Passage Illustrated: O'Malley gets a Hero's Welcome in the Portumna Marketplace

The sun had set about half an hour. Already were the dusky shadows blending with the faint twilight, as on a lovely July evening we entered the little village of Portumna, — we, I say; for Lucy was beside me. For the last few miles of the way I had spoken little; thoughts of the many times I had travelled that same road, in how many moods, occupied my mind; and although, as we flew rapidly along, some well-known face would every now and then present itself, I had but time for the recognition ere we were past. Arousing myself from my revery, I was pointing out to Lucy certain well-known spots in the landscape, and directing her attention to places with the names of which she had been for some time familiar, when suddenly a loud shout rent the air, and the next moment the carriage was surrounded by hundreds of country people, some of whom brandished blazing pine torches; others carried rude banners in their hands, — but all testified the most fervent joy as they bade us welcome. The horses were speedily unharnessed, and their places occupied by a crowd of every age and sex, who hurried us along through the straggling street of the village, now a perfect blaze of bonfires.

Mounds of turf, bog-fir, and tar-barrels sent up their ruddy blaze, while hundreds of wild, but happy faces, flitted around and through them, — now dancing merrily in chorus; now plunging madly into the midst of the fire, and scattering the red embers on every side. Pipers were there too, mounted upon cars or turf-kishes; even the very roof-tops rang out their merry notes; the ensigns of the little fishing-craft waved in the breeze, and seemed to feel the general joy around them; while over the door of the village inn stood a brilliantly lighted transparency, representing the head of the O’Malleys holding a very scantily-robed young lady by the tips of the fingers; but whether this damsel was intended to represent the genius of the west, or my wife, I did not venture to inquire.

If the welcome were rude, assuredly it was a hearty one. Kind wishes and blessings poured in on every side, and even our own happiness took a brighter coloring from the beaming looks around us. The scene was wild; the lurid glare of the red torchlight, the frantic gestures, the maddening shouts, the forked flames rising amidst the dark shadows of the little hamlet, had something strange and almost unearthly in their effect; but Lucy showed no touch of fear. It is true she grasped my hand a little closer, but her fair cheek glowed with pleasure, and her eye brightened as she looked; and as the rich light fell upon her beauteous features, how many a blessing, heart-felt and deep, how many a word of fervent praise was spoken.

“Ah, then, the Lord be good to you; it’s yourself has the darling blue eyes! Look at them, Mary; ain’t they like the blossoms on a peacock’s tail? Musha, may sorrow never put a crease in that beautiful cheek! The saints watch over you, for your mouth is like a moss-rose! Be good to her, yer honor, for she’s a raal gem: devil fear you, Mr. Charles, but you’d have a beauty!”

We wended our way slowly, the crowd ever thickening around us, until we reached the market-place. Here the procession came to a stand, and I could perceive, by certain efforts around me, that some endeavour was making to enforce silence.

“Whisht, there! Hould your prate! Be still, Paddy! Tear an’ ages, Molly Blake, don’t be holding me that way; let us hear his reverence. Put him up on the barrel. Haven’t you got a chair for the priest? Run, and bring a table out of Mat Haley’s. Here, Father — here, your reverence; take care, will you, — you’ll have the holy man in the blaze!”

By this time I could perceive that my worthy old friend Father Rush was in the midst of the mob with what appeared to be a written oration, as long as the tail of a kite, between his hands. [Chapter CXXII, "Conclusion," pp. 662-663]

Commentary: The Conventional Happy Ending - O'Malley has married Lucy Dashwood

Part of Lever's winning formula in the 1840-41 military reminiscence is the delightfully dialectal and utterly original Mickey Free, whom Phiz positions prominently in the concluding illustrations for the serial, The Welcome Home and the frontispiece, Mr. Free making free, both of which would have been issued in the final "double" number. Here, brash Mickey waves to the mob of well-wishers from the rear of the carriage, now horseless as the "country people" have surrounded O'Malley, his bride Lucy, and his faithful valet. Already, the priest has appeared with a lengthy "welcome home" oration to deliver: "By this time I could perceive that my worthy old friend Father Rush was in the midst of the mob with what appeared to be a written oration, as long as the tail of a kite, between his hands" (663). Immediately behind Father Rush is a tall priest in an oversized hat; Phiz deliberately obscures his face, for this gangly figure who irreverently interrupts the oration with comic rhymes turns out to be none other than Frank Webber.

Ironically, the Chapman and Hall printer in the 1871 edition has mispositioned this culminating plate as it is situated within Chapter CXXI, "Brussels," opposite Charles O'Malley's rapprochement with General Dashwood, even though it realizes the opening scene of Chapter CXXII, "Conclusion." In fact, the plate that should be juxtaposed against this text in which O'Malley returns from Waterloo and is reunited with his comic valet suddenly arriving should be Mickey's Joy upon finding his Master (facing p. 335). The pair have been separated ever since O'Malley was captured by French forces prior to the battle. Clearly this plate realizes Mickey's renion with his master at the close of Chapter CXXI in the square at Brussels. As Major Monsoon (foreground) recounts how he ransacked Napoleon's carriage, Mickey, his uniform in tatters, elbows his way past a sergeant who tries to arrest him, and is reunited with his benevolent master:

“Tear and ages! don’t howld me — that’s himself, — devil a one else!”

This exclamation came from Mickey Free, who, with his dress torn and dishevelled, his eyes bloodshot and strained, was upsetting and elbowing all before him, as he made his way towards me through the crowd.

“Take that fellow to the guard-house! Lay hold of him, Sergeant! Knock him down! Who is the scoundrel?”

Such were the greetings he met with on every side. Regardless of everything and everybody, he burst his way through the dense mass.

“Oh, murther! oh, Mary! oh, Moses! Is he safe here after all?”

The poor fellow could say no more, but burst into a torrent of tears. A roar of laughter around him soon, however, turned the current of his emotions; when, dashing the scalding drops from his eyelids, he glared fiercely like a tiger on every side.

“Ye’re laughing at me, are ye,” cried he, “bekase I love the hand that fed me, and the master that stood to me? But let us see now which of us two has the stoutest heart, — you with your grin on you, or myself with the salt tears on my face.”

As he spoke, he sprang upon them like a madman, striking right and left at everything before him. Down they went beneath his blows, levelled with the united strength of energy and passion, till at length, rushing upon him in numbers, he was overpowered and thrown to the ground. It was with some difficulty I accomplished his rescue; for his enemies felt by no means assured how far his amicable propensities for the future could be relied upon; and, indeed, Mike himself had a most constitutional antipathy to binding himself by any pledge. With some persuasion, however, I reconciled all parties; and having, by the kindness of a brother officer, provided myself with a couple of troop horses, I mounted, and set out for Brussels, followed by Mickey, who had effectually cured his auditory of any tendency to laughter at his cost. [658]

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• Charles Lever's Winning Formula and the Conclusion of Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon (1841)
• Wellington at Waterloo
• Charles Lever's Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon (1840-41)
• Hablot Knight Browne, 1815-1882; A Brief Biography
• Cattermole and Phiz: The First illustrators of Barnaby Rudge: A Team Effort by "The Clock Works" (1841)
• Horses by "Phiz" for Charles Lever's Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon (Nov.-Dec. 1841, rpt., 1873)
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Bibliography

Lester, Valerie Browne. Phiz: The Man Who Drew Dickens. London: Chatto and Windus, 2004.

Lever, Charles. Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon. "Edited by Harry Lorrequer." Dublin: William Curry, Jun. London: W. S. Orr, 1841. 2 vols.

Lever, Charles. Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon. Illustrated by Phiz [Hablot Knight Browne]. Published serially in The Dublin University Magazine from Vol. XV (March 1840) through XVIII (December 1841). Dublin: William Curry, March 1840 through December 1841. London: Samuel Holdsworth, 1842; rpt., Chapman and Hall, 1873.

Lever, Charles. Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon. Illustrated by Phiz [Hablot Knight Browne]. Novels and Romances of Charles Lever. Vol. I and II. In two volumes. Project Gutenberg. Last Updated: 2 September 2016.

Rollins, Hyder E. "Introduction" to Charles Dickens's Letters to Charles Lever, ed. Flora V. Livingston. Cambridge: Harvard U. P., 1933.

Steig, Michael. Chapter Two: "The Beginnings of 'Phiz': Pickwick, Nickleby, and the Emergence from Caricature." Dickens and Phiz. Bloomington: Indiana U. P., 1978. Pp. 24-50.

Stevenson, Lionel. Chapter V, "Renegade from Physic, 1839-1841." Dr. Quicksilver: The Life of Charles Lever. London: Chapman and Hall, 1939. Pp. 73-93.

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Created 9 April 2023