonged to the 
 widow. The estate to which I was heir was in the hands of 
 rapacious creditors ; and the only means of subsistence remain- 
 ing to the widow and child was a rent-charge of 50/. upon my 
 Lord Bagwig's property, who had man}- turf-dealings with the 
 deceased. And so my dear mother's liberal intentions towards 
 her brother were of course never fulfilled. 
 
 It must be confessed, very much to the discredit of Mrs. 
 Brady of Castle Brady, that when her sister-in-law's poverty 
 was thus made manifest, she forgot all the respect which she 
 had been accustomed to pay her, instantly turned my maid and 
 man-servant out of doors, and told Mrs. Barry that she might 
 follow them as soon as she chose. Mrs. Mick was of a low 
 family, and a sordid way of thinking ; and after about a couple 
 of years (during which she had saved almost all her little in- 
 come) the widow complied with Madam Brady's desire. At 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 9 
 
 the same time, giving way to a just, though prudently dissimu- 
 lated resentment, she made a vow that she would never enter 
 the gates of Castle Brady while the lady of the house remained 
 alive within them. 
 
 She fitted up her new abode with much economy and con- 
 siderable taste, and never, for all her poverty, abated a jot of 
 the dignity which was her due, and which all the neighborhood 
 awarded to her. How, indeed, could they refuse respect to a 
 lady who had lived in London, frequented the most fashionable 
 society there, and had been presented (as she solemnly declared) 
 at court? These advantages gave her a right which seems to 
 be pretty unsparingly exercised in Ireland b} 1 those natives who 
 have it, — the right of looking down with scorn upon all per- 
 sons who have not had the opportunity of quitting the mother- 
 countiy and inhabiting England for a while. Thus, whenever 
 Madam Brady appeared abroad in a new dress, her sister-in- 
 law would say, " Poor creature ! how can it be expected that she 
 should know anything Of the fashion ? " And though pleased to 
 be called the handsome widow, as she was, Mrs. Barry was still 
 better pleased to be called the English widow. 
 
 Mrs. Brad}', for her part, was not slow to repby : she used 
 to say that the defunct Barry was a bankrupt and a beggar ; 
 and as for the fashionable society which he saw, he saw it from 
 my Lord Bagwig's side-table, whose flatterer and hanger-on he 
 was known to be. Regarding Mrs. Barry, the Lady of Castle 
 Brady would make insinuations still more painful. However, 
 wtry should we allude to these charges, or rake up private scan- 
 dal of a hundred jears old? It was in the reign of George II. 
 that the above-named personages lived and quarrelled ; good or 
 bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, they are all equal now ; 
 and do not the Sunday papers and the courts of law supply us 
 every week with more novel and interesting slander? 
 
 At any rate, it must be allowed that Mrs. Barry, after her 
 husband's death and her retirement, lived in such a way as to 
 defy slander. For whereas Bell Brady had been the ga}-est 
 girl in the whole county of Wexford, wifrh half the bachelors at 
 her feet, and plenty of smiles and encouragement for every one 
 of them, Bell Barry adopted a dignified reserve that almost 
 amounted to pomposity, and was as starch as any Quakeress. 
 Many a man renewed his offers to the widow, who had been 
 smitten hy the charms of the spinster ; but Mrs. Barry refused 
 all offers of marriage, declaring that she lived now for her son 
 only, and for the memory of her departed saint. 
 
 "Saint forsooth!" said ill-natured Mrs. Brady. "Harry 
 
10 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Barry was as big a sinner as ever was known ; and 'tis noto- 
 rious that he and Bell hated each other. If she won't marry 
 now, depend on it, the artful woman has a husband in her eye 
 for all that, and only waits until Lord Bagwig is a widower." 
 
 And suppose she did, what then? Was not the widow of a 
 Barry fit to many with any lord of England ? and was it not 
 always said that a woman was to restore the fortunes of the 
 Bany family ? If my mother fancied that she was to be that 
 woman, I think it was a perfectly justifiable notion on her part ; 
 for the earl (my godfather) was always most attentive to her: 
 I never knew how deeply this notion of advancing my interests 
 in the world had taken possession of mamma's mind, until his 
 lordship's marriage in the year '57 with Miss Gold more, the 
 Indian nabob's rich daughter. 
 
 Meanwhile we continued to reside at Barry ville, and, con- 
 sidering the smallness of our income, kept up a wonderful state. 
 Of the half-dozen families that formed the congregation at 
 Brady's Town, there was not a single person whose appearance 
 was so respectable as that of the widow, who, though she always 
 dressed in mourning, in memory of her deceased husband, took 
 care that her garments should be made so as to set off her hand- 
 some person to the greatest advantage; and, indeed, I think, 
 spent six hours out of every day in the week in cutting, trim- 
 ming, and altering them to the fashion. She had the largest of 
 hoops and the handsomest of furbelows, and once a month 
 (under my Lord Bagwig's cover) would come a letter from 
 London containing the newest accounts of the fashions there. 
 Her complexion was so brilliant that she had no call to use 
 rouge, as was the mode in those days. No, she left red and 
 white, she said (and hence the reader may imagine how the two 
 ladies hated each other) to Madam Brady, whose yellow com- 
 plexion no plaster could alter. In a word, she was so accom- 
 plished a beauty, that all the women in the country took pattern 
 by her, and the young fellows from ten miles round would ride 
 over to Castle Brad}* church to have the sight of her. 
 
 But if (like ever}' other woman that ever I saw or read of) 
 she was proud of her beaut}-, to do her justice she was still more 
 proud of her son, and has said a thousand times to me that I 
 was the handsomest young fellow in the world. This is a matter 
 of taste. A man of sixt}- may, however, say what he was at 
 fourteen without much vantiy, and I must say I think there was 
 some cause for my mother's opinion. The good soul's pleasure 
 was to dress me ; and on Sundays and holidays I turned out in 
 a velvet coat with a silver-hilted sword by my side and a gold 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 11 
 
 garter at my knee, as fine as any lard in the land. My mother 
 worked me several most splendid waistcoats, and I had plenty 
 of lace for m} T ruffles, and a fresh ribbon to my hair, and as we 
 walked to church on Sundays, even envious Mrs. Brad}- was 
 found to allow that there was not a prettier pair in the kingdom. 
 
 Of course, too, the lady of Castle Brady used to sneer, be- 
 cause on these occasions a certain Tim, who used to be called 
 my valet, followed me and my mother to church, carrying a 
 huge prayer-book and a cane, and dressed in the livery of one 
 of our own fine footmen from Clarges Street, which, as Tim 
 was a bandy-shanked little fellow, did not exactly, become him. 
 But, though poor, we were gentlefolks, and not to be sneered 
 out of these becoming appendages to our rank ; and so would 
 march up the aisle to our pew with as much state and gravity 
 as the Lord Lieutenant's lady and son might do. When there, 
 my mother would give the responses and amens in a loud, dig- 
 nified voice that was delightful to hear, and, besides, had a fine 
 loud voice for singing, which art she had perfected in London 
 under a fashionable teacher ; and she would exercise her talent 
 in such a way that you would hardly hear an}* other voice of 
 the little congregation which chose to join in the psalm. In 
 fact, my mother had great gifts in every way, and believed 
 herself to be one of the most beautiful, accomplished, and 
 meritorious persons in the world. Often and often has she 
 talked to me and the neighbors regarding her own humilit}' 
 and piet}', pointing them out in such a way that I would defy 
 the most obstinate to disbelieve her. 
 
 When we left Castle Brad}' we came to occupy a house in 
 Brady's Town, which mamma christened Barryville. I confess 
 it was but a small place, but, indeed, we made the most of it. 
 I have mentioned the family pedigr.ee which hung up in the 
 drawing-room, which mamma called the yellow saloon, and my 
 bedroom was called the pink bedroom, and hers the orange- 
 tawn}' apartment (how well I remember them all !) ; and at 
 dinner-time Tim regularly rang a great bell, and we each had a 
 silver tankard to drink from, and mother boasted with justice 
 that I had as good a bottle of claret by m} - side as airy squire 
 of the land. So indeed I had, but I was not, of course, allowed 
 at my tender years to drink anj r of the wine ; which thus at- 
 tained a considerable age, even in the decanter. 
 
 Uncle Brady (in spite of the family quarrel) found out thG 
 above fact one day by calling at Bany ville at dinner-time, and 
 unluckily tasting the liquor. You should have seen how he 
 sputtered and made faces ! But the honest gentleman was not 
 
12 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 particular about his wine, or the company in which he drank it. 
 He would get drunk, indeed, with the parson or the priest in- 
 differently ; with the latter, much to my mother's indignation, 
 for, as a true blue Nassauite, she heartily despised all those of 
 the old faith, and would scarcely sit down in the room with a 
 benighted Papist. But the squire had no such scruples ; he 
 was, indeed, one of the easiest, idlest, and best-natured fellows 
 that ever lived, and many an hour would he pass with the lonely 
 widow when he was tired of Madam Brady at home. He liked 
 me, he said, as much as one of his own sons, and at length, 
 after the widow had held out for a couple of years, she agreed 
 to allow me to return to the castle ; though, for herself, she 
 resolutely kept the oath which she had made with regard to her 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 The very first day I returned to Castle Brad}- my trials may 
 be said, in a manner, to have begun. My cousin, Master Mick, 
 a huge monster of nineteen (who hated me, and I promise you 
 I returned the compliment), insulted me at dinner about my 
 mother's poverty, and made all the girls of the family titter. So 
 when we went to the stables, whither Mick always went for his 
 pipe of tobacco after dinner, I told him a piece of my mind, and 
 there was a fight for at least ten minutes, during which 1 stood 
 to him like a man, and blacked his left eye. though I was myself 
 only twelve years old at the time. Of course he beat me, but 
 a beating makes only a small impression on a lad of that tender 
 age, as I had proved many times in battles with the ragged 
 Brady's Town boys before, not one of whom, at my time of life, 
 was my match. My uncle was very much pleased when he 
 heard of my gallantry ; m} r cousin Nora brought brown paper 
 and vinegar for my nose, and I went home that night with a 
 pint of claret under my girdle, not a little proud, let me tell 3-ou, 
 at having held my own against Mick so long. 
 
 And though he persisted in his bad treatment of me, and 
 used to cane me whenever I fell in his way, yet I was very happy 
 now at Castle Brady with the company there, and my cousins, 
 or some of them, and the kindness of my uncle, with whom I 
 became a prodigious favorite. He bought a colt for me, and 
 taught me to ride. He took me out coursing and fowling, and 
 instructed me to shoot flying. And at length I was released 
 from Mick's persecution, for his brother. Master Click, return- 
 ing from Trinity College, and hating his elder brother, as is 
 mostly the way in families of fashion, took me under his pro- 
 tection ; and from that time, as Ulick was a deal bigger and 
 stronger than Mick, I, English Redmond, as I was called, was 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 13 
 
 left alone ; except when the former thought fit to thrash ine, 
 which he did whenever he thought proper. 
 
 Nor was my learning neglected in the ornamental parts, for 
 I had an uncommon natural genius for many things, and soon 
 topped in accomplishments most of the persons around me. I 
 had a quick ear and a fine voice, which my mother cultivated 
 to the best of her power, and she taught me to step a minuet 
 gravely and gracefully, and thus laid the foundation of 1113- future 
 success in life. The common dances I learned (as, perhaps, I 
 ought not to confess) in the servants' hall, which, j-ou may be 
 sure, was never without a piper, and where I was considered 
 unrivalled both at a hornpipe and a jig. 
 
 In the matter of book-learning, I had always an uncommon 
 taste for reading pla}'s and novels, as the best part of a gentle- 
 man's polite education, and never let a pedler pass the village, 
 if I had a penny, without having a ballad or two from him. As 
 for your dull grammar, and Greek and Latin and stuff, I have 
 always hated them from m} T youth upwards, and said, very 
 unmistakably, I would have none of them. 
 
 This I proved pretty clearly at the age of thirteen, when my 
 aunt Biddy Brady's legacy of 100/. came in to mamma, who 
 thought to employ the sum on my education, and sent me to 
 Doctor Tobias Tickler's famous academy at Bally whacket — 
 Backwhacket, as nry uncle used to call it. But six weeks after 
 I had been consigned to his reverence, I suddenly made my 
 appearance again at Castle Brad} - , having walked forty miles 
 from the odious place, and left the doctor in a state near upon 
 apoplexy'. The fact was, that at taw, prison-bars, or boxing, 
 I was at the head of the school, but could not be brought to 
 excel in the classics ; and after having been flogged seven times 
 without its doing me the least good in nry Latin, I refused to 
 submit altogether (finding it useless) to an eighth application 
 of the rod. "Try some other way, sir," said I, when he was 
 for horsing me once more; but he wouldn't; whereon, and to 
 defend myself, I flung a slate at him, and knocked down a 
 Scotch usher with a leaden inkstand. All the lads huzzaed at 
 this, and some of the servants wanted to stop me ; but taking 
 out a large clasp-knife that my cousin Nora had given me, I 
 swore I would plunge it into the waistcoat of the first man who 
 dared to balk me, and faith they let me pass on. I slept that 
 night twent} T miles off Balbywhacket, at the house of a cottier, 
 who gave me potatoes and milk, and to whom I gave a hundred 
 guineas after, when I came to visit Ireland in 1113' days of great- 
 ness. I wish I had the money now. But what's the use of 
 
14 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 regret ? I have had many a harder bed than that I shall sleep 
 on to-night, and many a scantier meal than honest Phil Murphy 
 gave me on the evening I ran away from school. So six weeks' 
 was all the schooling I ever got. And I sa}' this to let parents 
 know the value of it ; for though I have met more learned 
 bookworms in the world, especially a great hulking, clumsy, 
 blear-eyed old doctor, whom the}- called Johnson, and who lived 
 in a court off* Fleet Street, in London, yet I pretty soon silenced 
 him in an argument (at " Button's Coffee-house") ; and in that, 
 and in poetry, and what I call natural philosophy, or the sci- 
 ence of life, and in riding, music, leaping, the small-sword, the 
 knowledge of a horse, or a main of cocks, and the manners of 
 an accomplished gentleman and a man of fashion, I may say 
 for myself that Redmond Barry has seldom found his equal. 
 "Sir," said I to Mr. Johnson, on the occasion I allude to — 
 he was accompanied by a Mr. Buswell of Scotland, and I was 
 presented to the club b}- a Mr. Goldsmith, a countryman of my 
 own, — " Sir," said I, in reply to the schoolmaster's great thun- 
 dering quotation in Greek, "-you fancy you know a great deal 
 more than me, because } t ou quote 3'our Aristotle and your Pluto, 
 but can you tell me which horse will win at Epsom Downs next 
 week? — Can you run six miles without breathing? — Can you 
 shoot the ace of spades ten times without missing? If so, talk 
 about Aristotle and Pluto to me." 
 
 " D'j'e knaw who ye're speaking to?" roared out the 
 Scotch gentleman, Mr. Buswell, at this. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Mr. Boswell," said the old school- 
 master. "I had no right to brag of my Greek to the gen- 
 tleman, and he has answered me very well." 
 
 "Doctor," Bays I, looking waggishly at him, "do you 
 know ever a rhyme for Aristotle ? " 
 
 " Port, if you plaise," says Mr. Goldsmith, laughing. 
 And we had six rhymes for Aristotle before we left the coffee- 
 house that evening. It became a regular joke afterwards 
 when I told the stoiy, and at "White's" or the "Cocoa- 
 tree" you would hear the wags say, "Waiter, bring one of 
 Captain Barry's rhymes for Aristotle." Once, when I was 
 in liquor at the latter place, young Dick Sheridan called me a 
 great Staggerite, a joke which I could never understand. 
 But I am wandering from my story, and must get back to 
 home, and dear old Ireland again. 
 
 I have made acquaintance with the best in the land since, 
 and my manners are such, I have said, as to make me the 
 equal of them all ; and, perhaps, you will wonder how a 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 15 
 
 county boy, as I was, educated amongst Irish squires, and 
 their dependants of the stable and farm, should arrive at pos- 
 sessing such elegant manners as I was indisputably allowed to 
 have. I had, the fact is, a very valuable instructor in the per- 
 son of an old gamekeeper, who had served the French king 
 at Fontenoy, and who taught me the dances and customs, and 
 a smattering of the language of that country, with the use of 
 the sword, both small and broad. Many and many a long 
 mile I have trudged by his side as a lad, he telling me wonder- 
 ful stories of the French king, and the Irish brigade, and Mar- 
 shal Saxe, and the opera-dancers ; he knew my uncle, too, the 
 Chevalier Borgne, and indeed had a thousand accomplishments 
 which he taught me in secret. I never knew a man like him 
 for making or throwing a fly, for physicking a horse, or break- 
 ing, or choosing one ; he taught me manly sports, from birds'- 
 nesting upwards, and I always shall consider Phil Purcell as 
 the very best tutor I could have had. His fault was drink, 
 but for that I have always had a blind eye ; and he hated my 
 cousin Mick like poison ; but I could excuse him that too. 
 
 With Phil, and at the age of fifteen, I was a more accom- 
 plished man than either of my cousins ; and I think Nature 
 had been also more bountiful to me in the matter of person. 
 Some of the Castle Brady girls (as you shall hear presently) 
 adored me. At fairs and races many of the prettiest lasses 
 present said the}' would like to have me for their bachelor ; 
 and yet somehow, it must be confessed, I was not popular. 
 
 In the first place, eA'ery one knew I was bitter poor ; and 
 I think, perhaps, it was my good mother's fault that I was 
 bitter proud too. I had a habit of boasting in company of my 
 birth, and the splendor of my carriages, gardens, cellars, and 
 domestics, and this before people who were perfectly aware of 
 my real circumstances. If it was boys, and they ventured to 
 sneer, I would beat them, or die for it ; and many's the time 
 I've been brought home welluigh killed by one or more of 
 them, of what, when my mother asked me, I would say was 
 " a family quarrel." "Support your name with your blood, 
 Reddy my boy," would that saint say, with the tears in her 
 eyes ; and so would she herself have done with her voice, ay, 
 and her teeth and nails. 
 
 Thus, at fifteen, there was scarce a lad of twenty, for half 
 a dozen miles round, that I had not beat for one cause or other. 
 There were the vicar's two sons of Castle Brad}' — in course I 
 could not associate with such beggarly brats as them, and 
 many a battle did we have as to who should take the wall in 
 
16 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Brady's Town ; there was Pat Lurgan, the blacksmith's son, 
 who had the better of me four times before we came to the 
 crowning fight, when I overcame him ; and I could mention a 
 scoi*e more of my deeds of prowess in that way, but that fisti- 
 cuff facts are dull subjects to talk of, and to discuss before 
 high-bred gentlemen and ladies. 
 
 However, there is another subject, ladies, on which I must 
 discourse, and that is never out of place. Day and night you 
 like to hear of it ; 3'oung and old, you dream and think of it. 
 Handsome and ugly (and, faith, before fifty, I never saw such 
 a thing as a plain woman) , it's the subject next to the hearts 
 of all of 3*ou ; and I think you guess m\ r riddle without more 
 trouble. Love I sure the word is formed on purpose out of the 
 prettiest soft vowels and consonants in the language, and he 
 or she who does not care to read about it is not worth a fig, to 
 niy thinking. 
 
 My uncle's family consisted of ten children ; who, as is the 
 custom in such large families, were divided into two camps, or 
 parties ; the one siding with their mamma, the other taking the 
 part of my uncle in all the numerous quarrels which arose be- 
 tween that gentleman and his lady. Mrs. Brady's faction was 
 headed by Mick, the eldest son, who hated me so, and dis- 
 liked his father for keeping him out of his property : while 
 Ulick, the second brother, was his father's own boy ; and, in 
 revenge, Master Mick was desperately afraid of him. I 
 need not mention the girls' names ; I had plague enough 
 with them in after-life, heaven knows ; and one of them was 
 the cause of all my early troubles : this was (though to be 
 sure all her sisters denied it) the belle of the family, Miss 
 Honoria Brady by name. 
 
 She said she was onby nineteen at the time ; but I could 
 read the fly-leaf in the family Bible as well as another (it 
 was one of the three books which, with the backgammon- 
 board, formed my uncle's library), and know that she was 
 born in the year '37, and christened by Dr. Swift, dean of 
 St. Patrick's, Dublin : hence she was three-and-twenty 3'ears 
 old at the time she and I were so much together. 
 
 When I come to think about her now, I know she never 
 could have been handsome ; for her figure was rather of the 
 fattest, and her mouth of the widest; she was freckled over 
 like a partridge's egg, and her hair was the color of a cer- 
 tain vegetable which we eat with boiled beef, to use the 
 mildest terms. Often and often would my dear mother make 
 these remarks concerning her; but I did not believe them 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 17 
 
 then, and somehow had gotten to think Honoria an angelical 
 being, far above all the other angels of her sex. 
 
 And as we know very well that a lady who is skilled in 
 dancing or singing never can perfect herself without a deal 
 of stud}' in private, and that the song or the minuet which 
 is performed with so much graceful ease in the assembly- 
 room has not been acquired without vast labor and perse- 
 verance in private ; so it is with the dear creatures who are 
 skilled in coquetting. Honoria, for instance, was always 
 practising, and she would take poor me to rehearse her 
 accomplishment upon ; or the exciseman when he came his 
 rounds, or the steward, or the poor curate, or the young 
 apothecary's lad from Brady's Town : whom I recollect beat- 
 ing once for that very reason. If he is alive now I make him 
 my apologies. Poor fellow ! as if it was his fault that he 
 should be a victim to the wiles of one of the greatest coquettes 
 (considering her obscure life and rustic breeding) in the world. 
 
 If the truth must be told — and every word of this narra- 
 tive of my life is of the most sacred veracity — nr^ passion for 
 Nora began in a very vulgar and unromantic way. I did not 
 save her life ; on the contrary, I once very nearly killed her, 
 as you shall hear. I did not behold her by moonlight playing 
 on the guitar, or rescue her from the hands of ruffians, as 
 Alfonso does Lindamira in the novel ; but one day after dinner 
 at Brady's Town, in summer, going into the garden to pull 
 gooseberries for my dessert, and thinking onby of gooseberries, 
 I pledge my honor, I came upon Miss Nora and one of her 
 sisters, with whom she was friends at the time, who were both 
 engaged in the very same amusement. 
 
 " What's the Latin for gooseberry, Redmond?" says she. 
 She was always " poking her fun," as the Irish phrase it. 
 
 " I know the Latin for goose," says I. 
 
 " And what's that?" cries Miss Mysie, as pert as a peacock. 
 
 '• Bo to 30U ! " says I (for I had never a want of wit) ; and 
 so we fell to work at the gooseberry-bush, laughing and talking 
 as happy as might be. In the course of our diversion Nora 
 managed to scratch her arm, and it bled, and she screamed, 
 and it was mighty round and white, and I tied it up, and I 
 believe was permitted to kiss her hand ; and though it was as 
 big and clumsy a hand as ever you saw, yet I thought the 
 favor the most ravishing one that was ever conferred upon me, 
 and went home in a rapture. 
 
 I was much too simple a fellow to disguise any sentiment I 
 chanced to feel in those days ; and not one of the eight Castle 
 
 2 
 
18 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Brady girls but was soon aware of m}- passion, and joked and 
 complimented Nora about her bachelor. 
 
 The torments of jealousy the cruel coquette made me en- 
 dure were horrible. Sometimes she would treat me as a child, 
 sometimes as a man. She would always leave me if ever there 
 came a stranger to the house. 
 
 "For after all, Redmond," she would sa}*, "you are but 
 fifteen, and you haven't a guinea in the world." At which I 
 would swear that I would become the greatest hero ever known 
 out of Ireland, and vow that before I was twent}' I would have 
 money enough to purchase an estate six times as big as Castle 
 Brady. All which vain promises, of course, I did not keep ; 
 but I make no doubt they influenced me in m}' very earl}' life, 
 and caused me to do those great actions for which 1 have been 
 celebrated, and which shall be narrated presently in order. 
 
 I must tell one of them, just that my dear 3'oung lady read- 
 ers ma} r know what sort of a fellow Redmond Barry was, and 
 what a courage and undaunted passion he had. I question 
 whether an} r of the jenn}--jessamines of the present day would 
 do half as much in the face of danger. 
 
 About this time, it must be premised, the United Kingdom, 
 was in a state of great excitement from the threat generall}' 
 credited of a French invasion. The Pretender was said to ba 
 in high favor at Versailles, a descent upon Ireland was es- 
 pecially looked to, and the noblemen and people of condition 
 in that and all other parts of the kingdom showed their loyalty 
 b}' raising regiments of horse and foot to resist the invaders. 
 Brad\'s Town sent a company to join the Kilwangan regiment, 
 of which Master Mick was the captain ; and we had a letter 
 from Master Ulick at Trinity College, stating that the university 
 had also formed a regiment, in which he had the honor to be a 
 corporal. How I envied them both, especialby that odious Mick, 
 as I saw him in his laced scarlet coat, with a ribbon in his hat, 
 march off at the head of his men. He, the poor spiritless crea- 
 ture, was a captain, and I nothing, — I who felt I had as much 
 courage as the Duke of Cumberland himself, and felt, too, that 
 a red jacket would mightily become me ! My mother said I 
 was too young to join the new regiment ; but the fact was, 
 that it was she herself who was too poor, for the cost of a new 
 uniform would have swallowed up half her year's income, and 
 she would only have her bo}' appear in a way suitable to his 
 birth, riding the finest of racers, dressed in the best of clothes, 
 and keeping the genteelest of companj'. 
 
 Well, then, the whole country was alive with war's alarums, 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 19 
 
 the three kingdoms ringing with military music, and every man 
 of merit paying his devoirs at the court of Bellona, whilst poor 
 I was obliged to stay at home in my fustian jacket and sigh for 
 fame in secret. Mr. Mick came to and fro from the regiment, 
 and brought numerous of his comrades with him. Their cos- 
 tume and swaggering airs filled me with grief, and Miss Nora's 
 unvarying attentions to them served to make me half wild. 
 No one, however, thought of attributing this sadness to the 
 young lady's score, but rather to my disappointment at not 
 being allowed to join the military profession. Once the officers 
 of the Fencibles gave a grand ball at Kilwangan, to which, as 
 a matter of course, all the ladies of Castle Brady (and a pretty 
 ugly coachful they were) were invited. I knew to what tortures 
 the odious little flirt of a Nora would put me with her eternal 
 coquetries with the officers, and refused for a long time to be 
 one of the party to the ball. But she had a way of conquering 
 me, against which all resistance of mine was in vain. She 
 vowed that riding in a coach always made her ill. " And how 
 can I go to the ball," said she, " unless you take me on Daisy 
 behind you on the pillion? " Daisy was a good blood mare of 
 my uncle's, and to such a proposition I could not for my soul 
 say no ; so we rode in safety to Kilwangan, and I felt myself 
 as proud as any prince when she promised to dance a country- 
 dance with me. 
 
 When the dance was ended, the little ungrateful flirt in- 
 formed me that she had quite forgotten her engagement ; she 
 had actually danced the set with an Englishman ! I have 
 endured torments in m}' life, but none like that. She tried to 
 make up for her neglect, but I would not. Some of the pretti- 
 est girls there offered to console me, for I was the best dancer 
 in the room. I made one attempt, but was too wretched to 
 continue, and so remained alone all night in a state of agony. 
 I would have played, but I had no money ; onby the gold piece 
 that my mother bade me alwa3 T s keep in my purse as a gentle- 
 man should. I did not care for drink, or know the dreadful 
 comfort of it in those days ; but I thought of killing nryself 
 and Nora, and most certainty of making awaj' with Captain 
 Quin ! 
 
 At last, and at morning, the ball was over. The rest of 
 our ladies went off in the lumbering creaking old coach ; Daisy 
 was brought out, and Miss Nora took her place behind me, 
 which I let her do without a word. But we were not half a 
 mile out of town when she began to try with her coaxing and 
 blandishments to dissipate my ill humor. 
 
20 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Sure it's a bitter night, Redmond dear, and you'll catch 
 cold without a handkerchief to your neck." To this sympa- 
 thetic remark from the pillion the saddle made no reply. 
 
 "Did you and Miss Clancy have a pleasant evening, Red- 
 mond? You were together, I saw, all night." To this the 
 saddle only replied by grinding his teeth, and giving a lash to 
 Daisy. 
 
 " O mercy ! } r ou make Dais}' rear and throw me, 3-ou care- 
 less creature 30U ; and } r ou know, Redmond, I'm so timid." 
 The pillion had by this got her arm round the saddle's waist, 
 and perhaps gave it the gentlest squeeze in the world. 
 
 11 1 hate Miss Clanc}*, you know I do ! " answers the saddle ; 
 " and I onby danced with her because — because — the person 
 with whom I intended to dance chose to be engaged the whole 
 night." 
 
 " Sure there were m}' sisters," said the pillion, now laugh- 
 ing outright in the pride of her conscious superiority; "and 
 for me, my dear, I had not been in the room five minutes 
 before I was engaged for ever3 T single set." 
 
 " "Were j-ou obliged to dance five times with Captain Quin ? " 
 said I ; and O strange delicious charm of coquetry, I do believe 
 Miss Nora Brady at twenty-three years of age felt a pang of 
 delight in thinking that she had so much power over a guileless 
 lad of fifteen. 
 
 Of course she replied that she did not care a fig for Captain 
 Quin ; that he danced prettily, to be sure, and was a pleasant 
 rattle of a man ; that he looked well in his regimentals too ; 
 and if he chose to ask her to dance, how could she refuse 
 him? 
 
 " But } t ou refused me, Nora." 
 
 " Oh ! I can dance with you any day," answered Miss Nora, 
 with a toss of her head ; " and to dance with 3'our cousin at a 
 ball, looks as if 3 T ou could find no other partner. Besides," 
 said Nora — and this was a cruel, unkind cut, which showed 
 what a power she had over me, and how mercilessh T she used 
 it, — ."besides, Redmond, Captain Quin's a man, and 3 r ou are 
 outy a boy ! " 
 
 "If ever I meet him again," I roared out with an oath, 
 " you shall see which is the best man of the two. I'll fight him 
 with sword or with pistol, captain as he is. A man indeed ! 
 I'll fight any man — eve^ man ! — Didn't I stand up to Mick 
 Brad3 r when I was eleven 3'ears old ? — Didn't I beat Tom Sulli- 
 van, the great hulking brute, who is nineteen? — Didn't I do 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 21 
 
 for the Scotch usher? Oh, Nora, it's cruel of you to sneer at 
 me so ! " 
 
 But Nora was in the sneering mood that night, and pursued 
 her sarcasms ; she pointed out that Captain Quin was already 
 known as a valiant soldier, famous as a man of fashion in Lon- 
 don, and that it was might}' well of Redmond to talk and boast 
 of beating ushers and farmers' boys, but to fight an Englishman 
 was a very different matter. 
 
 Then she fell to talk of the invasion, and of military matters 
 in general ; of King Frederick (who was called, in those days, 
 the Protestant hero), of Monsieur Thurot and his fleet, of 
 Monsieur Conflans and his squadron, of Minorca, how it was 
 attacked, and where it was ; we both agreed it must be in 
 America, and hoped the French might be soundly beaten 
 there. 
 
 I sighed after a while (for I was beginning to melt), and 
 said how much I longed to be a soldier ; on which Nora recurred 
 to her infallible, " Ah ! now, would you leave me, then? But, 
 sure, you're not big enough for anything more than a little 
 drummer." To which I replied by swearing that a soldier I 
 would be, and a general too. 
 
 As we were chattering in this silly way, we came to a place 
 that has ever since gone by the name of Redmond's Leap 
 Bridge. It was an old high bridge, over a stream sufficiently 
 deep and rocky, and as the mare Daisy with her double load 
 was crossing this bridge, Miss Nora, giving a loose to her im- 
 agination, and still harping on the military theme (I would lay 
 a wager that she was thinking of Captain Quin) — Miss Nora 
 said, " Suppose now, Redmond, you, who are such a hero, was 
 passing over the bridge, and the inimy on the other side?" 
 
 " I'd draw my sword, and cut m}- way through them." 
 
 " What, with me on the pillion? Would you kill poor 
 me ? " (This 3*oung lady was perpetually speaking of ' ' poor 
 me ! ") 
 
 " Well, then, I'll tell 3*011 what I'd do. I'd jump Daisy into 
 the river, and swim }'ou both across, where no enemy could 
 follow us." 
 
 " Jump twenty feet! 3*011 wouldn't dare do any such thing 
 on Daisy. There's the captain's horse, Black George, I've 
 heard say that Captain Qui — " 
 
 She never finished the word, for maddened by the continual 
 recurrence of that odious monosjdlable, I shouted to her to 
 "hold tight by my waist," and, giving Daisy the spur, in a 
 minute sprung with Nora over the parapet into the deep water 
 
22 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 below. I don't know why now — whether it was I wanted to 
 drown myself and Nora, or to perform an act that even Captain 
 Quin should crane at, or whether I fancied that the enemy 
 actually was in front of us, I can't tell now ; but over I went. 
 The horse sunk over his head, the girl screamed as she sunk 
 and screamed as she rose, and I landed her, half fainting, on 
 the shore, where we were soon found by my uncle's people, who 
 returned on hearing the screams. I went home, and was ill 
 speedily of a fever, which kept me to m}' bed for six weeks ; 
 and I quitted my couch prodigiously increased in stature, and, 
 at the same time, still more violently in love than I had been 
 even before. 
 
 At the commencement of my illness, Miss Nora had been 
 pretty constant in her attendance at my bedside, forgetting, for 
 the sake of me, the quarrel between my mother and her family ; 
 which my good mother was likewise pleased, in the most Chris- 
 tian manner, to forget. And, let me tell 3-ou, it was no small 
 mark of goodness in a woman of her haught}- disposition, who, 
 as a rule, never forgave anj'body, for my sake to give up her 
 hostilitj' to Miss Brady, and to receive her kindly. For, like a 
 mad boy as I was, it was Nora I was always raving about and 
 asking for ; I would only accept medicines from her hand, and 
 would look rudely and sulkily upon the good mother, who loved 
 me better than anything else in the world, and gave up even 
 her favorite habits, and proper and becoming jealousies, to 
 make me happy. 
 
 As I got well, I saw that Nora's visits became daiby more 
 rare : " Wiry don't she come? " I would say, peevishly, a dozen 
 times in the day ; in reply to which query, Mrs. Barry would 
 be obliged to make the best excuses she could find,; — such as 
 that Nora had sprained her ankle, or that the}- had quarrelled 
 together, or some other answer to soothe me. And many a 
 time has the good soul left me to go and break her heart in her 
 own room alone, and come back with a smiling face, so that I 
 should know nothing of her mortification. Nor, indeed, did 
 I take much pains to ascertain it : nor should I, I fear, have 
 been very much touched even had I discovered it ; for the 
 commencement of manhood, I think, is the period of our ex- 
 tremest selfishness. We get such a desire then to take wing 
 and leave the parent-nest, that no tears, entreaties, or feelings 
 of affection, will counterbalance this overpowering longing after 
 independence. She must have been very sad, that poor mother 
 of mine — heaven be good to her ! — at that period of my life ; 
 and has often told me since what a pang of the heart it was to 
 
' BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 23 
 
 her to see all her care and affection of years forgotten by me in 
 a minute, and for the sake of a little heartless jilt, who was 
 only playing with me while she could get no better suitor. 
 For the fact is, that during the last four weeks of my illness, 
 no other than Captain Quin was staying at Castle Brady, and 
 making love to Miss Nora in form. My mother did not dare 
 to break this news to me, and } T ou may be sure that Nora 
 herself kept it a secret : it was only by chance that I dis- 
 covered it. 
 
 Shall I tell 3 r ou how? The minx had been to see me one 
 day, as I sat up in my bed. convalescent ; she was in such high 
 spirits, and so gracious and kind to me, that my heart poured 
 over with joy and gladness, and I had even for nry poor mother 
 a kind word and a kiss that morning. I felt n^self so well 
 that I ate up a whole chicken, and promised m} r uncle, who 
 had come to see me, to be ready against partridge-shooting, to 
 accompany him, as my custom was. 
 
 The next da} 7 but one was a Sunday, and I had a project for 
 that day which I determined to realize, in spite of all the doc- 
 tor's and my mother's injunctions : which were that I was on 
 no account to leave the house, for the fresh air would be the 
 death of me. 
 
 Well, I lay wondrous quiet, composing a copy of verses, the 
 first I ever made in my life ; and I give them here, spelt as I 
 spelt them in those days when I knew no better. And though 
 the} 7 are not so polished and elegant as " Ardelia, ease a Love- 
 sick Swain," and " When Sol bedecks the Daisied Mead," and 
 other lyrical effusions of mine which obtained me so much repu- 
 tation in after life, I still think them pretty good for a humble 
 lad of fifteen : — 
 
 THE ROSE OF FLORA. 
 
 SENT BY A YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF QUALITY TO MISS BR — DY OF CASTLE 
 
 BEADY. 
 
 On Brady's tower there grows a flower, 
 
 It is the loveliest flower that blows, — 
 At Castle Brady there lives a lady, 
 
 (And how I love her no one knows) ; 
 Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora 
 
 Presents her with this blooming rose. 
 
 "0 Lady Nora," says the goddess Flora, 
 
 "I've many a rich and bright parterre; 
 In Brady's towers there's seven more flowers, 
 
 But you're the fairest lady there : 
 Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty, 
 
 Can projuice a treasure that's half so fair ! " 
 
24 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 What cheek is redder ? sure roses fed her ! 
 
 Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew 
 Beneath her eyelid is like the vi'let, 
 
 That darkly glistens with gentle .jew! 
 The lily's nature is not surely whiter 
 
 Than Nora's neck is, — and her arrums too. 
 
 " Come, gentle Nora," says the goddess Flora, 
 
 " My dearest creature, take my advice, 
 There is a poet, full well you know it, 
 
 Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs, — 
 Young Redmond Barry, 'tis him you'll marry, 
 
 If rhyme and raisin you'd choose likewise." 
 
 On Sunday, no sooner was my mother gone to church, thaK 
 I summoned Phil the valet, and insisted upon his producing 
 my best suit, in which I arrayed myself (although I found that 
 I had shot up so in my illness that the old dress was wofully 
 too small for me), and, with my notable copy of verses in my 
 hand, ran down towards Castle Brady, bent upon beholding my 
 beauty. The air was so fresh and bright, and the birds sang 
 so loud amidst the green trees, that I felt more elated than I 
 had been for months before, and sprung down the avenue (my 
 uncle had cut down every stick of the trees, by the way) as 
 brisk as a young fawn. My heart began to thump as I mounted 
 the grass-grown steps of the terrace, and passed in by the 
 rickety hall-door. The master and mistress were at church, 
 Mr. Screw the butler told me, (after giving a start back at see- 
 ing my altered appearance, and gaunt, lean figure,) and so were 
 six of the young ladies. 
 
 " Was Miss Nora one?" I asked. 
 
 " No, Miss Nora was not one," said Mr. Screw, assuming a 
 ver}' puzzled, and yet knowing look. 
 
 "Where was she?" To this question he answered, or 
 rather made believe to answer, with usual Irish ingenuity, and 
 left me to settle whether she was gone to Kilwangan on the 
 pillion behind her brother, or whether she and her sister had 
 gone for a walk, or whether she was ill in her room ; and while 
 I was settling this query, Mr. Screw left me abruptly. 
 
 I rushed awa} r to the back court, where the Castle Brady 
 stables stand, and there I found a dragoon whistling the 
 " Roast Beef of Old England," as he cleaned down a cavalry 
 horse. "Whose horse, fellow, is that?" cried I. "Feller, 
 indeed!" replied the Englishman: "the horse belongs to my 
 captain, and he's a better feller nor you any day." 
 
 I did not stop to break his bones, as I would on another 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 25 
 
 occasion, for a horrible suspicion had come across me, and I 
 made for the garden as quickly as I could. 
 
 I knew somehow what I should see there. I saw Captain 
 Quin and Nora pacing the allej' together. Her arm was under 
 his, and the scoundrel was fondling and squeezing the hand 
 which la} 7 closeh' nestling against his odious waistcoat. Some 
 distance beyond them was Captain Fagan of the Kilwangan 
 regiment, who was paying court to Nora's sister Mysie. 
 
 I am not afraid of any man or ghost ; but as I saw that 
 sight my knees fell a-trembling violently under me, and such a 
 sickness came over me, that I was fain to sink down on the 
 grass by a tree against which I leaned, and lost almost all con- 
 sciousness for a minute or two ; then I gathered myself up, 
 and, advancing towards the couple on the walk, loosened the 
 blade of the little silver-hilted hanger I always wore in its 
 scabbard ; for I was resolved to pass it through the bodies of 
 the delinquents, and spit them like two pigeons. I don't tell 
 what feelings else besides those of rage were passing through 
 my mind ; what bitter blank disappointment, what mad wild 
 despair, what a sensation as if the whole world was tumbling 
 from under me : I make no doubt that my reader hath been 
 jilted by the ladies many times, and so bid him recall his own 
 sensations when the shock first fell upon him. 
 
 "No, Norelia," said the Captain (for it was the fashion 
 of those times for lovers to call themselves b}- the most ro- 
 mantic names out of novels), "except for you and four 
 others, I vow before all the gods, my heart has never felt 
 the soft flame ! " 
 
 " Ah ! you men, you men, Eugenio ! " said she (the beast's 
 name was John), "jour passion is not equal to ours. We 
 are like — like some plant I've read of — we bear but one flower 
 and then we die ! " 
 
 " Do you mean you never felt an inclination for another? " 
 said Captain Quin. 
 
 " Never, my Eugenio, but for thee ! How can you ask a 
 blushing nymph such a question?" 
 
 " Darling Norelia ! " said he, raising her hand to his lips. 
 
 I had a knot of cherry-colored ribbons, which she had given 
 me out of her breast, and which somehow I always wore upon 
 me. I pulled these out of my bosom, and flung them in Cap- 
 tain Quin's face, and rushed out with my little sword drawn, 
 shrieking, "She's a liar — she's a liar, Captain Quin! Draw, 
 sir, and defend yourself, if you are a man ! " and with these 
 words I leapt at the monster, and collared him, while Nora 
 
26 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 made the air echo with her screams ; at the sound of which the 
 other captain and Mysie hastened up. 
 
 Although I sprung up like a weed in my illness, and was now 
 nearly attained to my full growth of six feet, yet I was but a 
 lath by the side of the enormous English captain, who had calves 
 and shoulders such as no chairman at Bath ever boasted. He 
 turned very red, and then exceedingly pale at my attack upon 
 him, and slipped back and clutched at his sword — when Nora, 
 in an agony of terror, flung herself round him, screaming, 
 " Eugenio ! Captain Quin, for heaven's sake spare the child — 
 he is but an infant." 
 
 " And ought to be whipped for his impudence," said the 
 captain ; " but never fear, Miss Brady, I shall not touch him : 
 your favorite is safe from me." So saying, he stooped down 
 and picked up the bunch of ribbons which had fallen at Nora's 
 feet, and handing it to her, said in a sarcastic tone, "When 
 ladies make presents to gentlemen, it is time for other gentlemen 
 to retire." 
 
 " Good heavens, Quin ! " cried the girl ; " he is but a boy." 
 
 " I'm a man," roared I, " and will prove it." 
 
 " And don't signifj' any more than my parrot or lap-dog. 
 Mayn't I give a bit of ribbon to my own cousin ? " 
 
 " You are perfectly welcome, miss," continued the captain, 
 " as many' yards as you like." 
 
 " Monster !" exclaimed the dear girl; " 3-our father was a 
 tailor, and you are always thinking of the shop. But I'll have 
 rny revenge, I will ! Reddy, will you see me insulted ? " 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Nora," says I, " I intend to have his blood 
 as sure as my name's Redmond." 
 
 " I'll send for the usher to cane }*ou, little boy," said the 
 captain, regaining his self-possession; " but as for you, miss, 
 I have the honor to wish you a good-day." 
 
 He took off his hat with much ceremony, made a low conge, 
 and was just walking off, when Mick, my cousin, came up, 
 whose ear had likewise been caught by the scream. 
 
 " Hoity — toity ! Jack Quin, what's the matter here ? " says 
 Mick; "Nora in tears, Redmond's ghost here with his sword 
 drawn, and you making a bow? " 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Brad}'," said the Englishman : 
 " I have had enough of Miss Nora, here, and your Irish ways. 
 I ain't used to 'em, sir." 
 
 " Well, well! what is it?" said Mick, good-humoredly (for 
 he owed Quin a great deal of money as it turned out) ; ' ' we'll 
 make you used to our ways, or adopt English ones." 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 27 
 
 " It's not the English way for ladies to have two lovers" 
 (the " Henglish way," as the captain called it), " and so, Mr. 
 Brad}-, I'll thank you to pay me the sum you owe me, and I 
 resign all claims to this young lady. If she has a fancy for 
 schoolboys, let her take 'em, sir." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! Quin, you are joking," said Mick. 
 
 " I never was more in earnest," replied the other. 
 
 " By heaven, then, look to yourself! " shouted Mick. " In- 
 famous seducer ! infernal deceiver ! — you come and wind your 
 toils round this suffering angel here — you win her heart and 
 leave her — and fancj' her brother won't defend her ? Draw 
 this minute, }'ou slave ! and let me cut the wicked heart out of 
 your body ! " 
 
 "This is regular assassination," said Quin, starting back; 
 " there's two on 'em on me at once. Fagan, }*ou won't let 'em 
 murder me?" 
 
 " 'Faith ! " said Captain Fagan, who seemed mightily amused, 
 " you ma} T settle your own quarrel, Captain Quin ; " and coming 
 over to me, whispered, "At him again, you little fellow." 
 
 " As long as Mr. Quin withdraws his claim," said I, "I, of 
 course, do not interfere." 
 
 " I do, sir — I do," said Mr. Quin, more and more flustered. 
 
 " Then defend j'ourself like a man, curse you ! " cried Mick 
 again. " M}sie, lead this poor victim away — Redmond and 
 Fagan will see fair pla} - between us." 
 
 " Well now — I don't — give me time — I'm puzzled — I — 
 I don't know which way to look." 
 
 "Like the donke}- betwixt the two bundles of hay," said 
 Mr. Fagan, dryly, " and there's pretty pickings on either side." 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 IN WHICH I SHOW MYSELF TO BE A MAN OF SPIRIT. 
 
 During this dispute, my cousin Nora did the only thing that 
 a lady, under such circumstances, could do, and fainted in due 
 form. I was in hot altercation with Mick at the time, or I 
 should have, of course, flown to her assistance, but Captain 
 Fagan (a dry sort of fellow this Fagan was) prevented me, 
 saying, " I advise you to leave the young lady to herself, Mas- 
 
28 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ter Redmond, and be sure she will come to." And so indeed, 
 after a while, she did, which has shown me since that Fagan 
 knew the world pretty well, for many's the lady I've seen in 
 after times recover in a similar manner. Quin did not offer to 
 help her, you may be sure, for, in the midst of the diversion, 
 caused by her screaming, the faithless bully stole away. 
 
 " Which of us is Captain Quin to engage? " said I to Mick ; 
 for it was my first affair, and I was as proud of it as of a suit of 
 laced velvet. " Is it you or I, cousin Mick, that is to have the 
 honor of chastising this insolent Englishman ? " And I held 
 out my hand as I spoke, for my heart melted towards my cousin 
 under the triumph of the moment. 
 
 But he rejected the proffered offer of friendship. "You — 
 you ! " said he, in a towering passion ; " hang you for a med- 
 dling brat : your hand is in everybody's pie. What business 
 had 3011 to come brawling and quarrelling here, with a gentle- 
 man who has fifteen hundred a year ? " 
 
 " Oh," gasped Nora, from the stone bench, " I shall die ; 
 I know I shall. I shall never leave this spot." 
 
 "The captain's not gone 3*et," whispered Fagan ; on which 
 Nora, giving him an indignant look, jumped up and walked 
 towards the house. 
 
 " Meanwhile," Mick continued, "what business have you, 
 j T ou meddling rascal, to interfere with a daughter of this 
 house ? " 
 
 " Rascal }*ourself ! " roared I : " call me another such name, 
 Mick Brady, and I'll drive my hanger into your weasand. 
 Recollect, I stood to you when I was eleven years old. I'm 
 } r our match now, and, by Jove, provoke me. and I'll beat 30U 
 like — like 3"our 3'ounger brother always did." That was a 
 home-cut, and I saw Mick turn blue with fury. 
 
 ' ' This is a prett3 r wa3' to recommend 3'ourself to the fain- 
 iby," said Fagan, in a soothing tone. 
 
 " The girl's old enough to be his mother," growled Mick. 
 
 " Old or not," I replied : " you listen to this, Mick Brady " 
 (and I swore a tremendous oath, that need not be put down 
 here) : "the man that marries Nora Bracby must first kill me 
 — do 3 7 ou mind that?" 
 
 "Pooh, sir," said Mick, turning awa3 r , "kill 3'ou — flog 
 you, 3 r ou mean ! I'll send for Nick the huntsman to do it ; " 
 and so he went off. 
 
 Captain Fagan now came up, and, taking me kindly by the 
 hand, said I was a gallant lad, and he liked my spirit. " But 
 what Brady sa3's is true," continued he : " it's a hard thing to 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 29 
 
 give a lad counsel who is in such a far-gone state as you ; but, 
 believe me, I know the world, and if you will but follow my 
 advice, you won't regret having taken it. Nora Brady has not 
 a penny ; you are not a whit richer. You are but fifteen, and 
 she's four-and-twenty. In ten years, when you're old enough 
 to many, she will be an old woman ; and, my poor boy, don't 
 you see — though it's a hard matter to see — that she's a flirt, 
 and does not care a pin for you or Quin either ? " 
 
 But who in love (or in any other point, for the matter of 
 that) listens to advice? I never did, and I told Captain Fagan 
 fairly, that Nora might love me or not, as she liked, but that 
 Quin should fight me before he married her — that I swore. 
 
 " 'Faith," says Fagan, " I think you are a lad that's likely 
 to keep your word ; " and, looking hard at me for a second or 
 two, he walked away likewise, humming a tune : and I saw he 
 looked back at me as he went through the old gate out of the 
 garden. When he was gone, and I was quite alone, I flung 
 myself down on the bench where Nora had made believe to 
 faint, and had left her handkerchief; and, taking it up, hid my 
 face in it, and burst into such a passion of tears, as I would 
 then have had nobody see for the world. The crumpled ribbon 
 which I had flung at Quin la}" in the walk, and I sat there for 
 hours, as wretched as an}" man in Ireland, I believe, for the 
 time being. But it's a changeable world ! When we consider 
 how great our sorrows seem, and how small the}' are ; how we 
 think we shall die of grief, and how quickly we forget, I think 
 we ought to be ashamed of ourselves and our fickle-hearteclness. 
 For, after all, what business has Time to bring us consolation ? 
 I have not, perhaps, in the course of my multifarious adven- 
 tures and experience, hit upon the right woman ; and have 
 forgotten, after a little, every single creature I adored ; but I 
 think, if I could but have lighted on the right one, I would 
 have loved her for ever. 
 
 I must have sat for some hours bemoaning myself on the 
 garden-bench, for it was morning when I came to Castle Brady, 
 and the dinner-bell clanged as usual at three o'clock, which 
 wakened me up from my reverie. Presently I gathered up the 
 handkerchief, and once more took the ribbon. As I passed 
 through the offices, I saw the captain's saddle was still hanging 
 up at the stable-door, and saw his odious red-coated brute of a 
 servant swaggering with the scullion-girls and kitchen-people. 
 "The Englishman's still there, Master Redmond,'' said one of 
 the maids to me (a sentimental black-eyed girl, who waited on 
 the young ladies). " He's there in the parlor, with the sweet- 
 
30 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 est fillet of vale ; go in, and don't let him browbeat you, Master 
 Redmond." 
 
 And in I went, and took my place at the bottom of the big 
 table, as usual, and my friend the butler speedily brought me a 
 cover. 
 
 " Hallo, Redely my boy ! " said my uncle, " up and well? — 
 that's right." 
 
 " He'd better be home with his mother," growled my 
 aunt. 
 
 " Don't mind her," says uncle Brad}' ; " it's the cold goose 
 she ate at breakfast didn't agree with her. Take a glass of 
 spirits, Mrs. Brad}', to Redmond's health." It was evident 
 he did not know of what had happened ; but Mick, who was at 
 dinner too, and Ulick, and almost all the girls, looked exceed- 
 ingly black, and the captain foolish ; and Miss Nora, who was 
 again by his side, ready to cry. Captain Fagan sat smiling ; 
 and I looked on as cold as a stone. I thought the dinner 
 would choke me : but I was determined to put a good face on 
 it, and when the cloth was drawn, filled my glass with the rest ; 
 and we drank the King and the Church, as gentlemen should. 
 My uncle was in high good-humor, and especially always jok- 
 ing with Nora and the captain. It was, "Nora, divide that 
 merry-thought with the captain ! see who'll be married first." 
 "Jack Quin, my dear boy, never mind a clean glass for the 
 claret, we're short of crystal at Castle Brady ; take Nora's and 
 the wine will taste none the worse ; " and so on. He was in 
 the highest glee, — I did not know why. Had there been a 
 reconciliation between the faithless girl and her lover since they 
 had come into the house ? 
 
 I learned the truth very soon. At the third toast, it was 
 always the custom for the ladies to withdraw ; but my uncle 
 stopped them this time, in spite of the remonstrances of Nora, 
 who said, "Oh, pa! do let us go!" and said, "No, Mrs. 
 Brad}' and ladies, if you plaise ; this is a sort of toast that is 
 drunk a great dale too seldom in my family, and you'll please 
 to receive it with all the honors. Here's Captain and Mrs. 
 John Quin, and long life to them. Kiss her, Jack, you rogue : 
 for 'faith you've got a treasure ! " 
 
 " He has already — " I screeched out, springing up. 
 
 "Hold your tongue, you fool — hold your tongue!" said 
 big Ulick, who sat by me ; but I wouldn't hear. 
 
 "He has already," I screamed, "been slapped in the face 
 this morning, Captain John Quin ; he's already been called 
 coward, Captain John Quin ; and this is the way I'll drink his 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 31 
 
 health. Here's your health, Captain John Quin ! " And I 
 flung a glass of claret into his face. I don't know how he 
 looked after it, for the next moment I myself was under the 
 table, tripped up by Ulick, who hit me a violent cuff' on the 
 head as I went down ; and I had hardly leisure to hear the gen- 
 eral screaming and skurrying that was taking place above me, 
 being so fully occupied with kicks, and thumps, and curses, 
 with which Ulick was belaboring me. "You fool!" roared 
 he — "you great blundering marplot — you silly beggarly 
 brat" (a thump at each), "hold your tongue!" These 
 blows from Ulick, of course, I did not care for, for he had 
 always been my friend, and had been in the habit of thrashing 
 me all my life. 
 
 When I got from under the table all the ladies were gone ; 
 and I had the satisfaction of seeing the captain's nose was bleed- 
 ing, as mine was — fits was cut across the bridge, and his beauty 
 spoiled for ever. Ulick shook himself, sat down quietly, filled 
 a bumper, and pushed the bottle to me. "There, you young 
 donkey," said he, "sup that; and let's hear no more of }*our 
 braying." 
 
 " In heaven's name, what does all the row mean? " says my 
 uncle. " Is the boy in the fever again?" 
 
 " It's all your fault," said Mick, sulkily : "yours and those 
 who brought him here." 
 
 "Hold j'our noise, Mick!" says Ulick, turning on him; 
 " speak civil of my father and me, and don't let me be called 
 upon to teach }'ou manners." 
 
 "It is your fault," repeated Mick. "What business has 
 the vagabond here? If I had nry will, I'd have him flogged 
 and turned out." 
 
 " And so he should be," said Captain Quin. 
 
 " You'd best not try it, Quin," said Ulick, who was always 
 my champion; and, turning to his father, "The fact is, sir, 
 that the young monkey has fallen in love with Nora, and find- 
 ing her and the captain might} - sweet in the garden to-day, he 
 was for murdering Jack Quin." 
 
 "Gad, he's beginning young," said my uncle, quite good- 
 humoredly. "'Faith, Fagan, that boy's a Brady, every inch 
 of him." 
 
 "And I'll tell you what, Mr. B." cried Quin, bristling up: 
 "I've been insulted grossly in this 'ouse. I ain't at all satis- 
 fied with these here waj's of going on. I'm an Englishman I 
 am, and a man of property ; and I — I — " 
 
 "If you're insulted, and not satisfied, remember there's two 
 
32 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of us, Quin," said Ulick gruffly. On which the captain fell to 
 washing his nose in water, and answered never a word. 
 
 " Mr. Quin," said I, in the most dignified tone I could as- 
 sume, " may also have satisfaction any time he pleases, hy call- 
 ing on Redmond Bany, Esquire, of Barryville." At which 
 speech my uncle burst out a-laughing (as he did at ever} - - 
 thing) ; and in this laugh, Captain Fagan, much to my morti- 
 fication, joined. I turned rather smartly upon him, however, 
 and bade him to understand that as for my cousin Ulick, who 
 had been my best friend through life, I could put up with rough 
 treatment from him ; yet, though I was a boy, even that sort 
 of treatment I would bear from him no longer ; and an}- other 
 person who ventured on the like would find me a man, to their 
 cost. " Mr. Quin," I added, " knows that fact very well ; and 
 if he's a man, he'll know where to find me." 
 
 My uncle now observed that it was getting late, and that 
 my mother would be anxious about me. "One of you had 
 better go home with him," said he, turning to his sons, " or 
 the lad may be pla}'ing more pranks." But Ulick said, with a 
 nod to his brother, " Both of us ride home with Quin here." 
 
 " I'm not afraid of Freny's people," said the captain, 
 with a faint attempt at a laugh; "my man is armed, and 
 so am I." 
 
 " You know the use of arms very well, Quin," said Ulick ; 
 " and no one can doubt your courage ; but Mick and I will see 
 you home for all that." 
 
 " Why, .you'll not be home till morning, boj-s. Kilwangan's 
 a good ten mile from here." 
 
 " We'll sleep at Quin's quarters," replied Ulick : " we're going 
 to stop a week there." 
 
 "Thank }'ou," says Quin, very faint; "it's very kind of 
 you." 
 
 " You'll be lonely, you know, without us." 
 
 " O j'es, very lonely ! " says Quin. 
 
 "And in another week, nvy boy," sa}-s Ulick (and here he 
 whispered something in the captain's ear, in which I thought I 
 caught the word "marriage," "parson," and felt all my fury 
 returning again). 
 
 "As you please," whined out the captain; and the horses 
 were quickly brought round, and the three gentlemen rode 
 away. 
 
 Fagan stopped, and, at my uncle's injunction, walked across 
 the old treeless park with me. He said that after the quarrel 
 at dinner, he thought I would scarcely want to see the ladies 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 33 
 
 that night, in which opinion I concurred entirely ; and so we 
 went off without an adieu. 
 
 " A pretty day's work of it 3*ou have made, Master Red- 
 mond," said he. '-What! 3*011 a friend to the Bradys, and 
 knowing your uncle to be distressed for money, try and break 
 off a match which will bring fifteen hundred a 3'ear into the 
 family? Quin has promised to pa) T off the four thousand 
 pounds which is bothering your uncle so. He takes a girl 
 without a penny — a girl with no more beauty than yonder 
 bullock. Well, well, don't look furious ; let's say she is hand- 
 some — there's no accounting for tastes, — a girl that has been 
 flinging herself at the head of every man in these parts these 
 ten 3'ears past, and missmg the in all. And you, as poor as 
 herself, a D03' of fifteen — well, sixteen, if j'ou insist — and 
 a boy who ought to be attached to your uncle as to 3'our 
 father—" 
 
 " And so I am," said I. 
 
 "And this is the return 3*011 make him for his kindness! 
 Didn't he harbor you in his house when 3*ou were an orphan, 
 and hasn't he given you rent-free 3'our fine mansion of Barry - 
 ville 3*onder? And now, when his affairs can be put into order, 
 and a chance offers for his old age to be made comfortable, who 
 flings himself in the way of him and competence ? — You, of 
 all others ; the man in the world most obliged to him. It's 
 wicked, ungrateful, unnatural. From a lad of such spirit as 
 vou are, I expect a truer courage." 
 
 " 1 am not afraid of way man alive," exclaimed I (for this 
 latter part of the captain's argument had rather staggered me, 
 and I wished, of course, to turn it — as one alwa3 - s should 
 when the enemy's too strong) ; " and it's /am the injured man, 
 Captain Fagan. No man was ever, since the world began, 
 treated so. Look here — look at this ribbon. I've worn it in 
 my heart for six months. I've had it there all the time of 
 the fever. Didn't Nora take it out of her own bosom and give 
 it me? Didn't she kiss me when she gave it me, and call me 
 her darling Redmond ? " 
 
 " She was practising" replied Mr. Fagan, with a sneer. " I 
 know women, sir. Give them time, and let nobod3 T else come 
 to the house, and they'll fall in love with a chimne3'-sweep. 
 There was a 3*oung lad3* in Fermoy — " 
 
 "A 3'oung lady in flames," roared I (but I used a still 
 hotter word). "Mark this: come what will of it, I swear 
 I'll fight the man who pretends to the hand of Nora Brad3% I'll 
 follow him, if it's into the church, and meet him there. I'll 
 
 3 
 
34 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 have his blood, or he shall have mine ; and this ribbon shall be 
 found dyed in it. Yes ! and if I kill him, I'll pin it on his 
 breast, and then she may go and take back her token." This 
 I said because I was very much excited at the time, and 
 because I had not read novels and romantic plays for 
 nothing. 
 
 " Well," says Fagan after a pause, " if it must be, it must. 
 For a young fellow, you are the most bloodthirsty I ever saw. 
 Quin's a determined fellow, too." 
 
 ' k Will 3*011 take my message to him?" said I, quite eagerly. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Fagan : " your mother may be on the look- 
 out. Here we are, close to Barryville." 
 
 " Mind ! not a word to my mother," I said ; and wont into 
 the house swelling with pride and exultation to think that I 
 should have a chance against the Englishman I hated so. 
 
 Tim, m} r servant, had come up from Barryville on my 
 mother's return from church ; for the good lady was rather 
 alarmed at my absence, and anxious for m}* return. But he 
 had seen me go in to dinner, at the invitation of the sentimental 
 lady's-maid ; and when he had had his own share of the good 
 things in the kitchen, which was always better furnished than 
 ours at home, had walked back again to inform his mistress 
 where I was, and, no doubt, to tell her, in his own fashion, of 
 all the events that had happened at Castle Brady. In spite 
 of my precautions to secrecy, then, I half suspected that my 
 mother knew all, from the manner in which she embraced me 
 on my arrival, and received our guest, Captain Fagan. The 
 poor soul looked a little anxious and flushed, and every now 
 and then gazed very hard in the captain's face ; but she said 
 not a word about the quarrel, for she had a noble spirit, and 
 would as lief have seen an}* one of her kindred hanged as shirk- 
 ing from the field of honor. What has become of those gallant 
 feelings now-a-days? Sixty 3'ears ago a man was a man, in old 
 Ireland, and the sword that was worn by his side was at the 
 service of any gentleman's gizzard, upon the slightest differ- 
 ence. But the good old times and usages are fast fading awaj*. 
 One scarcely ever hears of a fair meeting now, and the use of 
 those cowardly pistols, in place of the honorable and manly 
 weapon of gentlemen, has introduced a deal of knavery into 
 the practice of duelling, that cannot be sufficiently deplored. 
 
 When I arrived at home I felt that I was a man in earnest, 
 and welcoming Captain Fagan to Barryville, and introducing him 
 to my mother, in a majestic and dignified wa}*, said the captain 
 must be thirsty after his walk, and called upon Tim to bring 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 35 
 
 up a bottle of the yellow-sealed Bordeaux, and cakes and 
 glasses, immediately. 
 
 Tim looked at the mistress in great wonderment : and the 
 fact is, that six hours previous I would as soon have thought of 
 burning the house down as calling for a bottle of claret on my 
 own account ; but I felt I was a man now, and had a right to 
 command ; and my mother felt this too, for she turned to the 
 fellow and said, sharply, " Don't you hear, 3'ou rascal, what 
 your master says ! Go, get the wine, and the cakes and glasses, 
 directly." Then (for you may be sure she did not give Tim 
 the keys of our little cellar) , she went and got the liquor her- 
 self ; and Tim brought it in, on the silver tray, in due form. 
 My dear mother poured out the wine, and drank the captain 
 welcome ; but I observed her hand shook very much as she 
 performed this courteous dut}\ and the bottle went clink, clink, 
 against the glass. When she had tasted her glass, she said 
 she had a headache, and would go to bed ; and so I asked her 
 blessing, as becomes a dutiful son — (the modern bloods have 
 given up the respectful ceremonies which distinguished a gentle- 
 man in my time) — and she left me and Captain Fagan to talk 
 over our important business. 
 
 "Indeed," said the captain, "I see now no other way out 
 of the scrape than a meeting. The fact is, there was a talk of 
 it at Castle Brad}-, after your attack upon Quin this afternoon, 
 and he vowed that he would cut 3*011 in pieces ; but the tears 
 and supplications of Miss Honoria induced him, though very 
 unwillingly, to relent. Now, however, matters have gone too 
 far. No officer, bearing his Majesty's commission, can receive 
 a glass of wine on his nose — this claret of 3'ours is very good, 
 by the way, and by your leave we'll ring for another bottle — 
 without resenting the affront. Fight you must ; and Quin is a 
 huge strong fellow." 
 
 " He'll give the better mark," said I. "lam not afraid of 
 him." 
 
 " In faith," said the captain, " I believe you are not ; for a 
 lad, I never saw more game in n^ life." 
 
 "Look at that sword, sir," sa3's I, pointing to an elegant 
 silver-mounted one, in a white shagreen case, that hung on the 
 mantel-piece, under the picture of ni}' father, Hany Barr}\ 
 " It was with that sword, sir, that 1213- father pinked Mohawk 
 O'Driscol, in Dublin, in the 3 T ear 1740: with that sword, sir, 
 he met Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone, the Hampshire baronet, 
 and ran him through the neck. The3 r met on horseback, with 
 sword and pistol, on Hounslow Heath, as I dare say 3'ou have 
 
36 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 heard tell of, and those are the pistols " (they hung on each 
 side of the picture) "which the gallant Barry used. He was 
 quite in the wrong, having insulted Lady Fuddlestone, when in 
 liquor, at the Brentford assembly. But like a gentleman, he 
 scorned to apologize, and Sir Hnddlestone received a ball 
 through his hat, before they engaged with the sword. I am 
 Harry Barry's sou, sir, and will act as becomes my name and 
 my quality." 
 
 " Give me a kiss, my dear boy," said Fagan, with tears in 
 his eyes. "You're after my own soul. As long as Jack 
 Fagan lives you shall never want a friend or a second." 
 
 Poor fellow ! he was shot six months afterwards, carrying 
 orders to my Lord George Sackville, at Minden, and I lost 
 thereby a kind friend. But we don't know what is in store for 
 us, and that night was a merry one at least. We had a second 
 bottle, and a third too (I could hear the poor mother going 
 down stairs for each, but she never came into the parlor with 
 them, and sent them in by the butler, Mr. Tim) ; and we parted 
 at length, he engaging to arrange matters with Mr. Quin's 
 second that night, and to bring me news in the morning as to 
 the place where the meeting should take place. I have often 
 thought since, how different my fate might have been, had I 
 not fallen in love with Nora at that early age ; and had I not 
 flung the wine in Quin's face, and so brought on the duel. I 
 might have settled down in Ireland but for that (for Miss 
 Quinlan was an heiress, within twenty miles of us, and Peter 
 Burke, of Kilwangan, left his daughter Judy 700/. a year, and 
 I might have had either of them, had I waited a few years). 
 But it was in my fate to be a wanderer, and that battle with 
 Quin sent me on my travels at a very early age : as you shall 
 hear anon. 
 
 I never slept sounder in my life, though I woke a little 
 earlier than usual ; and you may be sure my first thought was 
 of the event of the day, for which I was fully prepared. I had 
 ink and peu in my room — had I not been writing these verses 
 to Nora but the da}* previous, like a poor fond fool as I was? 
 And now I sat down and wrote a couple of letters more : they 
 might be the last, thought I, that I ever should write in my 
 life. The first was to my mother. "Honored Madam" — I 
 wrote — " This will not be given you unless I fall by the hand 
 of Captain Quin, whom I meet this day in the field of honor, 
 with sword and pistol. If I die, it is as a good Christian and 
 a gentleman, — how should I be otherwise when educated by 
 such a mother as you ? I forgive all my enemies — I beg your 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 37 
 
 blessing, as a dutiful son. I desire that my mare Nora, which 
 my uncle gave me, and which I called after the most faithless 
 of her sex, may be returned to Castle Brady, and beg }-ou will 
 give my silver-hilted hanger to Phil Pureell, the gamekeeper. 
 Present my duty to my uncle and Ulick, and all the girls of 
 my party there. And I remain your dutiful son, — Redmond 
 Barry." 
 
 To Nora I wrote — t ' This letter will be found in my bosom 
 along with the token }-cu gave me. It will be dyed in my 
 blood (unless I have Captain Quin's, whom I hate, but for- 
 give) , and will be a pretty ornament for you on your marriage- 
 day. Wear it, and think of the poor boy to Whom you gave it, 
 and who died (as he was always ready to do) for your sake. — 
 Redmond." 
 
 These letters being written, and sealed with nry father's 
 great silver seal of the Barry arms, I went down to breakfast ; 
 where my mother was waiting for me, you may be sure. We 
 did not saj- a single word about what was taking place : on the 
 contrary, we talked of anything but that ; about who was at 
 church the clay before, and about my wanting new clothes now 
 I was grown so tall. She said I must have a suit against win- 
 ter, if — if — she could afford it. She winced rather at the 
 "if," heaven bless her! I knew what was in her mind. And 
 then she fell to telling me about the black pig that must be 
 killed, and that she had found the speckled hen's nest that 
 morning, whose eggs I liked so, and other such trifling talk. 
 Some of these eggs were for breakfast, and I ate them with a 
 good appetite ; but in helping myself to salt I spilled it, on 
 which she started up with a scream. " Thank God" said she, 
 " it's fallen towards me." And then, her heart being too full, 
 she left the room. Ah ! the}' have their faults, those mothers ; 
 but are there any other women like them? 
 
 When she was gone I went to take down the sword with 
 which my father had vanquished the Hampshire baronet, and 
 would you believe it ? — the brave woman had tied a new ribbon 
 to the hilt : for indeed she had the courage of a lioness and a 
 Brad}- united. And then I took down the pistols, which were 
 always kept bright and well oiled, and put some fresh flints I 
 had into the locks, and got balls and powder ready against the 
 captain should come. There was claret and a cold fowl put 
 ready for him on the sideboard, and a case-bottle of old brandy 
 too, with a couple of little glasses on the silver tray with the 
 Barry arms emblazoned. In after life, and in the midst of my 
 fortune and splendor, I paid thirty-five guineas, and almost as 
 
38 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 much more interest, to the London goldsmith who supplied my 
 father with that very tray. A scoundrel pawnbroker would 
 only give me sixteen for it afterwards ; so little can we trust 
 the honor of rascally tradesmen ! 
 
 At eleven o'clock Captain Fagan arrived, on horseback, with 
 a mounted dragoon after him. He paid his compliments to the 
 collation which ni}' mother's care had provided for him, and 
 then said, " Look ye, Redmond my boy: this is a silly busi- 
 ness. The girl will marry Quill, mark my words ; and as sure 
 as she does 3011'H forget her. You are but a boy. Quin is 
 willing to consider you as such. Dublin's a fine place, and if 
 you have a mind to take a ride thither and see the town for a 
 month, here are tvvent}- guineas at your service. Make Quin 
 an apology, and be off." 
 
 "A man of honor, Mr. Fagan," says I, " dies, but never 
 apologizes. I'll see the captain hanged before I apologize." 
 
 " Then there's nothing for it but a meeting." 
 
 "My mare is saddled and ready," says I; " where's the 
 meeting, and who's the captain's second ? " 
 
 "Your cousins go out with him," answered Mr. Fagan. 
 
 " I'll ring for my groom to bring my mare round," I said, 
 " as soon as 3011 have rested yourself." Tim was accordingly 
 despatched for Nora, and I rode away, but I didn't take leave 
 of Mrs. Barry. The curtains of her bedroom windows were 
 down, and they didn't move as we mounted and trotted off. . . . 
 But two hours afterwards, you should have seen her as she came 
 tottering down stairs, and heard the scream which she gave as 
 she hugged her boy to her heart, quite unharmed and without a 
 wound in his bod}'. 
 
 What had taken place I ma}- as well tell here. When we 
 got to the ground, Ulick, Mick, and the captain were already 
 there : Quin, flaming in red regimentals, as big a monster as 
 ever led a grenadier company. The party were laughing to- 
 gether at some joke of one or the other: and I must say I 
 thought this laughter xexy unbecoming in my cousins, who were 
 met, perhaps, to see the death of one of their kindred. 
 
 " I hope to spoil this sport," says I to Captain Fagan, in a 
 great rage, " and trust to see this sword of mine in yonder big 
 bully's body." 
 
 " Oh ! it's with pistols we fight," replied Mr. Fagan. " Yo. 
 are no match for Quin with the sword." 
 
 " I'll match any man with the sword," said I. 
 
 ' ' But swords are to-day impossible ; Captain Quin is — is 
 lame. He knocked his knee against the swinging park-gate 
 
BARRY LYNDON", ESQ. 39 
 
 last night, as he was riding home, and can scarce move it 
 now." 
 
 " Not against Castle Brady gate," saj-s I, " that has been off 
 the hinges these ten years." On which Fagan said it must have 
 been some other gate, and repeated what he had said to Mr. 
 Quin and nry cousins, when, on alighting from our horses, we 
 joined and saluted those gentlemen. 
 
 " Oh yes ! dead lame," said Ulick, coming to shake me by 
 the hand, while Captain Quin took off his hat and turned ex- 
 treme^" red. "And very luck}' for you, Redmond my boy," 
 continued Ulick ; " you were a dead man else ; for he's a devil 
 of a fellow — isn't he, Fagan ? " 
 
 " A regular Turk," answered Fagan ; adding, ''I never yet 
 knew the man who stood to Captain Quin." 
 
 "Hang the business!" said Ulick; "I hate it. Fm 
 ashamed of it. Say you're sorry, Redmond : you can easily 
 say that." 
 
 "If the .young feller will go to Dubling, as proposed — " 
 here interposed Mr. Quin. 
 
 " I am not sorry — I'll not apologize — and I'll as soon go 
 to Dubling as to ! " said I, with a stamp of my foot. 
 
 "There's nothing else for it," said Ulick with a laugh to 
 Fagan. "Take jxmr ground, Fagan, — twelve paces, I sup- 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Ten, sir," said Mr. Quin, in a big voice ; " and make them 
 short ones, do you hear, Captain Fagan?" 
 
 "Don't bully, Mr. Quin," said Ulick, surlily ; "here are 
 the pistols." And he added, with some emotion, to me, " God 
 bless you, my boy ; and when I count three, fire." 
 
 Mr. Fagan put my pistol into my hand, — that is, not one 
 of mine (which were to serve, if need were, for the next round) 
 but one of Ulick's. " They are all right," said he. "Never 
 fear: and, Redmond, fire at his neck — hit him there under 
 the gorget. See how the fool shows himself open." 
 
 Mick, who had never spoken a word, Ulick, and the captain 
 retired to one side, and Ulick gave the signal. It was slowly 
 given, and I had leisure to cover my man well. I saw him 
 changing color and trembling as the numbers were given. At 
 " three," both our pistols went off. I heard something whiz by 
 me, and my antagonist giving the most horrible groan, stag- 
 gered backwards and fell. 
 
 " He's down — he's down ! " cried the seconds, running to- 
 wards him. Ulick lifted him up — Mick took his head. 
 
 " He's hit here, in the neck," said Mick ; and laying open 
 
40 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 his coat, Wood was seen gurgling from under his gorget, at 
 the very spot at which I aimed. 
 
 "How is it with you?" said Ulick. "Is he really hit?" 
 said he, looking hard at him. The unfortunate man did not 
 answer, but when the support of Ulick's arm was withdrawn 
 from his back, groaned once more, and fell backwards. 
 
 " The young fellow has begun well," said Mick, with a 
 scowl. "You had better ride off, young sir, before the police 
 are up. They had wind of the business before we left Kil- 
 wangan." 
 
 " Is he quite dead?" said I. 
 
 " Quite dead," answered Mick. 
 
 "Then the world's rid of a coward" said Captain Fagan, 
 giving the huge prostrate body a scornful kick with his foot. 
 "It's all over with him, Reddy, — he doesn't stir." 
 
 " We are not cowards, Fagan," said Ulick, roughly, " what- 
 ever he was ! Let's get the boy off as quick as we may. Your 
 man shall go for a cart, and take away the body of this unhappy 
 gentleman. This has been a sad day's work for our family, 
 Redmond Barry : you have robbed us of 1500/. a year." 
 
 "It was Nora did it," said I; "not I." And I took the 
 ribbon she gave me out of ni}' waistcoat, and the letter, and 
 flung them clown on the body of Captain Quin. "There!" 
 says I — "take her those ribbons. She'll know what they 
 mean : and that's all that's left to her of two lovers she had and 
 ruined." 
 
 I did not feel an}- horror or fear, young as I was, in seeing 
 my enemy prostrate before me ; for I knew that I had met and 
 conquered him honorably in the field, as became a man of my 
 name and blood. 
 
 " And now, in heaven's name, get the youngster out of the 
 way," said Mick. 
 
 Ulick said he would ride with me, and off according^ we 
 galloped, never drawing bridle till we come to my mother's 
 door. When there, Ulick told Tim to feed my mare, as I 
 would have far to ride that day ; and I was in the poor mother's 
 arms in a minute. 
 
 I need not tell how great were her pride and exultation when 
 she heard from Ulick's lips the account of my behavior at the 
 duel. He urged, however, that I should go into hiding for a 
 short time ; and it was agreed between them that I should drop 
 my name of Barry, and, taking that of Redmond, go to Dublin, 
 and there wait until matters were blown over. This arrange- 
 ment was not come to without some discussion ; for why should 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 41 
 
 I not be as safe at Bariyville, she said, as my cousin and Ulick 
 at Castle Brady ? — bailiffs and duns never got near them ; why 
 should constables be enabled to come upon me? lut Ulick 
 persisted in the necessity of my instant departure ; in which argu- 
 ment, as I was anxious to see the world, I must confess, I sided 
 with him ; and my mother was brought to see that in our small 
 house at Bariyville, in the midst of the village, and with the 
 guard but of a couple of servants, escape would be impossible. 
 So the kind soul was forced to yield to my cousin's entreaties, 
 who promised her, however, that the affair would soon be ar- 
 ranged, and that I should be restored to her. Ah ! how little 
 did he know what fortune was in store for me ! 
 
 My dear mother had some forebodings, I think, that our 
 separation was to be a long one ; for she told me that all night 
 long she had been consulting the cards regarding my fate in 
 the duel ; and that all the signs betokened a separation ; then, 
 taking out a stocking from her escritoire, the kind soul put 
 twent}' guineas in a purse for me (she had herself but twenty- 
 five), and made up a little valise, to be placed at the back of 
 my mare, in which were rery clothes, linen, and a silver dress- 
 ing-case of my father's. She bade me, too, to keep the sword 
 and the pistols I had known to use so like a man. She hurried 
 my departure now, (though her heart, I know, was full,) and 
 almost in half an hour after my arrival at home I was once more 
 on the road again, with the wide world as it were before me. 
 I need not tell how Tim and the cook cried at my departure ; 
 and, mayhap, I had a tear or two nvyself in nvy eyes ; but no 
 lad of sixteen is very sad who has liberty for the first time, and 
 twent}' guineas in his pocket : and I rode awa} 7 , thinking, I 
 confess, not so much of the kind mother left alone, and of the 
 home behind me, as of to-morrow, and all the wonders it would 
 bring. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I MAKE A FALSE START IN THE GENTEEL WORLD. 
 
 I rode that night as far as Carlow, where I la} r at the best 
 inn ; and being asked what was my name by the landlord of 
 the house, gave it as Mr. Redmond, according to my cousin's 
 instructions, and said I was of the Redmonds of Waterford 
 count}-, and was on my road to Trinity College, Dublin, to be 
 
42 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 educated there. Seeing my handsome appearance, silver-hilted 
 sword, and well-filled valise, my landlord made free to send up 
 a jug of claret without my asking; and charged, you may be 
 sure, pretty handsomely for it in the bill. No gentleman in those 
 good old days went to bed without a good share of liquor to set 
 him sleeping, and on this my first day's entrance into the world, 
 I made a point to act the fine gentleman completely ; and, I 
 assure you, succeeded in my part to admiration. The excite- 
 ment of the events of the day, the quitting my home, the meet- 
 ing with Captain Quin, were enough to set my brains in a 
 whirl, without the claret ; which served to finish me completely. 
 I did not dream of the death of Quin, as some milksops, per- 
 haps, would have done ; indeed, I have never had any of that 
 foolish remorse consequent upon any of my atfairs of honor : 
 always considering, from the first, that where a gentleman risks 
 his own life in manly combat, he is a fool to be ashamed be- 
 cause he wins. I slept at Carlow as sound as man could sleep ; 
 drank a tankard of small beer and a toast to my breakfast ; and 
 exchanged the first of my gold pieces to settle the bill, not for- 
 getting to pay all the servants liberally, and as a gentleman 
 should. I began so the first da}* of my life, and so have con- 
 tinued. No man has been at greater straits than I, and has 
 borne more pinching poverty and hardship ; but nobody can 
 say of me that, if I had a guinea, I was not free-handed with 
 it, and did not spend it as well as a lord could do. 
 
 I had no doubts of the future : thinking that a man of my per- 
 son, parts, and courage, could make his way anywhere. Besides, 
 I had twenty gold guineas in my pocket ; a sum which (although 
 I was mistaken) I calculated would last me for four months at 
 least, during which time something would be done towards the 
 making of my fortune. So I rode on, singing to myself, or 
 chatting with the passers-by ; and all the girls along the road 
 said God save me for a clever gentleman ! As for Nora and 
 Castle Brady, between to-day and yesterday there seemed to 
 be a gap as of half a score of }-ears. I vowed I would never 
 re-enter the place but as a great man ; and I kept my vow too, 
 as you shall hear in due time. 
 
 There was much more liveliness and bustle on the king's 
 high-road in those times, than in these days of stage-coaches, 
 which carry 3011 from one end of the kingdom to another in a 
 few score hours. The gentr} T rode their own horses or drove 
 in their own coaches, and spent three days on a journej' which 
 now occupies ten hours ; so that there was no lack of company 
 for a person travelling towards Dublin. I made part of the 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 43 
 
 journey from Carlow towards Naas with a well-armed gentle- 
 man from Kilkenny, dressed in green and a gold cord, with a 
 patch on his eye, and riding a powerful mare. He asked me 
 the question of the da}*, and whither I was bound, and whether 
 my mother was not afraid on account of the highwaymen to let 
 one so young as nvyself to travel? But 1 said, pulling out one 
 of them from a holster, that I had a pair of good pistols that 
 had already done execution, and were ready to do it again ; 
 and here, a pock-marked man coming up, he put spurs into his 
 bay mare and left me. She was a much more powerful animal 
 than mine ; and, besides, I did not wish to fatigue my horse, 
 wishing to enter Dublin that night, and in reputable condition. 
 
 As I rode toward Kilcullen, I saw a crowd of the peasant- 
 people assembled round a one-horse chair, and my friend in 
 green, as I thought, making off half a mile up the hill. A foot- 
 man was howling " Stop thief! " at the top of his voice ; but 
 the country fellows were only laughing at his distress, and 
 making all sorts of jokes at the adventure which had just be- 
 fallen. 
 
 " Sure 3*011 might have kept him off with the blunderiwsA / " 
 says one fellow. 
 
 "Oh, the coward ! to let the captain bate you ; and he only 
 one eye ! " cries another. 
 
 "The next time my lady travels, she'd better lave you at 
 home ! " said a third. 
 
 " What is this noise, fellows?" said I, riding up amongst 
 them, and, seeing a lady in the carriage very pale and fright- 
 ened, gave a slash of my whip, and bade the red-shanked 
 ruffians keep off. "What has happened, madam, to annoy 
 your ladyship?" I said, pulling off my hat, and bringing my 
 mare up in a prance to the chair-window. 
 
 The lady explained. She was the wife of Captain Fitz- 
 simons, and was hastening to join the captain at Dublin. Her 
 chair had been stopped by a highwayman : the great oaf of a 
 servant-man had fallen down on his knees armed as he was ; 
 and though there were thirty people in the next field working 
 when the ruffian attacked her, not one of them would help her ; 
 but, on the contran*, wished the captain, as they called the 
 highwayman, good luck. 
 
 - Sure he's the friend of the poor," said one fellow, "and 
 good luck to him ! " 
 
 "Was it any business of ours?" asked another. And 
 another told, grinning, that it was the famous Captain Freny, 
 who, having bribed the jury to acquit him two days back at 
 
44 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Kilkenn}- assizes, had mounted bis horse at the gaol door, and 
 the very next day had robbed two barristers who were going 
 the circuit. 
 
 I told this pack of rascals to be off to their work, or they 
 should taste of my thong, and proceeded, as well as I could, to 
 comfort Mrs. Fitzsimons under her misfortunes. " Had she 
 lost much?" " Everything: her purse, containing upwards of 
 a hundred guineas ; her jewels, snuff-boxes, watches, and a 
 pair of diamond shoe-buckles of the captain's." These mishaps 
 I sincerely commiserated ; and knowing her by her accent to 
 be an Englishwoman, deplored the difference that existed 
 between the two countries, and said that in our country (mean- 
 ing England) such atrocities were unknown. 
 
 " You, too, are an Englishman ? " said she, with rather a 
 tone of surprise. On which I said I was proud to be such : as, 
 in fact, I was ; and I never knew a true Tory gentleman of 
 Ireland who did not wish he could sa}* as much. 
 
 I rode by Mrs. Fitzsimons's chair all the way to Naas ; and, 
 as she had been robbed of her purse, asked permission to lend 
 her a couple of pieces to pay her expenses at the inn : which sum 
 she was graciously pleased to accept, and was, at' the same time, 
 kind enough to invite me to share her dinner. To the lady's 
 questions regarding my birth and parentage, I replied that I 
 was a young gentleman of large fortune (this was not true ; but 
 what is the use of crying bad fish ? My dear mother instructed 
 me early in this sort of prudence,) and good faruilj - in the county 
 of Waterford ; that 1 was going to Dublin for my studies, and 
 that my mother allowed me five hundred per annum. Mrs. 
 Fitzsimons was equally communicative. She was the daughter 
 of General Granby Somerset, of Worcestershire, of whom, of 
 course I had heard (and though I had not, of course I was too 
 well-bred to sa}'so) ; and had made, as she must confess, a run- 
 away match with Ensign Fitzgerald Fitzsimons. Had I been in 
 Donegal ? — No ! That was a pity. The captain's father pos- 
 sesses a hundred thousand acres there, and Fitzsimonsburgh 
 Castle's the finest mansion in Ireland. Captain Fitzsimons is 
 the eldest son ; and, though he has quarrelled with his father, 
 must inherit the vast property. She went on to tell me about 
 the balls at Dublin, the banquets at the Castle, the horse-races 
 at the Phoenix, the ridottos and routs, until I became quite eager 
 to join in those pleasures ; and I only felt grieved to think that 
 my position would render secrecy necessary, and prevent me 
 from being presented at the court, of which the Fitzsimonses 
 were the most elegant ornaments. How different was her 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 45 
 
 lively rattle to that of the vulgar wenches at the Kilwangan 
 assemblies. In every sentence she mentioned a lord or a person 
 of quality. She evidently spoke French and Italian, of the 
 former of which languages I have said I knew a few words ; 
 and, as for her English accent, wiry, perhaps I was no judge of 
 that, for, to say the truth, she was the first real English person 
 I had ever met. She recommended me, farther, to be very 
 cautious with regard to the company I should meet at Dublin, 
 where rogues and adventurers of all countries abounded ; and 
 my delight and gratitude to her may be imagined, when, as our 
 conversation grew more intimate (as we sat over our dessert), 
 she kindly offered to accommodate me with lodgings in her own 
 house, where her Fitzsimons, she said, would welcome with 
 delight her gallant young preserver. 
 
 '•Indeed, madam," said I, "I have preserved nothing for 
 you." Which was perfectly true ; for had I not come up too 
 late after the robbery to prevent the highwayman from carrying 
 off her mone}' and pearls ? 
 
 "And sure, ma'am, them wasn't much," said Sullivan, the 
 blundering servant, who had been so frightened at Freny's 
 approach, and was waiting on us at dinner. " Didn't he return 
 you the thirteen-pence in copper, and the watch, saying it was 
 only pinchbeck ? " 
 
 But his lady rebuked him for a saucy varlet, and turned him 
 out of the room at once, saying to me when he had gone, " that 
 the fool didn't know what was the meaning of a hundred-pound 
 bill, which was in the pocket-book that Freny took from her." 
 
 Perhaps had I been a little older in the world's experience, 
 I should have begun to see that Madam Fitzsimons was not the 
 person of fashion she pretended to be ; but, as it was, I took 
 all her stories for truth, and, when the landlord brought the bill 
 for dinner, paid it with the air of a lord. Indeed, she made no 
 motion to produce the two pieces I had lent to her ; and so we 
 rode on slowly towards Dublin, into which city we made our 
 entrance at nightfall. The rattle and splendor of the coaches, 
 the flare of the linkboj-s, the number and magnificence of the 
 houses, struck me with the greatest wonder ; though I was 
 careful to disguise this feeling, according to vay dear mother's 
 directions, who told me that it was the mark of a man of 
 fashion never to wonder at anj-thing, and never to admit that 
 any house, equipage, or compam' he saw, was more splendid or 
 genteel than what he had been accustomed to at home. 
 
 We stopped, at length, at a house of rather mean appear- 
 ance, and were let into a passage by no means so clean as that 
 
46 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 at Barryville, where there was a great smell of supper and 
 punch. A stout, red-faced man, without a periwig, and in 
 rather a tattered night-gown and cap, made his appearance 
 from the parlor, and embraced his lady (for it was Captain 
 Fitzsimons) with a great deal of cordiality. Indeed, when he 
 saw that a stranger accompanied her, he embraced her more 
 rapturously than ever. In introducing me, she persisted in 
 saying that I was her preserver, and complimented my gallantry 
 as much as if I had killed Freny, instead of coming up when the 
 robbery was over. The captain said he knew the Redmonds of 
 Waterford intimately well ; which assertion alarmed me, as I 
 knew nothing of the family to which I was stated to belong. 
 But I posed him, by asking which of the Redmonds he knew, 
 for I had never heard his name in our family. lie said he 
 knew the Redmonds of Redmondstown. " Oh," says I, " mine 
 are the Redmonds of Castle Redmond ; " and so I put him off 
 the scent. I went to see my nag put up at a livery-stable hard 
 by, with the captain's horse and chair, and returned to my 
 entertainer. 
 
 Although there were the relics of some mutton-chops and 
 onions on a cracked dish before him, the captain said, "My 
 love, I wish I had known of your coming, for Bob Moriarty and 
 I just finished the most delicious venison pasty, which his grace 
 the Lord Lieutenant sent us, with a flask of sillery from his own 
 cellar. You know the wine, nuclear? But as bygones are by- 
 gones, and no help for them, what sa}' ye to a fine lobster and 
 a bottle of as good claret as any in Ireland. Betty, clear these 
 things from the table, and make the mistress and our j'oung 
 friend welcome to our home." 
 
 Not having small change, Mr. Fitzsimons asked me to lend 
 him a tenpenny-piece to purchase the dish of lobsters ; but his 
 lady, handing out one of the guineas I had given her, bade the 
 girl get the change for that, and procure the supper ; which 
 she did presently, bringing back only a very few shillings out 
 of the guinea to her mistress, saying that the fishmonger had 
 kept the remainder for an old account. " And the more great 
 big blundering fool you, for giving the gold piece to him," 
 roared Mr. Fitzsimons. I forget how many hundred guineas 
 he said he had paid the fellow during the }ear. 
 
 Our supper was seasoned, if not by &ny great elegance, at 
 least by a plentiful store of anecdotes, concerning the highest 
 personages of the city ; with whom, according to himself, the 
 captain lived on terms of the utmost intimac}'. Not to be 
 behindhand with him, I spoke of my own estates and property 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 47 
 
 as if I was as rich, as a duke. I told all the stories of the 
 nobility I had ever heard from my mother, and some that, 
 perhaps, I had invented ; and ought to have been aware that 
 my host was an impostor himself, as he did not find out my 
 own blunders and misstatements. But youth is ever too confi- 
 dent. It was some time before I knew that I had made no 
 very desirable acquaintance in Captain Fitzsimons and his 
 lady ; and, indeed, went to bed congratulating myself upon my 
 wonderful good luck in having, at the outset of my adventures, 
 fallen in with so distinguished a couple. 
 
 The appearance of the chamber I occupied might, indeed, 
 have led me to imagine that the heir of Fitzsimonsburgh Castle, 
 county Donegal, was not as }'et reconciled with his wealthy 
 parents ; and, had I been an English lad, probably my suspicion 
 and distrust would have been aroused instantly. But perhaps, 
 as the reader knows, we are not so particular in Ireland on the 
 score of neatness as people are in this precise country ; hence 
 the disorder of my bedchamber did not strike me so much. 
 For were not all the windows broken and stuffed with rags even 
 at Castle Brady, my uncle's superb mansion ? Was there ever 
 a lock to the doors there, or if a lock, a handle to the lock, 
 or a hasp to fasten it to? So, though my bedroom boasted of 
 these inconveniences, and a few more ; though my counterpane 
 was evidently a greased brocade dress of Mrs. Fitzsimons's, and 
 my cracked toilet-glass not much bigger than a half-crown, yet 
 I was used to this sort of ways in Irish houses, and still thought 
 myself in that of a man of fashion. There was no lock to the 
 drawers, which, when they did open, were full of my hostess's 
 rouge-pots, shoes, stays, and rags : so I allowed my wardrobe 
 to remain in my valise, but set out uvy silver dressing-apparatus 
 upon the ragged cloth on the drawers, where it shone to great 
 advantage. 
 
 When Sullivan appeared in the morning, I asked him 
 about my mare, which he informed me was doing well. I 
 then bade him bring me hot shaving- water, in a loud, dig- 
 nified tone. 
 
 "Hot shaving- water ! " says he, bursting out laughing (and 
 I confess not without reason). " Is it yourself you're going to 
 shave?" said he. "And maybe when I bring 3011 up the 
 water I'll bring 3-ou up the cat too, and you can shave her." 
 I flung a boot at the scoundrel's head in reply to this imperti- 
 nence, and was soon with my friends in the parlor for break- 
 fast. There was a hearty welcome, and the same cloth that 
 had been used the night before : as I recognized by the black 
 
48 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 mark of the Irish-stew dish and the stain left by a pot of porter 
 at supper. 
 
 My host greeted me with great cordiality ; Mrs. Fitzsimons 
 said I was an elegant figure for the Phoenix : and indeed, with- 
 out vanity, I may sa} - of myself that there were worse-looking 
 fellows in Dublin than I. I had not the powerful chest and 
 muscular proportion which I have since attained (to be ex- 
 changed, alas ! for gouty legs and chalk-stones in m}' fingers ; 
 but 'tis the way of mortality), but I had arrived at near my 
 present growth of six feet, and with my hair in buckle, a hand- 
 some lace jabot and wristbands to my shirt, and a red plush 
 waistcoat, barred with gold, looked the gentleman I was born. 
 I wore my drab coat with plate buttons, that was grown too 
 small for me, and quite agreed w : ith Captain Fitzsimons that I 
 must pay a visit to his tailor, in order to procure myself a coat 
 more fitting my size. 
 
 "I needn't ask whether j-ou had a comfortable bed," said 
 he. "Young Fred Pimpleton (Lord Pimpleton's second son) 
 slept in it for seven months, during which he did me the honor 
 to sta}- with me, and if he was satisfied, I don't know who else 
 wouldn't be." 
 
 After breakfast we walked out to see the town, and Mr. Fitz- 
 simons introduced me to several of his acquaintances whom we 
 met, as his particular young friend Mr. Redmond, of Waterford 
 county ; he also presented me at his hatter's and tailor's as 
 a gentleman of great expectations and large property ; and 
 although I told the latter that I should not pay him ready cash 
 for more than one coat, which fitted me to a nicety, yet he 
 insisted upon making me several, which I did not care to refuse. 
 The captain, also, who certainly wanted such a renewal of 
 raiment, told the tailor to send him home a handsome military 
 frock, which he selected. 
 
 Then we went home to Mrs. Fitzsimons, who drove out in 
 her chair to the Phoenix Park, where a review was, and where 
 numbers of the 3'oung gentry were round about her ; to all of 
 whom she presented me as her preserver of the day before. 
 Indeed, such was her complimentary account of me, that before 
 half an hour I had got to be considered as a 3'oung gentleman 
 of the highest family in the land, related to all the principal 
 nobility, a cousin of Captain Fitzsimons, and heir to 10,000/. a 
 3-ear. Fitzsimons said he had ridden over every inch of my 
 estate : and 'faith, as he chose to tell these stories for me, I let 
 him have his way — indeed was not a little pleased (as 3'outh is ) 
 to be made much of, and to pass for a great personage. I had 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 49 
 
 little notion then that I had got among a set of impostors — 
 that Captain Fitzsimons was only an adventurer, and his lady 
 a person of no credit ; but such are the dangers to which youth 
 is perpetually subject, and hence let young men take warning 
 by me. 
 
 I purposely hurry over the description of my life in which 
 the incidents were painful, of no great interest except to my 
 unlucky self, and of which my companions were certainly not 
 of a kind befitting my quality. The fact was, a young man 
 could hardly haA-e fallen into worse hands than those in which 
 I now found myself. I have been to Donegal since, and have 
 never seen the famous Castle of Fitzsimonsburgh, which is, 
 likewise, unknown to the oldest inhabitants of that count)' ; 
 nor are the Granby Somersets much better known in Hamp- 
 shire. The couple into whose hands I had fallen were of a sort 
 much more common then than at present, for the vast wars of 
 later days have rendered it very difficult for noblemen's footmen 
 or hangers-on to procure commissions ; and such, in fact, had 
 been the original station of Captain Fitzsimons. Had I known 
 his origin, of course I would have died rather than have asso- 
 ciated with him. But in those simple days of 3011th 1 took his 
 tales for truth, and fancied myself in high luck at being, in my 
 outset into life, introduced into such a family. Alas ! we are 
 the sport of destiny. When I consider upon what small cir- 
 cumstances all the great events of my life have turned, I can 
 hardly believe myself to have been anything but a puppet in 
 the hands of fate ; which has played its most fantastic tricks 
 upon me. 
 
 The captain had been a gentleman's gentleman, and his lady 
 of no higher rank. The society which this worth}' pair kept 
 was at a sort of ordinary which they held, and at which their 
 friends were always welcome on payment of a certain moderate 
 sum for their dinner. After dinner, you may be sure that cards 
 were not wanting, and that the company who played did not 
 play for love merely. To these parties persons of all sorts 
 would come : young bloods from the regiments garrisoned in 
 Dublin ; young clerks from the Castle ; horse-riding, wine- 
 tippling, watchman-beating men of fashion about town, such as 
 existed in Dublin in that day more than in an}' other city with 
 which I am acquainted in Europe. I never knew .young fellows 
 make such a show, and upon such small means. I never knew 
 young gentlemen with what I ma} 7 call such a genius for idle- 
 ness ; and whereas an Englishman with fifty guineas a year 
 is not able to do much more than to starve, and toil like a slave 
 
 4 
 
50 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 in a profession, a young Irish buck with the same sum will keep 
 his horses, and drink his bottle and live as lazy as a lord. Here 
 was a doctor who never had a patient, cheek by jowl with an 
 attorney who never had a client ; neither had a guinea — each 
 had a good horse to ride in the Park, and the best of clothes 
 to his back. A sporting clergj-man without a living ; several 
 young wine-merchants, who consumed much more liquor than 
 they had or sold ; and men of similar character, formed the 
 society at the house into which, by ill luck, 1 was thrown. 
 What could happen to a man but misfortune from associating 
 with such company? — (I have not mentioned the ladies of the 
 society, who were, perhaps, no better than the males) — and in 
 a very, very short time I became their prey. 
 
 As for my poor twenty guineas, in three days I saw, with 
 terror, that they had dwindled down to eight: theatres and 
 taverns having already made such cruel inroads in my purse. 
 At play I had lost, it is true, a couple of pieces ; but seeing 
 that every one round about me pla}ed upon honor and gave 
 their bills, I, of course, preferred that medium to the payment 
 of ready money, and when I lost paid on account. 
 
 With the tailors, saddlers, and others, I employed similar 
 means ; and in so far Mr. Fitzsimons's representation did me 
 good, for the tradesmen took him at his word regarding my 
 fortune (I have since learned that the rascal pigeoned several 
 other young men of property), and for a little time supplied me 
 with an^* goods I might be pleased to order. At length, my 
 cash running low, I was compelled to pawn some of the suits 
 with which the tailor had provided me ; for I did not like to 
 part with m}' mare, on which I daily rode in the Park, and 
 which I loved as the gift of my respected uncle. I raised some 
 little money, too, on a few trinkets which I had purchased of a 
 jeweller who pressed his credit upon me ; and thus was enabled 
 to keep up appearances for yet a little time. 
 
 I asked at the post-office repeatedly for letters for Mr. Red- 
 mond, but none such had arrived ; and, indeed, I always felt 
 rather relieved when the answer of " No" was given to me; 
 for I was not very anxious that my mother should know my 
 proceedings in the extravagant life which I was leading at 
 Dublin. It could not last very long, however ; for when my 
 cash was quite exhausted, and I paid a second visit to the 
 tailor, requesting him to make me more clothes, the fellow 
 hummed and ha'd, and had the impudence to ask payment for 
 those already supplied : on which, telling him I should with- 
 draw my custom from him, I abruptly left him. The goldsmith 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 51 
 
 too (a rascal Jew) declined to let me take a gold chain to which 
 I had a fancj r ; and I felt now, for the first time, in some per- 
 plexity. To add to it, one of the young gentlemen who 
 frequented Mr. Fitzsimons's boarding-house had received from 
 me, in the way of play, an I O U for eighteen pounds (which 
 I lost to him at piquet), and which, owing Mr. Curtail, the 
 livery-stable keeper, a bill, he passed into that person's hands. 
 Fancy my rage and astonishment, then, on going for my mare, 
 to find that he positively refused to let me have her out of the 
 stable, except under payment of my promissory note ! It was 
 in vain that I offered him his choice of four notes that I had 
 in my pocket — one of Fitzsimons's for 20/., one of Counsellor 
 Mulligan's, and so forth ; the dealer, who was a Yorkshireman, 
 shook his head, and laughed at every one of them ; and said, 
 " I tell you what, Master Redmond, you appear a young fellow 
 of birth and fortune, and let me whisper in your ear that you 
 have fallen into very bad hands — it's a regular gang of swin- 
 dlers ; and a gentleman of your rank and quality should never 
 be seen in such company. Go home : pack up your valise, 
 pay the little trifle to me, mount your mare, and ride back 
 again to }*our parents, — it's the very best thing you can 
 do." 
 
 In a pretty nest of villains, indeed, was I plunged ! It 
 seemed as if all my misfortunes were to break on me at once ; 
 for, on going home and ascending to nry bedroom in a discon- 
 solate wa} r , I found the captain and his lady there before me, 
 m}- valise open, my wardrobe lying on the ground, and my keys 
 in the possession of the odious Fitzsimons. " Whom have I 
 been harboring in nry house?" roared he, as I entered the 
 apartment. " Who are you, sirrah?" 
 
 " Sirrah! Sir," said I, " I am as good a gentleman as any 
 in Ireland." 
 
 " You're an impostor, 3 7 oung man : a schemer, a deceiver ! " 
 shouted the captain. 
 
 " Repeat the words again, and I will run you through the 
 body," replied I. 
 
 "Tut, tut! I can play at fencing as well as you, Mr. 
 Redmond Barry. Ah ! you change color, do you — your 
 secret is known, is it? You come like a viper into the bosom 
 of innocent families ; you represent yourself as the heir of 
 my friends the Redmonds of Castle Redmond ; I inthrojuice 
 you to the nobility and genthr\ T of this methropolis " (the cap- 
 tain's brogue was large, and his words, by preference, long) ; 
 " I take you to my tradesmen, who give you credit, and what 
 
52 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 do I find ? That you have pawned the goods which you took 
 up at their houses." 
 
 "I have given them my acceptances, sir," said I with a 
 dignified air. 
 
 " Under what name, unhapp}' boy — under what name?" 
 screamed Mrs. Fitzsimons ; and then, indeed, I remembered 
 that I had signed the documents Barry Redmond instead of 
 Redmond Bany : but what else could I do? Had not my 
 mother desired me to take no other designation ? After utter- 
 ing a furious tirade against me, in which he spoke of the fatal 
 discovery of my real name on my linen — of his misplaced 
 confidence and affection, and the shame with which he should 
 be obliged to meet his fashionable friends and confess that he 
 had harbored a swindler, he gathered up the linen, clothes, 
 silver toilet articles, and the rest of m$ gear, saying that he 
 should step out that moment for an officer and give me up to 
 the just revenge of the law. 
 
 During the first part of his speech, the thought of the im- 
 prudence of which I had been guilt}', and the predicament in 
 which I was plunged, had so puzzled and confounded me, that 
 I had not uttered a word in reply to the fellow's abuse, but had 
 stood quite dumb before him. The sense of danger, however, 
 at once roused me to action. " Hark ye, Mr. Fitzsimons," said 
 I ; " I will tell you why I was obliged to alter my name : which is 
 Barry, and the best name in Ireland. I changed it, sir, because, 
 on the day before I came to Dublin, I killed a man in deadly 
 combat — an Englishman, sir, and a captain in his Majesty's 
 service ; and if you offer to let or hinder me in the slightest 
 way, the same arm which destroyed him is ready to punish you ; 
 and by heaven, sir, you or I don't leave this room alive ! " 
 
 So saying, I drew my sword like lightning, and giving a 
 "ha! ha!" and a stamp with my foot, lunged within an inch 
 of Fitzsimons's heart, who started back and turned deadly pale, 
 while his wife, with a scream, flung herself between us. 
 
 " Dearest Redmond," she cried, " be pacified. Fitzsimons, 
 you don't want the poor child's blood. Let him escape — in 
 heaven's name let him go." 
 
 " He may go hang for me," said Fitzsimons sulkily ; " and 
 he'd better be off quickly, too, for the jeweller and the tailor 
 have called once, and will be here again before long. It was 
 Moses the pawnbroker that peached ; I had the news from him 
 myself." By which I conclude that Mr. Fitzsimons had been 
 with the new-laced frock-coat which he procured from the mer- 
 chant-tailor on the day when the latter first gave me credit. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 53 
 
 What was the end of our conversation ? Where was now a 
 home for the descendant of the Barrys ? Home was shut to me 
 by my misfortune in the duel. I was expelled from Dublin by 
 a persecution occasiouecl, I must confess, by my own impru- 
 dence. I had no time to wait and choose : no place of refuge 
 to fly to. Fitzsimons, after his abuse of me, left the room 
 growling, but not hostile ; his wife insisted that we should shake 
 hands, and he promised not to molest me. Indeed, I owed the 
 fellow nothing ; and, on the contrary, had his acceptance actually 
 in niy pocket for money lost at play. As for m}- friend Mrs. 
 Fitzsimons, she sat down on the bed and fairly burst out crying. 
 She had her faults, but her heart was kind ; and though she 
 possessed but three shillings in the world, and fourpence in 
 copper, the poor soul made me take it before I left her — to go 
 — whither ? My mind was made up : there was a score of re- 
 cruiting-parties in the town beating up for men to join our gal- 
 lant armies in America and German}' ; I knew where to find one 
 of these, having stood by the sergeant at a review in the Phoe- 
 nix Park, where he pointed out to me characters on the field, 
 for which I treated him to drink. 
 
 1 gave one of my shillings to Sullivan the butler of the Fitz- 
 simonses, and, running into the street, hastened to the little ale- 
 house at which nry acquaintance was quartered, and before ten 
 minutes had accepted his Majesty's shilling. I told him frankly 
 that I was a young gentleman in difficulties ; that I had killed an 
 officer in a duel, and was anxious to get out of the country. 
 But I need not have troubled myself with any explanations ; 
 King George was too much in want of men then to heed from 
 whence they came, and a fellow of my inches, the sergeant said, 
 was always welcome. Indeed, I could not, he said, have chosen 
 my time better. A transport was lying at Dunleary, waiting 
 for a wind, and on board that ship, to which I marched that 
 night, I made some surprising discoveries, which shall be told 
 in the next chapter. 
 
54 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN WHICH BARRY TAKES A NEAR VIEW OP MILITARY GLORY. 
 
 I never had a taste for anything but genteel company, and 
 hate all descriptions of low life. Hence my account of the 
 societ}' in which I at present found myself must of necessity be 
 short ; and, indeed, the recollection of it is profoundly disagree- 
 able to me. Pah ! the reminiscences of the horrid black-hole 
 of a place in which we soldiers were confined, of the wretched 
 creatures with whom I was now forced to keep company, of the 
 ploughmen, poachers,. pickpockets, who had taken refuge from 
 poverty, or the law (as, in truth, I had done myself), is enough 
 to make me ashamed even now, and it calls the blush into my 
 old cheeks to think I was ever forced to keep such cornpan}-. 
 I should have fallen into despair, but that, luckily, events 
 occurred to rouse m}- spirits, and in some measure to console 
 me for my misfortunes. 
 
 The first of these consolations I had was a good quarrel, 
 which took place on the day after my entrance into the trans- 
 port-ship, with a huge red-haired monster of a fellow — a chair- 
 man, who had enlisted to fly from a vixen of a wife, who, boxer 
 as he was, had been more than a match for him. As soon as 
 this fellow — Toole, I remember, w r as his name — got away 
 from the arms of the washerwoman his lady, his natural courage 
 and ferocity returned, and he became the tyrant of all round 
 about him. All recruits, especially, were the object of the 
 brute's insult and ill treatment. 
 
 I had no mone}*, as I said, and was sitting very disconso- 
 lateby over a platter of rancid bacon and mould}' biscuit, which 
 was served to us at mess, when it came to my turn to be helped 
 to drink, and I was served, like the rest, with a dirty tin nog- 
 gin, containing somewhat more than half a pint of rum-and- 
 water. The beaker was so greas} r and filtlry that I could not 
 help turning round to the messman and saj-ing, " Fellow, get 
 me a glass ! " At which all the wretches round about me burst 
 into a roar of laughter, the very loudest among them being, of 
 course, Mr. Toole. " Get the gentleman a towel for his hands, 
 and serve him a basin of turtle-soup," roared the monster, who 
 was sitting, or rather squatting, on the deck opposite me ; and 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 55 
 
 as he spoke he suddenly seized my beaker of grog and emptied 
 it, in the midst of another burst of applause. 
 
 " If you want to vex him, ax him about his wife the washer- 
 woman, who bates him," here whispered in nry ear another 
 worthy, a retired link-boy, who, disgusted with his profession, 
 had adopted the military life. 
 
 " Is it a towel of your wife's washing, Mr. Toole?" said I. 
 " I'm told she wiped 3-our face often with one." 
 
 " Ax him why he wouldn't see her }-esterday, when she came 
 to the ship," continued the link-bo}-. And so I put to him some 
 other foolish jokes about soap-suds, henpecking, and flat-irons, 
 which set the man into a fury, and succeeded in raising a quar- 
 rel between us. We should have fallen-to at once, but a couple 
 of grinning marines, who kept watch at the door, for fear we 
 should repent of our bargain and have a fancy to escape, came 
 forward and interposed between us with fixed bayonets ; but 
 the sergeant coming down the ladder and hearing the dispute, 
 condescended to say that we might fight it out like men with 
 Jistes if we chose, and that the fore-deck should be free to us 
 for that purpose. But the use of Jistes, as the Englishman called 
 them, was not then general in Ireland, and it was agreed that 
 we should have a pair of cudgels ; with one of which weapons 
 I finished the fellow in four minutes, giving him a thump acrobs 
 his stupid sconce which laid him lifeless on the deck, and not 
 receiving myself a single hurt of consequence. 
 
 This victory over the cock of the vile dunghill obtained me 
 respect among the wretches of whom I formed part, and served 
 to set up my spirits, which otherwise were flagging ; and my 
 position was speedily made more bearable by the arrival on 
 board our ship of an old friend. This was no other than nay 
 second in the fatal duel which had sent me thus early out into 
 the world, Captain Fagan. There was a .young nobleman who 
 had a company in our regiment (Gale's foot), and who, prefer- 
 ring the delights of the Mall and the clubs to the dangers of a 
 rough campaign, had given Fagan the opportunity of an ex- 
 change ; which, as the latter had no fortune but his sword, he 
 was glad to make. The sergeant was putting us through our 
 exercise on deck (the seamen and officers of the transport look- 
 ing grinning on) when a boat came from the shore bringing our 
 captain to the ship ; and though I started and blushed red as he 
 recognized me — a descendant of the Barrys — in this degrad- 
 ing posture, I promise .you that the sight of Fagan's face was 
 most welcome to me, for it assured me that a friend was near 
 me. Before that I was so melancholy that I would certainly 
 
56 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 have deserted had I found the means, and had not the inevita- 
 ble marines kept a watch to prevent any such escapes. Fagan 
 gave me a wink of recognition, but offered no public token of 
 acquaintance ; it was not until two days afterwards, and when 
 we had bidden adieu to old Ireland and were standing out to 
 sea, that he called me into his cabin, and then, shaking hands 
 with me cordially, gave me news, which I much wanted, of my 
 family. " I had news of you in Dublin," he said. " 'Faith, 
 you've begun early, like your father's son ; and I think you 
 could not do better than as you have done. But wh}' did 30U 
 not write home to your poor mother ? She has sent a half- 
 dozen letters to you at Dublin." 
 
 I said I had asked for letters at the post-office, but there 
 were none for Mr. Redmond. I did not like to add that I had 
 been ashamed, after the first week, to write to m}' mother. 
 
 "We must write to her by the pilot," said he, " who will 
 leave us in two hours ; and you can tell her that you are safe, 
 and married to Brown Bess." I sighed when he talked about 
 being married ; on which he said, with a laugh, " I see you are 
 thinking of a certain young lady at Brady's Town." 
 
 "Is Miss Brady well?" said I; and indeed, could hardly 
 utter it, for I certainly was thinking about her : for, though I 
 had forgotten her in the gayeties of Dublin, I have always found 
 adversity makes man very affectionate. 
 
 "There's only seven Miss Bradys now," answered Fagan, 
 in a solemn voice. " Poor Nora — " 
 
 " Good heavens ! what of her ? " I thought grief had killed 
 her. 
 
 " She took on so at your going away that she was obliged 
 to console herself with a husband. She's now Mrs. John .Quin." 
 
 "Mrs. John Quin! Was there another Mr. John Quin?" 
 asked I, quite wonder-stricken. 
 
 " No ; the very same one, my boy. He recovered from his 
 wound. The ball you hit him with was not likely to hurt him. 
 It was only made of tow. Do you think the Bradys would let 
 you kill fifteen hundred a year out of the family ? " And then 
 Fagan further told me that, in order to get me out of the way 
 — for the cowardly Englishman could never be brought to marry 
 from fear of me — the plan of the duel had been arranged. 
 "But hit him }'OU certainby did, Redmond, and with a fine 
 thick plugget of tow ; and the fellow was so frightened, that he 
 was an hour in coming to. We told j^our mother the story 
 afterwards, and a pretty scene she made ; she despatched a 
 half-score of letters to Dublin after you, but I suppose ad- 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 57 
 
 dressed them to you in j'our real name, by which you never 
 thought to ask for them." 
 
 " The coward ! " said I (though, I confess, my mind was 
 considerably relieved at the thoughts of not having killed him) . 
 ' ' And did the Bradys of Castle Brady consent to admit a pol- 
 troon like that into one of the most ancient and honorable fami- 
 lies of the world ? " 
 
 " He has paid off your uncle's mortgage," said Fagan ; "he 
 gives Nora a coach-and-six ; he is to sell out, and Lieutenant 
 Ulick Brady of the Militia is to purchase his company.' That 
 coward of a fellow has been the making of }'our uncle's fatuity. 
 'Faith ! the business was well done." And then, laughing, he 
 told me how Mick and Ulick had never let him out of their 
 sight, although he was for deserting to England, until the mar- 
 riage was completed and the happy couple off on their road to 
 Dublin. "Are you in want of cash, my boy?" continued the 
 good-natured captain. " You may draw upon me, for I got a 
 couple of hundred out of Master Quin for my share, and while 
 they last you shall never want." 
 
 And so he bade me sit down and write a letter to my 
 mother, which I did forthwith in very sincere and repentant 
 terms, stating that I had been guilty of extravagances, that I 
 had not known until that moment under what a fatal error I had 
 been laboring, and that I had embarked for Germany as a vol- 
 unteer. The letter was scarcely finished when the pilot sang 
 out that he was going on shore ; and he departed, taking with 
 him, from many an anxious fellow besides myself, our adieux 
 to friends in old Ireland. 
 
 Although I was called Captain Barry for many j^ears of my 
 life, and have been known as such by the first people of Europe, 
 yet I may as well confess I had no more claim to the title than 
 many a gentleman who assumes it, and never had a right to an 
 epaulet, or to any military decoration higher than a corporal's 
 stripe of worsted. I was made corporal b} r Fagan during our 
 voyage to the Elbe, and my rank was confirmed on terra fir ma. 
 I was promised a halbert, too, and afterwards, perhaps, an 
 ensigncy, if I distinguished myself ; but Fate did not intend 
 that I should remain long an English soldier : as shall appear 
 presently. Meanwhile, our passage was very favorable ; my 
 adventures were told by Fagan to his brother officers, who 
 treated me with kindness ; and my victoiy over the big chair- 
 man procured me respect from my comrades of the fore-deck. 
 Encouraged and strongly exhorted by Fagan, I did my duty 
 resolutely ; but, though affable and good-humored with the 
 
58 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 men, I never at first condescended to associate with such low- 
 fellows : and, indeed, was called generally amongst them " my 
 lord." I believe it was the ex-linkbo}', a facetious knave, who 
 gave me the title ; and I felt that I should become such a rank 
 as well as any peer in the kingdom. 
 
 It would require a greater philosopher and historian than I 
 am to explain the causes of the famous Seven Years' "War in 
 which Europe was engaged ; and, indeed, its origin has always 
 appeared to me to be so complicated, and the books written 
 about it so amazingly hard to understand, that I have seldom 
 been much wiser at the end of a chapter than at the beginning, 
 and so shall not trouble my reader with any personal disquisi- 
 tions concerning the matter. All I know is, that after his 
 Majesty's love of his Hanoverian dominions had rendered him 
 most unpopular in his English kingdom, with Mr. Pitt at the 
 head of the anti-German war-party, all of a sudden, Mr. Pitt 
 becoming Minister, the rest of the empire applauded the war as 
 much as the}' had hated it before. The victories of Dettingen 
 and Crefeld were in everybody's mouths, and "■the Protestant 
 hero," as we used to call the godless old Frederick of Prussia, 
 was adored by us as a saint, a very short time after we had 
 been about to make war against him in alliance with the Em- 
 press-queen. Now, somehow, we were on Frederick's side : 
 the Empress, the French, the Swedes, and the Russians, were 
 leagued against us ; and I remember, when the news of the 
 battle of Lissa came even to our remote quarter of Ireland, we 
 considered it as a triumph for the cause of Protestantism, and 
 illuminated and bonfired, and had a sermon at church, and kept 
 the Prussian king's birthday ; on which my uncle would get 
 drunk: as indeed on any other occasion. Most of the low 
 fellows enlisted with m}-self were, of course, Papists, (the 
 English army was filled with such, out of that never-failing 
 country of ours,) and these, forsooth, were fighting the battles 
 of Protestantism with Frederick ; who was belaboring the Prot- 
 estant Swedes and the Protestant Saxons, as well as the Rus- 
 sians of the Greek Church, and the Papist troops of the Emperor 
 and the King of France. It was against these latter that the 
 English auxiliaries were employed, and we know that, be the 
 quarrel what it ma} T , an Englishman and a Frenchman are 
 pretty willing to make a fight of it. 
 
 We landed at Cuxhaven, and before I had been a month in 
 the Electorate I was transformed into a tall and proper young 
 soldier, and having a natural aptitude for military exercise, was 
 soon as accomplished at the drill as the oldest sergeant in the 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 59 
 
 regiment. It is well, however, to dream of glorious war in a 
 snug arm-chair at home ; a}', or to make it as an officer, sur- 
 rounded by gentlemen, gorgeously dressed, and cheered by 
 chances of promotion. But those chances do not shine on poor 
 fellows in worsted lace : the rough texture of our red coats 
 made me ashamed when I saw an officer go by ; my soul used 
 to shudder when, on going the rounds, I would hear their voices 
 as they sat jovially over the mess-table ; nry pride revolted at 
 being obliged to plaster m}' hair with flour and candle-grease, 
 instead of using the proper pomatum for a gentleman. Yes, 
 my tastes have always been high and fashionable, and I loathed 
 the horrid company in which I was fallen. What chances had I 
 of promotion ? None of my relatives had money to bivy me a 
 commission, and I became soon so low-spirited, that I longed 
 for a general action and a ball to finish me, and vowed that I 
 would take some opportuntty to desert. 
 
 When I think that I, the descendant of the kings of Ireland, 
 was threatened with a caning b}- a young scoundrel who had 
 just joined from Eton College — when I think that he offered to 
 make me his footman, and that I did not, on either occasion, 
 murder him ! On the first occasion, I burst into tears (I do not 
 care to own it) and had serious thoughts of committing suicide, 
 so great was nry mortification. But my kind friend Fagan came 
 to my aid in the circumstance, with some very timely consola- 
 tion. " My poor boy," said he, " you must not take the matter 
 to heart so. Caning is only a relative disgrace. Young Ensign 
 Fakenham was flogged himself at Eton School only a month 
 ago : I would lay a wager that his scars are not yet healed. 
 You must cheer up, my boy ; do your duty, be a gentleman, 
 and no serious harm can fall on you." And I heard afterwards 
 that nry champion had taken Mr. Fakenkain very severely to 
 task for this threat, and said to him that any such proceedings 
 for the future he should consider as an insult to himself: 
 whereon the young ensign was, for the moment, civil. As for 
 the sergeants, I told one of them, that if any man struck me, 
 no matter who he might be, or what the penalty, I would take 
 his life. And, 'faith ! there was an air of sincerhy in my 
 speech which convinced the whole bevy of them ; and as long 
 as I remained in the English service no rattan was ever lain on 
 the shoulders of Redmond Barry. Indeed, I was in that savage, 
 moody state, that my mind was quite made up to the point, 
 and I looked to hear my own dead march played as sure as I 
 was alive. When I was made a corporal, some of my evils 
 were lessened ; I messed with the sergeants by special favor, 
 
60 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and used to treat them to drink, and lose money to the rascals 
 at play : with which cash my good friend Mr. Fagan punctually 
 supplied me. 
 
 Our regiment, which was quartered about Stade and Lune- 
 burg, speedily got orders to march southwards towards the 
 Rhine, for news came that our great General, Prince Ferdinand 
 of Brunswick, had been defeated — no, not defeated, but foiled 
 in his attack upon the French under the Duke of Broglio, at 
 Bergen, near Frankfort-on-the-Main, and had been obliged to 
 fall back. As the allies retreated, the French rushed forward, 
 and made a bold push for the Electorate of our gracious mon- 
 arch in Hanover, threatening that the}' would occupy it ; as 
 the}' had done before, when D'Estrees beat the hero of Culloden, 
 the gallant Duke of Cumberland, and caused him to sign the 
 capitulation of Closter Zeven. An advance upon Hanover 
 always caused a great agitation in the royal bosom of the King 
 of England ; more troops were sent to join us, convo}-s of treas- 
 ure were passed over to our forces, and to our ally's the King 
 of Prussia ; and although, in spite of all assistance, the army 
 under Prince Ferdinand was very much weaker than that of the 
 invading enenry, yet we had the advantage of better supplies, 
 one of the greatest Generals in the world : and, I was going to 
 add, of British valor, but the less we say about that the better. 
 My Lord George Sackville did not exactly cover himself with 
 laurels at Minden ; otherwise there might have been won there 
 one of the greatest victories of modern times. 
 
 Throwing himself between the French and the interior of the 
 Electorate, Prince Ferdinand wisely took possession of the free 
 town of Bremen, which he made his store-house and place of 
 arms ; and round which he gathered all his troops, making ready 
 to fight the famous battle of Minden. 
 
 Were these memoirs not characterized by truth, and did I 
 deign to utter a single word for which my own personal ex- 
 perience did not give me the fullest authority, I might easily 
 make myself the hero of some strange and popular adventures, 
 and, after the fashion of novel-writers, introduce my readers to 
 the great characters of this remarkable time. These persons (I 
 mean the romance-writers), if they take a drummer or adust- 
 man for a hero, somehow manage to bring him in contact with 
 the greatest lords and most notorious personages of the em- 
 pire ; and I warrant me there's not one of them but, in describing 
 the battle of Minden, would manage to bring Prince Ferdinand, 
 and my Lord George Sackville, and my Lord Granby, into 
 presence. It would have been easy for me to have said I was 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 61 
 
 present when the orders were brought to Lord George to 
 charge with the cavalry and finish the rout of the Frenchmen, 
 and when he refused to do so, and thereby spoiled the great 
 victory. But the fact is, I was two miles off from the cavalry 
 when his lordship's fatal hesitation took place, and none oi us 
 soldiers of the line knew of what had occurred until we came to 
 talk about the fight over our kettles in the evening, and repose 
 after the labors of a hard-fought day. I saw no one of higher 
 rank that day than my colonel and a couple of orderly officers 
 riding by in the smoke — no one on our side, that is. A poor 
 corporal (as I had then the disgrace of being) is not generally 
 invited into the company of commanders and the great ; but, in 
 revenge, I saw, I promise you, some very good company on the 
 French part, for their regiments of Lorraine and Royal Cravate 
 were charging us all day ; and in that sort of melee high and 
 low are pretty equally received. I hate bragging, but I cannot 
 help saying that I made a very close acquaintance with the 
 Colonel of the Cravates ; for I drove nry bayonet into his bod}-, 
 and finished off a poor little ensign, so young, slender, and 
 small, that a blow from my pig-tail would have despatched him, 
 I think, in place of the butt of my musket, with which I clubbed 
 him down. I killed, besides, four more officers and men, and 
 in the poor ensign's pocket found a purse of fourteen louis-d'or, 
 and a silver box of sugar-plums ; of which the former present 
 was very agreeable to me. If people would tell their stories of 
 battles in this simple way, I think the cause of truth would not 
 suffer by it. All I know of this famous fight of Minden (ex- 
 cept from books) is told here above. The ensign's silver bon-bon 
 box and his purse of gold ; the livid face of the poor fellow as 
 he fell ; the huzzas of the men of my companj' as I went out 
 under a smart fire and rifled him ; their shouts and curses as we 
 came hand in hand with the Frenchmen, —these are, in truth, 
 not very dignified recollections, and had best be passed over 
 briefly. When my kind friend Fagan was shot, a brother cap- 
 tain, and his very good friend, turned to Lieutenant Rawson 
 and said, u Fagan's down; Rawson, there's your company." 
 It was all the epitaph my brave patron got. " I should have 
 left 3'ou a hundred guineas, Redmond," were his last words to 
 me, " but for a cursed run of ill luck last night at faro." And 
 he gave me a faint squeeze of the hand ; then, as the word was 
 given to advance, I left him. When we came back to our old 
 ground, which we presently did, he was lying there still ; but 
 he was dead. Some of our people had already torn off his 
 epaulets, and, no doubt, had rifled his purse. Such knaves and 
 
62 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ruffians do men in war become ! It is well for gentlemen to 
 talk of the age of chivalry ; but remember the starving brutes 
 whom the}' lead — men nursed in poverty, entirely ignorant, 
 made to take a pride in deeds of blood — men who can have 
 no amusement but in drunkenness, debauch, and plunder. It 
 is with these shocking instruments that your great warriors and 
 kings have been doing their murderous work in the world ; and 
 while, for instance, we are at the present moment admiring the 
 " Great Frederick," as Ave call him, and his philosophy and his 
 liberality, and his military genius, I, who have served him and 
 been, as it were, behind the scenes of which that great spectacle 
 is composed, can only look at it with horror. What a number of 
 items of human crime, misery, slavery, go to form that sum 
 total of glory ! I can recollect a certain day, about three weeks 
 after the battle of Minden, and a farm-house in which some of 
 us entered ; and how the old woman and her daughters served 
 us, trembling, to wine ; and how we got drunk over the wine, 
 and the house was in a flame, presently : and woe betide the 
 wretched fellow afterwards who came home to look for his house 
 and his children ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH BARRY TRIES TO REMOVE AS FAR FROM MILITARY 
 GLORY AS POSSIBLE. 
 
 After the death of nry protector, Captain Fagan, I am forced 
 to confess that I fell into the very worst of courses and corn- 
 pan}'. Being a rough soldier of fortune himself, he had never 
 been a favorite with the officers of his regiment ; who had a con- 
 tempt for Irishmen, as Englishmen sometimes will have, and 
 used to mock his brogue, and his blunt uncouth manners. I 
 had been insolent to one or two of them, and had only been 
 screened from punishment by his intercession : especially his 
 successor, Mr. Rawson, had no liking for me, and put another 
 man into the sergeant's place vacant in his company after the 
 battle of Minden. This act of injustice rendered my service 
 very disagreeable to me ; and, instead of seeking to conquer 
 the dislike of my superiors, and win their good-will by good 
 behavior. I only sought for means to make nry situation easier to 
 me, and grasped at all the amusements in my power. In a for- 
 eign countr} T , with the enemy before us, and the people contin- 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 63 
 
 uall}* under contribution froni one side or the other, numberless 
 irregularities were permitted to the troops which would not have 
 been allowed in more peaceable times. I descended gradually 
 to mix with the sergeants, and to share their amusements : 
 drinking and gambling were, I am sorry to say, our principal 
 pastimes ; and I fell so readily into their ways, that, though 
 only a young lad of seventeen, I was the master of them all in 
 daring wickedness ; though there were some among them, who, 
 I promise }'ou, were far advanced in the science of every kind 
 of profligacy. I should have been under the provost-marshal's 
 hands, for a dead certainty, had I continued much longer in the 
 arm}* : but an accident occurred which took me out of the Eng- 
 lish service in rather a singular manner. 
 
 The year in which George II. died, our regiment had the 
 honor to be present at the battle of Warburg (where the Mar- 
 quis of Granby and his horse fully retrieved the discredit which 
 had fallen upon the cavalry since Lord George Sackville's de- 
 falcation at Minden), and where Prince Ferdinand once more 
 completely defeated the Frenchmen. During the action, my 
 lieutenant, Mr. Fakenham, of Fakenham, the gentleman who had 
 threatened me, it may be remembered, with the caning, was 
 struck b} - a musket-ball in the side. He had shown no want 
 of courage in this or any other occasion where he had been 
 called upon to act against the French ; but this was his first 
 wound, and the young gentleman was exceeding^ frightened 
 by it. He offered five guineas to be carried into the town, which 
 was hard by ; and I and another man, taking him up in a cloak, 
 managed to transport him into a place of decent appearance, 
 where we put him to bed, and where a young surgeon (who de- 
 sired nothing better than to take himself out of the fire of the 
 musketiy) went presently to dress his wound. 
 
 In order to get into the house, we had been obliged, it must 
 be confessed, to fire into the locks with our pieces ; which sum- 
 mons brought an inhabitant of the house to the door, a very 
 pretty and black-eyed 3'oung woman, who lived there with her 
 old half-blind father, a retired Jagd-meister of the Duke of 
 Cassel hard b}'. "When the French were in the town, Meinherr's 
 house had suffered like those of his neighbors ; and he was at 
 first exceedingly unwilling to accommodate his guests. But 
 the first knocking at the door had the effect of bringing a speedy 
 answer ; and Mr. Fakenham, taking a couple of guineas out of 
 a veiy full purse, speeduy convinced the people that they had 
 only to deal with a person of honor. 
 
 Leaving the doctor (who was very glad to stop) with his 
 
64 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 patient, who paid me the stipulated reward, I was returning to 
 my regiment with my other comrade — after having paid, in my 
 German jargon, some deserved compliments to the black-eyed 
 beauty of Warburg, and thinking, with no small envy, how 
 comfortable it would be to be billeted there — when the private 
 who was with me cut short my reveries, by suggesting that we 
 should divide the five guineas the lieutenant had given°me. 
 
 " There is your share," said I, giving the fellow one piece ; 
 which was plenty, as I was the leader of the expedition. But 
 he swore a dreadful oath that he would have half; and, when 
 I told him to go to a quarter which I shall not name, the fellow, 
 lifting his musket, hit me a blow with the butt-end of it, which 
 sent me lifeless to the ground : when I awoke from my trance, 
 I found myself bleeding with a large wound in the head, and 
 had barely time to stagger back to the house where I had left 
 the lieutenant, when I again fell fainting at the door. 
 
 Here I must have been discovered by the surgeon on his 
 issuing out ; for when I awoke a second time I found myself 
 in the ground-floor room of the house, supported by the black- 
 eyed girl, while the surgeon was copiously bleeding me at the 
 arm. There was another bed in the room where the lieutenant 
 had been laid, — it was that occupied by Gretel, the servant; 
 while Lischen, as my fair one was called, had, till now, slept 
 in the couch where the wounded officer lay. 
 
 "Who are you putting into that bed?" said he, languidly, 
 in German ; for the ball had been extracted from his side with 
 much pain and loss of blood. 
 
 They told him it was the corporal who had brought him. 
 
 44 A corporal? " said he, in English ; " turn him out." And 
 you ma}* be sure I felt highly complimented by the words. But 
 we were both too faint to compliment or to abuse each other 
 much, and I was put to bed carefully ; and, on being undressed, 
 had an opportunity to find that my pockets had been rifled by 
 the English soldier after he had knocked me down. However, 
 I was in good quarters : the 3'oung lady who sheltered me pres- 
 ently brought me a refreshing drink ; and, as I took it, I could 
 not help pressing the kind hand that gave it me ; nor, in truth, 
 did this token of my gratitude seem unwelcome. 
 
 This intimac}- did not decrease with further acquaintance. 
 I found Lischen the tenderest of nurses. Whenever any deli- 
 cacy was to be provided for the wounded lieutenant, a share 
 was alwa}'s sent to the bed opposite his, and to the avaricious 
 man's no small annoj-ance. His illness was long. On the second 
 day the fever declared itself; for some nights he was delirious ; 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 65 
 
 and I remember it was when a commanding officer was inspect- 
 ing our quarters, with an intention, very likely, of billeting 
 himself on the house, that the howling and mad words of the 
 patient overhead struck him, and he retired rather frightened. 
 I had been sitting up very comfortably in the lower apartment, 
 for my hurt was quite subsided ; and it was only when the offi- 
 cer asked me with a rough voice, wh}~ I was not at m}- regiment, 
 that I began to reflect how pleasant my quarters were to me, 
 and that I was much better here than crawling under an odious 
 tent with a parcel of tipsy soldiers, or going the night-rounds, 
 or rising long before daybreak for drill. 
 
 The delirium of Mr. Fakenham gave me a hint, and I de- 
 termined forthwith to go mad. There was a poor fellow about 
 Billy's Town called " Wandering Billy," whose insane pranks 
 I had often mimicked as a lad, and I again put them in prac- 
 tice. That night I made an attempt upon Lischen, saluting her 
 with a yell and a grin which frightened her almost out of her 
 wits ; and when anybocty came I was raving. The blow on the 
 head had disordered my brain ; the doctor was ready to vouch 
 for this fact. One night I whispered to him that I was Julius 
 Caesar, and considered him to be my affianced wife Queen Cleo- 
 patra, which convinced him of my insanity. Indeed, if her 
 Majesty had been like nry iEsculapius, she must have had a 
 carroty beard, such as is rare in Eg}pt. 
 
 A movement on the part of the French speedily caused an 
 advance on our part. The town was evacuated, except by a 
 few Prussian troops, whose surgeons were to visit the wounded 
 in the place; and, when we were well, we were to be drafted 
 to our x-egiments. I determined that I never would join mine 
 again. My intention was to make for Holland, almost the only 
 neutral countiy of Europe in these times, and thence to get a 
 passage somehow to England, and home to dear old Brady's 
 Town. • 
 
 If Mr. Fakenham is now alive I here tender him my apolo- 
 gies for my conduct to him. He was very rich ; he used me 
 very ill. I managed to frighten away his servant who came to 
 attend him after the affair of Warburg, and from that time would 
 sometimes condescend to wait upon the patient, who always 
 treated me with scorn ; but it was my object to have him alone, 
 and I bore his brutality with the utmost civility and mildness, 
 meditating in my own mind a very pretty return for all his 
 favors to me. Nor was I the only person in the house to whom 
 the worthy gentleman was uncivil. He ordered the fair Lischen 
 hither and thither, made impertinent love to her, abused her 
 
 5 
 
66 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 soups, quarrelled with her omelettes, and grudged the money 
 which was laid out for his maintenance ; so that our hostess 
 detested him as much as, I think, without vanity, she regarded 
 me. 
 
 For, if the truth must be told, I had made a very deep love 
 to her during my stay under her roof; as is always my way 
 with women, of whatever age or degree of beauty. To a man 
 who has to make his way in the world, these dear girls can 
 always be useful in one fashion or another ; never mind if they 
 repel your passion : at an}' rate, the}- are not offended with your 
 declaration of it, and only look upon you with more favorable 
 eyes in consequence of your misfortune. As for Lischen, I 
 told her such a pathetic story of my life (a tale a great deal more 
 romantic than that here narrated, — for I did not restrict my- 
 self to the exact truth in that history, as in these pages I am 
 bound to do), that I won the poor girl's heart entire]}', aud, 
 besides, made considerable progress in the German language 
 under her instruction. Do not think me very cruel and heart- 
 less, ladies ; this heart of Lischen's was like many a town in 
 the neighborhood in which she dwelt, and had been stormed and 
 occupied several times before I came to invest it ; now mount- 
 ing French colors, now green and yellow Saxon, now black and 
 white Prussian, as the case ma}' be. A lady who sets her 
 heart upon a lad in uniform must prepare to change lovers 
 pretty quickly, or her life will be but a sad one. 
 
 The German surgeon who attended us after the departure of 
 the English only condescended to pay our house a visit twice 
 during my residence ; and I took care, for a reason I had, to 
 receive him in a darkened room, much to the annoyance of Mr. 
 Fakenham, who lay there : but I said the light affected my eyes 
 dreadfully since my blow on the head ; and so I covered up my 
 head with clothes when the doctor came, and told him that I 
 was an Egyptian mummy, or talked to him some insane non- 
 sense, in order to keep up my character. 
 
 " What is that nonsense you were talking about an Egyptian 
 mummy, fellow?" asked Mr. Fakenham, peevishly. 
 
 " Oh ! you'll know soou, sir," said I. 
 
 The next time that I expected the doctor to come, instead 
 of receiving him in a darkened room, with handkerchiefs muffled, 
 I took care to be in the lower room, and was having a game at 
 cards with Lischen as the surgeon entered. I had taken pos- 
 session of a dressing-jacket of the lieutenant's, and some other 
 articles of his wardrobe, which fitted me pretty well, and, I 
 flatter myself, was no ungentlemanlike figure. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 67 
 
 "Good-morrow, corporal," said the doctor, rather gruffly, 
 in reply to my smiling salute. 
 
 "Corporal! Lieutenant, if j t ou please," answered I, giving 
 an arch look at Lischen, whom I had not yet instructed in my 
 plot. 
 
 "How lieutenant?" asked the surgeon. "I thought the 
 lieutenant was — " 
 
 " Upon nry word, you do me great honor," cried I, laugh- 
 ing ; " you mistook me for the mad corporal up stairs. The 
 fellow has once or twice pretended to be an officer, but my kind 
 hostess here can answer which is which." 
 
 " Yesterday he fancied he was Prince Ferdinand," said 
 Lischen; "the day you came he said he was an Egyptian 
 mummy." 
 
 "So he did," said the doctor ; " I remember ; but, ha ! ha ! 
 do 3'ou know, lieutenant, I have in my notes made a mistake in 
 you two ? " 
 
 " Don't talk to me about his malad}' ; he is calm now." 
 
 Lischen and I laughed at this error as at the most ridiculous 
 thing in the world ; and, when the surgeon went up to examine 
 his patient, I cautioned him not to talk to him about the subject 
 of his malady, for he was in a very excited state. 
 
 The reader will be able to gather from the above conversa- 
 tion what my design really was. I was determined to escape, 
 and to escape under the character of Lieutenant Fakenham ; 
 taking it from him to his face, as it were, and making use of 
 it to meet my imperious necessit} 7 . It was forgery and rob- 
 ber}-, if you like ; for I took all his money and clothes, — I 
 don't care to conceal it ; but the need was so urgent, that I 
 would do so again : and I knew I could not effect my escape 
 without his purse, as well as his name. Hence it became my 
 duty to take possession of one and the other. 
 
 As the lieutenant lay still in bed up stairs, I did not hesitate 
 at all about assuming his uniform, especiahy after taking care to 
 inform myself from the doctor whether any men of ours who 
 might know me were in the town. But there were none that 
 I could hear of ; and so I calnny took m\' walks with Madame 
 Lischen, dressed in the lieutenant's uniform, made inquiries 
 as to a horse that I wanted to purchase, reported myself to the 
 commandant of the place as Lieutenant Fakenham, of Gale's 
 English regiment of foot, convalescent, and was asked to dine 
 with the officers of the Prussian regiment at a very sorry mess 
 they had. How Fakenham would have stormed and raged, had 
 he known the use I was making of his name ! 
 
68 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Whenever that worthy used to inquire about his clothes, 
 which he did with many oaths and curses that he would have me 
 caned at the regiment for inattention, I, with a most respectful 
 air, informed him that they were put away in perfect safety be- 
 low ; and, in fact, had them very neatly packed, and ready for 
 the day when I proposed to depart. His papers and money, 
 however, he kept under his pillow ; and, as I had purchased a 
 horse, it became necessary to pa\ r for it. 
 
 At a certain hour, then, I ordered the animal to be brought 
 round, when I would pay the dealer for him. (I shall pass 
 over my adieus with my kind hostess, which were very tearful 
 indeed), and then, making up my mind to the great action, 
 walked up stairs to Fakenham's room attired in his full regimen- 
 tals, and with his hat eoeked over 1113- left e}'e. 
 
 "You gweat scoundwel!" said he, with a multiplied of 
 oaths; "you mutinous dog! what do } - ou mean by dressing 
 yourself in m}- i^egimentals ? As sure as my name's Fakenham, 
 when we get back to the wegiment, I'll have your soul cut out 
 of 3'our bod)-." 
 
 "I'm promoted, lieutenant," said I, with a sneer. "I'm 
 come to take my leave of you ; " and then going up to his bed, 
 I said, " I intend to have }'our papers and purse." With this 
 I put my hand under his pillow ; at which he gave a scream 
 that might have called the whole garrison about m}* ears. 
 "Hark }-e, sir!" said I, "no more noise, or you are a dead 
 man ! " and taking a handkerchief, I bound it tight around his 
 mouth, so as wellnigh to throttle him, and, pulling forward the 
 sleeves of his shirt, tied them in a knot together, and so left 
 him ; removing the papers and the purse, you may be sure, and 
 wishing him politely a good day. 
 
 "It is the mad corporal," said I to the people down below 
 who were attracted by the noise from the sick man's chamber ; 
 and so taking leave of the old blind Jagd-meister, and an adieu 
 (I will not say how tender) of his daughter, I mounted nvy 
 newly purchased animal; and, as I pranced away, and the sen- 
 tinels presented arms to me at the town-gates, felt once more 
 that I was in my proper sphere, and determined never again 
 to fall from the rank of a gentleman. 
 
 I took at first the way towards Bremen, where our army 
 was, and gave out that I was bringing reports and letters from 
 the Prussian commandant of Warburg to head-quarters ; but, 
 as soon as I got out of sight of the advanced sentinels, I turned 
 bridle and rode into the Hesse-Cassel territoiy, which is luckily 
 not very far from Warburg : and I promise you I was very 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 69 
 
 glad to see the blue-and-red stripes on the barriers, which 
 showed me that I was out of the laud occupied b} T our country- 
 men. I rode to Hof, and the next da}* to Cassel, giving out 
 that I was the bearer of despatches to Prince Henry, then on 
 the Lower Rhine, and put up at the best hotel of the place, 
 where the field-officers of the garrison had their ordinary. 
 These gentlemen I treated to the best wines that the house 
 afforded, for I was determined to keep up the character of the 
 English gentleman, and I talked to them about my English 
 estates with a fluencj' that almost made me believe in the 
 stories which I invented. I was even asked to. an assembly 
 at Wilhelmshohe, the Elector's palace, and danced a minuet 
 there with the Hof-marshal's lovel}' daughter, and lost a few 
 pieces to his Excellency the first hunt-master of his Highness. 
 
 At our table at the inn there was a Prussian officer who 
 treated me with great civility, and asked me a thousand ques- 
 tions about England ; which I answered as best I might. But 
 this best, I am bound to say, was bad enough. I knew noth- 
 ing about England, and the court, and the noble families there ; 
 but, led away by the vain-gloriousness of youth, (and a pro- 
 pensity which I possessed in my early dajs, but of which I 
 have long since corrected myself, to boast and talk in a man- 
 ner not altogether consonant with truth,) I invented a thousand 
 stories which I told him ; described the King and the Ministers 
 to him, said the British ambassador at Berlin was my uncle, 
 and promised my acquaintance a letter of recommendation to 
 him. When the officer asked me niy uncle's name, I was not 
 able to give him the real name, and so said his name was 
 O'Grad} - : it is as good a name as any other, and those of Kil- 
 ballyowen, county Cork, are as good a family as anj- in the 
 world, as I have heard. As for stories about my regiment, of 
 these, of course, I had no lack. I wish my other histories had 
 been equalby authentic. 
 
 On the morning I left Cassel, my Prussian friend came to 
 me with an open smiling countenance, and said he, too, was 
 bound for Dusseldorf, whither I said my route lay ; and so 
 la}ing our horses' heads together we jogged on. The country 
 was desolate beyond description. The prince in whose domin- 
 ions we were was known to be the most ruthless seller of men 
 in Germany. He would sell to an}- bidder, and during the five 
 3*ears which the war (afterwards called the Seven Years' War) 
 had now lasted, had so exhausted the males of his principality, 
 that the fields remained untitled : even the children of twelve 
 years old were driven off to the war, and I saw herds of these 
 
70 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 wretches marching forwards, attended by a few troopers, now 
 under the guidance of a red-coated Hanoverian sergeant, now 
 with a Prussian sub-officer accompanying them ; with some of 
 whom my companion exchanged signs of recognition. 
 
 " It hurts my feelings," said he, " to be obliged to commune 
 with such wretches ; but the stern necessities of war demand 
 men continually, and hence these recruiters whom you see 
 market in human flesh. They get five-and-twentj- dollars a 
 man from our government for every man they bring in. For 
 fine men — for men like you," he added, laughing, " we would 
 go as high as a hundred. In the old king's time we would 
 have given a thousand for you, when he had his giant regiment 
 that our present monarch disbanded." 
 
 " I knew one of them," said I, " who served with you : we 
 used to call him Morgan Prussia." 
 
 " Indeed ! and who was this Morgan Prussia?" 
 
 " Why, a huge grenadier of ours, who was somehow snapped 
 up in Hanover by some of your recruiters." 
 
 "The rascals!" said my friend, "and did they dare take 
 an Englishman ? " 
 
 "'Faith, this was an Irishman, and a great deal too sharp 
 for them ; as you shall hear. Morgan was taken, then, and 
 drafted into the giant guard, and was the biggest man almost 
 among all the giants there. Many of these monsters used to 
 complain of their life, and their caning, and their long drills, 
 and their small pay ; but Morgan was not one of the grumblers. 
 1 It's a deal better,' said he, ' to get fat here in Berlin than to 
 starve in rags in Tipperary ! ' " 
 
 " Where is Tipperary?" asked my companion. 
 
 "That is exactly what Morgan's friends asked him. It is 
 a beautiful district in Ireland, the capital of which is the mag- 
 nificent city of Clonmel: a city, let me tell you, sir, only 
 inferior to Dublin and London, and far more sumptuous than 
 any on the Continent. Well, Morgan said that his birthplace 
 was near that city*, and the only thing which caused him un- 
 happiness, in his present situation, was the thought that his 
 brothers were still starving at home, when the}' might be so 
 much better off in his Majesty's service. 
 
 "''Faith,' says Morgan to the sergeant, to whom he im- 
 paired the information, ' it's my brother Bin that would make 
 the fine sergeant of the guards, entirely' ! ' 
 
 " ' Is Ben as tall as you are? ' asked the sergeant. 
 
 " ' As tall as we, is it? Why, man, I'm the shortest of my 
 family ! There's six more of us, but Bin's the biggest of all. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 71 
 
 Oh ! out and out the biggest. Seven feet in his stockin-/«<, as 
 sure as my name's Morgan ! ' 
 
 " ' Can't we send and fetch them over, these brothers of 
 yours ? ' 
 
 " ' Not } T ou. Ever since I was seduced by one of }*ou gen- 
 tlemen of the cane, they've a mortal aversion to all sergeants,' 
 answered Morgan : ' but it's a pity they cannot come, too. 
 What a monster Bin would be in a grenadier's cap ! ' 
 
 " He said nothing more at the time regarding his brothers, 
 but only sighed as if lamenting their hard fate. However, the 
 ston- was told by the sergeant to the officers, and by the officers 
 to the King himself; and his Majesty was so inflamed by curi- 
 osity, that he actually consented to let Morgan go home in 
 order to bring back with him his seven enormous brothers." 
 
 "And were they as big as Morgan pretended?" asked my 
 comrade. I could not help laughing at his simplicity. 
 
 " Do you suppose," cried I, " that Morgan ever came back? 
 No, no ; once free, he was too wise for that. He has bought 
 a snug farm in Tipperary with the money that was given him 
 to secure his brothers ; and I fancj' few men of the guards ever 
 profited so much by it." 
 
 The Prussian captain laughed exceeding^ at this story, said 
 that the English were the cleverest nation in the world, and, on 
 my setting him right, agreed that the Irish were even more 
 so. We rode on very well pleased with each other ; for he had 
 a thousand stories of the war to tell, of the skill and gallantry 
 of Frederick, and the thousand escapes, and victories, and de- 
 feats scarcely less glorious than victories, through which the 
 King had passed. Now that I was a gentleman, I could listen 
 with admiration to these tales : and yet the sentiment recorded 
 at the end of the last chapter was uppermost in my mind but 
 three weeks back, when I remembered that it was the great 
 general got the glory, and the poor soldier only insult and the 
 cane. 
 
 " By the wa} r , to whom are you taking despatches?" asked 
 the officer. 
 
 It was another ugty question, which J determined to answer 
 at nap-hazard; and so I said, "To General Rolls." I had 
 seen the general a year before, and gave the first name in my 
 head. My friend was quite satisfied with it, and we continued 
 our ride until evening came on ; and our horses being weary, 
 it was agreed that we should come to a halt. 
 
 " There is a very good inn," said the captain, as we rode up 
 to what appeared to me a very lonely -looking place. 
 
72 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " This may be a very good inn for Germany," said I, " but 
 it would not pass in old Ireland. Corbach is only a league 
 off: let us push on for Corbach." 
 
 " Do you want to see the loveliest woman in Europe? "said 
 the officer. " Ah ! you sly rogue, I see that will influence 3*011 : " 
 and, truth to say, such a proposal was always welcome to me, 
 as I don't care to own. "The people are great farmers," 
 said the captain, "as well as inn-keepers ; " and, indeed, the 
 place seemed more a farm than an inn-yard. We entered by 
 a great gate into a court walled round, and at one end of which 
 was the building, a dingy ruinous place. A couple of covered 
 wagons were in the court, their horses were littered under 
 a shed hard by, and lounging about the place were some men, 
 and a pair of sergeants in the Prussian uniform, who both touched 
 their hats to my friend the captain. This customary formality 
 struck me as nothing extraordinary ; but the aspect of the inn 
 had something exceedingly chilling and forbidding in it, and 
 I observed the men shut to the great \-ard-gates as soon as 
 we were entered. Parties of French horsemen, the captain 
 said, were about the country, and one could not take too many 
 precautions against such villains. 
 
 We went in to supper, after the two sergeants had taken 
 charge of our horses ; the captain, also, ordering one of them 
 to take my valise to my bedroom. I promised the worthy 
 fellow a glass of schnapps for his pains. 
 
 A dish of fried eggs and bacon was ordered from a hideous 
 old wench that came to serve us, in place of the lovely creature 
 I had expected to see ; and the captain, laughing, said, " Well, 
 our meal is a frugal one, but a soldier has main' a time a worse : " 
 and, taking off his hat, sword-belt, and gloves, with great cere- 
 mony, he sat down to eat. I would not be behindhand with 
 him in politeness, and put my weapon secureby on the old chest 
 of drawers where his was laid. 
 
 The hideous old woman before mentioned brought us in a 
 pot of very sour wine, at which and at her ugliness I felt a con- 
 siderable ill-humor. 
 
 '•Where's the beauty yon promised me?" said I, as soon 
 as the old hag had left the room. 
 
 "Bah!" said he, laughing, and looking hard at me : "it 
 was my joke. I was tired, and did not care to go farther. 
 There's no prettier woman here than that. If she won't suit 
 3-our fancy, my friend, you must wait awhile." 
 
 This increased my ill-humor. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 73 
 
 "Upon my word, sir," said I, sternly, "I think you have 
 acted very coolly ! " 
 
 " I have acted as I think fit ! " replied the Captain. 
 
 " Sir," said I, " I'm a British officer ! " 
 
 " It's a lie ! " roared the other, " 3'ou're a deserter ! You're 
 an impostor, sir ; I have known 3-ou for such these three hours. 
 I suspected you yesterday. My men heard of a man escaping 
 from Warburg, and I thought you were the man. Your lies 
 and folly have confirmed me. You pretend to cany despatches 
 to a general who has been dead these ten months : you have 
 an uncle who is an ambassador, and whose name forsooth you 
 don't know. Will you join and take the bount}', sir, or will 
 you be given up?" 
 
 " Neither ! " said I, springing at him like a tiger. But, agile 
 as I was, he was equally on his guard. He took two pistols 
 out of his pocket, fired one off, and said, from the other end 
 of the table where he stood dodging me, as it were, — 
 
 " Advance a step, and I send this bullet into 3'our brains ! " 
 In another minute the door was flung open, and the two ser- 
 geants entered, armed with musket and ba} - onet to aid their 
 comrade. 
 
 The game was up. I flung down a knife with which I had 
 armed myself ; for the old hag on bringing in the wine had re- 
 moved 1113' sword. 
 
 " I volunteer," said I. 
 
 "That's my good fellow. What name shall I put on my 
 list?" 
 
 " Write Redmond Barry of Bally Barry," said I, haughtily ; 
 " a descendant of the Irish kings ! " 
 
 " I was once with the Irish brigade, Roche's," said the re- 
 cruiter, sneering, "trying if I could get any likely fellows 
 among the few countrymen of 3*ours that are in the brigade, 
 and there was scarcely one of them that was not descended 
 from the kings of Ireland." 
 
 " Sir," said I, " king or not, I am a gentleman, as 3-ou can 
 see." 
 
 " Oh ! 3 r ou will find plent3 r more in our corps," answered 
 the captain, still in the sneering mood. " Give up 3'our papers, 
 Mr. Gentleman, and let us see who you really are." 
 
 As my pocket-book contained some bank-notes as well as 
 papers of Mr. Fakenham's, I was not willing to give up m3* 
 property ; suspecting ve^ rightby that it was but a scheme on 
 the part of the captain to get and keep it. 
 
 " It can matter veiy little to you," said I, " what m3 r pri- 
 
74 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 vate papers are : I am enlisted under the name of Redmond 
 Barry." 
 
 " Give it up, sirrah ! " said the captain, seizing his cane. 
 
 " I will not give it up ! " answered I. 
 
 " Hound! do you mutin}*?" screamed he, and, at the same 
 time, gave me a lash across the face with the cane, which had 
 the anticipated effect of producing a struggle. I dashed for- 
 ward to grapple with him, the two sergeants flung themselves 
 on me, I was thrown to the ground and stunned again ; being 
 hit on my former wound in the head. It was bleeding severely 
 when I came to myself, my laced coat was already torn off my 
 back, my purse and papers gone, and 1113- hands tied behind 
 my back. 
 
 The great and illustrious Frederick had scores of these white 
 slave-dealers all round the frontiers of his kingdom, debauch- 
 ing troops or kidnapping peasants and hesitating at no crime 
 to supply those brilliant regiments of his with food for powder ; 
 and I cannot help telling here, with some satisfaction, the fate 
 which ultimately befell the atrocious scoundrel who, violating 
 all the rights of friendship and good-fellowship, had just suc- 
 ceeded in entrapping me. This individual was a person of high 
 family and known talents and courage, but who had a propen- 
 sity to gambling and extravagance, and found his calling as 
 a recruit-decoy far more profitable to him than his pay of 
 second captain in the line. The sovereign, too, probably found 
 his services more useful in the former capacit}'. His name was 
 Monsieur de Galgenstein, and he was one of the most success- 
 ful of the practisers of his rascally trade. He spoke all lan- 
 guages, and knew all countries, and hence had no difficulty 
 in finding out the simple braggadocio of a 3'oung lad like me. 
 
 About 1765, however, he came to his justly merited end. 
 He was at this time living at Kehl, opposite Strasburg, and 
 used to take his walk upon the bridge there, and get into con- 
 versation with the French advanced sentinels ; to whom he 
 was in the habit of promising " mountains and marvels," as 
 the French saj*, if they would take service in Prussia. One day 
 there was on the bridge a superb grenadier, whom Galgenstein 
 accosted, and to whom he promised a compan}', at least, if he 
 would enlist under Frederick. 
 
 " Ask my comrade yonder," said the grenadier; " I can do 
 nothing without him. We were born and bred together, we are 
 of the same company, sleep in the same room, and always go in 
 pairs. If he will go and you will give him a captaincy, I will 
 go too." 
 
BARRY LYNDOX, ESQ. 75 
 
 " Bring your comrade over to Kehl," said Galgenstein, de- 
 lighted. " I will give you the best of dinners, and can promise 
 to satisfy both of you." 
 
 " Had you not better speak to him on the bridge? " said the 
 grenadier. "I dare not leave my post; but you have but to 
 pass, and talk over the matter." 
 
 Galgenstein, after a little parley, passed the sentinel ; but 
 presently a panic took him, and he retraced his steps. But 
 the grenadier brought his bayonet to the Prussian's breast and 
 bade him stand : that he was his prisoner. 
 
 The Prussian, however, seeing his danger, made a bound 
 across the bridge and into the Rhine ; whither, flinging aside 
 his musket, the intrepid sentry followed him. The Frenchman 
 was the better swimmer of the two, seized upon the recruiter, 
 and bore him to the Strasburg side of the stream, where he 
 gave him up. 
 
 "You deserve to be shot," said the general to him, "for 
 abandoning your post and arms ; but you merit reward for an 
 act of courage and daring. The king prefers to reward you," 
 and the man received money and promotion. 
 
 As for Galgenstein, he declared his qualhy as a nobleman 
 and a captain in the Prussian service, and applications were 
 made to Berlin to know if his representations were true. But 
 the king, though he empk>3*ed men of this stamp (officers to 
 seduce the subjects of his allies), could not acknowledge his 
 own shame. Letters were written back from Berlin to say that 
 such a family existed in the kingdom, but that the person rep- 
 resenting himself to belong to it must be an impostor, for every 
 officer of the name was at his regiment and his post. It was 
 Galgenstein's death-warrant, and he was hanged as a spy in 
 Strasburg. 
 
 " Turn him into the cart with the rest," said he, as soon as 
 I awoke from my trance. 
 
76 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CRIMP WAGON — MILITARY EPISODES. 
 
 The covered wagon to which I was ordered to march was 
 standing, as I have said, in the courtyard of the farm, with an- 
 other dismal vehicle of the same kind hard by it. Each was 
 prettj' well filled with a crew of men, whom the atrocious crimp 
 who had seized upon me, had enlisted under the banners of the 
 glorious Frederick ; and I could see by the lanterns of the 
 sentinels, as they thrust me into the straw, a dozen dark figures 
 huddled together in the horrible moving prison where 1 was 
 now to be confined. A scream and a curse from my opposite 
 neighbor showed me that he was most likely wounded, as I 
 myself was ; and, during the whole of the wretched night, the 
 moans and sobs of the poor fellows in similar captivity kept up 
 a continual painful chorus, which effectually prevented my get- 
 ting any relief from my ills in sleep. At midnight (as far as I 
 could judge) the horses were put to the wagons, and the creak- 
 ing, lumbering machines were put in motion. A couple of 
 soldiers, strongly armed, sat on the outer bench of the cart, and 
 their grim faces peered in with their lanterns every now and 
 then through the canvas curtains, that they might count the 
 number of their prisoners. The brutes were half drunk, and 
 were singing love and war songs, such as " O Gretchen inein 
 Taiibchen, mein Herzens-trompet, Mein Kanon, mein Heer- 
 pauk and meine Musket," " Prinz Eugen der edle Ritter," and 
 the like ; their wild whoops and jodels making doleful discord 
 with the groans of us captives within the wagons. Many a time 
 afterwards have I heard these ditties sung on the march, or in 
 the barrack- room, or round the fires as we lay out at night. 
 
 I was not near so unhapp} - , in spite of all, as I had been on 
 my first enlisting in Ireland. At least, thought I, if I am de- 
 graded to be a private soldier, there will be no one of my ac- 
 quaintance who will witness my shame ; and that is the point 
 which I have alwa3"s cared for most. There will be no one to 
 sa}", " There is young Redmond Barry, the descendant of the 
 Barry s, the fashionable young blood of Dublin, pipeclaying his 
 belt and carrying his brown Bess." Indeed, but for that 
 opinion of the world, with which it is necessaiy that ever}' man 
 of spirit should keep upon equal terms, I, for my part, would 
 

 BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 77 
 
 have always been contented with the humblest portion. Now 
 here, to all intents and purposes, one was as far removed from 
 the world as in the wilds of Siberia, or in Robinson Crusoe's 
 island. And I reasoned with nvyself thus : — " Now you are 
 caught, there is no use in repining : make the best of your situa- 
 tion, and get all the pleasure you can out of it. There are a 
 thousand opportunites of plunder, &c, offered to the soldier in 
 war-time, out of which he can get both pleasure and profit : 
 make use of these and be happy. Besides, you are extraordi- 
 narily brave, handsome, and clever : and who knows but you 
 may procure advancement in your new service? " 
 
 In this philosophical way I looked at my misfortunes, de- 
 termining not to be cast down by them ; and bore my woes and 
 my broken head with perfect magnanimity. The latter was, for 
 the moment, an evil against which it required no small powers 
 of endurance to contend ; for the jolts of the wagon were dread- 
 ful, and every shake caused a throb in nry brain which I thought 
 would have split my skull. As the morning dawned, I saw that 
 the man next me, a gaunt, yellow-haired creature, in black, had 
 a cushion of straw under his head. 
 
 " Are 3*ou wounded, comrade?" said I. 
 
 " Praised be the Lord," said he, "I am sore hurt in spirit 
 and bod}', and bruised in man}- members ; wounded, however, 
 am I not. And you, poor j'outh? " 
 
 ;i I am wounded in the head," said I, " and I want your pil- 
 low : give it me — I've a clasp-knife in my pocket ! " and with 
 this I gave him a terrible look, meaning to say (and mean it I 
 did, for look }'ou, a la guerre cest a la guerre, and I am none of 
 your milk-sops,) that, unless he }ielded me the accommodation, 
 I would give him a taste of my steel. 
 
 " I would give it thee without any threat, friend," said the 
 yellow-haired man, meekly, and handed me over his little sack 
 of straw. 
 
 He then leaned himself back as comfortably as he could 
 against the cart, and began repeating, " Ein fester Burg ist 
 unser Gott," b}- which I concluded that I had got into the com- 
 pany of a parson. With the jolts of the wagon, and accidents 
 of the journe}', various more exclamations and movements of 
 the passengers showed what a motley company we were. Every 
 now and then a countryman would burst into tears ; a French 
 voice would be heard to sa} T , ' ' O mon Dieu ! — mon Dieu ! " a 
 couple more of the same nation were jabbering oaths and chat- 
 tering incessantly ; and a certain allusion to his own and every- 
 body else's eyes, which came from a stalwart figure at the far 
 
78 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 corner, told me that there was certainly an Englishman in our 
 crew. 
 
 But I was spared soon the tedium and discomforts of the 
 journey. In spite of the cleigyman's cushion, my head, which 
 was throbbing with pain, was brought abruptly in contact with 
 the side of the wagon ; it began to bleed afresh ; I became 
 almost light headed. I only recollect having a draught of 
 water here and there ; once stopping at a fortified town, where 
 an officer counted us : — all the rest of the journej- was passed 
 in a drowsy stupor, from which, when I awoke, I found myself 
 lying in a hospital bed, with a nun in a white hood watching 
 over me. 
 
 " They are in sad spiritual darkness," said a voice from the 
 bed next to me, when the nun had finished her kind offices and 
 retired : ' ' they are in the night of error, and yet there is the 
 light of faith in those poor creatures." 
 
 It was my comrade of the crimp wagon, his huge broad face 
 looming out from under a white nightcap, and ensconced in 
 the bed beside. 
 
 " What ! you there, Herr Pastor? " said I. 
 
 " Only a candidate, sir," answered the white nightcap. 
 " But, praised be heaven ! }ou have come to. You have had a 
 wild time of it. ' You have been talking in the English language 
 (with which I am acquainted,) of Ireland, and a }*oung lady, 
 and Mick, and of another }'oung lady, and of a house on fire, 
 and of the British Grenadiers, concerning whom 3-011 sung us 
 parts of a ballad, and of a number of other matters appertain- 
 ing, no doubt, to your personal history." 
 
 " It has been a very strange one," said I ; " and, perhaps, 
 there is no man in the world, of my birth, whose misfortunes 
 can at all be compared to mine." 
 
 I do not object to own that I am disposed to brag of my 
 birth and other acquirements ; for I have always found that if a 
 man does not give himself a good word, his friends will not do 
 it for him. 
 
 " Well," said my fellow-patient, " I have no doubt yours is 
 a strange tale, and shall be glad to hear it anon ; but at present 
 you must not be permitted to speak much, for 3-our fever has 
 been long, and 3'our exhaustion great." 
 
 " Where are we? " I asked ; and the candidate informed me 
 that we were in the bishopric and town of Fulda, at present 
 occupied b}' Prince Henry's troops. Thei-e had been a skirmish 
 with an out-party of French near the town, in which a shot 
 entering the wagon, the poor candidate had been wounded. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 79 
 
 As the reader knows already my history, I will not take the 
 trouble to repeat it here, or to give the additions with which I 
 favored my comrade in misfortune. But I confess that I told 
 him ours was the greatest famiby and finest palace in Ireland, 
 that we we»e enormously wealthy, related to all the peerage, 
 descended from the ancient kings, &c. ; and, to nry surprise, 
 in the course of our conversation, 1 found that nry interlocutor 
 knew a great deal more about Ireland than I did. When, for 
 instance, I spoke of my descent, — 
 
 " From which race of kings?" said he. 
 
 "Oh!" said I (for my memory for dates was never very 
 accurate), " from the old ancient kings of all." 
 
 ; • What ! can 3-011 trace your origin to the sons of Japhet ? " 
 said he. 
 
 "'Faith, I can," answered I, " and farther too, — to Nebu- 
 chadnezzar, if you like." 
 
 "I see," said the candidate, smiling, "that 3-011 look upon 
 those legends with incredulit3'. These Partholans and Neme- 
 dians, of whom 3 our writers fondby make mention, cannot be 
 authenticalby vouched for in histoiy. Nor do I believe that we 
 have an3' more foundation for the tales concerning them, than 
 for the legends relative to Joseph of Arimathea and King Brute, 
 which prevailed two centuries back in the sister island." 
 
 And then he began a discourse about the Phoenicians, the 
 Scyths or Goths, the Tuath de Danans, Tacitus, and King 
 MacNeil ; which was, to sa3* the truth, the very first news I 
 had heard of those personages. As for English, he spoke it as 
 well as I, and had seven more languages, he said, equally at 
 his command ; for, on 103- quoting the 01113- Latin line that I 
 knew, that out of the poet Homer, which sa3 T s, — 
 
 " As in praesenti perf ectum f umat in avi," 
 
 he began to speak to me in the Roman tongue ; on which I was 
 fain to tell him that we pronounced it in a different way in 
 Ireland, and so got off the conversation. 
 
 M3- honest friend's histoiy was a curious one, and it ma3* be 
 told here in order to show of what motle3 T materials our levies 
 were composed : — 
 
 " I am," said he, "a Saxon by birth, my father being pastor 
 of the village of Pfannkuchen, where I imbibed the first rudi- 
 ments of knowledge. At sixteen (I am now twent3 T -three) , 
 having mastered the Greek and Latin tongues, with the French, 
 English, Arabic, and Hebrew ; and, having come into posses- 
 
80 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 sion of a legacy of a hundred rixdalers, a sum amply sufficient 
 to defra}' nn- university courses, I went to the famous academy 
 of Gottingen, where I devoted four years to the exact sciences 
 and theolog}'. Also, I learned what worldly accomplishments 
 I could command ; taking a dancing-tutor at the expense of a 
 groschen a lesson, a course of fencing from a French practi- 
 tioner, and attending lectures on the great horse and the eques- 
 trian science at the hippodrome of a celebrated cavalry professor. 
 My opinion is, that a man should know everything as far as in 
 his power lies : that he should complete his cycle of experience ; 
 and, one science being as necessary as another, it behoves him, 
 according to his means, to acquaint himself with all. For 
 many branches of personal knowledge (as distinguished from 
 spiritual ; though I am not prepared to saj- that the distinction 
 is a correct one), I confess I have found myself inapt. I 
 attempted tight-rope dancing, with a Bohemian artist who 
 appeared at our academy ; but in this I failed, lamentably 
 breaking my nose in the fall which I had. I also essayed to 
 drive a coach-and-four, which an English student, Herr Graff 
 Lord von Martingale, drove at the university. In this, too, 
 I failed ; oversetting the chariot at the postern, opposite the 
 Berliner gate, with his lordship's friend, Fraulein Miss Kitty 
 Coddlins within. I had been instructing the young lord in the 
 German language when the above accident took place, and was 
 dismissed by him in consequence. My means did not permit 
 me further to pursue this curriculum (}-ou will pardon me the 
 joke), otherwise, I have no doubt, I should have been able to 
 take a place in any hippodrome in the world, and to handle the 
 ribbons (as the high well-born lord used to say) to perfection. 
 
 "At the university I delivered a thesis on the quadrature of 
 the circle, which, I think, would interest 3-011 ; and held a dis- 
 putation in Arabic against Professor Strumpff, in which I was 
 said to have the advantage. The languages of Southern 
 Europe, of course, I acquired; and, to a person well grounded 
 in Sanscrit, the northern idioms offer no difficulty. If you 
 have ever attempted the Russian you will find it child's play ; 
 and it will always be a source of regret to me that I have been 
 enabled to get no knowledge (to speak of) of Chinese ; and, 
 but for the present dilemma, I had intended to pass over into 
 England for that purpose, and get a passage in one of the 
 English company's ships to Canton. 
 
 "I am not of a saving turn, hence vox little fortune of a 
 hundred rixdalers, which has served to keep many a prudent 
 man for a score of }'ears, barety sufficed for five years' studies ; 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 81 
 
 after which m} r studies were interrupted, my pupils fell off, and 
 I was obliged to devote much time to shoe-binding in order to 
 save money, and, at a future period, resume my academic 
 course. During this period 1 contracted an attachment" (here 
 the candidate sighed a little) " with a person, who, though not 
 beautiful, and forty years of age, is } T et likely to sympathize 
 with m} T existence ; and, a month since my kind friend and 
 patron, university prorector, Doctor Nasenbrumm, having in- 
 formed me that the Pfarrer of Rumpelwitz was dead, asked 
 whether I would like to have nry name placed upon the candi- 
 date list, and if I were minded to preach a trial sermon? As 
 the gaining of this living would further my union with nry 
 Amalia, I joyously consented, and prepared a discourse. 
 
 "■If you like I will recite it to 30U — No? — Well, I will 
 give you extracts from it upon our line of march. To proceed, 
 then, with my biographical sketch, which is now very near a 
 conclusion ; or, as I should more correctly sa}', which has very 
 nearly brought me to the present period of time : I preached 
 that sermon at Rumpelwitz, in which I hope that the Babylonian 
 question was pretty satisfactorily set at rest. I preached it 
 before the Herr Baron and his noble family, and some officers 
 of distinction who were staying at his castle. Mr. Doctor 
 Moser of Halle followed me in the evening discourse ; but, 
 though his exercise was learned, and he disposed of a passage 
 of Ignatius, which he proved to be a manifest interpolation, I 
 do not think his sermon had the effect which mine produced, 
 and that the Rumpelwitzers much relished it. After the sermon, 
 all the candidates walked out of church together, and supped 
 lovingly at the 'Blue Stag' in Rumpelwitz. 
 
 " While so occupied, a waiter came in and said that a per- 
 son without wishing to speak to one of the reverend candidates, 
 k the tall one.' This could only mean me, for I was a head and 
 shoulders higher than an}' other reverend gentleman present. 
 I issued out to see who was the person desiring to hold converse 
 with me, and found a man whom I had no difficulty in recog- 
 nizing as one of the Jewish persuasion. 
 
 " ' Sir,' said this Hebrew, ' I have heard from a friend, who 
 was in your church to-day, the heads of the admirable discourse 
 you pronounced there. It has affected me deeply, most deeply. 
 There are only one or two points on which I am 3-et in doubt, 
 and if your honor could but condescend to enlighten me on 
 these, I think — I think Solomon Hirsch would be a convert 
 to your eloquence.' 
 
 " ' What are these points, my good friend?' said I ; and I 
 
 6 
 
82 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 pointed out to him the twenty-four heads of my sermon, asking 
 him in which of these his doubts lay. 
 
 " We had been walking up and down before the inn while 
 our conversation took place, but the windows being open, and 
 my comrades having heard the discourse in the morning, re- 
 quested me, rather peevishly, not to resume it at that period. 
 I, therefore, moved on with my disciple, and, at his request, 
 began at once the sermon ; for my memor}- is good for anything, 
 and I can repeat any book I have read thrice. 
 
 " I poured out then, under the trees, and in the calm moon- 
 light, that discourse which I had pronounced under the blazing 
 sun of noon. M}* Israelite only interrupted me by exclama- 
 tions indicative of surprise, assent, admiration, and increasing 
 conviction. 'Prodigious!' said he; — ' Wrmdersclion ! ' would 
 he remark at the conclusion of some eloquent passage ; in a 
 word, he exhausted the complimentary interjections of our 
 language : and to compliments what man is averse ? I think 
 we must have walked two miles when I got to my third head, 
 and my companion begged I would enter his house, which we 
 now neared, and partake of a glass of beer; to which I was 
 never averse. 
 
 "That house, sir, was the inn at which j'ou, too, if I judge 
 aright, were taken. No sooner was I in the place, than three 
 crimps rushed upon me, told me I was a deserter, and their 
 prisoner, and called upon me to deliver up nvy money and 
 papers ; which I did with a solemn protest as to 1113' sacred 
 character. The}' consisted of my sermon in MS., Prorector 
 Nasenbrumm's recommendatory letter proving nry identity, 
 and three groschen four pfennigs in bullion. I had already 
 been in the cart twent}' hours when you reached the house. 
 The French officer, who la}' opposite you (he who screamed 
 when you trod oa his foot, for he was wounded), was brought 
 in shortly before 3'our arrival. He had been taken with his 
 epaulets and regimentals, and declared his quality and rank ; 
 but he was alone (I believe it was some affair of love with a 
 Hessian lady which caused him to be unattended) ; and as the 
 persons into whose hands he fell will make more profit of him 
 as a recruit than as a prisoner, be is made to share our fate. 
 He is not the first by many scores so captured. One of M. de 
 Soubise's cooks, and three actors out of a troop in the French 
 camp, several deserters from your English troops (the men are 
 led away by being told that there is no flogging in the Prus- 
 sian service), and three Dutchmen were taken besides." 
 
 "And you," said I — " you who were just on the point of 
 
BARRY LTKDON", ESQ. 83 
 
 getting a valuable living, — you who have so much learning, 
 are 3-011 not indignant at the outrage ? " 
 
 "I am a Saxon," said the candidate, "and there is no 
 use in indignation. Our government is crushed under Fred- 
 erick's heel these five years, and I might as well hope for 
 merely from the Grand Mogul. Nor am I, in truth, discon- 
 tented with my lot ; I have lived on a penny bread for so 
 man} - years, that a soldier's rations will be a luxury to me. 
 I do not care about more or less blows of a cane ; all such 
 evils are passing, and therefore endurable. I will never, 
 God willing, slay a man in combat ; but I am not unanxious 
 to experience on myself the effect of the war-passion, which 
 has had so great an influence on the human race. It was for 
 the same reason that I determined to marry Amalia, for a man 
 is not a complete Mensch until he is the father of a family ; 
 to be which is a condition of his existence, and therefore a 
 duty of his education. Amalia must wait ; she is out of the 
 reach of want, being, indeed, cook to the Frau Prorectorinn 
 Nasenbrumm, my worthy patron's lady. I have one or two 
 books with me, which no one is likely to take from me, and 
 one in my heart which is the best of all. If it shall please 
 heaven to finish my existence here, before I can prosecute my 
 studies further, what cause have I to repine ? I pray God I 
 ma}- not be mistaken, but I think I have wronged no man, and 
 committed no mortal sin. If I have, I know where to look 
 for forgiveness ; and if I die, as I have said, without knowing 
 all that I would desire to learn, shall I not be in a situation to 
 learn everything, and what can human soul ask for more ? 
 
 "Pardon me for putting so many I's in my discourse," said 
 the candidate, " but when a man is talking of himself, 'tis the 
 briefest and simplest way of talking." 
 
 In which, perhaps, though I hate egotism, I think my 
 friend was right. Although he acknowledged himself to be a 
 mean-spirited fellow, with no more ambition than to know 
 the contents of a few must}' books, I think the man had 
 some good in him ; especially in the resolution with which he 
 bore his calamities. Many a gallant man of the highest honor 
 is often not proof against these, and has been known to de- 
 spair over a bad dinner, or to be cast down at a ragged- 
 elbowed coat. My maxim is to bear all, to put up with water 
 if you cannot get burgundy, and if you have no velvet, to be 
 content with frieze. But burgundy and velvet are the best, 
 Men entendu, and the man is a fool who will not seize the best 
 when the scramble is open. 
 
84 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The heads of the sermon which my friend the theologian 
 intended to impart to me, were, however, never told ; for, 
 after our coming out of the hospital, he was drafted into a regi- 
 ment quartered as far as possible from his native country, in 
 Poraerania ; while I was put into the Biilow regiment, of 
 which the ordinary head-quarters were Berlin. The Prussian 
 regiments seldom change their garrisons as ours do, for the 
 fear of desertion is so great, that it becomes necessary to 
 know the face of every individual in the service ; and, in time 
 of peace, men live and die in the same town. This does not 
 add, as may be imagined, to the amusements of the soldier\ 
 life. It is lest any 3'oung gentleman like im'self should take a 
 fancy to a military career, and fancy that of a private soldier 
 a tolerable one, that I am giving these, I hope, moral de- 
 scriptions of what we poor fellows in the ranks really suffered. 
 
 As soon as we recovered, we were dismissed from the nuns 
 and the hospital to the town prison of Fulda, where we were 
 kept like slaves and criminals, with artillerymen with lighted 
 matches at the doors of the court-yards and the huge black 
 dormitor}' where some hundreds of us la}' ; until we were de- 
 spatched to our different destinations. It was soon seen by the 
 exercise which were the old soldiers amongst us, and which the 
 recruits ; and for the former, while we lay in prison, there was 
 a little more leisure : though, if possible, a still more strict 
 watch kept than over the broken-spirited yokels who had been 
 forced or coaxed into the service. To describe the characters 
 here assembled would require Mr. Gilray's own pencil. 
 There were men of all nations and callings. The Englishmen 
 boxed and bullied ; the Frenchmen played cards, and danced 
 and fenced ; the heavy Germans smoked their pipes and drank 
 beer, if they could manage to purchase it. Those who had 
 anything to risk gambled, and at this sport I was pretty 
 lucky, for, not having a penn}' when I entered the depot 
 (having been robbed of every farthing of my property by 
 the rascalhy crimps), I won near a dollar in ray verj r first 
 game at cards with one of the Frenchmen ; who did not think 
 of asking whether I could pa}' or not upon losing. Such, at 
 least, is the advantage of having a gentlemanlike appear- 
 ance : it has saved me many a time since b}' procuring me 
 credit when nry fortunes were at their lowest ebb. 
 
 Among the Frenchmen there was a splendid man and soldier, 
 whose real name we never knew, but whose ultimate histoiy 
 created no small sensation, when it came to be known in the 
 Prussian army. If beauty and courage are proofs of nobility, 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 85 
 
 as (although I have seen some of the ugliest dogs and the great- 
 est cowards in the world in the noblesse) I have no doubt 
 courage and beauty are, this Frenchman must have been of the 
 highest families in France, so grand and noble was his manner, 
 so superb his person. He was not quite so tall as myself, fair, 
 while I am dark, and, if possible, rather broader in the shoulders. 
 He was the only man I ever met who could master me with the 
 small-sword ; with which he would pink me four times to my 
 three. As for the sabre, I could knock him to pieces with it ; 
 and I could leap farther and cany more than he could. This, 
 however, is mere egotism. This Frenchman, with whom I be- 
 came pretty intimate — for we were the two cocks, as it were, 
 of the depot, and neither had any feeling of low jealousy — was 
 called, for want of a better name, Le Blondin, on account of 
 his complexion. He was not a deserter, but had come in from 
 the Lower Rhine and the bishoprics, as I fancy ; fortune having 
 proved unfavorable to him at play probably, and other means 
 of existence being denied him. I suspect that the Bastile was 
 waiting for him in his own country, had he taken a fancy to re- 
 turn thither. 
 
 He was passionately fond of play and liquor, and thus we 
 had a considerable sympathy together : when excited by one or 
 the other, he became frightful. I, for my part, can bear., with- 
 out wincing, both ill luck and wine ; hence nry advantage over 
 him was considerable in our bouts, and I won enough mone} r 
 from him to make my position tenable. He had a wife outside 
 (who, I take it, was the cause of his misfortunes and separation 
 from his family) , and she used to be admitted to see him twice 
 or thrice a week, and never came empty-handed — a little brown, 
 bright-eyed creature, whose ogles had made the greatest impres- 
 sion upon all the world. 
 
 This man was drafted into a regiment that was quartered at 
 Neiss in Silesia, which is only at a short distauce from the 
 Austrian frontier ; he maintained alwaA's the same character for 
 daring and skill, and was, in the secret republic of the regiment, 
 which always exists as well as the regular military hierarchy, the 
 acknowledged leader. He was an admirable soldier, as I have 
 said ; but haughty, dissolute, and a drunkard. A man of this 
 mark, unless he takes care to coax and flatter his officers (which 
 I always did), is sure to fall out with them. Le Blondin's 
 captain was his sworn enemy, and his punishments were frequent 
 and severe. 
 
 His wife and the women of the regiment (this was after the 
 peace) used to carry on a little commerce of smuggling across 
 
86 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the Austrian frontier, where their dealings were winked at by 
 both parties ; and in obedience to the instructions of her hus- 
 band, this woman, from every one of her excursions, would 
 bring in a little powder and ball : commodities which are not to 
 be procured by the Prussian soldier, and which were stowed 
 away in secret till wanted. The}' were to be wanted, and that 
 soon. 
 
 Le Blondin had organized a great and extraordinary con- 
 spiracy. We don't know how far it went, how many hundreds 
 or thousands it embraced ; but strange were the stories told 
 about the plot amongst us privates : for the news was spread 
 from garrison to garrison, and talked of by the army, in spite 
 of all the Government efforts to hush it up — hush it up, indeed ! 
 I have been of the people myself ; I have seen the Irish rebel- 
 lion, and I know what is the freemasonry of the poor. 
 
 He made himself the head of the plot. There were no writ- 
 ings nor papers. No single one of the conspirators communi- 
 cated with any other but the Frenchman ; but personally he gave 
 his orders to them all. He had arranged matters for a general 
 rising of the garrison, at twelve o'clock on a certain da}- : the 
 guard-houses in the town were to be seized, the sentinels cut 
 down, and — who knows the i*est? Some of our people used 
 to say that the conspiracy was spread through all Silesia, and 
 that Le Blondin was to be made a general in the Austrian 
 service. 
 
 At twelve o'clock, and opposite the guard-house by the 
 Bohmer-Thor of Neiss, some thirty' men were lounging about 
 in their undress, and the Frenchman stood near the sentinel of 
 the guard-house, sharpening a wood-hatchet on a stone. At 
 the stroke of twelve, he got up, split open the sentinel's head 
 with a blow of his axe, and the thirty men, rushing into the 
 guard-house, took possession of the arms there, and marched 
 at once to the gate. The sentry there tried to drop the bar, but 
 the Frenchman rushed up to him, and, with another blow of 
 the axe, cut off his right hand with which he held the chain. 
 Seeing the men rushing out armed, the guard without the gate 
 drew up across the road to prevent their passage ; but the 
 Frenchman's thirty gave them a voile}', charged them with 
 the bayonet, and brought down several, and the rest flying, the 
 thirty rushed on. The frontier is only a league from Neiss, and 
 the} 7 made rapidly towards it. 
 
 But the alarm was given in the town, and what saved it was 
 that the clock by which the Frenchman went was a quarter of 
 an hour faster than any of the clocks in the town. The generate 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 87 
 
 was beat, the troops called to arms, and thus the men who were 
 to have attacked the other guard-houses were obliged to fall into 
 the ranks, and their project was defeated. This, however, like- 
 wise rendered the discovery of the conspirators impossible, for no 
 man could betray his comrade, nor, of course, would he crimi- 
 nate himself. 
 
 Cavalry was sent in pursuit of the Frenchman and his thirty 
 fugitives, who were, by this time, far on their way to the Bohe- 
 mian frontier. When the horse came up with them, they turned, 
 received them with a volley and the bay-onet, and drove them 
 back. The Austrians were out at the barriers looking eagerly 
 on at the conflict. The women, who were on the look-out too, 
 brought more ammunition to these intrepid deserters, and they 
 engaged and drove back the dragoons several times. But in 
 these gallant and fruitless combats much time was lost, and a bat- 
 talion presently came up, and surrounded the brave thirty ; when 
 the fate of the poor fellows was decided. They fought with the 
 fuiy of despair : not one of them asked for quarter. When 
 their ammunition failed, they fought with the steel, and were 
 shot down or bayoneted where they stood. The Frenchman 
 was the very last man who was hit. He received a bullet in the 
 thigh, and fell, and in this state was overpowered, killing the 
 officer who first advanced to seize him. 
 
 He and the veiy few of his comrades who survived were 
 carried back to Neiss, and immediately, as the ringleader, he 
 was brought before a council of war. He refused all interroga- 
 tions which were made as to his real name and family. " What 
 matters who I am ? " said he ; " you have me and will shoot me. 
 My name would not save me were it ever so famous." In the 
 same way he declined to make a single discovery regarding the 
 plot. " It was all my doing," he said ; " each man engaged in 
 it only knew me, and is ignorant of every one of his comrades. 
 The secret is mine alone, and the secret shall die with me." 
 When the officers asked him what was the reason which induced 
 him to meditate a crime so horrible ? "It was your infernal 
 brutality and tyranny," he said. "You are all butchers, ruf- 
 fians, tigers, and you owe it to the cowardice of jour men that 
 you were not murdered long ago." 
 
 At this his captain burst into the most furious exclamations 
 against the wounded man, and rushing up to him, struck him 
 a blow with his fist. But Le Blondin, wounded as he was, as 
 quick as thought seized the bayonet of one of the soldiers who 
 supported him, and plunged it into the officer's breast. " Scoun- 
 drel and monster," said he, "I shall have the consolation of 
 
88 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 sending }'on out of the world before I die." He was shot that 
 day. He offered to write to the king, if the officers would agree 
 to let his letter go sealed into the hands of the postmaster ; but 
 they feared, no doubt, that something might be said to inculpate 
 themselves, and refused him the permission. At the next re- 
 view Frederick treated them, it is said, with great severity, and 
 rebuked them for not having granted the Frenchman his request. 
 However, it was the king's interest to conceal the matter, and 
 so it was, as I have said before, hushed up — so well hushed 
 up, that a hundred thousand soldiers in the army knew it : and 
 many's the one of us that has drunk to the Frenchman's memor}' 
 over our wine, as a martyr for the cause of the soldier. I shall 
 have, doubtless, some readers who will cry out at this, that I 
 am encouraging insubordination and advocating murder. If 
 these men had served as privates in the Prussian army from 1760 
 to 1765, the}' would not be so apt to take objection. This man 
 destroyed two sentinels to get his liberty ; how many hundreds 
 of thousands of his own and the Austrian people did King 
 Frederick kill because he took a fancy to Silesia? It was the 
 accursed tyranny of the system that sharpened the axe which 
 brained the two sentinels of Neiss : and so let officers take 
 warning, and think twice ere they visit poor fellows with the 
 cane. 
 
 I could tell man}' more stories about the arnvy ; but as, 
 from having been a soldier n^self, all my sympathies are in 
 the ranks, no doubt in}' tales would be pronounced to be of an 
 immoral tendenc3 r , and I had best, therefore, be brief. Fancy 
 my surprise while in this depot, when one day a well-known 
 voice saluted my ear, and I heard a meagre }'oung gentleman, 
 who was brought in by a couple of troopers and received a few 
 cuts across the shoulders from one of them, say in the best 
 English, " You infernal wascal, I'll be wevenged for this. I'll 
 wite to my ambassador, as sure as my name's Fakenham of 
 Fakenham." I burst out laughing at this: it was my old 
 acquaintance in my corporal's coat. Lischen had sworn stoutly 
 that he was really and truly the private, and the poor fellow 
 had been drafted off, and was to be made one of us. But I 
 bear no malice, and having made the whole room roar with the 
 storj' of the way in which I had tricked the poor lad, I gave 
 him a piece of advice, which procured him his liberty. " Go 
 to the inspecting officer," said I ; "if they once get you into 
 Prussia it is all over with 3 r ou, and they will never give yon up. 
 Go now to the commandant of the depot, promise him a hun- 
 dred — five hundred guineas to set you free ; say that the 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 89 
 
 crimping captain has }-our papers and portfolio (this was true) ; 
 above all, show him that }'ou have the means of paying him 
 the promised mone}', and I will warrant you are set free." 
 He did as I advised, and when we were put on the march Mr. 
 Fakenham found means to be allowed to go into hospital, and 
 while in hospital the matter was arranged as I had recommended. 
 He had nearly, however, missed his freedom by his own stingi- 
 ness in bargaining for it, and never showed the least gratitude 
 towards me his benefactor. 
 
 I am not going to give any romantic narrative of the Seven 
 Years' War. At the close of it, the Prussian arm} T , so . re- 
 nowned for its disciplined valor, was officered and under-of- 
 ficered by native Prussians, it is true ; but was composed for 
 the most part of men hired or stolen, like myself, from almost 
 every nation in Europe. The deserting to and fro was pro- 
 digious. In my regiment (Biilow's) alone before the war, 
 there had been no less than 600 Frenchmen, and as they 
 marched out of Berlin for the campaign, one of the fellows 
 had an old fiddle on which he was playing a French tune, and 
 his comrades danced almost, rather than walked, after him, 
 singing, " Nous allons en France." Two years after, when they 
 returned to Berlin, there were only six of these men left ; the 
 rest had fled or were killed in action. The life the private sol- 
 dier led was a frightful one to any but men of iron courage and 
 endurance. There was a corporal to every three men, march- 
 ing behind them, and pitilessly* using the cane : so much so 
 that it used to be said that in action there was a front rank of 
 privates and a second rank of sergeants and corporals to drive 
 them on. Many men would give way to the most frightful 
 acts of despair under these incessant persecutions and tortures ; 
 and amongst several regiments of the army a horrible practice 
 had sprung up, which for some time caused the greatest alarm 
 to the government. This was a strange, frightful custom of 
 child-murder. The men used to say that life was unbearable, 
 that suicide was a crime ; in order to avert which, and to finish 
 with the intolerable misery of their position, the best plan was 
 to kill a 3'oung child, which was innocent, and therefore secure 
 of heaven, and then to deliver themselves up as guilty of the 
 murder. The king himself — the hero, sage, and philosopher, 
 the prince who had always liberality on his lips, and who af- 
 fected a horror of capital punishments — was frightened at 
 this dreadful protest, on the part of the wretches whom he had 
 kidnapped, against his monstrous tyranny ; but his only means 
 of remedying the evil was strictly to forbid that such criminals 
 
90 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 should be attended by an}' ecclesiastic whatever, and denied all 
 religious consolation. 
 
 The punishment was incessant. Every officer had the lib- 
 erty to inflict it, and in peace it was more cruel than in war. 
 For when peace came the king turned adrift such of his officers 
 as were not noble ; whatever their services might have been. 
 He would call a captain to the front of his company and say, 
 " He is not noble, let him go." We were afraid of him some- 
 how, and were cowed before him like wild beasts before their 
 keeper. I have seen the bravest men of the army cry like 
 children at a cut of the cane ; I have seen a little ensign of fif- 
 teen call out a man of fifty from the ranks, a man who had 
 been in a hundred battles, and he has stood presenting arms, 
 and sobbing and howling like a baby, while the young wretch 
 lashed him over the arms and thighs with the stick. In a day 
 of action this man would dare anything. A button might be 
 awry then and nobody touched him ; but when they had made 
 the brute fight, then they lashed him again into subordination. 
 Almost all of us yielded to the spell — scarce one could break 
 it. The French officer I have spoken of as taken along with 
 me, was in my company, and caned like a dog. I met him at 
 Versailles twenty years afterwards, and he turned quite pale 
 and sick when I spoke to him of old days. " For God's sake," 
 said he, "don't talk of that time: I wake up from my sleep 
 trembling and crying even now." 
 
 As for me, after a very brief time (in which it must be con- 
 fessed I tasted, like my comrades, of the cane) and after I had 
 found opportunities to show m} T self to be a brave and dexterous 
 soldier, I took the means I had adopted in the English army 
 to prevent airy further personal degradation. I wore a bullet 
 around my neck, which I did not take the pains to conceal, 
 and I gave out that it should be for the man or officer who 
 caused me to be chastised. And there was something in my 
 character which made my superiors believe me ; for that bullet 
 had already served me to kill an Austrian colonel, and 1 would 
 have given it to a Prussian with as little remorse. For what 
 cared I for their quarrels, or whether the eagle under which I 
 marched had one head or two? All I said was, "No man 
 shall find me tripping in nry duty ; but no man shall ever lay 
 a hand upon me." And by this maxim I abided as long as I 
 remained in the service. 
 
 I do not intend to make a history of battles in the Prussian 
 any more than in the English service. I did my duty in tliera 
 as well as another, and by the time that niy moustache had 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 91 
 
 grown to a decent length, which it did when I was twenty 
 years of age, there was not a braver, cleverer, handsomer, and 
 I must own, wickeder soldier in the Prussian army. I had 
 formed myself to the condition of the proper fighting beast : 
 on a day of action I was savage and happ3* ; out of the field I 
 took all the pleasure I could get, and was by no means delicate 
 as to its quality or the manner of procuring it. The truth is, 
 however, that there was among our men a much higher tone of 
 society than among the clumsy louts in the English army, and 
 our service was generally so strict that we had little time for 
 doing mischief. I am very dark and swarthy in complexion, 
 and was called by our fellows the "Black Englander," the 
 " Schwartzer Englander," or the English Devil. If any ser- 
 vice was to be done, I was sure to be put upon it. I got fre- 
 quent gratifications of money, but no promotion ; and it was 
 on the day after I had killed the Austrian colonel (a great 
 officer of Uhlans, whom I engaged singly and on foot, that 
 General Biilow, m}- colonel, gave me two Frederics-d'or in 
 front of the regiment, and said, "I reward thee now; but I 
 fear I shall have to hang thee one day or other." I spent the 
 money, and that I had taken from the colonel's body, every 
 groschen, that night with some jovial companions ; but as long 
 as war lasted was never without a dollar in my purse. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BARRY LEADS A GARRISON LIFE, AND FINDS MANY FRIENDS THERE. 
 
 After the war, our regiment was garrisoned in the capital, 
 the least dull, perhaps, of all the towns of Prussia : but that 
 does not say much for its gayety. Our service, which was 
 alwa}*s severe, still left many hours of the day disengaged, in 
 which we might take our pleasure had we the means of paying 
 for the same. Many of our mess got leave to work in trades ; 
 but I had been brought up to none : and besides my honor for- 
 bade me ; for as a gentleman, I could not soil nry fingers by a 
 manual occupation. But our pay was barely enough to keep 
 us from starving ; and as I have always been fond of pleasure, 
 and as the position in which we now were, in the midst of the 
 capital, prevented us from resorting to those means of levying 
 
92 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 contributions which are always pretty feasible in war-time, I 
 was obliged to adopt the only means left me of providing for 
 my expenses : and in a word, became the Ordonnanz, or con- 
 fidential military gentleman of my captain. I spurned the 
 office four years previously, when it was made to me in the 
 English service ; but the position is very different in a foreign 
 country : besides, to tell the truth, after five years in the ranks, 
 a man's pride will submit to man}- rebuffs which would be in- 
 tolerable to him in an independent condition. 
 
 The captain was a young man and had distinguished himself 
 during the war, or he would never have been advanced to rank 
 so early. He was, moreover, the nephew and heir of the Min- 
 ister of Police, Monsieur de Potzdorff, a relationship which no 
 doubt aided in the young gentleman's promotion. Captain de 
 Potzdorff was a severe officer enough on parade or in barracks, 
 but he was a person easily led by flattery. I won his heart in 
 the first place by my manner of tying my hair in queue (indeed it 
 was more neatly dressed than that of an}' man in the regiment), 
 and subsequently gained his confidence by a thousand little arts 
 and compliments, which as a gentleman myself I knew how to 
 employ. He was a man of pleasure, which he pursued more 
 openly than most men in the stern court of the king ; he was 
 generous and careless with his purse, and he had a great affec- 
 tion for Rhine wine : in all which qualities I sincerely sympa- 
 thized with him ; and from which I, of course, had ray profit. 
 He was disliked in the regiment, because he was supposed to 
 have too intimate relations with his uncle the Police Minister ; 
 to whom, it was hinted, he carried the news of the corps. 
 
 Before long I had ingratiated myself considerably with my 
 officer, and knew most of his affairs. Thus I was relieved from 
 man}' drills and parades, which would otherwise have fallen to 
 my lot, and came in for a number of perquisites ; which enabled 
 me to support a genteel figure and to appear with some eclat in 
 a certain, though it must be confessed very humble society in 
 Berlin. Among the ladies I was always an especial favorite, 
 and so polished was my behavior amongst them, that they 
 could not understand how I should have obtained my frightful 
 nickname of the Black Devil in the regiment. " He is not so 
 black as he is painted." I laughingly would say ; and most of 
 the ladies agreed that the private was quite as well bred as the 
 captain : as indeed how should it be otherwise, considering my 
 education and birth? 
 
 When I was sufficiently ingratiated with him, I asked leave 
 to address a letter to my poor mother in Ireland, to whom I had 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 93 
 
 not given any news of myself for many, many j'ears ; for the 
 letters of the foreign soldiers were never admitted to the post, 
 for fear of appeals or disturbances on the part of their parents 
 abroad. My captain agreed to find means to forward the let- 
 ter, and as I knew that he would open it, I took care to give it 
 him sealed : thus showing my confidence in him. But the letter 
 was, as you may imagine, written so that the writer should come 
 to no harm were it intercepted. I begged my honored mother's 
 forgiveness for having fled from her ; I said that my extrava- 
 gance and folly in m} r own country I knew rendered my return 
 thither impossible ; but that she would, at least, be glad to 
 know that I was well and happ}' in the service of the greatest 
 monarch in the world, and that the soldier's life was most 
 agreeable to me : and, I added, that I had found a kind pro- 
 tector and patron, who I hoped would some day provide for me 
 as I knew it was out of her power to do. I offered remembran- 
 ces to all the girls at Castle Brady, naming them from Biddy 
 to Becky downwards, and signed mj'self, as in truth I was, her 
 affectionate son, Redmond Barry, in Captain PotzdorfFs com- 
 pany of the Biilowisch regiment of foot in garrison at Berlin. 
 Also I told her a pleasant story about the king kicking the 
 chancellor and three judges downstairs, as he had done one day T 
 when I was on guard at Potsdam, and said I hoped for another 
 war soon, when I might rise to be an officer. In fact, you 
 might have imagined my letter to be that of the happiest fellow 
 in the world, and I was not on this head at all sorry to mislead 
 my kind parent. 
 
 I was sure my letter was read, for Captain Potzdorff began 
 asking me some daj's afterwards about my family, and I told 
 him the circumstances pretty truly, all things considered. I 
 was a cadet of a good family, but my mother was almost ruined 
 and had barely enough to support her eight daughters, whom I 
 named. I had been to study for the law at Dublin, where I 
 had got into debt and bad company, had killed a man in a duel, 
 and would be hanged or imprisoned Ivy his powerful friends if 
 I returned. I had enlisted in the English service, where an 
 opportunity for escape presented itself to me such as I could 
 not resist ; and hereupon I told the story of Mr. Fakenham of 
 Fakenham in such a way as made m c y patron to be convulsed 
 with laughter, and he told me afterwards that he had repeated 
 the story at Madame de Kameke's evening assembly, where 
 all the world was anxious to have a sight of the young Eng- 
 lander. 
 
 " Was the British ambassador there?" I asked, in a tone 
 
94 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of the greatest alarm, and added, "For heaven's sake, sir, do 
 not tell my name to him, or he might ask to have me delivered 
 up : and I have no fancy to go to be hanged in my dear native 
 country." Fotzdorff, laughing, said he would take care that I 
 should remain where I was, on which I swore eternal gratitude 
 to him. 
 
 Some days afterwards, and with rather a grave face, he said 
 to me, ' w Redmond, I have been talking to our colonel about 
 you, and as I wondered that a fellow of your courage and 
 talents had not been advanced during the war, the general said 
 they had had their e}"e upon }'ou ; that you were a gallant sol- 
 dier, and had evidently come of a good stock ; that no man in 
 the regiment had had less fault found with him ; but that no 
 man merited promotion less. You were idle, dissolute, and 
 unprincipled ; you had done a deal of harm to the men ; and, 
 for all your talents and bravery, he was sure would come to no 
 good." 
 
 " Sir ! " said I, quite astonished that any mortal man should 
 have formed such an opinion of me, " I hope General Bulow 
 is mistaken regarding my character. I have fallen into bad 
 company, it is true ; but I have only done as other soldiers 
 have done ; and, above all, I have never had a kind friend and 
 protector before, to whom I might show that I was worthy of 
 better things. The general may say I am a ruined lad, and 
 send me to the d — 1 ; but be sure of this, I would go to the 
 d — 1 to serve yon.'" This speech I saw pleased my patron very 
 much ; and, as I was very discreet and useful in a thousand 
 delicate ways to him, he soon came to have a sincere attach- 
 ment for me. One day, or rather night, when he was tete-a-tete 
 with the lady of the Tabaks Rath von Dose for instance, I 
 .... but there is no use in telling atfairs which concern no- 
 body now. 
 
 Four months after my letter to my mother, I got, under 
 cover to the captain, a reply, which created in my mind a 
 yearning after home, and a melancholy which I cannot describe. 
 i had not seen the dear soul's writing for five years. All the 
 old days, and the fresh happy sunshine of the old green fields 
 in Ireland, and her love, and my uncle, and Phil Purcell, and 
 everything that I had done and thought, came back to me as 
 I read the letter ; and when I was alone I cried over it, as I 
 hadn't done since the day when Nora jilted me. I took care 
 not to show my feelings to the regiment or my captain : but 
 that night, when I was to have taken tea at the Garden-house 
 outside Brandenburg Gate, with Fraulein Lottchen (the Tabaks 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 95 
 
 Rathinn's gentlewoman of company) , I somehow had not the 
 courage to go ; but begged to be excused, and went early to 
 bed in barracks, out of which I went and came now almost as 
 I willed, and passed a long night weeping and thinking about 
 dear Ireland. 
 
 Next day, my spirits rose again, and I got a ten-guinea bill 
 cashed, which my mother sent in the letter, and gave a hand- 
 some treat to some of my acquaintance. The poor soul's letter 
 was blotted all over with tears, full of texts, and written in the 
 wildest incoherent waj". She said she was delighted to think 
 I was under a Protestant Prince, though she feared he was not 
 in the right way : that right way, she said, she had the blessing 
 to find, under the guidance of the Rev. Joshua Jowls, whom 
 she sat under. She said he was a precious, chosen vessel ; a 
 sweet ointment and precious box of spikenard ; and made use 
 of a great number more phrases that I could not understand ; 
 but one thing was clear in the midst of all this jargon, that the 
 good soul loved her son still, and thought and prayed day and 
 night for her wild Redmond. Has it not come across mairy a 
 poor fellow, in a solitary night's watch, or in sorrow, sickness, 
 or captivit}-, that at that very minute, most likely, his mother 
 is praying for him ? I often have had these thoughts ; but they 
 are none of the gayest, and it's quite as well that they don't 
 come to 3*ou in company ; for where would be a set of jolly 
 fellows then ? — as mute as undertakers at a funeral, I promise 
 you. I drank my mother's health that night in a bumper, and 
 lived like a gentleman whilst the money lasted. She pinched 
 herself to give it to me, as she told me afterwards ; and Mr. 
 Jowls was very wroth with her. 
 
 Although the good soul's money was pretty quickly spent, 
 I was not long in getting more ; for I had a hundred waj-s of 
 getting it, and became a universal favorite with the captain and 
 his friends. Now, it was Madame von Dose who gave me a 
 Frecleric-d'or for bringing her a bouquet or a letter from the 
 captain ; now it was, on the contrary, the old Privy Councillor 
 who treated me with a bottle of Rhenish, and slipped into my 
 hand a dollar or two, in order that I might give him some in- 
 formation regarding the liaison between my captain and his 
 lad}'. But though I was not such a fool as not to take his 
 monej^, you ma}- be sure I was not dishonorable enough to 
 betray my benefactor ; and he got very little out of me. 
 When the captain and the lady fell out, and he began to pay 
 his addresses to the rich daughter of the Dutch Minister, I 
 don't know how man} 7 more letters and guineas the unfortunate 
 
96 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Tabaks Rjithinn handed over to me, that I might get her lover 
 back again. But such returns are rare in love, and the captain 
 used only to laugh at her stale sighs and entreaties. In the 
 house of Mynheer Van Guldensack 1 made myself so pleasant 
 to high and low, that I came to be quite intimate there ; and 
 got the knowledge of a state secret or two, which surprised and 
 pleased my captain very much. These little hints he carried 
 to his uncle, the Minister of Police, who, no doubt, made his 
 advantage of them ; and thus I began to be received quite in a 
 confidential light by the Potzdorff family, and became a mere 
 nominal soldier, being allowed to appear in plain clothes (which 
 were, I warrant 3011, of a neat fashion), and to enjoy myself 
 in a hundred ways, which the poor fellows my comrades envied. 
 As for the sergeants, the}' were as civil to me as to an officer : 
 it was as much as their stripes were worth to offend a person 
 who had the ear of the Minister's nephew. There was in my 
 compairy a young fellow by the name of Kurz, who was six 
 feet high in spite of his name, and whose life I had saved in 
 some affair of the war. What does this lad do, after I had 
 recounted to him one of my adventures, but call me a spy and 
 informer, and beg me not to call him du an}- more, as is the 
 fashion with young men when they are very intimate. I had 
 nothing for it but to call him out ; but I owed him no grudge. 
 I disarmed him in a twinkling ; and as I sent his sword flying 
 over his head, said to him, " Kurz, did ever you know a man 
 guilty of a mean action who can do as I do now ? " This 
 silenced the rest of the grumblers ; and no man ever sneered 
 at me after that. 
 
 No man can suppose that to a person of my fashion the 
 waiting in ante-chambers, the conversation of foOtmen and 
 hangers-on, was pleasant. But it was not more degrading 
 than the barrack-room, of which I need not say I was heartily 
 sick. My protestations of liking for the arm}' were all in- 
 tended to throw dust into the eyes of my employer. I sighed 
 to be out of slavery. I knew I was born to make a figure in 
 the world. Had I been one of the Neiss garrison, I would 
 have cut my way to freedom by the side of the gallant French- 
 man ; but here I had only artifice to enable me to attain my 
 end, and was not 1 justified in employing it? My plan was 
 this : I may make myself so necessary to M. de Potzdorff, that 
 he will obtain ray freedom. Once free, with my fine person 
 and good family, I will do what ten thousand Irish gentlemen 
 have done before, and will marry a lady of fortune and condi- 
 tion. And the proof that I was, if not disinterested, at least 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 97 
 
 actuated bj T a noble ambition, is this. There was a fat gro- 
 cer's widow in Berlin with six hundred thalers of rent, and a 
 good business, who gave me to understand that she would pur- 
 chase my discharge if I would many her ; but I frankly told 
 her that I was not made to be a grocer, and thus absolutely 
 flung away a chance of freedom which she offered me. 
 
 And I was grateful to my employers : more grateful than 
 they to me. The captain was in debt, and had dealings with 
 the Jews, to whom he gave notes of hand payable on his uncle's 
 death. The old Herr von Potzdorff, seeing the confidence his 
 nephew had in me, offered to bribe me to know what the young 
 man's affairs really were. But what did I do? I informed 
 Monsieur George von Potzdorff of the fact ; and we made out, 
 in concert, a list of little debts, so moderate, that they actually 
 appeased the old uncle instead of irritating, and he paid them, 
 being glad to get off so cheap. 
 
 And a pretty return I got for this fidelity. One morning, 
 the old gentleman being closeted with his nephew (he used to 
 come to get any news stirring as to what the young officers of 
 the x-egiments were doing ; whether this or that gambled ; who 
 intrigued, and with whom ; who was at the ridotto on such a 
 night ; who was in debt, and what not ; for the king liked to 
 know the business of every officer in his army), I was sent with 
 a letter to the Marquis d'Argens (that afterwards married 
 Mademoiselle Cochois the actress), and, meeting the marquis at 
 a few paces off in the street, gave my message, and returned to 
 the captain's lodging. He and his worthy uncle were making 
 my unworth}' self the subject of conversation. 
 
 " He is noble," said the captain. 
 
 " Bah ! " replied the uncle (whom I could have throttled for 
 his insolence). " All the beggarly Irish who ever enlisted tell 
 the same story." 
 
 " He was kidnapped by Galgenstein," resumed the other. 
 
 "A kidnapped deserter," said M. Potzdorff; " la belle af- 
 faire!" 
 
 " Well, I promised the lad I would ask for his discharge ; 
 and I am sure you can make him useful." 
 
 " You have asked his discharge," answered the elder, laugh- 
 ing. ' ' Bon Dieu ! You are a model of probity ! You'll never 
 succeed to my place, George, if 3*011 are no wiser than you are 
 just now. Make the fellow as useful to 3*011 as 30U please. He 
 has a good manner and a frank countenance. He can lie with 
 an assurance that I never saw surpassed, and fight, 3'ou say, on 
 a pinch. The scoundrel does not want for good qualities ; but 
 
 7 
 
98 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 he is vain, a spendthrift, and a bavard. As long as you have 
 the regiment in terror em over him, you can do as you like with 
 him. Once let him loose, and the lad is likely to give you the 
 slip. Keep on promising him ; promise to make him a gen- 
 eral, if you like. What the deuce do I care? There are spies 
 enough to be had in this town without him." 
 
 It was thus that the services I rendered to M. Potzdorff 
 were qualified by that ungrateful old gentleman ; and I stole 
 away from the room extremely troubled in spirit, to think that 
 another of my fond dreams was thus dispelled ; and that my 
 hopes of getting out of the army by being useful to the captain, 
 were entirely vain. For some time my despair was such, that 
 I thought of marrying the widow ; but the marriages of privates 
 are never allowed without the direct permission of the King; 
 and it was a matter of very great doubt whether his Majesty 
 would allow a young fellow of twenty-two, the handsomest man 
 of his army, to be coupled to a pimple-faced old widow of sixty, 
 who was quite beyond the age when her marriage would be 
 likely to multiply the subjects of his Majesty. This hope of 
 liberty was therefore vain ; nor could I hope to purchase my 
 discharge, unless any charitable soul would lend me a large 
 sum of money : for, though I made a good deal, as I have 
 said, yet I have always had through life an incorrigible knack 
 of spending, and (such is my generosity of disposition) have 
 been in debt ever since I was born. 
 
 My captain, the sly rascal ! gave me a very different version 
 of his conversation with his uncle to that which I knew to be 
 the true one; and said smilingly to me, "Redmond, I have 
 spoken to the Minister regarding th} r services,* and thy fortune 
 is made. AVe shall get thee out of the army, appoint thee to 
 the police bureau, and procure for thee an inspectorship of 
 customs ; and, in fine, allow thee to move in a better sphere 
 than that in which Fortune has hitherto placed thee." 
 
 Although I did not believe a word of this speech, I affected 
 
 * The service about which Mr. Barry here speaks has, and we suspect 
 purposely, been described by him in very dubious terms. It is most proba- 
 ble that he was employed to wait at the table of strangers in Berlin, and 
 to bring to the Police Minister any news concerning them which might at 
 all interest the Government. The great Frederic never received a guest 
 without taking these hospitable precautions ; and as for the duels which 
 Mr. Barry fights, may we be allowed to hint a doubt as to a great number 
 of these combats ? It will be observed, in one or two other parts of his 
 Memoirs, that whenever he is at an awkward pass, or does what the world 
 does not usually consider respectable, a duel, in which he is victorious, is 
 sure to ensue ; from which he argues that he is a man of undoubted honor. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 99 
 
 to be very much moved by it, and of course swore eternal 
 gratitude to the captain for his kindness to the poor Irish cast- 
 away-. 
 
 "Your service at the Dutch Minister's has pleased me very 
 well. There is another occasion on which 3-011 may make your- 
 self useful to us ; and if you succeed, depend on it your reward 
 will be secure." 
 
 "What is the service, sir?" said I; "I will do anything 
 for so kind a master." 
 
 " There is lately come to Berlin," said the captain, " a gen- 
 tleman in the service of the Empress-queen, who calls himself 
 the Chevalier de Balibari, and wears the red ribbon and star of 
 the Pope's order of the Spur. He speaks Italian or French 
 indifferently ; but we have some reason to fancy this Monsieur 
 de Balibari is a native of your country of Ireland. Did you 
 ever hear such a name as Balibari in Ireland? " 
 
 " Balibari ! Balyb * *?" A sudden thought flashed across 
 me. " No, sir," said I, " never heard the name." 
 
 " You must go into his service. Of course you will not know 
 a word of English ; and if the chevalier asks as to the particu- 
 larly of 3'our accent, say 3-ou are a Hungarian. The servant 
 who came with him will be turned awaj- to-day, and the person 
 to whom he has applied for a faithful fellow will recommend 
 3-ou. You are a Hungarian ; you served in the Seven Years' 
 War. You left the army on account of weakness of the loins. 
 You served Monsieur de Quellenberg two 3-ears ; he is now 
 with the army in Silesia, but there is your certificate signed by 
 him. You afterwards lived with Dr. Mopsius, who will give 
 3-011 a character, if need be ; and the landlord of the ' Star ' 
 will, of course, certify that 3-011 are an honest fellow : but his 
 certificate goes for nothing. As for the rest of your stor3 T , 3-ou 
 can fashion that as 3*011 will, and make it as romantic or as 
 ludicrous as your fanc3 r dictates. Tr3', however, to win the 
 chevalier's confidence by provoking his compassion. He gam- 
 bles a great deal, and wins. Do 3-011 know the cards well?" 
 
 " Only a very little, as soldiers do." 
 
 " I had thought you more expert. You must find out if the 
 chevalier cheats ; if he does, we have him. He sees the Eng- 
 lish and Austrian envo3'S continually, and the young men of 
 either Ministn* sup repeatedly at his house. Find out what 
 they talk of; for how much each pWs, especially if an3' of 
 them pla3 T on parole : if you once read his private letters, of 
 course 3-011 will ; though about those which go to the post, 3-ou 
 need not trouble 3-ourself ; we look at them there. But never 
 
100 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 see him write a note without finding out to whom it goes, and 
 by what channel or messenger. He sleeps with the keys of his 
 despatch-box on a string round his neck. Twenty Frederics, 
 if you get an impression of the keys. You will, of course, go 
 in plain clothes. You had best brush the powder out of vour 
 hair, and tie it with a ribbon simply; your moustache "you 
 must of course shave off." 
 
 With these instructions, and a very small gratuity, the cap- 
 tain left me. When I again saw him, he was amused at the 
 change in my appearance. I had, not without a pang (for 
 they were as black as jet, and curled elegantly), shaved off my 
 moustaches ; had removed the odious grease and flour, which I 
 always abominated, out of my hair ; had mounted a demure 
 French gray coat, black satin breeches, and a maroon plush 
 waistcoat, and a hat without a cockade. I looked as meek 
 and humble as any servant out of place could possibly appear ; 
 and I think not my own regiment, which was now at the review 
 at Potsdam, would have known me. Thus accoutred, I went 
 to the "'Star Hotel," where this stranger was, — my heart 
 beating with anxiety, and something telling me that this Chev- 
 alier de Balibari was no other than Barry, of Ballybarry, my 
 father's eldest brother, who had given up his estate in conse- 
 quence of his obstinate adherence to the Romish superstition. 
 Before I went in to present m}self, I went to look in the remises 
 at his carriage. Had he the Barry arms ! Yes, there they 
 were : argent, a bend gules, with four escallops of the field, — 
 the ancient coat of mj- house. They were painted in a shield 
 about as big as my hat, on a smart chariot handsomely gilded, 
 surmounted with a coronet, and supported by eight or nine 
 cupids, cornucopias, and flower-baskets, according to the queer 
 heraldic fashion of those days. It must be he ! I felt quite 
 faint as I went up the stairs. I was going to present mj-self 
 before m} r uncle in the character of a servant ! 
 
 "You are the young man whom M. de Seebach recom- 
 mended?" 
 
 I bowed, and handed him a letter from that gentleman, with 
 which my captain had taken care to provide me. As he looked 
 at it I had leisure to examine him. My uncle was a man of 
 sixt}^ years of age, dressed superbhy in a coat and breeches 
 of apricot-colored velvet, a white satin waistcoat embroidered 
 with gold like the coat. Across his breast went the purple 
 ribbon of his order of the Spur ; and the star of the order, an 
 enormous one, sparkled on his breast. He had rings on all 
 his fingers, a couple of watches in his fobs, a rich diamond 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 101 
 
 solitaire in the black ribbon round his neck, and fastened to the 
 bag of his wig ; his ruffles and frills were decorated with a pro- 
 fusion of the richest lace. He had pink silk stockings rolled 
 over the knee, and tied with gold garters ; and enormous dia- 
 mond buckles to his red-heeled shoes. A sword mounted in 
 gold, in a white fish-skin scabbard ; and a hat richly laced, and 
 lined with white feathers, which were lying on a table beside 
 him, completed the costume of this splendid gentleman. In 
 height he was about my size, that is, six feet and half an inch ; 
 his cast of features singularly like mine, and extremeby distingue. 
 One of his eyes was closed with a black patch, however ; he 
 wore a little white and red paint, b}' no means an unusual 
 ornament in those days ; and a pair of moustaches, which fell 
 over his lip and hid a mouth that I afterwards found had rather 
 a disagreeable expression. When his beard was removed, the 
 upper teeth appeared to project very much ; and his counte- 
 nance wore a ghastly fixed smile, by no means pleasant. 
 
 It was very imprudent of me ; but when I saw the splendor 
 of his appearance, the nobleness of his manner, I felt it im- 
 possible to keep disguise with him; and when he said, "Ah, 
 you are a Hungarian, I see !" I could hold no longer. 
 
 " Sir," said I, "I am an Irishman, and my name is Red- 
 mond Barry, of Balbybany." As I spoke, I burst into tears ; 
 I can't tell why ; but I had seen none of my kith or kin for six 
 years, and my heart longed for some one. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 BARRY BIDS ADIEU TO THE MILITARY PROFESSION. 
 
 You who have never been out of your country, know little 
 what it is to hear a friendly voice in captivuy ; and there's 
 many a man that will not understand the cause of the burst of 
 feeling which I have confessed took place on my seeing my 
 uncle. He never for a minute thought to question the truth of 
 what I said. "Mother of God!" cried he, "it's my brother 
 Harry's son." And I think in my heart he was as much affected 
 as I was at thus suddenly finding one of his kindred ; for he, 
 too, was an exile from home, and a friendly voice, a look, 
 brought the old country back to his memoiy again, and the old 
 days of his boyhood. "I'd give five years of my life to see 
 
102 THE MEMOIKS OF 
 
 them again," said he, after caressing me ven' warmly. ' ' What ? " 
 asked I. " Why," replied he, " the green fields, and the river, 
 and the old round tower, and the burying-place at Ballybarry. 
 'Twas a shame for your father to part with the land, Redmond, 
 that went so long with the name." 
 
 He then began to ask me concerning myself, and I gave 
 him my history at some length ; at which the worthy gentle- 
 man laughed many times, saying, that I was a Barry all over. 
 In the middle of my story he would stop me, to make me stand 
 back to back, and measure with him (b}- which I ascertained 
 that our heights were the same, and that my uncle had a stiff 
 knee, moreover, which made him walk in a peculiar way), and 
 uttered, during the course of the narrative, a hundred exclama- 
 tions of pity, and kindness, and sympathy. It was " Holy 
 saints!" and "Mother of Heaven!" and "Blessed Mary!" 
 continually ; by which, and with justice, I concluded that he 
 was still devotedly attached to the ancient faith of our family. 
 
 It was with some difficulty that I came to explain to him 
 the last part of my history, viz. that I was put into his service 
 as a watch upon his actions, of which I was to give information 
 in a certain quarter. When I told him (with a great deal of hesi- 
 tation) of this fact, he burst out laughing, and enjoyed the joke 
 amazingly. " The rascals ! " said he ; " they think to catch me, 
 do they? Why, Redmond, m} - chief conspiracy is a faro-bank. 
 But the king is so jealous, that he will see a spy in even* person 
 who comes to his miserable capital in the great sand}' desert 
 here. Ah, mj- boy, I must show you Paris and Vienna ! " 
 
 I said there was nothing I longed for more than to see any 
 city but Berlin, and should be delighted to be free of the odious 
 military service. Indeed, I thought, from his splendor of 
 appearance, the knick-knacks about the room, the gilded car- 
 riage in the remise, that nry uncle was a man of vast property ; 
 and that he would purchase a dozen, nay , a whole regiment of 
 substitutes, in order to restore me to freedom. 
 
 But I was mistaken in my calculations regarding him, as his 
 history of himself speedily showed me. " I have been beaten 
 about the world," said he, " ever since the 3-ear 1742, when my 
 brother your father (and heaven forgive him) cut my family 
 estate from under my heels, by turning heretic, in order to 
 many that scold of a mother of yours. Well, let bygones be 
 bygones. 'Tis probable that I should have run through the 
 little property as he did in my place, and I should have had to 
 begin a jear or two later the life I have been leading ever since 
 I was compelled to leave Ireland. My lad, I have been in 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 103 
 
 ever} T service; and between ourselves, owe money in every 
 capital in Europe. I made a campaign or two with the Pan- 
 dours under Austrian Trenck. I was captain in the Guard of 
 his Holiness the Pope. I made the campaign of Scotland 
 with the Prince of Wales — a bad fellow, my dear, caring more 
 for his mistress and his brandy-bottle than for the crowns of 
 the three kingdoms. I have served in Spain and in Piedmont; 
 but I have been a rolling stone, m}* good fellow. Play — play 
 has been my ruin ! that and beauty " (here he gave a leer which 
 made him, I must confess, look anything but handsome ; be- 
 sides, his rouged cheeks were all beslobbered with the tears 
 which he had shed on receiving me). " The women have made 
 a fool of me, my dear Redmond. I am a soft-hearted creature, 
 and this minute, at sixty-two, have no more command of myself 
 than when Peggj- O'Dwyer made a fool of me at sixteen." 
 
 "'Faith, sir," says I, laughing, "I think it runs in the 
 family ! " and described to him, much to his amusement, my 
 romantic passion for my cousin, Nora Brady. He resumed his 
 narrative. 
 
 1,4 The cards now are my only livelihood. Sometimes I am 
 in luck, and then I la}' out my money in these trinkets you see. 
 It's propert}*, look you, Redmond ; and the only way I have 
 found of keeping a little about me. When the luck goes 
 against me, why, my dear, my diamonds go to the pawnbrokers, 
 and I wear paste. Friend Moses the goldsmith will pay me a 
 visit this very day ; for the chances have been against me all 
 the week past, and I must raise money for the bank to-night. 
 Do you understand the cards ? " 
 
 I replied that I could play as soldiers do, but had no great 
 skill. 
 
 "■ We will practise in the morning, my boy," said he, " and 
 I'll put yon up to a thing or two worth knowing." 
 
 Of course I was glad to have such an opportunity of acquir- 
 ing knowledge, and professed myself delighted to receive my 
 uncle's instruction. 
 
 The chevalier's account of himself rather disagreeably af- 
 fected me. All his show was on his back, as he said. His 
 carriage, with the fine gilding, was a part of his stock in trade. 
 He had a sort of mission from the Austrian court : — it was to 
 discover whether a certain quantity of alloyed ducats which had 
 been traced to Berlin, were from the king's treasury. But the 
 real end of Monsieur de Balibari was play. There was a young 
 attache of the English embassy, my Lord Deuceace, afterwards 
 Viscount and Earl of Crabs in the English peerage, who was 
 
104 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 playing high ; and it was after hearing of the passion of this 
 3'oung English nobleman that my uncle, then at Prague, deter- 
 mined to visit Berlin and engage him. For there is a sort of 
 chivalry among the knights of the dice-box : the fame of great 
 players is known all over Europe. I have known the Cheva- 
 lier de Casanova, for instance, to travel six hundred miles, from 
 Paris to Turin, for the purpose of meeting Mr. Charles Fox, 
 then only my Lord Holland's dashing son, afterwards the 
 greatest of European orators and statesmen. 
 
 It was agreed that I should keep my character of valet ; that 
 in the presence of strangers I should not know a word of Eng- 
 lish ; that I should keep a good look-out on the trumps when 
 I was serving the champagne and punch about ; and, having a 
 remarkabby fine eyesight and a great natural aptitude, I was 
 speedily able to give nr)' dear uncle much assistance against his 
 opponents at the green table. Some prudish persons ma}^ affect 
 indignation at the frankness of these confessions, but heaven 
 pity them ! Do you suppose that any man who has lost or won 
 a hundred thousand pounds at play will not take the advantages 
 which his neighbor enjoys? They are all the same. But it is 
 only the clumsy fool who cheats ; who resorts to the vulgar 
 expedients of cogged dice and cut cards. Such a man is sure 
 to go wrong some time or other, and is not fit to play in the 
 society of gallant gentlemen ; and my advice to people who see 
 such a vulgar person at his pranks is, of course, to back him 
 while he plays, but never — never to have anything to do with 
 him. Play grandly, honorably. Be not, of course, cast down 
 at losing ; but above all, be not eager at winning, as mean souls 
 are. And, indeed, with all one's skill and advantages winning 
 is often problematical ; I have seen a sheer ignoramus that 
 knows no more of pla} T than of Hebrew, blunder you out of five 
 thousand pounds in a few turns of the cards. I have seen a 
 gentleman and his confederate plaj* against another and his 
 confederate. One never is secure in these cases : and when 
 one considers the time and labor spent, the genius, the anxiety, 
 the outlay of monej' required, the multiplicity of bad debts that 
 one meets with (for dishonorable rascals are to be found at the 
 play-table, as everywhere else in the world), I say, for my part, 
 the profession is a bad one ; and, indeed, have scarcely ever 
 met a man who, in the end, profited by it. I am writing now 
 with the experience of a man of the world. At the time I speak 
 of I was a lad, dazzled by the idea of wealth, and respecting, 
 certainly too much, my uncle's superior age and station in 
 life. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 105 
 
 There is no need to particularize here the little arrangements 
 made between us ; the pla}'-men of the present day want no 
 instruction, I take it, and the public have little interest in the 
 matter. But simplicity was our secret. Everything successful 
 is simple. If, for instance, I wiped the dust off a chair with 
 my napkin, it was to show that the enemy was strong in 
 diamonds ; if I pushed it, he had ace, king ; if I said, "Punch 
 or wine, my lord?" hearts was meant; if " Wine or punch?" 
 clubs. If I blew my nose, it was to indicate that there was 
 another confederate employed by the adversary ; and then, I 
 warrant you, some pretty trials of skill would take place. My 
 Lord Deuceace, although so young, had a very great skill and 
 cleverness with the cards in every way ; and it was only from 
 hearing Frank Punter, who came with him, yawn three times 
 when the chevalier had the ace of trumps, that I knew we were 
 Greek to Greek, as it were. 
 
 My assumed dulness was perfect ; and I used to make 
 Monsieur de Potzdorff laugh with it, when I carried my little 
 reports to him at the Garden-house outside the town where he 
 gave me rendezvous. These reports, of course, were arranged 
 between me and m}- uncle beforehand. I was instructed (and 
 it is always far the best wa}) to tell as much truth as my story 
 would possibly bear. When, for instance, he would ask me, 
 " What does the chevalier do of a morning? " 
 
 "He goes to church regularly" (he was very religious), 
 " and after hearing mass comes home to breakfast. Then he 
 takes an airing in his chariot till dinner, which is served at noon. 
 After dinner he writes his letters, if he have auy letters to write : 
 but he has very little to do in this way. His letters are to the 
 Austrian envo}', with whom he corresponds, but who does not 
 acknowledge him ; and being written in English, of course I 
 look over his shoulder. He generally writes for mone}*. He 
 says he wants it to bribe the secretaries of the Treasury, in 
 order to find out really where the alloyed ducats come from ; 
 but, in fact, he wants it to play of evenings, when he makes 
 his party with Calsabigi, the lottery-contractor, the Russian 
 attaches, two from the English embassj', my Lords Deuceace 
 and Punter who play Sijeu d'enfer, and a few more. The same 
 set meet every night at supper : there are seldom any ladies ; 
 those who come are chiefly French ladies, members of the corps 
 de ballet. He wins often, but not always. Lord Deuceace is a 
 very fine plaj-er. The Chevalier Elliot, the English Minister, 
 sometimes comes, on which occasion the secretaries do not play. 
 Monsieur de Balibari dines at the missions, but en petit comite, 
 
106 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 not on grand days of reception. Calsabigi, I think, is his con- 
 federate at play. He has won latel} - ; but the week before last 
 he pledged his solitaire for four hundred ducats." 
 
 "Do he and the English attaches talk together in their own 
 language ? " 
 
 " Yes; he and the envoj* spoke yesterday for half an hour 
 about the new danseuse and the American troubles : chiefly 
 about the new danseuse." 
 
 It will be seen that the information I gave was very minute 
 and accurate, though not very important. But such as it was, 
 it was carried to the ears of that famous hero and warrior the 
 Philosopher of Sans Souci ; and there was not a stranger who 
 entered the capital but his actions were similarly spied and 
 related to Frederick the Great. 
 
 As long as the play was confined to the young men of the 
 different embassies, his Majesty did not care to prevent it : nay, 
 he encouraged play at all the missions, knowing full well that 
 a man in difficulties can be made to speak, and that a timely 
 rouleau of Frederics would often get him a secret worth many 
 thousands. He got some papers from the French house in this 
 way : and I have no doubt that my Lord Deuceace would have 
 supplied him with information at a similar rate, had his chief 
 not known the young nobleman's character pretty well, and had 
 (as is usually the case) the work of the mission performed by 
 a steady roturier, while the young brilliant bloods of the suite 
 sported their embroidery at the balls, or shook their Mechlin 
 ruffles over the green tables at faro. I have seen man}- scores 
 of these }'oung sprigs since, of these and their principals, and 
 mon Dieu ! what fools the}' are ! What dullards, what fribbles, 
 what addle-headed simple coxcombs ! This is one of the lies 
 of the world, this diplomacy ; or how could we suppose, that 
 were the profession as difficult as the solemn red-box and tape- 
 men would have us believe, they would invariably choose for it 
 little pink-faced bo}'s from school, with no other claim than 
 mamma's title, and able at most to judge of a curricle, a new 
 dance, or a neat boot ? 
 
 When it became known, however, to the officers of the gar- 
 rison that there was a faro-table in town, they were wild to be 
 admitted to the sport ; and, in spite of my entreaties to the 
 contrary, my uncle was not averse to allow the young gentle- 
 men their fling, and once or twice cleared a handsome sum out 
 of their purses. It was in vain I told him that I must carry the 
 news to my captain, before whom his comrades would not fail 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 107 
 
 to talk, and who would thus know of the intrigue even without 
 nry information. 
 
 " Tell him," said my uncle. 
 
 "They will send you awa}*," said I ; "then what is to 
 become of me ? " 
 
 " Make jour mind easy," said the latter, with a smile ; " 3'ou 
 shall not be left behind, I warrant you. Go take a last look at 
 your barracks, make your mind easy ; say a farewell to your 
 friends in Berlin. The dear souls, how they will weep when 
 they hear you are out of the country ; and, as sure as my name 
 is Barr} T , out of it you shall go ! " 
 
 " But how, sir?" said I. 
 
 "Recollect Mr. Fakenham of Fakenham," said he know- 
 ingly. ' ' 'Tis you yourself taught me how. Go get me one of m} r 
 wigs. Open my despatch-box 3'onder, where the great secrets 
 of the Austrian chancery lie ; put 3'our hair back off your fore- 
 head ; clap me on this patch and these moustaches, and now 
 look in the glass ! " 
 
 " The Chevalier cle Balibari," said I, bursting with laughter, 
 and began walking the room in his manner with his stiff knee. 
 
 The next day, when I went to make my report to Monsieur 
 de Potzdorff, I told him of the young Prussian officers that 
 had been of late gambling ; and he replied, as I expected, 
 that the king had determined to send the chevalier out of the 
 countiy. 
 
 " He is a stingy curmudgeon," I replied ; "I have had but 
 three Frederics from him in two months, and I hope you will 
 remember }'our promise to advance me ! " 
 
 " Why, three Frederics were too much for the news you have 
 picked up," said the captain, sneering. 
 
 "It is not m}' fault that there has been no more," I replied. 
 " When is he to go, sir?" 
 
 " The da}' after to-morrow. You say he drives after break- 
 fast and before dinner. When he comes out to his coach, a 
 couple of gendarmes will mount the box, and the coachman will 
 get his orders to move on." 
 
 " And his baggage, sir? " said I. 
 
 " Oh ! that will be sent after him. I have a fane}' to look 
 into that red box which contains his papers, you say ; and at 
 noon, after parade, shall be at the inn. You will not say a 
 word to any one there regarding the affair, and will wait for me 
 at the chevalier's rooms until ury arrival. We must force that 
 box. You are a clumsy hound, or you would have got the key 
 long ago ! " 
 
108 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 I begged the captain to remember me, and so took my leave 
 of him. The next night I placed a couple of pistols under the 
 carriage seat ; and I think the adventures of the following day 
 are quite worthy of the honors of a separate chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I APPEAR IN A MANNER BECOMING MY NAME AND LINEAGE. 
 
 Fortune smiling at parting upon Monsieur de Balibari, en- 
 abled him to win a handsome sum with his faro-bank. 
 
 At ten o'clock the next morning, the carriage of the Cheva- 
 lier de Balibari drew up as usual at the door of his hotel ; 
 and the chevalier, who was at his window, seeing the chariot 
 arrive, came down the stairs in his usual stately manner. 
 
 "Where is my rascal Ambrose?" said he, looking around 
 and not finding his servant to open the door. 
 
 " I will let down the steps for your honor," said a gendarme, 
 who was standing b}- the carriage ; and no sooner had the 
 chevalier entered, than the officer jumped in after him, another 
 mounted the box by the coachman, and the latter began to 
 drive. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said the chevalier, " what is this?" 
 
 " You are going to drive to the frontier," said the gendarme, 
 touching his hat. 
 
 " It is shameful — infamous ! I insist upon being put down 
 at the Austrian ambassador's house ! " 
 
 " I have orders to gag your honor if you cry out," said the 
 gendarme. 
 
 "All Europe shall hear of this!" said the chevalier, in a 
 fury. 
 
 "As }'ou please," answered the officer, and then both re- 
 lapsed into silence. 
 
 The silence was not broken between Berlin and Potsdam, 
 through which place the chevalier passed as his Majest}' was 
 reviewing his guards there, and the regiments of Biilow, Zitwitz, 
 and Henkel de Donnersmark. As the chevalier passed his 
 Majesty, the King raised his hat and said, " Qu'il ne descende 
 pas : je lui souhaite un bon voyage." The Chevalier de Balibari 
 acknowledged this courtesy by a profound bow. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 109 
 
 They had not got far be}'ond Potsdam, when boom ! the 
 alarm cannon began to roar. 
 
 " It is a deserter ! " said the officer. 
 
 ' ' Is it possible ! " said the chevalier, and sunk back into his 
 carriage again. 
 
 Hearing the sound of the guns, the common people came out 
 along the road with fowling-pieces and pitchforks, in hopes to 
 catch the truant. The gendarmes looked ver}' anxious to be on 
 the look-out for him too. The price of a deserter was fifty 
 crowns to those who brought him in. 
 
 " Confess, sir," said the chevalier to the police officer in the 
 carriage with him, " that you long to be rid of me, from whom 
 you can get nothing, and to be on the look-out for the deserter 
 who may bring y ou in fifty crowns ? Why not tell the postilion 
 to push on? You may land me at the frontier and get back to 
 your hunt all the sooner." The officer told the postilion to get 
 on ; but the way seemed intolerably long to the chevalier. 
 Once or twice he thought he heard the noise of horse galloping 
 behind : his own horses did not seem to go two miles an hour ; 
 but they did go. The black and white barriers came in view 
 at last, hard by Briick, and opposite them the green and yellow 
 of Saxony. The Saxon custom-house officers came out. 
 
 "I have no luggage," said the chevalier. 
 
 " The gentleman has nothing contraband," said the Prussian 
 officers, grinning, and took their leave of their prisoner with 
 much respect. 
 
 The Chevalier de Balibari gave them a Frederic apiece. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " I wish }Ou a good da}'. Will you 
 please to go to the house whence we set out this morning, and 
 tell my man there to send on nry baggage to the w Three Kings ' 
 at Dresden ? " 
 
 Then ordering fresh horses, the chevalier set off on his 
 journey for that capital. I need not tell you that / was the 
 chevalier. 
 
 "From the Chevalier de Balibari to Redmond Barry, Esquire, 
 Gextilhomme Anglais, A l'Hotel des 3 Couronnes, k Dresde, 
 en Saxe. 
 
 " Nephew Redmond, — This comes to you by a sure hand, no other than 
 Mr. Lumpit of the English Mission, who is acquainted, as all Berlin will be 
 directly, with our wonderful story. They only know half as yet ; they 
 only know that a deserter went off in my clothes, and all are in admiration 
 of your cleverness and valor. 
 
 "I confess that for two hours after your departure I lay in bed in 
 no small trepidation, thinking whether his Majesty might have a fancy to 
 
110 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 send me to Spandau, for the freak of which we had both been guilty. 
 But in that case I had taken my precautions : I had written a statement 
 of the case to my chief, the Austrian Minister, with the full and true story 
 how you had been Bet to spy upon me, how you turned out to be my very 
 near relative, how you had been kidnapped yourself into the service, and 
 how we both had determined to effect your escape. The laugh would have 
 been so much against the king, that he never would have dared to lay a 
 finger upon me. What would Monsieur de Voltaire have said to such an 
 act of tyranny ? 
 
 " But it was a lucky day, and everything has turned out to my wish. 
 As I lay in my bed two and a half hours after your departure, in comes your 
 ex-Captain Potzdorff. ' Redmont ! ' says he, in his imperious High Dutch 
 way, 'arc you there?' No answer. 'The rogue is gone out,' said he; 
 and straightway makes for my red box where 1 keep my love-letters, my 
 glass eye which I used to wear, my favorite lucky dice with which I threw 
 the thirteen mains at Prague ; my two sets of Paris teeth, and my other 
 private matters that you know of. 
 
 " He first tried a bunch of keys, but none of them would fit the little 
 English lock. Then my gentleman takes out of his pocket a chisel and 
 hammer, and falls to work like a professional burglar, actually bursting 
 open my little box! 
 
 " Now was my time to act. I advance towards him armed with an 
 immense water-jug. I come noiselessly up to him just as he had broken 
 the box, and with all my might, I deal him such a blow over the head as 
 smashes the water-jug to atoms, and sends my captain with a snort lifeless 
 to the ground. I thought I had killed him. 
 
 " Then I ring all the bells in the house ; and shout and swear, and 
 scream, ' Thieves ! — thieves ! — landlord ! — murder ! — fire ! ' until the 
 whole household come tumbling up the stairs. ' Where is my servant i ' 
 roar I. ' Who dares to rob me in open day ? Look at the villain whom 
 I find in the act of breaking my chest open ! Send for the police, send 
 for his Excellency the Austrian Minister ! all Europe shall know of this 
 insult !' 
 
 " ' Dear heaven ! ' says the landlord, ' we saw you go away three hours 
 ago!' 
 
 " Me I ' says I ; ' why, man, I have been in bed all the morning. I am 
 ill — I have taken physic — I have not left the house this morning ! Where 
 is that scoundrel Ambrose ? But, stop ! where are my clothes and wig ? ' 
 for I was standing before them in my chamber-gown and stockings, with 
 my nightcap on. 
 
 " ' I have it — I have it ! ' says a little chamber-maid ; ' Ambrose is off 
 in your honor's dress.' 
 
 " ' And my money — my money ! ' says I ; ' where is my purse with 
 forty-eight Frederics in it 1 But we have one of the villains left. Officers, 
 seize him ! ' 
 
 "'It's the young Herr von Potzdorff ! ' says the landlord, more and 
 more astonished. 
 
 " ' What ! a gentleman breaking open my trunk with hammer and 
 chisel — impossible ! ' 
 
 " Herr von Potzdorff was returning to life by this time, with a swelling 
 on his skull as big as a saucepan ; and the officers carried him off, and the 
 judge who was sent for dressed a proces verbal of the matter, and I de- 
 manded a copy of it, which I sent forthwith to my ambassador. 
 
 " I was kept a prisoner to my room the next day, and a judge, a general, 
 and a host of lawyers, officers, and officials, were set upon me to bully, 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. Ill 
 
 perplex, threaten, and. cajole me. I said it was true you had told me that 
 you had been kidnapped into the service, that I thought you were released 
 from it, and that I had you with the best recommendations. I appealed 
 to my Minister, who was bound to come to my aid ; and, to make a long 
 story short, poor Potzdorff is now on his way to Spandau ; and his uncle, 
 the elder Potzdorff, has brought me five hundred louis, with a humble 
 request that I would leave Berlin forthwith, and hush up this painful 
 matter. 
 
 " I shall be with you at the ' Three Crowns ' the day after you receive 
 this. Ask Mr. Lumpit to dinner. Do not spare your money — you are 
 my son. Everybody in Dresden knows 3'our loving uncle, 
 
 " The Chevalier de Balibari." 
 
 And by these wonderful circumstances I was once more free 
 again : and I kept my resolution then made, never to fall more 
 into the hands of any recruiter, and thenceforth and for ever to 
 be a gentleman. 
 
 With this sum of money, and a good run of luck which en- 
 sued presently, we were enabled to make no ungenteel figure. 
 My uncle speedily joined me at the inn at Dresden, where, un- 
 der pretence of illness, 1 had kept quiet until his arrival ; and, 
 as the Chevalier de Balibari was in particular good odor at 
 the court of Dresden (having been an intimate acquaintance of 
 the late monarch, the Elector, King of Poland, the most dis- 
 solute and agreeable of European princes) , I was speedily in 
 the very best society of the Saxon capital : where I may say 
 that my own person and manners, and the singularhy of the 
 adventures in which I had been a hero, made me especially wel- 
 come. There was not a party of the nobilit}' to which the two 
 gentlemen of Balibari were not invited. I had the honor of 
 kissing hands and being graciously received at court by the 
 Elector, and I wrote home to my mother such a naming descrip- 
 tion of nry prosperit}*, that the good soul very nearly forgot her 
 celestial welfare and her confessor, the Rev. Joshua Jowls, in 
 order to come after me to German}' ; but travelling was very 
 difficult in those da} r s, and so we were spared the arrival of the 
 good lady. 
 
 I think the soul of Harry Barry, my father, who was always 
 so genteel in his turn of mind, must have rejoiced to see the 
 position which I now occupied : all the women anxious to re- 
 ceive me, all the men in a fhry ; hobnobbing with dukes and 
 counts at supper, dancing minuets with high well-born baron- 
 esses (as the}' absurdly call themselves in Germany), with 
 lovely excellencies, nay, with highnesses and transparencies 
 themselves, who could compete with the gallant young Irish 
 noble ? who would suppose that seven weeks before I had been 
 
112 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 a common — bah ! I am ashamed to think of it ! One of the 
 pleasantest moments of my life was at a grand gala at the 
 Electoral Palace, where I had the honor of walking a polonaise 
 with no other than the Margravine of Bayreuth, old Fritz's own 
 sister : old Fritz's, whose hateful blue-baize livery I had worn, 
 whose belts I had pipeclayed, and whose abominable rations of 
 small beer and sauerkraut I had swallowed for five years. 
 
 Having won an English chariot from an Italian gentle- 
 man at play, my uncle had our arms painted on the panels 
 in a more splendid way than ever, surmounted (as we were 
 descended from the ancient kings) with an Irish crown of 
 the most splendid size and gilding. I had this crown in 
 lieu of a coronet engraved on a large amethyst signet-ring 
 worn on my forefinger ; and I don't mind confessing that I 
 used to say the jewel had been in my family for several 
 thousand years, having originally belonged to my direct 
 ancestor, his late Majesty King Brian Boru, or Barry. I 
 warrant the legends of the Heralds' College are not more 
 authentic than mine was. 
 
 At first the Minister and the gentlemen at the English 
 hotel used to be rather shy of us two Irish noblemen, and 
 questioned our pretensions to rank. The Minister was a lord's 
 son, it is true, but he was likewise a grocer's grandson ; and 
 so I told him at Count Lobkowitz's masquerade. My uncle, 
 like a noble gentleman as he was, knew the pedigree of every 
 considerable family in Europe. He said it was the only knowl- 
 edge befitting a gentleman ; and when we were not at cards, 
 we would pass hours over Gwillim or D'Hozier, reading the 
 genealogies, learning the blazons, and making ourselves 
 acquainted with the relationships of our class. Alas ! the 
 noble science is going into disrepute now ; so are cards, with- 
 out which studies and pastimes I can hardly conceive how a 
 man of honor can exist. 
 
 My first affair of honor with a man of undoubted fashion 
 was on the score of nry nobility, with 3'oung Sir Rumford Bum- 
 ford of the English embassy ; my uncle at the same time send- 
 ing a cartel to the Minister, who declined to come. I shot Sir 
 Rumford in the leg, amidst the tears of joy of my uncle, who 
 accompanied me to the ground ; and I promise you that none 
 of the 3"oung gentlemen questioned the authenticity of my pedi- 
 gree, or laughed at my Irish crown again. 
 
 What a delightful life did we now lead ! 1 knew I was 
 born a gentleman, from the kindly way in which I took to the 
 business : as business it certainly is. ' For though it seems all 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 113 
 
 pleasure, yet I assure any low-bred persons who may chance 
 to read this, that we, their betters, have to work as well as 
 they : though I did not rise until noon, yet had I not been up 
 at play until long past midnight ? Many a time have we come 
 home to bed as the troops were marching out to earty parade ; 
 and oh ! it did my heart good to hear the bugles blowing the 
 reveille before daybreak, or to see the regiments marching out 
 to exercise, and think that I was no longer bound to that dis- 
 gusting discipline, but restored to my natural station. 
 
 I came into it at once, and as if I had never done an3 - thing 
 else all my life. I had a gentleman to wait upon me, a French 
 friseur to dress my hair of a morning ; I knew the taste of 
 chocolate as by intuition almost, and could distinguish between 
 the right Spanish and the French before I had been a week in 
 my new position ; I had rings on all my fingers, watches in 
 both m} 7 fobs, canes, trinkets, and snuff-boxes of all sorts, 
 and each outvying the other in elegance. I had the finest nat- 
 ural taste for lace and china of airy man I ever knew ; I could 
 judge a horse as well as an} - Jew dealer in Germany ; in shoot- 
 ing and athletic exercises I was unrivalled ; I could not spell, 
 but I could speak German and French cleverly. I had at the 
 least twelve suits of clothes ; three richly embroidered with 
 gold, two laced with silver, a garnet-colored velvet pelisse 
 lined with sable ; one of French gray, silver-laced and lined 
 with chinchilla. I had damask morning-robes. I took lessons 
 on the guitar, and sang French catches exquisitely. Where, 
 in fact, was there a more accomplished gentleman than Red- 
 mond de Balibari? 
 
 All the luxuries becoming my station could not, of course, 
 be purchased without credit and money : to procure which, as 
 our patrimony had been wasted by our ancestors, and we were 
 above the vulgarity and slow returns and doubtful chances of 
 trade, my uncle kept a faro-bank. We were in partnership 
 with a Florentine, well known in all the courts of Europe, the 
 Count Alessandro Pippi, as skilful a player as ever was seen ; 
 but he turned out a sad knave latterly, and I have discovered 
 that his countship was a mere imposture. My uncle was 
 maimed, as I have said ; Pippi, like all impostors, was a cow- 
 ard ; it was my unrivalled skill with the sword, and readiness 
 to use it, that maintained the reputation of the firm, so to 
 speak, and silenced many a timid gambler who might have 
 hesitated to pay his losings. We alwa}-s pla3 r ed on parole 
 with anybody : any person, that is, of honor and noble lineage.' 
 We never pressed for our winnings or declined to receive prom- 
 
 8 
 
114 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 issory notes in lieu of gold. But woe to the man who did 
 not pay when the note became due ! Redmond de Balibari 
 was sure to wait upon him with his bill, and I promise you 
 there were very few bad debts : on the contrary, gentlemen 
 were grateful to us for our forbearance, and our character for 
 honor stood unimpeached. In later times, a vulgar national 
 prejudice has chosen to cast a slur upon the character of men 
 of honor engaged in the profession of play ; but I speak of 
 the good old days in Europe, before the cowardice of the 
 French aristocracy (in the shameful Revolution, which served 
 them right) brought discredit and ruin upon our order. They 
 cry fie now upon men engaged in play ; but I should like to 
 know how much more honorable their modes of livelihood are 
 than ours. The broker of the Exchange who bulls and bears, 
 and buys and sells, and dabbles with lying loans, and trades 
 on state-secrets, what is he but a gamester? The merchant 
 who deals in teas and tallow, is he any better? His bales of 
 dirty indigo are his dice, his cards come up every year instead 
 of every ten minutes, and the sea is his green table. You 
 call the profession of the law an honorable one, where a man 
 will lie for any bidder : lie down poverty for the sake of a fee 
 from wealth, lie down right because wrong is in his brief. You 
 call a doctor an honorable man, a swindling quack, who does 
 not believe in the nostrums which he prescribes, and takes 
 your guinea for whispering in }"our ear that it is a fine morning ; 
 and yet, forsooth, a gallant man who sits him down before the 
 baize and challenges all comers, his money against theirs, his 
 fortune against theirs, is proscribed by 3'our modern moral 
 world. It is a conspiracy of the middle classes against gen- 
 tlemen : it is only the shopkeeper cant which is to go down 
 now-a-days. I say that play was an institution of chivalry : 
 it has been wrecked, along with other privileges of men of 
 birth. When Seingalt engaged a man for six-and-thirty hours 
 without leaving the table, do }'ou think he showed no courage? 
 How have we had the best blood and the brightest eyes, too, 
 of Europe throbbing round the table, as I and my uncle have 
 held the cards and the bank against some terrible player, who 
 was matching some thousands out of his millions against our 
 all which was there on the baize ! When we engaged that 
 daring Alexis Kossloffsky, and won seven thousand louis in a 
 single coup, had we lost, we should have been beggars the 
 next day ; when he lost, he was only a village and a few hun- 
 dred serfs in pawn the worse. When at Toeplitz, the Duke 
 of Courland brought fourteen lackeys, each with four bags of 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 115 
 
 florins, and challenged our bank to play against the sealed 
 bags, what did we ask? "Sir," said we, "we have but 
 eighty thousand florins in bank, or two hundred thousand at 
 three months. If your highness's bags do not contain more 
 than eighty thousand, we will meet 3'ou." And we did, and 
 after eleven hours' play, in which our bank was at one time 
 reduced to two hundred and three ducats, we won seventeen 
 thousand florins of him. Is this not something like boldness? 
 does this profession not require skill, and perseverance, and 
 bravery? Four crowned heads looked on at the game, and 
 an imperial princess, when I turned up the ace of hearts and 
 made Paroli, burst into tears. No man on the European 
 Continent held a higher position than Redmond Barry then ; 
 and when the Duke of Courland lost, he was pleased to say 
 that we had won nobly : and so we had, and spent nobly 
 what we won. 
 
 At this period my uncle, who attended mass every day regu- 
 larly, always put ten florins into the box. WhereA r er we went, 
 the tavern-keepers made us more welcome than roj'al princes. 
 We used to give away the broken meat from our suppers and 
 dinners to scores of beggars who blessed us. Every man who 
 held nry horse or cleaned my boots got a ducat for his pains. 
 I was, I may sa}^, the author of our common good fortune, by 
 putting boldness into our play. Pippi was a faint-hearted 
 fellow, who was alwa}-s cowardly when he began to win. My 
 uncle (I speak with great respect of him) was too much of a 
 devotee, and too much of a martinet at play ever to win 
 greatly. His moral courage was unquestionable, but his dar- 
 ing was not sufficient. Both of these my seniors very soon 
 acknowledged me to be their chief, and hence the style of 
 splendor I have described. 
 
 I have mentioned H. I. H. the Princess Frederica Amelia, 
 who was affected by my success, and shall alwa}^ think with 
 gratitude of the protection with which that exalted \z,dy honored 
 me. She was passionately fond of play, as indeed were the 
 ladies of almost all the courts in Europe in those da3's, and 
 hence would often arise no small trouble to us ; for the truth 
 must be told, that ladies love to pla} 7 , certainly, but not to pay. 
 The point of honor is not understood by the charming sex ; and 
 it was with the greatest difficulty, in our peregrinations to the 
 various courts of Northern Europe, that we could keep them 
 from the table, could get their money if they lost, or, if they 
 paid, prevent them from using the most furious and extraor- 
 dinary means of revenge. In those great days of our fortune, 
 
116 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 I calculate that we lost no less than fourteen thousand louis by 
 such failures of payment. A princess of a ducal house gave us 
 paste instead of diamonds, which she had solemnly pledged to 
 us ; another organized a robbery of the crown jewels, and would 
 have charged the theft upon us, but for Pippi's caution, who 
 had kept back a note of hand " Her High Transparency" gave 
 us, and sent it to his ambassador ; by which precaution I do 
 believe our necks were saved. A third lady of high (but not 
 princely) rank, after I had won a considerable sum in diamonds 
 and pearls from her, sent her lover with a band of cut-throats 
 to waylay me ; and it was only by extraordinary courage, skill, 
 and good luck, that I escaped from these villains, wounded 
 myself, but leaving the chief aggressor dead on the ground : 
 my sword entered his eye and broke there, and the villains who 
 were with him fled, seeing their chief fall. They might have 
 finished me else, for I had no weapon of defence. 
 
 Thus it will be seen that our life, for all its splendor, was 
 one of extreme danger and difficult}', requiring high talents and 
 courage for success ; and often, when we were in a full vein of 
 success, we were suddenly driven from our ground on account 
 of some freak of a reigning prince, some intrigue of a disap- 
 pointed mistress, or some quarrel with the police minister. If 
 the latter personage were not bribed or won over, nothing was 
 more common than for us to receive a sudden order of de- 
 parture ; and so, perforce, we lived a wandering and desultory 
 life. 
 
 Though the gains of such a life are, as I have said, veiy 
 great, yet the expenses are enormous. Our appearance and 
 retinue was too splendid for the narrow mind of Pippi, who was 
 always crying out at my extravagance, though obliged to own 
 that his own meanness and parsimony would never have achieved 
 the great victories which my generosity had won. With all our 
 success, our capital was not very great. That speech to the 
 Duke of Courland, for instance, was a mere boast as far as the 
 two hundred thousand florins at three months were concerned. 
 We had no credit, and no mone}' beyond that on our table, and 
 should have been forced to fly if his highness had won and 
 accepted our bills. Sometimes, too, we were hit very hard. 
 A bank is a certainty, almost ; but now and then a bad day will 
 come ; and men who have the courage of good fortune, at least, 
 ought to meet bad luck well: the former, believe me, is the 
 harder task of the two. 
 
 One of these evil chances befell us in the Duke of Baden's 
 territory, at Mannheim. Pippi, who was always on the look- 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 117 
 
 out for business, offered to make a bank at the inn where we 
 put up, and where the officers of the duke's cuirassiers supped ; 
 and some small \^\ay accordingly took place, and some wretched 
 crowns and louis changed hands : I trust, rather to the advan- 
 tage of these poor gentlemen of the army, who are surely the 
 poorest of all devils under the sun. 
 
 But, as ill luck would have it, a couple of young students 
 from the neighboring University of Heidelberg, who had come 
 to Mannheim for their quarter's revenue, and so had some hun- 
 dred of dollars between them, were introduced to the table, 
 and, having never played before, began to win (as is always 
 the case) . As ill luck would have it, too, they were tipsy, and 
 against tipsiness I have often found the best calculations of pla} 7 
 fail entirely. They played in the most perfectly insane way, 
 and yet won always. Every card they backed turned up in 
 their favor. They had won a hundred louis from us in ten 
 minutes ; and, seeing that Pippi was growing angry and the 
 luck against us, I was for shutting up the bank for the night, 
 sajing the play was only meant for a joke, and that now we 
 had had enough. 
 
 But Pippi, who had quarrelled with me that day, was deter- 
 mined to proceed, and the upshot was, that the students plaj-ed 
 and won more ; then they lent money to the officers, who began 
 to win, too ; and in this ignoble way, in a tavern room thick 
 with tobacco-smoke, across a deal table besmeared with beer 
 and liquor, and to a parcel of hungrj- subalterns and a pair of 
 beardless students, three of the most skilful and renowned 
 plaj-ers in Europe lost seventeen hundred louis ! I blush now 
 when I think of it. It was like Charles XII. or Richard Coeur 
 de Lion falling before a petty fortress and an unknown hand 
 (as my friend Mr. Johnson wrote), and was, in fact, a most 
 shameful defeat. 
 
 Nor was this the only defeat. When our poor conquerors 
 had gone off, bewildered with the treasure which fortune had 
 flung in their wa} 1 (one of these students was called the Baron 
 de Clootz, perhaps he who afterwards lost his head at Paris), 
 Pippi resumed the quarrel of the morning, and some exceedingly 
 high words passed between us. Among other things I recollect 
 I knocked him down with a stool, and was for flinging him 
 out of window ; but my uncle, who was cool, and had been 
 keeping Lent with his usual solemnity, interposed between us, 
 and a reconciliation took place, Pippi apologizing and confess- 
 ing he had been wrong. 
 
 I ought to have doubted, however, the sincerity of the 
 
118 THE MEMOIRS OP 
 
 treacherous Italian ; indeed, as I never before believed a word 
 that he said in his life, I know not why I was so foolish as to 
 credit him now, and go to bed, leaving the keys of our cash- 
 box with him. It contained, after our loss to the cuirassiers, 
 in bills and money, near upon 8,000/. sterling. Pippi insisted 
 that our reconciliation should be ratified over a bowl of hot 
 wine, and I have no doubt put some soporific drug into the 
 liquor ; for my uncle and I both slept till very late the next 
 morning, and woke with violent headaches and fever : we did 
 not quit our beds till noon. He had been gone twelve hours, 
 leaving our treasury empty ; and behind him a sort of calcula- 
 tion, b3' which he strove to make out that this was his share 
 of the profits, and that all the losses had been incurred without 
 his consent. 
 
 Thus, after eighteen months, we had to begin the world 
 again. But was I cast down ? No. Our wardrobes still were 
 worth a very large sum of money ; for gentlemen did not dress 
 like parish-clerks in those days, and a person of fashion would 
 often wear a suit of clothes and a set of ornaments that would 
 be a shop-boy's fortune ; so, without repining for one single 
 minute^ or saying a single angry word (my uncle's temper in 
 this respect was admirable), or allowing the secret of our loss 
 to be known to a mortal soul, we pawned three-fourths of our 
 jewels and clothes to Moses Lowe the banker, and with the 
 produce of the sale, and our private pocket-money, amounting 
 in all to something less than 800 louis, we took the field again. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MORE KUNS OF LUCK. 
 
 I am not going to entertain my readers with an account of 
 my professional career as a gamester, any more than I did with 
 anecdotes of my life as a military man. I might fill volumes 
 with tales of this kind were I so minded ; but at this rate, my 
 recital would not be brought to a conclusion for years, and 
 who knows how soon I may be called upon to stop? I have 
 gout, rheumatism, gravel, and a disordered liver. I have two 
 or three wounds in my body, which break out every now and 
 then, and give me intolerable pain, and a hundred more signs 
 of breaking up. Such are the effects of time, illness, and free- 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 119 
 
 living, upon one of the strongest constitutions and finest forms 
 the world ever saw. Ah ! I suffered from none of these ills 
 in the 3'ear '66, when there was no man in Europe more gay 
 in spirits, more splendid in personal accomplishments, than 
 young Redmond Barry. 
 
 Before the treachery of the scoundrel Pippi, I had visited 
 liiaivy of the best courts of Europe ; especially the smaller ones, 
 where play was patronized, and the professors of that science 
 always welcome. Among the ecclesiastical principalities of the 
 Rhine we were particularly well received. I never knew finer or 
 gayer courts than those of the Electors of Treves and Cologne, 
 where there was more splendor and gayety than at Vienna ; 
 far more than in the wretched barrack-court of Berlin. The 
 court of the Archduchess-Governess of the Netherlands was, 
 likewise, a royal place for us knights of the dice-box and gallant 
 votaries of fortune ; whereas in the stingy Dutch, or the beg- 
 garly Swiss republics, it was impossible for a gentleman to 
 gain a livelihood unmolested. 
 
 After our mishap at Mannheim, my uncle and I made for 
 
 the Duchy of X . The reader may find out the place easily 
 
 enough ; but I do not choose to print at full the names of some 
 illustrious persons in whose society I then fell, and among 
 whom I was made the sharer in a very strange and tragical 
 adventure. 
 
 There was no court in Europe at which strangers were more 
 
 welcome than at that of the noble Duke of X ; none where 
 
 pleasure was more eagerly sought after, and more splendidly 
 
 enjoyed. The prince did not inhabit his capital of S , but, 
 
 imitating in every respect the ceremonial of the court of Ver- 
 sailles, built himself a magnificent palace at a few leagues 
 from his chief cit} r , and round about his palace a superb aristo- 
 cratic town, inhabited entirely by his nobles, and the officers of 
 his sumptuous court. The people were rather hardly pressed, 
 to be sure, in order to keep up this splendor ; for his highness's 
 dominions were small, and so he wisel}' lived in a sort of awful 
 retirement from them, seldom showing his face in his capital, 
 or seeing any countenances but those of his faithful domestics 
 and officers. His palace and gardens of Luclwigslust were 
 exactly on the French model. Twice a week there were court 
 receptions, and grand court galas twice a month. There was 
 the finest opera out of France, and a ballet unrivalled in splen- 
 dor ; on which his highness, a great lover of music and dancing, 
 expended prodigious sums. It may be because I was then 
 young, but I think I never saw such an assemblage of brilliant 
 
120 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 beauty as used to figure there on the stage of the court theatre, 
 in the grand mythological ballets which were then the mode, 
 and in which you saw Mars in red-heeled pumps and a periwig, 
 and Venus in patches and a hoop. They say the costume was 
 incorrect, and have changed it since ; but for my part, I have 
 never seen a Venus more lovely than the Coralie, who was the 
 chief dancer, and found no fault with the attendant nymphs, 
 in their trains and lappets, and powder. These operas used 
 to take place twice a week, after which some great officer of 
 the court would have his evening, and his brilliant supper, and 
 the dice-box rattled everywhere, and all the world played. 
 I have seen seventy play-tables set out in the grand gallery of 
 Ludwigslust, besides the faro-bank ; where the duke himself 
 would graciously come and pla}', and win or lose with a truly 
 roj'al splendor. 
 
 It was hither we came after the Mannheim misfortune. 
 The nobility of the court were pleased to say our reputation 
 had preceded us, and the two Irish gentlemen were made wel- 
 come. The very first night at court we lost 740 of our 800 
 k)uis ; the next evening, at the Court Marshal's table, I won 
 them back, with 1,300 more. You may be sure we allowed no 
 one to know how near we were to ruin on the first evening ; 
 but, on the contrary. I endeared every one to me by my gay 
 manner of losing, and the Finance Minister himself cashed a 
 note for 400 ducats, drawn by me upon my steward of Bally - 
 barry Castle in the kingdom of Ireland ; which very note I won 
 from his Excellency the next day, along with a considerable 
 sum in ready cash. In that noble court everybody was a gam- 
 bler. You would see the lackeys in the ducal ante-rooms at 
 work with their dirt}' packs of cards ; the coach and chair-men 
 playing in the court, while their masters were punting in the 
 saloons above ; the very cook-maids and scullions, I was told, 
 had a bank, where one of them, an Italian confectioner, made 
 a handsome fortune : he purchased afterwards a Roman mar- 
 quisate, and his son has figured as one of the most fashionable 
 of the illustrious foreigners in London. The poor devils of 
 soldiers played away their pay when they got it, which was 
 seldom ; and I don't believe there was an officer in any one of 
 the guard regiments but had his cards in his pouch, and no 
 more forgot his dice than his sword-knot. Among such fellows 
 it was diamond cut diamond. What you call fair play would 
 have been a folly. The gentlemen of Ballybarry would have 
 been fools, indeed, to appear as pigeons in such a hawk's nest. 
 None but men of courage and genius could live and prosper in 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 121 
 
 a society where every one was bold and clever : and here my 
 uncle and I held our own : ay, and more than our own. 
 
 His highness the duke was a widower, or rather since the 
 death of the reigning duchess, had contracted a morganatic 
 marriage with a' lady whom he had ennobled, and who con- 
 sidered it a compliment (such was the morality of those days) 
 to be called the Northern Dubarry. He had been married ver} 7 
 young, and his son, the hereditary prince, may be said to have 
 been the political sovereign of the state ; for the reigning duke 
 was fonder of pleasure than of politics, and loved to talk a 
 great deal more with his grand huntsman, or the director of his 
 opera, than with ministers and ambassadors. 
 
 The hereditary prince, whom I shall call Prince Victor, was 
 of a very different character from his august father. He had 
 made the Wars of the Succession and Seven Years with great 
 credit in the Empress's service, was of a stern character, seldom 
 appeared at court, except when ceremony called him, but lived 
 almost alone in his wing of the palace, where he devoted him- 
 self to the severest studies, being a great astronomer and chem- 
 ist. He shared in the rage then common throughout Europe, 
 of hunting for the philosopher's stone ; and my uncle often 
 regretted that he had no smattering of chemistry, like Balsamo 
 (who called himself Cagliostro), St. Germain, and other in- 
 dividuals, who had obtained very great sums from Duke Victor 
 by aiding him in his search after the great secret. His amuse- 
 ments were hunting and reviewing the troops ; but for him, 
 and if his good-natured father had not had his aid, the army 
 would have been plaj'ing at cards all day, and so it was well 
 that the prudent prince was left to govern. 
 
 Duke Victor was fifty years of age, and his princess, the 
 Princess Olivia, was scarce three-and-twenty. They had been 
 married seven 3 - ears, and, in the first years of their union the 
 princess had borne him a son and a daughter. The stern 
 morals and manners, the dark and ungainly appearance of the 
 husband, were little likely to please the brilliant and fascinating 
 young woman, who had been educated in the south (she was 
 
 connected with the ducal house of S ) , who had passed two 
 
 years at Paris under the guardianship of Mesdames the daugh- 
 ters of his Most Christian Majesty, and who was the life and 
 
 soul of the court of X . the gayest of the gay, the idol of 
 
 her august father-in-law, and, indeed, of the whole court. She 
 was not beautiful, but charming ; not witty, but charming, too, 
 in her conversation as in her person. She was extravagant 
 beyond all measure ; so false, that you could not trust her ; but 
 
122 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 her very weaknesses were more winning than the virtues of 
 other women, her selfishness more delightful than others' gen- 
 erosity. I never knew a woman whose faults made her so 
 attractive. She used to ruin people, and } T et they all loved 
 her. My old uncle has seen her cheating at ombre, and let her 
 win 400 louis without resisting in the least. Her caprices with 
 the officers and ladies of her household were ceaseless : but 
 they adored her. She was the only one of the reigning family 
 whom the people worshipped. She never went abroad but they 
 followed her carriage with shouts of acclamation : and, to be 
 generous to them, she would borrow the last penny from one of 
 her poor maids of honor, whom she would never pay. In the 
 early days her husband was as much fascinated by her as all 
 the rest of the world was ; but her caprices had caused frightful 
 outbreaks of temper on his part, and an estrangement which, 
 though interrupted by almost mad returns of love, was still 
 general. I speak of her royal highness with perfect candor and 
 admiration, although I might be pardoned forjudging her more 
 severely, considering her opinion of myself. She said the elder 
 Monsieur de Balibari was a finished old gentleman, and the 
 younger one had the manners of a courier. The world has given 
 a different opinion, and I can afford to chronicle this almost 
 single sentence against me. Besides, she had a reason for her 
 dislike to me, which you shall hear. 
 
 Five years in the arm}', long experience of the world, had 
 ere now dispelled any of those romantic notions regarding love 
 with which I commenced life ; and I had determined, as is 
 proper with gentlemen (it is only your low people who marry 
 for mere affection), to consolidate my fortunes by marriage. 
 In the course of our peregrinations, my uncle and I had made 
 several attempts to carry this object into effect ; but numerous 
 disappointments had occurred, which are not worth mentioning 
 here, and had prevented me hitherto from making such a match 
 as I thought was worthy of a man of my birth, abilities, and 
 personal appearance. Ladies are not in the habit of running 
 away on the Continent, as is the custom in England (a custom 
 whereby man}- honorable gentlemen of my country have much 
 benefited !) ; guardians, and ceremonies, and difficulties of all 
 kinds intervene ; true love is not allowed to have its course, 
 and poor women cannot give away their honest hearts to the 
 gallant fellows who have won them. Now it was settlements 
 that were asked for ; now it was my pedigree and title-deeds that 
 were not satisfactory : though I had a plan and rent-roll of the 
 Ballybany estates, and the genealogy of the family up to King 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 123 
 
 Brian Boru, or Barry, most handsomely designed on paper ; now 
 it was a .young lady who was whisked off to a convent just as 
 she was ready to fall into my arms ; on another occasion, when 
 a rich widow of the Low Countries was about to make me lord 
 of a noble estate in Flanders, comes an order of the police which 
 drives me out of Brussels at an hour's notice, and consigns my 
 
 mourner to her chateau. But at X I had an opportunity 
 
 of playing a great game : and had won it too, but for the dread- 
 ful catastrophe which upset my fortune. 
 
 In the household of the hereditary princess, there was a lady 
 nineteen j'ears of age, and possessor of the greatest fortune in 
 the whole duchy. The Countess Ida, such was her name, was 
 daughter of a late Minister and favorite of his Highness the 
 
 Duke of X and his Duchess, who had done her the honor 
 
 to be her sponsors at birth, and who, at the father's death, had 
 taken her under their august guardianship and protection. At 
 sixteen she was brought from her castle, where, up to that 
 period, she had been permitted to reside, and had been placed 
 with the Princess Olivia, as one of her highness's maids of 
 honor. 
 
 The aunt of the Countess Ida, who presided over her house 
 during her minority, had foolishly allowed her to contract an 
 attachment for her cousin-german, a penniless sub-lieutenant in 
 one of the duke's foot regiments, who had flattered himself to 
 be able to carry off' this rich prize ; and if he had not been a 
 blundering, silly idiot, indeed, with the advantage of seeing her 
 constantly, of having no rival near him, and the intimacy attend- 
 ant upon close kinsmanship, might easily, b}* a private marriage, 
 have secured the young countess and her possessions. But he 
 managed matters so foolishly, that he allowed her to leave her 
 retirement to come to court for a year, and take her place in 
 the Princess Olivia's household ; and then what does my young 
 gentleman do, but appear at the duke's levee one da}-, in his 
 tarnished epaulet and threadbare coat, and make an application 
 in due form to his highness, as the young lacby's guardian, for 
 the hand of the richest heiress in his dominions ! 
 
 The weakness of the good-natured prince was such that, as 
 the Countess Ida herself was quite as eager for the match as her 
 silly cousin, his highness might have been induced to allow the 
 match, had not the Princess Olivia been induced to interpose, 
 and to procure from the duke a peremptorj' veto to the hopes of 
 the young man. The cause of this refusal was as yet unknown ; 
 no other suitor for the 3'oung lady's hand was mentioned, and 
 the lovers continued to correspond, hoping that time might 
 
124 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 effect a change in his highness's resolutions ; when, of a sudden, 
 the lieutenant was drafted into one of the regiments which the 
 prince was in the habit of selling to the great powers then at war 
 (this military commerce was a principal part of his highness's 
 and other princes' revenues in those days), and their connection 
 was thus abruptly broken off. 
 
 It was strange that the Princess Olivia should have taken 
 this part against a young lady who had been her favorite ; for, 
 at first, with those romantic and sentimental notions which 
 almost every woman has, she had somewhat encouraged the 
 Countess Ida and her penniless lover, but now suddenly turned 
 against them ; and, from loving the countess, as she previously 
 had done, pursued her with every manner of hatred which a 
 woman knows how to inflict : there was no end to the ingenuity 
 of her tortures, the venom of her tongue, the bitterness of her 
 
 sarcasm and scorn. When I first came to court at X , the 
 
 young fellows there had nicknamed the young lady the Dumme 
 Grajinn, the stupid Countess. She was generally silent, hand- 
 some, but pale, stolid-looking, and awkward ; taking no interest 
 in the amusements of the place, and appearing in the midst of 
 the feasts as glum as the death's-head which, they say, the 
 Romans used to have at their tables. 
 
 It was rumored that a young gentleman of French extraction, 
 the Chevalier de Magny, equerry to the hereditary prince, and 
 present at Paris when the Princess Olivia was married to him 
 by proxy there, was the intended of the rich Countess Ida ; but 
 no official declaration of the kind was yet made, and there were 
 whispers of a dark intrigue : which, subsequently, received 
 frightful confirmation. 
 
 This Chevalier de Magny was the grandson of an old general 
 officer in the duke's service, the Baron de Magn}\ The baron's 
 father had quitted France at the expulsion of Protestants, after 
 the revocation of the edict of Nantes, and taken service in 
 
 X , where he died. The son succeeded him, and quite 
 
 unlike most French gentlemen of birth whom I have known, 
 was a stern and cold Calvinist, rigid in the performance of his 
 duty, retiring in his manners, mingling little with the court, and 
 a close friend and favorite of Duke Victor ; whom he resembled 
 in disposition. 
 
 The chevalier his grandson was a true Frenchman : he had 
 been born in France, where his father held a diplomatic appoint- 
 ment in the duke's service. He had mingled in the ga}' society 
 of the most brilliant court in the world, and had endless stories 
 to tell us of the pleasures of the petites maisons, of the secrets 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 125 
 
 of the Pare aux Cerfs, and of the wild gayeties of Richelieu and 
 his companions. He had been almost ruined at play, as his 
 father had been before him ; for, out of the reach of the stern 
 old baron in Germany, both son and grandson had led the most 
 reckless of lives.' He came back from Paris soon after the 
 embassv which had been despatched thither on the occasion of 
 the marriage of the princess, was received sternly by his old 
 grandfather ; who,, however, paid his debts once more, and pro- 
 cured him the post in the duke's household. The Chevalier de 
 Magny rendered himself a great favorite of his august master ; 
 he brought with him the modes and the gayeties of Paris ; he 
 was the deviser of all the masquerades and balls, the recruiter 
 of the ballet-dancers, and by far the most brilliaut and splendid 
 young gentleman of the court. 
 
 After we had been a few weeks at Ludwigslust, the old 
 Baron de Magny endeavored to have us dismissed from the 
 duchy ; but his voice was not strong enough to overcome that 
 of the general public, and the Chevalier de Magny especiall}' 
 stood our friend with his highness when the question was 
 debated before him. The chevalier's love of pla}- had not 
 deserted him. He was a regular frequenter of our bank, where 
 he played for some time with pretty good luck ; and where, 
 when he began to lose, he paid with a regularity surprising to 
 all those who knew the smallness of his means and the splendor 
 of his appearance. 
 
 Her highness the Princess Olivia was also ven* fond of play. 
 On half a dozen occasions when we held a bank at court, I 
 could see her passion for the game. I could see — that is, nry 
 cool-headed old uncle could see — much more. There was an 
 intelligence between Monsieur de Magny and this illustrious 
 lady. " If her highness be not in love with the little French- 
 man," nry uncle said to me one night after play, "may I lose 
 the sight of my last eye ! " 
 
 " And what then, sir?" said I. 
 
 " What then? " said my uncle, looking me hard in the face. 
 " Are you so green as not to know what then? Your fortune 
 is to be made, if you choose to back it now ; and we ma}* have 
 back the Bany estates in two 3-ears, my boy." 
 
 " How is that?" asked I, still at a loss. 
 
 My uncle dryly said, ' - Get Magny to play ; never mind his 
 paying : take his notes of hand. The more he owes the better ; 
 but, above all, make him pla}\" 
 
 " He can't pay a shilling," answered I. " The Jews will not 
 discount his notes at cent, per cent." 
 
126 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " So much the better. You shall see we will make use of 
 them," answered the old gentleman. And I must confess that 
 the plan be laid was a gallant, clever, and fair one. 
 
 I was to make Magny play ; in this there was no great diffi- 
 culty. We had an intimacy together, for he was a good sports- 
 man as well as myself, and we came to have a pretty considerable 
 friendship for one another : if he saw a dice-box, it was impos- 
 sible to prevent him from handling it ; but he took to it as 
 natural as a child does to sweetmeats. 
 
 At first he won of me ; then he began to lose ; then I played 
 him mone}' against some jewels that he brought : family trin- 
 kets, he said, and indeed of considerable value. He begged 
 me, however, not to dispose of them in the duchy, and I gave 
 and kept my word to him to this effect. From jewels he got to 
 pLaying upon promissory notes ; and as they would not allow 
 him to play at the court tables and in public upon credit, he 
 was very glad to have an opportunit}' of indulging in his favor- 
 ite passion in private. I have had him for hours at my pa- 
 vilion (which I had fitted up in the Eastern manner, very 
 splendid) rattling the dice till it became time to go to his ser- 
 vice at court, and we would spend day after day in this manner. 
 He brought me more jewels, — a pearl necklace, an antique 
 emerald breast ornament, and other trinkets, as a set-off against 
 these losses : for I need not say that I should not have 
 played with him all this time had he been winning; but, after 
 about a week, the luck set in against him, and he became my 
 debtor in a prodigious sum. I do not care to mention the 
 extent of it ; it was such as I never thought the young man 
 could pay. 
 
 Why, then, did I play for it? Why waste day's in private 
 play with a mere bankrupt, when business seemingly much 
 more profitable was to be done elsewhere ? M}' reason I boldly 
 confess. I wanted to win from Monsieur de Magny, not his 
 money, but his intended wife, the Countess Ida. Who can say 
 that I had not a right to use any stratagem in this matter of 
 love ? Or, why say love ? I wanted the wealth of the lady : I 
 loved her quite as much as Magny did ; I loved her quite as 
 much as yonder blushing virgin of seventeen does who marries 
 an old lord of seventy. I followed the practice of the world 
 in this ; having resolved that marriage should achieve my for- 
 tune. 
 
 I used to make Magnj-, after his losses, give me a friendly 
 letter of acknowledgment to some such effect as this, — 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 127 
 
 "Mt dear Monsieur de Balibari, — I acknowledge to have lost to 
 you this day at' lansquenet [or piquet, or hazard, as the case may be : I 
 was master of him at any game that is played] the sum of three hundred 
 ducats, and shall hold it as a great kindness on your part if you will allow 
 the debt to stand over until a future day, when you shall receive payment 
 from your very grateful humble servant." 
 
 With the jewels he brought me I also took the precaution 
 (but this was my uncle's idea, and a ven r good one) to have a 
 sort of invoice, and a letter begging me to receive the trinkets 
 as so much part payment of a sum of mone} 7 he owed me. 
 
 When I had put him in such a position as I deemed favora- 
 ble to my intentions, I spoke to him candidly, and without any 
 reserve, as one man of the world should speak to another. " I 
 will not, my dear fellow," said I, " pay you so bad a compli- 
 ment as to suppose that you expect we are to go on playing at 
 this rate much longer, and that there is any satisfaction to me 
 in possessing more or less sheets of paper bearing your signa- 
 ture, and a series of notes of hand which I know you never can 
 pay. Don't look fierce or angiy, for you know Redmond Bany 
 is your master at the sword : besides, I would not be such a 
 fool as to fight a man who owes me so much money ; but hear 
 calmly what I have to propose. 
 
 " You have been very confidential to me during our intimacy 
 of the last month ; and I know all your personal affairs com- 
 pletely. You have given your word of honor to your grand- 
 father never to play upon parole, and you know how you have 
 kept it, and that he will disinherit you if he hears the truth. 
 Nay, suppose he dies to-morrow, his estate is not sufficient to 
 pay the sum in which you are indebted to me ; and, were you 
 to yield me up all, you would be a beggar, and a bankrupt too. 
 
 " Her highness the Princess Olivia denies you nothing. I 
 shall not ask why ; but give me leave to say, I was aware of 
 the fact when we began to play together." 
 
 "Will j'ou be made baron — chamberlain, with the grand 
 cordon of the order? " gasped the poor fellow. " The princess 
 can do anything with the duke." 
 
 "I shall have no objection," said I, "to the yellow rib- 
 bon and the gold key ; though a gentleman of the house of 
 Ballybarry cares little for the titles of the German nobility. 
 But this is not what I want. My good chevalier, you have hid 
 no secrets from me. You have told me with what difficulty 
 you have induced the Princess Olivia to consent to the project 
 of your union with the Grafinn Ida, whom you don't love. I 
 know whom you love very well." 
 
128 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Monsieur de Balibari ! " said the discomfited chevalier ; he 
 could get out no more. The truth began to dawn upon him. 
 
 "You begin to understand," continued I. "Her highness 
 the Princess" (I said this in a sarcastic way) "will not be 
 very angry, believe me, if you break off your connection with 
 the stupid countess. I am no more an admirer of that lady 
 than you are ; but I want her estate. I played you for that 
 estate, and have won it ; and I will give 3011 your bills and five 
 thousand ducats on the clay I am married to it." 
 
 " The day / am married to the countess," answered the 
 chevalier, thinking to have me, " I will be able to raise money 
 to pay your claim ten times over" (this was true, for the coun- 
 tess's property ma}- have been valued at near half a million of 
 our money) ; " and then I will discharge my obligations to you. 
 Meanwhile, if you annoy me by threats, or insult me again as 
 you have done, I will use that influence, which, as you say, I 
 possess, and have you turned out of the duchy, as you were out 
 of the Netherlands last year." 
 
 I rang the bell quite quietly. " Zamor," said I to a tall 
 negro fellow habited like a Turk, that used to wait upon me, 
 " when you hear the bell ring a second time, you will take this 
 packet to the Marshal of the Court, this to his Excellency the 
 General de Magny, and this you will place in the hands of one 
 of the equerries of his highness the hereditary prince. Wait 
 in the ante-room, and do not go with the parcels until I ring 
 again." 
 
 The black fellow having retired, I turned to Monsieur de 
 Magny and said, " Chevalier, the first packet contains a letter 
 from you to me, declaring your solvency, and solemnly promis- 
 ing payment of the sums you owe me ; it is accompanied by a 
 document from myself (for I expected some resistance on your 
 part), stating that my honor has been called in question, and 
 begging that the paper ma}' be laid before your august master, 
 his highness. The second packet is for your grandfather, en- 
 closing the letter from you in which you state yourself to be 
 his heir, and begging for a confirmation of the fact. The last 
 parcel, for his highness the hereditary duke," added I, looking 
 most sternly, " contains the Gustavus Adolphus emerald, which 
 he gave to his princess, and which you pledged to me as a 
 family jewel of your own. Your influence with her highness 
 must be great indeed," I concluded, "when you could extort 
 from her such a jewel as that, and when you could make her, 
 in order to pay your play-debts, give up a secret upon which 
 both your heads depend." 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 129 
 
 " Villain ! " said the Frenchman, quite aghast with fury and 
 terror, lk would 3-011 implicate the princess? " 
 
 " Monsieur de Magny," I answered, with a sneer, "no: I 
 will say you stole the jewel." It was my belief he did, and that 
 the unhappy and ■ infatuated princess was never privy to the 
 theft until long after it had been committed. How we came 
 to know the history of the emerald is simple enough. As we 
 wanted money (for. my occupation with Magny caused our bank 
 to be much neglected), my uncle had carried Magny's trinkets 
 to Mannheim to pawn. The Jew who lent upon them knew the 
 history of the stone in question ; and when he asked how her 
 highness came to part with it, my uncle very cleverly took up 
 the story where he found it, said that the princess was very fond 
 of play, that it was not always convenient to her to pay, and 
 hence the emerald had come into our hands. He brought it 
 
 wisely back with him to S ; and, as regards the other jewels 
 
 which the chevalier pawned to us, they were of no particular 
 mark : no inquiries have ever been made about them to this 
 day ; and I did not only not know then that they came from 
 her highness, but have only my conjectures upon the matter 
 now. 
 
 The unfortunate young gentleman must have had a cowardly 
 spirit, when I charged him with the theft, not to make use of 
 my two pistols that were lying by chance before him, and to 
 send out of the world his accuser and his own ruined self. 
 With such imprudence and miserable recklessness on his part 
 and that of the unhappy lady who had forgotten herself for this 
 poor villain, he must have known that discovery was inevitable. 
 But it was written that this dreadful destiny should be accom- 
 plished : instead of ending like a man, he now cowed before me 
 quite spirit-broken, and, flinging himself down on the sofa, burst 
 into tears, calling wildly upon all the saints to help him : as if 
 they could be interested in the fate of such a wretch as him ! 
 
 I saw that I had nothing to fear from him ; and, calling back 
 Zamor, my black, said I would nyself cany the parcels, which 
 I returned to my escritoire; and, my point being thus gained, 
 I acted, as I always do, generously towards him. I said that, 
 for security's sake, I should send the emerald out of the country, 
 but that I pledged my honor to restore it to the duchess, with- 
 out any pecuniary consideration, on the da}- when she should 
 procure the sovereign's consent to my union with the Countess 
 Ida. 
 
 This will explain pretty clearly, I flatter myself, the game I 
 was playing ; and, though some rigid moralist may object to its 
 
 9 
 
130 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 propriety, I say that anything is fair in love, and that men so 
 poor as myself can't afford to be squeamish about their means 
 of getting on in life. The great and rich are welcomed, smil- 
 ing, up the grand staircase of the world ; the poor but aspiring 
 must clamber up the wall, or push and struggle up the back 
 stair, or, pardi, crawl through any of the conduits of the house, 
 never mind how foul and narrow, that lead to the top. The 
 unambitious sluggard pretends that the eminence is not worth 
 attaining, declines altogether the struggle, and calls himself a 
 philosopher. I say he is a poor-spirited coward. What is life 
 good for but for honor? and that it is so indispensable, that we 
 should attain it anyhow. 
 
 The manner to be adopted for Magny's retreat was proposed 
 by myself, and was arranged so as to consult the feelings of 
 delicacy of both parties. I made Magny take the Countess Ida 
 aside, and say to her, "Madam, though I have never declared 
 myself your admirer, you and the count have had sufficient 
 proof of my regard for you ; and my demand would, I know, 
 have been backed by his highness, your august guardian. I 
 know the duke's gracious wish is, that my attentions should be 
 received favorably ; but, as time has not appeared to alter your 
 attachment elsewhere, and as I have too much spirit to force a 
 lady of your name and rank to be united to me against your 
 will, the best plan is, that I should make you, for form's sake, 
 a proposal w»authorized by his highness : that you should 
 reply, as I am sorry to think your heart dictates to 30U, in 
 the negative : on which I also will formally withdraw from my 
 pursuit of you, stating that, after a refusal, nothing, not even 
 the duke's desire, should induce me to persist in my suit." 
 
 The Countess Ida almost w r ept at hearing these words from 
 Monsieur de Magny, and tears came into her eyes, he said, as 
 she took his hand for the first time, and thanked him for the 
 delicacy of the proposal. She little knew that the Frenchman 
 was incapable of that sort of delicacy, and that the graceful 
 manner in which he withdrew his addresses was of my inven- 
 tion. 
 
 As soon as he withdrew, it became nvy business to step for- 
 ward ; but cautiously and gently, so as not to alarm the lad}', 
 and yet firmly, so as to convince her of the hopelessness of her 
 design of uniting herself with her shabb}' lover, the sub-lieu- 
 tenant. The Princess Olivia was good enough to perform this 
 necessarj' part of the plan in my favor, and solemnly to warn 
 the Countess Ida, that though Monsieur de Magny had retired 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 131 
 
 from paying his addresses, his highness her guardian would still 
 marry her as he thought fit, and that she must forever forget 
 her out-at-elbow adorer. In fact, I can't conceive how such 
 a shabby rogue ,as that could ever have had the audacity to 
 propose for her : his birth was certainly good ; but what other 
 qualifications had he? 
 
 When the Chevalier de Magny withdrew, numbers of other 
 suitors, you may be sure, presented themselves; and amongst 
 these your very humble servant, the cadet of Ballybarry. 
 There was a carrousel, or tournament, held at this period, in 
 imitation of the antique meetings of chivalry, in which the 
 chevaliers tilted at each other, or at the ring ; and on this occa- 
 sion I was habited in a splendid Roman dress (viz. : a silver 
 helmet, a flowing periwig, a cuirass of gilt leather richly em- 
 broidered, a light blue velvet mantle, and crimson morocco 
 half-boots) ; and in this habit I rode m}' bay horse Brian, 
 carried off three rings, and won the prize over all the duke's 
 gentiy, and the nobility of surrounding countries who had come 
 to the show. A wreath of gilded laurel was to be the prize of 
 the victor, and it was to be awarded b}- the lady he selected. 
 So I rode up to the gallery where the Countess Ida was seated 
 behind the hereditary princess, and, calling her name loudly, 
 yet gracefully, begged to be allowed to be crowned by her, and 
 thus proclaimed myself to the face of all German}-, as it were, 
 her suitor. She turned very pale, and the princess red I 
 observed : but the Countess Ida ended by crowning me : after 
 which, putting spurs into my horse, I galloped round the ring, 
 saluting his highness the duke at the opposite end, and per- 
 forming the most wonderful exercises with my bay. 
 
 My success did not, as you may imagine, increase my popu- 
 larity with the young gentry. They called me adventurer, bully, 
 dice-loader, impostor, and a hundred pretty names ; but I had 
 a waA T of silencing these gentry. I took the Count de Schmet- 
 terling, the richest and bravest of the }*oung men who seemed 
 to have a hankering for the Countess Ida, and publicly insulted 
 him at the ridotto : flinging my cards into his face. The next 
 day I rode thirty-five miles into the territory of the Elector of 
 
 B , and met Monsieur de Schmetterling, and passed my 
 
 sword twice through his bod^y ; then rode back with my second, 
 the Chevalier de Magny, and presented myself at the duchess's 
 whist that evening. Magny was very unwilling to accompany 
 me at first ; but I insisted upon his support, and that he should 
 countenance m}- quarrel. Directly after paying my homage to 
 her highness, I went up to the Countess Ida, and made her a 
 
132 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 marked and low obeisance, gazing at her steadily in the face 
 until she grew crimson red ; and then staring round at every 
 man who formed her circle, until, ma foi, I stared them all 
 away. I instructed Magny to sa} T , everywhere, that the coun- 
 tess was madly in love with me ; which commission, along with 
 many others of mine, the poor devil was obliged to perform. 
 He made rather a sotte figure, as the French sa}', acting the 
 pioneer for me, praising me everywhere, accompanying me 
 alwa^ys ! he who had been the pink of the mode until m}' arrival ; 
 he who thought his pedigree of beggarly Barons of Magiry was 
 superior to the race of great Irish kings from which I descended ; 
 who had sneered at me a hundred times as a spadassin, a de- 
 serter, and had called me a vulgar Irish upstart. Now I had 
 my revenge of the gentleman, and took it too. 
 
 I used to call him, in the choicest societies, by his Christian 
 name of Maxime. I would say, "Bon jour, Maxime; com- 
 ment vas tu ? " in the princess's hearing, and could see him bite 
 his lips for fury and vexation. But I had him under my thumb, 
 and her highness too — I, poor private of Billow's regiment. 
 And this is a proof of what genius and perseverance can do, 
 and should act as a warning to great people never to have 
 secrets — if they can help it. 
 
 I knew the princess hated me ; but what did I care ? She 
 knew I knew all : and indeed, I believe, so strong was her 
 prejudice against me, that she thought I was an indelicate 
 villain, capable of betraying a lady, which I would scorn to do ; 
 so that she trembled before me as a child before its school- 
 master. She would, in her woman's wa} T , too, make all sorts 
 of jokes and sneers at me on reception days ; ask about my 
 palace in Ireland, and the kings m}' ancestors, and whether, 
 when I was a private in Bulow's foot, m}^ royal relatives had 
 interposed to rescue me, and whether the cane was smartly 
 administered there, — anything to mortify me. But heaven 
 bless you ! I can make allowances for people, and used to 
 laugh in her face. Whilst her jibes and jeers were continuing, 
 it was my pleasure to look at poor Magny and see how he bore 
 them. The poor devil was trembling lest I should break out 
 under the princess's sarcasm and tell all ; but my revenge was, 
 when the princess attacked me, to sa^v something bitter to 
 him, — to pass it on, as boys do at school. And that was the 
 thing which used to make her highness feel. She would wince 
 just as much when I attacked Magny as if I had been saying 
 anything rude to herself. And, though she hated me, she used 
 to beg my pardon in private ; and though her pride would often 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. ' 133 
 
 get the better of her, yet her prudence obliged this magnificent 
 princess to humble herself to the poor penniless Irish boy. 
 
 As soon as Magny had formally withdrawn from the Coun- 
 tess Ida, the princess took the young lady into favor again, 
 and pretended to be very fond of her. To do them justice I 
 don't know which of the two disliked me most, — the princess, 
 who was all eagerness, and fire, and coquetry, or the countess, 
 who was all state and splendor. The latter, especially, pre- 
 tended to be disgusted by me ; and jet, after all, I have pleased 
 her betters ; was once one of the handsomest men in Europe, 
 and would defy any heyduc of the court to measure a chest or 
 a leg with me : but I did not care for any of her silly prejudices, 
 and determined to win her and wear her in spite of herself. 
 Was it on account of her personal charms or qualities ? No. 
 She was quite white, thin, short-sighted, tall, and awkward, 
 and my taste is quite the contrary ; and as for her mind, no 
 wonder that a poor creature who had a hankering after a 
 wretched, ragged ensign could never appreciate me. It was 
 her estate I made love to ; as for herself, it would be a reflec- 
 tion on niy taste as a man of fashion to own that I liked her. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 IN WHICH THE LUCK GOES AGAINST BARRY. 
 
 My hopes of obtaining the hand of one of the richest heir- 
 esses in Germany were now, as far as all human probability 
 went, and as far as my own merits and prudence could secure 
 my fortune, pretty certain of completion. I was admitted 
 whenever I presented m}'self at the princess's apartments, and 
 had as frequent opportunities as I desired of seeing the Countess 
 Ida there. I cannot say that she received me with any par- 
 ticular favor ; the sill}' 3'oung creature's affections were, as I 
 have said, engaged ignobly elsewhere ; and, however captivat- 
 ing my own person and manners may have been, it was not to 
 be expected that she should all of a sudden forget her lover for 
 the sake of the 3 r oung Irish gentleman who was paying his 
 addresses to her. But such little rebuffs as I got were far 
 from discouraging me. I had very powerful friends, who were 
 to aid me in my undertaking ; and knew that, sooner or later, 
 
134 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the victory must be mine. In fact, I only waited my time to 
 press my suit. Who could tell the dreadful stroke of fortune 
 which was impending over my illustrious protectress, and which 
 was to involve me partially in her ruin? 
 
 All things seemed for a while quite prosperous to m}' wishes ; 
 and, in spite of the Countess Ida's disinclination, it was much 
 easier to bring her to her senses than, perhaps, may be supposed 
 in a silly, constitutional county like England, where people are 
 brought up with those wholesome sentiments of obedience to 
 royalt} r which were customary in Europe at the time when I 
 was a young man. 
 
 I have stated how, through Magn}-, I had the princess, as 
 it were, at my feet. Her highness had only to press the match 
 upon the old duke, over whom her influence was unbounded, 
 and to secure the good-will of the Countess of Liliengarten 
 (which was the romantic title of his highness's morganatic 
 spouse), and the eas}' old man would give an order for the 
 marriage ; which his ward would perforce obey. Madame de 
 Liliengarten was, too, from her position, extremely anxious to 
 oblige the Princess Olivia ; who might be called upon any day 
 to occupy the throne. The old duke was tottering, apoplectic, 
 and exceedingly fond of good living. When he was gone, his 
 relict would find the patronage of the Duchess Olivia most 
 necessary to her. Hence there was a close mutual under- 
 standing between the two ladies ; and the world said that the 
 hereditary princess was already indebted to the favorite for 
 help on various occasions. Her highness had obtained, through 
 the countess, several large grants of money for the payment of 
 her multifarious debts ; and she was now good enough to exert 
 her gracious influence over Madame de Liliengarten in order to 
 obtain for me the object so near my heart. It is not to be 
 supposed that my end was to be obtained without continual 
 unwillingness and refusals on Magny's part ; but I pushed my 
 point resolutely, and had means in my hands of overcoming 
 the stubbornness of that feeble young gentleman. Also, I 
 may say, without vanity, that if the high and mighty princess 
 detested me, the countess (though she was of extremely low 
 origin, it is said) had better taste and admired me. She often 
 did us the honor to go partners with us in one of our faro- 
 banks, and declared that I was the handsomest man in the 
 ductry. All I was required to prove was my nobility, and I 
 got at Vienna such a pedigree as would satisf}' the most greedy 
 in that way. In fact, what had a man descended from the 
 Barrys and the Bradys to fear before any von in Germany? 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 135 
 
 By way of making assurance doubly sure, I promised Madame 
 de Liliengarten ten thousand louis on the da} r of my marriage, 
 and she knew that as a play-man I had never failed in my 
 word : and I vow, that had I paid fifty per cent for it, I would 
 have got the money. 
 
 Thus b} r my talents, honesty, and acuteness, I had, con- 
 sidering I was a poor patronless outcast, raised for myself very 
 powerful protectors. Even his highness the Duke Victor was 
 favorably inclined to me ; for, his favorite charger falling ill of 
 the staggers, I gave him a ball such as my uncle Brady used 
 to administer, and cured the horse ; after which his highness 
 was pleased to notice me frequently. He invited me to his 
 hunting and shooting parties, where I showed myself to be a 
 good sportsman ; and once or twice he condescended to talk to 
 me about nry prospects in life, lamenting that I had taken to 
 gambling, and that I had not adopted a more regular means of 
 advancement. " Sir," said I, "if you will allow me to speak 
 frankly to your highness, play with me is only a means to an 
 end. Where should I have been without it? A private still 
 in King Frederick's grenadiers. I come of a race which gave 
 princes to my country ; but persecutions have deprived them 
 of their vast possessions. My uncle's adherence to his ancient 
 faith drove him from our country. I too resolved to seek ad- 
 vancement in the military service ; but the insolence and ill 
 treatment which I received at the hands of the English were 
 not bearable by a high-born gentleman, and I fled their service. 
 It was only to fall into another bondage to all appearance still 
 more hopeless ; when 1113- good star sent a preserver to me in 
 my uncle, and my spirit and gallantry enabled me to take ad- 
 vantage of the means of escape afforded me. Since then we 
 have lived, I do not disguise it, by pla}- ; but who can say I 
 have done him a wrong? Yet, if I could find myself in an 
 honorable post, and with an assured maintenance, I would 
 never, except for amusement, such as every gentleman must 
 have, touch a card again. I beseech your highness to inquire 
 of your resident at Berlin if I did not on every occasion act as 
 a gallant soldier. I feel that I have talents of a higher order, 
 and should be proud to have occasion to exert them ; if, as I 
 do not doubt, my fortune shall bring them into play." 
 
 The candor of this statement struck his highness greatly, 
 and impressed him in m} r favor, and he was pleased to say 
 that he believed me, and would be glad to stand my friend. 
 
 Having thus the two dukes, the duchess, and the reigning 
 favorite enlisted on m} T side, the chances certainly were that I 
 
136 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 should carry off the great prize ; and I ought, according to all 
 common calculations, to have been a prince of the empire at 
 this present writing, but that my ill luck pursued me in a 
 matter in which I was not the least to blame, — the unhappy 
 duchess's attachment to the weak, silly, cowardly Frenchman. 
 The display of this love was painful to witness, as its end was 
 frightful to think of. The princess made no disguise of it. 
 If Magiry spoke a word to a lad}- of her household, she would 
 be jealous, and attack with all the fuiy of her tongue the un- 
 lucky offender. She would send him a half-dozen of notes in 
 the day : at his arrival to join her circle or the courts which 
 she held, she would brighten up, so that all might perceive. 
 It was a wonder that her husband had not long ere this been 
 made aware of her faithlessness ; but the Prince Victor was 
 himself of so high and stern a nature that he could not believe 
 in her stooping so far from her rank as to forget her virtue : 
 and I have heard say, that when hints were given to him of 
 the evident partiality which the princess showed for the equerry, 
 his answer was a stern command never more to be troubled on 
 the subject. "The princess is light-minded," he said; "she 
 was brought up at a frivolous court ; but her folly goes not 
 beyond coquetry ; crime is impossible ; she has her birth, and 
 my name, and her children, to defend her." And he would 
 ride off to his military inspections and be absent for weeks, or 
 retire to his suite of apartments, and remain closeted there 
 whole days ; only appearing to make a bow at her highness's 
 levee, or to give her his hand at the court galas, where cere- 
 mony required that he should appear. He was a man of vulgar 
 tastes, and I have seen him in the private garden, with his 
 great ungainly figure, running races, or playing at ball with 
 his little son and daughter, whom he would find a dozen pre- 
 texts daily for visiting. The serene children were brought to 
 their mother eveiy morning at her toilette ; but she received 
 them ver}' indifferently : except on one occasion, when the 
 young Duke Ludwig got his little uniform as colonel of hussars, 
 being presented with a regiment by his godfather, the Emperor 
 Leopold. Then, for a daj- or two, the Duchess Olivia was 
 charmed with the little 003- ; but she grew tired of him speedily, 
 as a child does of a toy. I remember one day, in the morning 
 circle, some of the princess's rouge came off on the arm of her 
 son's little white military jacket ; on which she slapped the poor 
 child's face, and sent him sobbing awa}\ Oh, the woes that 
 have been worked by women in this world ! the misery into 
 which men have lightly stepped with smiling faces ; often not 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 137 
 
 even with the excuse of passion, but from mere foppery, vanity, 
 and bravado ! Men play with these dreadful two-edged tools, 
 as if no harm could come to them. I, who have seen more of 
 life than most men, if I had a son, would go on my knees to 
 him and beg him to avoid woman, who is worse than poison. 
 Once intrigue, and your whole life is endangered : you never 
 know when the evil ma}- fall upon you ; and the woe of whole 
 families, and the ruin of innocent people perfectly dear to you, 
 may be caused by a moment of your folly. 
 
 When I saw how entirely lost the unlucky Monsieur de 
 Magny seemed to be, in spite of all the claims I had against 
 him, I urged him to fly. He had rooms in the palace, in the 
 garrets over the princess's quarters (the building was a huge 
 one, and accommodated almost a city of noble retainers of the 
 family) ; but the infatuated young fool would not budge, al- 
 though he had not even the excuse of love for staying. " How 
 she squints," he would say of the princess, " and how crooked 
 she is ! She thinks no one can perceive her deformity. She 
 writes me verses out of Gresset or Crebillon, and fancies I 
 believe them to be original. Bah ! the}* are no more her own 
 than her hair is ! " It was in this way that the wretched lad 
 was dancing over the ruin that was yawning under him. I do 
 believe that his chief pleasure in making love to the princess 
 was, that he might write about his victories to his friends of 
 the petites maisons at Paris, where he longed to be considered as 
 a wit and a vainqueur de dames. 
 
 Seeing the young man's recklessness, and the danger of his 
 position, I became very anxious that my little scheme should be 
 brought to a satisfactory end, and pressed him warmly on the 
 matter. 
 
 My solicitations with him were, I need not say, from the 
 nature of the connection between us, generally pretty success- 
 ful ; and, in fact, the poor fellow could refuse me nothing : as I 
 used often laughingly to say to him, very little to his liking. 
 But I used more than threats, or the legitimate influence I had 
 over him. I used delicacy and generosity ; as a proof of which, 
 I ma} - mention that I promised to give back to the princess the 
 family emerald, which I mentioned in the last chapter that I 
 had won from her unprincipled admirer at play. 
 
 This was done by my uncle's consent, and was one of the 
 usual acts of prudence and foresight which distinguish that 
 clever man. "Press the matter now, Redmond my boy," he 
 would urge. "This affair between her highness and Magny 
 must end ill for both of them, and that soon ; and where will 
 
138 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 be 3*our chance to win the countess then ? Now is }'our time ! 
 win her and wear her before the month is over, and we will 
 give up the punting business, and go live like noblemen at our 
 castle in Swabia. Get rid of that emerald, too," he added : 
 "•should an accident happen, it will be an ugly deposit found 
 in our hand." This it was that made me agree to forego the 
 possession of the trinket ; which, I must confess, I was loth to 
 part with. It was lucky for us both that I did : as you shall 
 presently hear. 
 
 Meanwhile, then, I urged Magny : I myself spoke strongly 
 to the Countess of Liliengarten, who promised formally to back 
 my claim with his highness the reigning duke ; and Monsieur de 
 Magny was instructed to induce the Princess Olivia to make a 
 similar application to the old sovereign in m}' behalf. It was 
 done. The two ladies urged the prince ; his highness (at a 
 supper of oysters and champagne) was brought to consent, and 
 her highness the hereditary princess did me the honor of noti- 
 fying personally to the Countess Ida that it was the prince's 
 will that she should many the .young Irish nobleman, the Chev- 
 alier Redmond de Bali ban. The notification was made in my 
 presence ; and though the 3'oung countess said " Never ! " and 
 fell down in a swoon at her lady's feet, I was, you may be 
 sure, entirety unconcerned at this little display of mawkish 
 sensibility, and felt, indeed, now that my prize was secure. 
 
 That evening I gave the Chevalier de Magny the emerald, 
 which he promised to restore to the princess ; and now the 
 only difficulty in my way lay with the hereditary prince, of 
 whom his father, his wife, and the favorite, were alike afraid. 
 He might not be disposed to allow the richest heiress in his 
 duchy to be carried off by a noble, though not a wealth}- for- 
 eigner. Time was necessary in order to break the matter to 
 Prince Victor. The princess must find him at some moment 
 of good humor. He had days of infatuation still, when he 
 could refuse his wife nothing ; and our plan was to wait for one 
 of these, or for an} r other chance which might occur. 
 
 But it was destined that the princess should never see her 
 husband at her feet, as often as he had been. Fate was pre- 
 paring a terrible ending to her follies, and m} T own hope. In 
 spite of his solemn promises to me, Magny never restored the 
 emerald to the Princess Olivia. 
 
 He had heard, in casual intercourse with me, that my uncle 
 and I had been beholden to Mr. Moses Lowe, the banker of 
 Heidelberg, who had given us a good price for our valuables ; 
 and the infatuated young man took a pretext to go thither, and 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 139 
 
 offered the jewel for pawn. Moses Lowe recognized the emer- 
 ald at once, gave Magny the sum the latter demanded, which 
 the chevalier lost presently at play : never, you may be sure, 
 acquainting us with the means by which he had made himself 
 master of so much capital. We, for our parts, supposed that 
 he had been supplied by his usual banker, the princess : and 
 many rouleaux of his gold-pieces found their way into our 
 treasury, when at the court galas, at our own lodgings, or at 
 the apartments of Madame de Liliengarten (who on these oc- 
 casions did us the honor to go halves with us) we held our 
 bank of faro. 
 
 Thus Magiry's money was very soon gone. But though the 
 Jew held his jewel, of thrice the value no doubt of the sums he 
 had lent upon it, that was not all the profit which he intended 
 to have from his unhapp}* creditor ; over whom he began 
 speedily to exercise his authorit}'. His Hebrew connections at 
 
 X , mone3'-brokers, bankers, horse-dealers, about the court 
 
 there, must have told their Heidelberg brother what Magny's 
 relations with the princess were ; and the rascal determined to 
 take advantage of these, and to press to the utmost both victims. 
 My uncle and I were, meanwhile, swimming upon the high tide 
 of fortune, prospering with our cards, and with the still greater 
 matrimonial game which we were playing ; and we were quite 
 unaware of the mine under our feet. 
 
 Before a month was passed, the Jew began to pester Magny. 
 
 He presented himself at X , and asked for further interest — 
 
 hush-money ; otherwise he must sell the emerald. Magny got 
 money for him ; the princess again befriended her dastardly 
 lover. The success of the first demand only rendered the 
 second more exorbitant. I know not how much money was 
 extorted and paid on this unlucky emerald : but it was the 
 cause of the ruin of us all. 
 
 One night we were keeping our table as usual at the Countess 
 of Liliengarten's, and Magny being in cash somehow kept draw- 
 ing out rouleau after rouleau, and playing with his common ill 
 success. In the middle of the play a note was brought in to 
 him, which he read, and turned very pale on perusing ; but 
 the luck was against him, and looking up rather anxiously at 
 the clock, he waited for a few more turns of the cards, when 
 having, I suppose, lost his last rouleau, he got up with a wild 
 oath that scared some of the polite company assembled, and 
 left the room. A great trampling of horses was heard without ; 
 
140 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 but we were too much engaged with our business to heed the 
 noise, and continued our play. 
 
 Presently some one came into the play-room and said to the 
 countess, "Here is a strange story ! A Jew has been mur- 
 dered in the Kaiserwald. Magny was arrested when he went 
 out of the room." All the party broke up on hearing this 
 strange news, and we shut up our bank for the night. Magny 
 had been sitting b} f me during the play (my uncle dealt and I 
 paid and took the money), and, looking under the chair, there 
 was a crumpled paper, which I took up and read. It was that 
 which had been delivered to him, and ran thus : — 
 
 " If yon have, done it, take the orderly's horse who brings this. It is the best 
 of my stable. There are a hundred louis in each holster, and the pistols are 
 loaded. Either course lies open to you ; yoa know what J mean. In a quarter 
 of an hour I shall know our fate — whether I am to be dishonored and survive 
 you, whether you are guilty and a coward, or whether you are still worthy of tht 
 name of M. 
 
 This was in the handwriting of the old General de Magny ; 
 and my uncle and I, as we walked home at night, having made 
 and divided with the Countess Liliengarten no inconsiderable 
 profits that night, felt our triumphs greatly dashed by the 
 perusal of the letter. " Has Magny," we asked, " robbed the 
 Jew, or has his intrigue been discovered?" In either case, my 
 claims on the Countess Ida were likely to meet with serious 
 drawbacks; and I began to feel that my "great card" was 
 played and perhaps lost. 
 
 Well, it was lost : though I say, to this day, it was well and 
 gallantlj' played. After supper (which we never for fear of 
 consequences took during play) I became so agitated in my 
 mind as to what was occurring that I determined to sally out 
 about midnight into the town, and inquire what was the real 
 motive of Magny's apprehension. A sentr}' was at the door, 
 and signified to me that I and my uncle were under arrest. 
 
 We were left in our quarters for six weeks, so closely watched 
 that escape was impossible, had we desired it ; but, as innocent 
 men, we had nothing to fear. Our course of life was open to 
 all, and we desired and courted inquirj'. Great and tragical 
 events happened during those six weeks ; of which, though we 
 heard the outline, as all Europe did, when we were released 
 from our captivity, we were j-et far from understanding all the 
 particulars, which were not much known to me for many years 
 after. Here they are, as they were told me by the lady, who 
 of all the world perhaps was most likeby to know them. But 
 the narrative had best form the contents of another chapter. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CONTAINS THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE PRINCESS OF X . 
 
 More than twenty years after the events described in the 
 past chapters, I was walking with my Lady Lyndon, in the 
 Rotunda at Ranelagh. It was in the year 1790; the emigra- 
 tion from France had already commenced, the old counts and 
 marquises were thronging to our shores : not starving and 
 miserable, as one saw them a few years afterwards, but un- 
 molested as yet, and bringing with them some token of their 
 national splendor. I was walking with Lady Lyndon, who, 
 proverbially jealous and always anxious to anno}* me, spied out 
 a foreign lady who was evidently remarking me, and of course 
 asked who was the hideous fat Dutchwoman who was leering at 
 me so? I knew her not in the least. I felt I had seen the 
 lady's face somewhere ; (it was now, as my wife said, enor- 
 mously fat and bloated ;) but I did not recognize in the bearer 
 of that face one who had been among the most beautiful women 
 in Germany in her da}'. 
 
 It was no other than Madame de Liliengarten, the mistress, 
 
 or as some said the morganatic wife, of the old Duke of X , 
 
 Duke Victor's father. IShe had left X a few months after 
 
 the elder duke's demise, had gone to Paris, as I heard, where 
 some unprincipled adventurer had married her for her mone}' ; 
 but, however, had always retained her quasi-royal title, and 
 pretended, amidst the great laughter of the Parisians who fre- 
 quented her house, to the honors and ceremonial of a sovereign's 
 widow. She had a throne erected in her state-room, and was 
 styled by her servants and those who wished to pay court to 
 her, or borrow money from her, " Altesse." Report said she 
 drank rather copiously — certainly her face bore ever}' mark of 
 that habit, and had lost the rosy, frank, good-humored beauty 
 which had charmed the sovereign who had ennobled her. 
 
 Although she did not address me in the circle at Ranelagh, 
 I was at this period as well known as the Prince of Wales, and 
 she had no difficulty in finding mj r house in Berkeley Squai-e ; 
 whither a note was next morning despatched to me. " An old 
 friend of Monsieur de Balibari," it stated (in extremely bad 
 French), "is anxious to see the Chevalier again and to talk 
 over old happy times. Rosina de Liliengarten (can it be that 
 
142 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Redmond Balibari has forgotten her ?) will be at her house in 
 Leicester Fields all the morning, looking for one who would 
 never have passed her 03' twenty years ago." 
 
 Rosina of Liliengarten it was, indeed — such a full-blown 
 Rosina I have seldom seen. I found her in a decent first-floor 
 in Leicester Fields (the poor soul fell much lower afterwards) 
 drinking tea, which had somehow a very strong smell of branch- 
 in it; and after salutations, which would be more tedious to 
 recount than they were to perform, and after further straggling 
 conversation, she gave me briefly the following narrative "of the 
 
 events in X , which I may well entitle the "Princess's 
 
 Tragedy." 
 
 " You remember Monsieur de Geldern, the Police Minister. 
 He was of Dutch extraction, and, what is more, of a family of 
 Dutch Jews. Although everybody was aware of this blot in 
 his scutcheon, he was mortally angry if ever his origin was sus- 
 pected ; and made up for his lather's errors by outrageous pro- 
 fessions of religion, and the most austere practices of devotion. 
 He visited church every morning, confessed once a week, and 
 hated Jews and Protestants as much as an inquisitor could 
 do. He never lost an opportunity of proving his sincerity, 
 by persecuting one or the other whenever occasion tell in his 
 way. 
 
 " He hated the princess mortalby ; for her highness in some 
 whim had insulted him with his origin, caused pork to be re- 
 moved from before him at table, or injured him in some such 
 silly way ; and he had a violent animosit}- to the old Baron de 
 Magny, both in his capacity of Protestant, and because the 
 latter in some haughty mood had publicly turned his back upon 
 him as a sharper and a sp}*. Perpetual quarrels were taking 
 place between them in council ; where it was only the presence 
 of his august masters that restrained the baron from publicly 
 and frequently expressing the contempt which he felt for the 
 officer of police. 
 
 " Thus Geldern had hatred as one reason for ruining the prin- 
 cess, and it is my belief he had a stronger motive still — interest. 
 You remember whom the duke married, after the death of his 
 
 first wife? — a princess of the house of F . Geldern built 
 
 his fine palace two j'ears after, and, as I feel convinced, with 
 
 the money which was paid to him by the F family for 
 
 forwarding the match. 
 
 " To go to Prince Victor, and report to his highness a case 
 which everybody knew, was not by any means Geldern's desire. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 143 
 
 He knew the man would be ruined for ever in the prince's estima- 
 tion who carried him intelligence so disastrous. His aim, there- 
 fore, was, to leave the matter to explain itself to his highness ; 
 and, when the time was ripe, he cast about for a means of earn- 
 ing his point. He had spies in the houses of the elder and 
 younger Magny ; but this you know, of course, from your ex- 
 perience of Continental customs. We had all spies over each 
 other. Your black (Zamor, I think, was his name) used to 
 give me reports every morning ; and I used to entertain the 
 dear old duke with stories of 3*011 and your uncle practising 
 piquet and dice in the morning, and with your quarrels and 
 intrigues. We levied similar contributions on everybody in 
 
 X- , to amuse the dear old man. Monsieur de Magny's 
 
 valet used to report both to me and Monsieur de Geldern. 
 
 " I knew of the fact of the emerald being in pawn ; and it 
 was out of my exchequer that the poor princess drew the funds 
 which were spent upon the odious Lowe, and the still more 
 worthless young chevalier. How the princess could trust the 
 latter as she persisted in doing, is beyond my comprehension ; 
 but there is no infatuation like that of a woman in love : and 
 you will remark, my dear Monsieur de Balibari, that our sex 
 generally* fix upon a bad man." 
 
 " Not always, madam," I interposed ; " your humble servant 
 has created many such attachments." 
 
 " I do not see that that affects the truth of the proposition," 
 said the old lady dryly, and continued her narrative. "The 
 Jew who held the emerald had had many dealings with the prin- 
 cess, and at last was offered a bribe of such magnitude, that 
 he determined to give up the pledge. He committed the incon- 
 ceivable imprudence of bringing the emerald with him to X -, 
 
 and waited on Magny, who was provided by the princess with 
 the money- to redeem the pledge, and was actually ready to 
 pay it. 
 
 " Their interview took place in Magny's own apartments, 
 when his valet overheard every word of their conversation. 
 The young man, who was always utterly careless of money when 
 it was in his possession, was so easy in offering it, that Lowe 
 rose in his demands, and had the conscience to ask double the 
 sum for which he had previously stipulated. 
 
 " At this the chevalier lost all patience, fell on the wretch, 
 and was for killing him ; when the opportune valet rushed in 
 and saved him. The man had heard every word of the con- 
 versation between the disputants, and the Jew ran flying with 
 terror into his arms ; and Magny, a quick and passionate, but 
 
144 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 not a violent man, bade the servant lead the villain down stairs, 
 and thought no more of him. 
 
 " Perhaps he was not sorry to be rid of him, and to have in 
 his possession a large sum of money, four thousand ducats, with 
 which he could tempt fortune once more ; as you know he did 
 at your table that night." 
 
 "Your ladyship went halves, madam," said I; " and you 
 know how little I was the better for my winnings." 
 
 " The man conducted the trembling Israelite out of the palace, 
 and no sooner had seen him lodged at the house of one of his 
 brethren, where he was accustomed to put up, than he went 
 away to the office of his Excellency the Minister of Police, and 
 narrated every word of the conversation which had taken place 
 between the Jew and his master. 
 
 " Geldern expressed the greatest satisfaction at his spy's 
 prudence and fidelity. He gave him a purse of twenty ducats, 
 and promised to provide for him handsomely : as great men do 
 sometimes promise to reward their instruments ; but you, Mon- 
 sieur de Balibari, know how seldom those promises are kept. 
 1 Now, go and find out,' said Monsieur de Geldern, ' at what 
 time the Israelite proposes to return home again, or whether he 
 will repent and take the money.' The man went on this errand. 
 Meanwhile, to make matters sure, Geldern arranged a play- 
 party at my house, inviting you thither with your bank, as you 
 may remember ; and finding means, at the same time, to let 
 Maxime de Magny know that there was to be faro at Madame 
 de Liliengarten's. It was an invitation the poor fellow never 
 neglected." 
 
 I remembered the facts, and listened on, amazed at the arti- 
 fice of the infernal Minister of Police. 
 
 " The sp}' came back from his message to Lowe, and stated 
 that he had made inquiries among the servants of the hou6e 
 where the Heidelberg banker lodged, and that it was the latter's 
 intention to leave X that afternoon. He travelled by him- 
 self, riding an old horse, exceedingly humbly attired, after the 
 manner of his people. 
 
 " ' Johann,' said the Minister, clapping the pleased spy upon 
 the shoulder, k I am more and more pleased with you. I have 
 been thinking, since j-ou left me, of your intelligence, and the 
 faithful manner in which you have served me ; and shall soon 
 find an occasion to place you according to your merits. Which 
 way does this Israelitish scoundrel take ? ' 
 
 " ' He goes to R to-night.' 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 145 
 
 " 'And must pass by the Kaiserwald. Are you a man of 
 courage, Johann Kerner?' 
 
 " "Will your Excellency try me?' said the man, his eyes 
 glittering : ' I served through the Seven Years' War, and was 
 never known to fail there.' 
 
 tk ' Now, listen. The emerald must be taken from that Jew : 
 in the very keeping it the scoundrel has committed high treason. 
 To the man who brings me that emerald I swear I will give five 
 hundred louis. You understand why it is necessary that it 
 should be restored to her highness. I need sa3 r no more.' 
 
 " ' You shall have it to-night, sir,' said the man. ' Of course 
 your Excellency will hold me harmless in case of accident.' 
 
 " ' Psha ! ' answered the Minister ; ' I will pay you half the 
 money beforehand ; such is my confidence in you. Accident's 
 impossible, if you take your measures properly. There are 
 four leagues of wood ; the Jew rides slowly. It will be night 
 before he can reach, let us say, the old Powder-Mill in the 
 wood. What's to prevent 3*011 from putting a rope across the 
 road, and dealing with him there? Be back with me this even- 
 ing at supper. If you meet any of the patrol, say " foxes are 
 loose," — that's the word for to-night. They will let you pass 
 them without questions.' 
 
 " The man went off quite charmed with his commission ; and 
 when Magny was losing his money at our faro-table, his ser- 
 vant waylaid the Jew at the spot named the Powder-Mill in the 
 Kaiserwald. The Jew's horse stumbled over a rope which had 
 been placed across the road ; and, as the rider fell groaning to 
 the .ground, Johann Kerner rushed out on him, masked, and 
 pistol in hand, and demanded his money. He had no wish to 
 kill the Jew, I believe, unless his resistance should render ex- 
 treme measures necessa^. 
 
 " Nor did he commit any such murder; for, as the yelling 
 Jew roared for mere} 7 , and his assailant menaced him with a 
 pistol, a squad of patrol came up, and laid hold of the robber 
 and the wounded man. 
 
 " Kerner swore an oath. 'You have come too soon,' said 
 he to the sergeant of the police. ' Foxes are loose.' l Some are 
 caught,' said the sergeant, quite unconcerned ; and bound the 
 fellow's hands with the rope which he had stretched across 
 the road to entrap the Jew. He was placed behind a policeman 
 on a horse ; Lowe was similarly accommodated, and the party 
 thus came back into the town as the night fell. 
 
 " They were taken forthwith to the police quarter ; and, aa 
 the chief happened to be there, the} - were examined b\* his Ex- 
 
 10 
 
146 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 cellency in person. Both were rigorously searched ; the Jew's 
 papers and cases taken from him : the jewel was found in a 
 private pocket. As for the spy, the Minister, looking at him 
 angrily, said, ' Why, this is the servant of the Chevalier de 
 Magn}', one of her highness's equerries ! ' and without hearing 
 a word in exculpation from the poor frightened wretch, ordered 
 him into close confinement. 
 
 "Calling for his horse, he then rode to the prince's apart- 
 ments at the palace, and asked for an instant audience. When 
 admitted, he produced the emerald. 'This jewel,' said he, 
 ' has been found on the person of a Heidelberg Jew, who has 
 been here repeatedly of late, and has had many dealings with 
 her highness's equerry, the Chevalier de Magny. This after- 
 noon the chevalier's servant came from his master's lodgings, 
 accompanied by the Hebrew ; was heard to make inquiries as 
 to the route the man intended to take on his way homewards ; 
 followed him, or preceded him rather, and was found in the act 
 of rifling his victim by mj T police in the Kaiserwakl. The man 
 will confess nothing ; but, on being searched, a large sum in 
 gold was found on his person ; and though it is with the utmost 
 pain that I can bring myself to entertain such an opinion, and 
 to implicate a gentleman of the character and name of Monsieur 
 de Magny, I do submit that our duty is to have the chevalier 
 examined relative to the affair. As Monsieur de Magny is in 
 her highness's private service, and in her confidence, I have 
 heard, I would not venture to apprehend him without your high- 
 ness's permission.' 
 
 " The prince's master of the horse, a friend of the old Baron 
 de Magny, who was present at the interview, no sooner heard 
 the strange intelligence, than he hastened away to the old gen- 
 eral, with the dreadful news of his grandson's supposed crime. 
 Perhaps his highness himself was not unwilling that his old 
 friend and tutor in arms should have the chance of saving his 
 family from disgrace ; at all events, Monsieur de Ilengst, the 
 Master of the Horse, was permitted to go off to the baron un- 
 disturbed, and break to him the intelligence of the accusation 
 pending over the unfortunate chevalier. 
 
 "It is possible that he expected some such dreadful catas- 
 trophe, for, after hearing Hengst's narrative (as the latter 
 afterwards told me), he only said, 'Heaven's will be done!' 
 for some time refused to stir a step in the matter, and then only 
 by the solicitation of his friend, was induced to write the let- 
 ter which Maxime de Magn}' received at our play-table. 
 
 " Whilst he was there, squandering the princess's money, a 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 147 
 
 police visit was paid to his apartments, and a hundred proofs, 
 not of his guilt with respect to the robber}', but of his guilty 
 connection with the princess, were discovered there, — tokens 
 of her giving, passionate letters from her, copies of his own 
 correspondence to his young friends at Paris, — all of which the 
 Police Minister perused, and carefully put together under seal 
 for his highness, Prince Victor. I have no doubt he perused 
 them, for, on delivering them to the hereditary prince, Geldern 
 said that in obedience to his highness 's orders, he had collected the 
 chevalier's papers ; but he need not say that, on his honor, he 
 (Geldern) himself had never examined the documents. His 
 difference with Messieurs de Magny was known ; he begged 
 his highness to employ any other official person in the judgment 
 of the accusation brought against the young chevalier. 
 
 " All these things were going on while the chevalier was at 
 play. A run of luck — you had great luck in those days, Mon- 
 sieur de Balibari — was against him. He stayed and lost his 
 4,000 ducats. He received his uncle's note, and, such was the 
 infatuation of the wretched gambler, that, on receipt of it, he 
 went down to the court-yard, where the horse was in waiting, 
 absolutely took the money which the poor old gentleman had 
 placed in the saddle-holsters, brought it up stairs, played it and 
 lost it ; and when he issued from the room to fly, it was too 
 late : he was placed in arrest at the bottom of my staircase, as 
 you were upon entering your own home. 
 
 " Even when he came in under the charge of the soldiery 
 sent to arrest him, the old general, who was waiting, was over- 
 joyed to see him, and flung himself into the lad's arms, and 
 embraced him : it was said, for the first time in many years 
 ' He is here, gentlemen,' he sobbed out, — ' thank God he is 
 not guilt}' of the robbery ! ' and then sank back in a chair in a 
 burst of emotion, painful, it was said by those present, to wit- 
 ness on the part of a man so brave, and known to be so 
 cold and stern. 
 
 " ' Robbery ! ' said the young man. ' I swear before heaven 
 I am guilt}' of none ! ' and a scene of almost touching reconcilia- 
 tion passed between them, before the unhappy young man was 
 led from the guard-house into the prison which he was destined 
 never to quit. 
 
 " That night the duke looked over the papers which Geldern 
 had brought to him. It was at a very early stage of the peru- 
 sal, no doubt, that he gave orders for your arrest ; for you were 
 taken at midnight, Magny at ten o'clock ; after which time the 
 old Baron de Magny had seen his highness, protesting of his 
 
148 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 grandson's innocence, and the prince had received him most 
 graciously and kindly. His highness said he had no doubt the 
 young man was innocent ; his birth and his blood rendered such 
 a crime impossible ; but suspicion was too strong against him : 
 he was known to have been that day closeted with the Jew ; to 
 have received a very large sum of money which he squandered 
 at play, and of which the Hebrew had, doubtless, been the 
 lender, — to have despatched his servant after him, who in- 
 quired the hour of the Jew's departure, lay in wait for him, and 
 rifled him. Suspicion was so strong against the chevalier, that 
 common justice required his arrest; and, meanwhile, until he 
 cleared himself, he should be kept in not dishonorable durance, 
 and every regard had for his name, and the services of his hon- 
 orable grandfather. With this assurance, and with a warm 
 grasp of the hand, the prince left old General de Magny that 
 night ; and the veteran retired to rest, almost consoled and 
 confident in Maxime's eventual and immediate release. 
 
 " But in the morning, before daybreak, the prince, who had 
 been reading papers all night, wildly called to the page, who 
 slept in the next room across the door, bade him get horses, 
 which were always kept in readiness in the stables, and, fling- 
 ing a parcel of letters into a box, told the page to follow him 
 on horseback with these. The young man (Monsieur de Weis- 
 senborn) told this to a young lady who was then of my house- 
 hold, and who is now Madame de Weissenborn, and a mother 
 of a score of children. 
 
 ' ' The page described that never was such a change seen as 
 in his august master in the course of that single night. His 
 eyes were bloodshot, his face livid, his clothes were hanging 
 loose about him, and he who had alwaj^s made his appearance 
 on parade as precisely dressed as any sergeant of his troops, 
 might have been seen galloping through the lonely streets at 
 early dawn without a hat, his unpowdered hair streaming be- 
 hind him like a madman. 
 
 " The page, with the box of papers, clattered after his mas- 
 ter, — it was no easy task to follow him ; and the}' rode from 
 the palace to the town, and through it to the general's quarter. 
 The sentinels at the door were scared at the strange figure that 
 rushed up to the general's gate, and, not knowing him, crossed 
 bayonets, and refused him admission. ' Fools,' said Weissen- 
 born, ' it is the prince ! ' And, jangling at the bell as if for an 
 alarm of fire, the door was at length opened by the porter, and 
 his highness ran up to the general's bedchamber, followed by 
 the page with the box. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 149 
 
 u ' Magny — Magny,' roared the prince, thundering at the 
 closed door, ' get up ! ' And to the queries of the old man from 
 within, answered, 'It is I — Victor — the prince! — get up!' 
 And presently the door was opened by the general in his robe- 
 de-chambre, and the prince entered. The page brought in the 
 box, and was bidden to wait without, which he did ; but there 
 led from Monsieur de Magny's bedroom into his ante-chamber 
 two doors, the great one which formed the entrance into his 
 room, and a smaller one which led, as the fashion is with our 
 houses abroad, into the closet which communicates with the 
 alcove where the bed is. The door of this was found by M. de 
 Weissenborn to be open, and the 3"oung man was thus enabled 
 to hear and see eveiything which occurred within the apartment. 
 
 " The general, somewhat nervously, asked what was the rea- 
 son of so earl}- a visit from his highness ; to which the prince 
 did not for a while reply, farther than by staring at him rather 
 wildly, and pacing up and down the room. 
 
 " At last he said, ' Here is the cause ! ' dashing his fist on 
 the box ; and, as he had forgotten to bring the ke}' with him, he 
 went to the door for a moment, saying, ' Weissenborn perhaps 
 has it ; ' but, seeing over the stove one of the general's couteaux 
 de chasse, he took it down, and said, ' That will do,' and fell to 
 work to burst the red trunk open with the blade of the forest- 
 knife. The point broke, and he gave an oath, but continued 
 haggling on with the broken blade, which was better suited to 
 his purpose than the long, pointed knife, and finally succeeded 
 in wrenching open the lid of the chest. 
 
 ".'What is the matter?' said he, laughing. 'Here's the 
 matter ; — read that ! — here's more matter, read that ! — here's 
 more — no, not that ; that's somebody else's picture — but here's 
 hers ! Do you know that, Magny? My wife's — the princess's ! 
 Why did you and your cursed race ever come out of France, to 
 plant 3'our infernal wickedness wherever 3-our feet fell, and to 
 ruin honest German homes ? What have you and yours ever 
 had from my family but confidence and kindness? We gave 
 3^ou a home when }-ou had none, and here's our reward ! ' and 
 he flung a parcel of papers down before the old general ; who 
 saw the truth at once : — he had known it long before, prob- 
 ably, and sunk down on his chair, covering his face. 
 
 "The prince went on gesticulating, and shrieking almost. 
 ' If a man injured you so, Magn} T , before you begot the father 
 of that gambling, hying villain yonder, you would have known 
 how to revenge yourself. You would have killed him ! Yes, 
 would have killed him. But who's to help me to my revenge ? 
 
150 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 I've no equal. I can't meet that dog of a Frenchman, — that 
 pimp from Versailles, — and kill him, as if he had played the 
 traitor to one of his own degree.' 
 
 " ' The blood of Maxime de Magny,' said the old gentleman, 
 proudly, ' is as good as that of any prince in Christendom.' 
 
 " ' Can I take it?' cried the prince : ' you know I can't. I 
 can't have the privilege of any other gentleman of Europe. 
 What am I to do? Look here, Magny: I was wild when I 
 came here : 1 didn't know what to do. You've served me for 
 thirty years ; you've saved my life twice : they are all knaves 
 and harlots about my poor old father here — no honest men or 
 women — you are the only one — 30U saved my life: tell me 
 what am I to do?' Thus, from insulting Monsieur de Magny, 
 the poor distracted prince fell to supplicating him ; and, at 
 last, fairly flung himself down, and burst out in an agony of 
 tears. 
 
 "Old Magn} r , one of the most rigid and cold of men on 
 common occasions, when he saw this outbreak of passion on 
 the prince's part, became, as my informant has described to 
 me, as much affected as his master. The old man from being 
 cold and high, suddenly fell, as it were, into the whimpering 
 querulousness of extreme old age. He lost all sense of dignity : 
 he went down on his knees, and broke out into all sorts of 
 wild, incoherent attempts at consolation ; so much so, that 
 Weissenborn said he could not bear to look at the scene, and 
 actually turned away from the contemplation of it. 
 
 " But, from what followed in a few days, we may guess the 
 results of the long interview. The prince, when he came away 
 from the conversation with his old servant, forgot his fatal box 
 of papers and sent the page back for them. The general was 
 on his knees praying in the room when the }'oung man entered, 
 and only stirred and looked round wildly as the other removed 
 the packet. The prince rode awa}' to his hunting-lodge at 
 
 three leagues from X , and three dajs after that Maxime 
 
 de Magny died in prison ; having made a confession that he 
 was engaged in an attempt to rob the Jew, and that he had 
 made awa} r with himself, ashamed of his dishonor. 
 
 "But it is not known that it was the general himself who 
 took his grandson poison : it was said even that he shot him in 
 the prison. This, however was not the case. General de 
 Magny carried his grandson the draught which was to carry 
 him out of the world ; represented to the wretched youth that 
 his fate was inevitable ; that it would be public and disgraceful 
 unless he chose to anticipate the punishment, and so left him. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 151 
 
 But it was not of his oxon accord, and not until he had used every 
 means of escape, as you shall hear, that the unfortunate being's 
 life was brought to an end. 
 
 " As for General de Magny, he quite fell into imbecilit}- a 
 short time after his nephew's death, and my honored duke's 
 demise. After his highness the prince married the Princess 
 Mary of F , as they were walking in the English park to- 
 gether they once met old Magny riding in the sun in the easy 
 chair, in which he was carried commonly abroad after his para- 
 lytic fits. ' This is my wife, Magny,' said the prince, affection- 
 ately, taking the veteran's hand : and he added, turning to his 
 princess, ' General de Magny saved my life during the Seven 
 Years' War.' 
 
 " ' What, you've taken her back again?' said the old man. 
 ' I wish you'd send me back nry poor Maxime.' He had quite 
 forgotten the death of the poor Princess Olivia, and the prince, 
 looking very dark indeed, passed away. 
 
 "And now," said Madame de Liliengarten, "I have onby 
 one more gloomy stoiy to relate to you — the death of the 
 Princess Olivia. It is even more horrible than the tale I have 
 just told you." With which preface the old lady resumed her 
 narrative. 
 
 "The kind weak princess's fate was hastened, if not occa- 
 sioned, by the cowardice of Magny. He found means to com- 
 municate with her from his prison, and her highness, who was 
 not in open disgrace yet (for the duke, out of regard to the 
 family, persisted in charging Magny with only robbery), made 
 the most desperate efforts to relieve him, and to bribe the gaol- 
 ers to effect his escape. She was so wild that she lost all 
 patience and prudence in the conduct of any schemes she may 
 have had for Magny's liberation ; for her husband was inex- 
 orable, and caused the chevalier's prison to be too strictly 
 guarded for escape to be possible. She offered the state jew- 
 els in pawn to the court banker ; who of course was obliged to 
 decline the transaction. She fell down on her knees, it is said, 
 to Geldern, the Police Minister, and offered him heaven knows 
 what as a bribe. Finally, she came screaming to my poor dear 
 duke, who, with his age, diseases, and easy habits, was quite 
 unfit for scenes of so violent a nature ; and who, in consequence 
 of the excitement created in his august bosom by her frantic 
 violence and grief, had a fit in which I very nigh lost him. 
 That his dear life was brought to an untimely end by these 
 transactions I have not the slightest doubt ; for the Strasbourg 
 pie, of which they said he died, never, I am sure, could have 
 
152 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 injured him, but for the injury which his dear gentle heart re- 
 ceived from the unusual occurrences in which he was forced to 
 take a share. 
 
 "All her highness's movements were carefully, though not 
 ostensibly, watched by her husband, Prince Victor ; who wait- 
 ing upon his august father, sternly signified to him that if his 
 highness {my duke) should dare to aid the princess in her 
 efforts to release Magny, he, Prince Victor, would publicly 
 accuse the princess and her paramour of high treason, and 
 take measures with the Diet for removing his father from the 
 throne, as incapacitated to reign. Hence interposition on our 
 part was vain, and Magny was left to his fate. 
 
 "It came, as you are aware, very suddenly. Geldern, 
 Police Minister, Hengst, Master of the Horse, and the colonel 
 of the prince's guard, waited upon the young man in his prison 
 two days after his grandfather had visited him there and left 
 behiiKf him the phial of poison which the criminal had not the 
 courage to use. And Geldern signified to the young man that 
 unless^ he took of his own accord the laurel- water provided by 
 the elder Magny, more violent means of death would be in- 
 stantly employed upon him, and that a file of grenadiers was 
 in waiting in the court-yard to despatch him. Seeing this, 
 Magny, with the most dreadful self-abasement, after dragging 
 himself round the room on his knees from one officer to an- 
 other, weeping and screaming with terror, at last desperately 
 drank off the potion, and was a corpse in a few minutes. Thus 
 ended this wretched young man. 
 
 " His death was made public in the Court Gazette two days 
 
 after, the paragraph stating that Monsieur de M , struck 
 
 with remorse for having attempted the murder of the Jew, had 
 put himself to death by poison in prison ; and a warning was 
 added to all young noblemen of the duchy to avoid the dread- 
 ful sin of gambling, which had been the cause of the } T oung 
 man's ruin, and had brought upon the gray hairs of one of the 
 noblest and most honorable of the servants of the duke irre- 
 trievable sorrow. 
 
 "The funeral was conducted with decent privacy, the Gen- 
 eral de Magny attending it. The carriage of the two dukes 
 and all the first people of the court made their calls upon the 
 general afterwards. He attended parade as usual the next da^ 
 on the Arsenal-Place, and Duke Victor, who had been inspect- 
 ing the building, came out of it leaning on the brave old war- 
 rior's arm. He was particularly gracious to the old man, and 
 told his officers the oft-repeated story how at Rosbach, when 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 153 
 
 the X contingent served -with the troops of the unlucky 
 
 Soubise, the general had thrown himself in the way of a French 
 dragoon who was pressing hard upon his highness in the rout, 
 had received the blow intended for his master, and killed the 
 assailant. And he alluded to the family motto of l Magny sans 
 tache,' and said ' It had been always so with his gallant friend 
 and tutor in arms.' This speech affected all present very 
 much ; with the exception of the old general, who only bowed 
 and did not speak : but when he went home he was heard mut- 
 tering k Magny sans tache, Magny sans tache ! ' and was at- 
 tacked with paralysis that night, from which he never more 
 than partially recovered. 
 
 " The news of Maxime's death had somehow been kept from 
 the princess until now : a Gazette even being printed without 
 the paragraph containing the account of his suicide ; but it was 
 at length, I know not how, made known to her. And when 
 she heard it, her ladies tell me, she screamed and fell, as if 
 struck dead ; then sat up wildly and raved like a madwoman, 
 and was then carried to her bed, where her physician attended 
 her, and where she lay of a brain-fever. All this while the 
 prince used to send to make inquiries concerning her ; and 
 from his giving orders that his Castle of Schlangenfels should 
 be prepared and furnished, I make no doubt it was his inten- 
 tion to send her into confinement thither : as had been done 
 with the unhappy sister of his Britannic Majesty at Zell. 
 
 " She sent repeatedly to demand an interview with his high- 
 ness ; which the latter declined, saying that he would com- 
 municate with her highness when her health was sufficiently 
 recovered. To one of her passionate letters he sent back for 
 reply a packet, which, when opened, was found to contain 
 the emerald that had been the cause round which all this dark 
 intrigue moved. 
 
 " Her highness at this time became quite frantic ; vowed in 
 the presence of all her ladies that one lock of her darling Max- 
 ime's hair was more precious to her than all the jewels in the 
 world ; rang for her carriage, and said she would go and kiss 
 his tomb ; proclaimed the murdered martyr's innocence, and 
 called down the punishment of heaven, the wrath ©f her family, 
 upon his assassin. The prince, on hearing these speeches 
 (the}' were all, of course, regularly brought to him), is said to 
 have given one of his dreadful looks (which I remember now), 
 and to have said, ' This cannot last much longer.' 
 
 "All that da}' and the next the Princess Olivia passed in 
 dictating the most passionate letters to the prince her father, 
 
154 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 to the Kings of France, Naples, and Spain, her kinsmen, and to 
 all other branches of her family, calling upon them in the most 
 incoherent terms to protect her against the butcher and assassin 
 her husband, assailing his person in the maddest terms of 
 reproach, and at the same time confessing her love for the 
 murdered Magny. It was in vain that those ladies who were 
 faithful to her pointed out to her the inutility of these letters, 
 the dangerous folly of the confessions which they made ; she 
 insisted upon writing them, and used to give them to her second 
 robe-woman, a Frenchwoman (her highness always affectioned 
 persons of that nation) , who had the key of her cassette, and 
 carried ever}' one of these epistles to Geldern. 
 
 "With the exception that no public receptions were held, 
 the ceremony of the princess's establishment went on as before. 
 Her ladies were allowed to wait upon her and perform their 
 usual duties about her person. The only men admitted were, 
 however, her servants, her physician and chaplain; and one 
 day when she wished to go into the garden, a heyduc, who kept 
 the door, intimated to her highness that the prince's orders were 
 that she should keep her apartments. 
 
 "They abut, as you remember, upon the landing of the 
 
 marble staircase of Schloss X ; the entrance to Prince 
 
 Victor's suite of rooms being opposite the princess's on the 
 same landing. This space is large, filled with sofas and 
 benches, and the gentlemen and officers who waited upon the 
 duke used to make a sort of ante-chamber of the landing-place, 
 and pa} r their court to his highness there, as he passed out, at 
 eleven o'clock, to parade. At such a time, the heyducs within 
 the princess's suite of rooms used to turn out with their halberts 
 and present to Prince Victor — the same ceremony being per- 
 formed on his own side, when pages came out and announced 
 the approach of his highness. The pages used to come out and 
 say, ' The prince, gentlemen ! ' and the drums beat in the hall, 
 and the gentlemen rose, who were waiting on the benches that 
 ran along the balustrade. 
 
 " As if fate impelled her to her death, one day the princess, 
 as her guards turned out, and she was aware that the prince 
 was standing, as was his wont, on the landing, conversing with 
 his gentlemen (in the old days he used to cross to the princess's 
 apartment and kiss her hand) — the princess, who had been 
 anxious all the morning, complaining of heat, insisting that all 
 the doors of the apartments should be left open ; and giving 
 tokens of an insanity which I think was now evident, rushed 
 wildly at the doors when the guards passed out, flung them 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 155 
 
 open, and before a word could be said, or her ladies could fol- 
 low her, was in presence of Duke Victor, who was talking 
 as usual on the landing : placing herself between him and the 
 stair, she began apostrophizing him with frantic vehemence : — 
 
 " ' Take notice, gentlemen ! ' she screamed out, ' that this 
 man is a murderer and a liar ; that he lays plots for honorable 
 gentlemen, and. kills them in prison ! Take notice, that I too 
 am in prison, and fear the same fate : the same butcher who 
 killed Maxime de Magny, may, an} 7 night, put the knife to my 
 throat. I appeal to you, and to all the kings of Europe, my 
 royal kinsmen. I demand to be set free from this tyrant and 
 villain, this liar and traitor ! I adjure you all, as gentlemen of 
 honor, to carry these letters to my relatives, and say from whom 
 you had them ! ' and with this the unhappy lady began scatter- 
 ing letters about among the astonished crowd. 
 
 " ' Let no man stoop ! ' cried the prince, in a voice of thunder. 
 ' Madame de Gleim, you should have watched your patient 
 better. Call the princess's ptrysicians : her highness' s brain 
 is affected. Gentlemen, have the goodness to retire.' And 
 the prince stood on the landing as the gentlemen went down 
 the stairs, saying fiercely to the guard, ' Soldier, if she moves, 
 strike with jour halbert ! ' on which the man brought the point 
 of his weapon to the princess's breast ; and the lad}", frightened, 
 shrank back and re-entered her apartments. ' Now, Monsieur 
 de Weissenborn,' said the prince, ' pick up all those papers ; ' 
 and the prince went into his own apartments, preceded by his 
 pages, and never quitted them until he had seen every one of 
 the papers burnt. 
 
 " The next day the Court Gazette contained a bulletin signed 
 by the three physicians, stating that ' Her highness the heredi- 
 tary princess labored under inflammation of the brain, and had 
 passed a restless and disturbed night.' Similar notices were 
 issued day after day. The services of all her ladies, except two, 
 were dispensed with. Guards were placed within and without 
 her doors ; her windows were secured, so that escape from them 
 was impossible : and 30U know what took place ten days after. 
 The church-bells were ringing all night, and the prayers of the 
 faithful asked for a person in extremis. A Gazette appeared in 
 the morning, edged with black, and stating that the high and 
 mighty Princess Olivia Maria Ferdinanda, consort of His 
 Serene Highness Victor Louis Emanuel, Hereditary Prince of 
 X , had died in the evening of the 24th of January, 1769. 
 
 " But do }*ou know how she died, sir? That, too, is a nrys- 
 tery. Weissenborn, the page, was concerned in this dark 
 
156 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tragedy ; and the secret was so dreadful, that never, believe 
 me, till Prince Victor's death did I reveal it. 
 
 " After the fatal esclandre which the princess had made, the 
 prince sent for Weissenborn, and binding him by the most solemn 
 adjuration to secrecy, (he only broke it to his wife many years 
 after : indeed there is no secret in the world that women cannot 
 know if they will,) despatched him on the following mysterious 
 commission. 
 
 " L There lives,' said his highness, ' on the Kehl side of the 
 river, opposite to Strasbourg, a man whose residence you will 
 easil}' find out from his name, which is Monsieur de Strasbourg, 
 You will make your inquiries concerning him quietly, and with- 
 out occasioning any remark ; perhaps you had better go into 
 Strasbourg for the purpose, where the person is quite well 
 known. You will take with you any comrade on whom you 
 can perfectly reby : the lives of both, remember, depend on 
 your secrecy. You will find out some period when Monsieur 
 de Strasbourg is alone, or only in company of the domestic who 
 lives with him : (I myself visited the man by accident on my 
 return from Paris five years since, and hence am induced to 
 send for him now, in my present emergency). You will have 
 3'our carriage waiting at his door at night ; and you and your 
 comrade will enter his house masked ; and present him with a 
 purse of a hundred louis ; promising him double that sum on 
 his return from his expedition. If he refuse, you must use 
 force and bring him ; menacing him with instant death should 
 he decline to follow you. You will place him in the carriage 
 with the blinds drawn, one or other of you never losing sight 
 of him the whole way, and threatening him with death if he 
 discover himself or cry out. You will lodge him in the old 
 Tower here, where a room shall be prepared for him ; and his 
 work being done, you will restore him to his home in the same 
 speed and secrecy with which you brought him from it.' 
 
 " Such were the mysterious orders Prince Victor gave his 
 page ; and Weissenborn, selecting for his comrade in the ex- 
 pedition Lieutenant Bartenstein, set out on his strange journey. 
 
 " All this while the palace was hushed, as if in mourning; 
 the bulletins in the Court Gazette appeared, announcing the con- 
 tinuance of the princess's malady ; and though she had but 
 few attendants, strange and circumstantial stories were told 
 regarding the progress of her complaint. She was quite wild. 
 She had tried to kill herself. She had fancied herself to be I 
 don't know how many different characters. Expresses were 
 sent to her family informing them of her state, and couriers 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 157 
 
 despatched publicly to Vienna and Paris to procure the attend- 
 ance of physicians skilled in treating diseases of the brain. 
 That pretended anxiet}' was all a feint : it was never intended 
 that the princess should recover. 
 
 "The day on which "Weissenborn and Bartenstein returned 
 from their expedition, it was announced that her highness the 
 princess was much worse ; that night the report through the 
 town was that she was at the agon}- : and that night the unfor- 
 tunate creature was endeavoring to make her escape. 
 
 "She had unlimited confidence in the French chamber- woman 
 who attended her, and between her and this womau the plan of 
 escape was arranged. The princess took her jewels in a casket ; 
 a private door, opening from one of her rooms and leading into 
 the outer gate, it was said, of the palace, was discovered for 
 her : and a letter was brought to her, purporting to be from 
 the duke her father-in-law, and stating that a carriage and 
 
 horses had been provided, and would take her to B : the 
 
 territxuy where she might communicate with her family and be 
 safe. 
 
 "The unhappy lady, confiding in her guardian, set out on 
 the expedition. The passages wound through the walls of the 
 modern part of the palace and abutted in effect at the old Owl 
 Tower, as it was called, on the outer wall : the tower was 
 pulled down afterwards, and for good reason. 
 
 "At a certain place the candle, which the chamber-woman 
 was carrying, went out ; and the princess would have screamed 
 with terror, but her hand was seized, and a voice cried, ' Hush ! ' 
 The next minute a man in a mask (it was the duke himself) 
 rushed forward, gagged her with a handkerchief, her hands and 
 legs were bound, and she was carried swooning with terror into 
 a vaulted room, where she was placed by a person there wait- 
 ing, and tied in an arm-chair. The same mask who had gagged 
 her, came and bared her neck and said, ' It had best be done 
 now she has fainted.' 
 
 . "Perhaps it would have been as well; for though she re- 
 covered from her swoon, and her confessor, who was present, 
 came forward and endeavored to prepare her for the awful deed 
 which was about to be done upon her, and for the state into 
 which she was about to enter, when she came to herself it was 
 only to scream like a maniac, to curse the duke as a butcher 
 and tyrant, and to call upon Magny, her dear Magny. 
 
 "At this the duke said, quite calmly, 'May God have 
 mercy on her sinful soul ! ' He, the confessor, and Geldern, 
 who were present, went down on their knees ; and, as his high- 
 
158 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ness dropped his handkerchief, Weissenborn fell down in a 
 fainting fit ; while Monsieur de Strasbourg, taking the back 
 hair in his hand, separated the shrieking head of Olivia from 
 the miserable, sinful body. May heaven have mercy upon 
 her soul ! " 
 
 This was the story told by Madame de Liliengarten, and the 
 reader will have no difficulty in drawing from it that part 
 which affected myself and my uncle ; who, after six weeks of 
 arrest, were set at liberty, but with orders to quit the duchy 
 immediately : indeed, with an escort of dragoons to conduct 
 us to the frontier. What property we had we were allowed to 
 sell and realize in money ; but none of our play debts were 
 paid to us : and all my hopes of the Countess Ida were thus at 
 an end. 
 
 When Duke Victor came to the throne, which he did when, 
 six months after, apoplexy carried off the old sovereign his 
 
 father, all the good old usages of X were given up, — play 
 
 forbidden ; the opera and ballet sent to the right-about ; and 
 the regiments which the old duke had sold recalled from their 
 foreign service : with them came nry countess's beggarly cousin 
 the ensign, and he married her. I don't know whether they 
 were happy or not. It is certain that a woman of such a poor 
 spirit did not merit an}' very high degree of pleasure. 
 
 The now reigning Duke of X himself married fourj'ears 
 
 after his first wife's demise, and Geldern, though no longer Police 
 Minister, built the grand house of which Madame de Lilien- 
 garten spoke. What became of the minor actors in the great 
 tragedy, who knows? Only Monsieur de Strasbourg was re- 
 stored to his duties. Of the rest, — the Jew, the chamber- 
 woman, the spy on Magny, I know nothing. Those sharp tools 
 with which great people cut out their enterprises are generally 
 broken in the using : nor did I ever hear that their employers 
 had much regard for them in their ruin. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 I CONTINUE MY CAREER AS A MAN OF FASHION. 
 
 I find I have already filled up many scores of pages, and yet 
 a vast deal of the most interesting portion of my history remains 
 to be told, viz. that which describes my sojourn in the king- 
 doms of England and Ireland, and the great part I played there ; 
 moving among the most illustrious of the land, myself not the 
 least distinguished of the brilliant circle. In order to give due 
 justice to this portion of my memoirs, then, — which is more 
 important than my foreign adventures can be (though I could 
 fill volumes with interesting descriptions of the latter), — I shall 
 cut short the account of my travels in Europe, and of my suc- 
 cess at the Continental Courts, in order to speak of what befell 
 me at home. Suffice it to say that there is not a capital in 
 Europe, except the beggarly one of Berlin, where the young 
 Chevalier de Balibari was not known and admired ; and where 
 he has not made the brave, the high-born, and the beautiful, 
 talk of him. I won 80,000 roubles from Potemkin at the Win- 
 ter Palace at Petersburg, which the scoundrelly favorite never 
 paid me ; I have had the honor of seeing his Royal Highness 
 the Chevalier Charles Edward as drunk as any porter at Rome ; 
 my uncle played several matches at billiards against the cele- 
 brated Lord C at .Spa, and I promise you did not come off 
 
 a loser. In fact, by a neat stratagem of ours, we raised the 
 laugh against his lordship, and something a great deal more 
 substantial. My lord did not know that the Chevalier Barry 
 had a useless eye ; and when, one day, my uncle playfully bet 
 him odds at billiards that he would play him with a patch over 
 one eye, the noble lord, thinking to bite us (he was one of the 
 most desperate gamblers that ever lived) , accepted the bet, and 
 we won a very considerable amount of him. 
 
 Nor need I mention my successes among the fairer portion 
 of the creation. One of the most accomplished, the tallest, the 
 most athletic, and the handsomest gentlemen of Europe, as I 
 was then, a 3-oung fellow of my figure could not fail of having 
 advantages, which a person of my spirit knew very well how to 
 use. But upon these subjects I am dumb. Charming Schuva- 
 loff, black-eyed Sczotarska, dark Valdez, tender Hegenheim, 
 brilliant Langeac ! — ye gentle hearts that knew how to beat in 
 
160 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 old times for the warm }'oung Irish gentleman, where are ye 
 now? Though my hair has grown gray now, and nry sight dim, 
 and my heart cold with 3'ears, and ennui, and disappointment, 
 and the treachery of friends, yet I have but to lean back in my 
 arm-chair and think, and those sweet figures come rising up be- 
 fore me out of the past, with their smiles and their kindnesses, 
 and their bright tender eyes ! There are no women like them 
 now — no manners like theirs ! Look you at a bevy of women 
 at the prince's, stitched up in tight white satin sacks, with their 
 waists under their arms, and compare them to the graceful 
 figures of the old time ! Why, when I danced with Coralie de 
 Langeac at the fetes on the birth of the first dauphin at Ver- 
 sailles, her hoop was eighteen feet in circumference, and the 
 heels of her lovely little mules were three inches from the ground ; 
 the lace of my jabot was worth a thousand crowns, and the but- 
 tons of my amaranth velvet coat alone cost eighty thousand 
 livres. Look at the difference now ! The gentlemen are dressed 
 like boxers, quakers, or hackney-coachmen ; and the ladies are 
 not dressed at all. There is no elegance, no refinement ; none 
 of the chivalry of the old world, of which I form a portion. 
 Think of the fashion of London being led by a Br-mm-11 ! * a 
 nobody's son : a low creature who can no more dance a minuet 
 than I can talk Cherokee ; who cannot even crack a bottle like 
 a gentleman ; who never showed himself to be a man with his 
 sword in his hand : as we used to approve ourselves in the good 
 old times, before that vulgar Corsican upset the gentry of the 
 world ! Oh, to see the Valdez once again, as on that day I met 
 her first driving in state, with her eight mules and her retinue of 
 gentlemen, by the side of yellow Mancanares ! Oh, for another 
 drive with Hegenheim, in the gilded sledge, over the Saxon 
 snow ! False as Schuvaloff was, 'twas better to be jilted by her 
 than to be adored by an}* other woman. I can't think of any 
 one of them without tenderness. I have ringlets of all their 
 hair in my poor little museum of recollections. Do }x>u keep 
 mine, you clear souls that survive the turmoils and troubles of 
 near half a hundred years? How changed its color is now, 
 since the day Sczotarska wore it round her neck, after my duel 
 with Count Bjernaski, at Warsaw ! 
 
 I never kept any beggarly books of accounts in those days. 
 I had no debts. I paid royalty for everything I took ; and I 
 took everything I wanted. My income must have been very 
 large. My entertainments and equipages were those of a gen- 
 
 * This manuscript must have been written at the time when Mr. 
 Brummell was the leader of the London fashion. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 161 
 
 tleman of the highest distinction : nor let any scoundrel pre- 
 sume to sneer because I carried off and married my Lady 
 Lyndon (as you shall presently hear), and call me an adven- 
 turer, or say I was penniless, or the match unequal. Penniless ! 
 1 had the wealth of Europe at my command. Adventurer ! So 
 is a meritorious lawyer or a gallant soldier ; so is every man 
 who makes his own fortune an adventurer. My profession was 
 play : in which I was then unrivalled. No man could play with 
 me through Europe, on the square ; and my income was just as 
 certain (during health and the exercise of my profession) as that 
 of a man who draws on his Three-per-cents, or any fat squire 
 whose acres bring him revenue. Harvest is not more certain 
 than the effect of skill is : a crop is a chance, as much as a 
 game of cards greatly played by a fine player : there may be a 
 drought, or a frost, or a hail-storm, and your stake is lost ; but 
 one man is just as much an adventurer as another. 
 
 In evoking the recollection of these kind and fair creatures I 
 have nothing but pleasure. I would I could say as much of the 
 memory of another lady, who will henceforth play a considerable 
 part in the drama of ray life, — I mean the Countess of Lyn- 
 don ; whose fatal acquaintance I made at Spa, very soon after 
 the events described in the last chapter had caused me to quit 
 German}*. 
 
 Honoria, Countess of Lyndon, Viscountess Bullingdon in 
 England, Baroness Castle Lyndon of the Kingdom of Ireland, 
 was so well known to the great world in her day, that I have 
 little need to enter into her family history ; which is to be had 
 in any Peerage that the reader may lay his hand on. She was, 
 as I need not say, a countess, viscountess, and baroness in her 
 own right. Her estates in Devon and Cornwall were among 
 the most extensive in those parts ; her Irish possessions not 
 less magnificent ; and the} - have been alluded to, in a very early 
 part of these memoirs, as lying near to my own paternal prop- 
 erty in the Kingdom of Ireland : indeed, unjust confiscations in 
 the time of Elizabeth and her father went to diminish my acres, 
 while the}* added to the already vast possessions of the Lyndon 
 family. 
 
 The countess, when I first saw her at the assembly at Spa, 
 was the wife of her cousin, the Right Hon. Sir Charles Reginald 
 Lyndon, Knight of the Bath, and Minister to George II. and 
 George III. at several of the smaller courts of Europe. Sir 
 Charles Lyndon was celebrated as a wit and bon vivant : he could 
 write love-verses against Hanbury Williams, and make jokes 
 with George Selwyn ; he was a man of vertu, like Horry Wal- 
 
 11 
 
162 THE MEMOIRS OP 
 
 pole, with whom and Mr. Grey he had made a part of the grand 
 tour ; and was cited, in a word, as one of the most elegant and 
 accomplished men of his time. 
 
 I made this gentleman's acquaintance as usual at the play- 
 table, of which he was a constant frequenter. Indeed, one 
 could not but admire the spirit and gallantry with which he 
 pursued his favorite pastime ; for, though worn out by gout and 
 a myriad of diseases, a cripple wheeled about in a chair, and 
 suffering pangs of agony, yet you would see him every morn- 
 ing and every evening at his post behind the delightful green 
 cloth : and if, as it would often happen, his own hands were too 
 feeble or inflamed to hold the box, he would call the mains, 
 nevertheless, and have his valet or a friend to throw for him. I 
 like this courageous spirit in a man : the greatest successes in 
 life have been won by such indomitable perseverance. 
 
 I was by this time one of the best-known characters in 
 Europe ; and the fame of my exploits, my duels, my courage at 
 play, would bring crowds around me in an}' public society where 
 I appeared. I could show reams of scented paper, to prove 
 that this eagerness to make my acquaintance was not confined 
 to the gentlemen only ; but that I hate boasting, and only talk of 
 ni3'self in so far as it is necessary to relate myself s adventures : 
 the most singular of any man's in Europe. Well, Sir Charles 
 Lyndon's first acquaintance with me originated in the right 
 honorable knight's winning 700 pieces of me at piquet (for 
 which he was almost my match) ; and I lost them with much 
 good humor, and paid them : and paid them, you may be sure, 
 punctually. Indeed, I will say this for myself, that losing 
 money at play never in the least put me out of good-humor with 
 the winner, and that wherever I found a superior, I was always 
 ready to acknowledge and hail him. 
 
 Lyndon was very proud of winning from so celebrated a 
 person, and we contracted a kind of intimacy ; which, however, 
 did not for a while go beyond pump room attentions, and con- 
 versations over the supper-table at play : but which gradually 
 increased, until I was admitted into his more private friendship. 
 He was a very free-spoken man (the gentry of those days were 
 much prouder than at present), and used to say to me in his 
 haughty, easy way, " Hang it, Mr. Barry, you have no more 
 manners than a barber, and I think nry black footman has been 
 better educated than you ; but you are a young fellow of origi- 
 nality and pluck, and I like 30U, sir, because you seem deter- 
 mined to go to the deuce b}' a way of your own." I would 
 thank him laughingly for this compliment, and say, that as he 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 163 
 
 was bound to the next world much sooner than I was, I would 
 be obliged to him to get comfortable quarters arranged there for 
 me. He used also to be immensely amused with my stories 
 about the splendor of my family and the magnificence of Castle 
 Brady : he would never tire of listening or laughing at those 
 histories. 
 
 " Stick to the trumps, however, my lad," he would say, when 
 I told him of my misfortunes in the conjugal line, and how near 
 I had been winning the greatest fortune in German}'. " Do 
 anything but marry, my artless Irish rustic " (he called me hy a 
 multiplicity of queer names) . " Cultivate 3'our great talents in 
 the gambling line ; but mind this, that a woman will beat you." 
 
 That I denied ; mentioning several instances in which I had 
 conquered the most intractable tempers among the sex. 
 
 " They will beat you in the long run, my Tipperary Alcibi- 
 ades. As soon as you are married, take my word of it, 3-011 are 
 conquered. Look at me. I married my cousin, the noblest 
 and greatest heiress in England — married her in spite of her- 
 self almost " (here a dark shade passed over Sir Charles Lyn- 
 don's countenance). "She is a weak woman. You shall see 
 her, sir, how weak she is ; but she is nrv mistress. She has em- 
 bittered my whole life. She is a fool ; but she has got the 
 better of one of the best heads in Christendom. She is enor- 
 mously rich ; but somehow I have never been so poor as since 
 I married her. I thought to better myself; and she has made 
 me miserable, and killed me. And she will do as much for my 
 successor, when I am gone." 
 
 * " Has her ladyship a very large income? " said I. At which 
 Sir Charles burst out into a yelling laugh, and made me blush not 
 a little at my gaucherie ; for the fact is, seeing him in the con- 
 dition in which he was, I could not help speculating upon the 
 chance a man of spirit might have with his widow. 
 
 " No, no ! " said he, laughing. M Waugh hawk, Mr. Barry ; 
 don't think, if you value your peace of mind, to stand in my 
 shoes when they are vacant. Besides, I don't think my Lady 
 L3'ndon would quite condescend to many a " 
 
 " Many a what, sir? " said I, in a rage. 
 
 " Never mind what: but the man who gets her will rue it, 
 take m3 r word on't. A plague on her ! had it not been for ny 
 father's ambition and mine (he was her uncle and guardian, and 
 we wouldn't let such a prize out of the family), I might have 
 died peaceably, at least ; carried my gout down to my grave in 
 quiet, lived in my modest tenement in May Fair, had every 
 house in England open to me ; and now, now I have six of my 
 
164 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 own, and every one of them is a hell to me. Beware of greatness, 
 Mr. Barry. Take warning by me. Ever since I have been married 
 and have been rich, I have been the most miserable wretch in 
 the world. Look at me. I am dying a worn-out cripple at the 
 age of fifty. Marriage has added forty }ears to my lite. When 
 I took oif Lady Lyndon, there was no man of my years who 
 looked so young as myself. Fool that I was ! 1 had enough 
 with my pensions, perfect freedom, the best society in Europe ; 
 and I gave up all these, and married, and was miserable. Take 
 a warning by me, Captain Barry, and stick to the trumps." 
 
 Though my intimac}' with the knight was considerable, for 
 a long time I never penetrated into any other apartments of 
 his hotel but those which he himself occupied. His lady lived 
 entirely apart from him ; and it is only curious how they came 
 to travel together at all. She was a goddaughter of old Mary 
 Wortley Montagu ; and, like that famous old woman of the 
 last century, made considerable pretensions to be a blue-stock- 
 ing and a bel esprit. Lady Lyndon wrote poems in English and 
 Italian, which still may be read by the curious in the pages of 
 the magazines of the day. She entertained a correspondence 
 with several of the European sections upon history, science, and 
 ancient languages and especially theology. Her pleasure was 
 to dispute controversial points with abbes and bishops ; and 
 her flatterers said she rivalled Madame Dacier in learning. 
 Every adventurer who had a discovery in chemistry, a new 
 antique bust, or a plan for discovering the philosopher's stone, 
 was sure to find a patroness in her. She had numberless 
 works dedicated to her, and sonnets without end addressed 
 to her by all the poetasters of Europe, under the name of 
 Lindonira or Calista. Her rooms were crowded with hideous 
 China magots, and all sorts of objects of vertu. 
 
 No woman piqued herself more upon her principles, or 
 allowed love to be made to her more profusely. There was a 
 habit of courtship practised by the fine gentlemen of those 
 days, which is little understood in our coarse, downright times ; 
 and young and old fellows would pour out floods of compli- 
 ments in letters and madrigals, such as would make a sober 
 lady stare were they addressed to her now-a-days : so 
 entirely has the gallantry of the last century disappeared out 
 of our manners. 
 
 Lady Lyndon moved about with a little court of her own. 
 She had half a dozen carriages in her progresses. In her own 
 she would travel with her companion (some shabby lady of 
 quality), her birds, and poodles, and the favorite savant for 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 1G5 
 
 the time being. In another would be her female secretaiy 
 and her waiting-women ; who, in spite of their care, never 
 could make their mistress look much better than a slattern. 
 Sir Charles Lyndon had his own chariot, and the domestics 
 of the establishment would follow in other vehicles. 
 
 Also must be mentioned the carriage in which rode her 
 ladyship's chaplain, Mr. Runt, who acted in capacity of gov- 
 ernor to her son, the little Viscount Bullingdon, — a melan- 
 choly, deserted little boy, about whom his father was more 
 than indifferent, and whom his mother never saw, except for 
 two minutes at her levee, when she would put to him a few 
 questions of history or Latin grammar ; after which he was 
 consigned to his own amusements, or the care of his gov- 
 ernor, for the rest of the day. 
 
 The notion of such a Minerva as this, whom I saw in the 
 public places now and then, surrounded by swarms of needy 
 abbtis and schoolmasters, who nattered her, frightened me for 
 some time, and I had not the least desire to make her 
 acquaintance. I had no desire to be one of the beggarly ador- 
 ers in the great lady's train, — fellows half friend, half lackey, 
 who made verses, and wrote letters, and ran errauds, content to 
 be paid by a seat in her ladyship's box at the comedy, or a 
 cover at her dinner-table at noon. "Don't be afraid," Sir 
 Charles Lyndon would say, whose great subject of conver- 
 sation and abuse was his lady : " my Lindonira will have noth- 
 ing to do with you. She likes the Tuscan brogue, not that of 
 Kerry. She says you smell too much of the stable to be 
 admitted to ladies' society ; and last Sunday fortnight, when 
 she did me the honor to speak to me last, said, ' I wonder, Sir 
 Charles Lyndon, a gentleman who has been the King's am- 
 bassador can demean himself by gambling and boozing with 
 low Irish blacklegs ! ' Don't fly in a fury ! I'm a cripple, and it 
 was Lindonira said it, not I." 
 
 This piqued me, and I resolved to become acquainted with 
 Lady Lyndon ; if it were but to show her ladyship that the 
 descendant of those Barrys, whose property she unjustly held, 
 was not an unworthy companion for an}" lady, were she ever 
 so high. Besides, my friend the knight was dying : his widow 
 would be the richest prize in the three kingdoms. Why should 
 I not win her, and, with her, the means of making in the 
 world that figure which my genius and inclination desired ? I 
 felt I was equal in blood and breeding to an}' Lyndon in 
 Christendom, and determined to bend this haughty lady. 
 When I determine, I look upon the thing as done. 
 
166 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 My uncle and I talked the matter over, and speedily set- 
 tled upon a method for making our approaches upon this stately 
 lady of Castle Lyndon. Mr. Hunt, young Lord Bullingdon'8 
 governor, was fond of pleasure, of a glass of Rhenish in the 
 garden-houses in the summer evenings, and of a sly throw of 
 the dice when the occasion offered ; and I took care to make 
 friends with this person, who, being a college tutor and an 
 Englishman, was ready to go on his knees to any one who 
 resembled a man of fashion. Seeing me with my retinue of 
 servants, 1113' vis-a-vis and chariots, uiy valets, my hussar, and 
 horses, dressed in gold, and velvet, and sables, saluting the 
 greatest people in Europe as we met on the course, or at the 
 Spas, Runt was dazzled by my advances, and was mine by a 
 beckoning of the finger. 1 shall never forget the poor wretch's 
 astonishment when I asked him to dine, with two counts, off 
 gold plate, at the little room in the casiuo : he was made happy 
 by being allowed to win a few pieces of us, became exceed- 
 ingly tipsy, sung Cambridge songs, and recreated the com- 
 pany by telling us, in his horrid Yorkshire French, stories 
 about the gyps, and all the lords that had ever been in his col- 
 lege. I encouraged him to come and see me oftener and bring 
 with him his little viscount ; for whom, though the boy always 
 detested me, 1 took care to have a good stock of sweetmeats, 
 toys, and picture-books when he came. 
 
 I then began to enter into a controversy with Mr. Runt, 
 and confided to him some doubts which I had, and a very, 
 ver} 7 earnest leaning towards the Church of Rome. I made a 
 certain abbe whom I knew, write me letters upon transubstan- 
 tiation, &c, which the honest tutor was rather puzzled to 
 answer. I knew that they would be communicated to his lady, 
 as thej 7 were ; for, asking leave to attend the English service 
 which was celebrated in her apartments, and frequented by the 
 best English then at the Spa, on the second Sunday she con- 
 descended to look at me : on the third she was pleased to 
 reply to my profound bow, by a curtsy ; the next day I fol- 
 lowed up the acquaintance by another obeisance in the public 
 walk ; and, to make a long story short, her ladyship and I 
 were in full correspondence on transnbstantiation before six 
 weeks were over. My lady came to the aid of her chaplain ; 
 and then I began to see the prodigious weight of his argu- 
 ments : as was to be expected. The progress of this harmless 
 little intrigue need not be detailed. I make no doubt every 
 one of my readers has practised similar stratagems when a 
 fair lady was in the case. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 167 
 
 I shall never forget the astonishment of Sir Charles Lyndon 
 when, on one summer evening, as he was issuing out to the 
 play-table in his sedan-chair, according to his wont, her lady- 
 ship's barouche and four, with her outriders in the tawny livery 
 of the Lyndon family, came driving into the court-yard of the 
 house which they inhabited ; and in that carriage, by her lad}'- 
 ship's side, sat no other than "the vulgar Irish adventurer," 
 as she was pleased to call him : I mean Redmond Barry, Es- 
 quire. He made the most courtly of his bows, and grinned and 
 waved his hat in as graceful a manner as the gout permitted : 
 and her ladyship and I replied to the salutation with the ut- 
 most politeness and elegance on our parts. 
 
 I could not go to the play-table for some time afterwards, 
 for Lady Lyndon and I had an argument on transubstantiation, 
 which lasted for three hours ; in which she was, as usual, vic- 
 torious, and in which her companion, the Honorable Miss Flint 
 Skinner, fell asleep ; but when, at last, I joined Sir Charles at 
 the casino, he received me with a yell of laughter, as his wont 
 was, and introduced me to all the company as Lady Lyndon's 
 interesting young convert. This was his waj*. He laughed 
 and sneered at everything. He laughed when he was in a 
 paroxysm of pain ; he laughed when he won money, or when 
 he lost it : his laugh was not jovial or agreeable, but rather 
 painful and sardonic. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he to Punter, Colonel Loder, Count du 
 Carreau, and several jovial fellows with whom he used to dis- 
 cuss a flask of champagne and a Rhenish trout or two after 
 play, " see this amiable 3'outh ! He has been troubled bj" re- 
 ligious scruples, and has flown for refuge to nry chaplain, Mr. 
 Runt, who has asked for advice from my wife, Lady Lj'ndon ; 
 and, between them both, they are confirming my ingenious 
 young friend in his faith. Did you ever hear of such doctors, 
 and such a disciple ? " 
 
 "'Faith, sir," said I, "if I want to learn good principles, 
 it's surely better I should apply for them to }our lady and your 
 chaplain than to you ! " 
 
 " He wants to step into my shoes ! " continued the knight. 
 
 " The man would be happy who did so," responded I, " pro- 
 vided there were no chalk-stones included ! " At which reply 
 Sir Charles was not very well pleased, and went on with in- 
 creased rancor. He was alwaj-s free-spoken in his cups ; and 
 to sa} T the truth, he was in his cups many more times in a 
 week than his doctors allowed. 
 
 " Is it not a pleasure, gentlemen," said he, " for me, as 1 
 
168 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 am drawing near the goal, to find my home such a happj' one ; 
 my wife so fond of me, that she is even now thinking of ap- 
 pointing a successor? (I don't mean you precisely, Mr. Barry ; 
 you are only taking your chance with a score of* others whom I 
 could mention. ) Isn't it a comfort to see her, like a prudent 
 housewife, getting everything ready for her husband's de- 
 parture ! " 
 
 " I hope you are not thinking of leaving us soon, knight? " 
 said I, with perfect sincerity ; for I liked him, as a most amus- 
 ing companion. 
 
 " Not so soon, nry dear, as }*ou may fane}', perhaps," con- 
 tinued he. " Why, man, I have been given over any time these 
 four years ; and there was always a candidate or two waiting to 
 apply for the situation. Who knows how long I may keep 30U 
 waiting?" and he did keep me waiting some little time longer 
 than at that period there was any reason to suspect. 
 
 As I declared nvyself pretty openly, according to my usual 
 way, and authors are accustomed to describe the persons of the 
 ladies with whom their heroes fall in love ; in compliance with 
 this fashion, I perhaps should sa}' a word or two respecting the 
 charms of my Lady Lyndon. But though I celebrated them in 
 many copies of verses, of my own and other persons' writing ; 
 and though I filled reams of paper in the passionate style of 
 those days with compliments to every one of her beauties and 
 smiles, in which I compared her to every flower, goddess, or 
 famous heroine ever heard of; truth compels me to say, that 
 there was nothing divine about her at all. She was very well ; 
 but no more. Her shape was fine, her hair dark, her eyes good, 
 and exceedingly active ; she loved singing, but performed it as 
 so great a lady should, very much out of tune. She had a 
 smattering of half a dozen modern languages, and, as I have 
 said before, of man}" more sciences than I even knew the name 
 of. She piqued herself on knowing Greek and Latin ; but the 
 truth is, that Mr. Runt used to supply her with the quotations 
 which she introduced into her voluminous correspondence. She 
 had as much love of admiration, as strong, uneasy a vanity, and 
 as little heart, as any woman I ever knew. Otherwise, when 
 her son, Lord Bullingdon, on account of his differences with 
 me, ran — but that matter shall be told in its proper time. 
 Finally, m}* Lad}' Lyndon was about a year older than myself; 
 though, of course, she would take her Bible oath that she was 
 three years younger. 
 
 Few men are so honest as I am ; for few will own to their 
 real motives, and I don't care a button about confessing mine. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 169 
 
 What Sir Charley Lyndon said was perfectly true. I made the 
 acquaintance of Lady Lyndon with ulterior views. " Sir," said 
 I to him, when, after the scene described and the jokes he made 
 upon me, we met alone, "let those laugh that win. You were 
 very pleasant upon me a few nights since, and on nvy intentions 
 regarding your ladj r . Well, if they are what you think they 
 are, — if I do wish to step into your shoes, what then? I have 
 no other intentions than you had yourself. I'll be sworn to 
 muster just as much regard for my Lady Lyndon as you ever 
 showed her ; and if I win her and wear her when 3011 are dead 
 and gone, corbleu, knight, do you think it will be the fear of 
 your ghost will deter me ? " 
 
 Lyndon laughed as usual ; but somewhat disconcertedly : 
 indeed I had clearly the best of him in the argument, and had 
 just as much right to hunt my fortune as he had. 
 
 But one day he said, " t If you many such a woman as my 
 Lad}' Lyndon, mark my words, 3'ou will regret it. You will 
 pine after the liberty you once enjoyed. By George ! Captain 
 Barry," he added with a sigh, " the thing I regret most in life 
 — perhaps it is because I am old, blase, and dying — is, that I 
 never had a virtuous attachment." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! a milkmaid's daughter ! " said I, laughing at the 
 absurdity. 
 
 " Well, why not a milkmaid's daughter? My good fellow, 
 I was in love in youth, as most gentlemen are, with nry tutor's 
 daughter, Helena, a bouncing girl ; of course older than myself" 
 (This made me remember my own little love-passages with 
 Nora Brady in the days of my early life), " and do you know, 
 sir, I hearth* regret I didn't marry her? There's nothing like 
 having a virtuous drudge at home, sir ; depend upon that. It 
 gives a zest to one's enjoyments in the world, take my word 
 for it. No man of sense need restrict himself, or deny himself 
 a single amusement for his wife's sake : on the contrary, if he 
 select the animal properly, he will choose such a one as shall 
 be no bar to his pleasure, but a comfort in his hours of annoy- 
 ance. For instance, I have got the gout: who tends me? A 
 hired valet, who robs me whenever he has the power. My wife 
 never comes near me. What friend have I? None in the 
 wide world. Men of the world, as 3011 and I are, don't make 
 friends ; and we are fools for our pains. Get a friend, sir, and 
 that friend a woman — a good household drudge, who loves 
 you. That is the most precious sort of friendship ; for the ex- 
 pense of it is all on the woman's side. The man needn't con- 
 tribute anvthing. If he's a rogue, she'll vow he's an angel ; 
 
170 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 if he's a brute, she will like him all the better for his ill treat- 
 ment of her. They like it, sir, these women. They are born 
 to be our greatest comforts and conveniences ; our — our moral 
 boot-jacks, as it were ; and to men in your way of life, believe 
 me such a person would be invaluable. I am only speaking for 
 your bodily and mental comfort's sake, mind. Why didn't I 
 marry poor Helena Flower, the curate's daughter?" 
 
 I thought these speeches the remarks of a weakly, disap- 
 pointed man ; although since, perhaps, I have had reason to 
 find the truth of Sir Charles Lyndon's statements. The fact 
 is, in mv opinion, that we often buy money very much too dear. 
 To purchase a few thousands a year at the expense of an odious 
 wife, is very bad economy for a young fellow of any talent and 
 spirit : and there have been moments of my life when, in the 
 midst of my greatest splendor and opulence, with half a dozen 
 lords at my levee, with the finest horses in my stables, the 
 grandest house over my head, with unlimited credit at my 
 banker's, and — Lady Lyndon to boot, I have wished myself 
 back a private of Bulow's, or anything, so as to get rid of her. 
 To return, however, to the story. Sir Charles, with his com- 
 plication of ills, was dying before us by inches ; and I've no 
 doubt it could not have been very pleasant to him to see a 
 young handsome fellow paying court to his widow before his 
 own face as it were. After I once got into the house on the 
 transubstantiation dispute, I found a dozen more occasions to 
 improve my intimacy, and was scarcely ever out of her lady- 
 ship's doors. The world talked and blustered ; but what cared 
 I ? The men cried fie upon the shameless Irish adventurer ; 
 but I have told my way of silencing such envious people : and 
 my sword had by this time got such a reputation through 
 Europe, that few people cared to encounter it. If I can once 
 get my hold of a place, I keep it. Many'o the house I have 
 been to where I have seen the men avoid me. " Faugh ! the 
 low Irishman," the}' would say. "Bah! the coarse adven- 
 turer ! " " Out on the insufferable blackleg and puppy ! " and 
 so forth. This hatred has been of no inconsiderable service to 
 me in the world ; for when I fasten on a man, nothing can 
 induce me to release my hold : and I am left to myself, which 
 is all the better. As I told Lady Lyndon in those days, with 
 perfect sincerity, "Calista" (I used to call her Calista in my 
 correspondence) — " Calista, I swear to thee, by the spotless- 
 ness of thy own soul, by the brilliancy of thy immitigable eyes, 
 by everything pure and chaste in heaven and in thy own heart, 
 that I will never cease from following thee ! Scorn I can bear, 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 171 
 
 and have borne at th} r hands. Indifference I can surmount ; 
 'tis a rock which ray energy will climb over, a magnet which 
 attracts the dauntless iron of my soul ! " And it was true, I 
 wouldn't have left her — no, though they had kicked me down 
 stairs every day I presented myself at her door. 
 
 That is my wa}- of fascinating women. Let the man who 
 has to make his fortune in life remember this maxim. Attack- 
 ing is his only secret. Dare, and the world always yields : 
 or, if it beat }'ou sometimes, dare again, and it will succumb. 
 In those days my spirit was so great, that if I had set my 
 heart upon marrying a princess of the blood, I would have 
 had her ! 
 
 I told Calista nry ston', and altered very, very little of the 
 truth. My object was to frighten her : to show her that what 
 I wanted, that I dared ; that what I dared, that I won ; and 
 there were striking passages enough in my history to convince 
 her of my iron will and indomitable courage. "Never hope 
 to escape me, madam," I would say : " offer to marry another 
 man, and he dies upon this sword, which never yet met its 
 master. Fly from me, and I will follow you, though it were to 
 the gates of Hades." I promise you this was very different 
 language to that she had been in the habit of hearing from her 
 jemmyjessam}' adorers. You should have seen how I scared 
 the fellows from her ! 
 
 When I said in this energetic way that I would follow Lady 
 Lyndon across the Styx if necessary, of course I meant that I 
 would do so, provided nothing more suitable presented itself in 
 tile interim. If Lyndon would not die, where was the use o 
 my pursuing the countess? And somehow, towards the end 
 of the Spa season, very much to my mortification I do confess, 
 the knight made another ralh' : it seemed as if nothing would 
 kill him. " I am sorry for you, Captain Barry," he would sa}*, 
 laughing as usual. " I'm grieved to keep you, or any gentle- 
 man, waiting. Had you not better arrange with my doctor, 
 or get the cook to flavor my omelette with arsenic ? What are 
 the odds, gentlemen," he would add, " that I don't live to see 
 Captain Barry hanged 3*et?" 
 
 In fact the doctors tinkered him up for a year. "It's my 
 usual luck," I could not help saying to my uncle, who was my 
 confidential and most excellent adviser in all matters of the 
 heart. " I've been wasting the treasures of my affections upon 
 that flirt of a countess, and here's her husband restored to 
 health and likely to live I don't know how many years ! " And 
 as if to add to nry mortification, there came just at this period 
 
172 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 to Spa, an English tallow-chandler's heiress, with a plum to 
 her fortune ; and Madame Cornu, the widow of a Norman 
 cattle-dealer and farmer-general, with a dropsy and two hun- 
 dred thousand livres a year. 
 
 " What's the use of my following the Lyndons to England," 
 sa3 T s I, " if the knight won't die ? " 
 
 " Don't follow them, my dear simple child," replied my 
 uncle. " Stop here and pay court to the new arrivals." 
 
 "Yes, and lose Calista for ever, and the greatest estate in 
 all England." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! youths like you easily fire and easily despond. 
 Keep up a correspondence with Lady Lyndon. You know 
 there's nothing she likes so much. There's the Irish abbe, who 
 will write you the most charming letters for a crown apiece. 
 Let her go ; write to her, and meanwhile look out for anything 
 else which may turn up. Who knows ? you might marry the 
 Norman widow, bury her, take her money, and be ready for 
 the countess against the knight's death." 
 
 And so, with vows of the most profound respectful attach- 
 ment, and, having given twenty louis to Lady Lyndon's waiting- 
 woman for a lock of her hair (of which fact, of course, the 
 woman informed her mistress), I took leave of the countess, 
 when it became necessary for her return to her estates in Eng- 
 land ; swearing I would follow her as soon as an affair of honor 
 1 had in my hands could be brought to an end. 
 
 I shall pass over the events of the year that ensued before I 
 again saw her. She wrote to me according to promise ; with 
 much regularity at first, with somewhat less frequency after- 
 wards. My affairs, meanwhile, at the play-table went on not 
 unprosperously, and I was just on the point of marrying the 
 widow Cornu (we were at Brussels by this time, and the poor 
 soul was madly in love with me), when the London Gazette was 
 put into my hands, and I read the following announcement : — 
 
 "Died at Castle-Lyndon, in the kingdom of Ireland, tlie Right Honor- 
 able Sir Charles Lyndon, Knight of the Bath, Member of Parliament for 
 Lyndon in Devonshire, and many years his Majesty's representative at 
 various European courts. He hath left behind him a name which is en- 
 deared to all his friends for his manifold virtues and talents, a reputation 
 justly acquired in the service of his Majesty, and an inconsolable widow to 
 deplore his loss. Her ladyship, the bereaved Countess of Lyndon, was at 
 the Bath when the horrid intelligence reached her of her husband's demise, 
 and hastened to Ireland immediately in order to pay her last sad duties to 
 his beloved remains." 
 
 That very night I ordered my chariot and posted to Ostend, 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 173 
 
 whence I freighted a vessel to Dover, and travelling rapidly 
 into the West, reached Bristol ; from which port I embarked 
 for Waterford, and found myself, after an absence of eleven 
 years, in my native country. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I RETURN TO IRELAND, AND EXHIBIT MY SPLENDOR AND 
 GENEROSITY IN THAT KINGDOM. 
 
 How were times changed with me now ! I had left my 
 country a poor penniless boy — a private soldier in a miserable 
 marching regiment. I returned an accomplished man, with 
 property to the amount of five thousand guineas in my pos- 
 session, with a splendid wardrobe and jewel-case worth two 
 thousand more ; having mingled in all the scenes of life, a not 
 undistinguished actor in them ; having shared in war and in 
 love ; having by my own genius and energ}' won my way from 
 poverty and obscurity to competence and splendor. As I 
 looked out from nry chariot windows as it rolled along over the 
 bleak, bare roads, by the miserable cabins of the peasantry, 
 who came out in their rags to stare as the splendid equipage 
 passed, and huzzaed for his lordship's honor as they saw the 
 magnificent stranger in the superb gilded vehicle, my huge 
 body-servant Fritz lolling behind with curling moustaches and 
 long queue, his green liver}* barred with silver lace, I could not 
 help thinking of myself with considerable complacenc}', and 
 thanking my stars that had endowed me with so man} - good 
 qualities. But for my own merits I should have been a raw 
 Irish squireen, such as those I saw swaggering about the 
 wretched towns through which my chariot passed on its road 
 to Dublin. I might have married Nora Brady (and though, 
 thank heaven, I did not, I have never thought of that girl but 
 with kindness, and even remember the bitterness of losing her 
 more clearly at this moment than any other incident of my 
 life) ; I might have been the father of ten children by this time, 
 or a farmer on my own account, or an agent to a squire, or a 
 gauger, or an attorney ; and here I was one of the most famous 
 gentlemen of Europe ! I bade nry fellow get a bag of copper 
 money and throw it among the crowd as we changed horses ; 
 and I warrant me there was as much shouting set up in praise 
 
174 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of my honor as if *ny Lord Townsend, the Lord Lieutenant 
 himself, had been passing. 
 
 My second clay's journey — for the Irish roads were rough 
 in those days, and the progress of a gentleman's chariot terribly 
 slow — brought me to Carlow, where I put up at the very inn 
 which I had used eleven years back, when flying from home 
 after the supposed murder of Quin in the duel. How well 1 
 remember every moment of the scene ! The old landlord was 
 gone who had served me ; the inn that I then thought so com- 
 fortable looked wretched and dismantled ; but the claret was as 
 good as in the old days, and 1 had the host to partake of a jug 
 of it and hear the news of the country. 
 
 He was as communicative as hosts usually are : the crops 
 and the markets, the price of beasts at last Castle Dermot fair, 
 the last story about the vicar, and the last joke of Father Hogan 
 the priest ; how the Whiteboys had binned Squire Scanlan's 
 ricks, and the highwaymen had been beaten off in their attack 
 upon Sir Thomas's house ; who was to hunt the Kilkenny 
 hounds next season, and the wonderful run entirely they had 
 last March ; what troops were in the town, and how Miss Biddy 
 Toole had run off with Ensign Mullins : all the news of sport, 
 assize, and quarter-sessions were detailed by this worthy chron- 
 icler of small-beer, who wondered that my honor hadn't heard 
 of them in England, or in foreign parts, where he seemed to 
 think the world was as interested as he was about the doings of 
 Kilkenny and Carlow. I listened to these tales with, I own, a 
 considerable pleasure ; for every now and then a name would 
 come up in the conversation which I remembered in old days, 
 and bring with it a hundred associations connected with them. 
 
 I had received many letters from nvy mother, which informed 
 me of the doings of the Brady's Town family. My uncle was 
 dead, and Mick, his eldest son, had followed him too to the 
 grave. The Brady girls had separated from their paternal roof 
 as soon as their elder brother came to rule over it. Some were 
 married, some gone to settle with their odious old mother in 
 out-of-the-way watering-places. Ulick, though he had suc- 
 ceeded to the estate, had come in for a bankrupt property, and 
 Castle Brad3' was now inhabited only by the bats and owls, and 
 the old gamekeeper. My mother, Mrs. Harry Barry, had gone 
 to live at Bray, to sit under Mr. Jowls, her favorite preacher, 
 who had a chapel there ; and, finally, the landlord told me. 
 that Mrs. Barry's son had gone to foreign parts, enlisted in the 
 Prussian service, and had been shot there as a deserter. 
 
 I don't care to own that I hired a stout nag from the land 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 175 
 
 lord's stable after dinner, and rode back at nightfall twenty 
 miles to my old home. My heart beat to see it. Banyville 
 had got a pestle and mortar over the door, and was called 
 "The Esculapian Repository," by Doctor Macshane ; a red- 
 headed lad was spreading a plaster in the old parlor ; the little 
 window of my room, once so neat and bright, was cracked in 
 many places and. stuffed with rags here and there ; the flowers 
 had disappeared from the trim garden-beds which my good 
 orderly mother tended. In the churchyard there were two 
 more names put into the stone over the family vault of the 
 Bradys : the}* were those of my cousin, for whom my regard 
 was small, and nry uncle, whom I had always loved. I asked 
 my old companion the blacksmith, who had beaten me so often 
 in old days, to give my horse a feed and a litter : he was a 
 worn, weary-looking man now, with a dozen dirty ragged chil- 
 dren paddling about his smithy, and had no recollection of the 
 fine gentleman who stood before him. I did not seek to recall 
 myself to his memory till the next day, when I put ten guineas 
 into his hand, and bade him drink the health of English 
 Redmond. 
 
 As for Castle Brady, the gates of the park were still there ; 
 but the old trees were cut down in the avenue, a black stump 
 jutting out here and there, and casting long shadows as I passed 
 in the moonlight over the worn, grass-grown old road. A few 
 cows were at pasture there. The garden-gate was gone, and 
 the place a tangled wilderness. I sat down on the old bench, 
 whex - e I had sat on the day when Nora jilted me ; and I do 
 believe my feelings were as strong then as the}- had been when 
 I was a boy, eleven 3'ears before ; and I caught myself almost 
 crying again, to think that Nora Brady had deserted me. I 
 believe a man forgets nothing. I've seen a flower, or heard 
 some trivial word or two, which have awakened recollections 
 that somehow had lain dormant for scores of years ; and when 
 I entered the house in Clarges Street, where I was born (it was 
 used as a gambling-house when I first visited London), all of a 
 sudden the memory of my childhood came back to me — of my 
 actual infancy : I recollected my father in green and gold, 
 holding me up to look at a gilt coach which stood at the door, 
 and my mother in a flowered sack, with patches on her face. 
 Some day, 1 wonder, will eveiy thing we have seen and thought 
 and done come and flash across our minds in this wa}- ? I had 
 rather not. I felt so as I sat upon the bench at Castle Brady, 
 and thought of the bygone times. 
 
 The hall-door was open — it was always so at that house ; 
 
176 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the moon was flaring in at the long old windows, and throwing 
 ghastly chequers upon the floors : and the stars were looking in 
 on the other side, in the blue of the yawning window over the 
 great stair : from it } - ou could see the old stable-clock, with the 
 letters glistening on it still. There had been jolly horses in 
 those stables once ; and I could see m t y uncle's honest face, and 
 hear him talking to his dogs as they came jumping and whining 
 and barking round about him of a gay winter morning. Wc 
 used to mount there ; and the girls looked out at us from the 
 hall-window, where I stood and looked at the sad, mouldy, 
 lonely old place. There was a red light shining through the 
 crevices of a door at one corner of the building, and a dog 
 presently came out baying loudly, and a limping man followed 
 with a fowling-piece. 
 
 " Who's there? " said the old man. 
 
 "Phil Purcell, don't you know me?" shouted I; "it's 
 Redmond Barry." 
 
 I thought the old man would have fired his piece at me at 
 first, for he pointed it at the window ; but I called to him to 
 hold his hand, and came down and embraced him. * * * 
 Psha ! I don't care to tell the rest : Phil and I had a long 
 night, and talked over a thousand foolish old things that have 
 no interest for any soul alive now : for what soul is there alive 
 that cares for Barry Lyndon ? 
 
 I settled a hundred guineas on the old man when I got to 
 Dublin, and made him an annuity which enabled him to pass 
 his old days in comfort. 
 
 Poor Phil Purcell was amusing himself at a game of ex- 
 ceedingly dirty cards with an old acquaintance of mine ; no 
 other than Tim, who was called my "valet" in the days of 
 yore, and whom the reader ma} r remember as clad in my 
 father's old liveries. They used to hang about him in those 
 times, and lap over his wrists and down to his heels ; but Tim, 
 though he protested he had nigh killed himself with grief when 
 I went awa}', had managed to grow enormously fat in my ab- 
 sence, and would have fitted almost into Daniel Lambert's coat, 
 or that of the vicar of Castle Brady, whom he served in the 
 capacit} - of clerk. I would have engaged the fellow in m} r ser- 
 vice but for his monstrous size, which rendered him quite unfit 
 to be the attendant of any gentleman of condition ; and so I 
 presented him with a handsome gratuit3 T , and promised to stand 
 godfather to his next child : the eleventh since my absence. 
 There is no country in the world where the work of multiplying 
 is carried on so prosperously as in my native island. Mr. Tim 
 
BARRY LYNDON", ESQ. 177 
 
 had married the girls' waiting-maid, who had been a kind friend 
 of mine in the early times ; and I had to go salute poor Molly 
 next day, and found her a slatternly wench in a mud hut, sur- 
 rounded by a brood of children almost as ragged as those of 
 my friend the blacksmith. 
 
 From Tim and Phil Purcell, thus met fortuitously together, 
 I got the very last news respecting my family. My mother 
 was well. 
 
 "'Faith, sir," says Tim, "and you're come in time, may- 
 hap, for preventing an addition to your family." 
 
 " Sir ! " exclaimed I, in a fit of indignation. 
 
 "In the shape of father-in-law, I mane, sir," says Tim: 
 " the misthress is going to take on with Mister Jowls the 
 pruacher." 
 
 Poor Nora, he added, had made many additions to the 
 illustrious race of Quin ; and my cousin Ulick was in Dublin, 
 coming to little good, both my informants feared, and having 
 managed to run through the small available remains of property 
 which my good old uncle had left behind him. 
 
 I saw I should have no small family to provide for ; and 
 then, to conclude the evening, Phil, Tim, and I, had a bottle 
 of usquebaugh, the taste of which I had remembered for eleven 
 good years, and did not part except with the warmest terms of 
 fellowship, and until the sun had been some time in the sky. 
 I am exceedingly affable : that has always been one of nry 
 characteristics. I have no false pride, as many men of high 
 lineage like my own have, and, in default of better company, 
 will hob and nob with a ploughboy or a private soldier just as 
 readily 7 as with the first noble in the land. 
 
 I went back to the village in the morning, and found a pre- 
 text for visiting Barryville under a device of purchasing drugs. 
 The hooks were still in the wall where my silver-hilted sword 
 used to hang ; a blister was lying on the window-sill, where 
 my mother's "Whole Duty of Man" had its place; and the 
 odious Doctor Macshane had found out who I was (my country- 
 men find out everything, and a great deal more besides) , and 
 sniggering, asked me how I left the King of Prussia, and 
 whether my friend the Emperor Joseph was as much liked as 
 the Empress Maria Theresa had been. The bell-ringers would 
 have had a ring of bells for me, but there was but one, Tim, 
 who was too fat to pull ; and I rode off before the vicar, Doctor 
 Bolter (who had succeeded old Mr. Texter, who had the living 
 in niy time) , had time to come out to compliment me ; but the 
 rapscallions of the beggarly village had assembled in a dirty 
 
 12 
 
178 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 army to welcome me, and cheered " Hurrah for Masther Red 
 mond ! " as I rode away. 
 
 My people were not a little anxious regarding me, by the 
 time I returned to Carlow, and the landlord was very much 
 afraid, he said, that the highwaymen had gotten hold of me. 
 There, too, my name and station had been learned from my 
 servant Fritz ; who had not spared his praises of his master, 
 and had invented some magnificent histories concerning me. 
 He said it was the truth that I was intimate with half the sov- 
 ereigns of Europe, and the prime favorite with most of them. 
 Indeed I had made my uncle's order of the Spur hereditary, 
 and travelled under the name of the Chevalier Barry, chamber- 
 lain to the Duke of Hohenzollern Sigmaringen. 
 
 They gave me the best horses the stable possessed to carry 
 me on my road to Dublin, and the strongest ropes for harness'; 
 and we got on pretty well, and there was no rencontre between 
 the highwaymen and the pistols with which Fritz and I were 
 provided. We lay that night at Kilcullen, and the next day I 
 made my entry into the city of Dublin, with four horses to my 
 carriage, five thousand guineas in my purse, and one of the 
 most brilliant reputations in Europe, having quitted the city a 
 beggarly boy, eleven years before. 
 
 The citizens of Dublin have as great and laudable a desire 
 for knowing their neighbors' concerns as the country people 
 have ; and it is impossible for a gentleman, however modest 
 his desires ma}- be (and such mine have notoriously been through 
 life), to enter the capital without having his name printed in 
 ever}' newspaper and mentioned in a number of societies. My 
 name and titles were all over the town the da}- after my arrival. 
 A great number of polite persons did me the honor to call at 
 my lodgings, when I selected them : and this was a point very 
 necessarily of immediate care, for the hotels in the town were 
 but vulgar holes, unfit for a nobleman of my fashion and ele- 
 gance. I had been informed of the fact by travellers on the 
 Continent ; and determining to fix on a lodging at once, I bade 
 the drivers go slowly up and down the streets with my chariot, 
 until I had selected a place suitable to my rank. This pro- 
 ceeding, and the uncouth questions and behavior of my German 
 Fritz, who was instructed to make inquiries at the different 
 houses until convenient apartments could be lighted upon, 
 brought an immense mob round my coach ; and by the time 
 the rooms were chosen you might have supposed I was the 
 new General of the Forces, so great was the multitude follow- 
 ing us. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 179 
 
 I fixed at length upon a handsome suite of apartments in 
 Capel Street, paid the ragged postilions who had driven me a 
 splendid gratuity, and establishing myself in the rooms with 
 my baggage and Fritz, desired the landlord to engage me a 
 second fellow to wear my liveries, a couple of stout reputable 
 chairmen and their machine, and a coachman who had hand- 
 some job-horses to hire for my chariot, and serviceable riding- 
 horses to sell. I gave him a handsome sum in advance : and 
 I promise you the effect of my advertisement was such, that 
 next day I had a regular levee in my ante-chamber : grooms, 
 valets, and maitres-d'hotel offered themselves without number ; 
 I had proposals for the purchase of horses sufficient to mount a 
 regiment, both from dealers and gentlemen of the first fashion. 
 Sir Lawler Gawler came to propose to me the most elegant 
 baj'-mare ever stepped ; my Lord Dundoodle had a team of 
 four that wouldn't disgrace my friend the Emperor ; and the 
 Marquis of Ballyragget sent his gentleman and his compli- 
 ments, stating that if I would step up to his stables, or do him 
 the honor of breakfasting with him previously, he would show 
 me the two finest grays in Europe. I determined to accept the 
 invitations of Dundoodle and Ballyragget, but to purchase my 
 horses from the dealers. It is always the best waj-. Besides, 
 in those days, in Ireland, if a gentleman warranted his horse, 
 and it was not sound, or a dispute arose, the remedy you had 
 was the offer of a bullet in j*our waistcoat. I had played at 
 the bullet game too much in earnest to make use of it heed- 
 lessly : and I may say, proudly for myself, that I never en- 
 gaged in a duel unless I had a real, available, and prudent 
 reason for it. 
 
 There was a simplicity about this Irish gentiy which amused 
 and made me wonder. If thej* tell more fibs than their down- 
 right neighbors across the water, on the other hand they believe 
 more ; and I made myself in a single week such a reputation 
 in Dublin as would take a man ten years and a mint of money 
 to acquire in London. I had won five hundred thousand 
 pounds at play ; I was the faA T orite of the Empress Catherine 
 of Russia ; the confidential agent of Frederick of Prussia ; it 
 was I won the battle of Hochkirchen ; I was the cousin of 
 Madame Du Bany, the French King's favorite, and a thousand 
 things beside. Indeed, to tell the truth, I hinted a number of 
 these stories to my kind friends Ballyragget and Gawler ; and 
 they were not slow to improve the hints I gave them. 
 
 After having witnessed the splendors of civilized life abroad, 
 the sight of Dublin in the year 1771, when I returned thither, 
 
180 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 struck me with anything but respect. It was as savage as 
 Warsaw almost, without the regal grandeur of the latter city. 
 The people looked more ragged than any race I have ever seen, 
 except the gipsy hordes along the banks of the Danube. There 
 was, as I have said, not an inn in the town fit for a gentleman 
 of condition to dwell in. Those luckless fellows who could not 
 keep a carriage, and walked the streets at night, ran imminent 
 risks of the knives of the women and ruffians who la}- in wait 
 there, — of a set of ragged, savage villains, who neither knew 
 the use of shoe nor razor ; and as a gentleman entered his chair 
 or his chariot, to be carried to his evening rout, or the play, 
 the flambleaux of the footmen would light up such a set of wild 
 gibbering Milesian faces as would frighten a genteel person 
 of average nerves. I was luckily endowed with strong ones ; 
 besides, had seen m} r amiable countrymen before. 
 
 I know this description of them will excite anger among 
 some Irish patriots, who don't like to have the nakedness of 
 our land abused, and are angry if the whole truth be told con- 
 cerning it. But bah ! it was a poor provincial place, Dublin, 
 in the old da}s of which I speak ; and many a tenth-rate Ger- 
 man residence is more genteel. There were, it is true, near 
 three hundred resident Peers at the period ; and a House of 
 Commons ; and my Lord Ma}-or and his corporation ; and a 
 roystering, noisy university, whereof the students made no 
 small disturbances nightly, patronized the roundhouse, ducked 
 obnoxious printers and tradesmen, and gave the law at the 
 Crow Street Theatre. But I had seen too much of the first 
 society of Europe to be much tempted by the societ}' of these 
 nois}' gentry, and was a little too much of a gentleman to mingle 
 with the disputes and politics of my Lord Ma}-or and his Alder- 
 men. In the House of Commons there were some dozen of 
 right pleasant fellows. I never heard in the English Parlia- 
 ment better speeches than from Flood, and Dal}-, of Galway. 
 Dick Sheridan, though not a well-bred person, was as amusing 
 and ingenious a table-companion as ever I met ; and though 
 during Mr. Edmund Burke's interminable speeches in the Eng- 
 lish House I used always to go to sleep, I yet have heard from 
 well-informed parties that Mr. Burke was a person of con- 
 siderable abilities, and even reputed to be eloquent in his more 
 favorable moments. 
 
 I soon began to enjoy to the full extent the pleasures that 
 the wretched place affords, and which were within a gentle- 
 man's reach : Ranelagh and the Ridotto ; Mr. Mossop, at Crow 
 Street ; my Lord Lieutenant's parties, where there was a great 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 181 
 
 deal too much boozing, and too little play, to suit a person of my 
 elegant and refined habits; "Daly's Coffee-house," and the 
 houses of the nobilit}", were soon open to me ; and I remarked 
 with astonishment in the higher circles, what I had experienced 
 in the lower on my first unhappy visit to Dublin, an extraor- 
 dinary want of mone}", and a preposterous deal of promissory 
 notes flying about, for which 1 was quite unwilling to stake my 
 guineas. The ladies, too, were mad for play ; but exceeding 
 unwilling to pay when they lost. Thus, when the old Coun- 
 tess of Trumpington lost ten pieces to me at quadrille, she 
 gave me, instead of the money, her ladyship's note of hand 
 on her agent in Galway ; which I put, with a great deal of 
 politeness, into the candle. But when the countess made me 
 a second proposition to play, I said that as soon as her lady- 
 ship's remittances were arrived, I would be the readiest person 
 to meet her ; but till then was her very humble servant. And 
 I maintained this resolution and singular character throughout 
 the Dublin society: giving out at "Daly's" that I was ready 
 to play an} r man, for any sum, at any game ; or to fence with 
 him, or to ride with him (regard being had to our weight), or 
 to shoot flying, or at a mark : and in this latter accomplish- 
 ment, especially if the mark be a live one, Irish gentlemen of 
 that day had no ordinary skill. 
 
 Of course I despatched a courier in my liveries to Castle 
 Lyndon with a private letter for Runt, demanding from him 
 full particulars of the Countess of Lyndon's state of health and 
 mind ; and a touching and eloquent letter to her ladyship, in 
 which I bade her remember ancient da}'s, which I tied up with 
 a single hair from the lock which I had purchased from her 
 woman, and in which I told her that Sylvander remembered 
 his oath, and could never forget his Calista. The answer I 
 received from her was exceedingly unsatisfactory and inex- 
 plicit ; that from Mr. Runt explicit enough, but not at all 
 pleasant in its contents. My Lord George Poynings, the Mar- 
 quess of Tiptoffs younger son, was pajing very marked ad- 
 dresses to the widow ; being a kinsman of the family, and 
 having been called to Ireland relative to the will of the deceased 
 Sir Charles L3'ndon. 
 
 Now, there was a sort of rough-and-read}- law in Ireland in 
 those da}*s, which was of great convenience to persons desir- 
 ous of expeditious justice ; and of which the newspapers of the 
 time contain a hundred proofs. Fellows with nicknames of Cap- 
 tain Fireball, Lieutenant Buffcoat, and Ensign Steele, were 
 repeatedly sending warning letters to landlords, and murdering 
 
182 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 them if the notes were unattended to. The celebrated Captain 
 Thunder ruled in the southern counties, and his business 
 seemed to be to procure wives for gentlemen who had not 
 sufficient means to please the parents of the young' ladies ; or, 
 perhaps, had not time for a long and intricate courtship. 
 
 I bad found my cousin Ulick at Dublin, grown very fat, 
 and very poor ; hunted up by Jews and creditors ; dwelling in 
 all sorts of queer corners, from which he issued at nightfall 
 to the Castle, or to his card-party at his tavern ; but he was 
 always the courageous fellow : and 1 hinted to him the state 
 of my affections regarding Lady Lyndon. 
 
 " The Countess of Lyndon ! " said poor Ulick ; " well, that 
 is a wonder. I myself have been mightily sweet upon a young 
 lady, one of the Kiljoys of Ballyhack, who has ten thousand 
 pounds to her fortune, and to whom her ladyship is guardian ; 
 but how is a poor fellow without a coat to his back to get 
 on with an heiress in such company as that? I might as well 
 propose for the countess myself." 
 
 " You had better not," said I, laughing; " the man who 
 tries runs a chance of going out of the world first." And I 
 explained to him nvy own intentions regarding Lady Lyndon. 
 Honest Ulick, whose respect for me was prodigious when he 
 saw how splendid my appearance was, and heard how won- 
 derful nvy adventures and great my experience of fashionable 
 life had been, was lost in admiration of my daring and energy 
 when I confided to him my intention of marrying the greatest 
 heiress in England. 
 
 I bade Ulick go out of town on anj* pretext he chose, and 
 put a letter into a post-office near Castle Lyndon, which I pre- 
 pared in a feigned hand, and in which I gave a solemn warn- 
 ing to Lord George Poynings to quit the country ; saying that 
 the great prize was never meant for the likes of him, and that 
 there were heiresses enough in England, without coming to rob 
 them out of the domains of Captain Fireball. The letter was 
 written on a dirty piece of paper, in the worst of spelling : it 
 came to my lord by the post-conveyance, and, being a high- 
 spirited young man, he of course laughed at it. 
 
 As ill-luck would have it for him, he appeared in Dublin a 
 very short time afterwards ; was introduced to the Chevalier 
 Redmond Bariy, at the Lord Lieutenant's table ; adjourned 
 with him and several other gentlemen to the club at " Daly's," 
 and there, in a dispute about the pedigree of a horse, in which 
 everybody said I was in the right, words arose, and a meeting 
 was the consequence. I had had no affair in Dublin since my 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 183 
 
 arrival, and people were anxious to see whether I was equal to 
 my reputation. I make no boast about these matters, but 
 always do them when the time comes ; and poor Lord George, 
 who had a neat band and a quick eye enough, but was bred in 
 the clums}- English school, only stood before my point until I 
 had determined where I should hit him. 
 
 My sword went in under his guard, and came out at his 
 back. When he fell, he good-naturedly extended his hand to 
 me, and said, " Mr. Barry, I was wrong! " I felt not very well 
 at ease when the poor fellow made this confession ; for the 
 dispute had been of my making, and, to tell the truth, I had 
 never intended it should end in any other way than a meet- 
 ing. 
 
 He lay on his bed for four months with the effects of that 
 wound ; and the same post which conveyed to Lady Lyndon 
 the news of the duel, carried her a message from Captain Fire- 
 ball to say, ' ' This is number one ! " 
 
 " You, Ulick," said I, " shall be number two." 
 
 " 'Faith," said my cousin, "one's enough!" But I had 
 my plan regarding him, and determined at once to benefit 
 this honest fellow, and to forward my own designs upon the 
 widow. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 I PAT COURT TO MY LADY LYNDON. 
 
 As my uncle's attainder was not reversed for being out with 
 the Pretender in 1745, it would have been inconvenient for 
 him to accompany his nephew to the land of our ancestors ; 
 where, if not hanging, at least a tedious process of imprison- 
 ment, and a doubtful pardon, would have awaited the good old 
 gentleman. In any important crisis of my life, his advice was 
 always of importance to me, and I did not fail to seek it at 
 this juncture, and to implore his counsel as regarded m} T pur- 
 suit of the widow. I told him the situation of her heart, as 
 I have described it in the last chapter ; of the progress that 
 young Po} r nings had made in her affections, and of her forget- 
 fulness of her old admirer ; and I got a letter, in repby, full of 
 excellent suggestions, by which I did not fail to profit. 
 
 The kind chevalier prefaced it by saying, that he was for 
 the present boarding in the Minorite convent at Brussels ; that 
 
184 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 he had thoughts of making his salut there, and retiring for ever 
 from the world, devoting himself to the severest practices of 
 religion. Meanwhile he wrote with regard to the lovely widow : 
 it was natural that a person of her vast wealth and not disa- 
 greeable person should have many adorers about her; and 
 that, as in her husband's lifetime she had shown herself not at 
 all disinclined to receive my addresses, I must make no manner 
 of doubt I was not the first person whom she had so favored ; 
 nor was I likely to be the last. 
 
 "I would, my dear child," he added, "that the ugly at- 
 tainder round my neck, and the resolution I have formed of 
 retiring from a world of sin and vanity altogether, did not 
 prevent me from coming personally to your aid in this delicate 
 crisis of your affairs ; for, to lead them to a good end, it re- 
 quires not only the indomitable courage, swagger, and audacity, 
 which you possess beyond any young man I have ever known " 
 (as for the " swagger," as the chevalier calls it, I deny it in 
 toto, being always most modest in my demeanor) ; " but though 
 3*ou have the vigor to execute, you have not the ingenuity to 
 suggest plans of conduct for the following out of a scheme that 
 is likely to be long and difficult of execution. Would you have 
 ever thought of the brilliant scheme of the Countess Ida, which 
 so nearly made you the greatest fortune in Europe, but for the 
 advice and experience of a poor old man, now making up his 
 accounts with the world, and about to retire from it for good 
 and all? 
 
 "Well, with regard to the Countess of Lyndon, your man- 
 ner of winning her is quite en Fair at present to me ; nor can 
 I advise day by day, as I would 1 could, according to circum- 
 stances as they arise. But your general scheme should be this. 
 If I remember the letters you used to have from her during the 
 period of the correspondence which the silly woman entertained 
 you with, much high-flown sentiment passed between you ; and 
 especially was written by her lad\-ship herself: she is a blue- 
 stocking, and fond of writing ; she used to make her griefs 
 with her husband the continual theme of her correspondence 
 (as women will do) . I recollect several passages in her letters 
 bitterly deploring her fate in being united to one so unworthy 
 of her. 
 
 " Surely, in the mass of billets you possess from her, there 
 must be enough to compromise her. Look them well over, 
 select passages, and threaten to do so. Write to her at first 
 in the undoubting tone of a lover who has every claim upon 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 185 
 
 her. Then, if she is silent, remonstrate, alluding to former 
 promises from her ; producing proofs of her former regard for 
 you ; vowing despair, destruction, revenge, if she prove un- 
 faithful. Frighten her — astonish her b} r some daring feat, 
 which will let her see your indomitable resolution : } r ou are the 
 man to do it. Your sword has a reputation in Europe, and 
 you have a character for boldness ; which was the first thing 
 that caused my Lad}' Lyndon to turn her e} T es upon you. 
 Make the people talk about 30U at Dublin. Be as splendid, 
 and as brave, and as odd as possible. How 1 wish I were 
 near 3-ou ! You have no imagination to invent such a char- 
 acter as I would make for you — but why speak ; have I not 
 enough of the world and its vanities ? " 
 
 There was much practical good sense in this advice ; which 
 I quote, unaccompanied with the lengthened description of his 
 mortifications and devotions which my uncle indulged in, fin- 
 ishing his letter, as usual, with earnest prayers for my con- 
 version to the true faith. But he was constant to his form of 
 worship ; and I, as a man of honor and principle, was resolute 
 to mine ; and have no doubt that the one, in this respect, wilt 
 be as acceptable as the other. 
 
 Under these directions it was, then, I wrote to Lady Lyn- 
 don, to ask on my arrival when the most respectful of her 
 admirers might be permitted to intrude upon her grief? Then, 
 as her ladyship was silent, I demanded, Had she forgotten old 
 times, and one whom she had favored with her intimacy at a 
 ,very happy period ? Had Calista forgotten Eugenio ? At the 
 same time I sent down by nry servant with this letter a present 
 of a little sword for Lord Bullingdon, and a private note to his 
 governor : whose note of hand, by the way, I possessed for a 
 sum — I forget what — but such as the poor fellow would have 
 been very unwilling to pay. To this an answer came from her 
 ladyship's amanuensis, stating that Lady L} T ndon was too much 
 disturbed by grief at her recent dreadful calamity to see any- 
 one but her own relations ; and advices from my friend, the 
 boy's governor, stating that my Lord George Po3 T nings was 
 the young kinsman who was about to console her. 
 
 This caused the quarrel between me and the young noble- 
 man ; whom I took care to challenge on his first arrival at 
 Dublin. 
 
 When the news of the duel was brought to the widow at 
 Castle Lyndon, my informant wrote me that Lad} r L} r ndon 
 shrieked and flung down the journal, and said, "The horrible 
 
186 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 monster ! He would not shrink from murder I believe ; " and 
 little Lord Bullingdon, drawing his sword — the sword I had 
 given him, the rascal ! — declared he would kill with it the man 
 who had hurt cousin George. On Mr. Runt telling him that 
 I was the donor of the weapon, the little rogue still vowed that 
 he would kill me all the same ! Indeed, in spite of my kind- 
 ness to him, that boy always seemed to detest me. 
 
 Her ladyship sent up daily couriers to inquire after the 
 health of Lord George ; and, thinking to myself that she would 
 probably be induced to come to. Dublin if she were to hear that 
 he was in danger, I managed to have her informed that he was 
 in a precarious state ; that he grew worse ; that Redmond 
 Barry had fled in consequence : of this flight I caused the Mer- 
 cury newspaper to give notice also, but indeed it did not carry 
 me beyond the town of Bray, where my poor mother dwelt ; 
 and where, under the difficulties of a duel, I might be sure of 
 having a welcome. 
 
 Those readers who have the sentiment of filial duty strong 
 in their mind, will wonder that I have not yet described rny 
 interview with that kind mother whose sacrifices for me in 
 youth had been so considerable, and for whom a man of my 
 warm and affectionate nature could not but feel the most en- 
 during and sincere regard. 
 
 But a man, moving in the exalted sphere of society in 
 which I now stood, has his public duties to perform before he 
 consults his private affections ; and so upon nry first arrival 
 I despatched a messenger to Mrs. Barry, stating my arrival, 
 conveying to her nry sentiments of respect and duty, and prom- 
 ising to pay them to her personally so soon as my business in 
 Dublin would leave me free. 
 
 This, I need not say, was very considerable. I had my 
 horses to buy, my establishment to arrange, my entree into the 
 genteel world to make ; and, having announced my intention 
 to purchase horses and live in a genteel style, was in a couple 
 of days so pestered by visits of the nobility and gentry, and 
 so hampered by invitations to dinners and suppers, that it 
 became exceedingly difficult for me during some days to man- 
 age my anxiously desired visit to Mrs. Barry. 
 
 It appears that the good soul provided an entertainment as 
 soon as she heard of my arrival, and invited all her humble 
 acquaintances of Bray to be present ; but I was engaged sub- 
 sequent^* to my Lord Ballyragget on the day appointed, and 
 was, of course, obliged to break the promise that I had made 
 to Mrs. Barry to attend her humble festival. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 187 
 
 I endeavored to sweeten the disappointment by sending my 
 mother a handsome satin sack and velvet robe, which I pur- 
 chased for her at the best mercers in Dublin (and indeed told 
 her I had brought from Paris expressly for her) ; but the mes- 
 senger whom I despatched with the presents brought back the 
 parcels, with the piece of satin torn half way up the middle : 
 and I did not need his descriptions to be aware that something 
 had offended the good lady ; who came out, he said, and abused 
 him at the door, and would have boxed his ears, but that she 
 was restrained by a gentleman in black : who I concluded, with 
 justice, was her clerical friend Mr. Jowls. 
 
 This reception of my presents made me rather dread than 
 hope for an interview with Mrs. Bany, and clelaj'ed my visit 
 to her for some dajs further. I wrote her a dutiful and sooth- 
 ing letter, to which there was no answer returned ; although I 
 mentioned that on 1113- way to the capital I had been at Barry- 
 ville, and revisited the old haunts of nry youth. 
 
 I don't care to own that she is the only human being whom 
 I am afraid to face. I can recollect her fits of anger as a child, 
 and the reconciliations, which used to be still more violent and 
 painful ; and so, instead of going nryself, I sent my factotum, 
 Ulick Brady, to her ; who rode back, saying that he had met 
 with a reception he would not again undergo for twenty guineas : 
 that he had been dismissed the house, with strict injunctions 
 to inform me that my mother disowned me for ever. This paren- 
 tal anathema, as it were, affected me much, for I was always 
 the most dutiful of sons ; and I determined to go as soon as 
 -possible, and brave what I knew must be an inevitable scene of 
 reproach and anger, for the sake, as I hoped, of as certain a 
 reconciliation. 
 
 I had been giving one night an entertainment to some of 
 the genteelest company in Dublin, and was showing my lord 
 marquis down stairs with a pair of wax tapers, when I found a 
 woman in a gray coat seated at my door-steps ; to whom, tak- 
 ing her for a beggar, I tendered a piece of mone} T , and whom 
 my noble friends, who were rather hot with wine, began to joke, 
 as my door closed and I bade them all good night. 
 
 I was rather surprised and affected to find afterwards that 
 the hooded woman was no other than my mother ; whose pride 
 had made her vow that she would not enter my doors, but whose 
 natural maternal yearnings had made her long to see her son's 
 face once again, and who had thus planted herself in disguise 
 at nry gate. Indeed, I have found in my experience that these 
 are the only women who never deceive a man, and whose affec- 
 
188 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tion remains constant through all trials. Think of the hours 
 that the kind soul must have passed, lonely in the street, listen- 
 ing to the din and merriment within m}- apartments, the clinking 
 of the glasses, the laughing, the choruses, and the cheering. 
 
 When my affair with Lord George happened, and it became 
 necessary to me, for the reasons I have stated, to be out of 
 the way ; now, thought I, is the time to make my peace with 
 my good mother : she will never refuse me an asylum now that 
 I seem in distress. So sending to her a notice that I was com- 
 ing, that I had had a duel which had brought me into trouble, 
 and required I should go into hiding, I followed my messenger 
 half an hour afterwards : and, I warrant me, there was no want 
 of a good reception, for presently, being introduced into an 
 empty room bj T the bare-footed maid who waited upon Mrs. 
 Barry, the door was opened, and the poor mother flung herself 
 into my arms with a scream, and with transports of joy which 
 I shall not attempt to describe — they are but to be compre- 
 hended by women who have held in their arms an onlj- child 
 after a twelve years' absence from him. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Jowls, my mother's director, was the 
 only person to whom the door of her habitation was opened 
 during my sojourn ; and he would take no denial. He mixed 
 for himself a glass of rum-punch, which he seemed in the habit 
 of drinking at my good mother's charge, groaned aloud, and 
 forthwith began reading me a lecture upon the sinfulness of ni}' 
 past courses, and especially of the last horrible action I had 
 been committing. 
 
 " Sinful ! " said my mother, bristling up when her son was 
 attacked; "sure we're all sinners; and it's you, Mr. Jowls, 
 who have given me the inexpressible blessing to let me know 
 that. But how else would you have had the poor child be- 
 have?" 
 
 " I would have had the gentleman avoid the drink, and the 
 quarrel, and this wicked duel altogether," answered the clergy- 
 man. 
 
 But m}- mother cut him short by saying such sort of conduct 
 might be very well in a person of his cloth and his birth, but 
 it neither became a Brady nor a Bany. In fact, she was quite 
 delighted with the thought that I had pinked an English mar- 
 quis's son in a duel ; and so, to console her, I told her of a score 
 more in which I had been engaged, and of some of which I 
 have already informed the reader. 
 
 As nry late antagonist was in no sort of danger when I spread 
 that report of his perilous situation, there was no particular 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 189 
 
 call that my hiding should be very close. But the widow did 
 not know the fact as well as I did ; and caused her house to be 
 barricaded, and Becky, her bare-footed serving-wench, to be a 
 perpetual sentinel to give alarm, lest the officers should be in 
 search of me. 
 
 The only person I expected, however, was my cousin Ulick, 
 who was to bring me the welcome intelligence of Ladj- Lyndon's 
 arrival ; and I own, after two days' close confinement at Bray, 
 in which I narrated all the adventures of my life to ni}' mother, 
 and succeeded in making her accept the dresses she had formerly 
 refused, and a considerable addition to her income which I was 
 glad to make, I was very glad when I saw that reprobate Ulick 
 Brady, as my mother called him, ride up to the door in my car- 
 riage with the welcome intelligence for my mother, that the 
 young lord was out of danger, and for me, that the Countess 
 of Lyndon had arrived in Dublin. 
 
 "And I wish, Redmond, that the 3 r oung gentleman had 
 been in danger a little longer," said the widow, her ej-es filling 
 with tears, " and you'd have stayed so much the more with 
 your poor old mother." But I dried her tears, embracing her 
 warmly, and promised to see her often ; and hinted I would 
 have, mayhap, a house of my own and a noble daughter to 
 welcome her. 
 
 " Who is she, Redmond dear?" said the old lady. 
 
 " One of the noblest and richest women in the empire, 
 mother," answered I. "No mere Brady this time," I added, 
 laughing ; with which hopes I left Mrs. Barry in the best of 
 -tempers. 
 
 No man can bear less malice than I do ; and, when I have 
 once carried m}* point, I am one of the most placable creatures 
 in the world. I was a week in Dublin before I thought it 
 necessary to quit that capital. I had become quite reconciled 
 to my rival in that time ; made a point of calling at his lodg- 
 ings, and speedily became an intimate consoler of his bedside. 
 He had a gentleman to whom I did not neglect to be civil, and 
 towards whom I ordered m}' people to be particular in their 
 attentions ; for I was naturally anxious to learn what m} r Lord 
 George's position with the lady of Castle Ljndon had reallj- 
 been, whether other suitors were about the widow, and how she 
 would bear the news of his wound. 
 
 The young nobleman himself enlightened me somewhat upon 
 the subjects I was most desirous to inquire into. 
 
 " Chevalier," said he to me, one morning when I went to 
 pay him niy compliments, " I find you are an old acquaintance 
 
190 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 with my kinswoman, the Countess of Lyndon. She writes me 
 a page of abuse of } - ou in a letter here ; and the strange part of 
 the stor}* is this, that one day when there was talk about you 
 at Castle Lyndon, and the splendid equipage you were exhibit- 
 ing in Dublin, the fair widow vowed and protested she never 
 had heard of 30U. 
 
 " ' O .yes, mamma,' said the little Bullingdon, ' the tall dark 
 man at Spa with the cast in his e3*e, who used to make nry 
 governor tipsy and sent me the sword : his name is Mr. 
 Barry.' 
 
 " But my lad}' ordered the bo} T out of the room, and per- 
 sisted in knowing nothing about you." 
 
 "And are you a kinsman and acquaintance of my Lady 
 Lyndon, my lord?" said I, in a tone of grave surprise. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," answei'ed the young gentleman. " I left her 
 house but to get this uglj' wound from you. And it came at a 
 most unlucky time too." 
 
 " Wiry more unluck}- now than at another moment?" 
 
 "Why, look you, chevalier. I think the widow was not 
 impartial to me. I think I might have induced her to make 
 our connection a little closer : and faith, though she is older 
 than I am, she is the richest party now in England." 
 
 "My Lord George," said I, "will 30U let me ask 3-ou a 
 frank but an odd question ? — will you show me her letters ? " 
 
 " Indeed I'll do no such thing," replied he, in a rage. 
 
 " Na}*, don't be angry. If /show you letters of Lad}' L^-n- 
 don's to me, will 3011 let me see hers to 3*ou?" 
 
 "What, in heaven's name, do 30U mean, Mr. Bany?" said 
 the 3"oung nobleman. 
 
 " /mean, that I passionateby loved Lad\ T Lyndon. I mean 
 that I am a — that I rather was not indifferent to her. I mean 
 that I love her to distraction at this present moment, and will 
 die myself, or kill the man who possesses her before me." 
 
 " You marry the greatest heiress and the noblest blood in 
 England?" said Lord George, haughtily. 
 
 " There's no nobler blood in Europe than mine," answered 
 I ; " and I tell you I don't know whether to hope or not. But 
 this I know, that there were da3's in which, poor as I am, the 
 great heiress did not disdain to look down upon m3 T poverty ; 
 and that any man who marries her passes over my dead body 
 to do it. It's luck3- for 3*ou," I added, gloomily, " that on the 
 occasion of 1113- engagement with 3 t ou, I did not know what were 
 3 7 our views regarding my Lacty L3"ndon. My poor bo3 T , 3 t ou are 
 a lad of courage, and I love 30U. Mine is the first sword in 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 191 
 
 Europe, and you would have been tying in a narrower bed than 
 that you now occupy." 
 
 " Boy ! " said Lord George, "I am not four years younger 
 than you are." - 
 
 " You are forty years younger than I am in experience. I 
 have passed through every grade of life. With my own skill 
 and daring I have made nry own fortune. I have been in four- 
 teen pitched battles as a private soldier, and have been twenty- 
 three times on the ground, and never was touched but once : 
 and that was b}' the sword of a French maitre-d 'amies, whom I 
 killed. I started in life at seventeen, a beggar, and am now, 
 at seven-and-twent} T , with 20,000 guineas. Do } t ou suppose a 
 man of my courage and energy can't attain anything that he 
 dares, and that having claims upon the widow, 1 will not press 
 them ? " 
 
 This speech was not exactly true to the letter (for I had 
 multiplied my pitched battles, my duels, and my wealth some- 
 what) ; but I saw that it made the impression I desired to 
 effect upon the young gentleman's mind, who listened to my 
 statement with peculiar seriousness, and whom I presently left 
 to digest it. 
 
 A couple of days afterwards I called to see him again, when 
 I brought with me some of the letters that had passed between 
 me and my Lady Lyndon. "Here," said I, "look — I show 
 it you in confidence — it is a lock of her ladyship's hair; 
 here are her letters signed Calista, and addressed to Eugenio. 
 Here is a poem, ' When Sol bedecks the mead with light, And 
 pallid Cynthia sheds her ra}',' addressed by her ladyship to 
 your humble servant." 
 
 "Calista! Eugenio! Sol bedecks the mead with light?" 
 cried the }"oung lord. "Am I dreaming? Why, my dear 
 Barry, the widow has sent me the very poem herself! 'Re- 
 joicing in the sunshine bright, Or musing in the evening gray.' " 
 
 I could not help laughing as he made the quotation. They 
 were, in fact, the very words my Calista had addressed to me. 
 And we found, upon comparing letters, that whole passages of 
 eloquence figured in the one correspondence which appeared in 
 the other. See what it is to be a blue-stocking and have a love 
 of letter- writing ! 
 
 The 3*oung man put down the papers in great perturbation. 
 
 " Well, thank heaven ! " said he, after a pause of some 
 duration, — "thank heaven, for a good riddance! Ah, Mr. 
 Bany, what a woman I might have married had these lucky 
 papers not come in my way ! I thought my Lady Lyndon had 
 
192 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 a heart, sir, I must confess, though not a very warm one ; and 
 that, at least, one could trust her. But marry her now ! I 
 would as lief send my servant into the street to get me a wife, 
 as put up with such an Ephesian matron as that." 
 
 "My Lord George," said I, "you little know the world. 
 Remember what a bad husband Lady Lyndon had. and don't 
 be astonished that she, on her side, should be indifferent. Nor 
 has she, I will dare to wager, ever passed bejond the bounds of 
 harmless gallantry, or sinned beyond the composing of a sonnet 
 or a billet-doux." 
 
 " My wife," said the little lord, " shall write no sonnets or 
 billets-doux ; and I'm heartily glad to think 1 have obtained, 
 in good time, a knowledge of the heartless vixen with whom I 
 thought myself for a moment in love." 
 
 The wounded 3'oung nobleman was either, as I have said, 
 very }"oung and green in matters of the world — for to suppose 
 that a man would give up fort}' thousand a }ear, because, for- 
 sooth, the lad}' connected with it had written a few sentimental 
 letters to a young fellow, is too absurd — or, as I am inclined 
 to believe, he was glad of an excuse to quit the field altogether, 
 being b\* no means anxious to meet the victorious sword of 
 Redmond Barry a second time. 
 
 When the idea of Poynings's danger, or the reproaches prob- 
 ably addressed by him to the widow regarding myself, had 
 brought this exceedingly weak and feeble woman up to Dublin, 
 as I expected, and my worthy Ulick had informed me of her 
 arrival, I quitted my good mother, who was quite reconciled to 
 me (indeed the duel had done that), and found the disconsolate 
 Calista was in the habit of paying visits to the wounded swain : 
 much to the annoyance, the servants told me, of that gentle- 
 man. The English are often absurdly high and haughty upon 
 a point of punctilio ; and. after his kinswoman's conduct, Lord 
 Poynings swore he would have no more to do with her. 
 
 I had this information from his lordship's gentleman ; with 
 whom, as I have said, I took particular care to be friends : nor 
 was I denied admission by his porter, when I chose to call, as 
 before * 
 
 Her ladyship had most likely bribed that person, as I had ; 
 for she had found her way up, though denied admission : and, 
 in fact, I had watched her from her own house to Lord George 
 Po3*nings's lodgings, and seen her descend from her chair there 
 and enter, before I myself followed her. I proposed to await 
 her quieth T in the ante-room, to make a scene there, and re- 
 proach her with infidelit}', if necessary ; but matters were, as 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 193 
 
 it happened, arranged much more conveniently for me, and 
 walking, unannounced, into the outer room of his lordship's 
 apartments, I had the felicity of hearing in the next chamber, 
 of which the door was partially open, the voice of my Calista. 
 She was in full cry, appealing to the poor patient, as he lay 
 confined in his bed, and speaking in the most passionate man- 
 ner. "What can lead you, George," she said, " to doubt of 
 my faith? How can. you break my heart by casting me off 
 in this monstrous manner? Do j'ou wish to drive your poor 
 Calista to the grave? Well, well, I shall join there the dear 
 departed angel." 
 
 " Who eutered it three months since," said Lord George, 
 with a sneer. " It's a wonder 3*011 have survived so long." 
 
 " Don't treat your poor Calista in this cruel, cruel manner, 
 Antonio ! " cried the widow. 
 
 " Bah ! " said Lord George, " my wound is bad. My doc- 
 tors forbid me much talk. Suppose your Antonio tired, my 
 dear. Can't you console yourself with somebod}* else? " 
 
 " Heavens, Lord George ! Antonio ! " 
 
 " Console yourself with Eugenio," said the young nobleman, 
 bitterly, and began ringing his bell ; on which his valet, who 
 was in an inner room, came out, and he bade him show her 
 ladyship down stairs. 
 
 Lady Lyndon issued from the room in the greatest flurry. 
 She was dressed in deep weeds, with a veil over her face, and 
 did not recognize the person waiting in the outer apartment. 
 As she went down the stairs, I stepped lightly after her, and as 
 her chairman opened her door, sprung forward, and took her 
 hand to place her in the vehicle. "Dearest widow," said I, 
 •■ his lordship spoke correctly. Console yourself with Eu- 
 genio ! " She was too frightened even to scream, as her chair- 
 man carried her away. She was set down at her house, and 
 you may be sure that I was at the chair-door, as before, to help 
 her out. 
 
 " Monstrous man ! " said she, " I desire 3-ou to leave me." 
 
 "Madam, it would be against my oath," replied I; "rec- 
 ollect the vow Eugenio sent to Calista." 
 
 " If you do not quit me, I will call for the domestics to turn 
 you from the door." 
 
 "What! when I am come with my Calista's letters in my 
 pocket, to return them mayhap? You can soothe, madam, but 
 you cannot frighten Redmond Barry." 
 
 " What is it you would have of me, sir?" said the widow, 
 rather agitated. 
 
 13 
 
194 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Let me come up stairs, and I will tell you all," I replied ; 
 and she condescended to give me her hand, and to permit me 
 to lead her from her chair to her drawing-room. 
 
 When we were alone I opened my mind honorably to her. 
 
 "Dearest madam," said I, "do not let your cruelty drive 
 a desperate slave to fatal measures. I adore you. In former 
 days you allowed me to whisper my passion to 3011 unrestrained ; 
 at present you drive me from your door, leave my letters un- 
 answered, and prefer another to me. My flesh and blood can- 
 not bear such treatment. Look upon the punishment I have 
 been obliged to inflict ; tremble at that which I ma} - be com- 
 pelled to administer to that unfortunate young man : so sure as 
 he marries you, madam, he dies." 
 
 "I do not recognize," said the widow, " the least right you 
 have to give the law to the Countess of Lyndon : I do not in 
 the least understand your threats, or heed them. What has 
 passed between me and an Irish adventurer that should author- 
 ize this impertinent intrusion?" 
 
 " These have passed, madam," said I, — " Calista's letters 
 to Eugenio. They may have been very innocent ; but will the 
 world believe it? You may have only intended to play with the 
 heart of the poor artless Irish gentleman who adored and con- 
 fided in you. But who will believe the stories of your innocence 
 against the irrefragable testimony of jour own handwriting? 
 Who will believe that you could write these letters in the mere 
 wantonness of coquetry, and not under the influence of affec- 
 tion ? " 
 
 "Villain!" cried my Lad}* Lyndon, "could you dare to 
 construe out of those idle letters of mine any other meaning 
 than that which they really bear?" 
 
 " I will construe anything out of them," said I ; " such is 
 the passion which animates me towards you. I have sworn it 
 — you must and shall be mine ! Did you ever know me prom- 
 ise to accomplish a thing and fail? Which will you prefer to 
 have from me — a love such as woman never knew from man 
 before, or a hatred to which there exists no parallel? " 
 
 1 ' A woman of my rank, sir, can fear nothing from the 
 hatred of an adventurer like yourself," replied the lady, draw- 
 ing up stately. 
 
 ' ' Look at your Poynings — was he of your rank ? You are 
 the cause of that young man's wound, madam ; and, but that 
 the instrument of your savage cruelty relented, would have 
 been the author of his murder — yes, of his murder; for, if a 
 wife is faithless, does not she arm the husband who punishes 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 195 
 
 the seducer? And I look upon you, Honoria Lyndon, as my 
 wife." 
 
 " Husband ! wife, sir ! " cried the widow, quite astonished. 
 
 " Yes, wife ! husband ! I am not one of those poor souls 
 with whom coquettes can play, and who may afterwards throw 
 them aside. You would forget what passed between us at 8pa ; 
 Calista would forget Eugenio ; but I will not let you forget me. 
 You thought to trifle with my heart, did you? When once 
 moved, Honoria, it is moved for ever. I love you — love as 
 passionately now as I did when my passion was hopeless ; and, 
 now that I can win you, do you think I will forego you? Cruel, 
 cruel Calista ! You little know the power of }'our own charms 
 if 30U think their effect is so easily obliterated — you little know 
 the constancj - of this pure and noble heart if you think that, 
 having once loved, it can ever cease to adore you. No ! I 
 swear by your cruelty that I will revenge it ; by your wonderful 
 beauty that I will win it, and be worthy to win it. Lovely, 
 fascinating, fickle, cruel woman ! you shall be mine — I swear 
 it ! Your wealth may be great ; but am I not of a generous na- 
 ture enough to use it worthily ? Your rank is lofty ; but not so 
 lofty as mj* ambition. You threw yourself away once on a cold 
 and spiritless debauchee : give yourself now, Honoria, to a 
 man ; and one who, however lofty jour rank may be, will en- 
 hance it and become it ! " 
 
 As I poured words to this effect out on the astonished widow, 
 I stood over her, and fascinated her Avith the glance of nvy eye ; 
 saw her turn red and pale with fear and wonder ; saw that nry 
 praise of her charms and the exposition of my passion were no', 
 unwelcome to her, and witnessed with triumphant composure 
 the mastery I was gaining over her. Terror, be sure of that, is 
 not a bad ingredient of love. A man who wills fiercely to win 
 the heart of a weak and vaporish woman must succeed, if he 
 have opportunit}' enough. 
 
 " Terrible man ! " said Lady Lyndon, shrinking from me as 
 soon as I had done speaking (indeed, I was at a loss for words, 
 and thinking of another speech to make to her) — ' ' terrible 
 man ! leave me." 
 
 I saw that I had made an impression on her, from those 
 very words. " If she lets me into the house to-morrow," said 
 I, " she is mine." 
 
 As I went clown stairs I put ten guineas into the hand of the 
 hall-porter, who looked quite astonished at such a gift. 
 
 " It is to repay j-ou for the trouble of opening the door to 
 me," said I : " you will have to do so often." 
 
196 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I PROVIDE NOBLY FOR MY FAMILY AND ATTAIN THE HEIGHT OF 
 MY' (SEEMING) GOOD FORTUNE. 
 
 The next day when I went back, my fears were realized : 
 the door was refused to me — my lady was not at home. This 
 I knew to be false : I had watched the door the whole morning 
 from a lodging I took at a house opposite. 
 
 tl Your lady is not out," said I : il she has denied me, and 
 I can't, of course, force my way to her. But listen: 3011 are 
 an Englishman ? " 
 
 " That I am," said the fellow, with an air of the utmost 
 superiority. " Your honor could tell that by my kaccent." 
 
 I knew he was, and might therefore offer him a bribe. An 
 Irish family servant in rags, and though his wages were never 
 paid him, would probably fling the money in your face. 
 
 " Listen, then," said I. " Your lady's letters pass through 
 your hands, don't the}-? A crown for every one that you bring 
 me to read. There is a whiskej-shop in the next street ; bring 
 them there when }-ou go to drink, and call for me by the name 
 of Dermot." 
 
 " I recollect 3*our honor at Spar," says the fellow, grinning : 
 " seven's the main, hen?" and, being exceedingly proud of this 
 reminiscence, I bade my inferior adieu. 
 
 I do not defend this practice of letter-opening in private life, 
 except in cases of the most urgent necessity : when we must 
 follow the examples of our betters, the statesmen of all Europe, 
 and, for the sake of a great good, infringe a little matter of 
 ceremony. My Lady Lyndon's letters were none the worse for 
 being opened, and a great deal the better; the knowledge ob- 
 tained from the perusal of some of her multifarious epistles 
 enabling me to become intimate with her character in a hun- 
 dred ways, and obtain a power over her by which I was not 
 slow to profit. By the aid of the letters and of my English 
 friend, whom I alwa}s regaled with the best of liquor, and 
 satisfied with presents of money still more agreeable (I used to 
 put on a livery in order to meet him, and a red wig, in which 
 it was impossible to know the dashing and elegant Redmond 
 Barry), I got such an insight into the widow's movements as 
 astonished her. I knew beforehand to what public places she 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 197 
 
 would go : they were, on account of her widowhood, but few : 
 and wherever she appeared, at church, or in the park, I was 
 alwa}"s read}" to offer her her book, or to canter on horseback 
 by the side of her- chariot. 
 
 Man}* of her ladyship's letters were the most whimsical rodo- 
 montades that ever blue-stocking penned. She was a woman 
 who took up and threw off a greater number of dear friends 
 than any one I ever knew. To some of these female darlings 
 she began presently to write about my unworthy self, and it was 
 with a sentiment of extreme satisfaction I found at length that 
 the widow was growing dreadfully afraid of me ; calling me her 
 bete noire, her dark spirit, her murderous adorer, and a thousand 
 other names indicative of her extreme disquietude and terror. 
 It was : "The wretch has been dogging my chariot through 
 the park," or, " my fate pursued me at church," and fci my in- 
 evitable adorer handed me out of nvy chair at the mercer's," or 
 what not. My wish was to increase this sentiment of awe in 
 her bosom, and to make her believe that I was a person from 
 whom escape was impossible. 
 
 To this end I bribed a fortune-teller, whom she consulted 
 along with a number of the most foolish and distinguished 
 people of Dublin, in those days ; and who. although she went 
 dressed like one of her waiting-women, did not fail to recognize 
 her real rank, and to describe as her future husband her per- 
 severing adorer, Redmond Barry, Esq. This incident disturbed 
 her very much. She wrote about it in terms of great wonder 
 and terror to her female correspondents. " Can this monster." 
 she' wrote, " indeed do as he boasts, and bend even Fate to his 
 will ? — can he make me marry him though I cordially detest 
 him, and bring me a slave to his feet? The horrid look of his 
 black serpent-like eyes fascinates and frightens me : it seems to 
 follow me eveiywhere, and even when I close m}- own ej-es, the 
 dreadful gaze penetrates the lids, and is still upon me." 
 
 When a woman begins to talk of a man in this way, he is an 
 ass who does not win her ; and, for my part, I used to follow 
 her about, and put myself in an attitude opposite her, t; and fas- 
 cinate her with my glance," as she said, most assiduously. Lord 
 George Poynings, her former admirer, was meanwhile keeping 
 his room with his wound, and had seemed determined to give 
 up all claims to her favor ; for he denied her admittance when 
 she called, sent no answer to her multiplied correspondence, and 
 contented himself b\' saying generally, that the surgeon had 
 forbidden him to receive visitors or to answer letters. Thus, 
 while he went into the background I came forward, and took 
 
198 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 good care that no other rivals should present themselves with 
 any chance of success ; for, as soon as I heard of one, I had a 
 quarrel fastened on him, and, in this way, pinked two more, 
 besides ray first victim Lord George. I always took another 
 pretext for quarrelling with them than the real one of attention 
 to Lady Lyndon, so that no scandal or hurt to her ladyship's 
 feelings might arise in consequence ; but she very well knew 
 what was the meaning of these duels : and the young fellows of 
 Dublin, too, by laying two and two together began to perceive 
 that there was a certain dragon in watch for the wealth}' heiress, 
 and that the dragon must be subdued first before the}' could get 
 at the lad}'. I warrant that, after the first three, not many 
 champions were found to address the lady ; and have often 
 laughed (in my sleeve) to see many of the young Dublin beaux 
 riding by the side of her carriage scamper otf as soon as my 
 bay-mare and green liveries made their appearance. 
 
 I wanted to impress her with some great and awful instance 
 of my power, and to this end had determined to confer a great 
 benefit upon my honest cousin Ulick, and carry otf for him the 
 fair object of his affections, Miss Kiljoy, under the very eyes 
 of her guardian and friend, Lady Lyndon ; and in the teeth of 
 the squires, the .young lady's brothers, who passed the season 
 at Dublin, and made as much swagger and to-do about their 
 sister's 10,000/. Irish, as if she had had a plum to her fortune. 
 The girl was by no means averse to Mr. Brady ; and it only 
 shows how faint-spirited some men are, and how a superior 
 genius can instantly overcome difficulties which, to common 
 minds, seem insuperable, that he never had thought of running 
 otf with her : as I at once and boldly did. Miss Kiljoy had 
 been a ward in Chancery until she attained her majority (before 
 which period it would have been a dangerous matter for me to 
 put in execution the scheme I meditated concerning her) ; but, 
 though now free to marry whom she liked, she was a young 
 lady of timid disposition, and as much under fear of her broth- 
 ers and relatives as though she had not been independent of 
 them. They had'some friend of their own in view for the young 
 lady, and had scornfully rejected the proposal of Ulick Brady, 
 the ruined gentleman ; who was quite unworthy, as these rustic 
 bucks thought, of the hand of such a prodigiously wealthy heiress 
 as their sister. 
 
 Finding herself lonely in her great house in Dublin, the 
 Countess of Lyndon invited her friend Miss Amelia to pass 
 the season with her at Dublin ; and, in a fit of maternal fond- 
 ness, also sent for her son. the little Bullingdon, and my old 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 199 
 
 acquaintance his governor, to come to the capital and bear her 
 company. A family coach brought the boy, the heiress, and 
 the tutor from Castle Lyndon ; and I determined to take the 
 first opportunity -of putting my plan in execution. 
 
 For this chance I had not very long to wait. I have said, 
 in a former chapter of my biography, that the kingdom of Ire- 
 land was at this period ravaged by various parties of banditti ; 
 who, under the name of Whiteboys, Oakboys, Steelboys, with 
 captains at their head, killed proctors, fired stacks, houghed 
 and maimed cattle, and took the law into their own hands. One 
 of these bands, or several of them for what I know, was com- 
 manded by a mysterious personage called Captain Thunder ; 
 whose business seemed to be that of marrying people with or 
 without their own consent, or that of their parents. The Dub- 
 lin Gazettes and Mercuries of that period (the year 1772) teem 
 with proclamations from the Lord Lieutenant, offering rewards 
 for the apprehension of this dreadful Captain Thunder and his 
 gang, and describing at length various exploits of the savage 
 aide-de-camp of Hymen. I determined to make use, if not of 
 the services, at any rate of the name of Captain Thunder, and 
 put my cousin Ulick in possession of his lady and her ten thou- 
 sand pounds. She was no great beauty, and, I presume, it was 
 the money he loved rather than the owner of it. 
 
 On account of her widowhood, Lady Lyndon could not as 
 yet frequent the balls and routs which the hospitable nobility 
 of Dublin were in the custom of giving ; but her friend Miss 
 Kiljoy had no such cause for retirement, and was glad to attend 
 ah}* parties to which she might be invited. I made Ulick Brady 
 a present of a couple of handsome suits of velvet, and by ury 
 influence procured him an invitation to many of the most ele- 
 gant of these assemblies. But he had not had my advantages 
 or experience of the manners of court ; was as shy with ladies 
 as a young colt, and could no inore dance a minuet than a 
 donkej*. He made very little wa}- in the polite world in his 
 mistress's heart : in fact. I could see that she preferred several 
 other young gentlemen to him, who were more at home in the 
 ball-room than poor Ulick ; he had made his first impression 
 upon the heiress, and felt his first flame for her, in her father's 
 house of Ballykiljo}', where he used to hunt and get drunk with 
 the old gentleman. 
 
 "I could do thim, too, well enough anyhow," Ulick would 
 say, heaving a sigh; "and if it's drinking or riding across 
 country would do it, there's no man iu Ireland would have a 
 better chance with Amalia." 
 
200 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 " Never fear, Ulick," was my reply ; " you shall have j'our 
 A malia, or my uame is not Redmond Barry." 
 
 My Lord Charlemont — who was one of the most elegant 
 and accomplished noblemen in Ireland iu those days, a fine 
 scholar and wit, a gentleman who had travelled much abroad, 
 where I had the honor of knowing him — gave a magnificent 
 masquerade at his house of Marino, some few miles from Dub- 
 lin, on the Dunleary road. And it was at this entertainment 
 that I was determined that Ulick should be made happy for 
 life. Miss Kiljoy was invited to the masquerade, and the little 
 Lord Bullingdon, who longed to witness such a scene ; and it 
 was agreed that he was to go under the guardianship of his gov- 
 ernor, my old friend the Rev. Mr. Runt. I learned what was 
 the equipage in which the party were to be combed to the ball, 
 and took my measures accordingly. 
 
 Ulick Brad} - was not present : his fortune and quality were 
 not sufficient to procure him an invitation to so distinguished a 
 place, and I had it given out three days previous that he had 
 been arrested for debt : a rumor which surprised nobod}' who 
 knew him. 
 
 I appeared that night in a character with which I was ver}' 
 familiar, that of a private soldier in the King of Prussia's guard. 
 I had a grotesque mask made, with an immense nose and mous- 
 taches, talked a jumble of broken English and German, in which 
 the latter greatly predominated ; and had crowds round me 
 laughing at 1113' droll accent, and whose curiosity was increased 
 by a knowledge of my previous history. Miss Kiljoy was attired 
 as an antique princess, with little Bullingdon as a page of the 
 times of chivalry ; his hair was in powder, his doublet rose- 
 color, and pea-green and silver, and he looked very handsome 
 and saucy as he strutted about with 1113- sword b}' his side. As 
 for Mr. Runt, he walked about very demurely in a domino, and 
 perpetually paid his respects to the buffet, and ate enough cold 
 chicken and drank enough punch and champagne to satisfy a 
 company of grenadiers. 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant came and went in state — the ball was 
 magnificent. Miss Kiljoy had partners in plent}-, among whom 
 was myself, who walked a minuet with her (if the clums}' wad- 
 dling of the Irish heiress may be called by such a name) ; and 
 I took occasion to plead my passion for Lady Lyndon in the 
 most pathetic terms, and to beg her friend's interference in nry 
 favor. 
 
 It was three hours past midnight when the party for L3'ndon 
 House went away. Little Bullingdon had long since been asleep 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 201 
 
 in one of Lady Charlemont's china closets. Mr. Runt was ex- 
 ceedingly husky in talk, and unsteady in gait. A young lady 
 of the present day would be alarmed to see a gentleman in such 
 a condition ; but it was a common sight in those jolly old times, 
 when a gentleman was thought a milksop unless he was occa- 
 sionally tipsy. I saw Miss Kiljoy to her carriage, with several 
 other gentlemen ; and, peering through the crowd of ragged 
 linkboys, drivers, beggars, drunken men and women, who used 
 invariably to wait round great men's doors when festivities were 
 going on, saw the carriage drive off, with a hurrah from the 
 mob ; then came back presently to the supper-room, where I 
 talked German, favored the three or four topers still there with 
 a High-Dutch chorus, and attacked the dishes and wine with 
 great resolution. 
 
 ' ' How can you drink oisy with that big nose on ? " said one 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Go an be hangt ! " said I, in the true accent, applying 
 myself again to the wine ; with which the others laughed, and 
 I pursued my supper in silence. 
 
 There was a gentleman present who had seen the Lyndon 
 part}' go off, with whom I had made a bet, which I lost ; and 
 the next morning I called upon him and paid it him. All which 
 particulars the reader will be surprised at hearing enumerated : 
 but the fact is, that it was not I who went back to the party, but 
 my late German valet, who was of my size, and, dressed in ray 
 mask, could perfectly pass for me. We changed clothes in a 
 hackney-coach that stood near Lad}' Lyndon's chariot, and 
 driving after it, speedily overtook it. 
 
 The fated vehicle which bore the lovely object of Ulick 
 Brady's affections had not advanced very far, when, in the 
 midst of a deep rut in the road, it came suddenly to with a 
 jolt; the footman, springing off the back, cried "Stop!" to 
 the coachman, warning him that a wheel was off, and that it 
 would be dangerous to proceed with only three. Wheel-caps 
 had not been invented in those days, as they have since by the 
 ingenious builders of Long Acre. And how the linchpin of 
 the wheel had come out I do not pretend to say ; but it possi- 
 bly may have been extracted by some rogues among the crowd 
 before Lord Charlemont's gate. 
 
 Miss Kiljoy thrust her head out of the window, screaming 
 as ladies do ; Mr. Runt the chaplain woke up from his boozy 
 slumbers ; and little Bullingdon, starting up and drawing his 
 little sword, said, "Don't be afraid. Miss Amelia: if it's foot- 
 pads, I am armed." The young rascal had the spirit of a lion, 
 
202 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 that's the truth : as I must acknowledge, in spite of all my 
 after-quarrels with him. 
 
 The hackney-coach which had been following Lady Lyndon's 
 chariot by this time came up, and the coachman seeing the dis- 
 aster, stepped down from his box, and politely requested her 
 ladyship's honor to enter his vehicle ; which was as clean and 
 elegant as any person of tiptop quality might desire. This 
 invitation was, after a minute or two, accepted by the passen- 
 gers of the chariot: the hackney-coachman promising to drive 
 them to Dublin "in a hurry." Thady, the valet, proposed to 
 accompany his young master and the young lady ; and the 
 coachman, who had a friend seemingly drunk by his side on 
 the box, with a grin told Thady to get up behind. However, 
 as the footboard there was covered with spikes, as a defence 
 against the street-boys, who love a ride gratis. Thady's fidelity 
 would not induce him to brave these ; and he was persuaded to 
 remain by the wounded chariot, for which he and the coachman 
 manufactured a linchpin out of a neighboring hedge. 
 
 Meanwhile, although the hackney-coachman drove on rapidly, 
 yet the party within seemed to consider it was a long distance 
 from Dublin ; and what was Miss Kiljoy's astonishment, on 
 looking out of the window at length, to see around her a lonely 
 heath, with no signs of buildings or city. She began forthwith 
 to scream out to the coachman to stop ; but the man onl}' 
 whipped the horses the faster for her noise, and bade her lady- 
 ship " hould on — twas a short cut he was taking." 
 
 Miss Kiljov continued screaming, the coachman flogging, 
 the horses galloping, until two or three men appeared suddenly 
 from a hedge, to whom the fair one cried for assistance ; and 
 the young Bullingdon opening the coach-door, jumped valiantl}" 
 out, toppling over head and heels as he fell ; but jumping up 
 in an instant, he drew his little sword, and, running towards 
 the carriage, exclaimed, "This way, gentlemen! stop the 
 rascal ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried the men ; at which the coachman pulled up 
 with extraordinary obedience. Runt all the while lay tipsy in 
 the carriage, having only a dreamy half-consciousness of all 
 that was going on. 
 
 The newly arrived champions of female distress now held 
 a consultation, in which they looked at the young lord and 
 laughed considerably. 
 
 "Do not be alarmed," said their leader, coming up to the 
 door; "one of my people shall mount the box by the side of 
 that treacherous rascal, and, with your ladyship's leave, I and 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 203 
 
 my companion will get in and see you home. We are well 
 armed, and can defend you in case of danger." 
 
 With this, and without more ado, he jumped into the car- 
 riage, his companion following him. 
 
 " Know your place, fellow ! " cried out little Bnllingdon, in- 
 dignantly : " and give place to the Lord Viscount Bullingdon ! " 
 and put himself before the huge person of the new-comer, who 
 was about to enter tud hackney-coach. 
 
 " Get out of that, my lord," said the man, in abroad brogue, 
 and shoving him aside. On which the boy, crying " Thieves ! " 
 thieves ! " drew out his little hanger, and ran at the man, and 
 would have wounded him (for a small sword will wound as well 
 as a great one) ; but his opponent, who was armed with a long 
 stick, struck the weapon luckily out of the lad's hands : it went 
 flying over his head, and left him aghast and mortified at his 
 discomfiture. 
 
 He then pulled off his hat, making his lordship a low bow, 
 and entered the carriage ; the door of which was shut upon him 
 by his confederate, who was to mount the box. Miss Kiljoy 
 might have screamed ; but I presume her shrieks were stopped 
 by the sight of an enormous horse-pistol which one of her 
 champions produced, who said, "-No harm is intended you, 
 ma'am, but if jou cry out, we must gag you ; " on which she 
 suddenly became as mute as a fish. 
 
 All these events took place in an exceedingly short space of 
 time ; and when the three invaders had taken possession of the 
 carriage, the poor little Bullingdon being left bewildered and 
 astonished on the heath, one of them putting his head out of 
 the window, said, — 
 
 " My lord, a word with .you." 
 
 "What is it?" said the D03 7 , beginning to whimper; he 
 was but eleven years old, and his courage had been excellent 
 hitherto. 
 
 " You are only two miles from Marino. Walk back till you 
 come to a big stone, there turn to the right, and keep on 
 straight till you get to the high-road, when 3-ou will easily find 
 3'our way back. And when )"ou see her ladyship your mamma, 
 give Captain Thunder's compliments, and say Miss Amelia 
 Kiljoy is going to be married." 
 
 " heavens ! " sighed out that young lacty. 
 
 The carriage drove swiftly on, and the poor little nobleman 
 was left alone on the heath, just as the morning began to break. 
 He was fairly frightened ; and no wonder. He thought of 
 running after the coach; but his courage and his little legs 
 
204 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 failed him : so he sat down upon a stone and cried for vexa- 
 tion . 
 
 It was in this way that Ulick Brad}- made what I call a 
 Sabine marriage. When he halted with his two groomsmen 
 at the cottage where the ceremony was to be performed, Mr. 
 Runt, the chaplain, at first declined to perform it. But a pis- 
 tol was held at the head of that unfortunate preceptor, and he 
 was told with dreadful oaths, that his miserable brains would 
 be blown out; when he consented to read the service. Thj 
 lovely Amelia had, very likely, a similar inducement held out 
 to her, but of that I know nothing ; for I drove back to town 
 with the coachman as soon as we had set the bridal party down, 
 and had the satisfaction of finding Fritz, my German, arrived 
 before me : he had come back in my carriage in my dress, hav- 
 ing left the masquerade undiscovered, and done everything 
 there according to my orders. 
 
 Poor Runt came back the next day in a piteous plight, keep- 
 ing silence as to his share in the occurrences of the evening, and 
 witli a dismal story of having been drunk, of having been way- 
 laid and bound, of having been left on the road and picked up 
 by a Wicklow cart, which was coming in with provisions to 
 Dublin, and found him helpless on the road. There was no 
 possible means of fixing any share of the conspiracy upon him. 
 Little Bullingdon, who, too, found his way home, was unable 
 in an}' way to identify mo. But Lady Lyndon knew that I 
 was concerned in the plot, for I met her hurrying the next day 
 to the Castle : all the town being up about the enlevement. And 
 I saluted her with a smile so diabolical, that I knew she was 
 aware that I had been concerned in the daring and ingenious 
 scheme. 
 
 Thus it was that I repaid Ulick Brady's kindness to me in 
 early days ; and had the satisfaction of restoring the fallen for- 
 tunes of a deserving branch of my family. He took his bride 
 into Wicklow, where he lived with her in the strictest seclusion 
 until the affair was blown over; the Kiljo}'s striving everywhere 
 in vain to discover his retreat. They did not for a while even 
 know who was the lucky man who had carried off the heiress ; 
 nor was it until she wrote a letter some weeks afterwards, signed 
 Amelia Brady, and expressing her perfect happiness in her new 
 condition, and stating that she had been married by Lady Lon- 
 don's chaplain Mr. Runt, that the truth was known, and my 
 worth}' friend confessed his share of the transaction. As his 
 good-natured mistress did not dismiss him from his post in 
 consequence, everybody persisted in supposing that poor Lady 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 205 
 
 Lyndon was privy to the plot ; and the story of her ladyship's 
 passionate attachment for me gained more and more credit. 
 
 I was not slow, you ma}- be sure, in profiting by these ru- 
 mors. Every one thought I had a share in the Brady mar- 
 riage ; though no one could prove it. Every one thought I 
 was well with the widowed countess; though no one could 
 show that I said so. But there is a way of proving a thing 
 even while you contradict it, and I used to laugh and joke so 
 apropos that all men began to wish me jo} T of my great for- 
 tune, and look up to me as the affianced husband of the greatest 
 heiress in the kingdom. The papers took up the matter ; the 
 female friends of Lady Lyndon remonstrated with her and cried 
 '•Fie!" Even the English journals and magazines, which in 
 those days were very scandalous, talked of the matter ; and 
 whispered that a beautiful and accomplished widow, with a 
 title and the largest possessions in the two kingdoms, was 
 about to bestow her hand upon a young gentleman of high 
 birth and fashion, who had distinguished himself in the ser- 
 vice of his M — y the K — of Pr — . I won't say who was- the 
 author of these paragraphs ; or how two pictures, one repre- 
 senting myself under the title of "The Prussian Irishman," 
 and the other Lady L3*ndon as "The Countess of Ephesus," 
 actually appeared in the Town and Country Magazine, pub- 
 lished at London, and containing the fashionable tittle-tattle 
 of the day. 
 
 Lady Lyndon was so perplexed and terrified by this con- 
 tinual hold upon her, that she determined to leave the countiy. 
 Well, she did : and who was the first to receive her on landing 
 at Holyhead? Your humble servant, Redmond Barrj', Esq. 
 And, to crown alls the Dublin Mercury, which announced her 
 ladyship's departure, announced mine the day before. There 
 was not a soul but thought she had followed me to England ; 
 whereas she was only flying me. Vain hope ! — a man of my 
 resolution was not thus to be balked in pursuit. Had she 
 fled to the antipodes, I would have been there : ay, and would 
 have followed her as far as Orpheus did Euiydice ! 
 
 Her ladyship had a house in Berkeley Square, London, 
 more splendid than that which she possessed in Dublin ; and, 
 knowing that she would come thither, I preceded her to the 
 English capital, and took handsome apartments in Hill Street, 
 hard by. I had the same intelligence in her London house 
 which I had procured in Dublin. The same faithful porter was 
 there to give me all the information I required. I promised to 
 treble his wages as soon as a certain event should happen. I 
 
206 THE MEMOIRS OF - 
 
 won over Lady Lyndon's companion by a present of 100 guin- 
 eas down, and a promise of 2,000 when I should be married, 
 and gained the favors of her favorite lady's-maid by a bribe 
 of similar magnitude. My reputation had so far preceded me 
 in London that, on nry arrival, numbers of the genteel were 
 eager to receive me at their routs. We have no idea in this 
 humdrum age what a gay and splendid place London was 
 then : what a passion for play there was among young and 
 old, male and female ; what thousands were lost and won in a 
 night ; what beauties there were — how brilliant, gay, and 
 dashing ! Everybody was delightfully wicked : the royal 
 Dukes of Gloucester and Cumberland set the example ; the 
 nobles followed close behind. Running away was the fashion. 
 Ah ! it was a pleasant time ; and lucky was he who had fire, 
 and youth and money, and could live in it ! I had all these ; 
 and the old frequenters of "White's," " Wattier's," and 
 " Goosetree's " could tell stories of the gallantry, spirit, and 
 high fashion of Captain Barry. 
 
 The progress of a love-story is tedious to all those who are 
 not concerned, and I leave such themes to the hack novel- 
 writers, and the 3'oung boarding-school misses for whom they 
 write. It is not my intention to follow, step by step, the 
 incidents of my courtship, or to narrate all the difficulties I 
 had to contend with, and my triumphant manner of sur- 
 mounting them. Suffice it to sa}', I did overcome these diffi- 
 culties. I am of opinion, with my friend the late ingenious 
 Mr. Wilkes, that such impediments are nothing in the way of 
 a man of spirit ; and that he can convert indifference and aver- 
 sion into love, if he have perseverance and cleverness suffi- 
 cient. By the time the countess's widowhood was expired, I 
 had found means to be received into her house ; I had her 
 women perpetually talking in my favor, vaunting my powers, 
 expatiating upon m}* reputation, and boasting of m}- success 
 and popularity in the fashionable world. 
 
 Also, the best friends I had in the prosecution of my ten- 
 der suit were the countess's noble relatives ; who were far 
 from knowing the service that they did me, and to whom I 
 beg leave to tender my heartfelt thanks for the abuse with 
 which they then loaded me : and to whom I fling my utter 
 contempt for the calumny and hatred with which the}' have 
 subsequently pursued me. 
 
 The chief of these amiable persons was the Marchioness 
 of TiptofF, mother of the young gentleman whose audacit} 7 I 
 had punished at Dublin. This old harridan, on the countess's 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 207 
 
 first arrival in London, waited upon her, and favored her 
 with such a storm of abuse for her encouragement of me, 
 that I do believe she advanced my cause more than six months' 
 courtship could have done, or the pinking of a half-dozen of 
 rivals. It was in vain that poor Lady Ljmdon pleaded her 
 entire innocence, and vowed she had never encouraged me. 
 " Never encouraged him ! " screamed out the old Fury ; " didn't 
 you encourage the wretch at Spa, during Sir Charles's own life ? 
 Didn't you marry a dependant of yours to one of this profli- 
 gate's bankrupt cousins? When he set olf for England, didn't 
 you follow him like a madwoman the very next day? Didn't 
 he take lodgings at j-our very door almost — and do you call 
 this no encouragement? For shame, madam, shame! You 
 might have married my son — nry dear and noble George ; but 
 that he did not choose to interfere with your shameful passion 
 for the beggarly upstart whom you caused to assassinate him ; 
 and the only counsel I have to give }*our ladyship is this, to 
 legitimatize the ties which you have contracted with this shame- 
 less adventurer : to make that connection legal which, real as 
 it is now, is against both decency and religion ; and to spare 
 your family and jour son the shame of your present line of 
 life." 
 
 With this the old fury of a marchioness left the room, and 
 Lady Ljndon in tears : I had the whole particulars of the 
 conversation from her ladyship's companion, and augured the 
 best result from it in my favor. 
 
 Thus, by the sage influence of my Lady Tiptoff, the Countess 
 of- Lyndon's natural friends and family were kept from her 
 society. Even when Lady Lyndon went to court, the most 
 august lady in the realm received her with such marked cold- 
 ness, that the unfortunate widow came home and took to her 
 bed with vexation. And thus, I inay sa}<, that royalty itself 
 became an agent in advancing my suit, and helping the plans 
 of the poor Irish soldier of fortune. So it is that Fate works 
 with agents, great and small ; and by means over which they 
 have no control, the destinies of men and women are ac- 
 complished. 
 
 I shall always consider the conduct of Mrs. Bridget (Lady 
 Lyndon's favorite maid at this juncture) as a masterpiece of 
 ingenuity: and, indeed, had such an opinion of her diplomatic 
 skill, that the very instant I became master of the Lyndon 
 estates, and paid her the promised sum — I am a man of honor, 
 and rather than not keep my word with the woman, I raised the 
 money of the Jews, at an exorbitant interest — as soou, I say, 
 
208 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 as I achieved my triumph, I took Mrs. Bridget by the hand, 
 and said, "Madam, you have shown such unexampled fidelity 
 in my service that I am glad to reward you, according to my 
 promise ; but jou have given proofs of such extraordinary 
 cleverness and dissimulation, that I must decline keeping you 
 in Lady Lyndon's establishment, and beg you will leave it this 
 very day : " which she did, and went over to the Tiptolf faction, 
 and has abused me ever since. 
 
 But I must tell j - ou what she did which was so clever. Why, 
 it was the simplest thing in the world, as all masterstrokes are. 
 "When Lady Lyndon lamented her fate and my — as she was 
 pleased to call it — shameful treatment of her, Mrs. Bridget 
 said, " Why should not your ladyship write this young gentle- 
 man word of the evil which he is causing you? Appeal to his 
 feelings (which, I have heard say, are very good indeed — the 
 whole town is ringing with accounts of his spirit and generosity), 
 and beg him to desist from a pursuit which causes the best of 
 ladies so much pain? Do, my lady, write : I know your style 
 is so elegant that I, for my part, have many a time burst into 
 tears in reading your charming letters, and I have no doubt 
 Mr. Barry will sacrifice anything rather than hurt your feel- 
 ings." And, of course, the abigail swore to the fact. 
 
 " Do you think so, Bridget?" said her ladyship. And my 
 mistress forthwith penned me a letter, in her most fascinating 
 and winning manner : — 
 
 " Why, sir," wrote she, " will you pursue me 1 why environ me in a 
 web of intrigue so frightful that my spirit sinks under it, seeing escape is 
 hopeless, from your frightful, your diabolical art 1 They say you are 
 generous to others — be so to me. I know your bravery but too well: 
 exercise it on men who can meet your sword, not on a poor feeble woman, 
 who cannot resist you. Remember the friendship you once professed for 
 me. And now, I beseech you, I implore j'ou, to give a proof of it. Con- 
 tradict the calumnies which you have spread against me, and repair, if you 
 can, and if you have a spark of honor left, the miseries which you have 
 caused to the heart-broken 
 
 " H. Lyndon." 
 
 "What was this letter meant for but that I should answer it 
 in person? M3* excellent ally told me where I should meet 
 Lady Lyndon, and according!}' I followed, and found her at 
 the Pantheon. I repeated the scene at Dublin over again ; 
 showed her how prodigious nry power was, humble as I was, 
 and that my energy was still untired. " But," I added, " I 
 am as great in good as I am in evil ; as fond and faithful as a 
 friend as I am terrible as an enemy. I will do everything," I 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 209 
 
 said, " which you ask of me, except when you bid me not to 
 love 3'ou. That is beyond my power ; and while my heart has 
 a pulse I must follow you. It is my fate ; your fate, ('ease 
 to battle against it, and be mine. Loveliest of your sex ! with 
 life alone can end my passion for j'ou ; and, indeed, it is only 
 by dying at your command that I can be brought to obey you. 
 Do you wish me to. die?" 
 
 She said, laughing (for she was a woman of a lively, humor- 
 ous turn), that she did not wish me to commit self-murder; 
 and I felt from that moment that she was mine. 
 
 A } r ear from that day, on the 15th of Ma}*, in the .year 1773, 
 I had the honor and happiness to lead to the altar, Hono- 
 ria, Countess of Lyndon, widow of the late Eight Hon. Sir 
 Charles Lyndon, K.B. The ceremony was performed at St. 
 George's, Hanover Square, b}"the Rev. Samuel Runt, her lady- 
 ship's chaplain. A magnificent supper and ball was given at 
 our house in Berkele}' Square, and the next morning I had a 
 duke, four earls, three generals, and a crowd of the most dis- 
 tinguished people in London at my levee. Walpole made a 
 lampoon about the marriage, and Selwyn cut jokes at the 
 " Cocoa-tree." Old Lady Tiptoff, although she had recom- 
 mended it, was ready to bite off her fingers with vexation ; and 
 as for young Bullingdon, who was grown a tall lad of fourteen, 
 when called upon by the countess to embrace his papa, he 
 shook his fist in nvv face and said, ■' He vay father ! I would 
 as soon call one of }our ladyship's footmen papa ! " 
 
 -13ut I could afford to laugh at the rage of the boy and the 
 old woman, and at the jokes of the wits of St. James's. I sent 
 off a flaming account of our nuptials to my mother and my uncle 
 the good chevalier ; and now, arrived at the pitch of prosperity, 
 and having, at thirty years of age, by my own merits and 
 energ}-, raised myself to one of the highest social positions that 
 anj- man in England could occupy, I determined to enjoy myself 
 as became a man of qualit}* for the remainder of my life. 
 
 After we had received the congratulations of our friends in 
 London — for in those days people were not ashamed of being 
 married, as the}' seem to be now — I and Honoria (who was all 
 complacency, and a most handsome, sprightl}*, and agreeable 
 companion) set off to visit our estates in the west of England, 
 where I had never as yet set foot. We left London in three 
 chariots, each with four horses ; and my uncle would have 
 been pleased could he have seen painted on their panels the 
 Irish crown and the ancient coat of the Barry s, beside the coun- 
 
 14 
 
210 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tess's coronet and the noble cognizance of the noble family of 
 Lyndon. 
 
 Before quitting London, I procured his Majesty's gracious 
 permission to add the name of my lovely lady to my own ; and 
 henceforward assumed the style and title of Barry Lyndon, as 
 I have written it in this autobiography. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 I APPEAR AS AN ORNAMENT OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 
 
 All the journey down to Hackton Castle, the largest av I 
 most ancient of our ancestral seats in Devonshire, was pw • 
 formed with the slow and sober state becoming people of Uk; 
 first quality in the realm. An outrider in my livery went o/v 
 before us, and bespoke our lodging from town to town ; and 
 thus we lay in state at Andover, Ilminster, and Exeter ; and 
 the fourth evening arrived in time for supper before the antique 
 baronial mansion, of which the gate was in an odious Gothic 
 taste that would have set Mr. Walpole wild with pleasure. 
 
 The first da} - s of a marriage are commonly very trying ; and 
 I have known couples, who lived together like turtle-doves for 
 the rest of their lives, peek each other's eyes out almost during 
 the honeymoon. I did not escape the common lot : in our 
 journey westward my Lady L}"ndon chose to quarrel with me 
 because I pulled out a pipe of tobacco (the habit of smoking 
 which I had acquired in German}' when a soldier in Biilow's, 
 and could never give it over) , and smoked it in the carriage ; 
 and also her ladyship chose to take umbrage both at Ilmin- 
 ster and Andover, because in the evenings when we kiy there 
 I chose to invite the landlords of the " Bell" and the " Lion " 
 to crack a bottle with me. Lady Lyndon was a haughty 
 woman, and I hate pride ; and I promise yon that in both in- 
 stances I overcame this vice in her. On the third day of our 
 journey I had her to light my pipe-match with her own hands, 
 and made her deliver it to me with tears in her eyes ; and at 
 the " Swan Inn" at Exeter I had so completely subdued her, 
 that she asked me humbly whether I would not wish the land- 
 ledy as well as the host to step up to dinner with us. To this 
 I should have had no objection, for, indeed, Mrs. Bonnyface 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 211 
 
 was a very good-looking woman ; but we expected a visit from 
 my Lord Bishop, a kinsman of Lady Lyndon, and the bien- 
 seances did not permit the indulgence of my wife's request. 
 1 appeared with , her at evening service, to compliment our 
 right reverend cousin, and put her name down for twenty- five 
 guineas, and my own for one hundred, to the famous new organ 
 which was then being built for the cathedral. This conduct, 
 at the very outset of my career in the count}*, made me not a 
 little popular ; and the residentiary canon who did me the favor 
 to sup with me at the inn, went away after the sixth bottle, 
 hiccupping the most solemn vows for the welfare of such a 
 p-p-pious gentleman. 
 
 Before we reached Hackton Castle, we had to drive through 
 ten miles of the Lyndon estates, where the people were out to 
 visit us, the church bells set a-ringing, the parson and the 
 farmers assembled in their best by the roadside, and the school- 
 children and the laboring-people were loud in their hurrahs for 
 her ladyship. I flung money among these worthy characters, 
 stopped to bow and chat with his reverence and the farmers, 
 and if I found that the Devonshire girls were among the hand- 
 somest in the kingdom is it my fault? These remarks nvy Lady 
 Lyndon especially would take in great dudgeon : and I do 
 believe she was made more angry- by my admiration of the red 
 cheeks of Miss Betsy Quarringdon of Clumpton, than by any 
 previous speech or act of mine in the journey. " Ah, ah, my 
 fine madam, you are jealous, are you?" thought I, and reflected, 
 not without deep sorrow, how lightly she herself had acted in 
 her- husband's lifetime, and that those are most jealous who 
 themselves give most cause for jealousy. 
 
 Round Hackton village the scene of welcome was particu- 
 larly gay : a band of music had been brought from Plymouth, 
 and arches and flags had been raised, especially before the at- 
 torney's and the doctor's houses, who were both in the employ 
 of the family. There were many hundreds of stout people at 
 the great lodge, which, with the park-wall, bounds one side of 
 Hackton Green, and from which, for three miles, goes (or 
 rather went) an avenue of noble elms up to the towers of the 
 old castle. I wished they had been oak when I cut the trees 
 down in '79, for they would have fetched three times the money : 
 I know nothing more culpable than the carelessness of ances- 
 tors in planting their grounds with timber of small value, when 
 they' might just as easily' raise oak. Thus I have always said 
 that the Roundhead Lyndon of Hackton, who planted these 
 elms in Charles II. 's time cheated me of 10,000/. 
 
212 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 For the first few da}^s after our arrival, my time was agree- 
 ably spent in receiving the visits of the nobility and gentry who 
 came to pay their respects to the noble new-married couple, 
 and, like Bluebeard's wife in the fairy tale, in inspecting the 
 treasures, the furniture, and the numerous chambers of the 
 castle. It is a huge old place, built as far back as Henrj- V.'s 
 time, besieged and battered by the Cromwelliaus in the Revo- 
 lution, and altered and patched up, in an odious old-fashioned 
 taste by the Roundhead Lyndon, who succeeded to the property 
 at the death of a brother whose principles were excellent and 
 of the true Cavalier sort, but who ruined himself chiefly by 
 drinking, dicing, and a dissolute life, and a little by supporting 
 the king. The castle stands in a fine chase, which was prettily 
 speckled over with deer ; and I can't but own that my pleasure 
 was considerable at first, as I sat in the oak parlor of summer 
 eveniugs, with the windows open, the gold and silver plate 
 shining in a hundred dazzling colors on the sideboards, a dozen 
 jolly companions round the table, and could look out over the 
 wide green park and the waving woods, and see the sun setting 
 on the lake, and hear the deer calling to one another. 
 
 The exterior was, when I first arrived, a quaint composition 
 of all sorts of architecture ; of feudal towers, and gable-ends in 
 Queen Bess's style, and rough-patched walls built up to repair 
 the ravages of the Roundhead cannon : but I need not speak of 
 this at large, having had the place new-faced at a vast expense, 
 under a fashionable architect, and the facade laid out in the 
 latest French-Greek and most classical style. There had been 
 moats, and drawbridges, and outer walls ; these I had shaved 
 away into elegant terraces, and handsomely laid out in par- 
 terres, according to the plans of M. Cornichon, the great Pari- 
 sian architect, who visited England for the purpose. 
 
 After ascending the outer steps, you entered an antique hall 
 of vast dimensions, wainscoted with black carved oak, and 
 ornamented with portraits of our ancestors : from the square 
 beard of Brook Lyndon, the great lawj'er in Queen Bess's time, 
 to the loose stomacher and ringlets of Lady Saccharissa Lyn- 
 don, whom Van Dyck painted when she was a maid of honor to 
 Queen Henrietta Maria, and down to Sir Charles Lyndon, with 
 his ribbon as a knight of the Bath ; and my lady, painted by 
 Hudson, in a white satin sack and the family diamonds, as she 
 was presented to the old King George II. These diamonds 
 were very fine ; I first had them reset by Boehmer, when we ap- 
 peared before their French Majesties at Versailles ; and finally 
 raised 18,000/. upon them, after that infernal run of ill-luck at 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 213 
 
 " Goosetree's," when Jemmy Twitcher (as we called my Lord 
 Sandwich) , Carlisle, Charkry Fox, and I played hombre for four- 
 and-fort}* hours sans desemparer. Bows and pikes, huge stag- 
 heads and hunting implements, and rusty old suits of armor, 
 that may have been worn in the days of Gog and Magog for 
 what I know, formed the other old ornaments of this huge 
 apartment ; and were ranged round a fireplace where you might 
 have turned a coach-and-six. This I kept pretty much in its 
 antique condition, but had the old armor eventually turned out 
 and consigned to the lumber-rooms up stairs ; replacing it with 
 china monsters, gilded settees from France, and elegant mar- 
 bles, of which the broken noses and limbs, and ugliness, unde- 
 niably proved their antiquity : and which an agent purchased 
 for me at Rome. But such was the taste of the times (and, 
 perhaps, the rascality of my agent), that 30,000/. worth of 
 these gems of art only went for three hundred guineas at a 
 subsequent period, when I found it necessary to raise money on 
 my collections. 
 
 From this main hall branched off on either side the long 
 series of state-rooms, poorly furnished with high-backed chairs 
 and long, queer Venice glasses, when first I came to the prop- 
 erty ; but afterwards rendered so splendid by me, with the gold 
 damasks of Lyons and the magnificent Gobelin tapestries I won 
 from Richelieu at play. There were thirty-six bedrooms de 
 maitre, of which I only kept three in their antique condition, — 
 the haunted room as it was called, where the murder was done 
 in James II. 's time, the bed where William slept after landing 
 at Torbay, and Queen Elizabeth's state-room. All the rest were 
 re-decorated by Cornichon in the most elegant taste ; not a 
 little to the scandal of some of the stead}' old country dowagers : 
 for I had pictures of Boucher and Vanloo to decorate the prin- 
 cipal apartments, in which the Cupids and Venuses were painted 
 in a manner so natural, that I recollect the old wizened Coun- 
 tess of Frumpington pinning over the curtains of her bed, and 
 sending her daughter, Lady Blanche Whalebone, to sleep with 
 her waiting-woman, rather than allow her to lie in a chamber 
 hung all over with looking-glasses, after the exact fashion of 
 the queen's closet at Versailles. 
 
 For man}- of these ornaments I was not so much answerable 
 as Cornichon, whom Lauraguais lent me, and who was the in- 
 tendant of my buildings during my absence abroad. I had 
 given the man carte blanche, and when he fell down and broke 
 his leg. as he was decorating a theatre in the room which had 
 been the old chapel of the castle, the people of the country 
 
214 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 thought it was a judgment of heaven upon him. In his rage 
 for improvement the fellow dared anything. Without my 
 orders, he cut down an old rookery which was sacred in the 
 country, and had a prophecy regarding it, stating, kt When the 
 rook-wood shall fall, down goes Hackton Hall." The rooks 
 went over and colonized Tiptoff Woods, which lay near us (and 
 be hanged to them !), and Cornichon built a temple to Venus 
 and two lovely fountains on their site. Venuses and Cupids 
 were the rascal's adoration : he wanted to take down the Gothic 
 screen and place Cupids in our pew there ; but old Doctor Hutf 
 the rector came out with a large oak stick, and addressed the 
 unlucky architect in Latin, of which he did not comprehend a 
 word, yet made him understand that he would break his bones 
 if he laid a single finger upon the sacred edifice. Cornichon 
 made complaints about the "Abbe Hutf," as he called him 
 ( tk Et quel abbe, grand Dieu ! " added he, quite bewildered, 
 " un abbe avec douze enfans ! ") ; but I encouraged the church 
 in this respect, and bade Cornichon exert his talents only in 
 the castle. 
 
 There was a magnificent collection of ancient plate, to which 
 I added much of the most splendid modern kind ; a cellar 
 which, however well furnished, required continual replenishing, 
 and a kitchen which I reformed altogether. My friend. Jack 
 Wilkes, sent me down a cook from the Mansion House, for the 
 English cookery, — the turtle and venison department : I had 
 a chief (who called out the Englishman, by the wa}', and com- 
 plained sadly of the gros cochon who wanted to meet him with 
 coups de poing) and a couple of aides from Paris, and an Italian 
 confectioner, as my officiers de bouche. All which natural 
 appendages to a man of fashion, the odious, stingy old Tiptoff, 
 my kinsman and neighbor, affected to view with horror ; and 
 he spread through the country a report that I had U13' victuals 
 cooked by Papists, lived upon frogs, and, he verily believed, 
 fricasseed little children. 
 
 But the squires ate mj r dinners ver} 7 readily for all that, and 
 old Dr. Hutf himself was compelled to allow that my venison 
 and turtle were most orthodox. The former gentry I knew 
 how to conciliate, too, in other ways. There had been only 
 a subscription pack of fox-hounds in the country, and a few 
 beggarly couples of mangy beagles, with which old Tiptoff 
 pattered about his grounds ; I built a kennel and stables, which 
 cost 30,000/., and stocked them in a manner which was worthy 
 of my ancestors, the Irish kings. I had two packs of hounds, 
 and took the field in the season four times a week, with three 
 
BARRY LYNDON", ESQ. 215 
 
 gentlemen in my hunt-uniform to follow me, and open house at 
 Hackton for all who belonged to the hunt. 
 
 These changes and this train de vivre required, as may be 
 supposed, no small outla\- ; and I confess that I have little of 
 that base spirit of econom} - in m} r composition which some 
 people practise and admire. For instance, old Tiptoff was 
 hoarding up his money to repair his father's extravagance and 
 disencumber his estates ; a good deal of the money with which 
 he paid off his mortgages my agent procured upon mine. And, 
 besides, it must be remembered I had only a life-interest upon 
 the Lyndon property, was alwa}s of an easy temper in dealing 
 with the money-brokers, and had to pay heavily for insuring 
 her ladyship's life. 
 
 At the end of a } - ear Lady Lyndon presented me with a son 
 — Bryan Lyndon I called him, in compliment to m}- royal 
 ancestry : but what more had I to leave him than a noble name ? 
 Was not the estate of his mother entailed upon the odious little 
 Turk, Lord Bullingdon? and whom, by the way, I have not 
 mentioned as yet. though he was living at Hackton, consigned 
 to a new governor. The insubordination of that boy was 
 dreadful. He used to quote passages of "Hamlet" to his 
 mother, which made her very angiy. Once when I took a 
 horsewhip to chastise him, he drew a knife, and would have 
 stabbed me : and, 'faith, I recollected my own youth, which was 
 pretty similar ; and, holding out m}' hand, burst out laughing, 
 and proposed to him to be friends. We were reconciled for 
 that time, and the next, and the next ; but there was no love 
 lost between us, and his hatred for me seemed to grow as he 
 grew, which was apace. 
 
 I determined to endow my darling boy Bryan with a prop- 
 erty, and to this end cut down twelve thousand pounds' worth 
 of timber on Lady Lyndon's Yorkshire and Irish estates : at 
 which proceeding Bullingdon's guardian, Tiptoff, cried out, as 
 usual, and swore I had no right to touch a stick of the trees : 
 but down they went ; and I commissioned my mother to re- 
 purchase the ancient lands of Balh'barry and Barry ogue, which 
 had once formed part of the immense possessions of my house. 
 These she bought back with excellent prudence, and extreme 
 joy ; for her heart was gladdened at the idea that a son was 
 born to my name, and with the notion* of rny magnificent 
 fortunes. 
 
 To say truth, I was rather afraid, now that I lived in a veiy r 
 different sphere to that in which she was accustomed to move, 
 lest she should come to pay me a visit, and astonish my English 
 
216 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 friends by her bragging and her brogue, her rouge and her old 
 hoops and furbelows of the time of George II. : in which she 
 had figured advantageously in her 3-outh, and which she still 
 fondl}' thought to be at the height of the fashion. So I wrote 
 to her, putting off her visit ; begging her to visit us when the 
 left wing of the castle was finished, or the stables built, and so 
 forth. There was no need of such precaution. " A hint's 
 enough for me, Redmond," the old lady would reply. "I am 
 not coming to disturb j'ou among your great English friends 
 with my old-fashioned Irish ways. It's a blessing to me to 
 think that my darling boy has attained the position which I 
 alwa}-s knew was his due, and for which I pinched myself to 
 educate him. You must bring me the little Bryan, that his 
 grandmother may kiss him, one day. Present my respectful 
 blessing to her ladjship his mamma. Tell her she has got a 
 treasure in her husband, which she couldn't have had had she 
 taken a duke to many her ; and that the Barrys and the Bradys, 
 though without titles, have the best of blood in their veins. I 
 shall never rest until I see you Earl of Ballybarry, and my 
 grandson Lord Viscount Bar^ogue." 
 
 How singular it was that the very same ideas should be 
 passing in my mother's mind and my own ! The very titles 
 she had pitched upon had also been selected (naturally enough) 
 by me ; and I don't mind confessing that I had filled a dozen 
 sheets of paper with ny signature, under the names of Bally- 
 barry and Barryogue, and had determined with my usual im- 
 petuosity to cany my point. My mother went and established 
 herself at Ballybarry, living with the priest there until a tene- 
 ment could be erected, and dating from "Ballybarry Castle;" 
 which, you may be sure, I gave out to be a place of no small 
 importance. I had a plan of the estate in my stud}', both at 
 Hackton and in Berkeley Square, and the plans of the elevation 
 of Ballybarry Castle, the ancestral residence of Barry Lyndon, 
 Esq., with the projected improvements, in which the Castle 
 was represented as about the size of Windsor, with more orna- 
 ments to the architecture ; and eight hundred acres, of bog 
 falling in hand}", I purchased them at three pounds an acre, so 
 that niy estate upon the map looked to be no insignificant one.* 
 
 * On the strength of this estate, and pledging his honor that it was not 
 mortgaged, Mr. Barry Lyndon borrowed 17,000/. in the year 1786, from 
 young Captain Pigeon, the city merchant's son, who had just come in for 
 his property. As for the Polwellan estate and mines, " the cause of end- 
 less litigation," it must be owned that our hero purchased them ; but he 
 never paid more than the first 5,000/. of the purchase-money. Hence the 
 
BARRY LYNDOX, ESQ. 217 
 
 I also in this 3-ear made arrangements for purchasing the Pol- 
 wellan estate and mines in Cornwall from Sir John Trecothick, 
 for 70,000/. — an imprudent bargain, which was afterwards the 
 cause to me of -much dispute and litigation. The troubles of 
 property, the rascalit}' of agents, the quibbles of lawyers, are 
 endless. Humble people envy us, great men, and fancy that 
 our lives are all pleasure. Many a time in the course of my 
 prosperity I have sighed for the da3*s of my meanest fortune, 
 and envied the boon companions at my table, with no clothes 
 to their backs but such as my credit supplied them, without a 
 guinea but what came from 1113- pocket ; but without one of the 
 harassing cares and responsibilities which are the dismal ad- 
 juncts of great rank and property. 
 
 I did little more than make my* appearance, and assume the 
 command of 1113' estates, in the kingdom of Ireland ; rewarding 
 generously those persons who had been kind to me in my 
 former adversities, and taking ny fitting place among the aris- 
 tocrac3' of the land. But, in truth, I had small inducements to 
 remain in it after having tasted of the genteeler and more com- 
 plete pleasures of English and Continental life ; and we passed 
 our summers at Buxton, the Bath, and Harrogate, while Hack- 
 ton Castle was being beautified in the elegant manner already 
 described b3* me, and the season at our mansion in Berkele3 T 
 Square. 
 
 It is wonderful how the possession of wealth brings out the 
 virtues of a man ; or, at aiy rate, acts as a varnish or lustre to 
 them, and brings out their brilliancy and color in a manner 
 never known when the individual stood in the cold gra3 r atmos- 
 phere of poverty. I assure 3-011 it was a very short time before 
 I was a pretty fellow of the first class ; made no small sensation 
 at the coffee-houses in Pall Mall, and afterwards at the most 
 famous clubs. My st3'le, equipages, and elegant entertain- 
 ments were in everybody's mouth, and were described in all the 
 morning prints. The needier part of Lady Lyndon's relatives, >. 
 and such as had been offended b3' the intolerable pomposity of 
 old Tiptoff, began to appear at our routs and assemblies ; and 
 as for relations of ny own, I found in London and Ireland 
 more than I had ever dreamed of, of cousins who claimed 
 affinit3 T with me. There were, of course, natives of nry own 
 county (of which I was not particularly proud) , and I received 
 visits from three or four swaggering shabb3' Temple bucks, 
 
 litigation of which he complains, and the famous Chancery suit of " Treco- 
 thick v. Lyndon," in which Mr. John Scott greatly distinguished him- 
 self.— Ed. 
 
218 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 with tarnished lace and Tipperary brogue, who were eating their 
 way to the bar in London ; from several gambling adventurers 
 of the watering-places, whom I soon speedily let to know their 
 place ; and frorn others of more reputable condition. Among 
 them I may mention my cousin the Lord Kilbarry, who, on the 
 score of his relationship, borrowed thirty pieces from me to 
 pay his landlady in Swallow Street ; and whom, for my own 
 reasons, I allowed to maintain and credit a connection for 
 which the Heralds' College gave no authority whatsoever. 
 Kilbarry had a cover at my table; punted at play, and paid 
 when he liked, which was seldom ; had an intimacy with, and 
 was under considerable obligations to my tailor ; and always 
 boasted of his cousin the great Barry Lyndon of the West 
 country. 
 
 Her ladyship and I lived, after a while, pretty separate when 
 in London" She preferred quiet : or to say the truth, I pre- 
 ferred it ; being a great friend to a modest, tranquil behavior 
 in woman, and a taste for the domestic pleasures. Hence I 
 encouraged her to dine at home with her ladies, her chaplain, 
 and a few of her friends ; admitted three or four proper and 
 discreet persons to accompany her to her box at the opera or 
 play on proper occasions ; and indeed declined for her the too 
 frequent visits of her friends and family, preferring to receive 
 them only twice or thrice in a season on our grand reception 
 days. Besides, she was a mother, and had great comfort in 
 the dressing, educating, and dandling our little Bryan, for 
 whose sake it was fit that she should give up the pleasures and 
 frivolities of the world ; so she left that part of the duty of every 
 family of distinction to be performed by me. To say the truth, 
 Lady Lyndon's figure and appearance were not at this time such 
 as to make for their owner an} r very brilliant appearance in the 
 fashionable world. She had grown very fat, was short-sighted, 
 pale in complexion, careless about her dress, dull in demeanor ; 
 her conversations with me characterized by a stupid despair, or 
 a silly, blundering attempt at forced cheerfulness still more dis- 
 agreeable : hence our intercourse was but trifling, and my temp- 
 tations to carry her into the world, or to remain in her society, 
 of necessity exceedingly small. She would try my temper at 
 home, too, in a thousand ways. When requested by me (often, 
 I own, rather roughly) to entertain the company with conversa- 
 tion, wit, and learning, of which she was a mistress : or music, 
 of which she was an accomplished performer, she would as often 
 as not begin to cry, and leave the room. My company from 
 this, of course, fancied I was a tryant over her; whereas I was 
 
BARRY LYNDOX, ESQ. 219 
 
 only a severe and careful guardian over a silly, bad-tempered, 
 and weak-minded lad}*. 
 
 She was luckily very fond of her youngest son, and through 
 him I had a wholesome and effectual hold of her ; for if in any 
 of her tantrums or fits of haughtiness — (this woman was in- 
 tolerably proud ; and repeatedly, at first, in our quarrels, dared 
 to twit me with my own original poverty and low birth), — if, I 
 say, in our disputes she pretended to have the upper hand, to 
 assert her authority against mine, to refuse to sign such papers 
 as I might think necessary for the distribution of our large and 
 complicated property, I would have Master Bryan carried off 
 to Chiswick for a couple of days ; and I warrant me his lady- 
 mother could hold out no longer, and would agree to anything 
 I chose to propose. The servants about her I took care should 
 be in my pay, not hers : especially the child's head nurse was 
 under my orders, not those of my lad} T ; and a very handsome, 
 red-cheeked, impudent jade she was ; and a great fool she 
 made me make of myself. This woman was more mistress of 
 the house than the poor-spirited lady who owned it. She gave 
 the law to the servants ; and if I showed any particular atten- 
 tion to any of the ladies who visited us, the slut would not 
 scruple to show her jealousy, and to find means to send them 
 packing. The fact is, a generous man is always made a fool of 
 by some woman or other ; and this one had such an influence 
 over me, that she could turn me round her finger.* 
 
 * From these curious confessions, it would appear that Mr. Lyndon 
 'maltreated his lady in every possible way ; that he denied her society, 
 bullied her into signing away her property, spent it in gambling and 
 taverns, was openly unfaithful to her; and, when she complained, threat- 
 ened to remove her children from her. Nor, indeed, is he the only husband 
 who has done the like, and has passed for " nobody's enemy but his own : " 
 a jovial, good-natured fellow. The world contains scores of such amiable 
 people ; and, indeed, it is because justice has not been done them that we 
 have edited this autobiography. Had it been that of a mere hero of 
 romance, — one of those heroic youths who figure in the novels of Scott 
 and James, — there would have been no call to introduce the reader to a 
 personage already so often and so charmingly depicted. Mr. Barry Lyn- 
 don is not, we repeat, a hero of the common pattern ; but let the reader look 
 round, and ask himself, Do not as many rogues succeed in life as honest 
 men 1 more fools than men of talent ? And is it not just that the lives of 
 this class should be described by the student of human nature as well as 
 the actions of those fairy-tale princes, those perfect impossible heroes, whom 
 our writers love to describe ? There is something naive and simple in that 
 time-honored style of novel-writing by which Prince Prettyman, at the end 
 of his adventures, is put in possession of every worldly prosperity, as he 
 has been endowed with every mental and bodily excellence previously. The 
 novelist thinks that he can do no more for his darling hero than make him 
 a lord. Is it not a poor standard that, of the suinmum bonum t The great- 
 
220 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Her infernal temper (Mrs. Stammer was the jade's name), 
 and m}' wife's mood}" despondency, made my house and home 
 not over-pleasant : hence I was driven a good deal abroad, 
 where, as play was the fashion at every club, tavern, and as- 
 sembly, I, of course, was obliged to resume my old habit, and 
 to commence as an amateur those games at which I was once 
 unrivalled in Europe. But whether a mau's temper changes 
 with prosperity, or his skill leaves him when, deprived of a con- 
 federate, and pursuing the game no longer professionally, he 
 joins in it, like the rest of the world, for pastime, I know not ; 
 but certain it is, that in the seasons of 1774-5 I lost much 
 mone}' at " White's " and the " Cocoa Tree," and was compelled 
 to meet my losses bj T borrowing largely upon my wife's annuities, 
 insuring her ladyship's life, and so forth. The terms at which 
 I raised these necessary sums, and the outla3 - s requisite for my 
 improvements, were, of course, veiy onerous, and clipped the 
 property considerably ; and it was some of these papers which 
 my Lady Lyndon (who was of a narrow, timid, and stingy turn) 
 occasionally refused to sign : until I persuaded her, as I have 
 before shown. 
 
 My dealings on the turf ought to be mentioned, as forming 
 part of my history at this time ; but, in truth, I have no par- 
 ticular pleasure in recalling nry Newmarket doings. I was in- 
 fernally bit and bubbled in almost every one of my transactions 
 there ; and though I could ride a horse as well as any man in 
 England, was no match with the English noblemen at backing 
 him. Fifteen } T ears after my horse, Bay Bulow, bj- Sophy 
 Hardcastle, out of Eclipse, lost the Newmarket stakes, for 
 which he was the first favorite, I found that a noble earl, 
 who shall be nameless, had got into his stable the morning be- 
 fore he ran ; and the consequence was that an outside horse 
 won, and }'Our humble servant was out to the amount of 
 fifteen thousand pounds. Strangers had no chance in those 
 days on the heath : and, though dazzled bj' the splendor 
 and fashion assembled there, and surrounded by the great- 
 est persons of the land, — the rcyal dukes, with their wives 
 and splendid equipages ; old Grafton, with his queer bevy of 
 company, and such men as Ancaster, Sandwich, Lorn, — a 
 
 est good in life is not to be a lord ; perhaps not even to be happy. 
 Poverty, illness, a humpback, may be rewards and conditions of good, as 
 well as that bodily prosperity which all of us unconsciously set up for wor- 
 ship. But this is a subject for an essay, not a note ; and it is best to allow 
 Mr. Lyndon to resume the candid and ingenious narrative of his virtues 
 and defects. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 221 
 
 man might have considered himself certain of fair play and 
 have been not a little proud of the society he kept ; yet, I 
 promise 3'ou, that, exalted as it was, there was no set of men 
 in Europe who' knew how to rob more genteelly, to bubble a 
 stranger, to bribe a jockej', to doctor a horse, or to arrange a 
 betting-book. Even / couldn't stand against these accomplished 
 gamesters of the highest families in Europe. Was it my own 
 want of style, or nry want of a fortune? I know not. But 
 now I was arrived at the height of my ambition both my skill 
 and my luck seemed to be deserting me. Everything I touched 
 crumbled in my hand ; every speculation I had failed ; eveiy 
 agent I trusted deceived me. I am, indeed, one of those born 
 to make, and not to keep fortunes ; for the qualities and energy 
 which lead a man to effect the first are often the very causes of 
 his ruin in the latter case : indeed I know of no other reason 
 for the misfortunes which finally befell me.* 
 
 I had always a taste for men of letters, and perhaps, if the 
 truth must be told, have no objection to playing the fine gentle- 
 man and patron among the wits. Such people are usually 
 needy, and of low birth, and have an instinctive awe and love 
 of a gentleman and a laced coat ; as all must have remarked 
 who have frequented their society. Mr. Reynolds, who was 
 afterwards knighted, and certainly the most elegant painter of 
 his day, was a pretty dexterous courtier of the wit tribe ; and 
 it was through this gentleman, who painted a piece of me, Lady 
 L} r ndon, and our little Biyan, which was greatby admired at the 
 Exhibition (I was represented as quitting my wife, in the cos- 
 'tume of the Tippleton 3-eomaniy, of which I was major ; the 
 child starting back from ny helmet like what-dye-call-'im — 
 Hector's son, as described by Mr. Pope in his " Iliad ") ; it was 
 through Mr. Reynolds that I was introduced to a score of these 
 gentlemen, and their great chief, Mr. Johnson. I always 
 thought their great chief a great bear. He drank tea twice or 
 thrice at nry house, misbehaving himself most grossly ; treating 
 m}- opinions with no more respect than those of a schoolboy, 
 and telling me to mind my horses and tailors, and not trouble 
 myself about letters. His Scotch bear-leader, Mr. Bos well, 
 was a butt of the first quality. I never saw such a figure as the 
 fellow cut in what he called a Corsican habit, at one of Mrs. 
 Cornely's balls at Carlisle House, Soho. But that the 6tories 
 connected with that same establishment are not the most profit- 
 
 * The memoirs seem to have been written about the year 1814, in that 
 calm retreat which Fortune had selected for the author at the close of his 
 life. 
 
222 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 able tales in the world, I could tell tales of scores of queer doings 
 there. All the high and low demireps of the town gathered 
 there, from his grace of Ancaster down to my countryman, poor 
 Mr. Oliver Goldsmith the poet, and from the Duchess of Kings- 
 ton down to the Bird of Paradise, or Kitty Fisher. Here I have 
 met very queer characters, who came to queer ends too : poor 
 Hackman, that afterwards was hanged for killing Miss Ray, and 
 (on the sly) his Reverence Dr. Simony, whom my friend Sam 
 Foote, of the " Little Theatre," bade to live even after forgery 
 and the rope cut short the unlucky parson's career. 
 
 It was a merry place, London, in those days, and that's the 
 truth. I'm writing now in my gouty old age, and people 
 have grown vastly more moral and matter-of-fact than they 
 were at the close of the last century, when the world was young 
 with me. There was a difference between a gentleman and a 
 common fellow in those times. We wore silk and embroidery 
 then. Now every man has the same coachman-like look in his 
 belcher and caped coat, and there is no outward difference be- 
 tween my lord and his groom. Then it took a man of fashion 
 a couple of hours to make his toilette, and he could show some 
 taste and genius in the selecting it. What a blaze of splendor 
 was a drawing-room, or an opera, of a gala night ! What sums 
 of money were lost and won at the delicious faro-table ! My 
 gilt curricle and outriders, blazing in green and gold, were very 
 different objects to the equipages you see now-a-days in the ring, 
 with the stunted grooms behind them. A man could drink four 
 times as much as the milksops now-a-days can swallow : but 'tis 
 useless expatiating on this theme. Gentlemen are dead and 
 gone. The fashion has now turned upon your soldiers and 
 sailors, and I grow quite moody and sad when I think of thirty 
 years ago. 
 
 This is a chapter devoted to reminiscences of what was a 
 very happy and splendid time with me, but presenting little of 
 mark in the way of adventure ; as is generally the case when 
 times are happy and easy. It would seem idle to fill pages with 
 accounts of the ever3'-da3 T occupations of a man of fashion, — 
 the fair ladies who smiled upon him, the dresses he wore, the 
 matches he pla} - ed, and won or lost. At this period of time, 
 when youngsters are emplo3"ed cutting the Frenchmen's throats 
 in Spain and France, tying out in bivouacs, and feeding off 
 commissariat beef and biscuit, the3 r would not understand what 
 a life their ancestors led ; and so I shall leave further discourse 
 upon the pleasures of the times when even the Prince was a lad 
 in leading-strings, when Charles Fox had not subsided into a 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 223 
 
 mere statesman, and Buonaparte was a beggarly brat in his 
 native island? 
 
 Whilst these improvements were going on in my estates, — 
 my house, from an antique Norman castle, being changed to 
 an elegant Greek temple, or palace — mj' gardens and woods 
 losing their rustic appearance to be adapted to the most genteel 
 French style — my child growing up at his mother's knees, and 
 my influence in the country increasing, — it must not be im- 
 agined that I stajed in Devonshire all this while, and that I 
 neglected to make visits to London, and my various estates in 
 England and Ireland. 
 
 I went to reside at the Trecothick estate and the Polwellan 
 Wheal, where I found, instead of profit, eveiy kind of petti- 
 fogging chicaner}* ; I passed over in state to our territories in 
 Ireland, where I entertained the gently in a style the Lord 
 Lieutenant himself could not equal ; gave the fashion to Dublin 
 (to be sure it was a beggarly, savage city in those days ; and, 
 since the time there has been a pother about the Union, and 
 the misfortunes attending it, I have been at a loss to account 
 for the mad praises of the old order of things, which the fond 
 Irish patriots have invented) ; I saj' I set the fashion to Dublin ; 
 and small praise to me, for a poor place it was in those times, 
 whatever the Irish party may say. 
 
 In a former chapter I have given you a description of it. It 
 was the Warsaw of our part of the world : there was a splendid, 
 ruined, half-civilized nobilit}', ruling over a half-savage popula- 
 tion. I say half savage advisedly. The commonalty in the 
 streets were wild, unshorn, and in rags. The most public 
 places were not safe after nightfall. The College, the public 
 buildings, and the great gentry's houses were splendid (the 
 latter unfinished for the most part) ; but the people were in a 
 state more wretched than any vulgar I have ever known : the 
 exercise of their religion was only half allowed to them ; their 
 clergy were forced to be educated out of the country ; their 
 aristocracy was quite distinct from them ; there was a Protes- 
 tant nobility, and in the towns, poor, insolent Protestant cor- 
 porations, with a bankrupt retinue of mayors, aldermen, and 
 municipal officers — all of whom figured in addresses and had 
 the public voice in the country ; but there was no sympathy 
 and connection between the upper and the lower people of the 
 Irish. To one who had been bred so much abroad as m}'self, 
 this difference between Catholic and Protestant was doubly 
 striking ; and though as firm as a rock in my own faith, yet I 
 could not help remembering my grandfather held a different 
 
224 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 one, and wondering that there should be such a political differ- 
 ence between the two. I passed among my neighbors for a 
 dangerous leveller, for entertaining and expressing such opin- 
 ions, and especially for asking the priest of the parish to mu- 
 table at Castle Lyndon. He was a gentleman, educated at 
 Salamanca, and, to m} - mind, a far better bred and more agree- 
 able companion than his comrade the rector, who had but a 
 dozen Protestants for his congregation ; who was a lord's son, 
 co be sure, but he could hardly spell, and the great field of his 
 labors was in the kennel and cockpit. 
 
 I did not extend and beautify the house of Castle Lyndon as 
 I had done our other estates, but contented myself with paying 
 an occasional visit there ; exercising an almost royal hospitality, 
 and keeping open house during my stay. When absent, I gave 
 to my aunt, the widow Brady, and her six unmarried daughters 
 (although they always detested me) , permission to inhabit the 
 place ; my mother preferring m}' new mansion of Barryogue. 
 
 And as my Lord Bullingdon was by this time grown exces- 
 sively tall and troublesome, I determined to leave him under 
 the care of a proper governor in Ireland, with Mrs. Brady and 
 her six daughters to take care of him ; and he was welcome to 
 fall in love with all the old ladies if he were so minded, and 
 thereby imitate his step-father's example. When tired of Castle 
 Lyndon, his lordship was at liberty to go and reside at my 
 house with my mamma ; but there was no love lost between 
 him and her, and, on account of my son Bryan, I think she 
 hated him as cordially as ever I myself could possibly do. 
 
 The county of Devon is not so lucky as the neighboring 
 county of Cornwall, and has not the share of representatives 
 which the latter possesses ; where I have known a moderate 
 country gentleman, with a few score of hundreds per annum 
 from his estate, treble his income bj r returning three or four 
 Members to Parliament, and by the influence with Ministers 
 which these seats gave him. The parliamentary interest of the 
 house of Lj'ndon had been grossly neglected during nvy wife's 
 minority, and the incapacity of the earl her father ; or, to 
 speak more correctly, it had been smuggled away from the 
 Lyndon family altogether by the adroit old hypocrite of Tiptoff 
 Castle, who acted as most kinsmen and guardians do by their 
 wards and relatives, and robbed them. The Marquess of Tiptoff 
 returned four Members to Parliament : two for the borough of 
 Tippleton, which, as all the world knows, lies at the foot of our 
 estate of Hackton, bounded on the other side by Tiptoff Park. 
 For time out of mind we had sent Members for that borough, 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 225 
 
 until Tiptoff, taking advantage of the late lord's imbecility, put 
 in his own nominees. When his eldest son became of age, of 
 course ray lord was to take his seat for Tippleton ; when Rigby 
 (Nabob Rigby, who made his fortune under Clive in India) 
 died, the Marquis thought fit to bring down his second son, ray 
 Lord George Poynings, to whom I have introduced the reader 
 in a former chapter, and determined, in his high mightiness, 
 that he too should go on and swell the ranks of the opposition 
 — the big old Whigs, with whom the marquess acted. 
 
 Rigby had been for some time in an ailing condition pre- 
 vious to his demise, and you may be sure that the circumstance 
 of his failing health had not been passed over by the gentry of 
 the county, who were staunch government men for the most 
 part, and hated my Lord iiptorf's principles as dangerous and 
 ruinous. "We have been looking out for a man to fight 
 against him," said the squires to me; "we can only match 
 Tiptoff out of Hackton Castle. You, Mr. Lyndon, are our 
 man, and at the next county election we will swear to bring 
 you in." 
 
 I hated the Tiptoffs so, that I would have fought them at any 
 election. They not only would not visit at Hackton, but de- 
 clined to receive those who visited us ; the}" kept the women of 
 the county from receiving my wife : the}' invented half the wild 
 stories of my profligacy and extravagance with which the neigh- 
 borhood was entertained ; they said I had frightened my wife 
 into marriage, and that she was a lost woman ; they hinted 
 that Bullingdon's life was not secure under my roof, that his 
 treatment was odious, and that I wanted to put him out of the 
 way to make place for Bryan my son. I could scarce have a 
 friend to Hackton, but they counted the bottles drank at my 
 table. Thej- ferreted out my dealings with my lawyers and 
 agents. If a creditor was unpaid, every item of his bill was 
 known at Tiptoff Hall ; if I looked at a farmer's daughter, it 
 was said I had ruined her. My faults are man}-, I confess, 
 and as a domestic character, I can't boast of any particular 
 regularity, or temper ; but Lady Lyndon and I did not quarrel 
 more than fashionable people do, and, at first, we always used 
 to make it up pretty well. I am a man full of errors, certainly, 
 but not the devil that these odious backbiters at Tiptoff repre- 
 sented me to be. For the first three years I never struck my 
 wife but when I was in liquor. When I flung the carving- 
 knife at Bullingdon I was drunk, as everybody present can 
 testify ; but as for having any systematic scheme against the 
 poor lad, I can declare solemnly that, beyond merely hating 
 
 16 
 
226 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 him (and one's inclinations are not in one's power), I am guilty 
 of no evil towards him . 
 
 I had sufficient motives, then, for enmity against the 
 Tiptoffs, and am not a man to let a feeling of that kind lie 
 inactive. Though a Whig, or, perhaps, because a Whig, the 
 marquess was one of the haughtiest men breathing, and treated 
 commoners as his idol the great earl used to treat them — 
 after he came to a coronet himself — as so many low vassals, 
 who might be proud to lick his shoebuckle. When the Tip- 
 pleton mayor and corporation waited upon him, he received 
 them covered, never offered Mr. Ma3'or a chair, but retired 
 when the refreshments were brought, or had them served to 
 the worshipful aldermen in the steward's room. These honest 
 Britons never rebelled against such treatment, until instructed 
 to do so by my patriotism. !No, the dogs liked to be bul- 
 lied : and, in the course of a long experience, I have met 
 with but very few Englishmen who are not of their way of 
 thinking. 
 
 It was not until I opened their eyes that they knew their 
 degradation. I invited the Mayor to Hackton, and Mrs. May- 
 oress (a very buxom, pretty groceress she was, by the way) I 
 made sit by my wife, and drove them both out to the races in 
 nry curricle. Lady Lyndon fought very hard against this con- 
 descension ; but I had a way with her, as the saying is, and 
 though she had a temper, yet I had a better one. A tem- 
 per, psha ! A wild-cat has a temper, but a keeper can get the 
 better of it ; and I know very few women in the world whom I 
 could not master. 
 
 Well, I made much of the mayor and corporation ; sent them 
 bucks for their dinners, or asked them to mine ; made a point 
 of attending their assemblies, dancing with their wives and 
 daughters, going through, in short, all the acts of politeness 
 which are necessary on such occasions : and though old Tipton" 
 must have seen my goings on, yet his head was so much in the 
 clouds, that he never once condescended to imagine his dynasty 
 could be overthrown in his own town of Tippleton, and issued 
 his mandates as securely as if he had been the Grand Turk, 
 and the Tippletonians no better than so many slaves of his 
 will. 
 
 Every post which brought us any account of Rigby's increas- 
 ing illness, was the sure occasion of a dinner from me ; so 
 much so, that my friends of the hunt used to laugh and say, 
 " Rigby's worse ; there's a corporation dinner at Hackton." 
 
 It was in 1776, when the American war broke out, that I 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 227 
 
 came into Parliament. My Lord Chatham, whose wisdom his 
 party in those 4&ys used to call superhuman, raised his oracu- 
 lar voice in the House of Peers against the American contest ; 
 and my countryman, Mr. Burke — a great philosopher, but a 
 plaguy long-winded orator — was the champion of the rebels 
 in the Commons — where, however, thanks to British patriot- 
 ism, he could get but very few to back him. Old Tiptoff 
 would have sworn black was white if the great earl had 
 bidden him ; and he made his son give up his commission in 
 the Guards, in imitation of my Lord Pitt, who resigned his 
 ensigncy rather than fight against what he called his American 
 brethren. 
 
 But this was a height of patriotism extremely little relished 
 in England, where, ever since the breaking out of hostilities, 
 our people hated the Americans heartily ; and where, when we 
 heard of the fight of Lexington, and the glorious victory of 
 Bunker's Hill (as we used to call it in those days), the nation 
 flushed out in its usual hot-headed anger. The talk was all 
 against the philosophers after that, and the people were most 
 indomitably loyal. It was not until the land-tax was increased, 
 that the gentry began to grumble a little ; but still 1113" party 
 in the West was very strong against the Tiptoffs, and I deter- 
 mined to take the field and win as usual. 
 
 The old marquess neglected every one of the decent precau- 
 tions which are requisite in a parliamentary campaign. He 
 signified to the corporation and freeholders his intention of pre- 
 senting his son, Lord George, and his desire that the latter 
 Should be elected their burgess ; but he scarcely gave so much 
 as a glass of beer to whet the devotedness of his adherents : 
 and I, as I need not sa} T , engaged every tavern in Tippleton 
 in 1113' behalf. 
 
 There is no need to go over the twent3--times-told tale of an 
 election. I rescued the borough of Tippleton from the hands 
 of Lord Tiptoff and his son, Lord George. I had a savage 
 sort of satisfaction, too, in forcing my wife (who had been at 
 one time exceedingly smitten b3 - her kinsman, as I have alread3' 
 related,) to take part against him, and to wear and distribute 
 my colors when the day of election came. And when we 
 spoke at one another, I told the crowd that I had beaten Lord 
 George in love, that I had beaten him in war, and that I would 
 now beat him in Parliament ; and so I did, as the event proved : 
 for, to the inexpressible anger of the old marquess, Barry- 
 Lyndon, Esquire, was returned Member of Parliament for 
 Tippleton, in place of John Rigby, Esquire, deceased ; and I 
 
228 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 threatened him at the next election to turn him out of both his 
 seats, and went to attend my duties in Parliament. 
 
 It was then I seriously determined on achieving for myself 
 the Irish peerage, to be enjoyed after me by my beloved son 
 and heir. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH MY GOOD FORTUNE BEGINS TO WAVER. 
 
 And now, if an}' people should be disposed to think my 
 history' immoral (for I have heard some assert that I was a man 
 who never deserved that so much prosperity should fall to my 
 share) , I will beg those cavillers to do me the favor to read the 
 conclusion of my adventures ; when they will see it was no such 
 great prize that I had won, and that wealth, splendor, thirty 
 thousand per annum, and a seat in Parliament, are often pur- 
 chased at too dear a rate, when one has to buy those enjoy- 
 ments at the price of personal liberty, and saddled with the 
 charge of a troublesome wife. 
 
 They are the deuce, these troublesome wives, and that is 
 the truth. No man knows until he tries how wearisome and 
 disheartening the burthen of one of them is, and how the 
 annoyance grows and strengthens from year to year, and the 
 courage becomes weaker to bear it ; so that that trouble which 
 seemed light and trivial the first year, becomes intolerable ten 
 years after. I have heard of one of the classical fellows in the 
 dictionary who began by carrying a calf up a hill every day, 
 and so continued until the animal grew to be a bull, which he 
 still easily accommodated upon his shoulders ; but take my 
 word for it, young unmarried gentlemen, a wife is a very much 
 harder pack to the back than the biggest heifer in Smithfield : 
 and, if I can prevent one of you from marrying, the "Memoirs 
 of Barry Lyndon, Esq.," will not be written in vain. Not that 
 my lady was a scold or a shrew, as some wives are ; I could have 
 managed to have cured her of that ; but she was of a cowardly, 
 crying, melancholy, maudlin temper, which is to me still more 
 odious : do what one would to please her, she would never be 
 happy or in good humor. I left her alone after a while ; and 
 because, as was natural in my case, where a disagreeable home 
 obliged me to seek amusement and companions abroad, she 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 229 
 
 added a mean, detestable jealousy to all her other faults : I 
 could not for some time pay the commonest attention to an}' 
 other woman, but my Lady Ljndon must weep, and wring her 
 hands, and threaten to commit suicide, and I know not what. 
 
 Her death would have been no comfort to me, as I leave any 
 person of common prudence to imagine ; for that scoundrel of 
 a j'oung Bullingdon (who was now growing up a tall, gawky, 
 swarthy lad, and about to become my greatest plague and an- 
 noyance) would have inherited every penny of the property, 
 and I should have been left considerably poorer even than when 
 I married the widow : for I spent my personal fortune as well 
 as the lady's income in the keeping up of our rank, and was 
 always too much of a man of honor and spirit to save a penny 
 of Lady Lyndon's income. Let this be flung in the teeth of my 
 detractors, who say I never could have so injured the Lyndon 
 property had I not been making a private purse for nr^self ; 
 and who believe that, even in my present painful situation, I 
 have hoards of gold laid by somewhere, and could come out as 
 a Croesus when I choose. I never raised a shilling upon Lady 
 Lyndon's property but I spent it like a man of honor ; besides 
 incurring numberless personal obligations for mone}', which all 
 went to the common stock. Independent of the Lyndon mort- 
 gages and incumbrances, I owe myself at least one hundred and 
 twenty thousand pounds, which I spent while in occupancy of my 
 wife's estate : so that I may justly say that property is indebted 
 to me in the above-mentioned sum. 
 
 Although I have described the utter disgust and distaste 
 which speedil}' took possession of nry breast as regarded Lady 
 Lyndon ; and although I took no particular pains (for I am all 
 frankness and aboveboard) to disguise mj' feelings in general, 
 yet she was of such a mean spirit, that she pursued me with her 
 regard in spite of my indifference to her, and would kindle up 
 at the smallest kind word I spoke to her. The fact is, between 
 my respected reader and tnyself, that I was one of the hand- 
 somest and most dashing young men of England in those days, 
 and my wife was violently in love with me ; and though I say 
 it who shouldn't, as the phrase goes, my wife was not the only 
 woman of rank in London who had a favorable opinion of the 
 humble Irish adventurer. What a riddle these women are, I 
 have often thought ! I have seen the most elegant creatures at 
 St. James's grow wild for love of the coarsest and most vulgar 
 of men ; the cleverest women passionately admire the most 
 illiterate of our sex, and so on. There is no end to the con- 
 trariety in the foolish creatures ; and though I don't mean to 
 
230 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 hint that / am vulgar or illiterate, as the persons mentioned 
 above (I would cut the throat of any man who dared to whisper 
 a word against my birth or my breeding), yet I have shown 
 that Lady Lyndon had plenty of reason to dislike me if she 
 chose : but, like the rest of her silly sex, she was governed by 
 infatuation, not reason ; and, up to the very last day of our 
 being together, would be reconciled to me, and fondle me, if I 
 addressed her a single kind word. 
 
 "Ah," she would say, in these moments of tenderness — 
 "Ah, Redmond, if you would always be so!" And in these 
 fits of love she was the most easy creature in the world to be 
 persuaded, and would have signed away her whole property, 
 had it been possible. And, I must confess, it was with very 
 little attention on my part that I could bring her into good 
 humor. To walk with her on the Mall, or at Ranelagh, to 
 attend her to church at St. James's, to purchase any little 
 present or trinket for her, was enough to coax her. Such is 
 female inconsistency ! The next day she would be calling me 
 "Mr. Barry" probably, and be bemoaning her miserable fate 
 that she ever should have been united to such a monster. So 
 it was she was pleased to call one of the most brilliant men in 
 his Majesty's three kingdoms : and I warrant me other ladies 
 had a much more flattering opinion of me. 
 
 Then she would threaten to leave me ; but I had a hold of 
 her in the person of her son, of whom she was passionately 
 fond : I don't know why, for she had always neglected Bul- 
 lingdon her elder son, and never bestowed a thought upon his 
 health, his welfare, or his education. 
 
 It was our .young boy, then, who formed the great bond of 
 union between me and her lach'ship ; and there was no plan of 
 ambition I could propose in which she would not join for the 
 poor lad's behoof, and no expense she would not eagerly incur, 
 if it might by any means be shown to tend to his advancement. 
 I can tell you, bribes were administered, and in high places too, 
 — so near the royal person of his Majest}-, that you would be 
 astonished were I to mention what great personages conde- 
 scended to receive our loans. I got from the English and Irish 
 heralds a description and detailed pedigree of the Barony of 
 Barryogue, and claimed respectfully to be reinstated in my 
 ancestral titles, and also to be rewarded with the Viscounty of 
 Ballybarry. "This head would become a coronet," my lady 
 would sometimes say, in her fond moments, smoothing down 
 my hair ; and, indeed, there is many a puny whipster in their 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 231 
 
 lordships' house who has neither my presence nor m} r courage, 
 my pedigree, nor any of my merits. 
 
 The striving after this peerage I consider to have been one 
 of the most unlucky of all my unlucky dealings at this period.. 
 I made unheard-of sacrifices to bring it about. I lavished 
 money here and diamonds there. I bought lands at ten times 
 their value ; purchased pictures and articles of vertu at ruinous 
 prices. I gave repeated entertainments to those friends to my 
 claims who, being about the rcyal person, were likely to advance 
 it. I lost mam- a bet to the royal dukes his Majesty's brothers : 
 but let these matters be forgotten, and, because of nvy private 
 injuries, let me not be deficient in loyalty to my sovereign. 
 
 The only person in this transaction whom I shall mention 
 openly, is that old scamp and swindler, Gustavus Adolphus, 
 thirteenth Earl of Crabs. This nobleman was one of the gentle- 
 men of his Majesty's closet, and one with whom the revered 
 monarch was on terms of considerable intimacy. A close re- 
 gard had sprung up between them in the old King's time ; when 
 his royal highness, playing at battledore and shuttlecock with 
 the young lord on the landing-place of the great staircase at 
 Kew, in some moment of irritation, the Prince of Wales kicked 
 the young earl down stairs, who, falling, broke his leg. The 
 prince's hearty repentance for his violence caused him to airy 
 himself closely with the person whom he had injured ; and 
 when his Majesty came to the throne there was no man, it is 
 said, of whom the Earl of Bute was so jealous as of my Lord 
 Crabs. The latter was poor and extravagant, and Bute got 
 Him out of the way, by sending him on the Russian and other 
 embassies ; but on this favorite's dismissal, Crabs sped back 
 from the Continent, and was appointed almost immediately to 
 a place about his Majesty's person. 
 
 It was with this disreputable nobleman that I contracted an 
 unlucky intimacy ; when, fresh and unsuspecting, I first estab- 
 lished myself in town, after my marriage with Lad3' Lyndon : 
 and, as Crabs was really one of the most entertaining fellows in 
 the world, I took a sincere pleasure in his company ; besides 
 the interested desire I had in cultivating the society of a man 
 who was so near the person of the highest personage in the 
 realm. 
 
 To hear the fellow, you would fancy that there was scarce 
 any appointment made in which he had not a share. He told 
 me, for instance, of Charles Fox being turned out of his place 
 a day before poor Charley himself was aware of the fact. He 
 told me when the Howes were coming back from America, and 
 
232 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 who was to succeed to the command there. Not to multiply 
 instances, it was upon this person that I fixed my chief reliance 
 for the advancement of my claim to the Barony of Barryo<nie 
 and the Viscounty which I proposed to get. 
 
 One of the main causes of expense which this ambition of 
 mine entailed upon me was the fitting out and arming a com- 
 pany of infantry from the Castle Lyndon and Hackton estates, 
 in Ireland, which I offered to my gracious sovereign for the 
 campaign against the American rebels. These troops, su- 
 perbly equipped and clothed, were embarked at Portsmouth in 
 the year 1778; and the patriotism of the gentleman who had 
 raised them was so acceptable at court, that, on being presented 
 by 1113- Lord North, his Majesty condescended to notice me par- 
 ticularly, and said, "That's right, Mr. Lyndon, raise another 
 company ; and go with them, too ! " But this was by no means, 
 as the reader may suppose, to my notions. A man with thirty 
 thousand pounds per annum is a fool to risk his life like a com- 
 mon beggar : and on this account I have always admired the 
 conduct of my friend Jack Bolter, who had been a most active 
 and resolute cornet of horse, and, as such, engaged in every 
 scrape and skirmish which could fall to his lot ; but just before 
 the battle of Minden he received news that his uncle, the great 
 army contractor, was dead, and had left him five thousand per 
 annum. Jack that instant applied for leave ; and, as it was 
 refused him oh the eve of a general action, my gentleman took 
 it, and never fired a pistol again : except against an officer who 
 questioned his courage, and whom he winged in such a cool and 
 determined manner, as showed all the world that it was from 
 prudence and a desire of enjoying his money, not from coward- 
 ice, that he quitted the profession of arms. 
 
 When this Hackton company was raised, my step-son, who 
 was now sixteen years of age, was most eager to be allowed to 
 join it, and I would have gladly consented to have been rid of 
 the young man ; but his guardian, Lord Tiptoff, who thwarted 
 me in everything, refused his permission, and the lad's military 
 inclinations were balked. If he could have gone on the ex- 
 pedition, and a rebel rifle had put an end to him, I believe, to 
 tell the truth, I should not have been grieved overmuch ; and I 
 should have had the pleasure of seeing my other son the heir 
 to the estate which his father had won with so much pains. 
 
 The education of this young nobleman had been, I confess, 
 some of the loosest ; and perhaps the truth is, I did neglect the 
 brat. He was of so wild, savage, and insubordinate a nature, 
 that I never had the least regard for him ; and before me and 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 233 
 
 his mother, at least, was so moody and dull, that I thought in- 
 struction thrown awa}' upon him, and left him for the most part 
 to shift for himself. For two whole years he remained in Ire- 
 land, away from 'us ; and when in England, we kept him mainly 
 at Hackton, never caring to have the uncouth, ungainly lad in 
 the genteel company in the capital in which we naturally min- 
 gled. My own poor-boj 7 , on the contrary, was the most polite 
 and engaging child ever seen : it was a pleasure to treat him 
 with kindness and distinction ; and before he was five j-ears 
 old, the little fellow was the pink of fashion, beauty, and good 
 breeding. 
 
 In fact he could not have been otherwise, with the care both 
 his parents bestowed upon him, and the attentions that were 
 lavished upon him in every way. When he was four years old, 
 I quarrelled with the English nurse who had attended upon 
 him, and about whom my wife had been so jealous, and pro- 
 cured for him a French gouvernante, who had lived with families 
 of the first qualit}- in Paris ; and who, of course, must set my 
 Lady Lyndon jealous too. Under the care of this young woman 
 my little rogue learned to chatter French most charmingly. It 
 would have done 3*011 r heart good to hear the dear rascal swear 
 Mart de ma vie! and to see him stamp his little foot, and send 
 the manans and canaille of the domestics to the trente mille 
 diables. He was precocious in all things : at a ver3* earby age 
 he would mimic eve^'bocby ; at five, he would sit at table, and 
 drink his glass of champagne with the best of us ; and his nurse 
 would teach him little French catches, and the last Parisian 
 songs of Vade and Collard, — pretty* songs the3* were too ; and 
 would make such of his hearers as understood French burst 
 with laughing, and, I promise 3*ou, scandalize some of the old 
 dowagers who were admitted into the societ3* of his mamma : 
 not that there were man3* of them ; for I did not encourage the 
 visits of what you call respectable people to Lady Lyndon. 
 The3* are sad spoilers of sport, — tale-bearers, envious, nar- 
 row-minded people ; making mischief between man and wife. 
 Whenever air)* of these grave personages in hoops and high 
 heels used to make their appearance at Hackton, or in Berkeley 
 Square, it was nr*.* chief pleasure to frighten them off; and I 
 would make my little Bryan dance, sing, and pla3* the diable a 
 quatre, and aid him nryself so as to scare the old frumps. 
 
 I never shall forget the solemn remonstrances of our old 
 square-toes of a rector at Hackton., who made one or two vain 
 attempts to teach little Bryan Latin, and with whose innumer- 
 able children ^sometimes allowed the bo3* to associate. The3* 
 
234 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 learned some of Bryan's French songs from him, which their 
 mother, a poor soul who understood pickles and custards much 
 better than French, used fondly to encourage them in singing ; 
 but which their father one day hearing, he sent Miss .Sarah to 
 her bedroom and bread and water for a week, and solemnly 
 horsed Master Jacob in the presence of all his brothers and 
 sisters, and of Bryan, to whom he hoped that Hogging would 
 act as a warning. But my little rogue kicked and plunged 
 at the old parson's shins until he was obliged to get his sex- 
 ton to hold him down, and swore, co)-b'eu, morbleu, ventrebleu, 
 that his young friend Jacob should not be maltreated. After 
 this scene, his reverence forbade Bryan the rectory-house ; on 
 which I swore that his eldest son, who was bringing up for 
 the ministry, should never have the succession of the living 
 of Hackton, which I had thoughts of bestowing on him ; and 
 his father said, with a canting hypocritical air, which I hate, 
 that heaven's will must be done ; that he would not have his 
 children disobedient or corrupted for the sake of a bishopric ; 
 and wrote me a pompous and solemn letter, charged with 
 Latin quotations, taking farewell of me and my house, "I 
 do so with regret," added the old gentleman, " for I have 
 received so many kindnesses from the Hackton family that 
 it goes to my heart to be disunited from them. My poor, I 
 fear, may suffer in consequence of my separation from you, 
 and my being henceforward unable to bring to your notice 
 instances of distress and affliction ; which, when the}' were 
 known to you, I will do you the justice to say, your gen- 
 erosity was always prompt to relieve." 
 
 There may have been some truth in this, for the old 
 gentleman was perpetually pestering me with petitions, and I 
 know for a certainty, from his own charities, was often with- 
 out a shilling in his pocket ; but I suspect the good dinners 
 at Hackton had a considerable share in causing his regrets at 
 the dissolution of our intimacy : and I know that his wife 
 was quite sorry to forego the acquaintance of Bryan's gouver- 
 vante, Mademoiselle Louison, who had all the newest French 
 fashions at her fingers' ends, and who never went to the rec- 
 tory but you would see the girls of the family turn out in new 
 sacks or mantles the Sunday after. 
 
 I used to punish the old rebel by snoring very loud in nry 
 pew on Sundays during sermon-time ; and I got a governor 
 presenth* for Bryan, and a chaplain of my own, when he 
 became of age sufficient to be separated from the women's 
 society and guardianship. His English nurse I married to my 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 235 
 
 head gardener, with a handsome portion ; his French gouverncmte 
 I bestowed upon m}- faithful German Fritz, not forgetting the 
 dowry in the latter instance ; and they set up a French dining- 
 house in Soho, and I believe at the time I write they are richer 
 in the world's goods than their generous and free-handed 
 master. 
 
 For Bryan I now got a young gentleman from Oxford, the 
 Rev. Edmund Lavender, who was commissioned to teach him 
 Latin, when the boy was in the humor, and to ground him in 
 history, grammar, and the other qualifications of a gentleman. 
 Lavender was a precious addition to our society at Hackton. 
 He was the means of making a deal of fun there. He was the 
 butt of all our jokes, and bore them with the most admirable 
 and martyrlike patience. He was one of that sort of men 
 who would rather be kicked by a great man than not be noticed 
 by him ; and I have often put his wig into the fire in the face 
 of the company, when he would laugh at the joke as well as 
 any man there. It was a delight to put him on a high-mettled 
 horse, and send him after the hounds, — pale, sweating, calling 
 on us, for heaven's sake, to stop, and holding on for the dear 
 life b3 r the mane and the crupper. How it happened that the 
 fellow was never killed I know not ; but I suppose hanging is 
 the way in which his neck will be broke. He never met with 
 any accident, to speak of, in our hunting matches : but 30U 
 were pretty sure to find him at dinner in his place at the bot- 
 tom of the table making the punch, whence he would be car- 
 ried off fuddled to bed before the night was over. Man}' a 
 time have Biyan and I painted his face black on those occa- 
 sions. We put him into a haunted room, and frightened his 
 soul out of his body with ghosts : we let loose cargoes of rats 
 upon his bed ; we cried fire, and filled his boots with water ; 
 we cut the legs off his preaching-chair, and filled his sermon- 
 book with snuff. Poor Lavender bore it all with patience ; and 
 at our parties, or when we came to London, was amply repaid 
 by being allowed to sit with the gentlefolks, and to fancy him- 
 self in the society of men of fashion. It was good to hear 
 the contempt with which he talked about our rector. " He 
 has a son, sir, who is a servitor : and a servitor at a small col- 
 lege," he would say. " How could you, my dear sir, think of 
 giving the reversion of Hackton to such a low-bred creature? " 
 
 I should now speak of m} T other son, at least m}' Lad} r 
 Lj'ndon's, I mean the Viscount Bullingdon. I kept him in 
 Ireland for some years, under the guardianship of my mother, 
 whom I had installed at Castle Lyndon ; and great, I promise 
 
236 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 3-011, was her state in that occupation, and prodigious the good 
 soul's splendor and haughty bearing. With all her oddities 
 the Castle Lyndon estate was the best managed of all our pos- 
 sessions ; the rents were excellently paid, the charges of get- 
 ting them in smaller than they would have been under the 
 management of any steward. It was astonishing what small 
 expenses the good widow incurred ; although she kept up the 
 dignity of the two families, as she would say. She had a set 
 of domestics to attend upon the young lord ; she never went 
 out herself but in an old gilt coach and six : the house was 
 kept clean and tight ; the furniture and gardens in the best 
 repair ; and, in our occasional visits to Ireland, we never found 
 any house we visited in such good condition as our own. 
 There were a score of ready serving-lasses, and half as many 
 trim men about the Castle ; and everything in as fine condi- 
 tion as the best housekeeper could make it. All this she did 
 with scarcely any charges to us : for she fed sheep and cattle 
 in the parks, and made a handsome profit of them at Ballin- 
 asloe : she supplied I don't know how many towns with butter 
 and bacon ; and the fruit and vegetables, from the gardens of 
 Castle Lyndon got the highest prices in Dublin market. She 
 had no waste in the kitchen, as there used to be in most of 
 our Irish houses ; and there was no consumption of liquor in 
 the cellars, for the old lady drank water, and saw little or no 
 company. All her society was a couple of the girls of my 
 ancient flame, Nora Brady, now Mrs. Quin ; who with her 
 husband had spent almost all their property, and who came to 
 see me once in London, looking very old, fat, and slatternly, 
 with two dirty children at her side. She wept very much when 
 she saw me, called me "Sir" and "Mr. Lyndon." at which 
 I was not sorry, and begged me to help her husband ; which I 
 did, getting him, through my friend Lord Crabs, a place in the 
 excise in Ireland, and paying the passage of his family and 
 himself to that country. 1 found him a dirty, cast-down, 
 snivelling drunkard ; and, looking at poor Nora, could not but 
 wonder at the days when I had thought her a divinity. But 
 if ever I have had a regard for a woman. I remain through 
 life her constant friend, and could mention a thousand such 
 instances of my generous and faithful disposition. 
 
 Young Bullingdon, however, was almost the only person 
 with whom she was concerned that my mother could not 
 keep in order. The accounts she sent me of him at first 
 were such as gave rny paternal heart considerable pain. He 
 rejected all regularity and authority. He would absent him- 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 237 
 
 self for weeks from the house on sporting or other expedi- 
 tions. He was, when at home, silent and queer, refusing to 
 make my mother's game at piquet of evenings, but plung- 
 ing into all sorts of musty old books, with which he mud- 
 dled his brains ; more at ease laughing and chatting with 
 the pipers and maids in the servants'-hall, than with the 
 gentry in the drawing-room ; always cutting jibes and jokes 
 at Mrs. Barry, at which she (who was rather a slow woman 
 at repartee) would chafe violently : in fact, leading a life of 
 insubordination and scandal. And, to crown all, the young 
 scapegrace took to frequenting the society of the Romish 
 priest of the parish — a threadbare rogue, from some Popish 
 semiuary in France or Spain — rather than the company of 
 the vicar of Castle Lyndon, a gentleman of Trinity, who 
 kept his hounds and drank his two bottles a clay. 
 
 Regard for the lad's religion made me not hesitate then how 
 I should act towards him. If I have any principle which has 
 guided me through life, it has been respect for the Establish- 
 ment, and a hearty scorn and abhorrence of all other forms of 
 belief. I therefore sent mj 7 French body-servant, in the 3"ear 
 17 — , to Dublin with a commission to bring the young repro- 
 bate over ; and the report brought to me was that he had passed 
 the whole of the last night of his stay in Ireland with his Popish 
 friend at the mass-house ; that he and my mother had a violent 
 quarrel on the ver} r last day ; that, on the contrary, he kissed 
 Biddy and Dos} T , her two nieces, who seemed very sorry that 
 he .should go ; and that being pressed to go and visit the rector, 
 he' absolutely refused, saying he was a wicked old Pharisee, in- 
 side whose doors he would never set his foot. The doctor wrote 
 me a letter, warning me against the deplorable errors of this 
 young imp of perdition, as he called him ; and I could see that 
 there was no love lost between them. But it appeared that, if 
 not agreeable to the gentry of the country, young Bullingdon 
 had a huge popularity among the common people. There was 
 a regular crowd weeping round the gate when his coach took its 
 departure. Scores of the ignorant, savage wretches ran for miles 
 along b} r the side of the chariot ; and some went even so far as 
 to steal awa}' before his departure, and appear at the Pigeon- 
 House at Dublin to bid him a last farewell. It was with con- 
 siderable difficulty that some of these people could be kept from 
 secreting themselves in the vessel, and accompanying their 
 3*oung lord to England. 
 
 To do the young scoundrel justice, when he came among us, 
 he was a manly, noble-looking lad, and everything in his bear- 
 
238 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ing and appearance betokened the high blood from which he 
 came. He was the very portrait of some of the dark cavaliers 
 of the Lyndon race, whose pictures hung in the gallery at Hack- 
 ton : where the lad was fond of spending the chief part of his 
 time, occupied with the musty old books which he took out of 
 the library, and which I hate to see a young man of spirit poring 
 over. Always in my company he preserved the most rigid 
 silence, and a haughty, scornful demeanor ; which was so much 
 the more disagreeable because there was nothing in his behavior 
 I could actually take hold of to find fault with: although his 
 whole conduct was insolent and supercilious to the highest de- 
 gree. His mother was very much agitated at receiving him on 
 his arrival ; if he felt any such agitation he certainly did not 
 show it. He made her a very low and formal bow when he 
 kissed her hand ; and, when I held out mine, put both his hands 
 behind his back, stared me full in the face, and bent his head, 
 saying, "Mr. Barry Lyndon, I believe;" turned on his heel, 
 and began talking about the state of the weather to his mother, 
 whom he always styled "Your Ladyship." She was angry at 
 this pert bearing, and, when they were alone, rebuked him 
 sharply for not shaking hands with his father. 
 
 " My father, madam?" said he; " surely you mistake. My 
 father was the Right Honorable Sir Charles Lyndon. / at 
 least have not forgotten him, if others have." It was a decla- 
 ration of war to me, as I saw at once ; though I declare I was 
 willing enough to have received the boy well on his coming 
 amongst us, and to have lived with him on terms of friendliness. 
 But as men serve me I serve them. "Who can blame me for 
 my after-quarrels with this young reprobate, or lay upon my 
 shoulders the evils which afterwards befell? Perhaps I lost my 
 temper, and nvy subsequent treatment of him was hard. But 
 it was he began the quarrel, and not I ; and the evil conse- 
 quences which ensued were entirety of his creating. 
 
 As it is best to nip vice in the bud, and for a master of a 
 family to exercise his authority in such a manner as that there 
 may be no question about it, I took the earliest opportunity of 
 coming to close quarters with Master Bullingdon ; and the day 
 after his arrival among us, upon his refusal to perform some duty 
 which I requested of him, I had him conve^yed to my stud}*, and 
 thrashed him soundly. This process, I confess, at first, agitated 
 me a good deal, for 1 had never laid a whip on a lord before ; 
 but I got speedily used to the practice, and his back and my 
 whip became so well acquainted, that I warrant there was very 
 little ceremony between us after a while. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 239 
 
 If I were to repeat all the instances of the insubordination 
 and brutal conduct of 3'oung Bullingdon, I should weary the 
 reader. His perseverance in resistance was, I think, even greater 
 than mine in correcting him : for a man. be he ever so much re- 
 solved to do his duty as a parent, can't be flogging his children 
 all day, or for every fault they commit : and though I got the 
 character of beingso cruel a step-father to him, I pledge my word 
 I spared him correction when he merited it many more times than 
 I administered it. Besides, there were eight clear months in the 
 year when he was quit of me. during the time of my presence in 
 London, at nry place in Parliament, and at the court of nay 
 sovereign. 
 
 At this period I made no difficulty to allow him to profit by 
 the Latin and Greek of the old rector ; who had christened him, 
 and had a considerable influence over the wayward lad. After 
 a scene or a quarrel between us. it was generally to the rector- 
 house that the young rebel would fly for refuge and counsel ; and 
 I must own that the parson was a pretty just umpire between 
 us in our disputes. Once he led the boy back to Hackton by 
 the hand, and actually brought him into my presence, although 
 he had vowed never to enter the doors in my lifetime again, and 
 said, "He had brought his lordship to acknowledge his error, 
 and submit to any punishment I might think proper to inflict." 
 Upon which I caned him in the presence of two or three friends 
 of mine, with whom I was sitting drinking at the time ; and to 
 do him justice, he bore a pretty severe punishment without 
 wincing or crying in the least. This will show that I was not 
 too severe in nry treatment upon the lad. as I had the authority 
 of the clergyman himself for inflicting the correction which I 
 thought proper. 
 
 Twice or thrice, Lavender, Bryan's governor, attempted to 
 punish my Lord Bullingdon ; but I promise you the rogue was 
 too strong for him, and levelled the Oxford man to the ground 
 with a chair : greatly to the delight of little Bryan, who cried 
 out "Bravo, Bully! thump him, thump him!" And Bully 
 certainly did, to the governor's heart's content ; who never 
 attempted personal chastisement afterwards ; but contented 
 himself by bringing the tales of his lordship's misdoings to me, 
 his natural protector and guardiau. 
 
 With the child, Bullingdon was, strange to say, pretty tract- 
 able. He took a liking for the little fellow, — as, indeed, 
 everybody who saw that darling boy did, — liked him the more, 
 he said, because he was " half a Lyndon." And well he might 
 like him, for mam' a time, at the dear angel's intercession of 
 
240 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 "Papa, don't flog Bully to-day!" I have held my hand, and 
 saved him a horsing, which he richly deserved. 
 
 With his mother, at first, he would scarcely deign to have 
 am - communication. He said she was no longer one of the fam- 
 ily. Why should he love her, as she had never been a moth- 
 er to him? But it will give the reader an idea of the dogged 
 obstinacy and surliness of the lad's character, when I mention 
 one trait regarding him. It has been made a matter of com- 
 plaint against me, that I denied him the education befitting a 
 gentleman, and never sent him to college or to school ; but the 
 fact is, it was of his own choice that he went to neither. lie 
 had the offer repeatedly from me (who wished to see as little 
 of his impudence as possible), but he as repeatedly declined; 
 and, for a long time, I could not make out what was the charm 
 which kept him in a house where he must have been far from 
 comfortable. 
 
 It came out, however, at last. There used to be very fre- 
 quent disputes between my Lad}' Lyndon and myself, in which 
 sometimes she was wrong, sometimes I was ; and which, as 
 neither of us had very angelical tempers, used to run very high. 
 I was often in liquor ; and when in that condition, what gen- 
 tleman is master of himself ? Perhaps I did, in this state, 
 use my lady rather roughly ; fling a glass or two at her, and 
 call her by a few names that were not complimentary. I 
 may have threatened her life (which it was obviously my in- 
 terest not to take), and have frightened her, in a word, con- 
 siderably. 
 
 After one of these disputes, in which she ran screaming 
 through the galleries, and I, as tips}* as a lord, came staggering 
 after, it appears Bullingdon was attracted out of his room by 
 the noise ; as I came up with her, the audacious rascal tripped 
 up my heels, which were not very stead}', and catching his 
 fainting mother in his arms, took her into his own room ; where 
 he, upon her entreaty, swore he would never leave the house as 
 long as she continued united with me. I knew nothing of the 
 vow, or indeed of the tipsy frolic which was the occasion of it ; 
 I was taken up "glorious," as the phrase is, by my servants, 
 and put to bed, and, in the morning, had no more recollection 
 of what had occurred any more than of what happened when I 
 was a baby at the breast. Lady Lyndon told me of the circum- 
 stance years after ; and I mention it here, as it enables me to 
 plead honorably " not guilty" to one of the absurd charges of 
 cruelty trumped up against me with respect to my step-son. 
 Let my detractors apologize, if the}' dare, for the conduct of a 
 
BARRY LYNDOX, ESQ. 241 
 
 graceless ruffian who trips up the heels of his own natural 
 guardian and step-father after dinner. 
 
 This circumstance served to unite mother and son for a little ; 
 but their characters were too different. I believe she was too 
 fond of me ever to allow him to be sincerely reconciled to her. 
 As he grew up to be a man, his hatred towards me assumed an 
 iutensit}' quite wicked to think of (and which I promise vou 
 I returned with interest) : and it was at the age of sixteen, I 
 think, that the impudent young hang-dog, on my return from 
 Parliament one summer, and on my proposing to cane him as 
 usual, gave me to understand that he would submit to no far- 
 ther chastisement from me, and said, grinding his teeth, that he 
 would shoot me if I laid hands on him. I looked at him ; he 
 was grown, in fact, to be a tall young man, and I gave up that 
 necessary part of his education. 
 
 It was about this time that I raised the company which was 
 to serve in America ; and my enemies in the country (and since 
 my victory over the Tiptoffs I scarce need say I had many of 
 them) began to propagate the most shameful reports regarding 
 my conduct to that precious young scapegrace my step-son, and 
 to insinuate that I actually wished to get rid of him. Thus my 
 loyalty to my sovereign was actually construed into a horrid, 
 unnatural attempt on my part on Bullingdon's life ; and it was 
 said that I had raised the American corps for the sole purpose 
 of getting the young viscount to command it, and so of getting 
 rid of him. I am not sure that they had not fixed upon the 
 name of the very man in the company who was ordered to de- 
 spatch him at the first general action, and the bribe I was to 
 give him for this delicate piece of service. 
 
 But the truth is, I was of opinion then (and though the ful- 
 filment of my prophec}' has been delayed, yet I make no doubt 
 it will be brought to pass ere long), that my Lord Bullingdon 
 needed none of my aid in sending him into the other world ; but 
 had a happy knack of finding the way thither himself, which he 
 would be sure to pursue. In truth, he began upon this way 
 early : of all the violent, daring, disobedient scapegraces that 
 ever caused an affectionate parent pain, he was certainly the 
 most incorrigible; there was no beating him, or coaxing him, 
 or taming him. 
 
 For instance, with my little son, when his governor brought 
 him into the room as we were over the bottle after dinner, my 
 lord would begin his violent and undutiful sarcasms at me. 
 
 " Dear child," he would say, beginning to caress and fondle 
 him, "what a pity it is I am not dead for thy sake! The 
 
 10 
 
242 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Lyndons would then have a worthier representative, and enjoy 
 all the benefit of the illustrious blood of the Barn's of Barryogue ; 
 would the}' not, Mr. Banw Lyndon ? " He always chose the 
 days when company, or the clergy or gentry of the neighbor- 
 hood, were present, to make these insolent speeches to me. 
 
 Another day (it was Bryan's birthday) we were giving a 
 grand ball and gala at Hackton, and it was time for my little 
 Bryan to make his appearance among us, as he usually did in 
 the smartest little court-suit you ever saw (ah me ! but it 
 brings tears into m}' old eyes now to think of the bright looks 
 of that darling little face). There was a great crowding and 
 tittering when the child came in, led by his half-brother, who 
 walked into the dancing-room (would you believe it?) in his 
 stocking-feet, leading little Bryan by the hand, paddling about 
 in the great shoes of the elder ! " Don't you think he fits my 
 shoes very well, Sir Richard Wargrave?" says the young repro- 
 bate : upon which the company began to look at each other and 
 to titter; and his mother, coming up to Lord Bullingdon with 
 great dignity, seized the child to her breast, and said, "From 
 the manner in which I love this child, my lord, you ought to 
 know how I would have loved his elder brother had he proved 
 worthy of any mother's affection ! " and, bursting into tears, 
 Lady Lyndon left the apartment, and the young lord rather 
 discomfited for once. 
 
 At last, on one occasion, his behavior to me was so out- 
 rageous (it was in the hunting-field and in a large public com- 
 pany), that I lost all patience, rode at the urchin straight, 
 wrenched him out of his saddle with all my force, and, flinging 
 him roughly to the ground, sprung down to it myself, and ad- 
 ministered such a correction across the 3'oung caitiffs head and 
 shoulders with my horsewhip as might have ended in his death, 
 had I not been restrained in time ; for my passion was up, and 
 I was iu a state to do murder or any other crime. 
 
 The lad was taken home and put to bed, where he lay for a 
 day or two in a fever, as much from rage and vexation as from 
 the chastisement I had given him ; and three days afterwards, 
 on sending to inquire at his chamber whether he would join the 
 family at table, a note was found on his table, and his bed was 
 empty and cold. The young villain had fled, and had the 
 audacity to write in the following terms regarding me to my 
 wife, his mother : — 
 
 " Madam," he said, " I have borne as long as mortal could 
 endure the ill treatment of the insolent Irish upstart whom you 
 have taken to your bed. It is not only the lowness of his birth 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 243 
 
 and the general brutality of his manners which disgust me, 
 and must make me hate him so long as I have the honor to bear 
 the name of Lyndon, which he is unworthy of, but the shameful 
 nature of his conduct towards your ladyship : his brutal and 
 ungentlemanlike behavior, his open infidelity, his habits of ex- 
 travagance, intoxication, his shameless robberies and swindling 
 of my property and yours. It is these insults to jxm which 
 shock and annoy me, more than the ruffian's infamous conduct 
 to m}'self. I would have stood by your ladyship as I promised, 
 but 3011 seem to have taken latterly 3-our husband's part ; and, 
 as I cannot personally chastise this low-bred ruffian, who, to 
 our shame be it spoken, is the husband of my mother ; and as 
 I cannot bear to witness his treatment of you, and loathe his 
 horrible societ} - as if it were the plague, I am determined to 
 quit m}' native country : at least during his detested life, or 
 during my own. I possess a small income from nvy father, of 
 which I have no doubt Mr. Barry will cheat me if he can ; but 
 which, if your ladyship has some feelings of a mother left, you 
 will, perhaps, award to me. Messrs. Childs, the bankers, can 
 have orders to pay it to me when due ; if they receive no such 
 orders, I shall be not in the least surprised, knowing you to be 
 in the hands of a villain who would not scruple to rob on the 
 highway ; and shall try to find out some wa}- in life for myself 
 more honorable than that by which the penniless Irish adven- 
 turer has arrived to turn me out of my rights and home." 
 
 This mad epistle was signed "■Bullingdon," and all the 
 neighbors vowed that I had been privy to his flight, and would 
 profit by it ; though I declare on m}' honor my true and sincere 
 desire, after reading the above infamous letter, was to have the 
 author within a good arm's length of me, that I might let him 
 know my opinion regarding him. But there was no eradicating 
 this idea from people's minds, who insisted that I wanted to 
 kill Bullingdon ; whereas murder, as I have said, was never 
 one of my evil qualities : and even had I wished to injure my 
 3'oung enemy ever so much, common prudence would have made 
 im' mind easA*, as I knew he was going to ruin his own way. 
 
 It was long before we heard of the fate of the audacious 
 3'oung truant ; but after some fifteen months had elapsed, I 
 had the pleasure of being able to refute some of the murderous 
 calumnies which had been uttered against me, by producing a 
 bill with Bullingdon's own signature, drawn from General 
 Tai'leton's arnry in America, where my company was conduct- 
 ing itself with the greatest glor3 r , and with wmich my lord was 
 serving as a volunteer. There were some of 1113* kind friends 
 
244 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 who persisted still in attributing all sorts of wicked intentions 
 to me. Lord Tiptoff would never believe that I would pa}' any 
 bill, much more any bill of Lord Bullingdon's ; old Lady Betty 
 Grimsby, his sister, persisted in declaring the bill was a forgery, 
 and the poor dear lord dead ; until there came a letter to her 
 ladyship from Lord Bullingdon himself, who had been at New 
 York at head-quarters, and who described at length the splendid 
 festival given by the officers of the garrison to our distinguished 
 chieftains, the two Howes. 
 
 In the meanwhile, if I had murdered nvy lord, I could scarcely 
 have been received with more shameful obloquy and slander 
 than now followed me in town and country. "You will hear 
 of the lad's death, be sure," exclaimed one of nvy friends. 
 "And then his wife's will follow," added another. " He will 
 marry Jenny Jones," added a third ; and so on- Lavender 
 brought me the news of these scandals about me : the country 
 was up against me. The farmers on market-days used to touch 
 their hats sulkily, and get out of nvy way ; the gentlemen who 
 followed ray hunt now suddenly seceded from it, and left off 
 ray uniform ; at the county ball, where I led out Lady Susan 
 Capermore, and took my place third in the dance after the 
 duke and the marquis, as was my wont, all the couples turned 
 away as we came to them, and we were left to dance alone. 
 Suke}- Capermore has a love of dancing which would make her 
 dance at a funeral if anybody asked her, and I had too much 
 spirit to give in at this signal instance of insult towards me ; 
 so we danced with some of the very commonest low people 
 at the bottom of the set — your apothecaries, wine-merchants, 
 attorneys, and such scum as are allowed to attend our public 
 assemblies. 
 
 The bishop, my Lady Lyndon's relative, neglected to invite 
 us to the palace at the assizes ; and, in a word, every indignity 
 was put upon me which could by possibility be heaped upon an 
 innocent and honorable gentleman. 
 
 My reception in London, whither I now carried nvy wife and 
 family, was scarcely more cordial. On paying nvy respects to 
 my sovereign at St. James's, his Majesty pointedly asked me 
 when I had news of Lord Bullingdon. On which I replied, 
 with no ordinan- presence of mind, " Sir, my Lord Bullingdon 
 is fighting the rebels against your Majesty's crown in America. 
 Does 3-our Majesty desire that I should send another regiment 
 to aid him?" On which the King turned on his heel, and I 
 made my bow out of the presence-chamber. When Lady 
 Lyndon kissed the Queen's hand at the drawing-room, I found 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 245 
 
 that precisely the same question had been put to her ladyship : 
 and she came home much agitated at the rebuke which had 
 been administered to her. Thus it was that nry loyalty was 
 rewarded, and my sacrifice, in favor of my country, viewed ! 
 I took away my establishment abruptly to Paris, where I met 
 with a very different reception : but my stay amidst the en- 
 chanting pleasures of that capital was extremely short ; for the 
 French Government, which had been long tampering with the 
 American rebels, now openly acknowledged the independence 
 of the United States. A declaration of war ensued : all we 
 happy English were ordered away from Paris ; and I think I 
 left one or two fair ladies there inconsolable. It is the only place 
 where a gentleman can live as he likes without being incom- 
 moded by his wife. The countess and I, during our stay, 
 scarcely saw each other except upon public occasions, at Ver- 
 sailles, or at the Queen's play-table ; and our clear little Bryan 
 advanced in a thousand elegant accomplishments, which ren- 
 dered him the delight of all who knew him. 
 
 I must not forget to mention here mj* last interview with my 
 good uncle, the Chevalier de Ballybarry, whom I left at Brussels 
 with strong intentions of making his salut, as the phrase is, and 
 who had gone into retirement at a convent there. Since then 
 he had come into the world again, much to his annoyance and 
 repentance ; having fallen desperately in love in his old age 
 with a French actress, who had clone, as most ladies of her 
 character do, — ruined him, left him, and laughed at him. His 
 repentance was very edifying. Under the guidance of Mes- 
 sieurs of the Irish College, he once more turned his thoughts 
 towards religion ; and his only prayer to me when I saw him 
 and asked in what I could relieve him, was to pay a handsome 
 fee to the convent into which he proposed to enter. 
 
 This I could not, of course, do : my religious principles for- 
 bidding me to encourage superstition in am* way : and the old 
 gentleman and I parted rather coolly, in consequence of my re- 
 fusal, as he said, to make his old days comfortable. 
 
 I was very poor at the time, that is the fact ; and entre nous, 
 the Rosemont of the French opera, an indifferent dancer, but a 
 charming figure and ankle, was ruining me in diamonds, equi- 
 pages, and furniture bills ; added to which I had a run of ill- 
 luck at play, and was forced to meet my losses by the most 
 shameful sacrifices to the mone} - -lenders, by pawning part 
 of Lad} 7 Lyndon's diamonds (that graceless little Rosemont 
 wheedled me out of some of them) , and b} T a thousand other 
 schemes for raising money. But when Honor is in the case, 
 
246 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 was I ever found backward at her call? and what man can say 
 that Bany Lyndon lost a bet which he did not pay ? 
 
 As for my ambitious hopes regarding the Irish peerage, I 
 began, on my return, to find out that I had been led wildly 
 astray by that rascal Lord Crabs ; who liked to take my money, 
 but had no more influence to get me a coronet than to procure 
 for me the Pope's tiara. The sovereign was not a whit more 
 gracious to me on returning from the Continent than he had been 
 before my departure ; and I had it from one of the aides-de- 
 camp of the royal dukes his brothers, that my conduct and 
 amusements at Paris had been odiously misrepresented bj" some 
 spies there, and had funned the subject of royal comment; and 
 that the King had, influenced b}* these calumnies, actually said 
 I was the most disreputable man in the three kingdoms. I 
 disreputable ! I a dishonor to my name and country ! When 
 I heard these falsehoods, I was in such a rage that I went off 
 to Lord North at once to remonstrate with the Minister ; to 
 insist upon being allowed to appear before his Majesty and clear 
 myself of the imputations against me, to point out my services 
 to the Government in voting with them, and to ask when the 
 reward that had been promised to me, viz. the title held by my 
 ancestors, was again to be revived in im- person? 
 
 There was a sleep3 r coolness in that fat Lord North, which 
 was the most provoking thing that the opposition had ever to 
 encounter from him. He heard me with half-shut eyes. When 
 I had finished a long, violent speech — which I made striding 
 about his room in Downing Street, and gesticulating with all 
 the energy of an Irishman — he opened one eye, smiled, and 
 asked me gently if I had done. On my replying in the affirma- 
 tive, he said, " Well. Mr. Barry, I'll answer 3011, point by point. 
 The King is exceedingly averse to make peers, as you know. 
 Your claims, as 3'ou call them, hare been laid before him, and 
 his Majesty's gracious reply was, that 3*ou were the most impu- 
 dent man in his dominions, and merited a halter rather than a 
 coronet. As for withdrawing your support from us, 3011 are per- 
 fectby welcome to carry yourself and your vote whithersoever 3'ou 
 please. And now, as I have a great deal of occupation, per- 
 haps you will do me the favor to retire." So saying, he raised 
 his hand laziby to the bell, and bowed me out ; asking blandly 
 if there was any other thing in the world in which he could 
 oblige me. 
 
 I went home in a fury which can't be described ; and having 
 Lord Crabs to dinner that day, assailed his lordship by pulling 
 his wig offhishead, and smothering it in his face, and by attack- 
 
BARRY LYNDON", ESQ. 247 
 
 ing him in that part of the person where, according to report, 
 he had been formerly assaulted by Majesty. The whole story 
 was over the town the next day, and pictures of me were hang- 
 ing in the clubs and print-shops performing the operation alluded 
 to. All the town laughed at the picture of the lord and the 
 Irishman, and I need not say, recognized both. As for me, I 
 was one of the most celebrated characters in London in those 
 daj r s : my dress, style, and equipage being as well known as 
 those of any leader of the fashion ; and my popularity, if not 
 great in the highest quarters, was at least considerable else- 
 where. The people cheered me in the Gordon rows, at the 
 time they nearly killed my friend Jemmy Twitcher and burned 
 Lord Mansfield's house clown. Indeed, I was known as a staunch 
 Protestant, and after my quarrel with Lord North veered right 
 round to the opposition, and vexed him with all the means in 
 my power. 
 
 These were not, unluckily, very great, for I was a bad 
 speaker, and the House would not listen to me, and presently, 
 in 1780, after the Gordon disturbance, was dissolved, when a 
 general election took place. It came on me, as all m}- mishaps 
 were in the habit of coming, at a most unlucky time. I was 
 obliged to raise more money, at most ruinous rates, to face the 
 confounded election, and had the Tiptoffs against me in the field 
 more active and virulent than ever. 
 
 M}^ blood boils even now when I think of the rascally con- 
 duct of my enemies in that scoundrelly election. I was held 
 up as the Irish Bluebeard, and libels of me were printed, and 
 gross caricatures drawn representing me flogging Lad}- Lyndon, 
 whipping Lord Bullingdon, turning him out of doors in a storm, 
 and I know not what. There were pictures of a pauper cabin 
 in Ireland, from which it was pretended I came ; others in which 
 I was represented as a lackey and shoeblack. A flood of 
 calumn}' was let loose upon me, in which airy man of less spirit 
 would have gone down. 
 
 But though I met my accusers boldly, though I lavished 
 sums of money in the election, though I flung open Hackton 
 Hall, and kept champagne and burgundy running there, and 
 at all my inns in the town, as commonly as water, the election 
 went against me. The rascally gentry had all turned upon me 
 and joined the Tiptoff faction : it was even represented that I 
 held my wife by force ; and though I sent her into the town alone, 
 w r earing my colors, with Bryan in her lap, and made her visit 
 the mayor's lady and the chief women there, nothing would 
 persuade the people but that she lived in fear and trembling of 
 
248 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 me ; and the brutal mob had the insolence to ask her why she 
 dared to go back, and how she liked horsewhip for supper. 
 
 I was thrown out of my election, and all the bills came down 
 upon me together — all the bills I had been contracting for the 
 jears of nry marriage, which the creditors, with a rascally una- 
 nimit} 7 , sent in until they lay upon my table in heaps. I won't 
 cite their amount: it was frightful. My stewards and lawyers 
 made matters worse. I was bound up in an inextricable toil of 
 bills and debts, of mortgages and insurances, and all the horri- 
 ble evils attendant upon them. Lawyers upon lawyers posted 
 down from London : composition after composition was made, 
 and Lady Lyndon's income hampered almost irretrievably to 
 satisf}' these cormorants. To do her justice, she behaved with 
 tolerable kindness at this season of trouble ; for whenever I 
 wanted money I had to coax her. and whenever I coaxed her I 
 was sure of bringing this weak and light-minded woman to good 
 humor : who was of such a weak, terrified nature, that to secure 
 an easy week with me she would sign away a thousand a year. 
 And when my troubles began at Hackton, and I determined on 
 the only chance left, viz. to retire to Ireland and retrench, 
 assigning over the best part of my income to the creditors until 
 their demands were met, my lady was quite cheerful at the idea 
 of going, and said, if we would be quiet, she had no doubt all 
 would be well ; indeed, was glad to undergo the comparative 
 poverty in which we must now live, for the sake of the retire- 
 ment and the chance of domestic quiet, which she hoped to 
 enjoy. 
 
 We went off to Bristol pretty suddenly, leaving the odious 
 and ungrateful wretches at Hackton to vilify us, no doubt, in 
 our absence. My stud and hounds w T ere sold off immediately : 
 the harpies would have been glad to pounce upon my person ; 
 but that was out of their pow.er. I had raised, by cleverness 
 and management, to the full as much on my mines and private 
 estates as they were worth ; so the scoundrels were disap- 
 pointed in this instance ; and as for the plate and propert}- in 
 the London house, they could not touch that, as it was the 
 property of the heirs of the house of Lyndon. 
 
 I passed over to Ireland then, and took up my abode at 
 Castle Lyndon for a while ; all the world imagining that I was 
 an utterly ruined man, and that the famous and dashing Barry 
 Ljmdon would never again appear in the circles of which he 
 had been an ornament. But it was not so. In the midst of 
 m}' perplexities, Fortune reserved a great consolation for me 
 still. Despatches came home from America announcing Lord 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 249 
 
 Cornwallis's defeat of General Gates in Carolina, and the death 
 of Lord Bullingdon, who was present as a volunteer. 
 
 For my own desires to possess a paltry Irish title I eared 
 little. My son' was now heir to an English earldom, and I 
 made him assume forthwith the title of Lord Viseount Castle 
 Lyndon, the third of the family titles. My mother went almost 
 mad with joy at saluting her grandson as " 1x13* lord," and I felt 
 that all my sufferings and privations were repaid by seeing this 
 darling child advanced to such a post of honor. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 If the world were not composed of a race of ungrateful 
 scoundrels, who share 3-our prosperity while it lasts, and, even 
 when gorged with your venison and burgundy, abuse the gen- 
 erous giver of the feast, I am sure I merit a good name and a 
 high reputation : in Ireland, at least, where my generosit}' was 
 unbounded, and the splendor of my mansion and entertain- 
 ments unequalled by any other nobleman of 1113- time. As long 
 as my magnificence lasted, all the country was free to partake 
 of it ; I had hunters sufficient in my stables to mount a regi- 
 ment of dragoons, and butts of wine in my cellar which would 
 have made whole counties drunk for years. Castle L}'ndon 
 became the head-quarters of scores of needy gentlemen, and I 
 never rode a-hunting but I had a dozen }*oung fellows of the 
 best blood of the country riding as my squires and gentlemen 
 of the horse. M3* son, little Castle Lyndon, was a prince : his 
 breeding and manners, even at his early age, showed him to 
 be wortlry of the two noble families from whom he was de- 
 scended : I don't know what high hopes I had for the boy, and 
 indulged in a thousand fond anticipations as to his future suc- 
 cess and figure in the world. But stern Fate had determined 
 that I should leave none of my race behind me, and ordained 
 that I should finish 1113' career, as I see it closing now — poor, 
 loneby, and childless. I may have had my faults ; but no man 
 shall dare to say of me that I was not a good and tender father. 
 I loved that bo3 - passionately ; perhaps with a blind partiality : 
 I denied him nothing. Gladly, gladly, I swear, would I have 
 died that his premature doom might have been averted. I 
 
250 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 think there is not a day since I lost him but his bright face and 
 beautiful smiles look down on me out of heaven, where he is, 
 and that my heart does not yearn towards him. That sweet 
 child was taken from me at the age of nine years, when he was 
 full of beauty and promise ; and so powerful is the hold his 
 memory has of me that I have never been able to forget him : 
 his little spirit haunts me of nights on my restless, solitary pil- 
 low ; many a time, in the wildest and maddest company, as the 
 bottle is going round, and the song and laugh roaring about, I 
 am thinking of him. I have got a lock of his soft brown hair 
 hanging round my breast now : it will accompany me to the 
 dishonored pauper's grave ; where soon, no doubt," Barry Lyn- 
 don's worn-out old bones will be laid. 
 
 My Bryan was a boy of amazing high spirit (indeed how, 
 coming from such a stock, could he be otherwise?), impatient 
 even of my control, against which the dear little rogue would 
 often rebel gallantly ; how much more, then, of his mother's 
 and the women's, whose attempts to direct him he would laugh 
 to scorn. Even my own mother ("Mrs. Barry of Lyndon" 
 the good soul now called herself, in compliment to my new 
 family) was quite unable to cheek him ; and hence you may 
 fancy what a will he had of his own. If it had not been for 
 that, he might have lived to this day : he might — but why re- 
 pine ? Is he not in a better place ? would the heritage of a 
 beggar do any service to him ? It is best as it is — heaven be 
 good to us ! — Alas ! that 1, his father, should be left to de- 
 plore him. 
 
 It was in the month of October I had been to Dublin, in 
 order to see a lawyer and a moneyed man who had come over 
 to Ireland to consult with me about some sales of mine and the 
 cut of Hackton timber ; of which, as I hated the place and was 
 greatly in want of money, I was determined to cut down every 
 stick. There had been some difficulty in the matter. It was 
 said I had no right to touch the timber. The brute peasantry 
 about the estate had been roused to such a pitch of hatred 
 against me, that the rascals actually refused to lay ah axe to 
 the trees ; and my agent (that scoundrel Larkins) declared that 
 his life was in danger among them if he attempted an}" further 
 despoilment (as they called it) of the property. Every article 
 of the splendid furniture was sold by this time, as I need not 
 say ; and, as for the plate, I had taken good care to bring it 
 off to Ireland, where it now was in the best of keeping — my 
 banker's, who had advauced six thousand pounds on it : which 
 sum I soon had occasion for. 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 251 
 
 I went to Dublin, then, to meet the English men of business ; 
 and so far succeeded in persuading Mr. Splint, a great ship- 
 builder and timber-dealer of Plymouth, of my claim to the 
 Hackton timber', that he agreed to purchase it off-hand, at 
 about one third of its value, and handed me over 5,000/. : 
 which, being pressed with debts at the time, I was fain to 
 accept. He had no difficulty in getting down the wood, I war- 
 rant. He took a regiment of shipwrights and sawyers from his 
 own and the king's yards at Plymouth, and in two months 
 Hackton Park was as bare of trees as the Bog of Allen. 
 
 I had but ill luck with that accursed expedition and money. 
 I lost the greater part of it in two nights' play at " Daly's," so 
 that my debts stood just as they were before ; and before the 
 vessel sailed for Holyhead, which carried away my old sharper 
 of a timber-merchant, all that I had left of the rnone}* he brought 
 me was a couple of hundred pounds, with which I returned 
 home very disconsolately : and very suddenly, too, for my Dub- 
 lin tradesmen were hot upon me, hearing I had spent the loan, 
 and two of my wine-merchants had writs out against me for 
 some thousands of pounds. 
 
 I bought in Dublin, according to my promise, however — 
 for when I give a promise I will keep it at an}' sacrifices — a 
 little horse for my dear little Bryan ; which was to be a present 
 for his tenth birthday, that was now coming on : it was a beau- 
 tiful little animal, and stood me in a good sum. I never 
 regarded money for that dear child. But the horse was very 
 wjld. He kicked off one of my horse-bo} - s, who rode him at 
 first, and broke the lad's leg ; and, though I took the animal in 
 hand on the journey home, it was only my weight and skill that 
 made the brute quiet. 
 
 When we got home I sent the horse away with one of my 
 grooms to a farmer's house, to break him thoroughby in, and 
 told Bryan, who was all anxiet}' to see his little horse, that he 
 would arrive hy his birthday, when he should hunt him along 
 with my hounds ; and I promised myself no small pleasure in 
 presenting the dear fellow to the field that day : which I hoped 
 to see him lead some time or other in place of his fond father. 
 Ah me ! never was that gallant boy to ride a fox-chase, or to 
 take the place amongst the gently of his country which his 
 birth and genius had pointed out for him ! 
 
 Though I don't believe in dreams and omens, yet I can't 
 but own that when a great calamitj' is hanging over a man he 
 has frequently many strange and awful forebodings of it. I 
 fancy now I had many. Lady Lyndon, especially, twice 
 
252 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 dreamed of her son's death ; but, as she was now grown un- 
 commonly nervous and vaporish, I treated her fears with scorn, 
 and my own, of course, too. And in an unguarded moment, 
 over the bottle after dinner, I told poor Bryan, who was always 
 questioning me about the little horse, and when it was to come, 
 that it was arrived ; that it was in Uoolan's farm, where Mick 
 the groom was breaking him in. "Promise me, Bryan," 
 screamed his mother, " that you will not ride the horse except 
 in company of your father." But I only said, tw Pooh, madam, 
 you are an ass ! " being angry at her silly timidity, which was 
 always showing itself in a thousand disagreeable ways now ; 
 and, turning round to Bryan, said, "I promise your lordship a 
 good flogging if you mount him without m}' leave." 
 
 I suppose the poor child did not care about paying this pen- 
 alty for the pleasure he was to have, or possibly thought a fond 
 father would remit the punishment altogether ; for the next 
 morning, when I rose rather late, having sat up drinking the 
 night before, I found the child had been off at daybreak, having 
 slipped through his tutor's room (this was Redmond Quin, our 
 cousin, whom I had taken to live with me), and I had no doubt 
 but that he was gone to Doolan's farm. 
 
 I took a great horsewhip and galloped off after him in a 
 rage, swearing I would keep my promise. But, heaven forgive 
 me, I little thought of it, when at three miles from home I met 
 a sad procession coming towards me : peasants moaning and 
 howling as our Irish do, the black horse led by the hand, and, 
 on a door that some of the folks carried, my poor dear, dear 
 little bo}'. There he lay in his little boots and spurs, and his 
 little coat of scarlet and gold. His dear face was quite white, 
 and he smiled as he held a hand out to me, and said, painfully, 
 " You won't whip me, will you, papa? " I could only burst out 
 into tears in reply. I have seen many and many a man dying, 
 and there's a look about the e} - es which yon cannot mistake. 
 There was a little drummer-boy I was fond of who was hit 
 down before m}' company at Kiihnersdorf ; when I ran up to 
 give him some water, he looked exaetby like my dear Bryan 
 then did — there's no mistaking that awful look of the eyes. 
 We carried him home and scoured the country round for doc- 
 tors to come and look at his hurt. 
 
 But what does a doctor avail in a contest with the grim, in- 
 vincible enemy? Such as came could only confirm our despair 
 by their account of the poor child's case. He had mounted his 
 horse gallantly, sat him bravely all the time the animal plunged 
 and kicked, and, having overcome his first spite, ran him at a 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 253 
 
 hedge by the roadside. But there were loose stones at the top, 
 and the horse's foot caught among them, and he and his brave 
 little rider rolled over together at the other side. The people 
 said the}- saw the noble little boy spring up after his fall and 
 run to catch the horse ; which had broken away from him, 
 kicking him on the back, as it would seem, as they lay on the 
 ground. Poor Bryan ran a few yards and then dropped down 
 as if shot. A pallor came over his face, and the}- thought he 
 was dead. But the}- poured whiskey down his mouth, and the 
 poor child revived : still he could not move ; his spine was 
 injured : the lower half of him was dead when they laid him in 
 bed at home. The rest did not last long, God help me ! He 
 remained yet for two days with us ; and a sad comfort it was 
 to think he was in no pain. 
 
 During this time the dear angel's temper seemed quite to 
 change : he asked his mother and me pardon for any act of 
 disobedience he had been guilty of towards us ; he said often he 
 should like to see his brother Bullingdon. "Bully was better 
 than you, papa," he said; " he used not to swear so, and he 
 told and taught me many good things while you were away." 
 And, taking a hand of his mother and mine in each of his little 
 clammy ones, he begged us not to quarrel so, but love each 
 other, so that we might meet again in heaven, where Bully told 
 him quarrelsome people never went. His mother was very 
 much affected by these admonitions from the poor suffering 
 angel's mouth ; and I was so too. I wish she had enabled me 
 to keep the counsel which the dying boy gave us. 
 
 ' At last, after two days he died. There he lay, the hope of 
 my family, the pride of my manhood, the link which had kept 
 me and my Lady Lyndon together. "Oh, Redmond," said 
 she, kneeling by the sweet child's body, "do, do let us listen 
 to the truth out of his blessed mouth ; and do you amend your 
 life, and treat your poor loving, fond wife as her dying child 
 bade you." And I said I would : but there are promises which 
 it is out of a man's power to keep ; especially with such a 
 woman as her. But we drew together after that sad event, and 
 were for several months better friends. 
 
 I won't tell you with what splendor we buried him. Of 
 what avail are undertakers' feathers and heralds' trumpery? I 
 went out and shot the fatal black horse that had killed him, at 
 the door of the vault where we laid my boy. I was so wild 
 that I could have shot myself too. But for the crime, it would 
 have been better that I should, perhaps ; for what has my life 
 
254 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 been since that sweet flower was taken out of my bosom ? A 
 succession of miseries, wrongs, disasters, and mental and bodily 
 sufferings, which never fell to the lot of any other man in 
 Christendom. 
 
 Lady Lyndon, always vaporish and nervous, after our blessed 
 boy's catastrophe became more agitated than ever, and plunged 
 into devotion with so much fervor, that you would have fancied 
 her almost distracted at times. She imagined she saw visions. 
 She said an angel from heaven had told her that Bryan's death 
 was as a punishment to her for her neglect of her first-born. 
 Then she would declare Bullingdon was alive ; she had seen 
 him in a dream. Then again she would fall into fits of sorrow 
 about his death, and grieve for him as violently as if he had 
 been the last of her sons who had died, and not our darling 
 Bryan ; who, compared to Bullingdon, was what a diamond is 
 to a vulgar stone. Her freaks were painful to witness, and 
 difficult to control. It began to be said in the country that the 
 countess was going mad. My scoundrelly enemies did not fail 
 to confirm and magnify the rumor, and would add that I was 
 the cause of her insanity : I had driven her to distraction, I had 
 killed Bullingdon, I had murdered my own son ; I don't know 
 what else they laid to my charge. Even in Ireland their hate- 
 ful calumnies reached me : my friends fell away from me. 
 They began to desert my hunt, as they did in England, and 
 when I went to race or market found sudden reasons for getting 
 out of my neighborhood. I got the name of Wicked Barry, 
 Devil Lyndon, which you please: the country-folks used to 
 make marvellous legends about me : the priests said I had 
 massacred I don't know how many German nuns in the Seven 
 Years' War ; that the ghost of the murdered Bullingdon haunted 
 my house. Once at a fair in a town hard by, when I had a 
 mind to buj' a waistcoat for one of my people, a fellow standing 
 by said, " 'Tis a strait waistcoat he's buying for my Lady 
 Lyndon." And from this circumstance arose a legend of niy 
 cruelty to my wife ; and many circumstantial details were nar- 
 rated regarding my manner and ingenuit}- of torturing her. 
 
 The loss of my dear bo}' pressed not only on my heart as a 
 father, but injured my individual interests in a very consider- 
 able degree ; for as there was now no direct heir to the estate, 
 and Lady Lyndon was of a weak health, and supposed to be 
 quite unlikely to leave a family, the next in succession — that 
 detestable fa rail}' of Tiptoff — began to exert themselves in a 
 hundred ways to annoy me, and were at the head of the party 
 of enemies who were raising reports to my discredit. They 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 255 
 
 interposed between me and m}' management of the property in 
 a hundred different waj-s : making an outcry if I cut a stick, 
 sunk a shaft, sold a picture, or sent a few ounces of plate to be 
 remodelled. They harassed me with ceaseless law-suits, got 
 injunctions from Chancery, hampered my agents in the execu- 
 tion of their work ; so much so that }'ou would have fancied my 
 own was not my own, but theirs, to do as the}' liked with. 
 What is worse, as I have reason to believe, they had tamper- 
 ings and dealings with my own domestics under mj' own roof; 
 for I could not have a word with Lady Lyndon but it somehow 
 got abroad, and I could not be drunk with m} T chaplain and 
 friends but some sanctified rascals would get hold of the news, 
 and reckon up all the bottles I drank and all the oaths I swore. 
 That these were not few, I acknowledge. I am of the old 
 school ; was always a free liver and speaker ; and, at least, if I 
 did and said what I liked, was not so bad as many a canting 
 scoundrel I know of who covers his foibles and sins, unsus- 
 pected, with a mask of holiness. 
 
 As I am making a clean breast of it, and am no hypocrite, 
 I may as well confess now that I endeavored to ward off* the 
 devices of my enemies b} r an artifice which was not, perhaps, 
 strictly justifiable. Everything depended on my having an heir 
 to the estate ; for if Lady Lyndon, who was of weakly health, 
 had died, the next day I was a beggar : all my sacrifices of 
 mone}', &c, on the estate would not have been held in a far- 
 thing's account ; all the debts would have been left on my shoul- 
 ders ; and my enemies would have triumphed over me : which, 
 to a man of my honorable spirit, was li the unkindest cut of 
 all," as some poet says. 
 
 I confess, then, it was nry wish to supplant these scoundrels ; 
 and, as I could not do so without an heir to m}* property, / 
 determined to find one. If I had him near at hand, and of my 
 own blood too, though with the bar sinister, is not here the 
 question. It was then I found out the rascally machinations 
 of my enemies ; for, having broached this plan to Lady Lyndon, 
 whom I made to be, outwardly at least, the most obedient of 
 wives, — although I never let a letter from her or to her go or 
 arrive without my inspection, — although I allowed her to see 
 none but those persons who I thought, in her delicate health, 
 would be fitting society for her ; yet the infernal Tiptoff's got 
 wind of my scheme, protested instantly against it, not 011I3- by 
 letter, but in the shameful libellous public prints, and held me 
 up to public odium as a " child-forger," as they called me. Of 
 course I denied the charge — I could do no otherwise, and 
 
256 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 offered to meet any one of the Tiptoffs on the field of honor, 
 and prove him a scoundrel and a liar: as he was; though, 
 perhaps, not in this instance. But they contented themselves 
 by answering me by a lawyer, and declined an invitation which 
 anj' man of spirit would have accepted. My hopes of having 
 an heir were thus blighted completely : indeed. Lady Lyndon 
 (though, as I have said, I take her opposition for nothing) had 
 resisted the proposal with as much energ}- as a woman of her 
 weakness could manifest ; and said she had committed one 
 great crime in consequence of me, but would rather die than 
 perform another. I could easily have brought her ladyship to 
 her senses, however: but my scheme had taken wind, and it 
 was now in vain to attempt it. We might have had a dozen 
 children in honest wedlock, and people would have said they 
 were false. 
 
 As for raising money on annuities, I may say I had used 
 her life-interest up. There were but few of those assurance 
 societies in m}' time which have since sprung up in the city of 
 London ; underwriters did the business, and my wife's life was 
 as well known among them as, I do believe, that of any woman 
 in Christendom. Latterly, when I wanted to get a sum against 
 her life, the rascals had the impudence to say my treatment of 
 her did not render it worth a year's purchase, — as if my interest 
 lay in killing her! Had my boy lived, it would have been a 
 different thing ; he and his mother might have cut off the entail 
 of a good part of the property between them, and my affairs 
 have been put in better order. Now they were in a bad con- 
 dition indeed. All my schemes had turned out failures : my 
 lands, wdiieh I had purchased with borrowed money, made me 
 no return, and I was obliged to pay ruinous interest for the 
 sums with which I had purchased them. My income, though 
 very large, was saddled with hundreds of annuities, and thou- 
 sands of lawyers' charges ; and I felt the net drawing closer 
 and closer round me, and no means to extricate myself from its 
 toils. 
 
 To add to all my perplexities, two years after my poor child's 
 death, my wife, whose vagaries of temper and wayward follies 
 I had borne with for twelve years, wanted to leave me, and 
 absolutely made attempts at what she called escaping from my 
 tyranny. 
 
 My mother, who was the only person that, in my misfor- 
 tunes, remained faithful to me (indeed, she has always spoken 
 of me in my true light, as a mart}T to the rascalit}- of others 
 and a victim of my own generous and confiding temper), found 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 257 
 
 out the first scheme that was going on ; and of which those 
 artful and malicious Tiptoifs were, as usual, the main pro- 
 moters. Mrs. Barry, indeed, though her temper was violent 
 and her ways singular, was an invaluable person to me in my 
 house ; which would have been at rack and ruin long before, 
 but for her spirit of order and management, and for her excel- 
 lent economy in the government of my numerous family. As 
 for my Lady" Lyndon, she, poor soul! was much too fine a lady 
 to attend to household matters — passed her clays with her 
 doctor, or her books of piety, and never appeared among us 
 except at my compulsion ; when she and my mother would be 
 sure to have a quarrel. 
 
 Mrs. Barry, on the contrary, had a talent for management 
 in all matters. She kept the maids stirring, and the footmen 
 to their duty ; had an eye over the claret in the cellar, and the 
 oats and hay in the stable ; saw to the salting and pickling, the 
 potatoes and the turf-stacking, the pig-killing and the poultry, 
 the linen-room and the bake-house, and the ten thousand mi- 
 nutiae of a great establishment. If all Irish housewives were 
 like her, I warrant many a hall-fire would be blazing where the 
 cobwebs only grow now, and many a park covered with sheep 
 and fat cattle where the thistles are at present the chief occu- 
 piers. If anything could have saved me from the consequences 
 of villany in others, and (I confess it, for I am not above own- 
 ing to m}- faults) 1113- own too easy, generous, and careless 
 nature, it would have been the admirable prudence of that 
 worthy creature. She never went to bed until all the house 
 was quiet and all the candles out ; and you may fancy that this 
 was a matter of some difficulty with a man of my habits, who 
 had commonly a dozen of jovial fellows (artful scoundrels and 
 false friends most of them were !) to drink with me every night, 
 and who seldom, for m}- part, went to bed sober. Many and 
 man}" a night, when I was unconscious of her attention, has 
 that good soul pulled my boots off, and seen me laid by my 
 servants snug in bed, and carried off the candle herself; and 
 been the first in the morning, too, to bring me my drink of 
 small-beer. Mine were no milksop times, I can tell you. A 
 gentleman thought no shame of taking his half-dozen bottles ; 
 and, as for 3"our coffee and slops, they were left to Lad}- Lyndon, 
 her doctor, and the other old women. It was my mother's pride 
 that I could drink more than any man in the country, — as 
 much, within a pint, as my father before me, she said. 
 
 That Lady Lyndon should detest her was quite natural. 
 She is not the first of woman or mankind either that has hated 
 
 17 
 
258 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 a mother-in-law. I set my mother to keep a sharp watch over 
 the freaks of her ladyship ; and this, you ma}' be sure, was one 
 of the reasons why the latter disliked her. I never minded 
 that, however. Mrs. Barry's assistance and surveillance were 
 invaluable to me ; and, if I had paid twenty spies to watch my 
 lady, I should not have been half so well served as by the 
 disinterested care and watchfulness of my excellent mother. 
 She slept with the house-keys under her pillow, and had an eye 
 everywhere. She followed all the countess's movements like a 
 shadow ; she managed to know, from morning till night, every- 
 thing that my lady did. If she walked in the garden, a watch- 
 ful eye was kept on the wicket ; and if she chose to drive out, 
 Mrs. Barry accompanied her, and a couple of fellows in my 
 liveries rode alongside of the carriage to see that she came to 
 no harm. Though she objected, and would have kept her room 
 in sullen silence. I made a point that we should appear together 
 at church in the eoach-and-six every Sunday ; and that she 
 should attend the race-balls in my company, whenever the coast 
 was clear of the rascally bailiffs who beset me. This gave the 
 lie to any of those maligners who said that I wished to make a 
 prisoner of my wife. The fact is, that, knowing her levity, 
 and seeing the insane dislike to me and mine which had now 
 begun to supersede what, perhaps, had been an equally insane 
 fondness for me, I was bound to be on my guard that she should 
 not give me the slip. Had she left me, I was ruined the next 
 day. This (which my mother knew) compelled us to keep a 
 tight watch over her ; but as for imprisoning her, I repel the 
 imputation with scorn. Every man imprisons his wife to a 
 certain degree; the world would be in a pretty condition if 
 women were allowed to quit home and return to it whenever 
 they had a mind. In watching over my wife, Lady Lyndon, I 
 did no more than exercise the legitimate authority which awards 
 honor and obedience to ever}' husband. 
 
 Such, however, is female artifice, that, in spite of all my 
 watchfulness in guarding her, it is probable my lady would have 
 given me the slip, had I not had quite as acute a person as her- 
 self as my ally : for, as the proverb says that " the best way to 
 catch one thief is to set another 'after him," so the best way 
 to get the better of a woman is to engage one of her own artful 
 sex to guard her. One would have thought that, followed as 
 she was, all her letters read, and all her acquaintances strictly 
 watched by me, living in a remote part of Ireland away from 
 her famiby, Lady Lyndon could have had no chance of com- 
 municating with her allies, or of making her wrongs, as she 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 259 
 
 was pleased to call them, public ; and yet, for a while, she 
 carried on a correspondence under my very nose, and acutely 
 organized a conspiracy for frying from me : as shall be told. 
 
 She always had an inordinate passion for dress, and, as she 
 was never thwarted in any whimsey she had of this kind (for I 
 spared no money to gratify her, and among my debts are mil- 
 liners' bills to the amount of many thousands), boxes used to 
 pass continually to and fro from Dublin, with all sorts of 
 dresses, caps, flounces, and furbelows, as her fancy dictated. 
 With these would come letters from her milliner, in answer to 
 numerous similar injunctions from my lad}' ; all of which passed 
 through my hands, without the least suspicion, for some time. 
 And yet in these very papers, by the eas}' means of sympathetic 
 ink, were contained all her ladyship's correspondence : and 
 heaven knows (for it was some time, as I have said, before I 
 discovered the trick) what charges against me. 
 
 But clever Mrs. Barry found out that alwaj's before my 
 lady-wife chose to write letters to her milliner, she had need of 
 lemons to make her drink, as she said ; this fact, being men- 
 tioned to me, set me a- thinking, and so I tried one of the let- 
 ters before the fire, and the whole scheme of villany was brought 
 to light. I will give a specimen of one of the horrid artful 
 letters of this unhappy woman. In a great hand, with wide 
 lines, were written a set of directions to her mantua-maker, 
 setting forth the articles of dress for which my lady had need, 
 the peculiarit} - of their make, the stuffs she selected, &c. She 
 would make out long lists in this wa}', writing each article 
 m a separate line, so as to have more space for detailing all 
 m} T cruelties and her tremendous wrongs. Between these lines 
 she kept the journal of her captivity : it would have made the 
 fortune of a romance-writer in those days but to have got a 
 copy of it, and to have published it under the title of the 
 " Lovely Prisoner, or the Savage Husband," or b} - some name 
 equally taking and absurd. The journal would be as follows : — 
 
 " Monday. — Yesterda}' I was made to go to church. My 
 odious, monstrous, vulgar, she-dragon of a mother-in-law, in a 
 yellow satin and red ribbons, taking the first place in the coach ; 
 Mr. L. riding by its side, on the horse he never paid for to 
 Captain Hurdlestone. The wicked hypocrite led me to the 
 pew, with hat in hand and a smiling countenance, and kissed 
 nry hand as I entered the coach after service, and patted nry 
 Italian greyhound, — all that the few people collected might 
 see. He made me come down stairs in the evening to make tea 
 
260 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 for his company; of whom three fourths, he himself included, 
 were, as usual, drunk. They painted the parson's face black, 
 when his reverence had arrived at his seventh bottle, and at 
 his usual insensible stage ; and they tied him on the gray mare 
 with his face to the tail. The she-dragon read the k Whole 
 Duty of Man ' all the evening till bedtime ; when she saw me 
 to my apartments, locked me in, and proceeded to wait upon 
 her abominable son : whom she adores for his wickedness, I 
 should think, as Stycorax did Caliban." 
 
 You should have seen my mother's fury as I read her out 
 this passage ! Indeed, I have always had a taste for a joke, 
 (that practised on the parson, as described above, is, I confess, 
 a true bill,) and used carefully to select for Mrs. Barry's hear- 
 ing all the compliments that Lady Lyndon passed upon her. The 
 dragon was the name by which she was known in this precious 
 correspondence : or sometimes she was designated by the title 
 of the " Irish Witch." As for me, I was denominated --my 
 gaoler," "my tyrant," " the dark spirit which has obtained the 
 master}* over my being," and so on ; in terms always compli- 
 mentary to my power, however little they might be so to my 
 amiability. Here is another extract from her " Prison Diary." 
 Try which it will be seen that my lady, although she pretended 
 to be so indifferent to my goings On, had a sharp woman's eye, 
 and could be as jealous as another : — 
 
 '- Wednesday. — This day two years my last hope and pleas- 
 ure in life was taken from me, and nvy dear child was called to 
 heaven. Has he joined his neglected brother there, whom I 
 suffered to grow up unheeded by my side ; and whom the 
 tyranny of the monster to whom I am united drove to exile, 
 and perhaps to death? Or is the child alive, as my fond heart 
 sometimes deems? Charles Bullingdon ! come to the aid of a 
 wretched mother, who acknowledges her crimes, her coldness 
 towards thee, and now bitterly pays for her error ! But no, he 
 cannot live! I am distracted! Mj r only hope is in you, my 
 cousin — j'ou whom I had once thought to salute by a still 
 fonder title, m}- dear George Po3'nings ! Oh, be my knight and 
 my preserver, the true chivalric being thou ever wert, and res- 
 cue me from the thrall of the felon caitiff who holds me captive, 
 — rescue me from him, and from Stycorax, the vile Irish witch, 
 his mother ! " 
 
 (Here follow some verses, such as her ladyship was in the 
 habit of composing by reams, in which she compares herself to 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 261 
 
 Sabra, in the " Seven Champions," and beseeches her George 
 to rescue her from the dragon, meaning Mrs. Barry. I omit the 
 lines, and proceed) : — 
 
 " Even my poor child, who perished untimely on this sad anni- 
 versaiy, the tyrant who governs me had taught to despise and 
 dislike me. 'Twaa in disobedience to my orders, my prayers, 
 that he went on the fatal journey. What sufferings, what humili- 
 ations have I had to endure since then ! I am a prisoner in my 
 own halls. I should fear poison, but that I know the wretch 
 has a sordid interest in keeping me alive, and that my death 
 would be the signal for his ruin. But I dare not stir without 
 nry odious, hideous, vulgar gaoler, the horrid Irishwoman, who 
 pursues my eveiy step. I am locked into my chamber at night, 
 like a felon, and only suffered to leave it when ordered into the 
 presence of 1113- lord (/ ordered !), to be present at his orgies 
 with his boon companions, and to hear his odious converse as 
 he lapses into the disgusting madness of intoxication ! He has 
 given up even the semblance of constancy — he, who swore that 
 I alone could attach or charm him ! And now he brings his 
 vulgar mistresses before 1113" very e3'es, and would have had me 
 acknowledge, as heir to n^- own property, his child b3' another ! 
 
 "No, I never will submit! Thou, and thou only, m3' 
 George, iny earhy friend, shall be heir to the estates of Lyndon. 
 Why did not Fate join me to thee, instead of to the odious 
 man who holds me under his swa3", and make the poor Calista 
 happy ! " 
 
 ' So the letters would run on for sheets upon sheets, in the 
 closest cramped handwriting ; and I leave any unprejudiced 
 reader to sa3' whether the writer of such documents must not 
 have been as silly and vain a creature as ever lived, and whether 
 she did not want being taken care of? I could copy out yards 
 of rhapsocby to Lord George Poynings, her old flame, in which 
 she addressed him b3* the most affectionate names, and implored 
 him to find a refuge for her against her oppressors ; but they 
 would fatigue the reader to peruse, as the3' would me to copy. 
 The fact is, that this unlucky lady had the knack of writing a 
 great deal more than she meant. She was always reading nov- 
 els and trash ; putting herself into imaginary characters and 
 filing off into heroics and sentimentalities with as little heart as 
 any woman I ever knew ; yet showing the most violent disposi- 
 tion to be in love. She wrote always as if she was in a flame 
 of passion. I have an eleg3 T on her lap-dog, the most tender 
 and pathetic piece she ever wrote ; and most tender notes of 
 
262 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 remonstrance to Betty, her favorite maid ; to her housekeeper, 
 on quarrelling with her ; to half a dozen acquaintances, each 
 of whom she addressed as the dearest friend in the world, and 
 forgot the very moment she took up another fancy. As for her 
 love for her children, the above passage will show how much 
 she was capable of true maternal feeling : the very sentence in 
 which she records the death of one child serves to betray her 
 egotisms, and to wreak her spleen against myself; and she 
 only wishes to recall another from the grave, in order that he 
 may be of some personal advantage to her. If I did deal 
 severely with this woman, keeping her from her flatterers who 
 would have bred discord between us, and locking her up out 
 of mischief, who shall say that I was wrong? If any woman 
 deserved a strait-waistcoat, it was my Lady Lyndon ; and I 
 have known people in my time manacled, and with their heads 
 shaved, in the straw, who had not committed half the follies 
 of that foolish, vain, infatuated creature. 
 
 My mother was so enraged by the charges against me and 
 herself which these letters contained, that it was with the utmost 
 difficulty I could keep her from discovering our knowledge of 
 them to Lady Lyndon ; whom it was, of course, my object to 
 keep in ignorance of our knowledge of her designs : for I was 
 anxious to know how far they went, and to what pitch of arti- 
 fice she would go. The letters increased in interest (as the}- 
 say of the novels) as they proceeded. Pictures were drawn of 
 my treatment of her which would make your heart throb. I 
 don't know of what monstrosities she did not accuse me. and 
 what miseries and starvation she did not profess herself to 
 undergo ; all the while she was living exceedingly tat and con- 
 tented, to outward appearances, at our house at Castle Lyndon. 
 Novel-reading and vanity had turned her brain. I could not 
 say a rough word to her (and she merited many thousands a da}-, 
 1 can tell you,) but she declared I was putting her to the tor- 
 ture ; and my mother could not remonstrate with her but she 
 went off into a fit of hysterics, of which she would declare the 
 wortlvy old lady was the cause. 
 
 At last she began to threaten to kill herself; and though I 
 by no means kept the cutlery out of the way, did not stint her 
 in garters, and left her doctor's shop at her entire service, — 
 knowing her character full well, and that there was no woman 
 in Christendon less likely to lay hands on her precious life than 
 herself ; yet these threats had an effect, evidently, in the quarter 
 to which they were addressed ; for the milliner's packets now 
 began to arrive with great frequency, and the bills sent to her 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 263 
 
 contained assurances of coming aid. The chivalrous Lord 
 George Poynings was coming to his cousin's rescue, and did 
 me the compliment to say that he hoped to free his dear cousin 
 from the clutches of the most atrocious villain that ever dis- 
 graced humanity ; and that, when she was free, measures 
 should be taken for a divorce, on the ground of cruelty and 
 every species of ill usage on my part. 
 
 I had copies of all these precious documents on one side and 
 the other carefully made, 03- my before-mentioned relative, god- 
 son, and secretary, Mr. Redmond Quin, at present the worthy 
 agent of the Castle Lyndon property. This was a son of my 
 old flame Nora, whom I had taken from her in a fit of gener- 
 osity ; promising to care for his education at Trinity College, 
 and provide for him through life. But after the lad had been 
 for a 3'ear at the University, the tutors would not admit him to 
 commons or lectures until his college bills were paid ; and, 
 offended by this insolent manner of demanding the paltry sum 
 due, I withdrew my patronage from the place, and ordered my 
 gentleman to Castle L}mdon ; where I made him useful to me 
 in a hundred ways. In my dear little boy's lifetime, he tutored 
 the poor child as far as his high spirit would let him ; but I 
 promise 3*011 it was small trouble poor dear Biyan ever gave 
 the books. Then he kept Mrs. Barry's accounts ; copied my 
 own interminable correspondence with nry lawyers and the 
 agents of all my various property ; took a hand at piquet or 
 backgammon of evenings with me and nn' mother ; or, being 
 an ingenious lad enough (though of a mean, boorish spirit, as 
 became the son of such a father), accompanied my Lad3' Lyn- 
 don's spinet with his flageolet ; or read French and Italian with 
 her : in both of which languages her ladyship was a fine scholar, 
 and in which he also became perfectby conversant. It would 
 make my watchful old mother very angry to hear them con- 
 versing in these languages ; for, not understanding a word of 
 either of them, Mrs. Barry was furious when the3" were spoken, 
 and always said it was some scheming the3 - were after. It was 
 Lady Lyndon's constant way of annoying the old lady, when 
 the three were alone together, to address Quin in one or other 
 of these tongues. 
 
 I was perfectly at ease with regard to his fidelity, for I had 
 bred the lad, and loaded him with benefits ; and, besides, had 
 had various proofs of his trustworthiness. He it was who 
 brought me three of Lord George's letters, in reply to some 
 of my lady's complaints ; which were concealed between the 
 leather and the boards of a book which was sent from the 
 
264 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 circulating librar}' for her ladyship's perusal. He and my lad}' 
 too had frequent quarrels. She mimicked his gait in her pleas- 
 anter moments ; in her haughty moods, she would not sit down 
 to table with a tailor's grandson. " Send me anything for 
 company but that odious Quin," she would say, when I pro- 
 posed that he should go and amuse her with his books and his 
 flute ; for, quarrelsome as we were, it must not be supposed we 
 were always at it : I was occasionally attentive to her. We 
 would be friends for a month together, sometimes ; then 
 we would quarrel for a fortnight ; then she would keep her 
 apartments for a month : all of which domestic circumstances 
 were noted down, in her ladyship's peculiar way, in her journal 
 of captivity, as she called it : and a pretty document it is ! 
 Sometimes she writes, "My monster has been almost kind 
 to-day," or, " My ruffian has deigned to smile." Then she 
 will break out into expressions of savage hate ; but for my 
 poor mother it was always hatred. It was. " The she-dragon 
 is sick to-day; I wish to heaven she would die ! " or, "The 
 hideous old Irish basket-woman has been treating me to some 
 of her Billingsgate to-day," and so forth : all which expressions, 
 read to Mrs. Barry, or translated from the French and Italian, 
 in which many of them were written, did not fail to keep the 
 old lady in a perpetual fury against her charge : and so I had 
 my watch-dog, as I called her, always on the alert. In trans- 
 lating these languages, young Quin was of great service to me ; 
 fori had a smattering of French — and High Dutch, when I 
 was in the army, of course I knew well — but Italian I knew 
 nothing of, and was glad of the services of so faithful and cheap 
 an interpreter. 
 
 This cheap and faithful interpreter, this godson and kins- 
 man, on whom and on whose family I had piled up benefits, 
 was actually trying to betray me ; and for several months, at 
 least, was in league with the enemy against me. I believe that 
 the reason why they did not move earlier, was the want of the 
 great mover of all treasons — money : of which, in all parts of 
 my establishment, there was a woful scarcity : but of this they 
 also managed to get a supply through my rascal of a godson, 
 who could come and go quite unsuspected : the whole scheme 
 was arranged under our very noses, and the post-chaise ordered, 
 and the means of escape actually got read}' ; while I never sus- 
 pected their design. 
 
 A mere accident made me acquainted with their plan. One 
 of my colliers had a pretty daughter ; and this pretty lass had 
 for her bachelor, as they call them in Ireland, a certain lad who 
 
BARRY LYNDOX, ESQ. 265 
 
 brought the letter-bag for Castle Lyndon (and many a dunning 
 letter for me was there in it, God wot!) : this letter-boy told 
 his sweetheart how he brought a bag of money from the town 
 for Master Quin ; and how that Tim the post-boy had told him 
 that he was to bring a chaise down to the water at a certain 
 hour. Miss Rooney, who had no secrets from me, blurted out 
 the whole story ; asked me what scheming I was after, and 
 what poor unlucky girl I was going to cany away with the 
 chaise I had ordered, and bribe with the money I had got from 
 town? 
 
 Then the whole secret flashed upon me, that the man I had 
 cherished in my bosom was going to betra}' me. I thought at 
 one time of catching the couple in the act of escape, half 
 drowning them in the ferry which they had to cross to get to 
 their chaise, and of pistolling the traitor before Lad}- Lyndon's 
 eyes ; but, on second thoughts, it was quite clear that the news 
 of the escape would make a noise through the country, and 
 rouse the confounded justice's people about m}- ears, and bring 
 me no good in the end. So I was obliged to smother ni}' just 
 indignation, and to content mj'self b}" crushing the foul con- 
 spiracy, just at the moment it was about to be hatched. 
 
 I went home, and in half an hour, and with a few of nvy 
 terrible looks, I had Lad}' Lyndon on her knees, begging me 
 to forgive her ; confessing all and eveiything ; ready to vow 
 and swear she would never make such an attempt again ; and 
 declaring that she was fifty times on the point of owning every- 
 thing to me, but that she feared my wrath against the poor 
 yoiTng lad her accomplice : who was indeed the author and 
 inventor of all the mischief. This — though I knew how 
 entirely false the statement was — I was fain to pretend to 
 believe ; so I begged her to write to her cousin, Lord George, 
 who had supplied her with money, as she admitted, and with 
 whom the plan had been arranged, stating, briefly, that she had 
 altered her mind as to the trip to the country proposed ; and 
 that, as her dear husband was rather in delicate health, she pre- 
 ferred to stay at home and nurse him. I added a dry postscript, 
 in which I stated that it would give me great pleasure if his 
 lordship would come and visit us at Castle Lyndon ; and that 
 I longed to renew an acquaintance which in former times gave 
 me so much satisfaction. " I should seek him out," I added, 
 " so soon as ever I was in his neighborhood, and eagerl}' antici- 
 pated the pleasure of a meeting with him." I think he must 
 have understood 1113- meaning perfect!} - well ; which was, that 
 
266 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 I would run him through the body on the very first occasion I 
 could come at him. 
 
 Then I had a scene with my perfidious rascal of a nephew ; 
 in which the young reprobate showed an audacity and a spirit 
 for which I was quite unprepared. When I taxed him with 
 ingratitude, "What do I owe you?" said he. " I have toiled 
 for you as no man ever did for another, and worked without a 
 penny of wages. It was you yourself who set me against you, 
 by giving me a task against which my soul revolted, — by 
 making me a spy over your unfortunate wife, whose weakness 
 is as pitiable as are her misfortunes and your rascally treatment 
 of her. flesh and blood could not bear to see the manner in 
 which you used her. I tried to help her to escape from you ; 
 and I would do it again, if the opportunity offered, and so I 
 tell you to your teeth ! " When I ottered to blow his brains out 
 for his insolence, " Pooh ! " said he, — tw kill the man who saved 
 vour poor boy's life once, and who was endeavoring to keep 
 him out of the ruin and perdition into which a wicked father 
 was leading him, when a Merciful Power interposed, and with- 
 drew him from this house of crime? I would have left you 
 months ago, but I hoped for some chance of rescuing this un- 
 happy lady. I swore I would try. the day I saw you strike her. 
 Kill me, you woman's bully ! You would if you dared ; but 
 you have not the heart. Your very servants like me better 
 than you. Touch me, and they will rise and send you to the 
 gallows you merit ! " 
 
 I interrupted this neat speech by sending a water-bottle at 
 the young gentleman's head, which felled him to the ground ; 
 and then I went to meditate upon what he had said to me. It 
 was true the fellow had saved poor little Bryan's life, and the 
 boy to his dying day was tenderly attached to him. " Be good 
 to Redmond, papa," were almost the last words he spoke ; and 
 I promised the poor child, on his death-bed, that I would do 
 as he asked. It was also true, that rough usage of him would 
 be little liked by my people, with whom he had managed to 
 become a great favorite : for, somehow, though I got drunk 
 with the rascals often, and was much more familiar with them 
 than a man of my rank commonly is, yet I knew I was by no 
 means liked by them ; and the scoundrels were murmuring 
 against me perpetually. 
 
 But I might have spared myself the trouble of debating what 
 his fate should be, for the young gentleman took the disposal 
 of it out of my hands in the simplest way in the world : viz. by 
 washing and binding up his head so soon as he came to him- 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 267 
 
 self: b} r taking his horse from the stables ; and, as he was 
 quite free to go in and out of the house and park as he liked, 
 he disappeared without the least let or hindrance ; and leaving 
 the horse behind him at the ferry, went off in the very post- 
 chaise which was waiting for Lady Lyndon. I saw and heard 
 no more of him for a considerable time ; and, now that he was 
 out of the house, did not consider him a very troublesome 
 enemy. 
 
 But the cunning artifice of woman is such that, I think, in 
 the long run, no man, were he Machiavel himself, could es- 
 cape from it ; and though I had ample proofs in the above 
 transaction (in which my wife's perfidious designs were frus- 
 trated by my foresight), and under her own handwriting, of 
 the deceitfulness of her character and her hatred for me. yet 
 she actually managed to deceive me, in spite of all my precau- 
 tions and the vigilance of my mother in my behalf. Had I 
 followed that good lady's advice, who scented the danger from 
 afar off, as it were, I should never have fallen into the snare 
 prepared for me ; and which was laid in a way that was as suc- 
 cessful as it was simple. 
 
 My Lady Lyndon's relation with me was a singular one. 
 Her life was passed in a crack-brained sort of alternation be- 
 tween love and hatred for me. If I was in a good humor with 
 her (as occurred sometimes,) there was nothing she would not 
 do to propitiate me further ; and she would be as absurd and 
 violent in her expressions of fondness, as, at other moments, 
 she would be in her demonstrations of hatred. It is not your 
 feeble, easy husbands who are loved best in the world ; accord- 
 ing to my experience of it. I do think the women like a little 
 violence of temper, and think no worse of a husband who exer- 
 cises his authority pretty smartly. I had got my lady into 
 such a terror about me, that when I smiled it was quite an era 
 of happiness to her ; and if I beckoned to her, she would come 
 fawning up to me like a dog. I recollect how, for the few days 
 I was at school, the cowardly, mean-spirited fellows would 
 laugh if ever our schoolmaster made a joke. It was the same 
 in the regiment whenever the bully of a sergeant was disposed 
 to be jocular — not a recruit but was on the broad grin. Well, 
 a wise and determined husband will get his wife into this con- 
 dition of discipline ; and I brought my high-born wife to kiss 
 my hand, to pull off my boots, to fetch and carry for me like a 
 servant, and always to make it a holiday, too, when I was in 
 good humor. I confided perhaps too much in the duration of 
 
2G8 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 this disciplined obedience, and forgot that the very hypocrisy 
 which forms a part of it (all timid people are liars in their 
 hearts) ma}' be exerted in a way that may be far from agree- 
 able, in order to deceive you. 
 
 After the ill success of her last adventure, which gave mo 
 endless opportunities to banter her, one would have thought J 
 might have been on my guard as to what her real intentions 
 were ; but she managed to mislead me with an art of dissimu- 
 lation quite admirable, and lulled me into a fatal security with 
 regard to her intentions : for, one day, as I was joking her, 
 and asking her whether she would take the water again, 
 whether she had found another lover, and so forth, she sud- 
 denly burst into tears, and, seizing hold of my hand, cried 
 passionately out, — 
 
 " Ah, Barry, you know well enough that I have never loved 
 but you ! Was I ever so wretched that a kind word from you 
 did not make me happy? ever so angry, but the Least offer of 
 good-will on your part did not bring me to your side? Did I 
 not give a sufficient proof of my affection for you, in bestowing 
 one of the first fortunes in England upon you? Have I repined 
 or rebuked you for the way you have wasted it? No, 1 loved 
 you too much and too fondly : I have always loved you. From 
 the first moment I saw you, I felt irresistibly attracted towards 
 you. I saw your bad qualities, and trembled at your violence ; 
 but I could not help loving you. I married you, though I knew 
 I was sealing my own fate in doing so ; and in spite of reason 
 and duty. What sacrifice do you want from me? I am ready- 
 to make any. so you will but love me ; or, if not, that at least 
 you will gently use me." 
 
 1 was in a particularly good humor that day. and we had a 
 sort of reconciliation : though my mother, when she heard the 
 speech, and saw me softening towards her lady ship, warned me 
 solemnly, and said, " Depend on it, the artful hussy has some 
 other scheme in her head now." The old lady was right ; and 
 I swallowed the bait which her ladyship had prepared to entrap 
 me as simply as any gudgeon takes a hook. 
 
 I had been trying to negotiate with a man for some money, 
 for which I had pressing occasion ; but since our dispute re- 
 garding the affair of the succession, my lady had resolutely 
 refused to sign any papers for my advantage : and without her 
 name, I am sorry to say, my own was of little value in the 
 market, and I could not get a guinea from any money-dealer 
 in London or Dublin. Nor could I get the rascals from the 
 latter place to visit me at Castle Lyndon : owing to that un- 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 269 
 
 lucky affair I had with Lawyer Sharp when I made him lend 
 me the money he brought down, and old Salmon the Jew being 
 robbed of the bond I gave him after leaving my house,* the 
 people would not trust themselves within my walls any more. 
 Our rents, too, were in the hands of receivers by this time, and 
 it was as much as I could do to get enough money from the 
 rascals to pa}* my wine-merchants their bills. Our English 
 property, as I have said, was equally hampered ; and, as 
 often as I applied to my lawyers and agents for money, would 
 come a reply demanding money of me, for debts and pretended 
 claims which the rapacious rascals said they had on me. 
 
 It was. then, with some feelings of pleasure that I got a 
 letter from my confidential man in Gray's Inn, London, saying 
 (in reply to some ninety-ninth demand of mine) that he thought 
 he could get me some money ; and enclosing a letter from a 
 respectable firm in the city of London, connected with the min- 
 ing interest, which offered to redeem the incumbrance in taking 
 a long lease of certain property of ours, which was still pretty 
 free, upon the countess's signature ; and provided they could 
 be assured of her free will in giving it. They said they heard 
 she lived in terror of her life from me, and meditated a separa- 
 tion, in which case she might repudiate an} 7 deeds signed by 
 her while in durance, and subject them, at an} 7 rate, to a doubt- 
 ful and expensive litigation ; and demanded to be made assured 
 of her ladyship's perfect free will in the transaction before they 
 advanced a shilling of their capital. 
 
 Their terms were so exorbitant, that I saw at once their 
 offer' must be sincere ; and, as my lady was in her gracious 
 mood, had no difficulty in persuading her to write a letter, in 
 her own hand, declaring that the accounts of our misunder- 
 standings were utter calumnies ; that we lived in perfect union, 
 and that she was quite ready to execute any deed which her 
 husband might desire her to sign. 
 
 This proposal was a very timely one, and filled me with 
 great hopes. I have not pestered my readers with many ac- 
 counts of my debts and law affairs ; which were by this time 
 so vast and complicated that I never thoroughly knew them 
 myself, and was rendered half wild by their urgency. Suffice 
 it to say, my money was gone — my credit was done. I was 
 living at Castle Lyndon off my own beef and mutton, and the 
 bread, turf, and potatoes off my own estate : I had to watch 
 Lady Lyndon within, and the bailiffs without. For the last two 
 
 * These exploits of Mr. Lyndon are not related in the narrative. He 
 probably, in the cases above ailuded to, took the law into his own hands. 
 
270 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 3 r ears, since I went to Dublin to receive money, (which I un- 
 luckily lost at play there, to the disappointment of my credit- 
 ors,) I did not venture to show in that city ; and could only 
 appear at our own county town at rare intervals, and because 
 I knew the sheriffs : whom I swore 1 would murder if any ill 
 chance happened to me. A cbance of a good loan, then, was 
 the most welcome prospect possible to me, and I hailed it with 
 all the eagerness imaginable. 
 
 In reply to Lady Lyndon's letter, came, in course of time, 
 an answer from the confounded London merchants, staling that 
 if her ladyship would confirm by word of mouth, at their count- 
 ing-house in Birchin Lane, London, the statement of her letter, 
 they, having surveyed her property, would no doubt come to 
 terms ; but they declined incurring the risk of a visit to Castle 
 Lyndon to negotiate, as the}' were aware how other respectable 
 parties, such as Messrs. Sharp and Salmon of Dublin had been 
 treated there. This was a hit at me ; but there are certain 
 situations in which people can't dictate their own terms : and, 
 'faith, I was so pressed now for money, that I could have 
 signed a bond with Old Nick himself, if he had come provided 
 with a good round sum. 
 
 I resolved to go and take the countess to London. It was 
 in vain that my mother prayed and warned me. " Depend on 
 it." says she, " there is some artifice. When once you get 
 into that wicked town you are not safe. Here you may live 
 for years and years, in luxury and splendor, barring claret and 
 all the windows broken ; but as soon as they have you in 
 London, they'll get the better of my poor innocent lad; and 
 the first thing I shall hear of you will be, that you are in 
 trouble." 
 
 "Why go, Redmond?" said my wife. "lam happy here, 
 as long as you are kind to me, as you are now. We can't ap- 
 pear in London as we ought ; the little money you will get will 
 be spent, like all the rest has been. Let us turn shepherd and 
 shepherdess, and look to our flocks and be content." And she 
 took my hand and kissed it; while m}- mother only said, 
 "Humph! I believe she's at the bottom of it — the wicked 
 schamer I " 
 
 I told m}' wife she was a fool ; bade Mrs. Barry not to be 
 uneasy, and was hot upon going : I would take no denial from 
 either party. How I was to get the money to go was the ques- 
 tion : but that was solved by my good mother, who was always 
 ready to help me on a pinch, and who produced sixty guineas 
 from a stocking. This was all the ready money that Barry 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 271 
 
 I^'ndon, of Castle Lyndon, and married to a fortune of forty 
 thousand a year, could command : such had been the havoc 
 made in this tine fortune by my own extravagance (as I must 
 confess) , but chiefly by my misplaced confidence and the ras- 
 cality of others. 
 
 We did not start in state, you may be sure. We did not 
 let the country know we were going, or leave notice of adieu 
 with our neighbors. The famous Mr. Barry Lyndon and his 
 noble wife travelled in a hack-chaise and pair to Waterford, 
 under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Jones, and thence took ship- 
 ping for Bristol, where we arrived quite without accident. 
 When a man is going to the deuce, how eas}" and pleasant the 
 journey is ! The thought of the money quite put me in a good 
 humor, and my wife, as she lay on my shoulder in the post- 
 chaise going to London, said it was the happiest ride she had 
 taken since our marriage. 
 
 One night we stayed at Reading, whence I despatched a 
 note to my agent at Gray's Inn, saying I would be with him 
 during the day, and begging him to procure me a lodging, and 
 to hasten the preparations for the loan. M3' lady and I agreed 
 that we would go to France, and wait there for better times ; 
 and that night, over our supper, formed a score of plans both 
 for pleasure and retrenchment. You would have thought it 
 was Darbj' and Joan together over their supper. O woman! 
 woman ! when I recollect Lady Lyndon's smiles and blandish- 
 ments — how happy she seemed to be on that night! what an 
 air of innocent confidence appeared in her behavior, and what 
 affectionate names she called me ! — I am lost in wonder at the 
 depth of her hypocrisy. Who can be surprised that an unsus- 
 pecting person like myself should have been a victim to such a 
 consummate deceiver. 
 
 We were in London at three o'clock, and half an hour 
 before the time appointed our chaise drove to Gray's Inn. I 
 easily found out Mr. Tapewell's apartments — a gloomy den 
 it was, and in an unlucky hour I entered it ! As we went up 
 the dirty back-stair, lighted by a feeble lamp and the dim 
 sk}- of a dismal London afternoon, my wife seemed agitated 
 and faint. "Redmond," said she, as we got up to the door, 
 " don't go in : lam sure there is danger. There's time yet; 
 let us go back — to Ireland — anywhere ! " And she put her- 
 self before the door, in one of her theatrical attitudes, and took 
 my hand. 
 
 I just pushed her away to one side. " Lady Lyndon," said 
 I, " you are an old fool ! " 
 
272 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 "Old fool!" said she; and she jumped at the bell, which 
 was quickly answered by a mould}"- looking gentleman in an 
 unpowdered wig, to whom she cried, " Say Lady Lyndon is 
 here;" and stalked down the passage muttering '• Old fool." 
 It was " old" which was the epithet that touched her. I might 
 call her anything but that. 
 
 Mr. Tapewell was in his musty room, surrounded by his 
 parchments and tin boxes. He advanced and bowed ; begged 
 her ladyship to be seated ; pointed towards a chair for me, 
 which I took, rather wondering at his insolence; and then re- 
 treated to a side-door, saying he would be back in one mo- 
 ment. 
 
 And back he did come in one moment, bringing with him — 
 whom do you think? Another lawyer, six constables in red 
 waistcoats, with bludgeons and pistols, my Lord George Poyn- 
 ings and his aunt, Lady Jane Peckoyer. 
 
 When my Lady Lyndon saw her old flame, she flung her- 
 self into his arms in an hysterical passion. She called him her 
 savior, her preserver, her gallant knight; and then, turning 
 round to me, poured out a flood of invective which quite aston- 
 ished me. 
 
 " Old fool as I am," said she, " I have outwitted the most 
 crafty and treacherous monster under the sun. Yes, I was a 
 fool when I married you, and gave up other and nobler hearts 
 for your sake — yes, I was a fool when I forgot my name and 
 lineage to unite myself with a base-born adventurer — a fool 
 to hear, without repining, the most monstrous tyranny that 
 ever woman suffered ; to allow my property to be squandered ; 
 to see women, as base and low-born as yourself — " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, be calm ! " cries the lawyer ; and then 
 bounded back behind the constables, seeing a threatening 
 look in my eye, which the rascal did not like. Indeed, I 
 could have torn him to pieces, had he come near me. Mean- 
 while, my lad}' continued in a strain of incoherent fury ; 
 screaming against me, and against my mother, especially, upon 
 whom she heaped abuse worthy of Billingsgate, and always 
 beginning and ending the sentence with the word fool. 
 
 " You don't tell all, my lady," says I, bitterly ; ' w I said old 
 fool." 
 
 " I have no doubt you said and did, sir, everything that 
 a blackguard could say or do," interposed little Poynings. 
 " This lady is now safe under the protection of her relations 
 and the law, and need fear your infamous persecutions no 
 longer." 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 273 
 
 "Butyow are not safe," roared I; "and, as sure as I am 
 a man of honor, and have tasted your blood once, I will have 
 your heart's blood now." 
 
 " Take down his words, constables : swear the peace against 
 him ! " screamed the little lawyer, from behind his tipstaffs. 
 
 ' 1 1 would not sully 1113- sword with the blood of such a 
 ruffian," cried my lord, relying on the same doughty protec- 
 tion. " If the scoundrel remains in London another day, he 
 will be seized as a common swindler." And this threat indeed 
 made me wince ; for I knew that* there were scores of writs out 
 against me in town, and that once in prison, my case was 
 hopeless. 
 
 "Where's the man will seize me?" shouted I, drawing my 
 sword, and placing my back to the door. " Let the scoundrel 
 come. You — 3011 cowardly braggart, come first if } - ou have 
 the soul of a man ! " 
 
 " We're not going to seize 3011 ! " said the laW3*er ; rcy lacty- 
 ship, her aunt, and a division of the bailiffs moving off as he 
 spoke. " JVIy dear sir, we don't wish to seize you: we will 
 give 3'ou a handsome sum to leave the country ; 011I3* leave her 
 ladyship in peace ! " 
 
 " And the countiy will be well rid of such a villain ! " sa3's 
 my lord, retreating too, and not sony to get out of nry reach : 
 and the scoundrel of a lawyer followed him, leaving me in pos- 
 session of the apartment, and in compaity of the bullies from 
 the police-office, who were all armed to the teeth. I was no 
 longer the man I was at twenty, when I should have charged 
 the ruffians sword in hand, and have sent at least one of them 
 to his account. I was broken in spirit ; regularly caught in 
 the toils : utterly baffled and beaten b3' that woman. Was 
 she relenting at the door, when she paused and begged me 
 turn back ? Had she not a lingering love for me still ? Her 
 conduct showed it, as I came to reflect on it. It was ny only 
 chance now left in the world, so I put down iny sword upon 
 the lawyer's desk. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said I, " I shall use no violence ; 3-011 may tell 
 Mr. Tapewell I am quite reac^' to speak with him when he is 
 at leisure ! " and I sat down and folded my arms quite peacea- 
 bly. What a change from the Barry Lyndon of old days ! but, 
 as I have read in an old book about Hannibal the Carthaginian 
 general, when he invaded the Romans, his troops, which were 
 the most gallant in the world, and carried all before them, went 
 into cantonments in some city where they were so sated with 
 the luxuries and pleasures of life, that the}' were easily beaten 
 
 18 
 
274 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 in the next campaign. It was so with me now. My strength 
 of mind and body were no longer those of the brave j-outh who 
 shot his man at fifteen, and fought a score of battles within six 
 years afterwards. Now, in the Fleet Prison, where I write this, 
 there is a small man who is always jeering me and making 
 game of me ; who asks me to fight, and I haven't the courage 
 to touch him. But I am anticipating the gloouvy and wretched 
 events of my histoiy of humiliation, and had better proceed 
 in order. 
 
 I took a lodging in a coffee-house near Gray's Inn ; taking 
 care to inform Mr. Tapewell of my whereabouts, and anxiously 
 expecting a visit from him. He came and brought me the 
 terms which Lady Lyndon's friends proposed — a paltry an- 
 nuity of 300/. a year ; to be paid on the condition of my 
 remaining abroad out of the three kingdoms, and to be stopped 
 on the instant of my return. He told me, what I very well 
 knew, that my stay in London would infallibly plunge me in 
 gaol ; that there were writs innumerable taken out against me 
 here, and in the west of England ; that my credit was so 
 blown upon that I could not hope to raise a shilling ; and he 
 left me a night to consider of his proposal ; saying that, 
 if I refused it, the family would proceed : if I acceded, a 
 quarter's salary should be paid to me at any foreign port I 
 should prefer. 
 
 What was the poor, lonely, and broken-hearted man to do? 
 I took the annuity, and was declared outlaw in the course of 
 next week. The rascal Quin had, I found, been, after all, the 
 cause of my undoing. It was he devised the scheme for bring- 
 ing me up to London ; sealing the attorney's letter with a seal 
 which had been agreed upon between him and the countess 
 formerl}' : indeed he had always been for trying the plan, and 
 had proposed it at first ; but her ladyship, with her inordinate 
 love of romance, preferred the project of elopement. Of these 
 points my mother wrote me word in my lonely exile, offering 
 at the same time to come over and share it with me ; which 
 proposal I declined. She left Castle Lyndon a very short time 
 after I had quitted it ; and there was silence in that hall where, 
 under my authority, had been exhibited so much hospitality 
 and splendor. She thought she would never see me again, and 
 bitterl}' reproached me for neglecting her ; but she was mistaken 
 in that, and in her estimate of me. She is very old, and is 
 sitting by m}" side at this moment in the prison, working : she 
 has a bedroom in Fleet Market over the way ; and, with the 
 fifty-pound annuity, which she has kept with a wise prudence, 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 275 
 
 we managed to eke out a miserable existence, quite unworthy 
 of the famous and fashionable Barry Lyndon. 
 
 Mr. Barry Lyndon's personal narrative finishes here, for 
 the hand of death interrupted the ingenious author soon after 
 the period at which the Memoir was compiled ; after he had 
 lived nineteen years an inmate of the Fleet Prison, where the 
 prison records state he died of delirium tremens. His mother 
 attained a prodigious old age, and the inhabitants of the place 
 in her time can record with accurac}* the daily disputes which 
 used to take place between mother and son ; until the latter, 
 from habits of intoxication, falling into a state of almost imbe- 
 cility, was tended by his tough old parent as a baby almost, 
 and would cry if deprived of his necessary glass of brandy. 
 
 His life on the Continent we have not the means of follow- 
 ing accurately ; but he appears to have resumed his former 
 profession of a gambler, without his former success. 
 
 He returned secretly to England, after some time, and made 
 an abortive attempt to extort money from Lord George Poyn- 
 ings, under a threat of publishing his correspondence with Lady 
 Lyndon ; and so preventing his lordship's match with Miss 
 Driver, a great heiress, of strict principles, and immense prop- 
 erty in slaves in the West Indies. Barry narrowly escaped 
 being taken prisoner by the bailiffs who were despatched after 
 him by his lordship, who would have stopped his pension ; but 
 his wife would never consent to that act of justice, and, indeed, 
 hroke with my Lord George the ver}' moment he married the 
 West India lad}*. 
 
 The fact is, the old countess thought her charms were peren- 
 nial, and was never out of love with her husband. She was 
 living at Bath ; her property being carefully nursed b}' her noble 
 relatives the Tiptoffs, who were to succeed to it in default of 
 direct heirs : and such was the address of Barn-, and the sway 
 he still held over the woman, that he actuall}' had almost per- 
 suaded her to go and live with him again ; when his plan and 
 hers was interrupted by the appearance of a person who had 
 been deemed dead for several years. 
 
 This was no other than Viscount Bullingdon, who started 
 up to the surprise of all ; and especially to that of his kinsman 
 of the house of Tiptoff. This young nobleman made his 
 appearance at Bath, with the letter from Barry to Lord George 
 in his hand ; in which the former threatened to expose his 
 connection with Lady L}-ndon — a connection, we need not 
 state, which did not reflect the slightest dishonor upon either 
 
276 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 part} 7 , and only showed that her ladyship was in the habit of 
 writing exceedingly foolish letters ; as many ladies, nay, gentle- 
 men, have done ere this. For calling the honor of his mother 
 in question, Lord Bullingdon assaulted his step-father (living at 
 Bath under the name of Mr. Jones), and administered to him 
 a tremendous castigation in the Pump- Room. 
 
 His lordship's history, since his departure, was a romantic 
 one, which we do not feel bound to narrate. He had been 
 wounded in the American War, reported dead, left prisoner, 
 and escaped. The remittances which were promised him were 
 never sent ; the thought of the neglect almost broke the heart 
 of the wild and romantic young man. and he determined to 
 remain dead to the world at least, and to the mother who had 
 denied him. It was in the woods of Canada, and three years 
 after the event had occurred, that he saw the death of his half- 
 brother chronicled in the Gentleman' 's Magazine, under the title 
 of "Fatal Accident to Lord Viscount Castle Lyndon;" on 
 which he determined to return to England : where, though he 
 made himself known, it was with very great difficulty indeed 
 that he satisfied Lord TiptofF of the authenticity of his claim. 
 He was about to pay a visit to his lady mother at Bath, when 
 he recognized the well-known face of Mr. Barry Lyndon, in 
 spite of the modest disguise which that gentleman wore, and 
 revenged upon his person the insults of former days. 
 
 Lad}' Lyndon was furious when she heard of the rencounter ; 
 declined to see her son, and was for rushing at once to the arms 
 of her adored Barry ; but that gentleman had been carried off, 
 meanwhile, from gaol to gaol, until he was lodged in the hands 
 of Mr. Bendigo, of Chancery Lane, an assistant to the Sheriff 
 of Middlesex ; from whose house he went to the Fleet Prison. 
 The sheriff and his assistant, the prisoner, nay, the prison 
 itself, are now no more. 
 
 As long as Lad}' Lyndon lived, Barry enjoyed his income, 
 and was perhaps as happy in prison as at any period of his 
 existence ; when her ladyship died, her successor sternly cut 
 off the annuity, devoting the sum to charities : which, lie said, 
 would make a nobler use of it than the scoundrel who had 
 enjoyed it hitherto. At his lordship's death, in the Spanish 
 campaign, in the year 1811, his estate fell in to the family of 
 the Tiptoffs, and his title merged in their superior rank ; but 
 it does not appear that the Marquis of Tiptoff (Lord George 
 succeeded to the title on the demise of his brother) renewed 
 either the pension of Mr. Barry or the charities which the late 
 lord had endowed. The estate has vastly improved under his 
 
BARRY LYNDON, ESQ. 277 
 
 lordship's careful management. The trees in Hackton Park 
 are all about forty }*ears old, and the Irish property is rented 
 in exceeding^ small farms to the peasantry ; who still entertain 
 the stranger with stories of the daring, and the devilry, and 
 the wickedness and the fall of Barry Lyndon. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FAMILY TREE. 
 
 To plague my wife, who does not understand pleasantries 
 in the matter of pedigree, I once drew a fine family tree of my 
 ancestors, with Claude Duval, captain and highwayman, sus. 
 per coll. in the reign of Charles II., dangling from a top branch. 
 But this is only my joke with her High Mightiness my wife, 
 and his Serene Highness my son. None of us Duvals have 
 been suspercollated to my knowledge. As a boy, I have tasted 
 a rope's-end often enough, but not round my neck ; and the 
 persecutions endured by my ancestors in France for our Prot- 
 estant religion, which we early received and steadily maintained, 
 did not bring death upon us, as upon man}" of our faith, but 
 only fines and poverty, and exile from our native country. 
 The world knows how the bigotr}' of Lewis XIV. drove many 
 families out of France into England, who have become trusty 
 and loyal subjects of the British crown. Among the thousand 
 fugitives were my grandfather and his wife. They settled at 
 Winchelsea, in Sussex, where there has been a French church 
 ever since Queen Bess's time and the dreadful day of Saint 
 Bartholomew. Three miles off, at Rye, is another colony and 
 church of our people : another fester Burg, where, under Bri- 
 tannia's sheltering buckler, we have been free to exercise our 
 fathers' worship, and sing the songs of our Zion. 
 
 My grandfather was elder and precentor of the church of 
 Winchelsea, the pastor being Monsieur Denis, father of Rear- 
 Admiral Sir Peter Denis, Baronet, my kind and best patron. 
 He sailed with Anson in the famous " Centurion," and ob- 
 tained his first promotion through that great seaman : and of 
 course you will all remember that it was Captain Denis who 
 
282 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 brought our good Queen Charlotte to England (7th September, 
 1761 ), after a stormy passage of nine days, from Stade. As 
 a child I was taken to his house in Great Ormond Street, 
 Queen Square, London, and also to the Admiral's country-seat, 
 Valence, near Westerham, in Kent, where Colonel Wolfe lived, 
 father of the famous General James Wolfe, the glorious con- 
 queror of Quebec* 
 
 My father, who was of a wandering disposition, happened 
 to be at Dover in the year 1761, when the Commissioners 
 passed through, who were on their way to sign the treaty of 
 Peace, known as the Peace of Paris. He had parted, after 
 some hot words, I believe, from his mother, who was, like 
 himself, of a quick temper, and he was on the look-out for 
 employment when Fate threw these gentlemen in his way. 
 Mr. Duval spoke English, French, and German, his parents 
 
 being of Alsace, and Mr. having need of a confidential 
 
 person to attend him, who was master of the languages, my 
 father offered himself, and was accepted mainly through^the 
 good offices of Captain Denis, our patron, whose ship was then 
 in the Downs. Being at Paris, father must needs visit Alsace, 
 our native county, and having scarce one guinea to rub against 
 another, of course chose to fall in love with my mother and 
 marry her out of hand. Mons. mon pere, I fear, was but a 
 prodigal ; but he was his parents' only living child, and when 
 he came home to Winchelsea, hungry and penniless, with a 
 wife on his hand, they killed their fattest calf, and took both 
 wanderers in. A short while after her marriage, m}' mother 
 inherited some property from her parents in France, and most 
 tenderly nursed nvy grandmother through a long illness, in 
 which the good lacty died. Of these matters I knew nothing 
 personally, being at the time a child two or three years old ; 
 crying and sleeping, drinking and eating, growing, and having 
 my infantile ailments, like other little darlings. 
 
 A violent woman was my mother, jealous, hot, and domi- 
 neering, but generous and knowing how to forgive. I fane} 7 
 my papa gave her too many opportunities of exercising this 
 virtue, for, during his brief life, he was ever in scrapes and 
 trouble. He met with an accident when fishing off the French 
 coast, and was brought home and died, and was buried at Win- 
 
 * I remember a saying of G Aug-st-s S-lw-n, Esq., regarding the 
 
 General, which has not been told, as far as I know, in the anecdotes. A 
 Macaroni guardsman, speaking of Mr. Wolfe, asked, " Was he a Jew ? 
 Wolfe wsj* a Jewish name." " Certainly," says Mr. S-lw-n, " Mr. Wolfe 
 was the Height of Abraham." 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 283 
 
 chelsea ; but the cause of his death I never knew until my good 
 friend Sir Peter Denis told me in later years, when I had come 
 to have troubles of my own. 
 
 I was born oh the same da}' with his Royal Highness the 
 Duke of York, viz. the 13th of August, 1763, and used to be 
 called the Bishop of Osnaburg by the boys in Winchelsea, 
 where between us French boys and the English boys I promise 
 you there was many a good battle. Besides being ancien and 
 precentor of the French church at Winchelsea, grandfather 
 was a perruquier and barber hy trade ; and, if you must know 
 it, I have curled and powdered a gentleman's head before this, 
 and taken him b}' the nose and shaved him. I do not brag 
 of having used lather and brush : but what is the use of dis- 
 guising anything ? Tout se sgait, as the French have it, and 
 a great deal more too. There is Sir Humphrey Howard, who 
 served with me second-lieutenant in the "Meleager" — he 
 says he comes from the N — f-lk Howards ; but his father was 
 a shoemaker, and we always called him Humphrey Snob in the 
 gunroom. 
 
 In France very few wealth}' ladies are accustomed to nurse 
 their children, and the little ones are put out to farmers' wives 
 and healthy nurses, and perhaps better cared for than by their 
 own meagre mothers. My mother's mother, an honest farmer's 
 wife in Lorraine (for I am the first gentleman of my family, 
 and chose my motto* of fecimus ipsi not with pride, but with 
 humble thanks for my good fortune), had brought up Made- 
 moiselle Clarisse de Viomesnil, a Lorraine lady, between whom 
 and her foster-sister there continued a tender friendship long 
 after the marriage of both. Mother came to England, the wife 
 of Monsieur mon papa ; and Mademoiselle de Viomesnil mar- 
 ried in her own country. She was of the Protestant branch of 
 the Viomesnil family, and all the poorer in consequence of her 
 parents' fidelity to their religion. Other members of the fam- 
 ily were of the Catholic religion, and held in high esteem at 
 Versailles. 
 
 Some short time after my mother's arrival in England, she 
 heard that her dear foster-sister Clarisse was going to marry 
 a Protestant gentleman of Lorraine, Vicomte de Barr, only son 
 of M. le Comte de Saverne, a chamberlain to his Polish Majesty 
 King Stanislas, father of the French Queen. M. de Saverne, 
 on his son's marriage, gave up to the Vicomte de Barr his 
 
 * The Admiral insisted on taking or on a bend sable, three razors dis- 
 played proper, with the above motto. The family have afiopted the 
 mother's coat-of-arms. 
 
284 DENTS DUVAL. 
 
 house at Saverne, and here for a while the newly married couple 
 lived. I do not say the young couple, for the Vicomte de Ban- 
 was five-and-twenty years older than his wife, who was but 
 eighteen when her parents married her. As my mother's eyes 
 were very weak, or, to say truth, she was not very skilful in 
 reading, it used to be my lot as a bo}- to spell out ray lady 
 Viscountess's letters to her soeur de lait, her good Ursule : and 
 mam- a smart rap with the rolling-pin have I had over my 
 noddle from mother as I did my best to read. It was a word 
 and a blow with mother. She did not spare the rod and spoil 
 the child, and that I suppose is the reason why I am so well 
 grown — six feet two in my stockings, and fifteen stone four 
 last Tuesda}', when I was weighed along with our pig. Mem. 
 — My neighbor's hams at Rose Cottage are the best in all 
 Hampshire. 
 
 I was so young that I could not understand all I read. But 
 I remember mother used to growl in her rough way (she had a 
 grenadier height and voice, and a pretty smart pair of black 
 whiskers too) — my mother used to cry out, " She suffers — 
 my Biche is unhappy — she has got a bad husband. He is a 
 brute. All men are brutes." And with this she would glare 
 at grandpapa, who was a very humble little man, and trembled 
 before his bm, and obeyed her most obsequiously. Then 
 mother would vow she would go home, she would go and succor 
 her Biche; but who would take care of these two imbeciles? 
 meaning me and my grandpapa. Besides, Madame Duval was 
 wanted at home. She dressed many ladies' heads, with very 
 great taste, in the French way, and could shave, frizz, cut 
 hair, and tie a queue along with the best barber in the count}-. 
 Grandfather and the apprentice wove the wigs ; when I was 
 at home, I was too young for that work, and was taken off 
 from it, and sent to a famous good school, Pocock's grammar- 
 school at Rye, where I learned to speak English like a Briton 
 born as I am, and not as we did at home, where we used a 
 queer Alsatian jargon of French and German. At Pocock's 
 I got a little smattering of Latin, too, and plenty of fighting 
 for the first month or two. I remember nry patron coming to 
 see me in uniform, blue and white laced with gold, silk stock- 
 ings and white breeches, and two of his officers along with him. 
 "Where is Denis Duval?" says he, peeping into our school- 
 room, and all the boys looking round with wonder at the great 
 gentleman. Master Denis Duval was standing on a bench at 
 that very moment for punishment, for fighting I suppose, with 
 a black eye as big as an omelette. " Denis would do very well 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 285 
 
 if he would keep his fist off" other boys' noses," says the master ; 
 and the Captain gave me a seven-shilling piece, and I spent 
 it all but twopence before the night was over, I remember. 
 Whilst I was at Focock's, I boarded with Mr. Rudge, a trades- 
 man, who, besides being a grocer at Rye, was in the seafaring 
 way, and part owner of a fishing-boat ; and he took some very 
 queer jish in his nets, as you shall hear soon. He was a chief 
 man among the Wesleyans, and I attended his church with 
 him, not paying much attention to those most serious and 
 sacred things in my early years, when I was a thoughtless boy, 
 caring for nothing but lollipops, hoops, and marbles. 
 
 Captain Denis was a very pleasant, lively gentleman, and 
 on this day he asked the master, Mr. Coates, what was the 
 Latin for a holiday, and hoped Mr. C. would give one to his 
 boys. Of course we sixty boys shouted yes to that proposal; 
 and as for me, Captain Denis cried out, "Mr. Coates, I press 
 this fellow with the black eye here, and intend to take him to 
 dine with me at the ' Star.' " You may be sure I skipped of! 
 nry be^li and followed my patron. He and his two officers 
 went torhe k Star,' and after dinner called for a crown bowl of 
 punch, and though I would drink none of it, never having been 
 able to bear the taste of rum or brandy, I was glad to come out 
 and sit with the gentlemen, who seemed to be amused with my 
 childish prattle. Captain Denis asked me what I learned, and 
 I dare say I bragged of my little learning : in fact I remember 
 talking in a pompous way about Corderius and Cornelius Ne- 
 pos,-; and I have no doubt gave myself very grand airs. He 
 asked whether I liked Mr. Rudge, the grocer with whom I 
 boarded. I did not like him much, I said ; but I hated Miss 
 Rudge and Bevil the apprentice most because they were 
 always .... here I stopped. " But there is no use in telling 
 tales out of school," says I. " We don't do that at Pocock's, 
 we don't." 
 
 And what was my grandmother going to make of me? I 
 said I should like to be a sailor, but a gentleman sailor, and 
 fight for King George. And if I did I would bring all my 
 prize-money home to Agnes, that is, almost all of it — only 
 keep a little of it for n^-self. 
 
 "And so 3011 like the sea, and go out sometimes?" asks 
 Mr. Denis. 
 
 Oh, yes, I went out fishing. Mr. Rudge had a half-share of 
 a boat along with grandfather, and I used to help to clean her, 
 nnd was taught to steer her, with many a precious slap on the 
 head if I got her in the wind ; and they said I was a very good 
 
286 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 look-out. I could see well, and remember bluffs and headlands 
 and so forth ; and I mentioned several places, points of our 
 coasts, ay, and the French coast too. 
 
 u And what do you fish for? " asks the Captain. 
 
 "Oh, sir, I'm not to say anything about that, Mr. Rudge 
 says ! " on which the gentlemen roared with laughter. They 
 knew Master Rudge's game, though I in my innocence did not 
 understand it. 
 
 " And so you won't have a drop of punch? " asks Captain 
 Denis. 
 
 "No, sir, I made a vow I would not, when I saw Miss 
 Rudge so queer." 
 
 " Miss Rudge is often queer, is she?" 
 
 " Yes, the nasty pig ! And she calls names, and slips down 
 stairs, and knocks the cups and saucers about, and fights the 
 apprentice, and — but I mustn't say an}'thing more. I never 
 tell tales. I don't ! " 
 
 In this way I went on prattling with my patron and his 
 friends, and they made me sing them a song in French, and a 
 song in German, and they laughed and seemed amused at my 
 antics and capers. Captain Denis walked home with me to our 
 lodgings, and I told him how I liked Sunday the best day of the 
 week — that is, every other Sunday, because I went away quite 
 early, and walked three miles to mother and grandfather at Win- 
 chelsea, and saw Agnes. 
 
 And who, pray, was Agnes? To-day her name is Agnes 
 Duval, and she sits at her work-table hard by. The lot of my 
 life has been changed bj- knowing her. To win such a prize in 
 life's lottery is given but to very very few. What I have done 
 (of any worth) has been done in trying to deserve her. I might 
 have remained, but for her, in my humble native lot to be 
 neither honest nor happy, but that my good angel yonder sue- 
 cored me. All I have I owe to her : but I pa} r with all I have, 
 and what creature can do more ? 
 
Little Denis dances and sings before the Navy Gentu 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 287 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF SAVERNE. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Saverne came from Alsace, where her 
 family occupied a much higher rank than that held by the wor- 
 thy Protestant elder from whom her humble servant is de- 
 scended. Her mother was a Viomesnil, her father was of a 
 noble Alsatian family, Counts of Barr and Saverne. The old 
 Count de Saverne was alive, and a chamberlain in the court 
 of his Polish Majesty, good King Stanislas at Nanci, when his 
 son the Vicomte de Barr, a man already advanced in years, 
 brought home his blooming }"Oung bride to that pretty little 
 capital. 
 
 The Count de Saverne was a brisk and cheery old gentleman, 
 as his son was gloom}* and severe. The Count's hotel at Nanci 
 was one of the gayest of the little court. His Protestantism 
 was by no means austere. He was even known to regret that 
 there were no French convents for noble damsels of the Protes- 
 tant confession, as there were across the Rhine, where his own 
 two daughters might be bestowed out of the way. Mesdemoi- 
 selles de Saverne were ungainly in appearance, fierce and sour 
 in temper, resembling, in these particulars, their brother Mons. 
 le Baron de Barr. 
 
 In his youth, Monsieur de Barr had served not without dis- 
 tinction, being engaged against Messieurs the English at Has- 
 tenbeck and Laufeldt, where he had shown both courage and 
 capacity. His Protestantism prevented his promotion in the 
 arm}*. He left it, steadfast in his faith, but soured in his temper. 
 He did not care for whist or music like his easy old father. His 
 appearance at the count's little suppers was as cheerful as a 
 death's-head at a feast. M. de Barr only frequented these 
 entertainments to give pleasure to his }*oung wife, who pined 
 and was wretched in the solitary family mansion of Saverne, 
 where the Vicomte took up his residence when first married. 
 
 He was of an awful temper, and subject to storms of passion. 
 Being a very conscientious man, he suffered extremely after 
 one of these ebullitions of rage. Between his alternations of 
 anger and remorse, his l.ife was a sad one ; his household trem- 
 bled before him, and especially the poor little wife whom he 
 had brought out of her quiet country village to be the victim of 
 
288 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 his rage and repentances. More than once she fled to the old 
 Count of Saverne at Nanci, and the kindly selfish old gentleman 
 used his feeble endeavors to protect his poor little daughter-in- 
 law. Quickly after these quarrels letters would arrive, contain- 
 ing vows of the most abject repentance on the Baron's part. 
 These matrimonial campaigns followed a regular course. First 
 rose the outbreak of temper ; then the lady's flight ensued to 
 papa-in-law at Nanci ; then came letters expressive of grief ; 
 then the repentant criminal himself arrived, whose anguish and 
 cries of mea culpa were more insupportable than his outbreaks 
 of rage. After a few years, Madame de Barr lived almost en- 
 tirely with her father-in-law at Nanci, and was scarcely seen in 
 her husband's gloomy mansion of Saverne. 
 
 For some 3-ears no child was born of this most unhappy 
 union. Just when poor King Stanislas came by his lamentable 
 death (being burned at his own fire), the old Count de Saverne 
 died, and his son found that he inherited little more than his 
 father's name and title of Saverne, the family estate being 
 greatly impoverished by the late Count's extravagant and indo- 
 lent habits, and much weighed down by the portions awarded 
 to the Demoiselles de Saverne, the elderly sisters of the present 
 elderly lord. 
 
 The town house at Nanci was shut up for a while ; and the 
 new Lord of Saverne retired to his castle with his sisters and 
 his wife. With his Catholic neighbors the stern Protestant 
 gentleman had little communion ; and the societ}' which fre- 
 quented his dull house chiefly consisted of Protestant clergymen 
 who came from the other side of the Rhine. Along its left 
 bank, which had onby become French territory of late years, the 
 French and German languages were spoken indifferently ; in 
 the latter language M. de Saverne was called the Herr von Za- 
 bern. After his father's death, Herr von Zabern ma}- have 
 melted a little, but he soon became as moody, violent, and ill- 
 conditioned as ever the Herr von Barr had been. Saverne was 
 a little country town, with the crumbling old Hotel de Saverne 
 in the centre of the place, and a straggling street stretching on 
 either side. Behind the house were melancholy gardens, squared 
 and clipped after the ancient French fashion, and, beyond the 
 garden wall, some fields and woods, part of the estate of 
 the Saverne family. These fields and woods were fringed by 
 another great forest, which had once been the propeity of the 
 house of Saverne, but had been purchased from the late easy 
 proprietor by Messeigneurs de Rohan, Princes of the Empire, of 
 France, and the Church, Cardinals, and Archbishops of Stras- 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 289 
 
 bourg, between whom and their gloomy Protestant neighbor 
 there was no good-will. Not only questions of faith separated 
 them, but questions of chasse. The Count de Saverne, who 
 loved shooting, and beat his meagre woods for game with a 
 couple of lean dogs, and a fowling-piece over his shoulder, 
 sometimes came in sight of the grand hunting-parties of Mon- 
 seigneur the Cardinal, who went to the chase like a Prince as 
 he was, with piqueurs and horn-blowers, whole packs of dogs, 
 and a troop of gentlemen in his uniform. Not seldom his 
 Eminence's keepers and M. de Saverne's solitary garde-chasse 
 had quarrels. kt Tell your master that I will shoot an}' red-legs 
 which come upon my land," M. de Saverne said in one of these 
 controversies, as he held up a partridge which he had just 
 brought down ; and the keeper knew the moody nobleman would 
 be true to his word. 
 
 Two neighbors so ill-disposed towards one another were 
 speedily at law ; and in the courts at Strasbourg a poor pro- 
 vincial gentleman was likely to meet with scanty justice when 
 opposed to such a powerful enemy as the Prince Archbishop of 
 the province, one of the greatest noblemen of the kingdom. 
 Boundary questions, in a land where there are no hedges, 
 game, forest, and fisher}' questions — how can I tell, who am 
 no lawyer, what set the gentlemen at loggerheads? In later 
 days I met one M. Georgel, an Abbe, who had been a secretary 
 of the Prince Cardinal, and he told me that M. de Saverne was a 
 headlong, violent, ill-conditioned little mauvais coucheur, as they 
 say in France, and read}' to quarrel with or without a reason. 
 
 'These quarrels naturally took the Count de Saverne to his 
 advocates and lawyers at Strasbourg, and he would absent him- 
 self for days from home, where his poor wife was perhaps not 
 sorry to be rid of him. It chanced, on one of these expeditions 
 to the chief town of his province, that he fell in with a former 
 comrade in his campaigns of Hastenbeck and Laufeldt, an 
 officer of Soubise's regiment, the Baron de la Motte.* La 
 Motte had been destined to the Church, like many cadets of 
 good family, but, his elder brother dying, he was released from 
 the tonsure and the seminary, and entered the army under good 
 protection. Mesdemoiselles de Saverne remembered this M. de 
 la Motte at Nanci in old days. He bore the worst of charac- 
 ters ; he was gambler, intriguer, duellist, profligate. I suspect 
 
 * That unlucky Prince de Rohan was to suffer by another Delamotte, 
 who, with his " Valois " of a wife, played such a notorious part in the 
 famous " diamond necklace " business, but the two worthies were not, I 
 believe, related. — D. D. 
 
 19 
 
290 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 that most gentlemen's reputations came off ill under the tongues 
 of these old ladies, and have heard of other countries where mes- 
 demoiselles are equally hard to please. " Well, have we not all 
 our faults?" I imagine M. de Saverne saying, in a rage. " Is 
 there no such thing as calumny? Are we never to repent, if 
 we have been wrong? I know he has led a wild youth. Others 
 ma} - have done as much. But prodigals have been reclaimed 
 ere now, and I for m}* part will not turn m} T back on this one." 
 " Ah, I wish he had ! " De la Motte said to me myself in later 
 daj's, " but it was his fate, his fate ! " 
 
 One day, then, the Count de Saverne returns home from 
 Strasbourg with his new friend ; presents the Baron de la Motte 
 to the ladies of his house, makes the gloomy place as cheerful 
 as he can for his guest, brings forth the best wine from his 
 cave, and beats his best covers for game. I myself knew the 
 Baron some years later; — a handsome, tall, sallow-faced man, 
 with a shifty e} r e, a soft voice, and a grand manner. Monsieur 
 de Saverne for his part was short, black, and ill-favored, as I 
 have heard my mother sa}\ But Mrs. Duval did not love him, 
 fancying that he ill-treated her Biche. Where she disliked 
 people, my worthy parent would never allow them a single 
 good qualit}- ; but she alwaj's averred that Monsieur de la 
 Motte was a perfect fine gentleman. 
 
 The intimacy between these two gentlemen increased apace. 
 M. de la Motte was ever welcome at Saverne : a room in the 
 house was called his room : their visitor was an acquaintance 
 of their enemy the Cardinal also, and would often come from 
 the one chateau to the other. Laughingly he would tell how 
 angry Monseigneur was with his neighbor. He wished he 
 could make peace between the two houses. He gave quite 
 good advice to Monsieur de Saverne, and pointed out the dan- 
 ger he ran in provoking so powerful an adversary. Men had 
 been imprisoned for life for less reason. The Cardinal might 
 get a lettre de cachet against his obstinate opponent. He could, 
 besides, ruin Saverne with fines and law costs. The contest 
 between the two was quite unequal, and the weaker party must 
 inevitably be crushed, unless these unhappy disputes should 
 cease. As far as the ladies of the house dared speak, they 
 coincided in the opinion of M. de la Motte, and were for sub- 
 mission and reconciliation with their neighbors. Madame de ... 
 Saverne's own relations heard of the feud, and implored the 
 Count to bring it to an end. It was one of these, the Baron • 
 de Viomesnil, going to command in Corsica, who entreated* 
 M. de Saverne to accompany him on the campaign. Anywhere! 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 291 
 
 the Count was safer than in his own house with an implacable 
 and irresistible enemy at his gate. M. de Saverne yielded to 
 his kinsman's importunities. He took down his sword and 
 pistols of Laufeldt from the wall, where they had hung for 
 twenty years. He set the affairs of his house in order, and 
 after solemnly assembling his family, and on his knees con- 
 fiding it to the gracious protection of heaven, he left home to 
 join the suite of the French General. 
 
 A few weeks after he left home — several years after his 
 marriage — his wife wrote to inform him that she was likely to 
 be a mother. The stern man, who had been verj T unhappy 
 previously, and chose to think that his wife's barrenness was a 
 punishment of Heaven for some crime of his or hers, was very 
 much moved by this announcement. I have still at home a 
 German Bible which he used, and in which is written in the 
 German a very affecting pra} r er composed by him, imploring 
 the Divine blessing upon the child about to be born, and hoping 
 that this infant might grow in grace, and bring peace and love 
 and unity into the household. It would appear that he made 
 no doubt he should have a son. His hope and aim were to save 
 in every possible way for this child. I have read many letters of 
 his which he sent from Corsica to his wife, and which she kept. 
 The}' were full of strange minute orders, as to the rearing and 
 education of this son that was to be born. He enjoined saving 
 amounting to niggardliness in his household, and calculated how 
 much might be put away in ten, in twenty } r ears, so that the 
 coming heir might have a property worthy of his ancient name. 
 In'case he should fall in action, he laid commands upon his 
 wife to pursue a s\*stem of the most rigid economy, so that the 
 child at coming of age might be able to appear creditably in 
 the world. In these letters, I remember, the events of the 
 campaign were dismissed in a Very few words ; the main part 
 of the letters consisted of praj'ers, speculations, and prophecies 
 regarding the child, and sermons couched in the language of the 
 writer's stern creed. When the child was born, and a girl ap- 
 peared in place of the boy, upon whom the poor father had set 
 his heart, I hear the family were so disma}-ed, that they hardly 
 dared to break the news to the chief of the house. 
 
 Who told me ? The same man who said he wished he had 
 never seen M. de Saverne : the man for whom the unhappy gen- 
 tleman had conceived a warm friendship ; — the man who was 
 to bring a mysterious calamit}' upon those whom, as I do think, 
 and in his selfish way, he loved sincerely, and he spoke at a 
 time when he could have little desire to deceive me. 
 
292 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 The lord of the castle is gone on the campaign. The cha- 
 telaine is left alone in her melancholy tower with her two dismal 
 duennas. My good mother, speaking in later days about these 
 matters, took up the part of her Biche against the Ladies of 
 Barr and their brother, and always asserted that the tyranny of 
 the duennas, and the meddling, and the verbosity, and the ill 
 temper of M. de Saverne himself, brought about the melancholy 
 events which now present^ ensued. The Count de Saverne 
 was a little man (my mother said) who loved to hear himself 
 talk, and who held forth from morning till night. His life was 
 a fuss. He would weigh the coffee, and count the lumps of 
 sugar, and have a finger in eveiy pie in his frugal house. Night 
 and morning he preached sermons to his famiby, and he con- 
 tinued to preach when not en chaire, laying down the law upon 
 all subjects, untiringly voluble. Cheerfulness in the company 
 of such a man was hypocrisy. Mesdames de Barr had to dis- 
 guise weariness, to assume an air of contentment, and to appear 
 to be interested when the Count preached. As for the Count's 
 sisters, they were accustomed to listen to their brother and lord 
 with respectful submission. They had a hundred domestic 
 occupations : they had baking and boiling, and pickling, and 
 washing, and endless embroidery : the life of the little chateau 
 was quite supportable to them. They knew no better. Even 
 in their father's da\'s at Nanci, the ungainly women kept pretty 
 much aloof from the world, and were little better than domestic 
 servants in waiting on Monseigneur. 
 
 And Madame de Saverne, on her first entrance into the 
 family, accepted the subordinate' position meekly enough. She 
 spun and she bleached, and she worked great embroideries, and 
 busied herself about her house, and listened demurely whilst 
 Monsieur le Comte was preaching. But then there came a time 
 when her duties interested her no more, when his sermons be- 
 came especially wearisome, when sharp words passed between 
 her and her lord, and the poor thing exhibited symptoms of im- 
 patience and revolt. And with the revolt arose awful storms 
 and domestic battles ; and after battles submission, reconcilia- 
 tion, forgiveness, hypocrisy. 
 
 It has been said that Monsieur de Saverne loved the sound 
 of his own croaking voice, and to hold forth to his own congre- 
 gation. Night after night he and his friend M. de la Motte 
 would have religious disputes together, in which the Huguenot 
 gentleman flattered himself that he constantly had the better of 
 the ex-pupil of the seminary. I was not present naturally, not 
 setting my foot on French ground until five-and-twenty years 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 293 
 
 after, but I can fancy Madame the Countess sitting at her tam- 
 bour frame, and the old duenna ladies at their cards, and the 
 combat of the churches going on between these two champions 
 in the little old saloon of the Hotel de Saverne. " As I hope for 
 pardon," M. de la Motte said to me at a supreme moment of his 
 life, " and to meet those whom on earth I loved, and made un- 
 happy, no wrong passed between Clarisse and me, save that 
 wrong which consisted in disguising from her husband the re- 
 gard we had for one another. Once, twice, thrice, I went away 
 from their house, but that unhappy Saverne would bring me 
 back, and I was only too glad to return. I would let him talk 
 for hours — I own it — so that I might be near Clarisse. I had 
 to answer from time to time, and rubbed up nry old seminary 
 learning to reply to his sermons. I must often have spoken at 
 random, for my thoughts were far awa} 7 from the poor man's 
 radotages, and he could no more change my convictions than he 
 could change the color of my skin. Hours and hours thus 
 passed away. The}' would have been intolerably tedious to 
 others : they were not so to me. I preferred that gloom}' little 
 chateau to the finest place in Europe. To see Clarisse, was all 
 I asked. Denis ! There is a power irresistible impelling all of 
 us. From the moment I first set eyes on her, I knew she was 
 my fate. I shot an English grenadier at Hastenbeck, who 
 would have ba}*oneted poor Saverne but for me. As I lifted 
 him up from the ground, I thought, ' I shall have to repent of 
 ever having seen that man.' I felt the same thing, Duval, when 
 I saw you." And as the unhappy gentleman spoke, I remem- 
 bered how I for my part felt a singular and unpleasant sensation 
 as of terror and approaching evil when first I looked at that 
 handsome, ill-omened face. 
 
 I thankfulby believe the words which M. de la Motte spoke to 
 me at a time when he could have no cause to disguise the truth ; 
 and am assured of the innocence of the Countess de Saverne. 
 Poor lady ! if she erred in thought, she had to pay so awful a 
 penalty for her crime, that we humbly hope it has been forgiven 
 her. She was not true to her husband, though she did him no 
 wrong. If, while trembling before him, she 3*et had dissimula- 
 tion enough to smile and be merry, I suppose no preacher or 
 husband would be veiy angry with her for that hypocrisy. I 
 have seen a slave in the "West Indies soundly cuffed for looking 
 sulky : we expect our negroes to be obedient and to be happy too. 
 
 Now when M. de Saverne went away to Corsica, I suspect 
 he was strongly advised to take that step b}* his friend M. de la 
 Motte. When he was gone, M. de la Motte did not present 
 
294 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 himself at the Hotel cle Saverne, where an old schoolfellow of his, 
 a pastor and preacher from Kehl, on the German Rhine bank, 
 was installed in command of the little garrison, from which its 
 natural captain had been obliged to withdraw ; but there is no 
 doubt that poor Clarisse deceived this gentleman and her two 
 sisters-in-law, and acted towards them with a very culpable 
 hypocrisy. 
 
 Although there was a deadly feud between the two chateaux 
 of Saverne — namely, the Cardinal's new-built castle in the 
 Park, and the Count's hotel in the little town — yet each house 
 knew more or less of the other's doings. When the Prince 
 Cardinal and his court were at Saverne, Mesdemoiselles de 
 Barr were kept perfectly well informed of all the festivities 
 which they did not share. In our little Fareport here, do not 
 the Miss Prys, my neighbors, know what I have for dinner, the 
 amount of my income, the price of my wife's last gown, and 
 the items of my son's, Captain Scapegrace's, tailor's bill. No 
 doubt the Ladies of Barr were equally well informed of the 
 doings of the Prince Coadjutor and his court. Such gambling, 
 such splendor, such painted hussies from Strasbourg, such 
 pla}-s, masquerades, and orgies as took place in that castle ! 
 Mesdemoiselles had the very latest particulars of all these 
 horrors, and the Cardinal's castle was to them as the castle of 
 a wicked ogre. From her little clingy tower at night Madame 
 de Saverne could look out, and see the Cardinal's sixty palace 
 windows all a-flame. Of summer nights, gusts of unhallowed 
 music would be heard from the great house, where dancing 
 festivals, theatrical pieces even, were performed. Though 
 Madame de Saverne was forbidden by her husband to frequent 
 those assemblies, the townspeople were up to the palace from 
 time to time, and Madame could not help hearing of the doings 
 there. In spite of the Count's prohibition, his gardener poached 
 in the Cardinal's woods ; one or two of the servants were smug- 
 gled in to see a fete or a ball ; then Madame's own woman 
 went ; then Madame herself began to have a wicked longing to 
 go, as Madame's first ancestress had for the fruit of the forbid- 
 den tree. Is not the apple always ripe on that tree, and does 
 not the tempter for ever invite you to pluck and eat? Madame 
 de Saverne had a lively little waiting-maid, whose bright e3 - es 
 loved to look into neighbors' parks and gardens, and who had 
 found favor with one of the domestics of the Prince Archbishop. 
 This woman brought news to her mistress of the feasts, balls, 
 banquets, nay, comedies, which were performed ,at the Prince 
 Cardinal's. The Prince's gentlemen went hunting in his uni- 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 295 
 
 form. He was served on plate, and a lackey in his livery 
 stood behind each guest. He had the French comedians over 
 from Strasbourg. Oh ! that M. de Moliere was a droll gentle- 
 man, and how grand the " Cid " was ! 
 
 Now, to see these plays and balls, Martha, the maid, must 
 have had intelligence in and out of both the houses of Saverne. 
 She must have deceived those old dragons, Mesdemoiselles. 
 She must have had means of creeping out at the gate, and 
 silently creeping back again. She told her mistress everything 
 she saw, acted the plays for her, and described the dresses of 
 the ladies and gentlemen. Madame de Saverne was never tired 
 of hearing her maid's stories. When Martha was going to a fete, 
 Madame lent her some little ornament to wear, and yet when Pas- 
 teur Schnorr and Mesdemoiselles talked of the proceedings at 
 Great Saverne, and as if the fires of Gomorrah were reacty to swal- 
 low up that palace, and all within it, the Lady of Saverne sat 
 demurely in silence, and listened to their croaking and sermons. 
 Listened? The pastor exhorted the household, the old ladies 
 talked night after night, and poor Madame de Saverne never 
 heeded. Her thoughts were away in Great Saverne ; her spirit 
 was for ever hankering about those woods. Letters came now 
 and again from M. de Saverne, with the army. They had 
 been engaged with the enemy. Very good. He was unhurt. 
 Heaven be praised ! And then the grim husband read his poor 
 little wife a grim sermon ; and the grim sisters and the chaplain 
 commented on it. Once, after an action at Calvi, Monsieur de 
 Saverne, who was always specially lively in moments of danger, 
 described how narrowly he had escaped with his life, and the 
 chaplain took advantage of the circumstance, and delivered to 
 the household a prodigious discourse on death, on danger, on 
 preservation here and hereafter, and alas, and alas ! poor 
 Madame de Saverne found that she had not listened to a word 
 of the homily. Her thoughts were not with the preacher, nor 
 with the captain of Viomesnil's regiment before Calvi ; they 
 were in the palace at Great Saverne, with the balls, and the 
 comedies, and the music, and the fine gentlemen from Paris 
 and Strasbourg, and out of the Empire bej-ond the Rhine, who 
 frequented the Prince's entertainments. 
 
 What happened where the wicked spirit was whispering, 
 " Eat," and the tempting apple hung within reach? One night 
 when the household was at rest, Madame de Saverne, muffled 
 in cloak and calash, with a female companion similarly dis- 
 guised, tripped silently out of the back gate of the Hotel de 
 Saverne, found a carriole in waiting, with a driver who appar- 
 
296 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 entlj* knew the road and the passengers he was to carry, and 
 after half an hour's drive through the straight avenues of the 
 park of Great Saverne, alighted at the gates of the chateau, 
 where the driver gave up the reins of the carriole to a domestic 
 in waiting, and, by doors aud passages which seemed perfectly 
 well known to him, the coachman and the two women entered 
 the castle together and found their way to a gallery in a great 
 hall, in which many lords and ladies were seated, and at the 
 end of which was a stage, with a curtain before it. Men and 
 women came backwards and forwards on the stage, and re- 
 cited dialogue in verses. O mercy ! It was a comedy they 
 were acting, one of those wicked delightful plays which she 
 was forbidden to see, and which she was longing to behold ! 
 After the comedy was to be a ball, in which the actors would 
 dance in their stage habits. Some of the people were in masks 
 already, and in that box near to the stage, surrounded by a 
 little crowd of dominoes, sat Monseigneur the Prince Cardinal 
 himself. Madame de Saverne had seen him and his cavalcade 
 sometimes returning from hunting. She would have been as 
 much puzzled to sa}' what the pla}- was about as to give an 
 account of Pasteur Schnorr's sermon a few hours before. But 
 Frontin made jokes with his master Damis ; and Geronte locked 
 up the doors of his house, and went to bed grumbling ; and 
 it grew quite dark, and Mathurine flung a rope-ladder out of 
 window, and she and her mistress Elmire came down the ladder ; 
 and Frontin held it, and Elmire, with a little cry, fell into the 
 arms of Mons. Damis ; and master and man, and maid and 
 mistress, sang a merry chorus together, in which human frailty 
 was very cheerfully depicted ; and when the}' had done, away 
 they went to the gondola which was in waiting at the canal 
 stairs, and so good night. And when old Geronte, wakened 
 up by the disturbance, at last came forth in his nightcap, and 
 saw the boat paddling away out of reach, 3-ou may be sure that 
 the audience laughed at the poor impotent raging old wretch. 
 It was a very merry play indeed, and is still popular and per- 
 formed in France and elsewhere. 
 
 After the play came a ball. Would Madame dance? 
 Would the noble Countess of Saverne dance with a coach- 
 man? There were others below on the dancing-floor dressed 
 in mask and domino as she was. Who ever said she had 
 a mask and domino? You see it has been stated that she 
 was muffl-.'d in cloak and calash. Well, is not a domino a cloak? 
 and has it not a hood or calash appended to it? and, pray, do 
 not women wear masks at home as well as at the Ridotto ? 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 297 
 
 Another question arises here. A high-born lady entrusts 
 herself to a charioteer, who drives her to the castle of a 
 prince her husband's enemy. Who was her companion? 
 Of course he could be no other than that luckless Monsieur de 
 la Motte. He had never been very far awa}* from Madame de 
 Saverne since her husband's departure. In spite of chaplains, 
 and duennas, and guards, and locks and keys, he had found 
 means of communicating with her. How? Bv what lies and 
 stratagems? By what arts and bribery? These poor people 
 are both gone to their account. Both suffered a fearful pun- 
 ishment. I will not describe their follies, and don't care to be 
 Mons. Figaro, and hold the ladder and lantern, while the count 
 scales Rosina's window. Poor, frightened erring soul ! She suf- 
 fered an awful penalty for what, no doubt, was a great wrong. 
 
 A child almost, she was married toM. de Saverne, without 
 knowing him, without liking him, because her parents ordered 
 her, and because she was bound to comply with their will. 
 She was sold and went to her slaveiy. She lived at first 
 obediently enough. If she shed tears, they were dried ; if she 
 quarrelled with her husband, the two were presently reconciled. 
 She bore no especial malice, and was as gentle, subordinate a 
 slave as ever you shall see in Jamaica or Barbadoes. No- 
 body's tears were sooner dried, as I should judge : none would 
 be more ready to kiss the hand of the overseer who drove her. 
 But you don't expect sincerity and subservience too. I know, 
 for my part, a lady who only obe}*s when she likes : and faith ! 
 it maj T be it is /who am the Irypocrite, and have to tremble, 
 and smile, and swindle before her. 
 
 When Madame de Saverne's time was nearly come, it was 
 ordered that she should go to Strasbourg, whei'e the best med- 
 ical assistance is to be had : and here, six months after her 
 husband's departure for Corsica, their child, Agnes de Saverne, 
 was born. 
 
 Did secret terror and mental disquietude and remorse now 
 fall on the unhappy lad}*? She wrote to my mother, at this 
 time her only confidante (and jet not a confidante of all!) 
 — " O Ursule ! I dread this event. Perhaps I shall die. I 
 think I hope I shall. In these long da}-s, since he has been 
 awa\', I have got so to dread his return, that I believe I shall 
 go mad when I see him. Do }-ou know, after the battle before 
 Calvi, when I read that many officers had been killed, I 
 thought, is M. de Saverne killed? And I read the list 
 down, and his name was not there: and, my sister, nry 
 sister, I was not glad ! Have I come to be such a monster 
 
208 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 as to wish my own husband .... No. I wish I was. I 
 can't speak to M. Schnorr about this. He is so stupid. He 
 doesn't understand me. He is like my husband ; for ever 
 preaching me his sermons. 
 
 "Listen, Ursulc ! Speak it to nobody! I have been to 
 hear a sermon. Oh, it was indeed divine ! It was not 
 from one of our pastors. Oh, how they weary me ! It was 
 from a good bishop of the French Church — not our German 
 Church — the Bishop of Amiens — who happens to be here 
 on a visit to the Cardinal Prince. The bishop's name is 
 M. de la Motte. He is a relative of a gentleman of whom we 
 have seen a great deal lately — of a great friend of M. de 
 Saverne, who saved my husband's life in the battle M. de S. is 
 always talking about. 
 
 "How beautiful the cathedral is! It was night when I 
 went. The church was lighted like the stars, and the music 
 was like Heaven. Ah, how different from M. Schnorr at home, 
 from — from somebody else at my new home who is always 
 preaching — that is, when he is at home ! Poor man ! I won- 
 der whether he preaches to them in Corsica ! I pity them if 
 he does. Don't mention the cathedral if 3*011 write to me. 
 The dragons don't know anything about it. How they would 
 scold if they did ! Oh, how they ennu3 - ent me, the dragons ! 
 Behold them ! The}- think I am writing to my husband. Ah, 
 Ursule ! When I write to him, I sit for hours before the 
 paper. I sa}' nothing ; and what I say seems to be lies. 
 Whereas when I write to you, my pen runs — runs! The 
 paper is covered before I think I have begun. So it is when I 
 write to .... I do believe that vilain dragon is peering 
 at my note with her spectacles ! Yes, my good sister, I am 
 writing to M. le Comte ! " • 
 
 To this letter a postscript is added, as by the countess's 
 command, in the German language, in which Madame de Sa- 
 verne's medical attendant announces the birth of a daughter, 
 and that the child and mother are doing well. 
 
 That daughter is sitting before me now — with spectacles . 
 on nose too — very placidly spelling the Portsmouth paper, 
 where I hope she will soon read the promotion of Monsieur 
 Scapegrace, her son. She has exchanged her noble name for 
 mine, which is only humble and honest. My dear ! your eyes 
 are not so bright as once I remember them, and the raven 
 locks are streaked with silver. To shield th}- head from dan- 
 gers has been the blessed chance and duty of my life. When 
 I turn towards her, and see her moored in our harbor of rest, 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 299 
 
 after our life's checkered voyage, calm and happ}', a sense of 
 immense gratitude fills my being, and my heart says a hymn of 
 praise. 
 
 The first days of the life of Agnes cle Saverne were marked 
 by incidents which were strangely to influence her career. 
 Around her little cradle a double, a triple tragedy was about to 
 be enacted. Strange that death, crime, revenge, remorse, 
 m3*stery, should attend round the cradle of one so innocent 
 and pure — as pure and innocent, I pray Heaven now, as upon 
 that cj.ay when, at scarce a month old, the adventures of her 
 life began. 
 
 That letter to my mother, written by Madame de Saverne 
 on the eve of her child's birth, and finished by her attendant, 
 bears date November 25, 1768. A month later Martha See- 
 bach, her attendant, wrote (in German) that her mistress had 
 suffered frightfully from fever ; so much so that her reason 
 left her for some time, and her life was despaired of. Mesdem- 
 oiselles de Barr were for bringing up the child by hand ; but not 
 being versed in nursery practices, the infant had ailed sadly 
 until restored to its mother. Madame de Saverne was now 
 tranquil. Madame was greatly better. She had suffered most 
 fearfully. In her illness she was constantly calling for her 
 foster-sister to protect her from some danger, which, as she 
 appeared to fane}', menaced Madame. 
 
 Child as I was at the time when these letters were passing, 
 I remember the arrival of the next. It lies in yonder drawer, 
 and was written by a poor fevered hand which is now cold, in 
 ink which is faded after fifty years.* I remember my mother 
 screaming out in German, which she always spoke when 
 strongly moved, " Dear Heaven, my child is mad — is mad ! " 
 And indeed that poor faded letter contains a strange rhap- 
 sody. 
 
 '* Ursule ! " she wrote (I do not care to give at length the 
 words of the poor wandering creature), " after 1113- child was 
 born the demons wanted to take her from me. But I struggled 
 and kept her quite close, and now the} 7 can no longer hurt her. 
 I took her to church. Martha went with me, and He was 
 there — he always is — to defend me from the demons, and I 
 had her christened Agnes, and I was christened Agnes too. 
 Think of my being christened at twenty-two ! Agnes the First, 
 and Agnes the Second. But though my name is changed, 
 
 * The memoirs appear to have been written in the years '20, '21. Mr. 
 Duval was gazetted Rear-Admiral and K.C.B. in the promotions on the 
 accession of King George IV. 
 
300 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 I am always the same to my Ursule, and my name now is, 
 Agnes Clarisse de Saverne, born de Viomesnil." 
 
 She had actually, when not quite mistress of her own 
 reason, been baptized into the Roman Catholic Church with 
 her child. Was she sane when she so acted? Had she 
 thought of the step before taking it? Had she known Cath- 
 olic clergymen at Saverne, or had she other reasons for her 
 conversion than those which were furnished in the conver- 
 sations which took place between her husband and M. de la 
 Motte? In this letter the poor lad}- says, "Yesterday two 
 persons came to my r bed with gold crowns round their heads, 
 One was dressed like a priest ; one was beautiful and covered 
 with arrows, and they said, ' We are Saint Fabian and Saint 
 Sebastian ; and to-morrow is the day of St. Agnes : and she 
 will be at church to receive you there.' " 
 
 What the real case was I never knew. The Protestant 
 clergyman whom I saw in after days could only bring his book 
 to show that he had christened the infant not Agnes, but 
 Augustine. Martha Seebach is dead. La Motte, when f 
 conversed with him, did not touch upon this part of the poor 
 lady's history. I conjecture that the images and pictures 
 which she had seen in the churches operated upon her fevered 
 brain ; that, having procured a Roman Calendar and Missal, 
 she knew saints' days and feasts ; and, not yet recovered from 
 her delirium or quite responsible for the actions which she 
 performed, she took her child to the cathedral, and was bap- 
 tized there. 
 
 And now, no doubt, the poor lady had to practise more deceit 
 and concealment. The " demons" were the old maiden sisters 
 left to watch over her. She had to hoodwink these. Had she 
 not done so before — when she went to the Cardinal's palace at 
 Saverne? Wherever the poor thing moved I fancy those ill- 
 omened eyes of La Motte glimmering upon her out of the dark- 
 ness. Poor Eve — not lost quite, I pray and think, — but that 
 serpent was ever trailing after her, and she was to die poisoned 
 in its coil. Who shall understand the awful ways of Fate? A" 
 year after that period regarding which I write, a lovely Imperial 
 Princess rode through the Strasbourg streets radiant and blush- 
 ing, amidst pealing bells, roaring cannon, garlands and ban- 
 ners, and shouting multitudes. Did an}- one ever think that 
 the last stage of that life's journey was to be taken in a hideous 
 tumbrel, and to terminate on a scaffold? The life of Madame 
 de Saverne was to last but a year more, and her end to be 
 scarcely less tragical. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 301 
 
 Many physicians have told me how often after the birth of a 
 child the brain of a mother will be affected. Madame de Saverne 
 remained for some time in this febrile condition, if not un- 
 conscious of her 'actions, at least not accountable for all of 
 them. At the end of three months she woke up as out of a 
 dream, having a dreadful recollection of the circumstances which 
 had passed. Under what hallucinations we never shall know, 
 or yielding to what persuasions, the wife of a stern Protestant 
 nobleman had been to a Roman Catholic church, and had been 
 christened there with her child. She never could recall that 
 step. A great terror came over her as she thought of it — a 
 great terror and a hatred of her husband, the cause of all her 
 grief and her fear. She began to look out lest he should return ; 
 she clutched her child to her breast, and barred and bolted all 
 doors for fear people should rob her of the infant. The Prot- 
 estant chaplain, the Protestant sisters-in-law, looked on with clis- 
 maj' and anxiet}- ; they thought justly that Madame de Saverne 
 was not 3 r et quite restored to her reason ; they consulted the 
 physicians, who agreed with them ; who arrived, who pre- 
 scribed ; who were treated by the patient with scorn, laughter, 
 insult sometimes ; sometimes with tears and terror, according 
 to her wayward mood. Her condition was most puzzling. The 
 sisters wrote from time to time guarded reports respecting her 
 to her husband in Corsica. He, for his part, replied instantly 
 with volumes of his wonted verbose commonplace. He acqui- 
 esced in the decrees of Fate, when informed that a daughter 
 was born to him ; and presently wrote whole reams of instruc- 
 tions regarding her nurture, dress, and physical and religious 
 training. The child was called Agnes ? He would have pre- 
 ferred Barbara, as being his mother's name. I remember in 
 some of the poor gentleman's letters there were orders about 
 the child's pap, and instructions as to the nurse's diet. He was 
 coming home soon. The Corsicans had been defeated in every 
 action. Had he been a Catholic he would have been a knight 
 of the King's orders long ere this. M. de Viomesnil hoped 
 still to get for him the order of Military Merit (the Protestant 
 order which his Majesty had founded ten 3-ears previously). 
 These letters (which were subsequentby lost Iry an accident at 
 sea*) spoke modestby enough of the Count's personal adven- 
 tures. I hold him to have been a very brave man, and only not 
 tedious and prolix when he spoke of his own merits and services. 
 
 * The letters from Madame de Saverne to my mother at Winchelsea were 
 not subject to this mishap, but were always kept by Madame Duval in her 
 own escritoire. 
 
302 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 The Count's letters succeeded each other post after post. 
 The end of the war was approaching, and with it his return was 
 assured. He exulted in the thought of seeing his child, and 
 leading her in the way she should go — the right way, the true 
 way. As the mother's brain cleared, her terror grew greater — 
 her terror and loathing of her husband. She could not bear 
 the thought of his return, or to face him with the confession 
 which she knew she must make. His wife turn Catholic and 
 baptize his child? She felt he would kill her, did he know what 
 had happened. She went to the priest who had baptized her. 
 M. Georgel (his Eminence's secretan-) knew her husband. 
 The Prince Cardinal was so great and powerful a prelate, 
 Georgel said, that he would protect her against all the wrath of 
 all the Protestants in France. I think she must have had inter- 
 views with the Prince Cardinal, though there is no account of 
 them in any letter to my mother. 
 
 The campaign was at an end. M. de Vaux, M. de Viomes- 
 nil, both wrote in highly eulogistic terms of the conduct of the 
 Count de Saverne. Their good wishes would attend him home ; 
 Protestant as he was their best interest should be exerted in 
 his behalf. 
 
 The day of the Count's return approached. The day ar- 
 rived : I can fancy the brave gentleman with beating heart 
 ascending the steps of the homely lodging where his family 
 have been living at Strasbourg ever since the infant's birth. 
 How he has dreamt about that child : prayed for her and his 
 wife at night-watch and bivouac — prayed for them as he stood, 
 calm and devout, in the midst of battle 
 
 When he enters the room, he sees only two frightened 
 domestics and the two ghastly faces of his scared old 
 sisters. 
 
 " Where are Clarisse and the child?" he asks. 
 
 The child and the mother were gone. The aunts knew not 
 where. 
 
 A stroke of palsy could scarcety have smitten the unhappy 
 gentleman more severely than did the news which his trembling 
 family was obliged to give him. In later days I saw M. Schnorr, 
 the German pastor from Kehl, who has been mentioned al- 
 ready, and who was installed in the Count's house as tutor and 
 chaplain during the absence of the master. " When Madame 
 de Saverne went to make her coucher at Strasbourg" (M. 
 Schnorr said to me), "I retired to ray duties at Kehl, glad 
 enough to return to the quiet of my home, for the noble lady's 
 reception of me was anything but gracious ; and I had to 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 303 
 
 endure much female sarcasm and many unkind words from 
 Madame la Comtesse, whenever, as in duty bound, I presented 
 myself at her table. Sir, that most unhappy lady used to make 
 sport of me before her domestics. She used to call me her 
 gaoler. She used to mimic 1113- ways of eating and drinking. 
 She would yawn in the midst of nry exhortations, and cry out, 
 ' O que c'est bete ! 'and when I gave out a Psalm, would utter 
 little cries, and sa} r , ' Pardon me, M. Schnorr, but you sing so 
 out of tune you make my head ache ; ' so that I could scarcely 
 continue that portion of the service, the very domestics laugh- 
 ing at me when I began to sing. M3- life was a martyrdom, 
 but I bore my tortures meekly, out of a sense of duty and my 
 love for M. le Comte. When her ladyship kept her chamber I 
 used to wait almost daily upon Mesdemoiselles the Count's sis- 
 ters, to ask news of her and her child. I christened the infant ; 
 but her mother was too ill to be present, and sent me out woi'd 
 by Mademoiselle Marthe that she should call the child Agnes, 
 though I might name it what I pleased. This was on the 
 21st January, and I remember being struck, because in the 
 Roman Calendar the feast of St. Agnes is celebrated on that 
 day. 
 
 " Haggard and actually grown gray, from a black man 
 which he was, my poor lord came to me with wildness and 
 agony of grief in all his features and actions, to announce to 
 me that Madame the Countess had fled, taking her infant with 
 her. And he had a scrap of paper with him, over which he 
 wept and raged as one demented ; now pouring out fiercer im- 
 precations, now bursting into passionate tears and cries, calling 
 upon his wife, his darling, his prodigal, to come back, to bring 
 him his child, when all should be forgiven. As he thus spoke 
 his screams and groans were so piteous, that I myself was 
 quite unmanned, and my mother, who keeps house for me (and 
 who happened to be listening at the door), was likewise greatly 
 alarmed by my poor lord's passion of grief. And when I read 
 on that paper that my lady countess had left the faith to which 
 our fathers gloriously testified in the midst of trouble, slaugh- 
 ter, persecution, and bondage, I was scarcely less shocked than 
 my good lord himself. 
 
 " We crossed the bridge to Strasbourg back again and went 
 to the Cathedral Church, and entering there, we saw the Abbe 
 Georgel coming out of a chapel where he had been to perform 
 his devotions. The Abbe, who knew me, gave a ghastly smile 
 as he recognized me, and for a pale man, his cheek blushed up 
 a little when I said, ' This is Monsieur the Comte de Saverne.' 
 
304 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 " ' Where is she?' asked my poor lord, clutching the Abbe's 
 arm. 
 
 " ' Who?' asked the Abb4, stepping back a little. 
 
 " ' Where is my child? where is my wife? ' cries the Count. 
 
 " ' Silence, Monsieur ! ' says the Abbe. ' Do you know in 
 whose house 3*011 are ? ' and the chant from the altar, where the 
 service was being performed, came upon us, and smote my 
 poor lord as though a shot had struck him. We were standing, 
 he tottering against a pillar in the nave, close b}' the christen- 
 ing font, and over my lord's head was a picture of St. Agnes. 
 
 "The agon} r of the poor gentleman could not but touch 
 an}- one who witnessed it. ' M. le C'omte,' says the Abbe, ' I 
 feel for you. This great surprise has come upon you unpre- 
 pared — I — I pray that it may be for your good.' 
 
 "'You know, then, what has happened?' asked M. de 
 Saverne ; and the Abbe was obliged to stammer a confession 
 that he did know what had occurred. lie was, in fact, the 
 very man who had performed the rite which separated my un- 
 happ3 T lady from the church of her fathers. 
 
 " ' Sir,' he said, with some spirit, ' this was a service 
 which no clergyman could refuse. I would to heaven, Mon- 
 sieur, that you, too, might be brought to ask it from me.' 
 
 " The poor Count, with despair in his face, asked to see the 
 register which confirmed the news, and there we saw that on 
 the 21st January, 1769, being the feast of St. Agnes, the 
 noble lady, Clarisse, Countess of Saverne, born de Viomesnil, 
 aged twentj'-two 3-ears, and Agnes, onby daughter of the same 
 Count of Saverne and Clarisse his wife, were baptized and re- 
 ceived into the Church in the presence of two witnesses (clerics) 
 whose names were signed. 
 
 " The poor Count knelt over the registry book with an awful 
 grief in his face, and in a mood which I heartily pitied. He 
 bent down, uttering w r hat seemed an imprecation rather than a 
 pra}er, and at this moment it chanced the service at the chief 
 altar was concluded, and Monseigneur and his suite of clergy 
 came into the sacristy. Sir, the Count de Saverne, starting 
 up, clutching his sword in his hand, and shaking his fist at the 
 Cardinal, uttered a wild speech calling down imprecations upon 
 the church of which the prince was a chief: 'Where is my 
 lamb that you have taken from me?' he said, using the lan- 
 guage of the Prophet towards the King who had despoiled 
 him. 
 
 "The Cardinal haughtily said the conversion of Madame 
 de Saverne was of heaven, and no act of his, and, adding, 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 305 
 
 ' bad neighbor as you have been to me, sir, I wish you so well 
 that I hope } t ou may follow her.' 
 
 "At this the Count, losing all patience, made a violent 
 attack upon the Church of Rome, denounced the Cardinal, and 
 called down maledictions upon his head ; said that a da} r should 
 come when his abominable pride should meet with a punishment 
 and fall ; and spoke, as, in fact, the poor gentleman was able 
 to do only too readily and volubly, against Rome and all its 
 errors. 
 
 "The Prince Louis de Rohan replied with no little dignity, 
 as I own. He said that such words in such a place were offen- 
 sive and out of all reason : that it onl} T depended on him to 
 have M. de Saverne arrested, and punished for blasphemy and 
 insult to the Church : but that, pitying the Count's unhappy 
 condition, the Cardinal would forget the hasty and insolent 
 words he had uttered — as he would know how to defend Ma- 
 dame de Saverne and her child after the righteous step which 
 she had taken. And he swept out of the sacristj- with his 
 suite, and passed through the door which leads into his palace, 
 leaving my poor Count still in his despair and fuiy. 
 
 "As he spoke with those Scripture phrases which M. de 
 Saverne ever had at command, I remember how the Prince 
 Cardinal tossed up his head and smiled. I wonder whether he 
 thought of the words when his own daj r of disgrace came, and 
 the fatal affair of the diamond necklace which brought him to 
 ruin." * 
 
 "$ot without difficulty" (M. Schnorr resumed) " I induced 
 the poor Count to quit the church where his wife's apostasy 
 had been performed. The outer gates and walls are decorated 
 with numberless sculptures of saints of the Roman Calendar : 
 and for a minute or two the poor man stood on the threshold 
 shouting imprecations in the sunshine, and calling down woe 
 upon France and Rome. I hurried him away. Such language 
 was dangerous, and could bring no good to either of us. He 
 was almost a madman when I conducted him back to his home, 
 where the ladies his sisters, scared with his wild looks, besought 
 me not to leave him. 
 
 " Again he went into the room which his wife and child had 
 inhabited, and, as he looked at the relics of both which still 
 were left there, gave way to bursts of grief which were piti- 
 
 * My informant, Protestant though he was, did not, as I remember, 
 speak with very much asperity against the Prince Cardinal. He said that 
 the prince lived an edifying life after Lis fall, succoring the poor, and do- 
 inac everything in his power to defend the cause of loyalty. — D. D. 
 
 20 
 
306 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 able indeed to witness. I speak of what happened near 
 forty years ago, and remember the scene as though yesterday : 
 the passionate agony of the poor gentleman, the sobs and 
 prayers. On a chest of drawers there was a little cap be- 
 longing to the infant. He seized it : kissed it : wept over 
 it: calling upon the mother to bring the child back and ho 
 would forgive all. He thrust the little cap into his breast: 
 opened every drawer, book, and closet, seeking for some indi- 
 cations of the fugitives. My opinion was, and that even of the 
 ladies, sisters of M. le Comte, that Madame had taken refuge 
 in a convent with the child, that the Cardinal knew where she 
 was, poor and friendless, and that the Protestant gentleman 
 would in vain seek for her. Perhaps when tired of that place 
 — I for my part thought Madame la Comtcsse a light-minded, 
 wilful person, who certainly had no vocation, as the Catholics 
 call it, for a religious life — I thought she might come out after 
 a while, and gave my patron such consolation as I could devise, 
 upon this faint hope. He who was all forgiveness at one min- 
 ute, was all wrath at the next. He would rather see his child 
 dead than receive her as a Catholic. He would go to the King, 
 surrounded by harlots as he was, and -ask for justice. There 
 were still Protestant gentlemen left in France, whose spirit was 
 not altogether trodden down, and they would back him in de- 
 manding reparation for this outrage. 
 
 '-I had some vague suspicion, which, however, T dismissed 
 from my mind as unworthy, that there might be a third part}* 
 cognizant of Madame' 8 flight; and this was a gentleman, once 
 a great favorite of M. le Comte, and in whom I myself was not 
 a little interested. Three or four days after the Comte de Sa- 
 verne went away to the war, as I was meditating on a sermon 
 which I proposed to deliver, walking at the back of my lord's 
 house of Saverne, in the fields which skirt the wood where the 
 Prince Cardinal's great Schloss stands, I saw this gentleman 
 with a gun over his shoulder, and recognized him — the Chev- 
 alier de la Motte, the very person who had saved the life of 
 M. de Saverne in the campaign against the English. 
 
 "M. de la Motte said he was staying with the Cardinal, and 
 trusted that the ladies of Saverne were well. He sent his re- 
 spectful compliments to them : in a laughing way said he had 
 been denied the door when he came to a visit, which he thought 
 was an unkind act towards an old comrade ; and at the same 
 time expressed his sorrow at the Count's departure — ' for, Herr 
 Pfarrer,' said he, ' you know I am a good Catholic, and in 
 many most important conversations which I had with the 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 307 
 
 Corate de Saverne, the differences between our two churches 
 was the subject of our talk, and I do think I should have con- 
 verted him to ours.' I, humble village pastor as I am, was 
 not afraid to speak in such a cause, and we straightway had 
 a most interesting conversation together, in which, as the gen- 
 tleman showed, I had not the worst of the argument. It 
 appeared he had been educated for the Roman Church, but 
 afterwards entered the army. He was a most interesting 
 man, and his name was le Chevalier de la Motte. You look 
 as if you had known him, M. le Capitaine — will it please 
 you to replenish your pipe, and take another glass of my 
 beer ? " 
 
 I said I had effectivement known M. de la Motte ; and the 
 good old clergyman (with many compliments to me for speak- 
 ing French and German so glibly) proceeded with his artless 
 narrative: "I was ever a poor horseman: and when I came 
 to be chaplain and major-domo at the Hotel de Saverne, in the ■ 
 Count's absence, Madame more than once rode entirely away 
 from me, saying that she could not afford to go at my clerical 
 jog-trot. And being in a scarlet amazon, and a conspicuous 
 object, you see, I thought I saw her at a distance talking to 
 a gentleman on a schimmel horse, in a grass-green coat. 
 When I asked her to whom she spoke, she said, ' M. le Pas- 
 teur, you radotez with your gray horse and ■ your green coat ! 
 If you are set to be a spy over me, ride faster, or bring out the 
 old ladies to bark at your side.' The fact is, the Countess was 
 for ever quarrelling with those old ladies, and the}' were a yelp- 
 ing Ill-natured pair. The} T treated me, a pastor of the Reformed 
 Church of the Augsburg Confession, as no better than a lackey, 
 sir, and made me eat the bread of humiliation ; whereas Ma- 
 dame la Comtesse, though often haughty, flighty, and pas- 
 sionate, could also be so winning and gentle, that no one could 
 resist her. Ah, sir!" said the pastor, "that woman had a 
 coaxing way with her when she chose, and when her flight 
 came I was in such a way that the jealous old sister-in-laws 
 said I was in love with her myself. Pfui ! For a month before 
 my lord's arrival I had been knocking at all doors to see if I 
 could find my poor wandering lady behind them. She, her 
 child, and Martha her maid, were gone, and we knew not 
 whither. 
 
 "On that very first day of his unhappy arrival, M. le Comte 
 discovered what his sisters, jealous and curious as they were, 
 what I, a man of no inconsiderable acumen, had failed to note. 
 Amongst torn papers and chiffons, in her ladyship's bureau, 
 
308 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 there was a scrap with one line in her handwriting — i Ursule, 
 Ursule, le tyran rev. . . . ' and no more. 
 
 " ' Ah ! ' M. le Comte said, ' she is gone to her foster-sister 
 in England ! Quick, quick, horses ! ' And before two hours 
 were passed he was on horseback, making the first stage of that 
 long journey." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TRAVELLERS. 
 
 The poor gentleman was in such haste that the old proverb 
 was realized in his case, and his journey was anything but 
 speedy. At Nanci he fell ill of a fever, which had nearly 
 carried him off, and in which he unceasingly raved about his 
 child, and called upon his faithless wife to return her. Almost 
 before he was convalescent, he was on his way again, to Bou- 
 logne, where he saw that English coast on which he rightly con- 
 jectured his fugitive wife was sheltered. 
 
 And here, from m}* bo}"ish remembrance, which, respecting 
 these early da}s, remains extraordinarily clear, I can take up 
 the story, in which I was myself a very young actor, pkying in 
 the strange, fantastic, often terrible, drama which ensued a not 
 insignificant part. As I survey it now, the curtain is down, 
 and the play long over ; as I think of its surprises, disguises, 
 mysteries, escapes, and dangers, I am amazed myself, and 
 sometimes inclined to be almost as great a fatalist as M. de la 
 Motte, who vowed that a superior Power ruled our actions for 
 us, and declared that he could no more prevent his destiny from 
 accomplishing itself, than he could prevent his hair from grow- 
 ing. What a destinj" it was ! What a fatal tragedy was now 
 about to begin ! 
 
 One evening in our Midsummer holidaj-s, in the year 1769, 
 I remember being seated in my little chair at home, with a 
 tempest of rain beating down the street. We had customers 
 on most evenings, but there happened to be none on this night ; 
 and I remember I was puzzling over a bit of Latin grammar, to 
 which mother used to keep me stoutly when I came home from 
 school. 
 
 It is fifty years since.* I have forgotten who knows how 
 many events of my life, which are not much worth the remem- 
 
 * The narrative seems to have been written about the year 1820. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 309 
 
 bering ; but I have as clearly before my eyes now a little scene 
 which occurred on this momentous night, as though it had 
 been acted within this hour. As we are sitting at our various 
 employments, we hear steps coming up the street, which was 
 empty, and silent but for the noise of the wind and rain. We 
 hear steps — several steps — along the pavement, and they stop 
 at our door. 
 
 " Madame Duval ! It is Gregson ! " cries a voice from with- 
 out. 
 
 "Ah, bon Dieu!" says mother, starting up and turning 
 quite white. 
 
 And then I heard the cry of an infant. Dear heart ! How 
 well I remember that little cry ! 
 
 As the door opens, a great gust of wind sets our two candles 
 flickering, and I see enter — 
 
 A gentleman giving his arm to a lady who is veiled in cloaks 
 and wraps, an attendant carrying a crying child j and Gregson 
 the boatman after them. 
 
 My mother gives a great hoarse shriek, and crying out, 
 " Clarisse ! Clarisse ! " rushes up to the lady and hugs and em- 
 braces her passionately. The child cries and wails. The nurse 
 strives to soothe the infant. The gentleman takes off" his hat 
 and wrings the wet from it, and looks at me. It was then I felt 
 a strange shock and terror. I have felt the same shock once or 
 twice in my life : and once, notably, the person so affecting me 
 has been nvy enemy, and has come to a dismal end. 
 
 'i We have had a very rough voj'age," says the gentleman 
 (in' French) to my grandfather. "We have been fourteen 
 hours at sea. Madame has suffered greatly and is much ex- 
 hausted." 
 
 "Thy rooms are ready," says mother, fondly. " My poor 
 Biche - , thou shalt sleep in comfort to-night, and need fear noth- 
 ing, nothing ! " 
 
 A few da} T s before I had seen mother and her servant might- 
 ily busy in preparing the rooms on the first floor, and decorating 
 them. When I asked whom she was expecting, she boxed my 
 ears, and bade me be quiet ; but these were evidently the ex- 
 pected visitors ; and, of course, from the names which mother 
 used, I knew that the lad} T was the Countess of Saverne. 
 
 "And this is thy son, Ursule?" says the lady. "He is a 
 great boy ! My little wretch is always crying." 
 
 " Oh, the little darling," says mother, seizing the child, 
 which fell to crying louder than ever, " scared by the nodding 
 plume and bristling crest" of Madame Duval, who wore a 
 
310 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 great cap in those days, and indeed looked as fierce as any 
 Hector. 
 
 When the pale lady spoke so harshly about the child, I re- 
 member myself feeling a sort of surprise and displeasure. In- 
 deed, I have loved children all m}' life, and am a fool about 
 them (as witness ray treatment of my own rascal) , and no one 
 can say that I was ever a tyrant at school, or ever fought there 
 except to hold my own. 
 
 My mother produced what food was in the house, and wel- 
 comed her guests to her humble table. What trivial things re- 
 main impressed on the memory ! I remember laughing in my 
 boyish way because the lady said, "Ah! c'est <;aduthe? je 
 n'en ai jamais goute. Mais c'est ties mauvais, n'est-ce pas, M. 
 le Chevalier?" I suppose they had not learned to drink tea in 
 Alsace yet. Mother stopped my laughing with her usual appeal 
 to my ears. I was daily receiving that sort of correction from 
 the good soul. Grandfather said, If Madame the Countess 
 would like a little tass of real Nantes brandy after her voyage, 
 he could supply her ; but she would have none of that either, 
 and retired soon to her chamber, which had been prepared for 
 her with my mother's best sheets and diapers, and in which was 
 a bed for her maid Martha, who had retired to it with the little 
 crying child. For M. le Chevalier de la Motte an apartment 
 was taken at Mr. Billis's the baker's, down the street : — a 
 friend who gave me many a plum-cake in my childhood, and 
 whose wigs grandfather dressed, if you must know the truth. 
 
 At morning and evening we used to have pra} r ers, which 
 grandfather spoke with much eloquence ; but on this night, as 
 he took out his great Bible, and was for having me read a chap- 
 ter, nry mother said, " No. This poor Clarisse is fatigued, and 
 will go to bed." And to bed accordingly the stranger went. 
 And as I read 1113- little chapter, I remember how tears fell down 
 mother's cheeks, and how she cried, "Ah, mon Dieu, mon 
 Dieu ! a}-ez pitie d'elle," and when I was going to sing our 
 evening hymn, " Nun ruhen alle Walder," she told me to hush. 
 Madame up stairs was tired, and wanted to sleep. And she 
 went up stairs to look after Madame, and bade me be a little 
 guide to the strange gentleman, and show him the wa} r to 
 Billis's house. Off I went, prattling by his side ; I dare say I 
 soon forgot the terror whioh I felt when I first saw him. You 
 ma}- be sure all Winchelsea knew that a French lady, and her 
 child, and her maid, were come to stay with Madame Duval, 
 and a French gentleman to lodge over the baker's. 
 
 I never shall forget my terror and astonishment when mother 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 311 
 
 told me that this lady who came to us was a Papist. There 
 were two gentlemen of that religion living in our town, at a 
 handsome house called the Priory ; but the}' had little to do 
 with persons in my parents' humble walk of life, though of 
 course my mother would dress Mrs. Weston's head as well as 
 an}' other lady's. 1 forgot also to say that Mrs. Duval went 
 out sometimes as ladies' nurse, and in that capacity had at- 
 tended Mrs. AVeston, who, however, lost her child. The YVes- 
 tons had a chapel in their house, in the old grounds of the 
 Prior}*, and clergymen of their persuasion used to come over 
 from my Lord Newburgh's of Slindon, or from Arundel, where 
 there is another great Papist house ; and one or two Roman 
 Catholics — there were very few of them in our town — were 
 buried in a part of the old gardens of the Priory, where a monks' 
 burying-place had been before Harry VIII. 's time. 
 
 The new gentleman was the first Papist to whom I had ever 
 spoken ; and as I trotted about the town with him, showing 
 him the old gates, the church, and so forth, I remember saying 
 to him, " And have you burned any Protestants?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " says he, giving a horrible grin, " I have roasted 
 several, and eaten them afterwards." And I shrank back from 
 him, and his pale grinning face ; feeling once more that terror 
 which had come over me when I first beheld him. He was a 
 queer gentleman ; he was amused by my simplicity and odd 
 sayings. He was never tired of having me with him. He said 
 I should be his little English master ; and indeed he learned 
 the , language surprisingly quick, whereas poor Madame de 
 Saverne never understood a word of it. 
 
 She was very ill — pale, with a red spot on either cheek, 
 sitting for whole hours in silence, and looking round frightened, 
 as if a prey to some terror. I have seen my mother watching 
 her, and looking almost as scared as the countess herself. At 
 times, Madame could not bear the crying of the child, and would 
 order it away from her. At other times, she would clutch it, 
 cover it with cloaks, and lock her door, and herself into the 
 chamber with her infant. She used to walk about the house of 
 a night. I had a little room near mother's, which I occupied 
 during the holidays, and on Saturdays and Sundays, when I 
 came over from Rye. I remember quite well waking up one 
 night, and hearing Madame's voice at mother's door, crying 
 out, "Ursula, Ursula! quick! horses! I must go away. He 
 is coming ; I know he is coming ! " And then there were 
 remonstrances on mother's part, and Madame's maid came out 
 of her room, with entreaties to her mistress to return. At the 
 
312 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 cry of the child, the poor mother would rush away from what- 
 ever place she was in, and hurry to the infant. Not that she 
 loved it. At the next moment she would cast the child down 
 on the bed, and go to the window again, and look to the sea. 
 For hours she sat at that window, with a curtain twisted round 
 her, as if hiding from some one. Ah ! how have I looked up 
 at that window since, and the light twinkling here ! I wonder 
 does the house remain }-et? I don't like now to think of the 
 passionate grief I have passed through, as I looked up to yon 
 glimmering lattice. 
 
 It was evident our poor visitor was in a deplorable condition. 
 The apothecary used to come and shake his head, and order 
 medicine. The medicine did little good. The sleeplessness 
 continued. She was a prey to constant fever. She would make 
 incoherent answers to questions put to her, laugh and weep at 
 odd times and places ; push her meals away from her, though 
 they were the best my poor mother could supply ; order my 
 grandfather to go and sit in the kitchen, and not have the im- 
 pudence to sit down before her ; coax and scold my mother by 
 turns, and take her up very sharply when she rebuked me. 
 Poor Madame Duval was scared by her foster-sister. She, who 
 ruled everybody, became humble before the poor crazy lady. 
 I can see them both now, the lady in white, listless and silent 
 as she would sit for hours taking notice of no one, and mother 
 watching her with terrified dark eyes. 
 
 The Chevalier de la Motte had his lodgings, and came and 
 went between his house and ours. I thought he was the lad} - 's 
 cousin. He used to call himself her cousin ; I did not know 
 what our pastor M. Borel meant when he came to mother one 
 day, and said, " Fi, douc, what a pretty business thou hast 
 commenced, Madame Denis — thou an elder's daughter of our 
 Church ! " 
 
 " What business?" says mother. 
 
 "That of harboring crime and sheltering iniquity," says he, 
 naming the crime, viz. No. vn. of the Decalogue. 
 
 Being a child, I did not then understand the word he used. 
 But as soon as he had spoken, mother, taking up a saucepan of 
 soup, cries out, " Get out of there, Monsieur, all pastor as you 
 are, or I will send this soup at thy ugly head, and the saucepan 
 afterwards." And she looked so fierce, that I am not surprised 
 the little man trotted off. 
 
 Shortly afterwards grandfather comes home, looking almost 
 as frightened as his commanding officer, M. Borel. Grandfather 
 expostulated with his daughter-in-law. He was in a great 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 313 
 
 agitation. He wondered how she could speak so to the pastor 
 of the Church. "All the town," says he, "is talking about 
 you and this unhappy lady." 
 
 "All the town is an old woman," replies Madame Duval, 
 stamping her foot and twisting her moustache, I might say, almost. 
 "What? These white-beaks of French cry out because I re- 
 ceive my foster-sister? What? It is wrong to shelter a poor 
 foolish dying woman? Oh, the cowards, the cowards ! Listen, 
 petit-papa ; if you hear a word said at the club against your 
 bru, and do not knock the man down, I will." And, faith, I 
 think grandfather's bra would have kept her word. 
 
 I fear my own unlucky simplicity brought part of the oppro- 
 brium down upon my poor mother, which she had now to suffer 
 in our French colony ; for one day a neighbor, Madame Crochu 
 by name, stepping in and asking, " How is your boarder, and 
 how is her cousin the Count? " — 
 
 " Madame Clarisse is no better than before," said I (shak- 
 ing my head wisely), " and the gentleman is not a count, and 
 he is not her cousin, Madame Crochu ! " 
 
 " Oh, he is no relation? " says the mantua-maker. And that 
 story was quickly told over the little town, and when we went 
 to church next Sunday, M. Borel preached a sermon which 
 made all the congregation look to us, and poor mother sat boil- 
 ing red like a lobster fresh out of the pot. I did not quite know 
 what I had done : I know what mother was giving me for nry 
 pains, when our poor patient, entering the room, hearing, I 
 -suppose, the hissing of the stick (and never word from me, 
 I used to bite a bullet, and hold my tongue) , rushed into the 
 room, whisked the cane out of mother's hand, flung her to the 
 other end of the room with a strength quite surprising, and 
 clasped me up in her arms and began pacing up and down the 
 room, and glaring at mother. " Strike your own child, mon- 
 ster, monster ! " says the poor lady. ' ' Kneel down and ask 
 pardon : or, as sure as I am the queen, I will order 3-our head 
 off!" 
 
 At dinner, she ordered me to come and sit by her. ' ' Bishop ! " 
 she said to grandfather, " my lady of honor has been naught}'. 
 She whipped the little prince with a scorpion. I took it from 
 her hand. Duke ! if she does it again, there is a sword : I 
 desire you to cut the. countesses head off ! " And then she took 
 a carving-knife and waved it, and gave one of her laughs, which 
 alwa} T s set poor mother a-crying. She used to call us dukes 
 and princes — I don't know what — poor soul. It was the 
 Chevalier de la Motte, whom she generally styled duke, hold- 
 
314 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 ing out her hand, and saying, " Kneel, sir, kneel, and kiss our 
 royal hand." And M. de la Motte would kneel with a sad sad 
 face, and go through this hapless ceremony. As for grand- 
 father, who was very bald, and without his wig, being one 
 evening below her window culling a salad in his garden, she 
 beckoned him to her smiling, and when the poor old man came, 
 she upset a dish of tea over his bald pate and said, " I appoint 
 you and anoint 30U Bishop of St. Denis ! " 
 
 The woman Martha, who had been the companion of the 
 Countess de Saverne in her unfortunate flight from home — I 
 believe that since the birth of her child the poor lad}- had never 
 been in her right senses at all — broke down under the ceaseless 
 watching and care her mistress's condition necessitated, and I 
 have no doubt found her duties yet more painful and difficult 
 when a second mistress, and a very harsh, imperious, and 
 jealous one, was set over her in the person of worthy Madame 
 Duval. My mother was for ordering everybody who would 
 submit to her orders, and entirely managing the affairs of all 
 those whom she loved. She put the mother to bed, and the 
 baby in her cradle ; she prepared food for both of them, dressed 
 one and the other with an equal affection, and loved that un- 
 conscious mother and child with a passionate devotion. But 
 she loved her own way, was jealous of all who came between 
 her and the objects of her love, and no doubt led her subordi- 
 nates an uncomfortable life. 
 
 Three months of Madame Duval tired out the Countess's 
 Alsatian maid, Martha. She revolted and said she would go 
 home. Mother said she was an ungrateful wretch, but was 
 delighted to get rid of her. She always averred the woman 
 stole articles of dress, and trinkets, and laces, belonging to her 
 mistress, before she left us : and in an evil hour this wretched 
 Martha went away. I believe she really loved her mistress, 
 and would have loved the child, had my mother's rigid arms 
 not pushed her from its cot. Poor little innocent, in what 
 tragic gloom did thy life begin ! But an unseen Power was 
 guarding that helpless innocence : and sure a good angel 
 watched it in its hour of danger ! 
 
 So Madame Duval turned Martha out of her tent as Sarah 
 thrust out Hagar. Are women pleased after doing these pretty 
 tricks? Your ladyships know best. Madame D. not only 
 thrust out Martha, but flung stones after Martha all her life. 
 She went awaj r , not blameless perhaps, but wounded to the 
 quick with ingratitude which had been shown to her, and a 
 link in that mysterious chain of destinj' which was binding all 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 315 
 
 these people — me the boy of seven years old ; yonder little 
 speechless infant of as many months ; that poor wandering 
 lady bereft of reason ; that dark inscrutable companion of hers 
 who brought evil with him wherever he came. 
 
 From Dungeness to Boulogne is but six-and-thirty miles, 
 and our boats, when war was over, were constantly making 
 journeys there. Even in war-time the little harmless craft left 
 each other alone, and, I suspect, carried on a great deal of 
 peaceable and fraudulent trade together. Grandfather had 
 share of a" fishing" boat with one Thomas Gregson of Lydd. 
 When Martha was determined to go, one of our boats was 
 ready to take her to the place from whence she came, or transfer 
 her to a French boat, which would return into its own harbor.* 
 She was carried back to Boulogne and landed. I know the 
 day full well from a document now before me, of which the dis- 
 mal writing and signing were occasioned by that veiy landing. 
 
 As she stepped out from the pier (a crowd of people, no 
 doubt, tearing the poor wretch's slender luggage from her to 
 carry it to the Customs) almost the first person on whom the 
 woman's e}'es fell was her master the Count de Saverne. He 
 had actually only reached the place on that very day, and 
 walked the pier, looking towards England, as man}- a man has 
 done from the same spot, when he saw the servant of his own 
 wife come up the side of the pier. 
 
 He rushed to her, as she started back screaming and almost 
 fainting, but the crowd of beggars behind her prevented her 
 retreat. "The child, — does the child live?" asked the poor 
 Count, in the German tongue, which both spoke. 
 
 The child was well. Thank God, thank God ! The poor 
 father's heart was freed from that terror, then ! I can fancy 
 the gentleman saying, "Your mistress is at Winchelsea, with 
 her foster-sister?" 
 
 " Yes, M. le Comte." 
 
 " The Chevalier de la Motte is always at Winchelsea?" 
 
 " Ye — oh, no, no, M. le Comte ! " 
 
 "Silence, liar! He made the journey with her. They 
 stopped at the same inns. M. le Brun, merchant, aged 34 ; 
 his sister, Madame Dubois, aged 24, with a female infant in 
 her arms, and a maid, left this port, on 20th April, in the Eng- 
 lish fishing-boat ' Mary,' of Rye. Before embarking they slept 
 at the ' Ecu de France.' I knew I should find them." 
 
 * There were points for which our boats used to make, and meet the 
 French boats when not disturbed, and do a great deal more business than 
 I could then understand. — D. D. 
 
316 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 " By all that is sacred, I never left Madame once during the 
 voyage ! " 
 
 "Never till to-da}*? Enough. How was the fishing-boat 
 called which brought you to Boulogne ? " 
 
 One of the boat's crew was actually walking behind the un- 
 happy gentleman at the time, with some packet which Martha 
 had left in it.* It seemed as if fate was determined upon sud- 
 denly and swiftly bringing the criminal to justice, and under 
 the avenging sword of the friend he had betrayed. He bade 
 the man follow him to the hotel. There should be a good 
 drink-money for him. 
 
 " Does he treat her well? " asked the poor gentleman, as he 
 and the maid walked on. 
 
 " Dame ! No mother can be more gentle than he is with 
 her? " Where Martha erred was in not saying that her mistress 
 was utterly deprived of reason, and had been so almost since 
 the child's birth. She owned that she had attended her lady 
 to the cathedral when the Countess and the infant were chris- 
 tened, and that M. de la Motte was also present. " He has 
 taken body and soul too," no doubt the miserable gentleman 
 thought. 
 
 He happened to alight at the very hotel where the fugitives 
 of whom he was in search had had their quarters four months 
 before (so that for two months at least poor M. de Saverne 
 must have lain ill at Nanci at the commencement of his jour- 
 ney). The boatman, the luggage people, and Martha the 
 servant followed the Count to this hotel ; and the femme-de- 
 chambre remembered how Madame Dubois and her brother had 
 been at the hotel — a poor sick lad}-, who sat up talking the 
 whole night. Her brother slept in the right wing across the 
 court. Monsieur has the lady's room. How that child did 
 cry ! See, the windows look on the port. " Yes, this was the 
 lady's room." 
 
 " And the child lay on which side? " 
 
 " On that side." 
 
 M. de Saverne looked at the place which the woman pointed 
 out, stooped his head towards the pillow, and cried as if his 
 heart would break. The fisherman's tears rolled down too 
 over his brown face and hands. Le pauvre ho?nme, le pauvre 
 homme ! 
 
 " Come into my sitting-room with me," he said to the fisher- 
 man. The man followed him and shut the door. 
 
 * I had this from the woman herself, whom we saw when we paid our 
 visit to Lorraine and Alsace in 1814. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 317 
 
 His burst of feeling was now over. He became entirely 
 calm. 
 
 "You know the house from which this woman came, at 
 Winchelsea, in England ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You took a gentleman and a lady thither? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 ' ' You remember the man ? " 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 " For thirty lonis will you go to sea to-night, take a passen- 
 ger, and deliver a letter to M. de la Motte?" 
 
 The man agreed : and I take out from my secretary that 
 letter, in its tawny ink of fifty years' date, and read it with a 
 strange interest always : — 
 
 "To the Chevalier Francois Joseph de la Motte, at Winchelsea, 
 in England. 
 
 " I knew I should find you. I never doubted where 3-011 
 were. But for a sharp illness which I made at Nanci, I should 
 have been with you two months earlier. After what has oc- 
 curred between us, I know this invitation will be to you as a 
 command, and that you will hasten as you did to m}' rescue 
 from the English bayonets at Hastenbeck. Between us, M. 
 le Chevalier, it is to life or death. I depend upon you to com- 
 municate this to no one, and to follow the messenger, who will 
 bring you to me. 
 
 "Count de Saverne." 
 
 This letter was brought to our house one evening as we sat 
 in the front shop. I had the child on my knee, which would 
 have no other playfellow but me. The Countess was pretty 
 quiet that evening — the night calm, and the windows open. 
 Grandfather was reading his book. The Countess and M. 
 de la Motte were at cards, though, poor thing, she could scarce 
 play for ten minutes at a time ; and there comes a knock, at 
 which grandfather puts down his book.* 
 
 "All's well," says he. " Entrez. Comment! c'est vous, 
 Bidois?" 
 
 " Oui, c'est bien inoi, patron ! " says Mons. Bidois, a great 
 fellow in boots and petticoat, with an eelskin queue hanging 
 down to his heels. "C'est la le petit du pauv' Jean Louis? 
 Est i genti le pti patron ! " 
 
 * There was a particular knock, as I learned later, in use among grand- 
 papa's private friends, and Mons. Bidois no doubt had this signal. 
 
318 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 And as he looks at me, he rubs a hand across his nose. 
 
 At this moment Madame la Comtesse gave one, two, three 
 screams, a laugh, and then cries — "Ah, c'est mon mari qui 
 revient de la guerre. II est la — a la croisee. Bon jour, M. 
 le Comte ! Bon jour. Vous avez une petite fille bien laide, 
 bien laide, que je n'aime pas du tout, pas clu tout ! He is there ! 
 I saw him at the window. There ! there ! Hide me from him. 
 He will kill me, he will kill me ! " she cried. 
 
 " Calmez-vous, Clarisse," says the Chevalier, who was 
 weaiy, no doubt, of the poor lady's endless outcries and 
 follies. 
 
 " Calmez-vous, ma fille ! " sings out mother, from the inner 
 room, where she was washing. 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur is the Chevalier de la Motte?" says Bidois. 
 
 " Apres, Monsieur," says the Chevalier, looking haughtily 
 up from the cards. 
 
 "In that case, I have a letter for M. le Chevalier." And 
 the sailor handed to the Chevalier de la Motte that letter which 
 I have, translated, the ink of which was black and wet then, 
 though now it is sere and faded. 
 
 This Chevalier had faced death and danger in a score of dare- 
 devil expeditions. At the game of steel and lead there was no 
 cooler performer. He put the letter which he had received 
 quietly into his pocket, finished his game with the Countess, 
 and telling Bidois to follow him to his lodgings, took leave of 
 the corapan}-. I dare say the poor Countess built up a house 
 with the cards, and took little more notice. Mother, going to 
 close the shutters, said, " It was droll, that little man, the 
 friend to Bidois, was still standing in the street." You see we 
 had all sorts of droll friends. Seafaring men, speaking a jar- 
 gon of English, French, Dutch, were constantly dropping in 
 upon us. Dear heaven ! when I think in what a company I 
 have lived, and what a galere I rowed in, is it not a wonder 
 that I did not finish where some of my friends did? 
 
 I made a drole de metier at this time. I was set b} r grand- 
 father to learn his business. Our apprentice taught me the 
 commencement of the noble art of wig-weaving. As soon as I 
 was tall enough to stand to a gentleman's nose I was promised 
 to be promoted to be a shaver. I trotted on mother's errands 
 with her bandboxes, and what not ; and I was made dry-nurse 
 to poor Madame's bab}', who, as I said, loved me most of all 
 in the house ; and who would put her little dimpled hands out 
 and crow with delight to see me. The first day I went out 
 with this little baby in a little wheel-chair mother got for her, 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 319 
 
 the town boys made rare fun of me : and I bad to figbt one, as 
 poor little Agnes sat sucking her little thumb in her chair, I sup- 
 pose ; and whilst the battle was going on, who should come up 
 but Doctor Barnaul, the English rector of Saint Philip's, who lent 
 us French Protestants the nave of his church for our service, 
 whilst our tumble-down old church was being mended. Doctor 
 Barnard (for a reason which I did not know at that time, but 
 which I am compelled to own now was a good one) did not like 
 grandfather, nor mother, nor our family. You ma}' be sure 
 our people abused him in return. He was called a haughty 
 priest — a vilain beeg-veeg, mother used to say, in her French- 
 English. And perhaps one of the causes of her dislike to him 
 was, that his big vig — a fine cauliflower it was — was powdered 
 at another barber's. Well, whilst the battle royal was going 
 on between me and Tom Caffin (dear heart ! how well I remem- 
 ber the fellow, though — let me see — it is fifty-four years since 
 we punched each other's little noses), Doctor Barnard walks up 
 to us boys and stops the fighting. "You little rogues, I'll 
 have 3'ou all put in the stocks and whipped bj* my beadle," 
 sa}*s the Doctor, who was a magistrate too : "as for this little 
 French barber, he is alwa}'s in mischief." 
 
 " They laughed at me and called me Diy-nurse, and wanted 
 to upset the little cart, sir, and I wouldn't bear it. And it's 
 my duty to protect a poor child that can't help itself," said I, 
 very stoutly. "Her mother is ill. Her nurse has run away, 
 and she has nobody — nobody to protect her but me — and 
 .'-Notre Pere qui est aux cieux ; ' " and I held up my little hand 
 as grandfather used to do; "and if those boys hurt the child, 
 I will fight for her." 
 
 The Doctor rubbed his hand across his eyes ; and felt in his 
 pocket and gave me a dollar. 
 
 " And come to see us all at the Rectory, child," Mrs. Bar- 
 nard says, who was with the Doctor ; and she looked at the 
 little baby that was in its cot, and said, "Poor thing, poor 
 thing ! " 
 
 And the Doctor, turning round to the English boys, still 
 holding me by the hand, said, " Mind, all you bo}-s ! If I hear 
 of }*ou being such cowards again as to strike this little lad for 
 doing his duty, I will have 3011 whipped by my beadle, as sure 
 as my name is Thomas Barnard. Shake hands, you Thomas 
 Caffin, with the French bo}";" and I said, "I would shake 
 hands or fight it out whenever Tom Caffin liked ; " and so took 
 my place as pony again, and palled my little cart down Sand- 
 gate. 
 
320 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 These stories got about amongst the townspeople, and fish- 
 ermen, and seafaring folk, I suppose, and the people of our 
 little circle ; and they were the means, God help me, of bring- 
 ing me in those very early da}*s a legacy which I have still. 
 You see, the da}' after Bidois, the French fisherman, paid us a 
 visit, as I was pulling m}' little cart up the hill to a little farm- 
 er's house where grandfather and a partner of his had some 
 pigeons, of which I was very fond as a boy, I met a little dark 
 man whose face I cannot at all recall to my mind, but who 
 spoke French and German to me like grandfather and mother. 
 " That is the child of Madame von Zabern ? " says he, trembling 
 very much. 
 
 " Ja, Herr !" sa} T s the little boy 
 
 O Agnes, Agnes ! How the years roll away ! What strange 
 events have befallen us : what passionate griefs have we had to 
 surfer : what a merciful heaven has protected us, since that day 
 when your father knelt over the little car, in which his child lay 
 sleeping ! I have the picture in my mind now. I see a winding 
 road leading down to one of the gates of our town ; the blue 
 marsh-land, and yonder, across the marsh, Rye towers and 
 gables ; a great silver sea stretching beyond ; and that dark 
 man's figure stooping and looking at the child asleep. He 
 never kissed the infant or touched her. I remember it woke 
 smiling, and held out its little arms, and he turned away with 
 a sort of groan. 
 
 Bidois, the French fisherman I spoke of as having been to 
 see us on the night before, came up here with another com- 
 panion, an Englishman I think. 
 
 "Ah! we seek for you ever3 - where, Monsieur le Comte," 
 sa}'s he. " The tide serves and it is full time." 
 
 "Monsieur le Chevalier is on board?" saj's the Count de 
 Saverne. 
 
 "II est bien la," says the fisherman. And they went down 
 the hill through the gate, without turning to look back. 
 
 Mother was quite quiet, and gentle all that day. It seemed 
 as if something scared her. The poor Countess prattled and 
 laughed, or cried in her unconscious way. But grandfather at 
 evening prayer that night making the exposition rather long, 
 mother stamped her foot, and said, ' ' Assez bavarde com me ca, 
 mon pere," and sank back in her chair with her apron over her 
 face. 
 
 She remained all next day very silent, crying often, and 
 reading in our great German Bible. She was kind to me that 
 day. I remember her saying, in her deep voice, " Thou art a 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 321 
 
 brave boy, Denikin." It was seldom she patted my head so 
 softly. That night our patient was very wild; and laughing 
 a great deal, and singing so that the people would stop in the 
 streets to listen. 
 
 Doctor Barnard again met me that day, dragging my little 
 carriage, and he fetched me into the Rectory for the first time, 
 and gave me cake and wine, and the book of the "Arabian 
 Nights." and the ladies admired the little baby, and said it was 
 a pity it was a little Papist, and the Doctor hoped / was not 
 going to turn Papist, and I said, " Oh, never." Neither 
 mother nor I liked that darkling Roman Catholic clergyman 
 who was fetched over from our neighbors at the Priory by 
 M. de la Motte. The Chevalier was very firm himself in that 
 religion. I little thought then that I was to see him on a day 
 when his courage and his faith were both to have an awful 
 trial. 
 
 ... I was reading then in this fine book of Monsieur Gal- 
 land which the Doctor had given me. I had no orders to go to 
 bed, strange to sa}*, and I dare say was peeping into the cave 
 of the Forty Thieves along with Master Ali Baba, when I heard 
 the clock whirring previously to striking twelve, and steps 
 coming rapidly up our empty street. 
 
 Mother started up, looking quite haggard, and undid the 
 bolt of the door. 
 
 " C'est lui!" says she, with her ej'es starting, and the 
 Chevalier de la Motte came in, looking as white as a corpse. 
 
 -Poor Madame de Saverne up stairs, awakened by the striking 
 clock perhaps, began to sing overhead, and the Chevalier gave 
 a great start, looking more ghastly than before, as my mother 
 with an awful face looked at him. 
 
 " II l'a voulu," says M. de la Motte, hanging down his head ; 
 and again poor Madam e's crazy voice began to sing. 
 
 REPORT. 
 
 "On the 27th June of this year, 1769, the Comte de Sa- 
 verne arrived at Boulogne-sur-Mer, and lodged at the Ecu de 
 France, where also was staying M. le Marquis du Quesne 
 Menneville, Chef d'Escadre of the Naval Armies of his Majesty. 
 The Comte de Saverne was previously unknown to the Marquis 
 du Quesne, but recalling to M. du Quesne's remembrance the 
 fact that his illustrious ancestor the Admiral du Quesne pro- 
 fessed the Reformed religion, as did M. de Saverne himself, 
 M. de Saverne entreated the Marquis du Quesne to be his 
 
 21 
 
322 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 friend in a rencontre which deplorable circumstances rendered 
 unavoidable. 
 
 " At the same time, M. de Saverne stated to M. le Marquis 
 du Quesne the causes of his quarrel with the Chevalier Francis 
 Joseph de la Motte, late officer of the regiment of Soubise, at 
 present residing in England in the town of Winchelsea, in the 
 county of Sussex. The statement made by the Comte de Sa- 
 verne was such as to convince M. du Quesne of the Count's 
 right to exact a reparation from the Chevalier de la Motte. 
 
 " A boat was despatched on the night of the 29th June, with 
 a messenger bearing the note of M. le Comte de Saverne. And 
 in this boat M. de la Motte returned from England. 
 
 "The undersigned Comte de Berigny, in garrison at Bou- 
 logne, and an acquaintance of M. de la Motte, consented to 
 serve as his witness in the meeting with M. de Saverne. 
 
 " The meeting took place at seven o'clock in the morning, on 
 the sands at half a league from the port of Boulogne : and the 
 weapons chosen were pistols. Both gentlemen were perfectl}' 
 calm and collected, as one might expect from officers distin- 
 guished in the King's service, who had faced the enemies of 
 France as comrades together. 
 
 " Before firing, M. le Chevalier de la Motte advanced four 
 steps, and holding his pistol down, and laying his hand on his 
 heart, he said, — 1 1 swear on the faith of a Christian, and the 
 honor of a gentleman, that I am innocent of the charge laid 
 against me by Monsieur de Saverne.' 
 
 "The Comte de Saverne said, — ' M. le Chevalier de la 
 Motte, I have made no charge ; and if I had, a lie costs 3-011 
 nothing.' 
 
 " M. de la Motte, saluting the witnesses courteously, and 
 with grief rather than anger visible upon his countenance, re- 
 turned to his line on the sand which was marked out as the 
 place where he was to stand, at a distance of ten paces from 
 his adversary. 
 
 " At the signal being given both fired simultaneously. The 
 ball of M. de Saverne grazed M. de la Motte's side-curl, while 
 his ball struck M. de Saverne in the right breast. M. de Sa- 
 verne stood a moment, and fell. 
 
 "The seconds, the surgeon, and M. de la Motte advanced 
 towards the fallen gentleman ; and M. de la Motte, holding up 
 his hand, again said, — ' I take heaven to witness the person is 
 innocent.' 
 
 " The Comte de Saverne seemed to be about to speak. He 
 lifted himself from the sand, supporting himself on one arm : 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 323 
 
 but all he said was, ' You, you — ' and a great issue of blood 
 rushed from his throat, and he fell back, and, with a few con- 
 vulsions, died. 
 
 (Signed) " Marquis du Quesne Menneville, 
 
 " Chef d' Escadre aux Armees Nacales du Roy. 
 
 " COMPTE DE BERIGNY, 
 
 " Brigadier de Cavalerie." 
 
 SURGEON'S REPORT. 
 
 " I, Jean Batiste Drodot, Surgeon-Major of the Regiment 
 Royal Cravate, in garrison at Boulogne-sur-Mer, certif}- that I 
 was present at the meeting which ended so lamentably. The 
 death of the gentleman who succumbed was immediate ; the 
 ball, passing to the right of the middle of the breastbone, pene- 
 trated the lung and the large artery supplying it with blood, 
 and caused death by immediate suffocation." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 
 
 That last night which he was to pass upon earth, M. de 
 Saverne spent in a little tavern in Winchelsea, frequented b} r 
 fishing people, and known to Bidois, who, even during the 
 war, was in the constant habit of coming to England upon 
 errands in which Mons. Grandpapa was very much interested — 
 precentor, elder, perruquier as he was. 
 
 The Count de Saverne had had some talk with the fisher- 
 man during the voyage from Boulogne, and more conversation 
 took place on this last night, when the Count took Bidois partly 
 into his confidence : and, without mentioning the precise cause 
 of his quarrel with M. de la Motte, said that it was inevitable ; 
 that the man was a villain who ought not to be allowed to pol- 
 lute the earth ; and that no criminal was ever more righteously 
 executed than this chevalier would be on the morrow, when it 
 was agreed that the two were to meet. 
 
 The meeting would have taken place on that very night, but 
 M. de la Motte demanded, as indeed he had a right to do, some 
 hours for the settlement of his own affairs ; and preferred to 
 fight on French ground rather than English, as the survivor of 
 
324 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 the quarrel would be likely to meet with very rough treatment 
 in this country. 
 
 La Motte betook himself then to arranging his papers. As 
 for the Count de Saverne, he said all his dispositions were made. 
 A dowry — that which his wife brought — would go to her 
 child. His own property was devised to his own relations, and 
 he could give the child nothing. He had only a few pieces in 
 his purse, and, "Tenez," says he, "this watch. Should any- 
 thing befall me, I desire it may be given to the little boy who 
 saved my — that is, her child." And the voice of M. le Comte 
 broke as he said these words, and the tears ran over his fingers. 
 And the seaman wept too, as he told the story" to me years 
 after, nor were some of mine wanting, I think, for that poor 
 heart-broken, wretched man, writhing in helpless agon} - , as the 
 hungry sand drank his blood. Assuredly, the guilt of that 
 blood was on thy head, Francis de la Motte. 
 
 The watch is ticking on the table before me as I write. It 
 has been my companion for half a century. I remember my 
 childish delight when Bidois brought it to me, and told my 
 mother the tale of the meeting of the two gentlemen. 
 
 " You see her condition," M. de la Motte said to my mother 
 at this time. "We are separated for ever, as hopelessly as 
 though one or other were dead. My hand slew her husband. 
 Perhaps my fault destroyed her reason. I transmit misfortunes 
 to those I love and would serve. Shall I many her? I will if 
 you think I can serve her. As long as a guinea remains to me, 
 I will halve it with her. I have but very few left now. My 
 fortune has crumbled under nry hands, as have my friendships, 
 my once bright prospects, my ambitions. I am a doomed man : 
 somehow I drag down those who love me into nry doom." 
 
 And so indeed there was a Cain mark, as it were, on this 
 unhappy man. He did bring wreck and ruin on those who 
 loved him. He was as a lost soul, I somehow think, whose 
 tortures had begun already. Predestined to evil, to crime, to 
 gloom ; but now and again some one took pity* upon this poor 
 wretch, and amongst those who pitied him was my stern 
 mother. 
 
 And here I may- relate how it happened that I ' ' saved " the 
 child, for which act poor M. de Saverne rewarded me. Bidois 
 no doubt told that story to M. le Comte in the course of their 
 gloomy voyage. Mrs. Martha, the Countess's attendant, had 
 received or taken leave of absence one night, after putting the 
 child and the poor lady, who was no better than a child, to bed. 
 I went to my bed, and to sleep as boys sleep ; and I forget 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 325 
 
 what business called away ray mother likewise, but when she 
 came back to look for her poor Biche and the infant in its cradle 
 — both were gone. 
 
 I have seen the incomparable Siddons, in the play, as, white 
 and terrified, she passed through the darkened hall after King 
 Duncan's murder. My mother's face wore a look of terror to 
 the full as tragical, when, starting up from my boyish sleep, I 
 sat up in my bed and saw her. She was almost beside herself 
 with terror. The poor insane lad}' and her child were gone — 
 who could say where? Into the marshes — into the sea — into 
 the darkness — it was impossible to say whither the Countess 
 had fled. 
 
 " We must get up, my bo}', and find them," says mother, in 
 a hoarse voice ; and I was sent over to Mr. Bliss's the grocer, 
 in East Street, where the Chevalier lived, and where I found 
 him sitting (with two priests, by the way, guests, no doubt, of 
 Mr. Weston, at the Priory), and all these, and mother, on her 
 side, with me following her, went out to look for the fugi- 
 tives. 
 
 We went by pairs, taking different roads. Mother's was the 
 right one as it appeared, for we had not walked many minutes, 
 when we saw a white figure coming towards us, glimmering out 
 of the dark, and heard a voice singing. 
 
 " Ah, mon Dieu ! " says mother, and " Gott sey dank," and 
 I know not what exclamations of gratitude and relief. It was 
 the voice of the Countess. 
 
 ,As we came up, she knew us with our light, and began to 
 imitate, in her craz} T way, the cry of the watchman, whom the 
 poor sleepless soul had often heard under the windows. " Past 
 twelve o'clock, a starlight night ! " she sang, and gave one of 
 her sad laughs. 
 
 When we came up to her we found her in a white wrapper, 
 her hair flowing down her back and over her poor pale face, and 
 again she sang, " Past twelve o'clock." 
 
 The child was not with her. Mother trembled in every 
 limb. The lantern shook so in her hand I thought she would 
 drop it. 
 
 She put it down on the ground. She took her shawl off her 
 back, and covered the poor kuby with it, who smiled in her 
 childish way, and said, " C'est bon ; e'est chaud 9a ; ah! que 
 e'est bien ! " 
 
 As I chanced to look down at the lad}*'s feet, I saw one of 
 them was naked. Mother, herself in a dreadful agitation, em- 
 braced and soothed Madame de Saverne. " Tell me, my angel, 
 
326 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 tell me, my love, where is the child?" says mother, almost 
 fainting. 
 
 "The child, what child? That little brat who always cries? 
 I know nothing about children," says the poor thing. " Take 
 me to nry bed this moment, madam ! How dare you bring me 
 into the streets with naked feet ! " 
 
 ' * Where have } T ou been walking, my dear ? " sa}-s poor 
 mother, trying to soothe her. 
 
 "1 have been to Great Saverne. I wore a domino. I knew 
 the coachman quite well, though he was muffled up all but 
 his nose. I was presented to Monseigneur the Cardinal. I 
 made him such a curtsy — like this. Oh, my foot hurts 
 me!" 
 
 She often rambled about this ball and play, and hummed 
 snatches of tunes and little phrases of dialogue, which she may 
 have heard there. Indeed, I believe it was the only play and 
 ball the poor thing ever saw in her life ; her brief life, her 
 wretched life. 'Tis pitiful to think how unhappy it was. When 
 I recall it, it tears my heart-strings somehow, as it doth to see 
 a child in pain. 
 
 As she held up the poor bleeding foot, I saw that the edge 
 of her dress was all wet, and covered with sand. 
 
 " Mother, mother ! " said I, " she has been to the sea ! " 
 
 " Have you been to the sea, Clarisse?" asks mother. 
 
 " J'ai ete au bal : j'ai danse ; j'ai chante. J'ai bien reconnu 
 mon cocher. J'ai ete au bal chez le Cardinal. But you must not 
 tell M. de Saverne. Oh, no, you mustn't tell him ! " 
 
 A sudden thought came to me. And, whenever I remember 
 it, my heart is full of thankfulness to the gracious Giver of all good 
 thoughts. Madame, of whom I was not afraid, and who some- 
 times was amused by my prattle, would now and then take a 
 walk accompanied by Martha her maid, who held the infant, and 
 myself, who liked to draw it in its little carriage. We used 
 to walk clown to the shore, and there was a rock there, on which 
 the poor lady would sit for hours. 
 
 "You take her home, mother," sa}'s I, all in a tremble. 
 " You give me the lantern, and I'll go — I'll go" — I was off be- 
 fure I said where. Down I went through Westgate ; down I ran 
 along the road towards the place I guessed at. When I had 
 gone a few hundred yards, I saw in the road something white. 
 It was the Countess's slipper, that she had left there. I knew 
 she had gone that wa}\ 
 
 I got down to the shore, running, running with all my little 
 might. The moon had risen by this time, shining gloriousty 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 327 
 
 over a great silver sea. A tide of silver was pouring in over the 
 sand. Yonder was that rock where we often had sat. The 
 infant was sleeping on it under the stars unconscious. He, 
 
 Who loves little children, had watched over it I scarce 
 
 can see the words as I write them down. My little baby was 
 waking. She had known nothing of the awful sea coming 
 nearer with each wave ; but she knew me as I came, and smiled 
 and warbled a little infant welcome. I took her up in my arms, 
 and trotted home with 1113- pretty burdeu. As I paced up the 
 hill, M. de la Motte and one of the French clergymen met me. 
 By ones and twos the other searchers after my little wanderer 
 came home from their quest. She was laid in her little crib, 
 and never knew, until years later, the danger from which she 
 had been rescued. 
 
 My adventures became known in our town, and I made 
 some acquaintances who were very kind to me, and were the 
 means of advancing me in after-life. I was too young to under- 
 stand much what was happening round about me ; but now, if the 
 truth must be told, I must confess that old grandfather, besides 
 his business of perruquier, which you will say is no very mag- 
 nificent trade, followed others which were far less reputable. 
 What do you say, for instance, of a church elder, who lends 
 money a la petite semaine, and at great interest? The fisher- 
 men, the market-people, na}-, one or two farmers and gentlemen 
 round about, were beholden to grandfather for supplies, and 
 they came to him, to be shaved in more ways than one. No 
 good came out of his gains, as I shall presently tell : but 
 meanwhile his hands w r ere for ever stretched out to claw other 
 folks' mone}- towards himself; and it must be owned that 
 madame sn bru loved a purse too, and was by no means scrupu- 
 lous as to the way of filling it. Monsieur le Chevalier de la 
 Motte was free-handed and grand in his manner. He p*aid a 
 pension, I know not how much, for the maintenance of poor 
 Madame de Saverne. He had brought her to the strait in 
 which she was, poor thing. Had he not worked on her, she 
 never would have left her religion : she never would have fled 
 from her husband : that fatal duel would never have occurred : 
 right or wrong, he was the cause of her calamit}-, and he w r ould 
 make it as light as it might be. I know how, for years, extrav- 
 agant and embarrassed as he was, he yet supplied means for 
 handsomely maintaining the little Agnes when she was pres- 
 ently left an orphan in the world, when mother and father both 
 were dead, and her relatives at home disowned her. 
 
 The ladies of Barr, Agnes's aunts, totally denied that the 
 
328 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 infant was their brother's child, and refused any contribution 
 towards her maintenance. Her mother's family equally dis- 
 avowed her. They had been taught the same story, and I 
 suppose we believe willingly enough what we wish to believe. 
 The poor lady was guilty. Her child had been born in her 
 husband's absence. When his return was announced, she fled 
 from her home, not daring to face him ; and the unhappy Count 
 de Saverne died by the pistol of the man who had already 
 robbed him of his honor. La Motte had to bear this obloquy. 
 or only protest against it by letters from England. He could 
 not go over to Lorraine, where he was plunged in debt. " At 
 least, Duval," said he to me, when I shook hands with him, and 
 with all my heart forgave him, " mad, and reckless as I have 
 been, and fatal to all whom I loved ; I have never allowed the 
 child to want, and have supported her in comfort, when I 
 was myself almost without a meal." A bad man, no doubt 
 this was; and yet not utterly wicked: a great criminal who 
 paid an awful penalty. Let us be humble, who have erred too ; 
 and thankful, if we have a hope that we have found mercy. 
 
 I believe it was some braggart letter, which La Motte wrote 
 to a comrade in M. de Vaux's camp, and in which he boasted 
 of making the conversion of a petite Protestante at Strasbourg, 
 which came to the knowledge of poor M. de Saverne, hastened 
 his return home, and brought about this dreadful end. La 
 Motte owned as much, indeed, in the last interview I ever had 
 with him. 
 
 Who told Madame de Saverne of her husband's death? It 
 was not for years after that I ni3'self (unluck} T chatterbox, whose 
 tongue was always blabbing) knew what had happened. My 
 mother thought that she must have overheard Bidois the boat- 
 man, who told the whole stoiy over his glass of Geneva in our 
 parlor. The Countess's chamber was overhead, and the door 
 left open. The poor thing used to be very angry at the notion 
 of a locked door, and since that awful escapade to the sea- 
 shore, m} r mother slept in her room, or a servant whom she 
 liked pretty well supplied mother's place. 
 
 In her condition the dreadful event affected her but little ; 
 and we never knew that she was aware of it until one evening 
 when it happened that a neighbor, one of our French people of 
 Rye, was talking over the tea-table, and telling us of a dread- 
 ful thing he had seen on Penenden Heath as he was coming 
 home. He there saw a woman burned at the stake for the mur- 
 der of her husband. The storj r is in the Gentleman's Magazine 
 for the year 1769, and that will settle pretty well the date 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 329 
 
 of the evening when our neighbor related the horrible tale 
 to us. 
 
 Poor Madame de Saverne (who had a very grand air, and 
 was perfectly like a lady) said quite simply, " In this ease, my 
 good Ursule, I shall be burned too. For you know I was the 
 cause of my husband being killed. M. le Chevalier went and 
 killed him in Corsiea." And she looked round with a little 
 smile, and nodded ; and arranged her white dress with her slim 
 hot hands. 
 
 When the poor thing spoke, the Chevalier sank baek as if 
 he had been shot himself. 
 
 "Good night, neighbor Marion," groans mother; "she is 
 very bad to-night. Come to bed, my dear, come to bed." 
 And the poor thing followed mother, curtsying very finely to 
 the company, and saying, quite softly, " Oui, oui, oui, they 
 will burn me ; they will burn me." 
 
 This idea seized upon her mind, and never left it. Madame 
 la Comtesse passed a night of great agitation ; talking inces- 
 santly. Mother and her maid were up with her all night. All 
 night long we could hear her songs, her screams, her tenible 
 laughter. . . . Oh, pitiful was thy lot in this world, poor guilt- 
 less, harmless lad}". In thy brief years, how little happiness ! 
 For thy marriage portion only gloom, and terror, and submis- 
 sion, and captivity. The awful Will above us ruled it so. 
 Poor frightened spirit ! it has woke under serener skies now, 
 and passed out of reach of our terrors, and temptations, and 
 troubles. 
 
 At my early age I could only be expected to obey my elders 
 and parents, and to consider all things were right which were 
 done round about me. Mother's cuffs on the head I received 
 without malice, and if the truth must be owned, had not seldom 
 to submit to the major operation which my grandfather used to 
 perform with a certain rod which he kept in a locked cupboard, 
 and accompany with long wearisome sermons between each cut 
 or two of his favorite instrument. These good people, as I 
 gradually began to learn, bore but an indifferent reputation in 
 the town which the}- inhabited, and were neither liked by the 
 French of their own colony, nor by the English among whom 
 we dwelt. Of course, being a simple little fellow, I honored 
 my father and mother as became me — my grandfather and 
 mother, that is — father being dead some years. 
 
 Grandfather, I knew, had a share in a fishing-boat, as num- 
 bers of people had, both at Eye and Winchelsea. Stokes, our 
 
330 DENTS DUVAL. 
 
 fisherman, took me out once or twice, and I liked the sport 
 very much : but it appeared that I ought to have .said nothing 
 about the boat and the fishing — for one night when we pulled 
 out only a short way beyond a rock which we used to call the 
 Bull Rock, from a pair of horns which stuck out of the water, 
 and there were hailed by my old friend Biclois, who had come 
 from Boulogne in his lugger — and then . . . well then, I was 
 going to explain the whole matter artlessly to one of our neigh- 
 bors who happened to step in to supper, when grandpapa (who 
 had made a grace of five minutes long before taking the dish- 
 cover off) fetched me a slap across the face which sent me 
 reeling off my perch. And the Chevalier, who was supping 
 with us, only laughed at my misfortune. 
 
 This being laughed at somehow affected me more than the 
 blows. I was used to those, from grandfather and mother too ; 
 but when people once had been kind to me I could not bear a 
 different behavior from them. And this gentlem'an certainly 
 was. He .improved my French very much, and used to laugh 
 at my blunders and bad pronunciation. He took a good deal 
 of pains with me when I was at home, and made me speak 
 French like a little gentleman. 
 
 In a very brief time he learned English himself, with a droll 
 accent to be sure, but so as to express himself quite intelligibly. 
 His head-quarters were at Winchelsea, though he would fre- 
 quently be away at Deal, Dover, Canterbury, even London. 
 He paid mother a pension for little Agnes, who grew apace, 
 and was the most winning child I ever set eyes on. I remem- 
 ber, as well as 3 T esterday, the black dress which was made for 
 her after her poor mother's death, her pale cheeks, and the 
 great solemn eyes gazing out from under the black curling 
 ringlets which fell over her forehead and face. 
 
 Why do I make zigzag journeys? "lis the privilege of old 
 age to be garrulous, and its happiness to remember early clays. 
 As I sink back in my arm-chair, safe and sheltered post tot 
 discrimina, and happier than it has been the lot of most fellow- 
 sinners to be, the past comes back to me — the stormy past, 
 the strange unhappy vet happy past — and I look at it scared and 
 astonished sometimes ; as huntsmen look «t the gaps and ditches 
 over which they have leapt, and wonder how the} r are alive. 
 
 My good fortune in rescuing that little darling child caused 
 the Chevalier to be very kind to me ; and when he was with us, 
 I used to hang on to the skirts of his coat, and prattle for hours 
 together, quite losing all fear of him. Except my kind name- 
 sake, the captain and admiral, this was the first gentleman I 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 331 
 
 ever met in intimacj' — a gentleman with many a stain, nay 
 crime to reproach him ; but not all lost, I hope and pray. I 
 own to having a kindly feeling towards that fatal man. I see 
 myself a child prattling at his coat-skirts, and trotting along 
 our roads and marshes with him. I see him with his sad pale 
 f ace — a nd a kind of blighting look he had — looking at that 
 unconscious lady, at that little baby. My friends the Neapoli- 
 tans would have called his an evil eye, and exorcised it accord- 
 ingly. A favorite walk we had was to a house about a mile 
 out of Winchelsea, where a grazing farmer lived. My delight 
 then was to see not his cattle, but his pigeons, of which he had 
 a good stock, of croppers, pouters, runts, and turbits ; and 
 amongst these I was told there were a sort of pigeons called 
 carriers, which would fly for prodigious distances, returning 
 from the place to which they were taken though it were ever so 
 distant, to that where they lived and were bred. 
 
 Whilst I was at Mr. Perreau's, one of these pigeons actually 
 came in flying from the sea, as it appeared to me : and Perreau 
 looked at it, and fondled it, and said to the Chevalier, " There 
 is nothing. It is to be at the old place." On which M. le 
 Chevalier only said, "C'est bien ; " and as we walked awa} T 
 told me all he knew about pigeons, which I dai'e say was no 
 great knowledge. 
 
 Why did he sa}^ there was nothing? I asked in the inno- 
 cence of m}' prattle. The Chevalier told me that these birds 
 sometimes brought messages, written on a little paper, and tied 
 under their wings, and that Perreau said there was nothing 
 because there was nothing. 
 
 "Oh, then! he sometimes does have messages with his 
 birds ? " 
 
 The Chevalier shrugged his shoulder, and took a great pinch 
 out of his fine snuff-box. " What did papa Duval do to you 
 the other day when } - ou began to talk too fast ? " says he. 
 "Learn to hold thy little tongue, Denis, mon garcon. If thou 
 livest a little longer, and tellest all thou seest, the Lord help 
 thee ! " And I suppose our conversation ended here, and he 
 strode home, and I trotted after him. 
 
 I narrate these things occurring in childhood by the help of 
 one or two marks which have been left behind — as the in- 
 genious bo}' found his way home by the pebbles which he 
 dropped along his line of march. Thus I happen to know the 
 year when poor Madame de Saverne must have been ill, by 
 referring to the date of the execution of the woman whom our 
 neighbor saw burned on Penenden Heath. Was it days, was 
 
332 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 it weeks after this that Madame de Saveme's illness ended as 
 all oiir illnesses will end one day ? 
 
 During the whole course of her illness, whatever its length 
 may have been, those priests from Slindon (or from Mr. Wes- 
 ton's the Popish gentleman's at the Prion) were constantly in 
 our house, and I suppose created a great scandal among the 
 Protestants of the town. M. de la Motte showed an extraor- 
 dinary zeal in this business ; and, sinner as he was, certainly 
 was a most devout sinner, according to his persuasion. I do 
 not remember, or was not cognizant, when the end came ; but I 
 remember my astonishment as, passing by her open chamber 
 door, I saw candles lighted before her bed, and some of those 
 clergy watching there, and the Chevalier de la Motte kneeling 
 in the passage in an attitude of deep contrition and grief. 
 
 On that last day there was, as it appeared, a great noise 
 and disturbance round our house. The people took offence at 
 the perpetual coming in and out of the priest ; and on the very 
 night when the coffin was to be taken from our house, and the 
 clergymen were performing the last services there, the windows 
 of the room, where the poor lady lay, were broken in by a 
 great voile}' of stones, and a roaring mob shouting, " ]N'o 
 Popery, down with priests ! " 
 
 Grandfather lost all courage at these threatening demonstra- 
 tions, and screamed out at his bru for bringing all this perse- 
 cution and danger upon him. " Silence, miserable!" says she. 
 "Go sit in the back kitchen, and count your money-bags!" 
 She, at least, did not lose her courage. 
 
 M. de la Motte, though not frightened, was much disturbed. 
 The matter might be very serious. I did not know at the time 
 how furiously angry our townspeople were with my parents for 
 harboring a Papist. Had they known that the lady was a 
 converted Protestant, the}" would, doubtless, have been more 
 violent still. 
 
 We were in a manner besieged in our house ; the garrison 
 being — the two priests in much terror ; my grandfather, under 
 the bed for what I know, or somewhere where he would be 
 equally serviceable ; my mother and the Chevalier, with their 
 wits about them ; and little Denis Duval, no doubt very much 
 in the way. When the poor lady died it was thought advisable 
 to send her little girl out of the way ; and Mrs. Weston at the 
 Priory took her in, who belonged, as has before been said, to 
 the ancient faith. 
 
 We looked out with no little alarm for the time when the 
 hearse should come to take the poor lady's body away ; for 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 333 
 
 the people would not leave the street, and barricaded cither 
 end of it, having perpetrated no actual violence beyond the 
 smashing of the. windows as yet, but ready no doubt for more 
 mischief. 
 
 Calling me to him, M. de la Motto said, " Denis, thou re- 
 membercst about the carrier pigeon the other day with nothing 
 under his wing?" I remembered, of course. 
 
 "Thou shalt be my carrier pigeon. Thou shalt carry no 
 letter but a message. I can trust thee now with a secret." 
 And I kept it, and will tell it now that the people are quite 
 out of danger from that piece of intelligence, as I can promise 
 3-ou. 
 
 " You know Mr. Weston's house ? " Know the house where 
 Agnes was — the best house in the town? Of course I did. 
 He named eight or ten houses besides Weston's at which I was 
 to go and say, " The mackerel are coming in. Come as many 
 of you as can." And I went to the houses, and said the words"; 
 and when the people said, " Where?" I said, " Opposite our 
 house," and so went on. 
 
 The last and handsomest house (I had never been in it be- 
 fore) was Mr. Weston's, at the Priory : and there I went and 
 called to see him. And I remember Mrs. Weston was walking 
 up and down a gallery over the hall with a little crying child 
 who would not go to sleep. 
 
 "Agnes, Agnes!" says I, and that baby was quiet in a 
 minute, smiling, and crowing and flinging out her arms. In- 
 deed, mine was the first name she could speak. 
 
 The gentlemen came out of their parlor, where the}- were 
 over their pipes, and asked me, surlily enough, "What I 
 wanted?" I said, "The mackerel were out, and the crews 
 were wanted before Peter Duval's, the barber's." And one 
 of them, with a scowl on his face, and an oath, said they would 
 be there, and shut the door in my face. 
 
 As I went away from the Priory, and crossed the churchyard 
 by the Rectory gate, who should come up but Doctor Barnard 
 in his gig. with lamps lighted ; and I always saluted him after 
 he had been so kind to me, and had given me the books and 
 the cake. " What," says he, " my little shrimper ! Have you 
 fetched any fish off the rocks to-night? " 
 
 "Oh, no, sir! " saj's I. " I have been taking messages all 
 round." 
 
 " And what message, my boy ? " 
 
 I told him the message about the mackerel, &c. ; but added 
 that I must not tell the names, for the Chevalier had desired me 
 
334 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 not to mention them. And then I went on to tell how there 
 was a great crowd in the street, and that the} T were breaking 
 windows at our house. 
 
 ''Breaking windows? What for?" I told him what had 
 happened. ••Take Dolly to the stables. Don't say anything 
 to 3'our mistress, Samuel, and come along with me, my little 
 shrimper." says the Doctor. He was a very tall man in a great 
 white wig. I see him now skipping over the tombstones, by 
 the great ivy tower of the church, and so through the church- 
 yard-gate towards our house. 
 
 The hearse had arrived b}' this time. The crowd had in- 
 creased, and there was much disturbance and agitation. As 
 soon as the hearse came, a yell rose up from the people. 
 "Silence, shame! Hold jour tongue! Let the poor woman 
 go in quiet," a few people said. These were the men of the 
 mackerel Jisliery ; whom the Weston gentlemen presently joined. 
 But the fishermen were a small crowd ; the townspeople were 
 main- and very angry. As we passed by the end of Port 
 Street (where our house was) we could see the people crowd- 
 ing at either end of the street, and in the midst the great 
 hearse with its black plumes before our door. 
 
 It was impossible that the hearse could pass through the 
 crowd at either end of the street, if the people were determined 
 to bar the way. I went in, as I had come, by the back gate of 
 the garden, where the lane was still quite solitaiy, Dr. Barnard 
 following me. We were aw r fulby scared as we passed through 
 the back kitchen (where the oven and boiler is) by the sight of 
 an individual who suddenly leapt out of the copper, and who 
 cried out, ' k O mercy, mercy, save me from the wicked men ! " 
 This was my grandpapa, and, with all respect for grandpapas 
 (being of their age and standing myself now), I cannot but own 
 that mine on this occasion cut rather a pitiful figure. 
 
 "Save my house! Save my property!" shouts my an- 
 cestor, and the Doctor turns away from him scornfully, and 
 passes on. 
 
 In the passage out of this back kitchen we met Monsieur de 
 la Motte, who says, " Ah, e'est toi, mon garcon. Thou hast 
 been on thy errands. Our people are well there ! " and he 
 makes a bow to the Doctor, who came in with me, and who 
 replied by a salutation equally stiff. M. de la Motte, recon- 
 noitring from the upper room, had, no doubt, seen his people 
 arrive. As I looked towards him I remarked that he was 
 armed. He had a belt with pistols in it, and a sword by his 
 side. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 335 
 
 In the back room were the two Roman Catholic clergymen, 
 and four men who had come with the hearse. They had been 
 fiercely assailed as they entered the house with curses, shouts, 
 hustling, and I believe even sticks and stones. My mother was 
 serving them with brandy when we came in. She was aston- 
 ished when she saw the rector make his appearance in our 
 house. There was no love between his reverence and our 
 family. 
 
 He made a very grand obeisance to the Roman Catholic 
 clergymen. "Gentlemen," said he, " as rector of this parish, 
 and magistrate of the county, I have come to keep the peace : 
 and if there is any danger, to share it with you. The lady will 
 be buried in the old churchyard, I hear. Mr. Trestles, are you 
 ready to move ? " 
 
 The men said the}- would be prepared immediately, and went 
 to bring down their melancholy burden. " Open the door, 
 you ! " says the Doctor. The people within shrank back. " I 
 will do it," says m} T mother. 
 
 " Et moi, parbleu ! " says the Chevalier advancing, his hand 
 on his hilt. 
 
 "I think, sir, I shall be more serviceable than you," says 
 the Doctor, very coldly. " If these gentlemen my confreres are 
 read} - , we will go out ; I will go first as rector of this parish." 
 And mother drew the bolts, and he walked out and took off his 
 hat. 
 
 A Babel roar of yells, shouts, curses, came pouring into the 
 hall as the door opened, and the Doctor remained on the steps, 
 bareheaded and undaunted. 
 
 " How many of my parishioners are here? Stand aside all 
 who come to my church ! " he called out ver}- bold. 
 
 At this arose immense roars of "No Popery ! down with 
 the priests ! clown with them ! drown them ! " and I know not 
 what more words of hatred and menace. 
 
 "You men of the French church," shouted out the Doctor, 
 " are you here?" 
 
 "We are here! Down with Popery!" roar the French- 
 men. 
 
 "Because you were persecuted a hundred years ago, } T ou 
 want to persecute in your turn. Is that what your Bible teaches 
 you? Mine doesn't. When your church wanted repair, I gave 
 you my nave where }'ou had j'our service, and were welcome. 
 Is this the way you repay kindness which has been shown to 
 you, you who ought to know better? For shame on 3-ou ! I say 
 for shame ! Don't try and frighten me. Roger Hooker, I know 
 
336 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 you, you poaching vagabond ; who kept your wife and chil- 
 dren when you were at Lewes Gaol ? How dare you be per- 
 secuting anybody, Thomas Flint? As sure as tny name is 
 Barnard, if 3-ou stop this procession, I will commit you to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Here was a cry of " Huzzay for the Doctor ! huzzay for the 
 Rector ! " which I am afraid came from the mackerels, who were 
 assembled by this time, and were not mum as fish generally 
 are. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen, advance, if you please ! " This he said 
 to the two foreign clergymen, who came forward courageously 
 enough, the Chevalier de la Motte walking behind them. 
 " Listen, you friends and parishioners, Churchmen and Dis- 
 senters ? These two foreign dissenting clergymen are going to 
 bury, in a neighboring churchyard, a departed sister, as you 
 foreign dissenters have buried 3*our own dead without harm or 
 hindrance ; and I will accompany these gentlemen to the grave 
 prepared for the deceased lady, and I will see her laid in peace 
 there, as surely as I hope myself to lie in peace." 
 
 Here the people shouted ; but it was with admiration for the 
 rector. There was no outcry an}' more. The little procession 
 fell into an orderly rank, passed through the streets, and round 
 the Protestant church to the old burying-ground behind the 
 house of the Prioiy. The rector walked between the two Ro- 
 man Catholic clergymen. I imagine the scene before me now 
 — the tramp of the people, the flicker of a torch or two; and 
 then we go in at the gate of the Priory ground into the old 
 graveyard of the monastery, where a grave had been dug, on 
 which" the stone still tells that Clarissa, born de Viomesnil, and 
 widow of Francis Stanislas Count of Saverne and Barr in Lor- 
 raine, lies buried beneath. 
 
 When the service was ended, the Chevalier de la Motte (by 
 whose side I stood, holding by his cloak) came up to the Doc- 
 tor. '' Monsieur le Docteur," says he, "you have acted like 
 a gallant man ; you have prevented bloodshed — " 
 
 " I am fortunate, sir," says the Doctor. 
 
 " You have saved the lives of these two worth} 7 ecclesiastics, 
 and rescued from insult the remains of one — " 
 
 " Of whom I know the sad history," says the Doctor, very 
 gravely. 
 
 "I am not rich, but will you permit me to give this purse 
 for your poor ! " 
 
 " Sir, it is my duty to accept it," replied the Doctor. The 
 purse contained a hundred louis, as he afterwards told ine. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 337 
 
 " And may I ask to take your hand, sir ! " cries the poor 
 Chevalier, clasping his own together. 
 
 "No, sir! " said the Doctor, putting his own hands behind 
 his back. " Your hands have that on them which the gift of 
 a few guineas cannot wash awa}\" The Doctor spoke very 
 good French. " My child, good night; and the best thing I 
 can wish thee is to wish thee out of the hands of that man." 
 
 "Monsieur!" says the Chevalier, laying his hand on his 
 sword mechanically. 
 
 " I think, sir, the last time it was with the pistol you showed 
 your skill ! " sa}'S Doctor Barnard, and went in at his own 
 wicket as he spoke, leaving poor La Motte like a man who has 
 just been struck with a blow ; and then he fell to weeping and 
 crj'ing that the curse — the curse of Cain was upon him. 
 
 " My good boy," the old rector said to me in after days, 
 while talking over these adventures, 4 - thy T friend the Cheva- 
 lier was the most infernal scoundrel I ever set eyes on, and 
 I never looked at his foot without expecting to see it was 
 cloven." 
 
 " And could he tell me anything about the poor countess?" 
 I asked. He knew nothing. He saw her but once, he thought. 
 " And faith," saj's he, with an arch look, " it so happened that 
 I was not too intimate with your own worthy family." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I HEAR THE SOUND OF BOW BELLS. 
 
 Whatever may have been the rector's dislike to my parents, 
 in respect to us juniors and my dear little Agnes de Saverne he 
 had no such prejudices, and both of us were great favorites 
 with him. He considered himself to be a man entirely with- 
 out prejudices ; and towards Roman Catholics he certainly was 
 most liberal. He sent his wife to see Mrs. Weston, and an 
 acquaintance was made between the families, who had scarcely 
 known each other before. Little Agnes was constantly with 
 these Westons, with whom the Chevalier de la Motte also 
 became intimate. Indeed, we have seen that he must have 
 known them ahead}', when he sent me on the famous '' mack- 
 erel" message which brought together a score at least of towns- 
 
 22 
 
338 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 people. I remember Mrs. Weston as a frightened-looking 
 woman, who seemed as if she had a ghost constantly before her. 
 Frightened, however, or not, she was always kind to my little 
 Agnes. 
 
 The younger of the Weston brothers (he who swore at me 
 the night of the burial) was a red-eyed, pimple-faced, cock- 
 fighting gentleman for ever on the trot, and known, I dare say 
 not very favorably, all the country round. The}' were said to 
 be gentlemen of good private means. They lived in a pretty 
 genteel way, with a post-chaise for the lady, and excellent nags 
 to ride. They saw very little company ; but this ma}' have 
 been because the}* were Roman Catholics, of whom there were 
 not many in the county, except at Arundel and Slindon, where 
 the lords and ladies were of too great quality to associate with 
 a pair of mere fox-hunting, horse-dealing squires. M. de la 
 Motte, who was quite the fine gentleman, as I have said, asso- 
 ciated with these people freely enough : but then he had in- 
 terests in common with them, which I began to understand 
 when I was some ten or a dozen years old, and used to go to 
 see my little Agnes at ths Priory. She was growing apace to 
 be a fine lady. She had dancing-masters, music-masters, lan- 
 guage-masters (those foreign tonsured gentry who were always 
 about the Priory) , and was so tall that mother talked of putting 
 powder in her hair. Ah, belle dame ! another hand hath since 
 whitened it, though I love it ebony or silver ! 
 
 I continued at Rye School, boarding with Mr. Rudge and 
 his dram-drinking daughter, and got a pretty fair smattering of 
 such learning as was to be had at the school. I had a fancy 
 to go to sea, but Doctor Barnard was strong against that wish 
 of mine : unless indeed I should go out of Rye and Winchelsea 
 altogether — get into a King's ship, and perhaps on the quarter- 
 deck, under the patronage of my friend Sir Peter Denis, who 
 ever continued to be kind to me. 
 
 Every Saturday night I trudged home from Rye, as gay as 
 schoolboy could be. After Madame de Saverne's death the 
 Chevalier de la Motte took our lodgings on the first floor. He 
 was of an active disposition, and found business in plenty to 
 occupy him. He would be absent from his lodgings for weeks 
 and months. He made journeys on horseback into the interior 
 of the country ; went to London often ; and sometimes abroad 
 with our fishermen's boats. As I have said, he learned our 
 language well, and taught me his. Mother's German was better 
 than her French, and my book for reading the German was 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 339 
 
 Doctor Luther's Bible ; indeed, that very volume in which poor 
 M. de Saverne wrote down his prayer for the child whom he 
 was to see only twice in this world. 
 
 Though Agnes's little chamber was always ready at our 
 house, where she was treated like a little lady, having a servant 
 specially attached to her, and all the world to spoil her, she 
 passed a great deal of time with Mrs. Weston, of the Prior}*, 
 who took a great affection for the child even before she lost 
 her own daughter. I have said that good masters were here 
 found for her. She learned to speak English as a native, of 
 course, and French and music from the fathers who always 
 were about the house. Whatever the child's expenses or wants 
 were, M. de la Motte generously defrayed them. After his 
 journeys he would bring her back toys, sweetmeats, knick- 
 knacks fit for a little duchess. She lorded it over great and 
 small in the Prion", in the Perruquery, as we ma}* call my 
 mother's house, ay, and in the Rectory too, where Dr. and Mrs. 
 Barnard were her very humble servants, like all the rest of us. 
 
 And here I may as well tell you that I was made to become 
 a member of the Church of England, because mother took huff 
 at our French Protestants, who would continue persecuting her 
 for harboring the Papists, and insisted that between the late 
 poor Countess and the Chevalier there had been an unlawful 
 intimacy. M. Borel, our pastor, preached at poor mother 
 several times, she said. I did not understand his innuendoes, 
 being a simple child, I fear not caring much for sermons in 
 those days. For grandpapa's I know I did not ; he used to 
 give us half an hour at morning, and half an hour at evening. 
 I could not help thinking of grandfather skipping out of the 
 copper, and calling on us to spare his life on the day of the 
 funeral ; and his preaching went in at one ear and out at t'other. 
 One da}* — apropos of some pomatum which a customer wanted 
 to buy, and which I knew mother made with lard and bergamot 
 herself — I heard him tell such a fib to a customer, that some- 
 how I never could respect the old man afterwards. He actually 
 said the pomatum had just come to him from France direct — 
 from the Dauphin's own hair-dresser : and our neighbor, I dare 
 say, would have bought it, but I said, "Oh, grandpapa, you 
 must mean some other pomatum ! I saw mother make this 
 with her own hands." Grandfather actually began to cry when 
 T said this. He said I was being his death. He asked that 
 somebody should fetch him out and hang him that moment. 
 Why is there no bear, says he, to eat that little monster's head 
 off and destroy that prodigy of crime ? Nay, I used to think 1 
 
340 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 was a monster sometimes : he would go on so fiercely about my 
 wickedness and perverseness. 
 
 Doctor Barnard was passing b} T our pole one day, and our 
 open door, when grandfather was preaching upon this sin of 
 mine, with a strap in one hand, laying over my shoulders in the 
 intervals of the discourse. Down goes the strap in a minute, 
 as the Doctor's lean figure makes its appearance at the door ; 
 and grandfather begins to smirk and bow, and hope his rever- 
 ence was well. My heart was full. I had had sermon in the 
 morning, and sermon at night, and strapping every day that 
 week ; and heaven help me, I loathed that old man, and loathe 
 him still. 
 
 " How can I, sir," says I, bursting out into a passion of 
 tears — " How can I honor my grandfather and mother if grand- 
 father tells such d lies as he does?" And I stamped with 
 
 my feet, trembling with wrath and indignation at the disgrace 
 put upon me. I then burst out with my story, which there 
 was no controverting ; and I will say grandfather looked at me 
 as if he would kill me ; and I ended my tale sobbing at the 
 Doctor's knees. 
 
 " Listen, Mr. Duval," sa} r s Dr. Barnard, very sternly : " I 
 know a great deal more than }'Ou think about you and } r our 
 doings. My advice to you is to treat this child well, and to 
 leave off some practices which will get you into trouble, as sure 
 as your name is what it is. I know where }Our pigeons go to, 
 and where they come from. And some day, when I have 30U 
 in my justice-room, we shall see whether I will show 3'ou any 
 more mere}' than \'ou have shown to this child. I know you to 
 be . . . . " and the Doctor whispered something into grand- 
 father's ears and stalked away. 
 
 Can you guess by what name the Doctor called my grand- 
 father? If he called him lrypocrite, ma foi, he was not far 
 wrong. But the truth is, he called him smuggler, and that was 
 a name which fitted hundreds of people along our coast, I prom- 
 ise you. At Hythe, at Folkestone, at Dover, Deal, Sandwich, 
 there were scores and scores of these gentry. All the way to 
 London they had depots, friends, and correspondents. Inland 
 and along the Thames there were battles endless between them 
 and the revenue people. Our friends " the mackerel," who 
 came out at Monsieur de la Motte's summons, of course were 
 of this calling. One day when he came home from one of his 
 expeditions, I remember jumping forward to welcome him, for 
 he was at one time very kind to me, and as I ran into his arms 
 he started back, and shrieked out an oath and a sacre-bleu or 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 341 
 
 two. He was wounded in the arm. There had been a regular 
 battle at Deal between the dragoons and revenue officers on the 
 one side, and the smugglers and their friends. Cavalry had 
 charged cavalry", and Monsieur de la Motte (his smuggling 
 name, he told me afterwards, was Mr. Paul, or Pole) had fought 
 on the mackerel side. 
 
 So were my gentlemen at the Priory of the Mackerel party. 
 WI13-, 1 could name you great names of merchants and bankers 
 at Canterbury, Dover, Rochester, who were engaged in this 
 traffic. My grandfather, you see, howled with the wolves ; but 
 then he used to wear a snug lamb's-skin over his wolf's hide. 
 Ah, shall I thank Heaven like the Pharisee, that I am not as 
 those men are? I hope there is no harm in being thankful that 
 I have been brought out of temptation ; that I was not made a 
 rogue at a child's age ; and that I did not come to the gallows 
 as a man. Such a fate has befallen more than one of the 
 precious friends of my youth, as I shall have to relate in due 
 season. 
 
 That habit I had of speaking out ever3'thing that was on my 
 mind brought me, as a child, into innumerable scrapes, but I 
 do thankfully believe has preserved me from still greater. 
 What could you do with a little chatterbox, who, when his 
 grandfather offered to sell a pot of pomatum as your true Pom- 
 made de Cythere, must cr} T out, " No, grandpapa, mother made 
 it with marrow and bergamot?" If anything happened which 
 I was not to mention, I was sure to blunder out some account 
 oC-it. Good Doctor Barnard, and my patron Captain Denis 
 (who was a great friend of our rector) , I suppose used to joke 
 about this propensity of mine, and would laugh for ten minutes 
 together, as I told my stories ; and I think the Doctor had a 
 serious conversation with my mother on the matter ; for she 
 said, "He has reason. The bo}- shall not go a»y more. We 
 will tr}' and have one honest man in the family." 
 
 Go any more where 1 ? Now I will tell you (and I am much 
 more ashamed of this than of the barber's pole, Monsieur mon 
 fils, that I can promise you). When I was boarding at the 
 grocer's at Rye, I and other bo}*s were constantly clown at 
 the water, and we learned to manage a boat pretty early. 
 Rudge did not go out himself, being rheumatic and laz^y, but 
 his apprentice would be absent frequently all night ; and on 
 more than one occasion I went out as odd boy in the boat to put 
 my hand to anything. 
 
 Those pigeons I spoke of anon came from Boulogne. When 
 one arrived he brought a signal that our Boulogne correspond- 
 
342 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 ent was on his way, and we might be on the look-out. The 
 French boat would make for a point agreed upon, and we lie 
 off until she came. We took cargo from her : barrels without 
 number, I remember. Once we saw her chased away by a 
 revenue-cutter. Once the same ship fired at us. I did not 
 know what the balls were, which splashed close alongside of 
 us ; but I remember the apprentice of Rudge's (he used to make 
 love to Miss R., and married her afterwards,) singing out, 
 *' Lord, have mercy," in an awful consternation, and the Chev- 
 alier crying out, "Hold your tongue, miserable! You were 
 never born to be drowned or shot." He had some hesitation 
 about taking me out on this expedition. He was engaged in 
 running smuggled goods, that is the fact; and "smuggler" 
 was the word which Doctor Barnard whispered in 1113- grand- 
 father's ear. If we were hard pressed at certain points which 
 we knew, and could ascertain by cross-bearings which we took, 
 we would sink our kegs till a more convenient time, and then 
 return and drag for them, and bring them up with line and 
 grapnel. 
 
 I certainly behaved much better when we were fired at, than 
 that oaf of a Bevil, who lay howling his " Lord, have mercy 
 upon us," at the bottom of the boat ; but somehow the Chevalier 
 discouraged my juvenile efforts in the smuggling line, from his 
 fear of that unlucky tongue of mine, which would blab every- 
 thing I knew. I may have been out a-Jishing half a dozen 
 times in all ; but especially after we had been fired at, La Motte 
 was for leaving me at home. My mother was averse, too, to 
 my becoming a seaman (a smuggler) b}- profession. Her aim 
 was to make a gentleman of me, she said, and I am most un- 
 feignedly thankful to her for keeping me out of mischiefs way. 
 Had I been permitted to herd along with the black sheep, 
 Doctor Barnard would never have been so kind to me as he 
 was ; and indeed that good man showed me the greatest favor. 
 When I came home from school he would often have me to 
 the Rectory, and hear me my lessons, and he was pleased to 
 say I was a lively boy of good parts. 
 
 The Doctor received rents for his college at Oxford, which 
 has considerable property in these parts, and twice a year 
 would go to London and pay the moneys over. In my boyish 
 times these journeys to London were by no means without 
 danger ; and if you will take a Gentleman's Magazine from the 
 shelf you will find a highway robbery or two in every month's 
 chronicle. We boys at school were never tired of talking of 
 highwaymen and their feats. As I often had to walk over to 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 343 
 
 Rye from home of a night (so as to be in time for early morn- 
 ing school), I must needs buy a little brass-barrelled pistol, 
 with which I practised in secret, and which I had to bide, lest 
 mother or Budge, or the schoolmaster, should take it away 
 from me. Once as I was talking with a schoolfellow, and 
 vaporing about what we would do, were we attacked, I fired 
 my pistol and shot away a piece of his coat. I might have hit 
 his stomach, not his coat — heaven be good to us! — and this 
 accident made me more careful in the use of my artilleiy. And 
 now I used to practise with small shot instead of bullets, and 
 pop at sparrows whenever I could get a chance. 
 
 At Michaelmas, in the year 1776 (I promise you I remember 
 the year), nry dear and kind friend, Doctor Barnard, having to 
 go to London with his rents, proposed to take me to London 
 to see my other patron, Sir Peter Denis, between whom and 
 the Doctor there was a great friendship ; and it is to those 
 dear friends that I owe the great good fortune which has be- 
 fallen me in life. Indeed, when I think of what I might have 
 been, and of what I have escaped, my heart is full of thankful- 
 ness for the great mercies which have fallen to my share. 
 Well, at this happy and eventful Michaelmas of 1776, Doctor 
 Barnard says to me, "Denis, my child, if tlry mother will 
 grant leave, I have a mind to take thee to see thy godfather, 
 Sir Peter Denis, in London. I am going up with my rents, 
 my neighbor Weston will share the horses with me, and thou 
 shalt see the Tower and Mrs. Salmon's wax-work before thou 
 art a week older." 
 
 You may suppose that this proposition made Master Denis 
 Duval jump for joy. Of course I had heard of London all my 
 life, and talked with people who had been there, but that I 
 should go myself to Admiral Sir Peter Denis's house, and see 
 the pla}', St. Paul's and Mrs. Salmon's, here was a height of 
 bliss I never had hoped to attain. I could not sleep for think- 
 ing of m}- pleasure ; I had some money, and I promised to bu} r 
 as many tojs for Agnes as the Chevalier used to bring her. 
 My mother said I should go like a gentleman, and turned me 
 out in a red waistcoat with plate buttons, a cock to my hat, 
 and ruffles to my shirts. How I counted the hours of the 
 night before our departure ! I was up before the dawn, packing 
 my little valise. I got my little brass-barrelled pocket-pistol, 
 and I loaded it with shot. I put it a wa} T into nry breast-pocket ; 
 and if we met with a highwayman I promised myself he should 
 have my charge of lead in his face. The Doctor's post-chaise 
 was at his stables not very far from us. The stable lanterns 
 
344 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 were alight, and Brown, the Doctor's man, cleaning the car- 
 riage, when Mr. Denis Duval comes up to the stable door, 
 lugging his portmanteau after him through the twilight. Was 
 ever daylight so long a-coming ? Ah ! There come the horses 
 at last ; the horses from the "King's Head," and old Pascoe, 
 the one-eyed postilion. How well I remember the sound of 
 their hoofs in that silent street ! I can tell everything that 
 happened on that day; what we had for dinner — viz., veal 
 cutlets and French beans, at Maidstone ; where we changed 
 horses, and the color of the horses. "Here, Brown! Here's 
 my portmanteau ! I say, where shall I stow it?" M3* port- 
 manteau was about as large as a good-sized apple-pie. I jump 
 into the carriage and we drive up to the Rectory : and I think 
 the Doctor will never come out. There he is at last : with his 
 mouth full of buttered toast, and I bob my head to him a hun- 
 dred times out of the chaise window. Then I must jump out, 
 forsooth. " Brown, shall I give }'ou a hand with the luggage ? " 
 says I, and I dare say they all laugh. Well, I am so happ} r 
 that anybody ma}' laugh who likes. The Doctor comes out, 
 his precious box under his arm. I see dear Mrs. Barnard's 
 great cap nodding at us out of the parlor window as we drive 
 away from the Rectory door to stop a hundred }ards farther on 
 at the Prioiy. 
 
 There at the pai'lor window stands my dear little Agnes, in 
 a white frock, in a great cap with a blue ribbon and bow, and 
 curls clustering over her face. I wish Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 had painted thee in those days, my dear : but thou wert the 
 very image of one of his little ladies, that one who became 
 Duchess of Buccleuch afterwards. There is my Agnes, and 
 now presently comes out Mr. Weston's man and luggage, and 
 it is fixed on the roof. Him, his master, Mr. George Weston, 
 follows. This was the most good-natured of the two, and I 
 shall never forget my sensation of delight, when I saw him 
 bring out two holster-pistols, which he placed each in a pocket 
 of the chaise. Is Tomnry Chapman, the apothecary's son of 
 Westgate, alive yet, and does he remember my wagging my 
 head to him as our chaise whirled by? He was shaking a mat 
 at the door of his father's shop as my lordship accompanied by 
 my noble friends passed by. 
 
 First stage, Ham Street, "The Bear." A gra} r horse and 
 a bay to change, / remember them. Second stage, Ashford. 
 Third stage .... I think I am asleep about the third stage : 
 and no wonder, a poor little wretch who had been awake half 
 the night before, and no doubt man}' nights previous, thinking 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 345 
 
 of this wonderful journey. Fourth stage, Maidstone, "The 
 Bell." "And here we will stop to dinner, Master Shrimp- 
 catcher," says the Doctor, and I jump down out of the carriage 
 nothing loth. The Doctor followed with his box, of which he 
 never lost sight. 
 
 The Doctor liked his ease in his inn, and took his sip of 
 punch so comfortably, that I, for m}' part, thought he never 
 would be gone. I was out in the stables and looking at the 
 horses, and talking to the ostler who was rubbing his nags 
 down. I dare say I had a peep into the kitchen, and at the 
 pigeons in the inn yard, and at all things which were to be 
 seen at "The Bell," while my two companions were still at 
 their interminable punch. It was an old-fashioned inn, with a 
 gallery round the court-yard. Heaven bless us ! Falstaff and 
 Bardolph may have stopped there on the road to Gadshill. I 
 was in the stable looking at the nags, when Mr. Weston comes 
 out of the inn, looks round the court, opens the door of the 
 post-chaise, takes out his pistols, looks at the priming, and puts 
 them back again. Then we are off again, and time enough too. 
 It seemed to me many hours since we had arrived at that creak- 
 ing old " Bell." And away we go through Addington, Eynes- 
 ford, by miles and miles of hop-gardens. I dare say I did not 
 look at the prospect much, beautiful though it might be, my 
 young eyes being for ever on the look-out for St. Paul's and 
 London. 
 
 For a great part of the wa}' Doctor Barnard and his com- 
 panion had a fine controA r ersy about their respective religions, 
 for which each was alike zealous. Nay : it may be the rector 
 invited Mr. Weston to take a place in his post-chaise in order 
 to have this battle, for he never tired of arguing the question 
 between the two churches. Towards the close of the day 
 Master Denis Duval fell asleep on Dr. Barnard's shoulder, and 
 the good-natured clergyman did not disturb him. 
 
 I woke up with the sudden stoppage of the carriage. The 
 evening was falling. We were upon a lonely common, and a 
 man on horseback was at the window of the post-chaise. 
 
 " Give us out that there box ! and your money ! " I heard 
 him sa}* in a very gruff \ r oice. O heavens ! we were actually 
 stopped b}- a highwayman ! It was delightful. 
 
 Mr. Weston jumped at his pistols veiy quick. " Here's our 
 money, you scoundrel ! " says he, and he fired point-blank at 
 the rogue's head. Confusion ! The pistol missed fire. He 
 aimed the second, and again no report followed ! 
 
346 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 " Some scoundrel has been tampering with these," says Mr. 
 Weston, aghast. 
 
 " Come," says Captain Macheath, " come, your — " 
 
 But the next word the fellow spoke was a frightful oath ; 
 for I took out my little pistol, which was full of shot, and fired 
 it into his face. The man reeled, and I thought would have 
 fallen out of his saddle. The postilion, frightened no doubt, 
 clapped spurs to his horse, and began to gallop. " Shan't we 
 stop and take that rascal, sir?" said I to the Doctor. On 
 which Mr. Weston gave a peevish kind of push at me, and 
 said, "No, no. It is getting quite dark. Let us push on." 
 And, indeed, the highwayman's horse had taken fright, and we 
 could see him galloping away across the common. 
 
 I was so elated to think that I, a little boy, had shot a live 
 highwaj-man, that I dare say I bragged outrageously of my 
 action. We set down Mr. Weston at his inn in the Borough, 
 and crossed London Bridge, and there I was in London at last. 
 Yes, and that was the Monument, and then we came to the 
 Exchange, and } r onder, 3'oncler was St. Paul's. We went up 
 Holborn, and so to Ormond Street, where my patron lived in a 
 noble mansion ; and where his wife, my Lady Denis, received 
 me with a great deal of kindness. You ma}' be sure the battle 
 with the highwayman was fought over again, and I got due 
 credit from myself and others for my gallantry. 
 
 Sir Peter and his lady introduced me to a number of their 
 acquaintances as the little bo}' who shot the highwayman. 
 They received a great deal of company, and I was frequently 
 had in to their dessert. I suppose I must own that my home 
 was below in the housekeeper's room with Mrs. Jellicoe ; but 
 m} r lacly took such a fancy to me that she continually had me 
 up stairs, took me out driving in her chariot, or ordered one of 
 the footmen to take me to the sights of the town, and sent me 
 in his charge to the play. It was the last 3'ear Garrick per- 
 formed ; and I saw him in the play of Macbeth, in a gold- 
 laced blue coat, with scarlet plush waistcoat and breeches. 
 Ormond Street, Bloomsbuiy, was on the outskirts of the town 
 then, with open county behind, stretching as far as Hamp- 
 stead. Bedford House, north of Bloomsbuiy Square, with 
 splendid gardens, was close b}-, and Montague House, where I 
 saw stuffed camelopards, and all sorts of queer things from 
 foreign countries. Then there were the Tower and the Wax- 
 work, and Westminster Abbey, and Vauxhall. What a glo- 
 rious week of pleasure it was ! At the week's end the kind 
 Doctor went home again, and all those dear kind people gave 
 
DE.NIS DUVAL. 347 
 
 me presents, and cakes, and money, and spoilt the little boy 
 who shot the highwayman. 
 
 The affair was, actually put into the newspapers, and who 
 should come to hear of it but my gracious Sovereign himself. 
 One da} - , Sir Peter Denis took me to see Kew Gardens and the 
 new Chinese pagoda her Majesty had put up. "Whilst walking 
 here, and surveying this pretty place, I had the good fortune 
 to see his M— j— sty, walking with our most gracious Qu — n, the 
 Pr-nce of W — s, the 'Bishop of Osnaburg, my namesake, and, I 
 think, two, or it may be three, of the Princesses. Her M-j-sty 
 knew Sir Peter from having sailed with him, saluted him very 
 graciously, and engaged him in conversation. And the Best 
 of Monarchs, looking towards his humblest subject and ser- 
 vant, said, "What, what? Little boy shot the highwayman. 
 Shot him in the face. Shot him in the face ! " On which the 
 youthful Pr-nces graciously looked towards me, and the King 
 asking Sir Peter what my profession was to be, the admiral 
 said I hoped to be a sailor and serve his Majesty. 
 
 I promise you I was a mighty grand personage when I went 
 home ; and both at Rye and Winchelsea scores of people asked 
 me what the King said. On our return, we heard of an acci- 
 dent which had happened to Mr. Joseph Weston, which ended 
 most unhappily for that gentleman. On the very day when we 
 set out for London he went out shooting — a sport of which he 
 was very fond ; but in climbing a hedge, and dragging his gun 
 incautiousl}' after him, the lock caught in a twig, and the piece 
 discharged itself into the poor gentleman's face, lodging a num- 
 ber of shot into his left cheek, and into his eye, of which he 
 lost the sight, after suffering much pain and torture. 
 
 "Bless my soul! A charge of small shot in his face! 
 What an extraordinary thing ! " cries Dr. Barnard, who came 
 down to see mother and grandfather the da}* after our return 
 home. Mrs. Barnard had told him of the accident at supper 
 on the night previous. Had he been shot or shot some one 
 himself, the Doctor could scarce have looked more scared. 
 He put me in mind of Mr. Garrick, whom I had just seen at 
 the playhouse, London, when he comes out after murdering the 
 King. ' 
 
 "You look, Docteur, as if you done it yourself," says M. de 
 la Motte, laughing, and in his English jargon. -' Two time, 
 three time, I say, Weston, you shoot youself, you carry you 
 gun that way, and he say he not born to be shot, and he 
 swear ! " 
 
 " But, my good Chevalier, Doctor Blades picked some bits 
 
348 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 of crape out of his eye, and thirteen or fourteen shot. What 
 is the size of your shot, Denny, with which you fired at the 
 highwa}Tnan ? " 
 
 " Quid autem rides festucam in ocido fratris tui, Doctor? " says 
 the Chevalier ; " that is good doctrine — Protestant or Popish, 
 eh?" On which the Doctor held down his head, and said, 
 "Chevalier, I am corrected; I was wrong — very wrong." 
 
 "And as for crape," La Motte resumed, "Weston is in 
 mourning. He go to funeral at Canterbury four days a^o. 
 Yes, he tell me so. He and my friend Lutterloh go." This 
 Mr. Lutterloh was a German living near Canterbury, with 
 whom M. de la Motte had dealings. He had dealings with all 
 sorts of people ; and very queer dealings, too, as I began to 
 understand now that I was a stout boy approaching fourteen 
 years of age, and standing pretty tall in my shoes. 
 
 De la Motte laughed then at the Doctor's suspicions. 
 "Parsons and women all the same, save your respect, ma 
 bonne Madame Duval, all tell tales ; all believe evil of their 
 neighbors. I tell you I see Weston shoot twenty, thirty time. 
 Alwavs drag his gun through hedge." 
 "But the crape — ?" 
 
 " Bah ! Always in mourning, Weston is ! For shame of 
 your cancans, little Denis ! Never think such thing again. 
 Don't make Weston your enenvy. If a man say that of me, I 
 would shoot him nyself, parbleu ! " 
 "But if he has done it?" 
 
 "Parbleu! I would shoot him so much ze mor ! " says 
 the Chevalier, with a stamp of his foot. And the first time 
 he saw me alone he reverted to the subject. " Listen, Den- 
 isot!" says he: "thou becomest a great boy. Take nry 
 counsel, and hold thy tongue. This suspicion against Mr. 
 Joseph is a monstrous crime, as well as a folly. A man say 
 that of me — right or wrong — I burn him the brain. Once I 
 come home, and } t ou run against me, and 1 ciy out, and swear 
 and pest. I was wounded myself, I deny it not." 
 " And I said nothing, sir," I interposed. 
 " No, I do thee justice : thou didst say nothing. You know 
 the metier we make sometimes ? That night in the boat " (" zat 
 night in ze boat," he used to sa} r ), " when the revenue cutter 
 fire, and your poor camarade howl — ah, how he howl — you 
 don't suppose we were there to look for lobstarepot, eh ? Tu 
 n'as pas bronchi, toi. You did not crane ; you show j-ourself 
 a man of heart. And now, petit, apprends a te taire ! " And 
 he gave me a shake of the hand, and a couple of guineas in it 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 349 
 
 too, and went off to his stables on his business. He had 
 two or three horses now, and was always on the trot ; he was 
 very liberal with his money, and used to have handsome enter- 
 tainments in his up-stairs room, and never quarrelled about the 
 bills which mother sent in. " Hold thy tongue, Denisot," said 
 he. " Never tell who comes in or who goes out. And mind 
 thee, child, if thy tongue wags, little birds come whisper me, 
 and say, ' He tell.' " 
 
 I tried to obey his advice, and to rein in that truant tongue 
 of mine. When Dr. and Mrs. Barnard themselves asked me 
 questions I was mum, and perhaps rather disappointed the 
 good lady and the rector too by my reticence. For instance, 
 Mrs. Barnard would say, " That was a nice goose I saw going 
 from market to your house, Denny." 
 
 "Goose is very nice, ma'am," says I. 
 
 " The Chevalier often has dinners?" 
 
 "Dines every da}', regular, ma'am." 
 
 " Sees the Westons a great deal?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," I say, with an indescribable heart-pang. 
 And the cause of that pang I may as well tell. You see, 
 though I was only thirteen years old, and Agnes but eight, I 
 loved that little maid with all my soul and strength. Boy or 
 man I never loved any other woman. I write these veiy words 
 by my study fire in Fareport with madam opposite dozing over 
 her novel till the neighbors shall come in to tea and their rub- 
 ber. When my ink is run out, and my little tale is written, 
 and yonder church that is ringing to seven o'clock prayer shall 
 toll for a certain D. D., you will please, good neighbors, to 
 remember that I never loved any but yonder lady, and keep a 
 place by Darby for Joan, when her turn shall arrive. 
 
 Now in the last year or two, since she had been adopted 
 at the Prior}', Agnes came less and less often to see us. 
 She did not go to church with us, being a Catholic. She 
 learned from the good fathers her tutors. She learned music 
 and French and dancing to perfection. All the county 
 could not show a finer little lady. When she came to our shop 
 it was indeed a little countess honoring us with a visit. Mother 
 was gentle before her — grandfather obsequious — I, of course, 
 her most humble little servant. Wednesday (a half-holiday), 
 and half Saturday, and all Sunday I might come home from 
 school, and how I used to trudge, and how I longed to see 
 that little maiden, any gentleman may imagine who has lost 
 his heart to an Agnes of his own. 
 
 The first day of my arrival at home, after the memorable 
 
350 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 London journey, I presented myself at the Priory, with my 
 pocket full of presents for Agnes. The footman let me into 
 the hall civilly enough : but the young lady was out with 
 Mrs. Weston in the post-chaise. I might leave my message. 
 
 I wanted to give my message. Somehow, in that fortnight's 
 absence from home, I had so got to long after Agnes that I 
 never had my little sweetheart quite out of my mind. It maj- 
 have been a silly thing, but I got a little pocket-book, and wrote 
 in French a journal of all I saw in London. I dare sa}* there 
 were some pretty faults in grammar. I remember a fine para- 
 graph about my meeting the royal personages at Kew, and 
 all their names written down in order ; and this little pocket- 
 book I must needs send to Mademoiselle de Saverne. 
 
 The next day I called again. Still Mademoiselle de Saverne 
 was not to be seen : but in the evening a servant brought a 
 little note from her, in which she thanked her dear brother for 
 his beautiful book. That was some consolation. She liked the 
 pocket-book, anyhow. I wonder, can jou young people guess 
 what I did to it before I sent it away? Yes, I did. " One, 
 tree, feefty time," as the Chevalier would say. The next morn- 
 ing, quite earl}-, I had to go back to school, having promised 
 the Doctor to work hard after my holiday ; and work I did with 
 a will, at my French and nvy English, and my Navigation. I 
 thought Saturday would never come : but it did at last, and 
 I trotted as quick as legs would carry me from school to Win- 
 chelsea. My legs were growing apace now ; and especially as 
 they took me homewards, few could outrun them. 
 
 All good women are match-makers at heart. My dear Mrs. 
 Barnard saw quite soon what my condition of mind was, and 
 was touched by nvy boyish fervor. I called once, twice, thrice, 
 at the Priory, and never could get a sight of Miss Agnes. The 
 servant used to shrug his shoulders and laugh at me in an in- 
 solent way, and the last time said — "You need not call any 
 more. We don't want our hair cut here, nor no pomatum, nor 
 no soap, do 3'ou understand that?" and he slammed the door 
 in m} 7 face. I was stunned by this insolence, and beside my- 
 self with rage and mortification. I went to Mrs. Barnard, and 
 told her what had happened to me. I burst into tears of passion 
 and grief as I flung myself on a sofa by the good ladies. I told 
 her how I had rescued little Agnes, how I loved the little thing 
 better than all the world. I spoke my heart out, and eased it 
 somewhat, for the good lady wiped her e}'es more than once, 
 and finished b} T giving me a kiss. She did more ; she invited 
 me to tea with her on the next Wednesday when I came home 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 351 
 
 from school, and who should be there but little Agnes. She 
 blushed ver} r much. Then she came towards me. Then she 
 held up her little. cheek to be kissed, and then she cried — oh, 
 how she did cr}* ! There were three people whimpering in that 
 room. (How well I recollect it opening into the garden, and 
 the little old blue dragon teacups and silver pot !) There were 
 three persons, I say, crying : a lady of fifty, a boy of thirteen, 
 and a little girl of seven years of age. Can you guess what 
 happened next? Of course the lady of fifty remembered that 
 she had forgotten her spectacles, and went up stairs to fetch 
 them ; and then the little maiden began to open her heart to me, 
 and tolcl her dear Denn}' how she had been longing to see him, 
 and how they were very angry with him at the Priory ; so angry 
 that his name was never to be spoken. " The Chevalier said 
 that, and so did the gentlemen — especially Mr. Joseph, who 
 had been dreadful since his accident, and one day (says my 
 dear) when you called, he was behind the door with a great 
 horsewhip, and said he would let 3-011 in, and flog your soul out 
 of 3 T our body, only Mrs. Weston cried, and Mr. George said, 
 ' Don't be a fool, Joe.' But something 3-011 have done to Mr. 
 Joseph, dear Denny, and when your name is mentioned, he 
 rages and swears so that it is dreadful to hear him. What can 
 make the gentleman so angry with you ? " 
 
 " So he actually was waiting with a horsewhip, was he? In 
 that case I know what I would do. I would never go about 
 without my pistol. I have hit one fellow," said I, " and if an3 T 
 other man threatens me I will defend n^self." 
 
 M3 _ dear Agnes said that the3" were very kind to her at the 
 Prion-, although she could not bear Mr. Joseph — that they 
 gave her good masters, that she was to go to a good school 
 kept b3' a Catholic lacby at Arundel. And oh, how she wished 
 her Denn3 T would turn Catholic, and she prayed for him always, 
 always ! And for that matter I know some one who neA'er night 
 or morning on his knees has forgotten that little maiden. The 
 father used to come and give her lessons three or four times in 
 the week, and she used to learn her lessons 113- heart, walking 
 up and down in the great green walk in the kitchen-garden 
 every morning at eleven o'clock. I knew the kitchen-garden ! 
 the wall was in North Lane, one of the old walls of the convent : 
 at the end of the green walk there was a pear-tree. And that 
 was where she always went to learn her lessons. 
 
 And here, I suppose, Mrs. Barnard returned to the room, 
 having found her spectacles. And as I take mine off m3' nose 
 and shut ra3 r e3 r es, that well-remembered scene of bo3'hood passes 
 
352 DEXIS DUVAL. 
 
 before them — that garden basking in the autumn evening — 
 that little maiden with peachy cheeks, and glistening curls, that 
 dear and kind old lady, who says, " 'Tis time now, children, 
 you should go home." 
 
 I had to go to school that night ; but before I went I ran up 
 North Lane and saw the old wall and the pear-tree behind it. 
 And do 3"ou know I thought I would try and get up the wall, 
 and easy enough it was to find a footing between those crum- 
 bling old stones ; and when on the top I could look down from 
 the blanches of the tree into the garden below, and see the 
 house at the farther end. So that was the broad walk where 
 Agnes learned her lessons ? Master Denis Duval pretty soon 
 had that lesson by heart. 
 
 Yes : but one day in the Christmas holidays, when there 
 was a bitter frost, and the stones and the wall were so slippery 
 that Mr. D. D. tore his fingers and his small-clothes in climbing 
 to his point of observation, it happened that little Agnes was 
 not sitting under the tree learning her lessons, and none but an 
 idiot would have supposed that she would have come out on 
 such a day. 
 
 But who should be in the garden, pacing up and down the 
 walk all white with hoar-frost, but Joseph Weston with his 
 patch over his eye. Unluckily he had one eye Jeft with which 
 he saw me ; and the next moment I heard the report of a tre- 
 mendous oath, and then a brickbat came whizzing at my head, 
 so close that, had it struck me, it would have knocked out my 
 eye, and my brains too. 
 
 I was down the wall in a moment : it was slippery enough ; 
 and two or three more brickbats came a mon adresse, but luckily 
 failed to hit their mark. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I ESCAPE FROM A GREAT DANGER. 
 
 I spoke of the affair of the brickbats, at home, to Monsieur 
 de la Motte only, not caring to tell mother, lest she should 
 be inclined to resume her box-on-the-ear practice, for which I 
 thought I was growing too old. Indeed, I had become a great 
 boy. There were not half a dozen out of the sixty at Pocock's 
 who could beat me when I was thirteen years old, and from 
 
DENTS DUVAL. 353 
 
 these champions, were they ever so big, I never would submit 
 to a thrashing, without a fight on my part, in which, though 
 I might get the worst, I was pretty sure to leave some ugly 
 marks on my adversary's nose and e\ r es. I remember one lad 
 especially, Tom Parrot by name, who was three years older 
 than myself, and whom I could no more beat than a frigate can 
 beat a seventy-four ; but we engaged nevertheless, and, after 
 we had had some rounds together, Tom put one hand in his 
 pocket, and, with a queer face and a great black eye I had 
 given him, says — "Well, Denny, I could do it — you know 
 I could : but I'm so lazy, I don't care about going on." And 
 one of the bottle-holders beginning to jeer, Tom fetches him 
 such a rap on the ear, that I promise }-ou he showed no inclina- 
 tion for laughing afterwards. By the wa}-, that knowledge of 
 the noble art of fisticuffs which I learned at school, I had to 
 practise at sea presently, in the cockpit of more than one of his 
 Majesty's ships of war. 
 
 In respect of the slapping and caning at home, I think M. 
 de la Motte remonstrated with my mother, and represented to 
 her that I was now too old for that kind of treatment. Indeed, 
 when I was fourteen, I was as tall as grandfather, and in a 
 tussle I am sure I could have tripped his old heels up easily 
 enough, and got the better of him in five minutes. Do I speak 
 of him with undue familiarity ? I pretend no love for him ; I 
 never could have any respect. Some of his practices which 
 I knew of made me turn from him, and his loud professions 
 only increased my distrust. Monsieur man jils, if ever you 
 marry, and have a son, I hope the little chap will have an 
 honest man for a grandfather, and that you will be able to say, 
 " I loved him," when the daisies cover me. 
 
 La Motte, then, caused "the abolition of torture" in our 
 house, and I was grateful to him. I had the queerest feelings 
 towards that man. He was a perfect fine gentleman when he 
 so wished : of his money most liberal, witty (in a dry, cruel 
 sort of way) most tenderly attached to Agnes. Eh Men! As 
 I looked at his yellow, handsome face, cold shudders would 
 come over me, though at this time I did not know that Agnes's 
 father had fallen b}- his fatal hand. 
 
 When I informed him of Mr. Joe Weston's salute of brick- 
 bats, he looked ver}* grave. And I told him then, too, a thing 
 which had struck me most forcibly — viz. that the shout which 
 Weston gave, and the oath which he uttered when he saw me 
 on the wall, were precisely like the oath and execration uttered 
 
 23 
 
354 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 "by the man with the craped face, at whom I fired from the post- 
 chaise. 
 
 " Bah, betise ! " says La Motte. " What didst thou on the 
 wall? One does not steal pears at th}- age." 
 
 I dare say I turned red. "I heard somebody's voice," I 
 said. "In fact, I heard Agnes singing in the garden, and — 
 and I got on the wall to see her." 
 
 "What, you — }ou, a little barber's boy, climb a wall to 
 speak to Mademoiselle Agnes de Saverne, of one of the most 
 noble houses of Lorraine?" La Motte yelled, with a savage 
 laugh. "Parbleu! Monsieur Weston has well done ! " 
 
 "Sir!" said I, in a towering rage, "barber as I am, my 
 fathers were honorable Protestant clergymen in Alsace, and we 
 are as good as highwaymen at an}' rate ! Barber, indeed ! " I 
 say again. " And now I am read}' to swear that the man who 
 swore at me, and the man I shot on the road, are one and 
 the same ; and I'll go to Dr. Barnard's, and swear it before 
 him ! " 
 
 The Chevalier looked aghast, and threatening for a while. 
 "Tu me menaces, je crois, petit manant!" sa}s he, grinding 
 his teeth. " This is too strong. Listen, Denis Duval ! Hold 
 thy tongue, or evil will come to thee. Thou wilt make for thy- 
 self enemies the most unscrupulous, and the most terrible — do 
 you hear? I have placed Mademoiselle Agnes de Saverne 
 with that admirable woman, Mistriss Weston, because she can 
 meet at the Priory with societ}' more fitting her noble birth 
 than that which she will find under jour grandfather's pole — 
 parbleu. Ah, you dare mount on wall to look for Mademoiselle 
 de Saverne? Gare aux manstraps, mon garcon ! Vive Dieu, 
 if I see thee on that wall, I will fire on thee, moi le premier ! 
 You pretend to Mademoiselle Agnes. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " And 
 he grinned and looked like that cloveii-footed gentleman of 
 whom Dr. Barnard talked. 
 
 I felt that henceforward there was war between La Motte 
 and me. At this time I had suddenby shot up to be a young 
 man, and was not the obedient, prattling child of last year. 
 I told grandfather that I would bear no more punishment, such 
 as the old man had been accustomed to bestow upon me ; and 
 once when my mother lifted her hand, I struck it up, and griped 
 it so tight that I frightened her. From that very da}' she never 
 raised a hand to me. Nay, I think she was not ill-pleased, 
 and soon actually began to spoil me. Nothing was too good 
 for me. I know where the silk came from which made my fine 
 new waistcoat, and the cambric for my ruffled shirts, but very 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 355 
 
 much doubt whether the}* ever paid any duty. As I walked to 
 church, I dare say I cocked my hat, and strutted very conse- 
 quentiall}-. When Tom Billis, the baker's boy, jeered at my 
 fine clothes, "Tom," says I, "I will take my coat and waist- 
 coat off for half an hour on Monday, and give thee a beating if 
 thou hast a mind ; but to-day let us be at peace, and go to 
 church." 
 
 On the matter of church I am not going to make an}' boast. 
 That awful subject lies between a man and his conscience. I 
 have known men of lax faith pure and just in their lives, as 
 I have met very loud-professing Christians loose in their moral- 
 ity, and hard and unjust in their dealings. There was a little 
 old man at home — heaven help him ! — who was of this sort, 
 and who, when I came to know his life, would put me into such 
 a rage of revolt whilst preaching his daily and nighth/ sermons, 
 that it is a wonder I was not enlisted among the scoffers and 
 evil-doers altogether. I have known many a young man fall 
 away, and become utterly reprobate, because the bond of disci- 
 pline was tied too tightly upon him, and because he has found 
 the preacher who was perpetually prating over him lax in his 
 own conduct. I am thankful, then, that I had a better in- 
 structor than nvy old grandfather with his strap and his cane ; 
 and was brought (I hope and trust) to a right state of thinking 
 by a man whose brain was wise, as his life was excellently 
 benevolent and pure. This was nry good friend Dr. Barnard, 
 and to this day I remember the conversations I had with him, 
 and am quite sure the}" influenced my future life. Had I been 
 altogether reckless and as lawless as many people of our ac- 
 quaintance and neighborhood, he would have ceased to feel 
 any interest in me ; and instead of wearing his Majest}'s epau- 
 lets (which I trust I have not disgraced), I might have been 
 swabbing a smuggler's boat, or riding in a night caravan, with 
 kegs beside me and pistols and cutlasses to defend me, as that 
 unlucky La Motte owned for his part that he had done. My 
 good mother, though she gave up the practice of smuggling, 
 never could see the harm in it ; but looked on it as a game 
 where you pkiyed your stake, and lost or won it. She ceased 
 to play, not because it was wrong, but it was expedient no 
 more ; and Mr. Denis, her son, was the cause of her giving up 
 this old trade. 
 
 For me, I thankfully own that I was taught to see the matter 
 in a graver light, not only by our Doctor's sermons (two or three 
 of which, on the text of " Render unto Caesar," he preached, to 
 the rage of a great number of his congregation) , but by many 
 
356 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 talks which he had with me ; when he showed me that I was in 
 the wrong to break the laws of my county to which I owed 
 obedience, as did every good citizen. He knew (though he 
 never told me, and his reticence in this matter was surely very 
 kind) that my poor father had died of wounds received in a 
 smuggling encounter ; but he showed me how such a life must 
 be loose, lawless, secret, and wicked ; must bring a man amongst 
 desperate companions, and compel him to resist Caesar's lawful 
 authority b} r rebellion, and possibly murder. " To thy mother 
 I have used other arguments, Denn}', m}* boy," he said, very 
 kindly. " I and the Admiral want to make a gentleman of 
 thee. Thy old grandfather is rich enough to help us if he 
 chooses. I won't stop to inquire too strictly where all his money 
 came from ; * but 'tis clear we cannot make a gentleman of a 
 smuggler's boy, who may be transported any day, or, in case 
 of armed resistance, may be — " And here my good Doctor 
 puts his hand to his ear, and indicates the punishment for piracy 
 which was ver} - common in m}* young time. " My Denn}- does 
 not want to ride with a crape over his face, and fire pistols at 
 revenue officers ! No ! I pra\ r you will ever show an honest 
 countenance to the world. You will render unto Caesar the 
 things which are Caesar's, and — the rest, my child, you know." 
 
 Now, I remarked about this man, that when he approached 
 a certain subject, an involuntary awe came over him, and he 
 hushed as it were at the very idea of that sacred theme. It 
 was very different with poor grandfather prating his sermons 
 (and with some other pastors I have heard), who used this 
 Name as familiarly as any other .... but who am I to judge? 
 and, mj- poor old grandfather, is there any need at this distance 
 of time that I should be picking out the trabem in oculo tuo f 
 .... Howbeit, on that night, as I was walking home after 
 drinking tea with my dear Doctor, I made a vow that I would 
 strive henceforth to lead an honest life ; that my tongue should 
 speak the truth, and my hand should be sullied by no secret 
 crime. And as I spoke I saw my dearest little maiden's light 
 glimmering in her chamber, and the stars shining overhead, and 
 felt — who could feel more bold and happy than I? 
 
 That walk schoolwards b}- West Street certainly was a detour. 
 I might have gone a straighter road, but then I should not have 
 seen a certain window : a little twinkling window in a gable of 
 the Priory House, where the light used to be popped out at nine 
 o'clock. T'other day, when we took over the King of France 
 to Calais (his Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence being in 
 * Eheu ! where a part of it went to, I shall have to say presently. — D. D. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 357 
 
 command), I must needs hire a post-chaise from Dover, to look 
 at that old window in the Priory House at AVinchelsea. I went 
 through the old tears, despairs, tragedies. I sighed as senti- 
 mentally, after forty years, as though the infandi dolores were 
 fresh upon me, as though I were the schoolboy trudging back 
 to his task, and taking a last look at his dearest joy. I used 
 as a boy to try and pass that window at nine, and I know a 
 prayer was said for the inhabitant of yonder chamber. She 
 knew my holidays, and my hours of going to school and return- 
 ing thence. If my little maid hung certain signals in that 
 window (such as a flower, for example, to indicate all was well, 
 a cross-curtain, and so forth), I hope she practised no ver} 7 un- 
 justifiable stratagems. We agreed to consider that she was 
 a prisoner in the hands of the enemy ; and we had few means 
 of communication save these simple artifices, which are allowed 
 to be fair in love and war. Monsieur de la Motte continued to 
 live at our house, when his frequent affairs did not call him 
 away thence ; but, as I said, few words passed between us after 
 that angry altercation already described, and he and I were 
 never friends again. 
 
 He warned me that I had another enemy, and facts strangely 
 confirmed the Chevalier's warning. One Sunday night, as I 
 was going to school, a repetition of the brickbat assault was 
 made upon me, and this time the smart cocked hat which mother 
 had given me came in for such a battering as effectually spoiled 
 its modish shape. I told Dr. Barnard of this second attempt, 
 and the good Doctor was not a little puzzled. He began to 
 think that he was not so verj' wrong in espying a beam in 
 Joseph's Weston's e}'e. We agreed to keep the matter quiet, 
 however ; and a fortnight after, on another Sunday evening, as 
 I was going on my accustomed route to school, whom should I 
 meet but the Doctor and Mr. Weston walking together ! A little 
 way bej'ond the town gate there is a low wall round a field ; and 
 Dr. Barnard, going by this field a quarter of an hour before my 
 usual time for passing, found Mr. Joseph Weston walking there 
 behind the stone enclosure ! 
 
 ''Good night, Denny," says the Doctor, when he and his 
 companion met me ; but surly Mr. Weston said nothing. 
 "Have you had am* more brickbats at your head, my boy?" 
 the Rector continued. 
 
 I said I was not afraid. I had got a good pistol, and a bul- 
 let in it this time. 
 
 "He shot that scoundrel on the same day you were shot, 
 Mr. Weston," says the Doctor. 
 
358 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 " Did he?" growls the other. 
 
 " And }T>ur gun was loaded with the same-sized shot which 
 Denis used to pepper his rascal," continues the Doctor. " I 
 wonder if any of the crape went into the rascal's wound?" 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Weston, with an oath, " what do you mean 
 for to hint ? " 
 
 " The very oath the fellow used whom Denn}* hit when }our 
 brother and I travelled together. I am sony to hear you use 
 the language of such scoundrels, Mr. Weston." 
 
 " If you dare to suspect me of anjthing unbecoming a gen- 
 tleman, I'll have the law of you, Mr. Parson, that I will ! " 
 roars the other. 
 
 " Denis, mon gallon, tire ton pistolet de suite, et vise moi 
 bien cet homme la," says the Doctor ; and griping hold of 
 Weston's arm, what does Dr. Barnard do but plunge his hand 
 into Weston's pocket, and draw thence another pistol ! He said 
 afterwards he saw the brass butt sticking out of Weston's coat, 
 as the two were walking together. 
 
 " What !" shrieks Mr. Weston; "is that young miscreant 
 to go about armed, and tell everybody he will murder me ; and 
 ain't I for to defend myself? I walk in fear of mv life for 
 him ! " 
 
 " You seem to me to be in the habit of travelling with pis- 
 tols, Mr. Weston, and } r ou know when people pass sometimes 
 with money in their post-chaises." 
 
 "You scoundrel, you — you boy! I call you to witness the 
 words this man have spoken. He have insulted me, and libelled 
 me. and I'll have the lor on him as sure as I am born ! " shouts 
 the angry man. 
 
 " Very good, Mr. Joseph Weston," replied the other fiercely. 
 "And I will ask Mr. Blades, the surgeon, to bring the shot 
 which he took from your eye, and the scraps of crape adhering 
 to your face, and we will go to lor as soon as you like ! " 
 
 Again I thought with a dreadful pang how Agnes was stay- 
 ing in that man's house, and how this quarrel would more than 
 ever divide her from me ; for now she would not be allowed to 
 visit the Rectory — the dear neutral ground where I sometimes 
 hoped to see her. 
 
 Weston never went to law with the Doctor, as he threatened. 
 Some awkward questions would have been raised, which he 
 would have found a difficulty in answering : and though he 
 averred that his accident took place on the day before our 
 encounter with the beau masque on Dartford Common, a little 
 witness on our side was ready to aver that Mr. Joe Weston left 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 359 
 
 his house at the Prior}- before sunrise on the da}' when we took 
 our journey to London, and that he returned the next morning 
 with his eye bound up, when he sent for Mr. Blades, the sur- 
 geon of our town. Being awake, and looking from her window, 
 my witness saw Weston mount his horse by the stable-lantern 
 below, and heard him swear at the groom as he rode out at the 
 gate. Curses used to drop naturally out of this nice gentleman's 
 lips ; and it is certain in his case that bad words and bad actions 
 went together. 
 
 The Westons were frequently absent from home, as was the 
 Chevalier our lodger. My dear little Agnes was allowed to 
 come and see us at these times ; or slipped out by the garden- 
 door, and ran to see her nurse Duvai, as she always called my 
 mother. I did not understand for a while that there was any 
 prohibition on the Westons' part to Agnes visiting us, or know 
 that there was such mighty wrath harbored against me in that 
 house. 
 
 I was glad, for the sake of a peaceable life at home, as for 
 honesty's sake too, that my mother did not oppose my determi- 
 nation to take no share in that smuggling business in which our 
 house still engaged. Any one who opposed mother in her own 
 house had, I promise you, no easy time : but she saw that if 
 she wished to make a gentleman of her boy, he must be no 
 smuggler's apprentice ; and when M. le Chevalier, being ap- 
 pealed to, shrugged his shoulders and said he washed his hands 
 of me — "Eh bien, M. de la Motte ! " says she, " we shall see 
 if we can't pass ourselves of you and your patronage. I imagine 
 that people are not always the better for it." "No," replied 
 he, with a groan, and one of his gloom}* looks, " my friendship 
 may do people harm, but my enmity is worse — entendez-vous ? " 
 " Bah, bah ! " says the stout old lady. " Denisot has a good 
 courage of his own. What do you say to me about enmity to 
 a harmless boy, M. le Chevalier?" 
 
 I have told how, on the night of the funeral of Madame de 
 Saverne, Monsieur de la Motte sent me out to assemble his 
 Mackerel men. Among these was the father of one of my 
 town playfellows, by name Hookham, a seafaring man, who had 
 met with an accident at his business — strained his back — and 
 was incapable of work for a time. Hookham was an improvi- 
 dent man : the rent got into arrears. My grandfather was his 
 landlord, and I fear me, not the most humane creditor in the 
 world. Now, when I returned home after my famous visit- to 
 London, my patron, Sir Peter Denis, gave me two guineas, 
 and my lady made me a present of another. No doubt I should 
 
360 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 have spent this money had I received it sooner in London ; but 
 in our little town of Winchelsea there was nothing to tempt 
 me in the shops, except a fowling-piece at the pawnbroker's, 
 for which I had a great longing. But Mr. Triboulet wanted 
 four guineas for the gun, and 1 had but three, and would not 
 go into debt. He would have given me the piece, on credit, 
 and frequently tempted me with it, but I resisted manfully, 
 though I could not help hankering about the shop, and going 
 again and again to look at the beautiful gun. The stock fitted 
 my shoulder to a nicety. It was of the most beautiful work- 
 manship. " Why not take it now, Master Duval?" Monsieur 
 Triboulet said to me ; " and pay me the remaining guinea when 
 3-ou please. Ever so many gentlemen have been to look at it ; 
 and I should be sorry now, indeed I should, to see such a beauty 
 go out of the town." As I was talking to Triboulet (it may 
 have been for the tenth time), some one came in with a telescope 
 to pawn, and went away with fifteen shillings. " Don't you 
 know who that is?" sajs Triboulet (who was a chatterbox of 
 a man). " That is John Hookham's wife. It is but hard times 
 with them since John's accident. I have more of their goods 
 here, and, entre nous, John has a hard landlord, and quarter- 
 daj T is just at hand." I knew well enough that John's landlord 
 was hard, as he was nry own grandfather. " If I take my three 
 pieces to Hookham," thought I, "he may find the rest of the 
 rent." And so he did ; and nry three guineas went into my 
 grandfather's pocket out of mine ; and I suppose some one else 
 bought the fowling-piece for which I had so longed. 
 
 " What, it is you who have given me this mone}-, Master 
 Denis?" says poor Hookham, who was sitting in his chair, 
 groaning and haggard with his illness. "I can't take it — I 
 ought not to take it." 
 
 41 Nay," said I ; "I should only have bought a toy with it, 
 and if it comes to help you in distress, I can do without my 
 plaything." 
 
 There was quite a chorus of benedictions from the poor 
 famiby in consequence of this act of good-nature ; and I dare 
 say I went away from Hookham's mightily pleased with myself 
 and my own virtue. 
 
 It appears I had not been gone long when Mr. Joe Weston 
 came in to see the man, and when he heard that I had relieved 
 him, broke out into a flood of abuse against me, cursed me for 
 a scoundrel and impertinent jackanapes, who was always giving 
 nryself the airs of a gentleman, and flew out of the house in a 
 passion. Mother heard of the transaction, too, and pinched 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 361 
 
 my ear with a grim satisfaction. Grandfather said nothing, 
 but pocketed my three guineas when Mrs. Hookham brought 
 them ; and, though I did not brag about the matter miich, 
 evmything is known in a small town, and I got a great deal of 
 credit for a very ordinary good action. 
 
 And now, strangely enough, Hookham's bo}' confirmed to 
 me what the Slindon priests had hinted to good Dr. Barnard. 
 ''Swear," says Tom (with that wonderful energy we used to 
 have as boys) — "Swear, Denis, 'So help you, strike you 
 down dead ! ' }'ou never will tell ! " 
 
 " So help me, strike me down dead ! " said I. 
 
 "Well, then, those — 3'ou know who — the gentlemen — 
 want to do you some mischief." 
 
 " What mischief can they do to an honest boy ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, you don't know what they are," says Tom. " If they 
 mean a man harm, harm will happen to him. Father says no 
 man ever comes to good who stands in Mr. Joe's wa}\ Where's 
 John Wheeler, of Rye, who had a quarrel with Mr. Joe? He's 
 in gaol. Mr. Barnes, of Playden, had words with him at 
 Hastings market : and Barnes's ricks were burnt down before 
 six months were over. How was Thomas Berry taken, after 
 deserting from the man-of-war? He is an awful man, Mr. Joe 
 Weston is. Don't get into his way. Father says so. But you 
 are not to tell — no, never, that he spoke about it. Don't go 
 alone to Rye of nights, father says. Don't go on any — and 
 you know what not — any fishing business, except with those 
 you know." And so Tom leaves me with a finger to his lip and 
 terror in his face. 
 
 As for the fishing, though I loved a sail dearly, m}* mind 
 was made up by good Dr. Barnard's advice to me. I would 
 have no more night-fishing such as I had seen sometimes as a 
 boy ; and when Rudge's apprentice one night invited me, and 
 called me a coward for refusing to go, I showed him I was no 
 coward as far as fisticuffs went, and stood out a battle with 
 him, in which I do believe I should have proved conqueror, 
 though the fellow was four 3-ears my senior, had not his ally, 
 Miss Sukey Rudge, joined him in the midst of our fight, and 
 knocked me down with the kitchen bellows, when they both 
 belabored me, as I lay kicking on the ground. Mr. Elder 
 Rudge came in at the close of this dreadful combat, and his 
 abandoned hussy of a daughter had the impudence to declare 
 that the quarrel arose because I was rude to her — I, an inno- 
 cent boy, who would as soon have made love to a negress 
 as to that hideous, pock-marked, squinting, crooked, tipsy 
 
362 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 Sukey Rudge. I fall in love with Miss Squintum, indeed ! 
 I knew a pair of eyes at home so bright, innocent, and pure, 
 that I should have been ashamed to look in them had I been 
 guilty of such a rascally treason. My little maid of Winchelsea 
 heard of this battle, as she was daily hearing slanders against 
 me from those worthy Mr. Westons ; but she broke into a rage 
 at the accusation, and said to the assembled gentlemen (as she 
 told m} r good mother in after days), "Denis Duval is not 
 wicked. He is brave and he is good. And it is not true, the 
 story you tell against him. It is a lie ! " 
 
 And now, once more it happened that my little pistol helped 
 to confound 1113' enemies, and was to me, indeed, a gute Wehr und 
 Waffen. I was for ever popping at marks with this little piece 
 of artillery. I polished, oiled, and covered it with the utmost 
 care, and kept it in my little room in a box of which I had the 
 ke}\ One day, by a most fortunate chance, I took ni}- school- 
 fellow, Tom Parrot, who became a great croivy of mine, into 
 the room. We went up stairs, b}' the private door of Rudge's 
 house, and not through the shop, where Mademoiselle Pigs and 
 Monsieur the apprentice were serving their customers ; and 
 arrived in my room, we boys opened my box, examined the 
 precious pistol, screw, barrel, flints, powder-horn, &c, locked 
 the box, and went away to school, promising ourselves a good 
 afternoon's sport on that half-holidaj - . Lessons over, I returned 
 home to dinner, to find black looks from all the inmates of the 
 house where I lived, from the grocer, his daughter, his appren- 
 tice, and even the little errand-boj" who blacked the boots and 
 swept the shop stared at me impertinently, and said, "Oh, 
 Denis, ain't 3-ou going to catch it ! " 
 
 " What is the matter?" I asked, very haughtily. 
 
 "Oh, my lord ! we'll soon show your lordship what is the 
 matter." (This was a silly nickname I had in the town and at 
 school, where, I believe, I gave nryself not a few airs since 
 I had worn niy fine new clothes, and paid my visit to London.) 
 "This accounts for his laced waistcoat, and his guineas which 
 he flings about. Does your lordship know these here shillings, 
 and this half-crown? Look at them, Mr. Beales ! See the 
 marks on them which I scratched with my own hand before 
 I put them into the till from which my lord took 'em." 
 
 Shillings? — till? What did they mean? "How dare 
 you ask, you little hypocrite ! " screams out Miss Rudge. " I 
 marked them shillings and that half-crown with my own needle, 
 I did ; and of that I can take my Bible oath." 
 
 "Well, and what then?" I asked, remembering how this 
 
Evidence fok the Defence. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 363 
 
 young woman had not scrupled to bear false witness in another 
 charge against me. 
 
 "■What then? They were in the till this morning, }oung 
 fellow; and 3011' know well enough where the}' were found 
 afterwards," says Mr. Beales. " Come, come ! This is a bad 
 job. This is a sessions job, ni}' lad." 
 
 " But where were they found? " again I asked. 
 
 "We'll tell you that before Squire Boroughs and the magis- 
 trates, you young vagabond ! " 
 
 " You little viper, that have turned and stung me ! " 
 
 " You precious young scoundrel ! " 
 
 "You wicked little story-telling, good-for-nothing little 
 thief!" cry Rudge, the apprentice, and Miss Rudge in a 
 breath. And I stood bewildered by their outcry, and, in- 
 deed, not quite comprehending the charge which they made 
 against me. 
 
 '•The magistrates are sitting at Town Hall now. We will 
 take the little villain there at once," says the grocer. "You 
 bring the box along with you, constable. Lord ! Lord ! what 
 will his poor grandfather say?" And, wondering still at the 
 charge made against me, I was made to walk through the 
 streets to the Town Hall, passing on the way b}' at least a 
 score of our bo}'s, who were enjoying their half-holiday. It was 
 market-da}^, too, and the town full. It is fort}' years ago, but 
 I dream about that dreadful day still ; and, an old gentleman 
 of sixty, fane}' m}self walking through Rye market, with Mr. 
 Beales's fist clutching my collar ! 
 
 A number of our boys joined this dismal procession, and 
 accompanied me into the magistrates' room. "Denis Duval 
 up for stealing money!" cries one. "This accounts for his 
 fine clothes," sneers another. "He'll be hung," says a third. 
 The market people stare, and crowd round, and jeer. I feel as 
 if in a horrible nightmare. We pass under the pillars of the 
 Market House, up the steps to the Town Hall, where the 
 magistrates were, who chose market-da}' for their sittings. 
 
 How my heart throbbed, as I saw my dear Dr. Barnard 
 seated among them. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor," cries poor Denis, clasping his hands, '•'■you 
 don't believe me guilty ? " 
 
 " Guilty of what?" cries the Doctor, from the raised table 
 round which the gentlemen sat. 
 
 "Guilty of stealing." 
 
 " Guilty of robbing my till." 
 
 " Guilty of taking two half-crowns, three shillings and two- 
 
364 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 pence in copper, all marked," shriek out Rudge, the apprentice,, 
 and Miss Rudge in a breath. 
 
 " Dennj^ Duval steal sixpences!" cries the Doctor; "I 
 would as soon believe he stole the dragon off the church - 
 steeple ! " 
 
 " Silence, .you boys ! Silence in the court, there ; or flog 'em 
 and turn 'em all out," says the magistrates' clerk. Some of our 
 boys — friends of mine — who had crowded into the place, were 
 hurraying at my kind Doctor Barnard's speech. 
 
 " It is a most serious charge," saj's the clerk. 
 
 "But what is the charge, m} T good Mr. Hickson? Yon 
 might as well put me into the dock as that — " 
 
 "Pray, sir, will you allow the business of the court to go 
 on?" asks the clerk, testily. "Make your statement, Mr. 
 Rudge, and don't be afraid of anybodj*. You are under the 
 protection of the court, sir." 
 
 And now for the first time I heard the particulars of the 
 charge made against me. Rudge, and his daughter after him, 
 stated (on oath, I am shocked to sa}-) that for some time past 
 they had missed money from the till ; small sums of money, in 
 shiilings and half-crowns, the}' could not say how much. It 
 might be two pounds, three pounds, in all ; but the money was 
 constantby going. At last, Miss Rudge said, she was deter- 
 mined to mark some money, and did so ; and that money was 
 found in that box which belonged to Denis Duval, and which 
 the constable brought into court. 
 
 "Oh, gentlemen!" I cried out in agony, "it's a wicked, 
 wicked he, and it's not the first she has told about me. A 
 week ago she said I wanted to kiss her, and she and Bevil both 
 set on me ; and I never wanted to kiss the nasty thing, so help 
 me — " 
 
 " You did, 3'ou lying wicked boy ! " cries Miss Sukey. 
 " And Edward Bevil came to my rescue ; and you struck me, 
 like a low mean coward ; and we beat him well, and served him 
 right, the little abandoned boy." 
 
 " And he kicked one of my teeth out — you did, you little 
 villain ! " roars Bevil, whose jaws had indeed suffered in that 
 scuffle in the kitchen, when his precious sweetheart came to his 
 aid with the bellows. 
 
 " He called me a coward, and I fought him fair, though he 
 is ever so much older than me," whimpers out the prisoner. 
 "And Sukey Rudge set upon me, and beat me too; and if I 
 kicked him, he kicked me." 
 
 "And since this kicking match they have found out that 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 365 
 
 you stole their money, have they ? " says the Doctor, and turns 
 round, appealing to his brother magistrates. 
 
 " Miss Rutlge, please to tell the rest of your story?" calls 
 out the justices' clerk. 
 
 The rest of the Rudges' story was, that having their sus- 
 picions roused against me, they determined to examine m}- 
 cupboards and boxes in my absence, to see whether the stolen 
 objects were to be found, and in my box they discovered the 
 two marked hall-crowns, the three marked shillings, a brass- 
 barrelled pistol, which were now in court. " Me and Mr. Bevil, 
 the apprentice, found the mone}' in the box ; and we called my 
 papa from the shop, and we fetched Mr. Beales, the constable, 
 who lives over the way ; and when the little monster came back 
 from school, we seized upon him, and brought him before your 
 worships, and hanging is what I said he would alwaj's come 
 to," shrieks my enenry Miss Rudge. 
 
 " Why, I have the key of that box in m}- pocket now ! " I 
 cried out. 
 
 " We had means of opening it," says Miss Rudge, looking 
 rer}' red. 
 
 " Oh, if 3'ou have another ke}< — " interposes the Doctor. 
 
 "We broke it open with the tongs and poker," says 
 S&iss Rudge, "me and Edward did — I mean Mr. Bevil, the 
 apprentice." 
 
 " When?" said I, in a great tremor. 
 
 "When? When you was at school, }'0u little miscreant! 
 Half an hour before you came back to dinner." 
 
 '"Tom Parrot, Tom Parrot ! " I cried. " Call Tom Parrot, 
 gentlemen. For goodness' sake call Tom ! " I said, my heart 
 beating so that I could hardly speak. 
 
 " Here I am, Denny ! " pipes Tom in the crowd ; and pres- 
 entlj* he comes up to their honors on the bench. 
 
 " Speak to Tom, Doctor, dear Doctor Barnard ! " I contin- 
 ued. " Tom, when did I show 3-011 my pistol? " 
 
 "Just before ten o'clock school." 
 
 "What did I do?" 
 
 "You unlocked your box, took the pistol out of a handker- 
 chief, showed it to me, and two flints, a powder-horn, a bullet- 
 mould, and some bullets, and put them back again, and locked 
 the box." 
 
 " Was there any money in the box?" 
 
 "There was nothing in the box but the pistol, and the 
 bullets and things. I looked into it. It was as empty as my 
 hand." 
 
366 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 " And Denis Duval has been sitting by you in school ever 
 since?" 
 
 ' ' Ever since — except when I was called up and caned for 
 my Corderius," says Tom, with a roguish look ; and there was 
 a great laughter and shout of applause from our bo} r s of Po- 
 cock's when this testimony was given in their schoolfellow's 
 favor. 
 
 My kind Doctor held his hand over the railing to me, and 
 when I took it, my heart was so full that my eyes overflowed. 
 I thought of little Agnes. What would she have felt if her 
 Denis had been committed as a thief? I had such a rapture 
 of thanks and gratitude that I think the pleasure of the acquit- 
 tal was more than equivalent to the anguish of the accusation. 
 What a shout all Pocock's boys set up, as I went out of the 
 justice-room ! We trooped joyfully down the stairs, and there 
 were fresh shouts and huzzays as we got down to the market. 
 I saw Mr. Joe Weston buying corn at a stall. He only looked 
 at me once. His grinding teeth and his clenched riding-whip 
 did not frighten me in the least now. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE LAST OF MY SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 As our joyful procession of boys passed by Partlett's the 
 pastry-cook's, one of the boys — Samuel Arbin — I remember 
 the fellow well — a greedy boy with a large beard and whiskers, 
 though only fifteen years old — insisted that I ought to stand 
 treat in consequence of my victory over my enemies. As far 
 as a groat went, I said I was ready : for that was all the money 
 I had. 
 
 " Oh, you story-teller ! " cries the other. " What have you 
 done with your three guineas which 30U were bragging about 
 and showing to the boys at school? I suppose they were in 
 the box when it was broken open." This Samuel Arbin was 
 one of the boys who had jeered when I was taken in charge by 
 the constable," and would have liked me to be guilty, I almost 
 think. I am afraid I had bragged about my money when I 
 possessed it, and may have shown my shining gold pieces to 
 some of the boys in school. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 367 
 
 " I know what he has clone with his money ! " broke in my 
 steadfast crony Tom Parrot. " He has given away ever}- shil- 
 ling of it to a poor f amity who wanted it, and nobody ever knew 
 you give away a shilling, Samuel Arbin," he says. 
 
 "Unless he could get eighteen pence by it!" sang out 
 another little voice. 
 
 " Tom Parrot, I'll break eveiy bone in your body, as sure as 
 my name is Arbin ! " cried the other, in a fur}-. 
 
 "Sam Arbin," said I, "after you have finished Tom, you 
 must try me ; or we'll do it now if you like." To say the truth, I 
 had long had an inclination to trj- my hand against Arbin. He 
 was an ill friend to me, and amongst the younger boys a bully and 
 a usurer to boot. The rest called out, ' k A ring ! a ring ! Let 
 us go on the green and have it out ! " being in their innocent 
 years always ready for a fight. 
 
 But this one was never to come off: and, except in later 
 da} T s, when I went to revisit the old place, and ask for a half- 
 holiday for my young successors at Pocock's) I was never 
 again to see the ancient schoolroom. While we boys were 
 brawling in the market-place before the pastty-cook's door, 
 Dr. Barnard came up, and our quarrel was hushed in a 
 moment. 
 
 "What! fighting and quarrelling already ? " says the Doc- 
 tor, sternly. 
 
 "It wasn't Demvy's fault, sir!" cried out several of the 
 boys. " It was Arbin began." And, indeed, I can say for 
 myself that in all the quarrels I have had in life, — and they 
 have not been few — I consider I always have been in the 
 right. 
 
 " Come along with me, Denny," says the Doctor, taking me 
 by the shoulder : and he led me away and we took a walk in 
 the town together, and as we passed old Ypres Tower, which 
 was built b}- King Stephen, they say, and was a fort in old days, 
 but is used as the town-prison now, " Suppose 3-011 had been 
 looking from behind those bars now, Denny, and awaiting 3'our 
 trial at assizes ? Yours would not have been a pleasant plight," 
 Dr. Barnard said. 
 
 " But I was innocent, sir ! You know I was ! " 
 
 " Yes. Praise be where praise is due. But if you had not 
 providentially been able to prove } r our innocence — if } : ou and 
 3'our friend Parrot had not happened to inspect 3 - our box, 
 you would have been in yonder place. Ha ! there is the bell 
 ringing for afternoon service, which my good friend Dr. Wing 
 keeps up. What say you ? Shall we go and — and — offer up 
 
368 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 our thanks, Denny — for the — the immense peril from which — 
 you have been — delivered ? " 
 
 I remember how my dear friend's voice trembled as he spoke, 
 and two or three drops fell from his kind eyes on my hand, 
 which he held. I followed him into the church. Indeed and 
 indeed I was thankful for my deliverance from a great danger, 
 and even more thankful to have the regard of the true gentle- 
 man, the wise and tender friend, who was there to guide, and 
 cheer, and help me. 
 
 As we read the last psalm appointed for that evening service, 
 I remember how the good man, bowing his own head, put his 
 hand upon mine ; and we recited together the psalm of thanks 
 to the Highest, who had had respect unto the lowly, and who 
 had stretched forth His hand upon the furiousness of inj' ene- 
 mies, and whose right hand had saved me. 
 
 Dr. Wing recognized and greeted his comrade when service 
 was over : and the one Doctor presented me to the other, who 
 had been one of the magistrates on the bench at the time of my 
 trial. Dr. "Wing asked us into his house, where dinner was 
 served at four o'clock, and of course the transactions of the 
 morning were again discussed. What could be -the reason of 
 the persecution against me ? Who instigated it ? There were 
 matters connected with this story regarding which I could not 
 speak. Should I do so, I must betray secrets which were not 
 mine, and which implicated I knew not whom, and regarding 
 which I must hold my peace. Now, they are secrets no more. 
 That old society of smugglers is dissolved long ago : nay, I 
 shall have to tell presently how I helped myself to break it up. 
 Grandfather, Rudge, the Chevalier, the gentlemen of the Priory, 
 were all connected in that great smuggling society of which 1 
 have spoken ; which had its depots all along the coast and in- 
 land, and its correspondents from Dunkirk to Havre de Grace. 
 I have said as a boy how I had been on some of these " fishing " 
 expeditions ; and how, mainly by the effect of m} - dear Doctor' i 
 advice, I had withdrawn from all participation in this lawless 
 and wicked life. When Bevil called me coward for refusing to 
 take a share in a night-cruise, a quarrel ensued between us, 
 ending in that battle royal which left us all sprawling, and 
 cuffing and kicking each other on the kitchen floor. Was it 
 rage at the injury to her sweetheart's teeth, or hatred against 
 myself, which induced my sweet Miss Sukey to propagate 
 calumnies against me ? The provocation I had given certainly 
 did not seem to warrant such a deadly enmity as a prosecution 
 and a perjury showed must exist. Howbeit, there was a reason 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 369 
 
 for the anger of the grocer's daughter and apprentice. Thev 
 would injure me in any way they could ; and (as in the before- 
 mentioned case of the bellows) take the first weapon at hand to 
 overthrow me. 
 
 As magistrates of the count}-, and knowing a great deal of 
 what was happening round about them, and the character of 
 their parishioners and neighbors, the two gentlemen could not, 
 then, press me too closely. Smuggled silk and lace, ruin and 
 brandy? Who had not these in his possession along the Sussex 
 and Kent coast? " And, Wing, will you promise me there are 
 no ribbons in your house but such as have paid duty?" asks 
 one Doctor of the other. 
 
 " My good friend, it is lucky my wife has gone to her tea- 
 table," replies Dr. Wing, " or I would not answer for the peace 
 being kept." 
 
 "My dear Wing," continues Dr. Barnard, "this brandy 
 punch is excellent, and is worthy of being smuggled. To run 
 an anker of brandy seems no monstrous crime ; but when men 
 engage in these lawless ventures at all, who knows how far the 
 evil will go ? I buy ten kegs of brandy from a French fishing- 
 boat, I land it under a lie on the coast, I send it inland ever so 
 far, be it from here to York, and all my consignees lie and 
 swindle. I land it, and lie to the revenue officer. Under a lie 
 (that is, a mutual secrecy,) I sell it to the landlord of ' The 
 Bell' at Maidstone, say — where a good friend of ours, Denny, 
 looked at his pistols. You remember the day when his brother 
 received the charge of shot in his face ? My landlord sells it to 
 a customer under a lie. We are all engaged in crime, conspir- 
 ac}~, and falsehood ; nay, if the revenue looks too closely after 
 us, we out with our pistols, and to crime and conspiracy add 
 murder. Do you suppose men engaged in lying eveiy day will 
 scruple about a false oath in a witness-box? Crime engenders 
 crime, sir. Round about ics, Wing, I know there exists a vast 
 confederac}- of fraud, greed, and rebellion. I name no names, 
 sir. I fear men high placed in the world's esteem, and largely 
 endowed with its riches too, are concerned in the pursuit of this 
 godless traffic of smuggling, and to what does it not lead them? 
 To falsehood, to wickedness, to murder, to — " 
 
 "Tea, sir, if you please, sir," says John, entering. " My 
 mistress and the young ladies are waiting." 
 
 The ladies had previously heard the stoiy of poor Denis Du- 
 val's persecution and innocence, and had shown him great kind- 
 ness. By the time when we joined them after dinner, they had 
 had time to perform a new toilette, being engaged to cards with 
 
 24 
 
370 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 some neighbors. I knew Mrs. Wing was a customer to my 
 mother for some of her French goods, and she would scarcely, 
 on an ordinary occasion, have admitted such a lowly guest to 
 her table as the humble dressmaker's boy ; but she and the 
 ladies were very kind, and rm' persecution and proved innocence 
 had interested them in m}* favor. 
 
 " You have had a long sitting, gentlemen," says Mrs. Wing : 
 " I suppose you have been deep in politics, and the quarrel with 
 France." 
 
 "We have been speaking of France and French goods, my 
 dear," said Dr. Wing, dryly. 
 
 "And of the awful crime of smuggling and encouraging 
 smuggling, my dear Mrs. Wing ! " cries my Doctor. 
 
 "Indeed, Dr. Barnard!" Now, Mrs. Wing and the 3'oung 
 ladies were dressed in smart new caps and ribbons, which my 
 poor mother supplied ; and they turned red, and I turned as red 
 as the cap-ribbons, as I thought how my good ladies had been 
 provided. No wonder Mrs. Wing was desirous to change the 
 subject of conversation. 
 
 "What is this young man to do after his persecution?" she 
 asked. "He can't go back to Mr. Rudge — that horrid Wes- 
 leyan who has accused him of stealing." 
 
 No, indeed, I could not go back. We had not thought about 
 the matter until then. There had been a hundred things to 
 agitate and interest me in the half-dozen hours since my appre- 
 hension and dismissal. 
 
 The Doctor would take me to Winchelsea in his chaise. I 
 could not go back to my persecutors, that was clear, except to 
 reclaim my little property and my poor little boxes, which they 
 had found means to open. Mrs. Wing gave me a hand, the 
 young ladies a stately curts}' ; and my good Dr. Barnard putting 
 a hand under the arm of the barber's grandson, we quitted these 
 kind people. I was not on the quarter-deck as 3*et, you see. 
 I was but a humble lad telonging to ordinary tradesmen. 
 
 By the way, I had forgotten to saj T that the two clergymen, 
 during their after-dinner talk, had employed a part of it in ex- 
 amining me as to nvy little store of learning at school, and my 
 future prospects. Of Latin I had a smattering ; French, owing 
 to my birth, and mainly to M. de la Motte's instruction and 
 conversation, I could speak better than either of m} r two ex- 
 aminers, and with quite the good manner and conversation. I 
 was well advanced, too, in arithmetic and geometry : and Dam- 
 pier's Voyages were as much my delight as those of Sinbad or 
 my friends Robinson Crusoe and Man Friday. I could pass a 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 371 
 
 good examination in navigation and seamanship, and could give 
 an account of the different sailings, working- tides, double-alti- 
 tudes, and so forth. 
 
 "And you can manage a boat at sea, too?" says Dr. Bar- 
 nard, dryly. I blushed, I suppose. I could do that, and could 
 steer, reef, and pull an oar. At least I could do so two years 
 ago. 
 
 " Denny, my boy," says my good Doctor, " I think 'tis time 
 for thee to leave this school at any rate, and that our friend Sir 
 Peter must provide for thee." 
 
 However he may desire to improve in learning, no boy, I 
 fane}', is very sorry when a proposal is made to him to leave 
 school. I said that I should be too glad if Sir Peter, nry pa- 
 tron, would provide for me. With the education I had, I ought 
 to get on, the Doctor said, and my grandfather he was sure 
 would find the means for allowing me to appear like a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 To fit a boy for appearance on the quarter-deck, and to 
 enable him to rank with others, I had heard would cost thirty 
 or fort}' pounds a year at least. I asked, did Dr. Barnard 
 think m}- grandfather could afford such a sum ? 
 
 "I know not your grandfather's means," Dr. Barnard an- 
 swered, smiling. " He keeps his own counsel. But I am very 
 much mistaken, Denny, if he cannot afford to make you a better 
 allowance than manjr a fine gentleman can give his son. I be- 
 lieve him to be rich. Mind, I have no precise reason for my 
 belief; but I fancy, Master Denis, your good grandpapa's 
 fislu'ng has been very profitable to him." 
 
 How rich was he ? I began to think of the treasures in my 
 favorite "Arabian Nights." Did Dr. Barnard think grand- 
 father was very rich ? Well — the Doctor could not tell. The 
 notion in Winchelsea was that old Mr. Peter was very well to 
 do. At any rate I must go back to him. It was impossible 
 that I should stay with the Rudge family after the insulting 
 treatment I had had from them. The Doctor said he would 
 take me home with him in his chaise, if I would pack 1113- little 
 trunks ; and with this talk we reached Rudge's shop, which I 
 entered not without a beating heart. There was Rudge glaring 
 at me from behind his desk, where he was posting his books. 
 The apprentice looked daggers at me as he came up through a 
 trap-door from the cellar with a string of dip-candles ; and vay 
 charming Miss Susan was behind the counter tossing up her 
 ugly head. 
 
 " Ho ! he's come back, have he? " says Miss Rudge. " As 
 
372 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 all the cupboards is locked in the parlor, 3-ou can go in, and 
 get your tea there, young man." 
 
 " I am going to take Denis home, Mr. Rudge," said my kind 
 Doctor. " He cannot remain with you, after the charge which 
 3-ou made against him this morning." 
 
 " Of having our marked money in his box? Do 3-011 go for 
 to dare for to say we put it there ? " cries Miss, glaring now at 
 me, now at Dr. Barnard. "Go to say that! Please to say 
 that once, Dr. Barnard, before Mrs. Barker and Mrs. Scales" 
 (these were two women who happened to be in the shop 
 purchasing goods). "Just be so good for to say before these 
 ladies, that we have put the money in that boy's box, and we'll 
 see whether there is not justice in Hengland for a poor girl 
 whom you insult, because 3-011 are a doctor and a magistrate 
 indeed ! Eh, if I was a man, I wouldn't let some people's 
 gowns, and cassocks, and bands, remain long on their backs — 
 that I wouldn't. And some people wouldn't see a woman in- 
 sulted if the3 r wasn't cowards ! " As she said this, Miss Sukey 
 looked at the cellar-trap, above which the apprentice's head had 
 appeared, but the Doctor turned also towards it with a glance 
 so threatening, that Bevil let the trap fall suddenly down, not a 
 little to my Doctor's amusement. 
 
 "Go and pack tlry trunk, Denn3 r . I will come back for 
 thee in half an hour. Mr. Rudge must see that after being so 
 insulted as 3*ou have been, 3-ou never as a gentleman can sta3 r 
 in this house." 
 
 "A pretty gentleman, indeed!" ejaculates Miss Rudge. 
 " Pra3", how long since was barbers gentlemen, I should like 
 to know? Mrs. Scales mum, Mrs. Barker mum, — did 3-ou 
 ever have 3-our hair dressed b3* a gentleman? If 3-ou want for 
 to have it, 3-011 must go to Mounseer Duval, at Winchelsea, 
 which one of the name was hung, Mrs. Barker mum, for a 
 thief and a robber, and he won't be the last neither ! " 
 
 There was no use in bandying abuse with this woman. " I 
 will go and get my trunk, and be reacby, sir," I said to the 
 Doctor ; but his back was no sooner turned than the raging 
 virago opposite me burst out with a fuiy of words, that I cer- 
 tainty can't remember after five-ancl-fort3- years. I fancy I 
 see now the little green e3'es gleaming hatred at me, the lean 
 arms a-kimbo, the feet stamping as she hisses out every imagi- 
 nable imprecation at my poor head. 
 
 " Will no man help me, and stand b3 r and see that barber's 
 boy insult me?" she cried. "Bevil, I say — Bevil! 'Elp 
 me ! " 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 373 
 
 I ran Dp stairs to my little room, and was not twenty min- 
 utes in making up my packages. 1 had passed years in that 
 little room, and somehow grieved to leave it. The odious peo- 
 ple had injured me, and yet I would have liked to part friends 
 with them. I had passed delightful nights there in the com- 
 pany of Robinson Crusoe, Mariner, and Monsieur Galland and 
 his Contes Arabes, and Hector of Tro}*, whose adventures and 
 lamentable death (out of Mr. Pope) I could recite by heart; 
 and I had had weary nights, too, with m}- school-books, cram- 
 ming that crabbed Latin grammar into my puzzled brain. With 
 arithmetic, logarithms, and mathematics I have said I was more 
 familiar. I took a pretty good place in our school with them, 
 and ranked before man}' boys of greater age. 
 
 And now my boxes being packed (my little library being 
 stowed away in that which contained my famous pistol), I 
 brought them down stairs, with nobody to help me, and had 
 them in the passage ready against Dr. Barnard's arrival. The 
 passage is behind the back shop at Rudge's — (dear me ! how 
 well I remember it!) — and a door thence leads into a side- 
 street. On the other side of this passage is the kitchen, where 
 had been the fight which has been described alread}', and where 
 we commonby took our meals. 
 
 I declare I went into that kitchen disposed to part friends 
 with all these people — to forgive Miss Sukey her lies, and 
 Bevil his cuffs, and all the past quai'rels between us. Old 
 Rudge was by the fire, having his supper ; Miss Sukey opposite 
 tojiim. Bevil, as yet, was minding the shop. 
 ~ " I am coming to shake hands before going away," I said. 
 
 "You're a-going, are you? And pray, sir, wherhever are 
 3'ou a-going of? " says Miss Sukey, over her tea. 
 
 " I am going home with Dr. Barnard. I can't stop in this 
 house after j'ou have accused me of stealing your mone}*." 
 
 "Stealing! Wasn't the rnone}- in your box, 3011 little 
 beastly thief? " 
 
 " Oh, you .young reprobate, I am surprised the bears don't 
 come in and eat you," groans old Rudge. u You have short- 
 ened my life with }'our wickedness, that 3 _ ou have ; and if 3-011 
 don't bring 3'our good grandfathei''s gra3* hairs with sorrow to 
 the grave, I shall be surprised, that I shall. You, who come 
 of a pious family — I tremble when I think of 3*ou, Denis 
 Duval ! " 
 
 " Tremble ! Faugh ! the wicked little beast ! he makes me 
 sick, he do ! " cries Miss Suke3 _ , with looks of genuine loathing. 
 
 " Let him depart from among us ! " cries Rudge. 
 
374 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 " Never do I wish to see his ugly face again ! " exclaims the 
 gentle Susan. 
 
 " I am going as soon as Dr. Barnard's chaise comes," I 
 said. " My boxes are in the passage now, ready packed." 
 
 " Read}* packed, are they? Is there any more of our mone} r 
 in them, you little miscreant? Pa, is your silver tankard in the 
 cupboard, and is the spoons safe?" 
 
 I think poor Sukey had been drinking to drive away the 
 mortifications of the morning in the court-house. She became 
 more excited and violent with every word she spoke, and 
 shrieked and clenched her fists at me like a madwoman. 
 
 " Susanna, } r ou have had false witness bore against you, my 
 child ; and you are not the .first of your name. But be calm, 
 be calm ; it's our duty to be calm ! " 
 
 " Eh ! " (here she gives a grunt.) " Calm with that sneak 
 — that pig — that liar — that beast ! Where's Edward Bevil ? 
 Why don't he come forward like a man, and flog the young 
 scoundrel's life out?" shrieks Susanna. "Oh, with this here 
 horsewhip, how I would like to give it you ! " (She clutched 
 her father's whip from the dresser, where it commonly hung 
 on two hooks.) "Oh, you — you villain! you have got your 
 pistol, have you? Shoot me, you little coward, I ain't afraid 
 of you ! You have your pistol in your box, have you ! " (I 
 uselessly said as much in reply to this taunt. ) ' - Stop ! I say, 
 Pa, — that young thief isn't going away with them boxes, and 
 robbing the whole house as he ma}-. Open the boxes this in- 
 stant ! We'll see he's stole nothing ! Open them, I say ! " 
 
 I said I would do nothing of the kind. My blood was boil- 
 ing up at this brutal behavior ; and as she dashed out of the 
 room to seize one of my boxes, I put myself before her, and 
 sat down on it. 
 
 This was assuredly a bad position to take, for the furious 
 vixen began to strike me and lash at my face with the riding- 
 whip, and it was more than I could do to wrench it from her. 
 
 Of course, at this act of defence on my part, Miss Sukey 
 yelled for help, and called out, "Edward! Ned Bevil ! The 
 coward is a-striking me ! Help, Ned ! " At this, the shop 
 door flies open, and Sukey's champion is about to rush on me, 
 but he breaks down over nry other box with a crash of his 
 shins, and frightful execrations. His nose is prone on the 
 pavement ; Miss Sukey is wildly la}ing about her with her 
 horsewhip (and I think Bevil's jacket came in for most of the 
 blows) ; we are all higgledy-piggledy, plunging and scuffling in 
 the dark — when a carriage drives up, which I had not heard 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 375 
 
 in the noise of action, and as the hall door opened, I was 
 pleased to think that Dr. Barnard had arrived, according to 
 his promise. 
 
 It was not the Doctor. The new comer wore a gown, but 
 not a cassock. Soon after my trial before the magistrates was 
 over, our neighbor, John Jephson, of Winchelsea, mounted his 
 cart and rode home from Rye market. He straightway went 
 to our house, and told m}- mother of the strange scene which 
 had just occurred, and of my accusation before the magistrates 
 and acquittal. She begged, she ordered Jephson to lend her 
 his cart. She seized whip and reins ; she drove over to Rye ; 
 and I don't envy Jephson's old gray mare that journey with 
 such a charioteer behind her. The door, opening from the 
 street, flung light into the passage ; and behold, we three war- 
 riors were sprawling on the floor in the higgledy-piggledy stage 
 of the battle as my mother entered ! 
 
 What a scene for a mother with a strong arm, a warm heart, 
 and a high temper ! Madame Duval rushed instantly at Miss 
 Susan, and tore her shrieking from my body, which fair Susan 
 was pummelling with the whip. A part of Susan's cap and 
 tufts of her red hair were torn off by this maternal Amazon, 
 and Susan was hurled through the open door into the kitchen, 
 where she fell before her frightened father. I don't know how 
 many blows my parent inflicted upon this creature. Mother 
 might have slain her, but that the chaste Susanna, screaming 
 shrilly, rolled under the deal kitchen table. 
 „- Madame Duval had wrenched away from this young person 
 the horsewhip with which Susan had been operating upon the 
 shoulders of her only son, and snatched the weapon as her 
 fallen foe dropped. And now my mamma, seeing old Mr. 
 Rudge sitting in a ghastly state of terror in the corner, rushed 
 at the grocer, and in one minute, with butt and thong, inflicted 
 a score of lashes over his face, nose, and eyes, for which any- 
 bod}' who chooses ma}' pity him. " Ah, you will call my boy 
 a thief, will 3 T ou? Ah, }'ou will take m}~ Denn}- before the 
 justices, will you ? Prends moi 9a gredin ! Attrape, lache ! 
 Nimmt noch ein paar Schlage, Spitzbube ! " cries out mother, 
 in that polyglot language of English, French, High-Dutch, which 
 she alwajs used when excited. My good mother could shave 
 and dress gentlemen's heads as well as an}" man : and faith I 
 am certain that no man in all Europe got a better dressing than 
 Mr. Rudge on that evening. 
 
 Bless me ! I have w r ritten near a page to describe a battle 
 which could not have lasted five minutes. Mother's cart was 
 
376 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 drawn up at the side-street whilst she was victoriously engaged 
 within. Meanwhile, Dr. Barnard's chaise had come to the 
 front door of the shop, and he strode through it, and found us 
 conquerors in possession of both fields. Since my last battle 
 with Bevil, we both knew that I was more than a match for 
 him. " In the king's name, I charge you drop 3'our daggers," 
 as the man says in the play. Our wars were over on the ap- 
 pearance of the man of peace. Mother left off plying the 
 horsewhip over Rudge ; Miss Sukey came out from under the 
 table ; Mr. Bevil rose, and slunk off to wash his bleeding face ; 
 and when the wretched Rudge whimpered out that he would 
 have the law for this assault, the Doctor sternly said, "You 
 were three to one during part of the battle, three to two 
 afterwards, and after your testimony to-day, you perjured 
 old miscreant, do 30U suppose any magistrate will believe 
 
 vou 
 
 ? " 
 
 No. Nobody did believe them. A punishment fell on these 
 bad people. I don't know who gave the name, but Rudge and 
 his daughter were called Ananias and Sapphira in Rye ; and 
 from that day the old man's affairs seemed to turn to the bad. 
 When our bo\'s of Pocock's met the grocer, his daughter, or 
 his apprentice, the little miscreants would cry out, " Who put 
 the money in Denny's box?" ■ " Who bore false witness against 
 his neighbor?" "Kiss the book, Sukey my dear, and tell the 
 truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, do you hear? " 
 They had a dreadful life, that poor grocer's family. As for 
 that rogue Tom Parrot, he comes into the shop one market day 
 when the place was full, and asks for a penn'orth of sugar- 
 candy, in payment for which he offers a penny to old Rudge 
 sitting at his books behind his high desk. "It's a good bit of 
 nione}-," says Tom (as bold as the brass which he was tender- 
 ing). "It ain't marked, Mr. Rudge, like Denny Duval's 
 money ! " And, no doubt, at a signal from the young repro- 
 bate, a chorus of boys posted outside began to sing, " Ananias, 
 Ananias ! He pretends to be so pious ! Ananias and Sa- 
 phia — " Well, well, the Saphia of these young wags was 
 made to rhyme incorrectly with a word beginning with L. Nor 
 was this the only punishment which befell the unhappy Rudge : 
 Mrs. Wing and several of his chief patrons took away their 
 custom from him and dealt henceforth with the opposition 
 grocer. Not long after my affair, Miss Sukey married the 
 toothless apprentice, who got a bad bargain with her, sweet- 
 heart or wife. I shall have to tell presentby what a penalty 
 they (and some others) had to pay for their wickedness ; and 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 377 
 
 of an act of contrition on poor Miss Sukey's part, whom, I 
 am sure, I heartily forgive. Then was cleared up that mys- 
 tery (which I could not understand, that Dr. Barnard could 
 not, or would not) of the persecutions directed against a 
 humble lad, who never, except in self-defence, did harm to any 
 mortal. 
 
 I shouldered the trunks, causes of the late lamentable war, 
 and put them into mother's cart, into which I was about to 
 mount, but the shrewd old lady would not let me take a place 
 beside her. " I can drive well enough. Go thou in the chaise 
 with the Doctor. He can talk to thee better, my son, than an 
 ignorant woman like me. Neighbor Jephson told me how the 
 good gentleman stood b} T thee in the justice-court. If ever I 
 or mine can do anything to repay him, he ma}' command me. 
 Houp, Schimmel ! Fort ! Shalt soon be to house ! " And 
 with this she was off with my bag and baggage, as the night 
 was beginning to fall. 
 
 I went out of the Rudges' house, into which I have never 
 since set foot. I took my place in the chaise by my kind Dr. 
 Barnard. We passed through Winchelsea gate, and dipped 
 down into the marshy plain beyond, with bright glimpses of 
 the Channel shining beside us, and the stars glittering over- 
 head. We talked of the affair of the day, of course — the 
 affair most interesting, that is, to me, who could think of 
 nothing hut magistrates, and committals, and acquittals. The 
 Doctor repeated his firm conviction that there was a great 
 smuggling conspiracy all along the coast and neighborhood. 
 Master Rudge was a member of the fraternity (which, indeed, 
 I knew, having been out with his people once or twice, as I 
 have told, to my shame). " Perhaps there were other people 
 of m} r acquaintance who belonged to the same society ? " the 
 Doctor said, dryly. "Gee up, Daisy ! There were other 
 people of my acquaintance, who were to be found at "Winchel- 
 sea as well as at Rye. Your precious one-eyed enemy is in 
 it ; so, I have no doubt, is Monsieur le Chevalier de la Motte : 
 so is — can you guess the name of any one besides, Denn}-? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," I said, sadby ; I knew my own grandfather was 
 engaged in that traffic. "But if — if others are, I promise 
 you, on my honor, I never will embark in it," I added. 
 
 "'Twill be more dangerous now than it has been. There 
 will be obstacles to crossing the Channel which the contraband 
 gentlemen have not known for some time past. Have 30U not 
 heard the news ? " 
 
 " What news? " Indeed I had thought of none but my own 
 
378 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 affairs. A post had come in that very evening from London, 
 bringing intelligence of no little importance even to poor me, 
 as it turned out. And the news was that his Majesty the King, 
 having been informed that a treaty of ainit}- and commerce had 
 been signed between the Court of France and certain persons 
 employed by his Majesty's revolted subjects in North America, 
 " has judged it necessar}- to send orders to his ambassador to 
 withdraw from the French Court, .... and relying with the 
 firmest confidence upon the zealous and affectionate support of 
 his faithful people, he is determined to prepare to exert, if it 
 should be necessary, all the forces and resources of his king- 
 doms, which he trusts will be adequate to repel every insult 
 and attack, and to maintain and uphold the power and reputa- 
 tion of this country." 
 
 So as I was coming out of Rye court-house, thinking of 
 nothing but my enemies, and ruy trials, and my triumphs, post- 
 boys were galloping all over the land to announce that we 
 were at war with France. One of them, as we made our way 
 home, clattered past us with his twanging horn, crying his 
 news of war with France. As we wound along the plain, we 
 could see the French lights across the Channel. My life has 
 lasted for fifty years since then, and scarcely ever since, but 
 for very very brief intervals, has that balefui war- light ceased 
 to burn. 
 
 The messenger who bore this important news arrived after 
 we left Rye, but, riding at a much quicker pace than that which 
 our Doctor's nag practised, overtook us ere we had reached 
 our own town of Winchelsea. All our town was alive with the 
 news in half an hour ; and in the market-place, the public- 
 houses, and from house to house, people assembled and talked. 
 So we were at war again with our neighbors across the Channel, 
 as well as with our rebellious children in America ; and the 
 rebellious children were having the better of the parent at this 
 time. We boys at Pocock's had fought the war stoutly and 
 with great elation at first. Over our maps we had pursued the 
 rebels, and beaten them in repeated encounters. We routed 
 them on Long Island. We conquered them at Brandywine. 
 We vanquished them gloriously at Bunker's Hill. We marched 
 triumphantly into Philadelphia with Howe. We were quite 
 bewildered when we had to surrender with General Burgoyne 
 at Saratoga ; being, somehow, not accustomed to hear of Brit- 
 ish armies surrendering, and British valor being beat. " We 
 had a half-holiday for Long Island," saj's Tom Parrot, sitting 
 next to me in school, " 1 suppose we shall be flogged all round 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 379 
 
 for Saratoga." As for those Frenchmen, we knew of their 
 treason for a long time past, and were gathering np wrath 
 against them. Protestant Frenchmen, it was agreed, were of a 
 different sort ; and I think the banished Huguenots of France 
 have not been unworthy subjects of our new sovereign. 
 
 There was one dear little Frenchwoman in Winchelsea who 
 I own was a sad rebel. When Mrs. Barnard, talking about 
 the war, turned round to Agnes and said, "Agnes my child, 
 on what side are you?" Mademoiselle de Barr blushed very 
 red, and said, " I am a French girl, and I am of the side of 
 my country. Vive la France ! vive le Roi ! " 
 
 "Oh, Agnes! oh, yon perverted, ungrateful little, little 
 monster ! " cries Mrs. Barnard, beginning to weep. 
 
 But the Doctor, far from being angry, smiled and looked 
 pleased ; and making Agnes a mock reverence, he said, " Mad- 
 emoiselle de Saverne, I think a little Frenchwoman should be 
 for France ; and here is the tray, and we won't fight until after 
 supper." And as he spoke that night the prayer appointed by 
 his Church for the time of war — prayed that we might be armed 
 with His defence who is the only giver of all victory — I 
 thought I never heard the good man's voice more touching and 
 solemn. 
 
 When this daily and nightly ceremony was performed at 
 the Rectory, a certain little person who belonged to the Roman 
 Catholic faith used to sit aloof, her spiritual instructors for- 
 bidding her to take part in our English worship. When it was 
 over, and the Doctor's household had withdrawn, Miss Agnes 
 had a flushed, almost angry face. 
 
 " But what am I to do, aunt Barnard? " said the little rebel. 
 " If I praj* for you, I pray that my country ma}- be conquered, 
 and that you may be saved and delivered out of our hands." 
 
 " No, faith, my child, I think we will not call upon thee for 
 Amen," says the Doctor, patting her cheek. 
 
 "I don't know wiry 3*011 should wish to prevail over my 
 country," whimpers the little maid. "I am sure I won't pra} r 
 that any harm ma}' happen to }'ou, and aunt Barnard, and 
 Denny — never, never ! " And in a passion of tears she buried 
 her head against the breast of the good man, and we were all 
 not a little moved. 
 
 Hand in hand we two young ones walked from the Rectory 
 to the Prior}' House, which was only too near. I paused ere 
 I rang at the bell, still holding her wistful little hand in mine. 
 
 " You will never be my enemy, Denny, will you?" she 
 said, looking up. 
 
380 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 " My dear," I faltered out, " I will love you for ever and 
 ever ! " I thought of the infant whom I brought home in my 
 arms from the seashore, and once more my dearest maiden was 
 held in them, and my heart throbbed with an exquisite bliss. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I ENTER IIIS MAJESTY'S KAVT. 
 
 I promise you there was no doubt or hesitation next Sunday 
 regarding our good rector's opinions. Ever since the war with 
 America began, he had, to the best of his power, exhorted his 
 people to be loyal, and testified to the authority of Caesar. 
 "War," he taught, "is not altogether an evil; and ordained 
 of Heaven, as our illnesses and fevers doubtless are, for our 
 good. It teaches obedience and contentment under privations ; 
 it fortifies courage ; it tests loyalt} - ; it gives occasion for show- 
 ing mercifulness of heart ; moderation in victory ; endurance 
 and cheerfulness under defeat. The brave who do battle vic- 
 toriously in their country's cause leave a legacy of honor to 
 their children. We English of the present day are the better 
 for Crecy, and Agincourt, and Blenheim. I do not grudge the 
 Scots their day of Bannockburn, nor the French their Fontenoy. 
 Such valor proves the manhood of nations. When we have 
 conquered the American rebellion, as I have no doubt we shall 
 do, I trust it will be found that these rebellious children of ours 
 have comported themselves in a manner becoming our English 
 race, that they have been hardy and resolute, merciful and 
 moderate. In that Declaration of War against France, which 
 has just reached us, and which interests all England, and the 
 men of this coast especially, I have no more doubt in my mind 
 that the right is on our side, than I have that Queen Elizabeth 
 had a right to resist the Spanish Armada. In an hour of almost 
 equal peril, I pray we may show the same watchfulness, con- 
 stancy, and valor ; bracing ourselves to do the duty before us, 
 and leaving the issue to the Giver of all Victory." 
 
 Ere he left the pulpit, our good rector announced that he 
 would call a meeting for next market-day in our town-hall — a 
 meeting of gentry, farmers, and seafaring men. to devise means 
 for the defence of our coast and harbors. The French might 
 be upon us any day ; and all our people were in a buzz of 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 381 
 
 excitement, Volunteers and Fencibles patrolling our shores, 
 and fishermen's glasses for ever on the look-out towards the 
 opposite coast. . 
 
 We had a great meeting in the town-hall, and of the speak- 
 ers it was who should be most loyal to King and country. 
 Subscriptions for a Defence Fund were straightway set afoot. 
 It was determined the Cinque Port towns should raise a regi- 
 ment of Fencibles. In Winchelsea alone the gentry and chief 
 tradesmen agreed to raise a troop of volunteer horse to patrol 
 along the shore and communicate with depots of the regular 
 military formed at Dover, Hastings, and Deal. The fishermen 
 were enrolled to serve as coast and look-out men. From Mar- 
 gate to Folkestone the coast was watched and patrolled : and 
 privateers were equipped and sent to sea from many of the 
 ports along our line. On the French shore we heard of similar 
 warlike preparations. The fishermen on either coast did not 
 harm each other as }-et, though presently they too fell to blows : 
 and I have sad reason to know that a certain ancestor of mine 
 did not altogether leave off his relations with his French friends. 
 
 However, at the meeting in the town-hall, grandfather came 
 forward with a subscription and a long speech. He said that 
 he and his co-religionists and countrymen of France had now 
 for near a century experienced British hospitality and freedom ; 
 that when driven from home by Papist persecution, they had 
 found protection here, and that now was the time for French 
 Protestants to show that they were grateful and faithful sub- 
 jects of King George. Grandfather's speech was veiy warmly 
 received ; that old man had lungs, and a knack of speaking, 
 which never failed him. He could spin out sentences b}- the 
 yard, as I knew, who had heard him expound for half-hours 
 together with that droning voice which had long ceased (Heaven 
 help me !) to cany conviction to the heart of gTanclfather's grace- 
 less grandson. 
 
 When he had done, Mr. George Weston, of the Prioiy, 
 spoke, and with a good spirit too. (He and my dear friend, 
 Mr. Joe, were both present, and seated with the gentlefolks and 
 magistrates at the raised end of the hall.) Mr. George said 
 that as Mr. Duval had spoken for the French Protestants, he, 
 for his part, could vouch for the 103'alty of another body of 
 men, the Roman Catholics of England. In the hour of danger 
 he trusted that he and his brethren were as good subjects as 
 airy Protestants in the realm. And as a trifling test of his 
 loyalty — though he believed his neighbor Duval was a richer 
 man than himself (grandfather shrieked a "No, no!" and 
 
382 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 there was a roar of laughter in the hall) — he offered as a 
 contribution to a defence fund to la} r down two guineas for 
 Mr. Duval's one ! 
 
 " I will give my guinea, I am sure," sa}-s grandfather, very 
 meekly, "and may that poor man's mite be accepted and 
 useful ! " 
 
 "One guinea!" roars Weston; "I will give a hundred 
 guineas ! " 
 
 "And I another hundred," says his brother. "We will 
 show, as Roman Catholic gentry of England, that we are not 
 inferior in loyalt} 7 to our Protestant brethren." 
 
 "Put my fazer-in-law Peter Duval down for one 'ondred 
 guinea!" calls out my mother, in her deep voice. "Put me 
 down for twenty-fife guinea, and nn* son Denis for twent}--fife 
 guinea ! We have eaten of English bread and we are grateful, 
 and we sing with all our hearts, God save King George ! " 
 
 Mother's speech was received with great applause. Farm- 
 ers, gentry, shopkeepers, rich and poor, crowded forward to 
 offer their subscription. Before the meeting broke up, a vety 
 handsome sum was promised for the arming and equipment of 
 the Winchelsea Fencibles ; and old Colonel Evans, who had 
 been present at Minden and Fontenoy, and young Mr. Barlow, 
 who had lost a leg at Brandywine, said that they would super- 
 intend the drilling of the Winchelsea Fencibles, until such time 
 as his Majestj' should send officers of his own to command the 
 corps. It was agreed that everybody spoke and acted with 
 public spirit. "Let the French land !" was our cry. "The 
 men of Rye, the men of Winchelsea, the men of Hastings, will 
 have a guard of honor to receive them on the shore ! " 
 
 That the French intended to try and land was an opinion 
 pretty general amongst us, especialty when his Majesty's proc- 
 lamation came, announcing the great naval and military ar- 
 maments which the enemy was preparing. We had certain 
 communications with Boulogne, Calais, and Dunkirk still, and 
 our fishing-boats sometimes went as far as Ostend. Our in- 
 formants brought us full news of all that was going on in those 
 ports ; of the troops assembled there, and royal French ships 
 and privateers fitted out. I was not much surprised one night 
 to find our old Boulogne ally Bidois smoking his pipe with 
 grandfather in the kitchen, and regaling himself with a glass of 
 his own brand}', which I know had not paid unto Caesar Caesar's 
 due. The pigeons on the hill were making their journeys still. 
 Once, when I went up to visit Farmer Perreau, I found M. de 
 la Motte and a companion of his sending off one of these birds, 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 383 
 
 and La Mottc's friend said sulkily, in German, " What does 
 the little Spitzbube do here?" " Versteht vielleicht Deutsch," 
 murmured La Mo'tte, hurriedly, and turned round to me with a 
 grin of welcome, and asked news of grandfather and my mother. 
 
 This ally of the Chevalier's was a Lieutenant Lutterloh, who 
 had served in America in one of the Hessian regiments on our 
 side, and who was now pretty often in Winchelsea, where he 
 talked magnificently about war and his own achievements, both 
 on the continent and in our American provinces. He lived 
 near Canterbury as I heard. I guessed, of course, that he was 
 one of the tk Mackerel" party, and engaged in smuggling, like 
 La Motte, the Westons, and my graceless old grandfather and 
 his all}-, Mr. Rudge, of Rye. I shall have presently to tell how 
 bitterly Monsieur de la Motte had afterwards to rue his ac- 
 quaintance with this German. 
 
 Knowing the Chevalier's intimacy with the gentlemen con- 
 nected with the Mackerel fishery, I had little cause to be sur- 
 prised at seeing him and the German captain together ; though 
 a circumstance now arose, which might have induced me to 
 suppose him engaged in practices yet more lawless and danger- 
 ous than smuggling. I was walking up to the hill — must 1 let 
 slip the whole truth, madame, in my memoirs? Well, it never 
 did or will hurt anybod}* ; and, as it only concerns you and me, 
 may be told without fear. I frequently, I say, walked up the 
 hill to look at these pigeons, for a certain young person was a 
 great lover of pigeons too, and occasionally would come to 
 see Father Perreau's columbarium. Did I love the sight of this 
 dear white dove more than any other? Did it come sometimes 
 fluttering to my heart ? Ah ! the old blood throbs there with 
 the mere recollection. I feel — shall we say how many years 
 younger, m}* dear? In fine, those little walks to the pigeon- 
 house are among the sweetest of all our stores of memories. 
 
 I was coming away, then, once from this house of billing 
 and cooing, when I chanced to espy an old schoolmate, Thomas 
 Mtasom b} r name, who was exceedingly proud of his new 
 uniform as a private of our regiment of Winchelsea Fencibles, 
 was never tired of weai'ing it, and always walked out with his 
 firelock over his shoulder. As I came up to Tom, he had just 
 discharged his piece, and hit his bird too. One of Farmer 
 Perreau's pigeons la} - dead at Tom's feet — one of the carrier 
 pigeons, and the } r oung fellow was rather scared at what he had 
 done, especially when he saw a little piece of paper tied under 
 the wing of the slain bird. 
 
 He could not read the message, which was written in our 
 
384 DENTS DUVAL. 
 
 German handwriting, and was only in three lines, which I was 
 better able to decipher than Tom. I supposed at first that the 
 message had to do with the smuggling business, in which so 
 many of our friends were engaged, and Measom walked off 
 rather hurriedly, being bj- no means anxious to fall into the 
 farmer's hands, who would be but ill-pleased at having one of 
 his birds killed. 
 
 I put the paper in my pocket, not telling Tom what I thought 
 about the matter : but I did have a thought, and determined to 
 converse with nry dear Doctor Barnard regarding it. I asked 
 to see him at the Rectory, and there read to him the contents of 
 the paper which the poor messenger was bearing when Tom's 
 ball brought him down. 
 
 My good Doctor was not a little excited and pleased when 
 I interpreted the pigeon's message to him, and especially praised 
 me for my reticence with Tom upon the subject. " It may be 
 a mare's nest we have discovered, Denny, my boy," says the 
 Doctor; "it may be a matter of importance. I will see 
 Colonel Evans on this subject to-night." We went off to Mr. 
 Evans's lodgings : he was the old officer who had fought under 
 the Duke of Cumberland, and was, like the Doctor, a justice of 
 peace for our county. I translated for the Colonel the paper, 
 which was to the following effect : — 
 
 [Left blank by Mr. Thackeray.] 
 
 Mr. Evans looked at a paper before him, containing an au- 
 thorized list of the troops at the various Cinque Port stations, and 
 found the poor pigeon's information quite correct. " Was this 
 the Chevalier's writing?" the gentleman asked. No, I did not 
 think it was M. de la Motte's handwriting. Then I mentioned 
 the other German in whose company I had seen M. de la Motte : 
 the Monsieur Lutterloh whom Mr. Evans said he knew quite 
 well. " If Lutterloh is engaged in the business," said Mr. 
 Evans, "we shall know more about it;" and he whispered 
 something to Dr. Barnard. Meanwhile he praised me exceed- 
 ingly for my caution, enjoined me to sa} r nothing regarding the 
 matter, and to tell my comrade to hold his tongue. 
 
 As for Tom Measom he was less cautious. Tom talked 
 about his adventures to one or two cronies ; and to his parents, 
 who were tradesmen like my own. They occupied a snug 
 house in Winchelsea, with a garden and a good paddock. One 
 day their horse was found dead in the stable. Another day 
 their cow burst and died. There used to be strange acts of 
 revenge perpetrated in those days ; and farmers, tradesmen, or 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 385 
 
 gentry, who rendered themselves obnoxious to certain parties, 
 had often to rue the enmity which they provoked. That mv 
 unhappy old grandfather was, and remained in the smugglers' 
 league, I fear is a fact which I can't deny or palliate. He paid 
 a heavy penalt\ r to be sure, but my narrative is not advanced 
 far enough to allow of my telling how the old man was visited 
 for his sins. 
 
 There came to visit our Winchelsea magistrates Captain 
 Pearson, of the " Serapis" frigate, then in the Downs ; and I 
 remembered this gentleman, having seen him at the house of 
 nry kind patron, Sir Peter Denis, in London. Mr. Pearson 
 also recollected me as the little hoy who had shot the high- 
 wayman ; and was much interested when he heard of the carrier 
 pigeon, and the news which he bore. It appeared that he, as 
 well as Colonel Evans, was acquainted with Mr. Lutterloh. 
 "You are a good lad," the Captain said; "but we know," 
 said the Captain, " all the news those birds carry." 
 
 All this time our whole coast was alarmed, and hourly ex- 
 pectant of a French invasion. The French fleet was said to 
 outnumber ours in the Channel : the French army, we knew, was 
 enormously superior to our own. I can remember the terror 
 and. the excitement; the panic of some, the braggart behavior 
 of others ; and specially I recall the way in which our church 
 was cleared one Sunday, by a rumor which ran through the 
 pews, that the French were actually landed. How the people 
 rushed away from the building, and some of them whom I re- 
 member the loudest amongst the braggarts, and singing their 
 ' k Come if you dare ! " Mother and I in our pew, and Captain 
 Pearson in the rector's, were the only people who sat out the 
 sermon, of which Dr. Barnard would not abridge a line, and 
 which, I own, I thought was extremely tantalizing and pro- 
 voking. He gave the blessing with more than ordinary slow- 
 ness and solemntty ; and had to open his own pulpit-door, and 
 stalk down the steps without the accompaniment of his usual 
 escort, the clerk, who had skipped out of his desk, and run away 
 like the rest of the congregation. Doctor Barnard had me 
 home to dinner at the Rectory ; nry good mother being much 
 too shrewd to be jealous of this kindness shown to me and not 
 to her. When she waited upon Mrs. Barnard with her basket 
 of laces and perfumeries, mother stood as became her station 
 as a tradeswoman. "For thee, nry son, 'tis different," she 
 said. " I will have thee be a gentleman." And faith, I hope 
 I have done the best of my humble endeavor to fulfil the good 
 lady's wish. 
 
386 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 The war, the probable descent of the French, and the means 
 of resisting the invasion, of course formed the subject of the 
 gentlemen's conversation ; and though I did not understand all 
 that passed, I was made to comprehend subsequently, and may 
 as well mention facts here which only came to be explained to 
 me later. The pigeons took over certain information to France, 
 in return for that which the}' brought. By these and other 
 messengers our Government was kept quite well instructed as 
 to the designs and preparations of the enemy, and I remember 
 how it was stated that his Majesty had occult correspondents 
 of his own in France, whose information was of surprising ac- 
 curacy. Master Lutterloh dabbled in the information line. He 
 had been a soldier in America, a recruiting-crimp here, and I 
 know not what besides ; but the information he gave was given 
 under the authority of his employers, to whom in return he 
 communicated the information he received from France. The 
 worthy gentleman was, in fact, a spy by trade ; and though he 
 was not born to be hanged, came by an awful paj'inent for his 
 treacheiy, as I shall have to tell in due time. As for M. de la 
 Motte, the gentlemen were inclined to think that his occupation 
 was smuggling, not treason, and in that business the Chevalier 
 was allied with scores, nay hundreds, of people round about 
 him. One I knew, my pious grandpapa: other two lived at 
 the Priory, and I could count many more even in our small 
 town, namely, all the Mackerel men to whom I had been sent 
 on the night of poor Madame de Saverne's funeral. 
 
 Captain Pearson shook me b}' the hand ver}' warmly when 
 I rose to go home, and I saw, bj' the way in which the good 
 Doctor regarded me, that he was meditating some special kind- 
 ness in my behalf. It came very soon, and at a moment 
 when I was plunged in the very dismallest depths of despair. 
 M3' dear little Agnes, though a boarder at the house of those 
 odious Westons, had leave given to her to visit Mrs. Barnard ; 
 and that kind lad}' never failed to give me some signal b} T 
 which I knew that my little sweetheart was at the Rectory. 
 One day the message would be, " The rector wants back his 
 volume of the ' Arabian Nights,' and Denis had better bring 
 it." Another time my dearest Mrs. Barnard would write on a 
 card, "You ma}' come to tea, if you have done j'our mathe- 
 matics well," or, "You ma}' have a French lesson," and so 
 forth — and there, sure enough, would be my sweet little tutor- 
 ess. How old, nry dear, was Juliet, when she and young 
 Capulet began their loves? My sweetheart had not done 
 playing with dolls when our little passion began to bud : and 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 387 
 
 the sweet talisman of innocence I wore in rrry heart hath never 
 left me through life, and shielded me from many a temptation. 
 
 Shall I make a clean breast of it? We young hypocrites 
 used to write each other little notes, and pop them in certain 
 cunning corners known to us two. Juliet used to write in a 
 great round hand in French ; Romeo replied, I dare sa}', with 
 doubtful spelling. 
 
 "We had devised sundry queer receptacles where our letters 
 lay poste restante. There was the China pot-pourri jar on the 
 Japan cabinet in the drawing-room. There, into the midst of 
 the roses and spices, two cunning joung people used to thrust 
 their hands, and stir about spice and rose-leaves, until the}- 
 lighted upon a little bit of folded paper more fragrant and 
 precious than all your flowers and cloves. Then in the hall we 
 had a famous post-office, namely, the barrel of the great blun- 
 derbuss over the mantel-piece, from which hung a ticket on 
 which " loaded " was written, onby I knew better, having helped 
 Martin, the Doctor's man, to clean the gun. Then in the 
 churchyard under the wing of the left cherub on Sir Jasper 
 Billings's tomb, there was a certain hole in which we put little 
 scraps of paper written in a cipher devised by ourselves, and 
 on these scraps of paper we wrote : — well, can you guess what ? 
 "We wrote the old song which j'oung people have sung ever 
 since singing began. We wrote " Amo, amas," &c, in our 
 childish handwriting. Ah ! thanks be to heaven, though the 
 hands tremble a little now, they write the words still ! My 
 dear, the last time I was in "Winchelsea, I went and looked at 
 Sir Jasper's tomb, and at the hole under the cherub's wing ; 
 there was onl} r a little mould and moss there. Mrs. Barnard 
 found and read one or more of these letters, as the dear lad}' 
 told me afterwards, but there was no harm in them ; and when 
 the Doctor put on his grand serieux (as to be sure he had a 
 right to do), and was for giving the culprits a scolding, his 
 wife reminded him of a time when he was captain of Harrow 
 School, and found time to write other exercises than Greek and 
 Latin to a young lady who lived in the village. Of these mat- 
 ters, I say, she told me in later days ; in all da}-s, after our 
 acquaintance began, she was my truest friend and protectress. 
 
 But this dearest and happiest season of my life (for so I 
 think it, though I am at this moment happy, most happy, and 
 thankful) was to come to an abrupt ending, and poor Humptj- 
 Dumpty having climbed the wall of bliss, was to have a great 
 and sudden fall, which, for a while, perfectly crushed and be- 
 wildered him. I have said what harm came to my companion 
 
388 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 Tom Measom, for meddling in Monsieur Liitterloh's affairs and 
 talking of them. Now, there were two who knew Meinherr's 
 secret, Tom Measom, namely, and Denis Duval; and though 
 Denis held his tongue about the matter, except in conversing 
 with the rector and Captain Pearson, Liitterloh came to know 
 that I had read and explained the pigeon-despatch of which 
 Measom had shot the bearer ; and, indeed, it was Captain 
 Pearson himself, with whom the German had sundry private 
 dealings, who was Liitterloh's informer. Liitterloh's rage, and 
 that of his accomplice, against me, when they learned the un- 
 lucky part I had had in the discoveiy, were still greater than 
 their wrath against Measom. The Chevalier de la Motte, who 
 had once been neutral, and even kind to me, was confirmed in a 
 steady hatred against me, and held me as an enemy whom he 
 was determined to get out of his way. And hence came that 
 catastrophe which precipitated Humpty Dumpty Duval, Esq., 
 off the wall from which he was gazing at his beloved, as she 
 disported in her garden below. 
 
 One evening — shall I ever forget that evening? It was 
 Frida} r , [Left blank by Mr. Thackeray] — after m}* little maiden 
 had been taking tea with Mrs. Barnard, I had leave to escort 
 her to her home at Mr. Weston's at the Priory, which is not a 
 hundred yards from the Rectory door. All the evening the 
 company had been talking about battle and danger, and inva- 
 sion, and the war news from France and America ; and ury 
 little maiden sat silent, with her great eyes looking at one 
 speaker and another, and stitching at her sampler. At length 
 the clock tolled the hour of nine, when Miss Agnes must return 
 to her guardian. I had the honor to serve as her escort, and.- 
 would have wished the journey to be ten times as long as that 
 brief one between the two houses. "Good night, Agnes!" 
 " Good night, Denis ! On Sunday I shall see you ! " We 
 whisper one little minute under the stars ; the little hand lingers 
 in mine with a soft pressure ; we hear the servants' footsteps 
 over the marble floor within, and I am gone. Somehow, at 
 night and at morning, at lessons and pla}-, I was always think- 
 ing about this little maid. 
 
 " I shall see you on Sunday," and this was Friday ! Even 
 that interval seemed long to me. Little did either of us know 
 what a long separation was before us, and what strange changes, 
 dangers, adventures, I was to undergo ere I again should press 
 that dearest hand. 
 
 The gate closed on her, and I walked away by the church- 
 wall, and towards my own home. I was thinking of that 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 389 
 
 happ}*, that unforgotten night of my childhood, when 1 had 
 been the means of rescuing the dearest little maiden from an 
 awful death ; how, since then, I had cherished her with my 
 love of love ; and what a blessing she had been to my young 
 life. For many years she was its only cheerer and companion. 
 At home I had food and shelter, and, from mother at least, 
 kindness, but no society ; it was not until I became a familiar 
 of the good Doctor's roof that 1 knew friendship and kind com- 
 panionship. What gratitude ought I not to feel for a boon so 
 precious as there w r as conferred on me ? Ah, I vowed, I prayed, 
 that I might make myself worthy of such friends ; and so was 
 sauntering homewards, lost in these happy thoughts, when — 
 when something occurred which at once decided the whole 
 course of my after-life. 
 
 This something was a blow with a bludgeon across my ear 
 and temple which sent me to the ground utterly insensible. I 
 remember half a dozen men darkling in an alley by which I had 
 to pass, then a scuffle and an oath or two, and a voice ciying, 
 " Give it him, curse him ! " and then I was down on the pave- 
 ment as flat and lifeless as the flags on which I lay. When I 
 woke up, I was almost blinded with blood ; I was in a covered 
 cart with a few more groaning wretches ; and when I uttered a 
 moan, a brutal voice growled out with man} T oaths an instant 
 order to be silent, or my head should be broken again. I woke 
 up in a ghastly pain and perplexity, but presently fainted once 
 more. When I awoke again to a half-consciousness I felt my- 
 self being lifted from the cart and carried, and then flung into 
 the bows of a boat, where I suppose I was joined by the rest of 
 the dismal cart's company. Then some one came and washed 
 my bleeding head with salt-water (which made it throb and ache 
 very cruelly.) Then the man, whispering, " I'm a friend," bound 
 niy forehead tight with a handkerchief, and the boat pulled out 
 to a brig that was lying as near to land as she could come, and 
 the same man who had struck and sworn at me would have 
 stabbed me once more as I reeled up the side, but that my 
 friend interposed in my behalf. It was Tom Hookham, to 
 whose family I had given the three guineas, and who assuredly 
 saved my life on that day, for the villain who attempted it 
 afterwards confessed that he intended to do me an injury. I 
 was thrust into the forepeak with three or four more maimed and 
 groaning wretches, and, the wind serving, the lugger made for 
 her destination, whatever that might be. What a horrid night 
 of fever and pain it was ! I remember I fancied I was canying 
 Agnes out of the water ; I called out her name repeatedly, as 
 
390 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 Tom Hookkam informed me, who came with a lantern and 
 looked at us poor wretches huddled in our shed. Tom brought 
 me more water, and in pain and fever I slept through a wretched 
 night. 
 
 In the morning our tender came up with a frigate that was 
 lying off a town, and I was carried up the ship's side on Hook- 
 ham's arm. The Captain's boat happened to pull from shore at 
 the very same time, and the Captain and his friends, and our 
 wretched party of pressed men with their captors, thus stood 
 face to face. My wonder and delight were not a little aroused 
 when I saw the Captain was no other than my dear rector's 
 friend, Captain Pearson. My face was bound up, and so pale 
 and bloody as to be scarcely recognizable. " So, my man," he 
 said, rather sternly, " you have been for fighting, have you ? This 
 comes of resisting men employed on his Majesty's service." 
 
 "I never resisted," I said; "I was struck from behind, 
 Captain Pearson." 
 
 The Captain looked at me with a haughty, surprised air. In- 
 deed, a more disreputable-looking lad he scarcely could see. 
 After a moment he said, " Why, bless my soul, is it you, my 
 boy ? Is it young Duval ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," I said ; and whether from emotion, or fever, or 
 loss of blood and weakness, I felt my brain going again, and 
 once more faiuted and fell. 
 
 When I came to urvself, I found myself in a berth in the 
 " Serapis," where there happened to be but one other patient. I 
 had had fever and delirium for a day, during which it appears I 
 was constantly calling out, " Agnes, Agnes ! " and offering to 
 shoot highwaymen. A very kind surgeon's mate had charge of 
 me, and showed me much more attention than a poor wounded lad 
 could have had a right to expect in my wretched humiliating posi- 
 tion. On the fifth day I was well again, though still very weak 
 and pale ; but not too weak to be unable to go to the Captain 
 when he sent for me to his cabin. My friend the surgeon's 
 mate showed me the way. 
 
 Captain Pearson was writing at his table, but sent away his 
 secretary, and when the latter was gone shook hands with me 
 very kindly, and talked unreservedly about the strange accident 
 which had brought me on boai'd his ship. His officer had in- 
 formation, he said, v ' and I had information," the Captain went 
 on to sa}', " that some very good seamen of what we called the 
 Mackerel party were to be taken at a public-house in Winchel- 
 sea," and his officer netted a half-dozen of them there, " who 
 will be much better employed" (says Captain Pearson) "in 
 
Denis's Valet. 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 391 
 
 serving the King in one of his Majesty's vessels, than in cheat- 
 ing him on board their own. You were a stray fish that was 
 caught along with the rest. I know your story. I have talked 
 it over with our good friends at the Rectory. For a young fel- 
 low, you have managed to make yourself some queer enemies 
 in your native town ; and you are best out of it. On the night 
 when I first saw you, I promised our friends to take you as a 
 first-class volunteer. In due time you will pass 30111- examina- 
 tion, and be rated as a midshipman. Stay — your mother is in 
 Deal. You can go ashore, and she will fit you out. Here are 
 letters for you. I wrote to Dr. Barnard as soon as I found 
 who you were." 
 
 With this, I took leave of my good patron and captain, and 
 ran off to read my two letters. One, from Mrs. Barnard and 
 the Doctor conjointly, told how alarmed they had been at my 
 being lost, until Captain Pearson wrote to say how I had been 
 found. The letter from my good mother informed me, in her 
 rough way, how she was waiting at the " Blue Anchor Inn " in 
 Deal, and would have come to me ; but my new comrades would 
 laugh at a rough old woman coming off in a shore-boat to look 
 after her boy. It was better that I should go to her at Deal, 
 where I should be fitted out in a way becoming an officer in his 
 Majesty's service. To Deal accordingly I went by the next 
 boat ; the good-natured surgeon's mate, who had attended me 
 and taken a fancy to me, lending me a clean shirt, and covering 
 the wound on my head neatly, so that it was scarcely seen 
 under my black hair. " Le pauvre cher enfant ! comme il est 
 pale ! " How my mother's eyes kindled with kindness as she 
 saw me ! The good soul insisted on dressing my hair with her 
 own hands, and tied it in a smart queue with a black ribbon. 
 Then she took me off to a tailor in the town, and provided me 
 with an outfit a lord's son might have brought on board. 
 My uniforms were ready in a very short time. Twenty-four 
 hours after they were ordered Mr. Lev}- brought them to our 
 inn, and I had the pleasure of putting them on ; and walked on 
 the Parade with nry hat cocked, my hanger by my side, and 
 mother on nry arm. Though I was perfectly well pleased with 
 myself, I think she was the prouder of the two. To one or two 
 tradesmen and their wives, whom she knew, she gave a most 
 dignified nod of recognition this da}- ; but passed on without 
 speaking, as if she would have them understand that the}- ought 
 to keep their distance when she was in such fine company. 
 1,1 When I am in the shop, I am in the shop, and my customers' 
 very humble servant," said she ; " but when I am walking on Deal 
 
392 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 Parade with thee, I am walking with a .young gentleman in his 
 Majesty's navy. And Heaven has blessed us of late, my child, 
 and thou shalt have the means of making as good a figure as 
 any young officer in the service." And she put such a great 
 heavy purse of guineas into my pocket, that I wondered at hei 
 bounty*. " Remember, my son," added she, " thou art a gen- 
 tleman now. Always respect yourself. Tradespeople are no 
 company for thee. For me 'tis different. I am but a poor hair- 
 dresser and shopkeeper." We supped together at the u An- 
 chor," and talked about home, that was but two days off, and 
 yet so distant. She never once mentioned my little maiden to 
 me, nor did I somehow dare to allude to her. Mother had pre- 
 pared a nice bedroom for me at the inn, to which she made me 
 retire earl}', as I was still weak and faint after my fever ; and 
 when I was in my bed she came and knelt down by it, and with 
 tears rolling down her furrowed face offered up a prayer in her 
 native German language, that He who had been pleased to 
 succor me from perils hitherto, would guard me for the future, 
 and watch over me in the voyage of life which was now about 
 to begin. Now, as it is drawing to its close, I look back at 
 it with an immense awe and thankfulness, for the strange 
 dangers from which I have escaped, the great blessings I 
 have enjoyed. 
 
 I wrote a long letter to Mrs. Barnard, narrating my adven- 
 tures as cheerfully as I could, though, truth to say, when I 
 thought of home and a little Someone there, a large tear or two 
 blotted my paper, but I had reason to be grateful for the kind- 
 ness I had received, and was not a little elated at being actually 
 a gentleman, and in a fair way to be an officer in his Majesty's 
 navy. 
 
 As I was strutting on the Mall, on the second day of re- 
 visit to Deal, what should I see but my dear Dr. Barnard's 
 well-known post-chaise nearing us from the Dover Road ? The 
 Doctor and his wife looked with a smiling surprise at my altered 
 appearance ; and as the}' stepped out of their chaise at the inn, 
 the good lad}' fairly put her arms round me, and gave me a kiss. 
 Mother, from her room, saw the embrace, I suppose. " Thou 
 hast found good friends there, Denis, my son," she said, with 
 sadness in her deep voice. " 'Tis well. The}' can befriend 
 thee better than I can. Now thou art well, I may depart in 
 peace. When thou art ill, the old mother will come to thee, 
 and will bless thee always, my son." She insisted upon setting 
 out on her return homewards that afternoon. She had friends 
 at Hythe, Folkestone, and Dover (as I knew well) , and would 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 393 
 
 put up with one or other of them. She had before packed my 
 new chest with wonderful neatness. Whatever her feelings 
 might be at our parting, she showed no signs of tears or sorrow, 
 but mounted her little chaise in the inn-yard, and, without look- 
 ing back, drove awa} r on her solitary journey. The landlord of 
 the " Anchor" and his wife bade her farewell, very cordially 
 and respectfully. They asked me, would I not step into the 
 bar and take a glass of wine or spirits ? I have said that I 
 never drank either ; and suspect that my mother furnished my 
 host with some of these stores out of those fishing-boats of 
 which she was owner. " If I had an onby son, and such a good- 
 looking one," Mrs. Boniface was pleased to sa}' (can I, after 
 such a fine compliment, be so ungrateful as to forget her name ?) 
 — "If I had an onby son, and could leave him as well off as 
 Mrs. Duval can leave } r ou, /wouldn't send him to sea in war- 
 time, that I wouldn't." " And though you don't drink any 
 wine, some of your friends on board may," nry landlord added, 
 " and they are alwa3"s welcome at the k Blue Anchor.' " This 
 was not the first time I had heard that nry mother was rich. 
 " If she be so," I said to nry host, " indeed it is more than I 
 know." On which he and his wife both commended me for my 
 caution ; adding with a knowing smile, " We know more than 
 we tell, Mr. Duval. Have you ever heard of Mr. Weston? 
 Have you ever heard of Monsieur de la Motte? We know 
 
 where Boulogne is, and Ost " " Hush, wife ! " here breaks 
 
 in my landlord. " If the Captain don't wish to talk, why 
 should he ? There is the bell ringing from the ' Benbow ' and 
 your dinner going up to the Doctor, Mr. Duval." It was in- 
 deed as he said, and I sat down in the company of my good 
 friends, bringing a fine appetite to their table. 
 
 The Doctor on his arrival had sent a messenger to his friend, 
 Captain Pearson, and whilst we were at our meal, the Captain 
 arrived in his own boat from the ship, and insisted that Dr. 
 and Mrs. Barnard should take their dessert in his cabin on 
 board. This procured Mr. Denis Duval the honor of an invita- 
 tion, and I and my new sea-chest were accommodated in the 
 boat and taken to the frigate. M} r box was consigned to the 
 gunner's cabin, where my hammock was now slung. After 
 sitting a short time at Mr. Pearson's table, a brother-midship- 
 man gave me a hint to withdraw, and I made the acquaintance 
 of my comrades, of whom there were about a dozen on board 
 the lt Serapis." Though only a volunteer, I was taller and 
 older than many of the midshipmen. They knew who I was, 
 
394 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 of course — the son of a shopkeeper at Winchelsea. Then, 
 and afterwards, I had my share of rough jokes, you may be 
 sure : but I took them with good humor ; and I had to tight 
 m}' way as I had learned to do at school before. There is no 
 need to put down here the number of black eyes and bloody 
 noses which I received and delivered. I am sure I bore but little 
 malice : and, thank heaven, never wronged a man so much as 
 to be obliged to hate him afterwards. Certain men there were 
 who hated me: but they are gone, and I am here, with a pretty 
 clear conscience, heaven be praised ; and little the worse for 
 their enmit}'. 
 
 The first lieutenant of our ship, Mr. Page, was related to 
 Mrs. Barnard, and this kind lady gave him such a character 
 of her very grateful, humble servant, and narrated my adven- 
 tures to him so pathetically, that Mr. Page took me into his spe- 
 cial favor, and interested some of m}- messmates in my behalf. 
 The story of the highwayman caused endless talk and jokes 
 against me which I took in good part, and established my foot- 
 ing among ray messmates by adopting the plan I had followed 
 at school, and taking an early opportunit}* to fight a well-known 
 bruiser amongst our company of midshipmen. You must know 
 they called me "Soapsuds," " Powderpuff," and like names, 
 in consequence of my grandfather's known trade of hairdresser ; 
 and one of my comrades bantering me one day, cried, " I sa}", 
 Soapsuds, where was it you hit the highwayman?" "There!" 
 said I, and gave him a clean left-handed blow on his nose, 
 which must have caused him to see a hundred blue lights. I 
 know about five minutes afterwards he gave me just such 
 another blow ; and we fought it out and were good friends 
 ever after. What is this? Did I not vow as I was writing 
 the last page }*esterday that I would not say a word about my 
 prowess at fisticuffs? You see we are ever making promises 
 to be good, and forgetting them. I suppose other people can 
 say as much. 
 
 Before leaving the ship my kind friends once more, desired 
 to see me, and Mrs. Barnard, putting a finger to her lip, took 
 out from her pocket a little packet, which she placed in my 
 hand. I thought she was giving me monej-, and felt somehow 
 disappointed at being so treated by her. But when she was 
 gone to shore I opened the parcel, and found a locket there, 
 and a little curl of glossy black hair. Can 3'ou guess whose? 
 Along with the locket was a letter in French, in a large girlish 
 hand, in which the writer said, that night and day she prayed 
 
DENIS DUVAL. 395 
 
 for her clear Denis. And where, think you, the locket is now? 
 where it has been for forty-two }ears, and where it will re- 
 main when a faithful heart that beats under it hath ceased to 
 throb. 
 
 At gunfire our friends took leave of the frigate, little know- 
 ing the fate that was in store for many on board her. In three 
 weeks from that day what a change ! The glorious misfortune 
 which befell us is written in the annals of our country. 
 
 On the very evening whilst Captain Pearson was entertaining 
 his friends from Winchelsea, he received orders to sail for Hull, 
 and place himself under the command of the Admiral there. 
 From the Humber we presently were despatched northward to 
 Scarborough. There had been not a little excitement along the 
 whole northern coast for some time past, in consequence of the 
 appearance of some American privateers, who had ransacked 
 a Scottish nobleman's castle, and levied contributions from a 
 Cumberland seaport town. As we were close in with Scar- 
 borough a boat came off with letters from the magistrates of 
 that place, announcing that this squadron had actually been 
 seen off the coast. The commodore of this wandering piratical 
 expedition was known to be a rebel Scotchman : who fought 
 with a rope round his neck to be sure. iSo doubt many of us 
 youngsters vapored about the courage with which we would 
 engage him, and made certain, if we could only meet with him, 
 of seeing him hang from his own yard-arm. It was Diis aliter 
 visum, as we used to sa} - at Pocock's ; and it was we threw 
 deniceace too. Traitor, if you will, was Monsieur Paul John 
 Jones, afterwards knight of his Most Christian Majesty's Order 
 of Merit ; but a braver traitor never wore sword. 
 
 We had been sent for in order to protect a fleet of merchant- 
 men that were bound to the Baltic, and were to sail under the 
 convo}' of our ship and the "Countess of Scarborough," com- 
 manded b}* Captain Piercy. And thus it came about that after 
 being twent3-five daj-s in his Majesty's service, I had the for- 
 tune to be present at one of the most severe and desperate 
 combats that has been fought in our or any time. 
 
 I shall not attempt to tell that story of the battle of the 23rd 
 September, which ended in our glorious Captain striking his 
 own colors to our superior and irresistible enemy. Sir Richard 
 has told the story of his disaster in words nobler than an}' I 
 could supply, who, though indeed engaged in that fearful action 
 in which our flag went down before a renegade Briton and his 
 motley crew, saw but a very small portion of the battle which 
 
396 DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 ended so fatally for us. It did not commence till nightfall. 
 How well I remember the sound of the enemy's gun of which 
 the shot crashed into our side in reply to the challenge of our 
 captain who hailed her ! Then came a broadside from us — 
 the first I had ever heard in battle. 
 
NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 The readers of the CornhiU Magazine have now read the last 
 line written by William Makepeace Thackeray. The story 
 breaks off as his life ended — full of vigor, and blooming with 
 new promise like the apple-trees in this month of May : * the 
 only difference between the work and the life is this, that the 
 last chapters of the one have their little pathetical gaps and 
 breaks of unfinished effort, the last chapters of the other were 
 fulfilled and complete. But the life may be left alone ; while as 
 for the gaps and breaks in his last pages, nothing that we can 
 write is likely to add to their significance. There they are ; 
 and the reader's mind has already fallen into them, with sensa- 
 tions not to be improved b} - the ordinar} r commentator. If 
 Mr. Thackeray himself could do it, that would be another thing. 
 Preacher he called himself in some of the Roundabout discourses 
 in which his softer spirit is alwa}'s to be heard, but he never 
 had a text after his own mind so much as these last broken 
 chapters would give him now. There is the date of a certain 
 Friday to be filled in, and Time is no more. Is it very pre- 
 sumptuous to imagine the Roundabout that Mr. Thackeray 
 would write upon this unfinished work of his, if he could 
 come back to do it ? We do not think it is, or very difficult 
 either. What Carlyle calls the divine gift of speech was so 
 largely his, especially in his maturer years, that he made clear 
 in what he did say pretty much what he would say about any- 
 thing that engaged his thought ; and we have only to imagine 
 a discourse ' k On the Two Women at the Mill," f to read off 
 
 * The last number of " Denis Duval " appeared in the CornhiU Magazine 
 of June, 1864. 
 
 t " Two women shall be grinding at the mill, one shall be taken and 
 the other left." 
 
398 NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 upon our minds the sense of what Mr. Thackeray alone could 
 have found language for. 
 
 Vain are these speculations — or are they vain? Not if we 
 try to think what he would think of his broken labors, consider- 
 ing that one of these days our labors must be broken too. Still, 
 there is not much to be said about it : and we pass on to the 
 real business in hand, which is to show as well as we may what 
 "Denis Duval" would have been had its author lived to com- 
 plete his work.. Fragmentary as it is, the story must always 
 be of considerable importance, because it will stand as a warn- 
 ing to imperfect critics never to be in haste to ciy of any intel- 
 lect, " His vein is worked out : there is nothing left in him but 
 the echoes of emptiness." The decriers were never of any im- 
 portance. 3*et there is more than satisfaction, there is something 
 like triumph in the mind of every honest man of letters when 
 he sees, and knows everybody must see, how a genius which 
 was sometimes said to have been guilty of passing behind a 
 cloud toward the evening of his day, came out to shine with 
 new splendor before the day was done. " Denis Duval " is un- 
 finished, but it ends that question. The fiery genius that blazed 
 over the city In " Vanity Fair," and passed on to a ripe after- 
 noon in " Esmond," is not a whit less great, it is only broader, 
 more soft, more mellow and kindly, as it sinks too suddenly in 
 "Denis Duval." 
 
 This is said to introduce the settlement of another too-hasty 
 notion which we believe to have been pretty generally accepted : 
 namely, that Mr. Thackeray took little pains in the construction 
 of his works. The truth is, that he very industriously did take 
 pains. We find that out when we inquire, for the benefit of the 
 readers of his Magazine, whether there is anything to tell of his 
 designs for " Denis Duval." The answer comes in the form of 
 man}' most careful notes, and memoranda of in quiiy into minute 
 matters of detail to make the story true. How many young 
 novelists are there who haven't much genius to fall back upon, 
 who }'et, if they desired to set their hero down in Winchelsea 
 a hundred years ago for instance, would take the trouble to 
 learn how the town was built, and what gate led to Eye (if the 
 hero happened to have any dealings with that place), and who 
 were its local magnates, and how it was governed? And yet 
 this is what Mr. Thackeray did, though his investigation added 
 not twenty lines to the story and no " interest " whatever : it 
 was simply so much conscientious effort to keep as near truth 
 in feigning as he could. That Winchelsea had three gates, 
 "Newgate on S.W., Landgate on N.E., Strandgate (leading to 
 
NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 399 
 
 Rye) on S.E. ; " that " the government was vested in a mayor 
 and twelve jurats, jointly ; " that k ' it sends canopy bearers on 
 occasion of a coronation," &c. &c. &c, all is duly entered in 
 a note-book with reference to authorities. And so about the 
 refugees at Rye, and the French Reformed church there ; noth- 
 ing is written that history cannot vouch for. The neat and 
 orderly way in which the notes are set down is also remarkable. 
 Each has its heading, as thus : — 
 
 " Refugees at Rye. — At Rye is a small settlement of French refugees, 
 who are for the most part fishermen, and have a minister of their own. 
 
 " French Reformed Church. — Wherever there is a sufficient numher of 
 faithful there is a church. The pastor is admitted to his office hy the 
 provincial synod, or the colloquy, provided it he composed of seven pastors 
 at least. Pastors are seconded in their duties by laymen, who take the title 
 of Ancients, Elders, and Deacons precentors. The union of Pastors, Dea- 
 cons, and Elders forms a consistory." 
 
 Of course there is no considerable merit in care like this, but 
 it is a merit which the author of k k Denis Duval " is not popu- 
 larly credited with, and therefore it ma}' as well be set down to 
 him. Besides, it may serve as an example to fledgling geniuses 
 of what he thought necessary to the perfection of his work. 
 
 But the chief interest of these notes and memoranda lies in 
 the outlook they give us upon the conduct of the story. It is 
 not desirable to print them all ; indeed, to do so would be to 
 copy a long list of mere references to books, magazines, and 
 journals, where such byway bits of illustration are to be found 
 as Tit Mr. Thackeray's mind to so vivid an insight into manners 
 and character. Still, we are anxious to give the reader as 
 complete an idea of the story as we can. 
 
 First, here is a characteristic letter, in which Mr. Thackeray 
 sketches his plot for the information of his publisher : — 
 
 " My dear S 
 
 " I was born in the year 1764, at Winchelsea, where my father was a 
 grocer and clerk of the church. Everybody in the place was a good deal 
 connected with smuggling. 
 
 " There used to come to our house a very noble French gentleman, 
 called the Count de la Motte, and with him a German, the Baron de 
 Lutterloh. My father used to take packages to Ostend and Calais for 
 these two gentlemen, and perhaps I went to Pans once and saw the French 
 queen 
 
 " The squire of our town was Squire Weston of the Priory, who, with 
 his brother, kept one of the genteelest houses in the countrj'. He was 
 churchwarden of our church, and much respected. Yes, but if you read 
 the Annual Register of 1781, you will find that on the 13th July the sheriffs 
 attended at the Tower of London to receive custody of a De la Motte, a 
 prisoner charged with high treason. The fact is, this Alsatian nobleman 
 
400 NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 being in difficulties in his own country (where he had commanded the 
 Regiment Soubise), came to London, and under pretence of sending prints 
 to France arfd Ostend, supplied the French Ministers with accounts of the 
 movements of the English fleets and troops. His go-between was Liitterloli, 
 a Brunswicker, who had been a crimping-agent, then a servant, who was a 
 spy of France and Mr. Franklin, and who turned king's evidence on La 
 Motte, and hanged him. 
 
 •' This Liitterloli, who had been a crimping-agent for German troops 
 during the American war, then a servant in London during the Gordon 
 riots, then an agent for a spy, then a spy over a spy, I suspect to have been 
 a consummate scoundrel, and doubly odious from speaking English with a 
 German accent. 
 
 " What if he wanted to marry that charming girl, who lived with 
 Mr. Weston at Winchelsea ? Ha ! I see a mystery here. 
 
 " What if this scoundrel, going to receive his pay from the English 
 Admiral, with whom he was in communication at Portsmouth, happened to 
 go on board the ' Royal George ' the day she went down ? 
 
 " As for George and Joseph Weston, of the Prior}', I am sorry to say 
 they were rascals too. They were tried for robbing the Bristol mail in 
 1780; and being acquitted for want of evidence, were tried immediately 
 after on another indictment for forgery — Joseph was acquitted, but George 
 was capitally convicted. But this did not help poor Joseph. Before 
 their trials, they and some others broke out of Newgate, and Joseph fired 
 at, and wounded, a porter who tried to stop him, on Snow Hill. For this 
 he was tried and found guilty on the Black Act, and hung along with his 
 brother. 
 
 " Now, if I was an innocent participator in De la Motte's treasons, and 
 the Westons' forgeries and robberies, what pretty scrapes I must have 
 been in ? 
 
 " I married the young woman, whom the brutal Liitterloli would have 
 had for himself, and lived happy ever after." 
 
 Here, it will be seen, the general idea is very roughly 
 sketched, and the sketch was not in all its parts carried out. 
 Another letter, never sent to its destination, gives a somewhat 
 later account of Denis, — 
 
 " My grandfather's name was Duval ; he was a barber and perruquier 
 by trade, and elder of the French Protestant Church at Winchelsea. I was 
 sent to board with his correspondent, a Methodist grocer, at Rye. 
 
 " These two kept a fishing-boat, but the fish they caught was many and 
 many a barrel of Nantz brandy, which we landed — never mind where — 
 at a place to us well known. In the innocence of my heart, I : — a child — 
 got leave to go out fishing. We used to go out at night and meet ships 
 from the French coast. 
 
 " I learned to scuttle a marlinspike, 
 reef a lee-scupper, 
 keelhaul a bowsprit 
 as well as the best of them. How well I remember the jabbering of the 
 Frenchmen the first night as they handed the kegs over to us ! One night 
 we were fired into by his Majesty's revenue cutter ' Lynx.' I asked what 
 those balls were fizzing in the water, &c. 
 
 " I wouldn't go on with the smuggling ; being converted by Mr. Wesley, 
 who came to preach to us at Rye — but that is neither here nor there. ..." 
 
NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 401 
 
 In these letters neither " my mother," nor the Count de Sa- 
 verne and his unhappy wife appear ; while Agnes exists only as 
 " that charming girl." Count de la Motte, the Baron de Liitter- 
 loh, and the Westons, seem to have figured foremost in the 
 author's mind : they are historical characters. In the first 
 letter, we are referred to the Annual Register for the story of 
 De la Motte and Liitterloh : and this is what we read there, — 
 
 "January 5, 1781. — A gentleman was taken into custody for treasonable 
 practices, named Henry Francis de la Motte, which he bore with the title 
 of baron annexed to it. He has resided in Bond Street, at a Mr. Otley's, 
 a woollen draper, for some time. 
 
 " When he was going up stairs at the Secretary of State's office, in 
 Cleveland Eow, he dropped several papers on the staircase, which were 
 immediately discovered by the messenger, and carried in with him to Lord 
 Hillsborough. After his examination, he was committed a close prisoner 
 for high treason to the Tower. The papers taken from him are reported to 
 be of the highest importance. Among them are particular lists of every 
 ship of force in any of our 3'ards and docks, &c. &c. 
 
 " In consequence of the above papers being found, Henry Liitterloh, 
 Esq., of Wickham, near Portsmouth, was afterwards apprehended and 
 brought to town. The messengers found Mr. Liitterloh ready booted to go 
 a hunting. When he understood their business, he did not discover the 
 least embarrassment, but delivered his keys with the utmost readiness. 
 .... Mr. Liitterloh is a German, and had lately taken a house at Wick- 
 ham, within a few miles of Portsmouth ; and as he kept a pack of hounds, 
 and was considered as a good companion, he was well received by the gen- 
 tlemen in the neighborhood. 
 
 "July 14, 1781. — Mr. Liitterloh's testimony was of so serious a nature, 
 that the court seemed in a state of astonishment during the whole of his 
 long examination. He said that he embarked in a plot with the prisoner in 
 the ,year 1778, to furnish the French court with secret intelligence of the 
 Navy ; for which, at first, he received only eight guineas a month ; the im- 
 portance of his information appeared, however, 60 clear to the prisoner, that 
 he shortly after allowed him fifty guineas a month, besides many valuable 
 gifts ; that, upon any emergency, he came post to town to M. de la Motte, 
 but common occurrences relative to their treaty, he sent by the post. He 
 identified the papers found in his garden, and the seals, he said, were M. 
 de la Motte's, and well known in France. He had been to Paris by di- 
 rection of the prisoner, and was closeted with Monsieur Sartine, the French 
 Minister. He had formed a plan for capturing Governor Johnstone's squad- 
 ron, for which he demanded 8,000 guineas, and a third share of the ships, 
 to be divided amongst the prisoner, himself, and his friend in a certain 
 office, but the French court would not agree to yielding more than an 
 eighth share of the squadron. After agreeing to enable the French to 
 take the commodore, he went to Sir Hugh Palliser, and offered a plan to 
 take the French, and to defeat his original project with which he had 
 furnished the French court. 
 
 " The trial lasted for thirteen hours, when the jury, after a short deliber- 
 ation, pronounced the prisoner guilty, when sentence was immediately passed 
 upon him ; the prisoner received the awful doom (he was condemned to be 
 hanged, drawn, and quartered) with great composure, but inveighed against 
 
 Mr. Liitterloh in warm terms His behavior throughout the whole 
 
 of this trying scene exhibited a combination of manliness, steadiness, and 
 
 26 
 
402 NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 presence of mind. He appeared at the same time polite, condescending, 
 and unaffected, and, we presume, could never have stood so firm and 
 collected at so awful a moment, if, when he felt himself fully convicted 
 as a traitor to the State which gave him protection, he had not, however 
 mistakenly, felt a conscious innocence within his own breast that he had 
 devoted his life to the service of his country. 
 
 " M. de la Motte was about five feet ten inches in height, fifty years of 
 age, and of a comely countenance ; his deportment was exceedingly gen- 
 teel, and his eye was expressive of strong penetration. He wore a white 
 cloth coat, and a linen waistcoat worked in tambour." — Annual Register, 
 vol. xxiv. p. 184. 
 
 It is not improbable that from this narrative of a trial for 
 high treason in 1781 the whole story radiated. These are the 
 very men whom we have seen in Thackeray's pages ; and it is a 
 fine test of his insight and power to compare them as they lie 
 embalmed in the Annual Register, and as they breathe again in 
 "Denis Duval." The part they were to have played in the 
 story is already intelligible, all but the way in which they were 
 to have confused the lives of Denis and his love. " ' At least, 
 Duval,' De la Motte said to me when I shook hands with him 
 and with all my heart forgave him, ' mad and reckless as I 
 have been and fatal to all whom I loved, I have never allowed 
 the child to want, and have supported her in comfort when I 
 myself was almost without a meal.' " What was the injury 
 which Denis forgave with all his heart ? Fatal to all whom he 
 loved, there are evidences that De la Motte was to have urged 
 Liitterloh's pretensions to Agnes : whose stor}- at this period 
 we find inscribed in the note-book in one word — ' ' Henriette 
 Iphigenia." For Agnes was christened Henriette originally, 
 and Denis was called Blaise.* 
 
 As for M. Liitterloh, "that consummate scoundrel, and 
 doubly odious from speaking English with a German accent " — 
 having hanged De la Motte, while confessing that he had made 
 a solemn engagement with him never to betray each other, and 
 
 * Among the notes there is a little chronological table of events as 
 they occur — 
 
 "Blaise, born 1763. 
 Henriette de Barr was born in 1766-7. 
 Her father went to Corsica, '68. 
 Mother fled, '68. 
 Father killed at B., '69. 
 Mother died, '70. 
 Blaise turned out, '79. 
 Henriette l<t>iy€vla, '81. 
 La Motte's catastrophe, '82. 
 Rodney's action, '82." 
 
NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 403 
 
 then immediate^ laying a wager that De la Motte would be 
 hanged, having broken open a secretaire, and distinguished 
 himself in various other ways — he seems to have gone to Win- 
 chelsea, where it was easy for him to threaten or cajole the 
 Westons into trying to force Agnes into his arms. She was 
 living with these people, and we know how they discounte- 
 nanced her faithful affection for Denis. Overwrought by the 
 importunities of Liitterloh and the Westons, she escaped to Dr. 
 Barnard for protection ; and soon unexpected help arrived. 
 The De Viomesnils, her mother's relations, became suddenly 
 convinced of the innocence of the Countess. Perhaps (and 
 when we say perhaps, we repeat such hints of his plans as 
 Mr. Thackeray uttered in conversation at his fireside) they 
 knew of certain heritages to which Agnes would be entitled 
 were her mother absolved : at any rate, they had reasons of 
 their own for claiming her at this opportune moment — as they 
 did. Agnes takes Dr. Barnard's advice and goes off to these 
 prosperous relations, who, having neglected her so long, desire 
 her so much. Perhaps Denis was thinking of the sad hour 
 when he came home, long years afterward, to find his sweet- 
 heart gone, when he wrote: — "O Agnes, Agnes! how the 
 years roll away ! What strange events have befallen us ; what 
 passionate griefs have we had to suffer : what a merciful heaven 
 has protected us, since that day when your father knelt over 
 the little cot, in which his child lay sleeping ! " 
 
 At the time she goes home to France, Denis is far away 
 fighting on board the " Arethusa," under his old captain, Sir 
 Richard Pearson, who commanded the " Serapis" in the 
 action with Paul Jones. Denis was wounded early in this 
 fight, in which Pearson had to strike his own colors, almost 
 every man on board being killed or hurt. Of Pearson's 
 career, which Denis must have followed in after daj*s, there 
 is more than one memorandum in Mr. Thackeray's note- 
 book : — 
 
 " ' Serapis,' R. Pearson. Beatson's Memoirs. 
 
 " Gentleman's Magazine, 49, pp. 484. Account of action with Paul 
 Jones, 1779. 
 
 " Gentleman's Magazine, 502, pp. 84. Pearson knighted, 1780. 
 " Commanded the ' Arethusa ' off Ushant, 1781, 1 ' Field of Mars/ 
 in Kempenfeldt's action. J art. Ushant." 
 
 And then follows the question, — 
 
 " Qy. How did Pearson get away from Paul Jones ? " 
 
404 NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 But before that is answered we will quote the ' ' story of the 
 disaster" as Sir Richard tells it, " in words nobler than any I 
 could supply : " and, indeed, Mr. Thackeray seems to have 
 thought much of the letter to the Admiralty Office, and to have 
 found Pearson's character in it. 
 
 After some preliminary fighting — 
 
 " We dropt alongside of each other, head and stern, when the fluke of our 
 spare anchor hooking his quarter, we became so close, fore and aft, that 
 the muzzles of our guns touched each other's sides. In this position we 
 engaged from half-past eight till half-past ten ; during which time, from 
 the great quantity and variety of combustible matter which they threw in 
 upon our decks, chains, and, in short, every part of the ship, we were on 
 fire no less than ten or twelve times in different parts of the ship, and it was 
 with the greatest difficulty and exertion imaginable at times, that we were 
 able to get it extinguished. At the same time the largest of the two 
 frigates kept sailing round us the whole action and raking us fore and aft, 
 by which means she killed or wounded almost every man on the quarter 
 and main decks. 
 
 " About half-past nine, a cartridge of powder was set on fire, which, 
 running from cartridge to cartridge all the way aft, blew up the whole of 
 
 the people and officers that were quartered abaft the mainmast At 
 
 ten o'clock they called for quarter from the ship alongside ; hearing this, 
 I called for the boarders and ordered them to board her, which they did ; 
 but the moment they were on board her, they discovered a superior num- 
 ber laying under cover with pikes in their hands ready to receive them ; 
 our people retreated instantly into our own ship, and returned to their 
 guns till past ten, when the frigate coming across our stern and pouring 
 her broadside into us again, without our being able to bring a gun to bear 
 on her, I found it in vain, and, in short, impracticable, from the situ- 
 ation we were in, to stand out any longer with the least prospect of suc- 
 cess. I therefore struck. Our mainmast at the same time went by the 
 board 
 
 " I am extremely sorry for the misfortune that has happened — that of 
 losing his Majesty's ship I had the honor to command ; but at the same 
 time, I flatter myself with the hopes that their lordships will be convinced 
 that she has not been given away, but that on the contrary every exertion 
 has been used to defend her." 
 
 The " Serapis " and the " Countess of Scarborough," after 
 drifting about in the North Sea, were brought into the Texel 
 by Paul Jones ; when Sir Joseph Yorke, our ambassador at the 
 Hague, memorialized their High Mightinesses the States- 
 General of the Low Countries, requesting that these prizes 
 might be given up. Their High Mightinesses refused to in- 
 terfere. 
 
 Of course the fate of the " Serapis " was Denis's fate ; and 
 the question also is, how did he get away from Paul Jones? A 
 note written immediately after the query suggests a hair- 
 breadth escape for him after a double imprisonment. 
 
NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 405 
 
 " Some sailors are lately arrived from Amsterdam on board the ' Lae- 
 titia,' Captain March. They were taken out of the hold of a Dutch East 
 Indiaman by the captain of the ' Kingston ' privateer, who, having lost 
 some of his people, gained some information of their fate from a music- 
 girl, and had spirit enough to board the ship and search her. The poor 
 wretches were all chained down in the hold, and but for this would have 
 been carried to perpetual slavery." — Gentleman's Magazine, 50, pp. 101. 
 
 Do we see how truth and fiction were to have been married 
 here? Suppose that Denis Duval, escaping from one imprison- 
 ment in Holland, fell into the snares of Dutch East Indiamen, 
 or was kidnapped with the men of the " Kingston" privateer? 
 Denis chained down in the hold, thinking one moment of Agnes 
 and the garden wall, which alone was too much to separate 
 them, and at the next moment of how he was now to be carried 
 to perpetual slavery, bej'ond hope. And then the music-girl ; 
 and the cheer of the ' k Kingston's " men as they burst into the 
 hold and set the prisoners free. It is easy to imagine what 
 those chapters would have been like. 
 
 At liberty, Denis was still kept at sea, where he did not rise 
 to the heroic in a day, but progressed through all the common- 
 place duties of a young seaman's life, which we find noted down 
 accordingly : — 
 
 " He must serve two years on board before he can be rated midshipman. 
 Such volunteers are mostly put under the care of the gunner, who caters 
 for them ; and are permitted to walk the quarter-deck and wear the uni- 
 form from the beginning. When fifteen and rated midshipmen, they form 
 a mess with the mates. When examined for their commissions they are 
 expected to know everything relative to navigation and seamanship, are 
 strictly examined in the different sailings, working tides, days' works, and 
 double-altitudes — and are expected to give some account of the different 
 methods of finding the longitudes by a time-keeper and the lunar observa- 
 tions. In practical seamanship they must show how to conduct a ship 
 from one place to another under every disadvantage of wind, tide, &c. 
 After this, the candidate obtains a certificate from the captain, and his 
 commission when he can get it." 
 
 Another note describes a personage whose acquaintance we 
 have missed : — 
 
 "A seaman of the old school, whose hand was more familiar with the 
 tar-brush than with Hadley's quadrant, who had peeped into the mysteries 
 of navigation as laid down by J. Hamilton Moore, and who acquired an 
 idea of the rattletraps and rigging of a ship through the famous illustra- 
 tions which adorn the pages of Darcy Lever." 
 
 Denis was a seaman in stirring times. " The year of which 
 we treat," says the Annual Register for 1779, "presented the 
 most awful appearance of public affairs which perhaps this 
 
406 NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 country had beheld for many ages ; " and Duval had part in 
 more than one of the startling events which succeeded each 
 other so rapidly in the wars with France and America and 
 Spain. He was destined to come into contact with Major Andre, 
 whose fate excited extraordinary sympath} 7 at the time : Wash- 
 ington is said to have shed tears when he signed his death- 
 warrant. It was on the 2nd of October, 1780, that this young 
 officer was executed. A year later, and Denis was to witness 
 the trial and execution of one whom he knew better and was 
 more deeply interested in, De la Motte. The courage and 
 nobleness with which he met his fate moved the sj-mpath} 7 of 
 Duval, whom he had injured, as well as of most of those who 
 saw him die. Denis has written concerning him : — " Except 
 my kind namesake, the captain and admiral, this was the first 
 gentleman I ever met in intimacy, a gentleman with many a 
 stain, — nay, crime to reproach him, but not all lost, I hope 
 and pray. I own to having a kindly feeling towards that fatal 
 man." 
 
 Lutterloh's time had not j 7 et come ; but besides that we find 
 him disposed of with the " Ro3 T al George " in the first-quoted 
 letter, an entry in the note-book unites the fate of the bad man 
 with that of the good ship.* 
 
 Meanwhile, the memorandum " Rodney's action, 1782," in- 
 dicates that Duval was to take part in our victory over the 
 French fleet commanded by the Count de Grasse, who was 
 himself captured with the ' ' Ville de Paris " and four other 
 ships. " De Grasse with his suite landed on Southsea Common, 
 Portsmouth. The} 7 were conducted in carriages to the ' George,' 
 where a most sumptuous dinner had been procured for the Count 
 and his suite, by Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Parkes, who enter- 
 tained him and his officers at his own expense." Here also 
 was something for Denis to see ; and in this same autumn came 
 on the trial of the two Westons, when Denis was to be the 
 means — unconsciously — of bringing his old enemy, Joseph 
 Weston, to punishment. There are two notes to this effect. 
 
 " 1782-3. Jo. Weston, always savage against Blaise, fires on him in 
 Cheapside. 
 
 " Tlie Black Act is 9 George II. c. 22. The preamble says : — .' Where- 
 as several ill-designing and disorderly persons have associated themselves 
 
 * Contemporary accounts of the foundering of the " Royal George " 
 represent her crowded with people from the shore. We have seen how 
 Liitterloh was among these, having come on board to receive the price of 
 his treason. 
 
NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 407 
 
 under the name of Blacks, and entered into confederacies to support and 
 assist one another in stealing and destroying deer, robbing warrens and 
 fish-ponds ' ... It then goes on to enact that ' if any person or persons 
 shall wilfully or maliciously shoot at any person in any dwelling-house or 
 other place, he shall suffer death as in cases of felony without benefit of 
 the clergy.' " 
 
 A Joseph Weston was actually found guilty under the Black 
 Act, of firing at and wounding a man on Snow Hill, and was 
 hanged with his brother. Mr. Thackeray's note-book refers 
 him to the " The Westons in ' Session Papers,' 1782, pp. 463, 
 470, 473," to the Gentleman's Magazine, 1782, to " Genuine 
 Memoirs of George and Joseph Weston, 1782," and Notes and 
 Queries, Series I. vol. x.* 
 
 The next notes (in order of time) concern a certain very 
 disinterested action of Duval's : — 
 
 " Deal Riots, 1783. 
 " Deal. — Here has been a great scene of confusion, by a party of 
 Colonel Douglas's Light Dragoons, sixty in number, who entered the town 
 in the dead of the night in aid to the excise officers, in order to break open 
 the stores and make seizures : but the smugglers, who are never unpre- 
 pared, having taken the alarm, mustered together, and a most desperate 
 battle ensued." 
 
 Now old Duval, the perruquier, as we know, belonged to 
 the great Mackerel party, or smuggling conspiracy, which ex- 
 tended all along the coast ; and frequent allusion has been made 
 to his secret stores, and to the profits of his so-called fishing 
 expeditions. Remembering what has been written of this 
 gentleman, we can easily imagine the falsehoods, tears, lying 
 asseverations of poverty and innocence which old Duval must 
 have uttered on the terrible night when the excise officers visited 
 him. But his exclamations were to no purpose, for it is a fact 
 that when Denis saw what was going on, he burst out with the 
 truth, and though he knew it was his own inheritance he was 
 giving up, he led the officers right away to the hoards they were 
 seeking. 
 
 His conduct on this occasion Denis has already referred to 
 where he says : — " There were matters connected with this 
 
 * These notes also appear in the same connection : — 
 "Horse-Stealers. One Saunders was committed to Oxford gaol for 
 horse- stealing, who appears to have belonged to a gang, part of whom stole 
 horses in the north counties, and the other part in the south, and about 
 the midland counties they used to meet and exchange. — Gentleman's 
 Magazine, 39, 165. 
 
 " 1783. Capital Convictions. — At the Spring Assizes, 1783, 119 prisoners 
 received sentence of Death." 
 
408 NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 
 
 story regarding which I could not speak. . . . Now they are 
 secrets no more. That old society of smugglers is dissolved 
 long ago : nay, I shall have to tell presently how I helped m}*- 
 self to break it up." And therewith all old Duval's earnings, 
 all Denis's fortune that was to be-, vanished ; but of course 
 Denis prospered in his profession, and had no need of unlawful 
 gains.* 
 
 But very sad times intervened between Denis and prosperity. 
 He was to be taken prisoner by the French, and to fret many 
 long jears away in one of their arsenals. At last the Revolu- 
 tion broke out, and he ma}' have been given up, or — thanks 
 to his foreign tongue and extraction — found means to escape. 
 Perhaps he went in search of Agnes, whom we know he never 
 forgot, and whose great relations were now in trouble ; for the 
 Revolution which freed him was terrible to " aristocrats." 
 
 This is nearly all the record we have of this part of Denis's 
 life, and of the life which Agnes led while she was away from 
 him. But perhaps it was at this time that Duval saw Marie 
 Antoinette ; f perhaps he found Agnes, and helped to get her 
 awaj* : or had Agnes already escaped to England, and was it 
 in the old familiar haunts — Farmer Perreau's Columbarium, 
 where the pigeons were that Agnes loved ; the Rector} - garden 
 basking in the autumn evening ; the old wall and the pear-tree 
 behind it; the plain from whence the}- could see the French 
 lights across the Channel ; the little twinkling window in a 
 gable of the Priory-house, where the light used to be popped 
 out at nine o'clock — that Denis and Agnes first met after their 
 long separation? 
 
 However that may have been, we come presently upon a 
 note of " a tailor contracts to supply three superfine suits for 
 11V. lis. {Gazetteer and Daily Advertiser) ;" and also of a villa 
 at Bekenham, with " four parlors, eight bedrooms, stables, 
 
 * Notices of Sussex smuggling (says the note-book) are to be found in 
 vol. x. of " Sussex Archaeological Collections," 69, 94. Reference is also 
 made to the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. viii. pp. 292, 172. 
 
 t The following memoranda appear in the note-book : — 
 
 " Marie Antoinette was born on the 2nd November, 1755, and her saint's 
 day is the Fete des Mobts. 
 
 "In the Corsican expedition the Le'gion de Lorraine was under the 
 Baron de Viomesnil. He emigrated at the commencement of the Revolu- 
 tion, took an active part in the army of Conde, and in the emigration, re- 
 turned with Louis XVIII., followed him to Gand, and was made marshal 
 and peer of France after '15. 
 
 " Another Vi. went with Rochambeau to America in 1780." 
 
NOTES ON DENIS DUVAL. 409 
 
 two acres of garden, and fourteen acres of meadow, let for 70/. 
 a 3'ear," which may have been the house the young people first 
 lived in after they .were married. Later, they moved to Fare- 
 port, where, as we read, the admiral is weighed along with his 
 own pig. But he cannot have given up the service for many 
 years after his marriage, for he writes: — "T'other da}- when 
 we took over the King of France to Calais (H.R.H. the Duke 
 of Clarence being in command), I must needs have a post- 
 chaise from Dover to look at that old window in the Priory- 
 house at Winchelsea. I went through the old wars, despairs, 
 tragedies. I sighed as vehementl}' after forty }'ears as though 
 the infandi dolores were fresh upon me, as though I were the 
 schoolboy trudging back to his task, and taking a last look at 
 his dearest joy." 
 
 " And who, pra}^, was Agnes ? " he writes elsewhere. " To- 
 da}- her name is Agues Duval, and she sits at her work-table 
 hard by. The lot of my life has been changed by knowing her 
 — to win such a prize in life's lottery has been given but to 
 very few. What I have done — of anj- worth — has been done 
 by trying to deserve her." . . . "Monsieur mon Jils," — (this 
 is to his boy) — "if ever you marry, and have a son, I hope 
 the little chap will have an honest man for a grandfather, and 
 that you will be able to say, ' I loved him,' when the daisies 
 cover me." Once more of Agnes he writes : — " When my ink 
 is run out, and my little tale is written, and yonder church that 
 is ringing to seven-o'clock prayers shall toll for a certain D.D., 
 you- will please, good neighbors, to remember that I never 
 loved any but yonder lady, and keep a place by Darby for Joan 
 when her turn shall arrive." 
 
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