II

1740-1743

How, out of a school-boy's quarrel, it came that I kissed the hands

of His Majesty, James III.; that I met with H.R.H. the Prince of

Wales and other company, both high and low, until, from one thing to

another, I took leave of my Books to follow the Drum.

No sooner was our arrival announced than we were ushered into the

reception-room, where, in a moment, the Rector, Father Urbani, came

to meet us, giving us such a welcome that our hearts warmed to him at

once.

He knew all about our people, and, indeed, had a knowledge of the

families as if he had been brought up in the Highlands; he enquired

after each one in turn, asking for news of good Father Innes of

Paris, and Bishop Hay of Edinburgh, both old friends of his. Nor did

he forget even Luigi, but thanked him handsomely and paid him well

for his care, bidding him return the next day to take his farewell of

us.

When he bade us good-night he said to me: "You will be the youngest

boy in the College, and you have a face worthy of your holy name,

John; but I shall call you Little John, Giovannini." And by that

name it was that I went all the time I was in Rome.

We were given a room together, and I, remembering my father's word,

looked at the wall near the beds, but could find no "Sir Patrick

Spens," and so knew it was not his room, but resolved to ask the

Rector the next day.

Then began our regular round of work. The Rector engaged a private

tutor to instruct us in Latin and Italian, and before the winter was

over we were deemed ready to go to the schools taught by the Jesuits

in the Collegio Romano; for there was no teaching in the Scots

College, only the learning of our tasks and submission to the

discipline imposed.

It was not long before we welcomed Mr. O'Rourke again, for he was now

at the Propaganda, and there and elsewhere he gained much credit for

us by publishing the story of our adventure with the Captain, which

lost nothing, I can answer, in the telling.

At the Roman College we met with lads from all parts of the world,

and I made such progress before the year was out that I was put into

a higher class, and there, unfortunately, fell foul of a fellow in a

way that nearly put an end to my studies.

This was a swarthy Maronite, from near Mount Libanis, who attempted

to palm off a dirty trick on me in school hours. Not being allowed

to speak then, I bided my time until the bell rang, when I made for

the door, and the moment he came out gave him a boy's punishment,

swelling his upper lip and sending him off holding his nose, which

was bleeding. All my fellows were rejoiced at the outcome, and

promised me their support.

Now there were two punishments in vogue in the Collegio Romano,

styled, respectively, the Mule and the Horse--the first of which was

to be put into the stocks, hands and feet, and receive as many lashes

on the bare back with a cat as might be thought proper; the Horse was

for less atrocious crimes, for which the offender was made to stand

on a bucket-stool and was flogged on the small of the legs.

Soon after our return from school a message was sent to Father

Urbani, giving an account of the crime committed by Giovannini

McDonell. I was in due course called for by the Superior, in

presence of all my fellow-collegioners, and accused. Without

hesitation I avowed my guilt, and was thereupon told by the Superior

I must undergo the punishment of the Mule. There was a dead silence

at this, and all looked at me and waited.

I write this as an old man who has lived through a life of action,

not without its reverses, but as I write I can distinctly recall the

wretched misery that chilled my blood and turned my heart to water as

the Superior gave his sentence. No distress I have ever gone through

since has equalled the helpless despair that wrung my lonely,

miserable little heart as I stood there trembling in every limb

before my judge. I was sick with the shame and humiliation; I was

indignant at the injustice; I was overcome by my powerlessness, but I

do not think I was afraid.

[Illustration: "I GAVE HIM A BOY'S PUNISHMENT"]

"Sir," said I, when I could speak, "I was falsely accused by a coward

and a liar for his own dirty trick, and I did the only thing in my

power to right myself. If my way was wrong, I am sorry, but I will

not be tied up and punished like a soldier or a thief. I am a

gentleman born, sir, and I would rather die first!" But here I had

to stop, for I could trust my voice no longer.

"Well, well, my lad, we won't talk of any such heroics as dying yet,"

said the Superior, smiling; whereupon my fellows, taking heart,

joined in, vowing they would rather leave the Collegio Romano and go

to the Propaganda than submit to such punishments. But the only

result of their protest was that they were packed off to school, as

usual, and I was kept at home.

After the others were gone, and I alone in my room, I had begun to

wonder what was in store for me, when word was, brought that the

Rector, Father Urbani, waited for me. I entered his presence with a

heavy heart, for a boy in disgrace sees a possible enemy in every

one; but that kind old man beckoned me to his side, and, instead of

questions or reproaches, patted my cheek, and, calling me his "caro

Giovannini," asked me if I would not like to accompany him in his

coach and see some of the sights of Rome.

I was so overcome I could not help bursting into tears, through which

I sobbed: "Dear, dear Father Urbani. I will go with you anywhere,

but I will never take a Mule or a Horse!"

"My dear Giovannini," said he, "the only Horses we will think about

are those for the shafts of our coach. Be ready after the siesta,

and let me see a more smiling face when next you meet me."

So take me he did, and was so sumptuously received at all the great

houses he visited--and I as well--that I soon forgot my terrors.

Father Urbani was a gentleman of birth, connected with many of the

highest families, and whatever his real name was, he well deserved

that of his profession, for no one could be more urbane than he, and

his softness of voice always brought my dear father before me. He

was full of drolleries, too, for, when we visited St. Peter's, he

told me of the German in Rome who had never seen the church, though

he had started several times with that in view, but always found the

sun too hot and the taverns too cool for the long walk, and so kept

out of the one and in, the other until his day was done before his

pilgrimage was accomplished. At length, on being rallied by his

friends, he made a great effort and passed safely by his dangers, saw

the great church, and returned full of satisfaction. "But," says he,

"I think it strange that they should put St. Peter on horseback

before the high altar!"--a speech which mightily piqued the curiosity

of his friends, until they discovered he had been no farther than the

loggia, and had taken the statue of the Roman Emperor Constantino for

that of the Saint.

On the third day of our travels we went into the Church of the Santi

Apostoli, and there Father Urbani drew my attention to a man kneeling

in prayer before a tomb near the high altar. Though I saw nothing

more than a dark velvet coat, the soles of his shoes, and part of his

powdered head, I asked, with a sudden curiosity, who it might be.

"His enemies call him The Pretender, his friends, the Chevalier de

St. George, but many hold he is properly styled His Majesty, James

the Third of England," said Father Urbani, quietly, but very dryly;

at which my heart broke into a rapid tattoo of loyalty in honour of

the House whose fortunes my family had always followed, and for whose

sake my Uncle Scottos had sacrificed himself.

We were for withdrawing quietly, and had almost reached the door,

when the King finished his devotions and came slowly down the

church--a thin, dark-visaged man, very grave and sad-looking, I

thought, but his carriage was noble, and the broad riband on his

breast looked in keeping. He stopped when he reached us and spoke to

Father Urbani, who, to my surprise, did not seem at all put out, and

made no greater reverence to the King than he would to any noble of

high rank, answering him in his soft, quiet voice, as though speaking

to an ordinary man. I only remembered this afterwards, when telling

Angus of the meeting. At the time I stood like one enchanted,

devouring the King with my eyes.

At last he noticed my absorption, and said, still in Italian, "Ah! an

English lad, I see?"

"No, Your Majesty," I made bold to answer, "a Highlander." At which

he smiled, gravely, and held out his hand, which I knelt and kissed

with my heart on my lips.

We waited until the King had left the church, making his way on foot

and alone to his palace alongside, when we took coach again and drove

towards the College. I could see that Father Urbani did not wish to

be disturbed, for there was a troubled look on his face, so I said

nothing, but leaned back with my head full of the glorious vision I

had just seen. Had any one dared say there was nothing in meeting

with a sad-faced, elderly man alone in an empty church--a man who

claimed to be a king and had no throne, who claimed to be a king and

had no country--I would have held it little short of blasphemy. To

me he was a martyr for honour's sake, the true head of my nation and

the hope of all loyal hearts. So I leaned back, I say, with these

things running riot through my head, jumbled with old stories of

Killicrankie and 1715, with old songs I had heard from a child, and

with thoughts of my Uncle Scottos, until I was suddenly brought back

to earth again by one of Father Urbani's thin old hands quietly

closing over mine.

"And now, Giovannini, do you not think you can go back to school

again?" he asked.

"I will, father, I will; for you I will do anything I am able. But

you will not ask me to take either the Mule or the Horse?" I asked,

my old trouble coming back on me again.

"Have no more fear, my dear child," he said, quietly; "they will

never be put to your offer. You have been punished enough by

attending on an old man like me for three days." And as he embraced

me tenderly at parting in our hall, he bade me, pointedly, not to

attach too much to anything we had seen.

So I went back to my tasks quite content, and continued to make good

progress and give satisfaction, though I could not altogether obey

our good Rector's bidding and forget that lonely figure of the Santi

Apostoli. And Angus and I whispered our secret to each other as we

lay in the quiet of our room at night.

Now, there was a privilege which our students had above those of all

other colleges in Rome, which was that any two of us might, at

certain hours, go wherever our business called us. And Angus and I

found that the shortest way for all our business, as well as between

the Collegio Romano and the via Quattro Fontane, was by the little

street of the Santi Apostoli, whence we could feast our eyes on the

Palace, and were more than once rewarded by a sight of His Majesty

and one of the Princes, whom we afterwards discovered to be the Duke

of York, going forth to take the air with a modest following.

Our scheming might have ended here had it not been for Mr. O'Rourke.

One day, when we went to visit him at the College of the Propaganda,

he said: "I hear you take a great many walks in the Santi Apostoli,

young gentlemen"; at which we were much put out, and begged he would

say nothing of it, for, although we had not been forbidden, we felt

there were good reasons against its being mentioned. But he relieved

us with his merry laugh. "Faith, not I! I would not dream of

interfering with the leanings of two gentlemen such as you, the more

so that they have a bias in what I conceive to be the right

direction. Perhaps you do not know I am a descendant of kings

myself," he went on, in his lively fashion, "and, having royal blood

flowing freely in me, can enter into your feelings better than the

best nobleman who ever ruled over your honourable College."

This was a hit at Father Urbani--and I suspect there may have been a

certain jealousy between the Propaganda and the Jesuits, for the army

is not the only fighting body in the world--so I broke in with, "None

of your innuendoes, if you please, Mr. O'Rourke. We have never asked

Father Urbani to enter into our feelings, but I hold him qualified to

enter into the best thoughts of the best man in Rome!"

"Soft and easy, Signor Giovannini McDonellini," says he, always

laughing; "your stomach is high, even for a Highlander! I was only

about to propose, on my first free day, a visit to your lode-star,

the Palace of the Santi Apostoli, where, thanks to my royal ancestry,

I have some small right of entry." And with the words he took the

anger out of me at once.

It seemed an eternity until his first congé, or day of liberty, came

round, and we were in waiting long before the appointed hour. We

lost no time in setting out, but, to our surprise, did not take our

way to the Palace direct, but went instead round by a little lane

leading off the Piazza Pilotta, and so to a small wicket, whereon Mr.

O'Rourke knocked in a private manner, while we held our breath in

expectation. The door was opened presently by an old man, to whom

Mr. O'Rourke gave some pass-word, and we were admitted, not to the

Palace itself, but into the bare and mean hallway of a very ordinary

house. Before we had time to betray our disappointment, however, we

passed through this hall, and by means of a hidden door--hidden, that

is, by a seeming closet or wardrobe--we stepped out into the sunlight

again, and, to our great delight, found ourselves in what we did not

doubt were the gardens of the Palace.

As we walked up a path, I pulled Mr. O'Rourke by the sleeve.

"What is it?" he said.

"Oh, Mr. O'Rourke," I whispered, "I wish we had our Leghorn cloaks."

At which he stopped, and, to my horror, laughed aloud, until the

high, empty court seemed filled with the roar of his burly voice.

"Don't, Mr. O'Rourke--pray don't! some one will hear you!" I cried,

much distressed.

"Hear me? Lord bless you, they wouldn't give a rotten fig to hear

me; but you are worth a whole garden of figs, with the vines to boot!

For a mixture of a bare-legged Highlander and a half-feathered

priestlet, you are the most prodigious Bird-o'-Paradise I have yet

met with, Mr. John McDonell, of Scottos!"

"I am neither a priest nor a peacock yet, Mr. O'Rourke," I said,

indignantly, "and I was not thinking of myself at all, but only of

what was fitting towards His Majesty."

But he only laughed at me the more. "Your consideration does honour

to your heart, but His Majesty has not as yet appointed me his Master

of Ceremonies, though I have the Privilege of the Back Stairs. No,

no, Giovannini, we'll see no majesties to-day, and the cloak must

serve for when you are in better company than that of a poor Irish

student, whose only riches is the same loyalty that warrants

yourself." And that last touch melted me, and so, hand in hand, we

went on together.

Then Mr. O'Rourke explained that the King and the Princes were to

attend an audience given by the Pope that afternoon, and we were free

to go over the Palace under the guidance of Mr. Sheridan, tutor to

the Princes.

We entered the Palace with awe and almost worship, and were made

welcome by Mr. Sheridan, who most kindly entreated us to satisfy our

curiosity about his Royal Charges, telling us much that seemed almost

incredible, for I believe we had an idea that a Prince must have some

Divine Right of Learning by which he was excused both table and

syllabus. In the Prince's waiting-room we found Mr. Murray, son of

Sir David Murray of Broughton, a young man of pleasing address,

afterwards so widely known as Mr. Secretary Murray, and then in some

position about the Prince. He made much of us, asking us about our

people, but had not that knowledge of our families I would have

looked for in one in his position. However, we did not attach

overmuch to this, as his welcome was hearty, and he lifted us to the

height of expectation by saying: "Well, young gentlemen, you fall on

a lucky day, for His Royal Highness has not left, and I doubt not

will see you"; and, before we could make any reply, he withdrew,

leaving us in a state beyond my poor powers to describe.

Before we had recovered, the door opened, and His Royal Highness, the

Prince of Wales, stood before us. He was dressed in full court

costume, with all his orders, his handsome face bright with a smile

of welcome; and as he came forward and then paused, Mr. O'Rourke

gathered his composure first and knelt and kissed his hand.

We were about to follow, but the Prince would have it otherwise,

restraining us as he said, laughingly: "No, no; a hand-grasp is

ceremony enough between us. In meeting with Highlanders I feel I am

among comrades with whom I may stand back-to-back some day, and that,

perhaps, not so far distant. But tell me of Clanranald," he said,

quickly, to Angus; "his son is a gallant gentleman, I hear, and you,

I understand, are his cousin."

Angus gave him such information as he had received of late, whereupon

the Prince questioned us on both our families, calling them all

properly by name--Scottos, Glengarry, Barisdale, and others--without

a single mistake. "Do not be surprised I should know you all," he

said, smiling; "His Majesty and I are never tired hearing of the

names that are dear to us."

Then he questioned us somewhat--but not too closely--of ourselves,

and we were able to answer without confusion, so gracious was his

manner and so friendly his dark-brown eyes.

"Do you ever think," he said, changing suddenly, "what it means never

to have known your own country? You are happier far than I, for some

day you will return home to the land you love, and I, when I put my

foot upon it, must do so as a stranger and an outcast, taking my life

in my hand."

"Your Royal Highness," I said, "every loyal heart in the Highlands

beats for you. and every true arm will draw for you whenever you

come!" And the tears stood in my eyes so that I could hardly see him

before me.

"God grant it," he answered, fervidly. Then, laying a hand on my

shoulder, he said: "And now let me hear the Gaelic. I love the very

sound of it!"

My Uncle Scottos' constant toast sprang at once to my lips: "'Soraidh

do'n Bhata 'tha âir saille 'y d'on t-soirbheas a tha' scideadh agus

do na cridheachan a tha' feitheamh teachd a' Phrionnsa!'"

"What is it?" he asked, eagerly.

"'Good luck to the boat that is at sea and to the breeze that is

blowing, and to the hearts that are waiting for the Coming of the

Prince!'" I answered, turning it into such English as I might.

"'The Coming of the Prince--the Coming of the Prince,'" he repeated

over to himself. But here Mr. Murray ventured to cough, meaningly,

and the Prince said, as if in answer, "Yes, yes; I must go," and,

with the words that we would meet again, he shook hands with us all

and withdrew.

I am an old man now, and have seen every hope of the Cause I once

held dearer than life blasted beyond recovery; but no personal

knowledge of the pitiable failure, no evil report of the

heart-breaking degradation, the selfishness, and self-destruction of

all that was noble and kinglike in that beautiful young life--God

pity me I should write such words of one so dear!--have availed even

to dim the Godlike presence that revealed itself before us so

graciously on that November afternoon in the Palace of the Santi

Apostoli.

Probably no one to-day can know what such a meeting meant to a lad

brought up as I had been. All my life long had I heard stories of

devotion for the sake of the exiled family. I knew of no time when

life and fortune was not regarded as their rightful due from their

adherents. I had been brought up to believe in them and to hope for

them until hope had grown into faith and faith into worship.

My heart was full and my head ringing with excitement, so I can

recall little or nothing of the remainder of that memorable afternoon

save my wonder, when we stepped out into the street again, to find

men and women going about their business just as if nothing had

happened. It did not seem possible, when my whole life was changed.

I was so bewildered I could scarce believe it was the same world

again. I could not talk or even listen to Mr. O'Rourke; as for

Angus, I paid no heed to his chatter at all, and it was only when we

paused in the Piazza di Spagna to bid good-bye to our friend that I

found some words to thank him, and promised to see him again on the

following Thursday.

Was there ever so long a week? My lessons were poorly committed; not

that I was dull, but my head was so full of other thoughts I had no

room for anything else, while ever between me and my books there came

that glorious figure, brave in silks and velvet, with jewelled sword

by its side and flashing orders on its breast, till I could no longer

see my task, and in my ears rang that clear, pleasant voice forever

calling, calling. Surely, if any one was bewitched in Rome that

week, it was Giovannini McDonell, of the Scots College.

My former record alone kept me from losing my holiday, and as soon as

I was free I was off to the College of the Propaganda, though Angus

was not altogether set on passing another holiday within doors. I

was dreaming of another visit, though I hardly dared hope for it; but

Mr. O'Rourke put an end to such thoughts by his first words.

"Welcome, my Highland gentlemen! Can you put up with the poor

hospitality of this withered sprig of royalty instead of talking real

treason face to face with exiled Princes? Were I King George I'd

make it a crime to send little Highland bantams to Rome to turn them

into rebel game-cocks."

But I saw he was for drawing me on--an exercise at which he was

expert, and which gave him great pleasure--and so, refusing to be

angered, I answered with much good-nature: "Indeed, Mr. O'Rourke, I

believe you to be as great a rebel yourself as any in the Three

Kingdoms."

"Why should I not be, boy?" he asked, sternly. "If I and mine had

remained at home, no matter what souls God gave us, we would be

forced to herd with the swine and die with the foxes. Abroad we can

at least wear with some honour the names our fathers bequeathed to

us, and when death comes we can die like gentlemen in the faith into

which our mothers bore us. But as to your politics," he said,

changing to his usual manner, "I would not give a fig for the whole

box and dice. I neither whistle for 'Blackbirds' nor run after

'White Horses.' If I had my rights, 'tis an independent kingdom I'd

have in my own family. 'Tis Duke or Crown Prince of Brefni I'd be

myself, or perhaps a kind of a Pope of my own, and when I'd speak to

the likes of you, 'tis weeping so hard for joy you'd be that you'd

take the shine out of all my jewels!" And so on, with a brogue as

broad as if Tipperary was in the next room, and macaroni and Italian

had never replaced the potatoes and the speech he had left behind.

Finding I would take no offence, he was somewhat dashed and gave over

his attempt; so we went off for a stroll and were all merry together.

When we parted he told us with much emphasis that Mr. Murray had sent

particular word that we would be admitted by the same door on the

following Thursday, shewing me the knock and bidding me give the word

"Gaeta" to the porter.

It proved a quieter week for me, and Thursday found us in the little

lane, whence we made our way into the Palace gardens, as before,

where we found Mr. Sheridan awaiting us, who led us to Mr. Murray's

chamber. He was wonderfully busy with his writing, but turned from

it to entertain us, and shewed us such attention it was no wonder our

heads were nearly turned. He questioned us much about our plans,

and, when he found I had no leaning towards the Church, made no

scruple to belittle the calling of a priest, and seemed much pleased

when I told him of my mind to take up arms as my profession.

That same day he made us known to a Lieutenant Butler, a younger man

than himself, who was in what was once known as "Burke's Foot," now

serving King Carlo Borbone in Naples and styled there the "Regiment

Irlandia," after the old brigade in Spain. The very name of my

Uncle's old regiment was an intoxication to me, and any man who had

to do with it had a claim to my worship; so when Lieutenant Butler

very obligingly told me I might wait upon him at his lodging in the

via Bocca di Leone, my heart beat with gratitude and delight; and so

off we went to wait through another week.

At Lieutenant Butler's another and a greater surprise awaited us, for

there we were introduced to Colonel Donald MacDonnell, in command of

the Company St. James, of the Regiment Irlandia--a very tall and

handsome man, but so swarthy that he looked more like to a Spaniard

than an Irishman. But Irishman he was in spite of his foreign looks,

for his father, the Lieutenant-General commanding the regiment, was

direct in his descent from the Mayo MacDonnells, and as pure a

Jacobite as ever drew sword for the Rightful Succession. Here, too,

we also met a Mr. O'Reilly, ensign in the same service, whom I looked

upon with much envy, as he was not greatly my superior in years.

Colonel MacDonnell at once began to question me touching my Uncle

Scottos, and very willingly did I tell the story of his campaigns,

especially those of Italy, where, at the defence of Cremona, he was

thanked before the regiment and received his first promotion. I told

also of Alicaut, in Spain, where he was joined to the dragoons under

the Count O'Mahony, and where, battered and starved beyond belief

after twenty-seven days' active siege and storming, thirty-six

dragoons, with as many French and sixty-eight Neapolitans,

surrendered, and marched out with all the honours of war--drums and

fifes playing, colours flying, and matches lighted--dragging their

four cannon and two mortars after them.

They let me talk on, like the boastful boy I was, until I ended with

the attempt of 1715, when my Uncle Scottos left the service until

such time came as he might take up the quarrel once more.

"'Tis a good song, well sung," said the Colonel, smiling at my heat;

"but how comes it a lad with such a backing behind him is content

with a long robe and a book, instead of dancing in blue coat and

gaiters to the rat-tat-tat of the drum?"

"Oh, sir, 'tis what I long for more than all else in the world! Let

me follow you, and see if I am not a soldier born! I know something

of fence now, and as for the rest, I will study at it night and day."

"You would prove an apt pupil, no doubt," said the Colonel; "and what

says Angus?"

But to my shame Angus said nothing save "that he would see," and I

knew well what that meant--it just meant no, in the most

unsatisfactory and weary a manner a man can put it; but he proffered

nothing further, and I was withheld by the presence of the company

from expressing my thoughts.

But the Colonel only laughed with great good-nature, and said: "Well,

well, when you make up your mind, let me know if it is favourable to

me. As for you, you young fire-eater," he added, turning to me, "I

won't have any runaways about me!" At which I was much abashed, as I

could not protest that such a thought was foreign to me, for I was

plotting at it even as he spoke. "If you join," he went on, "you

must do so in such manner as will not shame your Uncle Scottos. I

will see Father Urbani myself and find what he says about you; and if

he gives you a good rating, and his permission, then you shall join

like a gentleman." So with this I was forced to be content.

"Well, Angus," I began, the moment we were in the street, "a pretty

shewing you have made for yourself with your 'we will sees' before

gentlemen! I hope you are well satisfied?"

"I'm not exactly put out," says he, very dry.

"Indeed? And you call yourself Clanranald!" I snorted, full of scorn.

"My father always told me I had every right to!" says he, provoking

me to the utmost with his pretended quiet. "And what is more, I

never yet heard that any of my name must needs take up with the first

recruiting-officer he comes across."

"Angus McDonald!" I cried, "if we weren't in the open street I'd

thrash you within an inch of your life!"

"Oh no, you wouldn't, nor yet within a mile of it! I'm no more

afraid of you than I am of the Irish officers you're so hot after."

Fortunate it was for the good name of the college that we caught

sight of the Superior at that moment, for I do not believe human

patience could have held out longer than mine had done. Indeed, so

much was I exercised that the Superior saw at once something was

wrong, and it was with the greatest difficulty we contrived to keep

our cause of difference from him.

I was burning for Father Urbani to send for me, but one day after

another passed without word, and when next I saw Lieutenant Butler he

could give me no hint of when Colonel MacDonnell was likely to speak,

for he had already left Rome and his return was uncertain. Had I not

been so busy the waiting would have been weary work indeed, but every

day I was making new acquaintance--for in a measure I was made free

of the Palace, being readily admitted by the little door and made

welcome by Mr. Murray, Mr. Sheridan, and other gentlemen. Every day

I saw new faces, and soon lost my backwardness, learning to bear

myself without blushing or stammering, or any such school-boy tricks.

Angus was seldom with me now, and, indeed, I was not sorry, for he

seemed to have but small stomach for the business and preferred to

stick to his books.

At length, one cold day in winter, as I was hurrying across the

Corso, hugging my soprano close about me, on my way to the Santi

Apostoli, I caught sight of Colonel MacDonnell and eagerly accosted

him.

"Well met, my little church mouse!" he said, passing his arm around

my shoulder in such a manner as took the sting out of his jest.

"Where are you scurrying to on such a cold day as this?"

"To the Santi Apostoli, sir," I answered.

"To the Church, or the Palace?"

"To the Palace, sir," I said, with some pride.

He stopped short, and putting his two hands on my shoulders, said,

very gravely: "I am sorry to hear that, my lad. How did this come

about?"

I told him all without hesitation. When I had made an end, he heaved

a great sigh and then moved on again. When he spoke it was in a

slow, thoughtful manner, as if to himself. "At it already! Well,

well, I suppose it could not be helped. But, upon my soul, lad," he

said, suddenly, as if waking up, "I would nearly as soon see you a

priest as in with these gentry!"

"How so, sir?" I said, in surprise.

"You would not understand," he said, more gently. "When the day

comes, out with your sword, if you must, and strike--I would be the

last to say you nay--but this chamber-plotting and convert-making, I

despise it all! Whom have you met there?"

I told him, and of how kind many of the gentlemen had been to me, in

particular Mr. Murray and Mr. Sheridan.

"I know nothing bad of either of them," he said, in a disdainful way.

"But you have no call to be in such company at your age. I shall

speak to Father Urbani before I leave Rome this time, and, if he

permits, you shall have a training that will fit you for something

better than any one of this secret-whispering pack will ever come to.

I will make a soldier of you, McDonell, which is the best use God

ever made of man, and the best use you can make of yourself for your

King. But come, I am going to the Palace myself, only you must go

through the Piazza and not by any back door, like a lackey or a

priest."

So we went on together across the Place and through the main

entrance, where the guards saluted the Colonel as we passed

hand-in-hand, and I could not but feel I had shared in the honour. I

was left in a waiting-room while the Colonel was closeted with the

King, and when he joined us again we went through to a large room

where quite a company of gentlemen were gathered.

After greeting some of them, and bowing somewhat haughtily to the

room at large, the Colonel seated himself at a table, while I

remained standing near him looking round the company with some

curiosity, for there were many new faces, and the Colonel's words had

set me to wondering why he should hold so lightly these men whom I

had believed most devoted of all to the King.

I was thus engaged in my survey and speculation, when I caught sight

of a face hat struck me like a blow and sent the blood tingling

through every vein in my body. There, only separated from me by the

width of the room, modishly dressed and smiling, stood Captain Creach

conversing with two gentlemen. He saw me at the same moment, but his

white face gave no more sign than a face of stone, and he went on

with his talk as quietly as if I had been at Aquapendente and he

alone in Rome.

I did not hesitate a moment--indeed, hesitation has seldom been one

of my faults--but making my way across the room, I stepped close to

him and said, in as calm a tone as I could command: "Captain Creach,

I am surprised to see you in Rome!"

The three gentlemen all faced me at my speech, and Creach, without a

change in his wicked face, said: "Young sir, is your address intended

for me?"

"I spoke to you by name, sir," I said, with distinctness.

"Then am I famous, indeed," said he, laughing lightly.

"You may laugh, Captain Creach," said I, and was going on, but he

interrupted me, speaking very civilly, but angering me all the more

for it:

"I see by your dress you are of the Scots College, young

gentleman"--for, as usual, I had on my purple soutane with its

crimson sash, and over it my black, sleeveless soprano, with my

three-cornered hat under my arm--"but there is one lesson you have

not as yet learned, and that is, how to address a gentleman. I am

not Captain Creach, as you imagine, but Captain Graeme, late of the

Hungarian service, and, to the best of my belief, this is the first

time I have ever had the honour of addressing you."

He was so quiet and cool that I was dumfounded; but I knew he was

lying, though I had never heard a gentleman lie before.

"Not Captain Creach? Not Captain Creach?" I stammered.

"No, sir, 'Not Captain Creach,'" he repeated, mocking me, whereat

some of the gentlemen laughed, but one of them broke in with:

"Damn it! this comes of bringing brats where they have no business.

Creach! You little fool! This is no more Creach than you are. This

is Captain Graeme, late of the Imperial service. There, beg his

pardon now, and don't put your foot in it again, like a wise lad,"

and his tone was kind, though his words were rough.

"Your pardon, sir," I said, "but this is Captain Creach, of the

Regiment Irlandia; I have reason to know him only too well."

"Here, MacDonnell," called out my new acquaintance, "this bantling of

yours is doing you no credit; come here and smooth him down."

The Colonel rose, frowning, and came over to where we formed a

centre, Creach standing on one foot and tapping the other with his

long, fashionable cane.

"What's the matter?" he said, severely.

"Colonel MacDonnell," I cried, "may I say a word to you in private?"

and seeing I was in deadly earnest, he took me into an anteroom and

bade me speak.

Then I told him the whole story of our adventure at Aquapendente, and

that I was as sure this man was Creach as I was I had a soul. "I

don't care what he says, sir, that is Captain Creach, of the Regiment

Irlandia."

"My dear lad," he said, firmly, "get that notion out of your head at

once. We have not, and never had in my day, any Captain Creach, or

any man of the name, even in our ranks. There is a Captain Creach in

Lord Clare's Regiment, whom I know for a gallant gentleman, but he

has not seen Italy for many a long year. Now, wait a moment--will

you apologize to this gentleman?"

"No, sir, saving your presence, I will not."

"Very well; that is settled. Will you give me a promise?"

"Yes, sir, I will promise you anything I may with honour."

"That is right. You cannot be too careful of that last," he said,

smiling, and then went on gravely: "My boy, I hope some day to have

you under my own eye in my own company, and till then I want you to

do what is best to bear yourself with credit, Now promise me again

you will do as I ask, on your honour."

"I will, sir, on my honour."

"Then you will never come within these doors again unless the King

sends for you, and as soon as you go home you will tell Father Urbani

where you have been this winter. Do you understand?"

"I do, sir."

"Very well. Now, honour for honour. I will take up your affair with

this man Creach, or Graeme, or whatever else he may call himself, and

you may rest satisfied that your quarrel will not suffer. And now,

God bless you, my lad, and when you are older you will thank me for

this day's work. Good-bye!" And he shook my hand warmly, and stood

watching me until I passed out into the hall.

I may as well admit here, that at times I am slow at displacing any

idea which has once taken root in my mind, and it was not until some

years after I conceived the explanation that Creach was never this

fellow's name at all, but for some reason best known to himself he

had chosen to fare under it when we met with him at Aquapendente,

otherwise honourable men would never have answered for him as they

did. But this is by the way.

I went forth from the Palace with my head in a whirl; for, though I

was satisfied with the part I had played towards Creach, there was my

promise to the Colonel, and, despite every effort I might make, my

visits did not appear to me so defensible as before. I tried to

argue to myself that I had not been forbidden; but, somehow, that did

not seem sufficient, and I was the more uncomfortable when I called

to mind the Colonel's dislike of the company I had been in the habit

of keeping.

However, it must be faced, and so, after the evening meal, I asked to

be allowed to see the Rector and was admitted to his room. When I

entered he was sitting at his table alone, and somehow, when I saw

his kind old face, I knew suddenly why none of my excuses would

answer; I had been deceiving this old man who had been like a father

to me, who had never treated me save with kindness, and had trusted

me without questioning. I was so overcome that I could not

speak--overwhelmed with an utter sense of wretchedness--until he

stretched out his hand and said, gently, "Come."

"Oh, Father," I cried, "let me leave the College! Let me go away!"

too miserable to think of anything else.

"No, no, Giovannini. That would be a coward's way of meeting

trouble. Come, tell me what the matter is, and we'll see if there is

not some better way out than turning your back on it," and he patted

me on the cheek as if I were still a child. Indeed, I felt like one

then, and for the matter of that always did when talking with him.

So I blundered out the story of my doings, to all of which he

listened in his quiet, gentle way, helping me out when I found it

hard to go on, until the whole story was told, whereupon I felt a

mighty relief, for the worst was now over and I had quite made up my

mind as to what part I would take from now on.

After all, he did not say very much in the way of blame, except that

should I ever meet with Colonel MacDonnell again the first duty I had

before me was to request his pardon for mixing him up in my affairs,

as if the Colonel of a regiment had nothing else to do than look

after a school-boy's quarrels. "Among plotters and schemers," he

said, with some touch of scorn, "you must meet with strange company,

and, if you will take up with such, you may have to welcome 'Captain

Creachs' and worse. Now I am not going to talk with you to-night,

and I want you to think the matter well over until I have seen

Colonel MacDonnell and have determined what is best to be done. I am

only sorry, Giovannini, that you have not trusted in your best

friend." And with a heavy heart I said good-night, and took my way

to my room alone.

In the morning word was brought to me that I was to remain in my

room, which I did all the more gladly as it promised well for the

gravity of my case, for above all things what I most feared was its

being taken as merely a boy's whim. However, I was speedily assured

of its importance by the visit of one of our Jesuit fathers, who very

soon introduced his mission and began to urge his arguments why I

should continue my studies and some day prepare for the priesthood.

But this I resented at once, saying, "Sir, I was left here for

reflection by the order of the Rector, and I have no wish to be

disturbed."

A hint he was wise enough to take; and, grumbling something about

"like father, like son," he left me once more alone.

My next interruption was an order to wait on Father Urbani, which I

did with great readiness, and to my joy saw that his reflections had

not rendered him any less kindly to me or my hopes.

"Well, my dear Giovannini," he said, "so you did not wish to discuss

your future with Father Paolo. He tells me that you have caught

somewhat of the brusqueness of the camp already." But his smiling

reassured me.

"No, Father," I said, "I held, in the absence of my own father, you

are the only one to whom I am bound in such matters; but I had no

intent to be rude."

So, with this introduction, we began our argument, and to all he said

I assented, but assured him I should make but a sorry priest if my

heart were always in another calling. "My father promised that

neither he nor you would force me to become a priest against my will,

and I can never be happy unless I have a right to wear a sword by my

side," I ended.

Thereupon, seeing my mind so firmly resolved, he bade me prepare for

a visit to the Cardinal Protector, and in all haste I made myself

ready. The truth is, now that I saw Father Urbani had yielded, I

would have faced His Holiness the Pope with the whole College behind

him, without a second thought.

So we took our way in a coach to the Palace, and were ushered into

the presence of the Cardinal with the usual ceremonies. He was a

thin old man, with a long, dark face and a grumbling voice. We

partook of chocolate and sugar biscuits, and made polite conversation

until the object of our visit was broached; thereupon, a mighty storm

began--that is, a storm from His Eminence, for we stood side by side

in the middle of the great room, silent before the torrent of his

wrath. After thundering hotly at Father Urbani, as if he, dear man,

were to blame, he turned on me.

"What were you ever sent here to the College for? And since when has

it been turned from a House of God into a training-school for every

worthless cockatrice that would follow the drum? Tell me, sir, what

did you come here for?" he stormed.

[Illustration: "'TELL ME, SIR, WHAT DID YOU COME HERE FOR?' HE

STORMED"]

"Indeed, your Eminence, I cannot tell," I answered, coolly.

"Cannot tell! No, and no one else, I dare say, will answer for it.

What in the world do the bishops mean by sending such

good-for-naughts here without finding out something about them?"

I was much tempted to say that my family was well known, but Father

Urbani's hand was on my arm, and I knew I was to hold my tongue,

which I did, although many things were said that, had any other man

uttered, I would have held to be insulting.

At length, to our great relief, he made an end, and bidding Father

Urbani get rid of me as soon as possible, he dismissed us. We bowed

ourselves out, and I was free to enter the service for which I longed.

When we were at home again, Father Urbani said, "My dear Giovannini,

now this is ended, I will say no more than I will see myself you are

fittingly supplied with clothes and money, and if you desire first to

return to Scotland, I will see you are sent thither."

But I told him I would rather join at once, for there was no one to

dispute my resolution at home, as my only sister, Margaret, was with

Lady Jane Drummond in France, and my father had promised my choice

should be free when the time came.

"Well, then," he continued, "I say nothing of the rights of the

quarrel the King of Naples has on his hands now, but if you will

enter the Queen of Hungary's service, I will see you are strongly

recommended to persons of the greatest interest, and a recommendation

will mean advancement."

"Oh, Father," I said, "I could not do that! The Regiment Irlandia

was my Uncle Scottos' regiment, and I could not join any other."

"You Scots are a famous people for hanging together!" he said,

smiling; "and I suppose you wouldn't care if the regiment were

fighting for the Grand Turk himself?" and he smiled again.

"No, Father," I said, seeing nothing to laugh at, "it could make no

difference to me; I would be only a cadet."

"Well, well," he said, quietly, "such questions are perhaps as well

left to older heads. Now to bed, and sleep if you can, for your days

will be full until you leave."

True to his word, the Rector sent to me a tailor, by whom I was

measured for two full suits of regimentals; a broker, with side-arms

and equipment; and, to my great satisfaction, a periwig-maker, who

took my size for my first wig, until my hair should grow long enough

to be dressed in a queue.

At last all was ready, and I swaggered about in my finery, and bade

farewell to my comrades, all of whom greatly envied me--even Angus,

though he would not confess to it. However, he had the satisfaction

of walking through the streets with me to pay our respects to Mr.

O'Rourke, who had just completed his course, and was to take orders

immediately.

He at once pretended great astonishment, and begged Angus to

introduce him to "the General," and then broke into an old ranting

Irish air:

"Wid your gold an' lace

An' your warlike face

In a terrible fright ye threw me--

Giovanni, me dear,

You looked so queer!

Oh, Johnny, I hardly knew ye!"

And away he marched up and down the room to his doddering old song,

and then drew up before me, making passes as if he were saluting, and

bowed almost to his knees, bringing his hands up to his forehead and

performed a low salute, which he informed Angus was only given to the

Grand Turk on great occasions.

"Well, well," he said, at last, with a great sigh of relief, "my

heart is easy now I see they wouldn't trust you with a sword; though

I might set you up with the cook's skewer, if they won't do anything

better for you!" And here, at last, he succeeded in angering me, for

it was a point I was somewhat uncertain about, and only my delicacy

had prevented my speaking of it to Father Urbani.

"'Tis lucky for you, Mr. O'Rourke, that I haven't it," I said, "or I

would truss you so that the heathen you are going to feed would have

nothing more to do than baste you!" For I supposed he would be off

as a missionary like most of those from the Propaganda.

[Illustration: "I COULD NOT HELP STRUTTING AS WE PASSED THE

FASHIONABLES"]

"I don't know about the eating, Giovannini, my son, but you are quite

right about the heathen, for I am going to follow the Drum like

yourself, and if you ever come properly accredited to the Chaplain of

the Company of St. James, in the Regiment Irlandia, you may have a

surprise."

"Oh, Mr. O'Rourke!" I shouted, embracing him at the same time,

"surely this isn't only another bit of your funning."

"Funning? 'Tis genuine brimstone and piety combined, that's what it

is, and within a week after I take orders I'll be off. So 'tis only

'good-bye' till 'tis 'good-day' again."

The next morning, when I went to take leave of Father Urbani, I saw

before him on the table a silver-mounted sword, at the sight of which

my heart gave a great leap, for I could not doubt it was for me. He

did not keep me in suspense, but handed it to me at once. "See what

you think of that, Giovannini?"

I drew out the beautiful blade, found it balanced to a nicety, and

could not forbear making a pass or two, even in his presence, at

which he smiled and said, "Carry it bravely, little one, carry it

bravely, and sometimes remember the old man who gave it to you will

nightly pray that you may be kept in safety in the path of honour.

Come, I will see you somewhat on your way," he added, and we passed

out into the street together.

Conscious of my brave appearance, I could not help strutting as we

passed the fashionables then abroad in the Piazza di Spagna, until I

was recalled to a more fitting frame of mind by his gentle voice:

"Here I must leave you, mio caro Giovannini. Surely, sometimes, in a

quiet hour, you will turn your heart to me, lonely here within these

walls, for I love you like a son, Giovannini, my little one. May God

and all His saints have you in their holy keeping this day and

forever," and he embraced me tenderly.

And so ended my life in the old Scots College in Rome.