1744-1746
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.
Through General MacDonnell's kindness I was allowed to spend a few days in Rome as being on his staff, and at my first freedom took my way to the street of the Quattro Fontane and my old College.
What a welcome I received! Good Father Urbani held me in his arms as if I bad been his own son, and would not hear of my sleeping outside the College, although 'twas a downright breach of their rules; and the old porter, of whom I once stood in such awe, waited up for me, no matter what the hour for returning might be, and nodded and winked knowingly, as if he too had once been young. Not that I would insinuate there was anything of levity in my conduct, for I have always had a too just regard for my position as a gentleman and an officer to indulge in anything unbecoming, more especially where I was so carefully observed.
Angus I found the same as ever, quiet and contented with his lot, as seemed most of the others, though I could see my appearance caused something of a ruffle among them. I seemed to have grown so many years older, and was surprised to find how small and almost mean many of the old surroundings looked; even the Fathers did not appear as formidable as before. All, that is, save dear old Father Urbani, of whom I never stood in awe, and who had only grown older and more frail; to him I told all that was in my heart, not even hiding my first fright from him, which I would not have then confessed to any other living man.
On the second day of our stay, the General and I took our way by the Corso and through to the Piazza Santi Apostoli to pay our respects to His Majesty King James. As we ascended the staircase I thought of the two poor awe-struck collegioners who in soutane and soprano had climbed the same stairs two years before, and the amazement that had filled their hearts when they saw and talked with Royalty for the first time. Now I was a man, though but sixteen, for I had carried a sword honourably in company with some of the bravest men in Italy, and had been personally presented to King Carlo as worthy of his gracious notice.
The General was in full dress, with his Spanish and Neapolitan orders, and I wore the full uniform of a Lieutenant of our brigade, which was genteel enough even for a presentation.
In the anteroom the General was welcomed on all hands, and I met many I knew, including Mr. Secretary Murray, Mr. Sheridan, and the Abbé Ramsay, and was much made of, though without flattery, save by those at whose hands I could fittingly receive it. What was my disgust, though, to see the white face of Creach again in the crowd; he, however, did not come near me, and, out of consideration for the General, I refrained from speaking of him, as it might lead to mention of my former meeting when with his son, the Colonel. I may say here that I never knew the result of the meeting between Creach and the Colonel, as the latter never saw fit to refer to it and I could not well question him.
The sight of the man was so distasteful that it fairly took away all the pleasure of my presentation, and even the gracious presence and words of His Majesty, and of the Duke of York, who accompanied him, did not altogether dissipate my uneasiness. In words as fitting as I could choose, I thanked His Majesty for his generous and unexpected succour, whereupon a smile passed over his grave, dark face, and he said, "But hold! are you not my little Highlander of the Santi Apostoli?"
"I am, please your Majesty," I answered, reddening at my childish adventure.
Then the King smiled again, and, much to my discomfiture, told the story which all seemed to find mighty amusing, save myself, who could see nothing therein but a very natural and exact distinction. In telling a story, however, a king has this advantage over others, in that all must laugh whether they find it to their liking or not.
I had hoped we would have seen the Prince of Wales as well, for in my heart he was the member of the Royal Family I most longed to see again, but we were informed he was engaged in a tour of Northern Italy.
When the King and the Duke withdrew, they signified to General MacDonnell that he was to follow, and when we bowed them out, and the doors closed upon them, conversation at once became general.
I withdrew to a window, for I was in no frame of mind for talk, when, to my astonishment, I saw Creach advance towards me, holding out his hand with an assured air. I drew myself up at once and looked him over slowly, seeing everything but the outstretched hand.
"This is a place for friendship and not for boyish quarrels, Mr. McDonell," he began. "I wish to congratulate you on your promotion.
"No place, Mr. Creach, can be for friendship between us, and as for congratulations, they are not only out of place but insulting from you," I said, quietly, and in a low voice, so no one might overhear.
"In the first place, my name is not Creach," he said, trying hard to keep his temper, "and in the second, you may find it not only foolish but even dangerous to try any of your airs with me. Remember, you can't always have a man at your back to fight your battles for you."
"I SAW CREACH ADVANCE TOWARDS ME"
"You clay-faced hound!" I said, "don't dare to take the name of the dead into your mouth, or I will strike you where you stand. What your object is in thus seeking me I do not know nor care, but as sure as the sun is above if you dare speak to me again I will forget the roof we stand under and treat you like the dog you are."
His face turned greyer than ever, and he stood hesitating a moment, but presently bowed ceremoniously, and moved off before my anger got the better of me.
I stood staring out of the window trying to recover myself, when who should come up but Father O'Rourke. "Well, well, my little Highlander, who has been ruffling your feathers?" said he.
"Look there! Father O'Rourke," I said, paying no attention to his nonsense; "do you see that man?"
"I'm not hard of hearing yet, my son, thank God! and you needn't make a sign-post of yourself. Do you mean the claret-coloured coat and the bag-wig?"
"Yes," I said, more quietly. "That is Creach!"
"The devil it is!" he said, and then he became confused, and glanced at me to see if I had observed his slip; but I have always held that an honest statement of opinion may excuse the expression. He was silent for a moment, looking hard at the man, and then went on in his old lively manner. "Well, Giovannini, we are not responsible for the company; they cannot be all lieutenants and priests. Let us wander about and get a mouthful of air." So, taking my arm, he led me off, nor would he speak on the subject until we were alone on the terrace. There he changed his tone, and said, shortly:
"Are you sure of the man?"
"As sure as if I had seen his ears."
"Faith! they were big enough to swear by," and to my impatience he began to laugh at the thought. "Do you remember how they stuck out? The handles of a jug would be flat beside them," and he laughed again. "Now I suppose you promptly insulted him?"
"Indeed I did not. I only told him he was a dog, and if he spoke to me again I would not answer for myself."
"Humph! I have frequently noticed a Highlander's conception of an insult is materially altered by the fact whether it proceeds from himself or from another; but I don't suppose you ever got as far in metaphysics as this. Now comes the question, what you intend to do? Remember the gentleman seems fairly well established here. Will you fight with him?"
"Fight with him? A thief? Indeed I will not! I will simply keep my word."
"You're a rare hand at that, and I'm not saying 'tis a bad habit. But here comes the General. To-morrow I'll be at the College about eleven," and so we parted.
The General was in great spirits. "Hark you, McDonell, something touching 'the North' is on foot. I'll not say more now, and this is in strict confidence, but you'll know what it means some day when I signify to you that you may apply for leave of absence. To-morrow, at four, you will attend again at the Palace; the Duke desires to see you. You will enter by the door you know of, and the word is 'Velletri'—but you know nothing," he added, with emphasis.
The next morning Father O'Rourke came as promised, and was introduced by me to the Rector with some little pride. Indeed, he was no mean figure of a man, this Chaplain of ours, with his broad shoulders and great head, that looked fitter for a soldier's tricorne than a priest's calotte.
After the usual compliments we fell to talking, Father O'Rourke as much at home as if he had known the Rector all his life, and it was easy to see the old man warmed to him as he told him of his work as chaplain in a marching regiment, though making light of it, as was his manner.
"Ah, Father," said the Rector, smiling, "I am afraid it is somewhat to you that the College owes the loss of this scholar; he would have been a credit to the schools some day."
"I doubt it, Most Reverend," answered Father O'Rourke, dryly, "as he is lacking in one of the senses."
"In what, pray?" asked the Rector, a little stirred. "I have never observed any lack; Sight, Sound, Taste, Touch, and Speech, he has them all."
"Your pardon, you have omitted Humour," returned Father O'Rourke, quietly; "and he has no more of that than a crocodile has of mathematics. A deplorable lack in a scholar, and useful any where—though for the banging of guns and the cracking of skulls there's less required than in almost any other profession"; and at this he burst into one of his foolish roars of laughter, much to my dislike, for I wished him to make a good figure before my protector. But, to my surprise, the Rector did not seem half as much put out as myself, and said, smiling:
"Well, well; this killing is a serious business in any case."
"But not so serious it could not be tempered by a little cheerfulness. 'Suaviter in modo' goes a long way towards making your enemy's end comfortable," ranted on Father O'Rourke, with much more that I have not the patience to put down. Indeed, I hold him wrong throughout, as I have quite as keen a sense of humour as is fitting for any gentleman in my position.
But to go on. When we were alone he listened quietly enough to my remonstrances to his late conduct, merely saying he understood that the Rector had not been born north of the Tweed, which was no answer whatever.
He then recurred to our matter of the day before, saying:
"I have been making some inquiries about this man Creach."
"Yes, and what do you find?"
"I find, Mr. McDonell, that if you are going to have the run of the Santi Apostoli you must number him amongst the Elect, for His Saintship is in high favour. He not only is there day in day out, but is a bosom friend of the Prince of Wales to boot."
"That I cannot credit," I returned. "His Highness could not be so mistaken."
"Faith, I'm not so sure of that," he returned, bitterly; "he has some sorry cattle about him, and, to say the least, he is easily pleased in the way of company."
"Father O'Rourke, it is not for the likes of you or me to discuss the doings of princes, and I'll thank you to say no more on the subject."
"Very well, Your Highness. I merely thought a word in season might save you from a like error, and that, coming from a descendant of kings, like myself, it would not give offence. But to leave that aside, you'll have to humble your stomach and swallow this Captain, claret-coat, chalk face, big ears, and all, or I will prophesy that you'll cut but a small figure with your betters."
This was as unpleasant a piece of news as I could well receive, and though I could not quarrel with it, I at least could resent the manner of its conveyance, so I turned upon my informant at once: "Perhaps this is an example of your 'suaviter in modo,' Father O'Rourke; if so, I'll be obliged if you'll put things in plain, sensible English, as between gentlemen."
"Oh, very well, Mr. John McDonell of Scottos—do you think it sounds better to say that his Royal Highness has not ordinary common taste in choosing his companions, and if you follow him, you must be hail-fellow-well-met with a blackguard like Creach, who happens just now to be in his favour?"
"'Pon my soul, Father O'Rourke, you are the most provoking man I ever met! If you wore a sword, I'd make you answer for this!" I roared, beside myself with anger.
"Oh, I can waggle a sword, if need be," he answered, very cool, "but I was thankful it wasn't a sword but a calabash of good chianti I had strapped on me the night I fell in with you after Velletri. There, there, Giovannini; 'tis nothing to make such a pother about, only you and I are too old friends to quarrel over such gentry as Mr. Creach."
"But it wasn't Mr. Creach, Father. I never would have lost my temper over him; I thought you were poking fun at me."
"Ah, Mr. Lieutenant, in humour, like in file-firing, a sense of direction is a great thing."
And so we made it all up again, and with Angus we had the chanti and fruit which the Rector had thoughtfully provided in my chamber.
At four o'clock I took my way to the secret entrance of the Santi Apostoli, found the familiar passage and a lackey awaiting me in the garden to conduct me to the Duke.
He was then about nineteen, though I did not think he appeared much my elder save in his manner, which was that of a Prince, though most lively and engaging. He soon opened the reason of the visit.
"Mr. McDonell," he said, "I am sure you are faithful and can be trusted."
"Your Royal Highness," I answered, "my people have been true to you and yours for generations, and it would ill become me to have any principles other than those we have always held. You can count on me to the very end."
"I was sure of it," he answered, smiling, holding out both his hands, which I grasped with emotion. "Now to business," and he civilly invited me to be seated in an embrasure of a window.
"My brother, the Prince of Wales, is travelling, it is true, but not in Italy; he left here secretly in January last, and since then has been in France, and at any day an expedition may be formed for Scotland, for we have the surest hope of the hearty co-operation of the French Court.
"Now I and His Majesty must have messengers at hand on whom we can absolutely rely; and my request to you is that you will not volunteer for service when the news comes, but will remain with your company here in Italy; we have positive assurances you will be permitted to leave at any moment we may signify. I know that I am asking you a hard service, but it is an important one, for there are but few men whom we can trust for such a mission.
"It is impossible to say when you may be needed, but your reward will be such when the time comes that others will envy your choice, and I and the King, my father, will ever remember the man who was ready to sacrifice the empty glory of the parade of war for the trust laid on him.
"You must keep yourself free of all entanglements, for your absolute freedom to move at once will be of the utmost importance to the Prince and to your country. Surely I may count on you for this?"
And I swore faithfulness from the bottom of my heart.
Then changing his tone, he began more lightly: "There is another small favour, a personal one, I would ask of you yet. There is a gentleman here in our court named Mr. Graeme—"
"Mr. Creach, Your Highness," I could not help interrupting.
"Mr. Graeme, I said," he returned, with something of hauteur. "You will be required to meet him, possibly to have business with him, and I desire as a personal favour to me," and he laid much stress on the words, "that you will lay aside all previous difficulties or misunderstandings between you until your engagement with me is at an end. Surely I am not asking too much in urging a favour at this beginning of your service," and I was so overcome with the graciousness of his manner that I promised, although sore against my will.
We then had a private audience with the King, who was pleased to recall the services of my grandfather, old Æneas of Scottos, and his brothers Glengarry, Lochgarry, and Barisdale, whom he knew personally in 1715, and flattered me by saying he congratulated the Duke of York on having a messenger of such approved fidelity; "for, Mr. McDonell, your General tells me he would trust you with his own honour."
"His Excellency has been like a father to me, Sire," I answered; and shortly afterwards our interview closed, the Duke paying me the honour of accompanying me to the door and insisted on shaking hands, nor would he admit of any ceremony at leave-taking.
The next morning some one knocked at my door, and, on opening it, there, to my surprise and disgust, I saw Creach, dressed in the most foppish manner. However, I dissembled my feelings, and to his greeting said, with civility:
"I wish you good-morning, Mr. Creach."
"By God! sir, if you repeat that name to me, I will run you through!" and he laid his hand to his sword.
I glanced quickly to see my own was within easy reach on the table, and then, "Mr. Creach," I said, "I promised His Royal Highness the Duke that I would not quarrel with you, and nothing will make me break my word, so don't go on pretending to find insults in my conversation, Mr. Creach, or it will become one-sided. I am a man of very few ideas, and one of them is that 'Mr. Creach'—no, 'Captain Creach'—was the name by which you were introduced to me, and so Creach you must remain till the end of the chapter, Mr. Creach."
But he had recovered himself with great address, and said, with an air of much openness:
"Mr. McDonell, what is the sense of keeping up this farce of quarrelling? We must meet, therefore let us do it with decency, as befits the cause to which our honour is pledged."
"Mr. Creach, if I were not a man moderate in all things, and were not my word pledged to the Duke, nothing in the world would prevent me throwing you down these stairs, and I could have no greater pleasure than to see you break your neck at the bottom; but since I am forced to treat you as a gentleman, kindly deliver yourself of your business and leave me to mine."
"I am doubly fortunate then, Mr. McDonell, first to the Duke and second to your high sense of honour. But I will not bandy compliments. His Highness bade me deliver this letter and his regrets that he will not see you again, as he hears General MacDonnell leaves for the army at Spoletto to-day."
"My humble duty to His Highness, sir," and I bowed to him mighty stiff, and he withdrew, leaving me very thankful that I had not been betrayed into any heat nor broken my word to the Duke.
On hurrying to the General's quarters I found the news was true, and that he had already sent for me; so, after short farewells, we rode through the Porta del Popolo and took the highway towards Spoletto.
I will not follow our campaign through the winter, except to say we were fairly successful and saw some brilliant service, particularly at La Bochetta and during the investment of Tortona.
During this winter I lost my best of friends, General MacDonnell, who died of a fever occasioned by the fatigue of our forced marching on Genoa; and a few days afterwards he was followed by his brother, the Major-General, of a fever also, resulting from the breaking out of an old wound he had received in the shoulder some fifteen years before.
All this time I had been anxiously expecting orders from the Duke, but the only word which came was a letter containing the disheartening tidings of the failure of the expedition under Marshal Saxe, and then we were all startled at the news of the Prince's embarkation in the Doutelle and the Elizabeth.
"'GENTLEMEN! GLASSES ALL!'"
"It is simple madness," said Father O'Rourke, when the tidings were announced in the General's tent at dinner—indeed, one of the last occasions when he had us all at his table, as he loved.
"'Tis the kind of madness that heroes are made of," said the General, heartily. "Here, gentlemen! glasses all! Here's to Royal Charles, and may he never stop till he sleeps in St. James'!" and, warmed by his enthusiasm, he broke into the old Irish Jacobite song:
"'He's all my heart's treasure, my joy and my pleasure,
So justly, my love, my heart follows thee;
And I am resolved, in foul or fair weather,
To seek out my Blackbird, wherever he be.'"
Such was the enthusiasm that we were all ready to volunteer, but as the General said, dryly enough, "What is to become of the Austrians if you all leave? You might as well desert to the enemy at once and have done with it."
While we awaited with impatience an answer to our application, word came to me from the Duke that I was on no account to apply for leave until such time as he sent me certain word himself. It was a bitter disappointment, but I was not alone, as the military authorities saw fit to refuse all applications until the matter was further advanced.
At last, in the month of January, letters came saying the Duke was about starting, that leave was granted me as well as certain others, with instructions to report to Mr. Sempil, the King's Agent at Paris, who would direct us further.
Conceiving my future duties called for freedom from immediate service, I sent in my formal resignation, and received from our Colonel, Ranald MacDonnell, a certificate testifying in flattering terms to the services I had performed, to my honour as a gentleman and my conduct as an officer while under his command in the Company of St. James:
"Nous, Colonel du Régiment d'Infanterie d'Irlande de St. Jacques, certifions que le Sieur Jean McDonell de Glengarry, sous-lieutenant au dit Régiment, s'est toujours comporté pendant tout le temps qu'il y a servi en Gentilhomme d'honneur, brave officier, et avec une conduite irréprochable à tout égard; en foy de quoy nous lui avons donné le présent. Fait à Plaisance le douzième janvier, mil sept cent quarante six.
"MACDONNELL."
To my surprise I found the name of Father O'Rourke amongst those allowed to volunteer, and when we were alone I said, rallying him:
"I was not aware you were so strong a Jacobite, Father."
"Well, to tell the truth I am not, except in the way of sentiment; but sentiment, my dear Giovannini, as you are aware, will induce a sensible man to do more foolish things than any other power in the world. Still, I regard myself as in the path of duty, for I conceive there may be some Jacobites who will be none the worse for a little extra morality dispensed by even my unworthy hands."
I did not question him further, as I dreaded one of his usual rodomontades.
We left at once with the good wishes of all, took barge at Genoa as far as Antibes, and thence by post to Lyons, where we put up at the Hôtel du Parc.
Here we met a number of French officers, who brought news of the Battle of Falkirk, wherein Prince Charles had beaten the English cavalry and infantry off the field; and though, at the same time, we knew he had retreated from England, it did not serve to dash bur spirits, and we supped merrily together, drinking toast after toast to the success of the Cause.
All the old songs were sung lustily, and the French officers were much amused at our enthusiasm; but it was Father O'Rourke who carried off the honours of the evening by singing the following, to an air that was new to me:
Oh the water, the water,
The dun and eerie water,
Which long has parted loving hearts that wearied for their home!
O'er the water, the water,
The dark, dividing water,
Our Bonnie Prince has come at last, at last—to claim his Own.
He has come to hearts that waited,
He has come to hearts that welcome,
He has come though friends have wavered, with the foe
upon his track.
But what loyal heart will falter
When our Bonnie Prince is standing
With his banner blue above his head and his claymore
at his back?
Then gather ye, Appin, Clanranald, Glengarry!
Cross has gone round! Will a single man tarry
When we march with our Prince against Geordie's Dutch carles?
We are out for the King!
We will conquer or swing!
But the bonnie brown broadswords will klink and will kling
From the Tweed to the Thames for our Bonnie Prince Charles!
Oh! the waiting, the waiting,
The cruel night of waiting,
When we brake the bread of sorrow and drank our bitter tears,
It has broken at his coming
Like the mist on Corryvechan,
In the sunlight of his presence we have lost our midnight fears.
When the Prince unfurled his standard
In the green vale of Glenfinnan,
Beneath a sky as bright and blue, blown clear of storm and wrack,
The Loyal chiefs came thronging
To where their Prince was standing
With his banner blue above his head and his claymore at his back.
Then gather ye, Appin, Clanranald, Glengarry!
The Cross has gone round! Will a single man tarry
When we march with our Prince against Geordie's Dutch carles?
We are out for the King!
We will conquer or swing!
But the bonnie brown broadswords will klink and will kling
From the Tweed to the Thames for our Bonnie Prince Charles!
Oh! the heather, the heather,
Our modest hill-side heather,
Hath donned her royal robe again to welcome back her Own.
The roses bloom once more in hearts
That hope deferred was wasting
That will march with Bonnie Charlie, to halt only at his Throne!
We have suffered, we have sorrowed,
But our joy has come with morning,
And all is shining gloriously that late was drear and black.
Then up and out, ye gallant hearts,
To where your Prince is standing,
With his banner blue above his head and his claymore at his back!
Then gather ye, Appin, Clanranald, Glengarry!
The Cross has gone round! Will a single man tarry
When we march with our Prince against Geordie's Dutch carles?
We are out for the King!
We will conquer or swing!
But the bonnie brown broadswords will klink and will kling
From the Tweed to the Thames for our Bonnie Prince Charles!
When he ended we cheered and cheered, breaking our glasses, half crying, half laughing, until we made the room ring again; and the people in the square listening to us began to cheer in sympathy, and, unable to control myself, I jumped up, and, catching the big form of the priest to my bosom, fairly hugged him in my arms, "Oh, Father O'Rourke! How could you ever do it and you not a Highlander at all?" I cried, in my wonder.
"Faith, I could do the same for a Hottentot if I could only manage his irregular verbs," he shouted, struggling out of my embrace. "And now, gentlemen! If you don't stop this hullabaloo, you'll be arrested for disturbing the peace of this good town of Lyons, and if you don't stop cracking those bottles your heads will be as easy cracking for the English when it comes to hard knocks!" And off he went with a storm of cheers after him.