Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas

“Pardon, signori,” said I, stepping lightly over the gunwale, “I have had a sharp run for it;” and away we went! Seated on a great-coat of black sheepskin, which from its style and cut I knew must have belonged to my predecessor, Raffaello, I could see the rapid passage of lights on the shore in the direction of my late prison, and at last could detect one glimmering from a part of the building where my cell stood. The roll of drums beating to arms was soon heard, and it was evident to me that my escape had become known, – that the garrison of the fortress was on the alert to recapture me. Although fully a mile from land, and rowing with all the vigor of twelve stout sailors towards a vessel whose steam was already whizzing through the escape funnel, my heart almost sunk within me from very fear; and rather than be retaken I would have jumped into the boiling tide that swelled and broke around me.

The sailors more than once relaxed their efforts to watch what was going forward on shore; and how fervently did I, in silence, curse their curiosity! Externally, however, I maintained my calm demeanor, and even ventured to conjecture that a fire must have broken out in the fortress, such was the commotion and excitement discernible in that quarter.

Another suggested the possibility of its being some prisoner that had made his escape, – a notion which I took occasion to ridicule, by averring that the Carcel was reputed to be the strongest prison in Spain, and an instance of evasion altogether unknown.

Thus chatting, we reached the steamer. To my intense delight, the anchor was already weighed; and scarcely had we mounted the ladder than she broached round, head to sea, and clove through the water like a fish.

Every plunge of the great ship shook the strong timbers and made her huge framework tremble, sending a thrill of pleasure through me. With each mountain wave that rolled past, I saw my chance of safety increase, and knew that no boat – manned by Spaniards, at least – would dare pursuit in such a storm. I had abundant leisure for these reflections, since my “masters” had only time to get on board when they retired to their berths, overcome by sea-sickness, so that I was at full liberty to indulge my own thoughts, and dispose of myself without the slightest interruption. From a smart little French maid I learned that the family was called Grimes; that they had recently come from England by way of Gibraltar, where one of the sons, now with them, was quartered with his regiment; that the party consisted of a widow lady with three daughters and two sons, a third being the invalid at Pisa. They were rich, good sort of folks, very ignorant of the Continent, very credulous, and altogether a satisfactory kind of connection for a cunning French femme-de-chambre and a roguish courier to fall in with. This latter fact Mademoiselle Virginie insisted upon with no small degree of self-gratulation, giving me to understand that we might have a very thriving career as fellow-laborers in the same vineyard.

Her sketches of English life, manners, and prejudices were not a little amusing, while the rules she laid down for the due management and control of her masters were a perfect chapter in domestic machiavelism. There had once been a time when I would have enlisted willingly under such a banner, – glad to reach the upper story of life, even by such a back stair; but now that I had tasted the glorious supremacy of command myself, that I had revelled in the mastery of a great household, that I had rolled along in my own chariot, clothed in fine linen and faring sumptuously every day, I felt my return to a menial situation a degradation unendurable. I determined that, once in Italy, I would escape from the thraldom of such servitude, come what might of it.

By long dwelling on the theme, I had contrived to impress myself with the most profound conviction that I was a much-injured individual, that my case, if not sufficient for a war with Spain, was a fair ground for a parliamentary “flare-up,” angry diplomatic notes, and Heaven knows what threats of our outraged Foreign Office. That a man with such a glorious grievance should sink down into a courier, to wrangle with landlords, bully waiters, and flirt with the “maid in the rumble,” was not to be thought of. I felt that I was sworn at Highgate, and destined for the inside of the travelling-carriage, and not the “out.”

Scarcely were we arrived at Leghorn, and installed at the San Marco, than I began to prepare for my emancipation, – a bold step, considering that all the available resources I possessed was a ruby ring set round with brilliants, which I had concealed in my cap along with my papers. I was admonished to lose no time in my departure, by remarking that another packet from Malaga was expected within a week, which probably would convey the rightful courier, in search of his missing baggage, and I was by no means desirous of being confronted with the real Simon Pure.

I am not sure that this latter consideration did not weigh most with me in the matter, since the novelty of my situation and the sense of its creature-comforts might have induced me to linger a little longer in a capacity even as humble. With such people as the Grimes’s, the courier was supreme, and his rule despotic. From the hour at which they were to dine, to what they were to eat, – how they were to spend the day, what to see, and what to avoid, – were all at his dictation; while from the landlord came a perfect volley of civilities that plainly showed who was the real personage to whom adulation was due. If my masters dined on a chicken, I fed upon ortolans; while they made wry faces over their “Chianté,” I luxuriated on Château La Rose or Chambertin. For my table were reserved the oysters of Venice, the fresh “sardines” of Gorgona, the delicate mutton of Pistoja, the delicious Becafica of the Vai d’Arno, while Piscia was ransacked for my dessert, till I saw myself surrounded with rarities that even in my great days I scarcely dreamed of.

There was a kind of “abandon,” too, in this mode of life that pleased me well, – a delightful sense of irresponsibility pervaded everything I did or imagined.

The courier knows nothing of that hesitation which besets his master at the thought of some costly indulgence. He neither doubts nor denies himself. The Emperor of Russia may have bespoke the post-horses, but he knows how to bribe even against the Czar himself, and would intrigue for the fish intended for a cardinal’s Friday dinner. He is perhaps the only traveller who is indifferent to the bill, – nay, he even glories in its extravagance, as increasing his own percentage. I was beginning to see and appreciate all these advantages when caution admonished me to escape. The real Raflfaello was doubtless already at sea, and might arrive ere I had evacuated the territory.

I only waited, then, to see “my family” snugly housed at Pisa, when I proceeded to tender my resignation. It was very flattering to my vanity to see the distress my announcement created; they evidently felt like a crew about to be deserted by the pilot in a difficult navigation. They were but indifferent linguists, and worse travellers; and I almost repented of my resolve as I perceived the dismay it occasioned, the full measure of which I was admitted to witness, since – from my supposed ignorance of English – they discussed the question very freely in my presence.

“Does he say he ‘s dissatisfied with his situation?” asked the old lady.

“It is difficult to make out what he means, Mamma,” replied a daughter.

“These fellows are always intriguing for higher wages,” observed the subaltern.

“Or to engage with people of greater consequence,” remarked the second son.

“We had better send for the tutor, Mamma; he speaks French better than we do.”

This proposition – albeit not accepted as a compliment to themselves by the two brothers – was at last acceded to, and, after a brief delay, the individual in question made his appearance. To avoid any semblance of understanding what went forward, I stood in patient silence, not even turning my head in the direction where the family were now grouped around the “Dragoman.”

“You are to find out what he wants,” said the old lady, eagerly. “Say that we are perfectly satisfied with him; and if it be an increase – ”

“That he ‘ll not get a sou more with my consent,” broke in the sub. “He receives already more than a captain in the line.”

“I only know that I never had as much to spend at Cambridge,” echoed the other.

“They are always extravagantly paid,” said the elder daughter.

“The creatures give themselves such airs,” observed number two.

“And when they are at all well-looking they’re intolerable,” broke in number three, who had been coolly scanning me through her eyeglass.

The tutor by this time had evidently received his instructions in full, and beckoned me to follow him into a small room adjoining the saloon. I obeyed; and scarcely had the door closed upon us than I started, and broke out into an involuntary exclamation of surprise. The individual before me was no other than my first friend, the kind youth who had taken me by the hand at the very outset of my career, the student of Trinity, Dublin, named Lyndsay.

As I perceived that he did not recognize me, I had time enough to observe him well, and mark the change which more than twelve years had wrought upon him. Though still young, anxiety and mental exertion had worn him into premature age. His eye was dulled, his cheeks pale and sunken, and in his manner there was that timid hesitation that stood abashed in the presence of my own cool effrontery. I could see easily that the man of thought and reflection was succumbing before the man of action and of the world, and I was selfish enough to revel in the triumph.

In a low, diffident voice he proceeded to ask me if there was anything in the nature of my situation that induced me to quit a service where I had given the fullest satisfaction.

I replied by an easy caress of my long black moustache, and a certain expressive gesture of the shoulders, meant to convey that my objections were of a nature that did not admit exactly of discussion, – rather questions of delicate personal feeling than of actual difficulty. Hinted that I had rarely served anything less than a royal highness, and feared that I should be likely to injure myself, – of degenerating into an easy and familiar manner, by associating with those so nearly of my own level.

I saw the blood mantle in the pale cheek of the student as he listened to this impertinence, and thought that I could mark the struggle that was passing within him, while, in a calm, collected tone, he said that those were questions on which he could not give any opinion, and that if I desired to leave, of course no further objections would be offered. “Might I ask,” added he, with a manner where a most courteous politeness prevailed, – “might I ask what are the qualifications of a person in your condition of life?”

“I think,” replied I, “that I appreciate the meaning of your question. You would ask by what right a man humbly born, educated to mere menial duties, can aspire to the position and the pay a courier claims. I am willing to tell you. To begin, then: He must be familiar with the geography of Europe, – I speak here of the merely Continental courier, – he must know the boundaries, the high roads, the coinage, the customs, the privileges of every petty State, from the smallest principality of Germany to the greatest sovereignty of a Czar. He must know the languages, not as scholars and grammarians know them, but in all their dialects and ‘patois.’ It is not enough that he has learned the tongue in which Dante wrote, or Metastasio sung, he must speak Venetian and Milanese, Neapolitan and Piedmontese. He should know the Low German of the Black Forest, the Wiener dialect of the Austrian, and talk every gradation of French, from the frontiers of Flanders to the vine-groves of Provence and Auvergne. He must be as familiar with every city of Europe as though it were his birthplace; with the churches, the galleries, their monuments, and their history. He must know the delicacies of each land, and every rarity it can produce for the palate of the epicure. He must be a connoisseur in wine, pictures, china, cuisine, statuary, engravings, armor, ancient furniture, manuscripts, horseflesh, the drama, and Bohemian glass; able to pack a trunk, or expatiate upon a Titian; to illustrate a fresco, to cheat a custom-house, to bully a prefect, make an omelette, ride postilion. These, with a running knowledge of international law and the Code Napoléon, and some skill in all the minor operations of surgery, – these are a brief summary of a courier’s qualifications.”

“And do you tell me, friend,” said he, earnestly, “that you can do all this?”

“Indifferent well,” said I, carelessly. “There are, doubtless, others who have gained a higher proficiency in the craft; but as I am still young, I’ll not despair of future eminence.”

He heaved a deep sigh, and leaned his head upon his hand.

I fancied I could read what was passing in his mind, and, at a haphazard, said, “You are contrasting the catalogue with that of your own acquirements, and perhaps asking yourself, to what end all the midnight toil of scholarship? Why have I labored hard, with aching brow and fevered heart, when one with vulgar attainments like these, – the scattered fragments, the crumbs that fall from the table of real knowledge, – can secure a better livelihood and more real independence than myself; and the reason is, mine are marketable wares that find purchasers in every class, and among every gradation of society. ‘My lord’ must have his courier; so must the rich cotton-spinner or the barrister on his wedding-tour. The wealthy dowager, the blooming widow, the ex-minister travelling for ‘distraction’ the young heir journeying for dissipation, the prelate, the banker, the ruined duke, the newly enriched mill-owner, – all, however differing in other points, agree in this one want, and must have one who will think for them and speak for them, bargain and bully for them, assert their rank and importance wherever they appear; so that of the obstacles of travel, its difficulties and contrarieties, they should know as little as though their road lay between London and Croydon.”

“Still, it is a puzzle to me,” sighed the young man, “how these people achieve the attainments you speak of. Even a smattering of such knowledge would seem to require both time and study.”

“They have but a smattering,” said I; “yet it is gained exactly in the very school where such small proficiency goes farthest, – ‘the world’ – and which you will one day discover has its sources of knowledge, its tests of ability, ay, and its degrees of honor, marked out as palpably as Oxford and Cambridge. There is this advantage, too, sir, over the university, – the track in which you are to travel is marked out for you; you must not stray to the right or to the left, – while in ‘the world’ the field of direction is wide, open, and expanded; there’s a path for every one, if they ‘ll only look for it.”

He started as I said these words; and as his cheeks flushed up, he said, “I remember once upon a time hearing those very words from a poor friendless boy in my own country. He was setting out, as he said, to seek his fortune, and his whole stock in life was the hope inspired by that sentiment.”

“And what became of him?”

“I never could learn. He disappeared suddenly; and whether he enlisted into some regiment abroad, or died at home, I never ascertained.”

“Then I can tell you, sir, – he now stands before you, the same whom once you so kindly succored! the houseless, friendless child whom you protected and sheltered. I am Con Cregan.”

It would be difficult to describe the bewilderment of poor Lyndsay as I said this; he sat down, closed his eyes, opened them again, rubbed them, stared at me, tried to speak, and at last, rising up, grasped my hand warmly, and cried, “Then, of course, you remember my name?”

“I could never forget it, Mr. Lyndsay,” said I, affectionately.

This was enough, and he now shook me by both hands with all the warmth of old friendship.

As he was madly eager to learn the story of my life, and as I was bent on my departure by the morning mail for Genoa, we agreed to meet at an hour when the household had retired to bed; meanwhile, he was to charge himself with the office of making an explanation to the family, and informing them that matters of urgency required my presence at Paris without delay. This agreed upon, we separated.

The entire night we passed in talking, for he insisted upon hearing my adventures from the very hour we had parted company in Dublin, down to the moment we were then seated together. It was evident, at times, from the tone of questioning, that he accepted several of my statements at least as doubtful; but gradually, as he discovered my acquaintance with various languages, the knowledge I possessed of different remote countries, their habits and natural productions, this incredulity gave way; and when finally I produced the letters of the Havannah banker, with the receipts for my instalments, he showed that every shade of hesitation had vanished, and that he no longer entertained a doubt of my veracity.

As the hour of separating drew nigh, he turned the subject to my own immediate requirements; and although I assured him that my ring, which I had already disposed of, was sufficient for all immediate wants, he insisted upon my accepting a loan of one hundred dollars, to be repaid, as he himself said, “when I resumed my countship.” These were his parting words as I ascended to the roof of the diligence.

CHAPTER XXXI A NEW WALK IN PROGRESSIVE LIFE

I will not trespass on my reader’s patience with the details of my journey, nor ask him to form acquaintance with any of those pleasant travelling companions whose whims, caprices, and merry fancies lightened the road. The company of a diligence is a little world in all its features of selfishness, apathy, trustfulness, credulity, and unbelief. It has its mock humilities and absurd pretensions even more glaringly displayed than every-day life exhibits them. Enough, then, if I say ours were fair specimens of the class; and when, on arriving at the Messageries Royales, the heavy “conveniency” deposited us in the court, we shook hands all round ere separating, like people who were well pleased when together, but yet not broken-hearted at the thought of parting.

And now I found myself at Paris, that glorious capital, whose very air is the champagne of atmospheres, and where, amid the brilliant objects so lavishly thrown on every side, even the poor man forgets his poverty, and actually thinks he has some share in the gorgeous scene around him. I heaved one heavy sigh from the very bottom of my heart as I thought what might have been the condition in which I could once have rolled along these same streets; and with this brief tribute to the past, I trudged along towards the Embassy. All my hope lay in the prospect of an interference on the part of the English Government, and the demand of an indemnification for my loss.

After some little delay, and a slight catechizing on the part of a bulky porter in scarlet livery, I was admitted to a room where a number of people, chiefly couriers and “Laquais de Place,” were assembled, to obtain signatures or passports, and who were summoned from time to time to enter an inner chamber where the official sat. My turn came at length, and, with a heart almost swelling to suffocation, I entered.