Books: A Modern Telemachus
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> A Modern Telemachus
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13 A MODERN TELEMACHUS
PREFACE
The idea of this tale was taken from The Mariners' Chronicle, compiled
by a person named Scott early in the last century--a curious book of
narratives of maritime adventures, with exceedingly quaint
illustrations. Nothing has ever shown me more plainly that truth is
stranger than fiction, for all that is most improbable here is the
actual fact.
The Comte de Bourke was really an Irish Jacobite, naturalised in
France, and married to the daughter of the Marquis de Varennes, as well
as in high favour with the Marshal Duke of Berwick.
In 1719, just when the ambition of Elizabeth Farnese, the second wife
of Philip V. of Spain, had involved that country in a war with England,
France, and Austria, the Count was transferred from the Spanish Embassy
to that of Sweden, and sent for his wife and two elder children to join
him at a Spanish port.
This arrangement was so strange that I can only account for it by
supposing that as this was the date of a feeble Spanish attempt on
behalf of the Jacobites in Scotland, Comte de Bourke may not have
ventured by the direct route. Or it may not have been etiquette for
him to re-enter France when appointed ambassador. At any rate, the
poor Countess did take this route to the South, and I am inclined to
think the narrative must be correct, as all the side-lights I have been
able to gain perfectly agree with it, often in an unexpected manner.
The suite and the baggage were just as related in the story--the only
liberty I have taken being the bestowal of names. 'M. Arture' was
really of the party, but I have made him Scotch instead of Irish, and I
have no knowledge that the lackey was not French. The imbecility of
the Abbe is merely a deduction from his helplessness, but of course
this may have been caused by illness.
The meeting with M. de Varennes at Avignon, Berwick's offer of an
escort, and the Countess's dread of the Pyrenees, are all facts, as
well as her embarkation in the Genoese tartane bound for Barcelona, and
its capture by the Algerine corsair commanded by a Dutch renegade, who
treated her well, and to whom she gave her watch.
Algerine history confirms what is said of his treatment. Louis XIV.
had bombarded the pirate city, and compelled the Dey to receive a
consul and to liberate French prisoners and French property; but the
lady having been taken in an Italian ship, the Dutchman was afraid to
set her ashore without first taking her to Algiers, lest he should fall
under suspicion. He would not venture on taking so many women on board
his own vessel, being evidently afraid of his crew of more than two
hundred Turks and Moors, but sent seven men on board the prize and took
it in tow.
Curiously enough, history mentions the very tempest which drove the
tartane apart from her captor, for it also shattered the French
transports and interfered with Berwick's Spanish campaign.
The circumstances of the wreck have been closely followed. 'M. Arture'
actually saved Mademoiselle de Bourke, and placed her in the arms of
the maitre d'hotel, who had reached a rock, together with the Abbe, the
lackey, and one out of the four maids. The other three were all in the
cabin with their mistress and her son, and shared their fate.
The real 'Arture' tried to swim to the shore, but never was seen again,
so that his adventures with the little boy are wholly imaginary. But
the little girl's conduct is perfectly true. When in the steward's
arms she declared that the savages might take her life, but never
should make her deny her faith.
The account of these captors was a great difficulty, till in the old
Universal History I found a description of Algeria which tallied
wonderfully with the narrative. It was taken from a survey of the
coast made a few years later by English officials.
The tribe inhabiting Mounts Araz and Couco, and bordering on Djigheli
Bay, were really wild Arabs, claiming high descent, but very loose
Mohammedans, and savage in their habits. Their name of Cabeleyzes is
said--with what truth I know not--to mean 'revolted,' and they held
themselves independent of the Dey. They were in the habit of murdering
or enslaving all shipwrecked travellers, except subjects of Algiers,
whom they released with nothing but their lives.
All this perfectly explains the sufferings of Mademoiselle de Bourke.
The history of the plundering, the threats, the savage treatment of the
corpses, the wild dogs, the councils of the tribe, the separation of
the captives, and the child's heroism, is all literally true--the
expedient of Victorine's defence alone being an invention. It is also
true that the little girl and the maitre d'hotel wrote four letters,
and sent them by different chances to Algiers, but only the last ever
arrived, and it created a great sensation.
M. Dessault is a real personage, and the kindness of the Dey and of the
Moors was exactly as related, also the expedient of sending the
Marabout of Bugia to negotiate.
Mr. Thomas Thompson was really the English Consul at the time, but his
share in the matter is imaginary, as it depends on Arthur's adventures.
The account of the Marabout system comes from the Universal History;
but the arrival, the negotiations, and the desire of the sheyk to
detain the young French lady for a wife to his son, are from the
narrative. He really did claim to be an equal match for her, were she
daughter of the King of France, since he was King of the Mountains.
The welcome at Algiers and the Te Deum in the Consul's chapel also are
related in the book that serves me for authority. It adds that
Mademoiselle de Bourke finally married a Marquis de B--, and lived much
respected in Provence, dying shortly before the Revolution.
I will only mention further that a rescued Abyssinian slave named
Fareek (happily not tongueless) was well known to me many years ago in
the household of the late Warden Barter of Winchester College.
Since writing the above I have by the kindness of friends been enabled
to discover Mr. Scott's authority, namely, a book entitled Voyage pour
la Redemption des captifs aux Royaumes d'Alger et de Tunis, fait en
1720 par les P.P. Francois Comelin, Philemon de la Motte, et Joseph
Bernard, de l'Ordre de la Sainte Trinite, dit Mathurine. This Order
was established by Jean Matha for the ransom and rescue of prisoners in
the hands of the Moors. A translation of the adventures of the
Comtesse de Bourke and her daughter was published in the Catholic
World, New York, July 1881. It exactly agrees with the narration in
The Mariners' Chronicle except that, in the true spirit of the
eighteenth century, Mr. Scott thought fit to suppress that these
ecclesiastics were at Algiers at the time of the arrival of
Mademoiselle de Bourke's letter, that they interested themselves
actively on her behalf, and that they wrote the narrative from the lips
of the maitre d'hotel (who indeed may clearly be traced throughout).
It seems also that the gold cups were chalices, and that a complete set
of altar equipments fell a prey to the Cabeleyzes, whose name the good
fathers endeavour to connect with Cabale--with about as much reason as
if we endeavoured to derive that word from the ministry of Charles II.
Had I known in time of the assistance of these benevolent brethren I
would certainly have introduced them with all due honour, but, like the
Abbe Vertot, I have to say, Mon histoire est ecrite, and what is worse-
-printed. Moreover, they do not seem to have gone on the mission with
the Marabout from Bugia, so that their presence really only accounts
for the Te Deum with which the redeemed captives were welcomed.
It does not seem quite certain whether M. Dessault was Consul or Envoy;
I incline to think the latter. The translation in the Catholic World
speaks of Sir Arthur, but Mr. Scott's 'M. Arture' is much more
vraisemblable. He probably had either a surname to be concealed or
else unpronounceable to French lips. Scott must have had some further
information of the after history of Mademoiselle de Bourke since he
mentions her marriage, which could hardly have taken place when Pere
Comelin's book was published in 1720.
C. M. YONGE.
CHAPTER I--COMPANIONS OF THE VOYAGE
'Make mention thereto
Touching my much loved father's safe return,
If of his whereabouts I may best hear.'
Odyssey (MUSGRAVE).
'Oh! brother, I wish they had named you Telemaque, and then it would
have been all right!'
'Why so, sister? Why should I be called by so ugly a name? I like
Ulysses much better; and it is also the name of my papa.'
'That is the very thing. His name is Ulysses, and we are going to seek
for him.'
'Oh! I hope that cruel old Mentor is not coming to tumble us down over
a great rook, like Telemaque in the picture.'
'You mean Pere le Brun?'
'Yes; you know he always says he is our Mentor. And I wish he would
change into a goddess with a helmet and a shield, with an ugly face,
and go off in a cloud. Do you think he will, Estelle?'
'Do not be so silly, Ulick; there are no goddesses now.'
'I heard M. de la Mede tell that pretty lady with the diamond butterfly
that she was his goddess; so there are!'
'You do not understand, brother. That was only flattery and
compliment. Goddesses were only in the Greek mythology, and were all
over long ago!'
'But are we really going to see our papa?'
'Oh yes, mamma told me so. He is made Ambassador to Sweden, you know.'
'Is that greater than Envoy to Spain?'
'Very, very much greater. They call mamma Madame l'Ambassadrice; and
she is having three complete new dresses made. See, there are la bonne
and Laurent talking. It is English, and if we go near with our cups
and balls we shall hear all about it. Laurent always knows, because my
uncle tells him.'
'You must call him La Juenesse now he is made mamma's lackey. Is he
not beautiful in his new livery?'
'Be still now, brother; I want to hear what they are saying.'
This may sound somewhat sly, but French children, before Rousseau had
made them the fashion, were kept in the background, and were reduced to
picking up intelligence as best they could without any sense of its
being dishonourable to do so; and, indeed, it was more neglect than
desire of concealment that left their uninformed.
This was in 1719, four years after the accession of Louis XV., a puny
infant, to the French throne, and in the midst of the Regency of the
Duke of Orleans. The scene was a broad walk in the Tuileries gardens,
beneath a closely-clipped wall of greenery, along which were disposed
alternately busts upon pedestals, and stone vases of flowers, while
beyond lay formal beds of flowers, the gravel walks between radiating
from a fountain, at present quiescent, for it was only ten o'clock in
the forenoon, and the gardens were chiefly frequented at that hour by
children and their attendants, who, like Estelle and Ulysse de Bourke,
were taking an early walk on their way home from mass.
They were a miniature lady and gentleman of the period in costume, with
the single exception that, in consideration of their being only nine
and seven years old, their hair was free from powder. Estelle's light,
almost flaxen locks were brushed back from her forehead, and tied
behind with a rose-coloured ribbon, but uncovered, except by a tiny
lace cap on the crown of her head; Ulick's darker hair was carefully
arranged in great curls on his back and shoulders, as like a full-
bottomed wig as nature would permit, and over it he wore a little
cocked hat edged with gold lace. He had a rich laced cravat, a double-
breasted waistcoat of pale blue satin, and breeches to match, a brown
velvet coat with blue embroidery on the pockets, collar, and skirts,
silk stockings to match, as well as the knot of the tiny scabbard of
the semblance of a sword at his side, shoes with silver buckles, and
altogether he might have been a full-grown Comte or Vicomte seen
through a diminishing glass. His sister was in a full-hooped dress,
with tight long waist, and sleeves reaching to her elbows, the under
skirt a pale pink, the upper a deeper rose colour; but stiff as was the
attire, she had managed to give it a slight general air of
disarrangement, to get her cap a little on one side, a stray curl loose
on her forehead, to tear a bit of the dangling lace on her arms, and to
splash her robe with a puddle. He was in air, feature, and complexion
a perfect little dark Frenchman. The contour of her face, still more
its rosy glow, were more in accordance with her surname, and so
especially were the large deep blue eyes with the long dark lashes and
pencilled brows. And there was a lively restless air about her full of
intelligence, as she manoeuvred her brother towards a stone seat,
guarded by a couple of cupids reining in sleepy-looking lions in stone,
where, under the shade of a lime-tree, her little petticoated brother
of two years old was asleep, cradled in the lap of a large, portly,
handsome woman, in a dark dress, a white cap and apron, and dark
crimson cloak, loosely put back, as it was an August day. Native
costumes were then, as now, always worn by French nurses; but this was
not the garb of any province of the kingdom, and was as Irish as the
brogue in which she was conversing with the tall fine young man who
stood at ease beside her. He was in a magnificent green and gold
livery suit, his hair powdered, and fastened in a queue, the whiteness
contrasting with the dark brows, and the eyes and complexion of that
fine Irish type that it is the fashion to call Milesian. He looked
proud of his dress, which was viewed in those days as eminently
becoming, and did in fact display his well-made figure and limbs to
great advantage; but he looked anxiously about, and his first inquiry
on coming on the scene in attendance upon the little boy had been -
'The top of the morning to ye, mother! And where is Victorine?'
'Arrah, and what would ye want with Victorine?' demanded the bonne.
'Is not the old mother enough for one while, to feast her eyes on her
an' Lanty Callaghan, now he has shed the marmiton's slough, and come
out in old Ireland's colours, like a butterfly from a palmer? La
Jeunesse, instead of Laurent here, and Laurent there.'
La Pierre and La Jeunesse were the stereotyped names of all pairs of
lackeys in French noble houses, and the title was a mark of promotion;
but Lanty winced and said, 'Have done with that, mother. You know that
never the pot nor the kettle has blacked my fingers since Master Phelim
went to the good fathers' school with me to carry his books and insinse
him with the larning. 'Tis all one, as his own body-servant that I
have been, as was fitting for his own foster-brother, till now, when
not one of the servants, barring myself and Maitre Hebert, the steward,
will follow Madame la Comtesse beyond the four walls of Paris. "Will
you desert us too, Laurent?" says the lady. "And is it me you mane,
Madame," says I, "Sorrah a Callaghan ever deserted a Burke!" "Then,"
says she, "if you will go with us to Sweden, you shall have two
lackey's suits, and a couple of louis d'or to cross your pocket with by
the year, forbye the fee and bounty of all the visitors to M. le
Comte." "Is it M. l'Abbe goes with Madame?" says I. "And why not,"
says she. "Then," says I, "'tis myself that is mightily obliged to
your ladyship, and am ready to put on her colours and do all in reason
in her service, so as I am free to attend to Master Phelim, that is M.
l'Abbe, whenever he needs me, that am in duty bound as his own foster-
brother." "Ah, Laurent," says she, "'tis you that are the faithful
domestic. We shall all stand in need of such good offices as we can do
to one another, for we shall have a long and troublesome, if not
dangerous journey, both before and after we have met M. le Comte."'
Estelle here nodded her head with a certain satisfaction, while the
nurse replied -
'And what other answer could the son of your father make--Heavens be
his bed--that was shot through the head by the masther's side in the
weary wars in Spain? and whom could ye be bound to serve barring Master
Phelim, that's lain in the same cradle with yees--'
'Is not Victorine here, mother?' still restlessly demanded Lanty.
'Never you heed Victorine,' replied she. 'Sure she may have a little
arrand of her own, and ye might have a word for the old mother that
never parted with you before.'
'You not going, mother!' he exclaimed.
''Tis my heart that will go with you and Masther Phelim, my jewel; but
Madame la Comtesse will have it that this weeny little darlint'--
caressing the child in her lap--'could never bear the cold of that bare
and dissolute place in the north you are bound for, and old Madame la
Marquise, her mother, would be mad entirely if all the children left
her; but our own lady can't quit the little one without leaving his own
nurse Honor with him!'
'That's news to me intirely, mother,' said Lanty; 'bad luck to it!'
Honor laughed that half-proud, half-sad laugh of mothers when their
sons outgrow them. 'Fine talking! Much he cares for the old mother if
he can see the young girl go with him.'
For Lanty's eyes had brightened at sight of a slight little figure,
trim to the last degree, with a jaunty little cap on her dark hair, gay
trimmings to the black apron, dainty shoes and stockings that came
tripping down the path. His tongue instantly changed to French from
what he called English, as in pathetic insinuating modulations he
demanded how she could be making him weary his very heart out.
'Who bade you?' she retorted. 'I never asked you to waste your time
here!'
'And will ye not give me a glance of the eyes that have made a cinder
of my poor heart, when I am going away into the desolate north, among
the bears and the savages and the heretics?'
'There will be plenty of eyes there to look at your fine green and
gold, for the sake of the Paris cut; though a great lumbering fellow
like you does not know how to show it off!'
'And if I bring back a heretic bru to break the heart of the mother,
will it not be all the fault of the cruelty of Mademoiselle Victorine?'
Here Estelle, unable to withstand Lanty's piteous intonations, broke
in, 'Never mind, Laurent, Victorine goes with us. She went to be
measured for a new pair of slices on purpose!'
'Ah! I thought I should disembarrass myself of a great troublesome
Irishman!'
'No!' retorted the boy, 'you knew Laurent was going, for Maitre Hebert
had just come in to say he must have a lackey's suit!'
'Yes,' said Estelle, 'that was when you took me in your arms and kissed
me, and said you would follow Madame la Comtesse to the end of the
world.'
The old nurse laughed heartily, but Victorine cried out, 'Does
Mademoiselle think I am going to follow naughty little girls who invent
follies? It is still free to me to change my mind. Poor Simon
Claquette is gnawing his heart out, and he is to be left concierge!'
The clock at the palace chimed eleven, Estelle took her brother's hand,
Honor rose with little Jacques in her arms, Victorine paced beside her,
and Lanty as La Jeunesse followed, puffing out his breast, and wielding
his cane, as they all went home to dejeuner.
Twenty-nine years before the opening of this narrative, just after the
battle of Boyne Water had ruined the hopes of the Stewarts in Ireland,
Sir Ulick Burke had attended James II. in his flight from Waterford;
and his wife had followed him, attended by her two faithful servants,
Patrick Callaghan, and his wife Honor, carrying her mistress's child on
her bosom, and her own on her back.
Sir Ulick, or Le Chevalier Bourke, as the French called him, had no
scruple in taking service in the armies of Louis XIV. Callaghan
followed him everywhere, while Honor remained a devoted attendant on
her lady, doubly bound to her by exile and sorrow.
Little Ulick Burke's foster-sister died, perhaps because she had always
been made second to him through all the hardships and exposure of the
journey. Other babes of both lady and nurse had succumbed to the
mortality which beset the children of that generation, and the only
survivors besides the eldest Burke and one daughter were the two
youngest of each mother, and they had arrived so nearly at the same
time that Honor Callaghan could again be foster-mother to Phelim Burke,
a sickly child, reared with great difficulty.
The family were becoming almost French. Sir Ulick was an intimate
friend of one of the noblest men of the day, James Fitz-James, Marshal
Duke of Berwick, who united military talent, almost equal to that of
his uncle of Marlborough, to an unswerving honour and integrity very
rare in those evil times. Under him, Sir Ulick fought in the campaigns
that finally established the House of Bourbon upon the throne of Spain,
and the younger Ulick or Ulysse, as his name had been classicalised and
Frenchified, was making his first campaign as a mere boy at the time of
the battle of Almanza, that solitary British defeat, for which our
national consolation is that the French were commanded by an
Englishman, the Duke of Berwick, and the English by a Frenchman, the
Huguenot Rubigne, Earl of Galway. The first English charge was,
however, fatal to the Chevalier Bourke, who fell mortally wounded, and
in the endeavour to carry him off the field the faithful Callaghan
likewise fell. Sir Ulick lived long enough to be visited by the Duke,
and to commend his children to his friend's protection.
Berwick was held to be dry and stiff, but he was a faithful friend, and
well redeemed his promise. The eldest son, young as he was, obtained
as wife the daughter of the Marquis de Varennes, and soon distinguished
himself both in war and policy, so as to receive the title of Comte de
Bourke.
The French Church was called on to provide for the other two children.
The daughter, Alice, became a nun in one of the Parisian convents, with
promises of promotion. The younger son, Phelim, was weakly in health,
and of intellect feeble, if not deficient, and was almost dependent on
the devoted care and tenderness of his foster-brother, Laurence
Callaghan. Nobody was startled when Berwick's interest procured for
the dull boy of ten years old the Abbey of St. Eudoce in Champagne. To
be sure the responsibilities were not great, for the Abbey had been
burnt down a century and a half ago by the Huguenots, and there had
never been any monks in it since, so the only effect was that little
Phelim Burke went by the imposing title of Monsieur l'Abbe de St.
Eudoce, and his family enjoyed as much of the revenues of the estates
of the Abbey as the Intendant thought proper to transmit to them. He
was, to a certain degree, ecclesiastically educated, having just memory
enough to retain for recitation the tasks that Lanty helped him to
learn, and he could copy the themes or translations made for him by his
faithful companion. Neither boy had the least notion of unfairness or
deception in this arrangement: it was only the natural service of the
one to the other, and if it were perceived in the Fathers of the
Seminary, whither Lanty daily conducted the young Abbot, they winked at
it. Nor, though the quick-witted Lanty thus acquired a considerable
amount of learning, no idea occurred to him of availing himself of it
for his own advantage. It sat outside him, as it were, for 'Masther
Phelim's' use; and he no more thought of applying it to his own
elevation than he did of wearing the soutane he brushed for his young
master.
The Abbe was now five-and-twenty, had received the tonsure, and had
been admitted to minor Orders, but there was no necessity for him to
proceed any farther unless higher promotion should be accorded to him
in recompense of his brother's services. He was a gentle, amiable
being, not at all fit to take care of himself; and since the death of
his mother, he had been the charge of his brother and sister-in-law, or
perhaps more correctly speaking, of the Dowager Marquise de Varennes,
for all the branches of the family lived together in the Hotel de
Varennes at Paris, or its chateau in the country, and the fine old lady
ruled over all, her son and son-in-law being often absent, as was the
case at present.
A fresh European war had been provoked by the ambition of the second
wife of Philip V. of Spain, the Prince for whose cause Berwick had
fought. This Queen, Elizabeth Farnese, wanted rank and dominion for
her own son; moreover, Philip looked with longing eyes at his native
kingdom of France, all claim to which he had resigned when Spain was
bequeathed to him; but now that only a sickly child, Louis XV., stood
between him and the succession in right of blood, he felt his rights
superior to those of the Duke of Orleans. Thus Spain was induced to
become hostile to France, and to commence the war known as that of the
Quadruple Alliance.
While there was still hope of accommodation, the Comte de Bourke had
been sent as a special envoy to Madrid, and there continued even after
the war had broken out, and the Duke of Berwick, resigning all the
estates he had received from the gratitude of Philip V., had led an
army across the frontier.
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