Читать книгу Arthur O'Leary: His Wanderings And Ponderings In Many Lands - Charles James Lever - Страница 10

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It was in the winter of the year 1806, the first week of December, the frost was setting in, and I resolved to pay a visit to my brother, whom I hadn’t seen for forty years; he was burgomaster of Antwerp. It is a long voyage and a perilous one, but with the protection of Providence, our provisions held out, and on the fourth night after we sailed, a violent shock shook the vessel from stem to stern, and we found ourselves against the quay of Antwerp.

When I reached my brother’s house I found him in bed, sick; the doctors said it was a dropsy, I don’t know how that might be, for he drank more gin than any man in Holland, and hated water all his life. We were twins, but no one would have thought so, I looked so thin and meagre beside him.

Well, since I was there, I resolved to see the sights of the town; and the next morning, after breakfast, I set out by myself, and wandered about till evening. Now there were many things to be seen—very strange things too; the noise, and the din, and the bustle, addled and confused me; the people were running here and there, shouting as if they were mad, and there were great flags hanging out of the windows, and drums beating, and, stranger than all, I saw little soldiers with red breeches and red shoulder-knots, running about like monkeys.

“What is all this?” said I to a man near me.

“Methinks,” said he, “the burgomaster himself might well know what it is.”

“I am not the burgomaster,” quoth I, “I am his brother, and only came from Rotterdam yesterday.”

“Ah! then,” said another, with a strange grin, “you didn’t know these preparations were meant to welcome your arrival.”

“No,” said I; “but they are very fine, and if there were not so much noise, I would like them well.”

And so, I sauntered on till I came to the great Platz, opposite the cathedral—that was a fine place—and there was a large man carved in cheese over one door, very wonderful to see; and there was a big fish, all gilt, where they sold herrings; but, in the town-hall there seemed something more than usual going on, for great crowds were there, and dragoons were galloping in and galloping out, and all was confusion.

“What’s this?” said I. “Are the dykes open?”

But not one would mind me; and then suddenly I heard some one call out my name.

“Where is Van Hoogendorp?” said one; and then another cried, “Where is Van Hoogendorp?”

“Here am I,” said I; and the same moment two officers, covered with gold lace, came through the crowd, and took me by the arms.

“Come along with us, Monsieur de Hoogendorp,” said they, in French; “there is not a moment to lose; we have been looking for you every where.”

Now, though I understand that tongue, I cannot speak it myself, so I only said “Ja, Ja,” and followed them.

They led me up an oak stair, and through three or four large rooms, crowded with officers in fine uniforms, who all bowed as I passed, and some one went before us, calling out in a loud voice, “Monsieur de Hoogendorp!”

“This is too much honour,” said I, “far too much;” but as I spoke in Dutch, no one minded me. Suddenly, however, the wide folding-doors were flung open, and we were ushered into a large hall, where, although above a hundred people were assembled, you might have heard a pin drop; the few who spoke at all, did so, only in whispers.

“Monsieur de Hoogendorp!” shouted the man again.

“For shame,” said I; “don’t disturb the company;” and I thought some of them laughed, but he only bawled the louder, “Monsieur de Hoogendorp!”

“Let him approach,” said a quick, sharp voice, from the fireplace.

“Ah!” thought I, “they are going to read me an address. I trust it may be in Dutch.”

They led me along in silence to the fire, before which, with his back turned towards it, stood a short man, with a sallow, stern countenance, and a great, broad forehead, his hair combed straight over it. He wore a green coat with white facings, and over that a grey surtout with fur. I am particular about all this, because this little man was a person of consequence.

“You are late, Monsieur de Hoogendorp,” said he, in French; “it is half-past four;” and so saying, he pulled out his watch, and held it up before me.

“Ja!” said I, taking out my own, “we are just the same time.”

At this he stamped upon the ground, and said something I thought was a curse.

“Where are the Echevins, monsieur?” said he.

“God knows,” said I; “most probably at dinner.”

“Ventrebleu!——”

“Don’t swear,” said I. “If I had you in Rotterdam, I’d fine you two guilders.”

“What does he say?” while his eyes flashed fire. “Tell La grande morue, to speak French.”

“Tell him I am not a cod fish,” said I.

“Who speaks Dutch here?” said he. “General de Ritter, ask him where are the Echevins, or, is the man a fool?”

“I have heard,” said the General, bowing obsequiously—“I have heard, your Majesty, that he is little better.”

“Tonnerre de Dieu!” said he; “and this is their chief magistrate! Maret, you must look to this to-morrow; and as it grows late now, let us see the citadel at once; he can show us the way thither, I suppose”; and with this he moved forward, followed by the rest, among whom I found myself hurried along, no one any longer paying me the slightest respect, or attention.

“To the citadel,” said one.

“To the citadel,” cried another.

“Come, Hoogendorp, lead the way,” cried several together; and so they pushed me to the front, and, notwithstanding all I said, that I did not know the citadel, from the Dome Church, they would listen to nothing, but only called the louder, “Step out, old ‘Grande culotte,’ ” and hurried me down the street, at the pace of a boar-hunt.

“Lead on,” cried one. “To the front,” said another. “Step out,” roared three or four together; and I found myself at the head of the procession, without the power to explain or confess my ignorance.

“As sure as my name is Peter van Hoogendorp, I’ll give you all a devil’s dance,” said I to myself; and with that, I grasped my staff, and set out as fast as I was able. Down, one narrow street we went, and up, another; sometimes we got into a cul de sac, where there was no exit, and had to turn back again; another time, we would ascend a huge flight of steps, and come plump into a tanner’s yard, or a place where they were curing fish, and so, we blundered on, till there wasn’t a blind alley, nor crooked lane, of Antwerp, that we didn’t wade through, and I was becoming foot-sore, and tired myself, with the exertion.

All this time the Emperor—for it was Napoleon—took no note of where we were going; he was too busy conversing with old General de Ritter, to mind anything else. At last, after traversing a long narrow street, we came down upon an arm of the Scheldt, and so overcome was I then, that I resolved I would go no further without a smoke, and I sat myself down on a butter firkin, and took out my pipe, and proceeded to strike a light with my flint. A titter of laughter from the officers now attracted the Emperor’s attention, and he stopped short, and stared at me as if I had been some wonderful beast.

“What is this?” said he. “Why don’t you move forward?”

“It ‘s impossible,” replied I, “I never walked so far, since I was born.”

“Where is the citadel?” cried he in a passion.

“In the devil’s keeping,” said I, “or we should have seen it long ago.”

“That must be it yonder,” said an aide-de-camp, pointing to a green, grassy eminence, at the other side of the Scheldt.

The Emperor took the telescope from his hand, and looked through it steadily for a couple of minutes.

“Yes,” said he, “that’s it: but why have we come all this round, the road lay yonder.”

“Ja!” said I, “so it did.”

“Ventre bleu!” roared he, while he stamped his foot upon the ground, “ce gaillard se moque de nous.”

“Ja!” said I again, without well knowing why.

“The citadel is there! It is yonder!” cried he, pointing with his finger.

“Ja!” said I once more.

“En avant! then,” shouted he, as he motioned me to descend the flight of steps which led down to the Scheldt; “if this be the road you take, par Saint Denis ! you shall go first.”

Now the frost, as I have said, had only set in a few days before, and the ice on the Scheldt would scarcely have borne the weight of a drummer-boy; so I remonstrated at once, at first in Dutch, and then in French, as well as I was able, but nobody would mind me. I then endeavoured’ to show the danger his Majesty himself would incur; but they only laughed at this, and cried—

“En avant, en avant toujours,” and before I had time for another word, there was a corporal’s guard behind me, with fixed bayonets; the word “march” was given, and out I stepped.

I tried to say a prayer, but I could think of nothing but curses upon the fiends, whose shouts of laughter behind put all my piety to flight. When I came to the bottom step I turned round, and, putting my hand to my sides, endeavoured by signs to move their pity; but they only screamed the louder at this, and at a signal from an officer, a fellow touched me with a bayonet.

“That was an awful moment,” said old Hoogendorp, stopping short in his narrative, and seizing the can, which for half an hour he had not tasted. “I think I see the river before me still, with its flakes of ice, some thick and some thin, riding on each other; some whirling along in the rapid current of the stream; some lying like islands where the water was sluggish. I turned round, and I clenched my fist, and I shook it in the Emperor’s face, and I swore by the bones of the Stadtholder, that if I had but one grasp of his hand, I’d not perform that dance without a partner. Here I stood,” quoth he, “and the Scheldt might be, as it were, there. I lifted my foot thus, and came down upon a large piece of floating ice, which, the moment I touched it, slipped away, and shot out into the stream.”