Throughout the entire night previous to the battle of the Boyne, fearful forebodings and dismal auguries preyed upon the superstitious mind of King James. An owl had perched upon the apex of the royal pretorium, or pavilion, which incessantly hooted mournfully throughout the live-long night; and at break of day, when the army commenced its march, a flight of ravens, the ill-omened birds of augury, accompanied and every where pursued the royal standard, cawing, and wheeling around it in continuous circles; and whenever it became stationary, they winged their hovering flight above it in mid-air, while it waved in the breeze. The same night the royal standard which streamed at Dublin Castle, from Birmingham Tower, and which had been neglected in not having been taken down at the royal departure, was rent in shivers from the force of the storm which that night raged impetuously; and the gilt crown, which had blazed on the top of the standard-staff, was hurled off into an adjoining cemetery. Strange and unearthly noises were heard; and the mournful wail of the banshee was distinctly heard, even amid the howling of the storm; for such were the superstitions of those days, and in which even many of the wise believed!
The troops of King James returned back to the Irish capital, but not, as they had gone forth to battle, elate with hope, and flushed with the expectance of victory. No, they returned with the hurried haste of a rapid rout; while the crimsoned blush of indignant shame and defeat in each visage as it passed, was too fully apparent to the scrutinizing spectator. Fatigue and lassitude seemed somewhat, however, to retard, if not paralize, the return of the troops; while vexation and disappointment were deeply impressed in every look and motion, from the general to the private soldier, which too manifestly told that they had returned covered with defeat, not crowned with victory!
With all the rancour of fanatic rage, and all the ferocity of atrocious civil war, the troops of King William pursued the royal fugitive. And history is wholly silent as to whether any royal mandate was issued to spare the life of King James, the father of Mary, who was the wife of William!
For upwards of four hours, like a pack of ravening hounds tracking the scent of blood, the soldiery continued to pursue at the heels of the fugitives; and not satiated with the carnage of the victory which they had achieved, having strewed the field of battle with three thousand slain, and with which slaughter they might have been fully satiated. However, when the army ceased to pursue the fugitives, it was not from a desire to desist, but from a physical inability to proceed, having become wholly exhausted from the toil of battle, and fatigue of pursuit. And under this conviction, King William gave the troops an entire day to recover from the hardships which they had undergone.
King James, as he retired from the defeat, broke down all the bridges in his rere; which act arose from the suggestions of the French officers,[2] who, impatient to revisit their own country, hurried him from Ireland, and added wings to his fears. As soon as King James had returned to the Castle of Dublin, a letter awaited him from Louis the Fourteenth's own hand, in which the French monarch informed James of the victory of Fleurus, which had put it in his power to draw his garrisons from Flanders to the coast; and also told of the station which his fleet had taken, and prevented his enemies from succouring each other. In this letter Louis urged him instantly to sail for France, and to leave the conduct of the war to his generals, with direct orders to protract it; and promised to land him in England with thirty thousand men. A letter which, while it filled James with hopes, covered him at the same time with mortification, when he reflected upon the contrast between his own situation and that of his ally.
It is a curious, but undoubted circumstance, that all the dispositions made at the battle of the Boyne by King James, were counting upon defeat, not on victory; for with a presaging mind he reflected that all the precautions which he had taken were contrived to make retreat less dangerous, but not to improve on victory. It was with the same melancholy and ominous foreboding, that previous to the battle he thought proper to despatch Sir Patrick Trant, a commissioner of the Irish revenue, to prepare for him a ship at Waterford, that in case of defeat he might secure his retreat to France![3]
The Duke of Tyrconnel, who had fully resolved not to abandon the fallen fortunes of his generous, but unfortunate king, made immediate and prompt preparation for accompanying his sovereign into exile; and he proceeded with this intent accordingly to take a tender farewell of his duchess, his beloved daughter, and his sisters. He determined that the duchess, Adelaide, and his sisters, should immediately depart from Ireland, and proceed to the continent; and he recommended that Brussels should be the city where, ultimately, they were to sojourn until more propitious and peaceful times should arrive. To Sir Patricius Placebo, upon whose known fidelity and prudence he felt every reliance, he intrusted these dear pledges to his guidance and protection, and strongly advised and urged their immediate departure for Parkgate, in one of the royal yachts; they were to travel in as private a manner as might be; and having staid a few days with their friends the Bishop of Chester and Mrs. Cartwright, in the ancient city of Deva,[4] (as Chester was called when in possession of the Romans,) in order to recover from the fatigue of their voyage; and then they were to proceed to the most convenient and safe port in England, from whence they were to embark for the Netherlands.
The time of departure now approached, King James's saddle-horses, travelling carriages, his suite and servants, &c. were now all in readiness in the upper castle-yard. The duke, who had been some time sitting with his family, now arose to attend a council, and then to depart with his royal master. He looked mournful and desponding, while cordially and affectionately he bade farewell to his beloved family.
"Go!" said the duchess, in a melancholy accent, but accompanied with a fixed and determined look; "Go, my dear lord, where duty, allegiance, and affection call you, and where your king may well command your presence. Go, and may the same Almighty power that so often hath saved thy life in battle, still guide, protect, and guard thee upon the seas, and in distant lands! But the wife of Tyrconnel breathes no sigh!—the wife of Tyrconnel shall shed no tear at her loved lord's departure! Now a fallen and hapless sovereign well may claim thy presence, for in the summer and sunshine of his fortune he forgot thee not! Indeed hadst thou, my lord, neglected to depart, and to have remained here ingloriously at home, then assuredly there would have been too meet occasion for a wife's sorrow, to witness a husband's shame! But no;—the soul of Tyrconnel shrinks from the touch or thought of aught that is base and ignoble. I will only therefore say, (while she fondly embraced the duke,) my dearest lord—farewell, and still remember me, and mine, and thine!"
The duchess supported this affecting scene with much calmness—nay, with firmness; however, it was apparent that she forcibly subdued, and had conquered her feelings on the occasion.
But it was not so with Adelaide, who wept bitterly while her parents vainly endeavoured to repress those tears which then deeply burst forth, which made her beauteous face more lovely still. Adelaide affectionately doated upon both her parents, who were all tenderness and affection to her: but particularly she loved her father; she was his daily companion in his rides and in his walks. No wonder then, indeed, that Adelaide should be the delight of his eye, and the pride and the happiness of his heart!
The parting of friends is proverbially ever more or less affecting; our minds misgive us, for we know not but this departure of those we love may prove the last. And thus indelibly is associated the feeling and apprehension, that in this world we may not ever meet again!
Immediately previous to the departure of King James from Dublin, on his route for Waterford to embark for France, the king held a council, when the Duke of Tyrconnel formally surrendered to him his patent as chief governor of Ireland, which King James graciously accepted of. The magistracy and common council of the city of Dublin were then introduced, and presented agreeably to the royal command, when King James stated to them, "That he had caused their attendance upon that day, previous to his departure, in consequence of its having been reported to him that upon the event of his departure from the city, and upon King William's approach, it was intended that the city should be given up to plunder, and destroyed by fire."
Among other matters his concluding words were: "I do therefore charge you, by your allegiance, that you neither rifle the city by plunder, nor destroy it by fire; but to your best preserve the peace and tranquillity of this great city."
Having said this, he bowed most affably and king-like to all, and then retired.
Without any further delay King James instantly ordered his suite to draw up at the grand portal of the castle-hall; and this being obeyed, he descended the great stair-case. He was attired in a round beaver hat, surmounted by a large waving plume of ostrich feathers, which were dyed of a crimson colour; he wore a flowing peruke; a leather doublet, richly gilt and embossed, was his dress. The ribbon of the garter flowed gracefully from the right shoulder, while on his left breast sparkled a small embroidered star of the garter; his flowing neck-handkerchief, of rich lace, was tucked under the front of the doublet. He wore large military gloves, with the Vandyke termination. His small-clothes corresponded with the doublet, terminating with castellated trappings at the knees; and on his feet he wore sandals, or royal talaria, richly laced, with the Vandyke point; nearly a fac-simile of which may be seen in an engraving of Le-Bas, from the celebrated painting of l'Enfant Prodigue of Teniers: while over his majestic shoulders was flung a royal roquelaire of rich crimson velvet, lined with ermine, and clasped in front with a gold fibula, richly studded with diamonds.
The unfortunate James forthwith approached his Normandy charger, which having borne him from defeat, was now destined to bear him on his way to exile from the throne of his fathers! He now with great grace and facility adroitly and majestically mounted his steed, and uncovering his head, and gracefully bowing to all, set out on his melancholy way, surrounded by his general officers and staff, proceeding on his return to France, a second time to seek an asylum at St. Germains.
He had just passed through Dame-gate, (now no more existing,) and which led into the present crowded thoroughfare of Dame-street—at least such it had been previous to the fatal and destructive union of the two legislatures of Great Britain and Ireland—when two men of the vulgar description of lounging blackguards that formerly infested the streets of Dublin, (whose number fortunately has decreased, is hourly decreasing, and is at the present point of time duly diminished, if not wholly eradicated,) impudently here advanced, and were of that description which might be called half wits and whole knaves, with a tongue glib at joke or slander, and a hand alert and adroit in cleaning a shoe, as it was prompt and tricky in picking a pocket. These fellows now commenced whistling, tenor and counter-tenor, but in a subdued measure, the tune of "Lilli burlero. [5] This was evidently not music to the royal ear, for it was quite fully apparent that it deeply annoyed the royal James. The Duke of Tyrconnel immediately intimated to the officer of dragoons who rode with him, to order the trumpets to peal forth a loyal note; which was instantly done, and "Lilli burlero" soon was silenced. The reader may possibly recollect that this song attached a large portion of unpopularity and ridicule to the cause of King James, against whom and the Duke of Tyrconnel this lampoon was written. It has been attributed to Lord Wharton, but we are rather inclined to ascribe this satirical song to Lord Bath.
As the unfortunate monarch rode along, the tradesmen in the principal streets through which he was to pass, had caused all their shop windows to be closed; a silent, but impressive and delicate, tribute to fallen greatness! James deeply felt it. "Generous nation!" thought he, "much have I wronged you, but now you forget it all. You have indeed shed your best and bravest blood in my defence; and now on my fall, and my final departure, you pay me this last, silent, but sincere, tribute of regret at my departure. Oh, indeed I never shall—never can forget you!"
Having passed through the city of Dublin and the adjoining villages, the royal fugitive proceeded in his flight, and soon reached the borders of the county of Dublin. Here, beneath a vast cromlech, was seen seated an ancient harper, his long thin grey locks streaming in the breeze; he heeded not the royal cavalcade as they were passing along, but still continued playing on his harp a mournful melody, sad and solemn as the Cath Eachroma. Meanwhile King James had reined in his Normandy steed to listen to the song. The bard again commenced in a measure, dòlce ed affettuòso, the following
BALLAD.
King James did not appear, in sooth, to be overcharmed with this mournful ditty; and having hasty recourse to his spur, he pressed onward his gallant courser; when dropping one of his stirrups, like Jason of yore, of Argonautic fame; in this expedition the king lost one of his sandals, or royal talaria. So far the mishap differed from Jason's case, that it fell not into a stream, but upon dry ground; and tradition, to the present hour, points out the place, or, as the gentlemen of the long robe would express it, "lays the venue" at Red Gap, where this occurrence took place.
Whether the royal sandal was, or was not, made of red Morocco, or Turkey leather, which thus may have happily given an agnomen to the gap, seems such a dilemma, that we shall not rashly venture to pronounce upon so knotty and important a point as it appears, but leave the discussion to learned antiquaries, and the exposition to profound etymologists, more conversant with such grave and consequential matters than we can possibly presume to be acquainted withal.
At this place King James alighted from his horse, and accompanied by the Duke of Tyrconnel, entered the royal travelling carriage. No occurrence worthy of notice took place during the remainder of the journey; and the same evening the royal cavalcade reached Waterford in perfect safety. There Sir Nicholas Porter, the mayor of Waterford, and the corporation, respectfully waited upon King James; and the mayor had a grand banquet most hospitably prepared at Reginald's Tower, where the king dined and slept.
The Duke of Tyrconnel expressed his ardent wishes and determination to accompany his royal master to France, which King James said he would not hear of, nor admit. The king then took a valuable diamond ring from his royal hand, and placing it on Tyrconnel's, he said, with much feeling and emphasis, while he warmly pressed the hand upon which he placed it, "Tyrconnel, I well know that you will remember me!"
"Yes, my beneficent Sire, I shall beyond all possibility of doubt; when I shall forget my beloved king, then may heaven for ever forget and forsake me!"
Here Tyrconnel knelt, and with warm affectionate zeal and affection kissed the hand of the royal exile.
"Wear that, Tyrconnel, as a pledge of my unaltered and unalterable affection. I am at present, from the cogency and crisis that my fortunes have assumed, necessitated to yield to superior force; but I shall never cease to labour for the deliverance of my faithful Irish subjects so long as I shall live."
He then added in a slow, solemn, and affecting tone: "I charge you, Tyrconnel, upon your allegiance, and by your love for me, to hasten, so soon as you shall witness my embarkation, to return back to the bosom of your family; restore a husband to your wife, and, to my Adelaide—my beauteous god-child, a father. Hasten to go! and the most affectionate regards of your faithful sovereign and friend attend you! I say prepare to go!"
"Please your Majesty," the duke replied, "I most respectfully obey; but surely your Highness will not, cannot, I humbly hope, refuse me a boon, and that which I respectfully conceive to be merely the duty of a loyal subject to claim, and that is, my liege, to witness your safe return to Saint Germains; and then I will return to my family."
This request was at once acceded to by King James; who concluded by saying, "I was indeed born to be the sport of fortune!" This he had often said before; and now he repeated his favourite apothegm.
King James withdrew to repose at an early hour; and Tyrconnel, who slept in the outward room, adjoining his sovereign, was in attendance. The Duke of Tyrconnel retired to bed, but not to repose. He now rapidly retraced in mental review the occurrences of years, and the still more surprising events, the fatal result of a very few days, that had so rapidly succeeded each other in a fatally consecutive train. "Oh, what a contrast," he thought, "there is between the triumphant landing some months before at Kinsale, and the deeply humiliating departure that upon the following day shall take place on the royal embarkation from Waterford!"
Oppressed more by mental than bodily fatigue, at length Tyrconnel insensibly sunk into a profound sleep; but it was unaccompanied with that refreshment which the balmy sleep of health ought to bestow. It was restless and disturbed. The vision of his beloved monarch's landing at Kinsale floated in vivid colours before him, and once more presented in detail the event as it had happened; once more he stood uncovered upon the beech of Kinsale, anxiously awaiting the landing of his sovereign, and to pay his dutiful homage; once more he heard the loud exultant exclamations of congregated thousands; once more he witnessed the rapid flash, and heard the succeeding thunder of deep-toned salutation
"From the loud cannons' mouth."
Again standards waved in the air, and were lowered to the earth, to hail the sovereign's auspicious approach; the military presented arms; the burst of harmony from the various regimental bands, and the universal shouts of joy made the welkin ring. The entire body of the Roman ecclesiastics, all habited in their meet and proper costume, assembled, and kneeled upon the beach, while the host was borne in high and solemn procession. The congregated nobles and gentry were all duly marshalled upon the strand, in meet accordance to their rank and dignity, loyally and affectionately to receive, and congratulate the arrival of their beloved monarch, while "every inch a king," and right royally arrayed, standing erect in the royal pinnace which rowed him to the Irish shore; while the royal standard floated at the stern, and the stately pinnace, decked and emblazoned with all the circumstance, pride, and splendour of heraldic pomp, blazed forth richly illumined by a vernal sun, and seemed at once to diffuse hope, joy, and confidence around.
Here, upon his landing, King James was welcomed by a number of young persons of both sexes—the one remarkable for their manly graces, as the other for their lovely faces and forms—who joined hands in the celebrated Rinceadh-Fada,[6] or Irish dance, which pleased the monarch exceeding well, who often afterwards spoke of it, saying how highly he had been delighted with it. King James now approached Tyrconnel, whom he warmly grasped. Upon this "the fabric of his vision" was completely dissolved; for Tyrconnel was now broad awake. He took off the diamond ring which his royal master had given him the night before, devoutly pressed it to his lips, and arose, for it was now day, feverish and unrefreshed from his couch.
He opened the casement of his window to admit the balmy breeze of the morning, and taking from his finger the diamond ring, he cut with its sharp and brilliant point the following lines on a pane of the lattice:—
King James and his suite having breakfasted, and all matters being in readiness, the embarkation commenced. Gloom, silence, and despondence seemed every where to prevail. The king, in ascending the vessel prepared for him, and which was called "the Count de Lauzun," was assisted by the Duke of Berwick, the Duke of Tyrconnel, Marquis Powis, the Marquis d'Avaux, ambassador of France, &c. &c. &c. But it was amid universal silence they embarked! No shout, cheer, or exclamation, was heard; no pomp, no parade, was exhibited; not even a royal salute from the guns in the harbour!
However, amongst the populace there was, or seemed to be, a feeling of pity, but somewhat allied to contempt, and more approaching anger rather than sorrow. Thus the royal exile departed from the shores of Ireland, without a single cap having been flung up, or an individual voice to exclaim,
"God save King James!"
Such ever is the fate of fallen greatness! King James now spread full sail for the coast of France, and was the first who brought tidings of his own dreadful defeat.[7] All the French court appeared to be much affected, and sorrow was manifested throughout the entire realm. But one piece of news so sad for France, was immediately followed by another, which produced a general joy,[8] although, however, it was of short duration in the hearts of all those who were interested in the disgrace of that fugitive prince.[9] A valet de chambre of King James, who preceded his master, returning from Ireland to Paris, related as a fact that the Prince of Orange was killed by a cannon shot, which he had received on the day of the battle.
The prince was considered dead throughout all France; and as one believes with facility what they are desirous should happen, people did not wish to stop or examine if that news should prove false. The report, as circulated, was, that the Prince of Orange had been killed by a cannon shot in fording the river Boyne. The first account which they had at Paris arrived at midnight; and all the commissioners of the wards were despatched, by order of Louis XIVth, to knock at the doors of the citizens, and to tell them in a triumphant tone that the Prince of Orange was dead, and that they must arise and rejoice! At the expiration of a few moments the whole city appeared illuminated. Drums and trumpets were heard in all directions, nor was there to be seen a single street where they had not lighted fires. Never, even at the birth of princes, had been displayed so many attestations of joy as then blazed abroad in France, at the account of the pretended death of the Prince of Orange. The populace hastily made effigies of King William and Queen Mary, which they drew through the dirt, treated with every indignity, and afterwards burned them. The bells of Notre Dame, and many other churches rang peals of joy, and the cannon of the Bastile were fired. Finally, nothing was forgotten which was customary to be done on the most solemn occasions. These rejoicings lasted for many days, which were celebrated in feasts and all other kinds of diversions.
The public joy spread itself from Paris to all the other cities, accompanied with the news of the death which was the cause of it. But it was more astonishing, and what, perhaps, no prince ever before did for the death of an enemy, the King of France gave orders to all the garrisons of provinces to cause to be fired feux de joié in all places of public resort!—and, finally, to crown all, (what horrid impiety!) even religion was called in and made a partaker of the public joy!
Te Deum was chanted in the cathedral church of Notre Dam, where members of the parliament assisted, clad in their red robes, to return thanks to heaven for the death of the Prince of Orange!!![10]
For the present we must proceed to other matters, while the Duke of Tyrconnel is employed in attending his unfortunate sovereign[11] to the court of Saint Germains, and while the duchess and her family, escorted by Sir Patricius Placebo, are performing their voyage to Parkgate, we must, in the mean time, advert to our shipwrecked voyagers, who were very early noticed in our history, and whom, with very little consideration indeed upon our part, we have allowed so long to remain at Ostend, and in durance vile.
"It was omitted to mention in the foregoing chapter that King James, in his passage to France, met with the French fleet of frigates which M. Seignelai had originally intended to burn the English shipping on the coast of England, and which subsequently was destined to burn William's transports upon the coast of Ireland;—but communicating to other nations the bad fortune which attended himself, he carried it back to France with him for the security of his person."—Rapin's History of England.
CHAPTER III.
It is incumbent here that we should again return to Ostend, and attend our shipwrecked voyagers, who have been left so long in durance vile, as contained in the first chapter of our first volume; and advert to other notable accidents worthy to be known, related, and recorded.
Our readers then will vouchsafe to recollect of what importance, as a seaport, Ostend is, and ever has been considered, being only second in rank to Dunkirk. Indeed the possession of Ostend in every war has been always accounted of the highest consequence by every belligerent power, as well as by the sovereigns too of the Low Countries. The oriental situation of Ostend has given to it its name, by which one might express a port which looks to the east; and its armorial bearing[12] implies that it is one of the principal keys of Austrian Flanders.
Ostend had formerly been the simple station of fishermen, established between Nieuport and Helvoetsluys; but, increasing from various combining events, it gradually arose to consequence, numerous causes having co-operated to its enlargement. The origin of the civil wars—the fears created by the numerous pirates throughout the entire provinces of the Low Countries, &c., these gradually led to its increase, and Ostend became a place of strength and importance; her port enriching her trade and revenue by bringing home the merchandize of Europe; while her strong fortifications protected and secured the inhabitants from the machinations of their enemies; and, finally, the peace of Ghent having completely established the power of the confederated states.
At the period of which we speak Ostend was progressively recovering from the fatal effects of a protracted siege, conducted by the Spaniards under Spinola, which had lasted for the space of three years; and upon the last day of the siege it was as uncertain as upon the first whether it would be captured by the Spaniards or not; or to which side victory finally would belong. The account of the loss of lives on the part of the besiegers and the besieged in this disastrous siege, is truly most formidable; it is computed that fifteen thousand of the latter perished; some slain by the sword of war, others fell by pestilence, and others perished the victims of the marshy climate of Ostend, from fatigue of the siege, the sorties, engagements, and fire of the enemy; while the Spaniards suffered the severe loss of upwards of seventy-eight thousand men.[13]
But we must now return to the detail of our voyagers, who having ate a hearty supper at their hotel, soon retired to repose in their respective chambers. Oh, how refreshing to the wearied spirit is the renovating balm of sleep; and how invigorating is a night's undisturbed repose! And how great, how unspeakable the change, and how joyful the contrast, from the almost certain expectancy of death by a watery grave, it is upon the succeeding morning to awake, as if from the tomb, upon a bed of down, and to hail the blessed cheering light of morning! Who could forbear to raise the adoring eye and the grateful heart to heaven, for an escape so unexpected and providential! All this they deeply and devoutly felt.
The morning succeeding their preservation, while they were actively and busily occupied in the important despatch of an incomparable breakfast, and the fellow-sufferers were passing a high and well deserved eulogium on some excellent Malines ham, to their great surprise and dismay a party of Gens d'Armes, as has been before remarked, arrived at their hotel, when (the three of them) the colonel, his servant, and Doctor M'Kenzie, were arrested under suspicion of being spies, and were thrown into prison.
"This is somewhat too hard," observed Doctor M'Kenzie, "not to be allowed to swallow our rations of excellent ham! A few hours ago to have escaped the whirlpool of Charybdis, and this morn to be shipwrecked on the rock of Scylla! The sea was well nigh swallowing us yesterday, and to-day we are to be immured in prison on suspicion of being spies;
'Dextrum Scylla latus, lævum implacata Charybdis Obsidet.'"
"Yes, my Reverend Friend," replied the colonel, "this is all but too true, we have had our share of suffering indeed; but while we feel it as men, let us also bear it like men, and hope the best! For my own lot I care not; to me death, not captivity, would be welcome!"
To account for this arrest we must apprise our readers that Marshal de Rantzau had made a desperate attempt with only two thousand French troops, a very few years previous to the period of which we now speak. But eventually the French force was put to flight, with the loss of twelve hundred brave and gallant men, who fatally fell in this rash attempt. And this event it was which caused such alertness and suspicion regarding strangers to be adopted by the government and garrison of Ostend.
The prisoners were marched along under a strong escort of the Gens d'Armes, and were conducted to the chief prison, and handed over to the surveillance of the head gaoler, Mr. Phelim O'Neale, who, by the way, happened to be a countryman of the Reverend Doctor M'Kenzie. At that period the janitor of a gaol did not enjoy the present high diplomatique distinction of being termed the governor or warder of a grated citadel.
While Mr. Phelim O'Neale was showing his prisoners the apartments allotted to them, he said, addressing the Reverend Clerk:—"I know that your Riverence is my countryman, and perhaps I know still more; I therefore feel all the respect and affection which I ought to do for a countryman in a foreign land. My life has been a varied and changeable one, and it may perchance beguile away an hour of captivity, that you should deign to listen to my story. Och, I was once a roving and untamable bird, wild as the haggard-hawk[14] of my native hills, that is ever on the excursive wing; and like to it, I was not to be tamed at all; but now, in troth, I am tame enough, any how! For the present I shall only say, that from peculiar and urgent circumstances I was compelled to leave my native land. I embarked from the bay of Tyrconnel in Ireland, in a vessel bound for Virginia; at sea I was taken prisoner by the fleet and squadron of Marshal de Rantzau; and with the force of his Highness I was landed at this good city, ould Ostind. Well here I was a wandering raw recruit on Flemish ground, an unknown exile and outcast, forsaken by all, from Dan to Beersheba! Howsomdever, I was shortly thrown in the way of my brave countryman, Count Dillon, whom I knew when I was a gossoon. He was a lieutenant curnell, sarving under the marshal; and he was not slow in discovering that I possessed both cuteness and genus.—Vous avez razon mun infant! he would often say to me, (he had lived for years in France,) and yit, by my blessed sowl, I often thought that his honourable worship himself had no razon at all, at all!"
"Fie, fie! Mr. Phelim O'Neale; swear not at all! it is a work of supererogation for selling yourself, both body and soul, gratis to the infernal power! Let me hear no more of it."
"Well, your Riverence, no sooner said than done," says poor Phelim O'Neale; "by —— I will swear no more!"
"There again!—swearing an oath that you will not swear! Who ever heard the like before;—what impious inconsistency!"
"Your pardon, Riverend Father, for this time, and you shall no more catch me tripping, nor stumbling, nor swearing. Och, murder! although I have endured enough to make any feeling Christian swear hard enough—at times, any how, to be sure! by —— I mean maybe through a thick deal board itself! Well, your Riverence, to continue the thrid of my story:—Count Dillon one day took me aside, and said, 'Phelim, I clearly persave that you are a quick, cute lad, and you must assist me in a plan which I have in disjunction joined with the Marshal Rantzau, for suddenly surprising Ostind, and taking it by a parabolous stratagism, the most admirable and intripid that was ever known, thought of, or yet imagined by any bould pioneer,' as your Riverence shall hear anon. It was in the month of June, and upon the memorable fifteenth day thereof, in the year 1600 and—though I can't precisely recollect the date upon which we resolved for the execution of this intended daring and glorious enterprise, for our attacking force consisted of but two thousand men. Our stratigismus was to surprise Ostind by the gate of Nieuport, which lay upon the land side, and next to the town of Nieuport. We hoped that by the introduction of a large body of men we might possibly, perhaps certainly, possess ourselves of the town and citadel of ould Ostind. Accordingly, to be sure, with this intint, we well surveyed the gate; and before that we had geoggraphyz'd the intire country, and all the roads and passes disjacent, whersomby that by every measure and means, and all due secrecy, that our attacking force might be intraducted, and back our noble and elegant enterprise. Accordingly some half dozen soldiers, clad in garb of Flemish peasants, in their blue caps and blue frocks; and wherewithal supporting upon their backs sacks well stored with chesnuts, walnuts, &c., were to seem as if they had brought them for sale into town; and thin, upon an appointed signal, (the sacks loosely tied,) the pretinded peasants were to let them fall, (accidently on purpose no doubt,) and scatter their contints around upon the ground, which was to cause a general scramble, and take off the attention of the guard from the object which we had in view. This having taken place, the fore-said soldiers, or disguised peasants, were to rally around a waggon, or, as they call it here, a charabbon, under the same pretence, laden with baskets of fruit and vegetables, strawberries, cherries, peas, beans, &c. &c. The thing was so managed that within the waggon there were concealed about thirty soldiers. As being the chief projector, the honourable post of heading this desperate attempt, (which, if it succeeded, was soon to be followed by a powerful force,) was consigned, gentle Sirs, to your intripid and very devoted sarvant, Phelim O'Neale."
"And pray, Mr. Phelim O'Neale, if it be not taking too great a liberty, may I inquire what induced Count Dillon to place such confidence in you, and make you the head of the pioneers, or of this stratagem, upon the success of which, it would appear, turned the entire success of the attack?"
"Och, botheration! and that too I will confiss to your Riverence. 'I think,' says I, Curnell, plaze your worthy honour's worship, that I could suggist a matter to your grace's judgment that would, all in all, carry the day, and, in troth, we should soon be in possession of ould Ostind!'
"'Indeed! Mr. Phelim O'Neale; pray tell, are you on the staff?—I suppose a general at least!' said he.
"'Not I, by my own sowl!' says I. 'No, not even a corporal! But then your noble and valiant worship knows, howsomdever, that there is a little fish, not larger than four inches in lingth, and about one in bridth, that pilots and leads on the great commodore of the ocean; I mean, plaze your most noble worship, the pilot fish,[15] that steers onward the mighty shark, the goliathan of the ocean, to the wictims of his prey! What do you think now, noble commander, of this apt dissimilitude?'
"'Oh, pardon, good honest friend O'Neale, vous este une bon garcon!'
"Upon my own conscience we call this better in ould Ireland by the name of gossoon!—but no matter as to that. He then axed me if I had any patience; 'for,' said he, 'you Irish have no patience at all;' and then talked to himself, that the Irish were like one fiery hot Harry Hotspur, an Hottentot I suppose, that had no forbearance nor patience at all, at all!
"'Och, then, noble commander,' said I, 'I am the patient, enduring boy after all; I am stationary as an owl at mid-day within an ivy bush! and as patient and forbearing (baring till the time comes) as a heron perched upon the brink of a fish-brook! Och, then, by my own sowl, 'tis I am the lad that will wait for you till the very cows come home!—troth, sure enough, I would at any hop of the ball!'
"'Bravo, bravo! my bould boy;' replied Count Dillon, 'you are the very boy for my business and project—all shall go on well!' He then ejoculated, 'vous avez razon, vous avez razon,' until I fairly thought that he would have lost his own razon all out and out, any how!"
"But pray proceed, Mr. Phelim O'Neale, with your narrative, in which I begin to take some little interest."
"Thus emboldened, your Riverence, as I was by my commander's lave, I up and tould him, as I till you and your friend, all my plan, of which he highly approbated. Every matter being duly prepared, a time for making the grand attack was appointed. The soldiers who were to make the attempt, as I have already tould your Riverence, were all disguised as Flemish peasants, in their blue caps and blue frocks, and were each man to have a Flanders' pipe stuck in his jaw, and smoking away briskly, as much as to say, the devil may care for yeez all! I will now till the whole of my contrivance, as plotted and planned from the first to the last, without any deviation or prevarication from the truth at all, at all! To go on then with my story:—the charabbon, or waggon, contained, as already I have said, thirty soldiers, who upon this occasion were to be headed by me; in the cart we had several stout planks of oak, which were destinated for a treble purpose: firstly, to hide us who were packed beneath, but whose hearts were strong and unbending as the planks over our heads; and secondly, to support some baskets of fruit and vegetables, for which this country is most remarkable."
"Yes," said Doctor M'Kenzie, addressing Colonel Davidson, "it is recorded that when Anne of Cleves, the queen consort of King Henry VIII., wanted a sallad, she used to despatch a messenger to Flanders to procure one."
The colonel nodded his assent, and requested Mr. Phelim O'Neale to proceed onward with his tale.
"Well the planks were, as I said, destinated for a treble purpose, I have tould two of these; the third was, in the last place, to erect them as uprights, to prevent the falling of the portcullis upon our skulls who were to make the attack. And the charabban was intentionally, on purpose to be sure, to be overturned at the door of the guard-house to block up the guard while cracking their walnuts, &c. If this attempt of gaining the Nieuport-gate had succeeded, a carabine was to have been fired to give a signal to the Marshal de Rantzau, who was stationed with the remainder of our force, which, as I have already obsarved, amounted to two thousand men; and upon their coming up in time, in obedience to the signal, we were sure and sartin of the capture of Ostind.
"We had thus anxiously planned, and with strong grounds and hopes of success, this elegant enterprise, which was to burst forth upon the fifteenth day of June; whether the termination was fortunate or the reverse will soon be tould yeez. The military gait and air of the supposed peasants it is thought led to suspicion, and seemed to awaken the attention of the garrison. Just when the charabbonier[16] drove up his wehicle in which I was, and approached to the Nieuport-gate of Ostind, forward advanced the damniers, (douaniers,[17] or custom-house officers,) and with their accustomed agility forth flew their rapiers, flashing in the bright summer glow of the harvest moon; they cut, and thrust, and terced, prodding the contints of the waggon without any distinction or respect of persons or property, whether dead or alive stock, but according to custom, searching for counter-brand goods and chattels. At length a sharp Toledo of one of these damned damniers stuck in one of my ribs, and sure enough the blood began to leak. 'Arah,' roared I, 'what the d—l are you perpetrating; and would you be after murdering me, you Flanders' boucher!'
"'Ah, hah!—Jean Bull!—Jean diable!' cried he aloud, 'emportez soldats! ca herse—bas—bas—ouvrez le fenetre!' Which every body knows is 'shut the gate!' And sure enough bang down went the portcullis, up leapt the draw-bridge; and closed and securely bolted and barred in no time were the gates. And, oh, 'tis true enough, poor Phelim O'Neale had got sartain and sure at the wrong side of the gate, where he was soon made prisoner, and all his brave plans completely dumb-foundered and knocked upon the head in one short and sad moment. I with several others, thus caught in this Flemish trap, were made prisoners; while suspicion being aroused, and all our resources having been cut off, outnumbered as Marshal Rantzau was by the enemy, it was only left him to sound a retreat, and retire to his chaloupes, (large boats.)
"After having remained for a long period in prison, I at last caught the attention of the head gaoler, who taking a fancy to me, made me his under gaoler; and some years after, (seven I think,) upon his death, I was constatuted head gaoler. And here I am; I have a good salary, a good roomy house, and with the allowance of coals and candles. I am married to a pretty, and what is far better, to a good Flemish lass; and we have already four childer in the space of three years, and the Lord be praised they are all the right sort—they are all of the emasculate ginder! So that I am, in troth, in some sort of mizzure indamnified for my losses and sufferings by the post which I here hould."
Mr. Phelim O'Neale, the head gaoler, or, in phrase modern, diplomatique, the head governor of the citadel, paid the most marked attention to his prisoners; and said, that before the morning's dawn he would think of something that would ixtrickate them from their prison. "For when a man gets into a scrape or difficulty, Riverend Father, he has only to consult an Irishman, who will be sure and sartain to get him safely and genteely out of it."
"Ay, the Nieuport-gate of Ostend and the Spanish Toledo to wit," thought Doctor M'Kenzie to himself, "is a full elucidation of the truth of this proposition!"
Now having left them a most comfortable dinner, or supper, and which answered for both; with a bottle or two of vin du pays, and some true and veritable Rhenish wine, the warder of the citadel wished his inmates a good night. But before he departed he took Doctor M'Kenzie aside, and whispered him—"I have so managed it that by to-morrow you and your friend shall have separate apartments at night; to-morrow the arrangement shall take place, and I have much to say to you, holy Father, in secret, and to make many confissions when we shall meet alone on the morrow."
The next morning by times the warder arrived, and introduced a plentiful and excellent breakfast, not forgetting some excellent Malines ham, in the digestion of which they had been so rudely interrupted at the inn of the old Saint Michael. When breakfast was over he again returned; when opening his cloak, he produced a violin and clarionet. "Do any of you play upon these instruments?" said Phelim O'Neale.
"Yes," rejoined Doctor M'Kenzie, "I was wont in happier days than these to play for my pastime upon the violin. But such a question now in such a place—say to what can it tend? I have no such fancy in deed at present, I can assure you, my good and kind Mr. Phelim O'Neale." Who, however, proceeded, quite unrestrained by his Reverence's rebuke—"Can nobody play upon the clarionet?"
After some delay and hesitation, at length with diffidence the colonel's servant said, "Yes, Sir, I once could play upon it when I was——"
"Oh, that," said Phelim, "will do capitally! excellent! quite enough! strim-stram—drimendreuch! All will now, in troth, go on quite well, and with grate success, any how!"
He then laid down the musical instruments, and putting his hands in his pocket, produced several files and saws of various forms and sizes, and then produced a bottle of vitriol. "My plan," added he, "is now fully ripening for the liberation of yeez three; these instruments and implements are intinded to saw asunder the prison bars of your dungeon window, which being within a short distance from the ground, your freedom easily can be afficted without either damage or difficulty, or even resaving a slight prod in the small ribs, when you shall have duly accomplished the nibbling asunder of the meshes which confine yeez! And the Rev. Doctor with his fiddle, and this honest-faced lad with his clarionet—och, och, it will all do bravely and rarely to murder and drown, aye, and bother, that brave and grave gentleman's operatusses in sawing the bars; och, by my sowl, the filing will be fairly bothered. And troth yeez shant want for paper and paste to hide and cover your dainty devices in caase any body should come in, he must needs admire the nateness of your apartment."
"Sawing iron! ah," said Doctor M'Kenzie, "that is a harsh and grating amusement!" And then turning to the man of war, he said: