Scene II.—_The Prado. A long avenue of trees leading to the

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXI. October, 1842 No. 4.

Contents

Fiction and Literature

Richard Somers

De Pontis

The Spanish Student

Silent Love

Sketch of a Case, or A Physician Extraordinary

Shakspeare, No. VIII.—Macbeth

A Night at Haddon Hall

Characterless Women

Harry Cavendish

The Poetry of Rufus Dawes

Malina Gray

The Clam-Bake

Review of New Books

Editor’s Table

Poetry, and Music

Wintemoyeh

Bear On!

The Smile

The Return of Youth

The First and Last Parting

To A Lady Singing

The Power of Religion

To a Belle Who is Not a Blue Belle

Song—“love’s Time Is Now.”

To Almeda in New England

The Playful Pets

An Autumn Reverie

To the Earth

Rejoice

The Summer Night

Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXI. PHILADELPHIA: OCTOBER, 1842. No. 4.

* * * * *

RICHARD SOMERS.

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER, AUTHOR OF “THE SPY,” “THE PIONEERS,” ETC.

Few men in this country have left names as distinguished as that of

Somers, around whose personal history there remains so much doubt. Had

he not given up his life in the service of the republic, he would most

probably have now been living, in a green old age. While many of his

friends and shipmates still survive to bear testimony to his bravery and

his virtues, yet no one seems to possess the precise information that is

necessary to a full and accurate biographical sketch of more than his

public services. The same mystery that has so long clothed the incidents

of his death, appears to have gathered about those of his early life,

veiling the beginning and the end equally in a sad and uncertain

interest.

The family of Somers emigrated from England to America in the early part

of the eighteenth century, establishing itself at Great Egg Harbor,

Gloucester county, New Jersey. Here the emigrant became the proprietor

of a considerable landed property, most of which still remains in the

hands of his descendants, the place bearing the name of Somers’ Point.

This Point forms the southeastern extremity of the county, being

separated from that of Cape May merely by the Harbor. Gordon, in his

gazetteer of New Jersey, thus describes the spot, viz:—“Somers’ Point,

post-office and port of entry for Great Egg Harbor district, upon the

Great Egg Harbor bay, about 43 miles S. E. from Woodbury, 88 from

Trenton, and, by post-route, 196 from Washington. There is a tavern and

boarding-house here, and several farm-houses. It is much resorted to for

sea bathing in summer, and gunning in the fall season.”

It is believed that the Christian name of the emigrant was John, and as

this was also the baptismal designation of the celebrated jurist, who

came from the middle class of society, the circumstances, taken in

connection with the fact that the family was known to have been

respectable in England, leaves the strong probability that the parties

had a common origin. At all events, this John Somers, by his possessions

and position, must have been of a condition in life much superior to the

great body of the emigrants to the American colonies. Report makes him a

man of strong English habits and character, while there is a tradition

among his descendants of the existence of a mother, or of a

mother-in-law, who was of French extraction, and a native of Acadie.

This person may have been the mother of the wife of the emigrant,

however; but the circumstance is not without interest, when it is

remembered that the regretted Somers himself, like his intimate friend,

Decatur, had more of the physical appearance of one descended from a

French stock, than of one who was derived from a purely Anglo-Saxon

ancestry.

The property at Somers’ Point descended principally, if not entirely, to

the two sons of the emigrant, John and Richard. John, the eldest, lived

and died on the estate, where his descendants are still to be found.

Richard, the youngest, married Sophia Stillwell, of the same part of his

native province, by whom he had four children, Constant, Sarah, Jane and

Richard.

Constant Somers married Miss Leaming, of Cape May county, and died

young, leaving a son and a daughter. The former, who bore his father’s

name, was accidentally killed at Cronstadt, in Russia, while yet a

youth, and the daughter married a gentleman of the name of Corsen, also

of Cape May county, and has issue. These children are the only

descendants, in the third generation, of Richard Somers, the second son

of the emigrant.

Sarah Somers married Captain Keen, of Philadelphia, and still survives

as his widow, but has no children. Richard, the youngest child, is the

subject of our memoir.

Richard Somers, the elder, would seem to have been a man of considerable

local note. He was a colonel of the militia, a judge of the county

court, and his name appears among those of the members from his native

county in the Provincial Congress, for the year 1775; though it would

seem that he did not take his seat. Col. Somers was an active whig in

the Revolution, and was much employed, in the field and otherwise; more

especially during the first years of the great struggle for national

existence. His influence, in the part of New Jersey where he resided,

was of sufficient importance to render him particularly obnoxious to the

attacks of the tories, who were in the practice of seizing prominent

whigs, and of carrying them within the British lines; and Great Egg

Harbor being much exposed to descents from the side of the sea, Col.

Somers was induced to remove to Philadelphia with his family, for

protection. As this removal must have been made after the town was

evacuated by Sir Henry Clinton, it could not have taken place earlier

than the autumn of 1778; and there is good reason for thinking it

occurred two or three seasons later. Here Col. Somers remained for

several years, or nearly down to the period of his death.

Richard Somers, the son of Richard, and the grandson of the emigrant,

was born September 15th, 1778, and it is known that his birth took place

prior to the removal of his parents to Philadelphia. As his father was

born November 24, 1737, it determines two facts: first, that the family

must have emigrated at least as early as 1730, if not some years

earlier; and, secondly, that Col. Somers had reached middle age when his

distinguished and youngest child drew his earliest breath. Somers first

went to school in Philadelphia, and was subsequently sent to Burlington,

where there was then an academy of some merit for the period. At the

latter place the boy continued until near the time of the death of his

father, if not quite down to the day of that event.

Col. Somers died in 1793 or 1794; two records of his death existing, one

of which places it in the former, and the other in the latter year.

There is even some uncertainty thrown around the precise period when

Somers first went to sea. His nearest surviving relative is of opinion

that he had never entered upon the profession when he joined the navy;

but this opinion is met by the more precise knowledge of one of his

shipmates in the frigate in which he first served, who affirms that the

young man was a very respectable seaman on coming on board. The result

of our inquiries is to convince us that Somers must have gone to sea

somewhere about the year 1794, or shortly after the death of his father,

and when he himself was probably between fifteen and sixteen years of

age. The latter period, indeed, agrees with that named by the relative

mentioned, as his age when he went to sea, though it is irreconcilable

with the date of the equipment of the man-of-war he first joined, and

that of his own warrant in the navy. From the best information in our

possession, therefore, we are led to believe that the boy sailed, first

as a hand and then as a mate, if not as master, on board a coaster,

owned by some one of his own family, of which more than one plied

between Great Egg Harbor and the ports of New York and Philadelphia.

This accords, too, with his known love of adventure and native

resolution, as well as with his orphan condition; though he inherited

from his father a respectable property, including a portion of the

original family estate, as well as of lands in the interior of

Pennsylvania.

In his boyhood and youth, Somers was remarkable for a chivalrous sense

of honor, great mildness of manner and disposition, all mingled with

singular firmness of purpose. His uncle, John Somers, who was the head

of the family, and as such maintained an authority that was more usual

in the last century than it is to-day, is described as an austere man,

who was held in great awe by his relatives, and who was accustomed to

meet with the greatest deference amongst his kindred, not only for all

his commands, but for most of his opinions. The firmness and decision

shown by his nephew Richard, however, in a controversy about a dog, in

which the uncle was wrong and the boy right, are said to have astonished

the whole family, and to have created a profound respect in the senior

for the junior, that continued as long as the two lived. Richard could

not have been more than twelve when this little incident occurred.

Somers received his warrant as a midshipman in the spring of 1798. This

was, virtually, at the commencement of the present navy, the Ganges 21,

Capt. Dale, the first vessel that got out, being ordered to sea May 22d

of that year. The Ganges was soon followed by the Constellation 38, and

Delaware 20, the three ships cruising on the coast to prevent the

depredations committed by French privateers. The next vessel out was the

United States 44, bearing the broad pennant of Com. John Barry, the

senior officer of the service. To this vessel Somers was attached,

making his first cruise in her.

The United States was then, as now, one of the finest frigates that

floats. Equipped in Philadelphia, the capital of the country, and the

centre of American civilization, and commanded by an experienced and

excellent officer, no young man could have commenced his professional

career under more favorable auspices than was the case with Somers. The

ship had for lieutenants, Ross 1st, Mullowney 2d, Barron 3d, and Stewart

4th. The two latter are now the senior officers of the service. Among

his messmates in the steerage, Somers had for friends and associates

Decatur and Caldwell, both Philadelphians. It is a proof that Somers had

been previously to sea, that, on joining this ship, he was named as

master’s mate of the hold, a situation uniformly given, in that day, to

the most experienced and trustworthy of the midshipmen. It was while

thus associated, that the close connection was generated between Somers

and Decatur, which, for the remainder of their joint lives, rendered

them generous professional rivals and fast personal friends.

The United States sailed on her first cruise early in July, 1798, going

to the eastward, where she collected a small squadron, that had come out

of the ports of New England, and with which she soon after proceeded to

the West Indies. She remained cruising in those seas for the remainder

of the year, as the commanding vessel; Com. Barry having collected a

force of some twenty sail under his orders by the commencement of

winter. Shortly after Mr. Ross left the ship, and Messrs. Mullowney and

Barron were promoted. This occurred in the spring of 1799, when Mr.

Stewart became 1st lieutenant of the frigate, Mr. Edward Meade 2d,

Somers 3d, and Decatur 4th. Thus the service of Somers, as a midshipman,

could not have exceeded a twelvemonth: conclusive evidence of his having

been at sea previously to joining the navy, were any other testimony

required than that of his shipmates. In the autumn of 1799, the United

States sailed from Newport, Rhode Island, for Lisbon, having on board,

as commissioners to the French republic, the gentlemen who subsequently

arranged the terms of peace. It is probable that Somers, whose previous

experience had been in the American seas, crossed the Atlantic for the

first time in this cruise. Mr. Stewart being placed in command of the

Experiment 12, in the year 1800, Somers ended the war as second

lieutenant of the ship he had joined as a midshipman about three years

before.

The war of 1798 allowed but few opportunities for officers to

distinguish themselves. But two frigate actions were fought, and,

singularly enough, on the side of the Americans, both fell to the share

of the same commander and the same ship, Truxtun and the Constellation;

leaving little but vigilant watchfulness and activity to the lot of the

other officers and vessels. While the United States had no chance for

earning laurels, she was always a model cruiser for discipline and

seamanship, and the young men who served in her during the quasi-war,

had no grounds of complaint on the score of either precept or example.

They had been in an excellent school, and the “Old Wagoner,” as this

vessel was afterwards called, turned out as many distinguished officers

as any vessel of the day.

At the formation of the peace establishment, in 1801, Somers was

retained as the twelfth lieutenant, in a list that then presented only

thirty-six officers of that rank. The rapid promotion which marked the

first few years of the existence of the present marine, belongs to the

history of the day, and must be ascribed to the occurrence of two wars

in quick succession, and to the wants of an infant service. The list

alluded to forms a subject of melancholy and yet of proud interest to

every American who is familiar with this branch of the republic’s

annals. It is headed by the name of Charles Stewart, and it closes with

that of Jacob Jones. Hull, Shaw, Chauncey and Smith precede Somers on

this list; Decatur stands next to him; and Dent, Porter, the elder

Cassin, Gordon and Caldwell follow. A long list of names that have since

become distinguished, including those of M’Donough, Lawrence, the

younger Biddle, Perry, the younger Cassin, Trippe, Allen, Burrows,

Blakely, Downes, Crane, Morris, Ridgely, Warrington, the elder

Wadsworth, &c. &c., was then to be found among the midshipmen. Not a

name below that of the seventeenth captain of the present day

(Woodhouse,) was on the navy register of that period at all; that of

Sloat, now the thirty-third captain, having lost its place in

consequence of a resignation. When Commodores Stewart and Hull examine

the present register, they find on it but eleven names, besides their

own, that were there even when they were made commanders. They both

remain captains themselves to this hour!

The United States was laid up in ordinary at the peace of 1801, and

there was this noble frigate suffered to remain, until she was again

commissioned for the coast service, a few months previously to the war

of 1812. Among the vessels that were built to meet the emergency of the

French struggle, was a frigate called the Boston, a vessel that it was

usual then to rate as a thirty-two, but which was properly a

twenty-eight, carrying only twenty-four twelves on her gun deck. This

little ship had fought a spirited action with a heavy French corvette

called the Berceau, in the war that had just terminated, and had brought

in her antagonist. This circumstance rendered her a favorite, and she

was kept in commission at the termination of hostilities, under the

command of Captain Daniel M’Niell, an officer of whose eccentricities

there will be occasion to speak, when we come to the record of his

extraordinary career. Somers, on quitting the United States, was

transferred to the Boston as her first lieutenant. The ship sailed from

New York in the summer of 1801, for L’Orient, in France, having on board

Chancellor Livingston and suite, the newly appointed legation to that

country. After landing the minister, the Boston proceeded to the

Mediterranean. The cruise of this ship was remarkable for its entire

independence. Capt. M’Niell had been ordered to join the Mediterranean

squadron, then under the pennant of Com. Dale; and, although he was in

that sea during parts of the commands of that officer and his successor,

Com. Morris, he so successfully eluded both as never to fall in with

them; or, if he met the latter at all, it was only for a moment, and

near the end of his own cruise. Capt. M’Niell, notwithstanding, wanted

for neither courage nor activity. He visited many ports, gave frequent

convoys, and even went off Tripoli, the scene of the war; but, from

accident or design, all this was so timed as to destroy every thing like

concert and combination. In this cruise Somers had an opportunity of

seeing many of the ports of Italy, Spain, and the islands, and doubtless

he acquired much of that self-reliance and experience which are so

necessary to a seaman, in his responsible station of a first lieutenant.

He was then a very young man, not more than twenty-four; and this was a

period of life when such opportunities were of importance. Nor does he

seem to have neglected them, as all of his cotemporaries speak of his

steadiness of character, good sense, and amiable, correct deportment,

with affection and respect. The Boston returned home at the close of

1802, when Capt. M’Niell retired from the service, under the reduction

law, and the ship was laid up, never to be employed again. The commander

subsequently returned to the seas, in the revenue service, but the

frigate lay rotting at Washington, until she was burned at the inroad of

the enemy, in 1814, a worthless hulk.

At the reduction of the navy in 1801, but one vessel below the rate of a

frigate, the Enterprise 12, was retained in the marine. Most of the

sloops that had been used in the French war were clumsy vessels with

gun-decks, that had been bought into the service. They were not fit to

be preserved, and the department was not sorry to get rid of them. By

this time, however, the want of small vessels was much felt in carrying

on the Tripolitan war, and a law providing for the construction of four

vessels of not more than sixteen guns, passed in the session of 1802-3.

These vessels were the Siren 16, Argus 16, Nautilus 12, and Vixen 12. As

the country at that day had no proper yards, it was customary to assign

certain officers to superintend the building and equipment of vessels on

the stocks, the selections being commonly made from those who it was

intended should subsequently serve in them. On this occasion Decatur was

attached to the Argus, it being understood he was to take her to the

Mediterranean and give her up to Hull, receiving the Enterprise from the

latter in exchange, as the junior officer. Stewart was given the Siren,

as his due; Smith got the Vixen; and Somers the Nautilus. By this time,

or in the spring of 1803, owing to resignations, the latter stood

seventh on the list of lieutenants, Smith being one before him, and

Decatur one his junior. Stewart and Hull headed the register. Of the

thirty-six officers of this rank retained under the reduction law, but

twenty-five then remained in service. To-day their number is lowered to

three, viz: Stewart, Hull and Jacob Jones!

The Nautilus, the first and only command of Somers, was a beautiful

schooner of about 160 or 170 tons, and mounted twelve 18 lb. carronades,

with two sixes, having a crew of from 75 to 95 souls. This was a

handsome situation for a young sailor of twenty-four, who had then

followed his profession but about nine years, and who had been in the

navy but five, having commenced a midshipman. In that day, however, no

one envied Somers, or believed him unduly favored, for he was thought to

be an old officer, though he had not been half the time in service which

is now employed in the subordinate situations of midshipman and passed

midshipman.

The Mediterranean squadron, which sailed in the summer and autumn of

1803, was that which subsequently became so celebrated under the orders

of Preble. It consisted of the Constitution 44, Preble’s own ship; the

Philadelphia 38, Capt. Bainbridge; Argus 16, first, Lieut. Com. Decatur,

then, Lieut. Com. Hull; Siren 16, Lieut. Com. Stewart; Vixen 12, Lieut.

Com. Smith; Enterprise 12, first, Lieut. Com. Hull, then, Lieut. Com.

Decatur; and Nautilus 12, Lieut. Com. Somers. These vessels did not

proceed to their station in squadron, but they left home as they got

ready. The Enterprise was already out, but, of the ships fitting, the

Nautilus was the first equipped, and the first to sail. Somers left

America early in the summer, and anchored in Gibraltar Bay on the 27th

July. The remaining vessels arrived at different times, between the last

of August and the first of November. After a short stop at Gibraltar,

the Nautilus went aloft, giving convoy when required, returning to the

Rock in time to meet the commodore in September.

The relief and the homeward bound squadrons, or at least that part of

the former which had then arrived and was below, and the return ships

under Com. Rodgers, met at Gibraltar early in September. The state of

the relations with Morocco being very precarious, Com. Preble determined

to make an effort to avert a new war, and Com. Rodgers handsomely

consenting to aid him, the former proceeded to Tangiers with all the

force he could assemble. Here he succeeded in awing the Emperor into a

treaty, and in putting a stop to a system of depredations which the

subjects of that prince had already commenced. The Nautilus formed a

part of the force employed on this occasion, and was particularly useful

on account of her light draught of water.

After arranging the difficulty with Morocco, Preble made a formal

declaration of the blockade of Tripoli, before which town he believed

that the Philadelphia and Vixen were then cruising; though, unknown to

him, the latter had been temporarily detached, and the Philadelphia was

in possession of the enemy. From this time until the succeeding spring,

the Nautilus was employed in convoying, or in carrying orders necessary

to the preparations that were making for the coming season; but in March

she formed a part of the blockading force in front of Tripoli. In

consequence of the captivity of Capt. Bainbridge, Lieut. Com. Stewart

was the officer second in rank in the squadron, and he was consequently

kept much upon the coast in command, while Preble was carrying on the

negotiations by means of which he obtained the gunboats and other

supplies necessary to the attacks he contemplated. In March, 1804, while

the Siren and Nautilus were alone maintaining the blockade, the two

vessels had been driven to the eastward of their port by a gale, and

early in the morning, while returning, they made a warlike looking brig

lying to off the place, with which she was evidently in communication.

Signal was made to the Nautilus to stand close in, and watch the

gunboats, while the Siren ran alongside of the stranger, who was

captured for a violation of the blockade. The prize proved to be a

privateer called the Transfer, with an English commission. She carried

16 guns and 80 men, and hailed from Malta, but, in fact, belonged to the

Bashaw of Tripoli; her papers having been obtained through the

Tripolitan consul in Malta, who was a native of that island. This vessel

was appraised, equipped by the squadron, and used in the war, having had

her name changed to the Scourge. Owing to certain scruples of Mr.

Jefferson on the subject of blockades, the vessel was not condemned

until the war of 1812, nor were the captors paid their prize money until

Somers had been dead nearly eleven years.

Between the time of the capture of the Transfer and the month of July,

the Nautilus was much employed by the commodore, going below and

visiting different ports in Sicily. On the 20th of that month, Somers

sailed from Malta, in company with the Constitution, the Enterprise, two

bomb ketches and six gunboats that had been obtained from the

Neapolitans, bound off Tripoli. On the arrival of the commodore, his

whole force was collected, and that series of short but brilliant

operations commenced, which has rendered the service of this season so

remarkable in the history of the American navy.

A spirit of high emulation existed among the young commanders by whom

Preble now found himself supported. Hull was the oldest in years, and he

had hardly reached the prime of life; while Stewart, Smith, Somers and

Decatur were all under six-and-twenty. With the exception of the

commodore, no commanding officer was married, and most of them were

bound together by the ties of intimate friendships. In a word, their

lives, as yet, had been prosperous; the past left little to complain of,

the future was full of hope; and there had been little opportunity for

that spirit of selfishness which is so apt to generate quarrels, to get

possession of minds so free and temperaments so ardent.

This is the proper place to allude to a private adventure of Somers’,

about the existence of which there would seem to be no doubt, though

like so much that belonged to this interesting man its details are

involved in obscurity. While at Syracuse, where the American vessels

made their principal rendezvous, he was walking in the vicinity of the

town in company with two brother officers, when five men carrying

swords, who were afterwards ascertained to be soldiers of the garrison,

made an attack on the party, with an intent to rob. One of the gentlemen

was provided with a dirk, but Somers and the other were totally unarmed.

The officer with the dirk used the weapon so vigorously as soon to bring

down one assailant, while Somers grappled with another. In the struggle

Somers seized the blade of his antagonist’s sword, and was severely cut

in the hand by the efforts of the robber to recover it, but the latter

did not succeed, the weapon being wrested from him and plunged into his

own body. This decided the matter, the three remaining robbers taking to

flight. The dead bodies were carried into the town and recognized. This

adventure is believed to have occurred while the Nautilus was absent on

her last visit to Sicily, though it may have been of older date;

possibly as old as the time when Somers was in the Boston. We think the

latter improbable, however, as the circumstance seems to be unknown to

his nearest relatives in this country, which would hardly have been the

case had it taken place previously to his last visit to America. Our

information comes from an intimate friend, who received the facts from

Somers himself, but who was not at Syracuse at the moment the attempt to

rob occurred.

A gale of wind prevented the American vessels from commencing operations

before the 3d of August. On that day Com. Preble stood in within a

league of Tripoli, with a pleasant breeze from the eastward. Here he

wore ship, with his head off the land, and signaled all the vessels to

pass within hail of the Constitution. As the brigs and schooners passed

the frigate each commander was ordered to prepare for an attack. Every

thing was previously arranged, and the ardor of the young men under the

orders of Preble being of the highest character, in one hour every man

and craft were ready for the contemplated service.

The harbor of Tripoli lies in a shallow indentation of the coast, being

tolerably protected against easterly and westerly gales by the formation

of the land, while a reef of rocks, which stretches for a mile and a

half in a northeasterly course, commencing at the town itself, breaks

the seas that roll in from the northward. This reef extends near half a

mile from the walls, entirely above water, and is of sufficient height

and width to receive water batteries, containing the Lazaretto and one

or two forts. It is this commencement of the reef which constitutes what

is usually termed the mole, and behind it lies the harbor proper. At its

termination is a narrow opening in the reef which is called the western

entrance, through which it is possible for a ship to pass, though the

channel is not more than two hundred feet in width. Beyond this passage

the rocks reappear, with intervals between them, though lying on shoals

with from one and a half to five and a half feet of water. The line of

rocks and shoals extends more than a mile outside of the western

entrance. Beyond its termination is the principal entrance to Tripoli,

which is of sufficient width though not altogether free from shoals. The

distance across the bay, from the northeastern extremity of the rocks to

what is called the English fort, on the main land, is about two thousand

yards, or quite within the effective range of heavy guns. In the bottom

of the bay, or at the southeastern angle of the town, stands the

bashaw’s castle, a work of some size and force. It lies rather more than

half a mile from the western entrance, and somewhat more than a mile

from the outer extremity of the reef. Thus any thing within the rocks is

commanded by all the water defences of the place, while shot from the

castle, and more especially from the natural mole, would reach a

considerable distance into the offing. Some artificial works aided in

rendering the northwestern corner of the harbor still more secure, and

this place is usually called the galley mole. Near this is the ordinary

landing, and it is the spot that may properly be termed the port.

The Tripolitans fully expected the attack of the 2d of August, though

they little anticipated its desperate character, or its results. They

had anchored nine of their large, well-manned gunboats just outside of

what are called the Harbor Rocks, or the northeastern extremity of the

reef, evidently with a view of flanking the expected attack on the town,

which, lying on the margin of the sea, is much exposed, though the rocks

in its front were well garnished with heavy guns. Accustomed to

cannonading at the distance of a mile, these gunboats expected no warmer

service, more especially as a nearer approach would bring their

assailants within reach of the castle and batteries. In addition to the

nine boats to the eastward, there were five others which also lay along

the line of rocks nearer to the western entrance, and within pistol shot

of the batteries in that part of the defences. Within the reef were five

more gunboats and several heavy galleys, ready to protect the outer line

of gunboats at need, forming a reserve.

Com. Preble had borrowed only six gunboats from the King of Naples, and

these were craft that were much inferior in size and force to the

generality of those used by the enemy. Each of these boats had a few

Neapolitans in her to manage her on ordinary occasions, but, for the

purposes of action, officers and crews were detailed from the different

vessels of the squadron. These six boats were divided into two

divisions; to the command of one was assigned Lieut. Com. Somers, while

Lieut. Com. Decatur led the other. Somers was thought to be the senior

lieutenant of the two, though Decatur was at this time actually a

captain, and Somers himself was a master commandant; as well as Stewart,

Hull and Smith, though the intelligence of these promotions had not yet

reached the squadron. The three boats commanded by Somers were

No. 1. Lieut. Com. Somers, of the Nautilus.

No. 2. Lieut. James Decatur, of the Nautilus.

No. 3. Lieut. Blake, of the Argus.

Decatur had under his immediate orders,

No. 4. Lieut. Com. Decatur, of the Enterprise.

No. 5. Lieut. Joseph Bainbridge, of the Enterprise.

No. 6. Lieut. Trippe, of the Vixen.

Somers had with him in No. 1 a crew from his own schooner, and Messrs.

Ridgely and Miller, midshipmen; the former being the present Com.

Ridgely. Decatur had the late Lieut. Jonathan Thorn, who was

subsequently blown up on the Northwest Coast of America, and the modest,

but lion-hearted, M’Donough. Trippe had with him in No. 6 the late Com.

J. D. Henley and the late Capt. Deacon, both then midshipmen. Of all

these gallant young men Ridgely alone survives!

It was the intention of Preble to attack the eastern division of the

enemy’s boats with his own flotilla, while the ketches bombarded the

town, and the frigate and sloop covered both assaults with their round

and grape. With this object in view, the whole force stood in towards

the place at half past one, the gunboats in tow. Half an hour later the

latter were cast off and formed in advance, while the brigs and

schooners, six in number, formed a line without them, and the ketches

began to throw their shells. The batteries were instantly in a blaze,

and the Americans immediately opened from all their shipping in return.

Circumstances had thrown the division of gunboats commanded by Somers to

leeward of that commanded by Decatur. It was on the right of the little

line, and, under ordinary occurrences, it would have been the most

exposed, being nearest to the batteries and the weight of the Tripolitan

fire, but Decatur gave a new character to the whole affair by his

extraordinary decision and intrepidity. The manner in which this

chivalrous officer led on in a hand-to-hand conflict will be related in

his own biography, but it may be well to state here that he was

sustained only by Trippe, in No. 6, and his brother James, in No. 2; the

latter being far enough to windward to fetch into the easternmost

division of the Tripolitan boats, though belonging to the division

commanded by Somers. No. 5, Lieut. Bainbridge, was disabled in

approaching, though she continued to engage, and finally grounded on the

rocks. Deprived of the support of No. 2, by the successful effort of her

gallant commander to close with the easternmost division, and of that of

No. 3, in consequence of a signal of recall that was made from the

Constitution, which arrested the movements of that boat though it was

either unseen or disregarded by all the others, Somers found himself

alone, within the line of small vessels, and much exposed to the fire of

the leeward division of the enemy’s boats, as well as to that of the

nearest battery. The struggle to windward was too fierce to last long,

and Preble fearing that some of the gunboats might be pushed into

extreme peril, made the signal of recall, at least an hour before the

firing ceased, No. 1 with Somers and his brave companions being all that

time in the very forlorn hope of the affair so far as missiles were

concerned. As soon as it had been ascertained that he could not fetch

into the most weatherly division of the enemy, Somers had turned like a

lion on that to leeward, and engaged the whole of that division, five in

number and at least of five times his own force, within pistol shot; one

party being sustained by some of the vessels outside, and the other by

the batteries and the craft within the rocks. In consequence of the

direction of the wind, the only means, short of anchoring, that could be

devised to prevent No. 1 from drifting directly down, as it might be,

into the enemy’s hands, was to keep the sweeps backing astern, while the

long gun of the boat delivered bags of musket balls filled with a

thousand bullets each. In the end, the enemy was obliged to make off,

and Somers was extricated from his perilous position by the approach of

the Constitution, which enabled him to obey the commodore’s signal and

bring out his boat in triumph.

Although the extraordinary nature of the hand-to-hand conflict in which

Decatur had been engaged threw a sort of shade over the efforts of the

other vessels employed that day, the feeling of admiration for the

conduct of Somers, in particular, was very general in the squadron.

Apart from the struggles with the pike, sword and bayonet, his position

was much the most critical of any vessel engaged in the attack, and no

man could have behaved better than he was admitted to have done. In

short, next to Nos. 4 and 6, No. 1, it was conceded, had most

distinguished herself, although No. 2, under James Decatur, did as well

as the circumstances would allow. One of the best evidences which can be

given of the spirit of this attack is to be found in the trifling nature

of the loss the Americans suffered. But fourteen men were killed and

wounded in all the vessels, and of these thirteen were on board the

gunboats. No. 1, notwithstanding her great exposure, had only two

casualties.

The Americans employed themselves, between the 3d and 7th of August, in

altering the rigs of the three boats they had taken in their first

assault, and in equipping them for service. They were all ready by the

morning of the last day, and were taken into the line as Nos. 7, 8 and

9. At half past 2, the ketches began again to throw their shells, and

the nine gunboats opened a heavy fire, still in two divisions commanded

as before, though the enemy this time kept his small vessels too far

within the rocks to be liable to another attempt at boarding. While No.

1 was advancing to her station, on this occasion, Somers stood leaning

against her flag-staff. In this position he saw a shot flying directly

in a line for him, and bowed his head to avoid it. The shot cut the

flag-staff, and on measuring afterwards, it was rendered certain that he

escaped death only by the timely removal. The boats were under fire

three hours in this attack; one of them, commanded by Lieut. Caldwell,

of the Siren, having been blown up. Between 5 and 6 P. M., the brigs and

schooners took the lighter craft in tow, and carried them beyond the

reach of the batteries. In this affair Somers’ boat was hulled by a

heavy shot, and was much exposed.

A strange sail hove in sight near the close of this attack, and she

proved to be the John Adams 28, Capt. Chauncey, last from home. This

ship brought out the commissions already mentioned, as having been

issued some time previously. By this promotion, Somers became a master

commandant, or a commander, as the grade is now termed; a rank in the

navy which corresponds to that of a major in the army, and which

entitles its possessor to the command of a sloop of war. Several of

these commanders were made at this time, of whom Somers ranked as the

seventh, which was precisely the number he had previously occupied on

the list of lieutenants. There was a peculiarity about this promotion

which is worthy of comment, and which goes to show the irregularities

that have been practised in a service which is generally understood to

be governed and protected by the most precise principles and enactments.

Certainly some, and it is believed that _all_ the commissions of

commanders, bestowed upon the service in 1804, were issued without

referring the nominations to the Senate for confirmation. We have

examined one of these commissions, and find that it contains no allusion

to that body, as is always done in those cases in which a confirmation

has been had; and the omission raises a curious question as to the

legality of the appointments. As the rank of commander in the navy has

never been declared by law to be one of those offices in which the

appointing power is exclusively bestowed on the president, or a head of

a department, it follows that it comes within the ordinary provision of

the constitution. Now, in all the latter cases, the power of the

executive to appoint is confined to that of filling vacancies which

occur in the recess of the Senate, and the commission issued, even under

this strictly constitutional authority, is valid only until the

expiration of the succeeding session of that body. Thus three questions

present themselves as to the legality of these commissions. First, that

the grade of masters and commanders had been indirectly, if not

directly, abolished by the reduction law of 1801; and, such being the

fact, the constitution giving to Congress full powers to pass laws for

the government of the army and navy, it may well be questioned if the

president and Senate united had any legal right to reestablish the grade

by the mere use of the appointing power. Second, whether such a vacancy

existed as to authorize the president to fill it in the recess of the

Senate, had Congress renewed the rank by law, which, however, is

believed not to have been the fact; and, third, whether the commissions

actually granted, being without the advice and consent of the Senate,

could be legal, after the close of the succeeding session of that body,

under any circumstances. As to the last objection, it is understood all

the gentlemen who received these commissions continued to serve under

them until they died, resigned, or were promoted.

The grave considerations connected with courts martial, commands, and

other legal consequences, which unavoidably offer themselves when we are

made acquainted with so extraordinary a state of facts, are materially

lessened by the circumstances that all the gentlemen thus irregularly

promoted were officers in the navy under their former commissions, and

that no relative rank was disturbed. Thus if Messrs. Stewart and Hull

were not legally the two oldest commanders in the service, they were the

two oldest lieutenants, and all the other commanders being in the same

dilemma with themselves, their relative rank remained precisely as it

would have done had no new commissions been granted. So also as regards

courts; the judge having a right to sit as a lieutenant, unless, indeed,

the informality of annexing a wrong rank to the orders might raise a

legal objection.[1]

That so gross an irregularity should have arisen under a government that

professes to be one purely of law, excites our wonder; and this so much

the more, when we remember it occurred in a service in which life itself

maybe the penalty of error. The explanation is to be found in the

infancy of the establishments, and in practices in which principles

remained to be settled, aided by the known moral courage and exceeding

personal popularity of the statesman who then presided in the councils

of the republic. While Jefferson affected, and probably felt, a profound

respect for legality, he is known to have used the power he wielded with

great political fearlessness, and to have considered himself as the head

of a new school in the administration of the government, which did not

always hesitate about the introduction of new rules of conduct. To these

remarks, however, it must in justice be added, that no party or personal

views could have influenced the appointments in question, which, apart

from the irregularity of their manner, were certainly required equally

by justice and the wants of the service, and which were made in perfect

conformity with the rules of promotion as observed under the severest

principles of military preferment. They prove even more in favor of the

statesman, as they show that he did not deserve all the accusations of

hostility to this branch of the national defences that were heaped upon

him; but rather that he was disposed to stretch his authority to foster

and advance it. The introduction of a new class of vessels, too,

required the revival of a class of officers of a rank proper to command

them; and, though we wish never to see illegality countenanced in the

management of interests as delicate as those of a marine, it is

desirable to see the proper authorities of the country imitate this

feature of the case, now that the republic has fleets which flag

officers alone can ever lead with a proper degree of dignity and

authority.

It was the 28th of August before another attack was made on Tripoli, in

which Somers participated. The ketches bombarded it on the night of the

24th; but finding little impression made by this mode of assault, Com.

Preble determined to renew the cannonading. On this occasion Capt.

Somers led one division of the gunboats, as before, while Capt. Decatur

led the other; the latter having five of these craft under his orders,

and the former three. The approach was made under the cover of darkness,

all the boats anchoring near the rocks, where they opened a heavy fire

on the shipping, castle and town. The brigs and schooners assisted in

this attack, and at daylight the frigate stood in, and opened her

batteries. The Tripolitan galleys and gunboats, thirteen in all, were

principally opposed to the eight American gunboats, which did not retire

until they had expended their ammunition. One Tripolitan was sunk, two

more were run on shore, and all were finally driven into the mole by the

frigate.

On the 3d of September, a fourth and last attack was made on Tripoli by

the gunboats, aided by all the other vessels. The Turkish boats did not

wait, as before, to be assaulted off the town, but, accompanied by the

galleys, they placed themselves under Fort English, and a new battery

that had been built near it, with an intention to draw the American shot

in that direction. This change of disposition induced Preble to send

Captains Decatur and Somers, with the gunboats, covered by the brigs and

schooners, into the harbor’s mouth, while the ketches bombarded more to

leeward. On this occasion, Somers was more than an hour hotly engaged,

pressing the enemy into his own port.

The season was now drawing near a close, and the arrival of

reinforcements from America had been expected, in vain, for several

weeks. It was during this interval that a plan for destroying the

enemy’s flotilla, as it lay anchored in his innermost harbor, was

conceived, and preparations were soon made for putting it in execution.

The conception of this daring scheme has been claimed for Somers

himself, and not without a share of reason. There existed between him

and Decatur a singular professional competition, that was never

permitted, however, to cool their personal friendship. The great success

of the latter, in his daring assaults, stimulated Somers to attempt some

exploit equally adventurous, and none better than the one adopted then

offered. The five attacks made on Tripoli, with the vigorous blockade,

had produced a sensible effect on the tone of the bashaw, and it was

hoped that a blow as appalling as that now meditated, might at once

produce a peace. The delicacy that a commander would naturally feel

about proposing a service so desperate to a subordinate, renders it

highly probable that the idea originated with Somers himself, who thus

secured the office of endeavoring to execute it. It is proper to add,

however, that Com. Preble says the project had long been in

contemplation, though he does not say who suggested it. The plan was as

follows: The ketch that had originally been taken by Decatur in the

Enterprise, and in which he had subsequently carried the Philadelphia

frigate, was still in the squadron. She had been named the Intrepid, for

the brilliant occasion on which she had first been used, but had since

fallen from her high estate, having latterly been employed in bringing

water and stores from Malta. This craft had been constructed for a gun

vessel by the French, in their expedition against Egypt; from their

service she had passed into that of Tripoli; had fallen into the hands

of warriors from the new world; by them she had been used in one of the

most brilliant exploits of naval warfare, and was now about to terminate

her career in another, of the most desperate and daring character. It

was proposed to fit up the ketch in the double capacity of fire-ship and

infernal, and to send her into the inner harbor of Tripoli, by the

western passage, there to explode in the very centre of the vessels of

the Turks. As her deck was to be covered with missiles, and a large

quantity of powder was to be used, it was hoped that the town and castle

would suffer, not less than the shipping. The panic created by such an

assault, made in the dead of night, it was fondly hoped would produce an

instant peace, and, more especially, the liberation of the crew of the

Philadelphia. The latter object was deemed one of high interest to the

whole force before Tripoli, and was never lost sight of in all their

operations.

Com. Preble having determined upon his plan, Somers received the orders

to commence the preparations; a duty in which he had the advice and

assistance of Decatur, Stewart, and the other commanders of the

squadron; for all these ardent and gallant young men felt a common

sympathy in his daring, and an equal interest in his anticipated

triumph. The first step was to prepare the ketch for the desperate

service in which she was to be engaged. With this object a small

apartment was planked up in the broadest part of her hold, or just

forward of the principal mast; this was rendered as secure as was

believed necessary against accidents. Into this room a hundred barrels

of gunpowder were emptied in bulk. A train was led aft to a cabin

window, through a tube, and, by some accounts, another was led into the

fore-peak. A port-fire, graduated to burn a certain number of minutes,

was affixed at the end of the train, and a body of light, splintered

wood was collected in another receptacle abaft the magazine, which was

to be set on fire, with the double purpose of making certain of the

explosion, and of keeping the enemy aloof under the apprehension of its

flames. On the deck of the ketch, around the mast and immediately over

the magazine, were piled a quantity of shells of different sizes with

their fuses prepared, in the expectation that the latter would ignite

and produce the usual explosion. The number of these shells has been

variously stated at from one hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty,

the size ranging from nine to thirteen and a half inches. The best

information, however, would seem to place the number below two hundred.

Some accounts give the quantity of powder as high us fifteen thousand

pounds, which was probably near the truth.

Two boats were to accompany the ketch, one an exceedingly fast rowing

four-oared boat, being lent for the purpose by the Siren, and the other

a six-oared cutter of the Constitution. The service requiring but few

men, no more were employed than were necessary to pull the two boats. To

have gone in with a single boat would have been unnecessarily hazardous,

as a shot might have disabled her, while the chances of escape were

nearly doubled by adding a second, at the same time that the additional

men did not more than make an ordinary crew for a Mediterranean craft of

the size of the Intrepid. A second officer, however, was thought

necessary, and Lieut. Henry Wadsworth, of the Constitution,

volunteering, his offer was accepted. Mr. Joseph Israel, of the same

ship, who had just been promoted, was also anxious to be of the party,

but Com. Preble deeming his assistance unnecessary, permission to go was

refused him. Thus it was intended that the adventurers should be limited

to twelve, of whom ten were common seamen, one a lieutenant, and the

other a commander; or Somers himself.

It now became necessary to obtain volunteers for the Siren’s boat, and a

call for this purpose was made by Somers on the crew of his own vessel,

the Nautilus. Notwithstanding the desperate character of the service,

when the want was stated to the people of this little vessel every man

in her offered himself to go. This compelled their superior to make a

selection. The other six seamen were obtained from the Constitution, and

were chosen, it is believed, by Mr. Wadsworth, under the supervision of

the ship’s first lieutenant, who at that time was the late Capt. Gordon.

The four men belonging to the Nautilus were James Simms, Thomas

Tompline, James Harris and William Keith; all seamen rated. Mr.

Wadsworth took with him from the Constitution William Harrison, Robert

Clark, Hugh M’Cormick, Jacob Williams, Peter Penner and Isaac W. Downes,

all seamen rated also.

Several days were necessary to complete all these arrangements, more

especially to equip the ketch in the manner described, and the action of

the 3d had taken place even after the Intrepid was ready. Somers made

one or two attempts to go in before the night finally selected, but they

were abandoned on account of the lightness of the air. At length there

were appearances in and about the harbor that induced him to think that

the movements of the fire-vessel were distrusted, and, fearful of

detection, he decided to go in on the night of the 4th September, if the

thing were at all practicable.

Several interviews had taken place between Preble and Somers in the

course of the preparations for the attempt. On one occasion the

commodore burnt a port-fire in order to ascertain its time, and when it

was consumed he asked Somers if he thought the boats could get out of

reach of the shells within the few minutes it was burning. “I think we

can, sir,” answered Somers. Preble looked intently at the young man a

moment and then inquired if he should have the time reduced, or the

port-fire made shorter. “I ask for no port-fire at all, sir,” was the

reply, firmly but quietly expressed.

After this interview, Somers expressed his determination not to allow

himself to be captured. The commodore had felt it to be his duty to

point out the great importance of not letting so large an amount of

powder fall into the enemy’s hands, the Tripolitans being thought to be

short of ammunition, and all the circumstances united had a tendency to

increase the feeling of stern determination in the minds of the two

officers who were to go in. Both were singularly quiet men in their

ordinary habits, perfectly free from any thing like noisy declarations

or empty boastings of what they intended to perform, and this simple

announcement of their intentions not to be taken, appears to have made a

deep and general impression among their brethren in arms.

On the afternoon of the 4th September, Somers prepared to take his final

departure from the Nautilus, with a full determination to carry the

ketch into Tripoli that night. Previously to quitting his own vessel,

however, he fell that it would be proper to point out the desperate

nature of the enterprise to the four men he had selected, that their

services might be perfectly free and voluntary. He told them he wished

no man to accompany him who would not prefer being blown up to being

taken; that such was his own determination, and that he wished all who

went with him to be of the same way of thinking. The boat’s crew gave

three cheers in answer, and each man is said to have separately asked to

be selected to apply the match. Once assured of the temper of his

companions, Somers took leave of his officers, the boat’s crew doing the

same, shaking hands and expressing their feelings as if they felt

assured of their fates in advance. This was done in good faith, and yet

cheerfully; and, of all the desperate service undertaken by that devoted

squadron, none was ever entered on with so many forebodings of the fatal

consequences to those concerned in it. Each of the four men made his

will verbally; disposing of his effects among his shipmates like those

who are about to die with disease.

It would seem that the Constitution’s boat did not join the ketch until

it was dusk. When the two crews were mustered, it was found that Mr.

Israel had managed to get out of the frigate and to join the party;

whether by collusion, or not, it is now impossible to say. Finding him

on board, and admiring his determination to make one of the party,

Somers consented to his remaining. One account says he was sent by

Preble with a final order, but it is hardly probable Somers would have

allowed him to remain under such circumstances. He was more likely to be

smuggled in by means of the cutter, and to be kept when there was no

boat by which he could be sent back. The night of the 4th was not

particularly dark, though it could scarcely be accounted clear. The

stars were visible, but there was a haze on the water that rendered

objects more uncertain than they would otherwise have been. In this

respect the light was favorable enough, as the rocks could be seen,

while the real character of the ketch would not be so likely to be

discovered from the shore. The wind was light, from the eastward, but

fair.

Several of Somers’ friends visited him on board the Intrepid before she

got under way. Among them were Stewart and Decatur, with whom he had

commenced his naval career in the United States. These three young men,

then about twenty-six each, were Philadelphia-bred sailors, and had been

intimately associated in service for the last six years. They all knew

that the enterprise was one of extreme hazard, and the two who were to

remain behind felt a deep interest in the fate of him who was to go in.

Somers was grave, and entirely without any affectation of levity or

indifference, but he maintained his usual tranquil and quiet manner.

After some conversation, he took a ring from his finger and breaking it

into three pieces gave each of his companions one, while he retained the

third himself. As the night shut in, three gunboats were seen at anchor

a short distance within the western entrance, by which the Intrepid was

to pass, and Decatur, who felt a strong anxiety for the success of his

friend, admonished Somers to take care they did not board him, as it was

the intention to carry the ketch some distance within them. To this

Somers quietly replied that the Turks had got to be so shy he thought

they would be more likely to cut and run on his approach, than to

advance and meet him.

It was eight o’clock in the evening before the Intrepid lifted her

anchor; the Argus, Vixen and Nautilus weighing and standing in, in

company. The night was sufficiently advanced to cover this movement, and

all four vessels stood down towards the rocks under their canvass. The

last person who left the ketch was Lieut. Washington Reed, then first of

the Nautilus. This officer did not quit his commander until it was

thought necessary for him to rejoin the vessel of which he was now in

charge. When he went over the side of the Intrepid, all communication

between the gallant spirits she contained and the rest of the world

ceased. At that time every thing seemed propitious; Somers was cheerful,

though calm; and perfect order and method prevailed in the little craft.

The leave-taking was affectionate and serious with the officers, though

the common men appeared to be in high spirits. This was about nine

o’clock.

The Argus and Vixen lay off at a little distance from the rocks to

attack the galleys or gunboats, should either attempt to follow the

party out on their retreat, while the Nautilus shortened sail and

accompanied the ketch as close in as was deemed prudent, with the

especial intention of bringing off the boats. Lieut. Reed directed the

present Com. Ridgely, then one of the Nautilus’ midshipmen,[2] to watch

the ketch’s movements with a night-glass; and, as this order was

strictly complied with, it is almost certain that this officer was the

last person of the American squadron who saw the vessel. It was thought

she was advancing slowly to the last moment, though the distance and the

obscurity render this fact a little doubtful.

Preble had directed the Siren to weigh and stand in, shortly after the

other vessels left him, and in obeying the orders he received Capt.

Stewart kept more in the offing than the vessels which preceded him. As

the direction of the western entrance and the inner harbor were known,

every eye in this brig was riveted on that quarter in silent suspense.

It was not long before the enemy began to fire at the ketch, which, by

this time, was quite near the batteries, though the reports were neither

rapid nor numerous. At this moment, near ten o’clock, Capt. Stewart and

Lieut. Carrol were standing in the Siren’s gangway looking intently

towards the place where the ketch was known to be, when the latter

exclaimed, “Look! see the light!” At that instant a light was seen

passing and waving, as if a lantern were carried by some person in quick

motion along a vessel’s deck. Then it sunk from view. Half a minute may

have elapsed when the whole firmament was lighted with a fiery glow, a

burning mast, with its sails, was seen in the air, the whole harbor was

momentarily illuminated, the awful explosion came, and a darkness like

that of doom succeeded. The whole was over in less than a minute; the

flame, the quaking of towers, the reeling of ships, and even the

bursting of shells, of which most fell in the water, though some lodged

on the rocks. The firing ceased, and from that instant Tripoli passed

the night in a stillness as profound as that in which the victims of

this frightful explosion have lain from that fatal hour to this.

The Nautilus showed lights in hopes to guide the retreating boats to her

side; all eyes in the squadron looked in vain for the expected signal; a

moaning gun occasionally was heard from the frigate, a fitting knell for

such a disaster; but in vain. No one ever came back from the ill-fated

Intrepid to relate the history of her loss. The Argus, Vixen and

Nautilus hovered near the rocks until the sun arose, but nothing was

discovered to throw any light on the manner in which the ketch was lost.

The gun-boats anchored near the pass had been moved; one, it was

thought, had entirely disappeared, and two or three more were hauled

ashore as if shattered.

In the American squadron the opinion was general that Somers and his

determined companions had blown themselves up to prevent capture. In the

absence of certainty, facts were imagined to render such a desperate

step probable if not necessary. It was supposed that gunboats had

advanced to board the ketch, and that Somers had fired the train in

preference to falling into the hands of the Tripolitans, or allowing

them to get possession of the powder. Such appears to have been the

opinion of Com. Preble, who reported as much to the government; and the

country, receiving its impressions from this source, has long

entertained the same idea. A few, however, of the more thoughtful have

always doubted, and subsequent discoveries have rendered these doubts

more and more probable.

Among the American prisoners in Tripoli was a surgeon’s mate of the name

of Cowdery, now the oldest surgeon in the navy, who was permitted to go

very much at large in the town, his professional services being found

useful. From this gentleman, from Capt. Bainbridge’s private journal,

and from other sources equally credible, the following interesting facts

have been obtained, leaving no question of their accuracy.

In the first place, neither the works, the town, nor the Tripolitans

themselves, appear to have suffered any injury by the explosion. Captain

Bainbridge, in his journal, where he speaks of this explosion,

says:—“which unfortunate scheme did no damage whatever to the

Tripolitans; nor did it appear even to heave them into confusion.” The

bashaw, being desirous of ascertaining how many Americans had been lost

in the explosion, offered a dollar for each body that could be

discovered. This produced the desired effect, and by the 6th, the dead

were all brought up. The bottom of the ketch had drifted among the

rocks, on the north side of the round battery, which is near the western

entrance, and there it grounded. In the wreck, two bodies were found.

The Constitution’s cutter, or the six-oared boat, had drifted on the

beach, a short distance to the westward of the town. One body was in it.

Six more bodies were found on the shore to the southward, and the

remaining four were discovered floating in the harbor. This makes the

entire number of the thirteen who were lost in the ketch. Captain

Bainbridge describes the six dead whom he saw as “being so much

disfigured, it was impossible to recognize any known feature to us, or

even to distinguish an officer from a seaman.” Those six bodies were the

two found in the wreck, and the four floating in the harbor. But Mr.

Cowdery was more successful. He selected three of the bodies as those of

officers, being guided by some fragments of dress still remaining on

them, and still more by the delicate appearance of their hands. As this

was just the number of the officers who were actually lost, and the

Americans in Tripoli were then entirely ignorant of the character of the

party sent in, it leaves scarcely a doubt that this gentleman decided

accurately. Indeed, if the palms of the hands were not much injured, it

would not be easy to make a mistake in such a matter; and any portions

of the dress would be almost as safe guides. The ten seamen were buried

on the beach, outside the town and near the walls; while the three

officers were interred in the same grave, on the plain beyond, or a

cable’s length to the southward and eastward of the castle. Small stones

were placed at the four corners of this last grave, to mark its site;

but they were shortly after removed by the Turks, who refused to let

what they conceived to be a Christian monument, disfigure their land.

Here, then, lie the remains of Somers, and his two gallant friends; and

it might be well to instruct the commander of some national cruiser to

search for their bones, that they might be finally incorporated with the

dust of their native land. Their identity would at once be established

by the number of the skeletons, and the friends of the deceased might

find a melancholy consolation in being permitted to drop a tear over the

spot in in which they would be finally entombed.

The facts related leave little doubt that Com. Preble was mistaken in,

at least, a portion of his conjectures. That no Turks suffered, is shown

by the direct testimony of Captain Bainbridge’s journal, a record made

at the time, and that, too, under circumstances which will not well

admit of mistakes. This truth is also corroborated by other convincing

testimony. Those who saw the explosion, saw no signs of any vessel near

the ketch at the time it occurred, nor were the vestiges of any wreck,

but that of the Intrepid, to be seen in the harbor. The officer who saw

the ketch to the last moment, by means of the glass, is not understood

to have seen any thing near her, and the thirteen bodies found, the

precise number of the Americans known to have been lost, go to confirm

the fact. It adds value to the testimony, too, that a written memorial

of this very number of the dead was made, before the prisoners in

Tripoli had any information concerning the force of the party sent in

from the squadron.

Nor is there sufficient reason for supposing that the Americans blew

themselves up, on this occasion. That Somers went in with a full

determination to put in force this desperate expedient in the event of

its becoming necessary to prevent capture, is beyond dispute; but there

is no proof of the existence of the necessity. To suppose the _match_

would have been applied, except in the last emergency, is to accuse him

who did it, with a want of coolness; a virtue that Captain Somers

possessed in an eminent degree; and this emergency could hardly have

existed without some of the enemy having been near enough to suffer by

the explosion. The whole party was accustomed to fire, and it is

scarcely possible that they could have been driven to this desperate

step, by means of injury received in this manner, as they always had

their boats for a flight, when required. There was a vague rumor that

most of the bodies found had been perforated by grape-shot, and a

conjecture was made that the survivors fired the train, in order to

prevent the Turks from getting possession of the powder. But the report

can be traced to no sufficient authority, and it is not probable that so

many would have suffered in this way as to prevent the unhurt from using

the boats and the train in the mode originally contemplated. But one man

was found in the Constitution’s cutter, and he, doubtless, was the

boat-sitter, who lost his life at his post. This indicates any thing but

hurry or alarm.

It is also certain that the splinter-room was not lighted, as its flame

would have been both quick and bright; and, with a thousand anxious eyes

on watch, it could not fail to have been seen. This circumstance goes

further to show, that no gunboat or galley could have been approaching

the ketch at the time she exploded, one of the purposes of these

splinters being to keep the enemy aloof, through the dread of a

fire-vessel. To suppose a neglect of using the splinter-room, in a case

of necessity, would be to accuse the party of the same want of coolness

as is inferred by the supposition of their blowing themselves up when no

foe was near. Both were morally impossible, with such a man as Somers.

Admitting that no Tripolitan vessel was near the Intrepid, and still

insisting that the train was fired by the Americans, no reason can be

given why the preparations for the safety of the latter’s crew, should

not have been used. The Constitution’s cutter was found with its keeper

alone in it, but of the Siren’s boat we have no account. The latter was

probably alongside the ketch and destroyed; it may have been sunk by a

falling shell; or it may have been privately appropriated to himself by

some Turk. That no one was in it, however, is shown by the twelve bodies

that were found out of the boats; for, if manned, and a few yards from

the ketch, the crew would have been blown into its bottom, and not into

the water.

Abandoning the idea that the Intrepid was intentionally blown up, by

Somers and his party, we have the alternatives of believing the disaster

to have been the result of the fire of the enemy, or the consequences of

an accident. The latter is possible, but the former appears to us to be

much the most probable. The light seen by Captain Stewart and Lieutenant

Carrol, taken in connection with the circumstance that the explosion

occurred immediately after, and apparently at that precise spot, is

certainly an incident worthy of our consideration, though it is not easy

to see how this light could have produced the calamity. Accidents are

much less likely to happen on board such a vessel, than on ordinary

occasions, every care being taken to prevent them. As the intention was

to fire the splinters, all caution was doubtless used to see that no

loose powder was lying about, and that the flames should not communicate

with the train, except at the right moment, and in the proper manner.

Still an accident from this source _may_ have occurred, through some

unforeseen agency. If this light was really on board the ketch it was

probably carried from aft, where it had been kept under the eye of the

officers, to the main-hatch in order to kindle the splinters, a step

that it was about time to take. Commodore Preble, in his official

letter, adverts to the circumstance that this splinter-room had not been

set on fire when the ketch blew up, as a proof that the party had been

induced to act on an emergency; for he always reasoned as if they blew

themselves up; believing that the Intrepid was surrounded, and that many

of the enemy were killed. Reasoning on the same circumstance, with the

knowledge we now possess that no Turks were near, or that any suffered,

and it goes to show that the explosion occurred at a moment when it was

not expected by Somers, who would not have neglected to fire this room,

in any ordinary case. If the accident had its rise on board the ketch,

it probably occurred in the attempt to take this preliminary step.

But the Intrepid may have been blown up, by means of a shot from the

enemy. This is the most probable solution of the catastrophe, and the

one which is the most consoling to the friends of the sufferers, and

which ought to be the most satisfactory to the nation. Commodore Preble

says, “on entering the harbor several shot were fired at her (the

Intrepid) from the batteries.” The western entrance, in or near which

the ketch blew up, is within pistol shot of what is called the Spanish

fort, or, indeed, of most of the works on and about the mole. Even the

bashaw’s castle lies within fair canister range of this spot, and,

prepared as the Turks were for any desperate enterprise on the part of

the Americans, nothing is more probable than that they jealously watched

the movements of a vessel that was entering their harbor after dark,

necessarily passing near, if not coming directly from the American

squadron. These batteries may even have been provided with hot shot, for

any emergency like this. Gunboat No. 8, Lieutenant Caldwell, was blown

up in the attack of the 7th August, and that very circumstance would

probably induce the Turks to make a provision for repeating the injury.

A cold shot, however, might very well have caused the explosion. The

breaking of one of the shells on deck; the collision with a bolt, a

spike or even a nail in passing through the hull, may have struck fire.

It is possible a shot passed through the splinter-room, and exposed the

powder of the train, and that in running below with a lantern to

ascertain what damage had been done, the accident may have occurred. The

moving light seen by the present Commodore Stewart, would favor such a

supposition; though it must be remembered this light may also have been

on board some vessel beyond the ketch, or even on the shore.

Only one other supposition has been made concerning this melancholy

affair. It has been thought that the ketch grounded on the rocks, in the

western entrance, and was blown up there, to prevent the enemy from

getting possession of her powder. That the Intrepid may have touched the

rocks is not improbable, the pass being laid down in the most accurate

chart of the harbor, as less than eighty fathoms wide, with shoal water

on each side, the visible rocks being more than double that distance

asunder; but grounding does not infer the necessity of blowing up the

ketch’s crew. To suppose that Somers would have destroyed himself

through mortification, at finding his vessel on shore, is opposed to

reason and probability; while it is doing gross injustice to a character

of singular chivalry and generosity to believe he would have sacrificed

his companions to any consideration so strictly selfish.

In this case, as in all others, the simplest and most natural solution

of the difficulty is the most probable. All the known facts of the case,

too, help to sustain this mode of reasoning. Those who saw the ketch,

think she was advancing to the lost moment, while it is agreed she had

not reached, by several hundred yards, the spot to which it was the

intention to carry her. By the chart alluded to, one recently made by an

English officer of great merit, it is about eleven hundred yards from

the western entrance to the bashaw’s castle, and about five hundred and

fifty to the inner harbor, or galley mole. Here, close to windward of

the enemy’s vessels, Somers intended to have left the ketch, and there

is no doubt she would have drifted into their midst, when the

destruction must have been fearful. God disposed of the result

differently, for some wise purpose of his own, rendering the assailants

the sole victims of the enterprise. It is only by considering the utter

insignificance of all temporal measures, as compared with what lies

beyond, that we can learn to submit to these dispensations, with a just

sense of our own impotency.

All agree that the Intrepid blew up, in or quite near to the western

entrance. This was the result of direct observation; it is proved by the

fact that portions of the wreck and some of the shells fell on the

rocks, and by the positions in which the Constitution’s cutter and the

bottom of the ketch were found. With the wind at the eastward, the wreck

could not have “grounded on the _north_ side of the rocks, near the

round battery,” as is stated in Commodore Bainbridge’s private journal,

had the Intrepid been any distance _within_ the entrance; nor would the

Constitution’s boat have drifted past the intervening objects to the

westward. The wind had probably a little northing in it, following the

line of coast, as is usual with light airs, and, as is shown by the

wreck’s touching on the _north_ side of the rocks, all of which goes to

prove, from an examination of the chart, as well as from the evidence of

those who were present, that the accident occurred quite near the place

stated. Occurring so far out, with nothing near to endanger the party,

it leaves the moral certainly that the explosion was the result of

accident, and not of design; or, if the latter, of an attempt of the

enemy to destroy the Intrepid.

Thus perished Richard Somers, the subject of our memoir, and one of the

“bravest of the brave.” Notwithstanding all our means of reasoning, and

the greatest efforts of human ingenuity, there will remain a melancholy

interest around the manner of his end, which, by the Almighty will, is

forever veiled from human eyes in a sad and solemn mystery. In whatever

way we view the result, the service on which he went was one of

exceeding peril. He is known to have volunteered for it, with readiness;

to have made his preparations with steadiness and alacrity; and, when

last seen, to have been entering on its immediate execution, with a calm

and intrepid serenity. There was an ennobling motive, too, for

undertaking so great a risk. In addition to the usual inducements of

country and honor, the immediate liberation of Bainbridge and his brave

companions was believed to depend on its success. Exaggerated notions of

the sufferings of the Philadelphia’s crew prevailed in the squadron

before Tripoli, as well as in the country, and their brethren in arms

fought with the double incentive of duty and friendship. Ten minutes

more would probably have realized the fondest hopes of the adventurers,

but the providence of God was opposed to their success, and the cause,

if it is ever to be known to man, must abide the revolutions that await

the end of time, and the commencement of eternity.

In person, Somers was a man of middle stature—rather below than above

it—but stout of frame; exceedingly active, and muscular. His nose was

inclining to the aquiline, his eyes and hair were dark, and his whole

face bore marks of the cross of the French blood that was said to run in

his veins. It is a remarkable circumstance in the career of this

distinguished young officer, that no one has any thing to urge against

him. He was mild, amiable and affectionate, both in disposition and

deportment, though of singularly chivalrous notions of duty and honor.

It has been said by a writer who has had every opportunity of

ascertaining the fact, that when a very young man he fought three duels

in one day—almost at the same time—being wounded himself in the two

first, and fighting the last, seated on the ground, sustained by his

friend Decatur. Although such an incident could only have occurred with

very young men, and perhaps under the exaggerations of a very young

service, it was perfectly characteristic of Somers. There was nothing

vindictive in these duels. He fired but once at each adversary—he

wounded the last man—and was himself, in a physical sense, the

principal sufferer. The quarrels arose from his opponents imputing to

him a want of spirit for not resenting some idle expression of

Decatur’s, who was the last man living to intend to hurt Somers’

feelings. They loved each other as brothers, and Decatur proved it, by

offering to fight the two last duels for his friend, after the latter

had received his first wound. But Somers fought for honor, and was

determined that the men who doubted him, should be convinced of their

mistake. Apart from the error of continuing the affairs after the first

injury, and the general moral mistake of supposing that a moral injury

can be repaired in this mode at all, these duels had the chivalrous

character that should ever characterize such meetings, if meetings of

this nature are really necessary to human civilization.

Although it is scarcely possible that a warm-hearted young man, like

Somers, should not have felt a preference for some person of the other

sex, it is not known that he had any serious attachment when he lost his

life. Glory appears to have been his mistress, for the time being at

least, and he led no one of this nature behind him to mourn his early

loss. He died possessed of a respectable landed property, and one of

increasing value; all of which he bequeathed to the only sister

mentioned.

Somers was thought to be an expert seaman, by those who were good judges

of such qualifications. As a commander he was mild, but sufficiently

firm. His education, without being unusual even in his profession at

that day, had not been neglected, though he would not probably have been

classed among the reading men of the service. A chivalrous sense of

honor, an unmoved courage, and perfect devotion to the service in which

he was engaged, formed the prominent points of his character, and as all

were accompanied by great gentleness of manner and amiability of

feeling, he appears to have been equally beloved and respected. The

attachment which existed between him and Decatur had something romantic

about it. They were rivals in professional daring, while they were bosom

friends. As we have already said, it is by no means improbable that the

exploits of Decatur induced Somers, through a generous competition, to

engage in the perilous enterprise in which he perished, and on which he

entered with a known intention of yielding up his life, if necessary to

prevent the enemy’s obtaining the great advantage of demanding ransom

for his party, or of seizing the powder in the ketch.

Congress passed a resolution of condolence with the friends of the

officers who died in the Intrepid, as well as with those of all the

officers who fell before Tripoli. Of these brave men, Somers, on account

of his rank, the manner of his death, and his previous exploits, has

stood foremost with the country and the service. These claims justly

entitle him to this high distinction. Among all the gallant young men

that this war first made known to the nation, he has always maintained a

high place, and, as it is a station sealed with his blood, it has become

sacred to the entire republic.

It is a proof of the estimation in which this regretted officer is held,

that several small vessels have since been called after him. Perry had a

schooner, which was thus designated, under his orders on the memorable

10th September, 1813; and a beautiful little brig has lately been put

into the water on the seaboard, which is called the Somers. In short,

his name has passed into a watchword in the American navy; and as they

who are first associated with the annals of a nation, whether in

connection with its institutions, its arms, its literature, or its arts,

form the germs of all its future renown, it is probable it will be

handed down to posterity, as one of the bright examples which the

aspiring and daring in their country’s service will do well to imitate.

-----

[1] There are so many modes for evading the simplest provisions of a

written constitution, when power feels itself fettered, that it is not

easy to say in what manner the difficulties of this case were got over.

The reduction law said that there should be only nine captains,

thirty-six lieutenants, and one hundred and fifty midshipmen _during

peace_, and, as the country was at war with Tripoli in 1804, there was a

show of plausibility in getting over the force of this particular

enactment. Still the appointments of the commanders were not to fill

vacancies, under any common sense construction of their nature; and,

even admitting that political ingenuity could torture the law of

Congress to build four vessels like those actually put into the water,

into an obligation to appoint proper persons to command them, these

appointments could have no validity after the termination of the next

session of the Senate. Of the _facts_ of the case we believe there can

be no doubt.

[2] Mr. Ridgely signed a letter to Preble just two months later as a

lieutenant. He may possibly have been promoted at the time the Intrepid

went in.

* * * * *

WINTEMOYEH.

A LEGEND OF MACKINAW.

BY GEORGE H. COLTON.

The incident related in the following lines is recorded of a young

British officer, commanding at Fort Mackinaw, soon after the French war.

His name was Robinson; and the cliff, from which the enraged Indian

sprung with his daughter, rising to three hundred feet above the water,

is called, to this day, Robinson’s Folly. They had been married about

two weeks when the tragical event took place.

How glorious, gleaming o’er the wave,

Whereon the evening sun is shining,

With woods, and bannered fortress brave,

And chalky cliff, and scallop cave,

And vines o’er gray old rocks entwining,

Proud Mackinaw uplifts her form,

Unchanged by years of sun and storm!

Borne from afar, around her feet

The purple waters murmuring meet;

In milder beauty’s dimpling smiles

Rise, near, her deep-born sister isles,

And, winding wild, with forests green,

Low banks, and lonely coves unseen,

Stretch wide away, on either hand,

Shores fair as an enchanted land.

Ah, me! there is no spot of earth,

Though brightest with the smile of God,

Where’er the human heart hath birth,

Or human foot hath trod,

That doth no deed of terror know,

Or thought of unrecorded wo!

Nor ever hath the evening sun

Looked forth the rounded world upon,

And witnessed in no lovely place

Some scene of sin or dark distress!

Of all the sons of Tarke[3] none

In battle braver deeds had done,

Or mightier in the council sat

Where chieftains joined the deep debate,

Than proud Peechiki. He had trod

With Pontiac on the path of blood;

With Pontiac had at every chance

Still struggled for the love of France;

With Pontiac in the battle’s crash

Hewed down the hated Sagaunash;[4]

And when his last the Ottowa breathed,

To stern Peechiki was bequeathed

A hidden hatred—such as burns

Where Ætna’s heart to ashes turns.

But suddenly a terror came,

A swift disease of fearful name.

All whom he loved, or could have wept,

One hour beheld to darkness swept—

All but his youngest, fairest child,

On which the mother dying smiled,

Sweet Wintemoyeh, sweetest flower,

Lone lingerer in his rifled bower,

The loveliest far of Tarke’s daughters

Beside St. Mary’s rushing waters.

And now beyond their empty home

No more the mourning sire would roam,

But all his moody hours employ

In hovering near his only joy.

So sweet to gaze upon her face,

Why should his foot the wild deer trace?

So light her step green leaves among,

Why should he seek the warrior throng?

Or where could tones so soft and clear

Make music to his aged ear?

Oh! thus to love can only be

Refined, absorbing misery!

But cloudy years were gathering fast,

And ere they should their shadows cast

Upon his grave, the sole, fair flower

He would might grace some chieftain’s bower.

And when, to woo her for his bride,

The Children-of-the-Reindeer’s pride,

Great Assiboin, his love gifts bore:

From far Superior’s farthest shore,

The father gave her youthful age,

With joy, to be his heritage.

For who like him could hunt the roe?

Who track so fast a flying foe?

Whose feet by lake and lonely glen

So oft had led his dauntless men

From Mississippi’s haunted cave

To Saskatchawan’s gloomy wave?

Beloved by one so brave as he

How happy would her portion be!

In truth, he was a warrior bold,

But wedded, ugly, fierce and old,

To maiden’s heart a terror, were

No brighter image worshiped there:

And ah! the maid had chanced to see

A face that lived in memory!

The wild flowers of the early spring

Her gentle hands were gathering,

When lo! before her gazing stood

A pale-face in the leafy wood.

And as she looked upon him there,

So young, so proud, so nobly fair,

A thrill of strange emotion stole

In tremblings through her timid soul.

Yet turned she not—and then he took

His seat beside her, where the brook

Ran rippling o’er its pebbly bed;

And soft and earnest things he said

With broken words and many a sign

That only Love could e’er divine.

He was a white man—hated race!

But ah! what looks, what winning grace!

And who such gentle words could say?

Her simple heart was stol’n away!

The hideous bridegroom comes at last—

The feast is gorged—the night is past—

At morn behold the father lie

In writhing, wildered agony!

He hastes the nuptials that his eyes

May see her blest before he dies:

Alas! her father’s couch of pain!

But how with such a spouse remain?

Poor girl! how sad the lot that laid

Such choice upon a guileless maid!

She trembles—flees—that gentle being—

Her lover clasps her—trembling—fleeing.

An April day was hers—so brief,

With tears and sunshine, joy and grief.

Upon the island’s lofty verge,

That overhangs the chiding surge,

Within a sylvan bower, arrayed

Of cedars green and woven shade,

In festive mirth with comrades boon,

The lover sat, from radiant noon

Till shadowy eve: and by him smiled

Fair Wintemoyeh, now beguiled

Of thought by melting music wild;

Love keeping watch in her dark eye,

How fast the speaking moments fly!

Now sank the sun, but lingering gave

Last looks of love each rising wave,

That wooed his smile—when suddenly

A rifle rang, and, bounding high

In baffled rage, as, with a yell,

By death-bolt at the lover sped,

Another than his victim fell,

The father, minister of dread,

Whom wrath had rescued from the dead,

Dashed through the revel—seized his child—

Yelled in her frighted ear “defiled!”

At one stride bore her to the ledge,

Then, turning darkly on the edge,

His clenched hand shook. The lover sprung

To save his love. With whoop and whirl,

Far from the cliff exulting flung,

The savage bore the wretched girl;

And as to every gazing eye

They gleamed, like meteor hurled from high,

Wild rose through mid air to the sky

_His_ cry of triumph, _hers_ of terror:

Down, down, careering, headlong borne,

Dashed on the rocks, disjointed, torn,

The chieftain found his vengeance sworn,

The maid atoned her first, last error.

The waves, the broken rocks that lave,

Received them to a restless grave,

Whose mangled forms, unclasping never,

Move with the moving tide forever.

-----

[3] “_Tarke_,” _the crane_, was the totem, or animal chosen as the head

and symbol of a Chippewa tribe, formerly resident along the St. Mary.

[4] “Sagaunash” is the Indian for “English.”

* * * * *

DE PONTIS.

A TALE OF RICHELIEU.

BY THE AUTHOR OF “HENRI QUATRE; OR THE DAYS OF THE LEAGUE.”

(Continued from page 141.)

CHAPTER IV.

Marguerite had cause of self congratulation in the issue of the second

interview with the all powerful Richelieu. Difficulties, which the

imagination paints as an Herculean labor to remove, shrink to trifles

when the will is resolute and stern necessity impels.

The dread audience over, she flew with the intelligence to the zealous

and faithful advocate, but when the first tumult of the mind had

subsided, there was much to ponder over ere she could meet Monsieur

Giraud. What account could be rendered concerning the page? Would he not

question, and perhaps tax her with imprudence, and misplaced confidence?

And was there no one else, fair Marguerite, interested? No question to

ask thy own heart?

Richelieu’s page was daring, reckless, and seemingly a very unscrupulous

youth, following the impulses of his will even to the periling of

liberty and life! Yet her heart pleaded in his favor—the homage he paid

was flattering—even the peril was incurred for her sake—and though

their first rencontre was humiliating to her delicacy, and strangely

indecorous on his part, yet, ere parting, it must be confessed that the

rudeness had been forgiven, and his frankness and sincerity won favor.

We will not say how far atonement was rendered easier in the culprit by

the advantages of a handsome figure, youthful tresses and the fire of a

proud dark eye!

Could she with honor, even with safety, expose his secret to the

advocate? Nay, to confess that her intelligence was derived from a page

in a confidential interview, would it not bring more blushes to the

cheek than being exposed to the gaze of the score of cavaliers who

environed Richelieu?

It could not be thought of—yet must the intelligence be communicated to

the worthy Giraud—it was even so intended by François himself, although

in terms so flattering to her discretion, he left the means to the

maiden’s own judgment, making no stipulation, merely the memento that

life and liberty were in her hands. And ought they not to be held

sacred? Yes! even the very shadow of his name should be secret, no

allusion escape her lips, which might in the slightest degree compromise

the youth, even to so trusty a friend as Giraud.

The advocate was at home, waiting anxiously her appearance, for

to-morrow would the sharp _procureur_ pray for the decree of

sequestration, and the venal president doubtless affirm it.

She had not taken his advice, but preferred a second appeal to the

flinty cardinal rather than beseech the king’s interference. Yet had she

been successful! He was delighted, prayed that every particular might be

narrated, exclaimed that no such maiden had graced the lineage of De

Pontis these five centuries past.

Gravely bidding the learned man cool his ardor, and take repose in the

easy chair, the oracular seat in which he gave audience to clients, she

detailed the circumstances of the meeting with the cardinal in the

garden.

But who pointed out to Mademoiselle the locality? Who dictated the

stratagem—for such it appeared to be—as the garden was not the usual

gate of egress to the minister?

These questions the maiden solemnly declared that she must not

answer—under whosever guidance she had acted, Monsieur Giraud might

perceive that it had been successful. He must not even make further

inquiries, or she would withhold secrets yet in store. It was not

perhaps delicate or befitting, that one of her age should obtain

intelligence from sources which she dare not reveal to her father, or

her father’s friend—yet Monsieur Giraud must remember that the _rôle_

she played in the affair was altogether unsuitable to her sex, and

parental affection alone had stimulated her to endure what she had

undergone. As the advocate had encouraged the resolution, he must not

complain of an inevitable consequence—as she had ventured on a

business, and strayed into haunts fitting only a man to explore, it must

be permitted her to retain a privilege of manhood—the keeping her own

secret.

There was no answering this positive declaration, so the wondering, but

good natured lawyer, shifted ground, and requested a recital of such

secrets as he might be permitted to hear. At the mention of the Count De

Fontrailles, a flush overspread his pale face, and when Mademoiselle had

concluded the narration, he sat awhile in deep thought. “Fontrailles!”

cried the advocate, breaking silence, “he was one of three whom I

suspected—but I am glad he is the man, for if I mistake not, I hold

that which will ruin him with the cardinal. Shall we consult with

Monsieur De Pontis to-morrow morning? I might obtain an order at the

bureau this evening. No! he is useless to our plans. Mademoiselle and

myself, and,” he added, looking significantly at the maiden, “her

unknown friend, with his budget of secrets, are a trio equal to the

emergency. But tell me, Marguerite, have you not been to the Tuileries

to-day?”

She assured him that she had not.

“Then my conjectures are all vain,” cried Giraud, “but let us to

council.”

He pointed out with clearness the position in which the affairs of De

Pontis now stood in relation to all the parties with whom he was

unfortunately engaged. The suit of Pedro Olivera gave but little

concern. If all the presidents of that court were not biased, he thought

he should be able to disprove the equity of Pedro’s claim, through

documents in his possession, or failing this he could produce many

sets-off, moneys lent to the claimant of which he acknowledged no

account, of itself tending to cast suspicion on the suitor, and at any

rate convict him of dishonesty.

But it mattered little what became of Pedro’s suit, if the estate of De

Pontis, together with the _droit d’aubaine_, were sequestered by the

_procureur’s_ decree in the meanwhile. The week’s grace would afford the

opportunity wanted to arrange a plan of operations.

“But if Monsieur should lay these papers before the cardinal, is he sure

that it would effect the count’s ruin?—he may be so necessary, that his

eminence cannot part with him,” remarked the damsel.

“A very pertinent question,” cried Giraud, “but still betraying

ignorance of a proper procedure with Fontrailles. If I went to his

eminence, and succeeded in ruining the favorite, that would not likely

stop Pedro’s suit, or the _procureur’s_ proceedings, as the cardinal is

now embittered personally against Monsieur De Pontis, and might divert

the _droit d’aubaine_ to some other channel than the treacherous count,

Mademoiselle’s unknown friend for instance, whom I am persuaded holds

the keys of the cardinal duke’s cabinet.”

Marguerite blushed, but made no reply, and the advocate continued.

“Effectually to serve my good friend, I must make Fontrailles so tremble

in his shoes at the very idea of the ruin I hold over his head, that he

shall himself intercede with Richelieu to cancel all the court’s

proceedings, and leave your father in peaceful possession of the

_droit_. These are the terms I shall offer!”

“But how will the count get over the surprise of his eminence at what

will appear such extraordinary conduct on his part?” asked Marguerite.

“When Mademoiselle has had longer experience in the haunts into which

she strayed,” replied the advocate, “more communings with her all-wise

secret friend, she will not need be told that when a man of Fontraille’s

stamp has chosen a line of conduct, nothing is easier than to assign a

motive for it. I have no positive objection, if he need such aid, that

we should give the count a helping hand on that point.”

“And what remains to be done?” asked Marguerite.

“Nothing but for your humble servant to arm himself for conflict with

the dark-souled intriguer,” replied the advocate, smiling; “it will be a

desperate strife, I can assure Mademoiselle, a hard struggle ere the

count, overwhelmed with debts, and panting for the rich effects of the

Spaniard, will yield the prey!”

“And what part shall I take in the contest?” said the maiden, “how can I

aid Monsieur?”

“I have little doubt,” replied the advocate, taking the damsel’s hand,

and raising it to his lips with an air of gallantry, “that this soft

hand has been pressed before to-day, but if a grave man in years, like

myself, were to repeat the foolish things that were said over it, as for

instance, that to press such a treasure to my lips, were overpaying me

for all the secrets I disclosed, I have little doubt that for me to say

so, would look very silly! You blush, Marguerite, it is very hard to

deceive an old advocate, our profession is learned in the world’s ways.

But beware, Mademoiselle! beware! danger lurks in the precincts of

courts.”

“Has Monsieur faith in my discretion?” asked Marguerite, smiling through

her blushes.

“I have,” replied Giraud with earnestness, “and I am about to afford

such proof of it, as might with many men rank me as one capable of

acting with deliberate folly.”

He then informed Marguerite, what had not before struck her, that in

attacking Fontrailles, he ran risk in many shapes, even of personal

danger; he might lose his life in bearding the count in his own hotel.

Every species of menace and intimidation would be undoubtedly employed

to silence one armed, like the advocate, with documents threatening

ruin; these failing, personal violence might be resorted to.

“Nay, Marguerite! look not so pale,” said Giraud, whose language had

awakened extreme terror in the maiden, “I am a bachelor, and my life

would be well lost in defending a just cause—but the count, I believe,

would venture on a different system, though equally desperate. It

appears your unknown friend confirms what we have all surmised

respecting these papers, and when I acknowledge possession he will, I

have reason to fear, avail of some scheme of villany to dispossess me.

No means, however reckless, will he fail of using. If I loose the proofs

of his treachery my weapon is broken—and then farewell the cause of De

Pontis!”

“And how is this to be avoided? O! go not near such a man!” cried

Marguerite, distressed and alarmed.

The advocate laughed at her fears. He knew, he said, whom he had to deal

with too well to venture into the arena of conflict unprepared. That he

might not be deprived by force of the documents, it were necessary that

they should no longer remain in his custody—nor would he meet the count

till he knew they were in the hands of a party who would still hold them

_in terrorem_ over Richelieu’s favorite, should he, Giraud, be

kidnapped, thrown into prison, or otherwise disposed of. And that his

safety might rest on securer footing, he should take especial care to

let Fontrailles understand that whatever became of the humble advocate

the haughty noble had not removed one iota of the peril which menaced

himself.

But whom could he trust? Not De Pontis, for the veteran had neither

place of concealment for them, nor freedom to make an active use of the

weapons should circumstances require it. And whom else confide in?

Certainly none of his professional brethren—and he had no near kinsman,

save De Pontis—nor did he know any friend of the latter to whom he

could delegate the trust, for the veteran had been abandoned when

Richelieu became his foe. Marguerite herself was eminently trustworthy,

but the papers could not remain, even with the shadow of safety, in her

possession—her lodging would undoubtedly be subjected to a domiciliary

visit.

And yet he was about to confide the charge to her, but with the

condition that it be immediately transferred to sure hands, and to one

who had the courage and heart to stand in his place should he fall.

“You see, Marguerite De Pontis, how weighty will be the responsibility,”

said he, “and yet, I confess, I know not what other course to pursue. As

you have not made me your confidant, I know not all your friends—but if

you are aware of none other to whom so precious a charge can be

conveyed, involving your father’s, your own, and my fortunes, then place

the papers in the hands of his majesty—he is no match for the cardinal

or Fontrailles either—but he has pledged himself to Monsieur De Pontis,

and his faith is good though his courage be poor.”

He then handed her the rather bulky packet, repeating the injunction, if

she were cognizant of no abler or trustier friend, to make Louis the

depositary.

“I am acting strangely,” said the advocate, “in permitting Mademoiselle,

so young, to choose her own and her father’s champion, but I feel an

impulse to which I yield without strictly satisfying my reason. When

Marguerite informs me that the packet is transferred, then I go forth to

the encounter.”

Kissing her forehead, he bade the damsel farewell. Concealing the packet

under her mantle, the tears starting to her eyes at the solemnity of the

injunction, she retraced her way sadly to the _Rue St. Denis_.

In the solitude of her chamber—only broken by the occasional entrance

of the aged female, the last link of a once numerous household—she had

much to reflect on. The noble, though eccentric, behavior of Giraud; the

proud Richelieu, serene and tranquil even in his implacability; the

poor, weak Louis; the dark, intriguing Fontrailles; and, lastly, the

page, with his sudden birth of passion.

Was it a dream? Was she Marguerite De Pontis, daughter of a poor

gentleman of Limousin, and so deeply involved in the thickening strife

of the master intellects of France? It was even so—the fatal packet met

her eyes, cause of past, present and future contest—and her own destiny

it was to cast the firebrand at the enemies which beset her imprisoned

father!

Whilst indulging these meditations, the tinkling bell of the

_houblieur_, or itinerant dealer in wafer cakes, fell upon her ear. She

started from the reverie, and, hastening to the door, beheld the slim

vender, apron tied round the waist, basket on arm, and bell in hand,

seemingly more anxious to attract a customer from the lodging of De

Pontis than solicitous to dispose of his cakes to the frequenters of the

_Rue St. Denis_.

Perceiving the door open, he made no hesitation in entering, although

Marguerite had been careful not to expose herself to view. The noise,

however, attracted old Marie, bringing her from her retreat in the

domestic offices of the domicil.

“Holy Virgin!” cried the ancient dame, “there is a man in the hall.”

“Yes, _ma bonne mère_!” said the disguised page, “and he has a tongue

which will rival the loudest gossip in the _Rue St. Denis_;” and

thereupon the youth commenced ringing his bell violently, to the extreme

vexation of Marguerite, and the astonishment of the old crone.

Alarmed at the noise, and the unexpected apparition in the gloom, the

old woman shouted for help. The damsel knew not what to do, or how to

explain the matter to her ancient retainer—something must be done to

silence both parties, so suddenly seizing the bell, she wrested it from

his grasp; then approaching the old woman, she spoke in a loud whisper

that the man was not what he appeared to be, that he came on her

father’s business by direction of Monsieur Giraud, and that the visit

must be kept secret. With these words she quieted and dismissed Marie,

and then turning to the youth, said disdainfully, that she was much

beholden for his services—that their second meeting was in strict

keeping with their first rencontre.

“Pardon me, Mademoiselle,” said François, apologizing, “but I am in such

good spirits that my joy cannot contain itself.”

“Such feelings may agree with the prosperity of the _Palais-Cardinal_,”

replied Marguerite, “but you are now in a house of mourning, and it will

be so as long as my poor father lies in the _Conciergerie_.”

The course Marguerite was embarked on necessitated courage and decision,

nor was she deficient. Without fear, or at least without betraying any,

she led the youth to the _salle_, or parlor, and requesting him to be

seated, said she was afraid that more discretion than he possessed would

be requisite to aid her father. Still she was very grateful for the

interview with the cardinal, obtained, as she confessed, solely through

his directions; also for the clue to the machinations of the Count De

Fontrailles.

“I have been employed alone both in Germany and in England, young as I

appear to be, and on the cardinal’s business,” said the page, in rather

a haughty tone, “and his eminence is not the man to employ those in his

affairs who lack discretion. Does my present garb indicate want of

precaution, or imply foresight? I appeal to Mademoiselle’s candor!”

“But consider, sir—consider, Monsieur Romainville,” exclaimed

Marguerite, “if the troubles of our family should have led me to place

confidence in a stranger, does that warrant him in entering our house in

a style and with a noise calculated to bring observation and remarks on

my conduct?”

“Suppose there were a disposition to scandal, which Heaven forbid!”

replied the youth, “the real object of my visit would still be masked.

In the short period which I hope will terminate Monsieur De Pontis’

imprisonment, it were even better that I were suspected wrongly than my

real motives guessed at. But I have not unfolded my news.”

He then informed the damsel that the Count De Fontrailles was in

attendance on the cardinal when he left the palace, and of course heard

Mademoiselle’s petition and the favorable though sarcastic reply of the

minister. A little scene of remonstrance and replication occurred

afterwards, as the page knew, though he would not say how he became

possessed of the information, between patron and dependent, in the

course of which the cardinal rallying his favorite, declared the _droit

d’aubaine_ was worth another week’s waiting, and the affairs of De

Pontis would stand at the expiration exactly where they did. The count

left the presence much disappointed, remarking that he was happy to find

Monseigneur regaining the feelings of youth—if a taste for beauty were

a criterion. Richelieu only smiled, for the count was a useful man.

Elsewhere, Fontrailles swore horribly at the delay, and vowed vengeance

against all who stood in the way of his desires. His creditors were

gaping for their claims, and there were debts of honor unpaid. This

statement Mademoiselle might rely on.

“Alas!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I tremble for my father’s kind friend,

Monsieur Giraud, he will fall a sacrifice to the count’s rage. It is far

better we should abandon the _droit_ than expose so worthy a man to

peril.”

In explanation, she ventured to inform François of the advocate’s

intention. But Pedro Olivera’s statement of claim on Fontrailles—where

was it? demanded the youth eagerly. The maiden was silent! Had she

disclosed aught concerning himself to Monsieur Giraud? Marguerite

repeated what had passed on that topic.

De Romainville, who observed her hesitation, assured her that in aught

which concerned her father’s affairs she might safely confide in him. He

did not profess to be disinterested—he might even claim a boon, but on

this point would be silent till M. De Pontis were liberated. That she

might know the history of one who asked her confidence, he related that

his father had been sacrificed by a similar juggle to that attempted

against Monsieur, and for the benefit of the same party, Fontrailles.

The count pretending to pity his orphan state—and well he might, as he

had himself wrought the calamity—recommended him to the cardinal. He

served his eminence, it is true, and on occasions usefully, but hatred

to the two prominent authors of his father’s ruin was not diminished

thereby; and this feeling had twice produced a refractoriness leading to

incarceration in the guard-room of the _Palais-Cardinal_.

Sympathizing with De Pontis, detesting Fontrailles and the tyrannical

Richelieu—but for whom he might still have had a parent alive, and been

himself very different from the reckless scapegrace he was now

accounted—he might, he thought, be fairly trusted with any scheme which

promised revenge on either the count or his patron.

Monsieur Giraud, he said, acted wisely in attacking Fontrailles in the

way pointed out, but there was one matter which it behoved him to take

care of with the count, which was to have especial regard that he be not

robbed of the documents.

Marguerite replied that that subject had been already considered by the

advocate, and he had bestowed the papers elsewhere.

“They are not safe from Fontrailles with Mademoiselle De Pontis,” said

the page, smiling.

“Would they be safe with the Sieur De Romainville in the

_Palais-Cardinal_?” asked the maiden significantly.

“Not so safe as this hand is from my lips!” exclaimed François, suiting

the action to the word and kneeling at her feet; “if Mademoiselle

permit—”

“That she remind him of his promise not to show interested motives till

her father be free,” cried Marguerite, interrupting him.

“Indeed, I had forgotten it!” said the page, laughing and springing to

his feet; “but before I depart let me give proof of disinterestedness,

at least to one of the household. Let Marie have this cargo of wafers,

it will requite the alarm and may help to stop her mouth. The basket I

shall want again.”

So saying, he upset the entire stock in trade on the table, and

replacing the basket on his left arm, seized the hand-bell, which

Marguerite construing into an intention of inflicting another serenade

on the quiet household, cried,

“For my sake, Monsieur, forbear!”

“I can assure Mademoiselle I shall not be guilty a second time of such

folly,” replied François, “but I was so delighted with the check given

to Fontrailles!”

In place of the wafers, he took with him the packet, and the good wishes

of her who had given it in charge.

* * * * *

BEAR ON!

Kind Nature hath a sympathizing tone

For every mood of human joy or pain.

Sad heart from humblest flower may courage gain,

Daring the storm with smiling brow alone!

The “brave old oak,” around whose head have blown

A hundred winters, still maintains his place;

The hoary cliff uprears his storm-scar’d face

Tho’ round his base the wrecks of Time are strown;

The stars shine on as at their birth they shone;

The glorious sun runs his immortal race:

Faint spirit! bowed ’neath Life’s o’erburdening ills,

Lift up thine eye to Heaven’s eternal scope,

Look out upon the everlasting hills,

And see a firm foundation still for Hope!

S. S.

* * * * *

THE SPANISH STUDENT.

BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

What’s done we partly may compute,

But know not what’s resisted.

Burns.

(Continued from page 113.)

ACT THE SECOND.

Scene I.—_Preciosa’s Chamber. Morning. Preciosa and Angelica._

_Pre._ Why will you go so soon? Stay yet awhile.

The poor too often turn away unheard

From hearts that shut against them, with a sound

That will be heard in Heaven. Pray tell me more

Of your adversities. Keep nothing from me.

What is your landlord’s name?

_Ang._ The Count of Lara.

_Pre._ The Count of Lara? O beware that man!

Mistrust his pity—hold no parley with him!

And rather die an outcast in the streets

Than touch his gold.

_Ang._ You know him, then!

_Pre._ As much

As any woman may, and yet be pure.

As you would keep your name without a blemish,

Beware of him!

_Ang._ Alas! what can I do?

I cannot choose my friends. Each word of kindness,

Come whence it may, is welcome to the poor.

_Pre._ Make me your friend. A girl so young and fair

Should have no friends, but those of her own sex.

What is your name?

_Ang._ Angelica.

_Pre._ That name

Was given you, that you might be an angel

To her who bore you! When your infant smile

Made her home Paradise, you were her angel.

O be an angel still. She needs that smile.

So long as you are innocent, fear nothing.

No one can harm you! I am a poor girl,

Whom chance has taken from the public streets.

I have no other shield than my own virtue.

That is the charm which has protected me!

Amid a thousand perils, I have worn it

Here in my heart! It is my guardian angel!

_Ang._ (_rising._) I thank you for this counsel, dearest lady!

_Pre._ Thank me by following it.

_Ang._ Indeed I will.

_Pre._ Pray do not go. I have much more to say.

_Ang._ My mother is alone. I dare not leave her.

_Pre._ Some other time, then, when we meet again.

You must not go away with words alone. (_Gives her a purse._)

Take this. Would it were more.

_Ang._ I thank you, lady.

_Pre._ No thanks. To-morrow come to me again.

I dance to-night—perhaps for the last time.

But what I gain, I promise shall be yours,

If that can save you from the Count of Lara.

_Ang._ O my dear lady! how shall I be grateful

For so much kindness!

_Pre._ I deserve no thanks.

Thank Heaven, not me.

_Ang._ Both Heaven and you.

_Pre._ Farewell!

Remember that you come again to-morrow.

_Ang._ I will. And may the blessed Virgin guard you,

And all good angels. [_Exit._

_Pre._ May they guard thee too,

And all the poor: for they have need of angels.

Now bring me here, dear Dolores, my basquiña,

My richest maja dress—my dancing dress,

And my most precious jewels! Make me look

Fairer than night e’er saw me! I’ve a prize

To win this day, worthy of Preciosa!

_Enter Beltram Cruzado._

_Cruz._ Ave Maria!

_Pre._ Oh God! my evil genius!

What seek you here to-day?

_Cruz._ Thyself—my child.

_Pre._ What is thy will with me?

_Cruz._ Gold!—gold!

_Pre._ I gave thee yesterday; I have no more.

_Cruz._ The gold of the Busné—give me his gold!

_Pre._ I gave the last in charity to-day.

_Cruz._ That is a foolish lie.

_Pre._ It is the truth.

_Cruz._ Curses upon thee! Thou art not my child!

Hast thou given gold away, and not to me?

Not to thy father? To whom, then?

_Pre._ To one

Who needs it more.

_Cruz._ No one can need it more,

No one so much as I.

_Pre._ Thou art not poor.

_Cruz._ Not poor! not poor! what, I who lurk about

In dismal suburbs and unwholesome lanes;

I who am housed worse than the galley slave;

I who am fed worse than the kenneled hound;

I who am clothed in rags—Beltram Cruzado—

Not poor!

_Pre._ Thou hast a stout heart and strong hands.

Thou canst supply thy wants; what wouldst thou more?

_Cruz._ The gold of the Busné!—give me his gold!

_Pre._ Beltram Cruzado! hear me once for all.

I speak the truth. So long as I had gold,

I gave it to thee freely, at all times—

Never denied thee; never had a wish

But to fulfill thine own. Now go in peace!

Be merciful—be patient—and, ere long,

Thou shalt have more.

_Cruz._ And if I have it not,

Thou shall no longer dwell here in rich chambers,

Wear silken dresses, feed on dainty food,

And live in idleness; but go with me—

Dance the romalis in the public streets,

And wander wild again o’er field and fell;

For here we stay not long.

_Pre._ What! march again?

_Cruz._ Aye, with all speed. I hate the crowded town!

I cannot breathe, shut up within its gates!

Air—I want air—and sunshine—and blue sky,

The feeling of the breeze upon my face—

The feeling of the turf beneath my feet,

And no walls but the far-off mountain tops.

Then I am free and strong—once more myself:

Beltram Cruzado—Count of the Calés!

_Pre._ God speed thee on thy march—I cannot go.

_Cruz._ Not go!—thou shall go! or, remaining here,

Purchase thy freedom with red gold. Mark that!

I will return to-morrow. Until then

Reflect on what I say. Thou knowest me—

Take heed. [_Exit._

_Pre._ Alas! of what shall I take heed?

I have a strange misgiving in my heart!

But that one deed of charity I’ll do,

Befall what may; they cannot take that from me. [_Exit._

Scene II.—_A room in the Archbishop’s Palace. The Archbishop

and a Cardinal seated._

_Arch._ Knowing how near it touched the public morals,

And that our age is grown corrupt and rotten

By such excesses, we have sent to Rome,

Beseeching that his Holiness would aid

In curing the gross surfeit of the time,

By seasonable stop put here in Spain

To bull-fights and lewd dances on the stage.

All this you know.

_Car._ Know and approve.

_Arch._ And farther,

That by a mandate from his Holiness

The first have been suppressed.

_Car._ I trust forever.

It was a cruel sport.

_Arch._ A barbarous pastime,

Disgraceful to the land that calls itself

Most Catholic and Christian.

_Car._ Yet the people

Murmur at this; and if the public dances

Should be condemn’d upon too slight occasion,

Worse ills might follow than the ills we cure.

As _Panem et Circenses_ was the cry

Among the Roman populace of old,

So _Pan y Toros_ is the cry in Spain.

Hence I would act advisedly herein;

And therefore have induced your grace to see

These national dances, ere we interdict them.

_Enter a Servant._

_Servant._ The dancing girl, and with her the musicians

Your grace was pleased to order, wait without.

_Arch._ Bid them come in. Now shall your eyes behold

In what angelic yet voluptuous shape

The devil came to tempt Saint Anthony.

_Enter Preciosa, with a mantilla thrown over her head. She

advances slowly, in a modest, half-timid attitude._

_Car._ (_aside._) O what a fair and ministering angel

Was lost to Heaven, when this sweet woman fell!

_Pre._ (_kneeling before the Archbishop._) I have obeyed the order

of your grace.

If I intrude upon your better hours,

I proffer this excuse, and here beseech

Your holy benediction.

_Arch._ May God bless thee,

And lead thee to a better life. Arise.

_Car._ (_aside._) Her acts are modest, and her words discreet!

I did not look for this! Come hither, child.

Is thy name Preciosa?

_Pre._ Thus I am called.

_Car._ That is a gipsy name. Who is thy father?

_Pre._ Beltram Cruzado, Count of the Calés.

_Arch._ I have a dim remembrance of that man;

A bold and reckless character was he,

Who never once beheld the face of fear.

_Car._ Dost thou remember still thy earlier days?

_Pre._ In the green woodlands by the Darro’s side,

My childhood passed. I can remember still

The river, and the mountains capped with snow;

The villages, where yet a little child

I told the traveller’s fortune in the street;

The smuggler’s horse, the brigand and the shepherd;

The march across the moor; the halt at noon;

The red fire of the evening camp, that lighted

The forest where we slept; and, further back,

As in a dream or in some former life,

Gardens and palace walls.

_Arch._ ’Tis the Alhambra,

Under whose walls the gipsy camp was pitch’d.

But the time wears; and we would see thee dance.

_Pre._ Your grace shall be obeyed.

(_She lays aside her mantilla. The music of the Cachucha is

played, and the dance begins. The Archbishop and the Cardinal

look on with gravity and an occasional frown; then make signs to

each other; and, as the dance continues, become more and more

pleased and excited; and at length rise from their seats, throw

their caps in the air, and applaud vehemently as the scene

closes._)

Scene II.—_The Prado. A long avenue of trees leading to the

gate of Atocha. On the right the dome and spires of a convent. A

fountain. Evening. Don Carlos and Hypolito meeting._

_Don C._ Halloo! good evening, Don Hypolito.

_Hyp._ And a good evening to my friend Don Carlos.

Some lucky star has led my steps this way.

I was in search of you.

_Don C._ Command me always.

_Hyp._ Do you remember, in Quevedo’s dreams,

The miser who, upon the day of judgment,

Asks if his money-bags have risen?

_Don C._ I do:

But what of that?

_Hyp._ I am that wretched man.

_Don C._ You mean to tell me yours have risen empty?

_Hyp._ And amen! said the Cid Campeador.

_Don C._ Pray, how much need you?

_Hyp._ Some half dozen ounces,

Which with due interest—

_Don C._ (_giving his purse._) What, am I a Jew

To put my moneys out at usury?

Here is my purse.

_Hyp._ Thank you. A pretty purse,

Made by the hand of some fair Madrileña;

Perhaps a keep-sake.

_Don C._ No, ’tis at your service.

_Hyp._ Thank you again. Lie there, good Saint Chrysostom,

And with thy golden mouth remind me often

I am the debtor of my friend.

_Don C._ But tell me,

Come you to-day from Alcalá?

_Hyp._ This moment.

_Don C._ And pray, how fares the brave Victorian?

_Hyp._ Indifferent well; that is to say, not well.

He is in love.

_Don C._ And is it faring ill

To be in love?

_Hyp._ In his case very ill.

_Don C._ Why so?

_Hyp._ For many reasons. First and foremost

Because he is in love with an ideal;

A creature of his own imagination;

A child of air; on echo of his heart;

And like a lily on a river floating

She floats upon the river of his thoughts!

_Don C._ A common case with poets. But who is

This floating lily? For in fine, some woman,

Some living woman—not a mere ideal,

Must wear the outward semblance of his thought.

Who is it? Speak!

_Hyp._ Who do you think it is?

_Don C._ His cousin Violante.

_Hyp._ Guess again.

To ease his laboring heart, in the last storm

He threw her overboard with all her ingots.

_Don C._ I cannot guess; so tell me who it is.

_Hyp._ Not I.

_Don C._ Why not?

_Hyp._ (_mysteriously._) Why? Because Mari Franca

Was married four leagues out of Salamanca!

_Don C._ Jesting aside, who is it?

_Hyp._ Preciosa!

_Don C._ Impossible! The Count of Lara tells me

She is not virtuous.

_Hyp._ Did I say she was?

The Roman Emperor Claudius had a wife

Whose name was Messalina, as I think;

Valeria Messalina was her name.

But hist! I see him yonder through the trees,

Walking as in a dream.

_Don C._ He comes this way.

_Hyp._ It has been truly said by some wise man

That money, grief and love cannot be hidden.

Pray stand this way, and let the dreamer pass.

(_Enter Victorian in front._)

_Vic._ Where’er thy step has passed is holy ground!

These groves are sacred! I behold thee walking

Under these shadowy trees, where we have walked

At evening, and I feel thy presence now;

Feel that the place has taken a charm from thee

And is forever hallowed. [_Exit._

_Hyp._ Mark him well!

See how he strides away with lordly air

Like that odd guest of stone—that grim commander

Who comes to sup with Juan in the play.

_Don C._ What ho! Victorian!

_Hyp._ Wilt thou sup with us? [_Exeunt._