Produced by Mary Munarin and David Widger
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
entire meal of them. D.W.]
THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Volume 1
[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]
Dublin
MDCCCXXXIX.
[Note: Though the title page has no author's name inscribed,
this work is generally attributed to Charles James Lever.]
Volume 1. (Chapters I. to X.)
"We talked of pipe-clay regulation caps--
Long twenty-fours--short culverins and mortars--
Condemn'd the 'Horse Guards' for a set of raps,
And cursed our fate at being in such quarters.
Some smoked, some sighed, and some were heard to snore;
Some wished themselves five fathoms 'neat the Solway;
And some did pray--who never prayed before--
That they might get the 'route' for Cork or Galway."
To
Sir George Hamilton Seymour, G.C.H.
&c. &c.
My Dear Sir Hamilton,
If a feather will show how the wind blows, perhaps my dedicating to you
even as light matter as these Confessions may in some measure prove how
grateful I feel for the many kindnesses I have received from you in the
course of our intimacy. While thus acknowledging a debt, I must also
avow that another motive strongly prompts me upon this occasion. I am
not aware of any one, to whom with such propriety a volume of anecdote
and adventure should be inscribed, as to one, himself well known as an
inimitable narrator. Could I have stolen for my story, any portion of
the grace and humour with which I have heard you adorn many of your own,
while I should deem this offering more worthy of your acceptance, I
should also feel more confident of its reception by the public.
With every sentiment of esteem and regard,
Believe me very faithfully yours,
THE AUTHOR
Bruxelles, December, 1839.
PREFATORY EPISTLE.
Dear Public,
When first I set about recording the scenes which occupy these pages, I
had no intention of continuing them, except in such stray and scattered
fragments as the columns of a Magazine (FOOTNOTE: The Dublin University
Magazine.) permit of; and when at length I discovered that some interest
had attached not only to the adventures, but to their narrator, I would
gladly have retired with my "little laurels" from a stage, on which,
having only engaged to appear between the acts, I was destined to come
forward as a principal character.
Among the "miseries of human life," a most touching one is spoken of--the
being obliged to listen to the repetition of a badly sung song, because
some well-wishing, but not over discreet friend of the singer has called
loudly for an encore.
I begin very much to fear that something of the kind has taken place
here, and that I should have acted a wiser part, had I been contented
with even the still small voice of a few partial friends, and retired
from the boards in the pleasing delusion of success; but unfortunately,
the same easy temperament that has so often involved me before, has been
faithful to me here; and when you pretended to be pleased, unluckily, I
believed you.
So much of apology for the matter--a little now for the manner of my
offending, and I have done. I wrote as I felt--sometimes in good
spirits, sometimes in bad--always carelessly--for, God help me, I can do
no better.
When the celibacy of the Fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, became an
active law in that University, the Board proceeded to enforce it, by
summoning to their presence all the individuals who it was well known had
transgressed the regulation, and among them figured Dr. S., many of whose
sons were at the same time students in the college. "Are you married,
Dr. S-----r?" said the bachelor vice-provost, in all the dignity and
pride of conscious innocence. "Married!" said the father of ten
children, with a start of involuntary horror;--"married?" "Yes sir,
married." "Why sir, I am no more married than the Provost." This was
quite enough--no further questions were asked, and the head of the
University preferred a merciful course towards the offender, to
repudiating his wife and disowning his children. Now for the
application. Certain captious and incredulous people have doubted the
veracity of the adventures I have recorded in these pages; I do not think
it necessary to appeal to concurrent testimony and credible witnesses for
their proof, but I pledge myself to the fact that every tittle I have
related is as true as that my name is Lorrequer--need I say more?
Another objection has been made to my narrative, and I cannot pass it by
without a word of remark;--"these Confessions are wanting in scenes of
touching and pathetic interest" (FOOTNOTE: We have the author's
permission to state, that all the pathetic and moving incidents of his
career he has reserved for a second series of "Confessions," to be
entitled "Lorrequer Married?"--Publisher's Note.)--true, quite true; but
I console myself on this head, for I remember hearing of an author whose
paraphrase of the book of Job was refused by a publisher, if he could not
throw a little more humour into it; and if I have not been more miserable
and more unhappy, I am very sorry for it on your account, but you must
excuse my regretting it on my own. Another story and I have done;--the
Newgate Calendar makes mention of a notorious housebreaker, who closed
his career of outrage and violence by the murder of a whole family, whose
house he robbed; on the scaffold he entreated permission to speak a few
words to the crowd beneath, and thus addressed them:--"My friends, it is
quite true I murdered this family; in cold blood I did it--one by one
they fell beneath my hand, while I rifled their coffers, and took forth
their effects; but one thing is imputed to me, which I cannot die without
denying--it is asserted that I stole an extinguisher; the contemptible
character of this petty theft is a stain upon my reputation, that I
cannot suffer to disgrace my memory." So would I now address you for all
the graver offences of my book; I stand forth guilty--miserably, palpably
guilty--they are mine every one of them; and I dare not, I cannot deny
them; but if you think that the blunders in French and the hash of
spelling so widely spread through these pages, are attributable to me;
on the faith of a gentleman I pledge myself you are wrong, and that I had
nothing to do with them. If my thanks for the kindness and indulgence
with which these hastily written and rashly conceived sketches have been
received by the press and the public, are of any avail, let me add, in
conclusion, that a more grateful author does not exist than
HARRY LORREQUER
CONTENTS:
Volume 1.
CHAPTER I
Arrival in Cork--Civic Festivities--Private Theatricals