CHAPTER XXXVII. MY INTERVIEW WITH LOUD WELLINGTON AND FURTHER

PARTICULARS TOUCHING PETER CROTTY.

_Falstaff_. “Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to vent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.”--King Henry IV.

|Although the evening was well advanced, all within and without the quarters of the Commander-in-chief indicated a business-like activity, and gave a silent earnest that an important crisis was at hand. Three dragoons, the bearers of as many despatches, were riding on to their stables--while a couple of orderlies lounged backwards and forwards in front of the building; but excepting the sentries at the door, there was nothing about the residence of Lord Wellington that would distinguish it from the quarters of a general of brigade. On my name being announced, I was conducted into a large room on the ground floor, where at one table several noncommissioned officers were employed in transcribing official documents--and at another, two engineers were measuring distances on a large map, from which they were making, what appeared to me, a skeleton draft of the great features of the country. In a few minutes an aid-tie-camp came in, and informed me that his lordship was now engaged, but that he would be happy to receive me presently--politely invited me to take a seat--and then left me to myself.

I never found an establishment that so little realized the glowing picture which Peter Crotty had so fancifully sketched. From his report, one would have imagined that head-quarters had been the selected home of social pleasure, with “Laughter holding both his sides,” and Bacchus aiding and assisting. I found it a very different concern; and had the domicile belonged to La Trappe, business could not have been carried on more quietly than it was. The serjeants seldom raised their heads from the table--the engineers conversed in whispers--and the place was as silent as the clerk’s office of a solicitor, with the head partner in bad temper in the room.

Still I fancied that there might be a secret symposium unapproached by the _profanum vulgus_, and to which none but the elect, with a favoured few like Peter Crotty, gained an entrance. Yet it was marvellous how well they managed matters in the house. No sound of distant merriment fell upon the ear--no explosion followed “the jest which set the table in a roar.” The walls must be confoundedly thick, or the company singularly prudent--you could have heard a cat cross the floor--and yet not an outburst of “tipsey jollity” was audible.

While lost in vague surmises as to the causes which might have occasioned this strange alteration in his lordship’s style of living since Peter Crotty had favoured him with a call, a servant opened the door, and requested Lieutenant O’Halloran to follow him. We crossed over to an opposite apartment--the attendant announced my name--and I found myself in the presence of him afterwards surnamed, the “Iron Duke.”

I never was more surprised than at the general appearance of my lord’s “great chamber.” Neither bottle nor glass were to be seen--the cards eluded discovery--and I could detect nothing in “the sporting line” except one solitary chess-board. The apartment contained not one article that could have been dispensed with. The table was over-spread with papers--and at one end, an aid-de-camp copied letters--at another, a private secretary wrote from the dictation of the Commander-in-chief.

“Sit down, Mr. O’llalloran,” said his lordship--“we have deciphered your despatch--and the information it contains is very valuable. May I inquire under what circumstances the packet fell into Juan Diez’ hands?”

I briefly narrated the particulars.

“It is genuine, no doubt; indeed it bears the stamp; but documents have been occasionally fabricated, which have misled people who did not take pains to test their authenticity. You appear to have had a good deal of adventure during your _séjour_ with the Empecinado. They say that Don Juan is an off-handed gentleman at times--hangs a man first, and makes inquiries afterwards--ha?--Is it so?”

“‘As far as I can judge, my lord,” I replied, “such is his general practice. I found him a very excellent friend; but he’s the last man in Spain whom I should wish to make an enemy.”

I saw that his lordship was interested in the details of my recent adventures, which pictured strikingly the wild and ferocious style of war which the partidas carried on. Once or twice he was pleased to pay me a compliment; and he expressed unqualified satisfaction at Mark Antony’s bold and successful intervention to save the condemned voltigeur. Half an hour slipped away, coffee was brought in, and I was about to take my leave, when, turning round, as if a thought had struck him suddenly, Lord Wellington observed--

“I had a comrade of your name,--whether now dead or living I know not. We served together in the Low Countries, and both commanded regiments during the retreat. At Tuyl he particularly distinguished himself”--

“And on the occasion,” I added, “lost an arm.”

“The same;--is he related to you?”

“He is my father,” I replied.

“Then, Mr. O’Halloran, you are the son of a good and gallant soldier, he retired from the service I presume?”

“Twenty years ago, my Lord. But he is still in heart the same. Were it not for my mother’s influence, I am persuaded that, one-armed as he is, he would have been with your lordship before now.”

“I wish he was,--and, maimed as he is, I will freely take him, and give in exchange half-a-dozen gentlemen of his own rank, and with the usual assortment of limbs.--I am pretty certain I should be a-gainer by the bargain.”

Fearful of intruding upon his time, I bade Lord Wellington goodnight,--received a courteous return--and hastened back to the company I had quitted, highly flattered with the reception I had met with, although neither offered a glass of wine, pressed to play cards, nor even desired, when I came again, “to bring my portmantle.”

That night I returned with Major Fitzmaurice, and took up my old quarters in his tent; and as we smoked a cigar and discussed some brandy and water, I gave him an account of my interview at head quarters.

“Your reception, my dear O’Halloran,” said the major, “though not so friendly as Mr. Crotty’s, was still very flattering indeed. What a revolution his Lordship’s habits have undergone within one brief month! He seems to have booked himself against cards, and abandoned brandy and water altogether. It would also appear that, finding “villanous company would be the spoil of him,” he has exchanged his old acquaintances for a lot of less sporting characters. And yet how the world may be led astray. There are people who would persuade you that Picton never touched pasteboard in his life, and that Packenham would as soon take poison, as “brandy without.” Ah--Peter, Peter, thou hast no parallel,--the brain to fabricate such a lie--and the brass to enable thee to give it utterance! Well--we’ll put him on the gridiron tomorrow, and if he bears the scorching, why he deserves the first company that falls.”

Next morning, the fosterer and my charger arrived safely; and, with Major Fitzmaurice, I consumed the day in wandering over the cantonments. Unpractised as I was in military affairs, I could not but observe the striking contrast which the Peninsular regiments presented to that raw soldiery, whom I had been accustomed to look at, before I quitted England. Here, the unfaded uniformity of dress was wanting; not two jackets were of one shade; trowsers were patched with any colour the wearer could procure; and, provided his shoes were good, his appointments clean, and his musket in efficient order, the other externals of the soldier were but little regarded. But it was when under arms that the superiority of that unequalled army was observable. The ease with which it moved--the precision of every evolution--the facility with which a brigade manoeuvred, correctly as it were a single regiment--while an air of confidence was traceable on very face, and the whole looked like men who had made the trial--established, and felt their superiority.

It was late when we returned; the dinner-drum had beat, and we found our rough but happy circle already united around the table.

Our homely fare was speedily discussed, and the evening carouse began. There is no society on earth like that collected in a mess-room, or one in which men unbend with such security, and where the tone or temper of every individual is imperatively required to accommodate its peculiarities to the occasion, and harmonize with all around. Hence, in military communities, badinage never becomes coarse, argument captious, nor language vulgar and offensive. On the present occasion, my unexpected return was warmly welcomed, and all seemed to take a brotherly interest in my recent deliverance.

“Upon my conscience,” observed Peter Crotty, “ye had the luck of thousands, after all, Mr. O’Halloran. As to that fellow with the hard name, and black wized complexion, though he made ye a present of a stolen horse, in my mind, he’s little better than a common highwayman. Did ye see my Lord last night?”

“Oh yes,” I replied, carelessly. “Was he in good humour?” said Peter.

“Excellent!” was the reply.

“And asked you to sit down?”

“He did--most civilly.”

“Was there any drink going?”

“Nothing but coffee.”

“Well, I wonder at it!” said Peter, with a shake of the head.

“Not at all. Probably his lordship had been a little too liberal the night before,” observed the major.

“Any company wid his lordship?”

“None, Peter,” responded the major. “An aid-de-camp told Mr. O’Halloran, that the card-parties had been postponed until your new breeches arrived from England.”

“I heard another story,” observed Captain Fenwick. “They say--God knows whether it be true or false--that Sir Thomas Picton got a bad dollar in change the night Crotty got drunk at head-quarters--and Peter being the only suspicious person in the room, they have, of course, left it at his door.”

Mr. Crotty appeared a little fidgetty; but still continued to show fight.

“I regret to hear the last statement made by Captain Fenwick,” returned Major Fitzmauriee.--“Any inconvenience arising from the non-arrival of Peter’s inexpressibles, would have been but a private concern--but passing bad dollars is a more serious affair, compromising, as it does, the honour of an old and distinguished regiment. If the report be true, that Peter palmed off base money upon Sir Thomas Picton, why, he’s nothing better than what the swell-mob call ‘a smasher’--and the offence is additionally aggravated, because that, under a conviction he was playing with respectable men, Sir Thomas thought it unnecessary to ring the dollar on the table, as if he were in a silver hell.--But where are you going? I know you are on duty--but, hang it, Peter, you need not visit your guards this half-hour. Oh, Peter, I’m sorry to say, this evasion on your part looks very like guilt--and if you don’t clear the matter up satisfactorily in the morning, I’ll apply for a regimental inquiry.”

“He’s off!” said a lieutenant of light infantry. “Of all Peter’s flights of fancy, that jollification at head-quarters will prove the most fatal.” Turning to me he continued:--

“Peter Crotty, Mr. O’llalloran, is one of the best men on earth; and all he requires is, to meet with a true believer. Don’t be alarmed at some of his revelations--he’s not so truculent as at times he represents himself. For example: he’s pleased to make frequent mention, when he has dipped into the second bottle or fourth tumbler, as the case may be, ‘of having once pursued an unfortunate author on the banks of the Suir for a whole summer’s day, and despatched him with the thirteenth shot. Of course, on his own showing, you would write him down a determined murderer.--Not at all. I believe the most rascally scribbler that ever blotted paper, might live to four score, and Peter never volunteer to be his executioner. The fact is, that in the pleasant part of Tipperary which witnessed the nativity of our friend, it is customary, when a couple of t’s come together, to change the second into an h, and hence it was an _otter_, and not an _author_, that he put to death.”

“And I will bear testimony,” said Captain Fenwick, “to Peter’s gallantry. When I was knocked down at Podrigo, and lay at the foot of the great breach, I saw honest Peter crown it--and with some dozen hair-brained devils, like himself, he fought on the summit, hand to hand. The French, when the lesser breach was carried, gave way--the town was won--and Peter, with a fortunate few, gained the streets without sustaining personal injury. Two days afterwards he visited me in hospital, bitterly lamenting the total loss of a skirt, which had been bodily removed by a bayonet thrust. ‘Bad luck to him for an unlucky thief!’ was Peter’s indignant observation. ‘He tattered the only jacket that I had; and though the tailor has been on the look-out ever since, the devil a skirt he can fall upon that will match it!’”

“Gentlemen,” observed the assistant-surgeon, “you have borne an honourable testimony to my excellent friend and countryman, Mr. Crotty, as a person of lively imagination, and a stout soldier besides. I beg to complete the merited eulogium, by assuring you that Peter is a good catholic into the bargain. Captain Fenwick noticed his conduct during the assault--and I accidentally witnessed his Christian temperament, immediately before the division moved into the trenches on that glorious and bloody evening. With three others, Peter and I held a ruinous apartment of an old farm-house in joint tenancy, and my corner was divided from the rest, by a blanket suspended from a line. When the division was under arms, I discovered that I had left some instruments behind which might possibly be required, returned consequently, to the house, and while hunting for them behind the blanket, I heard Peter Crotty open the outer door and come in. He, too, was in search of something he had forgotten--and in a false assurance that he was perfectly alone, he commenced ‘thinking aloud,’ and I kept quiet.

“‘Holy Mary!’ he ejaculated, ‘you have the best interest in heaven, and that every body knows. If I had as good at the Horse Guards, I would be a colonel in a fortnight. Oh, bad luck attend ye, Tim Doyle’--and he kept rummaging through an old bullock-trunk.

“‘There’s no finding anything after ye, you drunken sweep! Well, blessed Virgin, this is likely to be a bloody night; and the Lord, of course, will take his dealing trick out of the regiment,--glory to him--nobody can complain of it. But, sweet Lady--all I wish is, that it won’t be as it was at Badajoz, in funeral order, but just let him take them fairly as they stand. There’s three field-officers with the regiment, and we can easily spare one of them;--a couple of captains, ye know, would never be missed out of the number--and as to the subalterns, why let him have his own way about them. Oh, murder! there go the taps. If I live to come back, Tim Doyle, I wouldn’t be in your jacket for a new thirteen.’ * Again the drum ruffled--Peter shut down the trunk-lid, slammed the door after him, and hurried off to join his company--making his final exit in muttering a prayer to the Virgin, and an imprecation upon Tim Doyle.”

* Anglice--a shilling.

Early next morning. I was agreeably surprised at receiving an order from Lord Wellington to attend him that afternoon. I rode over accordingly; and once more found myself in the presence of him who had been destined to restore the tarnished glory of the British arms, and after a brilliant career of conquest, terminate a doubtful struggle by a crowning victory. I found him immured in business--and yet the details of his bureau seemed to go on as orderly and methodically as the arrangements of a merchant’s counting-house. On seeing me, he beckoned me to come forward.

I think I have been able to meet your wishes, Mr. O’Halloran.

Take this note to General R------. As yours is only to be a short sojourn, he has kindly offered to make room for you on his staff. No thanks--and waving his hand, the interview ended.

Delighted at my good fortune, I rode off to the head-quarters of the fourth division--presented my credentials--was introduced to one of the most gallant soldiers that ever commanded a brigade--and made the acquaintance of the best fellow upon earth--his aid-de-camp, Tom F-------