Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I

  DW

  TO

  MISS EDGEWORTH.

  Madam,--This weak attempt to depict the military life of France, duringthe brief but glorious period of the Empire, I beg to dedicate to you.Had the scene of this, like that of my former books, been laid chieflyin Ireland, I should have felt too sensibly my own inferiority toventure on the presumption of such a step. As it is, I never was moreconscious of the demerits of my volume than when inscribing it to you;but I cannot resist the temptation of being, even thus, associated witha name,--the first in my country's literature.

  Another motive I will not conceal,--the ardent desire I have to assureyou, that, amid the thousands you have made better, and wiser, andhappier, by your writings, you cannot count one who feels more proudlythe common tie of country with you, nor more sincerely admires yourgoodness and your genius, than

  Your devoted and obedient servant,

  CHARLES J. LEVER.

  Temple-O Nov. 25, 1848.

  PREFATORY EPISTLE FROM MR. BURKE.

  My dear O'Flaherty,--It seems that I am to be the "next devoured." Well,be it so; my story, such as it is, you shall have. Only one conditionwould I bargain for,--that you seriously disabuse your readers of thenotion that the life before them was one either of much pleasure orprofit. I might moralize a little here about neglected opportunities andmistaken opinions; but, as I am about to present you with my narrative,the moral--if there be one--need not be anticipated.

  I believe I have nothing else to premise, save that if my tale havelittle wit, it has some warning; and as Bob Lambert observed to thehangman who soaped the rope for his execution, "even that same 's acomfort." If our friend Lorrequer, then, will as kindly facilitate mydebut, I give him free liberty to "cut me down" when he likes, and am,

  Yours, as ever,

  TOM BURKE.

  To T. O'Flaherty, Esq.

  PREFACE.

  I WAS led to write this story by two impulses: first, the fascinationwhich the name and exploits of the great Emperor had ever exercised onmy mind as a boy; and secondly, by the favorable notice which the Presshad bestowed upon my scenes of soldier life in "Charles O'Malley."

  If I had not in the wars of the Empire the patriotic spirit of a greatnational struggle to sustain me, I had a field far wider and granderthan any afforded by our Peninsular campaigns; while in the character ofthe French army, composed as it was of elements derived from every rankand condition, there were picturesque effects one might have sought forin vain throughout the rest of Europe.

  It was my fortune to have known personally some of those who filledgreat parts in this glorious drama. I had listened over and over totheir descriptions of scenes, to which their look, and voice, and mannerimparted a thrilling intensity of interest. I had opportunities ofquestioning them for explanations, of asking for solutions of this andthat difficulty which had puzzled me, till I grew so familiar with thegreat names of the time, the events, and even the localities, that whenI addressed myself to my tale, it was with a mind filled by my topics tothe utter exclusion of all other subjects.

  Neither before nor since have I ever enjoyed to the same extent thesense of being so entirely engrossed by a single theme. A great tableauof the Empire, from its gorgeous celebrations in Paris to its numerousachievements on the field of battle, was ever outspread before me, andI sat down rather to record than to invent the scenes of my story. Afeeling that, as I treated of real events I was bound to maintaina degree of accuracy in relation to them, even in fiction, made meendeavor to possess myself of a correct knowledge of localities, and,so far as I was able, with a due estimate of those whose characters Idiscussed.

  Some of the battlefields I have gone over; of others, I have learned theparticulars from witnesses of the great struggles that have made themfamous. To the claim of this exactness I have, therefore, the pretensionof at least the desire to be faithful. For my story, it has all thefaults and shortcomings which beset everything I have ever written; forthese I can but offer regrets, only the more poignant that I feel howjustly they are due.

  The same accuracy which I claim for scenes and situations, I shouldlike, if I dared, to claim for the individuals who figure in this tale;but I cannot, in any fairness, pretend to more than an attempt to paintresemblances of those whom I have myself admired in the descriptionof others. Pioche and Minette are of this number. So is, but of a verydifferent school, the character of Duchesne; for which, however, I hadwhat almost amounted to an original. As to the episodes of this story,one or two were communicated as facts; the others are mere invention.

  I do not remember any particulars to which I should further advert;while I feel, that the longer I dwell upon the theme, the more occasionis there to entreat indulgence,--an indulgence which, if you are notweary of according, will be most gratefully accepted by

  Your faithful servant,

  CHARLES LEVER

  Casa Capponi, Florence, May, 1867.

  CONTENTS.

  TOM BURKE OF "OURS."