SPANISH JOHN
"I KNELT AND KISSED HIS HAND WITH MY HEART ON MY LIPS" (See p. [54].)
SPANISH JOHN
Being a Memoir, now first published in complete form, of
the Early Life and Adventures of Colonel John
McDonell, known as "Spanish John," when
a Lieutenant in the Company of St. James
of the Regiment Irlandia, in the
Service of the King of Spain
operating in Italy
BY
WILLIAM McLENNAN
ILLUSTRATED
BY F. DE MYRBACH
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
TORONTO: THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED
1898
Copyright, 1897, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
All rights reserved.
Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year
one thousand eight hundred and ninety-seven, by HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa.
TO
MY FATHER
THIS RESULT OF LONG TALKS OVER OLD DAYS
OLD MANNERS, AND OLD MEMORIES
PREFACE
"Spanish John" was the nom de guerre of John, son of John, son of Æneas, son of Ranald McDonell of Scottos, or Scothouse, who was also head of the Glengarry family. He was born at "Crowlin," Knoidart, in 1728. He left home to study in the Scots College in Rome in 1740, but in 1744 we find him serving as Ensign in the "Regiment Irlandia" for King Carlo of Naples, and in 1746 he was on his way to Scotland carrying money and despatches for Prince Charles. After his release and the pacification of the Highlands he married and remained in Scotland until 1773, when he emigrated to America and settled in Scoharie County, in the then Province of New York. Three years later he held a commission as Captain in the King's Royal Regiment of New York, the "Royal Greens," under the command of Colonel Sir John Johnson, Bart., and served until the regiment was disbanded about 1784. He then settled in Canada, where he died at Cornwall in 1810, and was buried at St. Andrews, P.Q.
His sons, particularly John and Miles, were famous men in the days of the rival factions engaged in the struggle for the Northwest fur trade, and his name is still widely and honorably represented in Canada. At the request of his friend Bishop Strachan, then the Reverend Mr. Strachan and school-master at Cornwall, Colonel McDonell wrote a short account of his early life and adventures, which was published in The Canadian Magazine, Montreal, May and June, 1825, and forms the basis of the following story.
While I have amplified the old and introduced such new characters, incidents, and situations as were necessary to create a work of fiction out of material which is but a recital of those incidental and generally disconnected happenings that go to make up a man's experience, I have taken every pains to preserve what I conceive to be the character of the narrator and the essential value of his narrative.
From le père Labat and le président Debrosses I learned of the conditions of Italy; from O'Callaghan, the particulars of the Irish Brigade; from Professor Cavan, of Charlottetown, P.E.I., who was a student in the Scots College in the early forties, when the conditions were still unchanged—when the Abbé Macpherson, their Rector, could well remember Prince Charlie in his last days: "he used to visit us and say we were the only subjects he had left"—information that brought me into touch with the life there; from the Rev. Mr. McNish, of Cornwall, the Gaelic toasts; and from "Ascanius," much of the detail of the end of "The Forty-five."
WILLIAM McLENNAN.
Montreal.
CONTENTS
How Angus McDonald of Clanranald and I set out for the Scots College in Rome; how we fell in with Mr. O'Rourke and Manuel, the Jew, and with the latter saw strange company in Leghorn; how we were presented to Captain Creach, "of the Regiment Irlandia," at the Inn of Aquapendente, and what befel thereafter
How, out of a school-boy's quarrel, it came that I kissed the hands of His Majesty, James III.; that I met with H.R.H. the Prince of Wales and other company, both high and low, until, from one thing to another, I took leave of my Books to follow the Drum
Of the soldiering Father O'Rourke and I did in the Regiment Irlandia together; how we fared at the Battle of Velletri, and until the army divided under the walls of Rome, during which time I won more than one promotion
How we met old friends and an older enemy in Rome with whom I was forced to subscribe to a Truce, having passed my word to the Duke of York; how it came that I resigned from the Company of St. James
How Father O'Rourke and I met with the Duke of York, who charged me with a secret mission towards Prince Charles; of our voyage to Scotland, and the dismal tidings that there met us
How we supped with a thief, and the outcome thereof.
How Father O'Rourke and I fell in with broken men and saw the end of a Lost Cause
How I fared in my attempt to recover the stolen money; and how Father O'Rourke and I came face to face with unlooked-for company in the Inn at Portree
How Father O'Rourke kept the Black Pass; of the escape of the Prince and my own mischance that followed; but of how the Day of Reckoning between me and Creach came at last
ILLUSTRATIONS
["I KNELT AND KISSED HIS HAND WITH MY HEART ON MY LIPS"] . . . Frontispiece.
["I GAVE HIM A BOY'S PUNISHMENT"]
["'TELL ME, SIR, WHAT DID YOU COME HERE FOR?' HE STORMED"]
["I COULD NOT HELP STRUTTING AS WE PASSED THE FASHIONABLES"]
["'THE DAY WE BEAT THE GERMANS AT CREMONA!'"]
["THERE WE STOOD, WITH OUR PALE FACES"]
["THERE THE GOOD MAN SATE, HOLDING ME IN HIS ARMS"]
["I SAW CREACH ADVANCE TOWARDS ME"]
["THEN FATHER O'ROURKE SPAKE"]
["'WILL NEVER RETURN TO SAY THEY SAW ME GO TO MY DEATH ALONE'"]
["'FINE WORDS! BRAVE WORDS!' HE SNEERED"]
["THE LAST STAND FOR PRINCE CHARLES WAS AT AN END"]
["MANY WAS THE PLEASANT TALK HE HAD WITH MY FATHER"]
["SHE STOOD ON HER WAY TOWARDS FRANCE AND SAFETY"]
["'GIVE UP YOUR SWORD LIKE A GENTLEMAN!'"]
SPANISH JOHN
I
1740
How Angus McDonald of Clanranald and I set out for the Scots College in Rome; how we fell in with Mr. O'Rourke and Manuel the Jew, and with the latter saw strange company in Leghorn; how we were presented to Captain Creach, "of the Regiment Irlandia," at the Inn of Aquapendente, and what befel thereafter.
"Hoot!" snorted my Uncle Scottos, with much contempt, "make a lad like that into a priest! Look at the stuff there is in him for a soldier!"
Without waiting for a reply, he roared: "Here, mogh Radhan dubh! (my little black darling), shew your father how you can say your Pater-noster with a single-stick!" At which he caught up a stout rod for himself, and, throwing me a lighter one, we saluted, and at it we went hammer and tongs.
I suppose my Uncle was a bit discomposed with his argument, for he was one ill to bear contradiction, even in thought, and so forgot I was but a lad, for he pushed me hard, making me fairly wince under his shrewd cuts, and ruffling me with his half-angry shouts of "Mind your guard!" each time he got in at me, until before long the punishment was so severe I was out of breath, my wrist half broken, and I was forced to cry "Pax!" Indeed, I was so ruffled I made but a poor shewing, and my father laughed heartily at my discomfiture.
"Well, well, Donald," he said, in reply to my Uncle's argument, "I'll at least promise you his schooling will not be any harder than that you would put him at."
"Perhaps not," answered my Uncle, still in some little heat, "but mine is at least the schooling of a gentleman! However, thank God, they cannot take that out of him in Rome, whatever else they may stuff into him. Man! man!" he broke out again, after a moment's pause, "but you're wasting the making of a pretty soldier!"
And he looked so gallant as he stood there before the big fireplace, full of scorn for the ignoble fate he dreaded might be in store for me, that my heart swelled with a great pity for myself, and for my father too, who should be so bent on sending me to Rome, so far away from my Uncle, who knew so many pretty turns with the sword I might learn from no other, and so many songs I might never sing now.
For I worshipped my Uncle, Donald McDonell of Scottos, but always known as "Scottos," as is our custom; he was called The Younger, not to belittle him, but because my Grandfather, old Æneas of Scottos, was still alive. He had been in France and Spain and Italy, first as a cadet and afterwards as ensign in Colonel Walter Burke's regiment of foot, one of the regiments of the Irish Brigade serving under the Duke of Berwick, and many a night have I been kept awake with his stories of their engagements at Cremona, Alicant, Barcelona, and other places—how they beat, and sometimes how they were beaten—till I knew the different Dillons and Butlers and McDonells and O'Rourkes, and other gentlemen of the regiment, not only by name, but as though I had met with them face to face. He had no great love for the Church, for he hated the sight of a priest, and was continually railing against my being sent to Rome lest they should make a "Black Petticoat" of me.
"That 'a McDonell must be either a soldier or a priest' may be a very good saying in its way," he went on to my father, for there was no interruption in their talk, "but mark you which comes first! If all our forebears had bred but little shavelings, and no soldiers, where would the McDonell family be now, think you? 'Tis not in reason you should give up your one son for the sake of an old saw, like enough made by some priest himself. If one of mine chooses to take to it, he will not be missed out of the flock; but depend upon it, brother, God never gave you this one to waste in this way. Let me train him until he is ready to go abroad into the service, and I'll answer for it to stand him in better stead than all the tingle-fangle whimseys they'll teach him in Rome!"
But my father only smiled in his quiet way, and said in his low, soft voice, so different from my Uncle's:
"Donald, Donald, you witch the lad! You have my word that when the time comes he shall be free in his choice; but, priest or soldier, he'll be no worse the gentleman for a little of the book-learning you make so light of. Now, say good-bye to your Uncle, lad, and we'll be off."
As we rode homewards, I on the saddle before him, my father talked all the way of what my going to Rome would really mean. He told me of the Scots College there, what it looked like, where his room was—"and there, if they have not whitewashed the wall, Shonaidh, which may well be the case, you'll find written near the head of my bed:
"'Half ower, half ower to Aberdour,
'Tis fifty fathoms deep;
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
With the Scots lords at his feet.'
That I wrote one afternoon at the siesta when my heart was big and I was wearying for home, as you may do, and I thought I heard my mother singing, and wrote down the old words for my comfort. Perhaps you'll find them there still," he added, slowly, as if he were back in the old days rather than talking to me.
"And, Shonaidh," he went on, after a little, "just when your heart fails you is the time to play the soldier as truly as if you had a broadsword in your hand. Homesick you'll be—I'd be sorry for you if you were not—but remember, I went through it all before you, and, though I have done nothing for it, my time in the old Scots College was the best gift my father ever gave me. If God wills it, you will be a priest, but neither I nor yet the Rector will force you. You are going under the care of one of the best of men, a nobleman and one whose slightest word you should be proud to treasure; and, remember, the first duty of a gentleman who would some day command is to learn to obey."
And so on as we rode; he told me much, much more than I had ever known, of all he had done and all he had hoped to do as a boy, but he had given up his own plans that his brother Scottos might go to serve under the Duke of Berwick in Spain; how, though he had borne himself therein as a brave and gallant gentleman, the fighting abroad had brought nothing to those at home, and, after the disappointment of 1715, how he had no longer heart for foreign service, for he was committed to the Royal Cause beyond everything, and so remained at home in spite of danger, hoping for the day when the King would come again.
He warned me that I must not make too much of my Uncle's railings against the Church, for he had seen many things in Spain that were in a measure hard to see, and, whatever were his words, he was a good son of the Church, and in his heart did not believe his own sayings—which made me wonder, I remember, why my father should so punish me for lying—and so on until we reached Crowlin, as our house was known.
It was in the month of August when I left home, I being just twelve years of age, and Angus McDonald of Clanranald, who was to be my comrade, fourteen. He was a much bigger lad than I, and at home could handle me readily enough, but from being so much with my Uncle Scottos, who was never done talking of what he had seen in foreign parts, I was in a measure travelled, and no sooner were we out of the country than Angus gave the lead to me, which I kept in all the years we were together.
My Grandfather, Æneas of Scottos, gave me his blessing and a bright new guinea and much good advice; my father kissed me fondly, and, with many a direction for the road, gave me a letter to Father Urbani, the Rector in Rome; my sister Margaret hung about my neck and refused to be comforted; but at last, with a cousin of Clanranald's and a party of their people, we started for Edinburgh.
My Uncle Scottos rode with us as far as Inchlaggan, and when we said good-bye he commanded me, sternly, "Don't let them make a little priest of you, Shonaidh, or I'll baste you with a wooden sword when you come home!" Then he swore somewhat in Spanish and kissed me on both cheeks, and rode off with his head down, waving his hand at the top of the hill, though he never looked back.
Our stay in Edinburgh with Bishop Hay, and our journey to Boulogne and thence to Father Innes, of the Scots College in Paris, with whom we lodged for three weeks, produced nothing of interest; indeed, we did not fall in with much I can now recall until we drove into Marseilles and were there lodged in the house of the Benedictins.
Here we saw much to wonder at—soldiers in uniforms, sailors in petticoats, galley-slaves in chains, Jews in gabardines, and others dressed in such outlandish habits we could not help staring at them, though had we worn our own Highland clothes I do not believe any would have remarked on us; and we heard, I doubt not, every language on earth save the Gaelic, which is but little spread beyond the Highlands.
A more lively people than the Marseilles would be hard to meet. On the quay one evening we marked a fellow carrying something like a long, narrow drum, which he tapped with his fingers as he strolled. Presently he stopped at a clear space, and, drawing a little pipe from under his arm, began to play both instruments at once cleverly enough. Hardly had he begun before the crowd gathered round, and on some lusty fellow setting up a shout and leaping into the middle of the space and holding forth his hand, it was caught by one, who in turn invited another, and then another, while from the tavern opposite rushed men and women fairly tumbling over one another in their haste, laughing and shouting as they came, till all were at it, footing it merrily as they swung in and out and twisted and turned in a long tail. Round the posts, jumping over the ropes that held the vessels fast, then across the street and into the tavern by one door and out at another into the street again, with such mad laughing and singing and holding forth of hands that Angus and I could stand it no longer, and so caught hold; and, though we could speak no word of their language, we could laugh as hard in English and give as wild skreighs in Gaelic and foot it as lightly as any of them. It was a grand ploy, and only ended when we were all out of breath.
Provided with money sufficient to carry us to Rome, we took passage for Leghorn, or Livorno, as they call it, in a fair-sized barque, but the dirt and the evil smells on board disgusted us beyond measure, and we almost longed for the bone-breaking coaches again. However, we were not long aboard before we fell in with a tall, decent man, a Mr. O'Rourke by name, who was an Irishman, on his way to finish his studies as a priest at the Propaganda in Rome, but the merriest and best-natured man I had ever seen. He was bigger and broader and had a greater hand and foot than any one else on board.
He laughed at our touchiness at what he called "a few smells."
"A few smells, sir?" said I—"it seems to me they are fairly crowding one another so close there's but little room for any more."
"Oh, isn't there? It strikes me you have never put your nose inside a Roman osteria on a wet day in July! Until then, my lad, you are not qualified to speak of smells in the plural. And let me tell both of you," he went on, after he had finished laughing, "you had best get your noses into training at once, for if they are going to cock up at every stink that comes under them you'll be blowing them over the backs of your heads before long, unless you do like the elephant and carry them in your trunk." Which we took to be an excellent jest, the more so as we found by evening he had two hammocks swung for us on deck near the round-house. The weather was so mild and the cabins so unbearable that most of the passengers followed our example, and even in the bow was one solitary old man, who now and then had to put up with a douse of salt water when the barque clipped deeper than ordinary.
The next day we made a closer acquaintance with our fellow-passengers, most of whom were but fearful sailors with but little stomach for anything off an even keel. In the cabin with us and Mr. O'Rourke were an Italian Count and his lady, some priests, and a Spaniard named Don Diego, with whom we soon made friends, though he was ignorant of both English and French, and had no Gaelic; but we could get in a Latin word or two, and we laughed much and made signs for the rest. Mr. O'Rourke we found to be of the same family as the gallant Major O'Rourke who was killed at Alcoy, in Spain, under the Count O'Mahony, which I knew of through my Uncle Scottos, who was an ensign there at the time; this made us fast friends, and I told him much of the Regiment Irlandia and the Irish Brigade of which he was ignorant.
But we came near to falling out at the very beginning of our friendship, which happened in this way. Being that day with Angus up in the bow of the barque to mark the play of the waves, I was trying some little French on the old man, who was still crouched there miserable enough, when up comes Mr. O'Rourke and, without preface or apology, breaks in upon us, taking no more notice of the poor old man than if he had been a dog.
"Do you know who you are talking to?" says he, in a loud, hectoring style of voice, and raps out before I can answer: "This man's a Jew! A Jew!" he says, and spits on the deck as if he had a bad smell by him.
"I don't care if he's a camel!" says I, much nettled at his tone.
"No more would I," says he, "for then he'd be where he deserves, wandering about in the Desert."
"Mr. O'Rourke, when I get to Rome I'll be under a master, but until then I am answerable to no one save myself, and I'll thank you to leave me in peace to such company as I may choose," I returned, making a mighty strong inflection on my words. He moved away, laughing.
I was only a foolish boy, so his laughing hurt me more than his anger, and had he taken no notice I dare say I would have thought little more of the Jew than of any other on board; but now, part from curiosity—perhaps, too, part from mulishness, of which I had my share when a boy—but afterwards from a personal feeling, I was kept nearer the old man than would otherwise have happened.
True, my Uncle Scottos had no great softness for the Jews while in Spain—no more had he for the priests, for that matter—but this was the first I had ever fallen in with, and the old man was so uncomplaining and gentle I felt I was taking his side, and that ended it. His name was Manuel, and he was a Portugal by nation, but lived in Leghorn, about which he told me much. As to his business, I cared but little—as he could not be a gentleman in the nature of things, his occupation was a matter of indifference to me. So, in spite of the laughter of many, and Mr. O'Rourke's gibes about my visits to the "Ghetto," as he called the bow of the barque where the poor old man was, I never missed a day without a visit to him, and learned much that was useful to me afterwards.
We now met with some heavy weather, and were so knocked about on the third day that, as these coasters are not very venturesome, our captain thought it prudent to put back into Toulon, where we anchored in the midst of the fleet of the King of France there lying. The next day we were eager to get on shore, though it was blowing hard, but were dissuaded by Mr. O'Rourke. However, the Jew and a Cordelier friar resolved to risk it with a crew of six sailors, who ballasted the ship's boat with some spare guns; but hardly had they got up sail before the boat was overset and all were thrown into the water.
The first to lay hold of the boat was the Cordelier, who scrambled up on the keel, followed by the sailors, who pulled their fellows up one after another. All this time I was in an agony of fear for the Jew, who, though he laid hold of the boat, was so old and feeble he could not draw himself up, and no one so much as stretched out a hand to his aid. Worse than this, the ship's company and crew screamed with laughter at each new struggle he made, as if it were the merriest game in the world. Meantime the unfortunates were fast drifting into the offing, and would infallibly have been borne out to sea had not a Spanish zebec made sail and succeeded in overhauling and picking them up.
Then, though I was shaking with fright, I turned to and thrashed Angus McDonald for his laughing with the others until he cried mercy.
"A pretty Christian you are to be going to Rome and laughing at a man as old as my grandfather!" I admonished him, when I had finished.
"Pough!" snorted he, still angry. "Mr. O'Rourke says Jews have no souls!"
"Indeed?" said I. "Mr. O'Rourke had better be looking after his own, and make certain of it, before he is so sure about other people." And off I stalked, mighty indignant and mighty hot against Mr. O'Rourke, who but laughed merrily at my saying.
However, the next day we made it all up again on his asking me and Angus to accompany him and Don Diego on shore at his expense; and the Jew now being out of sight, I could not hold my anger long, while Mr. O'Rourke mended my pride by telling me I had surprised him in the handsome outcome of my attack on Angus. Of course Angus and I needed no making up whatever, for he could generally thrash me twice to my once.
So, with Mr. O'Rourke and Don Diego, we went on shore and rambled about merrily enough. In the afternoon we were strolling about in the Place d'Armes waiting for Mr. O'Rourke and Don Diego off on some affairs of their own, when a gentleman passed having on the greatest wig imaginable, most generously powdered. He carried his hat under his arm and minced in his walk like any madam, holding his long cane as gingerly as a dancing-master.
Without a word, Angus pulled a handful of nuts from his pocket and flung them with all his might at the great wig, which gave out a burst of powder like a gun going off. Round wheeled its owner and was after us with a roar; but we separated and ran in different ways, making for the lime-trees along the edge of the Parade.
We dodged round the trees, and the one of us pursued him as he made after the other; but he would not be dissuaded by this, and kept after me until, at last, I began to lose my wind, and shouted to Angus for help, who, however, could do nothing against an angry man armed with a great cane; and I began to grow anxious in my mind, when who should come up but our Spaniard, who, seizing the situation, at once turned the tables completely by a flank attack, and our Frenchman was soon left lamenting, with his wig up a tree, his cane broken, and more Spanish oaths ringing in his ears than I dare say he had ever heard before. It was like my Uncle Scottos swearing.
Off we went post-haste to the port, where, on entering a tavern, being mindful of my obligations as a gentleman, I ordered and paid for a bottle of wine for our rescuer, at which he was greatly pleased, though, like most of his countrymen, he was modest enough in the use he made of it. The little he did take, however, was sufficient to warm him up, when, forgetting we did not know a word of what he was saying, he poured out a long rigmarole to us in Spanish, which he wound up by whipping out a stiletto—a long, thin dirk much used in those countries—and gave us to understand he would have killed the Frenchman with much pleasure. Not content with this show of friendship, he pulled out a purse, very comfortably filled, and offered me a part; but I refused with my best manner, and with the help of my Latin made him know I was sufficiently supplied.
In the midst of all this friendship and wild talk who should discover us but Mr. O'Rourke, who, on hearing of our adventure, broke out, "'Pon my soul, but this is a pretty jerrymahoo you two young barbarians have started up! You're likely to have the peace-officers down on you before you can say Peter Donovan's prayer; and 'tis proud your people will be of you, no doubt, to have you beginning your education under the whip in a French prison, instead of under the holy fathers in Rome!" And with that he hurried us off in all speed to a boat, in a white fear of the officers, making us lie down in the bottom until we reached the ship's side, when we lost no time in scrambling on board.
We found we were the last passengers ashore, and on Mr. O'Rourke's relating to the captain our adventure, and the possibility of our being followed, he had up the anchor even before the moon rose, and we were on our way towards Leghorn again.
The rest of our time on board went fast enough, for we had nearly as many friends as there were passengers. Finding I had begun my education in fencing, Don Diego gave me lessons in the Spanish method, of which I was not entirely ignorant, and in turn I shewed him something of the single-stick, wherein he was altogether lacking. To our surprise, Mr. O'Rourke turned out to have no small skill with both single-stick and the small-sword—a great waste of education, as my Uncle Scottos would have said, for a priest.
Mr. O'Rourke now left me to my own devices with Manuel the Jew, for whom I was more full of pity than ever, as he, poor man! had not got over the effect of his fright and long exposure in the sea. Not a soul on board, save myself and Angus, ever gave him a word, unless when a sailor might curse at him for being in the way.
I was much exercised in my mind that he never seemed to eat anything—he certainly never went to a meal with the other passengers—and the only reason I could conceive being poverty, I proposed to Angus we should help him out of our store, to which he at once agreed, provided I would do the talking. So one day, when we were quite alone, after a hard fight with my shamefacedness, I lugged out my purse and offered him what I thought needed by his occasions.
"Put up your purse, my dear child! Put up your purse! You must never shew your money to people like that," he said, anxiously; and then seeing, I suppose, my disappointment, he added, speaking very slowly, that I might understand: "My child, do not be offended that I do not take your gold; your gift to me is already made without that, and in my heart I repeat the words of the Moabitess and ask, 'Why have I found grace in thine eyes, seeing I am a stranger?'" As he said this his voice became so broken I looked at him in surprise, and to my great distress saw the old man was crying. Why, I did not clearly understand, and he added to my discomposure by catching up my hand, kissing it, and pressing it to his bosom, repeating something in the Jews' tongue, and saying much I did not deserve, in French.
So we continued friends, and every day Angus and I sate with him under the shade of the foresail and listened to his stories of foreign countries, for he had travelled far and took a pleasure in telling of the wonders he had seen.
At last we sighted the port of Leghorn (we were not in reality so many days on board as I may have led you to suppose in my telling, but the impression left on me is of a long time)—we sighted Leghorn, I say, with marvellous fine quays filled with much shipping, and the first craft that passed us was one of the galleys of the Grand Duke, with its crew of horrid wretches of slaves pulling the long oars with an even sweep, like one great machine, under the eye and whip of their captain. Sorry enough were we to put foot on shore, for we realized every day was bringing us nearer to Rome and the end of the pleasant life we had been leading.
In company with Mr. O'Rourke we found a respectable lodging near the Place where the statue of the Grand Duke with the four Turks stands, and here everything was surprisingly fresh and clean after the ship. Indeed, the whole town is wonderfully clean and bright, and in that part called "Little Venice" we loved to stroll, admiring the barges in the canals, which are there in the middle of the streets, and the loading and unloading of the great bales of goods.
On the second day after our arrival, while in that street which serves as an Exchange for the merchants, to our great surprise we saw our friend Manuel the Jew. But how changed from the sickly, poor old man we had known on board the barque! He was decently dressed in sober black, with a long cloak and a well-cared-for periwig, and spake to one who looked like a person of standing, as a man speaking to his equal.
On seeing us he came forward, and, after shaking hands with me and Angus, he saluted Mr. O'Rourke, who returned his bow, but not overwarmly. After a few words he excused himself and spake for a little with a gentleman of good appearance, indicating us the while.
Evidently at his invitation, the gentleman came up to us and addressed Mr. O'Rourke: "Sir, I am Signor Antonio Arnaldi, one of the merchants of this place, and not ill-connected. My friend Manuel tells me he is under some obligation to your young gentlemen for kindness received, and begs your permission to allow their attendance at some festivity among his people to-night. The son of the Grand Duke, I am told, intends to honour it with his presence, so you may judge it is an occasion of unusual importance. He assures me he will take every care of the young gentlemen, and asks my word for his trustworthiness, which I can give from the bottom of my heart, as can any honourable merchant in Livorno." So saying he bowed most graciously, and, after some further words and compliments, Mr. O'Rourke as handsomely gave his full consent, when there was more bowing and compliments on all sides, and the merchant betook himself to his affairs. Though we were in no way bound to Mr. O'Rourke's consent to our comings and going, we did not hold it necessary to protest when others took it for granted he stood in this relation towards us.
Manuel then led us through the Exchange, and though Mr. O'Rourke was somewhat stiff at first, this soon wore off when he saw what people saluted our guide and their manner of so doing. Manuel knew every one; he pointed out to us the most considerable merchants, shewed us the harbour and the Duke's galleys, making plain much we would not have understood, and left us at the dinner-hour, promising to call for us at our lodging in the evening.
That afternoon we went to the great baths, which were managed after the manner of Turkey, as Manuel had explained to us, and though somewhat alarmed at first by so much steam and heat and water, and the slappings and punchings and rubbings of the naked Turks who waited on us, we soon got used to it and came out after some hours feeling like different persons, cleaner I suppose than we had ever been in our lives before. We then walked on the Mole and admired the fine ladies taking the air in their chairs borne by footmen all well liveried and appointed.
Towards evening Manuel came for us, and though he most civilly invited Mr. O'Rourke to make one of us, he pretexed another engagement.
"You see," he explained to us, when we withdrew to make our preparation, "you have no characters at all, and can consort with the Grand Turk, if you choose, but I am respectable and cannot afford to take liberties with myself."
"Indeed, Mr. O'Rourke," said I, "we have a great deal of character."
"So I have perceived; but it is more to the quality I am referring," he returned.
"Well, and did you ever hear anything against my family?" I asked, somewhat heated.
"Nothing but what filled me with terror, being a peaceable man in my quiet hours," he said, with a laugh.
But now I began to suspect him of rallying me, and said I believed he was jealous that he would not share the good things with us.
"Not I, faith!" he answered; "I'd be too much afraid of finding a Christian child done up in a ragout, or their trapanning me to turn me into a little Jew; and 'tis hard lines it would be for me if I couldn't have a taste of bacon with my potato!" At which we all laughed heartily, none the worse for his nonsense.
So Angus and I left in company with Manuel and took our way towards the Jews' quarter.
Unlike Avignon and Marseilles, we did not find the Ghetto locked and barred; indeed, we saw no great difference between the Jews and Christians here, nor in their quarter either, except that it is not so clean and there are more people than in other parts of the town; and, I confess, we met many of those smells by which Mr. O'Rourke says one may always tell a Jew; but, for that matter, I have met as bad in the Sacred City of Rome itself.
Every one knew Manuel, and he was greeted with respect even by the children in the street. We stopped at the door of a high building, and, after climbing some flights of stairs, all open on a great court, he unlocked a door and we entered his rooms. Here everything was very clean, but too bare, as I thought, for a man held in such esteem. On a table was spread a collation of fruits and sweetmeats, of which we all three partook in great merriment by the light of a tall silver lamp.
When our hunger was satisfied, our host led us into another room, where from a high press he took down two rich cloaks, and, telling us we were going to a wedding, where we must not shame our host, he put them over our plain clothes, and bade us see ourselves in a mirror. I never was so fine before; for not only was the cloak of the finest camlet, of a rich blue colour, but was lined with a cherry-coloured silk and had good lace about the neck, while that of Angus was quite as handsome, only more of a mulberry.
For himself, he kept to his black, but his doublet was of velvet, as was the cloak which he now took down, to which he added a heavy gold chain, which so became his gentle face and venerable beard that in my eyes he looked as if he should be always dressed in this fashion. And in the midst of it all I remembered that this was the man to whom I had offered money for a meal, and I was overcome with shame. I suppose he perceived my thought, for he engaged us in talk at once about the festa until my confusion passed off. It seemed mighty strange to us, who had seen Jews so contemned in other places, and heard such stories of their wickedness and cruelty, to listen to one whom we had lately seen so despised and put upon talking as if a festa were his every-day affair, and our appearance the most particular concern he had on hand.
At length everything was adjusted to his satisfaction, and forth we went in our bravery to win the envy and outspoken admiration of the people as we made our way through the crowded streets towards the house where the festa was held. The stairways up which we went were laid with carpets and the bareness of the walls hidden under rich stuffs, and when once in-doors we were dazzled with the lights in hanging silver lamps and massive candelabra on every hand.
There seemed to be hundreds of people in the rooms, which were hung with the finest of damask; and, more wonderful still, the very floor on which we trod was covered in silver tiles—the father of the bride having removed those of earthenware and replaced them by silver, to do honour to his daughter and to the Grand Duke, a great patron of the Jews, whose eldest son was to be a guest. As we went bowing our way through the crowd we were dumb with amazement at the beautiful dresses, the pearls, and precious stones and jewels worn by both men and women.
The bride was simply covered with them but seemed to me a poor enough little creature in spite of her finery, and we were surprised to find she was little more than a child. To her every one made his compliment in Italian or Portuguese or in the Jews' tongue, but not knowing any of the three, I ventured on the best wish I knew in good Gaelic—"Soaghal fada slainte's sonas pailt do Bhean na Bainnse!"—which means, in English, "May the bride have long life and abundant health and happiness"; at which the wee thing laughed very merrily, though she could not have known a word; from which I gathered a higher opinion of her intelligence than her looks.
On tables and buffets were confections and fruits, wines and sweet drinks in vessels of every form and colour and of inconceivable richness. To music unceasing the dancers advanced and retired, bowed and turned until we could see but a changing maze of silks and velvets, of flashing gold and jewels under the lights that seemed to wave and dance before our dazzled eyes; and when, at last, the hour came to leave, the music kept ringing and the lights flashing about us through the still, dark streets until we dropped asleep in our lodging.
On our awakening the next morning the first thing that met our eyes was our finery of the night before, which, in our excitement, we had forgotten to return to Manuel, and on his appearance later, to our surprise, he would not hear of such a thing, though we pressed him hard.
"When you offered me money to fill an empty stomach, was I ungrateful?" he asked; and part for this, and part that he should not think that we scorned to accept from a Jew, we desisted and made such return as we could.
Mr. O'Rourke now came for us with an invitation to breakfast with two Scottish gentlemen making the Grand Tour, who had sent their servant to our lodging with their compliments and the message. But I cannot recall anything further than one was a Mr. Ramsay, over whose lap Mr. O'Rourke upset a dish of tea, and great was the outcry and many the apologies thereat.
We joined our friend Manuel again, who had undertaken to engage for us a reliable interpreter with whom to journey to Rome, for, much to our disgust, we found the little French we had been at such pains to acquire during our stay at Paris was as useless as our English in these parts, and we were now to lose Mr. O'Rourke, though he gave us a hope of joining us at some point before we reached our journey's end.
After consulting with Angus, I took the precaution to buy two good French folding-knives, one for each, which would serve both for the table and defence, if need be.
In order to avoid the dangers of a bad road across an unsettled country, where many lawless characters abounded, it was decided we should go to Pisa by way of the Canal, and thence hire a caleche and take the main highway to Rome by way of Bolsena and Viterbo.
In the early morning, accompanied by Mr. O'Rourke, we made our way to the Canal, where we found Manuel awaiting us by the boat, somewhat similar to the Coche d'Eau by which we had travelled to Auxerre, with a basket filled with fruit and the sweatmeats we most admired. He begged us not to forget him, and seemed so down at parting that we could not refrain from embracing him, though in Mr. O'Rourke's presence, who behaved very handsomely himself in thanking Manuel, which I thought the more of than our own action, as we were drawn to him and he was not. At last we moved slowly off, waving our adieux to the two best friends we had so far met in our travels.
It must have been Manuel who made the difference, for I remember but little of Pisa or the first part of our journey, save that the open caleche was pleasant, and that we were much taken with Luigi, our interpreter, who allowed neither postilions nor innkeepers to get the upper hand of him or us, and who was always in good-humour. The inns were mostly bad, and we suffered cruelly from fleas, which were nearly as many and as hard to get rid of as the beggars.
About noon, one day in December, we drove into a small town most strongly placed, called Aquapendente, and there, before the door of the Tre Corone, we caught sight of Mr. O'Rourke, standing head and shoulders above the crowd.
We were so overjoyed to see him once more that we flew into his arms, and there was great laughing and outcry for a few moments. At length he shook himself free and pretended to rate us. "Here! Here! You young ruffians! Where are your manners? Don't you see I am talking to a gentleman, or was, until you two Highland caterans fell on me!
"—Now let me see what you have learned by your foreign travel," he continued.
"Captain Creach," said he, turning to the gentleman who was looking on and laughing, but who, on being addressed, at once took an air of attention, "this is Ian—or, in English, John—McDonell of Scottos, of the mature age of twelve, the scion of an illustrious family, whose ancestors have ruled in Knoidart and parts adjacent from the days of Noah downwards.
"And this," he said, waving his hand towards Angus, "is Mr. Angus McDonald of Clanranald, who confesses to fourteen years, whose name is known with distinction in the Highlands, and with fear through the countries towards the south.
"They are travelling to Rome, there to complete their studies in the Scots College, and may afterwards enter into competition for the higher offices in the gift of His Holiness, provided secular callings have not a greater charm. I have enjoyed the honour of travelling in their company, and can answer for their principles, if not always for their discretion...." And so on, with much more of his Irish balderdash, without sense or meaning, until Captain Creach, who was a small, genteel-appearing man, with a very white face, dressed in a habit, half civil, half military, cut him short and shook hands with us, saying he was sure we would prove a credit to our names wherever we might go, though he would be sorry to see two such fine lads hiding their figures in black petticoats—a sentiment which warmed me to him at once; and when I learned he had actually been in the Regiment Irlandia, my delight knew no bounds. I questioned him at once, but found he did not remember my Uncle Scottos—he was too young for that—though he knew his name well, which did not astonish me.
We spent the morning merrily, I paying for a bottle of wine for him and Mr. O'Rourke, and Angus and I readily agreed to wait over the day that we might enjoy their company, as the Captain was on his way north and Mr. O'Rourke was not yet ready for Rome. Luigi we sent off to enjoy himself after his own fashion.
Whilst the dinner was preparing, Angus and Mr. O'Rourke set off to see the fall of water near by, but I remained in the upper room with my new friend, as I had much yet to inquire concerning the Regiment. But after a little he seemed to grow weary of my questioning, and suddenly, without any introduction, asked me if I had any money by me.
"Yes," I answered, honestly enough.
"Well, then, I'll have to accept a loan from you," he said, carelessly, as if we had been long discussing the matter.
"I'm sorry I cannot oblige you, sir," said I. rising from my place and beginning to walk up and down, feeling mighty uncomfortable.
"Come, come, my lad," said he, in a voice he tried to make very friendly, "we soldiers have our ups and downs, and always help each other. Your Uncle Scottos would be proud to help a brother officer."
"That may be, sir, but, according to your own shewing, you never had the honour to know my Uncle Scottos, who is not here to answer for himself."
"You little puppy!" he roared. "Do you know nothing of what should be between gentlemen?"
He saw by my face he had made a mistake, and at once went on a new tack. "But there, there!—you must pardon my heat. I am only a rough soldier and slow to take a jest. Believe me, I had no intent to frighten you."
I was the angry one now. "I know nothing of your intents, Captain Creach," said I; "I am only sure of one thing, and that is, you did not and cannot frighten me. I have just enough money for us to get to Rome, and could not make a loan to you or to any other were I ever so willing. So there the matter rests."
The words were barely out of my mouth before he rushed at me. I was on my guard, and, throwing a chair in his way, nearly upset him; but he recovered before I could get at him, and in a minute more had me by the collar, shaking the life out of me. I did my best to butt him with my head, but could not get room; so I was kicking and striking and biting like an otter, making noise enough to bring the house down, when the door flew open, and in rushed Angus. He never waited a moment, but attacked the Captain behind, catching his legs very cleverly; whereupon I, giving a sudden shove, down we went, all three together, rolling over and over among the chairs and under the table.
Angus and I were both as strong as ponies, and such a fight had no terrors for us; and the Captain, being a small man, we were not so very unequal: thus it was in a trice we had him flat on his back, Angus on his two legs and I straddling on his chest, with my knees on his arms, doing my best to get at my French knife, so I might cut his wicked throat, when in burst Mr. O'Rourke, who, catching my hand just as I had my knife free, upset us both and dragged the Captain to his feet.
"What's all this jerrymahoo about, you young savages?" he shouted; but I could not answer, as I was wild to get at the Captain again, now I had recovered my wind; and a good day's work it would have been for me and others had I done so. However, Mr. O'Rourke held me at arm's-length until I quieted down, and, after sending away the inn people who were crowding through the door, now they saw all danger over, I panted out the story.
"You damned scoundrel!" said Mr. O'Rourke, though he was a most religious man and almost as good as a priest. "You scoundrel; faith I'm sorry I didn't let this baby finish you! But we'll tan your cowardly hide for this or my name's not O'Rourke!
"But look at the creature's ears!" he broke out of a sudden; "he has them as big as the Prophet's ass! And to think of me being taken in by the animal!" Thereupon he turned him round and bade us mark the way in which his ears stuck out from his shaven pate, now his wig was knocked off, while he roared with laughter.
But this all went sadly against my grain, as I was all for punishing the rogue then and there, and I knew Mr. O'Rourke would soon make this impossible if he went on with his jesting. However, he pointed out that to such a man the disgrace would mean as much as his punishment, and he would hand him over to the magistrate himself. "The creature sets up to be a gentleman, but if we can get one of his shoulders stamped with a hot iron, as is their fashion hereabouts, 'twill take a mighty fine coat to cover that same," he explained, much to our satisfaction. So the innkeeper was called and bidden to lock him up securely; and off marched the Captain with his white face, looking half dazed, but offering no words or apology whatever.
"IN BURST MR. O'ROURKE"
When we were alone, Mr. O'Rourke burst out, blaming himself for leaving me alone with such a man, calling himself every name he could lay his tongue to for being taken in with the first scoundrel he picked up. "'Tis a pretty ass I have made of myself, turning up my nose at your consorting with a poor, harmless Jew, and then to take up myself with a picaroon of a captain, and perhaps play second fiddle to the hangman! Job no doubt had me in his eye when he said that 'multitude of years should teach wisdom' (et annorum multitudo doceret sapientiam), but my wisdom was a fool to your folly."
However, after awhile we all cooled down, and by the time dinner was on the table were in our sober senses again. Then in comes Luigi, who must hear the whole story over, and sets us all laughing merrily with his antics, feigning to weep when we told how Mr. O'Rourke would not let me slit the Captain's throat; but when he heard what we had done with the scamp, he was off in a trice and back as soon, dragging the innkeeper with him and bursting with anger. It was soon explained. The Captain had escaped, and Luigi was for haling the innkeeper before the judge; but the poor man cried so piteously, and so besought us not to undo him, that we took compassion, and contented ourselves with ordering our caleche and starting again on our journey, Mr. O'Rourke promising to see us in Rome.
We arrived at Viterbo through a fine stretch of country, more especially about the Lake of Bolsena, but passed through no towns of importance. We had heard such tales of robbers that we here determined to better provide for our personal safety; so we set out from the inn, and, with the help of Luigi, found an armourer, with whom we bargained for a pair of pistols, and had them at a fair price. He had some good blades as well, and, now we had begun to have a hankering for weapons, I desired one greatly, but was dissuaded by Luigi, who pointed out they were much too long for me to carry, and, further, that for young gentlemen going to college we had weapons enough and to spare.
About a mile from the town we came on a hill so steep we were forced to dismount and climb on foot. "At the top we will find a guard of archers," said Luigi, "who have been there ever since the days of Innocent the Eleventh."
"Not the same ones, surely?" said I, quizzing him, after the manner of Mr. O'Rourke.
"I don't doubt it," he returned, gravely; "most of them are old and useless enough to have been there since the days of Nero. But that is not my point; that is in the story, if you can find it."
"Go on with your tale, Luigi; he knows nothing of history," said Angus.
"History, indeed, you dunderhead!" said I, much disgusted. "Can't you see a joke when 'tis under your nose?"
"I've been carrying my nose in my pocket, according to Mr. O'Rourke's direction, ever since I came into the country, and I don't find your joke so fine that I need take it out," he returned, with a silly air of conceit which angered me mightily.
"See here, my fine fellow!" said I, stopping short; "if you have a mind to try any of your Prester John airs with me, you had best put your head where your nose is, or the one will soon be as little use to you as the other."
"Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried Luigi at this, much distressed; "I have not even yet begun my story!"
"Don't mind us, Luigi," said Angus, quite cool; "go on with your story. We are only getting the laugh in at the wrong end. I did not mean to ruff you, Shonaidh," he added, very handsomely, for Angus could be quite the gentleman when he desired.
"I know you didn't," I returned, without offence; "but you shouldn't laugh at me when I am trying a joke. My temper is short."
On this we made up without further words, and both turned to Luigi, begging him to continue with his tale.
"Well, as I was saying, 'twas in the days of Innocent the Eleventh, when a young Polish friar, on his way towards Rome, was here arrested by two robbers, who, after relieving him of his purse, which they found much too light for one of his comfortable appearance, threatened him with torture unless he revealed where the rest of his money was hid. He thereupon owned to having some gold pieces in the soles of his shoes, on which they bade him sit down and started to strip his feet. Now, he being very powerful, and marking the favourable position of his tormentors, seized his opportunity and the robbers at the same moment, and brought their heads together with so happy a crack that he rendered them senseless. Seeing their state, he repeated his experiment with such success that he soon put an end to their rogueries forever. Rejoicing at his good fortune, he took all their effects, piled them on one of his horses, and, mounted on the other, made his way into Rome with all the honours of war. The Pope, hearing of his adventure, desired to see so remarkable a man, and the young friar was accordingly brought into his presence. When asked how he, a single man. accomplished so extraordinary a feat, he folded his hands and replied modestly in Latin: "May it please Your Holiness, I seized each of them softly by the hair of his head and softly knocked the head of the one against the head of the other until they both were dead!" And His Holiness, who was a man of a merry humour, laughed heartily at the simplicity of the answer, and not only gave the stout friar both the goods of the robbers and his blessing, but posted a guard here as well, that no other student might be put to a like proof of his courage."
However, we saw no robbers, great or small, perhaps because we were so well prepared, though we went through a country full of woods and wild places, well fitted for this class of gentry. We continued our journey without further matter worth mention until, as we drove out of a little village called Baccano, Luigi jumped up in great excitement, and, crying to the postilion to stop, fairly shouted in his joy, "Ecco Roma!" And far away in the distance, over the rising mists of the morning, we saw the cross of St. Peter twinkling like a star of gold.
We were all impatience now and longed for no more adventures, but, despite our longing, it was nearly evening before we drove in by the Porto del Popolo, and black night before we passed our baggages at the Dogana, and Luigi deposited us in safety at the Scots College, in the via delle Quattro Fontane.
II
1740-1743
How, out of a school-boy's quarrel, it came that I kissed the hands of His Majesty, James III.; that I met with H.R.H. the Prince of Wales and other company, both high and low, until, from one thing to another, I took leave of my Books to follow the Drum.
No sooner was our arrival announced than we were ushered into the reception-room, where, in a moment, the Rector, Father Urbani, came to meet us, giving us such a welcome that our hearts warmed to him at once.
He knew all about our people, and, indeed, had a knowledge of the families as if he had been brought up in the Highlands; he enquired after each one in turn, asking for news of good Father Innes of Paris, and Bishop Hay of Edinburgh, both old friends of his. Nor did he forget even Luigi, but thanked him handsomely and paid him well for his care, bidding him return the next day to take his farewell of us.
When he bade us good-night he said to me: "You will be the youngest boy in the College, and you have a face worthy of your holy name, John; but I shall call you Little John, Giovannini." And by that name it was that I went all the time I was in Rome.
We were given a room together, and I, remembering my father's word, looked at the wall near the beds, but could find no "Sir Patrick Spens," and so knew it was not his room, but resolved to ask the Rector the next day.
Then began our regular round of work. The Rector engaged a private tutor to instruct us in Latin and Italian, and before the winter was over we were deemed ready to go to the schools taught by the Jesuits in the Collegio Romano; for there was no teaching in the Scots College, only the learning of our tasks and submission to the discipline imposed.
It was not long before we welcomed Mr. O'Rourke again, for he was now at the Propaganda, and there and elsewhere he gained much credit for us by publishing the story of our adventure with the Captain, which lost nothing, I can answer, in the telling.
At the Roman College we met with lads from all parts of the world, and I made such progress before the year was out that I was put into a higher class, and there, unfortunately, fell foul of a fellow in a way that nearly put an end to my studies.
This was a swarthy Maronite, from near Mount Libanis, who attempted to palm off a dirty trick on me in school hours. Not being allowed to speak then, I bided my time until the bell rang, when I made for the door, and the moment he came out gave him a boy's punishment, swelling his upper lip and sending him off holding his nose, which was bleeding. All my fellows were rejoiced at the outcome, and promised me their support.
Now there were two punishments in vogue in the Collegio Romano, styled, respectively, the Mule and the Horse—the first of which was to be put into the stocks, hands and feet, and receive as many lashes on the bare back with a cat as might be thought proper; the Horse was for less atrocious crimes, for which the offender was made to stand on a bucket-stool and was flogged on the small of the legs.
Soon after our return from school a message was sent to Father Urbani, giving an account of the crime committed by Giovannini McDonell. I was in due course called for by the Superior, in presence of all my fellow-collegioners, and accused. Without hesitation I avowed my guilt, and was thereupon told by the Superior I must undergo the punishment of the Mule. There was a dead silence at this, and all looked at me and waited.
I write this as an old man who has lived through a life of action, not without its reverses, but as I write I can distinctly recall the wretched misery that chilled my blood and turned my heart to water as the Superior gave his sentence. No distress I have ever gone through since has equalled the helpless despair that wrung my lonely, miserable little heart as I stood there trembling in every limb before my judge. I was sick with the shame and humiliation; I was indignant at the injustice; I was overcome by my powerlessness, but I do not think I was afraid.
"I GAVE HIM A BOY'S PUNISHMENT"
"Sir," said I, when I could speak, "I was falsely accused by a coward and a liar for his own dirty trick, and I did the only thing in my power to right myself. If my way was wrong, I am sorry, but I will not be tied up and punished like a soldier or a thief. I am a gentleman born, sir, and I would rather die first!" But here I had to stop, for I could trust my voice no longer.
"Well, well, my lad, we won't talk of any such heroics as dying yet," said the Superior, smiling; whereupon my fellows, taking heart, joined in, vowing they would rather leave the Collegio Romano and go to the Propaganda than submit to such punishments. But the only result of their protest was that they were packed off to school, as usual, and I was kept at home.
After the others were gone, and I alone in my room, I had begun to wonder what was in store for me, when word was, brought that the Rector, Father Urbani, waited for me. I entered his presence with a heavy heart, for a boy in disgrace sees a possible enemy in every one; but that kind old man beckoned me to his side, and, instead of questions or reproaches, patted my cheek, and, calling me his "caro Giovannini," asked me if I would not like to accompany him in his coach and see some of the sights of Rome.
I was so overcome I could not help bursting into tears, through which I sobbed: "Dear, dear Father Urbani. I will go with you anywhere, but I will never take a Mule or a Horse!"
"My dear Giovannini," said he, "the only Horses we will think about are those for the shafts of our coach. Be ready after the siesta, and let me see a more smiling face when next you meet me."
So take me he did, and was so sumptuously received at all the great houses he visited—and I as well—that I soon forgot my terrors.
Father Urbani was a gentleman of birth, connected with many of the highest families, and whatever his real name was, he well deserved that of his profession, for no one could be more urbane than he, and his softness of voice always brought my dear father before me. He was full of drolleries, too, for, when we visited St. Peter's, he told me of the German in Rome who had never seen the church, though he had started several times with that in view, but always found the sun too hot and the taverns too cool for the long walk, and so kept out of the one and in, the other until his day was done before his pilgrimage was accomplished. At length, on being rallied by his friends, he made a great effort and passed safely by his dangers, saw the great church, and returned full of satisfaction. "But," says he, "I think it strange that they should put St. Peter on horseback before the high altar!"—a speech which mightily piqued the curiosity of his friends, until they discovered he had been no farther than the loggia, and had taken the statue of the Roman Emperor Constantino for that of the Saint.
On the third day of our travels we went into the Church of the Santi Apostoli, and there Father Urbani drew my attention to a man kneeling in prayer before a tomb near the high altar. Though I saw nothing more than a dark velvet coat, the soles of his shoes, and part of his powdered head, I asked, with a sudden curiosity, who it might be.
"His enemies call him The Pretender, his friends, the Chevalier de St. George, but many hold he is properly styled His Majesty, James the Third of England," said Father Urbani, quietly, but very dryly; at which my heart broke into a rapid tattoo of loyalty in honour of the House whose fortunes my family had always followed, and for whose sake my Uncle Scottos had sacrificed himself.
We were for withdrawing quietly, and had almost reached the door, when the King finished his devotions and came slowly down the church—a thin, dark-visaged man, very grave and sad-looking, I thought, but his carriage was noble, and the broad riband on his breast looked in keeping. He stopped when he reached us and spoke to Father Urbani, who, to my surprise, did not seem at all put out, and made no greater reverence to the King than he would to any noble of high rank, answering him in his soft, quiet voice, as though speaking to an ordinary man. I only remembered this afterwards, when telling Angus of the meeting. At the time I stood like one enchanted, devouring the King with my eyes.
At last he noticed my absorption, and said, still in Italian, "Ah! an English lad, I see?"
"No, Your Majesty," I made bold to answer, "a Highlander." At which he smiled, gravely, and held out his hand, which I knelt and kissed with my heart on my lips.
We waited until the King had left the church, making his way on foot and alone to his palace alongside, when we took coach again and drove towards the College. I could see that Father Urbani did not wish to be disturbed, for there was a troubled look on his face, so I said nothing, but leaned back with my head full of the glorious vision I had just seen. Had any one dared say there was nothing in meeting with a sad-faced, elderly man alone in an empty church—a man who claimed to be a king and had no throne, who claimed to be a king and had no country—I would have held it little short of blasphemy. To me he was a martyr for honour's sake, the true head of my nation and the hope of all loyal hearts. So I leaned back, I say, with these things running riot through my head, jumbled with old stories of Killicrankie and 1715, with old songs I had heard from a child, and with thoughts of my Uncle Scottos, until I was suddenly brought back to earth again by one of Father Urbani's thin old hands quietly closing over mine.
"And now, Giovannini, do you not think you can go back to school again?" he asked.
"I will, father, I will; for you I will do anything I am able. But you will not ask me to take either the Mule or the Horse?" I asked, my old trouble coming back on me again.
"Have no more fear, my dear child," he said, quietly; "they will never be put to your offer. You have been punished enough by attending on an old man like me for three days." And as he embraced me tenderly at parting in our hall, he bade me, pointedly, not to attach too much to anything we had seen.
So I went back to my tasks quite content, and continued to make good progress and give satisfaction, though I could not altogether obey our good Rector's bidding and forget that lonely figure of the Santi Apostoli. And Angus and I whispered our secret to each other as we lay in the quiet of our room at night.
Now, there was a privilege which our students had above those of all other colleges in Rome, which was that any two of us might, at certain hours, go wherever our business called us. And Angus and I found that the shortest way for all our business, as well as between the Collegio Romano and the via Quattro Fontane, was by the little street of the Santi Apostoli, whence we could feast our eyes on the Palace, and were more than once rewarded by a sight of His Majesty and one of the Princes, whom we afterwards discovered to be the Duke of York, going forth to take the air with a modest following.
Our scheming might have ended here had it not been for Mr. O'Rourke. One day, when we went to visit him at the College of the Propaganda, he said: "I hear you take a great many walks in the Santi Apostoli, young gentlemen"; at which we were much put out, and begged he would say nothing of it, for, although we had not been forbidden, we felt there were good reasons against its being mentioned. But he relieved us with his merry laugh. "Faith, not I! I would not dream of interfering with the leanings of two gentlemen such as you, the more so that they have a bias in what I conceive to be the right direction. Perhaps you do not know I am a descendant of kings myself," he went on, in his lively fashion, "and, having royal blood flowing freely in me, can enter into your feelings better than the best nobleman who ever ruled over your honourable College."
This was a hit at Father Urbani—and I suspect there may have been a certain jealousy between the Propaganda and the Jesuits, for the army is not the only fighting body in the world—so I broke in with, "None of your innuendoes, if you please, Mr. O'Rourke. We have never asked Father Urbani to enter into our feelings, but I hold him qualified to enter into the best thoughts of the best man in Rome!"
"Soft and easy, Signor Giovannini McDonellini," says he, always laughing; "your stomach is high, even for a Highlander! I was only about to propose, on my first free day, a visit to your lode-star, the Palace of the Santi Apostoli, where, thanks to my royal ancestry, I have some small right of entry." And with the words he took the anger out of me at once.
It seemed an eternity until his first congé, or day of liberty, came round, and we were in waiting long before the appointed hour. We lost no time in setting out, but, to our surprise, did not take our way to the Palace direct, but went instead round by a little lane leading off the Piazza Pilotta, and so to a small wicket, whereon Mr. O'Rourke knocked in a private manner, while we held our breath in expectation. The door was opened presently by an old man, to whom Mr. O'Rourke gave some pass-word, and we were admitted, not to the Palace itself, but into the bare and mean hallway of a very ordinary house. Before we had time to betray our disappointment, however, we passed through this hall, and by means of a hidden door—hidden, that is, by a seeming closet or wardrobe—we stepped out into the sunlight again, and, to our great delight, found ourselves in what we did not doubt were the gardens of the Palace.
As we walked up a path, I pulled Mr. O'Rourke by the sleeve.
"What is it?" he said.
"Oh, Mr. O'Rourke," I whispered, "I wish we had our Leghorn cloaks." At which he stopped, and, to my horror, laughed aloud, until the high, empty court seemed filled with the roar of his burly voice.
"Don't, Mr. O'Rourke—pray don't! some one will hear you!" I cried, much distressed.
"Hear me? Lord bless you, they wouldn't give a rotten fig to hear me; but you are worth a whole garden of figs, with the vines to boot! For a mixture of a bare-legged Highlander and a half-feathered priestlet, you are the most prodigious Bird-o'-Paradise I have yet met with, Mr. John McDonell, of Scottos!"
"I am neither a priest nor a peacock yet, Mr. O'Rourke," I said, indignantly, "and I was not thinking of myself at all, but only of what was fitting towards His Majesty."
But he only laughed at me the more. "Your consideration does honour to your heart, but His Majesty has not as yet appointed me his Master of Ceremonies, though I have the Privilege of the Back Stairs. No, no, Giovannini, we'll see no majesties to-day, and the cloak must serve for when you are in better company than that of a poor Irish student, whose only riches is the same loyalty that warrants yourself." And that last touch melted me, and so, hand in hand, we went on together.
Then Mr. O'Rourke explained that the King and the Princes were to attend an audience given by the Pope that afternoon, and we were free to go over the Palace under the guidance of Mr. Sheridan, tutor to the Princes.
We entered the Palace with awe and almost worship, and were made welcome by Mr. Sheridan, who most kindly entreated us to satisfy our curiosity about his Royal Charges, telling us much that seemed almost incredible, for I believe we had an idea that a Prince must have some Divine Right of Learning by which he was excused both table and syllabus. In the Prince's waiting-room we found Mr. Murray, son of Sir David Murray of Broughton, a young man of pleasing address, afterwards so widely known as Mr. Secretary Murray, and then in some position about the Prince. He made much of us, asking us about our people, but had not that knowledge of our families I would have looked for in one in his position. However, we did not attach overmuch to this, as his welcome was hearty, and he lifted us to the height of expectation by saying: "Well, young gentlemen, you fall on a lucky day, for His Royal Highness has not left, and I doubt not will see you"; and, before we could make any reply, he withdrew, leaving us in a state beyond my poor powers to describe.
Before we had recovered, the door opened, and His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, stood before us. He was dressed in full court costume, with all his orders, his handsome face bright with a smile of welcome; and as he came forward and then paused, Mr. O'Rourke gathered his composure first and knelt and kissed his hand.
We were about to follow, but the Prince would have it otherwise, restraining us as he said, laughingly: "No, no; a hand-grasp is ceremony enough between us. In meeting with Highlanders I feel I am among comrades with whom I may stand back-to-back some day, and that, perhaps, not so far distant. But tell me of Clanranald," he said, quickly, to Angus; "his son is a gallant gentleman, I hear, and you, I understand, are his cousin."
Angus gave him such information as he had received of late, whereupon the Prince questioned us on both our families, calling them all properly by name—Scottos, Glengarry, Barisdale, and others—without a single mistake. "Do not be surprised I should know you all," he said, smiling; "His Majesty and I are never tired hearing of the names that are dear to us."
Then he questioned us somewhat—but not too closely—of ourselves, and we were able to answer without confusion, so gracious was his manner and so friendly his dark-brown eyes.
"Do you ever think," he said, changing suddenly, "what it means never to have known your own country? You are happier far than I, for some day you will return home to the land you love, and I, when I put my foot upon it, must do so as a stranger and an outcast, taking my life in my hand."
"Your Royal Highness," I said, "every loyal heart in the Highlands beats for you. and every true arm will draw for you whenever you come!" And the tears stood in my eyes so that I could hardly see him before me.
"God grant it," he answered, fervidly. Then, laying a hand on my shoulder, he said: "And now let me hear the Gaelic. I love the very sound of it!"
My Uncle Scottos' constant toast sprang at once to my lips: "'Soraidh do'n Bhata 'tha âir saille 'y d'on t-soirbheas a tha' scideadh agus do na cridheachan a tha' feitheamh teachd a' Phrionnsa!'"
"What is it?" he asked, eagerly.
"'Good luck to the boat that is at sea and to the breeze that is blowing, and to the hearts that are waiting for the Coming of the Prince!'" I answered, turning it into such English as I might.
"'The Coming of the Prince—the Coming of the Prince,'" he repeated over to himself. But here Mr. Murray ventured to cough, meaningly, and the Prince said, as if in answer, "Yes, yes; I must go," and, with the words that we would meet again, he shook hands with us all and withdrew.
I am an old man now, and have seen every hope of the Cause I once held dearer than life blasted beyond recovery; but no personal knowledge of the pitiable failure, no evil report of the heart-breaking degradation, the selfishness, and self-destruction of all that was noble and kinglike in that beautiful young life—God pity me I should write such words of one so dear!—have availed even to dim the Godlike presence that revealed itself before us so graciously on that November afternoon in the Palace of the Santi Apostoli.
Probably no one to-day can know what such a meeting meant to a lad brought up as I had been. All my life long had I heard stories of devotion for the sake of the exiled family. I knew of no time when life and fortune was not regarded as their rightful due from their adherents. I had been brought up to believe in them and to hope for them until hope had grown into faith and faith into worship.
My heart was full and my head ringing with excitement, so I can recall little or nothing of the remainder of that memorable afternoon save my wonder, when we stepped out into the street again, to find men and women going about their business just as if nothing had happened. It did not seem possible, when my whole life was changed. I was so bewildered I could scarce believe it was the same world again. I could not talk or even listen to Mr. O'Rourke; as for Angus, I paid no heed to his chatter at all, and it was only when we paused in the Piazza di Spagna to bid good-bye to our friend that I found some words to thank him, and promised to see him again on the following Thursday.
Was there ever so long a week? My lessons were poorly committed; not that I was dull, but my head was so full of other thoughts I had no room for anything else, while ever between me and my books there came that glorious figure, brave in silks and velvet, with jewelled sword by its side and flashing orders on its breast, till I could no longer see my task, and in my ears rang that clear, pleasant voice forever calling, calling. Surely, if any one was bewitched in Rome that week, it was Giovannini McDonell, of the Scots College.
My former record alone kept me from losing my holiday, and as soon as I was free I was off to the College of the Propaganda, though Angus was not altogether set on passing another holiday within doors. I was dreaming of another visit, though I hardly dared hope for it; but Mr. O'Rourke put an end to such thoughts by his first words.
"Welcome, my Highland gentlemen! Can you put up with the poor hospitality of this withered sprig of royalty instead of talking real treason face to face with exiled Princes? Were I King George I'd make it a crime to send little Highland bantams to Rome to turn them into rebel game-cocks."
But I saw he was for drawing me on—an exercise at which he was expert, and which gave him great pleasure—and so, refusing to be angered, I answered with much good-nature: "Indeed, Mr. O'Rourke, I believe you to be as great a rebel yourself as any in the Three Kingdoms."
"Why should I not be, boy?" he asked, sternly. "If I and mine had remained at home, no matter what souls God gave us, we would be forced to herd with the swine and die with the foxes. Abroad we can at least wear with some honour the names our fathers bequeathed to us, and when death comes we can die like gentlemen in the faith into which our mothers bore us. But as to your politics," he said, changing to his usual manner, "I would not give a fig for the whole box and dice. I neither whistle for 'Blackbirds' nor run after 'White Horses.' If I had my rights, 'tis an independent kingdom I'd have in my own family. 'Tis Duke or Crown Prince of Brefni I'd be myself, or perhaps a kind of a Pope of my own, and when I'd speak to the likes of you, 'tis weeping so hard for joy you'd be that you'd take the shine out of all my jewels!" And so on, with a brogue as broad as if Tipperary was in the next room, and macaroni and Italian had never replaced the potatoes and the speech he had left behind.
Finding I would take no offence, he was somewhat dashed and gave over his attempt; so we went off for a stroll and were all merry together.
When we parted he told us with much emphasis that Mr. Murray had sent particular word that we would be admitted by the same door on the following Thursday, shewing me the knock and bidding me give the word "Gaeta" to the porter.
It proved a quieter week for me, and Thursday found us in the little lane, whence we made our way into the Palace gardens, as before, where we found Mr. Sheridan awaiting us, who led us to Mr. Murray's chamber. He was wonderfully busy with his writing, but turned from it to entertain us, and shewed us such attention it was no wonder our heads were nearly turned. He questioned us much about our plans, and, when he found I had no leaning towards the Church, made no scruple to belittle the calling of a priest, and seemed much pleased when I told him of my mind to take up arms as my profession.
That same day he made us known to a Lieutenant Butler, a younger man than himself, who was in what was once known as "Burke's Foot," now serving King Carlo Borbone in Naples and styled there the "Regiment Irlandia," after the old brigade in Spain. The very name of my Uncle's old regiment was an intoxication to me, and any man who had to do with it had a claim to my worship; so when Lieutenant Butler very obligingly told me I might wait upon him at his lodging in the via Bocca di Leone, my heart beat with gratitude and delight; and so off we went to wait through another week.
At Lieutenant Butler's another and a greater surprise awaited us, for there we were introduced to Colonel Donald MacDonnell, in command of the Company St. James, of the Regiment Irlandia—a very tall and handsome man, but so swarthy that he looked more like to a Spaniard than an Irishman. But Irishman he was in spite of his foreign looks, for his father, the Lieutenant-General commanding the regiment, was direct in his descent from the Mayo MacDonnells, and as pure a Jacobite as ever drew sword for the Rightful Succession. Here, too, we also met a Mr. O'Reilly, ensign in the same service, whom I looked upon with much envy, as he was not greatly my superior in years.
Colonel MacDonnell at once began to question me touching my Uncle Scottos, and very willingly did I tell the story of his campaigns, especially those of Italy, where, at the defence of Cremona, he was thanked before the regiment and received his first promotion. I told also of Alicaut, in Spain, where he was joined to the dragoons under the Count O'Mahony, and where, battered and starved beyond belief after twenty-seven days' active siege and storming, thirty-six dragoons, with as many French and sixty-eight Neapolitans, surrendered, and marched out with all the honours of war—drums and fifes playing, colours flying, and matches lighted—dragging their four cannon and two mortars after them.
They let me talk on, like the boastful boy I was, until I ended with the attempt of 1715, when my Uncle Scottos left the service until such time came as he might take up the quarrel once more.
"'Tis a good song, well sung," said the Colonel, smiling at my heat; "but how comes it a lad with such a backing behind him is content with a long robe and a book, instead of dancing in blue coat and gaiters to the rat-tat-tat of the drum?"
"Oh, sir, 'tis what I long for more than all else in the world! Let me follow you, and see if I am not a soldier born! I know something of fence now, and as for the rest, I will study at it night and day."
"You would prove an apt pupil, no doubt," said the Colonel; "and what says Angus?"
But to my shame Angus said nothing save "that he would see," and I knew well what that meant—it just meant no, in the most unsatisfactory and weary a manner a man can put it; but he proffered nothing further, and I was withheld by the presence of the company from expressing my thoughts.
But the Colonel only laughed with great good-nature, and said: "Well, well, when you make up your mind, let me know if it is favourable to me. As for you, you young fire-eater," he added, turning to me, "I won't have any runaways about me!" At which I was much abashed, as I could not protest that such a thought was foreign to me, for I was plotting at it even as he spoke. "If you join," he went on, "you must do so in such manner as will not shame your Uncle Scottos. I will see Father Urbani myself and find what he says about you; and if he gives you a good rating, and his permission, then you shall join like a gentleman." So with this I was forced to be content.
"Well, Angus," I began, the moment we were in the street, "a pretty shewing you have made for yourself with your 'we will sees' before gentlemen! I hope you are well satisfied?"
"I'm not exactly put out," says he, very dry.
"Indeed? And you call yourself Clanranald!" I snorted, full of scorn.
"My father always told me I had every right to!" says he, provoking me to the utmost with his pretended quiet. "And what is more, I never yet heard that any of my name must needs take up with the first recruiting-officer he comes across."
"Angus McDonald!" I cried, "if we weren't in the open street I'd thrash you within an inch of your life!"
"Oh no, you wouldn't, nor yet within a mile of it! I'm no more afraid of you than I am of the Irish officers you're so hot after."
Fortunate it was for the good name of the college that we caught sight of the Superior at that moment, for I do not believe human patience could have held out longer than mine had done. Indeed, so much was I exercised that the Superior saw at once something was wrong, and it was with the greatest difficulty we contrived to keep our cause of difference from him.
I was burning for Father Urbani to send for me, but one day after another passed without word, and when next I saw Lieutenant Butler he could give me no hint of when Colonel MacDonnell was likely to speak, for he had already left Rome and his return was uncertain. Had I not been so busy the waiting would have been weary work indeed, but every day I was making new acquaintance—for in a measure I was made free of the Palace, being readily admitted by the little door and made welcome by Mr. Murray, Mr. Sheridan, and other gentlemen. Every day I saw new faces, and soon lost my backwardness, learning to bear myself without blushing or stammering, or any such school-boy tricks. Angus was seldom with me now, and, indeed, I was not sorry, for he seemed to have but small stomach for the business and preferred to stick to his books.
At length, one cold day in winter, as I was hurrying across the Corso, hugging my soprano close about me, on my way to the Santi Apostoli, I caught sight of Colonel MacDonnell and eagerly accosted him.
"Well met, my little church mouse!" he said, passing his arm around my shoulder in such a manner as took the sting out of his jest. "Where are you scurrying to on such a cold day as this?"
"To the Santi Apostoli, sir," I answered.
"To the Church, or the Palace?"
"To the Palace, sir," I said, with some pride.
He stopped short, and putting his two hands on my shoulders, said, very gravely: "I am sorry to hear that, my lad. How did this come about?"
I told him all without hesitation. When I had made an end, he heaved a great sigh and then moved on again. When he spoke it was in a slow, thoughtful manner, as if to himself. "At it already! Well, well, I suppose it could not be helped. But, upon my soul, lad," he said, suddenly, as if waking up, "I would nearly as soon see you a priest as in with these gentry!"
"How so, sir?" I said, in surprise.
"You would not understand," he said, more gently. "When the day comes, out with your sword, if you must, and strike—I would be the last to say you nay—but this chamber-plotting and convert-making, I despise it all! Whom have you met there?"
I told him, and of how kind many of the gentlemen had been to me, in particular Mr. Murray and Mr. Sheridan.
"I know nothing bad of either of them," he said, in a disdainful way. "But you have no call to be in such company at your age. I shall speak to Father Urbani before I leave Rome this time, and, if he permits, you shall have a training that will fit you for something better than any one of this secret-whispering pack will ever come to. I will make a soldier of you, McDonell, which is the best use God ever made of man, and the best use you can make of yourself for your King. But come, I am going to the Palace myself, only you must go through the Piazza and not by any back door, like a lackey or a priest."
So we went on together across the Place and through the main entrance, where the guards saluted the Colonel as we passed hand-in-hand, and I could not but feel I had shared in the honour. I was left in a waiting-room while the Colonel was closeted with the King, and when he joined us again we went through to a large room where quite a company of gentlemen were gathered.
After greeting some of them, and bowing somewhat haughtily to the room at large, the Colonel seated himself at a table, while I remained standing near him looking round the company with some curiosity, for there were many new faces, and the Colonel's words had set me to wondering why he should hold so lightly these men whom I had believed most devoted of all to the King.
I was thus engaged in my survey and speculation, when I caught sight of a face hat struck me like a blow and sent the blood tingling through every vein in my body. There, only separated from me by the width of the room, modishly dressed and smiling, stood Captain Creach conversing with two gentlemen. He saw me at the same moment, but his white face gave no more sign than a face of stone, and he went on with his talk as quietly as if I had been at Aquapendente and he alone in Rome.
I did not hesitate a moment—indeed, hesitation has seldom been one of my faults—but making my way across the room, I stepped close to him and said, in as calm a tone as I could command: "Captain Creach, I am surprised to see you in Rome!"
The three gentlemen all faced me at my speech, and Creach, without a change in his wicked face, said: "Young sir, is your address intended for me?"
"I spoke to you by name, sir," I said, with distinctness.
"Then am I famous, indeed," said he, laughing lightly.
"You may laugh, Captain Creach," said I, and was going on, but he interrupted me, speaking very civilly, but angering me all the more for it:
"I see by your dress you are of the Scots College, young gentleman"—for, as usual, I had on my purple soutane with its crimson sash, and over it my black, sleeveless soprano, with my three-cornered hat under my arm—"but there is one lesson you have not as yet learned, and that is, how to address a gentleman. I am not Captain Creach, as you imagine, but Captain Graeme, late of the Hungarian service, and, to the best of my belief, this is the first time I have ever had the honour of addressing you."
He was so quiet and cool that I was dumfounded; but I knew he was lying, though I had never heard a gentleman lie before.
"Not Captain Creach? Not Captain Creach?" I stammered.
"No, sir, 'Not Captain Creach,'" he repeated, mocking me, whereat some of the gentlemen laughed, but one of them broke in with: