satisfy himself, by taking an observation. It was a dark, cold, windy
night, and the flames from a burning house upon a hill, about half a
mile in front of the spot where the sergeant stood, spread a glare of
red and white light upon the objects immediately around it, which had a
sublime effect. The sergeant could plainly distinguish the figures of
soldiers, between him and the flames, running until they disappeared in
the darkness of the valley over which the flames waved; and he was now
convinced that a desperate resistance must have been made to the party,
that was sent to support the excise-officers, in taking possession of a
private still, which had long been at work in the house now burning in
sight of the sergeant.
The house where the illicit still produced its periodical flow of
potyeen, was an old strong stone building, of three stories high, and
partly in ruin. The lands upon which it was situated, and of which
it had been once the manor-house, were “in chancery,” and the only
inhabitants it possessed, were a sort of steward and his family, who
received no pay for his services, except his house-room and firing,
with leave to grow potatoes in the garden, and feed a cow on the
estate--sometimes, perhaps, a pig or two. The agent of the estate
seldom visited the ruin, unless when he took a shooting excursion; and
then he did not trouble himself much with the old steward’s means of
living. To make up for all deficiencies in salary, the occupier of the
house, in conjunction with others, set up “a bit of a still,” as he
termed it, and supplied thereby a considerable part of the neighbouring
people, with potyeen and broken heads for several years, under the very
noses of the excise-officers, who were either too wise, or too blind to
take notice of the matter. The rumour was not without foundation, which
hinted that several mugs and canteens of the old steward’s _best_,
found their way into Ballycraggen guard-house. This, however, was only
rumoured, and never happened to arrive at the ears of the officers
then quartered in the town; for had that been the case, Corporal
O’Callaghan, Private Mulligan, Jack Andrews, and even Sergeant M’Fadgen
himself, would have got into a bit of a hobble, as sure as potyeen is
good whiskey. But not a word more about that--let the officers find
such things out--I’ll never “peach,” upon good soldiers. If they did
take a drop while on guard, it was only to keep the frost out of their
stomachs--(and as Mulligan says,) nobody ever saw them “a bit the worse
o’ dthrink.”
The burning of the house was going on rapidly--the flames encreasing
in strength, and streaming along the hill, over high pines and thick
bush wood. The whole of the guard were at the front of the guard-house,
observing the progress of the fire, when the glistening of the
firelocks with fixed bayonets caught their attention, rising from the
valley below them; and, through the faint and red light, they could
perceive they were some of their own regiment who approached.
The guard immediately got under arms, to receive them. The challenge
was given--the watch word passed--and the party commanded by Ensign
Morris, halted in front of the guard-house, and delivered to the
sergeant of the guard (Dobson) two prisoners--one slightly wounded by a
shot in the arm.
The Ensign gave orders that they should be kept in the guard-house
until morning, and left Corporal Callaghan with two men, to strengthen
the guard: after which, he gave the word to his party, “Right
face,”--“March;” and proceeded to the head-quarters of the regiment.
The prisoners were two labourers who belonged to the still, and the
only two of its defenders who were taken.
“Well, my gay fellows, you gave us a purty bit o’ business
to-night--eh?” growled Corporal O’Callaghan, when all were seated in
the guard-house. “Look at that,” continued he, taking off his cap, and
showing them a hole made by a bullet; “look at that, ye spalpeens.
Which o’ ye did that?”
“Neither of us, plase your honour!” exclaimed both the prisoners; “we
never fired a shot, at all, at all.”
“That’s a lie, old chap,” replied one of the soldiers who had escorted
them; “that’s a lie; for I’ll take my affadavy I saw your infernal face
looking out of the window when the fire first broke out; and if I’m not
very much mistaken, it was this musquet that pinked your arm when you
were running up the hill.”
“Whoever _did_ pink my arm, as you call it, I wish’d o’ Christ I had
him on the top o’ Faudrick’s Hill,--he with his firelock, an’ I with my
pitchfork; I’d make him know his Lord God from Tom Bell.” This was the
reply of the wounded man, who became evidently agitated with rage as he
concluded.
“Well, my boys,” observed Corporal Callaghan, “it’s all over now; you
are prisoners, and one o’ you is wounded. The business is over, so say
no more about it.”
“Yes, yes,” said Sergeant Dobson, “say no more about it;--but,
Corporal, tell us how the matter went.”
“By my soul! Sergeant, we had a throublesome job, I assure you. You
know Andrews’s quarthers. Well, I was down there, taking tay with
his wife, when the Sergeant-major came running down, and orther’d
me out with my squad immajetly. So I had my men out while you’d say
‘thrapstick;’ an’ Liftinent Morris, of our company, with Sergeant
M’Fadgen, myself, and twenty-five men, march’d off in the dark, along
with two excisemen, down the narrow lane which lades towards the
windmill. The lane was rough an’ muddy, an’ it was horrid dark; but
the excisemen had lantherns in their pockets, which they pull’d out
as soon as we were out o’ the town. When we got about a mile on, we
filed off into a narrow path, which ran up the side o’ the hill, upon
which that house that’s burning stands, an’ followed the excisemen
in single files, through bushes an’ briars, like goats--climbing an’
slipping--till we came to a sort of open space, undther another hill;
an’ from this we could see a gleam o’ twilight in the sky, as if the
moon was just washing her face, to pay us a visit. Here we were halted,
an’ orther’d to keep a sthrict silence. The excisemen shut up their
lantherns. Ensign Morris now stooped down, to catch a glimpse o’ the
house in front between him an’ the twilight; an’ then both he and the
excisemen went on--down the slope o’ the hill. It got a little bit
lighter, an’ we could see that the big stone house (more like a castle)
was situated between us and another hill on our left, in a wide sloping
place, and surrounded with fir-threes. There was no light at all in
the windows. ’Pon my sowl, when I looked about at the dark scene, as
it was--we dthrawn up undther a steep rock, an’ the roots o’ the big
threes out over our heads,--all of us as silent as stones--I couldn’t
help thinking o’ the night we were dthrawn up on the advanced posts in
the Pyrenees, Sergeant,--just half an hour before the attack. Well--in
about ten minutes, Liftinent Morris an’ the excisemen returned. Misther
Morris immajetly addthress’d us in a sort o’ whisper, ‘Tention!’ says
he. “Now, men, you are about to be employed in a juty which may call
upon every individual of you to use his judgment and discretion. You
may be required to spill the blood of your countrymen; but it is in
support o’ the laws, and you are bound to do it, if necessity calls
upon you. These revenue officers are going to make a sazure of a
private still in that house, an’ in case our assistance is wanted,
we must give it at all hazards; but to those men who will be posted
by themselves, I have particularly to remark that they are to allow
none to pass them--but, at the same time, not to fire, unless undther
the most urgent circumstances. To those men undther my own eye, I say
observe my ordthers--our object is to avoid bloodshed, but, at the
same time, support the revenue officers in doing their juty.” He then
ordthered Sergeant M’Fadgen to post two men at the pass we had just
come down; and this being done, three more were sent round to about
fifty yards distance, an’ posted at different points, while four others
were placed at each flank o’ the big house on the side o’ the hill--all
ordthered to allow nobody to pass in or out; an’ not to move from their
posts till further ordthers, unless obliged by force. Ensign Morris
then marched the remaining twelve, and the Sergeant and myself, down
the slope for about a hundthred yards, an’ halted us undther cover o’
the wail, close to the gate o’ the house.
“The excisemen now went softly into the yard o’ the house--for there
was no gate--an’ in about five minutes they came out again, to say that
there were at least eight or ten men in the house--they saw through
a crack in the wall. I must tell ye that the excisemen said they had
been in the house twice, but it was in the day time, an’ if they were
to be d----d for it, they could not find either still or one o’ the
men,--it was so sacretly done between ’em; so they came to-night from
information they had received, that a grate quantity o’ potyeen was to
be sent out about twelve o’clock; an’ we were to wait ’till they began
to load their cars with the stuff.--‘The cars are all harnessed,’ says
one o’ the Excisemen, coming out o’ the yard, ’an’ I hard a dale o’
voices inside--so they will soon come out.’
“Here we waited for a little time, when a light from the door stramed
out across the road through the gateway, and the excisemen got on
their hands an’ feet, an’ kept watching the fellows coming out o’ the
house to load the stuff. We heard the cars dthrawing up before the
door, and in about five minutes the excisemen got up, and said that
they would creep inside o’ the gate, an’ round the wall to the door,
so as to get into the house before any alarm was given; an’ that the
word “Captain!” roared out by one o’ them, would be the signal for our
party to advance an’ support them. So in they crept, like cats, while
the men were loading the cars: and we were expecting the signal every
instant, when we sees a fellow’s head poking out o’ the gate: at first
he didn’t see us, but walked softly out (I suppose to see was the
ground clear), when he turned round an’ spies us, an’ immajetly bawled
out, as loud as he could, ‘Murther! Dinis, shut the door; here’s the
sodgers!’ The signal was instantly given; we didn’t mind the fellow at
the gate, but advanced at double quick, right into the yard--Ensign
Morris at our head. The door was open--a woman held a light, an’ was
pulling in a man, while the excisemen were both knocked down like cocks
before our faces. We were dthrawn up in line about ten yards from the
door, while Ensign Morris ran forward, undther one o’ the horses’
heads, calling out he would fire if they would not surrendther; but
the men were all in, an’ the door slapped right into his face, just
as he was grabbing howld o’ one o’ them. You know Misther Morris is
a slapping able fellow, that ought to be a Captain long ago--before
he left Spain. The excisemen got up--not much worse o’ the wear--an’
Misther Morris ordthered me to remove the cars an’ horses, which we did
to one side o’ the yard. He then called to the men to aim at the door
when they got the word, and desired the Excisemen to pull out their
lantherns, one of which he took, an’ threw the light on the door. “Now
men:--ready--present--fire!” says he. Slap went a dozen bullets into
the door. “Load!” was given, an’ the officer, with the Excisemen, went
forward,--the men marched afther him,--ordthered to butt the door with
their muskets; which they did: but neither the balls nor the butting
had any effect whatever; for the door was as thick double oak as ever
was; an’ well made too--one o’ the owld times.”
The prisoners smiled with satisfaction, as the Corporal observed upon
the door.
“Well,” continued O’Callaghan, “we were dthrawn up a little distance
from the house again, an’ another volley was sent right at one o’ the
windows o’ the first floor. In went the wooden shutthers in smithereens
about the ground, an’ slap comes a shot out at us. “Load!”--again--and
again. Six men were ordthered to take post on our flank with the
Sergeant, and the others with Misther Morris himself:--away went six
bullets more into the same window, from the Sergeant’s party, while
ours was ordthered to pop one by one, as Misther Morris directed.
Another shot was now fired at us from the window, an’ knocked poor Hall
head over heels.”
“What! is Hall killed?” demanded the Serjeant and the men of the guard.
“‘Faith! poor fellow he is--or all as one; the ball enthered his
breast, an’ he was taken away to the surgeon with very little hopes o’
life.”
At this information of the Corporal’s there was a general murmur of
regret.
O’Callaghan continued--“Misther Morris now says to the men,
‘Come--ready lads--an’ when the party on the other side fires, watch
the window, while I throw the light right on it; which, when you see,
fire at once--the whole of you.’ We then moved in the dark to six or
eight paces farther out, an’ more in front. The smoke was now getting
away--for a blast o’ wind just then came. In about a minuet or two,
slap went the Serjeant’s party--a volley into the window. ‘Steady!’
says the Liftinent; ‘good aim lads’; an’ in less than a minuet he claps
the light on the window. There was the fellow with a blundtherbush up
to his shouldther, an’ he let fly just as we fired--the light was kept
steady on him--I’m sure every man could see him. Rattle went the lead
into him:--he jumped like a hopping ball up against the window top,
an’ out fell his dead body across the ledge:--there he hung with his
head an’ shoulders out. A most dthreadful cloud o’ smoke came now over
the house, an’ almost stifled us; at which Misther Morris ordthered me
to go round to the rear an’ see what was the matther. I went, an’ the
sentheries there tould me the house was o’ fire--’faith! I soon saw it
was; for the flames were bursting out o’ the windows; so I ran back to
tell the Liftinent. We were all astonishment. What was to become o’ the
men inside?
“There was no more firing from the party: the Serjeant was ordthered to
remain at his post in front, with his six men, while Misther Morris an’
I ran round to the rear; but before we went, the flames came fleaking
out of every window--even over the dead man that was lying stretched
out over the ledge. It’s all up, thinks I, for they must ha’ spilt
their potyeen, an’ set fire to it; otherwise the house could never be
so suddenly in flames.
“Faith an’ you’re just right,” sneered the wounded prisoner; “We wasn’t
a goin’ to let the d----d Exciseman taste a dthrop o’ it.”
“By my sowl! ye’re nice boys. I wish ye had been out at Badajoz,
an’ may be ye’d ha’ had enough o’ such business,” said Corporal
O’Callaghan, and then resumed his narrative. “Well,” said he, “we got
round as fast as possible to the rear o’ the house, an’ just as we were
approaching it, we sees the senthries--three o’ them--running towards
the hill to stop three or four fellows who were galloping up it like
monkies, an’ calling out that they would fire; while six or eight
fellows made a rush by a hedge close to us, down the hill like devils,
an’ we afther them--officer an’ all. I’m a good runner--an’ by my sowl!
I could not do much with them fellows; they were like Leberacawns--we
had scarcely time to wink our eyes, when they were gone--hooh! off they
were like birds.”
“But didn’t Lieutenant Morris order you to fire, Corporal?” said
Serjeant Dobson.
“Fire! not he. Why should he, Serjeant? You know what the Liftenant
is,--he’ll not dthraw blood in such a case as that--the poor devils
were running away. We couldn’t have much glory in killing one o’ them,
I’m sure. One o’ the senthries fired though, an’ shot this nate-looking
gentleman here getting up the hill, an’ made him prisoner; the other
lad there fell right on his head and rowled down; so that he was also
caught.”
“And is the house burnt?” demanded the Serjeant.
“Burnt!” replied O’Callaghan, “’faith it is--an’ well burnt too. It’s
all in a hape o’ ruins. An’ afther all, the Exciseman didn’t get the
still.”
“No, by J----s! they didn’t nor never will,” exclaimed the wounded
prisoner with exultation.
“But what made you burn the house?” said Serjeant Dobson to the
prisoner.
“I’ll say no more,” replied he; “it’s done now--an’ I’m not sorry;
except for the brave fellow that lost his life.”
At this moment, the Sentry at the guard-house door challenged; and in a
few seconds Lieutenant Morris with a magistrate of the town, and the
gaoler, arrived. Handcuffs were placed upon the prisoner who was not
wounded, and the Corporal with two men, were directed to take charge of
the delinquents, and march them to gaol; which they did, accompanied by
the Lieutenant, the magistrate, and the gaoler.
HOLY ORDERS.
“O! Father, must I then confess?”
They say that “a frank confession is good for the soul,” but who ever
said it was good for a military _body_? Even the confessors themselves,
enthusiastic as they may be about the salvation of souls, through
the means of contrition and atonement, show but little disposition
to trouble the army, or expect that the army will ever trouble them
by kneeling at their confessionals. However, the military in France
are subject to the civil laws; and, as a holy order has been issued
from the Court of Charles X., imposing the necessity of confession as
a preparatory step to the celebration of marriage, the soldier who
wishes to enter into the bonds of Hymen, must, like his civil brethren,
confess his naughty doings to his pastor. Without a certificate of
having duly done this, he must be contented with single cursedness.
A Colonel who fought for France in the days of her triumph--a pupil
of that revolutionary school which gave its best moral lesson in its
downfall--presented himself at the house of the Priest who held the
sacerdotal command of the town in which the _militaire_ was quartered,
and informed him that he was desirous of entering into the married
state next day; adding, that he wished to give his reverence the
preference in the performance of the ceremony. _Monsieur le Prêtre_
bowed, and thanked the Colonel for the honour conferred upon him, and
the hour was appointed for the marriage. The Colonel, not aware that
anything more was officially required of him, than to present himself
with his intended _cara esposa_, before the altar on the following
day, was about to take his leave, when the Priest informed him that he
must confess before he could be eligible to the dignity of wearing the
matrimonial collar.--Only fancy a tall, bony, mustachioed Colonel of
French Infantry, about forty-five years of age--a sort of half devil,
half republican,--with ear-rings and bald temples--a ruddy brown face,
that spoke of many a hot sun and strong vintage--with an eye like Mars,
and an air like Robin Hood:--only fancy such a man called upon by a
Priest, to kneel down and confess his sins in an audible voice, that
he might be qualified to enter into the holy state of marriage;--and
then fancy his gaze of astonishment at the holy man’s summons! For such
a rough personage as this was the Colonel;--a fellow who, during his
military life, had little to do with priests, except to lay them under
contribution, and knew no more about the merits of confession than he
did about the Evidences of Christianity, or the Decalogue itself.
“_Sacre!_” replied the Colonel; “What’s the meaning of this?
Confession! what have I to do with confession?”
The Priest, who was a man as liberal as might be, consistent with his
office, informed the Colonel that by a late law, no marriage could be
celebrated in France between Catholics, unless the parties had first
obtained a certificate of confession; but gave him to understand that
he would make it easy to him.
“_Eh bien!_--very well, very well,” said the Colonel; “but what am I to
do?”
“Very little, very little. Merely sit down, and tell me what sins you
have committed in your life-time.”
“_Parbleu!_” replied the Colonel; “How am I to do that? I don’t know
that I ever did any great harm.”
“Well then,” returned the Priest, “merely speak to the best of your
recollection.”
Here he gave the Colonel his benediction.
“I never injured any one in my life--except, perhaps, running a few
dozen Prussians and Spaniards through the body.--I have killed a few
Englishmen too.”
“_Ce n’est rien!_ that’s nothing.”
“I assisted in pillaging several towns, and burnt one or two villages.”
“_Ce n’est rien!_ that’s nothing at all.”
“I have sometimes had an affair with the ladies.”
“_Oh, pour cela, ce n’est rien--ce n’est rien!_ All in the way of your
profession. Did you ever kill a priest?”
“No!--I--a--a--don’t think I ever _killed_ one.”
“Very well--very well! Did you ever assault a nun?”
“O never,--no necessity! Always found the nuns very agreeable women.”
“You never robbed a church, Colonel?”
“We melted down the golden candlesticks, and removed a few of the
pictures; but this was by our General’s orders.”
“You did not rob anybody?”
“Never--except the Spaniards and Portuguese.--O--yes, we did a little
amongst the Prussians.”
“Ah! that was, as I said before, merely in the way of your profession.
Very good--very good, Colonel, I think that will do. Now I will give
you absolution, and your certificate of purity.”
The Colonel received the paper, and was about to depart, when the
Priest informed him that there was something more to be done:--A
small fee was necessary. The Colonel cheerfully put his hand in his
pocket, and presented the clergyman with two Napoleons, one of which
his reverence returned, observing that he was amply remunerated for
his trouble by the other. “Yet,” said he, “there is something more to
be done: you must have a mass celebrated, to complete the marriage and
render it legal.”
“_Parbleu!_ mass!” exclaimed the Colonel, “what is the use of mass to
me?”
He was again told that it was necessary, and he agreed to have it
performed; “But,” said he, “what is the expense?”
“You can have it done in a superior manner--full high-mass--for two
hundred francs.”
“_Ah, mon Dieu!_ two hundred francs! what!--for a mass?”
“Yes; but, Colonel, you can have it done so low as ten francs.”
“Can I?” said the Colonel, “and is the ten franc-mass equally good in
point of law, with that for two hundred?”
“Yes, Colonel; but not so respectable.”
“_Sacre!_ never mind the respectability of the matter; I’l have ten
francs worth of mass--that will do for me.”
The marriage was accordingly celebrated next day in due form, the
Colonel having purchased the confessor’s certificate and ten francs
worth of mass; and he solemnly declared, on the day after his wedding,
that he could not have felt more happy, even if he had purchased the
highest priced mass in France.[11]
A LITTLE CONSEQUENCE;
OR, A
SMALL DIFFERENCE IN RIGHT TO QUARTERS.
My consequence--my consequence--my consequence!
MUNDEN’s _Sir Anthony Absolute_
A certain little gentleman attached to the army of Lord Wellington,
while on the march in Portugal, once took up his quarters in the best
house he could find, and having seen his horses well put up in the
rear of it, retired to the best apartment to indulge himself in a cup
of coffee; which luxury, with many others, he was, from the nature of
his situation, enabled to carry with him, while others, his superiors,
were obliged to put up with what they could procure _en passant_.
Scarcely had his _rapaz_ drawn off his boots and re-covered his feet
with slippers, when it was announced to him, that an officer was below
examining the stables, and had ordered his horses to be put up in
them--that the officer’s baggage was already unloading at the door of
the house--and that the officer himself had selected the quarters in
preference to any other in the village.
The slippered possessor, in all the consequence of his _grade_,
immediately determined that no man should turn him out of his quarters,
unless he could establish fully a claim to a rank superior to his
own--and that too pretty clearly; in which resolution he began to
stride across the chamber with becoming dignity. At this moment the
officer in question entered the apartment, and proceeded to inspect its
conveniencies without observing the occupier, who with three formidable
strides approached the intruder, and demanded what he wanted: which
question was answered by the officer’s saying, that he wished to have
the quarters in which he then stood.
“You shall _not_ have them, Sir,” replied the little gentleman; (he
was about four feet four inches in height; but a very respectable
and dapper member of the army.) “You shall not have them, Sir--I am
determined on that.”
“Pray Sir,” demanded the stranger with astonishment, “may I be
permitted to inquire what is your _rank_ in the army?”