Part 3
"But look at the creature's ears!" he broke out of a sudden; "he has them as big as the Prophet's ass! And to think of me being taken in by the animal!" Thereupon he turned him round and bade us mark the way in which his ears stuck out from his shaven pate, now his wig was knocked off, while he roared with laughter.
But this all went sadly against my grain, as I was all for punishing the rogue then and there, and I knew Mr. O'Rourke would soon make this impossible if he went on with his jesting. However, he pointed out that to such a man the disgrace would mean as much as his punishment, and he would hand him over to the magistrate himself. "The creature sets up to be a gentleman, but if we can get one of his shoulders stamped with a hot iron, as is their fashion hereabouts, 'twill take a mighty fine coat to cover that same," he explained, much to our satisfaction. So the innkeeper was called and bidden to lock him up securely; and off marched the Captain with his white face, looking half dazed, but offering no words or apology whatever.
When we were alone, Mr. O'Rourke burst out, blaming himself for leaving me alone with such a man, calling himself every name he could lay his tongue to for being taken in with the first scoundrel he picked up. "'Tis a pretty ass I have made of myself, turning up my nose at your consorting with a poor, harmless Jew, and then to take up myself with a picaroon of a captain, and perhaps play second fiddle to the hangman! Job no doubt had me in his eye when he said that 'multitude of years should teach wisdom' (et annorum multitudo doceret sapientiam), but my wisdom was a fool to your folly."
However, after awhile we all cooled down, and by the time dinner was on the table were in our sober senses again. Then in comes Luigi, who must hear the whole story over, and sets us all laughing merrily with his antics, feigning to weep when we told how Mr. O'Rourke would not let me slit the Captain's throat; but when he heard what we had done with the scamp, he was off in a trice and back as soon, dragging the innkeeper with him and bursting with anger. It was soon explained. The Captain had escaped, and Luigi was for haling the innkeeper before the judge; but the poor man cried so piteously, and so besought us not to undo him, that we took compassion, and contented ourselves with ordering our caleche and starting again on our journey, Mr. O'Rourke promising to see us in Rome.
We arrived at Viterbo through a fine stretch of country, more especially about the Lake of Bolsena, but passed through no towns of importance. We had heard such tales of robbers that we here determined to better provide for our personal safety; so we set out from the inn, and, with the help of Luigi, found an armourer, with whom we bargained for a pair of pistols, and had them at a fair price. He had some good blades as well, and, now we had begun to have a hankering for weapons, I desired one greatly, but was dissuaded by Luigi, who pointed out they were much too long for me to carry, and, further, that for young gentlemen going to college we had weapons enough and to spare.
About a mile from the town we came on a hill so steep we were forced to dismount and climb on foot. "At the top we will find a guard of archers," said Luigi, "who have been there ever since the days of Innocent the Eleventh."
"Not the same ones, surely?" said I, quizzing him, after the manner of Mr. O'Rourke.
"I don't doubt it," he returned, gravely; "most of them are old and useless enough to have been there since the days of Nero. But that is not my point; that is in the story, if you can find it."
"Go on with your tale, Luigi; he knows nothing of history," said Angus.
"History, indeed, you dunderhead!" said I, much disgusted. "Can't you see a joke when 'tis under your nose?"
"I've been carrying my nose in my pocket, according to Mr. O'Rourke's direction, ever since I came into the country, and I don't find your joke so fine that I need take it out," he returned, with a silly air of conceit which angered me mightily.
"See here, my fine fellow!" said I, stopping short; "if you have a mind to try any of your Prester John airs with me, you had best put your head where your nose is, or the one will soon be as little use to you as the other."
"Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried Luigi at this, much distressed; "I have not even yet begun my story!"
"Don't mind us, Luigi," said Angus, quite cool; "go on with your story. We are only getting the laugh in at the wrong end. I did not mean to ruff you, Shonaidh," he added, very handsomely, for Angus could be quite the gentleman when he desired.
"I know you didn't," I returned, without offence; "but you shouldn't laugh at me when I am trying a joke. My temper is short."
On this we made up without further words, and both turned to Luigi, begging him to continue with his tale.
"Well, as I was saying, 'twas in the days of Innocent the Eleventh, when a young Polish friar, on his way towards Rome, was here arrested by two robbers, who, after relieving him of his purse, which they found much too light for one of his comfortable appearance, threatened him with torture unless he revealed where the rest of his money was hid. He thereupon owned to having some gold pieces in the soles of his shoes, on which they bade him sit down and started to strip his feet. Now, he being very powerful, and marking the favourable position of his tormentors, seized his opportunity and the robbers at the same moment, and brought their heads together with so happy a crack that he rendered them senseless. Seeing their state, he repeated his experiment with such success that he soon put an end to their rogueries forever. Rejoicing at his good fortune, he took all their effects, piled them on one of his horses, and, mounted on the other, made his way into Rome with all the honours of war. The Pope, hearing of his adventure, desired to see so remarkable a man, and the young friar was accordingly brought into his presence. When asked how he, a single man. accomplished so extraordinary a feat, he folded his hands and replied modestly in Latin: "May it please Your Holiness, I seized each of them softly by the hair of his head and softly knocked the head of the one against the head of the other until they both were dead!" And His Holiness, who was a man of a merry humour, laughed heartily at the simplicity of the answer, and not only gave the stout friar both the goods of the robbers and his blessing, but posted a guard here as well, that no other student might be put to a like proof of his courage."
However, we saw no robbers, great or small, perhaps because we were so well prepared, though we went through a country full of woods and wild places, well fitted for this class of gentry. We continued our journey without further matter worth mention until, as we drove out of a little village called Baccano, Luigi jumped up in great excitement, and, crying to the postilion to stop, fairly shouted in his joy, "Ecco Roma!" And far away in the distance, over the rising mists of the morning, we saw the cross of St. Peter twinkling like a star of gold.
We were all impatience now and longed for no more adventures, but, despite our longing, it was nearly evening before we drove in by the Porto del Popolo, and black night before we passed our baggages at the Dogana, and Luigi deposited us in safety at the Scots College, in the via delle Quattro Fontane.
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.
"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.