Book: The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer, Vol. 1

C >> Charles James Lever >> The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer, Vol. 1



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THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Volume 1

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]


Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.


[Note: Though the title page has no author's name inscribed,
this work is generally attributed to Charles James Lever.]



Volume 1. (Chapters I. to X.)

"We talked of pipe-clay regulation caps--
Long twenty-fours--short culverins and mortars--
Condemn'd 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 'neat the Solway;
And some did pray--who never prayed before--
That they might get the 'route' for Cork or Galway."



To
Sir George Hamilton Seymour, G.C.H.
&c. &c.

My Dear Sir Hamilton,

If a feather will show how the wind blows, perhaps my dedicating to you
even as light matter as these Confessions may in some measure prove how
grateful I feel for the many kindnesses I have received from you in the
course of our intimacy. While thus acknowledging a debt, I must also
avow that another motive strongly prompts me upon this occasion. I am
not aware of any one, to whom with such propriety a volume of anecdote
and adventure should be inscribed, as to one, himself well known as an
inimitable narrator. Could I have stolen for my story, any portion of
the grace and humour with which I have heard you adorn many of your own,
while I should deem this offering more worthy of your acceptance, I
should also feel more confident of its reception by the public.

With every sentiment of esteem and regard,
Believe me very faithfully yours,
THE AUTHOR
Bruxelles, December, 1839.



PREFATORY EPISTLE.

Dear Public,

When first I set about recording the scenes which occupy these pages, I
had no intention of continuing them, except in such stray and scattered
fragments as the columns of a Magazine (FOOTNOTE: The Dublin University
Magazine.) permit of; and when at length I discovered that some interest
had attached not only to the adventures, but to their narrator, I would
gladly have retired with my "little laurels" from a stage, on which,
having only engaged to appear between the acts, I was destined to come
forward as a principal character.

Among the "miseries of human life," a most touching one is spoken of--the
being obliged to listen to the repetition of a badly sung song, because
some well-wishing, but not over discreet friend of the singer has called
loudly for an encore.

I begin very much to fear that something of the kind has taken place
here, and that I should have acted a wiser part, had I been contented
with even the still small voice of a few partial friends, and retired
from the boards in the pleasing delusion of success; but unfortunately,
the same easy temperament that has so often involved me before, has been
faithful to me here; and when you pretended to be pleased, unluckily, I
believed you.

So much of apology for the matter--a little now for the manner of my
offending, and I have done. I wrote as I felt--sometimes in good
spirits, sometimes in bad--always carelessly--for, God help me, I can do
no better.

When the celibacy of the Fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, became an
active law in that University, the Board proceeded to enforce it, by
summoning to their presence all the individuals who it was well known had
transgressed the regulation, and among them figured Dr. S., many of whose
sons were at the same time students in the college. "Are you married,
Dr. S-----r?" said the bachelor vice-provost, in all the dignity and
pride of conscious innocence. "Married!" said the father of ten
children, with a start of involuntary horror;--"married?" "Yes sir,
married." "Why sir, I am no more married than the Provost." This was
quite enough--no further questions were asked, and the head of the
University preferred a merciful course towards the offender, to
repudiating his wife and disowning his children. Now for the
application. Certain captious and incredulous people have doubted the
veracity of the adventures I have recorded in these pages; I do not think
it necessary to appeal to concurrent testimony and credible witnesses for
their proof, but I pledge myself to the fact that every tittle I have
related is as true as that my name is Lorrequer--need I say more?

Another objection has been made to my narrative, and I cannot pass it by
without a word of remark;--"these Confessions are wanting in scenes of
touching and pathetic interest" (FOOTNOTE: We have the author's
permission to state, that all the pathetic and moving incidents of his
career he has reserved for a second series of "Confessions," to be
entitled "Lorrequer Married?"--Publisher's Note.)--true, quite true; but
I console myself on this head, for I remember hearing of an author whose
paraphrase of the book of Job was refused by a publisher, if he could not
throw a little more humour into it; and if I have not been more miserable
and more unhappy, I am very sorry for it on your account, but you must
excuse my regretting it on my own. Another story and I have done;--the
Newgate Calendar makes mention of a notorious housebreaker, who closed
his career of outrage and violence by the murder of a whole family, whose
house he robbed; on the scaffold he entreated permission to speak a few
words to the crowd beneath, and thus addressed them:--"My friends, it is
quite true I murdered this family; in cold blood I did it--one by one
they fell beneath my hand, while I rifled their coffers, and took forth
their effects; but one thing is imputed to me, which I cannot die without
denying--it is asserted that I stole an extinguisher; the contemptible
character of this petty theft is a stain upon my reputation, that I
cannot suffer to disgrace my memory." So would I now address you for all
the graver offences of my book; I stand forth guilty--miserably, palpably
guilty--they are mine every one of them; and I dare not, I cannot deny
them; but if you think that the blunders in French and the hash of
spelling so widely spread through these pages, are attributable to me;
on the faith of a gentleman I pledge myself you are wrong, and that I had
nothing to do with them. If my thanks for the kindness and indulgence
with which these hastily written and rashly conceived sketches have been
received by the press and the public, are of any avail, let me add, in
conclusion, that a more grateful author does not exist than

HARRY LORREQUER




CONTENTS:

Volume 1.

CHAPTER I
Arrival in Cork--Civic Festivities--Private Theatricals

CHAPTER II
Detachment Duty--The Burton Arms--Callonby

CHAPTER III
Life at Callonby--Love-making--Miss O'Dowd's Adventure

CHAPTER IV
Botanical Studies--The Natural System preferable to the Linnaean

CHAPTER V
Puzzled--Explanation--Makes bad worse--The Duel

CHAPTER VI
The Priest's Supper--Father Malachi and the Coadjutor--Major Jones and
the Abbe

CHAPTER VII
The Lady's Letter--Peter and his Acquaintances--Too late

CHAPTER VIII
Congratulations--Sick Leave--How to pass the Board

CHAPTER IX
The Road--Travelling Acquaintances--A Packet Adventure

CHAPTER X
Upset--Mind and Body


Volume 2.

CHAPTER XI
Cheltenham--Matrimonial Adventure--Showing how to make love for a friend

CHAPTER XII
Dublin--Tom O'Flaherty--A Reminiscence of the Peninsula

CHAPTER XIII
Dublin--The Boarding-house--Select Society

CHAPTER XIV
The Chase

CHAPTER XV
Mems Of the North Cork

CHAPTER XVI
Theatricals

CHAPTER XVI* (The chapter # is a repeat)
The Wager

CHAPTER XVII
The Elopement


Volume 3.

CHAPTER XVIII
Detachment Duty--An Assize Town

CHAPTER XIX
The Assize Town

CHAPTER XX
A Day in Dublin

CHAPTER XXI
A Night at Howth

CHAPTER XXII
The Journey

CHAPTER XXIII
Calais


Volume 4.

CHAPTER XXIV
The Gen d'Arme

CHAPTER XXV
The Inn at Chantraine

CHAPTER XXVI
Mr O'Leary

CHAPTER XXVII
Paris
CHAPTER XXVIII
Paris


Volume 5.

CHAPTER XXIX
Captain Trevanion's Adventure

CHAPTER XXX
Difficulties

CHAPTER XXXI
Explanation

CHAPTER XXXII
Mr O'Leary's First Love

CHAPTER XXXIII
Mr O'Leary's Second Love

CHAPTER XXXIV
The Duel

CHAPTER XXXV
Early Recollections--A First Love

CHAPTER XXXVI
Wise Resolves

CHAPTER XXXVII
The Proposal

CHAPTER XXXVIII
Thoughts upon Matrimony in general, and in the Army in particular--The
Knight of Kerry and Billy M'Cabe

CHAPTER XXXIX
A Reminiscence

CHAPTER XL
The Two Letters

CHAPTER XLI
Mr O'Leary's Capture



Volume 6.

CHAPTER XLII.
The Journey

CHAPTER XLIII.
The Journey

CHAPTER XLIV.
A Reminscence of the East

CHAPTER XLV.
A Day in the Phoenix

CHAPTER XLVI.
An Adventure in Canada

CHAPTER XLVII.
The Courier's Passport

CHAPTER XLVIII.
A Night in Strasbourg

CHAPTER XLIX.
A Surprise

CHAPTER L.
Jack Waller's Story

CHAPTER LI.
Munich

CHAPTER LII.
Inn at Munich

CHAPTER LIII.
The Ball

CHAPTER LIV.
A Discovery

CHAPTER LV.
Conclusion





A WORD OF INTRODUCTION.

"Story! God bless you; I have none to tell, sir."

It is now many--do not ask me to say how many--years since I received
from the Horse Guards the welcome intelligence that I was gazetted to an
insigncy in his Majesty's __th Foot, and that my name, which had figured
so long in the "Duke's" list, with the words "a very hard case" appended,
should at length appear in the monthly record of promotions and
appointments.

Since then my life has been passed in all the vicissitudes of war and
peace. The camp and the bivouac--the reckless gaiety of the mess-table
--the comfortless solitude of a French prison--the exciting turmoils of
active service--the wearisome monotony of garrison duty, I have alike
partaken of, and experienced. A career of this kind, with a temperament
ever ready to go with the humour of those about him will always be sure
of its meed of adventure. Such has mine been; and with no greater
pretension than to chronicle a few of the scenes in which I have borne a
part, and revive the memory of the other actors in them--some, alas! Now
no more--I have ventured upon these "Confessions."

If I have not here selected that portion of my life which most abounded
in striking events and incidents most worthy of recording, my excuse is
simply, because being my first appearance upon the boards, I preferred
accustoming myself to the look of the house, while performing the "Cock,"
to coming before the audience in the more difficult part of Hamlet.

As there are unhappily impracticable people in the world, who, as Curran
expressed it, are never content to know "who killed the gauger, if you
can't inform them who wore his corduroys"--to all such I would, in deep
humility, say, that with my "Confessions" they have nothing to do--I have
neither story nor moral--my only pretension to the one, is the detail of
a passion which marked some years of my life; my only attempt at the
other, the effort to show how prolific in hair-breadth 'scapes may a
man's career become, who, with a warm imagination and easy temper,
believes too much, and rarely can feign a part without forgetting that he
is acting. Having said thus much, I must once more bespeak the
indulgence never withheld from a true penitent, and at once begin my
"Confessions."




CHAPTER I.

ARRIVAL IN 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 Regt., dropped
anchor in the beautiful harbour 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 flag-staff, 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
harbour for the Peninsula; many of our best and bravest had we left
behind us, and more than one native to the land we were approaching had
found his last rest in the soil of the stranger. It was, then, with a
mingled sense of pain and pleasure, we gazed upon that peaceful little
village, whose white cottages lay dotted along the edge of the harbour.
The moody silence our thoughts had shed over us was soon broken: the
preparations for disembarking had begun, and I recollect well to this
hour how, 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 could 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 generation. Many a patch of brown and
grey, variegated the faded scarlet, "of our uniform," and scarcely a pair
of knees in the entire regiment did not confess their obligations to a
blanket. But with all this, we shewed 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 was fully as safe to indulge it in his
sleeve.

The bells from every steeple and tower rung gaily 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 from that land of punch,
priests, and potatoes--the tattered flag of the regiment proudly waving
over our heads, and not a man amongst us whose warm heart did not bound
behind a Waterloo medal. Well--well! I am now--alas, that I should say
it--somewhat in the "sear 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, spirit-filling glow of
delight, as rose within my heart that day, as I marched at the head
of my company down George's-street.

We were soon settled in barracks; and then began a series of
entertainments on the side of the civic dignities of Cork, which soon 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
dejeune at three o'clock in the afternoon, and ending--I never yet met
the man who could tell when it ended; as for myself, my finale partook a
little of the adventurous, and I may as well relate it.

After waltzing for about an hour with one of the prettiest girls I ever
set eyes upon, and getting a tender squeeze of the hand, as I restored
her to a most affable-looking old lady in a blue turban and a red velvet
gown who smiled most benignly on 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 humour; and as the "ponche" mounted up to my brain I gradually
found my acquaintanceship extend to every family and connexion 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 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: grizzle-bearded, hard-featured, bronzed fellows, about
five-and-thirty or forty years of age; their beauty not a whit improved
by the red glare thrown upon their faces and along the whole line by each
flash of the long twenty-fours that were playing away to the right. Just
at this moment Picton rode down the line with his staff, and stopping
within a few paces of me, said, 'They're coming up; steady, boys; steady
now: we shall have something to do soon.' And then, turning sharply
round, he looked in the direction of the French battery, that was
thundering away again in full force, 'Ah, that must be silenced,' said
he, 'Where's Beamish?'--"Says Picton!" interrupted Feargus, his eyes
starting from their sockets, and his mouth growing wider every moment, as
he listed with the most intense interest. "Yes," said I, slowly; and
then, with all the provoking 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 this instant
I did not know myself, and nearly laughed outright, for the two of our
men 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 honours 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 fullness of his heart, would have
hugged me to his breast, if I had not opportunely been so overpowered as
to fall senseless under the table.

When I first returned to consciousness, I found myself lying exactly
where I had fallen. Around me lay heaps of slain--the two of "ours"
amongst the number. One of them--I remember he was the adjutant--held in
his hand a wax candle (three to the pound). Whether he had himself
seized it in the enthusiasm of my narrative of flood and field, or it had
been put there by another, I know not, but he certainly cut a droll
figure. The room we were in was a small one off the great saloon, and
through the half open folding-door I could clearly perceive that the
festivities were still continued. The crash of fiddles and French horns,
and the tramp of feet, which had lost much of their elasticity since the
entertainments 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
specimens 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 shewed 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.

At this moment I remembered I had brought with me my cane, which, from a
perhaps pardonable vanity, I was fond of parading. It was a present from
the officers of my regiment--many of them, alas, since dead--and had a
most splendid gold head, with a stag at the top--the arms of the
regiment. This I would not have lost for any consideration I can
mention; and this now was gone! I looked around me on every side; I
groped beneath the table; I turned the sleeping sots who lay about in no
very gentle fashion; but, alas, it was gone. I sprang to my feet and
only then remembered how unfit I was to follow up the search, as tables,
chairs, lights, and people seemed all rocking and waving before me.
However, I succeeded in making my way, through one room into another,
sometimes guiding my steps along the walls; and once, as I recollect,
seeking the diagonal of a room, I bisected a quadrille with such
ill-directed speed, as to run foul of a Cork dandy and his partner who
were just performing the "en avant:" but though I saw them lie tumbled
in the dust by the shock of my encounter--for I had upset them--I still
held on the even tenor of my way. In fact, I had feeling for but one
loss; and, still in pursuit of my cane, I reached the hall-door. Now,
be it known that the architecture of the Cork Mansion House has but one
fault, but that fault is a grand one, and a strong evidence of how
unsuited English architects are to provide buildings for a people whose
tastes and habits they but imperfectly understand--be it known, then,
that the descent from the hall-door to the street was by a flight of
twelve stone steps. How I should ever get down these was now my
difficulty. If Falstaff deplored "eight yards of uneven ground as being
three score and ten miles a foot," with equal truth did I feel that
these twelve awful steps were worse to me than would be M'Gillicuddy
Reeks in the day-light, and with a head clear from champagne.

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