Harry Lorrequer ... With illustrations by Phiz

Front matter

THE MILITARY NOVELS OP CHARLES LEVER. HARRY LORREQUER. Vol. I. ET>sTsO&C rDE LUXE. Limited to Five Hundred Copies. _^y&.^W^^^^__^^^^^7^^Æ^. THE c0>iFESSiO/v§ -OF -S- .HARRY LORREQUER HARRY LORREQUER BY CHARLES LEVER. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ. " We talked of pipe-clay, regulation caps. Long twenty-fours, short culveriiis and mortars ; Condemned the ' Horse Guards ' for a set of raps, And cursed our fate at being in such quarters. Some smoked, some sighed, and some were heard to snore ; Some wished themselves five fathoms 'neath the Solway; And some did pray — who never prayed before — That they might get the ' route ' for Cork or Galway." IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. GEORGE ROUTLEUGE AND SONS, Limited. LONDON. GLASGOW, AND MANCHESTER. University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.SA.

Preface

. That some thirty years after the sketches which form this volume were written I should be called on to revise and re-edit them, is strange enough to me, well remem bering, as I do, with what little hope of permanence they were penned, how lightly they were undertaken, and how carelessly thrown together. But there is something still stranger in the retrospect, and that is that these same papers — for originally they were contributed as articles to the " Dublin University Magazine" — should mainly have directed the course of my future life and decided my entire career. I may quote from a former preface that I was living in a very secluded spot when I formed the idea of jotting down these stories, many of them heard in boyhood, others constructed out of real incidents that had occurred to my friends in travel, and some, again, — as the adventures of Trevanion and the French duellist, for instance, — actual facts well known to many who had formed part of the army of occupation in France.

To give what consistency I might to a mass of incon gruous adventure, to such a variety of strange situations befalling one individual, I was obliged to imagine a character which probably my experiences (and they

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. VI were not very mature at the time) assured me as being perfectly possible, — one of a strong will and a certain energy, rarely persistent in purpose, and perpetually the sport of accident, with a hearty enjoyment of the pleasure of the hour and a very reckless indifference as to the price to be paid for it. If I looked out on my acquaintances, I believed I saw many of the traits I was bent on depicting, and for others I am half afraid I had only to take a peep into myself. If it is an error, then, to be lieve that in these " Confessions " I have ever recorded any incidents of my own life, there is no mistake in supposing that — without being in the least aware of it — in sketching Harry Lorrequer I was in a great measure depicting myself, and becoming, allegorically, an autobiographist.

Here is a confession which, if thirty odd years had not rolled over, I might be indisposed to make ; but time bas enabled me to look back on my work, and even on myself as I wrote it, with a certain degree of impar tiality, and to feel, as regards both, as the great Paley said a man feels after he has finished his dinner, " that he might have done better." It is perfectly unnecessary that I should say when and where I wrote these sketches ; no thought of future authorship of any kind occurred to me, far less did I dream of abandoning my profession as a physician for the precarious livelihood of the pen. Indeed, their suc cess, such as it was, only became known to me after I had left Ireland and gone to live abroad ; and it was there — at Brussels — my publishers wrote to me to request a continuance of my " Confessions," with the

PREFACE.

. VII assurance they had found favor with the world and flat tering notice from the Press. Though I have been what the sarcastic French moralist called " blessed with a bad memory" all my life, I can still recall the delight — I cannot call it less — with which I heard my attempt at authorship was successful. 1 did not awake, indeed, " to find myself famous," but I well remember the thrill of triumphant joy with which I read the letter that said " Go on," and the entrancing ecstasy I felt at the bare possibility of my one day becoming known as a writer. I have had, since then, some moments in which a partial success has made me very happy and very grateful ; but I do not believe that all these put together, or indeed any possible favor the world might mete to me, would impart a tithe of the enjoyment I felt on hearing that Harry Lorrequer had been liked by the public, and that they had asked for more of him.

" If this sort of thing amuses them," thought I " I can go on forever ; " and believing this to be true, I launched forth with all that prodigal waste of material which, if it forms one of the reasons of the success, is, strictly speaking, one among the many demerits of this story. That I neither husbanded my resources nor imagined that they ever could fail me, were not my only mistakes; and I am tempted to show how little I understood of the responsibilities of authorship by repeating, what I have told elsewhere, an incident of the last number of " Harry Lorrequer." The MSS. which contained the conclusion of the story had been sent through the Foreign Office bag from Brussels, and possibly had been mistaken for a despatch. At all events, like King Theodore's letter, it

PREFACE.

. VIII had been thrown to one side and forgotten. In this strait my publishers wrote to me in a strain that the trade alone knows how to employ towards an unknown author. Stung by the reproaches — and they were not mild — of my correspondent, I wrote back, enclosing another conclusion, and telling him to print either, or both, as he pleased. Years after, I saw the first-sent MSS., which came to hand at last, bound in my publisher's library, and lettered, " Another ending to H. L." When the great master of fiction condescended to in form the world on what small fragments of tradition or local anecdote the Waverley Novels were founded, he best exalted the marvellous skill of his own handiwork in showing how genius could develop the veriest incident of a life into a story of surpassing power and interest.

I have no such secrets to reveal, nor have I the faintest pretension to suppose the public would care to hear about the sources from which I drew either my charac ters or my incidents. I have seen, however, such references to supposed portraiture of individuals in this story that I am forced to declare that there is but one character in the book of which the orginal had any exis tence, and to which I contributed nothing of exaaro-era tion. This is Father Malachi Brennan. The pleasant priest was alive when I wrote the tale, and saw himself in print, and — worse still — in picture, — not, I believe, without a certain mock indignation, for he was too racy a humorist and too genuine a lover of fun to be really angry at this caricature of him. The amusing author of the " The Wild Sports of the

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. IX West," Hamilton Maxwell, was my neighbor in the little watering-place where I was living, and our intimacy was not the less close from the graver character of the so ciety around us. We often exchanged our experiences of Irish character and life, and in our gossipings, stories were told, added to, and amplified in such a way between us that I believe neither of us could have pronounced at last who gave the initiative of an incident, or on which side lay the authorship of any particular event. It would have been well had our intercourse stopped with these confidences ; but unfortunately it did not. We often indulged in little practical jokes on our more well-conducted neighbors, and I remember that the old soldier from whom I drew some of the features I have given to Colonel Kamworth was especially the mark of these harmless pleasantries.

Our colonel was an excel lent fellow, kind-hearted and hospitable, but so infatu ated with a propensity to meddle with every one, and to be a partner in the joys, the afflictions, the failures, or the successes of all around him, that, with the best pos sible intentions and the most sincere desire to be useful to his neighbors, he became the cause of daily miscon ceptions and mistakes, sowed discord where he meant unity, and, in fact, originated more trouble and more distrust than the most malevolent mischief-maker of the whole country side. I am forced to own that the small persecutions with which my friend Maxwell and myself followed the worthy colonel, the wrong intelligence with which we supplied him, particularly as regarded the rank and station of the various visitors who came down during the

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. X bathing season, the false scents on which we sent him, and the absurd enterprises on which we embarked him, even to the extent of a mock address which induced him to stand for the " borough " (the address to the con stituency being our joint production), — all these follies, I say, more less disposed me, I feel sure, to that inces sant flow of absurd incident which runs through this volume, and which, after all, was really little other than the reflex of our daily plottings and contrivings. I believe my old friend the colonel is still living ; if he be, and if he should read these lines, let him also read that I have other memories of him than those of mere jest and pleasantry, — memories of his cordial hospitality and genial good-nature, — and that there are few things I would like better than to meet and talk with him over bygones, knowing no one more likely to relish a pleasant reminiscence than himself, nor more certain to forgive a long-past liberty taken with him.

If there are many faults and blunders in this tale which I would willingly correct, if there be much that I would curtail or cut out altogether, and if there be also occasionally incidents of which I could improve the tell ing, I am held back from any attempts of this kind by the thought that it was by these sketches, such as they are, I first won that hearing from the public which for more than thirty years has never deserted me, and that the favor which has given the chief pride and interest to my life dates from the day I was known as Harry Lorre quer. Having given up the profession for which, I be lieve, I had some aptitude, to follow the precarious life of a writer, I suppose I am only admitting what many

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. XI others under like circumstances might declare, that I have had my moments, and more than mere moments, of doubt and misgiving that I made the wiser choice ; and bating the intense pleasure an occasional success has afforded, I have been led to think that the career I had abandoned would have been more rewarding, more safe from reverses, and less exposed to those variations of public taste which are the terrors of all who live on the world's favor. Strangely enough, it is only my old doctorial instinct which should suggest the consolation to this passing regret. The life of the physician has nothing so thoroughly regarding, nothing so cheering, so full of hearty encouragement, as in the occasional friendships to which it opens the way. The doctor attains to a de gree of intimacy and stands on a footing of confidence so totally exceptional that if personal qualities lend aid to the position, his intercourse becomes friendship.

Whether, therefore, my old career gave me any assistance in new roads, whether it imparted to me any habits of investigation as applicable to the full in morals as to matter, it certainly imparted to me the happy accident of standing on good terms with — I was going to say — my patient, — and perhaps no better word could be found for him who has heard me so long, trusted me so much, given me so large a share of his favor, and come to look on me with such friendliness. It would be the worst of ingratitude in me if I did not own that I owe to my books, not only the pleasant intimacies of my life, but some of my closest friendships. A chance expres sion, a fairly shadowed thought, a mere chord struck

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. XII at random by a passing hand, as it were, has now and then placed me, as mesmerists call it, en rapport with some one who may have thought long and deeply on what I had but skimmed over; and straightway there was a bond between us. No small satisfaction has it been to me occasionally to hear that out of the over-abundance of my own buoyancy and light-heartedness — and I had a great deal of both long ago — I have been able to share with my neighbor and given him part of my sunshine, and only felt the warmer myself. A great writer — one of the most eloquent historians who ever illustrated the military achievements of his country — once told me that as he lay sick and care-worn after a fever, it was in my reckless stories of soldier life he found the cheeriest moments of his solitude ; and now let me hasten to say that I tell this in no spirit of boastfulness, but with the heartfelt gratitude of one who gained more by hearing that confession than Harry Lorrequer ever acquired by all his own.

One word now as regards the task I am immediately engaged in, and I have done. My publishers propose to bring out in this edition a carefully revised version of all my books, in the order in which they were written, each story to be accompanied by some brief notice explaining the circumstances under which it was written, and to what extent fact or fiction had their share in the construction. If such notices may occasionally be but leaves of an autobiography, I must ask my reader to pardon me, and to believe that I shall not impose my egotism upon him

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. XIII when it be possible to avoid it, while at the same time he shall know all that I myself know of the history of these volumes. If to go over again the pages I wrote so many years ago is in a measure to revisit in age the loved scenes of boyhood, and to ponder over passages the very spirit of whose dictation is dead and gone, — if all this has its sadness, I am cheered by remembering that I am still addressing many old and dear friends, and have also for my audience the sons and grandsons, and, what I like better, the daughters and granddaughters, of those who once listened to Harry Lorrequer. CHARLES LEVER. Trieste, 1872. CONTENTS. Chapter Page Arrival in Cork — Civic Festivities — Private Theatricals 1 i. II. Detachment Ddty — The Burton Arms — Callonby ... 19 III. Life at Callonby — Love-makin&. — Miss O'Dowd's Adventure 33 IV.

Botanical Studies. — The Natural System preferable to the Linnæan 44 V. Puzzled. — Explanation makes Bad Worse. — A Duel 43 VI. The Priest's Supper. — Father Malachi and the Coadjutor. — Major Jones and the Abbe . 61 VII. The Lady's Letter — Peter and his Acquaintances — Too Late 83 VIII. Congratulations. — Sick Leave. — How to pass the Board 95 IX. The Road. — Travelling Acquaintances. — A Packet Adventure 102 X. Upset, — Mind and Body 110 XL Cheltenham — Matrimonial Adventure, showing how to make Love for a Friend .... 117 XIT. Dublin. — Tom O'Flaherty. — A Reminiscence of the Peninsula CONTENTS. Chapter Page X11I. Dublin. — The Boajiding-House — Select Society 152 XIV. The Chase 167 XV. Mems. 01 the North Cork 183 XVI. Theatricals 192 XVII. The Wager 203 XVIII. The Elopement 219 XIX. Detachment Duty. — An Assize Town .... 225 XX.

The Assize Town 238 XXI. A Day in Dublin . 247 XXII. A Night at Howth 256 XXI11. The Journey 263 XXIV. Calais ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ IN VOL. I. Etchings. The Supper at Father Malachi's Frontispiece Mr. Burke's enthusiasm for the Duke of Wellington . Engraved title Lorrequer upon Parade 14 The Sentry challenging Father Luke and the Abbe . 74 Mr. Cudmore filling the Teapot 159 Dr. Finucane and the Grey Mare 189 Lorrequer practising Physic 216 Illustrations in tlje STrit. Nicholas announcing Miss Betty O'Dowd's Carriage . 41 Mrs. Mulrooney and Sir Stewart Moore 108 Lorrequer making his exit from Colonel Kamworth's . 134 The Passport Office

Chapter I. Arrival IX Cork

CIVIC FESTIVITIES. PRIVATE THEATRICALS. It was on a splendid morning in the autumn of the year 181 — that the "Howard" transport, with four hundred of his Majesty's 4 — th Regiment, dropped anchor in the pic turesque harbor of Cove. The sea shone under the purple light of the rising sun with a. rich rosy hue, beautifully in contrast with the different tints of the foliage of the deep woods already tinged with the brown of autumn. Spike Island lay "sleeping upon its broad shadow," and the large ensign which crowns the battery was wrapped around the flagstaff, there not being even air enough to stir it. It was still so early that but few persons were abroad ; and as we leaned over the bulwarks, and looked now, for the first time for eight long years, upon British ground, many an eye filled, and many a heaving breast told how full of recollections that short moment was, and how different our feelings from the gay buoyancy with which we had sailed from that same harbor for the Peninsula.

Many of our best and bravest had we left behind us, and more than one native to the land we were approaching had found his last rest in the soil of the stranger. It was, then, with a mingled sense of pain and pleasure we gazed upon that peace ful little village, whose white cottages lay dotted along the edge of the harbor. The moody silence our thoughts had shed over us was soon broken ; the preparations for disem- VOL I barking had begun, and I recollect well to this hour how, shaking off the load that oppressed my heart, I descended the gangway, humming poor Wolfe's well-known song, — " Why, soldiers, why Should we be melancholy, boys ? " And to this elasticity of spirits, whether the result of my profession, or the gift of God — as Dogberry has it — I know not, I owe the greater portion of the happiness I have enjoyed in a life whose changes and vicissitudes have equalled most men's. Drawn up in a line along the shore, I eould scarce refrain from a smile at our appearance.

Four weeks on board a transport will certainly not contribute much to the personnel of any unfortunate therein confined; but when, in addition to this, you take into account that we had not received new clothes for three years, — if I except caps for our grenadiers, originally intended for a Scotch regiment, but found to be all too small for the long-headed genera tion. Many a patch of brown and gray variegated the faded scarlet of our uniform, and scarcely a pair of knees in the entire regiment did not confess their obligations to a blanket. But with all this, we showed a stout, weather beaten front, that, disposed as the passer-by might feel to laugh at our expense, very little caution would teach him it were fully as safe to indulge it in his sleeve. The bells from every steeple and tower rang gayly out a peal of welcome as we marched into "that beautiful city called Cork," our band playing "Garryowen," — for we had been originally raised in Ireland, and still among our officers maintained a strong majority for that land of punch, priests, and potatoes, — the tattered flag of the regiment proudly waving over our heads, and not a man among us whose warm heart did not bound behind a Waterloo medal.

Well, well ! I am now — alas that I should say it ! — some what in the " sere and yellow ; " and I confess, after the experience of some moments of high, triumphant feeling, that I never before felt within me the same animating, ARRIVAL IN CORK. spirit-filling glow of delight as rose within my heart that day as I inarched at the head of my company down George's Street. We were soon settled in barracks; and then began a series of entertainments on the side of the civic dignities of Cork which led most of us to believe that we had only escaped shot and shell to fall less gloriously beneath champagne and claret. I do not believe there is a coroner in the island who would have pronounced but the one verdict over the regiment, "Killed by the mayor and corporation," had we so fallen. First of all, we were dined by the citizens of Cork; and to do them justice, a harder-drinking set of gentlemen no city need boast.

Then we were feasted by the corporation; then by the sheriffs ; then came the mayor, solus ; then an address, with a cold collation, that left eight of us on the sick-list for a fortnight. But the climax of all was a grand entertainment given in the Mansion House, and to which upwards of two thousand were invited. It was a species of fancy ball, beginning by a dejeuner at three o'clock in the afternoon, and ending — I never yet met the man who could tell when it ended! As for myself, my finale par took a little of the adventurous, and I may as well relate it. After waltzing for about an hour with one of the pretti est girls I ever set eyes upon, and getting a tender squeeze of the hand as I restored her to a most affable-looking old lady in a blue turban and a red velvet gown, who smiled benignly at me and called me " Meejor," I retired, to recruit for a new attack, to a small table where three of ours were quaffing ponche a la Romaine, with a crowd of Corkagians about them eagerly inquiring after some heroes of their own city whose deeds of arms they were surprised did not obtain special mention from "the Duke."

I soon ingratiated myself into this well-occupied clique, and dosed them with glory to their hearts' content. I resolved at once to enter into their humor; and as the " ponche" mounted up to my brain, I gradually found my acquaintanceship extend to every family and connection in the country. "Did ye know Phil Beamish, of the 3— th, sir ?" said a tall, red-faced, red-whiskered, well-looking gentleman, who bore no slight resemblance to Feargus O'Connor. "Phil Beamish!" said I. "Indeed I did, sir, and do still; and there is not a man in the British army I am prouder of knowing." Here, by the way, I may mention that I never heard the name till that moment. " You don't say so, sir ? " said Feargus, for so I must call him, for shortness' sake. " Has he any chance of the company yet, sir ? " "Company!" said I, in astonishment.

"He obtained his majority three months since. You cannot possibly have heard from him lately, or you would have known that ? " " That 's true, sir. I never heard since he quitted the 3 — th to go to Versailles, I think they call it, for his health. But how did he get the step, sir ? " " Why, as to the company, that was remarkable enough ! " said I, quaffing off a tumbler of champagne to assist my invention. "You know it was about four o'clock in the afternoon of the 18th that Napoleon ordered Grouchy to advance with the first and second brigade of the Old Guard and two regiments of chasseurs and attack the position occupied by Picton and the regiments under his command. Well, sir, on they came, masked by the smoke of a terrific discharge of artillery, stationed on a small eminence to our left, and which did tremendous execution among our poor fellows ; on they came, sir, and as the smoke cleared partially away, we got a glimpse of them, and a more dangerous-looking set I should not desire to see, — grizzly-bearded, hard-featured, bronzed fellows, about five and thirty or forty years of age; their beauty not a whit improved by the red glare thrown upon their faces and along the whole line by each flash of the long twenty-fours that were playing away to the right.

Just at this moment Picton rode down the line with his staff, ARRIVAL LN CORK. 5 and stopping within a. few paces of me, said, 'They're coming up! Steady, boys; steady now! We shall have something to do soon! ' And then turning sharply round, he looked in the direction of the French battery, that was thundering away again in full force. ' Ah ! that must be silenced, ' said he. ' Where 's Beamish? ' " " Says Picton ! " interrupted Feargus, his eyes starting from their sockets, and his mouth growing wider every moment, as he listened with the most intense interest. "Yes," said I, slowly. And then, with all the provok ing nonchalance of an Italian improvisatore, who always halts at the most exciting point of his narrative, I begged a listener near me to fill my glass from the iced punch beside him.

Not a sound was heard as I lifted the bumper to my lips; all were breathless in their wound-up anxiety to hear of their countryman who had been selected by Picton — for what, too, they knew not yet, and, indeed, at that instant I did not know myself, and nearly laughed outright, for the two of ours who had remained at the table had so well employed their interval of ease as to become very pleasantly drunk, and were listening to my confounded story with all the gravity and seriousness in the world. "'Where's Beamish?' said Picton. 'Here, sir,' said Phil, stepping out from the line, and touching his cap to the general, who, taking him apart for a few minutes, spoke to him with great animation. We did not know what he said; but before five minutes were over, there was Phil with three companies of light-bobs drawn up at our left; their muskets at the charge, they set off at a round trot down the little steep which closed our flank.

We had not much time to follow their movements, for our own amusement began soon ; but I well remember, after repelling the French attack and standing in square against two heavy charges of cuirassiers, the first thing I saw, where the French battery had-stood, was Phil Beamish and about a handful of brave fellows, all that remained from the skirmish. He captured two of the enemy's field pieces, and was ' Captain Beamish ' on the day after. "Long life to him! " said at least a dozen voices behind and about me, while a general clinking of decanters and smacking of lips betokened that Phil's health, with all the honors, was being celebrated. For myself, I was really so engrossed by my narrative, and so excited by the "ponche," that I saw or heard very little of what was passing around, and have only a kind of dim recollection of being seized by the hand by "Feargus," who was Beamish's brother, and who, in the fulness of his heart, would have hugged me to his breast, if I had not opportunely been so over powered as to fall senseless under the table.

When I first returned to consciousness, I found myself lying exactly where I had fallen. Around me lay heaps of slain, the two of " ours " among the number. One of them — I remember he was the Adjutant — held in his hand a wax candle (two to the pound). AVhether he had himself seized it in the enthusiasm of my narrative of flood and field, or it bad been put there by another, I know not ; but he certainly cut a droll figure. The room we were in was a small one off the great saloon, and through the half-open folding-door I could clearly perceive that the festivities were still continued. The crash of fiddles and French horns and the tramp of feet, which had lost much of their elasticity since the entertainment began, rang through my ears, mingled with the sounds, "Down the middle," "Hands across," "Here's your partner, captain."

What hour of the night or morning it then was, I could not guess; but certainly the vigor of the party seemed little abated, if I might judge from the specimen before me, and the testimony of a short, plethoric gentleman who stood wiping his bald head, after conducting his partner down twenty-eight couple, and who, turning to his friend, said, "Oh, the distance is nothing; but it is the pace that kills! " The first evidence I showed of any return to reason was a strong anxiety to be at my quarters ; but how to get there I knew not. The faint glimmering of sense I possessed told me that " to stand was to fall, " and I was ashamed to go on all-fours, which prudence suggested. ARRIVAL IX CORK. At this moment I remembered I had brought with me my cane, which, from a perhaps pardonable vanity, I was fond of parading.