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diff --git a/old/32425-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/32425-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eec0082 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/32425-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,24930 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Maurice Tiernay Soldier of Fortune, by Charles James Lever + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Maurice Tiernay Soldier of Fortune, by +Charles James Lever + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Maurice Tiernay Soldier of Fortune + +Author: Charles James Lever + +Illustrator: A. D. M'Cormick + +Release Date: May 19, 2010 [EBook #32425] +Last Updated: September 4, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAURICE TIERNAY SOLDIER OF FORTUNE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +MAURICE TIERNAY<br /><br /><i>SOLDIER OF FORTUNE</i> +</h1> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +By Charles James Lever +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +Illustrations by A. D. M’Cormick +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h4> +The Novels Of Charles Lever <br /><br /> Edited By His Daughter <br /> <br />London +<br /><br /> <br />Downey And Co., Limited <br /><br /> <br />12 York St. Covent +Garden <br /><br /> <br />1898 +</h4> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="frontispiece (139K)" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="titelpage (98K)" src="images/titelpage.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> NOTICE </a> <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>MAURICE TIERNAY</b> </a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> ‘THE DAYS OF THE +GUILLOTINE’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE +RESTAURANT ‘AU SCELERAT’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER +III. </a> THE ‘TEMPLE’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> +CHAPTER IV. </a> ‘THE NIGHT OF THE NINTH THERMIDOR’ <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE CHOICE OF A LIFE +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> ‘THE +ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. +</a> A PASSING ACQUAINTANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> +CHAPTER VIII. </a> ‘TRONCHON’ <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> A SCRAPE AND ITS +CONSEQUENCES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> AN +ARISTOCRATIC REPUBLICAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. +</a> ‘THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE’ <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> ‘A GLANCE AT +STAFF-DUTY’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> A +FAREWELL LETTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> A +SURPRISE AND AN ESCAPE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. +</a> SCRAPS OF HISTORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> +CHAPTER XVI. </a> AN OLD GENERAL OF THE IRISH BRIGADE <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> LA ROCHELLE <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> ‘THE BAY OF +BATHFRAN’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> A +RECONNAISSANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> KILLALA +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> OUR +ALLIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THE +DAY OF ‘CASTLEBAR’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. +</a> THE TOWN-MAJOR OF CASTLEBAR <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> THE MISSION TO THE +NORTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> A +PASSING VISIT TO KILLALA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER +XXVI. </a> A REMNANT OF ‘FONTENOY’ <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> THE CRANAGH <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> SOME NEW +ACQUAINTANCES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> THE +BREAKFAST AT LETTERKENNY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER +XXX. </a> SCENE IN THE ROYAL BARRACKS <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> A BRIEF CHANGE OF +LIFE AND COUNTRY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> THE +‘ATHOL’ TENDER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> A +BOLD STROKE FOR FAME AND FORTUNE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> +CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> GENOA IN THE SIEGE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> A NOVEL COUNCIL OP +WAR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> GENOA +DURING THE SIEGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. +</a> MONTE DI PACCIO <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0038"> +CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> A ROYALIST ‘DE LA VIEILLE +ROCHE’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> A +SORROWFUL PARTING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> THE +CHATEAU OF ETTENHEIM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. +</a> AN ‘ORDINARY’ ACQUAINTANCE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> THE ‘COUNT DE +MAUREPAS,’ ALIAS———— <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a> A FOREST RIDE <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a> AN EPISODE OF ‘94 +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a> THE +CABINET OF A CHEF DE POLICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER +XLVI. </a> A GLANCE AT THE ‘PREFECTURE DE POLICE’ <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a> THE VILLAGE OP +SCHWARTZ-ACH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. +</a> A VILLAGE ‘SYNDICUS’ <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0049"> +CHAPTER XLIX. </a> A LUCKY MEETING <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L. </a> THE MARCH ON VIENNA +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI. </a> SCHÖNBRUNN +IN 1809 <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII. </a> KOMORN +FORTY TEARS AGO <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII. </a> A +LOSS AND A GAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LIV. </a> MAURICE +TIERNAY’S ‘LAST WORD AND CONFESSION’ <br /><br /> +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay was first published as a serial in ‘The Dublin University +Magazine,’ commencing in the issue for April 1850, and ending in the issue +for December 1851. It was first published in book form (as a volume of The +Parlour Library) with the following title-page (undated): +</p> +<p> +Maurice Tiernay | The | Soldier of Fortune | By the Author of | ‘Sir +Jasper Carew’ | etc. etc. I London, | Thomas Hodgson, | 13 Paternoster +Bow. +</p> +<p> +The earliest edition which has Lever’s name on the title-page is one +published in Leipzig in 1861. This edition has the following title-page: +</p> +<p> +Maurice Tiernay | the | Soldier of Fortune, | by | Charles Lever, I Author +of ‘Charles O’Malley,’ etc. I Copyright Edition. | In two VOLUMES | VOL. +I. | LEIPZIG | BERNHARD TAUCH-NITZ I 1861. +</p> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +NOTICE +</h2> +<p> +The strangeness of some of the incidents, and the rapidity with which +events so remarkable succeeded each other, almost deterred the writer from +ever committing them to the press; nor was it till after much +consultation, and some persuasive influence on the part of friends, that +he at length yielded and decided upon so doing. Whether in that +determination his choice was a wise one, must be left to the judgment of +the reader; for himself, he has but to say that to ponder over some of +these early scenes, and turn over, in thought, some of his youthful +passages, has solaced many a weary hour of an age when men make few new +friendships, and have almost as few opportunities to cultivate old ones. +</p> +<p> +That the chief events related in these pages—such, for instance, as +every detail of the French invasion, the capture of Wolfe Tone, and the +attack on Monte di Faccio—are described with rigid exactness, the +writer is most sincere in the expression of his conviction. For the truth +of incident purely personal, it is needless to press any claim, seeing +that the hero owns no higher name than that of—A Soldier of Fortune. +</p> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h1> +MAURICE TIERNAY +</h1> +<h2> +THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE +</h2> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I. ‘THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE’ +</h2> +<p> +Neither the tastes nor the temper of the age we live in are such as to +induce any man to boast of his family nobility. We see too many +preparations around us for laying down new foundations, to think it a +suitable occasion for alluding to the ancient edifice. I will, therefore, +confine myself to saying, that I am not to be regarded as a mere pretender +because my name is not chronicled by Burke or Debrett. My +great-grandfather, after whom I am called, served on the personal staff of +King James at the Battle of the Boyne, and was one of the few who +accompanied the monarch on his flight from the field, for which act of +devotion he was created a peer of Ireland, by the style and title of +Timmahoo—Lord Tiernay, of Timmahoo the family called it—and a +very rich-sounding and pleasant designation has it always seemed to me. +</p> +<p> +The events of the time, the scanty intervals of leisure enjoyed by the +king, and other matters, prevented a due registry of my ancestors’ claims; +and, in fact, when more peaceable days succeeded, it was judged prudent to +say nothing about a matter which might revive unhappy recollections, and +open old scores, seeing that there was now another king on the throne ‘who +knew not Joseph’; and so, for this reason and many others, my +greatgrandfather went back to his old appellation of Maurice Tiernay, and +was only a lord among his intimate friends and cronies of the +neighbourhood. +</p> +<p> +That I am simply recording a matter of fact, the patent of my ancestors’ +nobility, now in my possession, will sufficiently attest: nor is its +existence the less conclusive, that it is inscribed on the back of his +commission as a captain in the Shanabogue Fencibles—the well-known +‘Clear-the-way-boy s’—a proud title, it is said, to which they +imparted a new reading at the memorable battle aforementioned. +</p> +<p> +The document bears the address of a small public-house called the ‘Nest,’ +on the Kells road, and contains in one corner a somewhat lengthy score for +potables, suggesting the notion that his Majesty sympathised with vulgar +infirmities, and found, as the old song says, ‘that grief and sorrow are +dry.’ +</p> +<p> +The prudence which for some years sealed my greatgrandfather’s lips, +lapsed, after a time, into a careless and even boastful spirit, in which +he would allude to his rank in the peerage, the place he ought to be +holding, and so on: till at last, some of the Government people, doubtless +taking a liking to the snug house and demesne of Timmahoo, denounced him +as a rebel, on which he was arrested and thrown into gaol, where he +lingered for many years, and only came out at last to find his estate +confiscated, and himself a beggar. +</p> +<p> +There was a small gathering of Jacobites in one of the towns of Flanders, +and thither he repaired; but how he lived, or how he died, I never +learned. I only know that his son wandered away to the east of Europe, and +took service in what was called Trenck’s Pandours—as jolly a set of +robbers as ever stalked the map of Europe, from one side to the other. +This was my grandfather, whose name is mentioned in various chronicles of +that estimable corps, and who was hanged at Prague afterwards, for an +attempt to carry off an archduchess of the empire, to whom, by the way, +there is good reason to believe he was privately married. This suspicion +was strengthened by the fact that his infant child, Joseph, was at once +adopted by the imperial family, and placed as a pupil in the great +military school of Vienna. From thence he obtained a commission in the +Maria Theresa Hussars, and subsequently, being sent on a private mission +to France, entered the service of Louis xvi., where he married a lady of +the Queen’s household—a Mademoiselle de la Lasterie—of high +rank and some fortune; and with whom he lived happily till the dreadful +events of 17—, when she lost her life, beside my father, then +fighting as a Garde du Corps, on the staircase at Versailles. How he +himself escaped on that day, and what were the next features in his +history, I never knew; but when again we heard of him, he was married to +the widow of a celebrated orator of the Mountain, and he himself an +intimate friend of St. Just and Marat, and all the most violent of the +Republicans. +</p> +<p> +My father’s history about this period is involved in such obscurity, and +his second marriage followed so rapidly on the death of his first wife, +that, strange as it may seem, I never knew which of the two was my mother—the +lineal descendant of a house, noble before the Crusades, or—the +humble <i>bourgeoise</i> of the Quartier St. Denis. What peculiar line of +political action my father followed I am unable to say, nor whether he was +suspected with or without due cause; but suspected he certainly was, and +at a time when suspicion was all-sufficient for conviction. He was +arrested, and thrown into the Temple, where I remember I used to visit him +every week; and whence I accompanied him one morning, as he was led forth +with a string of others to the Place de Grève, to be guillotined. I +believe he was accused of royalism; and I know that a white cockade was +found among his effects, and in mockery was fastened on his shoulder on +the day of his execution. This emblem, deep dyed with blood, and still +dripping, was taken up by a bystander, and pinned on my cap, with the +savage observation, ‘Voilà, it is the proper colour; see that you profit +by the way it became so.’ As, with a bursting heart, and a head wild with +terror, I turned to find my way homeward, I felt my hand grasped by +another—I looked up, and saw an old man, whose threadbare black +clothes and emaciated appearance bespoke the priest in the times of the +Convention. +</p> +<p> +‘You have no home now, my poor boy,’ said he to me; ‘come and share mine.’ +</p> +<p> +I did not ask him why. I seemed to have suddenly become reckless as to +everything present or future. The terrible scene I had witnessed had dried +up all the springs of my youthful heart; and, infant as I was, I was +already a sceptic as to everything good or generous in human nature. I +followed him, therefore, without a word, and we walked on, leaving the +thoroughfares and seeking the less frequented streets, till we arrived in +what seemed a suburban part of Paris—at least the houses were +surrounded with trees and shrubs; and at a distance I could see the hill +of Montmartre and its windmills—objects well known to me by many a +Sunday visit. +</p> +<p> +Even after my own home, the poverty of the Père Michel’s household was +most remarkable: he had but one small room, of which a miserable +settle-bed, two chairs, and a table constituted all the furniture; there +was no fireplace, a little pan for charcoal supplying the only means for +warmth or cookery; a crucifix and a few coloured prints of saints +decorated the whitewashed walls; and, with a string of wooden beads, a +cloth skull-cap, and a bracket with two or three books, made up the whole +inventory of his possessions; and yet, as he closed the door behind him, +and drew me towards him to kiss my cheek, the tears glistened in his eyes +with gratitude as he said— +</p> +<p> +‘Now, my dear Maurice, you are at home.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How do you know that I am called Maurice?’ said I, in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +‘Because I was an old friend of your poor father, my child; we came from +the same country—we held the same faith, had the same hopes, and may +one day yet, perhaps, have the same fate.’ +</p> +<p> +He told me that the closest friendship had bound them together for years +past, and in proof of it showed me a variety of papers which my father had +intrusted to his keeping, well aware, as it would seem, of the insecurity +of his own life. +</p> +<p> +‘He charged me to take you home with me, Maurice, should the day come when +this might come to pass. You will now live with me, and I will be your +father, so far, at least, as humble means will suffer me.’ +</p> +<p> +I was too young to know how deep my debt of gratitude ought to be. I had +not tasted the sorrows of utter desertion; nor did I know from what a +hurricane of blood and anarchy Fortune had rescued me; still I accepted +the père’s benevolent offer with a thankful heart, and turned to him at +once as to all that was left to me in the world. +</p> +<p> +All this time, it may be wondered how I neither spoke nor thought of my +mother, if she were indeed such; but for several weeks before my father’s +death I had never seen her, nor did he ever once allude to her. The +reserve thus imposed upon me remained still, and I felt as though it would +have been like a treachery to his memory were I now to speak of her whom, +in his lifetime, I had not dared to mention. +</p> +<p> +The père lost no time in diverting my mind from the dreadful events I had +so lately witnessed. The next morning, soon after daybreak, I was summoned +to attend him to the little church of St. Blois, where he said mass. It +was a very humble little edifice, which once had been the private chapel +of a château, and stood in a weed-grown, neglected garden, where broken +statues and smashed fountains bore evidence of the visits of the +destroyer. A rude effigy of St. Blois, upon whom some profane hand had +stuck a Phrygian cap of liberty, and which none were bold enough to +displace, stood over the doorway; except this, not a vestige of ornament +or decoration existed. The altar, covered with a white cloth, displayed +none of the accustomed emblems; and a rude crucifix of oak was the only +symbol of the faith remaining. Small as was the building, it was even too +spacious for the few who came to worship. The terror which prevailed on +every side—the dread that devotion to religion should be construed +into an adherence to the monarchy, that submission to God should be +interpreted as an act of rebellion against the sovereignty of human will—had +gradually thinned the numbers, till at last the few who came were only +those whose afflictions had steeled them against any reverses, and who +were ready martyrs to whatever might betide them. These were almost +exclusively women—the mothers and wives of those who had sealed +their faith with their blood in the terrible Place de Grève. Among them +was one whose dress and appearance, although not different from the rest, +always created a movement of respect as she passed in or out of the +chapel. She was a very old lady, with hair white as snow, and who led by +the hand a little girl of about my own age; her large dark eyes and +brilliant complexion giving her a look of unearthly beauty in that +assemblage of furrowed cheeks, and eyes long dimmed by weeping. It was not +alone that her features were beautifully regular, or that their lines were +fashioned in the very perfection of symmetry, but there was a certain +character in the expression of the face so different from all around it, +as to be almost electrical in effect. Untouched by the terrible calamities +that weighed on every heart, she seemed, in the glad buoyancy of her +youth, to be at once above the very reach of sorrow, like one who bore a +charmed fate, and whom Fortune had exempted from all the trials of this +life. So at least did I read those features, as they beamed upon me in +such a contrast to the almost stern character of the sad and sorrow-struck +faces of the rest. +</p> +<p> +It was a part of my duty to place a footstool each morning for the +‘Marquise,’ as she was distinctively called, and on these occasions it was +that I used to gaze upon that little girl’s face with a kind of admiring +wonder that lingered in my heart for hours after. The bold look with which +she met mine, if it at first half abashed, at length encouraged me; and as +I stole noiselessly away, I used to feel as though I carried with me some +portion of that high hope which bounded within her own heart. Strange +magnetism! it seemed as though her spirit whispered to me not to be +downhearted or depressed—that the sorrows of life came and went as +shadows pass over the earth—that the season of mourning was fast +passing, and that for us the world would wear a brighter and more glorious +aspect. +</p> +<p> +Such were the thoughts her dark eyes revealed to me, and such the hopes I +caught up from her proud features. +</p> +<p> +It is easy to colour a life of monotony; any hue may soon tinge the outer +surface, and thus mine speedily assumed a hopeful cast; not the less +decided, that the distance was lost in vague uncertainty. The nature of my +studies—and the père kept me rigidly to the desk—offered +little to the discursiveness of fancy. The rudiments of Greek and Latin, +the lives of saints and martyrs, the litanies of the Church, the +invocations peculiar to certain holy-days, chiefly filled up my time, when +not sharing those menial offices which our poverty exacted from our own +hands. +</p> +<p> +Our life was of the very simplest; except a cup of coffee each morning at +daybreak, we took but one meal; our drink was always water. By what means +even the humble fare we enjoyed was procured I never knew, for I never saw +money in the père’s possession, nor did he ever appear to buy anything. +</p> +<p> +For about two hours in the week I used to enjoy entire liberty, as the +père was accustomed every Saturday to visit certain persons of his flock +who were too infirm to go abroad. On these occasions he would leave me +with some thoughtful injunction about reflection or pious meditation, +perhaps suggesting, for my amusement, the life of St. Vincent de Paul, or +some other of those adventurous spirits whose missions among the Indians +are so replete with heroic struggles; but still with free permission for +me to walk out at large and enjoy myself as I liked best. We lived so near +the outer boulevard that I could already see the open country from our +windows; but fair and enticing as seemed the sunny slopes of Montmartre—bright +as glanced the young leaves of spring in the gardens at its foot—I +ever turned my steps into the crowded city, and sought the thoroughfares +where the great human tide rolled fullest. +</p> +<p> +There were certain spots which held a kind of supernatural influence over +me—one of these was the Temple, another was the Place de Grève. The +window at which my father used to sit, from which, as a kind of signal, I +have so often seen his red kerchief floating, I never could pass now, +without stopping to gaze at—now, thinking of him who had been its +inmate; now, wondering who might be its present occupant. It needed not +the onward current of population that each Saturday bore along, to carry +me to the Place de Grève. It was the great day of the guillotine, and as +many as two hundred were often led out to execution. Although the +spectacle had now lost every charm of excitement to the population, from +its frequency, it had become a kind of necessity to their existence, and +the sight of blood alone seemed to slake that feverish thirst for +vengeance which no sufferings appeared capable of satiating. It was rare, +however, when some great and distinguished criminal did not absorb all the +interest of the scene. It was at that period when the fierce tyrants of +the Convention had turned upon each other, and sought, by denouncing those +who had been their bosom friends, to seal their new allegiance to the +people. There was something demoniacal in the exultation with which the +mob witnessed the fate of those whom, but a few weeks back, they had +acknowledged as their guides and teachers. The uncertainty of human +greatness appeared the most glorious recompense to those whose station +debarred them from all the enjoyments of power, and they stood by the +death-agonies of their former friends with a fiendish joy that all the +sufferings of their enemies had never yielded. +</p> +<p> +To me the spectacle had all the fascination that scenes of horror exercise +over the mind of youth. I knew nothing of the terrible conflict, nothing +of the fierce passions enlisted in the struggle, nothing of the sacred +names so basely polluted, nothing of that remorseless vengeance with which +the low born and degraded were still hounded on to slaughter. It was a +solemn and a fearful sight, but it was no more; and I gazed upon every +detail of the scene with an interest that never wandered from the spot +whereon it was enacted. If the parade of soldiers, of horse, foot, and +artillery, gave these scenes a character of public justice, the horrible +mobs, who chanted ribald songs, and danced around the guillotine, +suggested the notion of popular vengeance; so that I was lost in all my +attempts to reconcile the reasons of these executions with the +circumstances that accompanied them. +</p> +<p> +Not daring to inform the Père Michel of where I had been, I could not ask +him for any explanation; and thus was I left to pick up from the scattered +phrases of the crowd what was the guilt alleged against the criminals. In +many cases the simple word ‘Chouan,’ of which I knew not the import, was +all I heard; in others, jeering allusions to former rank and station would +be uttered; while against some the taunt would imply that they had shed +tears over others who fell as enemies of the people, and that such +sympathy was a costly pleasure to be paid for but with a life’s-blood. +Such entire possession of me had these awful sights taken, that I lived in +a continual dream of them. The sound of every cart-wheel recalled the dull +rumble of the hurdle—every distant sound seemed like the far-off hum +of the coming multitude—every sudden noise suggested the clanking +drop of the guillotine! My sleep had no other images, and I wandered about +my little round of duties pondering over this terrible theme. +</p> +<p> +Had I been less occupied with my own thoughts, I must have seen that the +Père Michel was suffering under some great calamity. The poor priest +became wasted to a shadow; for entire days long he would taste of nothing; +sometimes he would be absent from early morning to late at night, and when +he did return, instead of betaking himself to rest, he would drop down +before the crucifix in an agony of prayer, and thus spend more than half +the night. Often and often have I, when feigning sleep, followed him as he +recited the litanies of the breviary, adding my own muttered prayers to +his, and beseeching for a mercy whose object I knew not. +</p> +<p> +For some time his little chapel had been closed by the authorities; a +heavy padlock and two massive seals being placed upon the door, and a +notice, in a vulgar handwriting, appended, to the effect that it was by +the order of the Commissary of the Department. Could this be the source of +the père’s sorrow? or did not his affliction seem too great for such a +cause? were questions I asked myself again and again. +</p> +<p> +In this state were matters, when one morning—it was a Saturday—the +priest enjoined me to spend the day in prayer, reciting particularly the +liturgies for the dead, and all those sacred offices for those who have +just departed this life. +</p> +<p> +‘Pray unceasingly, my dear child—pray with your whole heart, as +though it were for one you loved best in the world. I shall not return, +perhaps, till late to-night; but I will kiss you then, and to-morrow we +shall go into the woods together.’ +</p> +<p> +The tears fell from his cheek to mine as he said this, and his damp hand +trembled as he pressed my fingers. My heart was full to bursting at his +emotion, and I resolved faithfully to do his bidding. To watch him as he +went, I opened the sash, and as I did so, the sound of a distant drum, the +well-known muffled roll, floated on the air, and I remembered it was the +day of the guillotine—that day in which my feverish spirit turned, +as it were in relief, to the reality of blood. Remote as was the part of +the city we lived in, I could still mark the hastening steps of the +foot-passengers, as they listened to the far-off summons, and see the tide +was setting towards the fatal Place de Grève. It was a lowering, heavy +morning, overcast with clouds, and on its loaded atmosphere sounds moved +slowly and indistinctly; yet I could trace through all the din of the +great city, the incessant roll of the drums, and the loud shouts that +burst forth, from time to time, from some great multitude. +</p> +<p> +Forgetting everything save my intense passion for scenes of terror, I +hastened down the stairs into the street, and at the top of my speed +hurried to the place of execution. As I went along, the crowded streets +and thronged avenues told of some event of more than common interest; and +in the words which fell from those around me, I could trace that some deep +Royalist plot had just been discovered, and that the conspirators would +all on that day be executed. Whether it was that the frequent sight of +blood was beginning to pall upon the popular appetite, or that these +wholesale massacres interested less than the sight of individual +suffering, I know not; but certainly there was less of exultation, less of +triumphant scorn in the tone of the speakers. They talked of the coming +event as of a common occurrence, which, from mere repetition, was +gradually losing interest. +</p> +<p> +‘I thought we had done with these Chouans,’ said a man in a blouse, with a +paper cap on his head. ‘<i>Pardie!</i> they must have been more numerous +than we ever suspected.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That they were, citizen,’ said a haggard-looking fellow, whose features +showed the signs of recent strife; ‘they were the millions who gorged and +fed upon us for centuries—who sipped the red grape of Bordeaux, +while you and I drank the water of the Seine.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, their time is come now,’ cried a third. +</p> +<p> +‘And when will ours come?’ asked a fresh-looking, dark-eyed girl, whose +dress bespoke her trade as a flower-girl, ‘or do you call this our time, +my masters, when Paris has no more pleasant sight than blood, nor any +music save the “Ça ira” that drowns the cries of the guillotine? Is this +our time, when we have lost those who gave us bread, and got in their +place only those who would feed us with carnage?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Down with her! down with the Chouane! <i>à bas la Royaliste!</i>’ cried +the pale-faced fellow; and he struck the girl with his fist upon her face, +and left it covered with blood. +</p> +<p> +‘To the Lantern with her—to the Seine!’ shouted several voices; and +now, rudely seizing her by the shoulders, the mob seemed bent upon sudden +vengeance; while the poor girl, letting fall her basket, begged with +clasped hands for mercy. +</p> +<p> +‘See here, see here, comrades,’ cried a fellow, stooping down among the +flowers, ‘she is a Royalist: here are lilies hid beneath the rest.’ +</p> +<p> +What sad consequences this discovery might have led to, there is no +knowing; when, suddenly, a violent rush of the crowd turned every thought +into a different direction. It was caused by a movement of the <i>Gendarmerie +à cheval</i>, who were clearing the way for the approaching procession. I +had just time to place the poor girl’s basket in her hands, as the onward +impulse of the dense mob carried me forward. I saw her no more. A flower—I +know not how it came there—was in my bosom, and seeing that it was a +lily, I placed it within my cap for concealment. +</p> +<p> +The hoarse clangour of the bassoons—the only instruments which +played during the march—now told that the procession was +approaching; and then I could see, above the heads of the multitude, the +leopard-skin helmets of the dragoons, who led the way. Save this I could +see nothing, as I was borne along in the vast torrent towards the place of +execution. Slowly as we moved, our progress was far more rapid than that +of the procession, which was often obliged to halt from the density of the +mob in front. We arrived, therefore, at the Place a considerable time +before it; and now I found myself beside the massive wooden railing placed +to keep off the crowd from the space around the guillotine. +</p> +<p> +It was the first time I had ever stood so close to the fatal spot, and my +eyes devoured every detail with the most searching intensity. The colossal +guillotine itself, painted red, and with its massive axe suspended aloft—the +terrible basket, half filled with sawdust, beneath—the coarse table, +on which a rude jar and a cup were placed—and, more disgusting than +all, the lounging group, who, with their newspapers in hand, seemed from +time to time to watch if the procession were approaching. They sat beneath +a misshapen statue of wood, painted red like the guillotine. This was the +goddess of Liberty. I climbed one of the pillars of the paling, and could +now see the great cart, which, like a boat upon wheels, came slowly along, +dragged by six horses. It was crowded with people, so closely packed that +they could not move their bodies, and only waved their hands, which they +did incessantly. They seemed, too, as if they were singing; but the deep +growl of the bassoons, and the fierce howlings of the mob, drowned all +other sounds. As the cart came nearer, I could distinguish the faces, amid +which were those of age and youth, men and women, bold-visaged boys and +fair girls—some, whose air bespoke the very highest station, and +beside them, the hardy peasant, apparently more amazed than terrified at +all he saw around him. On they came, the great cart surging heavily, like +a bark in a stormy sea; and now it cleft the dense ocean that filled the +Place, and I could descry the lineaments wherein the stiffened lines of +death were already marked. Had any touch of pity still lingered in that +dense crowd, there might well have been some show of compassion for the +sad convoy, whose faces grew ghastly with terror as they drew near the +horrible engine. +</p> +<p> +Down the furrowed cheek of age the heavy tears coursed freely, and sobs +and broken prayers burst forth from hearts that until now had beat high +and proudly. +</p> +<p> +‘There is the Due d’Angeac,’ cried a fellow, pointing to a venerable old +man, who was seated at the corner of the cart with an air of calm dignity; +‘I know him well, for I was his perruquier.’ +</p> +<p> +‘His hair must be content with sawdust this morning, instead of powder,’ +said another; and a rude laugh followed the ruffian jest. +</p> +<p> +‘See! mark that woman with the long dark hair—that is La +Bretonville, the actress of the St. Martin.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have often seen her represent terror far more naturally,’ cried a +fashionably dressed man, as he stared at the victim through his +opera-glass. +</p> +<p> +‘Bah!’ replied his friend, ‘she despises her audience, <i>voilà tout</i>. +Look, Henri, if that little girl beside her be not Lucille, of the +Pantheon.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> so it is. Why, they’ll not leave a pirouette in the Grand +Opera. <i>Pauvre petite</i>, what had you to do with politics?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Her little feet ought to have saved her head any day.’ +</p> +<p> +‘See how grim that old lady beside her looks; I’d swear she is more +shocked at the company she’s thrown into than the fate that awaits her. I +never saw a glance of prouder disdain than she has just bestowed on poor +Lucille.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That is the old Marquise d’Estelles, the very essence of our old +nobility. They used to talk of their <i>mésalliance</i> with the Bourbons +as the first misfortune of their house.’ ‘<i>Pardi!</i> they have lived to +learn deeper sorrows.’ I had by this time discovered her they were +speaking of, whom I recognised at once as the old marquise of the chapel +of St. Blois. My hands nearly gave up their grasp as I gazed on those +features, which so often I had seen fixed in prayer, and which now—a +thought paler, perhaps—wore the self-same calm expression. With what +intense agony I peered into the mass, to see if the little girl, her +granddaughter, were with her; and, oh! the deep relief I felt as I saw +nothing but strange faces on every side. It was terrible to feel, as my +eyes ranged over that vast mass, where grief, and despair, and +heart-sinking terror were depicted, that I should experience a spirit of +joy and thankfulness; and yet I did so, and with my lips I uttered my +gratitude that she was spared! But I had not time for many reflections +like this; already the terrible business of the day had begun, and the +prisoners were now descending from the cart, ranging themselves, as their +names were called, in a line below the scaffold. With a few exceptions, +they took their places in all the calm of seeming indifference. Death had +long familiarised itself to their minds in a thousand shapes. Day by day +they had seen the vacant places left by those led out to die, and if their +sorrows had not rendered them careless of life, the world itself had grown +distasteful to them. In some cases a spirit of proud scorn was manifested +to the very last; and, strange inconsistency of human nature! the very men +whose licentiousness and frivolity first evoked the terrible storm of +popular fury, were the first to display the most chivalrous courage in the +terrible face of the guillotine. Beautiful women, too, in all the pride of +their loveliness, met the inhuman stare of that mob undismayed. Nor were +these traits without their fruits. This noble spirit—this triumphant +victory of the well born and the great—was a continual insult to the +populace, who saw themselves defrauded of half their promised vengeance, +and they learned that they might kill, but they could never humiliate +them. In vain they dipped their hands in the red life-blood, and, holding +up their dripping fingers, asked—‘How did it differ from that of the +people?’ Their hearts gave the lie to the taunt; for they witnessed +instances of heroism, from grey hairs and tender womanhood, that would +have shamed the proudest deeds of their new-born chivalry! +</p> +<p> +‘Charles Grégoire Courcelles!’ shouted out a deep voice from the scaffold. +</p> +<p> +‘That is my name,’ said a venerable-looking old gentleman, as he arose +from his seat, adding, with a placid smile, ‘but for half a century my +friends have called me the Duc de Riancourt.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We have no dukes nor marquises; we know of no titles in France,’ replied +the functionary. ‘All men are equal before the law.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If it were so, my friend, you and I might change places; for you were my +steward, and plundered my château.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Down with the Royalist—away with the aristocrat!’ shouted a number +of voices from the crowd. +</p> +<p> +‘Be a little patient, good people,’ said the old man, as he ascended the +steps with some difficulty; ‘I was wounded in Canada, and have never yet +recovered. I shall probably be better a few minutes hence.’ +</p> +<p> +There was something of half simplicity in the careless way the words were +uttered that hushed the multitude, and already some expressions of +sympathy were heard; but as quickly the ribald insults of the hired +ruffians of the Convention drowned these sounds, and ‘Down with the +Royalist’ resounded on every side, while two officials assisted him to +remove his stock and bare his throat. The commissary, advancing to the +edge of the platform, and, as it were, addressing the people, read in a +hurried, slurring kind of voice, something that purported to be the ground +of the condemnation. But of this not a word could be heard. None cared to +hear the ten-thousand-time told tale of suspected Royalism, nor would +listen to the high-sounding declamation that proclaimed the virtuous zeal +of the Government—their untiring energy—their glorious +persistence in the cause of the people. The last words were as usual +responded to with an echoing shout, and the cry of ‘<i>Vive la République!</i> +rose from the great multitude. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Vive le Roi!</i> cried the old man, with a voice heard high above the +clamour; but the words were scarce out when the lips that uttered them +were closed in death; so sudden was the act, that a cry burst forth from +the mob, but whether in reprobation or in ecstasy I know not. +</p> +<p> +I will not follow the sad catalogue, wherein nobles, and peasants, +priests, soldiers, actors, men of obscure fortune, and women of lofty +station, succeeded each other, occupying for a brief minute every eye, and +passing away for ever. Many ascended the platform without a word; some +waved a farewell towards a distant quarter, where they suspected a friend +to be; others spent their last moments in prayer, and died in the very act +of supplication. All bore themselves with a noble and proud courage; and +now some five or six alone remained of whose fate none seemed to guess the +issue, since they had been taken from the Temple by some mistake, and were +not included in the list of the commissary. There they sat, at the foot of +the scaffold, speechless and stupefied—they looked as though it were +matter of indifference to which side their steps should turn—to the +gaol or the guillotine. Among these was the marquise, who alone preserved +her proud self-possession, and sat in all her accustomed dignity; while +close beside her an angry controversy was maintained as to their future +destiny—the commissary firmly refusing to receive them for +execution, and the delegate of the Temple, as he was styled, as flatly +asserting that he would not reconduct them to prison. The populace soon +grew interested in the dispute, and the most violent altercations arose +among the partisans of each side of the question. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the commissary and his assistants prepared to depart. Already +the massive drapery of red cloth was drawn over the guillotine, and every +preparation made for withdrawing, when the mob, doubtless dissatisfied +that they should be defrauded of any portion of the entertainment, began +to climb over the wooden barricades, and, with furious cries and shouts, +threaten vengeance upon any who would screen the enemies of the people. +</p> +<p> +The troops resisted the movement, but rather with the air of men +entreating calmness than with the spirit of soldiery. It was plain to see +on which side the true force lay. +</p> +<p> +‘If you will not do it, the people will do it for you,’ whispered the +delegate to the commissary; ‘and who is to say where they will stop when +their hands once learn the trick!’ +</p> +<p> +The commissary grew lividly pale, and made no reply. +</p> +<p> +‘See there!’ rejoined the other—‘they are carrying a fellow on their +shoulders yonder—they mean him to be the executioner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But I dare not—I cannot—without my orders.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Are not the people sovereign?—whose will have we sworn to obey but +theirs?’ +</p> +<p> +‘My own head would be the penalty if I yielded.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It will be, if you resist—even now it is too late.’ +</p> +<p> +And as he spoke he sprang from the scaffold, and disappeared in the dense +crowd that already thronged the space within the rails. +</p> +<p> +By this time the populace were not only masters of the area around, but +had also gained the scaffold itself, from which many of them seemed +endeavouring to harangue the mob—others contenting themselves with +imitating the gestures of the commissary and his functionaries. It was a +scene of the wildest uproar and confusion—frantic cries and screams, +ribald songs and fiendish yellings on every side. The guillotine was again +uncovered, and the great crimson drapery, torn into fragments, was waved +about like flags, or twisted into uncouth head-dresses. The commissary, +failing in every attempt to restore order peaceably, and either not +possessing a sufficient force, or distrusting the temper of the soldiers, +descended from the scaffold, and gave the order to march. This act of +submission was hailed by the mob with the most furious yell of triumph. Up +to that very moment they had never credited the bare possibility of a +victory; and now they saw themselves suddenly masters of the field—the +troops, in all the array of horse and foot, retiring in discomfiture. The +exultation knew no bounds; and, doubtless, had there been amongst them +those with skill and daring to profit by the enthusiasm, the torrent had +rushed a longer and more terrific course than through the blood-steeped +clay of the Place de Grève. +</p> +<p> +‘Here is the man we want,’ shouted a deep voice. ‘St. Just told us t’ +other day that the occasion never failed to produce one; and see, here is +“Jean Gougon”; and though he’s but two feet high, his fingers can reach +the pin of the guillotine.’ +</p> +<p> +And he held aloft on his shoulders a misshapen dwarf, who was well known +on the Pont Neuf, where he gained his living by singing infamous songs, +and performing mockeries of the service of the mass. A cheer of welcome +acknowledged this speech, to which the dwarf responded by a mock +benediction, which he bestowed with all the ceremonious observance of an +archbishop. Shouts of the wildest laughter followed this ribaldry, and in +a kind of triumph they carried him up the steps, and deposited him on the +scaffold. +</p> +<p> +Ascending one of the chairs, the little wretch proceeded to address the +mob, which he did with all the ease and composure of a practised public +speaker. Not a murmur was heard in that tumultuous assemblage, as he, with +a most admirable imitation of Hébert, then the popular idol, assured them +that France was, at that instant, the envy of surrounding nations; and +that, bating certain little weaknesses on the score of humanity—certain +traits of softness and over-mercy—her citizens realised all that +ever had been said of angels. From thence he passed on to a mimicry of +Marat, of Danton, and of Robespierre—tearing off his cravat, baring +his breast, and performing all the oft-exhibited antics of the latter, as +he vociferated, in a wild scream, the well-known peroration of a speech he +had lately made—‘If we look for a glorious morrow of freedom, the +sun of our slavery must set in blood!’ +</p> +<p> +However amused by the dwarfs exhibition, a feeling of impatience began to +manifest itself among the mob, who felt that, by any longer delay, it was +possible time would be given for fresh troops to arrive, and the glorious +opportunity of popular sovereignty be lost in the very hour of victory. +</p> +<p> +‘To work—to work, Master Gougon!’ shouted hundreds of rude voices; +‘we cannot spend our day in listening to oratory.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You forget, my dear friends,’ said he blandly, ‘that this is to me a new +walk in life. I have much to learn, ere I can acquit myself worthily to +the Republic.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We have no leisure for preparatory studies, Gougon,’ cried a fellow below +the scaffold. +</p> +<p> +‘Let me, then, just begin with monsieur,’ said the dwarf, pointing to the +last speaker, and a shout of laughter closed the sentence. +</p> +<p> +A brief and angry dispute now arose as to what was to be done; and it is +more than doubtful how the debate might have ended, when Gougon, with a +readiness all his own, concluded the discussion by saying— +</p> +<p> +‘I have it, citizens, I have it! There is a lady here, who, however +respectable her family and connections, will leave few to mourn her loss. +She is, in a manner, public property, and if not born on the soil, at +least a naturalised Frenchwoman. We have done a great deal for her, and in +her name, for some time back, and I am not aware of any singular benefit +she has rendered us. With your permission, then, I ‘ll begin with her.* +</p> +<p> +‘Name, name—name her!’ was cried by thousands. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>La voilà</i>,’ said he archly, as he pointed with his thumb to the +wooden effigy of Liberty above his head. +</p> +<p> +The absurdity of the suggestion was more than enough for its success. A +dozen hands were speedily at work, and down came the goddess of Liberty! +The other details of an execution were hurried over with all the speed of +practised address, and the figure was placed beneath the drop. Down fell +the axe, and Gougon, lifting up the wooden head, paraded it about the +scaffold, crying— +</p> +<p> +‘Behold! an enemy of France. Long live the Republic, one and indivisible!’ +</p> +<p> +Loud and wild were the shouts of laughter from this brutal mockery; and +for a time it almost seemed as if the ribaldry had turned the mob from the +sterner passions of their vengeance. This hope, if one there ever +cherished it, was short-lived, and again the cry arose for blood. It was +too plain that no momentary diversion, no passing distraction, could +withdraw them from that lust for cruelty that had now grown into a +passion. +</p> +<p> +And now a bustle and movement of those around the stairs showed that +something was in preparation; and in the next moment the old marquise was +led forward between two men. +</p> +<p> +‘Where is the order for this woman’s execution?’ asked the dwarf, +mimicking the style and air of the commissary. +</p> +<p> +‘We give it—it is from us!’ shouted the mob, with one savage roar. +</p> +<p> +Gougon removed his cap, and bowed in token of obedience. +</p> +<p> +‘Let us proceed in order, citizens,’ said he gravely; ‘I see no priest +here.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Shrive her yourself, Gougon; few know the mummeries better!’ cried a +voice. +</p> +<p> +‘Is there not one here can remember a prayer, or even a verse of the +offices,’ said Gougon, with a well-affected horror in his voice. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, yes, I do,’ cried I, my zeal overcoming all sense of the mockery in +which the words were spoken; ‘I know them all by heart, and can repeat +them from “lux beatissima” down to “hora mortis”’; and as if to gain +credence for my self-laudation, I began at once to recite, in the +sing-song tone of the seminary— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Salve, mater salvatoris, +Fons salutis, vas honoris; +Scala coli, porta et via, +Salve semper, O Maria!’ +</pre> +<p> +It is possible I should have gone on to the very end, if the uproarious +laughter which rung around had not stopped me. +</p> +<p> +‘There’s a brave youth!’ cried Gougon, pointing towards me, with mock +admiration. ‘If it ever come to pass—as what may not in these +strange times?—that we turn to priestcraft again, thou shalt be the +first archbishop of Paris. Who taught thee that famous canticle?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Père Michel,’ replied I, in no way conscious of the ridicule bestowed +upon me; ‘the Père Michel of St. Blois.’ +</p> +<p> +The old lady lifted up her head at these words, and her dark eyes rested +steadily upon me; and then, with a sign of her hand, she motioned to me to +come over to her. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; let him come,’ said Gougon, as if answering the half-reluctant +glances of the crowd. And now I was assisted to descend, and passed along +over the heads of the people, till I was placed upon the scaffold. Never +can I forget the terror of that moment, as I stood within a few feet of +the terrible guillotine, and saw beside me the horrid basket splashed with +recent blood. +</p> +<p> +‘Look not at these things, child,’ said the old lady, as she took my hand +and drew me towards her, ‘but listen to me, and mark my words well.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I will, I will,’ cried I, as the hot tears rolled down my cheeks. +</p> +<p> +‘Tell the père—you will see him to-night—tell him that I have +changed my mind, and resolved upon another course, and that he is not to +leave Paris. Let them remain. The torrent runs too rapidly to last. This +cannot endure much longer. We shall be among the last victims. You hear +me, child?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I do, I do,’ cried I, sobbing. ‘Why is not the Père Michel with you now?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Because he is suing for my pardon—asking for mercy where its very +name is a derision. Kneel down beside me, and repeat the “Angelus.”’ +</p> +<p> +I took off my cap, and knelt down at her feet, reciting, in a voice broken +by emotion, the words of the prayer. She repeated each syllable after me, +in a tone full and unshaken, and then stooping, she took up the lily which +lay in my cap. She pressed it to her lips two or three times passionately. +‘Give it to <i>her</i>; tell her I kissed it at my last moment. Tell her——’ +</p> +<p> +‘This “shrift” is beyond endurance. Away, holy father!’ cried Gougon, as +he pushed me rudely back, and seized the marquise by the wrist. A faint +cry escaped her. I heard no more; for, jostled and pushed about by the +crowd, I was driven to the very rails of the scaffold. Stepping beneath +these, I mingled with the mob beneath; and burning with eagerness to +escape a scene, to have witnessed which would almost have made my heart +break, I forced my way into the dense mass, and, by squeezing and +creeping, succeeded at last in penetrating to the verge of the Place. A +terrible shout, and a rocking motion of the mob, like the heavy surging of +the sea, told me that all was over; but I never looked back to the fatal +spot, but, having gained the open streets, ran at the top of my speed +towards home. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II. THE RESTAURANT ‘AU SCELERAT’ +</h2> +<p> +As I gained the street, at a distance from the Place, I was able to +increase my speed; and I did so with an eagerness as if the world depended +on my haste. At any other time I would have bethought me of my +disobedience to the père’s commands, and looked forward to meeting him +with shame and sorrow, but now I felt a kind of importance in the charge +intrusted to me. I regarded my mission as something superior to any petty +consideration of self, while the very proximity in which I had stood to +peril and death made me seem a hero in my own eyes. +</p> +<p> +At last I reached the street where we lived, and, almost breathless with +exertion, gained the door. What was my amazement, however, to find it +guarded by a sentry, a large, solemn-looking fellow, with a tattered +cocked-hat on his head, and a pair of worn striped trousers on his legs, +who cried out, as I appeared, ‘Halte-là!’ in a voice that at once arrested +my steps. +</p> +<p> +‘Where to, youngster?’ said he, in a somewhat melted tone, seeing the +shock his first words had caused me. +</p> +<p> +‘I am going home, sir,’ said I submissively; ‘I live at the third storey, +in the apartment of the Père Michel.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Père Michel will live there no longer, my boy; his apartment is now +in the Temple,’ said he slowly. +</p> +<p> +‘In the Temple!’ said I, whose memory at once recalled my father’s fate; +and then, unable to control my feelings, I sat down upon the steps and +burst into tears. +</p> +<p> +‘There, there, child, you must not cry thus,’ said he; ‘these are not days +when one should weep over misfortunes; they come too fast and too thick on +all of us for that. The père was your tutor, I suppose?’ +</p> +<p> +I nodded. +</p> +<p> +‘And your father—where is he?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Dead.’ +</p> +<p> +He made a sign to imitate the guillotine, and I assented by another nod. +</p> +<p> +‘Was he a Royalist, boy?’ +</p> +<p> +‘He was an officer in the Garde du Corps,’ said I proudly. The soldier +shook his head mournfully, but with what meaning I know not. +</p> +<p> +‘And your mother, boy?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I do not know where she is,’ said I, again relapsing into tears at the +thought of my utter desolation. The old soldier leaned upon his musket in +profound thought, and for some time did not utter a word. At last he said— +</p> +<p> +‘There is nothing but the Hôtel de Ville for you, my child. They say that +the Republic adopts all the orphans of France. What she does with them I +cannot tell.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But I can, though,’ replied I fiercely; ‘the Noyades or the Seine are a +quick and sure provision; I saw eighty drowned one morning below the Pont +Neuf myself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That tongue of yours will bring you into trouble, youngster,’ said he +reprovingly; ‘mind that you say not such things as these.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What worse fortune can betide me than to see my father die at the +guillotine, and my last, my only friend, carried away to prison?’ +</p> +<p> +‘You have no care for your own neck, then?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Why should I—-what value has life for me?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then it will be spared to you,’ said he sententiously; ‘mark my words, +lad. You never need fear death till you begin to love life. Get up, my +poor boy; you must not be found there when the relief comes, and that will +be soon. This is all that I have,’ said he, placing three sous in my palm, +‘which will buy a loaf; to-morrow there may be better luck in store for +you.’ +</p> +<p> +I shook the rough hand he offered with cordial gratitude, and resolved to +bear myself as like a man as I could. I drew myself up, touched my cap in +soldierlike fashion, and cried out, adieu—and then, descending into +the street, hurried away to hide the tears that were almost suffocating +me. +</p> +<p> +Hour after hour I walked the streets; the mere act of motion seemed to +divert my grief, and it was only when, footsore and weary, I could march +no longer, that my sorrows came back in full force, and overwhelmed me in +their flow. It was less pride or shame than a sense of my utter +helplessness, that prevented me addressing any one of the hundreds who +passed me. I bethought me of my inability to do anything for my own +support, and it was this consciousness that served to weigh me down more +than all else; and yet I felt with what devotion I could serve him who +would but treat me with the kindness he might bestow upon his dog; I +fancied with what zeal I could descend to very slavery for one word of +affection. The streets were crowded with people; groups were gathered here +and there, either listening to some mob orator of the day, or hearing the +newspapers read aloud. I tried, by forcing my way into the crowd, to feel +myself ‘one of them,’ and to think that I had my share of interest in what +was going forward, but in vain. Of the topics discussed I knew nothing, +and of the bystanders none even noticed me. High-swelling phrases met the +ear at every moment, that sounded strangely enough to me. They spoke of +Fraternity—of that brotherhood which linked man to man in close +affection; of Equality—that made all sharers in this world’s goods; +of Liberty—that gave freedom to every noble aspiration and generous +thought; and for an instant, carried away by the glorious illusion, I even +forgot my solitary condition, and felt proud of my heritage as a youth of +France. I looked around me, however, and what faces met my gaze! The same +fearful countenances I had seen around the scaffold—the wretches, +blood-stained, and influenced by passion—their bloated cheeks and +strained eyeballs glowing with intemperance—their oaths, their +gestures—their very voices having something terrible in them. The +mockery soon disgusted me, and I moved away, again to wander about without +object or direction through the weary streets. It was past midnight when I +found myself, without knowing where I was, in a large open space, in the +midst of which a solitary lamp was burning. I approached it and, to my +horror, saw that it was the guillotine, over which in mournful cadence a +lantern swung, creaking its chain as the night wind stirred it. The dim +outline of the fearful scaffold, the fitful light that fell upon the +platform, and the silence-all conspired to strike terror into my heart. +All I had so lately witnessed seemed to rise up again before me, and the +victims seemed to stand up again, pale, and livid, and shuddering, as last +I saw them. +</p> +<p> +I knelt down and tried to pray, but terror was too powerful to suffer my +thoughts to take this direction, and, half fainting with fear and +exhaustion, I lay down upon the ground and slept—slept beneath the +platform of the guillotine. Not a dream crossed my slumber, nor did I +awake till dawn of day, when the low rumbling of the peasants’ carts +aroused me, as they were proceeding to the market. I know not why or +whence, but I arose from the damp earth, and looked about me with a more +daring and courageous spirit than I had hitherto felt. It was May—the +first bright rays of sunshine were slanting along the Place, and the +fresh, brisk air felt invigorating and cheering. Whither to? asked I of +myself, and my eyes turned from the dense streets and thoroughfares of the +great city to the far-off hills beyond the barrier, and for a moment I +hesitated which road to take. I almost seemed to feel as if the decision +involved my whole future fortune—whether I should live and die in +the humble condition of a peasant, or play for a great stake in life. Yes, +said I, after a short hesitation, I will remain here—in the terrible +conflict going forward, many must be new adventurers, and never was any +one more greedy to learn the trade than myself. I will throw sorrow behind +me. Yesterday’s tears are the last I shall shed. Now for a bold heart and +a ready will, and here goes for the world! With these stout words I placed +my cap jauntily on one side of my head, and with a fearless air marched +off for the very centre of the city. +</p> +<p> +For some hours I amused myself gazing at the splendid shops, or staring in +at the richly decorated cafés, where the young celebrities of the day were +assembled at breakfast, in all the extravagance of the newfangled costume. +Then I followed the Guard to the parade at the ‘Carrousel,’ and listened +to the band; quitting which I wandered along the quays, watching the boats +as they dragged the river in search of murdered bodies or suicides. Thence +I returned to the Palais-Royal and listened to the news of the day, as +read out by some elected enlightener of his countrymen. +</p> +<p> +By what chance I know not, but at last my rambling steps brought me +opposite to the great solemn-looking towers of the ‘Temple.’ The gloomy +prison, within whose walls hundreds were then awaiting the fate which +already their friends had suffered—little groups, gathered here and +there in the open Place, were communicating to the prisoners by signs and +gestures, and from many a small-grated window, at an immense height, +handkerchiefs were seen to wave in recognition of those below. These +signals seemed to excite neither watchfulness nor prevention—indeed, +they needed none; and perhaps the very suspense they excited was a torture +that pleased the inhuman gaolers. Whatever the reason, the custom was +tolerated, and was apparently enjoyed at that moment by several of the +turnkeys, who sat at the windows, much amused at the efforts made to +communicate. Interested by the sight, I sat down upon a stone bench to +watch the scene, and fancied that I could read something of the rank and +condition of those who signalled from below their messages of hope or +fear. At last a deep bell within the prison tolled the hour of noon; and +now every window was suddenly deserted. It was the hour for the muster of +the prisoners, which always took place before the dinner at one o’clock. +The curious groups soon after broke up. A few lingered around the gate, +with, perhaps, some hope of admission to visit their friends; but the +greater number departed. +</p> +<p> +My hunger was now such that I could no longer deny myself the +long-promised meal, and I looked about me for a shop where I might buy a +loaf of bread. In my search, I suddenly found myself opposite an immense +shop, where viands of every tempting description were ranged with all that +artistic skill so purely Parisian, making up a picture whose composition +Snyders would not have despised. Over the door was a painting of a +miserable wretch, with hands bound behind him, and his hair cut close in +the well-known crop for the scaffold; and underneath was written, ‘Au +Scélérat’; while on a larger board, in gilt letters, ran the inscription:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Boivin Père et fils, +Traiteurs pour MM. les Condamnées.’ +</pre> +<p> +I could scarcely credit my eyes, as I read and re-read this infamous +announcement; but there it stood, and in the crowd that poured incessantly +to and from the door, I saw the success that attended the traffic. A +ragged knot were gathered around the window, eagerly gazing at something, +which, by their exclamations, seemed to claim all their admiration. I +pressed forward to see what it was, and beheld a miniature guillotine, +which, turned by a wheel, was employed to chop the meat for sausages. This +it was that formed the great object of attraction, even to those to whom +the prototype had grown flat and uninteresting. +</p> +<p> +Disgusted as I was by this shocking sight, I stood watching all that went +forward within with a strange interest. It was a scene of incessant bustle +and movement; for now, as one o’clock drew nigh, various dinners were +being prepared for the prisoners, while parties of their friends were +assembling inside. Of these latter there seemed persons of every rank and +condition; some, dressed in all the brilliancy of the mode; others, whose +garments bespoke direst poverty. There were women, too, whose costume +emulated the classic drapery of the ancients, and who displayed, in their +looped togas, no niggard share of their forms; while others, in shabby +mourning, sat in obscure corners, not noticing the scene before them, nor +noticed themselves. A strange equipage, with two horses extravagantly +bedizened with rosettes and bouquets, stood at the door; and, as I looked, +a pale, haggard-looking man, whose foppery in dress contrasted oddly with +his careworn expression, hurried from the shop and sprang into the +carriage. In doing so, a pocket-book fell from his pocket. I took it up; +but as I did so, the carriage was already away, and far beyond my power to +overtake it. +</p> +<p> +Without stopping to examine my prize, or hesitating for a second, I +entered the restaurant, and asked for M. Boivin. +</p> +<p> +‘Give your orders to me, boy,’ said a man busily at work behind the +counter. +</p> +<p> +‘My business is with himself,’ said I stoutly. +</p> +<p> +‘Then you ‘ll have to wait with some patience,’ said he sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +‘I can do so,’ was my answer, and I sat down in the shop. +</p> +<p> +I might have been half an hour thus seated, when an enormously fat man, +with a huge <i>bonnet rouge</i> on his head, entered from an inner room, +and passing close to where I was, caught sight of me. +</p> +<p> +‘Who are you, sirrah—what brings you here?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I want to speak with M. Bouvin.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then speak!’ said he, placing his hand upon his immense chest. +</p> +<p> +‘It must be alone,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +‘How so, alone, sirrah?’ said he, growing suddenly pale; ‘I have no +secrets—I know of nothing that may not be told before all the +world.’ +</p> +<p> +Though he said this in a kind of appeal to all around, the dubious looks +and glances interchanged seemed to make him far from comfortable. +</p> +<p> +‘So you refuse me, then?’ said I, taking up my cap and preparing to +depart. +</p> +<p> +‘Come hither,’ said he, leading the way into the room from which he had +emerged. It was a very small chamber, the most conspicuous ornaments of +which were busts and pictures of the various celebrities of the +Revolution. Some of these latter were framed ostentatiously, and one, +occupying the post of honour above the chimney, at once attracted me, for +in a glance I saw that it was a portrait of him who owned the pocket-book, +and bore beneath it the name ‘Robespierre.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Now, sir, for your communication,’ said Boivin; ‘and take care that it is +of sufficient importance to warrant the interview you have asked for.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have no fears on that score,’ said I calmly, still scanning the +features of the portrait, and satisfying myself of their identity. +</p> +<p> +‘Look at me, sir, and not at that picture,’ said Boivin. +</p> +<p> +‘And yet it is of M. Robespierre I have to speak,’ said I coolly. +</p> +<p> +‘How so—of M. Robespierre, boy? What is the meaning of this? If it +be a snare—if this be a trick, you never leave this spot living,’ +cried he, as he placed a massive hand on each of my shoulders and shook me +violently. +</p> +<p> +‘I am not so easily to be terrified, citizen,’ said I; ‘nor have I any +secret cause for fear, whatever you may have. My business is of another +kind. This morning, in passing out to his carriage, he dropped his +pocket-book, which I picked up. Its contents may well be of a kind that +should not be read by other eyes than his own. My request is, then, that +you will seal it up before me, and then send some one along with me, while +I restore it to its owner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is this a snare—what secret mischief have we here?’ said Boivin, +half aloud, as he wiped the cold drops of perspiration from his forehead. +</p> +<p> +‘Any mishap that follows will depend upon your refusal to do what I ask.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How so—I never refused it; you dare not tell M. Robespierre that I +refused, sirrah?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I will tell him nothing that is untrue,’ said I calmly; for already a +sense of power had gifted me with composure. ‘If M. Robespierre——’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10054.jpg" width="100%" alt="054 " /> +</div> +<p> +‘Who speaks of me here?’ cried the identical personage, as he dashed +hurriedly into the room, and then, not waiting for the reply, went on—’ +You must send out your scouts on every side—I lost my pocket-book as +I left this a while ago.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is here, sir,’ said I, presenting it at once. +</p> +<p> +‘How—where was it found—in whose keeping has it been, boy?’ +</p> +<p> +‘In mine only; I took it from the ground the same moment that you dropped +it, and then came here to place it in M. Boivin’s hands.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who has taken care of it since that time?’ continued Robespierre, with a +slow and sneering accentuation on every word. +</p> +<p> +‘The pocket-book has never left my possession since it quitted yours,’ was +my reply. +</p> +<p> +‘Just so,’ broke in Boivin, now slowly recovering from his terror. ‘Of its +contents I know nothing; nor have I sought to know anything.’ +</p> +<p> +Robespierre looked at me as if to corroborate this statement, and I nodded +my head in acquiescence. +</p> +<p> +‘Who is your father, boy?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have none—he was guillotined.’ +</p> +<p> +‘His name?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, I remember; he was called <i>l’Irlandais</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The same.’ +</p> +<p> +‘A famous Royalist was that same Tiernay, and, doubtless, contrived to +leave a heritage of his opinions to his son.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He left me nothing—I have neither house, nor home, nor even bread +to eat.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But you have a head to plan, and a heart to feel, youngster; and it is +better that fellows like you should not want a dinner. Boivin, look to it +that he is taken care of. In a few days I will relieve you of the charge. +You will remain here, boy; there are worse resting-places, I promise you. +There are men who call themselves teachers of the people, who would ask no +better life than free quarters on Boivin.’ And so saying, he hurriedly +withdrew, leaving me face to face with my host. +</p> +<p> +‘So then, youngster,’ said Boivin, as he scratched his ear thoughtfully, +‘I have gained a pensioner! <i>Parbleu!</i> if life were not an uncertain +thing in these times, there’s no saying how long we might not be blessed +with your amiable company.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You shall not be burthened heavily, citizen,’ said I: ‘let me have my +dinner—I have not eaten since yesterday morning, and I will go my +ways peacefully.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Which means straight to Robespierre’s dwelling, to tell him that I have +turned you out of doors—eh, sirrah?’ +</p> +<p> +‘You mistake me much,’ said I; ‘this would be sorry gratitude for eaten +bread. I meant what I said—that I will not be an unwelcome guest, +even though the alternative be, as it is, something very nigh starvation.’ +</p> +<p> +Boivin did not seem clearly to comprehend the meaning of what I said; or +perhaps my whole conduct and bearing puzzled him, for he made no reply for +several seconds. At last, with a kind of sigh, he said— ‘Well, well, +it cannot be helped; it must be even as he wished, though the odds are, he +‘ll never think more about him. Come, lad, you shall have your dinner.’ +</p> +<p> +I followed him through a narrow, unlighted passage, which opened into a +room, where, at a long table, were seated a number of men and boys at +dinner. Some were dressed as cooks; others wore a kind of grey blouse, +with a badge upon the arm, bearing the name ‘Boivin’ in large letters, and +were, as I afterwards learned, the messengers employed to carry +refreshments into the prison, and who, by virtue of this sign, were freely +admitted within the gates. +</p> +<p> +Taking my place at the board, I proceeded to eat with a voracity that only +a long fast could have excused; and thus took but little heed of my +companions, whose solecisms in table etiquette might otherwise have amused +me. +</p> +<p> +‘Art a Marmiton, thou?’ asked an elderly man in a cook’s cap, as he stared +fixedly at me for some seconds. +</p> +<p> +‘No,’ said I, helping myself and eating away as before. +</p> +<p> +‘Thou canst never be a commissionaire, friend, with an appetite like +that,’ cried another; ‘I wouldn’t trust thee to carry a casserole to the +fire.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nor shall I be,’ said I coolly. +</p> +<p> +‘What trade, then, has the good fortune to possess your shining +abilities.’ +</p> +<p> +‘A trade that thrives well just now, friend—pass me the flask.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Indeed, and what may it be?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Can you not guess, citizen,’ said I, ‘if I tell you that it was never +more in vogue; and, if there be some who will not follow it, they’ll wear +their heads just as safely by holding their peace?’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> thou hast puzzled me,’ said the chief cook; ‘and if thou +be’st not a coffin-maker——’ A roar of merriment cut short his +speech, in which I myself could not but join heartily. +</p> +<p> +‘That is, I know,’ said I, ‘a thriving business; but mine is even better; +and, not to mystify you longer, I ‘ll just tell you what I am; which is, +simply, a friend of the Citizen Robespierre.’ +</p> +<p> +The blow told with full force; and I saw, in the terrified looks that were +interchanged around the table, that my sojourn amongst them, whether +destined to be of short or long duration, would not be disturbed by +further liberties. It was truly a reign of terror that same period! The +great agent of everything was the vague and shadowy dread of some terrible +vengeance, against which precautions were all in vain. Men met each other +with secret misgivings, and parted with the same dreadful distrust. The +ties of kindred were all broken; brotherly affection died out. Existence +was become like the struggle for life upon some shipwrecked raft, where +each sought safety by his neighbour’s doom! At such a time—with such +terrible teachings—children became men in all the sterner features +of character; cruelty is a lesson so easily learned. +</p> +<p> +As for myself, energetic and ambitious by nature, the ascendency my first +assumption of power suggested was too grateful a passion to be +relinquished. The name—whose spell was like a talisman, because now +the secret engine by which I determined to work out my fortune—Robespierre +had become to my imagination like the slave of Aladdin’s lamp; and to +conjure him up was to be all-powerful Even to Boivin himself this +influence extended; and it was easy to perceive that he regarded the whole +narrative of the pocket-book as a mere fable, invented to obtain a +position as a spy over his household. +</p> +<p> +I was not unwilling to encourage the belief—it added to my +importance, by increasing the fear I inspired; and thus I walked +indolently about, giving myself those airs of <i>mouchard</i> that I +deemed most fitting, and taking a mischievous delight in the terror I was +inspiring. +</p> +<p> +The indolence of my life, however, soon wearied me, and I began to long +for some occupation, or some pursuit. Teeming with excitement as the world +was—every day, every hour, brimful of events—it was impossible +to sit calmly on the shore, and watch the great, foaming current of human +passions, without longing to be in the stream. Had I been a man at that +time, I should have become a furious orator of the Mountain—an +impassioned leader of the people. The impulse to stand foremost—to +take a bold and prominent position—would have carried me to any +lengths. I had caught up enough of the horrid fanaticism of the time to +think that there was something grand and heroic in contempt for human +suffering; that a man rose proudly above all the weakness of his nature, +when, in the pursuit of some great object, he stifled within his breast +every throb of affection—every sentiment of kindness and mercy. Such +were the teachings rife at the time—such the first lessons that +boyhood learned; and oh! what a terrible hour had that been for humanity +if the generation then born had grown up to manhood unchastened and +unconverted! +</p> +<p> +But to return to my daily life. As I perceived that a week had now +elapsed, and the Citizen Robespierre had not revisited the ‘restaurant,’ +nor taken any interest in my fate or fortunes, I began to fear lest Boivin +should master his terror regarding me, and take heart to put me out of +doors—an event which, in my present incertitude, would have been +sorely inconvenient. I resolved, therefore, to practise a petty deception +on my host, to sustain the influence of terror over him. This was, to +absent myself every day at a certain hour, under the pretence of visiting +my patron; letting fall, from time to time, certain indications to show in +what part of the city I had been, and occasionally, as if in an unguarded +moment, condescending to relate some piece of popular gossip. None +ventured to inquire the source of my information—not one dared to +impugn its veracity. Whatever their misgivings in secret, to myself they +displayed the most credulous faith. Nor was their trust so much misplaced, +for I had, in reality, become a perfect chronicle of all that went forward +in Paris—never missing a debate in the Convention, where my +retentive memory could carry away almost verbally all that I heard—ever +present at every public fête or procession, whether the occasions were +some insulting desecration of their former faith, or some tasteless +mockery of heathen ceremonial. +</p> +<p> +My powers of mimicry, too, enabled me to imitate all the famous characters +of the period; and in my assumed inviolability, I used to exhibit the +uncouth gestures and spluttering utterance of Marat—the wild and +terrible ravings of Danton—and even the reedy treble of my own +patron Robespierre, as he screamed denunciations against the enemies of +the people. It is true these exhibitions of mine were only given in secret +to certain parties, who, by a kind of instinct, I felt could be trusted. +</p> +<p> +Such was my life, as one day, returning from the Convention, I beheld a +man affixing to a wall a great placard, to which the passing crowd seemed +to pay deep attention. It was a decree of the Committee of Public Safety, +containing the names of above seven hundred Royalists, who were condemned +to death, and who were to be executed in three <i>tournées</i>, on three +successive days. +</p> +<p> +For sometime back the mob had not been gratified with a spectacle of this +nature. In the ribald language of the day, the ‘holy guillotine had grown +thirsty from long drought’; and they read the announcement with greedy +eyes, commenting as they went upon those whose names were familiar to +them. There were many of noble birth among the proscribed, but by far the +greater number were priests, the whole sum of whose offending seemed +written in the simple and touching words, <i>ancien curé</i>, of such a +parish! It was strange to mark the bitterness of invective with which the +people loaded these poor and innocent men, as though they were the source +of all their misfortunes. The lazy indolence with which they reproached +them seemed ten times more offensive in their eyes than the lives of ease +and affluence led by the nobility. The fact was, they could not forgive +men of their own rank and condition what they pardoned in the well born +and the noble! an inconsistency that has characterised democracy in other +situations beside this. +</p> +<p> +As I ran my eyes down the list of those confined in the Temple, I came to +a name which smote my heart with a pang of ingratitude as well as sorrow—the +‘Père Michel Delannois, soi disant curé de St. Blois’—my poor friend +and protector was there among the doomed! If, up to that moment, I had +made no effort to see him, I must own the reason lay in my own selfish +feeling of shame—the dread that he should mark the change that had +taken place in me, a change that I felt extended to all about me, and +showed itself in my manner as it influenced my every action. It was not +alone that I lost the obedient air and quiet submissiveness of the child, +but I had assumed the very extravagance of that democratic insolence which +was the mode among the leading characters of the time. +</p> +<p> +How should I present myself before him, the very impersonation of all the +vices against which he used to warn me—how exhibit the utter failure +of all his teachings and his hopes? What would this be but to embitter his +reflections needlessly. Such were the specious reasons with which I fed my +self-love, and satisfied my conscience; but now, as I read his name in +that terrible catalogue, their plausibility served me no longer, and at +last I forgot myself to remember only him. +</p> +<p> +‘I will see him at once,’ thought I, ‘whatever it may cost me—I will +stay beside him for his last few hours of life; and when he carries with +him from this world many an evil memory of shame and treachery, +ingratitude from me shall not increase the burthen.’ And with this resolve +I turned my steps homeward. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III. THE ‘TEMPLE’ +</h2> +<p> +At the time of which I write, there was but one motive principle +throughout France—‘Terror.’ By the agency of terror and the threat +of denunciation was everything carried on, not only in the public +departments of the state, but in all the common occurrences of everyday +life. Fathers used it towards their children—children towards their +parents; mothers coerced their daughters—daughters, in turn, braved +the authority of their mothers. The tribunal of public opinion, open to +all, scattered its decrees with a reckless cruelty—denying to-day +what it had decreed but yesterday, and at last obliterating every trace of +‘right’ or ‘principle’ in a people who now only lived for the passing +hour, and who had no faith in the future, even of this world. +</p> +<p> +Among the very children at play, this horrible doctrine had gained a +footing: the tyrant urchin, whose ingenuity enabled him to terrorise, +became the master of his playfellows. I was not slow in acquiring the +popular education of the period, and soon learned that fear was a ‘Bank’ +on which one might draw at will. Already the domineering habit had given +to my air and manner all the insolence of seeming power, and, while a mere +boy in years, I was a man in all the easy assumption of a certain +importance. +</p> +<p> +It was with a bold and resolute air I entered the restaurant, and calling +Boivin aside, said— +</p> +<p> +‘I have business in the Temple this morning, Boivin; see to it that I +shall not be denied admittance.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am not governor of the gaol,’ grunted Boivin sulkily, ‘nor have I the +privilege to pass any one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But your boys have the entrée; the “rats” (so were they called) are free +to pass in and out.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, and I’m responsible for the young rascals, too, and for anything that +may be laid to their charge.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And you shall extend this same protection to me, Master Boivin, for one +day, at least—nay, my good friend, there’s no use in sulking about +it. A certain friend of ours, whose name I need not speak aloud, is little +in the habit of being denied anything; are you prepared for the +consequence of disobeying his orders?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Let me see that they are his orders,’ said he sturdily—‘who tells +me that such is his will?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I do,’ was my brief reply, as, with a look of consummate effrontery, I +drew myself up and stared him insolently in the face. +</p> +<p> +‘Suppose, then, that I have my doubts on the matter—suppose——’ +</p> +<p> +‘I will suppose all you wish, Boivin,’ said I interrupting, ‘and even +something more; for I will suppose myself returning to the quarter whence +I have just come, and within one hour—ay, within one hour, Boivin—bringing +back with me a written order, not to pass me into the Temple, but to +receive the body of the Citizen Jean Baptiste Boivin, and be accountable +for the same to the Committee of Public Safety.’ +</p> +<p> +He trembled from head to foot as I said these words, and in his shaking +cheeks and fallen jaw I saw that my spell was working. +</p> +<p> +‘And now, I ask for the last time, do you consent or not?’ +</p> +<p> +‘How is it to be done?’ cried he, in a voice of downright wretchedness. +‘You are not “inscribed” at the secretaries’ office as one of the “rats.”’ +</p> +<p> +‘I should hope not,’ said I, cutting him short; ‘but I may take the place +of one for an hour or so. Tristan is about my own size; his blouse and +badge will just suit me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, leave me to a fine of a thousand francs, if you should be found out,’ +muttered Boivin, ‘not to speak of a worse mayhap.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Exactly so—far worse in case of your refusing; but there sounds the +bell for mustering the prisoners—it is now too late.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not so—not so,’ cried Boivin, eagerly, as he saw me prepared to +leave the house. ‘You shall go in Tristan’s place. Send him here, that he +may tell you everything about the “service,” and give you his blouse and +badge.’ +</p> +<p> +I was not slow in availing myself of the permission, nor was Tristan sorry +to find a substitute. He was a dull, depressed-looking boy, not over +communicative as to his functions, merely telling me that I was to follow +the others—that I came fourth in the line—to answer when my +name was called ‘Tristan,’ and to put the money I received in my leathern +pocket, without uttering a word, lest the gaolers should notice it. +</p> +<p> +To accoutre myself in the white cotton nightcap and the blouse of the +craft was the work of a few seconds; and then, with a great knife in my +girdle, and a capacious pocket slung at my side, I looked every inch a +‘Marmiton.’ +</p> +<p> +In the kitchen the bustle had already begun, and half-a-dozen cooks, with +as many under-cooks, were dealing out ‘portions’ with all the speed of a +well-practised performance. Nothing short of great habit could have +prevented the confusion degenerating into downright anarchy. The ‘service’ +was, indeed, effected with a wonderful rapidity; and certain phrases, +uttered with speed, showed how it progressed. ‘Maigre des Curés,’—‘finished.’ +‘Bouillon for the “expectants,’”—‘ready here.’ ‘Canards aux olives +des condamnées,’—‘all served.’ ‘Red partridges for the reprieved at +the upper table,’—‘despatched.’ Such were the quick demands, and no +less quick replies, that rung out, amidst the crash of plates, knives, and +glasses, and the incessant movement of feet, until, at last, we were all +marshalled in a long line, and, preceded by a drum, set out for the +prison. +</p> +<p> +As we drew near, the heavy gates opened to receive, and closed behind us +with a loud bang that I could not help feeling must have smote heavily on +many a heart that had passed there. We were now in a large courtyard, +where several doors led off, each guarded by a sentinel, whose ragged +clothes and rusty accoutrements proclaimed a true soldier of the Republic. +One of the large hurdles used for carrying the prisoners to the Place +stood in one corner, and two or three workmen were busied in repairing it +for the coming occasion. +</p> +<p> +So much I had time to observe, as we passed along; and now we entered a +dimly lighted corridor of great extent; passing down which, we emerged +into a second <i>cour</i>, traversed by a species of canal or river, over +which a bridge led. In the middle of this was a strongly barred iron gate, +guarded by two sentries. As we arrived here, our names were called aloud +by a species of turnkey; and at the call ‘Tristan,’ I advanced, and, +removing the covers from the different dishes, submitted them for +inspection to an old, savage-looking fellow, who, with a long steel fork, +pricked the pieces of meat, as though anything could have been concealed +within them. Meanwhile, another fellow examined my cotton cap and pocket, +and passed his hands along my arms and body. The whole did not last more +than a few minutes, and the word ‘forward’ was given to pass on. The gloom +of the place—-the silence, only broken by the heavy bang of an +iron-barred door, or the clank of chains, the sad thoughts of the many who +trod these corridors on their way to death—depressed me greatly, and +equally unprepared me for what was to come; for as we drew near the great +hall, the busy hum of voices, the sound of laughter, and the noises of a +large assembly in full converse, suddenly burst upon the ear; and as the +wide doors were thrown open, I beheld above a hundred people, who, either +gathered in single groups, or walking up and down in parties, seemed all +in the fullest enjoyment of social intercourse. +</p> +<p> +A great table, with here and there a large flagon of water, or a huge loaf +of the coarse bread used by the peasantry, ran from end to end of the +chamber. A few had already taken their places at this, but some were +satisfied with laying a cap or a kerchief on the bench opposite their +accustomed seat; while others again had retired into windows and corners, +as if to escape the general gaze, and partake of their humble meal in +solitude. +</p> +<p> +Whatever restrictions prison discipline might have exercised elsewhere, +here the widest liberty seemed to prevail. The talk was loud, and even +boisterous; the manner to the turnkeys exhibited nothing of fear: the +whole assemblage presented rather the aspect of a gathering of riotous +republicans than of a band of prisoners under sentence. And yet such were +the greater number, and the terrible slip of paper attached to the back of +each, with a date, told the day on which he was to die. +</p> +<p> +As I lingered to gaze on this strange gathering, I was admonished to move +on, and now perceived that my companion had advanced to the end of the +hall, by which a small flight of stone steps led out upon a terrace—at +the end of which we entered another and not less spacious chamber, equally +crowded and noisy. Here the company were of both sexes, and of every grade +and condition of rank—from the highest noble of the former Court, to +the humblest peasant of La Vendee. If the sounds of mirth and levity were +less frequent, the buzz of conversation was, to the full, as loud as in +the lower hall, where, from difference of condition in life, the scenes +passing presented stranger and more curious contrasts. In one corner a +group of peasants were gathered around a white-haired priest, who, in a +low but earnest voice, was uttering his last exhortation to them; in +another, some young and fashionably dressed men were exhibiting to a party +of ladies the very airs and graces by which they would have adorned a +saloon; here, was a party at piquet—there, a little group, +arranging, for the last time, their household cares, and settling, with a +few small coins, the account of mutual expenditure. Of the ladies, several +were engaged at needlework—some little preparation for the morrow—the +last demand that ever vanity was to make of them! +</p> +<p> +Although there was matter of curiosity in all around me, my eyes sought +for hut one object, the curé of St. Blois. Twice or thrice, from the +similarity of dress, I was deceived, and, at last, when I really did +behold him, as he sat alone in a window, reading, I could scarcely satisfy +myself of the reality, he was lividly pale, his eyes deep sunk, and +surrounded with two dark circles, while along his worn cheek the tears had +marked two channels of purple colour. What need of the guillotine there—the +lamp of life was in its last flicker without it. +</p> +<p> +Our names were called, and the meats placed upon the table. Just as the +head-turnkey was about to give the order to be seated, a loud commotion, +and a terrible uproar in the court beneath, drew every one to the window. +It was a hurdle which, emerging from an archway, broke down from +overcrowding; and now the confusion of prisoners, gaolers, and sentries, +with plunging horses and screaming sufferers, made a scene of the wildest +uproar. Chained two by two, the prisoners were almost helpless, and in +their efforts to escape injury made the most terrific struggle. Such were +the instincts of life in those on the very road to death! +</p> +<p> +Resolving to profit by the moment of confusion, I hastened to the window, +where alone, unmoved by the general commotion, sat the Père Michel. He +lifted his glassy eyes as I came near, and in a low, mild voice said— +</p> +<p> +‘Thanks, my good boy, but I have no money to pay thee; nor does it matter +much now—it is but another day. +</p> +<p> +I could have cried as I heard these sad words; but mastering emotions +which would have lost time so precious, I drew close, and whispered— +</p> +<p> +‘Père Michel, it is I, your own Maurice.’ +</p> +<p> +He started, and a deep flush suffused his cheek; and then stretching out +his hand, he pushed back my cap, and parted the hair of my forehead, as if +doubting the reality of what he saw; when with a weak voice he said— +</p> +<p> +‘No, no, thou art not my own Maurice. His eyes shone not with that worldly +lustre—thine do; his brow was calm, and fair as children’s should be—thine +is marked with manhood’s craft and subtlety; and yet, thou art like him.’ +</p> +<p> +A low sob broke from me as I listened to his words, and the tears gushed +forth, and rolled in torrents down my cheeks. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes,’ cried he, clasping me in his arms, ‘thou art my own dear boy. I +know thee now; but how art thou here, and thus?’ and he touched my blouse +as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +‘I came to see and to save you, père,’ said I. ‘Nay, do not try to +discourage me, but rather give me all your aid. I saw her—I was with +her in her last moments at the guillotine; she gave me a message for you, +but this you shall never hear till we are without these walls.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It cannot be, it cannot be,’ said he sorrowfully. +</p> +<p> +‘It can and shall be,’ said I resolutely. ‘I have merely assumed this +dress for the occasion; I have friends, powerful and willing to protect +me. Let us change robes—give me that “soutane,” and put on the +blouse. When you leave this, hasten to the old garden of the chapel, and +wait for my coming—I will join you there before night.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It cannot be,’ replied he again. +</p> +<p> +‘Again I say, it shall, and must be. Nay, if you still refuse, there shall +be two victims, for I will tear off the dress here where I stand, and +openly declare myself the son of the Royalist Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +Already the commotion in the court beneath was beginning to subside, and +even now the turnkeys’ voices were heard in the refectory, recalling the +prisoners to table—another moment and it would have been too late: +it was, then, less by persuasion than by actual force I compelled him to +yield, and, pulling off his black serge gown, drew over his shoulders my +yellow blouse, and placed upon his head the white cap of the ‘Marmiton.’ +The look of shame and sorrow of the poor curé would have betrayed him at +once, if any had given themselves the trouble to look at him. +</p> +<p> +‘And thou, my poor child,’ said he, as he saw me array myself in his +priestly dress, ‘what is to be thy fate?’ +</p> +<p> +‘All will depend upon you, Père Michel,’ said I, holding him by the arm, +and trying to fix his wandering attention. ‘Once out of the prison, write +to Boivin, the restaurateur of the “Scélérat,” and tell him that an +escaped convict has scruples for the danger into which he has brought a +poor boy, one of his “Marmitons,” and whom by a noxious drug he has lulled +into insensibility, while, having exchanged clothes, he has managed his +escape. Boivin will comprehend the danger he himself runs by leaving me +here. All will go well—-and now there’s not a moment to lose. Take +up your basket, and follow the others.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But the falsehood of all this,’ cried the père. +</p> +<p> +‘But your life, and mine, too, lost, if you refuse,’ said I, pushing him +away. +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, Maurice, how changed have you become!’ cried he sorrowfully. +</p> +<p> +‘You will see a greater change in me yet, as I lie in the sawdust beneath +the scaffold,’ said I hastily. ‘Go, go.’ +</p> +<p> +There was, indeed, no more time to lose. The muster of the prisoners was +forming at one end of the chamber, while the ‘Marmitons’ were gathering up +their plates and dishes, previous to departure, at the other; and it was +only by the decisive step of laying myself down within the recesses of the +window, in the attitude of one overcome by sleep, that I could force him +to obey my direction. I could feel his presence as he bent over me, and +muttered something that must have been a prayer. I could know, without +seeing, that he still lingered near me, but as I never stirred, he seemed +to feel that my resolve was not to be shaken, and at last he moved slowly +away. +</p> +<p> +At first the noise and clamour sounded like the crash of some desperate +conflict, but by degrees this subsided, and I could hear the names called +aloud and the responses of the prisoners, as they were ‘told off’ in +parties from the different parts of the prison. Tender leave-takings and +affectionate farewells from many who never expected to meet again, +accompanied these, and the low sobs of anguish were mingled with the +terrible chaos of voices; and at last I heard the name of ‘Michel +Delannois’: I felt as if my death-summons was in the words ‘Michel +Delannois,’ +</p> +<p> +‘That crazy priest can neither hear nor see, I believe,’ said the gaoler +savagely. ‘Will no one answer for him?’ +</p> +<p> +‘He is asleep yonder in the window,’ replied a voice from the crowd. +</p> +<p> +‘Let him sleep then,’ said the turnkey; ‘when awake he gives us no peace +with his prayers and exhortations.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He has eaten nothing for three days,’ observed another; ‘he is, perhaps, +overcome by weakness more than by sleep.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Be it so! if he only lie quiet, I care not,’ rejoined the gaoler, and +proceeded to the next name on the list. +</p> +<p> +The monotonous roll-call, the heat, the attitude in which I was lying, all +conspired to make me drowsy: even the very press of sensations that +crowded to my brain lent their aid, and at last I slept as soundly as ever +I had done in my bed at night. I was dreaming of the dark alleys in the +wood of Belleville, where so often I had strolled of an evening with Père +Michel: I was fancying that we were gathering the fresh violets beneath +the old trees, when a rude hand shook my shoulder, and I awoke. One of the +turnkeys and Boivin stood over me, and I saw at once that my plan had +worked well. +</p> +<p> +‘Is this the fellow?’ said the turnkey, pushing me rudely with his foot. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes,’ replied Boivin, white with fear; ‘this is the boy; his name is +Tristan.’ The latter words were accompanied with a look of great +significance towards me. +</p> +<p> +‘What care we how he is called! let us hear in what manner he came here.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I can tell you little,’ said I, staring and looking wildly around; ‘I +must have been asleep, and dreaming, too.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The letter,’ whispered Boivin to the turnkey—‘the letter says that +he was made to inhale some poisonous drug, and that while insensible——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Bah,’ said the other derisively, ‘this will not gain credit here; there +has been complicity in the affair, Master Boivin. The commissaire is not +the man to believe a trumped-up tale of the sort; besides, you are well +aware that you are responsible for these “rats” of yours. It is a private +arrangement between you and the commissaire, and it is not very probable +that he’ll get himself into a scrape for you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then what are we to do?’ cried Boivin passionately, as he wrung his hands +in despair. +</p> +<p> +‘I know what I should, in a like case,’ was the dry reply. +</p> +<p> +‘And that is?——-’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Laisser aller!</i> was the curt rejoinder. ‘The young rogue has passed +for a curé for the last afternoon; I’d even let him keep up the disguise a +little longer, and it will be all the same by this time to-morrow.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You’d send me to the guillotine for another?’ said I boldly; ‘thanks for +the good intention, my friend; but Boivin knows better than to follow your +counsel. Hear me one moment,’ said I, addressing the latter, and drawing +him to one side—‘if you don’t liberate me within a quarter of an +hour, I’ll denounce you and yours to the commissary. I know well enough +what goes on at the “Scélérat,”—you understand me well. If a priest +has really made his escape from the prison, you are not clean-handed +enough to meet the accusation; see to it then, Boivin, that I may be free +at once.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Imp of Satan,’ exclaimed Boivin, grinding his teeth, ‘I have never +enjoyed ease or quietness since the first hour I saw you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It may cost a couple of thousand francs, Boivin,’ said I calmly; ‘but +what then? Better that than take your seat along with us to-morrow in the +<i>Charrette Rouge</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Maybe he’s right, after all,’ muttered the turnkey in a half-whisper; +‘speak to the commissary.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes,’ said I, affecting an air of great innocence and simplicity—‘tell +him that a poor orphan boy, without friends or home, claims his pity.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Scélérat infâme!</i>’ cried Boivin, as he shook his fist at me, and +then followed the turnkey to the commissary’s apartment. +</p> +<p> +In less time than I could have believed possible, Boivin returned with one +of the upper gaolers, and told me, in a few dry words, that I was free. +‘But, mark me,’ added he, ‘we part here—come what may, you never +shall plant foot within my doors again.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Agreed,’ said I gaily; ‘the world has other dupes as easy to play upon, +and I was getting well nigh weary of you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Listen to the scoundrel!’ muttered Boivin; ‘what will he say next?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Simply this,’ rejoined I—‘that as these are not becoming garments +for me to wear—for I’m neither <i>père</i> nor <i>frère</i>—I +must have others ere I quit this.’ +</p> +<p> +If the insolence of my demand occasioned some surprise at first, a little +cool persistence on my part showed that compliance would be the better +policy; and, after conferring together for a few minutes, during which I +heard the sound of money, the turnkey retired, and came back speedily with +a jacket and cap belonging to one of the drummers of the Republican Guard—a +gaudy, tasteless affair enough, but, as a disguise, nothing could have +been more perfect. +</p> +<p> +‘Have you not a drum to give him?’ said Boivin, with a most malignant +sneer at my equipment. +</p> +<p> +‘He ‘ll make a noise in the world without that,’ muttered the gaoler, half +soliloquising; and the words fell upon my heart with a strange +significance. +</p> +<p> +‘Your blessing, Boivin,’ said I, ‘and we part.’ ‘<i>Le te</i>——’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, no; don’t curse the boy,’ interposed the gaoler good-humouredly. +</p> +<p> +‘Then, move off, youngster; I’ve lost too much time with you already.’ +</p> +<p> +The next moment I was in the Place; a light misty rain was falling, and +the night was dark and starless. The ‘Scélérat’ was brilliant with lamps +and candles, and crowds were passing in and out; but it was no longer a +home for me, so I passed on, and continued my way towards the Boulevard. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV. ‘THE NIGHT OF THE NINTH THERMIDOR’ +</h2> +<p> +I had agreed with the Père Michel to rendezvous at the garden of the +little chapel of St. Blois, and thitherward I now turned my steps. +</p> +<p> +The success which followed this my first enterprise in life had already +worked a wondrous change in all my feelings. Instead of looking up to the +poor curé for advice and guidance, I felt as though our parts were +exchanged, and that it was I who was now the protector of the other. The +oft-repeated sneers at <i>les bons Prêtres</i>, who were good for nothing, +must have had a share in this new estimate of my friend, but a certain +self-reliance just then springing up in my heart effectually completed the +change. +</p> +<p> +The period was essentially one of action and not of reflection. Events +seemed to fashion themselves at the will of him who had daring and courage +to confront them, and they alone appeared weak and poor-spirited who would +not stem the tide of fortune. Sentiments like these were not, as may be +supposed, best calculated to elevate the worthy père in my esteem, and I +already began to feel how unsuited was such companionship for me, whose +secret promptings whispered ever, ‘Go forward.’ +</p> +<p> +The very vagueness of my hopes served but to extend the horizon of +futurity before me, and I fancied a thousand situations of distinction +that might yet be mine. Fame—or its poor counterfeit, notoriety—seemed +the most enviable of all possessions. It mattered little by what merits it +was won, for, in that fickle mood of popular opinion, great vices were as +highly prized as transcendent abilities, and one might be as illustrious +by crime as by genius. Such were not the teachings of the père; but they +were the lessons that Paris dinned into my ears unceasingly. Reputation, +character, was of no avail, in a social condition where all was change and +vacillation. What was idolised one day was execrated the next day. The +hero of yesterday was the object of popular vengeance to-day. The success +of the passing hour was everything. +</p> +<p> +The streets were crowded as I passed along; although a drizzling rain was +falling, groups and knots of people were gathered together at every +corner, and, by their eager looks and gestures, showed that some event of +great moment had occurred. I stopped to ask what it meant, and learned +that Robespierre had been denounced in the Assembly, and that his +followers were hastening, in arms, to the Place de Grève. As yet, men +spoke in whispers, or broken phrases. Many were seen affectionately +embracing and clasping each other’s hands in passionate emotion; but few +dared to trust themselves to words, for none knew if the peril were really +passed, or if the power of the tyrant might not become greater than ever. +While I yet listened to the tidings, which, in half-sentences and broken +words, reached my ears, the roll of drums, beating the <i>générale</i>, +was heard, and suddenly the head of a column appeared, carrying torches, +and seated upon ammunition-waggons and caissons, and chanting in wild +chorus the words of the ‘Marseillaise.’ On they came, a terrible host of +half-naked wretches, their heads bound in handkerchiefs, and their brawny +arms bare to the shoulders. +</p> +<p> +The artillery of the Municipale followed, many of the magistrates riding +amongst them dressed in the tricoloured scarfs of officers. As the +procession advanced, the crowds receded, and gradually the streets were +left free to the armed force. +</p> +<p> +While, terror-struck, I continued to gaze at the countenances over which +the lurid torchlight cast a horrid glare, a strong hand grasped my collar, +and by a jerk swung me up to a seat on one of the caissons; and at the +same time a deep voice said, ‘Come, youngster, this is more in thy way +than mine,’ and a black-bearded <i>sapeur</i> pushed a drum before me, and +ordered me to beat the <i>générale</i>. Such was the din and uproar that +my performance did not belie my uniform, and I beat away manfully, +scarcely sorry, amid all my fears, at the elevated position from which I +now surveyed the exciting scene around me. +</p> +<p> +As we passed, the shops were closed on either side in haste, and across +the windows of the upper storeys beds and mattresses were speedily drawn, +in preparation for the state of siege now so imminent. Lights flickered +from room to room, and all betokened a degree of alarm and terror. Louder +and louder pealed the ‘Marseillaise,’ as the columns deployed into the +open Place, from which every street and lane now poured its crowds of +armed men. The line was now formed by the artillery, which, to the number +of sixteen pieces, ranged from end to end of the square, the dense crowd +of horse and foot forming behind, the mass dimly lighted by the waving +torches that here and there marked the presence of an officer. Gradually +the sounds of the ‘Marseillaise’ grew fainter and fainter, and soon a +dreary silence pervaded that varied host, more terrible now, as they stood +speechless, than in all the tumultuous din of the wildest uproar. +Meanwhile, from the streets which opened into the Place at the farthest +ends, the columns of the National Guard began to move up, the leading +files carrying torches; behind them came ten pieces of artillery, which, +as they issued, were speedily placed in battery, and flanked by the heavy +dragoons of the Guard; and now, in breathless silence, the two forces +stood regarding each other, the cannoniers with lighted matches in their +hands, the dragoons firmly clasping their sabres—all but waiting for +the word to plunge into the deadliest strife. It was a terrible moment—the +slightest stir in the ranks—the rattling of a horse’s panoply—the +clank of a sabre—fell upon the heart like the toll of a death-bell. +It was then that two or three horsemen were seen to advance from the +troops of the Convention, and, approaching the others, were speedily lost +among their ranks. A low and indistinct murmur ran along the lines, which +each moment grew louder, till at last it burst forth into a cry of ‘<i>Vive +la Convention!</i>’ Quitting their ranks, the men gathered around a +general of the National Guard, who addressed them in words of passionate +eloquence, but of which I was too distant to hear anything. Suddenly the +ranks began to thin; some were seen to pile their arms, and move away in +silence; others marched across the Place, and took up their position +beside the troops of the National Guard; of the cannoniers, many threw +down their matches, and extinguished the flame with their feet, while +others again, limbering up their guns, slowly retired to the barracks. +</p> +<p> +As for myself, too much interested in the scene to remember that I was, in +some sort, an actor in it, I sat upon the caisson, watching all that went +forward so eagerly, that I never noticed the departure of my companions, +nor perceived that I was left by myself. I know not how much later this +discovery might have been deferred to me had not an officer of the Guard +ridden up to where I was, and said, ‘Move up, move up, my lad; keep close +to the battery.’ He pointed at the same time with his sabre in the +direction where a number of guns and carriages were already proceeding. +</p> +<p> +Not a little flattered by the order, I gathered up reins and whip, and, +thanks to the good drilling of the beasts, who readily took their proper +places, soon found myself in the line, which now drew up in the rear of +the artillery of the Guard, separated from the front by a great mass of +horse and foot. I knew nothing of what went forward in the Place; from +what I gathered, however, I could learn that the artillery was in +position, the matches burning, and everything in readiness for a +cannonade. Thus we remained for above an hour, when the order was given to +march. Little knew I that, in that brief interval, the whole fortunes of +France—ay, of humanity itself—had undergone a mighty change—that +the terrible reign of blood, the tyranny of Robespierre, had closed, and +that he who had sent so many to the scaffold now lay bleeding and +mutilated upon the very table where he had signed the death-warrants. +</p> +<p> +The day was just beginning to dawn as we entered the barracks of the +Conciergerie, and drew up in a double line along its spacious square. The +men dismounted, and stood ‘at ease,’ awaiting the arrival of the staff of +the National Guard, which, it was said, was coming; and now the thought +occurred to me of what I should best do, whether make my escape while it +was yet time, or remain to see by what accident I had come there. If a +sense of duty to the Père Michel urged me on one side, the glimmering hope +of some opening to fortune swayed me on the other. I tried to persuade +myself that my fate was bound up with his, and that he should be my guide +through the wild waste before me; but these convictions could not stand +against the very scene in which I stood. The glorious panoply of war—the +harnessed team—the helmeted dragoon—the proud steed in all the +trappings of battle! How faint were the pleadings of duty against such +arguments! The père, too, designed me for a priest. The life of a +seminarist in a convent was to be mine! I was to wear the red gown and the +white cape of an acolyte!—to be taught how to swing a censer, or +snuff the candles of the high altar—to be a train-bearer in a +procession, or carry a relic in a glass-case! The hoarse bray of a trumpet +that then rung through the court routed these ignoble fancies, and as the +staff rode proudly in, my resolve was taken. I was determined to be a +soldier. +</p> +<p> +The day, I have said, was just breaking, and the officers wore their +dark-grey capotes over their uniforms. One, however, had his coat partly +open, and I could see the blue and silver beneath, which, tarnished and +worn as it was, had to my eyes all the brilliancy of a splendid uniform. +He was an old man, and by his position in advance of the others showed +that he was the chief of the staff. This was General Lacoste, at that time +<i>en mission</i> from the army of the Rhine, and now sent by the +Convention to report upon the state of events among the troops. Slowly +passing along the line, the old general halted before each gun, pointing +out to his staff certain minutiæ, which, from his gestures and manner, it +was easy to see were not the subject of eulogy. Many of the pieces were +ill slung, and badly balanced on the trucks; the wheels, in some cases, +were carelessly put on, their tires worn, and the iron shoeing defective. +The harnessing, too, was patched and mended in a slovenly fashion; the +horses lean and out of condition; the drivers awkward and inexperienced. +</p> +<p> +‘This is all bad, gentlemen,’ said he, addressing the officers, but in a +tone to be easily heard all around him, ‘and reflects but little credit +upon the state of your discipline in the capital. We have been now +seventeen months in the field before the enemy, and not idle either; and +yet I would take shame to myself if the worst battery in our artillery +were not better equipped, better horsed, better driven, and better served, +than any I see here.’ +</p> +<p> +One who seemed a superior officer here appeared to interpose some +explanation or excuse, but the general would not listen to him, and +continued his way along the line—passing around which he now entered +the space between the guns and the caissons. At last he stopped directly +in front of where I was, and fixed his dark and penetrating eyes steadily +on me. Such was their fascination that I could not look from him, but +continued to stare as fixedly at him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10080.jpg" width="100%" alt="80 " /> +</div> +<p> +‘Look here, for instance,’ cried he, as he pointed to me with his sword, +‘is that <i>gamin</i> yonder like an artillery-driver? or is it to a +drummer-boy you intrust the caisson of an eight-pounder gun? Dismount, +sirrah, and come hither,’ cried he to me, in a voice that sounded like an +order for instant execution. ‘This popinjay dress of yours must have been +the fancy of some worthy shopkeeper of the ‘Quai Lepelletier’; it never +could belong to any regular corps. Who are you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay, sir,’ said I, bringing my hand to my cap in military +salute. +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay,’ repeated he, slowly, after me. ‘And have you no more to +say for yourself than your name?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very little, sir,’ said I, taking courage from the difficulty in which I +found myself. +</p> +<p> +‘What of your father, boy?—is he a soldier?’ +</p> +<p> +‘He was, sir,’ replied I, with firmness. +</p> +<p> +‘Then he is dead? In what corps did he serve?’ +</p> +<p> +‘In the Garde du Corps,’ said I proudly. +</p> +<p> +The old general gave a short cough, and seemed to search for his snuff-box +to cover his confusion; the next moment, however, he had regained his +self-possession, and continued: ‘And since that event—I mean since +you lost your father—what have you been doing? How have you +supported yourself?’ +</p> +<p> +‘In various ways, sir, said I, with a shrug of the shoulders, to imply +that the answer was too tedious to listen to. ‘I have studied to be a +priest, and I have served as a “rat” in the Prison du Temple.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You have certainly tried the extremes of life,’ said he, laughing; ‘and +now you wish, probably, to hit the <i>juste milieu</i>, by becoming a +soldier?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Even so, sir,’ said I easily. ‘It was a mere accident that mounted me +upon this caisson, but I am quite ready to believe that Fortune intended +me kindly when she did so.’ +</p> +<p> +‘These <i>gredins</i> fancy that they are all born to be generals of +France, said the old man, laughing; ‘but, after all, it is a harmless +delusion, and easily curable by a campaign or two. Come, sirrah, I’ll find +out a place for you, where, if you cannot serve the Republic better, you +will, at least, do her less injury than as a driver in her artillery. +Bertholet, let him be enrolled in your detachment of the gendarme, and +give him my address—I wish to speak to him to-morrow.’ +</p> +<p> +‘At what hour, general?’ said I promptly. +</p> +<p> +‘At eight, or half-past—after breakfast,’ replied he. +</p> +<p> +‘It may easily be before mine,’ muttered I to myself. +</p> +<p> +‘What says he?’ cried the general sharply. +</p> +<p> +The aide-de-camp whispered a few words in answer, at which the other +smiled, and said, ‘Let him come somewhat earlier—say eight o’clock.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You hear that, boy?’ said the aide-de-camp to me, while with a slight +gesture he intimated that I might retire. Then, as if suddenly remembering +that he had not given me the address of the general, he took a scrap of +crumpled paper from his pocket-book, and wrote a few words hastily on it +with his pencil. ‘There,’ cried he, throwing it towards me, ‘there is your +billet for this day, at least.’ I caught the scrap of paper, and, after +deciphering the words, perceived that they were written on the back of an +assignat for forty sous. +</p> +<p> +It was a large sum to one who had not wherewithal to buy a morsel of +bread; and as I looked at it over and over, I fancied there would be no +end to the pleasures such wealth could purchase. I can breakfast on the +Quai Voltaire, thought I—ay, and sumptuously too, with coffee and +chestnuts, and a slice of melon, and another of cheese, and a <i>petite +goutte</i> to finish, for five sous. The panther, at the corner of the +Pont Neuf, costs but a sou; and for three one can see the brown bear of +America, the hyæna, and another beast whose name I forget, but whose +image, as he is represented outside, carrying off a man in his teeth, I +shall retain to my last hour. Then there is the panorama of Dunkirk, at +the Rue Chopart, with the Duke of York begging his life from a +terrible-looking soldier in a red cap and a tricoloured scarf. After that, +there’s the parade at the ‘Carrousel’; and mayhap something more solemn +still at the ‘Grève’; but there was no limit to the throng of enjoyments +which came rushing to my imagination, and it was in a kind of ecstasy of +delight I set forth on my voyage of pleasure. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V. THE CHOICE OF A LIFE +</h2> +<p> +In looking back, after a long lapse of years, I cannot refrain from a +feeling of astonishment to think how little remembrance I possess of the +occurrences of that day—one of the most memorable that ever dawned +for France—the eventful 29th of July, that closed the reign of +terror by the death of the tyrant! It is true, that all Paris was astir at +daybreak; that a sense of national vengeance seemed to pervade the vast +masses that filled the streets, which now were scenes of the most exciting +emotion. I can only account for the strange indifference that I felt about +these stirring themes by the frequency with which similar, or what to me +at least appeared similar, scenes had already passed before my eyes. +</p> +<p> +One of the most remarkable phases of the revolution was the change it +produced in all the social relations by substituting an assumed +nationality for the closer and dearer ties of kindred and affection. +France was everything—the family nothing; every generous wish, every +proud thought, every high ambition or noble endeavour, belonged to the +country. In this way, whatever patriotism may have gained, certainly all +the home affections were utterly wrecked; the humble and unobtrusive +virtues of domestic life seemed mean and insignificant beside the grand +displays of patriotic devotion which each day exhibited. +</p> +<p> +Hence grew the taste for that ‘life of the streets’ then so popular—everything +should be en <i>évidence</i>. All the emotions which delicacy would render +sacred to the seclusion of home were now to be paraded to the noonday. +Fathers were reconciled to rebellious children before the eyes of +multitudes; wives received forgiveness from their husbands in the midst of +approving crowds; leave-takings the most affecting; partings, for those +never to meet again; the last utterings of the death-bed; the faint +whispers of expiring affection; the imprecations of undying hate—all, +all were exhibited in public, and the gaze of the low, the vulgar, and the +debauched associated with the most agonising griefs that ever the heart +endured. The scenes, which now are shrouded in all the secrecy of domestic +privacy, were then the daily life of Paris; and to this cause alone can I +attribute the hardened indifference with which events the most terrible +and heart-rending were witnessed. Bred up amidst such examples, I saw +little matter for emotion in scenes of harrowing interest. An air of +mockery was on everything, and a bastard classicality destroyed every +semblance of truth in whatever would have been touching and affecting. +</p> +<p> +The commotion of Paris on that memorable morning was, then, to my +thinking, little more than usual If the crowds who pressed their way to +the Place de la Revolution were greater—if the cries of vengeance +were in louder utterance—if the imprecations were deeper and more +terrible—the ready answer that satisfied all curiosity was—it +was Robespierre who was on his way to be executed. Little knew I what hung +upon that life! and how the fate of millions depended upon the blood that +morning was to shed! Too full of myself and my own projects, I disengaged +myself from the crowds that pressed eagerly towards the Tuileries, and +took my way by less-frequented streets in the direction of the Boulevard +Mont Parnasse. +</p> +<p> +I wished, if possible, to see the père once more, to take a last farewell +of him, and ask his blessing, too; for still a lingering faith in the +lessons he had taught me continued to haunt my mind amidst all the evil +influences with which my wayward life surrounded me. The further I went +from the quarter of the Tuileries, the more deserted and solitary grew the +streets. Not a carriage or horseman was to be seen—scarcely a +foot-passenger. All Paris had, apparently, assembled on the Place de la +Révolution; and the very beggars had quitted their accustomed haunts to +repair thither. Even the distant hum of the vast multitude faded away, and +it was only as the wind bore them that I could catch the sounds of the +hoarse cries that bespoke a people’s vengeance. And now I found myself in +the little silent street which once had been my home. I stood opposite the +house where we used to live, afraid to enter it lest I might compromise +the safety of her I wished to save, and yet longing once more to see the +little chamber where we once sat together—the chimney-corner where, +in the dark nights of winter, I nestled, with my hymn-book, and tried to +learn the rhymes that every plash of the falling hail against the windows +routed—to lie down once more in the little bed, where so often I had +passed whole nights of happy imaginings—bright thoughts of a +peaceful future that were never to be realised! +</p> +<p> +Half choking with my emotion, I passed on, and soon saw the green fields, +and the windmill-covered hill of Montmartre rising above the embankment of +the Boulevards—and now the ivy-clothed wall of the garden, within +which stood the chapel of St. Blois. The gate lay ajar as of old, and, +pushing it open, I entered. Everything was exactly as I had left it—the +same desolation and desertion everywhere—so much so, that I almost +fancied no human foot had crossed its dreary precincts since last I was +there. On drawing nigh to the chapel, I found the door fast barred and +barricaded as before; but a window lay open, and on examining it closer I +discovered the marks of a recent foot-track on the ground and the +window-sill. Could the Père Michel have been there? was the question that +at once occurred to my mind. Had the poor priest come to take a last look +and a farewell of a spot so dear to him? It could scarcely have been any +other. There was nothing to tempt cupidity in that humble little church; +an image of the ‘Virgin and Child’ in wax was the only ornament of the +altar. No, no; pillage had never been the motive of him who entered here. +</p> +<p> +Thus reasoning, I climbed up to the window, and entered the chapel. As my +footsteps echoed through the silent building, I felt that sense of awe and +reverence so inseparably connected with a place of worship, and which is +ever more impressive still as we stand in it alone. The present, however, +was less before me than the past, of which everything reminded me. There +was the seat the marquise used to sit in—there the footstool I had +so often placed at her feet. How different was the last service I had +rendered her! There the pillar, beside which I have stood spell-bound, +gazing at that fair face, whose beauty arrested the thoughts that should +have wended heavenward, and made my muttered prayers like offerings to +herself. The very bouquet of flowers some pious hand had placed beneath +the shrine—withered and faded—was there still. But where were +they whose beating hearts had throbbed with deep devotion? How many had +died upon the scaffold!—how many were still lingering in +imprisonment, some in exile, some in concealment, dragging out lives of +misery and anxiety! What was the sustaining spirit of such martyrdom? I +asked myself again and again. Was it the zeal of true religion, or was it +the energy of loyalty that bore them up against every danger, and enabled +them to brave death itself with firmness?—and if this faith of +theirs was thus ennobling, why could not France be of one mind and heart? +There came no answer to these doubts of mine, and I slowly advanced +towards the altar, still deeply buried in thought. What was my surprise to +see that two candles stood there, which bore signs of having been recently +lighted. At once the whole truth flashed across me—the père had been +there; he had come to celebrate a mass—the last, perhaps, he was +ever to offer up at that altar. I knew with what warm affection he loved +every object and every spot endeared to him by long time, and I fancied to +myself the overflowing of his heart as he entered once more, and for the +last time, the little temple, associated with all the joys and sorrows of +his existence. Doubtless, too, he had waited anxiously for my coming; +mayhap in the prayers he offered I was not forgotten. I thought of him +kneeling there, in the silence of the night, alone, as he was, his gentle +voice the only sound in the stillness of the hour, his pure heart +throbbing with gratitude for his deliverance, and prayerful hopes for +those who had been his persecutors. I thought over all this, and, in a +torrent of emotions, I knelt down before the altar to pray. I know not +what words I uttered, but his name must somehow have escaped my lips, for +suddenly a door opened beside the altar, and the Père Michel, dressed in +his full vestments, stood before me. His features, wan and wasted as they +were, had regained their wonted expression of calm dignity, and by his +look I saw that he would not suffer the sacred spot to be profaned by any +outburst of feeling on either side. +</p> +<p> +‘Those dreadful shouts tell of another massacre,’ said he solemnly, as the +wind bore towards us the deafening cries of the angry multitude. ‘Let us +pray for the souls’ rest of the departed.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then will your prayers be offered for Robespierre, for Couthon, and St. +Just,’ said I boldly. +</p> +<p> +‘And who are they who need more the saints’ intercession—who have +ever been called to judgment with such crimes to expiate—who have +ever so widowed France, and so desecrated her altars? Happily, a few yet +remain where piety may kneel to implore pardon for their iniquity. Let us +recite the Litany for the Dead,’ said he solemnly, and at once began the +impressive service. +</p> +<p> +As I knelt beside the rails of the altar, and heard the prayers which, +with deep devotion, he uttered, I could not help feeling the contrast +between that touching evidence of Christian charity and the tumultuous joy +of the populace, whose frantic bursts of triumph were borne on the air. +</p> +<p> +‘And now come with me, Maurice,’ said he, as the Litany was concluded. +‘Here, in this little sacristy, we are safe from all molestation; none +will think of us on such a day as this.’ +</p> +<p> +And as he spoke he drew his arm around me, and led me into the little +chamber where once the precious vessels and the decorations of the church +were kept. +</p> +<p> +‘Here we are safe,’ said he, as he drew me to his side on the oaken bench, +which formed all the furniture of the room. ‘To-morrow, Maurice, we must +leave this, and seek an asylum in another land; but we are not friendless, +my child—the brothers of the “Sacred Heart” will receive us. Their +convent is in the wilds of the Ardennes, beyond the frontiers of France, +and there, beloved by the faithful peasantry, they live in security and +peace. We need not take the vows of their order, which is one of the +strictest of all religious houses; but we may claim their hospitality and +protection, and neither will be denied us. Think what a blessed existence +will that be, Maurice, my son, to dwell under the same roof with these +holy men, and to imbibe from them the peace of mind that holiness alone +bestows; to awake at the solemn notes of the pealing organ, and to sink to +rest with the glorious liturgies still chanting around you; to feel an +atmosphere of devotion on every side, and to see the sacred relics whose +miracles have attested the true faith in ages long past. Does it not stir +thy heart, my child, to know that such blessed privileges may be thine?’ +</p> +<p> +I hung my head in silence, for, in truth, I felt nothing of the enthusiasm +with which he sought to inspire me. The père quickly saw what passed in my +mind, and endeavoured to depict the life of the monastery as a delicious +existence, embellished by all the graces of literature, and adorned by the +pleasures of intellectual converse. Poetry, romance, scenery, all were +pressed into the service of his persuasions; but how weak were such +arguments to one like me, the boy whose only education had been what the +streets of Paris afforded—whose notions of eloquence were formed on +the insane ravings of ‘The Mountain,’ and whose idea of greatness was +centred in mere notoriety! +</p> +<p> +My dreamy look of inattention showed him again that he had failed; and I +could see, in the increased pallor of his face, the quivering motion of +his lip, the agitation the defeat was costing him. +</p> +<p> +‘Alas! alas!’ cried he passionately, ‘the work of ruin is perfect; the +mind of youth is corrupted, and the fountain of virtue denied at the very +source. O Maurice, I had never thought this possible of thee, the child of +my heart!’ +</p> +<p> +A burst of grief here overcame him; for some minutes he could not speak. +At last he arose from his seat, and wiping off the tears that covered his +cheeks with his robe, spoke, but in a voice whose full round tones +contrasted strongly with his former weak accents. +</p> +<p> +‘The life I have pictured seems to thee ignoble and unworthy, boy. So did +it not appear to Chrysostom, to Origen, and to Augustine—to the +blessed saints of our Church, the eldest-born of Christianity. Be it so. +Thine, mayhap, is not the age, nor this the era, in which to hope for +better things. Thy heart yearns for heroic actions—thy spirit is set +upon high ambitions—be it so. I say, never was the time more fitting +for thee. The enemy is up; his armies are in the field; thousands and tens +of thousands swell the ranks, already flushed with victory. Be a soldier, +then. Ay, Maurice, buckle on the sword—the battlefield is before +thee. Thou hast made choice to seek the enemy in the far-away countries of +heathen darkness, or here in our own native France, where his camp is +already spread. If danger be the lure that tempts thee—if to +confront peril be thy wish—there is enough of it. Be a soldier, +then, and gird thee for the great battle that is at hand. Ay, boy, if thou +feelest within thee the proud darings that foreshadow success, speak the +word, and thou shalt be a standard-bearer in the very van.’ +</p> +<p> +I waited not for more; but springing up, I clasped my arms around his +neck, and cried, in ecstasy, ‘Yes! Père Michel, you have guessed aright, +my heart’s ambition is to be a soldier, and I want but your blessing to be +a brave one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And thou shalt have it. A thousand blessings follow those who go forth to +the good fight. But thou art yet young, Maurice—too young for this. +Thou needest time, and much teaching, too. He who would brave the enemy +before us, must be skilful as well as courageous. Thou art as yet but a +child.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The general said he liked boy-soldiers,’ said I promptly; ‘he told me so +himself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What general—who told thee?’ cried the père, in trembling +eagerness. +</p> +<p> +‘General Lacoste, the Chef d‘État-major of the army of the Rhine; the same +who gave me a rendezvous for to-morrow at his quarters.’ +</p> +<p> +It was not till I had repeated my explanation again and again, nor, +indeed, until I had recounted all the circumstances of my last night’s +adventure, that the poor père could be brought to see his way through a +mystery that had almost become equally embarrassing to myself. When he +did, however, detect the clue, and when he had perceived the different +tracks on which our minds were travelling, his grief burst all bounds. He +inveighed against the armies of the Republic as hordes of pillagers and +bandits, the sworn enemies of the Church, the desecrators of her altars. +Their patriotism he called a mere pretence to shroud their infidelity. +Their heroism was the bloodthirstiness of democratic cruelty. Seeing me +still unmoved by all this passionate declamation, he adopted another +tactic, and suddenly asked me if it were for such a cause as this my +father had been a soldier? +</p> +<p> +‘No!’ replied I firmly; ‘for when my father was alive, the soil of France +had not been desecrated by the foot of the invader. The Austrian, the +Prussian, the Englishman, had not yet dared to dictate the laws under +which we were to live.’ +</p> +<p> +He appeared thunderstruck at my reply, revealing, as it seemed to him, the +extent of those teachings, whose corruptions he trembled at. +</p> +<p> +‘I knew it, I knew it!’ cried he bitterly, as he wrung his hands. ‘The +seed of the iniquity is sown—the harvest-time will not be long in +coming! And so, boy, thou hast spoken with one of these men—these +generals, as they call themselves, of that republican horde?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The officer who commands the artillery of the army of the Rhine may write +himself general with little presumption,’ said I, almost angrily. +</p> +<p> +‘They who once led our armies to battle were the nobles of France—men +whose proud station was the pledge for their chivalrous devotion. But why +do I discuss the question with thee? He who deserts his faith may well +forget that his birth was noble. Go, boy, join those with whom your heart +is already linked. Tour lesson will be an easy one—you have nothing +to unlearn. The songs of the Girondins are already more grateful to your +ear than our sacred canticles. Go, I say, since between us henceforth +there can be no companionship.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Will you not bless me, père,’ said I, approaching him in deep humility; +‘will you not let me carry with me thy benediction?’ +</p> +<p> +‘How shall I bless the arm that is lifted to wound the Holy Church?—how +shall I pray for one whose place is in the ranks of the infidel? Hadst +thou faith in my blessing, boy, thou hadst never implored it in such a +cause. Renounce thy treason—and not alone my blessing, but thou +shalt have a ‘Novena’ to celebrate thy fidelity. Be of us, Maurice, and +thy name shall be honoured where honour is immortality.’ +</p> +<p> +The look of beaming affection with which he uttered this, more than the +words themselves, now shook my courage, and, in a conflict of doubt and +indecision, I held down my head without speaking. What might have been my +ultimate resolve, if left completely to myself, I know not; but at that +very moment a detachment of soldiers marched past in the street without. +They were setting off to join the army of the Rhine, and were singing in +joyous chorus the celebrated song of the day, ‘Le chant du départ.’ The +tramp of their feet—the clank of their weapons—their mellow +voices—but, more than all, the associations that thronged to my +mind, routed every other thought, and I darted from the spot, and never +stopped till I reached the street. +</p> +<p> +A great crowd followed the detachment, composed partly of friends of the +soldiers, partly of the idle loungers of the capital. Mixing with these, I +moved onward, and speedily passed the outer boulevard and gained the open +country. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI. ‘THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE’ +</h2> +<p> +I followed the soldiers as they marched beyond the outer boulevard and +gained the open country. Many of the idlers dropped off here; others +accompanied us a little farther; but at length, when the drums ceased to +beat, and were slung in marching order on the backs of the drummers, when +the men broke into the open order that French soldiers instinctively +assume on a march, the curiosity of the gazers appeared to have nothing +more to feed upon, and one by one they returned to the capital, leaving me +the only lingerer. +</p> +<p> +To any one accustomed to military display, there was little to attract +notice in the column, which consisted of detachments from various corps, +horse, foot, and artillery; some were returning to their regiments after a +furlough; some had just issued from the hospitals, and were seated in <i>charrettes</i>, +or country cars; and others, again, were peasant boys only a few days +before drawn in the conscription. There was every variety of uniform, and, +I may add, of raggedness, too—a coarse blouse and a pair of worn +shoes, with a red or blue handkerchief on the head, being the dress of +many among them. The Republic was not rich in those days, and cared little +for the costume in which her victories were won. The artillery alone +seemed to preserve anything like uniformity in dress. They wore a plain +uniform of blue, with long white gaiters coming half-way up the thigh; a +low cocked-hat, without feather, but with the tricoloured cockade in +front. They were mostly men middle aged, or past the prime of life, +bronzed, weather-beaten, hardy-looking fellows, whose white moustaches +contrasted well with their sun-burned faces. All their weapons and +equipments were of a superior kind, and showed the care bestowed upon an +arm whose efficiency was the first discovery of the republican generals. +The greater number of these were Bretons, and several of them had served +in the fleet, still bearing in their looks and carriage something of that +air which seems inherent in the seaman. They were grave, serious, and +almost stern in manner, and very unlike the young cavalry soldiers, who, +mostly recruited from the south of France, many of them Gascons, had all +the high-hearted gaiety and reckless levity of their own peculiar land. A +campaign to these fellows seemed a pleasant excursion; they made a jest of +everything, from the wan faces of the invalids to the black bread of the +commissary; they quizzed the new ‘Tourlerous,’ as the recruits were +styled, and the old ‘Grumblers,’ as it was the fashion to call the +veterans of the army; they passed their jokes on the Republic, and even +their own officers came in for a share of their ridicule. The Grenadiers, +however, were those who especially were made the subject of their sarcasm. +They were generally from the north of France, and the frontier country +toward Flanders, whence they probably imbibed a portion of that phlegm and +moroseness so very unlike the general gaiety of French nature; and when +assailed by such adversaries, were perfectly incapable of reply or +retaliation. +</p> +<p> +They all belonged to the army of the ‘Sambre et Meuse,’ which, although at +the beginning of the campaign highly distinguished for its successes, had +been latterly eclipsed by the extraordinary victories on the Upper Rhine +and in Western Germany; and it was curious to hear with what intelligence +and interest the greater questions of strategy were discussed by those who +carried their packs as common soldiers in the ranks. Movements and +manoeuvres were criticised, attacked, defended, ridiculed, and condemned, +with a degree of acuteness and knowledge that showed the enormous progress +the nation had made in military science, and with what ease the Republic +could recruit her officers from the ranks of her soldiers. +</p> +<p> +At noon the column halted in the wood of Belleville; and while the men +were resting, an express arrived announcing that a fresh body of troops +would soon arrive, and ordering the others to delay their march till they +came up. The orderly who brought the tidings could only say that he +believed some hurried news had come from Germany, for before he left Paris +the rappel was beating in different quarters, and the rumour ran that +reinforcements were to set out for Strasbourg with the utmost despatch. +</p> +<p> +‘And what troops are coming to join us?’ said an old artillery sergeant, +in evident disbelief of the tidings. +</p> +<p> +‘Two batteries of artillery and the voltigeurs of the 4th, I know for +certain are coming,’ said the orderly, ‘and they spoke of a battalion of +grenadiers.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What! do these Germans need another lesson?’ said the cannonier. ‘I +thought Fleurus had taught them what our troops were made of.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How you talk of Fleurus!’ interrupted a young hussar of the south. ‘I +have just come from the army of Italy, and, <i>ma foi!</i> we should never +have mentioned such a battle as Fleurus in a despatch. Campaigning amongst +dikes and hedges—fighting with a river on one flank and a fortress +on t’other—parade manoeuvres—where, at the first check, the +enemy retreats, and leaves you free, for the whole afternoon, to write off +your successes to the Directory. Had you seen our fellows scaling the +Alps, with avalanches of snow descending at every fire of the great guns—forcing +pass after pass against an enemy, posted on every cliff and crag above us—cutting +our way to victory by roads the hardiest hunter had seldom trod—I +call that war.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And I call it the skirmish of an outpost!’ said the gruff veteran, as he +smoked away in thorough contempt for the enthusiasm of the other. ‘I have +served under Kléber, Hoche, and Moreau, and I believe they are the first +generals of France.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There is a name greater than them all,’ cried the hussar, with eagerness. +</p> +<p> +‘Let us hear it, then—you mean Pichegru, perhaps, or Masséna?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, I mean Bonaparte!’ said the hussar triumphantly. +</p> +<p> +‘A good officer, and one of us,’ said the artilleryman, touching his belt +to intimate the arm of the service the general belonged to. ‘He commanded +the siege-train at Toulon.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He belongs to all,’ said the other. ‘He is a dragoon, a voltigeur, an +artillerist, a pontonnier—what you will—he knows everything, +as I know my horse’s saddle, and cloak-bag.’ +</p> +<p> +Both parties now grew warm; and as each was not only an eager partisan, +but well acquainted with the leading events of the two campaigns they +undertook to defend, the dispute attracted a large circle of listeners, +who, either seated on the green sward, or lying at full length, formed a +picturesque group under the shadow of the spreading oak-trees. Meanwhile, +the cooking went speedily forward, and the camp-kettles smoked with a +steam whose savoury odour was not a little tantalising to one who, like +myself, felt that he did not belong to the company. +</p> +<p> +‘What’s thy mess, boy?’ said an old grenadier to me, as I sat at a little +distance off, and affecting—but I fear very ill—a total +indifference to what went forward. +</p> +<p> +‘He is asking to what corps thou belong’st?’ said another, seeing that the +question puzzled me. +</p> +<p> +‘I Unfortunately I have none,’ said I. ‘I merely followed the march for +curiosity.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And thy father and mother, child—what will they say to thee on thy +return home?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have neither father, mother, nor home,’ said I promptly. +</p> +<p> +‘Just like myself,’ said an old red-whiskered sapeur; ‘or if I ever had +parents they never had the grace to own me. Come over here, child, and +take share of my dinner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, <i>parbleu!</i> I ‘ll have him for my comrade,’ cried the young +hussar. ‘I was made a corporal yesterday, and have a larger ration. Sit +here, my boy, and tell us how art called.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice will do; few of us care for more than one name, except in the +dead muster they like to have it in full. Help thyself, my lad, and here’s +the wine-flask beside thee.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How comes it thou hast this old uniform, boy?’ said he, pointing to my +sleeve. +</p> +<p> +‘It was one they gave me in the Temple,’ said I. ‘I was a <i>rat du prison</i> +for some time.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Thunder of war!’ exclaimed the cannonier, ‘I had rather stand a whole +platoon-fire than see what thou must have seen, child.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And hast heart to go back there, boy,’ said the corporal, ‘and live the +same life again?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, I ‘ll never go back,’ said I. ‘I ‘ll be a soldier.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well said, <i>mon brave</i>—thou’lt be a hussar, I know.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If nature has given thee a good head, and a quick eye, my boy, thou might +even do better, and in time, perhaps, wear a coat like mine,’ said the +cannonier. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Sacrebleu!</i> cried a little fellow, whose age might have been +anything from boyhood to manhood—for while small of stature, he was +shrivelled and wrinkled like a mummy—‘why not be satisfied with the +coat he wears?’ +</p> +<p> +‘And be a drummer, like thee?’ said the cannonier. +</p> +<p> +‘Just so, like me, and like Masséna—he was a drummer, too.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, no!’ cried a dozen voices together; ‘that’s not true.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He’s right; Masséna was a drummer in the Eighth,’ said the cannonier; ‘I +remember him when he was like that boy yonder.’ +</p> +<p> +‘To be sure,’ said the little fellow, who, I now perceived, wore the dress +of a <i>tambour</i>; and is it a disgrace to be the first to face the +enemy?’ +</p> +<p> +‘And the first to turn his back to him, comrade,’ cried another. +</p> +<p> +‘Not always—-not always,’ said the little fellow, regardless of the +laugh against him. ‘Had it been so, I had not gained the battle of +Grandrengs on the Sambre.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Thou gain a battle!’ shouted half a dozen, in derisive laughter. +</p> +<p> +‘What, Petit Pierre gained the day at Grandrengs!’ said the cannonier; +‘why, I was there myself, and never heard of that till now.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I can believe it well,’ replied Pierre; ‘many a man’s merits go +unacknowledged—and Kléber got all the credit that belonged to Pierre +Canot.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Let us hear about it, Pierre, for even thy victory is unknown by name to +us poor devils of the army of Italy. How call’st thou the place?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Grandrengs,’ said Pierre proudly. ‘It’s name will live as long, perhaps, +as many of those high-sounding ones you have favoured us with. Mayhap, +thou hast heard of Cambray?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Never!’ said the hussar, shaking his head. +</p> +<p> +‘Nor of Mons, either, I’ll be sworn?’ continued Pierre. +</p> +<p> +‘Quite true, I never heard of it before.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Voilà!</i> exclaimed Pierre, in contemptuous triumph. ‘And these are +the fellows that pretend to feel their country’s glory, and take pride in +her conquests. Where hast thou been, lad, not to hear of places that every +child syllables nowadays?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I will tell you where I’ve been,’ said the hussar haughtily, and dropping +at the same time the familiar ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ of soldier intercourse—‘I’ve +been at Montenotte, at Millesimo, at Mondove—- +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Allons, donc!</i> with your disputes,’ broke in an old grenadier; ‘as +if France was not victorious whether the enemies were English or German. +Let us hear how Pierre won his battle at—at——’ +</p> +<p> +‘At Grandrengs,’ said Pierre. ‘They call it in the despatch the “action of +the Sambre,” because Kléber came up there—and Kléber being a great +man, and Pierre Canot a little one, you understand, the glory attaches to +the place where the bullion epaulettes are found—just as the old +King of Prussia used to say, “Le bon Dieu est toujours a côté des gros +bataillons.”’ +</p> +<p> +‘I see we’ll never come to this same victory of Grandrengs, with all these +turnings and twistings,’ muttered the artillery sergeant. +</p> +<p> +‘Thou art very near it now, comrade, if thou’lt listen,’ said Pierre, as +he wiped his mouth after a long draught of the wine-flask. ‘I’ll not weary +the honourable company with any description of the battle generally, but +just confine myself to that part of it in which I was myself in action. It +is well known, that though we claimed the victory of the 10th May, we did +little more than keep our own, and were obliged to cross the Sambre, and +be satisfied with such a position as enabled us to hold the two bridges +over the river—and there we remained for four days; some said +preparing for a fresh attack upon Kaunitz, who commanded the allies; some, +and I believe they were right, alleging that our generals were squabbling +all day, and all night, too, with two commissaries that the Government had +sent down to teach us how to win battles. <i>Ma foi!</i> we had had some +experience in that way ourselves, without learning the art from two +citizens with tricoloured scarfs round their waists, and yellow tops to +their boots! However that might be, early on the morning of the 20th we +received orders to cross the river in two strong columns, and form on the +opposite side; at the same time that a division was to pass the stream by +boat two miles higher up, and, concealing themselves in a pine wood, be +ready to take the enemy in flank, when they believed that all the force +was in the front.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Sacré tonnerre!</i> I believe that our armies of the Sambre and the +Rhine never have any other notion of battles than that eternal flank +movement!’ cried a young sergeant of the voltigeurs, who had just come up +from the army of Italy. ‘Our general used to split the enemy by the +centre, cut him piecemeal by attack in columns, and then mow him down with +artillery at short range—not leaving him time for a retreat in heavy +masses——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Silence, silence, and let us hear Petit Pierre!’ shouted a dozen voices, +who cared far more for an incident than a scientific discussion about +manoeuvres. +</p> +<p> +‘The plan I speak of was General Moreau’s,’ continued Pierre; ‘and I fancy +that your Bonaparte has something to learn ere he be his equal!’ +</p> +<p> +This rebuke seeming to have engaged the suffrages of the company, he went +on: ‘The boat division consisted of four battalions of infantry, two +batteries of light artillery, and a voltigeur company of the “Régiment de +Marboeuf”—to which I was then, for the time, attached as <i>tambour +en chef</i>. What fellows they were—the greatest devils in the whole +army! They came from the Faubourg St. Antoine, and were as reckless and +undisciplined as when they strutted the streets of Paris. When they were +thrown out to skirmish, they used to play as many tricks as schoolboys: +sometimes they ‘d run up to the roof of a cabin or a hut—and they +could climb like cats—and, sitting down on the chimney, begin firing +away at the enemy as coolly as if from a battery; sometimes they’d capture +half-a-dozen asses, and ride forward as if to charge, and then, affecting +to tumble off, the fellows would pick down any of the enemy’s officers +that were fools enough to come near—scampering back to the cover of +the line, laughing and joking as if the whole were sport. I saw one when +his wrist was shattered by a shot, and he couldn’t fire, take a comrade on +his back and caper away like a horse, just to tempt the Germans to come +out of their lines. It was with these blessed youths I was now to serve, +for the <i>tambour</i> of the “Marboeuf” was drowned in crossing the +Sambre a few days before. Well, we passed the river safely, and, +unperceived by the enemy, gained the pine wood, where we formed in two +columns, one of attack, and the other of support—the voltigeurs +about five hundred paces in advance of the leading files. The morning was +dull and hazy, for a heavy rain had fallen during the night; and the +country is flat, and so much intersected with drains, and dikes, and +ditches, that, after rain, the vapour is too thick to see twenty yards on +any side. Our business was to make a counter-march to the right, and, +guided by the noise of the cannonade, to come down upon the enemy’s flank +in the thickest of the engagement. As we advanced, we found ourselves in a +kind of marshy plain, planted with willows, and so thick that it was often +difficult for three men to march abreast. This extended for a considerable +distance; and on escaping from it we saw that we were not above a mile +from the enemy’s left, which rested on a little village.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I know it well,’ broke in the cannonier; ‘it’s called Huyningen.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just so. There was a formidable battery in position there; and part of +the place was stockaded, as if they expected an attack. Still, there are +no vedettes, nor any lookout party, so far as we could see; and our +commanding officer didn’t well know what to make of it, whether it was a +point of concealed strength, or a position they were about to withdraw +from. At all events, it required caution; and, although the battle had +already begun on the right—as a loud cannonade and a heavy smoke +told us—he halted the brigade in the wood, and held a council of his +officers to see what was to be done. The resolution come to was, that the +voltigeurs should advance alone to explore the way, the rest of the force +remaining in ambush. We were to go out in sections of companies, and, +spreading over a wide surface, see what we could of the place. +</p> +<p> +‘Scarcely was the order given, when away we went—and it was now a +race who should be earliest up and exchange first shot with the enemy. +Some dashed forward over the open field in front; others skulked along by +dikes and ditches; some, again, dodged here and there, as cover offered +its shelter; but about a dozen, of whom I was one, kept the track of a +little cart-road, which, half concealed by high banks and furze, ran in a +zigzag line towards the village. I was always smart of foot; and now, +having newly joined the voltigeurs, was naturally eager to show myself not +unworthy of my new associates. I went on at my best pace, and being +lightly equipped—neither musket nor ball cartridge to carry—I +soon outstripped them all; and, after about twenty minutes’ brisk running, +saw in front of me a long, low farmhouse, the walls all pierced for +musketry, and two small eight-pounders in battery at the gate. I looked +back for my companions, but they were not up—not a man of them to be +seen. “No matter,” thought I, “they’ll be here soon; meanwhile, I’ll make +for that little copse of brushwood”; for a small clump of low furze and +broom was standing at a little distance in front of the farm. All this +time, I ought to say, not a man of the enemy was to be seen, although I, +from where I stood, could see the crenelated walls, and the guns, as they +were pointed. At a distance all would seem like an ordinary peasant house. +</p> +<p> +‘As I crossed the open space to gain the copse, piff! came a bullet, +whizzing past me; and just as I reached the cover, piff! came another. I +ducked my head and made for the thicket; but just as I did so, my foot +caught in a branch. I stumbled and pitched forward; and trying to save +myself, I grasped a bough above me; it smashed suddenly, and down I went. +Ay! down sure enough—for I went right through the furze, and into a +well—one of those old, walled wells they have in these countries, +with a huge bucket that fills up the whole space, and is worked by a +chain. Luckily, the bucket was linked up near the top, and caught me, or I +should have gone where there would have been no more heard of Pierre +Canot; as it was, I was sorely bruised by the fall, and didn’t recover +myself for full ten minutes after. Then I discovered that I was sitting in +a large wooden trough, hooped with iron, and supported by two heavy chains +that passed over a windlass, about ten feet above my head. +</p> +<p> +‘I was safe enough for the matter of that; at least, none were likely to +discover me, as I could easily see by the rust of the chain and the +grass-grown edges, that the well had been long disused. Now the position +was far from being pleasant. There stood the farmhouse full of soldiers, +the muskets ranging over every approach to where I lay. Of my comrades +there was nothing to be seen—they had either missed the way or +retreated; and so time crept on, and I pondered on what might be going +forward elsewhere, and whether it would ever be my own fortune to see my +comrades again. +</p> +<p> +‘It might be an hour—it seemed three or four to me—after this, +as I looked over the plain, I saw the caps of our infantry just issuing +over the brushwood, and a glancing lustre of their bayonets, as the sun +tipped them. They were advancing, but, as it seemed, slowly—halting +at times, and then moving forward again—just like a force waiting +for others to come up. At last they debouched into the plain; but, to my +surprise, they wheeled about to the right, leaving the farmhouse on their +flank, as if to march beyond it. This was to lose their way totally; +nothing would be easier than to carry the position of the farm, for the +Germans were evidently few, had no vedettes, and thought themselves in +perfect security. I crept out from my ambush, and, holding my cap on a +stick, tried to attract notice from our fellows, but none saw me. I +ventured at last to shout aloud, but with no better success; so that, +driven to the end of my resources, I set to and beat a <i>roulade</i> on +the drum, thundering away with all my might, and not caring what might +come of it, for I was half mad with vexation as well as despair. They +heard me now; I saw a staff-officer gallop up to the head of the leading +division and halt them; a volley came peppering from behind me, but +without doing me any injury, for I was safe once more in my bucket. Then +came another pause, and again I repeated my manouvre, and to my delight +perceived that our fellows were advancing at quick march. I beat harder, +and the drums of the grenadiers answered me. All right now, thought I, as, +springing forward, I called out—“This way, boys, the wall of the +orchard has scarcely a man to defend it!” and I rattled out the <i>pas de +charge</i> with all my force. One crashing fire of guns and small-arms +answered me from the farmhouse, and then away went the Germans as hard as +they could!—such running never was seen! One of the guns they +carried off with them; the tackle of the other broke, and the drivers, +jumping off their saddles, took to their legs at once. Our lads were over +the walls, through the windows, between the stockades, everywhere, in +fact, in a minute, and, once inside, they carried all before them. The +village was taken at the point of the bayonet, and in less than an hour +the whole force of the brigade was advancing in full march on the enemy’s +flank. There was little resistance made after that, and Kaunitz only saved +his artillery by leaving his rear-guard to be cut to pieces.’ +</p> +<p> +The cannonier nodded, as if in full assent, and Pierre looked around him +with the air of a man who has vindicated his claim to greatness. +</p> +<p> +‘Of course,’ said he, ‘the despatch said little about Pierre Canot, but a +great deal about Moreau, and Kléber, and the rest of them.’ +</p> +<p> +While some were well satisfied that Pierre had well established his merits +as the conqueror of ‘Grandrengs,’ others quizzed him about the heroism of +lying hid in a well, and owing all his glory to a skin of parchment. +</p> +<p> +‘An’ thou wert with the army of Italy, Pierre,’ said the hussar, ‘thou ‘d +have seen men march boldly to victory, and not skulk underground like a +mole.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am tired of your song about this army of Italy,’ broke in the +cannonier; ‘we who have served in La Vendée and the North know what +fighting means as well, mayhap, as men whose boldest feats are scaling +rocks and clambering up precipices. Your Bonaparte is more like one of +those Guerilla chiefs they have in the “Basque,” than the general of a +French army.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The man who insults the army of Italy, or its chief, insults me!’ said +the corporal, springing up, and casting a sort of haughty defiance around +him. +</p> +<p> +‘And then?’—asked the other. +</p> +<p> +‘And then—if he be a French soldier, he knows what should follow.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i>’ said the cannonier coolly, ‘there would be little glory +in cutting you down, and even less in being wounded by you; but if you +will have it so, it’s not an old soldier of the artillery will balk your +humour.’ +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, he slowly arose from the ground, and tightening his +waist-belt, seemed prepared to follow the other. The rest sprang to their +feet at the same time, but not, as I anticipated, to offer a friendly +mediation between the angry parties, but in full approval of their +readiness to decide by the sword a matter too trivial to be called a +quarrel. +</p> +<p> +In the midst of the whispering conferences as to place and weapons—for +the short straight sword of the artillery was very unlike the curved sabre +of the hussar—the quick tramp of horses was heard, and suddenly the +head of a squadron was seen, as, with glancing helmets and glittering +equipments, they turned off the highroad and entered the wood. +</p> +<p> +‘Here they come!—here come the troops!’ was now heard on every side; +and all question of the duel was forgotten in the greater interest +inspired by the arrival of the others. The sight was strikingly +picturesque; for, as they rode up, the order to dismount was given, and in +an instant the whole squadron was at work picketing and unsaddling their +horses; forage was shaken out before the weary and hungry beasts, kits +were unpacked, cooking utensils produced, and every one busy in preparing +for the bivouac. An infantry column followed close upon the others, which +was again succeeded by two batteries of field-artillery and some squadrons +of heavy dragoons; and now the whole wood, far and near, was crammed with +soldiers, waggons, caissons, and camp equipage. To me the interest of the +scene was never-ending—life, bustle, and gaiety on every side. The +reckless pleasantry of the camp, too, seemed elevated by the warlike +accompaniments of the picture—the caparisoned horses, the brass +guns, blackened on many a battlefield, the weather-seamed faces of the +hardy soldiers themselves, all conspiring to excite a high enthusiasm for +the career. +</p> +<p> +Most of the equipments were new and strange to my eyes. I had never before +seen the grenadiers of the Republican Guard, with their enormous shakos, +and their long-flapped vests, descending to the middle of the thigh; +neither had I seen the ‘Hussars de la mort,’ in their richly braided +uniform of black, and their long hair curled in ringlets at either side of +the face. The cuirassiers, too, with their low cocked-hats, and straight +black feathers, as well as the ‘Porte-drapeaux,’ whose brilliant uniforms, +all slashed with gold, seemed scarcely in keeping with yellow-topped +boots; all were now seen by me for the first time. But of all the figures +which amused me most by its singularity, was that of a woman, who, in a +short frock-coat and a low-crowned hat, carried a little barrel at her +side, and led an ass loaded with two similar but rather larger casks. Her +air and gait were perfectly soldierlike; and as she passed the different +posts and sentries, she saluted them in true military fashion. I was not +long to remain in ignorance of her vocation nor her name; for scarcely did +she pass a group without stopping to dispense a wonderful cordial that she +carried; and then I heard the familiar title of ‘La Mère Madou,’ uttered +in every form of panegyric. +</p> +<p> +She was a short, stoutly built figure, somewhat past the middle of life, +but without any impairment of activity in her movements. A pleasing +countenance, with good teeth, and black eyes, a merry voice, and a ready +tongue, were qualities more than sufficient to make her a favourite with +the soldiers, whom I found she had followed to more than one battlefield. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Peste!</i> cried an old grenadier, as he spat out the liquor on the +ground. ‘This is one of those sweet things they make in Holland; it smacks +of treacle and bad lemons.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, Grognard!’ said she, laughing, ‘thou art more used to corn-brandy, +with a clove of garlick in’t, than to good curaçoa.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What, curaçoa! Mère Madou, has got curaçoa there?’ cried a grey-whiskered +captain, as he turned on his saddle at the word. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, <i>mon capitaine</i>, and such as no burgomaster ever drank better’; +and she filled out a little glass and presented it gracefully to him. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Encore! ma bonne mère</i>,’ said he, as he wiped his thick moustache; +‘that liquor is another reason for extending the blessings of liberty to +the brave Dutch.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Didn’t I tell you so?’ said she, refilling the glass; ‘but, holloa, there +goes Grégoire at full speed. Ah, scoundrels that ye are, I see what ye ‘ve +done.’ And so was it; some of the wild young voltigeur fellows had +fastened a lighted furze-bush to the beast’s tail, and had set him at a +gallop through the very middle of the encampment, upsetting tents, +scattering cooking-pans, and tumbling the groups, as they sat, in every +direction. +</p> +<p> +The confusion was tremendous, for the picketed horses jumped about, and +some, breaking loose, galloped here and there, while others set off with +half-unpacked waggons, scattering their loading as they went. +</p> +<p> +It was only when the blazing furze had dropped off, that the whole cause +of the mischance would suffer himself to be captured and led quietly back +to his mistress. Half crying with joy, and still wild with anger, she +kissed the beast and abused her tormentors by turns. +</p> +<p> +‘Cannoniers that ye are,’ she cried, ‘<i>ma foi</i>! you’ll have little +taste for fire when the day comes that ye should face it! <i>Pauvre</i> +Grégoire, they’ve left thee a tail like a tirailleur’s feather! Plagues +light on the thieves that did it! Come here, boy,’ said she, addressing +me, ‘hold, the bridle; what’s thy corps, lad?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have none now; I only followed the soldiers from Paris.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Away with thee, street runner; away with thee, then,’ said she +contemptuously; ‘there are no pockets to pick here; and if there were, +thou ‘d lose thy ears for the doing it. Be off, then—back with thee +to Paris and all its villainies. There are twenty thousand of thy trade +there, but there’s work for ye all.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nay, mère, don’t be harsh with the boy,’ said a soldier; ‘you can see by +his coat that his heart is with us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And he stole that, I’ll be sworn,’ said she, pulling me round, by the +arm, full in front of her. ‘Answer me, <i>gamin</i>, where didst find that +old tawdry jacket?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I got it in a place where, if they had hold of thee and thy bad tongue, +it would fare worse with thee than thou thinkest,’ said I, maddened by the +imputed theft and insolence together. +</p> +<p> +‘And where may that be, young slip of the galleys?’ cried she angrily. +</p> +<p> +‘In the “Prison du Temple.”’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is that their livery, then?’ said she, laughing and pointing at me with +ridicule, ‘or is it a family dress made after thy father’s?’ +</p> +<p> +‘My father wore a soldier’s coat, and bravely, too,’ said I, with +difficulty restraining the tears that rose to my eyes. +</p> +<p> +‘In what regiment, boy?’ asked the soldier who spoke before. +</p> +<p> +‘In one that exists no longer,’ said I sadly, and not wishing to allude to +a service that would find but slight favour in republican ears. +</p> +<p> +‘That must be the 24th of the Line; they were cut to pieces at “Tongres.”’ +</p> +<p> +‘No—no, he ‘s thinking of the 9th, that got so roughly handled at +Fontenoy,’ said another. +</p> +<p> +‘Of neither,’ said I; ‘I am speaking of those who have left nothing but a +name behind them—the Garde du Corps of the king.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Voilà!</i> cried Madou, clapping her hands in astonishment at my +impertinence; ‘there’s an aristocrat for you! Look at him, <i>mes braves!</i> +it’s not every day we have the grand seigneurs condescending to come +amongst us! You can learn something of courtly manners from the polished +descendant of our nobility. Say, boy, art a count, or a baron, or perhaps +a duke?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Make way there—out of the road, Mère Madou,’ cried a dragoon, +curveting his horse in such a fashion as almost to upset ass and <i>cantinière</i> +together, ‘the staff is coming.’ +</p> +<p> +The mere mention of the word sent numbers off in full speed to their +quarters; and now all was haste and bustle to prepare for the coming +inspection. The mère’s endeavours to drag her beast along were not very +successful, for, with the peculiar instinct of his species, the more +necessity there was of speed, the lazier he became; and as every one had +his own concerns to look after, she was left to her own unaided efforts to +drive him forward. +</p> +<p> +‘Thou’lt have a day in prison if thou’rt found here, Mère Madou,’ said a +dragoon, as he struck the ass with the flat of his sabre. +</p> +<p> +‘I know it well,’ cried she passionately; ‘but I have none to help me. +Come here, lad; be good-natured, and forget what passed. Take his bridle +while I whip him on.’ +</p> +<p> +I was at first disposed to refuse, but her pitiful face and sad plight +made me think better of it, and I seized the bridle at once; but just as I +had done so, the escort galloped forward, and the dragoons coming on the +flank of the miserable beast, over he went, barrels and all, crushing me +beneath him as he fell. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10111.jpg" width="100%" alt="111 " /> +</div> +<p> +‘Is the boy hurt?’ were the last words I heard, as I fainted; but a few +minutes after I found myself seated on the grass, while a soldier was +stanching the blood that ran freely from a cut in my forehead. +</p> +<p> +‘It is a trifle, general—a mere scratch,’ said a young officer to an +old man on horseback beside him, ‘and the leg is not broken.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Glad of it,’ said the old officer; ‘casualties are insufferable, except +before an enemy. Send the lad to his regiment.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He’s only a camp-follower, general. He does not belong to us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There, my lad, take this, then, and make thy way back to Paris,’ said the +old general, as he threw me a small piece of money. +</p> +<p> +I looked up, and, straight before me, saw the same officer who had given +me the assignat the night before. +</p> +<p> +‘General Lacoste!’ cried I, in delight, for I thought him already a +friend. +</p> +<p> +‘How is this—have I an acquaintance here?’ said he, smiling; ‘on my +life! it’s the young rogue I met this morning. Eh! art not thou the +artillery-driver I spoke to at the barrack?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, general, the same.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Diantre!</i> It seems fated, then, that we are not to part company so +easily; for hadst thou remained in Paris, lad, we had most probably never +met again.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Ainsi, je suis bien tombé, general?</i> said I, punning upon my +accident. +</p> +<p> +He laughed heartily, less, I suppose, at the jest, which was a poor one, +than at the cool impudence with which I uttered it, and then turning to +one of the staff, said— +</p> +<p> +‘I spoke to Bertholet about this boy already; see that they take him in +the 9th. I say, my lad, what’s thy name?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, to be sure, Tiernay. Well, Tiernay, thou shalt be a hussar, my man. +See that I get no disgrace by the appointment.’ +</p> +<p> +I kissed his hand fervently, and the staff rode forward, leaving me the +happiest heart that beat in all the crowded host. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII. A PASSING ACQUAINTANCE +</h2> +<p> +If the guide who is to lead us on a long and devious track stops at every +byway, following out each path that seems to invite a ramble or suggest a +halt, we naturally might feel distrustful of his safe conduct, and uneasy +at the prospect of the road before us. In the same way may the reader be +disposed to fear that he who descends to slight and trivial circumstances +will scarcely have time for events which ought to occupy a wider space in +his reminiscences; and for this reason I am bound to apologise for the +seeming transgression of my last chapter. Most true it is, that were I to +relate the entire of my life with a similar diffuseness, my memoir would +extend to a length far beyond what I intend it to occupy. Such, however, +is very remote from my thoughts. I have dwelt with, perhaps, something of +prolixity upon the soldier-life and characteristics of a past day, because +I shall yet have to speak of changes, without which the contrast would be +inappreciable; but I have also laid stress upon an incident trivial in +itself, because it formed an event in my own fortunes. It was thus, in +fact, that I became a soldier. +</p> +<p> +Now, the man who carries a musket in the ranks may very reasonably be +deemed but a small ingredient of the mass that forms an army; and in our +day his thoughts, hopes, fears, and ambitions are probably as unknown and +uncared for as the precise spot of earth that yielded the ore from which +his own weapon was smelted. This is not only reasonable, but it is right +in the time of which I am now speaking it was far otherwise. The Republic, +in extinguishing a class, had elevated the individual; and now each, in +whatever station he occupied, felt himself qualified to entertain opinions +and express sentiments which, because they were his own, he presumed them +to be national The idlers of the streets discussed the deepest questions +of politics; the soldiers talked of war with all the presumption of +consummate generalship. The great operations of a campaign, and the +various qualities of different commanders, were the daily subjects of +dispute in the camp. Upon one topic only were all agreed; and there, +indeed, our unanimity repaid all previous discordance. We deemed France +the only civilised nation of the globe, and reckoned that people thrice +happy who, by any contingency of fortune, engaged our sympathy, or +procured the distinction of our presence in arms. We were the heaven-born +disseminators of freedom throughout Europe, the sworn enemies of kingly +domination, and the missionaries of a political creed, which was not alone +to ennoble mankind, but to render its condition eminently happy and +prosperous. +</p> +<p> +There could not be an easier lesson to learn than this, and particularly +when dinned into your ears all day, and from every rank and grade around +you. It was the programme of every message from the Directory; it was the +opening of every general order from the general; it was the table-talk of +your mess. The burthen of every song, the title of every military march +performed by the regimental band, recalled it; even the riding-master, as +he followed the recruit around the weary circle, whip in hand, mingled the +orders he uttered with apposite axioms upon republican grandeur. How I +think I hear it still! as the grim old quartermaster-sergeant, with his +Alsatian accent and deep-toned voice, would call out— +</p> +<p> +‘Elbows back!—wrist lower and free from the side—free, I say, +as every citizen of a great Republic!—head erect, as a Frenchman has +a right to carry it!—chest full out, like one who can breathe the +air of heaven, and ask no leave from king or despot!—down with your +heel, sir; think that you crush a tyrant beneath it!’ +</p> +<p> +Such and such like were the running commentaries on equitation, till often +I forgot whether the lesson had more concern with a seat on horseback or +the great cause of monarchy throughout Europe. I suppose, to use a popular +phrase of our own day, ‘the system worked well’; certainly the spirit of +the army was unquestionable. From the grim old veteran, with snow-white +moustache, to the beardless, boy, there was but one hope and wish—the +glory of France. How they understood that glory, or in what it essentially +consisted, is another and very different question. +</p> +<p> +Enrolled as a soldier in the ninth regiment of Hussars, I accompanied that +corps to Nancy, where, at that time, a large cavalry school was formed, +and where the recruits from the different regiments were trained and +managed before being sent forward to their destination. +</p> +<p> +A taste for equitation, and a certain aptitude for catching up the +peculiar character of the different horses, at once distinguished me in +the riding-school, and I was at last adopted by the riding-master of the +regiment as a kind of aide to him in his walk. When I thus became a bold +and skilful horseman, my proficiency interfered with my promotion, for +instead of accompanying my regiment I was detained at Nancy, and attached +to the permanent staff of the cavalry school there. +</p> +<p> +At first I asked for nothing better. It was a life of continued pleasure +and excitement, and while I daily acquired knowledge of a subject which +interested me deeply, I grew tall and strong of limb, and with that +readiness in danger, and that cool collectedness in moments of difficulty, +that are so admirably taught by the accidents and mischances of a cavalry +riding-school. +</p> +<p> +The most vicious and unmanageable beasts from the Limousin were often sent +to us, and when any one of these was deemed peculiarly untractable, ‘Give +him to Tiernay’ was the last appeal, before abandoning him as hopeless. +I’m certain I owe much of the formation of my character to my life at this +period, and that my love of adventure, my taste for excitement, my +obstinate resolution to conquer a difficulty, my inflexible perseverance +when thwarted, and my eager anxiety for praise, were all picked up amid +the sawdust and tan of the riding-school. How long I might have continued +satisfied with such triumphs, and content to be the wonder of the freshly +joined conscripts, I know not, when accident, or something very like it, +decided the question. +</p> +<p> +It was a calm, delicious evening in April, in the year after I had entered +the school, that I was strolling alone on the old fortified wall, which, +once a strong redoubt, was the favourite walk of the good citizens of +Nancy. I was somewhat tired with the fatigues of the day, and sat down to +rest under one of the acacia-trees, whose delicious blossom was already +scenting the air. The night was still and noiseless; not a man moved along +the wall; the hum of the city was gradually subsiding, and the lights in +the cottages over the plain told that the labourer was turning homeward +from his toil. It was an hour to invite calm thoughts, and so I fell +a-dreaming over the tranquil pleasures of a peasant’s life, and the +unruffled peace of an existence passed amid scenes that were endeared by +years of intimacy. ‘How happily,’ thought I, ‘time must steal on in these +quiet spots, where the strife and struggle of war are unknown, and even +the sounds of conflict never reach!’ Suddenly my musings were broken in +upon by hearing the measured tramp of cavalry, as at a walk; a long column +wound their way along the zigzag approaches, which by many a redoubt and +fosse, over many a drawbridge, and beneath many a strong arch, led to the +gates of Nancy. The loud, sharp call of a trumpet was soon heard, and, +after a brief parley, the massive gates of the fortress were opened for +the troops to enter. From the position I occupied exactly over the gate, I +could not only see the long, dark line of armed men as they passed, but +also hear the colloquy which took place as they entered— +</p> +<p> +‘What regiment?* +</p> +<p> +‘Detachments of the 12th Dragoons and the 22nd Chasseurs à cheval.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Where from?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Valence.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Whereto?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The army of the Rhine.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Pass on!’ +</p> +<p> +And with the words the ringing sound of the iron-shod horses was heard +beneath the vaulted entrance. As they issued from beneath the long deep +arch, the men were formed in line along two sides of a wide ‘Place’ inside +the walls, where, with that despatch that habit teaches, the billets were +speedily distributed, and the parties ‘told off’ in squads for different +parts of the city. The force seemed a considerable one, and with all the +celerity they could employ, the billeting occupied a long time. As I +watched the groups moving off, I heard the direction given to one party, +‘Cavalry School—Rue de Lorraine.’ The young officer who commanded +the group took a direction exactly the reverse of the right one; and +hastening down from the rampart, I at once overtook them, and explained +the mistake. I offered them my guidance to the place, which being +willingly accepted, I walked along at their side. +</p> +<p> +Chatting as we went, I heard that the dragoons were hastily withdrawn from +La Vendee to form part of the force under General Hoche. The young +sous-lieutenant, a mere boy of my own age, had already served in two +campaigns in Holland and the south of France; had been wounded in the +Loire, and received his grade of officer at the hands of Hoche himself on +the field of battle. +</p> +<p> +He could speak of no other name—Hoche was the hero of all his +thoughts; his gallantry, his daring, his military knowledge, his coolness +in danger, his impetuosity in attack, his personal amiability, the mild +gentleness of his manner, were themes the young soldier loved to dwell on; +and however pressed by me to talk of war and its chances, he inevitably +came back to the one loved theme—his general. +</p> +<p> +When the men were safely housed for the night, I invited my new friend to +my own quarters, where, having provided the best entertainment I could +afford, we passed more than half the night in chatting. There was nothing +above mediocrity in the look or manner of the youth; his descriptions of +what he had seen were unmarked by anything glowing or picturesque; his +observations did not evince either a quick or a reflective mind, and yet, +over this mass of commonplace, enthusiasm for his leader had shed a rich +glow, like a gorgeous sunlight on a landscape, that made all beneath it +seem brilliant and splendid. +</p> +<p> +‘And now,’ said he, after an account of the last action he had seen, ‘and +now, enough of myself; let’s talk of thee. Where hast thou been?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Here!’ said I, with a sigh, and in a voice that shame had almost made +inaudible. ‘Here, here, at Nancy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not always here?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just so. Always here.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And what doing, <i>mon cher</i>? Thou art not one of the Municipal Guard, +surely?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No,’ said I, smiling sadly, ‘I belong to the “École d‘Équitation.’” + </p> +<p> +‘Ah, that’s it,’ said he, in somewhat of confusion; ‘I always thought they +selected old Serjeants <i>en retraite</i>, worn-out veterans, and wounded +fellows, for riding-school duty.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Most of ours are such,’ said I, my shame increasing at every word—‘but +somehow they chose me also, and I had no will in the matter——’ +</p> +<p> +‘No will in the matter, <i>parbleu!</i> and why not? Every man in France +has a right to meet the enemy in the field. Thou art a soldier, a hussar +of the 9th, a brave and gallant corps, and art to be told that thy +comrades have the road to fame and honour open to them, whilst thou art to +mope away life like an invalided drummer? It is too gross an indignity, my +boy, and must not be borne. Away with you to-morrow at daybreak to the +état-major; ask to see the Commandant. You’re in luck, too, for our +colonel is with him now, and he is sure to back your request. Say that you +served in the school to oblige your superiors, but that you cannot see all +chances of distinction lost to you for ever by remaining there. They’ve +given you no grade yet, I see,’ continued he, looking at my arm. +</p> +<p> +‘None; I am still a private.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And I a sous-lieutenant, just because I have been where powder was +flashing! You can ride well, of course?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I defy the wildest Limousin to shake me in my saddle.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And, as a swordsman, what are you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Gros Jean calls me his best pupil.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, true! you have Gros Jean here, the best <i>sabreur</i> in France! And +here you are—a horseman, and one of Gros Jean’s <i>élèves</i>—rotting +away life in Nancy! Have you any friends in the service?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not one! Nor relations, nor connections?’ +</p> +<p> +‘None. I am Irish by descent. My family are only French by one +generation.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Irish! Ah! that’s lucky too,’ said he. ‘Our colonel is an Irishman. His +name is Mahon. You’re certain of getting your leave now. I’ll present you +to him to-morrow. We are to halt two days here, and before that is over, I +hope you’ll have made your last caracole in the riding-school of Nancy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But remember,’ cried I, ‘that although Irish by family, I have never been +there. I know nothing of either the people or the language—and do +not present me to the general as his countryman.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll call you by your name, as a soldier of the 9th Hussars, and leave +you to make out your claim as countrymen, if you please, together.’ +</p> +<p> +This course was now agreed upon, and after some further talking, my +friend, refusing all my offers of a bed, coolly wrapped his cloak about +him, and, with his head on the table, fell fast asleep, long before I had +ceased thinking over his stories and his adventures in camp and +battlefield. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII. ‘TRONCHON’ +</h2> +<p> +My duties in the riding-school were always over before mid-day, and as +noon was the hour appointed by the young lieutenant to present me to his +colonel, I was ready by that time, and anxiously awaiting his arrival. I +had done my best to smarten up my uniform, and make all my accoutrements +bright and glistening. My scabbard was polished like silver, the steel +front of my shako shone like a mirror, and the tinsel lace of my jacket +had undergone a process of scrubbing and cleaning that threatened its very +existence. My smooth chin and beardless upper-lip, however, gave me a +degree of distress that all other deficiencies failed to inflict. I can +dare to say, that no mediaeval gentleman’s bald spot ever cost him +one-half the misery as did my lack of moustache occasion me. ‘A hussar +without beard, as well without spurs or sabretache’; a tambour major +without his staff, a cavalry charger without a tail, couldn’t be more +ridiculous; and there was that old serjeant of the riding-school, +‘Tron-chon,’ with a beard that might have made a mattress! How the goods +of this world are unequally distributed! thought I; still why might he not +spare me a little—a very little would suffice—just enough to +give the ‘air hussar’ to my countenance. He’s an excellent creature, the +kindest old fellow in the world. I ‘m certain he ‘d not refuse me. To be +sure, the beard is a red one, and pretty much like bell-wire in +consistence; no matter, better that than this girlish smooth chin I now +wear. +</p> +<p> +Tronchon was spelling out the <i>Moniteurs</i> account of the Italian +campaign as I entered his room, and found it excessively difficult to get +back from the Alps and Apennines to the humble request I preferred. +</p> +<p> +‘Poor fellows!’ muttered he—‘four battles in seven days, without +stores of any kind or rations—almost without bread; and here comest +thou, whining because thou hasn’t a beard.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If I were not a hussar——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Bah!’ said he, interrupting, ‘what of that? Where shouldst thou have had +thy baptism of blood, boy? Art a child—nothing more.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I shared my quarters last night with one, not older, Tronchon, and he was +an officer, and had seen many a battlefield.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I know that, too,’ said the veteran, with an expression of impatience—‘and +that General Bonaparte will give every boy his epaulettes before an old +and tried soldier.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It was not Bonaparte. It was——’ +</p> +<p> +‘I care not who promoted the lad; the system is just the same with them +all. It is no longer, “Where have you served?—what have you seen?” + but, “Can you read glibly?—can you write faster than speak?—have +you learned to take towns upon paper, and attack a breastwork with a rule +and a pair of compasses?” This is what they called “<i>le génie</i>” “<i>le +génie</i>”—ha! ha! ha!’ cried he, laughing heartily; ‘that’s the +name old women used to give the devil when I was a boy.’ +</p> +<p> +It was with the greatest difficulty I could get him back from these +disagreeable reminiscences to the object of my visit, and, even then, I +could hardly persuade him that I was serious in asking the loan of a +beard. The prayer of my petition being once understood, he discussed the +project gravely enough; but to my surprise he was far more struck by the +absurd figure <i>he</i> should cut with his diminished mane, than <i>I</i> +with my mock moustache. +</p> +<p> +‘There’s not a child in Nancy won’t laugh at me—they’ll cry, “There +goes old Tronchon—he’s like Kléber’s charger, which the German cut +the tail off, to make a shako plume!”’ +</p> +<p> +‘I assured him that he might as well pretend to miss one tree in the +forest of Fontainebleau—that after furnishing a squadron like +myself, his would be still the first beard in the Republic; and at last he +yielded, and gave in. +</p> +<p> +Never did a little damsel of the nursery array her doll with more +delighted looks, and gaze upon her handiwork with more self-satisfaction, +than did old Tronchon survey me, as, with the aid of a little gum, he +decorated my lip with a stiff line of his iron-red beard. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Diantre!</i>’ cried he, in ecstasy, ‘if thou ben’t something like a +man after all. Who would have thought it would have made such a change? +Thou might pass for one that saw real smoke and real fire, any day, lad. +Ay! thou hast another look in thine eye, and another way to carry thy +head, now! Trust me, thou’lt look a different fellow on the left of the +squadron.’ +</p> +<p> +I began to think so too, as I looked at myself in the small triangle of a +looking-glass which decorated Tronchon’s wall, under a picture of +Kellermann, his first captain. I fancied that the improvement was most +decided. I thought that, bating a little over-ferocity, a something +verging upon the cruel, I was about as perfect a type of the hussar as +need be. My jacket seemed to fit tighter—my pelisse hung more +jauntily—my shako sat more saucily on one side of my head—my +sabre banged more proudly against my boot—my very spurs jangled with +a pleasanter music—and all because a little hair bristled over my +lip, and curled in two spiral flourishes across my cheek! I longed to see +the effect of my changed appearance, as I walked down the ‘Place +Carrière,’ or sauntered into the café where my comrades used to assemble. +What will Mademoiselle Josephine say, thought I, as I ask for my <i>petit +verre</i>, caressing my moustache thus! Not a doubt of it, what a fan is +to a woman a beard is to a soldier!—a something to fill up the +pauses in conversation, by blandly smoothing with the finger, or fiercely +curling at the point. +</p> +<p> +‘And so thou art going to ask for thy grade, Maurice?’ broke in Tronchon, +after a long silence. +</p> +<p> +‘Not at all. I am about to petition for employment upon active service. I +don’t seek promotion till I have deserved it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Better still, lad. I was eight years myself in the ranks before they gave +me the stripe on my arm. <i>Parbleu!</i> the Germans had given me some +three or four with the sabre before that time.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Do you think they ‘ll refuse me, Tronchon?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not if thou go the right way about it, lad. Thou mustn’t fancy it’s like +asking leave from the captain to spend the evening in a <i>guinguette</i>, +or to go to the play with thy sweetheart. No, no, boy. It must be done <i>en +règle</i>. Thou’lt have to wait on the general at his quarters at four +o’clock, when he “receives,” as they call it. Thou’lt be there, mayhap, an +hour, ay, two or three belike, and after all, perhaps, won’t see him that +day at all! I was a week trying to catch Kellermann, and, at last, he only +spoke to me going downstairs with his staff— +</p> +<p> +‘"Eh, Tronchon, another bullet in thy old carcass; want a furlough to get +strong again, eh?” + </p> +<p> +‘"No, colonel; all sound this time. I want to be a sergeant—I’m +twelve years and four months corporal.” + </p> +<p> +‘"Slow work, too,” said he, laughing; “ain’t it, Charles?” and he pinched +one of his young officers by the cheek. “Let old Tronchon have his grade; +and I say, my good fellow,” said he to me, “don’t come plaguing me any +more about promotion till I’m General of Division. You hear that?” + </p> +<p> +‘Well, he’s got his step since; but I never teased him after.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And why so, Tronchon?’ said L +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll tell thee, lad,’ whispered he, in a low, confidential tone, as if +imparting a secret well worth the hearing. ‘They can find fellows every +day fit for lieutenants and <i>chefs d’escadron. Parbleu!</i> they meet +with them in every café, in every “billiard” you enter; but a sergeant! +Maurice, one that drills his men on parade—can dress them like a +wall—see that every kit is well packed, and every cartouch well +filled—who knows every soul in his company as he knows the buckles +of his own sword-belt—that’s what one should not chance upon in +haste. It’s easy enough to manoeuvre the men, Maurice; but to make them, +boy, to fashion the fellows so that they be like the pieces of a great +machine, that’s the real labour—that’s soldiering indeed.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And you say I must write a petition, Tronchon?’ said I, more anxious to +bring him back to my own affairs than listen to these speculations of his. +‘How shall I do it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Sit down there, lad, and I’ll tell thee. I’ve done the thing some scores +of times, and know the words as well as I once knew my “Pater.” <i>Parbleu!</i> +I often wish I could remember that now, just to keep me from gloomy +thoughts when I sit alone of an evening.’ +</p> +<p> +It was not a little to his astonishment, but still more to his delight, +that I told the poor fellow I could help to refresh his memory, knowing, +as I did, every word of the litanies by heart; and, accordingly, it was +agreed on that I should impart religious instruction in exchange for the +secular knowledge he was conferring upon me. +</p> +<p> +‘As for the petition,’ said Tronchon, seating himself opposite to me at +the table, ‘it is soon done; for mark me, lad, these things must always be +short; if thou be long-winded, they put thee away, and tell some of the +clerks to look after thee—and there’s an end of it. Be brief, +therefore, and next—be legible—write in a good, large, round +hand; just as, if thou wert speaking, thou wouldst talk with a fine, +clear, distinct voice. Well, then, begin thus:—“Republic of France, +one and indivisible!” Make a flourish round that, lad, as if it came +freely from the pen. When a man writes—“France!” he should do it as +he whirls his sabre round his head in a charge! Ay, just so.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I ‘m ready, Tronchon, go on.’ +</p> +<p> +‘“<i>Mon Général!</i>” Nay, nay—<i>Général</i> mustn’t be as large +as <i>France</i>—yes, that’s better. “The undersigned, whose +certificates of service and conduct are herewith inclosed.” Stay, stop a +moment, Tronchon; don’t forget that I have got neither one nor t’other. No +matter; I’ll make thee out both. Where was I?—Ay, “herewith +inclosed; and whose wounds, as the accompanying report will show——“’ +</p> +<p> +‘Wounds! I never received one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No matter, I’ll—eh—what? <i>Feu d’enfer!</i> how stupid I am! +What have I been thinking of? Why, boy, it was a sick-furlough I was about +to ask for—the only kind of petition I have ever had to write in a +life long.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And <i>I</i> am asking for active service.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ha! That came without asking for in my case.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then what’s to be done, Tronchon?—clearly this won’t do!’ +</p> +<p> +He nodded sententiously an assent, and, after a moment’s rumination, said— +</p> +<p> +‘It strikes me, lad, there can be no need of begging for that which +usually comes unlooked for; but if thou don’t choose to wait for thy +billet for t’other world, but must go and seek it, the best way will be to +up and tell the general as much.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That was exactly my intention.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If he asks thee, “Canst ride?” just say, “Old Tronchon taught me”; he ‘ll +be one of the young hands, indeed, if he don’t know that name! And, mind, +lad, have no whims or caprices about whatever service he names thee for, +even were ‘t the infantry itself! It’s a hard word, that—I know it +well; but a man must make up his mind for anything and everything. Wear +any coat, go anywhere, face any enemy thou ‘rt ordered, and have none of +those newfangled notions about this general, or that army. Be a good +soldier and a good comrade. Share thy kit and thy purse to the last sou, +for it will not only be generous in thee, but that so long as thou +hoardest not, thou’lt never be over-eager for pillage. Mind these things, +and with a stout heart and a sharp sabre, Maurice, <i>tu iras loin</i>. +Yes, I tell thee again, lad, <i>tu iras loin</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +I give these three words as he said them, for they have rung in my ears +throughout all my life long. In moments of gratified ambition, in the +glorious triumph of success, they have sounded to me like the confirmed +predictions of one who foresaw my elevation in less prosperous hours. When +fortune has looked dark and lowering, they have been my comforter and +support, telling me not to be downcast or depressed, that the season of +sadness would pass away, and the road to fame and honour again open before +me. +</p> +<p> +‘You really think so, Tronchon? You think that I shall be something yet?’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Tu iras loin</i>, I say,’ repeated he emphatically, and with the air +of an oracle who would not suffer further interrogation. I therefore shook +his hand cordially, and set out to pay my visit to the general. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX. A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES +</h2> +<p> +When I reached the quarters of the état-major, I found the great courtyard +of the ‘hotel’ crowded with soldiers of every rank and arm of the service. +Some were newly joined recruits waiting for the orders to be forwarded to +their respective regiments, some were invalids just issued from the +hospital, some were sick and wounded on their way homeward. There were +sergeants with their billet-rolls, and returns, and court-martial +sentences. Adjutants with regimental documents hastening hither and +thither. Mounted orderlies, too, continually came and went; all was +bustle, movement, and confusion. Officers in staff uniforms called out the +orders from the different windows, and despatches were sent off here and +there with hot haste. The building was the ancient palace of the Dukes of +Lorraine, and a splendid fountain of white marble in the centre of the <i>cour</i>, +still showed the proud armorial bearings of that princely house. Around +the sculptured base of this now were seated groups of soldiers, their +war-worn looks and piled arms contrasting strangely enough with the great +porcelain vases of flowering plants that still decorated the rich plateau. +Shakos, helmets, and greatcoats were hung upon the orange-trees. The heavy +boots of the cuirassier, the white leather apron of the sapeur, were +drying along the marble benches of the terrace. The richly traceried +veining of gilt iron-work, which separated the court from the garden, was +actually covered with belts, swords, bayonets, and horse-gear, in every +stage and process of cleaning. Within the garden itself, however, all was +silent and still—two sentries, who paced backwards and forwards +beneath the grille, showing that the spot was to be respected by those +whose careless gestures and reckless air betrayed how little influence the +mere ‘genius of the place’ would exercise over them. +</p> +<p> +To me the interest of everything was increasing; and whether I lingered to +listen to the raw remarks of the new recruit, in wonder at all he saw, or +stopped to hear the campaigning stories of the old soldiers of the army, I +never wearied. Few, if any, knew whither they were going—perhaps to +the north to join the army of the Sambre; perhaps to the east to the force +upon the Rhine. It might be that they were destined for Italy—none +cared! Meanwhile, at every moment, detachments moved off, and their places +were filled by fresh arrivals—all dusty and wayworn from the march. +Some had scarcely time to eat a hurried morsel, when they were called on +to ‘fall in,’ and again the word ‘forward’ was given. Such of the infantry +as appeared too weary for the march were sent on in great charrettes drawn +by six or eight horses, and capable of carrying forty men in each; and of +these there seemed to be no end. No sooner was one detachment away than +another succeeded. Whatever their destination, one thing seemed evident, +the urgency that called them was beyond the common. For a while I forgot +all about myself in the greater interest of the scene; but then came the +thought that I too should have my share in this onward movement, and now I +set out to seek for my young friend, the sous-lieutenant. I had not asked +his name, but his regiment I knew to be the 22nd Chasseurs à cheval. The +uniform was light green, and easily enough to be recognised; yet nowhere +was it to be seen. There were cuirassiers, and hussars, heavy dragoons, +and carabiniers in abundance—everything, in short, but what I +sought. +</p> +<p> +At last I asked of an old quartermaster where the 22nd were quartered, and +heard, to my utter dismay, that they had marched that morning at eight +o’clock. There were two more squadrons expected to arrive at noon, but the +orders were that they were to proceed without further halt. +</p> +<p> +‘And whither to,’ asked I. +</p> +<p> +‘To Treves, on the Moselle,’ said he, and turned away as if he would not +be questioned further. It was true that my young friend could not have +been much of a patron, yet the loss of him was deeply felt by me. He was +to have introduced me to his colonel, who probably might have obtained the +leave I desired at once; and now I knew no one, not one even to advise me +how to act. I sat down upon a bench to think, but could resolve on +nothing; the very sight of that busy scene had now become a reproach to +me. There were the veterans of a hundred battles hastening forward again +to the field; there were the young soldiers just flushed with recent +victory; even the peasant boys were ‘eager for the fray’; but I alone was +to have no part in the coming glory. The enthusiasm of all around only +served to increase and deepen my depression. There was not one there, from +the old and war-worn veteran of the ranks to the merest boy, with whom I +would not gladly have exchanged fortunes. Some hours passed over in these +gloomy reveries, and when I looked up from the stupor my own thoughts had +thrown over me, the <i>cour</i> was almost empty. A few sick soldiers, +waiting for their billets of leave, a few recruits not yet named to any +corps, and a stray orderly or two standing beside his horse, were all that +remained. +</p> +<p> +I arose to go away, but in my preoccupation of mind, instead of turning +toward the street, I passed beneath a large archway into another court of +the building, somewhat smaller, but much richer in decoration and ornament +than the outer one. After spending some time admiring the quaint devices +and grim heads which peeped out from all the architraves and friezes, my +eye was caught by a low, arched doorway, in the middle of which was a +small railed window, like the grille of a convent. I approached, and +perceived that it led into a garden, by a long, narrow walk of clipped +yew, dense and upright as a wall The trimly raked gravel, and the smooth +surface of the hedge, showed the care bestowed on the grounds to be a wide +contrast to the neglect exhibited in the mansion itself; a narrow border +of hyacinths and carnations ran along either side of the walk, the +gorgeous blossoms appearing in strong relief against the background of +dark foliage. +</p> +<p> +The door, as I leaned against it, gently yielded to the pressure of my +arm, and almost without knowing it, I found myself standing within the +precincts of the garden. My first impulse, of course, was to retire and +close the door again, but somehow, I never knew exactly why, I could not +resist the desire to see a little more of a scene so tempting. There was +no mark of footsteps on the gravel, and I thought it likely the garden was +empty. On I went, therefore, at first with cautious and uncertain steps, +at last with more confidence, for as I issued from the hedge-walk, and +reached an open space beyond, the solitude seemed unbroken. Fruit-trees, +loaded with blossom, stood in a closely shaven lawn, through which a small +stream meandered, its banks planted with daffodils and water-lilies. Some +pheasants moved about through the grass, but without alarm at my presence; +while a young fawn boldly came over to me, and although in seeming +disappointment at not finding an old friend, continued to walk beside me +as I went. +</p> +<p> +The grounds appeared of great extent: paths led off in every direction; +and while, in some places, I could perceive the glittering roof and sides +of a conservatory, in others the humble culture of a vegetable garden was +to be seen. There was a wondrous fascination in the calm and tranquil +solitude around; and coming, as it did, so immediately after the busy +bustle of the ‘soldiering,’ I soon not only forgot that I was an intruder +there, but suffered myself to wander ‘fancy free,’ following out the +thoughts each object suggested. I believe at that moment, if the choice +were given me, I would rather have been the ‘Adam of that Eden’ than the +proudest of those generals that ever led a column to victory! Fortunately, +or unfortunately—it would not be easy to decide which—the +alternative was not open to me. It was while I was still musing, I found +myself at the foot of a little eminence, on which stood a tower whose +height and position showed it had been built for the view it afforded over +a vast tract of country. Even from where I stood, at its base, I could see +over miles and miles of a great plain, with the main roads leading towards +the north and eastward. This spot was also the boundary of the grounds, +and a portion of the old boulevard of the town formed the defence against +the open country beyond. It was a deep ditch, with sides of sloping sward, +cropped neatly, and kept in trimmest order, but, from its depth and width, +forming a fence of a formidable kind. I was peering cautiously down into +the abyss, when I heard a voice so close to my ear that I started with +surprise. I listened, and perceived that the speaker was directly above +me, and leaning over the battlements at the top of the tower. +</p> +<p> +‘You’re quite right,’ cried he, as he adjusted a telescope to his eye, and +directed his view towards the plain. ‘He has gone wrong! He has taken the +Strasbourg road, instead of the northern one.’ +</p> +<p> +An exclamation of anger followed these words; and now I saw the telescope +passed to another hand, and, to my astonishment, that of a lady. +</p> +<p> +‘Was there ever stupidity like that? He saw the map like the others, and +yet—— <i>Parbleu!</i> it’s too bad!’ +</p> +<p> +I could perceive that a female voice made some rejoinder, but did not +distinguish the words; when the man again spoke— +</p> +<p> +‘No, no; it’s all a blunder of that old major; and here am I without an +orderly to send after him. <i>Diable!</i> it is provoking.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Isn’t that one of your people at the foot of the tower?’ said the lady, +as she pointed to where I stood, praying for the earth to open and close +over me; for, as he moved his head to look down, I saw the epaulettes of a +staff-officer. +</p> +<p> +‘Holloa!’ cried he, ‘are you on duty?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir; I was——’ +</p> +<p> +Not waiting for me to finish an explanation, he went on— +</p> +<p> +‘Follow that division of cavalry that has taken the Strasbourg road, and +tell Major Roquelard that he has gone wrong; he should have turned off to +the left at the suburbs. Lose no time, but away at once. You are mounted, +of course?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir, my horse is at quarters; but I can——’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, no; it will be too late,’ he broke in again. ‘Take my troop-horse, +and be off. You’ll find him in the stable to your left.’ +</p> +<p> +Then turning to the lady I heard him say— +</p> +<p> +‘It may save Roquelard from an arrest.’ +</p> +<p> +I did not wait for more, but hurried off in the direction he had pointed. +A short gravel walk brought me in front of a low building, in the cottage +style, but which, decorated with emblems of the chase, I guessed to be the +stable. Not a groom was to be seen; but the door being unlatched I entered +freely. Four large and handsome horses were feeding at the racks, their +glossy coats and long silken manes showing the care bestowed upon them. +Which is the trooper? thought I, as I surveyed them all with keen and +scrutinising eye. All my skill in such matters was unable to decide the +point; they seemed all alike valuable and handsome—in equally high +condition, and exhibiting equal marks of careful treatment. Two were +stamped on the haunches with the letters ‘R. F.’; and these, of course, +were cavalry horses. One was a powerful black horse, whose strong quarters +and deep chest bespoke great action, while the backward glances of his eye +indicated the temper of a ‘tartar.’ Making choice of him without an +instant’s hesitation, I threw on the saddle, adjusted the stirrups to my +own length, buckled the bridle, and led him forth. In all my ‘school +experience’ I had never seen an animal that pleased me so much; his +well-arched neck and slightly dipped back showed that an Arab cross had +mingled with the stronger qualities of the Norman horse. I sprang to my +saddle with delight; to be astride such a beast was to kindle up all the +enthusiasm of my nature; and as I grasped the reins, and urged him +forward, I was half wild with excitement. +</p> +<p> +Apparently the animal was accustomed to more gentle treatment, for he gave +a loud snort, such as a surprised or frightened horse will give, and then +bounded forward once or twice, as if to dismount me. This failing, he +reared up perfectly straight, pawing madly, and threatening even to fall +backwards. I saw that I had, indeed, selected a wicked one; for in every +bound and spring, in every curvet and leap, the object was clearly to +unseat the rider. At one instant he would crouch, as if to lie down, and +then bound up several feet in the air, with a toss up of his haunches that +almost sent me over the head. At another he would spring from side to +side, writhing and twisting like a fish, till the saddle seemed actually +slipping away from his lithe body. Not only did I resist all these +attacks, but vigorously continued to punish with whip and spur the entire +time—a proceeding, I could easily see, he was not prepared for. At +last, actually maddened with his inability to throw me, and enraged by my +continuing to spur him, he broke away, and dashing headlong forward, +rushed into the very thickest of the grove. Fortunately for me, the trees +were either shrubs or of stunted growth, so that I had only to keep my +saddle to escape danger; but suddenly emerging from this, he gained the +open sward, and as if his passion became more furious as he indulged in +it, he threw up his head, and struck out in full gallop. I had but time to +see that he was heading for the great fosse of the boulevard, when we were +already on its brink. A shout, and a cry of I know not what, came from the +tower; but I heard nothing more. Mad as the maddened animal himself, +perhaps at that moment just as indifferent to life, I dashed the spurs +into his flanks, and oyer we went, lighting on the green sward as easily +as a seagull on a wave. To all seeming, the terrible leap had somewhat +sobered him; but on me it had produced the very opposite effect. I felt +that I had gained the mastery, and resolved to use it. With unrelenting +punishment, then, I rode him forward, taking the country as it lay +straight before me. The few fences which divided the great fields were too +insignificant to be called leaps, and he took them in the ‘sling’ of his +stretching gallop. He was now subdued, yielding to every turn of my wrist, +and obeying every motive of my will like an instinct. It may read like a +petty victory; but he who has ever experienced the triumph over an enraged +and powerful horse, well knows that few sensations are more pleasurably +exciting. High as is the excitement of being borne along in full speed, +leaving village and spire, glen and river, bridge and mill behind you—now +careering up the mountain-side, with the fresh breeze upon your brow; now +diving into the dark forest, startling the hare from her cover, and +sending the wild deer scampering before you—it is still increased by +the sense of a victory; by feeling that the mastery is with you, and that +each bound of the noble beast beneath you has its impulse in your own +heart. +</p> +<p> +Although the cavalry squadrons I was despatched to overtake had quitted +Nancy four hours before, I came up with them in less than an hour, and +inquiring for the officer in command, rode up to the head of the division. +He was a thin, gaunt-looking, stern-featured man, who listened to my +message without changing a muscle. +</p> +<p> +‘Who sent you with this order?’ said he. +</p> +<p> +‘A general officer, sir, whose name I don’t know, but who told me to take +his own horse and follow you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Did he tell you to kill the animal, sir?’ said he, pointing to the +heaving flanks and shaking tail of the exhausted beast. +</p> +<p> +‘He bolted with me at first, major, and having cleared the ditch of the +boulevard, rode away with me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Why, it’s Colonel Mahon’s Arab, Aleppo,’ said another officer; ‘what +could have persuaded him to mount an orderly on a beast worth ten thousand +francs?’ +</p> +<p> +I thought I’d have fainted, as I heard these words; the whole consequences +of my act revealed themselves before me, and I saw arrest, trial, +sentence, imprisonment, and Heaven knew what afterwards, like a panorama +rolling out to my view. +</p> +<p> +‘Tell the colonel, sir,’ said the major, ‘that I have taken the north +road, intending to cross over at Beaumont; that the artillery trains have +cut up the Metz road so deeply, cavalry cannot travel; tell him I thank +him much for his politeness in forwarding this despatch to me; and tell +him, that I regret the rules of active service should prevent my sending +back an escort to place yourself under arrest for the manner in which you +have ridden—you hear, sir?’ +</p> +<p> +I touched my cap in salute. +</p> +<p> +‘Are you certain, sir, that you have my answer correctly?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Repeat it, then.’ +</p> +<p> +I repeated the reply, word for word, as he spoke it. +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir,’ said he as I concluded; ‘I said for unsoldier-like and cruel +treatment to your horse.’ +</p> +<p> +One of his officers whispered something in his ear, and he quietly added— +</p> +<p> +‘I find that I had not used these words, but I ought to have done so; give +the message, therefore, as you heard it at first.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Mahon will shoot him, to a certainty,’ muttered one of the captains. +</p> +<p> +‘I’d not blame him,’ joined another; ‘that horse saved his life at +Quiberon, when he fell in with a patrol; and look at him now!’ +</p> +<p> +The major made a sign for me to retire, and I turned and set ont towards +Nancy, with the feelings of a convict on the way to his fate. +</p> +<p> +If I did not feel that these brief records of a humble career were ‘upon +honour,’ and that the only useful lesson a life so unimportant can teach, +is the conflict between opposing influences, I might possibly be disposed +to blink the avowal, that, as I rode along towards Nancy, a very great +doubt occurred to me as to whether I ought not to desert! It is a very +ignoble expression; but it must out. There were not in the French service +any of those ignominious punishments which, once undergone, a man is +dishonoured for ever, and no more admissible to rank with men of character +than if convicted of actual crime; but there were marks of degradation, +almost as severe, then in vogue, and which men dreaded with a fear nearly +as acute—such, for instance, as being ordered for service at the +Bagne de Brest, in Toulon—the arduous duty of guarding the +galley-slaves, and which was scarcely a degree above the condition of the +condemned themselves. Than such a fate as this, I would willingly have +preferred death. It was, then, this thought that suggested desertion; but +I soon rejected the unworthy temptation, and held on my way towards Nancy. +</p> +<p> +Aleppo, if at first wearied by the severe burst, soon rallied, while he +showed no traces of his fiery temper, and exhibited few of fatigue; and as +I walked along at his side, washing his mouth and nostrils at each +fountain I passed, and slackening his saddle-girths to give him freedom, +long before we arrived at the suburbs he had regained all his looks and +much of his spirit. +</p> +<p> +At last we entered Nancy about nightfall, and, with a failing heart, I +found myself at the gate of the ducal palace. The sentries suffered me to +pass unmolested, and entering, I took my way through the courtyard, +towards the small gate of the garden, which, as I had left it, was +unlatched. +</p> +<p> +It was strange enough, the nearer I drew towards the eventful moment of my +fate, the more resolute and composed my heart became. It is possible, +thought I, that in a fit of passion he will send a ball through me, as the +officer said. Be it so—the matter is the sooner ended. If, however, +he will condescend to listen to my explanation, I may be able to assert my +innocence, at least so far as intention went. With this comforting +conclusion, I descended at the stable door. Two dragoons in undress were +smoking, as they lay at full length upon a bench, and speedily arose as I +came up. +</p> +<p> +‘Tell the colonel he’s come, Jacques,’ said one, in a loud voice, and the +other retired; while the speaker, turning towards me, took the bridle from +my hand, and led the animal in, without vouchsafing a word to me. +</p> +<p> +‘An active beast that,’ said I, affecting the easiest and coolest +indifference. The soldier gave me a look of undisguised amazement, and I +continued— +</p> +<p> +‘He has had a bad hand on him, I should say—some one too flurried +and too fidgety to give confidence to a hot-tempered horse.’ +</p> +<p> +Another stare was all the reply. +</p> +<p> +‘In a little time, and with a little patience, I’d make him as gentle as a +lamb.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m afraid you’ll not have the opportunity,’ replied he significantly; +‘but the colonel, I see, is waiting for you, and you can discuss the +matter together.’ +</p> +<p> +The other dragoon had just then returned, and made me a sign to follow +him. A few paces brought us to the door of a small pavilion, at which a +sentry stood; and having motioned to me to pass in, my guide left me. An +orderly sergeant at the same instant appeared, and beckoning to me to +advance, he drew aside a curtain, and pushing me forward, let the heavy +folds close behind me; and now I found myself in a richly furnished +chamber, at the farther end of which an officer was at supper with a young +and handsome woman. The profusion of wax-lights on the table—the +glitter of plate, and glass, and porcelain—the richness of the +lady’s dress, which seemed like the costume of a ball—were all +objects distracting enough, but they could not turn me from the thought of +my own condition; and I stood motionless, while the officer, a man of +about fifty, with dark and stern features, deliberately scanned me from +head to foot. Not a word did he speak, not a gesture did he make, but sat, +with his black eyes actually piercing me. I would have given anything for +some outbreak of anger, some burst of passion, that would have put an end +to this horrible suspense, but none came; and there he remained several +minutes, as if contemplating something too new and strange for utterance. +‘This must have an end,’ thought I—‘here goes’; and so, with my hand +in salute, I drew myself full up, and said— +</p> +<p> +‘I carried your orders, sir, and received for answer that Major Roquelard +had taken the north road advisedly, as that by Beaumont was cut up by the +artillery trains; that he would cross over to the Metz Chaussée as soon as +possible; that he thanked you for the kindness of your warning, and +regretted that the rules of active service precluded his despatching an +escort of arrest along with me, for the manner in which I had ridden with +the order.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Anything more?’ asked the colonel, in a voice that sounded thick and +guttural with passion. +</p> +<p> +‘Nothing more, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No further remark or observation?’ ‘None, sir—at least from the +major.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What then—from any other?’ +</p> +<p> +‘A captain, sir, whose name I do not know, did say something.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What was it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I forget the precise words, sir, but their purport was, that Colonel +Mahon would certainly shoot me when I got back.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And you replied?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I don’t believe I made any reply at the time, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But you thought, sir—what were your thoughts?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I thought it very like what I’d have done myself in a like case, although +certain to be sorry for it afterwards.’ +</p> +<p> +Whether the emotion had been one for some time previous restrained, or +that my last words had provoked it suddenly, I cannot tell, but the lady +here burst out into a fit of laughter, but which was as suddenly checked +by some sharp observation of the colonel, whose stern features grew +sterner and darker every moment. +</p> +<p> +‘There we differ, sir,’ said he, ‘for I should not’ At the same instant he +pushed his plate away, to make room on the table for a small portfolio, +opening which, he prepared to write. +</p> +<p> +‘You will bring this paper,’ continued he, ‘to the provost-marshal. +To-morrow morning you shall be tried by a regimental court-martial, and as +your sentence may probably be the galleys and hard labour——’ +</p> +<p> +‘I ‘ll save them the trouble,’ said I, quietly drawing my sword; but +scarcely was it clear of the scabbard when a shriek broke from the lady, +who possibly knew not the object of my act; at the same instant the +colonel bounded across the chamber, and striking me a severe blow upon the +arm, dashed the weapon from my hand to the ground. +</p> +<p> +‘You want the fusillade—is that what you want?’ cried he, as, in a +towering fit of passion, he dragged me forward to the light. I was now +standing close to the table; the lady raised her eyes towards me, and at +once broke out into a burst of laughter—such hearty, merry laughter, +that, even with the fear of death before me, I could almost have joined in +it. +</p> +<p> +‘What is it—what do you mean, Laure?’ cried the colonel angrily. +</p> +<p> +‘Don’t you see it?’ said she, still holding her kerchief to her face—‘can’t +you perceive it yourself? He has only one moustache!’ +</p> +<p> +I turned hastily towards the mirror beside me, and there was the fatal +fact revealed—one gallant curl disported proudly over the left +cheek, while the other was left bare. +</p> +<p> +‘Is the fellow mad—a mountebank?’ said the colonel, whose anger was +now at its white heat. +</p> +<p> +‘Neither, sir,’ said I, tearing off my remaining moustache, in shame and +passion together. ‘Among my other misfortunes I have that of being young; +and what’s worse, I was ashamed of it; but I begin to see my error, and +know that a man may be old without gaining either in dignity or temper.’ +</p> +<p> +With a stroke of his closed fist upon the table, the colonel made every +glass and decanter spring from their places, while he uttered an oath that +was only current in the days of that army. ‘This is beyond belief,’ cried +he. ‘Come, <i>gredin</i>, you have at least had one piece of good fortune: +you’ve fallen precisely into the hands of one who can deal with you.—Your +regiment?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Ninth Hussars.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your name?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay; that’s not a French name?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not originally; we were Irish once.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Irish,’ said he, in a different tone from what he had hitherto used. ‘Any +relative of a certain Comte Maurice de Tiernay, who once served in the +Royal Guard?’ +</p> +<p> +‘His son, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What—his son! Art certain of this, lad? You remember your mother’s +name then—what was it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I never knew which was my mother,’ said I. ‘Mademoiselle de la Lasterie +or——’ +</p> +<p> +He did not suffer me to finish, but throwing his arms around my neck, +pressed me to his bosom. +</p> +<p> +‘You are little Maurice, then,’ said he, ‘the son of my old and valued +comrade! Only think of it, Laure—I was that boy’s godfather.’ +</p> +<p> +Here was a sudden change in my fortunes; nor was it without a great effort +that I could credit the reality of it, as I saw myself seated between the +colonel and his fair companion, both of whom overwhelmed me with +attention. +</p> +<p> +It turned out that Colonel Mahon had been a fellow-guardsman with my +father, for whom he had ever preserved the warmest attachment. One of the +few survivors of the Garde du Corps, he had taken service with the +Republic, and was already reputed as one of the most distinguished cavalry +officers. +</p> +<p> +‘Strange enough, Maurice,’ said he to me, ‘there was something in your +look and manner, as you spoke to me there, that recalled your poor father +to my memory; and without knowing or suspecting why, I suffered you to +bandy words with me, while at another moment I would have ordered you to +be ironed and sent to prison.’ +</p> +<p> +Of my mother, of whom I wished much to learn something, he would not +speak, but adroitly changed the conversation to the subject of my own +adventures, and these he made me recount from the beginning. If the lady +enjoyed all the absurdities of my chequered fortune with a keen sense of +the ridiculous, the colonel apparently could trace in them but so many +resemblances to my father’s character, and constantly broke out into +exclamations of ‘How like him!’ ‘Just what he would have done himself!’ +‘His own very words! ‘and so on. +</p> +<p> +It was only in a pause of the conversation, as the clock on the +mantelpiece struck eleven, that I was aware of the lateness of the hour, +and remembered that I should be on the punishment-roll the next morning +for absence from quarters. +</p> +<p> +‘Never fret about that, Maurice—I ‘ll return your name as on a +special service; and to have the benefit of truth on our side, you shall +be named one of my orderlies, with the grade of corporal.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Why not make him a sous-lieutenant?’ said the lady, in a half-whisper. +‘I’m sure he is better worth his epaulettes than any I have seen on your +staff.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nay, nay,’ muttered the colonel, ‘the rules of the service forbid it. +He’ll win his spurs time enough, or I ‘m much mistaken.’ +</p> +<p> +While I thanked my new and kind patron for his goodness, I could not help +saying that my heart was eagerly set upon the prospect of actual service; +and that proud as I should be of his protection, I would rather merit it +by my conduct than owe my advancement to favour. +</p> +<p> +‘Which simply means that you are tired of Nancy, and riding drill, and +want to see how men comport themselves where the manoeuvres are not +arranged beforehand. Well, so far you are right, boy. I shall, in all +likelihood, be stationed here for three or four months, during which you +might have advanced a stage or so towards those epaulettes my fair friend +desires to see upon your shoulders. You shall, therefore, be sent forward +to your own corps. I’ll write to the colonel to confirm the rank of +corporal; the regiment is at present on the Moselle, and, if I mistake +not, will soon be actively employed Come to me to-morrow before noon, and +be prepared to march with the first detachments that are sent forward.’ +</p> +<p> +A cordial shake of the hand followed these words; and the lady having also +vouchsafed me an equal token of her good-will, I took my leave, the +happiest fellow that ever betook himself to quarters after hours, and as +indifferent to the penalties annexed to the breach of discipline as if the +whole code of martial law were a mere fable. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X. AN ARISTOCRATIC REPUBLICAN +</h2> +<p> +If the worthy reader would wish to fancy the happiest of all youthful +beings, let him imagine what I must have been, as, mounted upon Aleppo, a +present from my godfather, with a purse of six shining louis in my pocket, +and a letter to my colonel, I set forth for Metz. I had breakfasted with +Colonel Mahon, who, amid much good advice for my future guidance, gave me, +half slyly, to understand that the days of Jacobinism had almost run their +course, and that a reactionary movement had already set in. The Republic, +he added, was as strong, perhaps stronger, than ever, but that men had +grown weary of mob tyranny, and were, day by day, reverting to the old +loyalty, in respect for whatever pretended to culture, good-breeding, and +superior intelligence. ‘As, in a shipwreck, the crew instinctively turn +for counsel and direction to the officers, you will see that France will, +notwithstanding all the libertinism of our age, place her confidence in +the men who have been the tried and worthy servants of former governments. +So far, then, from suffering on account of your gentle blood, Maurice, the +time is not distant when it will do you good service, and when every +association that links you with family and fortune will be deemed an +additional guarantee of your good conduct. I mention these things,’ +continued he, ‘because your colonel is what they call a “Grosbleu “—that +is, a coarse-minded, inveterate republican, detesting aristocracy and all +that belongs to it. Take care, therefore, to give him no just cause for +discontent, but be just as steady in maintaining your position as the +descendant of a noble house, who has not forgotten what were once the +privileges of his rank. Write to me frequently and freely, and I’ll take +care that you want for nothing, so far as my small means go, to sustain +whatever grade you occupy. Your own conduct shall decide whether I ever +desire to have any other inheritor than the son of my oldest friend in the +world.’ +</p> +<p> +Such were his last words to me as I set forth, in company with a large +party, consisting for the most part of under-officers and employés +attached to the medical staff of the army. It was a very joyous and merry +fraternity, and, consisting of ingredients drawn from different pursuits +and arms of the service, infinitely amusing from contrast of character and +habits. My chief associate amongst them was a young sous-lieutenant of +dragoons, whose age, scarcely much above my own, joined to a joyous, +reckless temperament, soon pointed him out as the character to suit me; +his name was Eugène Santron. In appearance he was slightly formed, and +somewhat undersized, but with handsome features, their animation rendered +sparkling by two of the wickedest black eyes that ever glistened and +glittered in a human head. I soon saw that, under the mask of affected +fraternity and equality, he nourished the most profound contempt for the +greater number of associates, who, in truth, were, however <i>braves gens</i>, +the very roughest and least-polished specimens of the polite nation. In +all his intercourse with them, Eugène affected the easiest tone of +camaraderie and equality, never assuming in the slightest, nor making any +pretensions to the least superiority on the score of position or +acquirements, but on the whole consoling himself, as it were, by ‘playing +them off’ in their several eccentricities, and rendering every trait of +their vulgarity and ignorance tributary to his own amusement. Partly from +seeing that he made me an exception to this practice, and partly from his +perceiving the amusement it afforded me, we drew closer towards each +other, and before many days elapsed, had become sworn friends. +</p> +<p> +There is probably no feature of character so very attractive to a young +man as frankness. The most artful of all flatteries is that which +addresses itself by candour, and seems at once to select, as it were by +intuition, the object most suited for a confidence. Santron carried me by +a <i>coup de main</i> of this kind, as, taking my arm one evening as I was +strolling along the banks of the Moselle, he said— +</p> +<p> +‘My dear Maurice, it’s very easy to see that the society of our excellent +friends yonder is just as distasteful to you as to me. One cannot always +be satisfied laughing at their solecisms in breeding and propriety. One +grows weary at last of ridiculing their thousand absurdities; and then +there comes the terrible retribution in the reflection of what the devil +brought me into such company? a question that, however easily answered, +grows more and more intolerable the oftener it is asked. To be sure, in my +case there was little choice in the matter, for I was not in any way the +arbiter of my own fortune. I saw myself converted from a royal page to a +printer’s devil by a kind old fellow, who saved my life by smearing my +face with ink, and covering my scarlet uniform with a filthy blouse; and +since that day I have taken the hint, and often found the lesson a good +one—the dirtier the safer! +</p> +<p> +‘We were of the old nobility of France, but as the name of our family was +the cause of its extinction, I took care to change it. I see you don’t +clearly comprehend me, and so I’ll explain myself better. My father lived +unmolested during the earlier days of the Revolution, and might so have +continued to the end, if a detachment of the Garde Républicaine had not +been despatched to our neighbourhood of Saarlouis, where it was supposed +some lurking regard for royalty yet lingered. These fellows neither knew +nor cared for the ancient noblesse of the country, and one evening a +patrol of them stopped my father as he was taking his evening walk along +the ramparts. He would scarcely deign to notice the insolent ‘<i>Qui va +là?</i> of the sentry, a summons he at least thought superfluous in a town +which had known his ancestry for eight or nine generations. At the +repetition of the cry, accompanied by something that sounded ominous, in +the sharp click of a gun-lock, he replied haughtily, “Je suis le Marquis +de Saint-Trône.” + </p> +<p> +‘"There are no more marquises in France!” was the savage answer. +</p> +<p> +‘My father smiled contemptuously, and briefly said “Saint-Trône.” + </p> +<p> +‘"We have no saints either,” cried another. +</p> +<p> +‘"Be it so, my friend,” said he, with mingled pity and disgust. “I suppose +some designation may at least be left to me, and that I may call myself +Trône.” + </p> +<p> +‘"We are done with thrones long ago,” shouted they in chorus, “and we ‘ll +finish you also.” + </p> +<p> +‘Ay, and they kept their word, too. They shot him that same evening, on +very little other charge than his own name! If I have retained the old +sound of my name, I have given it a more plebeian spelling, which is, +perhaps, just as much of an alteration as any man need submit to for a +period that will pass away so soon.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How so, Eugène? you fancy the Republic will not endure in France. What, +then, can replace it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Anything, everything; for the future all is possible. We have annihilated +legitimacy, it is true, just as the Indians destroy a forest, by burning +the trees; but the roots remain; and if the soil is incapable of sending +up the giant stems as before, it is equally unable to furnish a new and +different culture. Monarchy is just as firmly rooted in a Frenchman’s +heart, but he will have neither patience for its tedious growth, nor can +he submit to restore what has cost him so dearly to destroy. The +consequences will, therefore, be a long and continued struggle between +parties, each imposing upon the nation the form, of government that +pleases it in turn. Meanwhile you and I, and others like us, must serve +whatever is uppermost—the cleverest fellow he who sees the coming +change, and prepares to take advantage of it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then you are a Royalist?’ asked I. +</p> +<p> +‘A Royalist! What! stand by a monarch who deserted his aristocracy, and +forgot his own order; defend a throne that he had reduced to the condition +of a <i>fauteuil de Bourgeois?</i>’ +</p> +<p> +‘You are then for the Republic?’ +</p> +<p> +‘For what robbed me of my inheritance—what degraded me from my rank, +and reduced me to a state below that of my own vassals! Is this a cause to +uphold?’ +</p> +<p> +‘You are satisfied with military glory, perhaps,’ said I, scarcely knowing +what form of faith to attribute to him. +</p> +<p> +‘In an army where my superiors are the very dregs of the people; where the +canaille have the command, and the chivalry of France is represented by a +sans-culotte!’ +</p> +<p> +‘The cause of the Church——’ +</p> +<p> +A hurst of ribald laughter cut me short, and laying his hand on my +shoulder he looked me full in the face; while with a struggle to recover +his gravity, he said— +</p> +<p> +‘I hope, my dear Maurice, you are not serious, and that you do not mean +this for earnest. Why, my dear boy, don’t you talk of the Eleusinian +Mysteries, the Delphic Oracle of Alchemy, Astrology—of anything, in +short, of which the world, having amused itself, has at length grown +weary? Can’t you see that the Church has passed away, and these good +priests have gone the same road as their predecessors? Is any acuteness +wanting to show that there is an end of this superstition that has +enthralled men’s minds for a couple of thousand years? No, no, their game +is up, and for ever. These pious men, who despised this world, and yet had +no other hold upon the minds of others than by the very craft and subtlety +that world taught them—these heavenly souls, whose whole +machinations revolved about earthy objects and the successes of this +grovelling planet! Fight for them! No, <i>parbleu!</i> we owe them but +little love or affection. Their whole aim in life has been to disgust one +with whatever is enjoyable, and the best boon they have conferred upon +humanity, that bright thought of locking up the softest eyes and fairest +cheeks of France in cloisters and nunneries! I can forgive our glorious +Revolution much of its wrong when I think of the Prêtre; not but that they +could have knocked down the church without suffering the ruins to crush +the château!’ +</p> +<p> +Such, in brief, were the opinions my companion held, and of which I was +accustomed to hear specimens every day; at first, with displeasure and +repugnance; later on, with more of toleration; and at last, with a sense +of amusement at the singularity of the notions, or the dexterity with +which he defended them. The poison of his doctrines was the more +insidious, because it was mingled with a certain dash of good-nature, and +a reckless, careless easiness of disposition always attractive to very +young men. His reputation for courage, of which he had given signal +proofs, elevated him in my esteem; and, ere long, all my misgivings about +him, in regard of certain blemishes, gave way before my admiration of his +heroic bearing and a readiness to confront peril, wherever to be found. +</p> +<p> +I had made him the confidant of my own history, of which I told him +everything, save the passages which related to the Père Michel. These I +either entirely glossed over, or touched so lightly as to render +unimportant—a dread of ridicule restraining me from any mention of +those earlier scenes of my life, which were alone of all those I should +have avowed with pride. Perhaps it was from mere accident—perhaps +some secret shame to conceal my forlorn and destitute condition may have +had its share in the motive; but, for some cause or other, I gave him to +understand that my acquaintance with Colonel Mahon had dated back to a +much earlier period than a few days before, and, the impression once made, +a sense of false shame led me to support it. +</p> +<p> +‘Mahon can be a good friend to you,’ said Eugène; ‘he stands well with all +parties. The Convention trust him, the sans-culottes are afraid of him, +and the few men of family whom the guillotine has left look up to him as +one of their stanchest adherents. Depend upon it, therefore, your +promotion is safe enough, even if there were not a field open for every +man who seeks the path to eminence. The great point, however, is to get +service with the army of Italy. These campaigns here are as barren and +profitless as the soil they are fought over; but, in the south, Maurice, +in the land of dark eyes and tresses, under the blue skies, or beneath the +trellised vines, there are rewards of victory more glorious than a +grateful country, as they call it, ever bestowed. Never forget, my boy, +that you or I have no cause! It is to us a matter of indifference what +party triumphs, or who is uppermost. The Government may change to-morrow, +and the day after, and so on for a month long, and yet we remain just as +we were. Monarchy, Commonwealth, Democracy—what you will—may +rule the hour, but the sous-lieutenant is but the servant who changes his +master. Now, in revenge for all this, we have one compensation, which is, +to “live for the day”—to make the most of that brief hour of +sunshine granted us, and to taste of every pleasure, to mingle in every +dissipation, and enjoy every excitement that we can. This is my +philosophy, Maurice, and just try it.’ +</p> +<p> +Such was the companion with whom chance threw me in contact, and I grieve +to think how rapidly his influence gained the mastery over me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI. ‘THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE’ +</h2> +<p> +I parted from my friend Eugène at Treves, where he remained in garrison, +while I was sent forward to Coblentz to join my regiment, at that time +forming part of Ney’s division. +</p> +<p> +Were I to adhere in my narrative to the broad current of great events, I +should here have to speak of that grand scheme of tactics by which Kléber, +advancing from the Lower Rhine, engaged the attention of the Austrian +Grand-Duke, in order to give time and opportunity for Hoche’s passage of +the river at Strasbourg, and the commencement of that campaign which had +for its object the subjugation of Germany. I have not, however, the +pretension to chronicle those passages which history has for ever made +memorable, even were my own share in them of a more distinguished +character. The insignificance of my station must, therefore, be my apology +if I turn from the description of great and eventful incidents to the +humble narrative of my own career. +</p> +<p> +Whatever the contents of Colonel Mahon’s letter, they did not plead very +favourably for me with Colonel Hacque, my new commanding officer; neither, +to all seeming, did my own appearance weigh anything in my favour. Raising +his eyes at intervals from the letter to stare at me, he uttered some +broken phrases of discontent and displeasure; at last he said—‘What’s +the object of this letter, sir; to what end have you presented it to me?’ +</p> +<p> +‘As I am ignorant of its contents, mon colonel,’ said I calmly, ‘I can +scarcely answer the question.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, sir, it informs me that you are the son of a certain Count Tiernay, +who has long since paid the price of his nobility; and that, being an +especial protégé of the writer, he takes occasion to present you to me; +now I ask again, with what object?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I presume, sir, to obtain for me the honour which I now enjoy—to +become personally known to you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I know every soldier under my command, sir,’ said he rebukingly, ‘as you +will soon learn if you remain in my regiment. I have no need of +recommendatory letters on that score. As to your grade of corporal, it is +not confirmed; time enough when your services shall have shown that you +deserve promotion. <i>Parbleu!</i> sir, you’ll have to show other claims +than your ci-devant countship.’ +</p> +<p> +Colonel Mahon gave me a horse, sir; may I be permitted to retain him as a +regimental mount?’ asked I timidly. +</p> +<p> +‘We want horses—what is he like?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Three-quarters Arab, and splendid in action, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then, of course, unfit for service and field manoeuvres. +</p> +<p> +Send him to the état-major. The Republic will find a fitting mount for +you; you may retire.’ +</p> +<p> +And I did retire, with a heart almost bursting between anger and +disappointment. What a future did this opening present to me! What a +realisation this of all my flattering hopes! +</p> +<p> +This sudden reverse of fortune, for it was nothing less, did not render me +more disposed to make the best of my new condition, nor see in the most +pleasing light the rough and rude fraternity among which I was thrown. The +Ninth Hussars were reputed to be an excellent service-corps, but, off +duty, contained some of the worst ingredients of the army. Play, and its +consequence, duelling, filled up every hour not devoted to regimental +duty; and low as the tone of manners and morals stood in the service +generally, ‘Hacque’s Tapageurs,’ as they were called, enjoyed the +unflattering distinction of being the leaders. Self-respect was a quality +utterly unknown amongst them—none felt ashamed at the disgrace of +punishment; and as all knew that, at the approach of the enemy, +prison-doors would open, and handcuffs fall off, they affected to think +the ‘Salle de Police’ was a pleasant alternative to the fatigue and worry +of duty. These habits not only stripped soldiering of all its chivalry, +but robbed freedom itself of all its nobility. These men saw nothing but +licentiousness in their newly won liberty. Their ‘Equality’ was the +permission to bring everything down to a base and unworthy standard; their +‘Fraternity,’ the appropriation of what belonged to one richer than +themselves. +</p> +<p> +It would give me little pleasure to recount, and the reader, in all +likelihood, as little to hear, the details of my life among such +associates. They are the passages of my history most painful to recall, +and least worthy of being remembered; nor can I even yet write without +shame the confession, how rapidly their habits became my own. Eugene’s +teachings had prepared me, in a manner, for their lessons. His scepticism, +extending to everything and every one, had made me distrustful of all +friendship, and suspicious of whatever appeared a kindness. Vulgar +association, and daily intimacy with coarsely minded men, soon finished +what he had begun; and in less time than it took me to break my +troop-horse to regimental drill, I had been myself ‘broke in’ to every +vice and abandoned habit of my companions. It was not in my nature to do +things by halves; and thus I became, and in a brief space, too, the most +inveterate Tapageur of the whole regiment. There was not a wild prank or +plot in which I was not foremost, not a breach of discipline unaccompanied +by my name or presence, and more than half the time of our march to meet +the enemy, I passed in double irons under the guard of the +provost-marshal. +</p> +<p> +It was at this pleasant stage of my education that our brigade arrived at +Strasbourg, as part of the <i>corps d’armée</i>, under the command of +General Moreau. +</p> +<p> +He had just succeeded to the command on the dismissal of Pichegru, and +found the army not only dispirited by the defeats of the past campaign, +but in a state of rudest indiscipline and disorganisation. If left to +himself, he would have trusted much to time and circumstances for the +reform of abuses that had been the growth of many months long. But +Régnier, the second in command, was made of ‘different stuff’; he was a +harsh and stern disciplinarian, who rarely forgave a first, never a +second, offence, and who, deeming the ‘Salle de Police’ as an encumbrance +to an army on service, which, besides, required a guard of picked men, +that might be better employed elsewhere, usually gave the preference to +the shorter sentence of ‘four paces and a fusillade.’ Nor was he +particular in the classification of those crimes he thus expiated: from +the most trivial excess to the wildest scheme of insubordination, all came +under the one category. More than once, as we drew near to Strasbourg, I +heard the project of a mutiny discussed, day after day. Some one or other +would denounce the ‘<i>scélérat</i> Régnier,’ and proclaim his readiness +to be the executioner; but the closer we drew to headquarters, the more +hushed and subdued became these mutterings, till at last they ceased +altogether, and a dark and foreboding dread succeeded to all our late +boastings and denunciations. +</p> +<p> +This at first surprised and then utterly disgusted me with my companions. +Brave as they were before the enemy, had they no courage for their own +countrymen? Was all their valour the offspring of security, or could they +only be rebellious when the penalty had no terrors for them? Alas! I was +very young, and did not then know that men are never strong against the +right, and that a bad cause is always a weak one. +</p> +<p> +It was about the middle of June when we reached Strasbourg, where now +about forty thousand troops were assembled. I shall not readily forget the +mingled astonishment and disappointment our appearance excited as the +regiment entered the town. The Tapageurs, so celebrated for all their +terrible excesses and insubordination, were seen to be a fine corps of +soldierlike fellows, their horses in high condition, their equipments and +arms in the very best order. Neither did our conduct at all tally with the +reputation that preceded us. All was orderly and regular in the several +billets; the parade was particularly observed; not a man late at the night +muster. What was the cause of this sudden and remarkable change? Some said +that we were marching against the enemy; but the real explanation lay in +the few words of a general order read to us by our colonel the day before +we entered the city:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘The 9th Hussars have obtained the unworthy reputation of +being an ill-disciplined and ill-conducted regiment, relying +upon their soldierlike qualities in face of the enemy to +cover the disgrace of their misconduct in quarters. This is +a mistake that must be corrected. All Frenchmen are brave; +none can arrogate to themselves any prerogative of valour. +If any wish to establish such a belief, a campaign can +always attest it. If any profess to think so without such +proof, and, acting in conformity with this impression, +disobey their orders or infringe regimental discipline, I +will have them shot. + +‘Régnier, Adjutant-General.’ +</pre> +<p> +This was, at least, a very straightforward and intelligible announcement, +and as such my comrades generally acknowledged it. I, however, regarded it +as a piece of monstrous and intolerable tyranny, and sought to make +converts to my opinion by declaiming about the rights of Frenchmen, the +liberty of free discussion, the glorious privilege of equality, and so on; +but these arguments sounded faint in presence of the drumhead; and while +some slunk away from the circle around me, others significantly hinted +that they would accept no part of the danger my doctrines might originate. +</p> +<p> +However I might have respected my comrades had they been always the +well-disciplined body I now saw them, I confess that this sudden +conversion through fear was in nowise to my taste, and rashly confounded +their dread of punishment with a base and ignoble fear of death. ‘And +these are the men,’ thought I, ‘who talk of their charging home through +the dense squares of Austria—who have hunted the leopard into the +sea, and have carried the flag of France over the high Alps?’ +</p> +<p> +A bold rebel, whatever may be the cause against which he revolts, will +always be sure of a certain ascendency. Men are prone to attribute power +to pretension, and he who stands foremost in the breach will at least win +the suffrages of those whose cause he assumes to defend. In this way it +happened that exactly, as my comrades fell in my esteem, I was elevated in +theirs; and while I took a very depreciating estimate of their courage, +they conceived a very exalted opinion of mine. +</p> +<p> +It was altogether inexplicable to see these men, many of them the bronzed +veterans of a dozen campaigns—the wounded and distinguished soldiers +in many a hard-fought field, yielding up their opinions and sacrificing +their convictions to a raw and untried stripling who had never yet seen an +enemy. +</p> +<p> +With a certain fluency of speech I possessed also a readiness at picking +up information, and arraying the scattered fragments of news into a +certain consistence, which greatly imposed upon my comrades. A quick eye +for manoeuvres, and a shrewd habit of combining in my own mind the various +facts that came before me, made me appear to them a perfect authority on +military matters, of which I talked, I shame to say, with all the +confidence and presumption of an accomplished general. A few lucky +guesses, and a few half hints, accidentally confirmed, completed all that +was wanting; and what says ‘Le Jeune Maurice,’ was the inevitable question +that followed each piece of flying gossip, or every rumour that rose of a +projected movement. +</p> +<p> +I have seen a good deal of the world since that time, and I am bound to +confess, that not a few of the great reputations I have witnessed have +stood upon grounds very similar, and not a whit more stable than my own. A +bold face, a ready tongue, a promptness to support, with my right hand, +whatever my lips were pledged to, and, above all, good-luck, made me the +king of my company; and although that sovereignty only extended to half a +squadron of hussars, it was a whole universe to me. +</p> +<p> +So stood matters when, on the 23rd of June, orders came for the whole <i>corps +d’armée</i> to hold itself in readiness for a forward movement. Rations +for two days were distributed, and ammunition given out as if for an +attack of some duration. Meanwhile, to obviate any suspicion of our +intentions, the gates of Strasbourg, on the eastern side, were closed—all +egress in that direction forbidden—and couriers and <i>estafettes</i> +sent off towards the north, as if to provide for the march of our force in +that direction. The arrival of various orderly dragoons during the +previous night, and on that morning early, told of a great attack in force +on Mannheim, about sixty miles lower down the Rhine, and the cannonade of +which some avowed that they could hear at that distance. The rumour, +therefore, seemed confirmed, that we were ordered to move to the north, to +support this assault. +</p> +<p> +The secret despatch of a few dismounted dragoons and some riflemen to the +hanks of the Rhine, however, did not strike me as according with this +view, and particularly as I saw that, although all were equipped, and in +readiness to move, the order to march was not given, a delay very unlikely +to be incurred if we were destined to act as the reserve of the force +already engaged. +</p> +<p> +Directly opposite to us, on the right bank of the river, and separated +from it by a low flat of about two miles in extent, stood the fortress of +Kehl, at that time garrisoned by a strong Austrian force; the banks of the +river, and the wooded islands in the stream, which communicated with the +right by bridges, or fordable passes, being also held by the enemy in +force. +</p> +<p> +These we had often seen, by the aid of telescopes, from the towers and +spires of Strasbourg; and now I remarked that the general and his staff +seemed more than usually intent on observing their movements. This fact, +coupled with the not less significant one that no preparations for a +defence of Strasbourg were in progress, convinced me that, instead of +moving down the Rhine to the attack on Mannheim, the plan of our general +was to cross the river where we were, and make a dash at the fortress of +Kehl. I was soon to receive the confirmation of my suspicion, as the +orders came for two squadrons of the 9th to proceed, dismounted, to the +bank of the Rhine, and, under shelter of the willows, to conceal +themselves there. Taking possession of the various skiffs and +fishing-boats along the bank, we were distributed in small parties, to one +of which, consisting of eight men under the orders of a corporal, I +belonged. +</p> +<p> +About an hour’s march brought us to the river-side, in a little clump of +alder willows, where, moored to a stake, lay a fishing-boat with two short +oars in her. Lying down beneath the shade, for the afternoon was hot and +sultry, some of us smoked, some chatted, and a few dozed away the hours +that somehow seemed unusually slow in passing. +</p> +<p> +There was a certain dogged sullenness about my companions, which proceeded +from their belief that we and all who remained at Strasbourg were merely +left to occupy the enemy’s attention, while greater operations were to be +carried on elsewhere. +</p> +<p> +‘You see what it is to be a condemned corps,’ muttered one; ‘it’s little +matter what befalls the old 9th, even should they be cut to pieces.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They didn’t think so at Enghien,’ said another, ‘when we rode down the +Austrian cuirassiers.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Plain enough,’ cried a third, ‘we are to have skirmishers’ duty here, +without skirmishers’ fortune in having a force to fall back upon.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Eh! Maurice, is not this very like what you predicted for us?’ broke in a +fourth ironically. +</p> +<p> +‘I’m of the same mind still,’ rejoined I coolly: ‘the general is not +thinking of a retreat; he has no intention of deserting a well-garrisoned, +well-provisioned fortress. Let the attack on Mannheim have what success it +may, Strasbourg will be held still. I overheard Colonel Guyon remark that +the waters of the Rhine have fallen three feet since the drought set in, +and Régnier replied ‘that we must lose no time, for there will come rain +and floods ere long.’ Now what could that mean but the intention to cross +over yonder?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Cross the Rhine in face of the fort of Kehl!’ broke in the corporal. +</p> +<p> +‘The French army have done bolder things before now!’ was my reply; and, +whatever the opinion of my comrades, the flattery ranged them on my side. +Perhaps the corporal felt it beneath his dignity to discuss tactics with +an inferior, or perhaps he felt unable to refute the specious pretensions +I advanced; in any case he turned away, and either slept, or affected +sleep, while I strenuously laboured to convince my companions that my +surmise was correct. +</p> +<p> +I repeated all my former arguments about the decrease in the Rhine, +showing that the river was scarcely two-thirds of its habitual breadth, +that the nights were now dark, and well suited for a surprise, that the +columns which issued from the town took their departure with a pomp and +parade far more likely to attract the enemy’s attention than escape his +notice, and were, therefore, the more likely to be destined for some +secret expedition, of which all this display was but the blind. These, and +similar facts, I grouped together with a certain ingenuity, which, if it +failed to convince, at least silenced my opponents. And now the brief +twilight, if so short a struggle between day and darkness deserved the +name, passed off, and night suddenly closed around us—a night black +and starless, for a heavy mass of lowering cloud seemed to unite with the +dense vapour that arose from the river, and the low-lying grounds +alongside of it. The air was hot and sultry, too, like the precursor of a +thunderstorm, and the rush of the stream as it washed among the willows +sounded preternaturally loud. +</p> +<p> +A hazy, indistinct flame, the watch-fire of the enemy, on the island of +Eslar, was the only object visible in the murky darkness. After a while, +however, we could detect another fire on a smaller island, a short +distance higher up the stream. This, at first dim and uncertain, blazed up +after a while, and at length we descried the dark shadows of men as they +stood around it. +</p> +<p> +It was but the day before that I had been looking on a map of the Rhine, +and remarked to myself that this small island, little more than a mere +rock in the stream, was so situated as to command the bridge between Eslar +and the German bank, and I could not help wondering that the Austrians had +never taken the precaution to strengthen it, or at least place a gun +there, to enfilade the bridge. Now, to my extreme astonishment, I saw it +occupied by the soldiery, who, doubtless, were artillery, as in such a +position small arms would prove of slight efficiency. As I reflected over +this, wondering within myself if any intimation of our movements could +have reached the enemy, I heard along the ground on which I was lying the +peculiar tremulous, dull sound communicated by a large body of men +marching. The measured tramp could not be mistaken, and as I listened I +could perceive that a force was moving towards the river from different +quarters. The rumbling roll of heavy guns and the clattering noise of +cavalry were also easily distinguished, and awaking one of my comrades I +called his attention to the sounds. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i>’ said he, ‘thou’rt right; they’re going to make a dash at +the fortress, and there will be hot work ere morning. What say you now, +corporal? has Maurice hit it off this time?’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’s as it may be,’ growled the other sulkily; ‘guessing is easy work +ever for such as thee! but if he be so clever, let him tell us why are we +stationed along the river’s bank in small detachments. We have had no +orders to observe the enemy, nor to report upon anything that might go +forward; nor do I see with what object we were to secure the +fishing-boats; troops could never be conveyed across the Rhine in skiffs +like these!’ +</p> +<p> +‘I think that this order was given to prevent any of the fishermen giving +information to the enemy in case of a sudden attack,’ replied I. +</p> +<p> +‘Mayhap thou wert at the council of war when the plan was decided on,’ +said he contemptuously. ‘For a fellow that never saw the smoke of an +enemy’s gun, thou hast a rare audacity in talking of war!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yonder is the best answer to your taunt,’ said I, as, in a little bend of +the stream beside us, two boats were seen to pull under the shelter of the +tall alders, from which the clank of arms could be plainly heard; and now +another larger launch swept past, the dark shadows of a dense crowd of men +showing above the gunwale. +</p> +<p> +‘They are embarking—they are certainly embarking,’ now ran from +mouth to mouth. As the troops arrived at the river’s bank they were +speedily ‘told off’ in separate divisions, of which some were to lead the +attack, others to follow, and a third portion to remain as a reserve in +the event of a repulse. +</p> +<p> +The leading boat was manned entirely by volunteers, and I could hear from +where I lay the names called aloud as the men stepped out from the ranks. +I could hear that the first point of attack was the island of Eslar. So +far there was a confirmation of my own guessing, and I did not hesitate to +assume the full credit of my skill from my comrades. In truth, they +willingly conceded all or even more than I asked for. Not a stir was +heard, not a sight seen, not a movement made of which I was not expected +to tell the cause and the import; and knowing that to sustain my influence +there was nothing for it but to affect a thorough acquaintance with +everything, I answered all their questions boldly and unhesitatingly. I +need scarcely observe that the corporal in comparison sank into downright +insignificance. He had already shown himself a false guide, and none asked +his opinion further, and I became the ruling genius of the hour. The +embarkation now went briskly forward; several light field-guns were placed +in the boats, and two or three large rafts, capable of containing two +companies each, were prepared to be towed across by boats. +</p> +<p> +Exactly as the heavy hammer of the cathedral struck one, the first boat +emerged from the willows, and darting rapidly forward, headed for the +middle of the stream; another and another in quick succession followed, +and speedily were lost to us in the gloom; and now two four-oared skiffs +stood out together, having a raft, with two guns, in tow; by some +mischance, however, they got entangled in a side current, and the raft +swerving to one side, swept past the boats, carrying them down the stream +along with it. Our attention was not suffered to dwell on this mishap, for +at the same moment the flash and rattle of firearms told us the battle had +begun. Two or three isolated shots were first heard, and then a sharp +platoon-fire, accompanied by a wild cheer, that we well knew came from our +own fellows. One deep mellow boom of a large gun resounded amidst the +crash, and a slight streak of flame, higher up the stream, showed that the +shot came from the small island I have already spoken of. +</p> +<p> +‘Listen, lads,’ said I; ‘that came from the “Fels Insel.” If they are +firing grape yonder, our poor fellows in the boats will suffer sorely from +it. By Jove, there is a crash!’ +</p> +<p> +As I was speaking, a rattling noise like the sound of clattering timber +was heard, and with it a sharp, shrill cry of agony, and all was hushed. +</p> +<p> +‘Let’s at them, boys: they can’t be much above our own number. The island +is a mere rock,’ cried I to my comrades. +</p> +<p> +‘Who commands this party,’ said the corporal—‘you or I?’ +</p> +<p> +‘You, if you lead us against the enemy,’ said I; ‘but I’ll take it if my +comrades will follow me. There goes another shot, lads—yes or no—now +is the time to speak.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We’re ready,’ cried three, springing forward with one impulse. +</p> +<p> +At the instant I jumped into the skiff, the others took their places, and +then come a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and a seventh, leaving the corporal +alone on the bank. +</p> +<p> +‘Come along, corporal,’ cried I, ‘we’ll win your epaulettes for you’; but +he turned away without a word; and, not waiting further, I pushed out the +skiff, and sent her skimming down the stream. +</p> +<p> +‘Pull steady, boys, and silently,’ said I; ‘we must gain the middle of the +current, and then drop down the river without the least noise. Once +beneath the trees, we’ll give them a volley, and then the bayonet. +Remember, lads, no flinching; it’s as well to die here as be shot by old +Régnier to-morrow.’ +</p> +<p> +The conflict on the Eslar island was now, to all seeming, at its height. +The roll of musketry was incessant, and sheets of flame, from time to +time, streaked the darkness above the river. +</p> +<p> +‘Stronger and together, boys—once more—there it is—we +are in the current now; in with you, men, and look to your carbines; see +that the priming is safe; every shot soon will be worth a fusillade. Lie +still now, and wait for the word to fire.’ +</p> +<p> +The spreading foliage of the nut-trees was rustling over our heads as I +spoke, and the sharp skiff, borne on the current, glided smoothly on till +her bow struck the rock. With high-beating hearts we clambered up the +little cliff, and, as we reached the top, beheld immediately beneath us, +in a slight dip of the ground, several figures around a gun, which they +were busy adjusting. I looked right and left to see that my little party +were all assembled, and without waiting for more, gave the order—fire! +</p> +<p> +We were within pistol range, and the discharge was a deadly one. The +terror, however, was not less complete; for all who escaped death fled +from the spot, and dashing through the brushwood, made for the shallow +part of the stream, between the island and the right bank. +</p> +<p> +Our prize was a brass eight-pounder, and an ample supply of ammunition. +The gun was pointed towards the middle of the stream, where the current +being strongest, the boats would necessarily be delayed; and in all +likelihood some of our gallant comrades had already experienced its fatal +fire. To wheel it right about, and point it on the Eslar bridge, was the +work of a couple of minutes; and while three of our little party kept up a +steady fire on the retreating enemy, the others loaded the gun and +prepared to fire. +</p> +<p> +Our distance from the Eslar island and bridge, as well as I could judge +from the darkness, might be about two hundred and fifty yards, and, as we +had the advantage of a slight elevation of ground, our position was +admirable. +</p> +<p> +‘Wait patiently, lads,’ said I, restraining, with difficulty, the burning +ardour of my men. ‘Wait patiently, till the retreat has commenced over the +bridge. The work is too hot to last much longer on the island; to fire +upon them there would be to risk our own men as much as the enemy. See +what long flashes of flame break forth among the brushwood; and listen to +the cheering now. That was a French cheer!—and there goes another. +Look!—look, the bridge is darkening already! That was a bugle-call, +and they are in full retreat. Now, lads—now!’ +</p> +<p> +As I spoke, the gun exploded, and the instant after we heard the crashing +rattle of the timber, as the shot struck the bridge, and splintered the +wood-work in all directions. +</p> +<p> +‘The range is perfect, lads,’ cried I. ‘Load and fire with all speed.’ +</p> +<p> +Another shot, followed by a terrific scream from the bridge, told how the +work was doing. Oh! the savage exultation, the fiendish joy of my heart, +as I drank in that cry of agony, and called upon my men to load faster. +</p> +<p> +Six shots were poured in with tremendous precision and effect, and the +seventh tore away one of the main supports of the bridge, and down went +the densely crowded column into the Rhine. At the same instant the guns of +our launches opened a destructive fire upon the banks, which soon were +swept clean of the enemy. +</p> +<p> +High up on the stream, and for nearly a mile below also, we could see the +boats of our army pulling in for shore; the crossing of the Rhine had been +effected, and we now prepared to follow. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XII. ‘A GLANCE AT STAFF-DUTY’ +</h2> +<p> +Although the passage of the Rhine was but the prelude to the attack on the +fortress, that exploit being accomplished, Kehl was carried at the point +of the bayonet, the French troops entering the outworks pell-mell with the +retreating enemy, and in less than two hours after the landing of our +first detachments, the tricolour waved over the walls of the fortress. +</p> +<p> +Lost amid the greater and more important successes which since that time +have immortalised the glory of the French arms, it is almost impossible to +credit the celebrity attached at that time to this brilliant achievement, +whose highest merits probably were rapidity and resolution. Moreau had +long been jealous of the fame of his great rival, Bonaparte, whose +tactics, rejecting the colder dictates of prudent strategy, and the slow +progress of scientific manouvres, seemed to place all his confidence in +the sudden inspirations of his genius, and the indomitable bravery of his +troops. It was necessary, then, to raise the morale of the army of the +Rhine, to accomplish some great feat similar in boldness and heroism to +the wonderful achievements of the Italian army. Such was the passage of +the Rhine at Strasbourg, effected in the face of a great enemy, +advantageously posted, and supported by one of the strongest of all the +frontier fortresses. +</p> +<p> +The morning broke upon us in all the exultation of our triumph, and as our +cheers rose high over the field of the late struggle, each heart beat +proudly with the thought of how that news would be received in Paris. +</p> +<p> +‘You ‘ll see how the bulletin will spoil all,’ said a young officer of the +army of Italy, as he was getting his wound dressed on the field. ‘There +will be such a long narrative of irrelevant matter—such details of +this, that, and t’ other—that the public will scarce know whether +the placard announces a defeat or a victory.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i>’ replied an old veteran of the Rhine army, ‘what would +you have? You’d not desire to omit the military facts of such an exploit?’ +</p> +<p> +‘To be sure I would,’ rejoined the other. ‘Give me one of our young +general’s bulletins, short, stirring, and effective:—“Soldiers! you +have crossed the Rhine against an army double your own in numbers and +munitions of war. You have carried a fortress, believed impregnable, at +the bayonet. Already the great flag of our nation waves over the citadel +you have won. Forward, then, and cease not till it floats over the cities +of conquered Germany, and let the name of France be that of Empire over +the continent of Europe.’” + </p> +<p> +‘Ha! I like that, cried I enthusiastically; ‘that’s the bulletin to my +fancy. Repeat it once more, mon lieutenant, that I may write it in my +note-book.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What! hast thou a note-book?’ cried an old staff-officer, who was +preparing to mount his horse; ‘let’s see it, lad.’ +</p> +<p> +With a burning cheek and trembling hand I drew my little journal from the +breast of my jacket, and gave it to him. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Sacrebleu!</i>’ exclaimed he, in a burst of laughter, ‘what have we +here? Why, this is a portrait of old General Moricier, and although a +caricature, a perfect likeness. And here comes a plan for manoeuvring a +squadron by threes from the left. This is better—it is a receipt for +an “Omelette à la Hussard”; and here we have a love-song, and a +moustache-paste, with some hints about devotion, and diseased frog in +horses. Most versatile genius, certainly!’ And so he went on, occasionally +laughing at my rude sketches and ruder remarks, till he came to a page +headed ‘Equitation, as practised by Officers of the Staff,’ and followed +by a series of caricatures of bad riding, in all its moods and tenses. The +flush of anger which instantly coloured his face soon attracted the notice +of those about him, and one of the bystanders quickly snatched the book +from his fingers, and, in the midst of a group all convulsed with +laughter, proceeded to expatiate upon my illustrations. To be sure, they +were absurd enough. Some were represented sketching on horseback, under +shelter of an umbrella; others were ‘taking the depth of a stream’ by a +‘header’ from their own saddles; some again were ‘exploring ground for an +attack in line,’ by a measurement of the rider’s own length over the head +of his horse. Then there were ridiculous situations, such as ‘sitting down +before a fortress,’ ‘taking an angle of incidence,’ and so on. Sorry jests +all of them, but sufficient to amuse those with whose daily associations +they chimed in, and to whom certain traits of portraiture gave all the +zest of a personality. +</p> +<p> +My shame at the exposure, and my terror for its consequences, gradually +yielded to a feeling of flattered vanity at the success of my +lucubrations; and I never remarked that the staff-officer had ridden away +from the group till I saw him galloping back at the top of his speed. +</p> +<p> +‘Is your name Tiernay, my good fellow?’ cried he, riding close up to my +side, and with an expression on his features I did not half like. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, sir,’ replied I. +</p> +<p> +‘Hussar of the Ninth, I believe?’ repeated he, reading from a paper in his +hand. +</p> +<p> +‘The same, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, your talents as a draughtsman have procured you promotion, my +friend; I have obtained your discharge from your regiment, and you are now +my orderly—orderly on the staff, do you mind; so mount, sir, and +follow me.’ +</p> +<p> +I saluted him respectfully, and prepared to obey his orders. Already I +foresaw the downfall of all the hopes I had been cherishing, and +anticipated the life of tyranny and oppression that lay before me. It was +clear to me that my discharge had been obtained solely as a means of +punishing me, and that Captain Discau, as the officer was called, had +destined me to a pleasant expiation of my note-book The savage exultation +with which he watched me, as I made up my kit and saddled my horse—the +cool malice with which he handed me back the accursed journal, the cause +of all my disasters—gave me a dark foreboding of what was to follow; +and as I mounted my saddle, my woeful face and miserable look brought +forth a perfect shout of laughter from the bystanders. +</p> +<p> +Captain Discau’s duty was to visit the banks of the Rhine and the Eslar +island, to take certain measurements of distances, and obtain accurate +information on various minute points respecting the late engagement; for, +while a brief announcement of the victory would suffice for the bulletin, +a detailed narrative of the event in all its bearings must be drawn up for +the minister of war, and for this latter purpose various staff-officers +were then employed in different parts of the field. +</p> +<p> +As we issued from the fortress, and took our way over the plain, we struck +out into a sharp gallop; but as we drew near the river, our passage became +so obstructed by lines of baggage-waggons, tumbrils, and ammunition-carts, +that we were obliged to dismount and proceed on foot; and now I was to see +for the first time that dreadful picture which, on the day after a battle, +forms the reverse of the great medal of glory. Huge litters of wounded +men, on their way back to Strasbourg, were drawn by six or eight horses, +their jolting motion increasing the agony of sufferings that found their +vent in terrific cries and screams; oaths, yells, and blasphemies, the +ravings of madness, and the wild shouts of infuriated suffering, filled +the air on every side. As if to give the force of contrast to this uproar +of misery, two regiments of Swabian infantry marched past as prisoners. +Silent, crest-fallen, and wretched-looking, they never raised their eyes +from the ground, but moved, or halted, wheeled, or stood at ease, as +though by some impulse of mechanism; a cord coupled the wrists of the +outer files one with another, which struck me less as a measure of +security against escape, than as a mark of indignity. +</p> +<p> +Carts and charrettes with wounded officers, in which oftentimes the +uniform of the enemy appeared side by side with our own, followed in long +procession; and thus were these two great currents—the one hurrying +forward, ardent, high-hearted, and enthusiastic; the other returning +maimed, shattered, and dying! +</p> +<p> +It was an affecting scene to see the hurried gestures, and hear the few +words of adieu, as they passed each other. Old comrades who were never to +meet again, parted with a little motion of the hand; sometimes a mere look +was all their leave-taking, save when, now and then, a halt would for a +few seconds bring the lines together, and then many a bronzed and rugged +cheek was pressed upon the faces of the dying, and many a tear fell from +eyes bloodshot with the fury of the battle! Wending our way on foot slowly +along, we at last reached the river-side, and having secured a small +skiff, made for the Eslar island—our first business being to +ascertain some details respecting the intrenchments there, and the depth +and strength of the stream between it and the left bank. Discau, who was a +distinguished officer, rapidly possessed himself of the principal facts he +wanted, and then, having given me his portfolio, he seated himself under +the shelter of a broken waggon, and opening a napkin, began his breakfast +off a portion of a chicken and some bread-viands which, I own, more than +once made my lips water as I watched him. +</p> +<p> +‘You’ve eaten nothing to-day, Tiernay?’ asked he, as he wiped his lips +with the air of a man that feels satisfied. +</p> +<p> +‘Nothing, <i>mon capitaine?</i> replied I. +</p> +<p> +‘That’s bad,’ said he, shaking his head; ‘a soldier cannot do his duty if +his rations be neglected. I have always maintained the principle: Look to +the men’s necessaries—take care of their food and clothing. Is there +anything on that bone there?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nothing, <i>mon capitaine</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m sorry for it—I meant it for you. Put up that bread, and the +remainder of that flask of wine. Bourdeaux is not to be had every day. We +shall want it for supper, Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +I did as I was bid, wondering not a little why he said ‘we,’ seeing how +little a share I occupied in the copartnery. +</p> +<p> +‘Always be careful of the morrow on a campaign, Tiernay—no +squandering, no waste; that’s one of my principles,’ said he gravely, as +he watched me while I tied up the bread and wine in the napkin. ‘You’ll +soon see the advantage of serving under an old soldier.’ +</p> +<p> +I confess the great benefit had not already struck me, but I held my peace +and waited; meanwhile he continued— +</p> +<p> +‘I have studied my profession from my boyhood, and one thing I have +acquired that all experience has confirmed—the knowledge that men +must neither be taxed beyond their ability nor their endurance. A French +soldier, after all, is human; eh, is’t not so?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I feel it most profoundly, <i>mon capitaine</i>,’ replied I, with my hand +on my empty stomach. +</p> +<p> +‘Just so,’ rejoined he; ‘every man of sense and discretion must confess +it. Happily for you, too, I know it; ay, Tiernay I know it, and practise +it. When a young fellow has acquitted himself to my satisfaction during +the day—not that I mean to say that the performance has not its fair +share of activity and zeal—when evening comes and stable duty +finished, arms burnished, and accoutrements cleaned, what do you think I +say to him?—eh, Tiernay—just guess now?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Probably, sir, you tell him he is free to spend an hour at the canteen, +or take his sweetheart to the theatre.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What! more fatigue! more exhaustion to an already tired and worn-out +nature!’ +</p> +<p> +‘I ask pardon, sir, I see I was wrong; but I had forgotten how thoroughly +the poor fellow was done up. I now see that you told him to go to bed.’ +</p> +<p> +‘To bed! to bed! Is it that he might writhe in the nightmare, or suffer +agony from cramps? To bed after fatigue like this! No, no, Tiernay; that +was not the school in which I was brought up; we were taught to think of +the men under our command; to remember that they had wants, sympathies, +hopes, fears, and emotions like our own. I tell him to seat himself at the +table, and with pen, ink, and paper before him, to write up the blanks. I +see you don’t quite understand me, Tiernay, as to the meaning of the +phrase, but I’ll let you into the secret. You have been kind enough to +give me a peep at your note-book, and you shall in return have a look at +mine. Open that volume, and tell me what you find in it.’ +</p> +<p> +I obeyed the direction, and read at the top of a page the words, +‘Skeleton, 5th Prarial,’ in large characters, followed by several isolated +words, denoting the strength of a brigade, the number of guns in a +battery, the depth of a fosse, the height of a parapet, and such like. +These were usually followed by a flourish of the pen, or sometimes by the +word ‘Bom.,’ which singular monosyllable always occurred at the foot of +the pages. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, have you caught the key to the cipher?’ said he, after a pause. +</p> +<p> +‘Not quite, sir,’ said I, pondering; ‘I can perceive that the chief facts +stand prominently forward, in a fair round hand; I can also guess that the +flourishes may be spaces left for detail; but this word “Bom.” puzzles me +completely.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Quite correct, as to the first part,’ said he approvingly; ‘and as to the +mysterious monosyllable, it is nothing more than an abbreviation for +“Bombaste,” which is always to be done to the taste of each particular +commanding officer.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I perceive, sir,’ said I quickly; ‘like the wadding of a gun, which may +increase the loudness, but never affect the strength of the shot.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Precisely, Tiernay; you have hit it exactly. Now I hope that, with a +little practice, you may be able to acquit yourself respectably in this +walk; and now to begin our skeleton. Turn over to a fresh page, and write +as I dictate to you.’ +</p> +<p> +So saying, he filled his pipe and lighted it, and disposing his limbs in +an attitude of perfect ease, he began:— +</p> +<p> +‘"8th Thermidor, midnight—twelve battalions, and two batteries of +field—boats and rafts—Eslar Island—stockades—eight +guns—Swabian infantry—sharp firing, and a flourish—strong +current—flourish—detachment of the 28th carried down—‘Bom. +</p> +<p> +‘"Let me see it now—all right—nothing could be better—proceed. +“The 10th, 45th, and 48th landing together—more firing—flourish—first +gun captured—Bom.—bayonet charges—Bom. Bom.—three +guns taken—Bom. Bom. Bom.—Swabs in retreat—flourish. The +bridge eighty toises in length— flanking fire—heavy loss—flourish.”’ +</p> +<p> +‘You go a little too fast, <i>mon capitaine</i>,’ said I, for a sudden +bright thought just flashed across me. +</p> +<p> +‘Very well,’ said he, shaking the ashes of his pipe out upon the rock, +‘I’ll take my doze, and you may awaken me when you’ve filled in those +details—it will be a very fair exercise for you’; and with this he +threw his handkerchief over his face, and without any other preparation +was soon fast asleep. +</p> +<p> +I own that, if I had not been a spectator of the action, it would have +been very difficult, if not impossible, for me to draw up anything like a +narrative of it from the meagre details of the captain’s note-book. My +personal observations, however, assisted by an easy imagination, suggested +quite enough to make at least a plausible story, and I wrote away without +impediment and halt till I came to that part of the action in which the +retreat over the bridge commenced. There I stopped. Was I to remain +satisfied with such a crude and one-sided explanation as the notebook +afforded, and merely say that the retreating forces were harassed by a +strong flank fire from our batteries? Was I to omit the whole of the great +incident, the occupation of the ‘Fels Insel,’ and the damaging discharges +of grape and round shot which plunged through the crowded ranks, and +ultimately destroyed the bridge? Could I—to use the phrase so +popular—could I, in the ‘interests of truth,’ forget the brilliant +achievement of a gallant band of heroes who, led on by a young hussar of +the 9th, threw themselves into the ‘Fels Insel,’ routed the garrison, +captured the artillery, and directing its fire upon the retiring enemy, +contributed most essentially to the victory. Ought I, in a word, to suffer +a name so associated with a glorious action to sink into oblivion? Should +Maurice Tiernay be lost to fame out of any neglect or false shame on my +part? Forbid it all truth and justice! cried I, as I set myself down to +relate the whole adventure most circumstantially. Looking up from time to +time at my officer, who slept soundly, I suffered myself to dilate upon a +theme in which somehow I felt a more than ordinary degree of interest. The +more I dwelt upon the incident, the more brilliant and striking did it +seem like the appetite, which the proverb tells us comes by eating, my +enthusiasm grew under indulgence, so that, had a little more time been +granted me, I verily believe I should have forgotten Moreau altogether, +and coupled only Maurice Tiernay with the passage of the Rhine, and the +capture of the fortress of Kehl. Fortunately, Captain Discau awoke, and +cut short my historic recollections by asking me how much I had done, and +telling me to read it aloud to him. +</p> +<p> +I accordingly began to read my narrative slowly and deliberately, thereby +giving myself time to think what I should best do when I came to that part +which became purely personal To omit it altogether would have been +dangerous, as the slightest glance at the mass of writing would have shown +the deception. There was, then, nothing left, but to invent at the moment +another version, in which Maurice Tiernay never occurred, and the incident +of the ‘Fels Insel’ should figure as unobtrusively as possible. I was +always a better improvisatore than amanuensis; so that without a moment’s +loss of time I fashioned a new and very different narrative, and detailing +the battle tolerably accurately, minus the share my own heroism had taken +in it. The captain made a few, a very few corrections of my style, in +which the ‘flourish’ and ‘bom.’ figured, perhaps, too conspicuously; and +then told me frankly, that once upon a time he had been fool enough to +give himself great trouble in framing these kind of reports, but that +having served for a short period in the ‘bureau’ of the minister of war, +he had learned better—‘In fact,’ said he, ‘a district report is +never read! Some hundreds of them reach the office of the minister every +day, and are safely deposited in the “archives” of the department. They +have all, besides, such a family resemblance, that with a few changes in +the name of the commanding officer, any battle in the Netherlands would do +equally well for one fought beyond the Alps! Since I became acquainted +with this fact, Tiernay, I have bestowed less pains upon the matter, and +usually deputed the task to some smart orderly of the staff.’ +</p> +<p> +So, thought I, I have been writing history for nothing; and Maurice +Tiernay, the real hero of the passage of the Rhine, will be unrecorded and +unremembered, just for want of one honest and impartial scribe to transmit +his name to posterity. The reflection was not a very encouraging one; nor +did it serve to lighten the toil in which I passed many weary hours, +copying out my own precious manuscript. Again and again during that night +did I wonder at my own diffuseness—again and again did I curse the +prolix accuracy of a description that cost such labour to reiterate. It +was like a species of poetical justice on me for my own amplifications; +and when the day broke, and I still sat at my table writing on, at the +third copy of this precious document, I vowed a vow of brevity, should I +ever survive to indite similar compositions. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII. A FAREWELL LETTER +</h2> +<p> +It was in something less than a week after that I entered upon my new +career as orderly in the staff, when I began to believe myself the most +miserable of all human beings. On the saddle at sunrise, I never +dismounted, except to carry a measuring chain, ‘to step distances,’ mark +out intrenchments, and then write away, for hours, long enormous reports, +that were to be models of caligraphy, neatness and elegance—and +never to be read. Nothing could be less like soldiering than the life I +led; and were it not for the clanking sabre I wore at my side, and the +jingling spurs that decorated my heels, I might have fancied myself a +notary’s clerk. It was part of General Moreau’s plan to strengthen the +defences of Kehl before he advanced farther into Germany; and to this end +repairs were begun upon a line of earthworks, about two leagues to the +northward of the fortress, at a small village called ‘Ekheim.’ In this +miserable little hole, one of the dreariest spots imaginable, we were +quartered, with two companies of sapeurs and some of the waggon-train, +trenching, digging, carting earth, sinking wells, and in fact engaged in +every kind of labour save that which seemed to be characteristic of a +soldier. +</p> +<p> +I used to think that Nancy and the riding-school were the most dreary and +tiresome of all destinies, but they were enjoyments and delight compared +with this. Now it very often happens in life that when a man grows +discontented and dissatisfied with mere monotony, when he chafes at the +sameness of a tiresome and unexciting existence, he is rapidly approaching +to some critical or eventful point, where actual peril and real danger +assail him, and from which he would willingly buy his escape by falling +back upon that wearisome and plodding life he had so often deplored +before. This case was my own. Just as I had convinced myself that I was +exceedingly wretched and miserable, I was to know there are worse things +in this world than a life of mere uniform stupidity. I was waiting outside +my captain’s door for orders one morning, when at the tinkle of his little +hand-bell I entered the room where he sat at breakfast, with an open +despatch before him. +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay,’ said he, in his usual quiet tone, ‘here is an order from the +adjutant-general to send you back under an escort to headquarters. Are you +aware of any reason for it, or is there any charge against you which +warrants this?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not to my knowledge, <i>mon capitaine</i>,’ said I, trembling with +fright, for I well knew with what severity discipline was exercised in +that army, and how any, even the slightest, infractions met the heaviest +penalties. +</p> +<p> +‘I have never known you to pillage,’ continued he, ‘have never seen you +drink, nor have you been disobedient while under my command; yet this +order could not be issued on light grounds; there must be some grave +accusation against you, and in any case you must go; therefore arrange all +my papers, put everything to rights, and be ready to return with the +orderly.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You’ll give me a good character, <i>mon capitaine</i>,’ said I, trembling +more than ever—‘you’ll say what you can for me, I’m sure.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Willingly, if the general or chief were here,’ replied he; ‘but that’s +not so. General Moreau is at Strasbourg. It is General Régnier that is in +command of the army, and unless specially applied to, I could not venture +upon the liberty of obtruding my opinion upon him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is he so severe, sir?’ asked I timidly. +</p> +<p> +‘The general is a good disciplinarian,’ said he cautiously, while he +motioned with his hand towards the door, and accepting the hint, I +retired. +</p> +<p> +It was evening when I re-entered Kehl, under an escort of two of my own +regiment, and was conducted to the ‘Salle de Police.’ At the door stood my +old corporal, whose malicious grin, as I alighted, revealed the whole +story of my arrest; and I now knew the charge that would be preferred +against me—a heavier there could not be made—was, +‘disobedience in the field.’ I slept very little that night, and when I +did close my eyes, it was to awake with a sudden start, and believe myself +in presence of the court-martial, or listening to my sentence, as read out +by the president. Towards day, however, I sank into a heavy, deep slumber, +from which I was aroused by the reveille of the barracks. +</p> +<p> +I had barely time to dress when I was summoned before the ‘Tribunale +Militaire’—a sort of permanent court-martial, whose sittings were +held in one of the churches of the town. Not even all the terror of my own +precarious position could overcome the effect of old prejudices in my +mind, as I saw myself led up the dim aisle of the church towards the altar +rails, within which, around a large table, were seated a number of +officers, whose manner and bearing evinced but little reverence for the +sacred character of the spot. +</p> +<p> +Stationed in a group of poor wretches whose wan looks and anxious glances +told that they were prisoners like myself, I had time to see what was +going forward around me. The president, who alone wore his hat, read from +a sort of list before him the name of a prisoner and that of the witnesses +in the cause. In an instant they were all drawn up and sworn. A few +questions followed, rapidly put, and almost as rapidly replied to. The +prisoner was called on then for his defence: if this occupied many +minutes, he was sure to be interrupted by an order to be brief. Then came +the command to ‘stand by’; and after a few seconds’ consultation together, +in which many times a burst of laughter might be heard, the Court agreed +upon the sentence, recorded and signed it, and then proceeded with the +next case. +</p> +<p> +If nothing in the procedure imposed reverence or respect, there was that +in the despatch which suggested terror, for it was plain to see that the +Court thought more of the cost of their own precious minutes than of the +years of those on whose fate they were deciding. I was sufficiently near +to hear the charges of those who were arraigned, and, for the greater +number, they were all alike. Pillage, in one form or another, was the +universal offending, and from the burning of a peasant’s cottage, to the +theft of his dog or his <i>poulet</i>, all came under this head. At last +came number 82—‘Maurice Tiernay, hussar of the Ninth.’ I stepped +forward to the rails. +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay,’ read the president hurriedly, ‘accused by Louis +Gaussin, corporal of the same regiment, “of wilfully deserting his post +while on duty in the field, and in the face of direct orders to the +contrary, inducing others to a similar breach of discipline.” Make the +charge, Gaussin.’ +</p> +<p> +The corporal stepped forward, and began— +</p> +<p> +‘We were stationed in detachment on the bank of the Rhine, on the evening +of the 23rd——’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Court has too many duties to lose its time for nothing,’ interrupted +I. ‘It is all true. I did desert my post, I did disobey orders; and, +seeing a weak point in the enemy’s line, attacked and carried it with +success. The charge is, therefore, admitted by me, and it only remains for +the Court to decide how far a soldier’s zeal for his country may be +deserving of punishment. Whatever the result, one thing is perfectly +clear, Corporal Gaussin will never be indicted for a similar +misdemeanour.’ +</p> +<p> +A murmur of voices and suppressed laughter followed this impertinent and +not over-discreet sally of mine, and the president, calling out, ‘Proven +by acknowledgment,’ told me to ‘stand by.’ I now fell back to my former +place, to be interrogated by my comrades on the result of my examination, +and hear their exclamations of surprise and terror at the rashness of my +conduct. A little reflection of the circumstances would probably have +brought me over to their opinion, and shown me that I had gratuitously +thrown away an opportunity of self-defence; but my temper could not brook +the indignity of listening to the tiresome accusation and the stupid +malevolence of the corporal, whose hatred was excited by the influence I +wielded over my comrades. +</p> +<p> +It was long past noon ere the proceedings terminated, for the list was a +full one, and at length the Court rose, apparently not sorry to exchange +their tiresome duties for the pleasant offices of the dinner-table. No +sentences had been pronounced, but one very striking incident seemed to +shadow forth a gloomy future. Three, of whom I was one, were marched off, +doubly guarded, before the rest, and confined in separate cells of the +‘Salle,’ where every precaution against escape too plainly showed the +importance attached to our safe keeping. +</p> +<p> +At about eight o’clock, as I was sitting on my bed—if that inclined +plane of wood, worn by the form of many a former prisoner, could deserve +the name—a sergeant entered with the prison allowance of bread and +water. He placed it beside me without speaking, and stood for a few +seconds gazing at me. +</p> +<p> +‘What age art thou, lad?’ said he, in a voice of compassionate interest. +</p> +<p> +‘Something over fifteen, I believe,’ replied I. +</p> +<p> +‘Hast father and mother?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Both are dead!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Uncles or aunts living?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Neither.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Hast any friends who could help thee?’ +</p> +<p> +‘That might depend on what the occasion for help should prove, for I have +one friend in the world.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who is he?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Colonel Mahon, of the Cuirassiers.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I never heard of him—is he here?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, I left him at Nancy; but I could write to him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It would be too late, much too late.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How do you mean—too late?’ asked I tremblingly. +</p> +<p> +‘Because it is fixed for to-morrow evening,’ replied he in a low, +hesitating voice. +</p> +<p> +‘What? the—the——’ I could not say the word, but merely +imitated the motion of presenting and firing. He nodded gravely in +acquiescence. +</p> +<p> +‘What hour is it to take place?’ asked I. +</p> +<p> +‘After evening parade. The sentence must be signed by General Berthier, +and he will not be here before that time.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It would be too late then, sergeant,’ said I, musing, ‘far too late. +Still I should like to write the letter; I should like to thank him for +his kindness in the past, and show him, too, that I have not been either +unworthy or ungrateful. Could you let me have paper and pen, sergeant?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I can venture so far, lad; but I cannot let thee have a light, it is +against orders; and during the day, thou ‘ll be too strictly watched.* +</p> +<p> +‘No matter; let me have the paper, and I’ll try to scratch a few lines in +the dark; and thou ‘lt post it for me, sergeant? I ask thee as a last +favour to do this.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I promise it,’ said he, laying his hand on my shoulder. After standing +for a few minutes thus in silence, he started suddenly and left the cell. +</p> +<p> +I now tried to eat my supper, but although resolved on behaving with a +stout and unflinching courage throughout the whole sad event, I could not +swallow a mouthful. A sense of choking stopped me at every attempt, and +even the water I could only get down by gulps. The efforts I made to bear +up seemed to have caused a species of hysterical excitement that actually +rose to the height of intoxication, for I talked away loudly to myself, +laughed and sung. I even jested and mocked myself on this sudden +termination of a career that I used to anticipate as stored with future +fame and rewards. At intervals, I have no doubt that my mind wandered far +beyond the control of reason, but as constantly came back again to a full +consciousness of my melancholy position, and the fate that awaited me. The +noise of the key in the door silenced my ravings, and I sat motionless as +the sergeant entered with the pen, ink, and paper, which he laid down upon +the bed, and then as silently withdrew. +</p> +<p> +A long interval of stupor, a state of dreary half consciousness, now came +over me, from which I aroused myself with great difficulty to write the +few lines I destined for Colonel Mahon. I remember even now, long as has +been the space of years since that event, full as it has been of stirring +and strange incidents, I remember perfectly the thought which flashed +across me, as I sat, pen in hand, before the paper. It was the notion of a +certain resemblance between our actions in this world with the characters +I was about to inscribe upon that paper. Written in darkness and in doubt, +thought I, how shall they appear when brought to the light! Perhaps those +I have deemed the best and fairest shall seem but to be the weakest or the +worst! What need of kindness to forgive the errors, and of patience to +endure the ignorance! At last I began: ‘Mon Colonel,—Forgive, I pray +you, the errors of these lines, penned in the darkness of my cell, and the +night before my death. They are written to thank you ere I go hence, and +to tell you that the poor heart whose beating will soon be still, throbbed +gratefully towards you to the last! I have been sentenced to death for a +breach of discipline of which I was guilty. Had I failed in the +achievement of my enterprise by the bullet of an enemy, they would have +named me with honour; but I have had the misfortune of success, and +to-morrow am I to pay its penalty. I have the satisfaction, however, of +knowing that my share in that great day can neither be denied nor evaded; +it is already on record, and the time may yet come when my memory will be +vindicated. I know not if these lines be legible, nor if I have crossed or +recrossed them. If they are blotted they are not my tears have done it, +for I have a firm heart and a good courage; and when the moment comes——’ +Here my hand trembled so much, and my brain grew so dizzy, that I lost the +thread of my meaning, and merely jotted down at random a few words, vague, +unconnected, and unintelligible, after which, and by an effort that cost +all my strength, I wrote ‘Maurice Tiernay, late Hussar of the 9th +Regiment.’ +</p> +<p> +A hearty burst of tears followed the conclusion of this letter; all the +pent-up emotion with which my heart was charged broke out at last, and I +cried bitterly. Intense passions are, happily, never of long duration, +and, better still, they are always the precursors of calm. Thus, tranquil, +the dawn of morn broke upon me, when the sergeant came to take my letter, +and apprise me that the adjutant would appear in a few moments to read my +sentence, and inform me when it was to be executed. +</p> +<p> +‘Thou’It bear up well, lad; I know thou wilt,’ said the poor fellow, with +tears in his eyes. ‘Thou hast no mother, and thou ‘lt not have to grieve +for her.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Don’t be afraid, sergeant; I’ll not disgrace the old 9th. Tell my +comrades I said so.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I will. I will tell them all! Is this thy jacket, lad?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; what do you want it for?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I must take it away with me. Thou art not to wear it more?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not wear it, nor die in it! and why not?’ +</p> +<p> +‘That is the sentence, lad; I cannot help it. It’s very hard, very cruel; +but so it is.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then I am to die dishonoured, sergeant; is that the sentence?’ +</p> +<p> +He dropped his head, and I could see that he moved his sleeve across his +eyes; and then, taking up my jacket, he came towards me. +</p> +<p> +‘Remember, lad, a stout heart; no flinching. Adieu—God bless thee.’ +He kissed me on either cheek, and went out. +</p> +<p> +He had not been gone many minutes, when the tramp of marching outside +apprised me of the coming of the adjutant, and the door of my cell being +thrown open, I was ordered to walk forth into the court of the prison. Two +squadrons of my own regiment, all who were not on duty, were drawn up, +dismounted, and without arms; beside them stood a company of grenadiers +and a half battalion of the line, the corps to which the other two +prisoners belonged, and who now came forward, in shirtsleeves like myself, +into the middle of the court. +</p> +<p> +One of my fellow-sufferers was a very old soldier, whose hair and beard +were white as snow; the other was a middle-aged man, of a dark and +forbidding aspect, who scowled at me angrily as I came up to his side, and +seemed as if he scorned the companionship. I returned a glance, haughty +and as full of defiance as his own, and never noticed him after. +</p> +<p> +The drum beat a roll, and the word was given for silence in the ranks—an +order so strictly obeyed, that even the clash of a weapon was unheard, +and, stepping in front of the line, the Auditeur Militaire read out the +sentences. As for me, I heard but the words ‘<i>Peine afflictive et +infamante‘</i>; all the rest became confusion, shame, and terror +commingled; nor did I know that the ceremonial was over when the troops +began to defile, and we were marched back again to our prison quarters. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV. A SURPRISE AND AN ESCAPE +</h2> +<p> +It is a very common subject of remark in newspapers, and as invariably +repeated with astonishment by the readers, how well and soundly such a +criminal slept on the night before his execution. It reads like a +wonderful evidence of composure, or some not less surprising proof of +apathy or indifference. I really believe it has as little relation to one +feeling as to the other, and is simply the natural consequence of +faculties overstrained, and a brain surcharged with blood; sleep being +induced by causes purely physical in their nature. For myself, I can say +that I was by no means indifferent to life, nor had I any contempt for the +form of death that awaited me. As localities which have failed to inspire +a strong attachment become endowed with a certain degree of interest when +we are about to part from them for ever, I never held life so desirable as +now that I was going to leave it; and yet, with all this, I fell into a +sleep so heavy and profound, that I never awoke till late in the evening. +Twice was I shaken by the shoulder ere I could throw off the heavy weight +of slumber; and even when I looked up, and saw the armed figures around +me, I could have lain down once more and composed myself to another sleep. +</p> +<p> +The first thing which thoroughly aroused me, and at once brightened up my +slumbering senses, was missing my jacket, for which I searched every +corner of my cell, forgetting that it had been taken away, as the nature +of my sentence was declared <i>infamante</i>. The next shock was still +greater, when two sapeurs came forward to tie my wrists together behind my +back; I neither spoke nor resisted, but in silent submission complied with +each order given me. +</p> +<p> +All preliminaries being completed, I was led forward, preceded by a +pioneer, and guarded on either side by two sapeurs of ‘the guard’; a +muffled drum, ten paces in advance, keeping up a low monotonous rumble as +we went. +</p> +<p> +Our way led along the ramparts, beside which ran a row of little gardens, +in which the children of the officers were at play. They ceased their +childish gambols as we drew near, and came closer up to watch us. I could +mark the terror and pity in their little faces as they gazed at me; I +could see the traits of compassion with which they pointed me out to each +other, and my heart swelled with gratitude for even so slight a sympathy. +It was with difficulty I could restrain the emotion of that moment, but +with a great effort I did subdue it, and marched on, to all seeming, +unmoved. A little farther on, as we turned the angle of the wall, I looked +back to catch one last look at them. Would that I had never done so! They +had quitted the railings, and were now standing in a group, in the act of +performing a mimic execution. One, without his jacket, was kneeling on the +grass. But I could not bear the sight, and in scornful anger I closed my +eyes, and saw no more. +</p> +<p> +A low whispering conversation was kept up by the soldiers around me. They +were grumbling at the long distance they had to march, as the ‘affair’ +might just as well have taken place on the glacis as two miles away. How +different were my feelings—how dear to me was now every minute, +every second of existence; how my heart leaped at each turn of the way, as +I still saw a space to traverse and some little interval longer to live! +</p> +<p> +‘And mayhap after all,’ muttered one dark-faced fellow, ‘we shall have +come all this way for nothing. There can be no fusillade without the +general’s signature, so I heard the adjutant say; and who’s to promise +that he ‘ll be at his quarters?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very true,’ said another; ‘he may be absent, or at table.’ +</p> +<p> +‘At table!’ cried two or three together; ‘and what if he were?’ +</p> +<p> +‘If he be,’ rejoined the former speaker, ‘we may go back again for our +pains! I ought to know him well; I was his orderly for eight months, when +I served in the “Légers,” and can tell you, my lads, I wouldn’t be the +officer who would bring him a report or a return to sign when once he had +opened out his napkin on his knee; and it’s not very far from his +dinner-hour now.’ +</p> +<p> +What a sudden thrill of hope ran through me! Perhaps I should be spared +for another day. +</p> +<p> +‘No, no we’re all in time,’ exclaimed the sergeant; ‘I can see the +general’s tent from this; and there he stands, with all his staff around +him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; and there go the other escorts—they will be up before us if we +don’t make haste; quick-time, lads. Come along, <i>mon cher,</i>’ said he, +addressing me—‘thou’rt not tired, I hope?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not tired!’ replied I; ‘but remember, sergeant, what a long journey I +have before me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Pardi!</i> I don’t believe all that rhodomontade about another world,’ +said he gruffly; ‘the Republic settled that question.’ +</p> +<p> +I made no reply, for such words, at such a moment, were the most terrible +of tortures to me. And now we moved on at a brisker pace, and crossing a +little wooden bridge, entered a kind of esplanade of closely shaven turf, +at one corner of which stood the capacious tent of the Commander-in-chief, +for such, in Moreau’s absence, was General Berthier. Numbers of +staff-officers were riding about on duty, and a large travelling-carriage, +from which the horses seemed recently detached, stood before the tent. +</p> +<p> +We halted as we crossed the bridge, while the adjutant advanced to obtain +the signature to the sentence. My eyes followed him till they swam with +rising tears, and I could not wipe them away, as my hands were fettered. +How rapidly did my thoughts travel during those few moments. The good old +Père Michel came back to me in memory, and I tried to think of the +consolation his presence would have afforded me; but I could do no more +than think of them. +</p> +<p> +‘Which is the prisoner Tiernay?’ cried a young aide-decamp, cantering up +to where I was standing. +</p> +<p> +‘Here, sir,’ replied the sergeant, pushing me forward. +</p> +<p> +‘So,’ rejoined the officer angrily, ‘this fellow has been writing letters, +it would seem, reflecting upon the justice of his sentence, and arraigning +the conduct of his judges. Your epistolary tastes are like to cost you +dearly, my lad; it had been better for you if writing had been omitted in +your education. Reconduct the others, sergeant, they are respited; this +fellow alone is to undergo his sentence.’ +</p> +<p> +The other two prisoners gave a short and simultaneous cry of joy as they +fell back, and I stood alone in front of the escort. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> he has forgotten the signature,’ said the adjutant, +casting his eye over the paper: ‘he was chattering and laughing all the +time, with the pen in his hand, and I suppose fancied that he had signed +it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nathalie was there, perhaps,’ said the aide-de-camp significantly. +</p> +<p> +‘She was, and I never saw her looking better. It’s something like eight +years since I saw her last; and I vow she seems not only handsomer but +fresher, and more youthful, to-day than then.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Where is she going?—have you heard?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who can tell? Her passport is like a firman—she may travel where +she pleases. The rumour of the day says Italy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I thought she looked provoked at Moreau’s absence; it seemed like want of +attention on his part, a lack of courtesy she’s not used to.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very true; and her reception of Berthier was anything but gracious, +although he certainly displayed all his civilities in her behalf.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Strange days we live in!’ sighed the other; ‘when a man’s promotion hangs +upon the favourable word of a——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Hush!—take care!—be cautious!’ whispered the other. ‘Let us +not forget this poor fellow’s business. How are you to settle it? Is the +signature of any consequence? The whole sentence is all right and +regular.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I shouldn’t like to omit the signature,’ said the other cautiously; ‘it +looks like carelessness, and might involve us in trouble hereafter.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then we must wait some time, for I see they are gone to dinner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘So I perceive,’ replied the former, as he lighted his cigar, and seated +himself on a bank. ‘You may let the prisoner sit down, sergeant, and leave +his hands free; he looks wearied and exhausted.’ +</p> +<p> +I was too weak to speak, but I looked my gratitude; and sitting down upon +the grass, covered my face and wept heartily. +</p> +<p> +Although quite close to where the officers sat together chatting and +jesting, I heard little or nothing of what they said. Already the things +of life had ceased to have any hold upon me; and I could have heard of the +greatest victory, or listened to a story of the most fatal defeat, without +the slightest interest or emotion. An occasional word or a name would +strike upon my ear, but leave no impression nor any memory behind it. +</p> +<p> +The military band was performing various marches and opera airs before the +tent where the general dined, and in the melody, softened by distance, I +felt a kind of calm and sleepy repose that lulled me into a species of +ecstasy. +</p> +<p> +At last the music ceased to play, and the adjutant, starting hurriedly up, +called on the sergeant to move forward. +</p> +<p> +‘By Jove!’ cried he, ‘they seem preparing for a promenade, and we shall +get into a scrape if Berthier sees us here. Keep your party yonder, +sergeant, out of sight, till I obtain the signature.’ +</p> +<p> +And so saying, away he went towards the tent at a sharp gallop. +</p> +<p> +A few seconds, and I watched him crossing the esplanade; he dismounted and +disappeared. A terrible choking sensation was over me, and I scarcely was +conscious that they were again tying my hands. The adjutant came out +again, and made a sign with his sword. +</p> +<p> +‘We are to move on!’ said the sergeant, half in doubt. +</p> +<p> +‘Not at all,’ broke in the aide-de-camp; ‘he is making a sign for you to +bring up the prisoner! There, he is repeating the signal—lead him +forward.’ +</p> +<p> +I knew very little of how—less still of why—but we moved on in +the direction of the tent, and in a few minutes stood before it. The +sounds of revelry and laughter—the hum of voices, and the clink of +glasses-together with the hoarse bray of a brass band, which again struck +up—all were commingled in my brain, as, taking me by the arm, I was +led forward within the tent, and found myself at the foot of a table +covered with all the gorgeousness of silver plate, and glowing with +bouquets of flowers and fruits. In the one hasty glance I gave, before my +lids fell over my swimming eyes, I could see the splendid uniforms of the +guests as they sat around the board, and the magnificent costume of a lady +in the place of honour next the head. +</p> +<p> +Several of those who sat at the lower end of the table drew back their +seats as I came forward, and seemed as if desirous to give the general a +better view of me. +</p> +<p> +Overwhelmed by the misery of my fate, as I stood awaiting my death, I felt +as though a mere word, a look, would have crushed me but one moment back; +but now, as I stood there before that group of gazers, whose eyes scanned +me with looks of insolent disdain, or still more insulting curiosity, a +sense of proud defiance seized me, to confront and dare them with glances +haughty and scornful as their own. It seemed to me so base and unworthy a +part to summon a poor wretch before them, as if to whet their new appetite +for enjoyment by the aspect of his misery, that an indignant anger took +possession of me, and I drew myself up to my full height, and stared at +them calm and steadily. +</p> +<p> +‘So, then!’ cried a deep soldierlike voice from the far end of the table, +which I at once recognised as the general-in-chief s—‘so, then, +gentlemen, we have now the honour of seeing amongst us the hero of the +Rhine! This is the distinguished individual by whose prowess the passage +of the river was effected, and the Swabian infantry cut off in their +retreat! Is it not true, sir?’ said he, addressing me with a savage scowl. +</p> +<p> +‘I have had my share in the achievement,’ said I, with the cool air of +defiance. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> you are modest, sir. So had every drummer-boy that beat +his tattoo! But yours was the part of a great leader, if I err not?’ +</p> +<p> +I made no answer, but stood firm and unmoved. +</p> +<p> +‘How do you call the island which you have immortalised by your valour?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Fels Insel, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10190.jpg" width="100%" alt=" 190 " /> +</div> +<p> +‘Gentlemen, let us drink to the hero of the Fels Insel,’ said he, holding +up his glass for the servant to fill it. ‘A bumper—a full, a flowing +bumper! And let him also pledge a toast in which his interest must be so +brief. Give him a glass, Contard.’ +</p> +<p> +The order was obeyed in a second; and I, summoning up all my courage to +seem as easy and indifferent as they were, lifted the glass to my lips, +and drained it off. +</p> +<p> +‘Another glass now to the health of this fair lady, through whose +intercession we owe the pleasure of your company,’ said the general. +</p> +<p> +‘Willingly,’ said I; ‘and may one so beautiful seldom find herself in a +society so unworthy of her!’ +</p> +<p> +A perfect roar of laughter succeeded the insolence of this speech; amid +which I was half pushed, half dragged, up to the end of the table where +the general sat. +</p> +<p> +‘How so, <i>coquin</i>; do you dare to insult a French general at the head +of his own staff!’ +</p> +<p> +‘If I did, sir, it were quite as brave as to mock a poor criminal on his +way to his execution!’ +</p> +<p> +‘That is the boy!—I know him now!—the very same lad!’ cried +the lady, as, stooping behind Berthier’s chair, she stretched out her hand +towards me. ‘Come here; are you not Colonel Mahon’s godson?’ +</p> +<p> +I looked her full in the face; and whether her own thoughts gave the +impulse, or that something in my stare suggested it, she blushed till her +cheeks grew crimson. +</p> +<p> +‘Poor Charles was so fond of him!’ whispered she in Berthier’s ear; and as +she spoke, the expression of her face at once recalled where I had seen +her, and I now perceived that she was the same person I had seen at table +with Colonel Mahon, and whom I believed to be his wife. +</p> +<p> +A low whispering conversation now ensued between the general and her, at +the close of which he turned to me and said— +</p> +<p> +‘Madame Merlancourt has deigned to take an interest in you—you are +pardoned. Remember, sir, to whom you owe your life, and be grateful to her +for it.’ +</p> +<p> +I took the hand she extended towards me, and pressed it to my lips. +</p> +<p> +‘Madame,’ said I, ‘there is but one favour more I would ask in this world, +and with it I could think myself happy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But can I grant it, <i>mon cher</i>?’ said she, smiling. +</p> +<p> +‘If I am to judge from the influence I have seen you wield, madame, here +and elsewhere, this petition will easily be accorded.’ +</p> +<p> +A slight flush coloured the lady’s cheek, while that of the general became +dyed red with anger. I saw that I had committed some terrible blunder, but +how, or in what, I knew not. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, sir,’ said Madame Merlancourt, addressing me with a stately +coldness of manner, very different from her former tone, ‘let us hear what +you ask, for we are already taking up a vast deal of time that our host +would prefer devoting to his friends—what is it you wish?’ +</p> +<p> +‘My discharge from a service, madame, where zeal and enthusiasm are +rewarded with infamy and disgrace; my freedom to be anything but a French +soldier.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You are resolved, sir, that I am not to be proud of my protégé,’ said she +haughtily; ‘what words are these to speak in presence of a general and his +officers?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am bold, madame, as you say, but I am wronged.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How so, sir—in what have you been injured?’ cried the general +hastily, ‘except in the excessive condescension which has stimulated your +presumption. But we are really two indulgent in this long parley. Madame, +permit me to offer you some coffee under the trees. Contardo, tell the +band to follow us. Gentlemen, we expect the pleasure of your society.’ +</p> +<p> +And so’ saying, Berthier presented his arm to the lady, who swept proudly +past without deigning to notice me. In a few minutes the tent was cleared +of all, except the servants occupied in removing the remains of the +dessert, and I fell back, unremarked and unobserved, to take my way +homeward to the barracks, more indifferent to life than ever I had been +afraid of death. +</p> +<p> +As I am not likely to recur at any length to the somewhat famous person to +whom I owed my life, I may as well state that her name has since occupied +no inconsiderable share of attention in France, and her history, under the +title of <i>Mémoires d’une Contemporaine</i>, excited a degree of interest +and anxiety in quarters which one might have fancied far above the reach +of her revelations. At the time I speak of, I little knew the character of +the age in which such influences were all powerful, nor how destinies very +different from mine hung upon the favouritism of ‘La belle Nathalie.’ Had +I known these things, and, still more, had I known the sad fate to which +she brought my poor friend, Colonel Mahon, I might have scrupled to accept +my life at such hands, or involved myself in a debt of gratitude to one +for whom I was subsequently to feel nothing but hatred and aversion. It +was indeed a terrible period, and in nothing more so than the fact that +acts of benevolence and charity were blended up with features of +falsehood, treachery, and baseness, which made one despair of humanity, +and think the very worst of their species. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XV. SCRAPS OF HISTORY +</h2> +<p> +Nothing displays more powerfully the force of egotism than the simple +truth that, when any man sits himself down to write the events of his +life, the really momentous occurrences in which he may have borne a part +occupy a conspicuously small place, when each petty incident of a merely +personal nature is dilated and extended beyond all bounds. In one sense, +the reader benefits by this, since there are few impertinences less +forgivable than the obtrusion of some insignificant name into the +narrative of facts that are meet for history. I have made these remarks in +a spirit of apology to my reader; not alone for the accuracy of my late +detail, but also, if I should seem in future to dwell but passingly on the +truly important facts of a great campaign, in which my own part was so +humble. +</p> +<p> +I was a soldier in that glorious army which Moreau led into the heart of +Germany, and whose victorious career would only have ceased when they +entered the capital of the Empire, had it not been for the unhappy +mistakes of Jourdan, who commanded the auxiliary forces in the north. For +nigh three months we advanced steadily and successfully, superior in every +engagement; we only waited for the moment of junction with Jourdan’s army, +to declare the Empire our own; when at last came the terrible tidings that +he had been beaten, and that Latour was advancing from Ulm to turn our +left flank, and cut off our communications with France. +</p> +<p> +Two hundred miles from our own frontiers—separated from the Rhine by +that terrible Black Forest whose defiles are mere gorges between vast +mountains—with an army fifty thousand strong on one flank, and the +Archduke Charles commanding a force of nigh thirty thousand on the other—such +were the dreadful combinations which now threatened us with a defeat not +less signal than Jourdan’s own. Our strength, however, lay in a superb +army of seventy thousand unbeaten men, led on by one whose name alone was +victory. +</p> +<p> +On the 24th of September the order for retreat was given; the army began +to retire by slow marches, prepared to contest every inch of ground, and +make every available spot a battlefield. The baggage and ammunition were +sent on in front, and two days’ march in advance. Behind, a formidable +rear-guard was ready to repulse every attack of the enemy. Before, +however, entering those close défiles by which his retreat lay, Moreau +determined to give one terrible lesson to his enemy, like the hunted tiger +turning upon his pursuers, he suddenly halted at Biberach, and ere Latour, +who commanded the Austrians, was aware of his purpose, assailed the +Imperial forces with an attack on right, centre, and left together. Four +thousand prisoners and eighteen pieces of cannon were the trophies of the +victory. +</p> +<p> +The day after this decisive battle our march was resumed, and the +advanced-guard entered that narrow and dismal defile which goes by the +name of the ‘Valley of Hell,’ when our left and right flanks, stationed at +the entrance of the pass, effectually secured the retreat against +molestation. The voltigeurs of St. Cyr crowning the heights as we went, +swept away the light troops which were scattered along the rocky +eminences, and in less than a fortnight our army debouched by Fribourg and +Oppenheim into the valley of the Rhine, not a gun having been lost, not a +caisson deserted, during that perilous movement. +</p> +<p> +The Archduke, however, having ascertained the direction of Moreau’s +retreat, advanced by a parallel pass through the Kinzigthal, and attacked +St. Cyr at Nauen-dorf, and defeated him. Our right flank, severely handled +at Emmendingen, the whole force was obliged to retreat on Hüningen, and +once more we found ourselves upon the banks of the Rhine, no longer an +advancing army, high in hope, and flushed with victory—but beaten, +harassed, and retreating! +</p> +<p> +The last few days of that retreat presented a scene of disaster such as I +can never forget. To avoid the furious charges of the Austrian cavalry, +against which our own could no longer make resistance, we had fallen back +upon a line of country cut up into rocky cliffs and precipices, and +covered by a dense pine forest. Here, necessarily broken up into small +parties, we were assailed by the light troops of the enemy, led on through +the various passes by the peasantry, whose animosity our own severity had +excited. It was, therefore, a continual hand-to-hand struggle, in which, +opposed as we were to overpowering numbers acquainted with every advantage +of the ground, our loss was terrific. It is said that nigh seven thousand +men fell—-an immense number, when no general action had occurred. +Whatever the actual loss, such were the circumstances of our army, that +Moreau hastened to propose an armistice, on the condition of the Rhine +being the boundary between the two armies, while Kehl was still to be held +by the French. +</p> +<p> +The proposal was rejected by the Austrians, who at once commenced +preparations for a siege of the fortress with forty thousand troops, under +Latour’s command. The earlier months of winter now passed in the labours +of the siege, and on the morning of New-year’s Day the first attack was +made; the second line was carried a few days after, and, after a glorious +defence by Desaix, the garrison capitulated, and evacuated the fortress on +the 9th of the month. Thus, in the space of six short months, had we +advanced with a conquering army into the very heart of the Empire, and now +we were back again within our own frontier, not one single trophy of all +our victories remaining, two-thirds of our army dead or wounded—more +than all, the prestige of our superiority fatally injured, and that of the +enemy’s valour and prowess as signally elevated. +</p> +<p> +The short annals of a successful soldier are often comprised in the few +words which state how he was made lieutenant at such a date, promoted to +his company here, obtained his majority there, succeeded to the command of +his regiment at such a place, and so on. Now my exploits may even be more +briefly written as regards this campaign—for, whether at Kehl, at +Nauendorf, on the Elz, or at Huningen, I ended as I began—a simple +soldier of the ranks. A few slight wounds, a few still more insignificant +words of praise, were all that I brought back with me; but if my trophies +were small, I had gained considerably both in habits of discipline and +obedience. I had learned to endure, ably and without complaining, the +inevitable hardships of a campaign, and, better still, to see that the +irrepressible impulses of the soldier, however prompted by zeal or +heroism, may oftener mar than promote the more mature plans of his +general. Scarcely had my feet once more touched French ground, than I was +seized with the ague, then raging as an epidemic among the troops, and +sent forward with a large detachment of sick to the Military Hospital of +Strasbourg. +</p> +<p> +Here I bethought me of my patron, Colonel Mahon, and determined to write +to him. For this purpose I addressed a question to the Adjutant-General’s +office to ascertain the colonel’s address. The reply was a brief and +stunning one—he had been dismissed the service. No personal calamity +could have thrown me into deeper affliction; nor had I even the sad +consolation of learning any of the circumstances of this misfortune. His +death, even though thereby I should have lost my only friend, would have +been a lighter evil than this disgrace; and coming as did the tidings when +I was already broken by sickness and defeat, more than ever disgusted me +with a soldier’s life. It was then with a feeling of total indifference +that I heard a rumour which at another moment would have filled me with +enthusiasm—the order for all invalids sufficiently well to be +removed, to be drafted into regiments serving in Italy. The fame of +Bonaparte, who commanded that army, had now surpassed that of all the +other generals; his victories paled the glory of their successes, and it +was already a mark of distinction to have served under his command. +</p> +<p> +The walls of the hospital were scrawled over with the names of his +victories; rude sketches of Alpine passes, terrible ravines, or snow-clad +peaks, met the eye everywhere; and the one magical name, ‘Bonaparte,’ +written beneath, seemed the key to all their meaning. With him war seemed +to assume all the charms of romance. Each action was illustrated by feats +of valour or heroism, and a halo of glory seemed to shine over all the +achievements of his genius. +</p> +<p> +It was a clear, bright morning of March, when a light frost sharpened the +air, and a fair, blue sky overhead showed a cloudless elastic atmosphere, +that the ‘invalides,’ as we were all called, were drawn up in the great +square of the hospital for inspection. Two superior officers of the staff, +attended by several surgeons and an adjutant, sat at a table in front of +us, on which lay the regimental books and conduct-rolls of the different +corps. Such of the sick as had received severe wounds, incapacitating them +for further service, were presented with some slight reward—a few +francs in money, a greatcoat, or a pair of shoes, and obtained their +freedom. Others, whose injuries were less important, received their +promotion, or some slight increase of pay, these favours being all +measured by the character the individual bore in his regiment, and the +opinion certified of him by his commanding officer. When my turn came, and +I stood forward, I felt a kind of shame to think how little claim I could +prefer either to honour or advancement. +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay, slightly wounded by a sabre at Nauendorf—flesh-wound +at Biberach—enterprising and active, but presumptuous and +overbearing with his comrades,’ read out the adjutant, while he added a +few words I could not hear, but at which the superior laughed heartily. +</p> +<p> +‘What says the doctor?’ asked he, after a pause. +</p> +<p> +‘This has been a bad case of ague, and I doubt if the young fellow will +ever be fit for active service—certainly not at present.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is there a vacancy at Saumur?’ asked the general. ‘I see he has been +employed in the school at Nancy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tes, sir; for the third class there is one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Let him have it, then. Tiernay, you are appointed as aspirant of the +third class at the College of Saumur. Take care that the report of your +conduct be more creditable than what is written here. Your opportunities +will now be considerable, and, if well employed, may lead to further +honour and distinction; if neglected or abused, your chances are forfeited +for ever.’ +</p> +<p> +I bowed and retired, as little satisfied with the admonition as elated +with a prospect which converted me from a soldier into a scholar, and, in +the first verge of manhood, threw me back once more into the condition of +a mere boy. +</p> +<p> +Eighteen months of my life—not the least happy, perhaps, since in +the peaceful portion I can trace so little to be sorry for—glided +over beside the banks of the beautiful Loire, the intervals in the hour of +study being spent either in the riding-school, or the river, where, in +addition to swimming and diving, we were instructed in pontooning and +rafting, the modes of transporting ammunition and artillery, and the +attacks of infantry by cavalry pickets. +</p> +<p> +I also learned to speak and write English and German with great ease and +fluency, besides acquiring some skill in military drawing and engineering. +</p> +<p> +It is true that the imprisonment chafed sorely against us, as we read of +the great achievements of our armies in various parts of the world—of +the great battles of Cairo and the Pyramids, of Acre and Mount Thabor, and +of which a holiday and a fête were to be our only share. +</p> +<p> +The terrible storms which shook Europe from end to end only reached us in +the bulletins of new victories, and we panted for the time when we, too, +should be actors in the glorious exploits of France. +</p> +<p> +It is already known to the reader that of the country from which my family +came I myself knew nothing. The very little I had ever learned of it from +my father was also a mere tradition; still was I known among my comrades +only as ‘the Irishman,’ and by that name was I recognised, even in the +record of the school, where I was inscribed thus—‘Maurice Tiernay, +<i>dit l’Irlandais</i>.’ It was on this very simple and seemingly +unimportant fact my whole fate in life was to turn; and in this wise-But +the explanation deserves a chapter of its own, and shall have it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVI. AN OLD GENERAL OF THE IRISH BRIGADE +</h2> +<p> +In obedience to an order which arrived at Saumur one morning in the July +of 1788,1 was summoned before the commandant of the school, when the +following brief colloquy ensued:— +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay,’ said he, reading from the record of the school, why are +you called <i>l’Irlandais?</i>’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am Irish by descent, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ha! by descent. Your father was, then, an <i>émigré?</i> +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir—my great-grandfather.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> that is going very far back. Are you aware of the causes +which induced him to leave his native country?’ +</p> +<p> +‘They were connected with political trouble, I’ve heard, sir. He took part +against the English, my father told me, and was obliged to make his escape +to save his life.’ ‘You, then, hate the English, Maurice?’ ‘My ancestor +certainly did not love them, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nor can you, boy, ever forgive their having exiled your family from +country and home; every man of honour retains the memory of such +injuries.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I can scarcely deem that an injury, sir, which has made me a French +citizen,’ said I proudly. +</p> +<p> +‘True, boy—you say what is perfectly true and just; any sacrifice of +fortune or patrimony is cheap at such a price; still you have suffered a +wrong—a deep and irreparable wrong—and as a Frenchman you are +ready to avenge it.’ +</p> +<p> +Although I had no very precise notion, either as to the extent of the +hardships done me, nor in what way I was to demand the reparation, I gave +the assent he seemed to expect. +</p> +<p> +‘You are well acquainted with the language, I believe?’ continued he. +</p> +<p> +‘I can read and speak English tolerably well, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But I speak of Irish, boy—of the language which is spoken by your +fellow-countrymen,’ said he rebukingly. +</p> +<p> +‘I have always heard, sir, that this has fallen into disuse, and is little +known save among the peasantry in a few secluded districts.’ +</p> +<p> +He seemed impatient as I said this, and referred once more to the paper +before him, from whose minutes he appeared to have been speaking. +</p> +<p> +‘You must be in error, boy. I find here that the nation is devotedly +attached to its traditions and literature, and feels no injury deeper than +the insulting substitution of a foreign tongue for their own noble +language.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Of myself I know nothing, sir; the little I have learned was acquired +when a mere child.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, then, you probably forget, or may never have heard the fact; but it +is as I tell you. This, which I hold here, is the report of a highly +distinguished and most influential personage, who lays great stress upon +the circumstance. I am sorry, Tiernay, very sorry, that you are +unacquainted with the language.’ +</p> +<p> +He continued for some minutes to brood over this disappointment, and at +last returned to the paper before him. +</p> +<p> +‘The geography of the country—what knowledge have you on that +subject?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No more, sir, than I may possess of other countries, and merely learned +from maps.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Bad again,’ muttered he to himself. ‘Madgett calls these “essentials”; +but we shall see.’ Then addressing me, he said, ‘Tiernay, the object of my +present interrogatory is to inform you that the Directory is about to send +an expedition to Ireland to assist in the liberation of that enslaved +people. It has been suggested that young officers and soldiers of Irish +descent might render peculiar service to the cause, and I have selected +you for an opportunity which will convert these worsted epaulettes into +bullion.’ +</p> +<p> +This at least was intelligible news, and now I began to listen with more +attention. +</p> +<p> +‘There is a report,’ said he, laying down before me a very capacious +manuscript, ‘which you will carefully peruse. Here are the latest +pamphlets setting forth the state of public opinion in Ireland; and here +are various maps of the coast, the harbours, and the strongholds of that +country, with all of which you may employ yourself advantageously; and if, +on considering the subject, you feel disposed to volunteer—for as a +volunteer only could your services be accepted—I will willingly +support your request by all the influence in my power.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am ready to do so at once, sir,’ said I eagerly; ‘I have no need to +know any more than you have told me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well said, boy; I like your ardour. Write your petition and it shall be +forwarded to-day. I will also try and obtain for you the same regimental +rank you hold in the school’—I was a sergeant—‘it will depend +upon yourself afterwards to secure a further advancement. You are now free +from duty; lose no time, therefore, in storing your mind with every +possible information, and be ready to set out at a moment’s notice.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is the expedition so nearly ready, sir?’ asked I eagerly. +</p> +<p> +He nodded, and with a significant admonition as to secrecy, dismissed me, +bursting with anxiety to examine the stores of knowledge before me, and +prepare myself with all the details of a plan in which already I took the +liveliest interest. Before the week expired, I received an answer from the +Minister, accepting the offer of my services. The reply found me deep in +those studies, which I scarcely could bear to quit even at meal-times. +Never did I experience such an all-devouring passion for a theme as on +that occasion. ‘Ireland’ never left my thoughts; her wrongs and sufferings +were everlastingly before me; all the cruelties of centuries—all the +hard tyranny of the penal laws—the dire injustice of caste +oppression—filled me with indignation and anger; while, on the other +hand, I conceived the highest admiration of a people who, undeterred by +the might and power of England, resolved to strike a great blow for +liberty. +</p> +<p> +The enthusiasm of the people—the ardent daring of a valour whose +impetuosity was its greatest difficulty—their high romantic +temperament—their devotion—their gratitude—the childlike +trustfulness of their natures, were all traits, scattered through the +various narratives, which invariably attracted me, and drew me more +strongly to their cause—more from affection than reason. +</p> +<p> +Madgett’s memoir was filled with these; and he, I concluded, must know +them well, being, as it was asserted, one of the ancient nobility of the +land, and who now desired nothing better than to throw rank, privilege, +and title into the scale, and do battle for the liberty and equality of +his countrymen. How I longed to see this great man, whom my fancy arrayed +in all the attributes he so lavished upon his countrymen, for they were +not only, in his description, the boldest and the bravest, but the +handsomest people of Europe. +</p> +<p> +As to the success of the enterprise, whatever doubts I had at first +conceived, from an estimate of the immense resources of England, were +speedily solved, as I read of the enormous preparations the Irish had made +for the struggle. The Roman Catholics, Madgett said, were three millions, +the Dissenters another million, all eager for freedom and French alliance, +wanting nothing but the appearance of a small armed force to give them the +necessary organisation and discipline. They were somewhat deficient, he +acknowledged, in firearms—cannon they had none whatever; but the +character of the country, which consisted of mountains, valleys, ravines +and gorges, reduced war to the mere chivalrous features of personal +encounter. What interminable descriptions did I wade through of clubs and +associations, the very names of which were a puzzle to me—the great +union of all appearing to be a society called ‘Defenders,’ whose oath +bound them to ‘fidelity to the united nations of France and Ireland!’ +</p> +<p> +So much for the one side. For the other, it was asserted that the English +forces then in garrison in Ireland were beneath contempt; the militia, +being principally Irish, might be relied on for taking the popular side; +and as to the Regulars, they were either ‘old men or boys,’ incapable of +active service; and several of the regiments being Scotch, greatly +disaffected to the Government. Then, again, as to the navy, the sailors in +the English fleet were more than two-thirds Irishmen, all Catholics, and +all disaffected. +</p> +<p> +That the enterprise contained every element of success, then, who could +doubt? The nation, in the proportion of ten to one, were for the movement. +On their side lay not alone the wrongs to avenge, but the courage, the +energy, and the daring. Their oppressors were as weak as tyrannical, their +cause was a bad one, and their support of it a hollow semblance of +superiority. +</p> +<p> +If I read these statements with ardour and avidity, one lurking sense of +doubt alone obtruded itself on my reasonings. Why, with all these +guarantees of victory, with everything that can hallow a cause, and give +it stability and strength—why did the Irish ask for aid? If they +were, as they alleged, an immense majority—if there was all the +heroism and the daring—if the struggle was to be maintained against +a miserably inferior force, weakened by age, incapacity, and disaffection—what +need had they of Frenchmen on their side? The answer to all such doubts, +however, was ‘the Irish were deficient in organisation.’ +</p> +<p> +Not only was the explanation a very sufficient one, but it served in a +high degree to flatter our vanity. We were, then, to be organisers of +Ireland; from us were they to take the lessons of civilisation, which +should prepare them for freedom—ours was the task to discipline +their valour, and train their untaught intelligence. Once landed in the +country, it was to our standard they were to rally; from us were to go +forth the orders of every movement and measure; to us this new land was to +be an El Dorado. Madgett significantly hinted everywhere at the unbounded +gratitude of Irishmen, and more than hinted at the future fate of certain +confiscated estates. One phrase, ostentatiously set forth in capitals, +asserted that the best general of the French Republic could not be +anywhere employed with so much reputation and profit. There was, then, +everything to stimulate the soldier in such an enterprise—honour, +fame, glory, and rich rewards were all among the prizes. +</p> +<p> +It was when deep in the midst of these studies, poring over maps and +reports, taxing my memory with hard names, and getting off by heart dates, +distances, and numbers, that the order came for me to repair at once to +Paris, where the volunteers of the expedition were to assemble. My rank of +sergeant had been confirmed, and in this capacity, as <i>sous-officier</i>, +I was ordered to report myself to General Kilmaine, the adjutant-general +of the expedition, then living in the Rue Ghantereine. I was also given +the address of a certain Lestaing—Rue Tailbout—a tailor, from +whom, on producing a certificate, I was to obtain my new uniform. +</p> +<p> +Full as I was of the whole theme, thinking of the expedition by day, and +dreaming of it by night, I was still little prepared for the enthusiasm it +was at that very moment exciting in every society of the capital. For some +time previously a great number of Irish emigrants had made Paris their +residence; some were men of good position and ample fortune; some were +individuals of considerable ability and intelligence. All were +enthusiastic, and ardent in temperament—devotedly attached to their +country—hearty haters of England, and proportionally attached to all +that was French. These sentiments, coupled with a certain ease of manner, +and a faculty of adaptation, so peculiarly Irish, made them general +favourites in society; and long before the Irish question had found any +favour with the public, its national supporters had won over the hearts +and good wishes of all Paris to the cause. +</p> +<p> +Well pleased, then, as I was with my handsome uniform of green and gold, +my small chapeau, with its plume of cock’s feathers, and the embroidered +shamrock on my collar, I was not a little struck by the excitement my +first appearance in the street created. Accustomed to see a hundred +strange military costumes—the greater number, I own, more singular +than tasteful—the Parisians, I concluded, would scarcely notice mine +in the crowd. Not so, however; the print-shops had already given the +impulse to the admiration, and the ‘Irish Volunteer of the Guard’ was to +be seen in every window, in all the ‘glory of his bravery.’ The heroic +character of the expedition, too, was typified by a great variety of +scenes, in which the artist’s imagination had all the credit. In one +picture the <i>jeune Irlandais</i> was planting a national flag of very +capacious dimensions on the summit of his native mountains; here he was +storming <i>Le Château de Dublin</i>, a most formidable fortress, perched +on a rock above the sea; here he was crowning the heights of <i>La +Citadelle de Cork</i>, a very Gibraltar in strength; or he was haranguing +the native chieftains, a highly picturesque group—a cross between a +knight crusader and a South-sea islander. +</p> +<p> +My appearance, therefore, in the streets was the signal for general notice +and admiration, and more than one compliment was uttered, purposely loud +enough to reach me, on the elegance and style of my equipment. In the +pleasant flurry of spirits excited by this flattery, I arrived at the +general’s quarters in the Rue Chantereine. It was considerably before the +time of his usual receptions, but the glitter of my epaulettes, and the +air of assurance I had assumed, so far imposed upon the old servant who +acted as valet, that he at once introduced me into a small saloon, and +after a brief pause presented me to the general, who was reclining on a +sofa at his breakfast. Although far advanced in years, and evidently +broken by bad health, General Kilmaine still preserved traces of great +personal advantages, while his manner exhibited all that polished ease and +courtesy which was said to be peculiar to the Irish gentleman of the +French Court. Addressing me in English, he invited me to join his meal, +and on my declining, as having already breakfasted, he said, ‘I perceive, +from your name, we are countrymen, and as your uniform tells me the +service in which you are engaged, we may speak with entire confidence. +Tell me then, frankly, all that you know of the actual condition of +Ireland.’ +</p> +<p> +Conceiving that this question applied to the result of my late studies, +and was meant to elicit the amount of my information, I at once began a +recital of what I had learned from the books and reports I had been +reading, My statistics were perfect—they had been gotten off by +heart; my sympathies were, for the same reason, most eloquent; my +indignation was boundless on the wrongs I deplored, and in fact, in the +fifteen minutes during which he permitted me to declaim without +interruption, I had gone through the whole ‘cause of Ireland,’ from Henry +n. to George n. +</p> +<p> +‘You have been reading Mr. Madgett, I perceive,’ said he, with a smile; +‘but I would rather hear something of your own actual experience. Tell me, +therefore, in what condition are the people at this moment, as regards +poverty?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have never been in Ireland, general,’ said I, not without some shame at +the avowal coming so soon after my eloquent exhortation. +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, I perceive,’ said he blandly, ‘of Irish origin, and a relative +probably of that very distinguished soldier, Count Maurice de Tiernay, who +served in the Garde du Corps.’ +</p> +<p> +‘His only son, general,’ said I, blushing with eagerness and pleasure at +the praise of my father. +</p> +<p> +‘Indeed!’ said he, smiling courteously, and seeming to meditate on my +words. ‘There was not a better nor a braver sabre in the corps than your +father—a very few more of such men might have saved the monarchy—as +it was, they dignified its fall. And to whose guidance and care did you +owe your early training, for I see you have not been neglected?’ +</p> +<p> +A few words told him the principal events of my early years, to which he +listened with deep attention. At length he said, ‘And now you are about to +devote your acquirements and energy to this new expedition?’ +</p> +<p> +‘All, general! Everything that I have is too little for such a cause.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You say truly, boy,’ said he warmly; ‘would that so good a cause had +better leaders. I mean,’ added he hurriedly, ‘wiser ones. Men more +conversant with the actual state of events, more fit to cope with the +great difficulties before them, more ready to take advantage of +circumstances, whose outward meaning will often prove deceptive. In fact, +Irishmen of character and capacity, tried soldiers and good patriots. +Well, well, let us hope the best. In whose division are you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have not yet heard, sir. I have presented myself here to-day to receive +your orders.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There again is another instance of their incapacity,’ cried he +passionately. ‘Why, boy, I have no command, nor any function. I did accept +office under General Hoche, but he is not to lead the present expedition.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And who is, sir?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I cannot tell you. A week ago they talked of Grouchy, then of Hardy; +yesterday it was Humbert; to-day it may be Bonaparte, and to-morrow +yourself! Ay, Tiernay, this great and good cause has its national fatality +attached to it, and is so wrapped up in low intrigue and falsehood, that +every Minister becomes in turn disgusted with the treachery and mendacity +he meets with, and bequeaths the question to some official underling, meet +partisan for the mock patriot he treats with.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But the expedition will sail, general?’ asked I, sadly discomfited by +this tone of despondency. +</p> +<p> +He made me no answer, but sat for some time absorbed in his own thoughts. +At last he looked up, and said, ‘You ought to be in the army of Italy, +boy; the great teacher of war is there.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I know it, sir, but my whole heart is in this struggle. I feel that +Ireland has a claim on all who derived even a name from her soil. Do you +not believe that the expedition will sail?’ +</p> +<p> +Again he was silent and thoughtful. +</p> +<p> +‘Mr. Madgett would say yes,’ said he scornfully, ‘though, certes, he would +not volunteer to bear it company.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Colonel Cherin, general!’ said the valet, as he flung open the door for a +young officer in a staff uniform. I arose at once to withdraw, but the +general motioned to me to wait in an adjoining room, as he desired to +speak with me again. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely five minutes had elapsed when I was summoned once more before +him. +</p> +<p> +‘You have come at a most opportune moment, Tiernay,’ said he; ‘Colonel +Cherin informs me that an expedition is ready to sail from Rochelle at the +first favourable wind. General Humbert has the command; and if you are +disposed to join him I will give you a letter of presentation.’ +</p> +<p> +Of course I did not hesitate in accepting the offer; and while the general +drew over his desk to write the letter, I withdrew towards the window to +converse with Colonel Cherin. +</p> +<p> +‘You might have waited long enough,’ said he, laughing, ‘if the affair had +been in other hands than Humbert’s. The delays and discussions of the +official people, the difficulty of anything like agreement, the want of +money, and fifty other causes, would have detained the fleet till the +English got scent of the whole. But Humbert has taken the short road in +the matter. He only arrived at La Rochelle five days ago, and now he is +ready to weigh anchor.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And in what way has he accomplished this?’ asked I, in some curiosity. +</p> +<p> +‘By a method,’ replied he, laughing again, ‘which is usually reserved for +an enemy’s country. Growing weary of a correspondence with the Minister, +which seemed to make little progress, and urged on by the enthusiastic +stories of the Irish refugees, he resolved to wait no longer; and so he +has called on the merchants and magistrates to advance him a sum on +military requisition, together with such stores and necessaries as he +stands in need of.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And they have complied?’ asked I. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> that have they. In the first place, they had no other +choice; and in the second, they are but too happy to get rid of him and +his ‘Legion Noir,’ as they are called, so cheaply. A thousand louis and a +thousand muskets would not pay for the damage of these vagabonds each +night they spent in the town.’ +</p> +<p> +I confess that this description did not tend to exalt the enthusiasm I had +conceived for the expedition; but it was too late for hesitation—too +late for even a doubt. Go forward I should, whatever might come of it. And +now the general had finished his letter, which, having sealed and +addressed, he gave into my hand, saying—‘This will very probably +obtain your promotion, if not at once, at least on the first vacancy. +Good-bye, my lad; there may be hard knocks going where you will be, but +I’m certain you’ll not disgrace the good name you bear, nor the true cause +for which you are fighting. I would that I had youth and strength to stand +beside you in the struggle! +</p> +<p> +‘Good-bye.’ He shook me affectionately by both hands; the colonel, too, +bade me adieu not less cordially; and I took my leave with a heart +overflowing with gratitude and delight. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVII. LA ROCHELLE +</h2> +<p> +La Rochelle is a quiet little town at the bottom of a small bay, the mouth +of which is almost closed up by two islands. There is a sleepy, peaceful +air about the place—a sort of drowsy languor pervades everything and +everybody about it, that tells of a town whose days of busy prosperity +have long since passed by, and which is dragging out life, like some +retired tradesman—too poor for splendour, but rich enough to be +idle. A long avenue of lime-trees incloses the harbour; and here the +merchants conduct their bargains, while their wives, seated beneath the +shade, discuss the gossip of the place over their work. All is patriarchal +and primitive as Holland itself; the very courtesies of life exhibiting +that ponderous stateliness which insensibly reminds one of the land of +dikes and broad breeches. It is the least ‘French’ of any town I have ever +seen in France; none of that light merriment, that gay volatility of voice +and air which form the usual atmosphere of a French town. All is still, +orderly, and sombre; and yet on the night in which—something more +than fifty years back—I first entered it, a very different scene was +presented to my eyes. +</p> +<p> +It was about ten o’clock, and by a moon nearly full, the diligence rattled +along the covered ways of the old fortress, and crossing many a moat and +drawbridge, the scenes of a once glorious struggle, entered the narrow +streets, traversed a wide place, and drew up within the ample portals of +‘La Poste.’ +</p> +<p> +Before I could remove the wide capote which I wore, the waiter ushered me +into a large salon where a party of about forty persons were seated at +supper. With a few exceptions they were all military officers, and <i>sous-officiers</i> +of the expedition, whose noisy gaiety and boisterous mirth sufficiently +attested that the entertainment had begun a considerable time before. +</p> +<p> +A profusion of bottles, some empty, others in the way to become so, +covered the table, amidst which lay the fragments of a common table-d’hôte +supper—large dishes of cigars and basins of tobacco figuring beside +the omelettes and the salad. +</p> +<p> +The noise, the heat, the smoke, and the confusion—the clinking of +glasses, the singing, and the speech-making, made a scene of such turmoil +and uproar, that I would gladly have retired to some quieter atmosphere, +when suddenly an accidental glimpse of my uniform caught some eyes among +the revellers, and a shout was raised of ‘Holloa, comrades! here’s one of +the “Guides” among us.’ And at once the whole assembly rose up to greet +me. For full ten minutes I had to submit to a series of salutations, which +led to every form, from hand-shaking and embracing to kissing; while, +perfectly unconscious of any cause for my popularity, I went through the +ceremonies like one in a dream. +</p> +<p> +‘Where’s Kilmaine?’ ‘What of Hardy?’ ‘Is Grouchy coming?’ ‘Can the Brest +fleet sail?’ ‘How many line-of-battle ships have they?’ ‘What’s the +artillery force?’ ‘Have you brought any money?’ This last question, the +most frequent of all, was suddenly poured in upon me, and with a fortunate +degree of rapidity, that I had no time for a reply, had I even the means +of making one. +</p> +<p> +‘Let the lad have a seat and a glass of wine before he submits to this +interrogatory,’ said a fine, jolly-looking old <i>chef d’escadron</i> at +the head of the table, while he made a place for me at his side. ‘Now tell +us, boy, what number of the “Guides” are to be of our party?’ +</p> +<p> +I looked a little blank at the question, for in truth I had not heard of +the corps before, nor was I aware that it was their uniform I was then +wearing. +</p> +<p> +‘Come, come, be frank with us, lad,’ said he; ‘we are all comrades here. +Confound secrecy, say I.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, ay,’ cried the whole assembly together—‘confound secrecy. We +are not bandits nor highwaymen; we have no need of concealment.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll be as frank as you can wish, comrades,’ said I; ‘and if I lose some +importance in your eyes by owning that I am not the master of a single +state secret, I prefer to tell you so, to attempting any unworthy +disguise. I come here, by orders from General Kilmaine, to join your +expedition; and except this letter for General Humbert, I have no claim to +any consideration whatever.’ +</p> +<p> +The old <i>chef</i> took the letter from my hands and examined the seal +and superscription carefully, and then passed the document down the table +for the satisfaction of the rest. +</p> +<p> +While I continued to watch with anxious eyes the letter on which so much +of my own fate depended, a low whispering conversation went on at my side, +at the end of which the <i>chef</i> said— +</p> +<p> +‘It’s more than likely, lad, that your regiment is not coming; but our +general is not to be balked for that. Go he will; and let the Government +look to themselves if he is not supported. At all events you had better +see General Humbert at once; there’s no saying what that despatch may +contain. Santerre, conduct him upstairs.’ +</p> +<p> +A smart young fellow arose at the bidding, and beckoned me to follow him. +</p> +<p> +It was not without difficulty that we forced our way upstairs, down which +porters, and sailors, and soldiers were now carrying a number of heavy +trunks and packing-cases. At last we gained an anteroom, where confusion +seemed at its highest, crowded as it was by soldiers, the greater number +of them intoxicated, and all in a state of riotous and insolent +insubordination. Amongst these were a number of the townspeople, eager to +prefer complaints for outrage and robbery, but whose subdued voices were +drowned amid the clamour of their oppressors. Meanwhile, clerks were +writing away receipts for stolen and pillaged articles, and which, signed +with the name of the general, were grasped at with eager avidity. Even +personal injuries were requited in the same cheap fashion, orders on the +national treasury being freely issued for damaged noses and smashed heads, +and gratefully received by the confiding populace. +</p> +<p> +‘If the wind draws a little more to the southward before morning, we’ll +pay our debts with the topsail sheet, and it will be somewhat shorter, and +to the full as honest,’ said a man in a naval uniform. +</p> +<p> +‘Where’s the officer of the “Regiment des Guides?”’ cried a soldier from +the door at the farther end of the room; and before I had time to think +over the designation of rank given me, I was hurried into the general’s +presence. +</p> +<p> +General Humbert, whose age might have been thirty-eight or forty, was a +tall, well-built, but somewhat over-corpulent man; his features frank and +manly, but with a dash of coarseness in their expression, particularly +about the mouth; a sabre-cut, which had divided the upper lip, and whose +cicatrix was then seen through his moustache, heightening the effect of +his sinister look; his carriage was singularly erect and soldierlike, but +all his gestures betrayed the habits of one who had risen from the ranks, +and was not unwilling to revive the recollection. +</p> +<p> +He was parading the room from end to end when I entered, stopping +occasionally to look out from an open window upon the bay, where by the +clear moonlight might be seen the ships of the fleet at anchor. Two +officers of his staff were writing busily at a table, whence the materials +of a supper had not yet been removed. They did not look up as I came +forward, nor did he notice me in any way for several minutes. Suddenly he +turned towards me, and snatching the letter I held in my hand, proceeded +to read it. A burst of coarse laughter broke from him as he perused the +lines; and then throwing down the paper on the table, he cried out— +</p> +<p> +‘So much for Kilmaine’s contingent. I asked for a company of engineers and +a squadron of “Guides,” and they send me a boy from the cavalry-school of +Saumur. I tell them that I want some fellows conversant with the language +and the people, able to treat with the peasantry, and acquainted with +their habits, and here I have got a raw youth whose highest acquirement in +all likelihood is to daub a map with water-colours, or take fortifications +with a pair of compasses! I wish I had some of these learned gentlemen in +the trenches for a few hours. <i>Parbleu!</i> I think I could teach them +something they don’t learn from Citizen Carnot.—Well, sir,’ said he, +turning abruptly towards me, ‘how many squadrons of the “Guides” are +completed?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I cannot tell, general,’ was my timid answer. +</p> +<p> +‘Where are they stationed?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Of that also I am ignorant, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Peste!</i>’ cried he, stamping his foot passionately; then suddenly +checking his anger, he asked, ‘How many are coming to join this +expedition? Is there a regiment, a division, a troop? Can you tell me with +certainty that a sergeant’s guard is on the way hither?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I cannot, sir; I know nothing whatever about the regiment in question.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You have never seen it?’ cried he vehemently. +</p> +<p> +‘Never, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘This exceeds all belief,’ exclaimed he, with a crash of his closed fist +upon the table. ‘Three weeks letter-writing! Estafettes, orderlies, and +special couriers to no end! And here we have an unfledged cur from a +cavalry institute, when I asked for a strong reinforcement. Then what +brought you here, boy?’ +</p> +<p> +‘To join your expedition, general.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Have they told you it was a holiday-party that we had planned? Did they +say it was a junketing we were bent upon?’ +</p> +<p> +‘If they had, sir, I would not have come.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The greater fool you, then, that’s all,’ cried he, laughing; ‘when I was +your age I’d not have hesitated twice between a merry-making and a bayonet +charge.’ +</p> +<p> +While he was thus speaking, he never ceased to sign his name to every +paper placed before him by one or other of the secretaries. +</p> +<p> +‘No, <i>parbleu!</i> he went on, ‘<i>La maîtresse</i> before the <i>mitraille</i> +any day for me. But what’s all this, Girard? Here I’m issuing orders upon +the national treasury for hundreds of thousands without let or +compunction.’ +</p> +<p> +The aide-de-camp whispered a word or two in a low tone. +</p> +<p> +‘I know it, lad; I know it well,’ said the general, laughing heartily; ‘I +only pray that all our requisitions may be as easily obtained in future.—Well, +Monsieur le Guide, what are we to do with you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not refuse me, I hope, general,’ said I diffidently. +</p> +<p> +‘Not refuse you, certainly; but in what capacity to take you, lad, that’s +the question. If you had served—if you had even walked a campaign——’ +</p> +<p> +‘So I have, general—this will show you where I have been’; and I +handed him the <i>livret</i> which every soldier carries of his conduct +and career. +</p> +<p> +He took the book, and casting his eyes hastily over it, exclaimed— +</p> +<p> +‘Why, what’s this, lad? You’ve been at Kehl, at Emmendingen, at Rorschach, +at Huningen, through all that Black Forest affair with Moreau! You have +seen smoke, then. Ay! I see honourable mention of you besides, for +readiness in the field and zeal during action. What! more brandy, Girard. +Why, our Irish friends must have been exceedingly thirsty. I’ve given them +credit for something like ten thousand “velts” already! No matter, the +poor fellows may have to put up with short rations for all this yet—and +there goes my signature once more. What does that blue light mean, +Girard?’ said he, pointing to a bright blue star that shone from a mast of +one of the ships of war. +</p> +<p> +‘That is the signal, general, that the embarkation of the artillery is +complete.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i>’ said he with a laugh, ‘it need not have taken long; +they’ve given in two batteries of eights, and one of them has not a gun +fit for service. There goes a rocket, now. Isn’t that a signal to heave +short on the anchors? Yes, to be sure. And now it is answered by the +other! Ha! lads, this does look like business at last!’ +</p> +<p> +The door opened as he spoke, and a naval officer entered. +</p> +<p> +‘The wind is drawing round to the south, general; we can weigh with the +ebb if you wish it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Wish it!—if I wish it! Yes, with my whole heart and soul I do! I am +just as sick of La Rochelle as is La Rochelle of me. The salute that +announces our departure will be a <i>feu de joie</i> to both of us! Ay, +sir, tell your captain that I need no further notice than that he is +ready. Girard, see to it that the marauders are sent on board in irons. +The fellows must learn at once that discipline begins when we trip our +anchors. As for you,’ said he, turning to me, ‘you shall act upon my staff +with provisional rank as sous-lieutenant: time will show if the grade +should be confirmed. And now hasten down to the quay, and put yourself +under Colonel Serasin’s orders.’ +</p> +<p> +Colonel Serasin, the second in command, was, in many respects, the very +opposite of Humbert Sharp, petulant, and irascible, he seemed quite to +overlook the fact, that, in an expedition which was little better than a +foray, there must necessarily be a great relaxation of the rules of +discipline, and many irregularities at least winked at, which, in stricter +seasons, would call for punishment. The consequence was, that a large +proportion of our force went on board under arrest, and many actually in +irons. The Irish were, without a single exception, all drunk; and the +English soldiers, who had procured their liberation from imprisonment on +condition of joining the expedition, had made sufficiently free with the +brandy-bottle, to forget their new alliance, and vent their hatred of +France and Frenchmen in expressions whose only alleviation was, that they +were nearly unintelligible. +</p> +<p> +Such a scene of uproar, discord, and insubordination never was seen. The +relative conditions of guard and prisoner elicited national animosities +that were scarcely even dormant, and many a bloody encounter took place +between those whose instinct was too powerful to feel themselves anything +but enemies. A cry, too, was raised, that it was meant to betray the whole +expedition to the English, whose fleet, it was asserted, had been seen off +Oleron that morning; and although there was not even the shadow of a +foundation for the belief, it served to increase the alarm and confusion. +Whether originating or not with the Irish, I cannot say, but certainly +they took advantage of it to avoid embarking; and now began a schism which +threatened to wreck the whole expedition, even in the harbour. +</p> +<p> +The Irish, as indifferent to the call of discipline as they were ignorant +of French, refused to obey orders save from officers of their own country; +and although Serasin ordered two companies to ‘load with ball and fire +low,’ the similar note for preparation from the insurgents induced him to +rescind the command and try a compromise. +</p> +<p> +In this crisis I was sent by Serasin to fetch what was called the +‘Committee,’ the three Irish deputies who accompanied the force. They had +already gone aboard of the <i>Dedalus</i>, little foreseeing the +difficulties that were to arise on shore. +</p> +<p> +Seated in a small cabin next the wardroom, I found these three gentlemen, +whose names were Tone, Teel-ing, and Sullivan. Their attitudes were gloomy +and despondent, and their looks anything but encouraging as I entered. A +paper on which a few words had been scrawled, and signed with their three +names underneath, lay before them, and on this their eyes were bent with a +sad and deep meaning. I knew not then what it meant, but I afterwards +learned that it was a compact formally entered into and drawn up, that if, +by the chance of war, they should fall into the enemy’s hands, they would +anticipate their fate by suicide, but leave to the English Government all +the ignominy and disgrace of their death. +</p> +<p> +They seemed scarcely to notice me as I came forward, and even when I +delivered my message they heard it with a half indifference. +</p> +<p> +‘What do you want us to do, sir?’ said Teeling, the eldest of the party. +‘We hold no command in the service. It was against our advice and counsel +that you accepted these volunteers at all We have no influence over them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not the slightest,’ broke in Tone. ‘These fellows are bad soldiers and +worse Irishmen. The expedition will do better without them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And they better without the expedition,’ muttered Sullivan dryly. +</p> +<p> +‘But you will come, gentlemen, and speak to them,’ said I. ‘You can at +least assure them that their suspicions are unfounded.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very true, sir,’ replied Sullivan, ‘we can do so, but with what success? +No, no. If you can’t maintain discipline here on your own soil, you’ll +make a bad hand of doing it when you have your foot on Irish ground. +</p> +<p> +And, after all, I for one am not surprised at the report gaining +credence.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How so, sir?’ asked I indignantly. +</p> +<p> +‘Simply that when a promise of fifteen thousand men dwindles down to a +force of eight hundred; when a hundred thousand stand of arms come to be +represented by a couple of thousand; when an expedition, pledged by a +Government, has fallen down to a marauding party; when Hoche or Kléber—— +But never mind, I always swore that if you sent but a corporal’s guard +that I ‘d go with them.’ +</p> +<p> +A musket-shot here was heard, followed by a sharp volley and a cheer, and, +in an agony of anxiety, I rushed to the deck. Although above half a mile +from the shore, we could see the movement of troops hither and thither, +and hear the loud words of command. Whatever the struggle, it was over in +a moment, and now we saw the troops descending the steps to the boats. +With an inconceivable speed the men fell into their places, and, urged on +by the long sweeps, the heavy launches swept across the calm water of the +bay. +</p> +<p> +If a cautious reserve prevented any open questioning as to the late +affray, the second boat which came alongside revealed some of its terrible +consequences. Seven wounded soldiers were assisted up the side by their +comrades, and in total silence conveyed to their station between decks. +</p> +<p> +‘A bad augury this!’ muttered Sullivan, as his eye followed them. ‘They +might as well have left that work for the English!’ +</p> +<p> +A swift six-oar boat, with the tricolour flag floating from a flagstaff at +her stern, now skimmed along towards us, and as she came nearer we could +recognise the uniforms of the officers of Humbert’s staff, while the burly +figure of the general himself was soon distinguishable in the midst of +them. +</p> +<p> +As he stepped up the ladder, not a trace of displeasure could be seen on +his broad bold features. Greeting the assembled officers with a smile, he +asked how the wind was. +</p> +<p> +‘All fair, and freshening at every moment,’ was the answer. +</p> +<p> +‘May it continue!’ cried he fervently. ‘Welcome a hurricane, if it only +waft us westward!’ +</p> +<p> +The foresail filled out as he spoke, the heavy ship heaved over to the +wind, and we began our voyage. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII. ‘THE BAY OF BATHFRAN’ +</h2> +<p> +Our voyage was very uneventful, but not without anxiety, since, to avoid +the English cruisers and the Channel fleet, we were obliged to hold a +southerly course for several days, making a great circuit before we could +venture to bear up for the place of our destination. The weather +alternated between light winds and a dead calm, which usually came on +every day at noon, and lasted till about sunset. As to me, there was an +unceasing novelty in everything about a ship; her mechanism, her +discipline, her progress, furnished abundant occupation for all my +thoughts, and I never wearied of acquiring knowledge of a theme so deeply +interesting. My intercourse with the naval officers, too, impressed me +strongly in their favour in comparison with their comrades of the land +service. In the former case, all was zeal, activity, and watchfulness. The +lookout never slumbered at his post; and an unceasing anxiety to promote +the success of the expedition manifested itself in all their words and +actions. This, of course, was all to be expected in the discharge of the +duties peculiarly their own; but I also looked for something which should +denote preparation and forethought in the others; yet nothing of the kind +was to be seen. The expedition was never discussed even as table-talk; and +for anything that fell from the party in conversation, it would have been +impossible to say if our destination were China or Ireland. Not a book nor +a map, not a pamphlet nor a paper that bore upon the country whose +destinies were about to be committed to us, ever appeared on the tables. A +vague and listless doubt how long the voyage might last was the extent of +interest any one condescended to exhibit; but as to what was to follow +after—what new chapter of events should open when this first had +closed, none vouchsafed to inquire. +</p> +<p> +Even to this hour I am puzzled whether to attribute this strange conduct +to the careless levity of national character, or to a studied and well +‘got up’ affectation. In all probability both influences were at work; +while a third, not less powerful, assisted them—this was the gross +ignorance and shameless falsehood of some of the Irish leaders of the +expedition, whose boastful and absurd histories ended by disgusting every +one. Among the projects discussed at the time, I well remember one which +was often gravely talked over, and the utter absurdity of which certainly +struck none amongst us. This was no less than the intention of demanding +the West India Islands from England as an indemnity for the past woes and +bygone misgovernment of Ireland. If this seem barely credible now, I can +only repeat my faithful assurance of the fact, and I believe that some of +the memoirs of the time will confirm my assertion. +</p> +<p> +The French officers listened to these and similar speculations with utter +indifference; probably to many of them the geographical question was a +difficulty that stopped any further inquiry, while others felt no further +interest than what a campaign promised. All the enthusiastic narratives, +then, of high rewards and splendid trophies that awaited us, fell upon +inattentive ears, and at last the word Ireland ceased to be heard amongst +us. Play of various kinds occupied us when not engaged on duty. There was +little discipline maintained on board, and none of that strictness which +is the habitual rule of a ship-of-war. The lights were suffered to burn +during the greater part of the night in the cabins; gambling went on +usually till daybreak; and the quarter-deck, that most reverential of +spots to every sailor-mind, was often covered by lounging groups, who +smoked, chatted, or played at chess, in all the cool apathy of men +indifferent to its claim for respect. +</p> +<p> +Now and then, the appearance of a strange sail afar off, or some dim +object in the horizon, would create a momentary degree of excitement and +anxiety; but when the ‘lookout’ from the mast-head had proclaimed her a +‘schooner from Brest,’ or a ‘Spanish fruit-vessel,’ the sense of danger +passed away at once, and none ever reverted to the subject. +</p> +<p> +With General Humbert I usually passed the greater part of each forenoon—a +distinction, I must confess, I owed to my skill as a chess-player, a game +of which he was particularly fond, and in which I had attained no small +proficiency. I was too young and too unpractised in the world to make my +skill subordinate to my chiefs, and beat him at every game with as little +compunction as though he were only my equal, till, at last, vexed at his +want of success, and tired of a contest that offered no vicissitude of +fortune, he would frequently cease playing to chat over the events of the +time, and the chances of the expedition. +</p> +<p> +It was with no slight mixture of surprise and dismay that I now detected +his utter despair of all success, and that he regarded the whole as a +complete forlorn-hope. He had merely taken the command to involve the +French Government in the cause, and so far compromise the national +character that all retreat would be impossible. We shall be all cut to +pieces or taken prisoners the day after we land,’ was his constant +exclamation, ‘and then, but not till then, will they think seriously in +France of a suitable expedition.’ There was no heroism, still less was +there any affectation of recklessness in this avowal. By nature he was a +rough, easy, good-tempered fellow, who liked his profession less for its +rewards than for its changeful scenes and moving incidents—his one +predominating feeling being that France should give rule to the whole +world, and the principles of her Revolution he everywhere pre-eminent. To +promote this consummation the loss of an army was of little moment. Let +the cause but triumph in the end, and the cost was not worth fretting +about. +</p> +<p> +Next to this sentiment was his hatred of England, and all that was +English. Treachery, falsehood, pride, avarice, grasping covetousness, and +unscrupulous aggression, were the characteristics by which he described +the nation; and he made the little knowledge he had gleaned from +newspapers and intercourse so subservient to this theory, that I was an +easy convert to his opinion; so that, ere long, my compassion for the +wrongs of Ireland was associated with the most profound hatred of her +oppressors. +</p> +<p> +To be sure, I should have liked the notion that we ourselves were to have +some more active share in the liberation of Irishmen than the mere act of +heralding another and more successful expedition; but even in this thought +there was romantic self-devotion, not unpleasing to the mind of a boy; +but, strange enough, I was the only one who felt it. +</p> +<p> +The first sight of land to one on sea is always an event of uncommon +interest; but how greatly increased is the feeling when that land is to be +the scene of a perilous exploit—the cradle of his ambition, or +perhaps his grave! All my speculations about the expedition—all my +daydreams of success, or my anxious hours of dark forebodings—never +brought the matter so palpably before me as the dim outline of a distant +headland, which, I was told, was part of the Irish coast. +</p> +<p> +This was on the 17th of August, but on the following day we stood further +out to sea again, and saw no more of it. +</p> +<p> +The three succeeding ones we continued to beat up slowly to the northward +against a head wind and a heavy sea; but on the evening of the 21st the +sun went down in mellow splendour, and a light air from the south +springing up, the sailors pronounced a most favourable change of weather—a +prophecy that a starry night and a calm sea soon confirmed. +</p> +<p> +The morning of the 22nd broke splendidly—a gentle breeze from the +south-west slightly curled the blue waves, and filled the canvas of the +three frigates, as in close order they sailed along under the tall cliffs +of Ireland. We were about three miles from the shore, on which now every +telescope and glass was eagerly directed. As the light and fleeting clouds +of early morning passed away we could descry the outlines of the bold +coast, indented with many a bay and creek, while rocky promontories and +grassy slopes succeeded each other in endless variety of contrast. Towns, +or even villages, we could see none—a few small wretched-looking +hovels were dotted over the hills, and here and there a thin wreath of +blue smoke bespoke habitation, but, save these signs, there was an air of +loneliness and solitude which increased the solemn feelings of the scene. +</p> +<p> +All these objects of interest, however, soon gave way before another to +the contemplation of which every eye was turned. This was a small +fishing-boat, which, with a low mast and ragged piece of canvas, was seen +standing boldly out for us: a red handkerchief was fastened to a stick in +the stern, as if for a signal, and on our shortening sail, to admit of her +overtaking us, the ensign was lowered as though in acknowledgment of our +meaning. +</p> +<p> +The boat was soon alongside, and we now perceived that her crew consisted +of a man and a boy, the former of whom, a powerfully built, loose fellow, +of about five-and-forty, dressed in a light-blue frieze jacket and +trousers, adroitly caught at the cast of rope thrown out to him, and +having made fast his skiff, clambered up the ship’s side at once, gaily, +as though he were an old friend coming to welcome us. +</p> +<p> +‘Is he a pilot?’ asked the officer of the watch, addressing one of the +Irish officers. +</p> +<p> +‘No; he’s only a fisherman, but he knows the coast perfectly, and says +there is deep water within twenty fathoms of the shore.’ +</p> +<p> +An animated conversation in Irish now ensued between the peasant and +Captain Madgett, during which a wondering and somewhat impatient group +stood around, speedily increased by the presence of General Humbert +himself and his staff. +</p> +<p> +‘He tells me, general,’ said Madgett, ‘that we are in the Bay of Killala, +a good and safe anchorage, and, during the southerly winds, the best on +all the coast.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What news has he from the shore?’ asked Humbert sharply, as if the care +of the ship was a very secondary consideration. +</p> +<p> +‘They have been expecting us with the greatest impatience, general; he +says the most intense anxiety for our coming is abroad.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What of the people themselves? Where are the national forces? Have they +any headquarters near this? Eh, what says he? What is that? Why does he +laugh?’ asked Humbert, in impatient rapidity, as he watched the changes in +the peasant’s face. +</p> +<p> +‘He was laughing at the strange sound of a foreign language, so odd and +singular to his ears,’ said Madgett; but for all his readiness, a slight +flushing of the cheek showed that he was ill at ease. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, but what of the Irish forces? Where are they?’ +</p> +<p> +For some minutes the dialogue continued in an animated strain between the +two; the vehement tone and gestures of each bespeaking what sounded at +least like altercation; and Madgett at last turned half angrily away, +saying, ‘The fellow is too ignorant; he actually knows nothing of what is +passing before his eyes.’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10229.jpg" width="100%" alt="229 " /> +</div> +<p> +‘Is there no one else on board can speak this <i>barargouinage</i>?’ cried +Humbert, in anger. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, general, I can interrogate him,’ cried a young lad named Conolly, +who had only joined us on the day before we sailed. +</p> +<p> +And now as the youth addressed the fisherman in a few rapid sentences, the +other answered as quickly, making a gesture with his hands that implied +grief, or even despair. +</p> +<p> +‘We can interpret that for ourselves,’ broke in Humbert; ‘he is telling +you that the game is up.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Exactly so, general; he says that the insurrection has been completely +put down, that the Irish forces are scattered or disbanded, and all the +leaders taken.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The fellow is just as likely to be an English spy,’ said Madgett, in a +whisper; but Humbert’s gesture of impatience showed how little trust he +reposed in the allegation. +</p> +<p> +‘Ask him what English troops are quartered in this part of the country,’ +said the general. +</p> +<p> +‘A few militia, and two squadrons of dragoons,’ was the prompt reply. +</p> +<p> +‘No artillery?’ +</p> +<p> +‘None.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is there any rumour of our coming abroad, or have the frigates been +seen?’ asked Humbert. +</p> +<p> +‘They were seen last night from the church steeple of Killala, general,’ +said Conolly, translating, ‘but believed to be English.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Come; that is the best news he has brought us yet,’ said Humbert, +laughing; ‘we shall at least surprise them a little. Ask him what men of +rank or consequence live in the neighbourhood, and how are they affected +towards the expedition?’ +</p> +<p> +A few words, and a low dry laugh, made all the peasant’s reply. +</p> +<p> +‘Eh, what says he?’ asked Humbert. +</p> +<p> +‘He says, sir, that, except a Protestant bishop, there’s nothing of the +rank of gentry here.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I suppose we need scarcely expect his blessing on our efforts,’ said +Humbert, with a hearty laugh. ‘What is he saying now?—what is he +looking at?’ +</p> +<p> +‘He says that we are now in the very best anchorage of the bay,’ said +Conolly, ‘and that on the whole coast there’s not a safer spot.’ +</p> +<p> +A brief consultation now took place between the general and naval +officers, and in a few seconds the word was given to take in all sail and +anchor. +</p> +<p> +‘I wish I could speak to that honest fellow myself,’ said Humbert, as he +stood watching the fisherman, who, with a peasant curiosity, had now +approached the mast, and was passing his fingers across the blades of the +cutlasses as they stood in the sword-rack. +</p> +<p> +‘Sharp enough for the English, eh?’ cried Humbert, in French, but with a +gesture that seemed at once intelligible. A dry nod of the head gave +assent to the remark. +</p> +<p> +‘If I understand him aright,’ said Humbert, in a half-whisper to Conolly, +‘we are as little expected by our friends as by our enemies; and that +there is little or no force in arms among the Irish.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There are plenty ready to fight, he says, sir, but none accustomed to +discipline.’ +</p> +<p> +A gesture, half contemptuous, was all Humbert’s reply, and he now turned +away and walked the deck alone and in silence. Meanwhile the bustle and +movements of the crew continued, and soon the great ships, their sails all +coiled, lay tranquilly at anchor in a sea without a ripple. +</p> +<p> +‘A boat is coming out from the shore, general,’ whispered the lieutenant +on duty. +</p> +<p> +‘Ask the fisherman if he knows it.’ +</p> +<p> +Conolly drew the peasant’s attention to the object, and the man, after +looking steadily for a few seconds, became terribly agitated. +</p> +<p> +‘What is it, man—can’t you tell who it is?’ asked Conolly. +</p> +<p> +But although so composed before, so ready with all his replies, he seemed +now totally unmanned—his frank and easy features being struck with +the signs of palpable terror. At last, and with an effort that bespoke all +his fears, he muttered—’ ‘Tis the king’s boat is coming, and ‘tis +the collector’s on board of her!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is that all?’ cried Conolly, laughing, as he translated the reply to the +general. +</p> +<p> +‘Won’t you say that I’m a prisoner, sir; won’t you tell them that you +“took” me?’ said the fisherman, in an accent of fervent entreaty, for +already his mind anticipated the casualty of a failure, and what might +betide him afterwards; but no one now had any care for him or his fortunes—all +was in preparation to conceal the national character of the ships. The +marines were ordered below, and all others whose uniforms might betray +their country, while the English colours floated from every mast-head. +</p> +<p> +General Humbert, with Serasin and two others, remained on the poop-deck, +where they continued to walk, apparently devoid of any peculiar interest +or anxiety in the scene. Madgett alone betrayed agitation at this moment, +his pale face was paler than ever, and there seemed to me a kind of +studious care in the way he covered himself up with his cloak, so that not +a vestige of his uniform could be seen. +</p> +<p> +The boat now came close under our lee, and Conolly being ordered to +challenge her in English, the collector, standing up in the stern, touched +his hat, and announced his rank. The gangway-ladder was immediately +lowered, and three gentlemen ascended the ship’s side and walked aft to +the poop. I was standing near the bulwark at the time, watching the scene +with intense interest. As General Humbert stood a little in advance of the +rest, the collector, probably taking him for the captain, addressed him +with some courteous expressions of welcome, and was proceeding to speak of +the weather, when the general gently stopped him by asking if he spoke +French. +</p> +<p> +I shall never forget the terror of face that question evoked. At first, +looking at his two companions, the collector turned his eyes to the gaff, +where the English flag was flying; but still unable to utter a word, he +stood like one entranced. +</p> +<p> +‘You have been asked if you can speak French, sir?’ said Conolly, at a +sign from the general. +</p> +<p> +‘No—very little—very badly—not at all; but isn’t this—am +I not on board of——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Can none of them speak French?’ said Humbert shortly. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, sir,’ said a young man on the collector’s right; ‘I can make myself +intelligible in that language, although no great proficient.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who are you, monsieur?—are you a civilian?’ asked Humbert. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, sir. I am the son of the Bishop of Killala, and this young gentleman +is my brother.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What is the amount of the force in this neighbourhood?’ +</p> +<p> +‘You will pardon me, sir,’ said the youth, ‘if I ask, first, who it is +puts this question, and under what circumstances I am expected to answer +it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘All frank and open, sir,’ said Humbert, good-humouredly. ‘I ‘m the +General Humbert, commanding the army for the liberation of Ireland—so +much for your first question. As to your second one, I believe that if you +have any concern for yourself, or those belonging to you, you will find +that nothing will serve your interest so much as truth and plain dealing.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Fortunately, then, for me,’ said the youth, laughing, ‘I cannot betray my +king’s cause, for I know nothing, nothing whatever, about the movement of +troops. I seldom go ten miles from home, and have not been even at Ballina +since last winter.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Why so cautious about your information, then, sir,’ broke in Serasin +roughly, ‘since you have none to give?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Because I had some to receive, sir, and was curious to know where I was +standing,’ said the young man boldly. +</p> +<p> +While these few sentences were being interchanged, Madgett had learned +from the collector that, except a few companies of militia and fencibles, +the country was totally unprovided with troops; but he also learned that +the people were so crest-fallen and subdued in courage from the late +failure of the rebellion, that it was very doubtful whether our coming +would arouse them to another effort. This information, particularly the +latter part of it, Madgett imparted to Humbert at once, and I thought, by +his manner, and the eagerness with which he spoke, that he seemed to use +all his powers to dissuade the general from a landing; at least I +overheard him more than once say—‘Had we been farther north, sir——-’ +</p> +<p> +Humbert quickly stopped him by the words— +</p> +<p> +‘And what prevents us, when we have landed, sir, in extending our line +north’ard?—the winds cannot surely master us, when we have our feet +on the sward. Enough of all this; let these gentlemen be placed in +security, and none have access to them without my orders. Make signal for +the commanding-officers to come on board here. We’ve had too much of +speculation—a little action now will be more profitable.’ +</p> +<p> +‘So, we are prisoners, it seems!’ said the young man who spoke French, as +he moved away with the others, who, far more depressed in spirit, hung +their heads in silence, as they descended between decks. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely was the signal for a council of war seen from the mast-head, when +the different boats might be descried stretching across the bay with +speed. And now all were assembled in General Humbert’s cabin whose rank +and station in the service entitled them to the honour of being consulted. +</p> +<p> +To such of us as held inferior ‘grade,’ the time passed tediously enough +as we paced the deck, now turning from the aspect of the silent and +seemingly uninhabited cliffs along shore to listen if no sign betokened +the breaking up of the council; nor were we without serious fears that the +expedition would be abandoned altogether. This suspicion originated with +some of the Irish themselves, who, however confident of success, and +boastful of their country’s resources before we sailed, now made no +scruple of averring that everything was the exact reverse of what they had +stated, for that the people were dispirited, the national forces +disbanded, neither arms, money, nor organisation anywhere—in fact, +that a more hopeless scheme could not be thought of than the attempt, and +that its result could not fail to be defeat and ruin to all concerned. +</p> +<p> +Shall I own that the bleak and lonely aspect of the hills along shore, the +dreary character of the landscape, the almost deathlike stillness of the +scene, aided these gloomy impressions, and made it seem as if we were +about to try our fortune on some desolate spot, without one look of +encouragement, or one word of welcome to greet us? The sight of even an +enemy’s force would have been a relief to this solitude—the stir and +movement of a rival army would have given spirit to our daring, and nerved +our courage, but there was something inexpressibly sad in this unbroken +monotony. +</p> +<p> +A few tried to jest upon the idea of liberating a land that had no +inhabitants—the emancipation of a country without people; but even +French flippancy failed to be witty on a theme so linked with all our +hopes and fears, and at last a dreary silence fell upon all, and we walked +the deck without speaking, waiting and watching for the result of that +deliberation which already had lasted above four mortal hours. +</p> +<p> +Twice was the young man who spoke French summoned to the cabin, but, from +the briefness of his stay, apparently with little profit; and now the day +began to wane, and the tall cliffs threw their lengthened shadows over the +still waters of the bay, and yet nothing was resolved on. To the quiet and +respectful silence of expectation, now succeeded a low and half-subdued +muttering of discontent; groups of five or six together were seen along +the deck, talking with eagerness and animation, and it was easy to see +that whatever prudential or cautious reasons dictated to the leaders, +their arguments found little sympathy with the soldiers of the expedition. +I almost began to fear that if a determination to abandon the exploit were +come to, a mutiny might break out, when my attention was drawn off by an +order to accompany Colonel Gharost on shore to reconnoitre. This at least +looked like business, and I jumped into the small boat with alacrity. +</p> +<p> +With the speed of four oars stoutly plied, we skimmed along the calm +surface, and soon saw ourselves close in to the shore. Some little time +was spent in looking for a good place to land, for although not the +slightest air of wind was blowing, the long swell of the Atlantic broke +upon the rocks with a noise like thunder. At last we shot into a little +creek with a shelving gravelly beach, and completely concealed by the tall +rocks on every side; and now we sprang out, and stood upon Irish ground! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIX. A RECONNAISSANCE +</h2> +<p> +From the little creek where we landed, a small zigzag path led up the +sides of the cliff, the track by which the peasants carried the sea-weed +which they gathered for manure, and up this we now slowly wended our way. +</p> +<p> +Stopping for some time to gaze at the ample bay beneath us, the +tall-masted frigates floating so majestically on its glassy surface—it +was a scene of tranquil and picturesque beauty with which it would have +been almost impossible to associate the idea of war and invasion. In the +lazy bunting that hung listlessly from peak and mast-head—in the +cheerful voices of the sailors, heard afar off in the stillness—in +the measured plash of the sea itself, and the fearless daring of the +sea-gulls, as they soared slowly above our heads—there seemed +something so suggestive of peace and tranquillity, that it struck us as +profanation to disturb it. +</p> +<p> +As we gained the top and looked around us, our astonishment became even +greater. A long succession of low hills, covered with tall ferns or heath, +stretched away on every side; not a house, nor a hovel, nor a living thing +to be seen. Had the country been one uninhabited since the Creation, it +could not have presented an aspect of more thorough desolation! No +road-track, nor even a footpath, led through the dreary waste before us, +on which, to all seeming, the foot of man had never fallen. And as we +stood for some moments, uncertain which way to turn, a sense of the +ridiculous suddenly burst upon the party, and we all broke into a hearty +roar of laughter. +</p> +<p> +‘I little thought,’ cried Charost, ‘that I should ever emulate “La +Perouse,” but it strikes me that I am destined to become a great +discoverer.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How so, colonel?’ asked his aide-de-camp. +</p> +<p> +‘Why, it is quite clear that this same island is uninhabited; and if it be +all like this, I own I’m scarcely surprised at it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Still, there must be a town not far off, and the residence of that bishop +we heard of this morning.’ +</p> +<p> +A half-incredulous shrug of the shoulders was all his reply, as he +sauntered along with his hands behind his back, apparently lost in +thought; while we, as if instinctively partaking of his gloom, followed +him in total silence. +</p> +<p> +‘Do you know, gentlemen, what I’m thinking?’ said he, stopping suddenly +and facing about. ‘My notion is, that the best thing to do here would be +to plant our tricolour, proclaim the land a colony of France, and take to +our boats again.’ +</p> +<p> +This speech, delivered with an air of great gravity, imposed upon us for +an instant; but the moment after, the speaker breaking into a hearty +laugh, we all joined him, as much amused by the strangeness of our +situation, as by anything in his remark. +</p> +<p> +‘We never could bring our guns through a soil like this, colonel,’ said +the aide-de-camp, as he struck his heel into the soft and clayey surface. +</p> +<p> +‘If we could ever land them at all!’ muttered he, half aloud; then added, +‘But for what object should we? Believe me, gentlemen, if we are to have a +campaign here, bows and arrows are the true weapons.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah! what do I see yonder?’ cried the aide-de-camp; ‘are not those sheep +feeding in that little glen?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes,’ cried I, ‘and a man herding them, too. See, the fellow has caught +sight of us, and he’s off as fast as his legs can carry him.’ And so was +it: the man had no sooner seen us than he sprang to his feet and hurried +down the mountain at full speed. +</p> +<p> +Our first impulse was to follow and give him chase, and even without a +word we all started off in pursuit; but we soon saw how fruitless would be +the attempt, for, even independent of the start he had got of us, the +peasant’s speed was more than the double of our own. +</p> +<p> +‘No matter,’ said the colonel, ‘if we have lost the shepherd we have at +least gained the sheep, and so I recommend you to secure mutton for dinner +to-morrow.’ +</p> +<p> +With this piece of advice, down the hill he darted as hard as he could; +Briolle, the aide-de-camp, and myself following at our best pace. We were +reckoning without our host, however, for the animals, after one stupid +stare at us, set off in a scamper that soon showed their mountain +breeding, keeping all together like a pack of hounds, and really not very +inferior in the speed they displayed. +</p> +<p> +A little gorge led between the hills, and through this they rushed madly, +and with a clatter like a charge of cavalry. Excited by the chase, and +emulous each to outrun the other, the colonel threw off his shako, and +Briolle his sword, in the ardour of pursuit. We now gained on them +rapidly, and though, from a winding in the glen, they had momentarily got +out of sight, we knew that we were close upon them. I was about thirty +paces in advance of my comrades, when, on turning an angle of the gorge, I +found myself directly in front of a group of mud hovels, near which were +standing about a dozen ragged, miserable-looking men, armed with +pitchforks and scythes, while in the rear stood the sheep, blowing and +panting from the chase. +</p> +<p> +I came to a dead stop; and although I would have given worlds to have had +my comrades at my side, I never once looked back to see if they were +coming; but, putting a bold face on the matter, called out the only few +words I knew of Irish, ‘Go de-mat ha tu.’ +</p> +<p> +The peasants looked at each other; and whether it was my accent, my +impudence, or my strange dress and appearance, or altogether, I cannot +say, but after a few seconds’ pause they burst out into a roar of +laughter, in the midst of which my two comrades came up. +</p> +<p> +‘We saw the sheep feeding on the hills yonder,’ said I, recovering +self-possession, ‘and guessed that by giving them chase they’d lead us to +some inhabited spot. What is this place called?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Shindrennin,’ said a man who seemed to be the chief of the party; ‘and, +if I might make so bould, who are you, yourselves?’ +</p> +<p> +‘French officers; this is my colonel,’ said I, pointing to Charost, who +was wiping his forehead and face after his late exertion. +</p> +<p> +The information, far from producing the electric effect of pleasure I had +anticipated, was received with a coldness almost amounting to fear, and +they spoke eagerly together for some minutes in Irish. +</p> +<p> +‘Our allies evidently don’t like the look of us,’ said Charost, laughing;’ +and if the truth must be told, I own the disappointment is mutual.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tis too late you come, sir,’ said the peasant, addressing the colonel, +while he removed his hat, and assumed an air of respectful deference. +‘‘Tis all over with poor Ireland this time.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tell him,’ said Charost, to whom I translated the speech, ‘that it’s +never too late to assert a good cause; that we have got arms for twenty +thousand, if they have but hands and hearts to use them. Tell him that a +French army is now lying in that bay yonder, ready and able to accomplish +the independence of Ireland.’ +</p> +<p> +I delivered my speech as pompously as it was briefed to me; and although I +was listened to in silence, and respectfully, it was plain my words +carried little or no conviction with them. Not caring to waste more of our +time in such discourse, I now inquired about the country—in what +directions lay the highroads, and the relative situations of the towns of +Killala, Gastlebar, and Ballina, the only places of comparative importance +in the neighbourhood. I next asked about the landing-places, and learned +that a small fishing-harbour existed, not more than half a mile from the +spot where we had landed, from which a little country road lay to the +village of Palmerstown. As to the means of transporting baggage, guns, and +ammunition, there were few horses to be had, but with money we might get +all we wanted; indeed, the peasants constantly referred to this means of +success, even to asking ‘What the French would give a man that was to join +them?’ If I did not translate the demand with fidelity to my colonel, it +was really that a sense of shame prevented me. My whole heart was in the +cause; and I could not endure the thought of its being degraded in this +way. It was growing duskish, and the colonel proposed that the peasant +should show us the way to the fishing-harbour he spoke of, while some +other of the party might go round to our boat, and direct them to follow +us thither. The arrangement was soon made, and we all sauntered down +towards the shore, chatting over the state of the country, and the chances +of a successful rising. From the specimen before me, I was not disposed to +be over sanguine about the peasantry. The man was evidently disaffected +towards England. He bore her neither good-will nor love, but his fears +were greater than all else. He had never heard of anything but failure in +all attempts against her, and he could not believe in any other result. +Even the aid and alliance of France inspired no other feeling than +distrust, for he said more than once, ‘Sure what can harm yez? Haven’t ye +yer ships beyant, to take yez away, if things goes bad?’ +</p> +<p> +I was heartily glad that Colonel Charost knew so little English, that the +greater part of the peasant’s conversation was unintelligible to him, +since, from the first, he had always spoken of the expedition in terms of +disparagement; and certainly what we were now to hear was not of a nature +to controvert the prediction. +</p> +<p> +In our ignorance as to the habits and modes of thought of the people, we +were much surprised at the greater interest the peasant betrayed when +asking us about France and her prospects, than when the conversation +concerned his own country. It appeared as though, in the one case, +distance gave grandeur and dimensions to all his conceptions, while +familiarity with home scenes and native politics had robbed them of all +their illusions. He knew well that there were plenty of hardships, +abundance of evils, to deplore in Ireland: rents were high, taxes and +tithes oppressive, agents were severe, bailiffs were cruel Social wrongs +he could discuss for hours, but of political woes, the only ones we could +be expected to relieve or care for, he really knew nothing. ‘‘Tis true,’ +he repeated, ‘that what my honour said was all right, Ireland was badly +treated,’ and so on; ‘liberty was an elegant thing if a body had it,’ and +such like; but there ended his patriotism. +</p> +<p> +Accustomed for many a day to the habits of a people where all were +politicians, where the rights of man and the grand principles of equality +and self-government were everlastingly under discussion, I was, I confess +it, sorely disappointed at this worse than apathy. +</p> +<p> +‘Will they fight?—ask him that,’ said Gharost, to whom I had been +conveying a rather rose-coloured version of my friend’s talk. +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, begorra! we ‘ll fight sure enough!’ said he, with a half-dogged scowl +beneath his brows. +</p> +<p> +‘What number of them may we reckon on in the neighbourhood?’ repeated the +colonel. +</p> +<p> +‘‘Tis mighty hard to say; many of the boys were gone over to England for +the harvest; some were away to the counties inland, others were working on +the roads; but if they knew, sure they ‘d be soon back again.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Might they calculate on a thousand stout, effective men?’ asked Charost. +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, twenty, if they were at home,’ said the peasant, less a liar by +intention than from the vague and careless disregard of truth so common in +all their own intercourse with each other. +</p> +<p> +I must own that the degree of credit we reposed in the worthy man’s +information was considerably influenced by the state of facts before us, +inasmuch as that the ‘elegant, fine harbour’ he had so gloriously +described—‘the beautiful road’—‘the neat little quay’ to land +upon, and the other advantages of the spot, all turned out to be most +grievous disappointments. That the people were not of our own mind on +these matters, was plain enough from the looks of astonishment our +discontent provoked; and now a lively discussion ensued on the relative +merits of various bays, creeks, and inlets along the coast, each of which, +with some unpronounceable name or other, was seen to have a special +advocate in its favour, till at last the colonel lost all patience, and +jumping into the boat, ordered the men to push off for the frigate. +</p> +<p> +Evidently out of temper at the non-success of his reconnaissance, and as +little pleased with the country as the people, Gharost did not speak a +word as we rowed back to the ship. Our failure, as it happened, was of +little moment, for another party, under the guidance of Madgett, had +already discovered a good landing-place at the bottom of the Bay of +Rathfran, and arrangements were already in progress to disembark the +troops at daybreak. We also found that, during our absence, some of the +‘chiefs’ had come off from shore, one of whom, named Neal Kerrigan, was +destined to attain considerable celebrity in the rebel army. He was a +talkative, vulgar, presumptuous fellow, who, without any knowledge or +experience whatever, took upon him to discuss military measures and +strategy with all the assurance of an old commander. +</p> +<p> +Singularly enough, Humbert suffered this man to influence him in a great +degree, and yielded opinion to him on points even where his own judgment +was directly opposed to the advice he gave. +</p> +<p> +If Kerrigan’s language and bearing were directly the reverse of +soldierlike, his tawdry uniform of green and gold, with massive epaulettes +and a profusion of lace, were no less absurd in our eyes, accustomed as we +were to the almost puritan plainness of military costume. His rank, too, +seemed as undefined as his information; for while he called himself +‘General,’ his companions as often addressed him by the title of +‘Captain.’ Upon some points his counsels, indeed, alarmed and astonished +us. +</p> +<p> +‘It was of no use whatever,’ he said, ‘to attempt to discipline the +peasantry, or reduce them to anything like habits of military obedience. +Were the effort to be made, it would prove a total failure; for they would +either grow disgusted with the restraint, and desert altogether, or so +infect the other troops with their own habits of disorder, that the whole +force would become a mere rabble. Arm them well, let them have plenty of +ammunition, and free liberty to use it in their own way and their own +time, and we should soon see that they would prove a greater terror to the +English than double the number of trained and disciplined troops.’ +</p> +<p> +In some respects this view was a correct one; but whether it was a wise +counsel to have followed, subsequent events gave us ample cause to doubt. +</p> +<p> +Kerrigan, however, had a specious, reckless, go-a-head way with him that +suited well the tone and temper of Humbert’s mind. He never looked too far +into consequences, but trusted that the eventualities of the morrow would +always suggest the best course for the day after; and this alone was so +akin to our own general’s mode of proceeding, that he speedily won his +confidence. +</p> +<p> +The last evening on board was spent merrily on all sides. In the general +cabin, where the staff and all the <i>chefs de brigade</i> were assembled, +gay songs, and toasts, and speeches succeeded each other till nigh +morning. The printed proclamations, meant for circulation among the +people, were read out, with droll commentaries; and all imaginable +quizzing and jesting went on about the new government to be established in +Ireland, and the various offices to be bestowed upon each. Had the whole +expedition been a joke, the tone of levity could not have been greater. +Not a thought was bestowed, not a word wasted, upon any of the graver +incidents that might ensue. All were, if not hopeful and sanguine, utterly +reckless, and thoroughly indifferent to the future. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XX. KILLALA +</h2> +<p> +I will not weary my reader with an account of our debarkation, less +remarkable as it was for the ‘pomp and circumstance of war’ than for +incidents and accidents the most absurd and ridiculous—the miserable +boats of the peasantry, the still more wretched cattle employed to drag +our artillery and train-waggons, involving us in innumerable misfortunes +and mischances. Never were the heroic illusions of war more thoroughly +dissipated than by the scenes which accompanied our landing! Boats and +baggage-waggons upset; here, a wild, half savage-looking fellow swimming +after a cocked-hat—there, a group of ragged wretches scraping +sea-weed from a dripping officer of the staff; noise, uproar, and +confusion everywhere; smart aides-de-camp mounted on donkeys; trim +field-pieces ‘horsed’ by a promiscuous assemblage of men, women, cows, +ponies, and asses. Crowds of idle country-people thronged the little quay, +and, obstructing the passages, gazed upon the whole with eyes of +wonderment and surprise, but evidently enjoying all the drollery of the +scene with higher relish than they felt interest in its object or success. +This trait in them soon attracted all our notice, for they laughed at +everything: not a caisson tumbled into the sea, not a donkey brought his +rider to the ground, but one general shout shook the entire assemblage. +</p> +<p> +If want and privation had impressed themselves by every external sign on +this singular people, they seemed to possess inexhaustible resources of +good-humour and good spirits within. No impatience or rudeness on our part +could irritate them; and even to the wildest and least civilised-looking +fellow around, there was a kind of native courtesy and kindliness that +could not fail to strike us. +</p> +<p> +A vague notion prevailed that we were their ‘friends’; and although many +of them did not clearly comprehend why we had come, or what was the origin +of the warm attachment between us, they were too lazy and too indifferent +to trouble their heads about the matter. They were satisfied that there +would be a ‘shindy’ somewhere, and somebody’s bones would get broken, and +even that much was a pleasant and reassuring consideration; while others +of keener mould revelled in plans of private vengeance against this +landlord or that agent—small debts of hatred to be paid off in the +day of general reckoning. +</p> +<p> +From the first moment nothing could exceed the tone of fraternal feeling +between our soldiers and the people. Without any means of communicating +their thoughts by speech, they seemed to acquire an instinctive knowledge +of each other in an instant. If the peasant was poor, there was no limit +to his liberality in the little he had. He dug up his half-ripe potatoes, +he unroofed his cabin to furnish straw for litter, he gave up his only +beast, and was ready to kill his cow, if asked, to welcome us. Much of +this was from the native, warm, and impulsive generosity of their nature, +and much, doubtless, had its origin in the bright hopes of future +recompense inspired by the eloquent appeals of Neal Kerrigan, who, mounted +on an old white mare, rode about on every side, addressing the people in +Irish, and calling upon them to give all aid and assistance to ‘the +expedition.’ +</p> +<p> +The difficulty of the landing was much increased by the small space of +level ground which intervened between the cliffs and the sea, and of which +now the thickening crowd filled every spot. This and the miserable means +of conveyance for our baggage delayed us greatly, so that, with a +comparatively small force, it was late in the afternoon before we had all +reached the shore. +</p> +<p> +We had none of us eaten since morning, and were not sorry, as we crowned +the heights, to hear the drums beat for ‘cooking.’ In an inconceivably +short, time fires blazed along the hills, around which, in motley groups, +stood soldiers and peasantry mingled together, while the work of cooking +and eating went briskly on, amid hearty laughter and all the merriment +that mutual mistakes and misconceptions occasioned. It was a new thing for +French soldiers to bivouac in a friendly country, and find themselves the +welcome guests of a foreign people; and certainly, the honours of +hospitality, however limited the means, could not have been performed with +more of courtesy or good-will. Paddy gave his ‘all,’ with a generosity +that might have shamed many a richer donor. +</p> +<p> +While the events I have mentioned were going forward, and a considerable +crowd of fishermen and peasants had gathered about us, still it was +remarkable that, except immediately on the coast itself, no suspicion of +our arrival had gained currency, and even the country-people who lived a +mile from the shore did not know who we were. The few who, from distant +heights and headlands, had seen the ships, mistook them for English, and +as all those who were out with fish or vegetables to sell were detained by +the frigates, any direct information about us was impossible. So far, +therefore, all might be said to have gone most favourably with us. We had +safely escaped the often-menaced dangers of the Channel fleet; we had +gained a secure and well-sheltered harbour; and we had landed our force +not only without opposition, but in perfect secrecy. There were, I will +not deny, certain little counterbalancing circumstances on the other side +of the account not exactly so satisfactory. The patriot forces upon which +we had calculated had no existence. There were neither money, nor stores, +nor means of conveyance to be had; even accurate information as to the +strength and position of the English was unattainable; and as to generals +and leaders, the effective staff had but a most sorry representative in +the person of Neal Kerrigan. This man’s influence over our general +increased with every hour, and one of the first orders issued after our +landing contained his appointment as an extra aide-de-camp on General +Humbert’s staff. +</p> +<p> +In one capacity Neal was most useful. All the available sources of pillage +for a wide circuit of country he knew by heart, and it was plain, from the +accurate character of his information, varying, as it did, from the +chattels of the rich landed proprietor to the cocks and hens of the +cottier, that he had taken great pains to master his subject. At his +suggestion it was decided that we should march that evening on Killala, +where little or more likely no resistance would be met with, and General +Humbert should take up his quarters in the ‘Castle,’ as the palace of the +bishop was styled. There, he said, we should not only find ample +accommodation for the staff, but good stabling, well filled, and plenty of +forage, while the bishop himself might be a most useful hostage to have in +our keeping. From thence, too, as a place of some note, general orders and +proclamations would issue, with a kind of notoriety and importance +necessary at the outset of an undertaking like ours; and truly never was +an expedition more loaded with this species of missive than ours—whole +cart-loads of printed papers, decrees, placards, and such like, followed +us. If our object had been to drive out the English by big type and a +flaming letterpress, we could not have gone more vigorously to work. Fifty +thousand broadsheet announcements of Irish independence were backed by as +many proud declarations of victory, some dated from Limerick, Cashel, or +Dublin itself. +</p> +<p> +Here, a great placard gave the details of the new Provincial Government of +Western Ireland, with the name of the ‘Prefect’ a blank. There was +another, containing the police regulations for the ‘arrondissements’ of +Connaught, ‘et ses dépendances.’ Every imaginable step of conquest and +occupation was anticipated and provided for in these wise and considerate +protocols, from the ‘enthusiastic welcome of the French on the western +coast’ to the hour of ‘General Humbert’s triumphal entry into Dublin!’ Nor +was it prose alone, but even poetry did service in our cause. Songs, not, +I own, conspicuous for any great metrical beauty, commemorated our battles +and our bravery; so that we entered upon the campaign as deeply pledged to +victory as any force I ever heard or read of in history. +</p> +<p> +Neal, who was, I believe, originally a schoolmaster, had great confidence +in this arsenal of ‘black and white,’ and soon persuaded General Humbert +that a bold face and a loud tongue would do more in Ireland than in any +country under heaven; and, indeed, if his own career might be called a +success, the theory deserved some consideration. A great part of our +afternoon was then spent in distributing these documents to the people, +not one in a hundred of whom could read, but who treasured the placards +with a reverence nothing diminished by their ignorance. Emissaries, too, +were appointed to post them up in conspicuous places through the country, +on the doors of the chapels, at the smiths’ forges, at cross-roads—everywhere, +in short, where they might attract notice. The most important and +business-like of all these, however, was one headed ‘Arms!’—‘Arms!’ +and which went on to say that no man who wished to lift his hand for old +Ireland need do so without a weapon, and that a general distribution of +guns, swords, and bayonets would take place at noon the following day at +the Palace of Killala. +</p> +<p> +Serasint and, I believe, Madgett, were strongly opposed to this +indiscriminate arming of the people; but Neal’s counsels were now in the +ascendant, and Humbert gave an implicit confidence to all he suggested. +</p> +<p> +It was four o’clock in the evening when the word to march was given, and +our gallant little force began its advance movement. Still attached to +Colonel Charost’s staff, and being, as chasseurs, in the advance, I had a +good opportunity of seeing the line of march from an eminence about half a +mile in front. Grander and more imposing displays I have indeed often +witnessed. As a great military ‘spectacle’ it could not, of course, be +compared with those mighty armies I had seen deploying through the defiles +of the Black Forest, or spreading like a sea over the wide plain of +Germany; but in purely picturesque effect, this scene surpassed all I had +ever beheld at the time, nor do I think that, in after-life, I can recall +one more striking. +</p> +<p> +The winding road, which led over hill and valley, now disappearing, now +emerging, with the undulations of the soil, was covered by troops marching +in a firm, compact order—the grenadiers in front, after which came +the artillery, and then the regiments of the line. Watching the dark +column, occasionally saluting it as it went with a cheer, stood thousands +of country-people on every hill-top and eminence, while far away in the +distance the frigates lay at anchor in the bay, the guns at intervals +thundering out a solemn ‘boom’ of welcome and encouragement to their +comrades. +</p> +<p> +There was something so heroic in the notion of that little band of +warriors throwing themselves fearlessly into a strange land, to contest +its claim for liberty with one of the most powerful nations of the world; +there was a character of daring intrepidity in this bold advance, they +knew not whither, nor against what force, that gave the whole an air of +glorious chivalry. +</p> +<p> +I must own that distance lent its wonted illusion to the scene, and +proximity, like its twin-brother familiarity, destroyed much of the +prestige my fancy had conjured up. The line of march, so imposing when +seen from afar, was neither regular nor well kept. The peasantry were +permitted to mingle with the troops; ponies, mules, and asses, loaded with +camp-kettles and cooking-vessels, were to be met with everywhere. The +baggage-waggons were crowded with officers and <i>sous-officiers</i> who, +disappointed in obtaining horses, were too indolent to walk. Even the +gun-carriages, and the guns themselves, were similarly loaded, while, at +the head of the infantry column, in an old rickety gig, the ancient mail +conveyance between Ballina and the coast, came General Humbert, Neal +Kerrigan capering at his side on the old grey, whose flanks were now +tastefully covered by the tricolour ensign of one of the boats as a +saddle-cloth. +</p> +<p> +This nearer and less enchanting prospect of my gallant comrades I was +enabled to obtain on being despatched to the rear by Colonel Charost, to +say that we were now within less than a mile of the town of Killala, its +venerable steeple and the tall chimneys of the palace being easily seen +above the low hills in front. Neal Kerrigan passed me as I rode back with +my message, galloping to the front with all the speed he could muster; but +while I was talking to the general he came back to say that the beating of +drums could be heard from the town, and that by the rapid movements here +and there of people, it was evident the defence was being prepared. There +was a lookout, too, from the steeple, that showed our approach was already +known. The general was not slow in adopting his measures, and the word was +given for quick-march, the artillery to deploy right and left of the road, +two companies of grenadiers forming on the flanks. ‘As for you, sir,’ said +Humbert to me, ‘take that horse,’ pointing to a mountain pony, fastened +behind the gig, ‘ride forward to the town, and make a reconnaissance. You +are to report to me,’ cried he, as I rode away, and was soon out of +hearing. +</p> +<p> +Quitting the road, I took a foot-track across the fields, and which the +pony seemed to know well, and after a sharp canter reached a small, poor +suburb of the town, if a few straggling wretched cabins can deserve the +name. A group of countrymen stood in the middle of the road, about fifty +yards in front of me; and while I was deliberating whether to advance or +retire, a joyous cry of ‘Hurrah for the French!’ decided me, and I touched +my cap in salute and rode forward. +</p> +<p> +Other groups saluted me with a similar cheer, as I went on; and now +windows were flung open, and glad cries and shouts of welcome rang out +from every side. These signs were too encouraging to turn my back upon, so +I dashed forward through a narrow street in front, and soon found myself +in a kind of square or ‘Place,’ the doors and windows of which were all +closed, and not a human being to be seen anywhere. As I hesitated what +next to do, I saw a soldier in a red coat rapidly turn the corner—‘What +do you want here, you spy?’ he cried out in a loud voice, and at the same +instant his bullet rang past my ear with a whistle. I drove in the spurs +at once, and just as he had gained a doorway, I clove his head open with +my sabre—he fell dead on the spot before me. Wheeling my horse +round, I now rode back, as I had come, at full speed, the same welcome +cries accompanying me as before. +</p> +<p> +Short as had been my absence, it was sufficient to have brought the +advanced guard close up with the town; and just as I emerged from the +little suburb, a quick, sharp firing drew my attention towards the left of +the wall, and there I saw our fellows advancing at a trot, while about +twenty red-coats were in full flight before them, the wild cries of the +country-people following them as they went. +</p> +<p> +I had but time to see thus much, and to remark that two or three English +prisoners were taken, when the general came up. He had now abandoned the +gig, and was mounted on a large, powerful black horse, which I afterwards +learned was one of the bishop’s. My tidings were soon told, and, indeed, +but indifferently attended to, for it was evident enough that the place +was our own. +</p> +<p> +‘This way, general—follow me,’ cried Kerrigan. ‘If the light +companies will take the road down to the “Acres,” they’ll catch the yeomen +as they retreat by that way, and we have the town our own.’ +</p> +<p> +The counsel was speedily adopted; and although a dropping fire here and +there showed that some slight resistance was still being made, it was +plain enough that all real opposition was impossible. +</p> +<p> +‘Forward!’ was now the word; and the chasseurs, with their muskets ‘in +sling,’ advanced at a trot up the main street. At a little distance the +grenadiers followed, and, debouching into the square, were received by an +ill-directed volley from a few of the militia, who took to their heels +after they fired. Three or four red-coats were killed, but the remainder +made their escape through the churchyard, and, gaining the open country, +scattered and fled as best they could. +</p> +<p> +Humbert, who had seen war on a very different scale, could not help +laughing at the absurdity of the skirmish, and was greatly amused with the +want of all discipline and ‘accord’ exhibited by the English troops. +</p> +<p> +‘I foresee, gentlemen,’ said he jocularly, ‘that we may have abundance of +success, but gain very little glory, in the same campaign. Now for a +blessing upon our labours—where shall we find our friend the +bishop?’ +</p> +<p> +‘This way, general,’ cried Neal, leading down a narrow street, at the end +of which stood a high wall, with an iron gate. This was locked, and some +efforts at barricading it showed the intention of a defence; but a few +strokes of a pioneer s hammer smashed the lock, and we entered a kind of +pleasure-ground, neatly and trimly kept. We had not advanced many paces +when the bishop, followed by a great number of his clergy—for it +happened to be the period of his annual visitation—came forward to +meet us. +</p> +<p> +Humbert dismounted, and removing his chapeau, saluted the dignitary with a +most finished courtesy. I could see, too, by his gesture, that he +presented General Serasin, the second in command; and, in fact, all his +motions were those of a well-bred guest at the moment of being received by +his host. Nor was the bishop, on his side, wanting either in ease or +dignity; his manner, not without the appearance of deep sorrow, was yet +that of a polished gentleman doing the honours of his house to a number of +strangers. +</p> +<p> +As I drew nearer I could hear that the bishop spoke French fluently, but +with a strong foreign accent. This facility, however, enabled him to +converse with ease on every subject, and to hold intercourse directly with +our general, a matter of no small moment to either party. It is probable +that the other clergy did not possess this gift, for assuredly their +manner towards us inferiors of the staff was neither gracious nor +conciliating; and as for myself, the few efforts I made to express, in +English, my admiration for the coast scenery, or the picturesque beauty of +the neighbourhood, were met in any rather than a spirit of politeness. +</p> +<p> +The generals accompanied the bishop into the castle, leaving myself and +three or four others on the outside. Colonel Charost soon made his +appearance, and a guard was stationed at the entrance gate, with a strong +picket in the garden. Two sentries were placed at the hall door, and the +words ‘Quartier Général’ written up over the portico. A small garden +pavilion was appropriated to the colonel’s use, and made the office of the +adjutant-general, and in less than half an hour after our arrival, eight +<i>sous-officiers</i> were hard at work under the trees, writing away at +billets, contribution orders, and forage rations; while I, from my +supposed fluency in English, was engaged in carrying messages to and from +the staff to the various shopkeepers and tradesmen of the town, numbers of +whom now flocked around us with expressions of welcome and rejoicing. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXI. OUR ALLIES +</h2> +<p> +I have spent pleasanter, but I greatly doubt if I ever knew busier days, +than those I passed at the Bishop’s Palace at Killala; and now, as I look +upon the event, I cannot help wondering that we could seriously have +played out a farce so full of absurdity and nonsense! There was a gross +mockery of all the usages of war, which, had it not been for the serious +interests at stake, would have been highly amusing. +</p> +<p> +Whether it was the important functions of civil government, the details of +police regulation, the imposition of contributions, the appointment of +officers, or the arming of the volunteers, all was done with a pretentious +affectation of order that was extremely ludicrous. The very institutions +which were laughingly agreed to overnight, as the wine went briskly round, +were solemnly ratified in the morning, and, still more strange, apparently +believed in by those whose ingenuity devised them; and thus the ‘Irish +Directory,’ as we styled the imaginary government, the National Treasury, +the Pension Fund, were talked of with all the seriousness of facts! As to +the commissariat, to which I was for the time attached, we never ceased +writing receipts and acknowledgments for stores and munitions of war, all +of which were to be honourably acquitted by the Treasury of the Irish +Republic. +</p> +<p> +No people could have better fallen in with the humour of this delusion +than the Irish. They seemed to believe everything, and yet there was a +reckless, headlong indifference about them, which appeared to say, that +they were equally prepared for any turn fortune might take, and if the +worst should happen, they would never reproach us for having misled them. +The real truth was—but we only learned it too late—all those +who joined us were utterly indifferent to the great cause of Irish +independence; their thoughts never rose above a row and a pillage. It was +to be a season of sack, plunder, and outrage, but nothing more! That such +were the general sentiments of the volunteers, I believe none will +dispute. We, however, in our ignorance of the people and their language, +interpreted all the harum-scarum wildness we saw as the buoyant +temperament of a high-spirited nation, who, after centuries of degradation +and ill-usage, saw the dawning of liberty at last. +</p> +<p> +Had we possessed any real knowledge of the country, we should at once have +seen that, of those who joined us, none were men of any influence or +station. If, now and then, a man of any name strayed into the camp, he was +sure to be one whose misconduct or bad character had driven him from +associating with his equals; and, even of the peasantry, our followers +were of the very lowest order. Whether General Humbert was the first to +notice the fact, I know not; but Charost, I am certain, remarked it, and +even thus early predicted the utter failure of the expedition. +</p> +<p> +I must confess the volunteers were the least imposing of allies. I think I +have the whole scene before my eyes this moment, as I saw it each morning +in the palace garden. +</p> +<p> +The inclosure, which, more orchard than garden, occupied a space of a +couple of acres, was the headquarters of Colonel Charost; and here, in a +pavilion formerly dedicated to hoes, rakes, rolling-stones, and +garden-tools, we were now established to the number of fourteen. As the +space beneath the roof was barely sufficient for the colonel’s personal +use, the officers of his staff occupied convenient spots in the vicinity. +My station was under a large damson-tree, the fruit of which afforded me, +more than once, the only meal I tasted from early morning till late at +night; not, I must say, from any lack of provisions, for the palace +abounded with every requisite of the table, but that, such was the +pressure of business, we were not able to leave off work even for half an +hour during the day. +</p> +<p> +A subaltern’s guard of grenadiers, divided into small parties, did duty in +the garden; and it was striking to mark the contrast between these bronzed +and war-worn figures, and the reckless tatterdemalion host around us. +Never was seen such a scarecrow set! Wild-looking, ragged wretches, their +long lank hair hanging down their necks and shoulders, usually barefooted, +and with every sign of starvation in their features; they stood in groups +and knots, gesticulating, screaming, hurrahing, and singing, in all the +exuberance of a joy that caught some, at least, of its inspiration from +whisky. +</p> +<p> +It was utterly vain to attempt to keep order amongst them; even the effort +to make them defile singly through the gate into the garden was soon found +impracticable, without the employment of a degree of force that our +adviser, Kerrigan, pronounced would be injudicious. Not only the men made +their way in, but great numbers of women, and even children also; and +there they were, seated around fires, roasting their potatoes in this +bivouac fashion, as though they had deserted hearth and home to follow us. +</p> +<p> +Such was the avidity to get arms—of which the distribution was +announced to take place here—that several had scaled the wall in +their impatience, and as they were more or less in drink, some disastrous +accidents were momentarily occurring, adding the cries and exclamations of +suffering to the ruder chorus of joy and revelry that went on unceasingly. +</p> +<p> +The impression—we soon saw how absurd it was—the impression +that we should do nothing that might hurt the national sensibilities, but +concede all to the exuberant ardour of a bold people, eager to be led +against their enemies, induced us to submit to every imaginable breach of +order and discipline. +</p> +<p> +‘In a day or two, they ‘ll he like your own men; you ‘ll not know them +from a battalion of the line. Those fellows will be like a wall under +fire.’ +</p> +<p> +Such and such like were the assurances we were listening to all day, and +it would have been like treason to the cause to have refused them +credence. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps I might have been longer a believer in this theory, had I not +perceived signs of a deceptive character in these our worthy allies; many +who, to our faces, wore nothing but looks of gratitude and delight, no +sooner mixed with their fellows than their downcast faces and dogged +expression betrayed some inward sense of disappointment. +</p> +<p> +One very general source of dissatisfaction arose from the discovery, that +we were not prepared to pay our allies! We had simply come to arm and lead +them, to shed our own blood, and pledge our fortunes in their cause; but +we certainly had brought no military chest to bribe their patriotism, nor +stimulate their nationality; and this I soon saw was a grievous +disappointment. +</p> +<p> +In virtue of this shameful omission on our part, they deemed the only +resource was to be made officers, and thus crowds of uneducated, +semi-civilised vagabonds were every hour assailing us with their claims to +the epaulette. Of the whole number of these, I remember but three who had +ever served at all; two were notorious drunkards, and the third a +confirmed madman, from a scalp wound he had received when fighting against +the Turks. Many, however, boasted high-sounding names, and were, at least +so Kerrigan said, men of the first families in the land. +</p> +<p> +Our general-in-chief saw little of them while at Killala, his principal +intercourse being with the bishop and his family; but Colonel Charost soon +learned to read their true character, and from that moment conceived the +most disastrous issue to our plans. The most trustworthy of them was a +certain O’Donnell, who, although not a soldier, was remarked to possess a +greater influence over the rabble volunteers than any of the others. He +was a young man of the half-squire class, an ardent and sincere patriot, +after his fashion; but that fashion, it must be owned, rather partook of +the character of class-hatred and religious animosity than the features of +a great struggle for national independence. He took a very low estimate of +the fighting qualities of his countrymen, and made no secret of declaring +it. +</p> +<p> +‘You would be better without them altogether,’ said he one day to Charost; +‘but if you must have allies, draw them up in line, select one-third of +the best, and arm them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And the rest?’ asked Charost. ‘Shoot them,’ was the answer. +</p> +<p> +This conversation is on record—indeed, I believe there is yet one +witness living to corroborate it. +</p> +<p> +I have said that we were very hard worked, but I must fain acknowledge +that the real amount of business done was very insignificant, so many were +the mistakes, misconceptions, and interruptions, not to speak of the time +lost by that system of conciliation of which I have already made mention. +In our distribution of arms there was little selection practised or +possible. The process was a brief one, but it might have been briefer. +</p> +<p> +Thomas Colooney, of Banmayroo, was called, and not usually being present, +the name would be passed on, from post to post, till it swelled into a +general shout of Colooney. +</p> +<p> +‘Tom Colooney, you’re wanted; Tom, run for it, man, there’s a price bid +for you! Here’s Mickey, his brother, maybe he ‘ll do as well.’ +</p> +<p> +And so on: all this accompanied by shouts of laughter, and a running fire +of jokes, which, being in the vernacular, was lost to us. +</p> +<p> +At last the real Colooney was found, maybe eating his dinner of potatoes, +maybe discussing his poteen with a friend—-sometimes engaged in the +domestic duties of washing his shirt or his small-clothes, fitting a new +crown to his hat, or a sole to his brogues—whatever his occupation, +he was urged forward by his friends and the public, with many a push, +drive, and even a kick, into our presence, where, from the turmoil, +uproar, and confusion, he appeared to have fought his way by main force, +and very often, indeed, this was literally the fact, as his bleeding nose, +torn coat, and bare head attested. +</p> +<p> +‘Thomas Colooney—are you the man?’ asked one of our Irish officers +of the staff. +</p> +<p> +‘Yis, yer honour, I ‘m that same!’ +</p> +<p> +‘You’ve come here, Colooney, to offer yourself as a volunteer in the cause +of your country?’ +</p> +<p> +Here a yell of ‘Ireland for ever!’ was always raised by the bystanders, +which drowned the reply in its enthusiasm, and the examination went on:— +</p> +<p> +‘You’ll be true and faithful to that cause till you secure for your +country the freedom of America and the happiness of France? Kiss the +cross. Are you used to firearms?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Isn’t he?—maybe not! I’ll be bound he knows a musket from a mealy +pratie!’ +</p> +<p> +Such and such like were the comments that rang on all sides, so that the +modest ‘Yis, sir,’ of the patriot was completely lost. +</p> +<p> +‘Load that gun, Tom,’ said the officer. +</p> +<p> +Here Colooney, deeming that so simple a request must necessarily be only a +cover for something underhand—a little clever surprise or so—takes +up the piece in a very gingerly manner, and examines it all round, +noticing that there is nothing, so far as he can discover, unusual nor +uncommon about it. +</p> +<p> +‘Load that gun, I say.’ +</p> +<p> +Sharper and more angrily is the command given this time. +</p> +<p> +‘Yis, sir, immadiately.’ +</p> +<p> +And now Tom tries the barrel with the ramrod, lest there should be already +a charge there—a piece of forethought that is sure to be loudly +applauded by the public, not the less so because the impatience of the +French officers is making itself manifest in various ways. +</p> +<p> +At length he rams down the cartridge, and returns the ramrod; which piece +of adroitness, if done with a certain air of display and flourish, is +unfailingly saluted by another cheer. He now primes and cocks the piece, +and assumes a look of what he believes to be most soldierlike severity. +</p> +<p> +As he stands thus for scrutiny, a rather lively debate gets up as to +whether or not Tom bit off the end of the cartridge before he rammed it +down. The biters and anti-biters being equally divided, the discussion +waxes strong. The French officers, eagerly asking what may be the disputed +point, laugh very heartily on hearing it. +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll lay ye a pint of sperits she won’t go off,’ cries one. +</p> +<p> +‘Done! for two naggins, if he pulls strong,’ rejoins another. +</p> +<p> +‘Devil fear the same gun,’ cries a third; ‘she shot Mr. Sloan at fifty +paces, and killed him dead.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tisn’t the same gun—that’s a Frinch one—a bran-new one!’ +</p> +<p> +‘She isn’t.’ +</p> +<p> +‘She is.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, she isn’t.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, but she is.’ ‘What is’t you say?’ ‘Hould your prate.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Arrah, teach your mother to feed ducks.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Silence in the ranks. Keep silence there. Attention, Colooney!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yis, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Fire!’ +</p> +<p> +‘What at, sir?’ asks Tom, taking an amateur glance of the company, who +look not over satisfied at his scrutiny. +</p> +<p> +‘Fire in the air!’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10260.jpg" width="100%" alt="260 " /> +</div> +<p> +Bang goes the piece, and a yell follows the explosion, while cries of +‘Well done, Tom,’ ‘Begorra, if a Protestant got that!’ and so on, greet +the performance. +</p> +<p> +‘Stand by, Colooney!’ and the volunteer falls back to make way for another +and similar exhibition, occasionally varied by the humour of the blunders +of the new candidate. +</p> +<p> +As to the Treasury orders, as we somewhat ludicrously styled the cheques +upon our imaginary bank, the scenes they led to were still more absurd and +complicated. We paid liberally, that is to say in promises, for +everything, and our generosity saved us a good deal of time, for it was +astonishing how little the owners disputed our solvency when the price was +left to themselves. But the rations were indeed the most difficult matter +of all; it being impossible to convince our allies of the fact that the +compact was one of trust, and the ration was not his own to dispose of in +any manner that might seem fit. +</p> +<p> +‘Sure, if I don’t like to ate it—if I haven’t an appetite for it—if +I’d rather have a pint of sperits, or a flannel waistcoat, or a pair of +stockings, than a piece of mate, what harm is that to any one?’ +</p> +<p> +This process of reasoning was much harder of answer than is usually +supposed, and even when replied to, another difficulty arose in its place. +Unaccustomed to flesh diet, when they tasted they could not refrain from +it, and the whole week’s rations of beef, amounting to eight pounds, were +frequently consumed in the first twenty-four hours. +</p> +<p> +Such instances of gormandising were by no means unfrequent, and, stranger +still, in no one case, so far as I knew, followed by any ill consequences. +</p> +<p> +The leaders were still more difficult to manage than the people. Without +military knowledge or experience of any kind, they presumed to dictate the +plan of a campaign to old and distinguished officers like Humbert and +Serasin, and when overruled by argument or ridicule, invariably fell back +upon their superior knowledge of Ireland and her people, a defence for +which, of course, we were quite unprepared, and unable to oppose anything. +From these and similar causes it may well be believed that our labours +were not light, and yet somehow, with all the vexations and difficulties +around us, there was a congenial tone of levity, an easy recklessness, and +a careless freedom in the Irish character that suited us well There was +but one single point whereupon we were not thoroughly together, and this +was religion. They were a nation of most zealous Catholics; and as for us, +the revolution had not left the vestige of a belief amongst us. +</p> +<p> +A reconnaissance in Ballina, meant rather to discover the strength of the +garrison than of the place itself, having shown that the royal forces were +inconsiderable in number, and mostly militia, General Humbert moved +forward, on Sunday morning the 26th, with nine hundred men of our own +force, and about three thousand ‘volunteers,’ leaving Colonel Charost and +his staff, with two companies of foot, at Killala, to protect the town, +and organise the new levies as they were formed. +</p> +<p> +We saw our companions defile from the town with heavy hearts. The small +body of real soldiers seemed even smaller still from being enveloped by +that mass of peasants who accompanied them, and who marched on the flanks +or in the rear, promiscuously, without discipline or order—a noisy, +half-drunken rabble, firing off their muskets at random, and yelling as +they went, in savage glee and exultation. Our sole comfort was in the +belief, that, when the hour of combat did arrive, they would fight to the +very last. Such were the assurances of their own officers, and made so +seriously and confidently, that we never thought of mistrusting them. +</p> +<p> +‘If they be but steady under fire,’ said Charost, ‘a month will make them +good soldiers. Ours is an easy drill, and soon learned; but I own,’ he +added, ‘they do not give me this impression.’ +</p> +<p> +Such was the reflection of one who watched them as they went past, and +with sorrow we saw ourselves concurring in the sentiment. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXII. THE DAY OF ‘CASTLEBAR’ +</h2> +<p> +We were all occupied with our drill at daybreak on the morning of the 27th +of August, when a mounted orderly arrived at full gallop, with news that +our troops were in motion for Castlebar, and orders for us immediately to +march to their support, leaving only one subaltern and twenty men in ‘the +Castle.’ +</p> +<p> +The worthy bishop was thunderstruck at the tidings. It is more than +probable that he never entertained any grave fears of our ultimate +success; still he saw that in the struggle, brief as it might be, rapine, +murder, and pillage would spread over the country, and that crime of every +sort would be certain to prevail during the short interval of anarchy. +</p> +<p> +As our drums were beating the ‘rally,’ he entered the garden, and with +hurried steps came forward to where Colonel Charost was standing +delivering his orders. +</p> +<p> +‘Good-day, Mons. l‘Évêque,’ said the colonel, removing his hat, and bowing +low. You see us in a moment of haste. The campaign has opened, and we are +about to march.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Have you made any provision for the garrison of this town, colonel?’ said +the bishop, in terror. ‘Your presence alone here restrained the population +hitherto. If you leave us——-’ +</p> +<p> +‘We shall leave you a strong force of our faithful allies, sir,’ said +Charost; ‘Irishmen could scarcely desire better defenders than their +countrymen.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You forget, colonel, that some of us here are averse to this cause, but, +as non-combatants, lay claim to protection.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You shall have it, too, Mons. l‘Évêque; we leave an officer and twenty +men.’ +</p> +<p> +‘An officer and twenty men!’ echoed the bishop, in dismay. +</p> +<p> +‘Quite sufficient, I assure you,’ said Charost coldly; ‘and if a hair of +one of their heads be injured by the populace, trust me, sir, that we +shall take a terrible vengeance.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You do not know these people, sir, as I know them,’ said the bishop +eagerly. ‘The same hour that you march out, will the town of Killala be +given up to pillage. As for your retributive justice, I may be pardoned +for not feeling any consolation in the pledge, for certes neither I nor +mine will live to witness it.’ +</p> +<p> +As the bishop was speaking, a crowd of volunteers, some in uniform and all +armed, drew nearer and nearer to the place of colloquy; and although +understanding nothing of what went forward in the foreign language, seemed +to watch the expressions of the speakers’ faces with a most keen interest. +To look at the countenances of these fellows, truly one would not have +called the bishop’s fears exaggerated; their expression was that of +demoniac passion and hatred. +</p> +<p> +‘Look, sir,’ said the bishop, turning round, and facing the mob, ‘look at +the men to whose safeguard you propose to leave us.’ +</p> +<p> +Charost made no reply; but making a sign for the bishop to remain where he +was, re-entered the pavilion hastily. I could see, through the window that +he was reading his despatches over again, and evidently taking counsel +with himself how to act. The determination was quickly come to. +</p> +<p> +‘Mons. l‘Évêque,’ said he, laying his hand on the bishop’s arm, ‘I find +that my orders admit of a choice on my part. I will, therefore, remain +with you myself, and keep a sufficient force of my own men. It is not +impossible, however, that in taking this step I may be perilling my own +safety. You will, therefore, consent that one of your sons shall accompany +the force now about to march, as a hostage. This is not an unreasonable +request on my part.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very well, sir,’ said the bishop sadly. ‘When do they leave?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Within half an hour,’ said Charost. +</p> +<p> +The bishop, bowing, retraced his steps through the garden back to the +house. Our preparations for the road were by this time far advanced. The +command said, ‘Light marching order, and no rations’; so that we foresaw +that there was sharp work before us. Our men—part of the 12th +demi-brigade, and a half company of grenadiers—were, indeed, ready +on the instant; but the Irish were not so easily equipped. Many had +strayed into the town; some, early as it was, were dead drunk; and not a +few had mislaid their arms or their ammunition, secretly preferring the +chance of a foray of their own to the prospect of a regular engagement +with the Royalist troops. +</p> +<p> +Our force was still a considerable one, numbering at least fifteen hundred +volunteers, besides about eighty of our men. By seven o’clock we were +under march, and with drums beating, defiled from the narrow streets of +Killala into the mountain-road that leads to Cloonagh; it being our object +to form a junction with the main body at the foot of the mountain. +</p> +<p> +Two roads led from Ballina to Castlebar—one to the eastward, the +other to the west of Lough Con. The former was a level road, easily +passable by wheel carriages, and without any obstacle or difficulty +whatever; the other took a straight direction over lofty mountains, and in +one spot—the Pass of Barnageeragh—traversed a narrow defile, +shut in between steep cliffs, where a small force, assisted by artillery, +could have arrested the advance of a great army. The road itself, too, was +in disrepair; the rains of autumn had torn and fissured it, while heavy +sandslips and fallen rocks in many places rendered it almost impassable. +</p> +<p> +The Royalist generals had reconnoitred it two days before, and were so +convinced that all approach in this direction was out of the question, +that a small picket of observation, posted near the Pass of Barnageeragh, +was withdrawn as useless, and the few stockades they had fixed were still +standing as we marched through. +</p> +<p> +General Humbert had acquired all the details of these separate lines of +attack, and at once decided for the mountain-road, which, besides the +advantage of a surprise, was in reality four miles shorter. +</p> +<p> +The only difficulty was the transport of our artillery, but as we merely +carried those light field-pieces called ‘curricle guns,’ and had no want +of numbers to draw them, this was not an obstacle of much moment. With +fifty, sometimes sixty, peasants to a gun, they advanced at a run, up +places where our infantry found the ascent sufficiently toilsome. Here, +indeed, our allies showed in the most favourable colours we had yet seen +them. The prospect of a fight seemed to excite their spirits almost to +madness; every height they surmounted they would break into a wild cheer, +and the vigour with which they tugged the heavy ammunition-carts through +the deep and spongy soil never interfered with the joyous shouts they +gave, and the merry songs they chanted in rude chorus. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Tra, la, la! the French is comin’, +What ‘ll now the red-coats do? +Maybe they won’t get a drubbin’! +Sure we ‘ll lick them black and blue! + +‘Ye little knew the day was near ye, +Ye little thought they ‘d come so far; +But here’s the boys that never fear ye— +Run, yer sowls, for Castlebar!’ +</pre> +<p> +To this measure they stepped in time, and although the poetry was lost +upon our ignorance, the rattling joyousness of the air sounded pleasantly, +and our men, soon catching up the tune, joined heartily in the chorus. +Another very popular melody ran somewhat thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘Our day is now begun, +Says the Shan van voght, +Our day is now begun, +Says the Shan van voght. +Our day is now begun, +And ours is all the fun! +Be my sowl ye ‘d better run! +Says the Shan van voght!’ +</pre> +<p> +There were something like a hundred verses to this famous air, but it is +more than likely, from the specimen given above, that my reader will +forgive the want of memory that leaves me unable to quote the remaining +ninety-nine; nor is it necessary that I should add, that the merit of +these canticles lay in the hoarse accord of a thousand rude voices, heard +in the stillness of a wild mountain region, and at a time when an eventful +struggle was before us; such were the circumstances which possibly made +these savage rhymes assume something of terrible meaning. +</p> +<p> +We had just arrived at the entrance of Barnageeragh, when one of our +mounted scouts rode up to say, that a peasant, who tended cattle on the +mountains, had evidently observed our approach, and hastened into +Castlebar with the tidings. +</p> +<p> +It was difficult to make General Humbert understand this fact. +</p> +<p> +‘Is this the patriotism we have heard so much of? Are these the people who +would welcome us as deliverers?! <i>Parbleu!</i> I’ve seen nothing but +lukewarmness or downright opposition since I landed! In that same town we +have just quitted—a miserable hole, too, was it—what was the +first sight that greeted us? a fellow in our uniform hanging from the +stanchion of a window, with an inscription round his neck, to the purport +that he was a traitor! This is the fraternity which our Irish friends +never wearied to speak of!’ +</p> +<p> +Our march was now hastened, and in less than an hour we debouched from the +narrow gorge into the open plain before the town of Castlebar. A few shots +in our front told us that the advanced picket had fallen in with the +enemy, but a French cheer also proclaimed that the Royalists had fallen +back, and our march continued unmolested. The road, which was wide and +level here, traversed a flat country, without hedgerow or cover, so that +we were able to advance in close column, without any precaution for our +flanks; but before us there was a considerable ascent, which shut out all +view of the track beyond it. Up this our advanced guard was toiling, +somewhat wearied with a seven hours’ march and the heat of a warm morning, +when scarcely had the leading files topped the ridge, than plump went a +round shot over their heads, which, after describing a fine curve, plunged +into the soft surface of a newly ploughed field. The troops were instantly +retired behind the crest of the hill, and an orderly despatched to inform +the general that we were in face of the enemy. He had already seen the +shot and marked its direction. The main body was accordingly halted, and +defiling from the centre, the troops extended on either side into the +fields. While this movement was being effected Humbert rode forward, and +crossing the ridge, reconnoitred the enemy. +</p> +<p> +It was, as he afterwards observed, a stronger force than he had +anticipated, consisting of between three and four thousand bayonets, with +four squadrons of horse, and two batteries of eight guns, the whole +admirably posted on a range of heights, in front of the town, and +completely covering it. +</p> +<p> +The ridge was scarcely eight hundred yards’ distance, and so distinctly +was every object seen, that Humbert and his two aides-de-camp were at once +marked and fired at, even in the few minutes during which the +reconnaissance lasted. +</p> +<p> +As the general retired the firing ceased, and now all our arrangements +were made without molestation of any kind. They were, indeed, of the +simplest and speediest Two companies of our grenadiers were marched to the +front, and in advance of them, about twenty paces, were posted a body of +Irish in French uniforms. This place being assigned them, it was said, as +a mark of honour, but in reality for no other purpose than to draw on them +the Royalist artillery, and thus screen the grenadiers. +</p> +<p> +Under cover of this force came two light six-pounder guns, loaded with +grape, and intended to be discharged at point-blank distance. The infantry +brought up the rear in three compact columns, ready to deploy into line at +a moment. +</p> +<p> +In these very simple tactics no notice whatever was taken of the great +rabble of Irish who hung upon our flanks and rear in disorderly masses, +cursing, swearing, and vociferating in all the license of insubordination; +and O’Donnell, whose showy uniform contrasted strikingly with the +dark-blue coat and low glazed cocked-hat of Humbert, was now appealed to +by his countrymen as to the reason of this palpable slight. +</p> +<p> +‘What does he want? what does the fellow say?’ asked Humbert, as he +noticed his excited gestures and passionate manner. +</p> +<p> +‘He is remonstrating, sir,’ replied I, ‘on the neglect of his countrymen; +he says that they do not seem treated like soldiers; no post has been +assigned, nor any order given them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tell him, sir,’ said Humbert, with a savage grin, ‘that the discipline we +have tried in vain to teach them hitherto, we’ll not venture to rehearse +under an enemy’s fire; and tell him also that he and his ragged followers +are free to leave us, or, if they like better, to turn against us, at a +moment’s warning.’ +</p> +<p> +I was saved the unpleasant task of interpreting this civil message by +Conolly, who, taking O’Donnell aside, appeared endeavouring to reason with +him, and reduce him to something like moderation. +</p> +<p> +‘There, look at them, they’re running like sheep!’ cried Humbert, +laughing, as he pointed to an indiscriminate rabble, some hundred yards +off, in a meadow, and who had taken to their heels on seeing a round shot +plunge into the earth near them. ‘Come along, sir: come with me, and when +you have seen what fire is, you may go back and tell your countrymen! +Serasin, is all ready? Well then, forward, march!’ +</p> +<p> +‘March!’ was now re-echoed along the line, and steadily, as on a parade, +our hardy infantry stepped out, while the drums kept up a continued roll +as we mounted the hill. +</p> +<p> +The first to cross the crest of the ascent were the ‘Legion,’ as the Irish +were called, who, dressed like French soldiers, were selected for some +slight superiority in discipline and bearing. They had but gained the +ridge, however, when a well-directed shot from a six-pounder smashed in +amongst them, killing two, and wounding six or seven others. The whole +mass immediately fell back on our grenadiers. The confusion compelled the +supporting column to halt, and once more the troops were retired behind +the hill. +</p> +<p> +‘Forward, men, forward!’ cried Humbert, riding up to the front, and in +evident impatience at these repeated checks; and now the grenadiers passed +to the front, and, mounting the height, passed over, while a shower of +balls flew over and around them. A small slated house stood half-way down +the hill, and for this the leading files made a dash and gained it, just +as the main body were, for the third time, driven back to re-form. +</p> +<p> +It was now evident that an attack in column could not succeed against a +fire so admirably directed, and Humbert quickly deployed into line, and +prepared to storm the enemy’s position. +</p> +<p> +Up to this the conduct of the Royalists had been marked by the greatest +steadiness and determination. Every shot from their batteries had told, +and all promised an easy and complete success to their arms. No sooner, +however, had our infantry extended into line, than the militia, +unaccustomed to see an enemy before them, and unable to calculate +distance, opened a useless, dropping fire, at a range where not a bullet +could reach! +</p> +<p> +The ignorance of this movement, and the irregularity of the discharge, +were not lost upon our fellows, most of whom were veterans of the army of +the Rhine, and, with a loud cheer of derision, our troops advanced to meet +them, while a cloud of skirmishers dashed forward and secured themselves +under cover of a hedge. +</p> +<p> +Even yet, however, no important advantage had been gained by us, and if +the Royalists had kept their ground in support of their artillery, we must +have been driven back with loss; but, fortunately for us, a movement we +made to keep open order was mistaken by some of the militia officers for +the preparation to outflank them, a panic seized the whole line, and they +fell back, leaving their guns totally exposed and unprotected. +</p> +<p> +‘They ‘re running! they ‘re running!’ was the cry along our line; and now +a race was seen, which should be first up with the artillery. The cheers +at this moment were tremendous, for our ‘allies,’ who had kept wide aloof +hitherto, were now up with us, and, more lightly equipped than we were, +soon took the lead. The temerity, however, was costly, for three several +times did the Royalist artillery load and fire; and each discharge, +scarcely at half-musket range, was terribly effective. +</p> +<p> +We were by no means prepared for either so sudden or complete a success, +and the scene was exciting in the highest degree, as the whole line +mounted the hill, cheering madly. From the crest of this rising ground we +could now see the town of Castlebar beneath us, into which the Royalists +were scampering at full speed. A preparation for defending the bridge into +the town did not escape the watchful eyes of our general, who again gave +the word ‘Forward!’ not by the road alone, but also by the fields at +either side, so as to occupy the houses that should command the bridge, +and which, by a palpable neglect, the others had forgotten to do. +</p> +<p> +Our small body of horse, about twenty hussars, were ordered to charge the +bridge, and had they been even moderately well mounted, must have captured +the one gun of the enemy at once; but the miserable cattle, unable to +strike a canter, only exposed them to a sharp musketry; and when they did +reach the bridge, five of their number had fallen. The six-pounder was, +however, soon taken, and the gunners sabred at their posts, while our +advanced guard coming up, completed the victory; and nothing now remained +but a headlong flight. +</p> +<p> +Had we possessed a single squadron of dragoons, few could have escaped us, +for not a vestige of discipline remained. All was wild confusion and +panic. Such of the officers as had ever seen service, were already killed +or badly wounded; and the younger ones were perfectly unequal to the +difficult task of rallying or restoring order to a routed force. +</p> +<p> +The scene in the market-square, as we rode in, is not easily to be +forgotten; about two hundred prisoners were standing in a group, disarmed, +it is true, but quite unguarded, and without any preparation or precaution +against escape! +</p> +<p> +Six or seven English officers, amongst whom were two majors, were gathered +around General Humbert, who was conversing with them in tones of easy and +jocular familiarity. The captured guns of the enemy (fourteen in all) were +being ranged on one side of the square, while behind them were drawn up a +strange-looking line of men, with their coats turned. These were part of +the Kilkenny militia, who had deserted to our ranks after the retreat +began. +</p> +<p> +Such was the ‘fight’ of Castlebar. It would be absurd to call it a +‘battle’—a day too inglorious for the Royalists to reflect any +credit upon us; but, such as it was, it raised the spirits of our Irish +followers to a pitch of madness, and, out of our own ranks, none now +doubted in the certainty of Irish independence. +</p> +<p> +Our occupation of the town lasted only a week; but, brief as the time was, +it was sufficient to widen the breach between ourselves and our allies +into an open and undisguised hatred. There were, unquestionably, wrongs on +both sides. As for us, we were thoroughly, bitterly disappointed in the +character of those we had come to liberate; and, making the egregious +mistake of confounding these semi-civilised peasants with the Irish +people, we deeply regretted that ever the French army should have been +sent on so worthless a mission. As for them, they felt insulted and +degraded by the offensive tone we assumed towards them. Not alone were +they never regarded as comrades, but a taunting insolence of manner was +assumed in all our dealings with them, very strikingly in contrast to that +with which we conducted ourselves towards all the other inhabitants of the +island, even those who were avowedly inimical to our object and our cause. +</p> +<p> +These things, with native quickness, they soon remarked. They saw the +consideration and politeness with which the bishop and his family were +treated; they saw several Protestant gentlemen suffered to return to their +homes ‘on parole.’ They saw, too—worse grievance of all—how +all attempts at pillage were restrained, or severely punished, and they +asked themselves, ‘To what end a revolt, if neither massacre nor robbery +were to follow? If they wanted masters and rulers, sure they had the +English that they were used to, and could at least understand.’ +</p> +<p> +Such were the causes, and such the reasonings, which gradually ate deeper +and deeper into their minds, rendering them at first sullen, gloomy, and +suspicious, and at last insubordinate, and openly insulting to us. +</p> +<p> +Their leaders were the first to exhibit this state of feeling. Affecting a +haughty disdain for us, they went about with disparaging stories of the +French soldiery; and at last went even so far as to impugn their courage! +</p> +<p> +In one of the versions of the affair at Castlebar, it was roundly asserted +that but for the Irish threatening to fire on them, the French would have +turned and fled; while in another, the tactics of that day were all +ascribed to the military genius of Neal Kerrigan, who, by-the-bye, was +never seen from early morning until late the same afternoon, when he rode +into Castlebar on a fine bay horse that belonged to Captain Shortall of +the Royal Artillery! +</p> +<p> +If the feeling between us and our allies was something less than cordial, +nothing could be more friendly than that which subsisted between us and +such of the Royalists as we came in contact with. The officers who became +our prisoners were treated with every deference and respect. Two +field-officers and a captain of carbineers dined daily with the general, +and Serasin entertained several others. We liked them greatly; and I +believe I am not flattering if I say that they were equally satisfied with +us. <i>Nos amis l’ennemis</i>, was the constant expression used in talking +of them; and every day drew closer the ties of this comrade regard and +esteem. +</p> +<p> +Such was the cordial tone of intimacy maintained between us, that I +remember well, one evening at Humbert’s table, an animated discussion +being carried on between the general and an English staff-officer on the +campaign itself—the Royalist averring that in marching southward at +all, a gross and irreparable mistake had been made, and that if the French +had occupied Sligo, and extended their wings towards the north, they would +have secured a position of infinitely greater strength, and also become +the centre for rallying round them a population of a very different order +from the half-starved tribes of Mayo. +</p> +<p> +Humbert affected to say that the reason for his actual plan was that +twenty thousand French were daily expected to land in Lough Swilly, and +that the western attack was merely to occupy time and attention, while the +more formidable movement went on elsewhere. +</p> +<p> +I know not if the English believed this; I rather suspect not. Certes, +they were too polite to express any semblance of distrust of what was told +them with all the air of truth. +</p> +<p> +It was amusing, too, to see the candour with which each party discussed +the other to his face—the French general criticising all the faulty +tactics and defective manoeuvres of the Royalists; while the English never +hesitated to aver that whatever momentary success might wait upon the +French arms, they were just as certain to be obliged to capitulate in the +end. +</p> +<p> +‘You know it better than I do, general,’ said the major of dragoons. ‘It +may be a day or two earlier or later, but the issue will and must be—a +surrender.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I don’t agree with you,’ said Humbert, laughing; ‘I think there will be +more than one “Castlebar.” But let the worst happen—and you must own +that your haughty country has received a heavy insult—your great +England has got a <i>soufflet</i> in the face of all Europe!’ +</p> +<p> +This, which our general regarded as a great compensation—the +greatest, perhaps, he could receive for all defeat—did not seem to +affect the English with proportionate dismay, nor even to ruffle the +equanimity of their calm tempers. +</p> +<p> +Upon one subject both sides were quite agreed—that the peasantry +never could aid, but very possibly would always shipwreck, every attempt +to win national independence. +</p> +<p> +‘I should have one army to fight the English, and two to keep down the +Irish!’ was Humbert’s expression; and very little experience served to +show that there was not much exaggeration in the sentiment. +</p> +<p> +Our week at Castlebar taught us a good lesson in this respect. The troops, +wearied with a march that had begun on the midnight of the day before, and +with an engagement that lasted from eight till two in the afternoon, were +obliged to be under arms for several hours, to repress pillage and +massacre. Our allies now filled the town, to the number of five thousand, +openly demanding that it should be given up to them, parading the streets +in riotous bands, and displaying banners with long lists of names doomed +for immediate destruction. +</p> +<p> +The steadiness and temper of our soldiery were severely tried by these +factious and insubordinate spirits; but discipline prevailed at last, and +before the first evening closed in, the town was quiet, and, for the time +at least, danger over. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIII. THE TOWN-MAJOR OF CASTLEBAR +</h2> +<p> +I am at a loss to know whether or not I owe an apology to my reader for +turning away from the more immediate object of this memoir of a life, to +speak of events which have assumed an historical reputation. It may be +thought ill-becoming in one who occupied the subordinate station that I +did, to express himself on subjects so very far above both his experience +and acquaintance; but I would premise, that in the opinions I may have +formed, and the words of praise or censure dropped, I have been but +retailing the sentiments of those older and wiser than myself, and by +whose guidance I was mainly led to entertain not only the convictions but +the prejudices of my early years. +</p> +<p> +Let the reader bear in mind, too, that I was very early in life thrown +into the society of men—left self-dependent, in a great measure, and +obliged to decide for myself on subjects which usually are determined by +older and more mature heads. So much of excuse, then, if I seem +presumptuous in saying that I began to conceive a very low opinion +generally of popular attempts at independence, and a very high one of the +powers of military skill and discipline. A mob, in my estimation, was the +very lowest, and an army about the very highest, object I could well +conceive. My short residence at Castlebar did not tend to controvert these +impressions. The safety of the town and its inhabitants was entirely owing +to the handful of French who held it, and who, wearied with guards, +pickets, and outpost duty, were a mere fraction of the small force that +had landed a few days before. +</p> +<p> +Our ‘allies’ were now our most difficult charge, Abandoning the hopeless +task of drilling and disciplining them, we confined ourselves to the more +practical office of restraining pillage and repressing violence—a +measure, be it said, that was not without peril, and of a very serious +kind. I remember one incident, which, if not followed by grave +consequences, yet appeared at the time of a very serious character. +</p> +<p> +By the accidental misspelling of a name, a man named Dowall, a notorious +ruffian and demagogue, was appointed <i>commandant de place</i>, or +town-major, instead of a most respectable shopkeeper named Downes, who, +although soon made aware of the mistake, from natural timidity took no +steps to undeceive the general. Dowall was haranguing a mob of +half-drunken vagabonds, when his commission was put into his hands; and, +accepting the post as an evidence of the fears the French entertained of +his personal influence, became more overbearing and insolent than ever. We +had a very gallant officer, the second major of the 12th Regiment of the +Line, killed in the attack on Castlebar, and this Dowall at once took +possession of poor Delaitre’s horse, arms, and equipment. His coat and +shako, his very boots and gloves, the scoundrel appropriated; and, as if +in mockery of us and our poor friend, assumed a habit that he had when +riding fast, to place his sabre between his leg and the saddle, to prevent +its striking the horse on the flanks. +</p> +<p> +I need scarcely say that, thoroughly disgusted by the unsightly +exhibition, our incessant cares, and the endless round of duty we were +engaged in, as well as the critical position we occupied, left us no time +to notice the fellow’s conduct by any other than a passing sign of anger +or contempt—provocations that he certainly gave us back as +insolently as we offered them. I do not believe that the general ever saw +him, but I know that incessant complaints were daily made to him about the +man’s rapacity and tyranny, and scarcely a morning passed without a dozen +remonstrances being preferred against his overbearing conduct. +</p> +<p> +Determined to have his own countrymen on his side, he issued the most +absurd orders for the billeting of the rabble, the rations and allowances +of all kinds. He seized upon one of the best houses for his own quarters, +and three fine saddle-horses for his personal use, besides a number of +inferior ones for the ruffian following he called his staff! +</p> +<p> +It was, indeed, enough to excite laughter, had not indignation been the +more powerful emotion, to see this fellow ride forth of a morning—a +tawdry scarf of green, with deep gold fringe, thrown over his shoulder, +and a saddle-cloth of the same colour, profusely studded with gold +shamrocks, on his horse; a drawn sword in his hand, and his head erect, +followed by an indiscriminate rabble on foot or horseback—some with +muskets, some pikes, some with sword blades, bayonets, or even knives +fastened on sticks, but all alike ferocious-looking. +</p> +<p> +They affected to march in order, and, with a rude imitation of soldiery, +carried something like a knapsack on their shoulders, surmounted by a +kettle or tin cup, or sometimes an iron pot—a grotesque parody on +the trim cooking equipment of the French soldier. It was evident, from +their step and bearing, that they thought themselves in the very height of +discipline; and this very assumption was far more insulting to the real +soldier than all the licentious irregularity of the marauder. If to us +they were objects of ridicule and derision, to the townspeople they were +images of terror and dismay. The miserable shopkeeper who housed one of +them lived in continual fear; he knew nothing to be his own, and felt that +his property and family were every moment at the dictate of a ruffian +gang, who acknowledged no law, nor any rule save their own will and +convenience. Dowall’s squad were indeed as great a terror in that little +town as I had seen the great name of Robespierre in the proud city of +Paris. +</p> +<p> +In my temporary position on General Serasin’s staff, I came to hear much +of this fellow’s conduct. The most grievous stories were told me every day +of his rapacity and cruelty; but, harassed and overworked as the general +was with duties that would have been overmuch for three or four men, I +forebore to trouble him with recitals which could only fret and distress +him without affording the slightest chance of relief to others. Perhaps +this impunity had rendered him more daring, or, perhaps, the immense +number of armed Irish in comparison with the small force of disciplined +soldiers, emboldened the fellow; but certainly he grew day by day more +presumptuous and insolent, and at last so far forgot himself as to +countermand one of General Serasin’s orders, by which a guard was +stationed at the Protestant church to prevent its being molested or +injured by the populace. +</p> +<p> +General Humbert had already refused the Roman Catholic priest his +permission to celebrate mass in that building, but Dowall had determined +otherwise, and that, too, by a written order, under his own hand. The +French sergeant who commanded the guard of course paid little attention to +this warrant; and when Father Hennisy wanted to carry the matter with a +high hand, he coolly tore up the paper, and threw the fragments at him. +</p> +<p> +Dowall was soon informed of the slight offered to his mandate. He was at +supper at the time, entertaining a party of his friends, who all heard the +priest’s story, and, of course, loudly sympathised with his sorrows, and +invoked the powerful leader’s aid and protection. Affecting to believe +that the sergeant had merely acted in ignorance, and from not being able +to read English, Dowall despatched a fellow whom he called his +aide-de-camp, a schoolmaster named Lowrie, and who spoke a little bad +French, to interpret his command, and to desire the sergeant to withdraw +his men, and give up the guard to a party of ‘the squad.’ +</p> +<p> +Great was the surprise of the supper-party, when, after the lapse of half +an hour, a country fellow came in to say that he had seen Lowrie led off +to prison between two French soldiers. By this time Dowall had drunk +himself into a state of utter recklessness, while, encouraged by his +friends’ praises, and the arguments of his own passions, he fancied that +he might dispute ascendency with General Humbert himself. He at once +ordered out his horse, and gave a command to assemble the ‘squad.’ As they +were all billeted in his immediate vicinity, this was speedily effected, +and their numbers swelled by a vast mass of idle and curious, who were +eager to see how the matter would end; the whole street was crowded, and +when Dowall mounted, his followers amounted to above a thousand people. +</p> +<p> +If our sergeant, an old soldier of the ‘Sambre et Meuse,’ had not already +enjoyed some experience of our allies, it is more than likely that, seeing +their hostile advance, he would have fallen back upon the main guard, then +stationed in the market-square. As it was, he simply retired his party +within the church, the door of which had already been pierced for the use +of musketry. This done, and one of his men being despatched to +headquarters for advice and orders, he waited patiently for the attack. +</p> +<p> +I happened that night to make one of General Serasin’s dinner-party, and +we were sitting over our wine, when the officer of the guard entered +hastily with the tidings of what was going on in the town. +</p> +<p> +‘Is it the <i>commandant de place</i> himself who is at the head?’ +exclaimed Serasin, in amazement, such a thought being a direct shock to +all his ideas of military discipline. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, sir,’ said the officer; ‘the soldier knows his appearance well, and +can vouch for its being him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘As I know something of him, general,’ said I, ‘I may as well mention that +nothing is more likely.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who is he—what is he?’ asked Serasin hastily. +</p> +<p> +A very brief account—I need not say not a nattering one—told +all that I knew or had ever heard of our worthy town-major—many of +the officers around corroborating, as I went on, all that I said, and +interpolating little details of their own about his robberies and +exactions. +</p> +<p> +‘And yet I have heard nothing of all this before,’ said the general, +looking sternly around him on every side. +</p> +<p> +None ventured on a reply; and what might have followed there is no +guessing, when the sharp rattle of musketry cut short all discussion. +</p> +<p> +‘That fire was not given by soldiers,’ said Serasin. ‘Go, Tiernay, and +bring this fellow before me at once.’ +</p> +<p> +I bowed, and was leaving the room, when an officer, having whispered a few +words in Serasin’s ear, the general called me back, saying— +</p> +<p> +‘You are not to incur any risk, Tiernay; I want no struggle, still less a +rescue. You understand me?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Perfectly, general; the matter will, I trust, be easy enough.’ +</p> +<p> +And so I left the room, my heart—shall I avow it?—bumping and +throbbing in a fashion that gave a very poor corroboration to my words. +There were always three or four horses ready saddled for duty at each +general’s quarters, and, taking one of them, I ordered a corporal of +dragoons to follow me, and set out. It was a fine night of autumn; the +last faint sunlight was yet struggling with the coming darkness, as I rode +at a brisk trot down the main street towards the scene of action. +</p> +<p> +I had not proceeded far when the crowds compelled me to slacken my pace to +a walk, and finding that the people pressed in upon me in such a way as to +prevent anything like a defence if attacked, still more, any chance of an +escape by flight, I sent the corporal forward to clear a passage, and +announce my coming to the redoubted commandant. It was curious to see how +the old dragoon’s tactic effected his object, and with what speed the +crowd opened and fell back, as, with a flank movement of his horse, he +‘passaged’ up the street, prancing, bounding, and back-leaping, yet all +the while perfectly obedient to the hand, and never deviating from the +straight line in the very middle of the thoroughfare. +</p> +<p> +I could catch from the voices around me that the mob had fired a volley at +the church door, but that our men had never returned the fire; and now a +great commotion of the crowd, and that swaying, surging motion of the +mass, which is so peculiarly indicative of a coming event, told that +something more was in preparation. And such was it; for already numbers +were hurrying forward with straw faggots, broken furniture, and other +combustible material, which, in the midst of the wildest cries and shouts +of triumph, were now being heaped up against the door. Another moment, and +I should have been too late; as it was, my loud summons to ‘halt,’ and a +bold command for the mob to fall back, only came at the very last minute. +</p> +<p> +‘Where’s the commandant?’ said I, in an imperious tone. +</p> +<p> +‘Who wants him?’ responded a deep, husky voice, which I well knew to be +Dowall’s. +</p> +<p> +‘The general in command of the town,’ said I firmly—‘General +Serasin.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Maybe I’m as good a general as himself,’ was the answer. ‘I never called +him my superior yet! Did I, boys?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Never—devil a bit—why would you?’ and such like, were shouted +by the mob around us, in every accent of drunken defiance. +</p> +<p> +‘You ‘ll not refuse General Serasin’s invitation to confer with your +commandant, I hope?’ said I, affecting a tone of respectful civility, +while I gradually drew nearer and nearer to him, contriving, at the same +time, by a dexterous plunging of my horse, to force back the bystanders, +and thus isolate my friend Dowall. +</p> +<p> +‘Tell him I’ve work to do here,’ said he, ‘and can’t come; but if he’s +fond of a bonfire he may as well step down this far and see one.’ +</p> +<p> +By this time, at a gesture of command from me, the corporal had placed +himself on the opposite side of Dowall’s horse, and, by a movement similar +to my own, completely drove back the dense mob, so that we had him +completely in our power, and could have sabred or shot him at any moment. +</p> +<p> +‘General Serasin only wishes to see you on duty, commandant,’ said I, +speaking in a voice that could be heard over the entire assemblage; and +then, dropping it to a whisper, only audible to himself, I added— +</p> +<p> +‘Come along quietly, sir, and without a word. If you speak, if you mutter, +or if you lift a finger, I’ll run my sabre through your body.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Forward, way, there!’ shouted I aloud, and the corporal, holding Dowall’s +bridle, pricked the horse with the point of his sword, and right through +the crowd we went at a pace that defied following, had any the daring to +think of it. +</p> +<p> +So sudden was the act and so imminent the peril, for I held the point of +my weapon within a few inches of his back, and would have kept my word +most assuredly too, that the fellow never spoke a syllable as we went, nor +ventured on even a word of remonstrance till we descended at the general’s +door. Then, with a voice tremulous with restrained passion, he said— +</p> +<p> +‘If ye think I’ll forgive ye this thrick, my fine hoy, may the flames and +fire be my portion! and if I haven’t my revenge on ye yet, my name isn’t +Mick Dowall.’ +</p> +<p> +With a dogged, sulky resolution he mounted the stairs, but as he neared +the room where the general was, and from which his voice could even now be +heard, his courage seemed to fail him, and he looked back as though to see +if no chance of escape remained. The attempt would have been hopeless, and +he saw it. +</p> +<p> +‘This is the man, general,’ said I, half pushing him forward into the +middle of the room, where he stood with his hat on, and in an attitude of +mingled defiance and terror. +</p> +<p> +‘Tell him to uncover,’ said Serasin; but one of the aides-de-camp, more +zealous than courteous, stepped forward and knocked the hat off with his +hand. Dowall never budged an inch, nor moved a muscle, at this insult; to +look at him you could not have said that he was conscious of it. +</p> +<p> +‘Ask him if it was by his orders that the guard was assailed,’ said the +general. +</p> +<p> +I put the question in about as many words, but he made no reply. +</p> +<p> +‘Does the man know where he is? does he know who I am?’ repeated Serasin +passionately. +</p> +<p> +‘He knows both well enough, sir,’ said I; ‘this silence is a mere defiance +of us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i>’ cried an officer, ‘that is the <i>coquin</i> took poor +Delaitre’s equipments; the very uniform he has on was his.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The fellow was never a soldier,’ said another. +</p> +<p> +‘I know him well,’ interposed a third—’ he is the very terror of the +townsfolk.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who gave him his commission?—who appointed him?’ asked Serasin. +</p> +<p> +Apparently the fellow could follow some words of French, for as the +general asked this he drew from his pocket a crumpled and soiled paper, +which he threw heedlessly upon the table before us. +</p> +<p> +‘Why, this is not his name, sir,’ said I; ‘this appointment is made out in +the name of Nicholas Downes, and our friend here is called Dowall.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who knows him? who can identify him?’ asked Serasin. +</p> +<p> +‘I can say that his name is Dowall, and that he worked as a porter on the +quay in this town when I was a boy,’ said a young Irishman who was copying +letters and papers at a side-table. ‘Yes, Dowall,’ said the youth, +confronting the look which the other gave him. ‘I am neither afraid nor +ashamed to tell you to your face that I know you well, and who you are, +and what you are.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m an officer in the Irish Independent Army now,’ said Dowall +resolutely. ‘To the divil I fling the French commission and all that +belongs to it. Tisn’t troops that run and guns that burst we want. Let +them go back again the way they came—we ‘re able for the work +ourselves.* +</p> +<p> +Before I could translate this rude speech an officer broke into the room, +with tidings that the streets had been cleared, and the rioters dispersed; +a few prisoners, too, were taken, whose muskets bore trace of being +recently discharged. +</p> +<p> +‘They fired upon our pickets, general,’ said the officer, whose excited +look and voice betrayed how deeply he felt the outrage. +</p> +<p> +The men were introduced; three ragged, ill-looking wretches, apparently +only roused from intoxication by the terror of their situation, for each +was guarded by a soldier with a drawn bayonet in his hand. +</p> +<p> +‘We only obeyed ordhers, my lord; we only did what the captain tould us,’ +cried they, in a miserable, whining tone, for the sight of their leader in +captivity had sapped all their courage. +</p> +<p> +‘What am I here for? who has any business with me?’ said Dowall, assuming +before his followers an attempt at his former tone of bully. +</p> +<p> +‘Tell him,’ said Serasin, ‘that wherever a French general stands in full +command he will neither brook insolence nor insubordination. Let those +fellows be turned out of the town, and warned never to approach the +quarters of the army under any pretence whatever. As for this scoundrel, +we’ll make an example of him. Order a <i>peloton</i> into the yard, and +shoot him!’ +</p> +<p> +I rendered this speech into English as the general spoke it, and never +shall I forget the wild scream of the wretch as he heard the sentence. +</p> +<p> +‘I’m an officer in the army of Ireland. I don’t belong to ye at all. +You’ve no power over me. Oh, captain, darlin’; oh, gentlemen, speak for +me! General, dear; general, honey, don’t sintince me! don’t, for the love +o’ God!’ and in grovelling terror the miserable creature threw himself on +his knees to beg for mercy. +</p> +<p> +‘Tear off his epaulettes,’ cried Serasin; ‘never let a French uniform be +so disgraced!’ +</p> +<p> +The soldiers wrenched off the epaulettes at the command, and, not +satisfied with this, they even tore away the lace from the cuffs of the +uniform, which now hung in ragged fragments over his trembling hands. +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, sir! oh, general! oh, gentlemen, have marcy!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Away with him,’ said Serasin contemptuously; ‘it is only the cruel can be +such cowards. Give the fellow his fusillade with blank cartridge, and, the +chances are, fear will kill him outright.’ +</p> +<p> +The scene that ensued is too shocking, too full of abasement, to record; +there was nothing that fear of death, nothing that abject terror could +suggest, that this miserable wretch did not attempt to save his life; he +wept—he begged in accents that were unworthy of all manhood—he +kissed the very ground at the general’s feet in his abject sorrow; and +when at last he was dragged from the room, his screams were the most +piercing and terrific. +</p> +<p> +Although all my compassion was changed into contempt, I felt that I could +never have given the word to fire upon him, had such been my orders; his +fears had placed him below all manhood, but they still formed a barrier of +defence around him. I accordingly whispered a few words to the sergeant, +as we passed down the stairs, and then, affecting to have forgotten +something, I stepped back towards the room, where the general and his +staff were sitting. The scuffling sound of feet, mingled with the crash of +firearms, almost drowned the cries of the still struggling wretch; his +voice, however, burst forth into a wild cry, and then there came a pause—a +pause that at last became insupportable to my anxiety, and I was about to +rush downstairs, when a loud yell, a savage howl of derision and hate +burst forth from the street; and on looking out I saw a vast crowd before +the door, who were shouting after a man, whose speed soon carried him out +of reach. This was Dowall, who, thus suffered to escape, was told to fly +from the town and never to return to it. +</p> +<p> +‘Thank Heaven,’ muttered I, ‘we’ve seen the last of him.’ +</p> +<p> +The rejoicing was, however, premature. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIV. THE MISSION TO THE NORTH +</h2> +<p> +I have never yet been able to discover whether General Humbert really did +feel the confidence that he assumed at this period, or that he merely +affected it, the better to sustain the spirits of those around him. If our +success at Castlebar was undeniable, our loss was also great, and far more +than proportionate to all the advantages we had acquired. Six officers and +two hundred and forty men were either killed or badly wounded, and as our +small force had really acquired no reinforcement worth the name, it was +evident that another such costly victory would be our ruin. +</p> +<p> +Not one gentleman of rank or influence had yet joined us; few of the +priesthood; and, even among the farmers and peasantry, it was easy to see +that our recruits comprised those whose accession could never have +conferred honour or profit on any cause. +</p> +<p> +Our situation was anything but promising. The rumours that reached us (and +we had no other or more accurate information than rumours) told that an +army of thirty thousand men, under the command of Lord Cornwallis, was in +march against us; that all the insurrectionary movements of the south were +completely repressed; that the spirit of the Irish was crushed, and their +confidence broken, either by defeat or internal treachery. In a word, that +the expedition had already failed, and the sooner we had the means of +leaving the land of our disasters the better. +</p> +<p> +Such were the universal feelings of all my comrades; but Humbert, who had +often told us that we were only here to prepare the way for another and +more formidable mission, now pretended to think that we were progressing +most favourably towards a perfect success. Perhaps he firmly believed all +this, or perhaps he thought that the pretence would give more dignity to +the finale of an exploit which he already saw was nearly played out. I +know not which is the true explanation, and am half disposed to think that +he was actuated as much by one impulse as the other. +</p> +<p> +‘The Army of the North’ was the talisman, which we now heard of for the +first time, to repair all our disasters, and ensure complete victory. ‘The +Army of the North,’ whose strength varied from twenty to twenty-five, and +sometimes reached even thirty thousand men, and was commanded by a +distinguished Irish general, was now the centre to which all our hopes +turned. Whether it had already landed, and where, of what it consisted, +and how officered, not one of us knew anything; but by dint of daily +repetition and discussion we had come to believe in its existence as +certainly as though we had seen it under arms. +</p> +<p> +The credulous lent their convictions without any trouble to themselves +whatever; the more sceptical studied the map, and fancied twenty different +places in which they might have disembarked; and thus the Army of the +North grew to be a substance and reality, as undoubted as the scenes +before our eyes. +</p> +<p> +Never was such a ready solution of all difficulties discovered as this +same Army of the North. Were we to be beaten by Cornwallis, it was only a +momentary check, for the Army of the North would come up within a few days +and turn the whole tide of war. If our Irish allies grew insubordinate or +disorderly, a little patience and the Army of the North would settle all +that. Every movement projected was fancied to be in concert with this +redoubted corps, and at last every trooper that rode in from Killala or +Ballina was questioned as to whether his despatches did not come from the +Army of the North. +</p> +<p> +Frenchmen will believe anything you like for twenty-four hours. They can +be flattered into a credulity of two days, and, by dint of great artifice +and much persuasion, will occasionally reach a third; but there, faith has +its limit; and if nothing palpable, tangible, and real, intervene, +scepticism ensues; and what with native sarcasm, ridicule, and irony, they +will demolish the card edifice of credit far more rapidly than ever they +raised it. For two whole days the Army of the North occupied every man +amongst us. We toasted it over our wine; we discussed it at our quarters; +we debated upon its whereabouts, its strength, and its probable +destination; but on the third morning a terrible shock was given to our +feelings by a volatile young lieutenant of hussars exclaiming—‘<i>Ma +foi!</i> I wish I could see this same Army of the North!’ +</p> +<p> +Now, although nothing was more reasonable than this wish, nor was there +any one of us who had not felt a similar desire, this sudden expression of +it struck us all most forcibly, and a shrinking sense of doubt spread over +every face, and men looked at each other as though to say—‘Is the +fellow capable of supposing that such an army does not exist?’ It was a +very dreadful moment—a terrible interval of struggle between the +broad daylight of belief and the black darkness of incredulity; and we +turned glances of actual dislike at the man who had so unwarrantably +shaken our settled convictions. +</p> +<p> +‘I only said I should like to see them under arms,’ stammered he, in the +confusion of one who saw himself exposed to public obloquy. +</p> +<p> +This half-apology came too late—-the mischief was done! and we +shunned each other like men who were afraid to read the accusation of even +a shrewd glance. As for myself, I can compare my feelings only to those of +the worthy alderman, who broke out into a paroxysm of grief on hearing +that <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> was a fiction. I believe, on that sudden +revulsion of feeling, I could have discredited any and everything. If +there was no Army of the North, was I quite sure that there was any +expedition at all? Were the generals mere freebooters, the chiefs of a +marauding venture? Were the patriots anything but a disorderly rabble +eager for robbery and bloodshed? Was Irish Independence a mere phantom? +Such were among the shocking terrors that came across my mind as I sat in +my quarters, far too dispirited and depressed to mix among my comrades. +</p> +<p> +It had been a day of fatiguing duty, and I was not sorry, as night fell, +that I might betake myself to bed, to forget, if it might be, the +torturing doubts that troubled me. Suddenly I heard a heavy foot upon the +stair, and an orderly entered with a command for me to repair to the +headquarters of the general at once. Never did the call of duty summon me +less willing, never found me so totally disinclined to obey. I was weary +and fatigued; but worse, than this, I was out of temper with myself, the +service, and the whole world. Had I heard that the Royal forces were +approaching, I was exactly in the humour to have dashed into the thick of +them, and sold my life as dearly as I could, out of desperation. +</p> +<p> +Discipline is a powerful antagonist to a man’s caprices, for with all my +irritability and discontent I arose, and resuming my uniform, set out for +General Humbert’s quarters. I followed ‘the orderly,’ as he led the way +through many a dark street and crooked alley till we reached the square. +There, too, all was in darkness, save at the mainguard, where, as usual, +the five windows of the first storey were a blaze of light, and the sounds +of mirth and revelry, the nightly orgies of our officers, were ringing out +in the stillness of the quiet hour. The wild chorus of a soldier-song, +with its rataplan accompaniment of knuckles on the table, echoed through +the square, and smote upon my ear with anything but a congenial sense of +pleasure. +</p> +<p> +In my heart I thought them a senseless, soulless crew, that could give +themselves to dissipation and excess on the very eve, as it were, of our +defeat, and with hasty steps I turned away into the side-street, where a +large lamp, the only light to be seen, proclaimed General Humbert’s +quarters. +</p> +<p> +A bustle and stir, very unusual at this late hour, pervaded the passages +and stairs, and it was some time before I could find one of the staff to +announce my arrival, which at last was done somewhat unceremoniously, as +an officer hurried me through a large chamber crowded with the staff into +an inner room, where, on a small field-bed, lay General Humbert, without +coat or boots, a much-worn scarlet cloak thrown half over him, and a black +handkerchief tied round his head. I had scarcely seen him since our +landing, and I could with difficulty recognise the burly, +high-complexioned soldier of a few days back, in the worn and haggard +features of the sick man before me. An attack of ague, which he had +originally contracted in Holland, had relapsed upon him, and he was now +suffering all the lassitude and sickness of that most depressing of all +maladies. +</p> +<p> +Maps, books, plans, and sketches of various kinds scattered the bed, the +table, and even the floor around him; but his attitude as I entered +betrayed the exhaustion of one who could labour no longer, and whose +worn-out faculties demanded rest. He lay flat on his back, his arms +straight down beside him, and with half-closed eyes, seemed as though +falling off to sleep. +</p> +<p> +His first aide-de-camp, Merochamp, was standing with his back to a small +turf fire, and made a sign to us to be still, and make no noise as we came +in. +</p> +<p> +‘He ‘s sleeping,’ said he; ‘it ‘s the first time he has closed his eyes +for ten days.’ +</p> +<p> +We stood for a moment uncertain, and were about to retrace our steps, when +Humbert said, in a low, weak voice— +</p> +<p> +‘No! I’m not asleep, come in.’ +</p> +<p> +The officer who presented me now retired, and I advanced towards the +bedside. +</p> +<p> +‘This is Tiernay, general,’ said Merochamp, stooping down and speaking +low; ‘you wished to see him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, I wanted him. Ha! Tiernay, you see me a good deal altered since we +parted last; however, I shall be all right in a day or two, it’s a mere +attack of ague, and will leave when the good weather comes. I wished to +ask you about your family, Tiernay; was not your father Irish?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir; we were Irish two or three generations back, but since that we +have belonged either to Austria or to France.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then where were you born?’ +</p> +<p> +‘In Paris, sir, I believe, but certainly in France.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then I said so, Merochamp; I knew that the boy was French.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Still I don’t think the precaution worthless,’ replied Merochamp; +‘Teeling and the others advise it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I know they do,’ said Humbert peevishly, ‘and for themselves it may be +needful; but this lad’s case will be injured, not bettered by it. He is +not an Irishman; he never was at any time a British subject. Have you any +certificate of birth or baptism, Tiernay?’ +</p> +<p> +‘None, sir; but I have my ‘livret’ for the school of Saumur, which sets +forth my being a Frenchman by birth.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Quite sufficient, boy, let me have it.’ +</p> +<p> +It was a document which I always carried about with me since I landed, to +enable me any moment, if made prisoner, to prove myself an alien, and thus +escape the inculpation of fighting against the flag of my country. Perhaps +there was something of reluctance in my manner as I relinquished it, for +the general said, ‘I’ll take good care of it, Tiernay; you shall not fare +the worse because it is in my keeping. I may as well tell you that some of +our Irish officers have received threatening letters. It is needless to +say they are without name, stating that if matters go unfortunately with +us in this campaign they will meet the fate of men taken in open treason; +and that their condition of officers in our service will avail them +nothing. I do not believe this. I cannot believe that they will be treated +in any respect differently from the rest of us. However, it is only just +that I should tell you that your name figures amongst those so denounced; +for this reason I have sent for you now. You, at least, have nothing to +apprehend on this score. You are as much a Frenchman as myself. I know +Merochamp thinks differently from me, and that your Irish descent and name +will be quite enough to involve you in the fate of others.’ +</p> +<p> +A gesture, half of assent but half of impatience, from the aide-de-camp, +here arrested the speaker. +</p> +<p> +‘Why not tell him frankly how he stands?’ said Humbert eagerly; ‘I see no +advantage in any concealment.’ +</p> +<p> +Then addressing me, he went on. ‘I purpose, Tiernay, to give you the same +option I gave the others, but which they have declined to accept. It is +this: we are daily expecting to hear of the arrival of a force in the +north under the command of Generals Tandy and Rey.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Army of the North?’ asked I, in some anxiety. ‘Precisely; the Army of +the North. Now I desire to open a communication with them, and at the same +time to do so through the means of such officers as, in the event of any +disaster here, may have the escape to France open to them; which this army +will have, and which, I need not say, we have no longer. Our Irish friends +have declined this mission as being more likely to compromise them if +taken; and also as diminishing and not increasing their chance of escape. +In my belief that you were placed similarly I have sent for you here this +evening, and at the same time desire to impress upon you that your +acceptance or refusal is purely a matter at your own volition.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Am I to regard the matter simply as one of duty, sir? or as an +opportunity of consulting my personal safety?’ +</p> +<p> +‘What shall I say to this, Merochamp?’ asked Humbert bluntly. +</p> +<p> +‘That you are running to the full as many risks of being banged for going +as by staying; such is my opinion,’ said the aide-de-camp. ‘Here as a +rebel, there as a spy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I confess, then,’ said I, smiling at the cool brevity of the speech, ‘the +choice is somewhat embarrassing! May I ask what you advise me to do, +general?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I should say go, Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Go, by all means, lad,’ broke in the aide-de-camp, who throughout assumed +a tone of dictation and familiarity most remarkable. ‘If a stand is to be +made in this miserable country it will be with Rey’s force; here the game +will not last much longer. There lies the only man capable of conducting +such an expedition, and his health cannot stand up against its trials!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not so, Merochamp; I ‘ll be on horseback to-morrow or the day after at +furthest; and if I never were to take the field again, there are others, +yourself amongst the number, well able to supply my place: but as to +Tiernay—what says he?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Make it duty, sir, and I shall go, or remain here with an easy +conscience,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +‘Then duty be it, boy,’ said he; ‘and Merochamp will tell you everything, +for all this discussion has wearied me much, and I cannot endure more +talking.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Sit down here,’ said the aide-de-camp, pointing to a seat at his side, +‘and five minutes will suffice.’ +</p> +<p> +He opened a large map of Ireland before us on the table, and running his +finger along the coast-line of the western side, stopped abruptly at the +bay of Lough Swilly. +</p> +<p> +‘There,’ said he, ‘that is the spot. There, too, should have been our own +landing! The whole population of the north will be with them—not +such allies as these fellows, but men accustomed to the use of arms, able +and willing to take the field. They say that five thousand men could hold +the passes of those mountains against thirty.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who says this?’ said I, for I own it that I had grown marvellously +sceptical as to testimony. +</p> +<p> +‘Napper Tandy, who is a general of division, and one of the leaders of +this force’; and he went on: ‘The utmost we can do will be to hold these +towns to the westward till they join us. We may stretch away thus far,’ +and he moved his finger towards the direction of Leitrim, but no farther. +‘You will have to communicate with them; to explain what we have done, +where we are, and how we are. Conceal nothing—let them hear fairly +that this patriot force is worth nothing, and that even to garrison the +towns we take they are useless. Tell them, too, the sad mistake we made by +attempting to organise what never can be disciplined, and let them not arm +a population, as we have done, to commit rapine and plunder.’ +</p> +<p> +Two letters were already written—one addressed to Rey, the other to +Napper Tandy. These I was ordered to destroy if I should happen to become +a prisoner; and with the map of Ireland, pen-marked in various directions, +by which I might trace my route, and a few lines to Colonel Charost, whom +I was to see on passing at Killala, I was dismissed.’ When I approached +the bedside to take leave of the general he was sound asleep. The +excitement of talking having passed away, he was pale as death, and his +lips totally colourless. Poor fellow, he was exhausted-looking and weary, +and I could not help thinking, as I looked on him, that he was no bad +emblem of the cause he had embarked in! +</p> +<p> +I was to take my troop-horse as far as Killala, after which I was to +proceed either on foot, or by such modes of conveyance as I could find, +keeping as nigh the coast as possible, and acquainting myself, so far as I +might do, with the temper and disposition of the people as I went. It was +a great aid to my sinking courage to know that there really was an Army of +the North, and to feel myself accredited to hold intercourse with the +generals commanding it. +</p> +<p> +Such was my exultation at this happy discovery, that I was dying to burst +in amongst my comrades with the tidings, and proclaim, at the same time, +my own high mission. Merochamp had strictly enjoined my speedy departure +without the slightest intimation to any, whither I was going, or with what +object. +</p> +<p> +A very small cloak-bag held all my effects, and with this slung at my +saddle I rode out of the town just as the church clock was striking +twelve. It was a calm, starlight night, and once a short distance from the +town, as noiseless and still as possible; a gossoon, one of the numerous +scouts we employed in conveying letters or bringing intelligence, trotted +along on foot beside me to show the way, for there was a rumour that some +of the Royalist cavalry still loitered about the passes to capture our +despatch bearers, or make prisoners of any stragglers from the army. +</p> +<p> +These gossoons, picked up by chance, and selected for no other +qualification than because they were keen-eyed and swift of foot, were the +most faithful and most worthy creatures we met with. In no instance were +they ever known to desert to the enemy, and, stranger still, they were +never seen to mix in the debauchery and excesses so common to all the +volunteers of the rebel camp. Their intelligence was considerable, and to +such a pitch had emulation stimulated them in the service, that there was +no danger they would not incur in their peculiar duties. +</p> +<p> +My companion on the present occasion was a little fellow of about thirteen +years of age, and small and slight even for that; we knew him as ‘Peter,’ +but whether he had any other name, or what, I was ignorant. He was wounded +by a sabre-cut across the hand, which nearly severed the fingers from it, +at the bridge of Castlebar, but, with a strip of linen bound round it, now +he trotted along as happy and careless as if nothing ailed him. +</p> +<p> +I questioned him as we went, and learned that his father had been a herd +in the service of a certain Sir Roger Palmer, and his mother a dairymaid +in the same house, but as the patriots had sacked and burned the ‘Castle,’ +of course they were now upon the world. He was a good deal shocked at my +asking what part his father took on the occasion of the attack, but for a +very different reason than that which I suspected. +</p> +<p> +‘For the cause, of course!’ replied he, almost indignantly; ‘why wouldn’t +he stand up for ould Ireland!’ +</p> +<p> +‘And your mother—what did she do?’ +</p> +<p> +He hung down his head, and made no answer till I repeated the question. +</p> +<p> +‘Faix,’ said he slowly and sadly, ‘she went and towld the young ladies +what was goin’ to be done, and if it hadn’t been that the “boys” caught +Tim Haynes, the groom, going off to Foxford with a letter, we’d have had +the dragoons down upon us in no time! They hanged Tim, but they let the +young ladies away, and my mother with them, and off they all went to +Dublin.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And where’s your father now?’ I asked. +</p> +<p> +‘He was drowned in the bay of Killala four days ago. He went with a party +of others to take oatmeal from a sloop that was wrecked in the bay, and an +English cruiser came in at the time and fired on them; at the second +discharge the wreck and all upon it went down!’ +</p> +<p> +He told all these things without any touch of sorrow in voice or manner. +They seemed to be the ordinary chances of war, and so he took them. He had +three brothers and a sister; of the former, two were missing, the third +was a scout; and the girl—she was but nine years old—was +waiting on a canteen, and mighty handy, he said, for she knew a little +French already, and understood the soldiers when they asked for a <i>goutte</i>, +or wanted <i>du feu</i> for their pipes. +</p> +<p> +Such, then, was the credit side of the account with Fortune, and, strange +enough, the boy seemed satisfied with it; and although a few days had made +him an orphan and houseless, he appeared to feel that the great things in +store for his country were an ample recompense for all. Was this, then, +patriotism? Was it possible that one, untaught and unlettered as he was, +could think national freedom cheap at such a cost? If I thought so for a +moment, a very little further inquiry undeceived me. Religious rancour, +party feuds, the hate of the Saxon—a blind, ill-directed, unthinking +hate—were the motives which actuated him. A terrible retribution for +something upon somebody, an awful wiping out of old scores, a reversal of +the lot of rich and poor, were the main incentives to his actions, and he +was satisfied to stand by at the drawing of this great lottery, even +without holding a ticket in it! +</p> +<p> +It was almost the first moment of calm reflective thought I had enjoyed, +as I rode along thus in the quiet stillness of the night, and I own that +my heart began to misgive me as to the great benefits of our expedition. I +will not conceal the fact, that I had been disappointed in every +expectation I had formed of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +The bleak and barren hills of Mayo, the dreary tracts of mountain and +morass, were about as unworthy representatives of the boasted beauty and +fertility, as were the half-clad wretches who flocked around us of that +warlike people of whom we had heard so much. Where were the chivalrous +chieftains with their clans behind them? Where the thousands gathering +around a national standard? Where that high-souled patriotism, content to +risk fortune, station—all, in the conflict for national +independence? A rabble led on by a few reckless debauchees, and two or +three disreputable or degraded priests, were our only allies; and even +these refused to be guided by our councils, or swayed by our authority. I +half suspected Serasin was right when he said—‘Let the Directory +send thirty thousand men and make it a French province, but let us not +fight an enemy to give the victory to the <i>sans-culottes</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +As we neared the pass of Barnageeragh, I turned one last look on the town +of Castlebar, around which, at little intervals of space, the watch-fires +of our pickets were blazing; all the rest of the place was in darkness. +</p> +<p> +It was a strange and a thrilling thought to think that there, hundreds of +miles from their home, without one link that could connect them to it, lay +a little army in the midst of an enemy’s country, calm, self-possessed, +and determined. How many, thought I, are destined to leave it? How many +will bring back to our dear France the memory of this unhappy struggle? +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXV. A PASSING VISIT TO KILLALA +</h2> +<p> +I found a very pleasant party assembled around the bishop’s +breakfast-table at Killala. The bishop and his family were all there, with +Charost and his staff, and some three or four other officers from Ballina. +Nothing could be less constrained, more easy, or more agreeable, than the +tone of intimacy which in a few days had grown up between them. A cordial +good feeling seemed to prevail on every subject, and even the reserve +which might be thought natural on the momentous events then happening was +exchanged for a most candid and frank discussion of all that was going +forward, which, I must own, astonished as much as it gratified me. +</p> +<p> +The march on Castlebar, the choice of the mountain-road, ‘which led past +the position occupied by the Royalists, the attack and capture of the +artillery, had all to be related by me for the edification of such as were +not conversant with French; and I could observe that however discomfited +by the conduct of the militia, they fully relied on the regiments of the +line and the artillery. It was amusing, too, to see with what pleasure +they listened to all our disparagement of the Irish volunteers. +</p> +<p> +Every instance we gave of insubordination or disobedience delighted them, +while our own blundering attempts to manage the people, the absurd +mistakes we fell into, and the endless misconceptions of their character +and habits, actually convulsed them with laughter. +</p> +<p> +‘Of course,’ said the bishop to us, ‘you are prepared to hear that there +is no love lost between you, and that they are to the full as dissatisfied +with you as you are dissatisfied with them?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Why, what can they complain of?’ asked Charost, smiling; ‘we gave them +the place of honour in the very last engagement!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very true, you did so, and they reaped all the profit of the situation. +Monsieur Tiernay had just told the havoc that grape and round shot +scattered amongst the poor creatures. However, it is not of this they +complain—it is their miserable fare, the raw potatoes, their beds in +open fields and highways, while the French, they say, eat of the best and +sleep in blankets; they do not understand this inequality, and perhaps it +is somewhat hard to comprehend.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Patriotism ought to be proud of such little sacrifices,’ said Charost, +with an easy laugh; ‘besides, it is only a passing endurance: a month +hence, less, perhaps, will see us dividing the spoils, and revelling in +the conquest of Irish independence.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You think so, colonel?’ asked the bishop, half slyly. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> to be sure I do—and you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m just as sanguine,’ said the bishop, ‘and fancy that, about a month +hence, we shall be talking of all these things as matters of history; and +while sorrowing over some of the unavoidable calamities of the event, +preserving a grateful memory of some who came as enemies but left us warm +friends.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If such is to be the turn of fortune,’ said Charost, with more +seriousness than before, ‘I can only say that the kindly feelings will not +be one-sided.’ +</p> +<p> +And now the conversation became an animated discussion on the chances of +success or failure. Each party supported his opinion ably and eagerly, and +with a degree of freedom that was not a little singular to the bystanders. +At last, when Charost was fairly answered by the bishop on every point, he +asked— +</p> +<p> +‘But what say you to the Army of the North?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Simply, that I do not believe in such a force,’ rejoined the bishop. +</p> +<p> +‘Not believe it—not believe on what General Humbert relies at this +moment, and to which that officer yonder is an accredited messenger! When +I tell you that a most distinguished Irishman, Napper Tandy——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Napper Tandy!’ repeated the bishop, with a good-humoured smile; ‘the name +is quite enough to relieve one of any fears, if they ever felt them. I am +not sufficiently acquainted with your language to give him the epithet he +deserves, but if you can conceive an empty, conceited man, as ignorant of +war as of politics, rushing into a revolution for the sake of a green +uniform, and ready to convulse a kingdom that he may be called a +major-general, only enthusiastic in his personal vanity, and wanting even +in that heroic daring which occasionally dignifies weak capacities—such +is Napper Tandy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What in soldier-phrase we call a “Blague,”’ said Charost, laughing; ‘I’m +sorry for it.’ +</p> +<p> +What turn the conversation was about to take I cannot guess, when it was +suddenly interrupted by one of the bishop’s servants rushing into the +room, with a face bloodless from terror. He made his way up to where the +bishop sat, and whispered a few words in his ear. +</p> +<p> +‘And how is the wind blowing, Andrew?’ asked the bishop, in a voice that +all his self-command could not completely steady. +</p> +<p> +‘From the north, or the north-west, and mighty strong, too, my lord,’ said +the man, who trembled in every limb. +</p> +<p> +The affrighted aspect of the messenger, the excited expression of the +bishop’s face, and the question as to the ‘wind,’ at once suggested to me +the idea that a French fleet had arrived in the bay, and that the awful +tidings were neither more nor less than the announcement of our +reinforcement. +</p> +<p> +‘From the north-west,’ repeated the bishop; ‘then, with God’s blessing, we +may be spared.’ And so saying, he arose from the table, and with an effort +that showed that the strength to do so had only just returned to him. +</p> +<p> +‘Colonel Charost, a word with you!’ said he, leading the way into an +adjoining room. +</p> +<p> +‘What is it?—what has happened?—what can it be?’ was asked by +each in turn. And now groups gathered at the windows, which all looked +into the court of the building, now crowded with people, soldiers, +servants, and country-folk gazing earnestly towards the roof of the +castle. +</p> +<p> +‘What’s the matter, Terry?’ asked one of the bishop’s sons, as he threw +open the window. +</p> +<p> +‘Tis the chimbley on fire, Master Robert,’ said the man; ‘the kitchen +chimbley, wid those divils of Frinch!’ +</p> +<p> +I cannot describe the burst of laughter that followed the explanation. +</p> +<p> +So much terror for so small a catastrophe was inconceivable; and whether +we thought of Andrew’s horrified face, or the worthy bishop’s pious +thanksgiving as to the direction of the wind, we could scarcely refrain +from another outbreak of mirth. Colonel Charost made his appearance at the +instant, and although his step was hurried, and his look severe, there was +nothing of agitation or alarm on his features. +</p> +<p> +‘Turn out the guard, Truchet, without arms,’ said he. ‘Come with me, +Tiernay—an awkward business enough,’ whispered he, as he led me +along. ‘These follows have set fire to the kitchen chimney, and we have +three hundred barrels of gunpowder in the cave!’ Nothing could be more +easy and unaffected than the way he spoke this; and I actually stared at +him, to see if his coldness was a mere pretence, but far from it—every +gesture and every word showed the most perfect self-possession, with a +prompt readiness for action. +</p> +<p> +When we reached the court, the bustle and confusion had reached its +highest, for, as the wind lulled, large masses of inky smoke hung, like a +canopy, overhead, through which a forked flame darted at intervals, with +that peculiar furnacelike roar that accompanies a jet of fire in confined +places. At times, too, as the soot ignited, great showers of bright sparks +floated upwards, and afterwards fell, like a fiery rain, on every side. +The country-people, who had flocked in from the neighbourhood, were +entirely occupied with these signs, and only intent upon saving the +remainder of the house, which they believed in great peril, totally +unaware of the greater and more imminent danger close beside them. +</p> +<p> +Already they had placed ladders against the walls, and, with ropes and +buckets, were preparing to ascend, when Truchet marched in with his +company, in fatigue-jackets, twenty sappers with shovels accompanying +them. +</p> +<p> +‘Clear the courtyard, now,’ said Charost, ‘and leave this matter to us.’ +</p> +<p> +The order was obeyed somewhat reluctantly, it is true, and at last we +stood the sole occupants of the spot, the bishop being the only civilian +present, he having refused to quit the spot, unless compelled by force. +</p> +<p> +The powder was stored in a long shed adjoining the stables, and originally +used as a shelter for farming tools and utensils. A few tarpaulins we had +carried with us from the ships were spread over the barrels, and on this +now some sparks of fire had fallen, as the burning soot had been carried +in by an eddy of wind. +</p> +<p> +The first order was, to deluge the tarpaulins with water; and while this +was being done, the sappers were ordered to dig trenches in the garden, to +receive the barrels. Every man knew the terrible peril so near him; each +felt that at any instant a frightful death might overtake him, and yet +every detail of the duty was carried on with the coldest unconcern; and +when at last the time came to carry away the barrels, on a species of +hand-barrow, the fellows stepped in time, as if on the march, and moved in +measure, a degree of indifference, which, to judge from the good bishop’s +countenance, evidently inspired as many anxieties for their spiritual +welfare as it suggested astonishment and admiration for their courage. +</p> +<p> +He himself, it must be owned, displayed no sign of trepidation, and in the +few words he spoke, or the hints he dropped, exhibited every quality of a +brave man. +</p> +<p> +At moments the peril seemed very imminent indeed. Some timber having +caught fire, slender fragments of burning wood fell in masses, covering +the men as they went, and falling on the barrels, whence the soldiers +brushed them off with cool indifference. The dense, thick smoke, too, +obscuring every object a few paces distant, added to the confusion, and +occasionally bringing the going and returning parties into collision, a +loud shout, or cry, would ensue; and it is difficult to conceive how such +a sound thrilled through the heart at such a time. I own that more than +once I felt a choking fulness in the throat, as I heard a sudden yell, it +seemed so like a signal for destruction. In removing one of the last +barrels from the hand-barrow, it slipped, and, falling to the ground, the +hoops gave way, it burst open, and the powder fell out on every side. The +moment was critical, for the wind was baffling, now wafting the sparks +clear away, now whirling them in eddies around us. It was then that an old +sergeant of grenadiers threw off his upper coat and spread it over the +broken cask, while, with all the composure of a man about to rest himself, +he lay down on it, while his comrades went to fetch water. Of course his +peril was no greater than that of every one around him, but there was an +air of quick determination in his act which showed the training of an old +soldier. At length the labour was ended, the last barrel was committed to +the earth, and the men, formed into line, were ordered to wheel and march. +Never shall I forget the bishop’s face as they moved past. The undersized +and youthful look of our soldiers had acquired for them a kind of +depreciating estimate in comparison with the more mature and manly stature +of the British soldier, to whom, indeed, they offered a strong contrast on +parade; but now, as they were seen in a moment of arduous duty, surrounded +by danger, the steadiness and courage, the prompt obedience to every +command, the alacrity of their movements and the fearless intrepidity with +which they performed every act, impressed the worthy bishop so forcibly, +that he muttered half aloud, ‘Thank Heaven there are so few of them!’ +</p> +<p> +Colonel Charost resisted steadily the bishop’s proffer to afford the men +some refreshment; he would not even admit of an extra allowance of brandy +to their messes. ‘If we become too liberal for slight services, we shall +never be able to reward real ones,’ was his answer; and the bishop was +reduced to the expedient of commemorating what he could not reward. This, +indeed, he did with the most unqualified praise, relating in the +drawing-room all that he had witnessed, and lauding French valour and +heroism to the very highest. +</p> +<p> +The better to conceal my route, and to avoid the chances of being tracked, +I sailed that evening in a fishing-boat for Killybegs, a small harbour on +the coast of Donegal, having previously exchanged my uniform for the dress +of a sailor, so that if apprehended I should pretend to be an Ostend or +Antwerp seaman, washed overboard in a gale at sea. Fortunately for me I +was not called on to perform this part, for as my nautical experiences +were of the very slightest, I should have made a deplorable attempt at the +impersonation. Assuredly the fishermen of the smack would not have been +among the number of the ‘imposed upon,’ for a more sea-sick wretch never +masqueraded in a blue jacket. +</p> +<p> +My only clue, when I touched land, was a certain Father Doogan, who lived +at the foot of the Bluerock Mountains, about fifteen miles from the coast, +and to whom I brought a few lines from one of the Irish officers, a +certain Bourke of Ballina. The road led in this direction, and so little +intercourse had the shore folk with the interior, that it was with +difficulty any one could be found to act as a guide thither. At last an +old fellow was discovered, who used to travel these mountains formerly +with smuggled tobacco and tea; and although, from the discontinuance of +the smuggling trade, and increased age, he had for some years abandoned +the line of business, a liberal offer of payment induced him to accompany +me as guide. +</p> +<p> +It was not without great misgivings that I looked at the very old and +almost decrepit creature who was to be my companion through a solitary +mountain region. +</p> +<p> +The few stairs he had to mount in the little inn where I put up seemed a +sore trial to his strength and chest; but he assured me that, once out of +the smoke of the town, and with his foot on the ‘short grass of the +sheep-patch,’ he’d be like a four-year-old; and his neighbour having +corroborated the assertion, I was fain to believe him. +</p> +<p> +Determined, however, to make his excursion subservient to profit in his +old vocation, he provided himself with some pounds of tobacco and a little +parcel of silk handkerchiefs, to dispose of amongst the country-people, +with which, and a little bag of meal slung at his back, and a +walking-stick in his hand, he presented himself at my door just as the day +was breaking. +</p> +<p> +‘We ‘ll have a wet day I fear, Jerry,’ said I, looking out. +</p> +<p> +‘Not a bit of it,’ replied he. ‘Tis the spring-tides makes it cloudy there +beyant; but when the sun gets up it will be a fine mornin’; but I ‘m +thinkin’ ye ‘re strange in them parts’; and this he said with a keen, +sharp glance under his eyes. +</p> +<p> +‘Donegal is new to me, I confess,’ said I guardedly. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, and the rest of Ireland, too,’ said he, with a roguish leer. ‘But +come along, we ‘ve a good step before us;’ and with these words he led the +way down the stairs, holding the balustrade as he went, and exhibiting +every sign of age and weakness. Once in the street, however, he stepped +out more freely, and, before we got clear of the town, walked at a fair +pace, and, to all seeming, with perfect ease. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVI. A REMNANT OF ‘FONTENOY’ +</h2> +<p> +There was no resisting the inquisitive curiosity of my companion. The +short dry cough, the little husky ‘ay,’ that sounded like anything rather +than assent, which followed on my replies to his questions, and, more than +all, the keen, oblique glances of his shrewd grey eyes, told me that I had +utterly failed in all my attempts at mystification, and that he read me +through and through. +</p> +<p> +‘And so,’ said he, at last, after a somewhat lengthy narrative of my +shipwreck, ‘and so the Flemish sailors wear spurs?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Spurs! of course not; why should they?’ asked I, in some astonishment. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, but don’t they?’ asked he again. +</p> +<p> +‘No such thing; it would be absurd to suppose it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘So I thought,’ rejoined he; ‘and when I looked at yer “honour’s” boots’ +(it was the first time he had addressed me by this title of deference), +‘and saw the marks on the heels for spurs, I soon knew how much of a +sailor you were.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And if not a sailor, what am I, then?’ asked I; for, in the loneliness of +the mountain region where we walked, I could afford to throw off my +disguise without risk. +</p> +<p> +‘Ye’re a French officer of dragoons, and God bless ye; but ye ‘re young to +be at the trade. Aren’t I right, now?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not very far from it, certainly, for I am a lieutenant of hussars,’ said +I, with a little of that pride which we of the loose pelisse always feel +on the mention of our corps. +</p> +<p> +‘I knew it well all along,’ said he coolly; ‘the way you stood in the +room, your step as you walked, and, above all, how you believed me when I +spoke of the spring-tides, and the moon only in her second quarter, I saw +you never was a sailor, anyhow. And so I set a-thinking what you were. You +were too silent for a pedlar, and your hands were too white to be in the +smuggling trade; but when I saw your boots, I had the secret at once, and +knew ye were one of the French army that landed the other day at Killala.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It was stupid enough of me not to have remembered the boots!’ said I, +laughing. +</p> +<p> +‘Arrah, what use would it be,’ replied he; ‘sure ye ‘re too straight in +the back, and your walk is too regular, and your toes turns in too much, +for a sailor; the very way you hould a switch in your hand would betray +you!’ +</p> +<p> +‘So it seems, then, I must try some other disguise,’ said I, ‘if I ‘m to +keep company with people as shrewd as you are.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You needn’t,’ said he, shaking his head doubtfully; ‘any that wants to +betray ye wouldn’t find it hard.’ +</p> +<p> +I was not much flattered by the depreciating tone in which he dismissed my +efforts at personation, and walked on for some time without speaking. +</p> +<p> +‘Yez came too late, four months too late,’ said he, with a sorrowful +gesture of the hands. ‘When the Wexford boys was up, and the Kildare +chaps, and plenty more ready to come in from the north, then, indeed, a +few thousand French down here in the west would have made a differ; but +what’s the good in it now? The best men we had are hanged or in gaol; some +are frightened; more are traitors! ‘Tis too late—too late!’ +</p> +<p> +‘But not too late for a large force landing in the north, to rouse the +island to another effort for liberty.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who would be the gin’ral?’ asked he suddenly. +</p> +<p> +‘Napper Tandy, your own countryman,’ replied I proudly. +</p> +<p> +‘I wish ye luck of him!’ said he, with a bitter laugh; ‘‘tis more like +mocking us than anything else the French does be, with the chaps they sent +here to be gin’rals. Sure it isn’t Napper Tandy, nor a set of young +lawyers like Tone and the rest of them, we wanted. It was men that knew +how to drill and manage troops—fellows that was used to fightin’; so +that when they said a thing, we might believe that they understhood it, at +laste. I ‘m ould enough to remimber the “Wild Geese,” as they used to call +them—the fellows that ran away from this to take sarvice in France; +and I remimber, too, the sort of men the French were that came over to +inspect them—soldiers, real soldiers, every inch of them. And a fine +sarvice it was. <i>Volte-face!</i> cried he, holding himself erect, and +shouldering his stick like a musket, <i>marche!</i> Ha, ha! ye didn’t +think that was in me; but I was at the thrade long before you were born.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How is this?’ said I, in amazement; ‘you were not in the French army?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Wasn’t I, though? maybe I didn’t get that stick there.’ And he bared his +breast as he spoke, to show the cicatrix of an old flesh-wound from a +Highlander’s bayonet. ‘I was at Fontenoy!’ +</p> +<p> +The last few words he uttered with a triumphant pride that I shall never +forget. As for me, the mere name was magical. ‘Fontenoy’ was like one of +those great words which light up a whole page of history; and it almost +seemed impossible that I should see before me a soldier of that glorious +battle. +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, faith!’ he added, ‘‘tis more than fifty, ‘tis nigh sixty years now +since that, and I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was in the +regiment “Tourville”; I was recruited for the “Dillon,” but they scattered +us about among the other corps afterwards, because we used now and then to +be fighting and quarrellin’ among one another. Well, it was the Dillons +that gained the battle; for after the English was in the village of +Fontenoy, and the French was falling back upon the heights near the wood—arrah, +what’s the name of the wood? Sure, I’ll forget my own name next. Ay, to be +sure, Verzon—the “Wood of Verzon.” Major Jodillon—that’s what +the French called him, but his name was Joe Dillon—turned an +eight-pounder short round into a little yard of a farmhouse, and making a +breach for the gun, he opened a dreadful fire on the English column. It +was loaded with grape, and at half-musket range, so you may think what a +peppering they got. At last the column halted and lay down; and Joe seen +an officer ride off to the rear, to bring up artillery to silence our +guns. A few minutes more and it would be all over with us. So Joe shouts +out as loud as he could, “Cavalry there! tell off by threes, and prepare +to charge.” I needn’t tell you that the divil a horse nor a rider was +within a mile of us at the time; but the English didn’t know that, and, +hearin’ the ordher, up they jumps, and we heerd the word passin’, “Prepare +to receive cavalry.” They formed square at once, and the same minute we +plumped into them with such a charge as tore a lane right through the +middle of them. Before they could recover, we opened a platoon-fire on +their flank; they staggered, broke, and at last fell back in disorder upon +Aeth, with the whole of the French army after them. Such firin’—grape, +round shot, and musketry—I never seed afore, and we all shouting +like divils, for it was more like a hunt nor anything else; for ye see the +Dutch never came up, but left the English to do all the work themselves, +and that’s the reason they couldn’t form, for they had no supportin’ +column. +</p> +<p> +‘It was then I got that stick of the bayonet, for there was such runnin’ +that we only thought of pelting after them as hard as we could; but ye +see, there’s nothin’ so treacherous as a Highlander. I was just behind +one, and had my sword-point between his bladebones ready to run him +through, when he turned short about, and run his bayonet into me under the +short ribs, and that was all I saw of the battle; for I bled till I +fainted, and never knew more of what happened. ‘Tisn’t by way of making +little of Frenchmen I say it, for I sarved too long wid them for that—but +sorra taste of that victory ever they’d see if it wasn’t for the Dillons, +and Major Joe that commanded them! The English knows it well, too! Maybe +they don’t do us many a spite for it to this very day!’ +</p> +<p> +‘And what became of you after that?’ +</p> +<p> +‘That same summer I came over to Scotland with the young Prince Charles, +and was at the battle of Prestonpans afterwards! and, what’s worse, I was +at Culloden! Oh, that was the terrible day. We were dead bate before we +began the battle. We were on the march from one o’clock the night before, +under the most dreadful rain ever ye seen! We lost our way twice, and +after four hours of hard marching, we found ourselves opposite a milldam +we crossed early that same morning; for the guides led us all astray! Then +came ordhers to wheel about face and go back again; and back we went, +cursing the blaguards that deceived us, and almost faintin’ with hunger. +Some of us had nothing to eat for two days, and the Prince, I seen myself, +had only a brown bannock to a wooden measure of whisky for his own +breakfast. Well, it’s no use talking; we were bate, and we retreated to +Inverness that night, and next morning we surrendered and laid down our +arms—that is, the “Régiment do Tournay” and the “Voltigeurs de +Metz,” the corps I was in myself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And did you return to France?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No; I made my way back to Ireland, and after loiterin’ about home some +time, and not liking the ways of turning to work again, I took sarvice +with one Mister Brooke, of Castle Brooke, in Fermanagh, a young man that +was just come of age, and as great a divil, God forgive me, as ever was +spawned. He was a Protestant, but he didn’t care much about one side or +the other, but only wanted diversion and his own fun out of the world; and +faix he took it, too! He had plenty of money, was a fine man to look at, +and had courage to face a lion! +</p> +<p> +‘The first place we went to was Aix-la-Chapelle, for Mr. Brooke was named +something—I forget what—to Lord Sandwich, that was going there +as an Ambassador. +</p> +<p> +It was a grand life there while it lasted. Such liveries, such coaches, +such elegant dinners every day, I never saw even in Paris. But my master +was soon sent away for a piece of wildness he did. There was an ould +Austrian there—a Count Riedensegg was his name—-and he was +always plottin’ and schamin’ with this, that, and the other; buyin’ up the +sacrets of others, and gettin’ at their private papers one way or the +other; and at last he begins to thry the same game with us; and as he saw +that Mr. Brooke was very fond of high play, and would bet anything one +offered him, the ould count sends for a great gambler from Vienna, the +greatest villain, they say, that ever touched a card. Ye may have heerd of +him, tho’ ‘twas long ago that he lived, for he was well known in them +times. He was the Baron von Breokendorf, and a great friend afterwards of +the Prince Ragint and all the other blaguards in London. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, sir, the baron arrives in great state, with despatches, they said, +but sorrow other despatch he carried nor some packs of marked cards, and a +dice-box that could throw sixes whenever ye wanted; and he puts up at the +Grand Hotel, with all his servants in fine liveries and as much state as a +prince. That very day Mr. Brooke dined with the count, and in the evening +himself and the baron sits down to the cards; and, pretending to be only +playin’ for silver, they were bettin’ a hundred guineas on every game. +</p> +<p> +‘I always heerd that my master was cute with the cards, and that few was +equal to him in any game with pasteboard or ivory; but, be my conscience, +he met his match now, for if it was ould Nick was playin’ he couldn’t do +the thrick nater nor the baron. He made everything come up just like +magic: if he wanted a seven of diamonds, or an ace of spades, or the knave +of clubs, there it was for you. +</p> +<p> +‘Most gentlemen would have lost temper at seein’ the luck so dead agin’ +them, and everything goin’ so bad; but my master only smiled, and kept +muttering to himself, “Faix, its beautiful; by my conscience its elegant; +I never saw anybody could do it like that.” At last the baron stops and +asks, “What is it he’s saying to himself?” “I’ll tell you by-and-by,” says +my master, “when we’re done playing”; and so on they went, betting higher +and higher, till at last the stakes wasn’t very far from a thousand pounds +on a single card. At the end, Mr. Brooke lost everything, and in the last +game, by way of generosity, the baron says to him, “Double or quit?” and +he tuk it. +</p> +<p> +‘This time luck stood to my master, and he turned the queen of hearts; and +as there was only one card could beat him, the game was all as one as his +own. The baron takes up the pack, and begins to deal. “Wait,” says my +master, leaning over the table, and talking in a whisper; “wait,” says he; +“what are ye doin’ there wid your thumb?” for sure enough he had his thumb +dug hard into the middle of the pack. +</p> +<p> +‘"Do you mane to insult me?” says the baron, getting mighty red, and +throwing down the cards on the table. “Is that what you’re at?” + </p> +<p> +‘"Go on with the deal,” says Mr. Brooke quietly; “but listen to me,” and +here he dropped his voice to a whisper, “as sure as you turn the king of +hearts, I’ll send a bullet through your skull! Go on, now, and don’t rise +from that seat till you ‘ve finished the game.” Faix he just did as he was +bid; he turned a little two or three of diamonds, and gettin’ up from the +table, he left the room, and the next morning there was no more seen of +him in Aix-la-Chapelle. But that wasn’t the end of it, for scarce was the +baron two posts on his journey when my master sends in his name, and says +he wants to speak to Count Riedensegg. There was a long time and a great +debatin’, I believe, whether they’d let him in or not; for the count +couldn’t make if it was mischief he was after; but at last he was ushered +into the bedroom where the other was in bed. +</p> +<p> +‘"Count,” says he, after he fastened the door, and saw that they was +alone, “Count, you tried a dirty thrick with that dirty spalpeen of a +baron—an ould blaguard that’s as well known as Preney the robber—but +I forgive you for it all, for you did it in the way of business. I know +well what you was afther; you wanted a peep at our despatches—there, +ye needn’t look cross and angry—why wouldn’t ye do it, just as the +baron always took a sly glance at my cards before he played his own. Well, +now, I’m just in the humour to sarve you. They’re not trating me as they +ought here, and I’m going away, and if you’ll give me a few letthers to +some of the pretty women in Vienna, Katinka Batthyani, and Amalia +Gradoffseky, and one or two men in the best set, I’ll send you in return +something that will surprise you.” + </p> +<p> +‘It was after a long time and great batin’ about the bush, that the ould +count came in; but the sight of a sacret cipher did the business, and he +consented. +</p> +<p> +‘"There it is,” says Mr. Brooke, “there’s the whole key to our +correspondence; study it well, and I’ll bring you a sacret despatch in the +evening—something that will surprise you.” + </p> +<p> +‘"Ye will—will ye?” says the count. +</p> +<p> +‘"On the honour of an Irish gentleman, I will,” says Mr. Brooke. +</p> +<p> +‘The count sits down on the spot and writes the letters to all the +princesses and countesses in Vienna, saying that Mr. Brooke was the +elegantest, and politest, and most trusty young gentleman ever he met; and +telling them to treat him with every consideration. +</p> +<p> +‘"There will be another account of me,” says the master to me, “by the +post; but I ‘ll travel faster, and give me a fair start, and I ask no +more.” + </p> +<p> +‘And he was as good as his word, for he started that evening for Vienna, +without lave or license, and that’s the way he got dismissed from his +situation.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And did he break his promise to the count, or did he really send him any +intelligence?’ +</p> +<p> +‘He kept his word, like a gentleman; he promised him something that would +surprise him, and so he did. He sent him “The Weddin’ of Ballyporeen” in +cipher. It took a week to make out, and I suppose they ‘ve never got to +the right understandin’ it yet.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m curious to hear how he was received in Vienna, after this,’ said I. +‘I suppose you accompanied him to that city?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Troth I did, and a short life we led there. But here we are now, at the +end of our journey. That’s Father Doogan’s down there, that small, low, +thatched house in the hollow.’ +</p> +<p> +‘A lonely spot, too. I don’t see another near it for miles on any side.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nor is there. His chapel is at Murrah, about three miles off. My eyes +isn’t over good; but I don’t think there’s any smoke coming out of the +chimley.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You are right—there is not.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He’s not at home, then, and that’s a bad job for us, for there’s not +another place to stop the night in.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But there will be surely some one in the house.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Most likely not; ‘tis a brat of a boy from Murrah does be with him when +he’s at home, and I’m sure he’s not there now.’ +</p> +<p> +This reply was not very cheering, nor was the prospect itself much +brighter. The solitary cabin, to which we were approaching, stood in a +rugged glen, the sides of which were covered with a low furze, intermixed +here and there with the scrub of what once had been an oak forest. A +brown, mournful tint was over everything—sky and landscape alike; +and even the little stream of clear water that wound its twining course +along took the same colour from the gravelly bed it flowed over. Not a cow +nor sheep was to be seen, nor even a bird; all was silent and still. +</p> +<p> +‘There’s few would like to pass their lives down there, then!’ said my +companion, as if speaking to himself. +</p> +<p> +‘I suppose the priest, like a soldier, has no choice in these matters.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Sometimes he has, though. Father Doogan might have had the pick of the +county, they say; but he chose this little quiet spot here. He’s a friar +of some ordher abroad, and when he came over, two or three years ago, he +could only spake a little Irish, and, I believe, less English; but there +wasn’t his equal for other tongues in all Europe. They wanted him to stop +and be the head of a college somewhere in Spain, but he wouldn’t. “There +was work to do in Ireland,” he said, and there he’d go, and to the wildest +and laste civilised bit of it besides; and ye see that he was not far ont +in his choice when he took Murrah.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is he much liked here by the people?’ +</p> +<p> +‘They’d worship him, if he’d let them, that’s what it is; for if he has +more larnin’ and knowledge in his head than ever a bishop in Ireland, +there’s not a child in the barony his equal for simplicity. He that knows +the names of the stars, and what they do be doing, and where the world’s +going, and what’s comin’ afther her, hasn’t a thought for the wickedness +of this life, no more than a sucking infant! He could tell you every crop +to put in your ground from this to the day of judgment, and I don’t think +he’d know which end of the spade goes into the ground.’ +</p> +<p> +While we were thus talking, we reached the door, which, as well as the +windows, was closely barred and fastened. The great padlock, however, on +the former, with characteristic acuteness, was looked without being +hasped, so that, in a few seconds, my old guide had undone all the +fastenings, and we found ourselves under shelter. +</p> +<p> +A roomy kitchen, with a few cooking utensils, formed the entrance hall; +and as a small supply of turf stood in one corner, my companion at once +proceeded to make a fire, congratulating me as he went on with the fact of +our being housed, for a long-threatening thunderstorm had already burst, +and the rain was now swooping along in torrents. +</p> +<p> +While he was thus busied, I took a ramble through the little cabin, +curious to see something of the ‘interior’ of one whose life had already +interested me. There were but two small chambers, one at either side of +the kitchen. The first I entered was a bedroom, the only furniture being a +common bed, or a tressel like that of a hospital, a little coloured print +of St. Michael adorning the wall overhead. The bed-covering was cleanly, +but patched in many places, and bespeaking much poverty, and the black +‘soutane’ of silk that hung against the wall seemed to show long years of +service. The few articles of any pretensions to comfort were found in the +sitting-room, where a small book-shelf with some well-thumbed volumes, and +a writing-table covered with papers, maps, and a few pencil-drawings, +appeared. All seemed as if he had just quitted the spot a few minutes +before; the pencil lay across a half-finished sketch; two or three wild +plants were laid within, the leaves of a little book on botany; and a +chess problem, with an open book beside it, still waited for solution on a +little board, whose workmanship clearly enough betrayed it to be by his +own hands. +</p> +<p> +I inspected everything with an interest inspired by all I had been hearing +of the poor priest, and turned over the little volumes of his humble +library, to trace, if I might, some due to his habits in his readings. +They were all, however, of one cast and character—religious tracts +and offices, covered with annotations and remarks, and showing by many +signs the most careful and frequent perusal. It was easy to see that his +taste for drawing or for chess were the only dissipations he permitted +himself to indulge. What a strange life of privation, thought I, alone and +companionless as he must be! and while speculating on the sense of duty +which impelled such a man to accept a post so humble and unpromising, I +perceived that on the wall right opposite to me there hung a picture, +covered by a little curtain of green silk. +</p> +<p> +Curious to behold the saintly effigy so carefully enshrined, I drew aside +the curtain, and what was my astonishment to find a little coloured sketch +of a boy about twelve years old, dressed in the tawdry and much-worn +uniform of a drummer. I started. Something flashed suddenly across my +mind, that the features, the dress, the air, were not unknown to me. Was I +awake, or were my senses misleading me? I took it down and held it to the +light, and as well as my trembling hands permitted, I spelled out at the +foot of the drawing, the words ‘Le Petit Maurice, as I saw him last.’ Yes, +it was my own portrait, and the words were in the writing of my dearest +friend in the world, the Père Michel. Scarce knowing what I did, I +ransacked books and papers on every side, to confirm my suspicions, and +although his name was nowhere to be found, I had no difficulty in +recognising his hand, now so forcibly recalled to my memory. +</p> +<p> +Hastening into the kitchen, I told my guide that I must set out to Murrah +at once, that it was, above all, important that I should see the priest +immediately. It was in vain that he told me he was unequal to the fatigue +of going farther, that the storm was increasing, the mountain torrents +were swelling to a formidable size, that the path could not be discovered +after dark; I could not brook the thought of delay, and would not listen +to the detail of difficulties. ‘I must see him and I will,’ were my +answers to every obstacle. If I were resolved on one side, he was no less +obstinate on the other; and after explaining with patience all the dangers +and hazards of the attempt, and still finding me unconvinced, he boldly +declared that I might go alone, if I would, but that he would not leave +the shelter of a roof, such a night, for any one. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing in the shape of argument I did not essay. I tried +bribery, I tried menace, flattery, intimidation, all—and all with +the like result. ‘Wherever he is to-night, he’ll not leave it, that’s +certain,’ was the only satisfaction he would vouchsafe, and I retired +beaten from the contest, and disheartened. Twice I left the cottage, +resolved to make the journey alone, but the utter darkness of the night, +the torrents of rain that beat against my face, soon showed me the +impracticability of the attempt, and I retraced my steps crest-fallen and +discomfited. The most intense curiosity to know how and by what chances he +had come to Ireland mingled with my ardent desire to meet him. What stores +of reminiscence had we to interchange! Nor was it without pride that I +bethought me of the position I then held—an officer of a hussar +regiment, a soldier of more than one campaign, and high on the list for +promotion. If I hoped, too, that many of the good father’s prejudices +against the career I followed would give way to the records of my own past +life, I also felt how, in various respects, I had myself conformed to many +of his notions. We should be dearer, closer friends than ever. This I was +sure of. +</p> +<p> +I never slept the whole night through. Tired and weary as the day’s +journey had left me, excitement was still too strong for repose, and I +walked up and down, lay for half an hour on my bed, rose to look out, and +peer for coming dawn. Never did hours lag so lazily. The darkness seemed +to last for an eternity, and when at last day did break, it was through +the lowering gloom of skies still charged with rain, and an atmosphere +loaded with vapour. +</p> +<p> +‘This is a day for the chimney-corner, and thankful to have it we ought to +be,’ said my old guide, as he replenished the turf fire, at which he was +preparing our breakfast. ‘Father Doogan will be home here afore night, I’m +sure, and as we have nothing better to do, I’ll tell you some of our old +adventures when I lived with Mr. Brooke. Twill sarve to pass the time, +anyway.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m off to Murrah, as soon as I have eaten something,’ replied I. +</p> +<p> +‘Tis little you know what a road it is,’ said he, smiling dubiously. ‘‘Tis +four mountain rivers you ‘d have to cross, two of them, at least, deeper +than your head, and there’s the pass of Barnascorney, where you ‘d have to +turn the side of a mountain, with a precipice hundreds of feet below you, +and a wind blowing that would wreck a seventy-four! There ‘s never a man +in the barony would venture over the same path with a storm ragin’ from +the nor’-west.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I never heard of a man being blown away off a mountain,’ said I, laughing +contemptuously. +</p> +<p> +‘Arrah, didn’t ye, then? then maybe ye never lived in parts where the +heaviest ploughs and harrows that can be laid in the thatch of a cabin are +flung here and there, like straws, and the strongest timbers torn out of +the walls, and scattered for miles along the coast, like the spars of a +shipwreck.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But so long as a man has hands to grip with——’ +</p> +<p> +‘How ye talk! sure, when the wind can tear the strongest trees up by the +roots; when it rolls big rocks fifty and a hundred feet out of their +place; when the very shingle on the mountain-side is flying about like +dust and sand, where would your grip be? It is not only on the mountains +either, but down in the plains, ay, even in the narrowest glens, that the +cattle lies down under shelter of the rocks; and many’s the time a sheep, +or even a heifer, is swept away off the cliffs into the sea.’ +</p> +<p> +With many an anecdote of storm and hurricane he seasoned our little meal +of potatoes. Some curious enough, as illustrating the precautionary habits +of a peasantry, who, on land, experience many of the vicissitudes supposed +peculiar to the sea; others too miraculous for easy credence, but yet +vouched for by him with every affirmative of truth. He displayed all his +powers of agreeability and amusement, but his tales fell on unwilling +ears, and when our meal was over I started up and began to prepare for the +road. +</p> +<p> +‘So you will go, will you?’ said he peevishly. ‘‘Tis in your country to be +obstinate, so I ‘ll say nothing more; but maybe ‘tis only into throubles +you ‘d be running, after all!’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m determined on it,’ said I, ‘and I only ask you to tell me what road +to take.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There is only one, so there is no mistakin’ it; keep to the sheep-path, +and never leave it except at the torrents; you must pass them how ye can. +And when ye come to four big rocks in the plain, leave them to your left, +and keep the side of the mountain for two miles, till ye see the smoke of +the village underneath you. Murrah is a small place, and ye’ll have to +look out sharp, or maybe ye’ll miss it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’s enough,’ said I, putting some silver in his hand as I pressed it. +‘We ‘ll probably meet no more; good-bye, and many thanks for your pleasant +company.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, we’re not like to meet again,’ said he thoughtfully, ‘and that’s the +reason I’d like to give you a bit of advice. Hear me, now,’ said he, +drawing closer and talking in a whisper; ‘you can’t go far in this country +without being known; ‘tisn’t your looks alone, but your voice, and your +tongue, will show what ye are. Get away out of it as fast as you can! +there’s thraitors in every cause, and there’s chaps in Ireland would +rather make money as informers than earn it by honest industry. Get over +to the Scotch islands; get to Islay or Barra; get anywhere out of this for +the time.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Thanks for the counsel,’ said I, somewhat coldly, ‘I’ll have time to +think over it as I go along;’ and with these words I set forth on my +journey. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVII. THE CRANAGH +</h2> +<p> +I will not weary my reader with a narrative of my mountain walk, nor the +dangers and difficulties which beset me on that day of storm and +hurricane. Few as were the miles to travel, what with accidents, mistakes +of the path, and the halts to take shelter, I only reached Murrah as the +day was declining. +</p> +<p> +The little village, which consisted of some twenty cabins, occupied a +narrow gorge between two mountains, and presented an aspect of greater +misery than I had ever witnessed before, not affording even the humblest +specimen of a house of entertainment. From some peasants that were +lounging in the street I learned that ‘Father Doogan’ had passed through +two days before in company with a naval officer, whom they believed to be +French. At least ‘he came from one of the ships in the lough, and could +speak no English.’ Since that the priest had not returned, and many +thought that he had gone away for ever. This story varied in a few +unimportant particulars. I also learned that a squadron of several sail +had, for three or four days, been lying at the entrance of Lough Swilly, +with, it was said, large reinforcements for the ‘army of independence.’ +There was then no time to be lost; here was the very force which I had +been sent to communicate with; there were the troops that should at that +moment be disembarking. The success of my mission might all depend now on +a little extra exertion, and so I at once engaged a guide to conduct me to +the coast; and having fortified myself with a glass of mountain whisky I +felt ready for the road. +</p> +<p> +My guide could only speak a very little English, so that our way was +passed in almost unbroken silence; and as, for security, he followed the +least frequented paths, we scarcely met a living creature as we went. It +was with a strange sense of half pride, half despondency, that I bethought +me of my own position there—a Frenchman alone, and separated from +his countrymen—in a wild mountain region of Ireland, carrying about +him documents that, if detected, might peril his life; involved in a cause +that had for its object the independence of a nation, and that against the +power of the mightiest kingdom in Europe. An hour earlier or later, an +accident by the way, a swollen torrent, a chance impediment of any kind +that should delay me—and what a change might that produce in the +whole destiny of the world! +</p> +<p> +The despatches I carried conveyed instructions the most precise and +accurate: the places for combined action of the two armies—information +as to the actual state of parties, and the condition of the native forces, +was contained in them. All that could instruct the newly-come generals, or +encourage them to decisive measures, were there; and yet, on what narrow +contingencies did their safe arrival depend! It was thus, in exaggerating +to myself the part I played—in elevating my humble position into all +the importance of a high trust—that I sustained my drooping spirits, +and acquired energy to carry me through fatigue and exhaustion. During +that night, and the greater part of the following day, we walked on, +almost without halt, scarcely eating, and, except by an occasional glass +of whisky, totally unrefreshed; and, I am free to own, that my poor guide—a +barelegged youth of about seventeen, without any of those high-sustaining +illusions which stirred within my heart—suffered far less either +from hunger or weariness than I did. So much for motives. A shilling or +two were sufficient to equalise the balance against all the weight of my +heroism and patriotic ardour together. +</p> +<p> +A bright sun, and a sharp wind from the north, had succeeded to the +lowering sky and heavy atmosphere of the morning, and we travelled along +with light hearts and brisk steps, breasting the side of a steep ascent, +from the summit of which, my guide told me, I should behold the sea—the +sea! not only the great plain on which I expected to see our armament, but +the link which bound me to my country! Suddenly, just as I turned the +angle of a cliff, it burst upon my sight—one vast mirror of golden +splendour—appearing almost at my feet! In the yellow gleams of a +setting sun, long columns of azure-coloured light streaked its calm +surface, and tinged the atmosphere with a warm and rosy hue. While I was +lost in admiration of the picture, I heard the sound of voices close +beneath me, and, on looking down, saw two figures who, with telescope in +hand, were steadily gazing on a little bay that extended towards the west. +</p> +<p> +At first, my attention was more occupied by the strangers than by the +object of their curiosity, and I remarked that they were dressed and +equipped like sportsmen, their guns and game-bags lying against the rock +behind them. +</p> +<p> +‘Do you still think that they are hovering about the coast, Tom?’ said the +elder of the two, ‘or are you not convinced, at last, that I am right?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I believe you are,’ replied the other; ‘but it certainly did not look +like it yesterday evening, with their boats rowing ashore every half-hour, +signals flying, and blue lights burning; all seemed to threaten a +landing.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If they ever thought of it they soon changed their minds,’ said the +former. ‘The defeat of their comrades in the west, and the apathy of the +peasantry here, would have cooled down warmer ardour than theirs. There +they go, Tom. I only hope that they’ll fall in with Warren’s squadron, and +French insolence receive at sea the lesson we failed to give them on +land.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not so,’ rejoined the younger; ‘Humbert’s capitulation, and the total +break up of the expedition, ought to satisfy-even your patriotism.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It fell far short of it, then!’ cried the other. ‘I’d never have treated +those fellows other than as bandits and freebooters. I’d have hanged them +as highwaymen. Theirs was less war than rapine; but what could you expect? +I have been assured that Humbert’s force consisted of little other than +liberated felons and galley-slaves—the refuse of the worst +population of Europe!’ +</p> +<p> +Distracted with the terrible tidings I had overheard—overwhelmed +with the sight of the ships, now glistening like bright specks on the +verge of the horizon, I forgot my own position—my safety—everything +but the insult thus cast upon my gallant comrades. +</p> +<p> +‘Whoever said so was a liar, and a base coward, to boot!’ cried I, +springing down from the height and confronting them both where they stood. +They started back, and, seizing their guns, assumed an attitude of +defence, and then, quickly perceiving that I was alone—for the boy +had taken to flight as fast as he could—they stood regarding me with +faces of intense astonishment. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes,’ said I, still boiling with passion, ‘you are two to one, on your +own soil besides, the odds you are best used to; and yet I repeat it, that +he who asperses the character of General Humbert’s force is a liar.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He’s French.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, he’s Irish,’ muttered the elder. +</p> +<p> +‘What signifies my country, sirs,’ cried I passionately, ‘if I demand +retraction for a falsehood.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It signifies more than you think of, young man,’ said the elder calmly, +and without evincing even the slightest irritation in his manner. ‘If you +be a Frenchman born, the lenity of our Government accords you the +privilege of a prisoner of war. If you be only French by adoption, and a +uniform, a harsher destiny awaits you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And who says I am a prisoner yet?’ asked I, drawing myself up, and +staring them steadily in the face. +</p> +<p> +‘We should be worse men, and poorer patriots than you give us credit for, +or we should be able to make you so,’ said he quietly; ‘but this is no +time for ill-temper on either side. The expedition has failed. Well, if +you will not believe me, read that. There, in that paper, you will see the +official account of General Humbert’s surrender at Boyle. The news is +already over the length and breadth of the island; even if you only landed +last night I cannot conceive how you should be ignorant of it!’ I covered +my face with my hands to hide my emotion; and he went on: ‘If you be +French you have only to claim and prove your nationality, and you partake +the fortunes of your countrymen.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And if he be not,’ whispered the other, in a voice which, although low, I +could still detect, ‘why should we give him up?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Hush, Tom, be quiet,’ replied the elder, ‘let him plead for himself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Let me see the newspaper,’ said I, endeavouring to seem calm and +collected; and, taking it at the place he pointed out, I read the heading +in capitals, ‘Capitulation of General Humbert and his whole Force.’ I +could see no more. I could not trace the details of so horrible a +disaster, nor did I ask to know by what means it occurred. My attitude and +air of apparent occupation, however, deceived the other; and the elder, +supposing that I was engaged in considering the paragraph, said, ‘You’ll +see the Government proclamation on the other side—a general amnesty +to all under the rank of officers in the rebel army, who give up their +arms within six days. The French to be treated as prisoners of war.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is he too late to regain the fleet?’ whispered the younger. +</p> +<p> +‘Of course he is. They are already hull down; besides, who’s to assist his +escape, Tom? You forget the position he stands in.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But I do not forget it,’ answered I; ‘and you need not be afraid that I +will seek to compromise you, gentlemen. Tell me where to find the nearest +justice of the peace, and I will go and surrender myself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is your wisest and best policy,’ said the elder. ‘I am not in the +commission, but a neighbour of mine is, and lives a few miles off, and, if +you like, we ‘ll accompany you to his house.’ +</p> +<p> +I accepted the offer, and soon found myself descending the steep path of +the mountain in perfect good-fellowship with the two strangers. It is +likely enough, if they had taken any peculiar pains to obliterate the +memory of our first meeting, or if they had displayed any extraordinary +efforts of conciliation, that I should have been on my guard against them; +but their manners, on the contrary, were easy and unaffected in every +respect. They spoke of the expedition sensibly and dispassionately, and +while acknowledging that there were many things they would like to see +altered in the English rule of Ireland, they were very averse from the +desire of a foreign intervention to rectify them. +</p> +<p> +I avowed to them that we had been grossly deceived. That all the +representations made to us depicted Ireland as a nation of soldiers, +wanting only arms and military stores to rise as a vast army. That the +peasantry were animated by one spirit, and the majority of the gentry +willing to hazard everything on the issue of a struggle. Our Killala +experiences, of which I detailed some, heartily amused them, and it was in +a merry interchange of opinions that we now walked along together. +</p> +<p> +A cluster of houses, too small to be called a village, and known as the +‘Cranagh,’ stood in a little nook of the bay; and here they lived. They +were brothers; and the elder held some small appointment in the revenue, +which maintained them as bachelors in this cheap country. In a low +conversation that passed between them it was agreed that they would detain +me as their guest for that evening, and on the morrow accompany me to the +magistrate’s house, about five miles distant. I was not sorry to accept +their hospitable offer. I longed for a few hours of rest and respite +before embarking on another sea of troubles. The failure of the +expedition, and the departure of the fleet, had overwhelmed me with grief, +and I was in no mood to confront new perils. +</p> +<p> +If my new acquaintances could have read my inmost thoughts, their manner +towards me could not have displayed more kindness or good-breeding. Not +pressing me with questions on subjects where the greatest curiosity would +have been permissible, they suffered me to tell only so much as I wished +of our late plans; and, as if purposely to withdraw my thoughts from the +unhappy theme of our defeat, led me to talk of France, and her career in +Europe. +</p> +<p> +It was not without surprise that I saw how conversant the newspapers had +made them with European politics, nor how widely different did events +appear when viewed from afar off, and by the lights of another and +different nationality. Thus all that we were doing on the Continent to +propagate liberal notions, and promote the spread of freedom, seemed to +their eyes but the efforts of an ambitious power to crush abroad what they +had annihilated at home, and extend their own influence in disseminating +doctrines, all to revert, one day or other, to some grand despotism, +whenever the man arose capable to exercise it. The elder would not even +concede to us that we were fit for freedom. +</p> +<p> +‘You are glorious fellows at destroying an old edifice,’ said he, ‘but +sorry architects when comes the question of rebuilding; and as to liberty, +your highest notion of it is an occasional anarchy like schoolboys, you +will bear any tyranny for ten years, to have ten days of a “barring out” + afterward.’ +</p> +<p> +I was not much flattered by these opinions; and, what was worse, I could +not get them out of my head all night afterwards. Many things I had never +doubted about now kept puzzling and confounding me, and I began, for the +first time, to know the misery of the struggle between implicit obedience +and conviction. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVIII. SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES +</h2> +<p> +I went to bed at night in all apparent health; save from the flurry and +excitement of an anxious mind, I was in no respect different from my usual +mood; and yet, when I awoke next morning, my head was distracted with a +racking pain, cramps were in all my limbs, and I could not turn or even +move without intense suffering. The long exposure to rain, while my mind +was in a condition of extreme excitement, had brought on an attack of +fever, and before evening set in, I was raving in wild delirium. Every +scene I had passed through, each eventful incident of my life, came +flashing in disjointed portions through my poor brain, and I raved away of +France, of Germany, of the dreadful days of terror, and the fearful orgies +of the ‘Revolution.’ Scenes of strife and struggle—the terrible +conflicts of the streets—all rose before me; and the names of every +blood-stained hero of France now mingled with the obscure titles of Irish +insurrection. +</p> +<p> +What narratives of my early life I may have given—what stories I may +have revealed of my strange career, I cannot tell; but the interest my +kind hosts took in me grew stronger every day. There was no care nor +kindness they did not lavish on me. Taking alternate nights to sit up with +me, they watched beside my bed like brothers. All that affection could +give they rendered me; and even from their narrow fortunes they paid a +physician, who came from a distant town to visit me. When I was +sufficiently recovered to leave my bed, and sit at the window, or stroll +slowly in the garden, I became aware of the full extent to which their +kindness had carried them, and in the precautions for secrecy I saw the +peril to which my presence exposed them. From an excess of delicacy +towards me, they did not allude to the subject, nor show the slightest +uneasiness about the matter; but day by day some little circumstance would +occur, some slight and trivial fact reveal the state of anxiety they lived +in. +</p> +<p> +They were averse, too, from all discussion of late events, and either +answered my questions vaguely or with a certain reserve; and when I hinted +at my hope of being soon able to appear before a magistrate and establish +my claim as a French citizen, they replied that the moment was an +unfavourable one: the lenity of the Government had latterly been abused, +their gracious intentions misstated and perverted—that, in fact, a +reaction towards severity had occurred, and military law and +courts-martial were summarily disposing of cases that a short time back +would have received the mildest sentences of civil tribunals. It was +clear, from all they said, that if the rebellion was suppressed, the +insurrectionary feeling was not extinguished, and that England was the +very reverse of tranquil on the subject of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +It was to no purpose that I repeated my personal indifference to all these +measures of severity, that in my capacity as a Frenchman and an officer I +stood exempt from all the consequences they alluded to. Their reply was, +that in times of trouble and alarm things were done which quieter periods +would never have sanctioned, and that indiscreet and over-zealous men +would venture on acts that neither law nor justice could substantiate. In +fact, they gave me to believe, that such was the excitement of the moment, +such the embittered vengeance of those whose families or fortunes had +suffered by the rebellion, that no reprisals would be thought too heavy, +nor any harshness too great, for those who aided the movement. +</p> +<p> +Whatever I might have said against the injustice of this proceeding, in my +secret heart I had to confess that it was only what might have been +expected; and coming from a country where it was enough to call a man an +aristocrat, and then cry <i>à la lanterne!</i> I saw nothing unreasonable +in it all. +</p> +<p> +My friends advised me, therefore, instead of preferring any formal claim +to immunity, to take the first occasion of escaping to America, whence I +could not fail, later on, of returning to France. At first, the counsel +only irritated me, but by degrees, as I came to think more calmly and +seriously of the difficulties, I began to regard it in a different light; +and at last I fully concurred in the wisdom of the advice, and resolved on +adopting it. +</p> +<p> +To sit on the cliffs, and watch the ocean for hours, became now the +practice of my life—to gaze from daybreak almost to the falling of +night oyer the wide expanse of sea, straining my eyes at each sail, and +conjecturing to what distant shore they were tending. The hopes which at +first sustained at last deserted me, as week after week passed over, and +no prospect of escape appeared. The life of inactivity gradually depressed +my spirits, and I fell into a low and moping condition, in which my hours +rolled over without thought or notice. Still, I returned each day to my +accustomed spot, a lofty peak of rock that stood over the sea, and from +which the view extended for miles on every side. There, half hid in the +wild heath, I used to lie for hours long, my eyes bent upon the sea, but +my thoughts wandering away to a past that never was to be renewed, and a +future I was never destined to experience. +</p> +<p> +Although late in the autumn, the season was mild and genial, and the sea +calm and waveless, save along the shore, where, even in the stillest +weather, the great breakers came tumbling in with a force independent of +storm; and, listening to their booming thunder, I have dreamed away hour +after hour unconsciously. It was one day, as I lay thus, that my attention +was caught by the sight of three large vessels on the very verge of the +horizon. Habit had now given me a certain acuteness, and I could perceive +from their height and size that they were ships of war. For a while they +seemed as if steering for the entrance of the lough, but afterwards they +changed their course, and headed towards the west. At length they +separated, and one of smaller size, and probably a frigate from her speed, +shot forward beyond the rest, and, in less than half an hour, disappeared +from view. The other two gradually sank beneath the horizon, and not a +sail was to be seen over the wide expanse. While speculating on what +errand the squadron might be employed, I thought I could hear the deep and +rolling sound of distant cannonading. My ear was too practised in the +thundering crash of the breakers along shore to confound the noises; and +as I listened I fancied that I could distinguish the sound of single guns +from the louder roar of a whole broadside. This could not mean saluting, +nor was it likely to be a mere exercise of the fleet. They were not times +when much powder was expended un-profitably. Was it then an engagement? +But with what or whom? Tandy’s expedition, as it was called, had long +since sailed, and must ere this have been captured or safe in France. I +tried a hundred conjectures to explain the mystery, which now, from the +long continuance of the sounds, seemed to denote a desperately contested +engagement. It was not till after three hours that the cannonading ceased, +and then I could descry a thick dark canopy of smoke that hung hazily over +one spot in the horizon, as if marking out the scene of the struggle. With +what aching, torturing anxiety I burned to know what had happened, and +with which side rested the victory! +</p> +<p> +Well habituated to hear of the English as victors in every naval +engagement, I yet went on hoping against hope itself, that Fortune might +for once have favoured us; nor was it till the falling night prevented my +being able to trace out distant objects, that I could leave the spot and +turn homewards. With wishes so directly opposed to theirs, I did not +venture to tell my two friends what I had witnessed, nor trust myself to +speak on a subject where my feelings might have betrayed me into unseemly +expressions of my hopes. I was glad to find that they knew nothing of the +matter, and talked away indifferently of other subjects. By daybreak the +next morning I was at my post, a sharp nor’-wester blowing, and a heavy +sea rolling in from the Atlantic. Instinctively carrying my eyes to the +spot where I had heard the cannonade, I could distinctly see the tops of +spars, as if the upper rigging of some vessels beyond the horizon. +</p> +<p> +Gradually they rose higher and higher, till I could detect the yard-arms +and cross-trees, and finally the great hulls of five vessels that were +bearing towards me. +</p> +<p> +For above an hour I could see their every movement, as with all canvas +spread they held on majestically towards the land, when at length a lofty +promontory of the bay intervened, and they were lost to my view. I jumped +to my legs at once, and set off down the cliff to reach the headland, from +whence an uninterrupted prospect extended. The distance was greater than I +had supposed, and in my eagerness to take a direct line to it, I got +entangled in difficult gorges among the hills, and impeded by mountain +torrents which often compelled me to go back a considerable distance; it +was already late in the afternoon as I gained the crest of a ridge over +the bay of Lough Swilly. Beneath me lay the calm surface of the lough, +landlocked and still; but farther out seaward there was a sight that made +my very limbs tremble, and sickened my heart as I beheld it. There was a +large frigate, that, with studding-sails set, stood boldly up the bay, +followed by a dismasted three-decker, at whose mizzen floated the ensign +of England over the French tricolour. Several other vessels were grouped +about the offing, all of them displaying English colours. +</p> +<p> +The dreadful secret was out. There had been a tremendous sea-fight, and +the <i>Hoche</i>, of seventy-four guns, was the sad spectacle which, with +shattered sides and ragged rigging, I now beheld entering the bay. Oh, the +humiliation of that sight! I can never forget it. And although on all the +surrounding hills scarcely fifty country-people were assembled, I felt as +if the whole of Europe were spectators of our defeat. The flag I had +always believed triumphant now hung ignominiously beneath the ensign of +the enemy, and the decks of our noble ship were crowded with the uniforms +of English sailors and marines. +</p> +<p> +The blue water surged and spouted from the shot-holes as the great hull +loomed heavily from side to side, and broken spars and ropes still hung +over the side, as she went, a perfect picture of defeat. Never was +disaster more legibly written. I watched her till the anchor dropped, and +then, in a burst of emotion, I turned away, unable to endure more. As I +hastened homeward I met the elder of my two hosts coming to meet me, in +considerable anxiety. He had heard of the capture of the <i>Hoche</i>, but +his mind was far more intent on another and less important event. Two men +had just been at his cottage with a warrant for my arrest. The document +bore my name and rank, as well as a description of my appearance, and +significantly alleged that, although Irish by birth, I affected a foreign +accent for the sake of concealment. +</p> +<p> +‘There is no chance of escape now,’ said my friend; ‘we are surrounded +with spies on every hand. My advice is, therefore, to hasten to Lord +Cavan’s quarters—he is now at Letterkenny—and give yourself up +as a prisoner. There is at least the chance of your being treated like the +rest of your countrymen. I have already provided you with a horse and a +guide, for I must not accompany you myself. Go, then, Maurice. We shall +never see each other again; but we’ll not forget you, nor do we fear that +you will forget us. My brother could not trust himself to take leave of +you, but his best wishes and prayers go with you.’ +</p> +<p> +Such were the last words my kind-hearted friend spoke to me; nor do I know +what reply I made, as, overcome by emotion, my voice became thick and +broken. I wanted to tell all my gratitude, and yet could say nothing. To +this hour I know not with what impression of me he went away. I can only +assert, that in all the long career of vicissitudes of a troubled and +adventurous life, these brothers have occupied the chosen spot of my +affection for everything that was disinterested in kindness and generous +in good feeling. +</p> +<p> +They have done more; for they have often reconciled me to a world of harsh +injustice and illiberality, by remembering that two such exceptions +existed, and that others may have experienced what fell to my lot. +</p> +<p> +For a mile or two my way lay through the mountains, but after reaching the +highroad I had not proceeded far when I was overtaken by a jaunting-car, +on which a gentleman was seated, with his leg supported by a cushion, and +bearing all the signs of a severe injury. +</p> +<p> +‘Keep the near side of the way, sir, I beg of you,’ cried he; ‘I have a +broken leg, and am excessively uneasy when a horse passes close to me.’ +</p> +<p> +I touched my cap in salute, and immediately turned my horse’s head to +comply with his request. +</p> +<p> +‘Did you see that, George?’ cried another gentleman, who sat on the +opposite side of the vehicle; ‘did you remark that fellow’s salute? My +life on’t he’s a French soldier.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nonsense, man; he’s the steward of a Clyde smack, or a clerk in a +counting-house,’ said the first, in a voice which, though purposely low, +my quick hearing could catch perfectly. +</p> +<p> +‘Are we far from Letterkenny just now, sir?’ said the other, addressing +me. +</p> +<p> +‘I believe about five miles,’ said I, with a prodigious effort to make my +pronunciation pass muster. +</p> +<p> +‘You’re a stranger in these parts, I see, sir,’ rejoined he, with a +cunning glance at his friend, while he added, lower, ‘Was I right, Hill?’ +</p> +<p> +Although seeing that all concealment was now hopeless, I was in nowise +disposed to plead guilty at once, and therefore, with a cut of my switch, +pushed my beast into a sharp canter to get forward. +</p> +<p> +My friends, however, gave chase, and now the jaunting-car, notwithstanding +the sufferings of the invalid, was clattering after me at about nine miles +an hour. At first I rather enjoyed the malice of the penalty their +curiosity was costing, but as I remembered that the invalid was not the +chief offender, I began to feel compunction at the severity of the lesson, +and drew up to a walk. +</p> +<p> +They at once shortened their pace, and came up beside me. +</p> +<p> +‘A clever hack you’re riding, sir,’ said the inquisitive man. +</p> +<p> +‘Not so bad for an animal of this country,’ said I superciliously. +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, then, what kind of a horse are you accustomed to?’ asked he, half +insolently. +</p> +<p> +‘The Limousin,’ said I coolly, ‘what we always mount in our hussar +regiments in France.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And you are a French soldier, then,’ cried he, in evident astonishment at +my frankness. +</p> +<p> +‘At your service, sir,’ said I, saluting; ‘a lieutenant of hussars; and if +you are tormented by any further curiosity concerning me, I may as well +relieve you by stating that I am proceeding to Lord Cavan’s headquarters +to surrender as a prisoner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Frank enough that!’ said he of the broken leg, laughing heartily as he +spoke. ‘Well, sir,’ said the other, ‘you are, as your countrymen would +call it, <i>bien venu</i>, for we are bound in that direction ourselves, +and will be happy to have your company.’ +</p> +<p> +One piece of tact my worldly experience had profoundly impressed upon me, +and that was, the necessity of always assuming an air of easy unconcern in +every circumstance of doubtful issue. There was quite enough of difficulty +in the present case to excite my anxiety, but I rode along beside the +jaunting-car, chatting familiarly with my new acquaintances, and, I +believe, without exhibiting the slightest degree of uneasiness regarding +my own position. +</p> +<p> +From them I learned so much as they had heard of the late naval +engagement. The report was that Bompard’s fleet had fallen in with Sir +John Warren’s squadron; and having given orders for his fastest sailers to +make the best of their way to France, had, with the <i>Hoche</i>, the <i>Loire</i>, +and the <i>Resolve</i>, given battle to the enemy. These had all been +captured, as well as four others which fled, two alone of the whole +succeeding in their escape. I think now, that, grievous as these tidings +were, there was nothing of either boastfulness or insolence in the tone in +which they were communicated to me. Every praise was accorded to Bompard +for skill and bravery, and the defence was spoken of in terms of generous +eulogy. The only trait of acrimony that showed itself in the recital was a +regret that a number of Irish rebels should have escaped in the <i>Biche</i>, +one of the smaller frigates; and several emissaries of the people, who had +been deputed to the admiral, were also alleged to have been on board of +that vessel. +</p> +<p> +‘You are sorry to have missed your friend the priest of Murrah,’ said Hill +jocularly. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, by George, that fellow should have graced a gallows if I had been +lucky enough to have taken him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What was his crime, sir?’ asked I, with seeming unconcern. +</p> +<p> +‘Nothing more than exciting to rebellion a people with whom he had no tie +of blood or kindred! He was a Frenchman, and devoted himself to the cause +of Ireland,* as they call it, from pure sympathy——’ +</p> +<p> +‘And a dash of Popery,’ broke in Hill. +</p> +<p> +‘It’s hard to say even that; my own opinion is, that French Jacobinism +cares very little for the Pope. Am I right, young gentleman—you +don’t go very often to confession?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I should do so less frequently if I were to be subjected to such a system +of interrogatory as yours,’ said I tartly. +</p> +<p> +They both took my impertinent speech in good part, and laughed heartily at +it; and thus, half amicably, half in earnest, we entered the little town +of Letterkenny, just as night was falling. +</p> +<p> +‘If you’ll be our guest for this evening, sir,’ said Hill, ‘we shall be +happy to have your company.’ +</p> +<p> +I accepted the invitation, and followed them into the inn. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIX. THE BREAKFAST AT LETTERKENNY +</h2> +<p> +Early the next morning, a messenger arrived from the Cranagh, with a small +packet of my clothes and effects, and a farewell letter from the two +brothers. I had but time to glance over its contents when the tramp of +feet and the buzz of voices in the street attracted me to the window, and +on looking out I saw a long line of men, two abreast, who were marching +along as prisoners, a party of dismounted dragoons keeping guard over them +on either side, followed by a strong detachment of marines. The poor +fellows looked sad and crest-fallen enough. Many of them wore bandages on +their heads and limbs, the tokens of the late struggle. Immediately in +front of the inn door stood a group of about thirty persons; they were the +staff of the English force, and the officers of our fleet, all mingled +together, and talking away with the greatest air of unconcern. I was +struck by remarking that all our seamen, though prisoners, saluted the +officers as they passed, and in the glances interchanged I thought I could +read a world of sympathy and encouragement. As for the officers, like true +Frenchmen they bore themselves as though it were one of the inevitable +chances of war, and, however vexatious for the moment, not to be thought +of as an event of much importance. The greater number of them belonged to +the army, and I could see the uniforms of the staff, artillery and +dragoons, as well as the less distinguished costume of the line. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps they carried the affectation of indifference a little too far, and +in the lounging ease of their attitude, and the cool unconcern with which +they puffed their cigars, displayed an over-anxiety to seem unconcerned. +</p> +<p> +That the English were piqued at their bearing was still more plain to see; +and indeed, in the sullen looks of the one, and the careless gaiety of the +other party, a stranger might readily have mistaken the captor for the +captive. +</p> +<p> +My two friends of the evening before were in the midst of the group. He +who had questioned me so sharply now wore a general officer’s uniform, and +seemed to be the chief in command. As I watched him I heard him addressed +by an officer, and now saw that he was no other than Lord Cavan himself, +while the other was a well-known magistrate and country gentleman, Sir +George Hill. +</p> +<p> +The sad procession took almost half an hour to defile; and then came a +long string of country cars and carts, with sea-chests and other stores +belonging to our officers, and, last of all, some eight or ten +ammunition-waggons and gun-carriages, over which an English union-jack now +floated in token of conquest. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing like exultation or triumph exhibited by the peasantry as +this pageant passed. They gazed in silent wonderment at the scene, and +looked like men who scarcely knew whether the result boded more of good or +evil to their own fortunes. While keenly scrutinising the looks and +bearing of the bystanders, I received a summons to meet the general and +his party at breakfast. +</p> +<p> +Although the occurrence was one of the most pleasurable incidents of my +life, which brought me once more into intercourse with my comrades and my +countrymen, I should perhaps pass it over with slight mention, were it not +that it made me witness to a scene which has since been recorded in +various different ways, but of whose exact details I profess to be an +accurate narrator. +</p> +<p> +After making a tour of the room, saluting my comrades, answering questions +here, putting others there, I took my place at the long table, which, +running the whole length of the apartment, was indiscriminately occupied +by French and English, and found myself with my back to the fireplace, and +having directly in front of me a man of about thirty-three or thirty-four +years of age, dressed in the uniform of a <i>chef de brigade</i>; +light-haired and blue-eyed, he bore no resemblance whatever to those +around him, whose dark faces and black beards proclaimed them of a foreign +origin. There was an air of mildness in his manner, mingled with a certain +impetuosity that betrayed itself in the rapid glances of his eye, and I +could plainly mark that while the rest were perfectly at their ease, he +was constrained, restless, watching eagerly everything that went forward +about him, and showing unmistakably a certain anxiety and distrust, widely +differing from the gay and careless indifference of his comrades. I was +curious to hear his name, and on asking, learned that he was the <i>Chef +de Brigade</i> Smith, an Irishman by birth, but holding a command in the +French service. +</p> +<p> +I had but asked the question, when, pushing back his chair from the table, +he arose suddenly, and stood stiff and erect, like a soldier on parade. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, sir, I hope you are satisfied with your inspection of me,’ cried +he, and sternly, addressing himself to some one behind my back. I turned +and perceived it was Sir George Hill, who stood in front of the fire, +leaning on his stick. Whether he replied or not to this rude speech I am +unable to say, but the other walked leisurely round the table and came +directly in front of him. ‘You know me now, sir, I presume,’ said he, in +the same imperious voice, ‘or else this uniform has made a greater change +in my appearance than I knew of.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Mr. Tone!’ said Sir George, in a voice scarcely above a whisper. +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, sir, Wolfe Tone; there is no need of secrecy here; Wolfe Tone, your +old college acquaintance in former times, but now <i>chef de brigade</i> +in the service of France.’ +</p> +<p> +‘This is a very unexpected, a very unhappy meeting, Mr. Tone,’ said Hill +feelingly; ‘I sincerely wish you had not recalled the memory of our past +acquaintance. My duty gives me no alternative.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your duty, or I mistake much, can have no concern with me, sir,’ cried +Tone, in a more excited voice. +</p> +<p> +‘I ask for nothing better than to be sure of this, Mr. Tone,’ said Sir +George, moving slowly towards the door. +</p> +<p> +‘You would treat me like an <i>émigré rentré?</i> cried Tone passionately, +‘but I am a French subject and a French officer!’ +</p> +<p> +‘I shall be well satisfied if others take the same view of your case, I +assure you,’ said Hill, as he gained the door. +</p> +<p> +‘You ‘ll not find me unprepared for either event, sir,’ rejoined Tone, +following him out of the room, and banging the door angrily behind him. +</p> +<p> +For a moment or two the noise of voices was heard from without, and +several of the guests, English and French, rose from the table, eagerly +inquiring what had occurred, and asking for an explanation of the scene, +when suddenly the door was flung wide open, and Tone appeared between two +policemen, his coat off, and his wrists inclosed in handcuffs. +</p> +<p> +‘Look here, comrades,’ he cried in French; ‘this is another specimen of +English politeness and hospitality. After all,’ added he, with a bitter +laugh, ‘they have no designation in all their heraldry as honourable as +these fetters, when worn for the cause of freedom! Good-bye, comrades; we +may never meet again, but don’t forget how we parted.’ +</p> +<p> +These were the last words he uttered, when the door was closed, and he was +led forward under charge of a strong force of police and military. A +postchaise was soon seen to pass the windows at speed, escorted by +dragoons, and we saw no more of our comrade. +</p> +<p> +The incident passed even more rapidly than I write it. The few words +spoken, the hurried gestures, the passionate exclamations, are yet all +deeply graven on my memory; and I can recall every little incident of the +scene, and every feature of the locality wherein it occurred. With true +French levity many reseated themselves at the breakfast-table; whilst +others, with perhaps as little feeling, but more of curiosity, discussed +the event, and sought for an explanation of its meaning. +</p> +<p> +‘Then what’s to become of Tiernay,’ cried one, ‘if it be so hard to throw +off this “coil of Englishmen?” His position may be just as precarious.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That is exactly what has occurred,’ said Lord Cavan; ‘a warrant for his +apprehension has just been put into my hands, and I deeply regret that the +duty should violate that of hospitality, and make my guest my prisoner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘May I see this warrant, my lord?’ asked I. +</p> +<p> +‘Certainly, sir. Here it is; and here is the information on oath through +which it was issued, sworn to before three justices of the peace by a +certain Joseph Dowall, late an officer in the rebel forces, but now a +pardoned approver of the Crown; do you remember such a man, sir?’ +</p> +<p> +I bowed, and he went on. +</p> +<p> +‘He would seem a precious rascal; but such characters become indispensable +in times like these. After all, M. Tiernay, my orders are only to transmit +you to Dublin under safe escort, and there is nothing either in my duty or +in your position to occasion any feeling of unpleasantness between us. Let +us have a glass of wine together.’ +</p> +<p> +I responded to this civil proposition with politeness, and, after a slight +interchange of leave-takings with some of my newly-found comrades, I set +out for Derry on a jaunting-car, accompanied by an officer and two +policemen, affecting to think very little of a circumstance which, in +reality, the more I reflected over, the more serious I deemed it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXX. SCENE IN THE ROYAL BARRACKS +</h2> +<p> +It would afford me little pleasure to write, and doubtless my readers less +to read, my lucubrations as I journeyed along towards Dublin. My thoughts +seldom turned from myself and my own fortunes, nor were they cheered by +the scene through which I travelled. The season was a backward and wet +one, and the fields, partly from this cause, and partly from the people +being engaged in the late struggle, lay untilled and neglected. Groups of +idle, lounging peasants stood in the villages, or loitered on the +highroads as we passed, sad, ragged-looking, and wretched. They seemed as +if they had no heart to resume their wonted life of labour, but were +waiting for some calamity to close their miserable existence. Strongly in +contrast with this were the air and bearing of the yeomanry and militia +detachments with whom we occasionally came up. Quite forgetting how little +creditable to some of them, at least, were the events of the late +campaign, they gave themselves the most intolerable airs of heroism, and +in their drunken jollity, and reckless abandonment, threatened, I know not +what—utter ruin to France and all Frenchmen. Bonaparte was the great +mark of their sarcasms, and, from some cause or other, seemed to enjoy a +most disproportioned share of their dislike and derision. +</p> +<p> +At first it required some effort of constraint on my part to listen to +this ribaldry in silence; but prudence, and a little sense, taught me the +safer lesson of ‘never minding,’ and so I affected to understand nothing +that was said in a spirit of insult or offence. +</p> +<p> +On the night of the 7th of November we drew nigh to Dublin; but instead of +entering the capital, we halted at a small village outside of it, called +Ghapelizod. Here a house had been fitted up for the reception of French +prisoners, and I found myself, if not in company, at least under the same +roof, with my countrymen. +</p> +<p> +Nearer intercourse than this, however, I was not destined to enjoy, for +early on the following morning I was ordered to set out for the Royal +Barracks, to be tried before a court-martial. It was on a cold, raw +morning, with a thin, drizzly rain falling, that we drove into the +barrack-yard, and drew up at the mess-room, then used for the purposes of +a court. As yet none of the members had assembled, and two or three +mess-waiters were engaged in removing the signs of last night’s debauch, +and restoring a semblance of decorum to a very rackety-looking apartment. +The walls were scrawled over with absurd caricatures, in charcoal or ink, +of notorious characters of the capital, and a very striking ‘battle-piece’ +commemorated the ‘Races of Castlebar,’ as that memorable action was +called, in a spirit, I am bound to say, of little flattery to the British +arms. There were, to be sure, little compensatory illustrations here and +there of French cavalry in Egypt, mounted on donkeys, or revolutionary +troops on parade, ragged as scarecrows, and ill-looking as highwaymen; but +a most liberal justice characterised all these frescoes, and they treated +both Trojan and Tyrian alike. +</p> +<p> +I had abundant time given me to admire them, for although summoned for +seven o’clock, it was nine before the first officer of the court-martial +made his appearance, and he having popped in his head, and perceiving the +room empty, sauntered out again, and disappeared. At last a very noisy +jaunting-car rattled into the square, and a short, red-faced man was +assisted down from it, and entered the mess-room. This was Mr. Peters, the +Deputy Judge Advocate, whose presence was the immediate signal for the +others, who now came dropping in from every side, the President, a Colonel +Daly, arriving the last. +</p> +<p> +A few tradespeople, loungers, it seemed to me, of the barracks, and some +half-dozen non-commissioned officers off duty, made up the public; and I +could not but feel a sense of my insignificance in the utter absence of +interest my fate excited. The listless indolence and informality, too, +offended and insulted me; and when the President politely told me to be +seated, for they were obliged to wait for some books or papers left behind +at his quarters, I actually was indignant at his coolness. +</p> +<p> +As we thus waited, the officers gathered round the fireplace, chatting and +laughing pleasantly together, discussing the social events of the capital, +and the gossip of the day; everything, in fact, but the case of the +individual on whose future fate they were about to decide. +</p> +<p> +At length the long-expected books made their appearance, and a few +well-thumbed volumes were spread over the table, behind which the Court +took their places, Colonel Daly in the centre, with the judge upon his +left. +</p> +<p> +The members being sworn, the Judge Advocate arose, and in a hurried, +humdrum kind of voice, read out what purported to be the commission under +which I was to be tried; the charge being, whether I had or had not acted +treacherously and hostilely to his Majesty, whose natural-born subject I +was, being born in that kingdom, and, consequently, owing to him all +allegiance and fidelity. ‘Guilty or not guilty, sir?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The charge is a falsehood; I am a Frenchman,’ was my answer. +</p> +<p> +‘Have respect for the Court, sir,’ said Peters; ‘you mean that you are a +French officer, but by birth an Irishman.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I mean no such thing—that I am French by birth, as I am in feeling—that +I never saw Ireland till within a few months back, and heartily wish I had +never seen it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘So would General Humbert, too, perhaps,’ said Daly, laughing; and the +Court seemed to relish the jest. +</p> +<p> +‘Where were you born, then, Tiernay?’ +</p> +<p> +‘In Paris, I believe.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And your mother’s name, what was it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I never knew; I was left an orphan when a mere infant, and can tell +little of my family.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your father was Irish, then?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Only by descent. I have heard that we came from a family who bore the +title of “Timmahoo”—-Lord Tiernay of Timmahoo.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There was such a title,’ interposed Peters; ‘it was one of King James’s +last creations after his flight from the Boyne. Some, indeed, assert that +it was conferred before the battle. What a strange coincidence, to find +the descendant, if he be such, labouring in something like the same cause +as his ancestor.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What’s your rank, sir?’ asked a sharp, severe-looking man, called Major +Flood. +</p> +<p> +‘First Lieutenant of Hussars.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And is it usual for a boy of your years to hold that rank; or was there +anything peculiar in your case that obtained the promotion?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I served in two campaigns, and gained my grade regularly.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your Irish blood, then, had no share in your advancement?’ asked he +again. +</p> +<p> +‘I am a Frenchman, as I said before,’ was my answer. +</p> +<p> +‘A Frenchman, who lays claim to an Irish estate and an Irish title,’ +replied Flood. ‘Let us hear Dowall’s statement.’ +</p> +<p> +And now, to my utter confusion, a man made his way to the table, and, +taking the book from the Judge Advocate, kissed it in token of an oath. +</p> +<p> +‘Inform the Court of anything you know in connection with the prisoner,’ +said the judge. +</p> +<p> +And the fellow, not daring even to look towards me, began a long, +rambling, unconnected narrative of his first meeting with me at Killala, +affecting that a close intimacy had subsisted between us, and that, in the +faith of a confidence, I had told him how, being an Irishman by birth, I +had joined the expedition in the hope that with the expulsion of the +English I should be able to re-establish my claim to my family rank and +fortune. There was little coherence in his story, and more than one +discrepant statement occurred in it; but the fellow’s natural stupidity +imparted a wonderful air of truth to the narrative, and I was surprised +how naturally it sounded even to my own ears, little circumstances of +truth being interspersed through the recital, as though to season the +falsehood into a semblance of fact. +</p> +<p> +‘What have you to reply to this, Tiernay?’ asked the colonel. +</p> +<p> +‘Simply, sir, that such a witness, were his assertions even more +consistent and probable, is utterly unworthy of credit. This fellow was +one of the greatest marauders of the rebel army; and the last exercise of +authority I ever witnessed by General Humbert was an order to drive him +out of the town of Castlebar.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is this the notorious Town-major Dowall?’ asked an officer of artillery. +</p> +<p> +‘The same, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I can answer, then, for his being one of the greatest rascals unhanged,’ +rejoined he. +</p> +<p> +‘This is all very irregular, gentlemen,’ interposed the Judge Advocate; +‘the character of a witness cannot be impugned by what is mere desultory +conversation. Let Dowall withdraw.’ +</p> +<p> +The man retired, and now a whispered conversation was kept up at the table +for about a quarter of an hour, in which I could distinctly separate those +who befriended from those who opposed me, the major being the chief of the +latter party. One speech of his which I overheard made a slight impression +on me, and for the first time suggested uneasiness regarding the event. +</p> +<p> +‘Whatever you do with this lad must have an immense influence on Tone’s +trial. Don’t forget that if you acquit him, you’ll be sorely puzzled to +convict the other.’ +</p> +<p> +The colonel promptly overruled this unjust suggestion, and maintained that +in my accent, manner, and appearance, there was every evidence of my +French origin. +</p> +<p> +‘Let Wolfe Tone stand upon his own merits,’ said he, ‘but let us not mix +this case with his.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’d have treated every man who landed to a rope,’ exclaimed the major, +‘Humbert himself among the rest. It was pure “brigandage,” and nothing +less.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I hope if I escape, sir, that it will never be my fortune to see you a +prisoner of France,’ said I, forgetting all in my indignation. +</p> +<p> +‘If my voice have any influence, young man, that opportunity is not likely +to occur to you,’ was the reply. +</p> +<p> +This ungenerous speech found no sympathy with the rest, and I soon saw +that the major represented a small minority in the Court. +</p> +<p> +The want of my commission, or of any document suitable to my rank or +position in the service, was a great drawback; for I had given all my +papers to Humbert, and had nothing to substantiate my account of myself. I +saw how unfavourably this acknowledgment was taken by the Court; and when +I was ordered to withdraw that they might deliberate, I own that I felt +great misgivings as to the result. +</p> +<p> +The deliberation was a long, and, as I could overhear, a strongly disputed +one. Dowall was twice called in for examination, and when he retired on +the last occasion the discussion grew almost stormy. +</p> +<p> +As I stood thus awaiting my fate, the public, now removed from the court, +pressed eagerly to look at me; and while some thronged the doorway, and +even pressed against the sentry, others crowded at the window to peep in. +Among these faces, over which my eye ranged in half vacancy, one face +struck me, for the expression of sincere sympathy and interest it bore. It +was that of a middle-aged man of a humble walk in life, whose dress +bespoke him from the country. There was nothing in his appearance to have +called for attention or notice, and at any other time I should have passed +him over without remark; but now, as his features betokened a feeling +almost verging on anxiety, I could not regard him without interest. +</p> +<p> +Whichever way my eyes turned, however my thoughts might take me off, +whenever I looked towards him I was sure to find his gaze steadily bent +upon me, and with an expression quite distinct from mere curiosity. At +last came the summons for me to reappear before the Court, and the crowd +opened to let me pass in. +</p> +<p> +The noise, the anxiety of the moment, and the movement of the people +confused me at first; and when I recovered self-possession, I found that +the Judge Advocate was reciting the charge under which I was tried. There +were three distinct counts, on each of which the Court pronounced me ‘Not +Guilty,’ but at the same time qualifying the finding by the additional +words—‘by a majority of two’; thus showing me that my escape had +been a narrow one. +</p> +<p> +‘As a prisoner of war,’ said the President, ‘you will now receive the same +treatment as your comrades of the same rank. Some have been already +exchanged, and some have given bail for their appearance to answer any +future charges against them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am quite ready, sir, to accept my freedom on parole,’ said I; ‘of +course, in a country where I am an utter stranger, bail is out of the +question.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m willing to bail him, your worship; I’ll take it on me to be surety +for him,’ cried a coarse, husky voice from the body of the court; and at +the same time a man dressed in a greatcoat of dark frieze pressed through +the crowd and approached the table. +</p> +<p> +‘And who are you, my good fellow, so ready to impose yourself on the +Court?’ asked Peters. +</p> +<p> +‘I’m a farmer of eighty acres of land, from the Black Pits, near Baldoyle, +and the adjutant there, Mr. Moore, knows me well.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes,’ said the adjutant, ‘I have known you some years, as supplying +forage to the cavalry, and always heard you spoken of as honest and +trustworthy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Thank you, Mr. Moore; that’s as much as I want.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; but it’s not as much as we want, my worthy man,’ said Peters; ‘we +require to know that you are a solvent and respectable person.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Come out and see my place, then; ride over the land and look at my stock; +ask my neighbours my character; find out if there’s anything against me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We prefer to leave all that trouble on your shoulders,’ said Peters; +‘show us that we may accept your surety, and we ‘ll entertain the question +at once.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How much is it?’ asked he eagerly. +</p> +<p> +‘We demanded five hundred pounds for a major on the staff; suppose we say +two, colonel, is that sufficient?’ asked Peters of the President. +</p> +<p> +‘I should say quite enough,’ was the reply. +</p> +<p> +‘There’s eighty of it, anyway,’ said the farmer, producing a dirty roll of +bank-notes, and throwing them on the table; ‘I got them from Mr. Murphy in +Smithfield this morning, and I’ll get twice as much more from him for +asking; so if your honours will wait till I come back, I’ll not be twenty +minutes away.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But we can’t take your money, my man; we have no right to touch it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then what are ye talking about two hundred pounds for?’ asked he sternly. +</p> +<p> +‘We want your promise to pay in the event of this bail being broken.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, I see, it’s all the same thing in the end; I’ll do it either way.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We’ll accept Mr. Murphy’s guarantee for your solvency,’ said Peters; +‘obtain that, and you can sign the bond at once.’ +</p> +<p> +‘‘Faith, I’ll get it, sure enough, and be here before you’ve the writing +drawn out,’ said he, buttoning up his coat. +</p> +<p> +‘What name are we to insert in the bond?’ ‘Tiernay, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’s the prisoner’s name, but we want yours.’ ‘Mine’s Tiernay, too, +sir; Pat Tiernay of the Black Pits.’ +</p> +<p> +Before I could recover from my surprise at this announcement he had left +the court, which in a few minutes afterwards broke up, a clerk alone +remaining to fill up the necessary documents and complete the bail-bond. +</p> +<p> +The colonel, as well as two others of his officers, pressed me to join +them at breakfast, but I declined, resolving to wait for my namesake’s +return, and partake of no other hospitality than his. +</p> +<p> +It was near one o’clock when he returned, almost worn out with fatigue, +since he had been in pursuit of Mr. Murphy for several hours, and only +came upon him by chance at last. His business, however, he had fully +accomplished; the bail-bond was duly drawn out and signed, and I left the +barrack in a state of mind very different from the feeling with which I +had entered it that day. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXI. A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY +</h2> +<p> +My new acquaintance never ceased to congratulate himself on what he called +the lucky accident that had led him to the barracks that morning, and thus +brought about our meeting. ‘Little as you think of me, my dear,’ said he, +‘I’m one of the Tiernays of Timmahoo myself; faix, until I saw you, I +thought I was the last of them! There are eight generations of us in the +churchyard at Kells, and I was looking to the time when they’d lay my +bones there as the last of the race, but I see there’s better fortune +before us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But you have a family, I hope?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Sorrow one belonging to me. I might have married when I was young, but +there was a pride in me to look for something higher than I had any right—except +from blood I mean, for a better stock than our own isn’t to be found; and +that’s the way years went over and I lost the opportunity, and here I am +now an old bachelor, without one to stand to me, barrin’ it be yourself.’ +</p> +<p> +The last words were uttered with a tremulous emotion, and, on turning +towards him, I saw his eyes swimming with tears, and perceived that some +strong feeling was working within him. +</p> +<p> +‘You can’t suppose I can ever forget what I owe you, Mr. Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Call me Pat, Pat Tiernay,’ interrupted he roughly. +</p> +<p> +‘I ‘ll call you what you please,’ said I, ‘if you let me add friend to +it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’senough; we understand one another now—no more need be said. +You’ll come home and live with me It’s not long, maybe, you’ll have to do +that same; but when I go you ‘ll be heir to what I have. ‘Tis more, +perhaps, than many supposes, looking at the coat and the gaiters I am +wearin’. Mind, Maurice, I don’t want you, nor I don’t expect you, to turn +farmer like myself. You need never turn a hand to anything. You ‘ll have +your horse to ride—two, if you like it. Your time will be all your +own, so that you spend a little of it now and then with me, and as much +divarsion as ever you care for.’ +</p> +<p> +I have condensed into a few words the substance of a conversation which +lasted till we reached Baldoyle; and passing through that not +over-imposing village, gained the neighbourhood of the sea-shore, along +which stretched the farm of the ‘Black Pits,’ a name derived, I was told, +from certain black holes that were dug in the sands by fishermen in former +times, when the salt tide washed over the pleasant fields where corn was +now growing. A long, low, thatched cabin, with far more indications of +room and comfort than pretension to the picturesque, stood facing the sea. +There were neither trees nor shrubs around it, and the aspect of the spot +was bleak and cheerless enough, a colouring a dark November day did +nothing to dispel. +</p> +<p> +It possessed one charm, however; and had it been a hundred times inferior +to what it was, that one would have compensated for all else—a +hearty welcome met me at the door, and the words, ‘This is your home, +Maurice,’ filled my heart with happiness. +</p> +<p> +Were I to suffer myself to dwell even in thought on this period of my +life, I feel how insensibly I should be led away into an inexcusable +prolixity. The little meaningless incidents of my daily life, all so +engraven on my memory still, occupied me pleasantly from day till night. +Not only the master of myself and my own time, I was master of everything +around me. Uncle Pat, as he loved to call himself, treated me with a +degree of respect that was almost painful to me, and only when we were +alone together did he relapse into the intimacy of equality. Two +first-rate hunters stood in my stable; a stout-built half-deck boat lay at +my command beside the quay; I had my gun and my greyhounds; books, +journals; everything, in short, that a liberal purse and a kind spirit +could confer—all but acquaintance. Of these I possessed absolutely +none. Too proud to descend to intimacy with the farmers and small +shopkeepers of the neighbourhood, my position excluded me from +acquaintance with the gentry; and thus I stood between both, unknown to +either. +</p> +<p> +For a while my new career was too absorbing to suffer me to dwell on this +circumstance. The excitement of field-sports sufficed me when abroad, and +I came home usually so tired at night that I could barely keep awake to +amuse Uncle Pat with those narratives of war and campaigning he was so +fond of hearing. To the hunting-field succeeded the Bay of Dublin, and I +passed days, even weeks, exploring every creek and inlet of the coast—now +cruising under the dark cliffs of the Welsh shore, or, while my boat lay +at anchor, wandering among the solitary valleys of Lambay, my life, like a +dream full of its own imaginings, and unbroken by the thoughts or feelings +of others! I will not go the length of saying that I was self-free from +all reproach on the inglorious indolence in which my days were passed, or +that my thoughts never strayed away to that land where my first dreams of +ambition were felt. But a strange fatuous kind of languor had grown upon +me, and the more I retired within myself, the less did I wish for a return +to that struggle with the world which every active life engenders. Perhaps—I +cannot now say if it were so—perhaps I resented the disdainful +distance with which the gentry treated me, as we met in the hunting-field +or the coursing-ground. Some of the isolation I preferred may have had +this origin, but choice had the greater share in it, until at last my +greatest pleasure was to absent myself for weeks on a cruise, fancying +that I was exploring tracts never visited by man, and landing on spots +where no human foot had ever been known to tread. +</p> +<p> +If Uncle Pat would occasionally remonstrate on the score of these long +absences, he never ceased to supply means for them; and my sea-store and a +well-filled purse were never wanting, when the blue-peter floated from <i>La +Hoche</i>, as in my ardour I had named my cutter. Perhaps at heart he was +not sorry to see me avoid the capital and its society. The bitterness +which had succeeded the struggle for independence was now at its highest +point, and there was what, to my thinking at least, appeared something +like the cruelty of revenge in the sentences which followed the state +trials. I will not suffer myself to stray into the debatable ground of +politics, nor dare I give an opinion on matters, where, with all the +experience of fifty years superadded, the wisest heads are puzzled how to +decide; but my impression at the time was that lenity would have been a +safer and a better policy than severity, and that in the momentary +prostration of the country, lay the precise conjuncture for those measures +of grace and favour which were afterwards rather wrung from than conceded +by the English Government. Be this as it may, Dublin offered a strange +spectacle at that period. The triumphant joy of one party—the +discomfiture and depression of the other. All the exuberant delight of +success here, all the bitterness of failure there. On one side, +festivities, rejoicings, and public demonstrations; on the other, +confinement, banishment, or the scaffold. +</p> +<p> +The excitement was almost madness. The passion for pleasure, restrained by +the terrible contingencies of the time, now broke forth with redoubled +force, and the capital was thronged with all its rank, riches, and +fashion, when its gaols were crowded, and the heaviest sentences of the +law were in daily execution. The state-trials were crowded by all the +fashion of the metropolis; and the heart-moving eloquence of Curran was +succeeded by the strains of a merry concert. It was just then, too, that +the great lyric poet of Ireland began to appear in society, and those +songs which were to be known afterwards as ‘The Melodies,’ <i>par +excellence</i>, were first heard in all the witching enchantment which his +own taste and voice could lend them. To such as were indifferent to or +could forget the past, it was a brilliant period. It was the last +flickering blaze of Irish nationality, before the lamp was extinguished +for ever. +</p> +<p> +Of this society I myself saw nothing. But even in the retirement of my +humble life the sounds of its mirth and pleasure penetrated, and I often +wished to witness the scenes which even in vague description were +fascinating. It was, then, in a kind of discontent at my exclusion, that I +grew from day to day more disposed to solitude, and fonder of those +excursions which led me out of all reach of companionship or acquaintance. +In this spirit I planned a long cruise down channel, resolving to visit +the island of Valentia, or, if the wind and weather favoured, to creep +around the south-west coast as far as Bantry or Kenmare. A man and his +son, a boy of about sixteen, formed all my crew, and were quite sufficient +for the light tackle and easy rig of my craft. Uncle Pat was already +mounted on his pony, and ready to set out for market, as we prepared to +start. It was a bright spring morning—such a one as now and then the +changeful climate of Ireland brings forth in a brilliancy of colour and +softness of atmosphere that are rare in even more favoured lands. +</p> +<p> +‘You have a fine day of it, Maurice, and just enough wind,’ said he, +looking at the point from whence it came. ‘I almost wish I was going with +you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And why not come, then?’ asked I. ‘You never will give yourself a +holiday. Do so for once, now.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not to-day, anyhow,’ said he, half sighing at his self-denial. ‘I have a +great deal of business on my hands to-day, but the next time—the +very next you’re up to a long cruise, I’ll go with you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’s a bargain, then?’ +</p> +<p> +‘A bargain. Here’s my hand on it.’ +</p> +<p> +We shook hands cordially on the compact. Little knew I it was to be for +the last time, and that we were never to meet again! +</p> +<p> +I was soon aboard, and with a free mainsail skimming rapidly over the +bright waters of the bay. The wind freshened as the day wore on, and we +quickly passed the Kish light-ship, and held our course boldly down +channel. The height of my enjoyment in these excursions consisted in the +unbroken quietude of mind I felt, when removed from all chance +interruption, and left free to follow out my own fancies and indulge my +dreamy conceptions to my heart’s content. It was then I used to revel in +imaginings which sometimes soared into the boldest realms of ambition, and +at others strayed contemplatively in the humblest walks of obscure +fortune. My crew never broke in upon these musings; indeed, old Tom +Finerty’s low crooning song rather aided than interrupted them. He was not +much given to talking, and a chance allusion to some vessel afar off, or +some headland we were passing, were about the extent of his +communicativeness, and even these often fell on my ear unnoticed. +</p> +<p> +It was thus, at night, we made the Hook Tower, and on the next day passed, +in a spanking breeze, under the bold cliffs of Tramore, just catching, as +the sun was sinking, the sight of Youghal Bay and the tall headlands +beyond it. +</p> +<p> +‘The wind is drawing more to the nor’ard,’ said old Tom, as night closed +in, ‘and the clouds look dirty.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Bear her up a point or two,’ said I, ‘and let us stand in for Cork +Harbour if it comes on to blow.’ +</p> +<p> +He muttered something in reply, but I did not catch the words, nor, +indeed, cared I to hear them, for I had just wrapped myself in my +boat-cloak, and, stretched at full length on the shingle ballast of the +yawl, was gazing in rapture at the brilliancy of the starry sky above me. +Light skiffs of feathery cloud would now and then flit past, and a +peculiar hissing sound of the sea told, at the same time, that the breeze +was freshening. But old Tom had done his duty in mentioning this once, and +thus having disburthened his conscience, he closehauled his mainsail, +shifted the ballast a little to midships, and, putting up the collar of +his pilot-coat, screwed himself tighter into the corner beside the tiller, +and chewed his quid in quietness. The boy slept soundly in the bow, and I, +lulled by the motion and the plashing waves, fell into a dreamy stupor, +like a pleasant sleep. The pitching of the boat continued to increase, and +twice or thrice struck by a heavy sea, she lay over, till the white waves +came tumbling in over her gunwale. I heard Tom call to his boy something +about the head-sail, but for the life of me I could not or would not +arouse myself from a train of thought that I was following. +</p> +<p> +‘She’s a stout boat to stand this,’ said Tom, as he rounded her off at a +coming wave, which, even thus escaped, splashed over us like a cataract. +‘I know many a bigger craft wouldn’t hold up her canvas under such a +gale.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Here it comes, father. Here’s a squall!’ cried the boy; and with a crash +like thunder, the wind struck the sail, and laid the boat half under. +</p> +<p> +‘She’d float if she was full of water,’ said the old man, as the craft +‘righted.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But maybe the spars wouldn’t stand,’ said the boy anxiously. +</p> +<p> +‘‘Tis what I ‘m thinking,’ rejoined the father. ‘There’s a shake in the +mast, below the caps.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tell him it’s better to bear up, and go before it,’ whispered the lad, +with a gesture towards where I was lying. +</p> +<p> +‘Troth, it’s little he’d care,’ said the other; ‘besides, he’s never +plazed to be woke up.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Here it comes again!’ cried the boy. But this time the squall swept past +ahead of us, and the craft only reeled to the swollen waves, as they tore +by. +</p> +<p> +‘We ‘d better go about, sir,’ said Tom to me; ‘there’s a heavy sea +outside, and it’s blowing hard now.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And there’s a split in the mast as long as my arm,’ cried the boy. +</p> +<p> +‘I thought she’d live through any sea, Tom!’ said I, laughing, for it was +his constant boast that no weather could harm her. +</p> +<p> +‘There goes the spar!’ shouted he, while with a loud snap the mast gave +way, and fell with a crash over the side. The boat immediately came head +to wind, and sea after sea broke upon her bow, and fell in great floods +over us. +</p> +<p> +‘Out away the stays—clear the wreck,’ cried Tom, ‘before the squall +catches her!’ +</p> +<p> +And although we now laboured like men whose lives depended on the +exertion, the trailing sail and heavy rigging, shifting the ballast as +they fell, laid her completely over; and when the first sea struck her, +over she went. The violence of the gale sent me a considerable distance +out, and for several seconds I felt as though I should never reach the +surface again. Wave after wave rolled over me, and seemed bearing me +downwards with their weight. At last I grasped something; it was a rope—a +broken halyard; but by its means I gained the mast, which floated +alongside of the yawl as she now lay keel uppermost. With what energy did +I struggle to reach her! The space was scarcely a dozen feet, and yet it +cost me what seemed an age to traverse. Through all the roaring of the +breakers, and the crashing sounds of storm, I thought I could hear my +comrades’ voices shouting and screaming; but this was in all likelihood a +mere deception, for I never saw them more! +</p> +<p> +Grasping with a death-grip the slippery keel, I hung on to the boat +through all the night. The gale continued to increase, and by daybreak it +blew a perfect hurricane. With an aching anxiety I watched for light to +see if I were near the land, or if any ship were in sight; but when the +sun rose, nothing met my eyes but a vast expanse of waves tumbling and +tossing in mad confusion, while overhead some streaked and mottled clouds +were hurried along with the wind. Happily for me, I have no correct memory +of that long day of suffering. The continual noise, but more still, the +incessant motion of sea and sky around, brought on a vertigo, that seemed +like madness; and although the instinct of self-preservation remained, the +wildest and most incoherent fancies filled my brain. Some of these were +powerful enough to impress themselves upon my memory for years after, and +one I have never yet been able to dispel. It clings to me in every season +of unusual depression or dejection; it recurs in the half-nightmare sleep +of over-fatigue, and even invades me when, restless and feverish, I lie +for hours incapable of repose. This is the notion that my state was one of +afterlife punishment; that I had died, and was now expiating a sinful life +by the everlasting misery of a castaway. The fever brought on by thirst +and exhaustion, and the burning sun which beamed down upon my uncovered +head, soon completed the measure of this infatuation, and all sense and +guidance left me. +</p> +<p> +By what instinctive impulse I still held on my grasp, I cannot explain; +but there I clung during the whole of that long dreadful day, and the +still more dreadful night, when the piercing cold cramped my limbs, and +seemed as if freezing the very blood within me. It was no wish for life, +it was no anxiety to save myself, that now filled me. It seemed like a +vague impulse of necessity that compelled me to hang on. It was, as it +were, part of that terrible sentence which made this my doom for ever! +</p> +<p> +An utter unconsciousness must have followed this state, and a dreary +blank, with flitting shapes of suffering, is all that remains to my +recollection. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +Probably within the whole range of human sensations, there is not one so +perfect in its calm and soothing influence as the first burst of gratitude +we feel when recovering from a long and severe illness. There is not an +object, however humble and insignificant, that is not for the time +invested with a new interest. The air is balmier, flowers are sweeter, the +voices of friends, the smiles and kind looks, are dearer and fonder than +we have ever known them. The whole world has put on a new aspect for us, +and we have not a thought that is not teeming with forgiveness and +affection. Such, in all their completeness, were my feelings as I lay on +the poop-deck of a large three-masted ship, which, with studding and +topgallant sails all set, proudly held her course up the Gulf of St +Lawrence. +</p> +<p> +She was a Danzig barque, the <i>Hoffnung</i>, bound for Quebec, her only +passengers being a Moravian minister and his wife, on their way to join a +small German colony established near Lake Champlain. To Gottfried Kroller +and his dear little wife I owe not life alone, but nearly all that has +made it valuable. With means barely removed from absolute poverty, I found +that they had spared nothing to assist in my recovery; for, when +discovered, emaciation and wasting had so far reduced me that nothing but +the most unremitting care and kindness could have succeeded in restoring +me. To this end they bestowed not only their whole time and attention, but +every little delicacy of their humble sea-store. All the little cordials +and restoratives, meant for a season of sickness or debility, were +lavished unsparingly on me, and every instinct of national thrift and +carefulness gave way before the more powerful influence of Christian +benevolence. +</p> +<p> +I can think of nothing but that bright morning, as I lay on a mattress on +the deck, with the ‘Pfarrer’ on one side of me, and his good little wife, +Lieschen, on the other; he with his volume of ‘Wieland,’ and she working +away with her long knitting-needles, and never raising her head save to +bestow a glance at the poor sick boy, whose bloodless lips were trying to +mutter her name in thankfulness. It is like the most delicious dream as I +think over those hours, when, rocked by the surging motion of the large +ship, hearing in half distinctness the words of the ‘Pfarrer’s’ reading, I +followed out little fancies—now self-originating, now rising from +the theme of the poet’s musings. +</p> +<p> +How softly the cloud-shadows moved over the white sails and swept along +the bright deck! How pleasantly the water rippled against the vessel’s +side I With what a glad sound the great ensign napped and fluttered in the +breeze! There was light, and life, and motion on every side, and I felt +all the intoxication of enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +And like a dream was the portion of my life which followed. I accompanied +the Pfarrer to a small settlement near ‘Crown Point,’ where he was to take +up his residence as minister. Here we lived amid a population of about +four or five hundred Germans, principally from Pomerania, on the shores of +the Baltic, a peaceful, thrifty, quiet set of beings, who, content with +the little interests revolving around themselves, never troubled their +heads about the great events of war or politics. And here in all +likelihood should I have been content to pass my days, when an accidental +journey I made to Albany, to receive some letters for the Pfarrer, once +more turned the fortune of my life. +</p> +<p> +It was a great incident in the quiet monotony of my life, when I set out +one morning, arrayed in a full suit of coarse, glossy black, with buttons +like small saucers, and a hat whose brim almost protected my shoulders. I +was, indeed, an object of very considerable envy to some, and I hope, +also, not denied the admiring approval of some others. Had the respectable +city I was about to visit been the chief metropolis of a certain +destination which I must not name, the warnings I received about its +dangers, dissipations, and seductions, could scarcely have been more +earnest or impressive. I was neither to speak with, nor even to look at, +those I met in the streets. I was carefully to avoid taking my meals at +any of the public eating-houses, rigidly guarding myself from the +contamination of even a chance acquaintance. It was deemed as needless to +caution me against theatres or places of amusement, as to hint to me that +I should not commit a highway robbery or a murder; and so, in sooth, I +should myself have felt it. The patriarchal simplicity in which I had +lived for above a year had not been without its affect in subduing +exaggerated feeling, or controlling that passion for excitement so common +to youth. I felt a kind of dreamy, religious languor over me, which I +sincerely believed represented a pious and well-regulated temperament. +Perhaps in time it might have become such. Perhaps with others, more +happily constituted, the impression would have been confirmed and fixed; +but in my case it was a mere lacquer, that the first rubbing in the world +was sure to brush off. +</p> +<p> +I arrived safely at Albany, and having presented myself at the bank of +Gabriel Shultze, was desired to call the following morning, when all the +letters and papers of Gottfried Kröller should be delivered to me. A very +cold invitation to supper was the only hospitality extended to me. This I +declined on pretext of weariness, and set out to explore the town, to +which my long residence in rural life imparted a high degree of interest. +</p> +<p> +I don’t know what it may now be—doubtless a great capital, like one +of the European cities; but at that time I speak of, Albany was a strange, +incongruous assemblage of stores and wooden houses, great buildings like +granaries, with whole streets of low sheds around them, where, open to the +passer-by, men worked at various trades, and people followed out the +various duties of domestic life in sight of the public: daughters knitted +and sewed; mothers cooked, and nursed their children; men ate, and worked, +and smoked, and sang, as if in all the privacy of closed dwellings, while +a thick current of population poured by, apparently too much immersed in +their own cares, or too much accustomed to the scene, to give it more than +passing notice. +</p> +<p> +It was curious how one bred and born in the great city of Paris, with all +its sights and sounds, and scenes of excitement and display, could have +been so rusticated by time as to feel a lively interest in surveying the +motley aspect of this quaint town. There were, it is true, features in the +picture very unlike the figures in ‘Old-World’ landscape. A group of ‘red +men,’ seated around a fire in the open street, or a squaw carrying on her +back a baby, firmly tied to a piece of curved bark; a Southern-stater, +with a spanking waggon-team, and two grinning negroes behind, were new and +strange elements in the life of a city. Still, the mere movement, the +actual busy stir and occupation of the inhabitants, attracted me as much +as anything else; and the shops and stalls, where trades were carried on, +were a seduction I could not resist. +</p> +<p> +The strict puritanism in which I had lately lived taught me to regard all +these things with a certain degree of distrust. They were the impulses of +that gold-seeking passion of which Gottfried had spoken so frequently; +they were the great vice of that civilisation, whose luxurious tendency he +often deplored; and here, now, more than one-half around me were arts that +only ministered to voluptuous tastes. Brilliant articles of jewellery; gay +cloaks, worked with wampum, in Indian taste; ornamental turning, and +costly weapons, inlaid with gold and silver, succeeded each other, street +after street; and the very sight of them, however pleasurable to the eye, +set me a-moralising in a strain that would have done credit to a son of +Geneva. It might have been that, in my enthusiasm, I uttered half aloud +what I intended for soliloquy; or perhaps some gesture, or peculiarity of +manner, had the effect; but so it was, I found myself an object of notice; +and my queer-cut coat and wide hat, contrasting so strangely with my +youthful appearance and slender make, drew many a criticism on me. +</p> +<p> +‘He ain’t a Quaker, that’s a fact,’ cried one, ‘for they don’t wear +black.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He’s a down-easter—a horse-jockey chap, I’ll be bound,’ cried +another. ‘They put on all manner of disguises and “masqueroonings.” I know +‘em!’ +</p> +<p> +‘He’s a calf preacher—a young bottle-nosed Gospeller,’ broke in a +thick, short fellow, like the skipper of a merchant-ship. ‘Let’s have him +out for a preachment.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, you’re right,’ chimed in another. ‘I’ll get you a sugar hogshead in +no time’; and away he ran on the mission. +</p> +<p> +Between twenty and thirty persons had now collected; and I saw myself, to +my unspeakable shame and mortification, the centre of all their looks and +speculations. A little more <i>aplomb</i> or knowledge of life would have +taught me coolness enough in a few words to undeceive them; but such a +task was far above me now, and I saw nothing for it but flight. Could I +only have known which way to take, I need not have feared any pursuer, for +I was a capital runner, and in high condition; but of the locality I was +utterly ignorant, and should only surrender myself to mere chance. With a +bold rush, then, I dashed right through the crowd, and set off down the +street, the whole crew after me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10369.jpg" width="100%" alt="369 " /> +</div> +<p> +The dusk of the closing evening was in my favour; and although volunteers +were enlisted in the chase at every corner and turning, I distanced them, +and held on my way in advance. My great object being not to turn on my +course, lest I should come back to my starting point, I directed my steps +nearly straight onward, clearing apple-stalls and fruit-tables at a bound, +and more than once taking a flying-leap over an Indian’s fire, when the +mad shout of the red man would swell the chorus that followed me. At last +I reached a network of narrow lanes and alleys, by turning and wending +through which I speedily found myself in a quiet secluded spot, with here +and there a flickering candle-light from the windows, but no other sign of +habitation. I looked anxiously about for an open door; but they were all +safe barred and fastened; and it was only on turning a corner I spied what +seemed to me a little shop, with a solitary lamp over the entrance. A +narrow canal, crossed by a rickety old bridge, led to this; and the moment +I had crossed over, I seized the single plank which formed the footway, +and shoved it into the stream. My retreat being thus secured, I opened the +door, and entered. It was a barber’s shop; at least, so a great chair +before a cracked old looking-glass, with some well-worn combs and brushes, +bespoke it; but the place seemed untenanted, and although I called aloud +several times, no one came or responded to my summons. +</p> +<p> +I now took a survey of the spot, which seemed of the poorest imaginable. A +few empty pomatum pots, a case of razors that might have defied the most +determined suicide, and a half-finished wig, on a block painted like a red +man, were the entire stock-in-trade. On the walls, however, were some +coloured prints of the battles of the French army in Germany and Italy. +Execrably done things they were, but full of meaning and interest to my +eyes in spite of that. With all the faults of drawing and all the +travesties of costume, I could recognise different corps of the service, +and my heart bounded as I gazed on the tall shakos swarming to a breach, +or the loose jacket as it floated from the hussar in a charge. All the +wild pleasures of soldiering rose once more to my mind, and I thought over +old comrades who doubtless were now earning the high rewards of their +bravery in the great career of glory. And as I did so, my own image +confronted me in the glass, as with long lank hair, and a great bolster of +a white cravat, I stood before it. What a contrast!—how unlike the +smart hussar, with curling locks and fierce moustache! Was I as much +changed in heart as in looks? Had my spirit died out within me? Would the +proud notes of the bugle or the trumpet fall meaningless on my ears, or +the hoarse cry of ‘Charge!’ send no bursting fulness to my temples? Ay, +even these coarse representations stirred the blood in my veins, and my +step grew firmer as I walked the room. +</p> +<p> +In a passionate burst of enthusiasm, I tore off my slouched hat and hurled +it from me. It felt like the badge of some ignoble slavery, and I +determined to endure it no longer. The noise of the act called up a voice +from the inner room, and a man, to all appearance suddenly roused from +sleep, stood at the door. He was evidently young, but poverty, +dissipation, and raggedness made the question of his age a difficult one +to solve. A light-coloured moustache and beard covered all the lower part +of his face, and his long blonde hair fell heavily over his shoulders. +</p> +<p> +‘Well,’ cried he, half angrily, ‘what’s the matter; are you so impatient +that you must smash the furniture?’ +</p> +<p> +Although the words were spoken as correctly as I have written them, they +were uttered with a foreign accent; and, hazarding the stroke, I answered +him in French by apologising for the noise. +</p> +<p> +‘What! a Frenchman,’ exclaimed he, ‘and in that dress! what can that +mean?’ +</p> +<p> +‘If you’ll shut your door, and cut off pursuit of me, I’ll tell you +everything,’ said I, ‘for I hear the voices of people coming down that +street in front.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll do better,’ said he quickly; ‘I’ll upset the bridge, and they cannot +come over.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’s done already,’ replied I; ‘I shoved it into the stream as I +passed.’ +</p> +<p> +He looked at me steadily for a moment without speaking, and then +approaching close to me, said, ‘<i>Parbleu!</i> the act was very unlike +your costume!’ At the same time he shut the door, and drew a strong bar +across it. This done, he turned to me once more—‘Now for it: who are +you, and what has happened to you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘As to what I am,’ replied I, imitating his own abruptness, ‘my dress +would almost save the trouble of explaining; these Albany folk, however, +would make a field-preacher of me, and to escape them I took to flight.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, if a fellow will wear his hair that fashion, he must take the +consequence,’ said he, drawing out my long lank locks as they hung over my +shoulders. ‘And so you wouldn’t hold forth for them—not even give +them a stave of a conventicle chant.’ He kept his eyes riveted on me as he +spoke, and then seizing two pieces of stick from the firewood, he beat on +the table the rataplan of the French drum. ‘That’s the music you know +best, lad, eh?—that’s the air, which, if it has not led heavenward, +has conducted many a brave fellow out of this world at least. Do you +forget it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Forget it! no,’ cried I;’ but who are you; and how comes it that—that——’ +I stopped in confusion at the rudeness of the question I had begun. ‘That +I stand here, half fed, and all but naked—a barber in a land where +men don’t shave once a month. <i>Parbleu!</i> they’d come even seldomer to +my shop if they knew how tempted I feel to draw the razor sharp and quick +across the gullet of a fellow with a well-stocked pouch.’ +</p> +<p> +As he continued to speak, his voice assumed a tone and cadence that +sounded familiar to my ears as I stared at him in amazement. +</p> +<p> +‘Not know me yet!’ exclaimed he, laughing; ‘and yet all this poverty and +squalor isn’t as great a disguise as your own, Tiernay. Come, lad, rub +your eyes a bit, and try if you can’t recognise an old comrade.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I know you, yet cannot remember how or where we met,’ said I, in +bewilderment. +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll refresh your memory,’ said he, crossing his arms, and drawing +himself proudly up. ‘If you can trace back in your mind to a certain hot +and dusty day, on the Metz road, when you, a private in the Ninth Hussars, +were eating an onion and a slice of black bread for your dinner, a young +officer, well looking and well mounted, cantered up and threw you his +brandy flask. Your acknowledgment of the civility showed you to be a +gentleman; and the acquaintance thus opened soon ripened into intimacy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But he was the young Marquis de Saint-Trône,’ said I, perfectly +remembering the incident. +</p> +<p> +‘Or Eugène Santron, of the republican army, or the barber at Albany, +without any name at all,’ said he, laughing. ‘What, Maurice, don’t you +know me yet?’ +</p> +<p> +‘What! the lieutenant of my regiment? The dashing officer of hussars?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just so, and as ready to resume the old skin as ever,’ cried he, ‘and +brandish a weapon somewhat longer, and perhaps somewhat sharper, too, than +a razor.’ +</p> +<p> +We shook hands with all the cordiality of old comrades, meeting far away +from home, and in a land of strangers; and although each was full of +curiosity to learn the other’s history, a kind of reserve held back the +inquiry, till Santron said, ‘My confession is soon made, Maurice: I left +the service in the Meuse, to escape being shot. One day, on returning from +a field manouvre, I discovered that my portmanteau had been opened, and a +number of letters and papers taken out. They were part of a correspondence +I held with old General Lamarre, about the restoration of the Bourbons—a +subject, I’m certain, that half the officers in the army were interested +in, and, even to Bonaparte himself, deeply implicated in, too. No matter, +my treason, as they called it, was too flagrant, and I had just twenty +minutes’ start of the order which was issued for my arrest to make my +escape into Holland. There I managed to pass several months in various +disguises, part of the time being employed as a Dutch spy, and actually +charged with an order to discover tidings of myself, until I finally got +away in an Antwerp schooner to New York. From that time my life has been +nothing but a struggle—a hard one, too, with actual want, for in +this land of enterprise and activity, mere intelligence, without some +craft or calling, will do nothing. +</p> +<p> +‘I tried fifty things: to teach riding—and when I mounted into the +saddle, I forgot everything but my own enjoyment, and caracoled, and +plunged, and passaged, till the poor beast hadn’t a leg to stand on; +fencing—and I got into a duel with a rival teacher, and ran him +through the neck, and was obliged to fly from Halifax; French—I made +love to my pupil, a pretty-looking Dutch girl, whose father didn’t smile +on our affection; and so on, I descended from a dancing-master to a +waiter, a <i>laquais de place</i>, and at last settled down as a barber, +which brilliant speculation I had just determined to abandon this very +night, for to-morrow morning, Maurice, I start for New York and France +again; ay, boy, and you’ll go with me. This is no land for either of us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But I have found happiness, at least contentment, here,’ said I gravely. +</p> +<p> +‘What! play the hypocrite with an old comrade! shame on you, Maurice,’ +cried he. ‘It is these confounded locks have perverted the boy,’ added he, +jumping up; and before I knew what he was about, he had shorn my hair, in +two quick cuts of the scissors, close to the head. ‘There,’ said he, +throwing the cut-off hair towards me, ‘there lies all your saintship; +depend upon it, boy, they ‘d hunt you out of the settlement if you came +back to them cropped in this fashion.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But you return to certain death, Santron,’ said I; ‘your crime is too +recent to be forgiven or forgotten.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not a bit of it; Fouché, Cassaubon, and a dozen others, now in office, +were deeper than I was. There’s not a public man in France could stand an +exposure, or hazard recrimination. It’s a thieves’ amnesty at this moment, +and I must not lose the opportunity. I’ll show you letters that will prove +it, Maurice; for, poor and ill-fed as I am, I like life just as well as +ever I did. I mean to be a general of division one of these days, and so +will you too, lad, if there’s any spirit left in you.’ +</p> +<p> +Thus did Santron rattle on, sometimes of himself and his own future; +sometimes discussing mine; for while talking, he had contrived to learn +all the chief particulars of my history, from the time of my sailing from +La Rochelle for Ireland. +</p> +<p> +The unlucky expedition afforded him great amusement, and he was never +weary of laughing at all our adventures and mischances in Ireland. Of +Humbert, he spoke as a fourth or fifth-rate man, and actually shocked me +by all the heresies he uttered against our generals, and the plan of +campaign; but, perhaps, I could have borne even these better than the +sarcasms and sneers at the little life of ‘the settlement.’ He treated all +my efforts at defence as mere hypocrisy, and affected to regard me as a +mere knave, that had traded on the confiding kindness of these simple +villagers. I could not undeceive him on this head; nor, what was more, +could I satisfy my own conscience that he was altogether in the wrong; +for, with a diabolical ingenuity, he had contrived to hit on some of the +most vexatious doubts which disturbed my mind, and instinctively to detect +the secret cares and difficulties that beset me. The lesson should never +be lost on us, that the devil was depicted as a sneerer! I verily believe +the powers of temptation have no such advocacy as sarcasm. Many can resist +the softest seductions of vice; many are proof against all the +blandishments of mere enjoyment, come in what shape it will; but how few +can stand firm against the assaults of clever irony, or hold fast to their +convictions when assailed by the sharp shafts of witty depreciation! +</p> +<p> +I am ashamed to own how little I could oppose to all his impertinences +about our village and its habits; or how impossible I found it not to +laugh at his absurd descriptions of a life which, without having ever +witnessed, he depicted with a rare accuracy. He was shrewd enough not to +push this ridicule offensively; and long before I knew it, I found myself +regarding, with his eyes, a picture in which, but a few months back, I +stood as a foreground figure. I ought to confess, that no artificial aid +was derived from either good cheer or the graces of hospitality; we sat by +a miserable lamp, in a wretchedly cold chamber, our sole solace some bad +cigars, and a can of flat, stale cider. +</p> +<p> +‘I have not a morsel to offer you to eat, Maurice, but to-morrow we’ll +breakfast on my razors, dine on that old looking-glass, and sup on two +hard brushes and the wig!’ +</p> +<p> +Such were the brilliant pledges, and we closed a talk which the nickering +lamp at last put an end to. +</p> +<p> +A broken, unconnected conversation followed for a little time, but at +length, worn out and wearied, each dropped off to sleep—Eugène on +the straw settle, and I in the old chair—never to awake till the +bright sun was streaming in between the shutters, and dancing merrily on +the tiled floor. +</p> +<p> +An hour before I awoke, he had completed the sale of all his little +stock-in-trade, and with a last look round the spot where he had passed +some months of struggling poverty, out we sailed into the town. +</p> +<p> +‘We’ll breakfast at Jonathan Hone’s,’ said Santron. +</p> +<p> +‘It’s the first place here. I’ll treat you to rump-steaks, pumpkin pie, +and a gin twister that will astonish you. Then, while I’m arranging for +our passage down the Hudson, you’ll see the hospitable banker, and tell +him how to forward all his papers, and so forth, to the settlement, with +your respectful compliments and regrets, and the rest of it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But am I to take leave of them in this fashion?’ asked I. +</p> +<p> +‘Unless you want me to accompany you there, I think it’s by far the best +way,’ said he laughingly. ‘If, however, you think that my presence and +companionship will add any lustre to your position, say the word, and I’m +ready. I know enough of the barber’s craft now to make up a head <i>en +Puritain</i>, and, if you wish, I’ll pledge myself to impose upon the +whole colony.’ +</p> +<p> +Here was a threat there was no mistaking; and any imputation of +ingratitude on my part were far preferable to the thought of such an +indignity. He saw his advantage at once, and boldly declared that nothing +should separate us. +</p> +<p> +‘The greatest favour, my dear Maurice, you can ever expect at my hands is, +never to speak of this freak of yours; or, if I do, to say that you +performed the part to perfection.’ +</p> +<p> +My mind was in one of those moods of change when the slightest impulse is +enough to sway it, and, more from this cause, than all his persuasion, I +yielded; and the same evening saw me gliding down the Hudson, and admiring +the bold Catskills, on our way to New York. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXII. THE ‘ATHOL’ TENDER +</h2> +<p> +As I cast my eyes over these pages, and see how small a portion of my life +they embrace, I feel like one who, having a long journey before him, +perceives that some more speedy means of travel must be adopted, if he +ever hope to reach his destination. With the instinctive prosiness of age +I have lingered over the scenes of boyhood, a period which, strange to +say, is fresher in my memory than many of the events of few years back; +and were I to continue my narrative as I have begun it, it would take more +time on my part, and more patience on that of my readers, than are likely +to be conceded to either of us. Were I to apologise to my readers for any +abruptness in my transitions, or any want of continuity in my story, I +should perhaps inadvertently seem to imply a degree of interest in my fate +which they have never felt; and, on the other hand, I would not for a +moment be thought to treat slightingly the very smallest degree of favour +they may feel disposed to show me. With these difficulties on either hand, +I see nothing for it but to limit myself for the future to such incidents +and passages of my career as most impressed themselves on myself, and to +confine my record to the events in which I personally took a share. +</p> +<p> +Santron and I sailed from New York on the 9th of February, and arrived in +Liverpool on the 14th of March. We landed in as humble a guise as need be. +One small box contained all our effects, and a little leathern purse, with +something less than three dollars, all our available wealth. The immense +movement and stir of the busy town, the din and bustle of trade, the roll +of waggons, the cranking clatter of cranes and windlasses, the incessant +flux and reflux of population, all eager and intent on business, were +strange spectacles to our eyes as we loitered houseless and friendless +through the streets, staring in wonderment at the wealth and prosperity of +that land we were taught to believe was tottering to bankruptcy. +</p> +<p> +Santron affected to be pleased with all—talked of the <i>beau +pillage</i> it would afford one day or other; but in reality this +appearance of riches and prosperity seemed to depress and discourage him. +Both French and American writers had agreed in depicting the pauperism and +discontent of England, and yet where were the signs of it? Not a house was +untenanted, every street was thronged, every market filled; the equipages +of the wealthy vied with the loaded waggons in number; and if there were +not the external evidences of happiness and enjoyment the gayer population +of other countries display, there was an air of well-being and comfort +such as no other land could exhibit. +</p> +<p> +Another very singular trait made a deep impression on us. Here were these +islanders with a narrow strait only separating them from a land bristling +with bayonets. The very roar of the artillery at exercise might be almost +heard across the gulf, and yet not a soldier was to be seen about! There +were neither forts nor bastions. The harbour, so replete with wealth, lay +open and unprotected, not even a gunboat or a guardship to defend it! +There was an insolence in this security that Santron could not get over, +and he muttered a prayer that the day might not be distant that should +make them repent it. +</p> +<p> +He was piqued with everything. While on board ship we had agreed together +to pass ourselves for Canadians, to avoid all inquiries of the +authorities! Heaven help us! The authorities never thought of us. We were +free to go or stay as we pleased. Neither police nor passport officers +questioned us. We might have been Hoche and Massena for aught they either +knew or cared. Not a <i>mouchard</i> tracked us; none even looked after us +as we wont. To me this was all very agreeable and reassuring; to my +companion it was contumely and insult. All the ingenious fiction he had +devised of our birth, parentage, and pursuits, was a fine romance +inedited, and he was left to sneer at the self-sufficiency that would not +take alarm at the advent of two ragged youths on the quay of Liverpool. +</p> +<p> +‘If they but knew who we were, Maurice,’ he kept continually muttering as +we went along—‘if these fellows only knew whom they had in their +town, what a rumpus it would create! How the shops would close! What +barricading of doors and windows we should see! What bursts of terror and +patriotism! <i>Par St. Denis</i>, I have a mind to throw up my cap in the +air and cry ‘<i>Vive la République!</i>’ just to witness the scene that +would follow.’ With all these boastings, it was not very difficult to +restrain my friend’s ardour, and to induce him to defer his invasion of +England to a more fitting occasion, so that at last he was fain to content +himself with a sneering commentary on all around him; and in this amiable +spirit we descended into a very dirty cellar to eat our first dinner on +shore. +</p> +<p> +The place was filled with sailors, who, far from indulging in the +well-known careless gaiety of their class, seemed morose and sulky, +talking together in low murmurs, and showing unmistakable signs of +discontent and dissatisfaction. The reason was soon apparent; the +pressgangs were out to take men off to reinforce the blockading force +before Genoa, a service of all others the most distasteful to a seaman. If +Santron at first was ready to flatter himself into the notion that very +little persuasion would make these fellows take part against England, as +he listened longer he saw the grievous error of the opinion, no epithet of +insult or contempt being spared by them when talking of France and +Frenchmen. Whatever national animosity prevailed at that period, sailors +enjoyed a high preeminence in feeling. I have heard that the spirit was +encouraged by those in command, and that narratives of French perfidy, +treachery, and even cowardice, were the popular traditions of the +sea-service. We certainly could not controvert the old adage as to +‘listeners,’ for every observation and every anecdote conveyed a sneer or +an insult on our country. There could be no reproach in listening to these +unresented, but Santron assumed a most indignant air, and more than once +affected to be overcome by a spirit of recrimination. What turn his +actions might have taken in this wise I cannot even guess, for suddenly a +rush of fellows took place up the ladder, and in less than a minute the +whole cellar was cleared, leaving none but the hostess and an old lame +waiter along with ourselves in the place. +</p> +<p> +‘You’ve got a protection, I suppose, sirs,’ said the woman, approaching +us; ‘but still I’ll advise you not to trust to it overmuch; they’re in +great want of men just now, and they care little for law or justice when +once they have them on the high-seas.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We have no protection,’ said I; ‘we are strangers here, and know no one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There they come, sir; that’s the tramp,’ cried the woman; ‘there’s +nothing for it now but to stay quiet and hope you ‘ll not be noticed. Take +those knives up, will ye,’ said she, flinging a napkin towards me, and +speaking in an altered voice, for already two figures were darkening the +entrance, and peering down into the depth below, while turning to Santron +she motioned him to remove the dishes from the table—a service in +which, to do him justice, he exhibited a zeal more flattering to his tact +than his spirit of resistance. +</p> +<p> +‘Tripped their anchors already, Mother Martin?’ said a large-whiskered +man, with a black belt round his waist; while, passing round the tables, +he crammed into his mouth several fragments of the late feast. +</p> +<p> +‘You wouldn’t have ‘em wait for you, Captain John,’ said she, laughing. +</p> +<p> +‘It’s just what I would, then,’ replied he. ‘The Admiralty has put thirty +shillings more on the bounty, and where will these fellows get the like of +that? It isn’t a West India service, neither, nor a coastin’ cruise off +Newfoundland, but all as one as a pleasure-trip up the Mediterranean, and +nothing to fight but Frenchmen. Eh, younker, that tickles your fancy,’ +cried he to Santron, who, in spite of himself, made some gesture of +impatience. +</p> +<p> +‘Handy chaps, those, Mother Martin; where did you chance on’em?’ +</p> +<p> +‘They’re sons of a Canada skipper in the river yonder,’ said she calmly. +</p> +<p> +‘They aren’t over like to be brothers,’ said he, with the grin of one too +well accustomed to knavery to trust anything opposed to his own +observation. ‘I suppose them’s things happens in Canada as elsewhere,’ +said he, laughing, and hoping the jest might turn her flank. Meanwhile the +press leader never took his eyes off me, as I arranged plates and folded +napkins with all the skill which my early education in Boivin’s restaurant +had taught me. +</p> +<p> +‘He is a smart one,’ said he, half musingly. ‘I say, boy, would you like +to go as cook’s aid on board a king’s ship? I know of one as would just +suit you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’d rather not, sir; I’d not like to leave my father,’ said I, backing up +Mrs. Martin’s narrative. +</p> +<p> +‘Nor that brother, there; wouldn’t he like it?’ +</p> +<p> +I shook my head negatively. +</p> +<p> +‘Suppose I have a talk with the skipper about it,’ said he, looking at me +steadily for some seconds. ‘Suppose I was to tell him what a good berth +you ‘d have, eh?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, if he wished it, I’d make no objection,’ said I, assuming all the +calmness I could. +</p> +<p> +‘That chap ain’t your brother—and he’s no sailor neither. Show me +your hands, youngster,’ cried he to Santron, who at once complied with the +order, and the press captain bent over and scanned them narrowly. As he +thus stood with his back to me, the woman shook her head significantly, +and pointed to the ladder. If ever a glance conveyed a whole story of +terror hers did. I looked at my companion as though to say, ‘Can I desert +him?’ and the expression of her features seemed to imply utter despair. +This pantomime did not occupy half a minute. And now, with noiseless step, +I gained the ladder, and crept cautiously up it. My fears were how to +escape those who waited outside; but as I ascended I could see that they +were loitering about in groups, inattentive to all that was going on +below. The shame at deserting my comrade so nearly overcame me, that, when +almost at the top, I was about to turn back again. I even looked round to +see him; but, as I did so, I saw the press leader draw a pair of handcuffs +from his pocket and throw them on the table. The instincts of safety were +too strong, and with a spring I gained the street, and, slipping +noiselessly along the wall, escaped the ‘lookout.’ Without a thought of +where I was going to, or what to do, I ran at the very top of my speed +directly onwards, my only impulse being to get away from the spot. Could I +reach the open country I thought it would be my best chance. As I fled, +however, no signs of a suburb appeared; the streets, on the contrary, grew +narrower and more intricate; huge warehouses, seven or eight storeys high, +loomed at either side of me; and at last, on turning an angle, a fresh +sea-breeze met me, and showed that I was near the harbour. I avow that the +sight of shipping, the tall and taper spars that streaked the sky of +night, the clank of chain-cables, and the heavy surging sound of the +looming hulls, were anything but encouraging, longing as I did for the +rustling leaves of some green lane; but still, all was quiet. A few +flickering lights twinkled here and there from a cabin window, but +everything seemed sunk in repose. +</p> +<p> +The quay was thickly studded with hogsheads and bales of merchandise, so +that I could easily have found a safe resting-place for the night, but a +sense of danger banished all wish for sleep, and I wandered out, restless +and uncertain, framing a hundred plans, and abandoning them when formed. +</p> +<p> +So long as I kept company with Santron, I never thought of returning to +‘Uncle Pat’; my reckless spendthrift companion had too often avowed the +pleasure he would feel in quartering himself on my kind friend, +dissipating his hard-earned gains, and squandering the fruits of all his +toil. Deterred by such a prospect, I resolved rather never to revisit him +than in such company. Now, however, I was again alone, and all my hopes +and wishes turned towards him. A few hours’ sail might again bring me +beneath his roof, and once more should I find myself at home. The thought +was calming to all my excitement; I forgot every danger I had passed +through, I lost all memory of every vicissitude I had escaped, and had +only the little low parlour in the ‘Black Pits’ before my mind’s eye, the +wild, unweeded garden, and the sandy, sunny beach before the door. It was +as though all that nigh a year had compassed had never occurred, and that +my life at Crown Point and my return to England were only a dream. Sleep +overcame me as I thus lay pondering, and when I awoke the sun was +glittering in the bright waves of the Mersey, a fresh breeze was flaunting +and fluttering the half-loosened sails, and the joyous sounds of seamen’s +voices were mingling with the clank of capstans, and the measured stroke +of oars. +</p> +<p> +It was full ten minutes after I awoke before I could remember how I came +there, and what had befallen me. Poor Santron, where is he now? was my +first thought, and it came with all the bitterness of self-reproach. +</p> +<p> +Could I have parted company with him under other circumstances, it would +not have grieved me deeply. His mocking, sarcastic spirit, the tone of +depreciation which he used towards everything and everybody, had gone far +to sour me with the world, and day by day I felt within me the evil +influences of his teachings. How different were they from poor Gottfried’s +lessons, and the humble habits of those who lived beneath them! Yet I was +sorry, deeply sorry, that our separation should have been thus, and almost +wished I had stayed to share his fate, whatever it might be. +</p> +<p> +While thus swayed by different impulses, now thinking of my old home at +Crown Point, now of Uncle Pat’s thatched cabin, and again of Santron, I +strolled down to the wharf, and found myself in a considerable crowd of +people, who were all eagerly pressing forward to witness the embarkation +of several boatfuls of pressed seamen, who, strongly guarded and ironed, +were being conveyed to the <i>Athol</i> tender, a large three-master, +about a mile off, down the river. To judge from the cut faces and bandaged +heads and arms, the capture had not been effected without resistance. Many +of the poor fellows appeared more suited to a hospital than the duties of +active service, and several lay with bloodless faces and white lips, the +handcuffed wrists seeming a very mockery of a condition so destitute of +all chance of resistance. +</p> +<p> +The sympathies of the bystanders were very varied regarding them. Some +were full of tender pity and compassion; some denounced the system as a +cruel ‘and oppressive tyranny; others deplored it as an unhappy necessity; +and a few well-to-do-looking old citizens, in drab shorts and wide-brimmed +hats, grew marvellously indignant at the recreant poltroonery of ‘the +scoundrels who were not proud to fight their country’s battles.’ +</p> +<p> +As I was wondering within myself how it happened that men thus coerced +could ever be depended on in moments of peril and difficulty, and by what +magic the mere exercise of discipline was able to merge the feelings of +the man in the sailor, the crowd was rudely driven back by policemen, and +a cry of ‘Make way,’ ‘Fall back there,’ given. In the sudden retiring of +the mass I found myself standing on the very edge of the line along which +a new body of impressed men were about to pass. Guarded front, flank, and +rear, by a strong party of marines, the poor fellows came along slowly +enough. Many were badly wounded, and walked lamely; some were bleeding +profusely from cuts on the face and temples; and one, at the very tail of +the procession, was actually carried in a blanket by four sailors. A low +murmur ran through the crowd at the spectacle, which gradually swelled +louder and fuller till it burst forth into a deep groan of indignation, +and a cry of ‘Shame I Shame!’ Too much used to such ebullitions of public +feeling, or too proud to care for them, the officer in command of the +party never seemed to hear the angry cries and shouts around him; and I +was even more struck by his cool self-possession than by their enthusiasm. +For a moment or two I was convinced that a rescue would be attempted. I +had no conception that so much excitement could evaporate innocuously, and +was preparing myself to take part in the struggle when the line halted as +the leading files gained the stairs, and, to my wonderment, the crowd +became hushed and still. Then, one burst of excited pity over, not a +thought occurred to any to offer resistance to the law, or dare to oppose +the constituted authorities. How unlike Frenchmen! thought I; nor am I +certain whether I deemed the disparity to their credit! +</p> +<p> +‘Give him a glass of water!’ I heard the officer say, as he leaned over +the litter; and the crowd at once opened to permit some one to fetch it. +Before I believed it were possible to have procured it, a tumbler of water +was passed from hand to hand till it reached mine, and, stepping forwards, +I bent down to give it to the sick man. The end of a coarse sheet was +thrown over his face, and as it was removed I almost fell over him, for it +was Santron. His face was covered with a cold sweat, which lay in great +drops all over it, and his lips were slightly frothed. As he looked up I +could see that he was just rallying from a fainting-fit, and could mark in +the change that came over his glassy eye that he had recognised me. He +made a faint effort at a smile, and, in a voice barely a whisper, said, ‘I +knew thou’d not leave me, Maurice.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You are his countryman?’ said the officer, addressing me in French. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, sir,’ was my reply. +</p> +<p> +‘You are both Canadians, then?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Frenchmen, sir, and officers in the service. We only landed from an +American ship yesterday, and were trying to make our way to France.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m sorry for you,’ said he compassionately; ‘nor do I know how to help +you. Come on board the tender, however, and we’ll see if they’ll not give +you a passage with your friend to the Nore. I’ll speak to my commanding +officer for you.’ +</p> +<p> +This scene all passed in a very few minutes, and before I well knew how or +why, I found myself on board of a ship’s longboat, sweeping along over the +Mersey, with Santron’s head in my lap, and his cold, clammy fingers +grasped in mine. He was either unaware of my presence or too weak to +recognise me, for he gave no sign of knowing me; and during our brief +passage down the river, and when lifted up the ship’s side, seemed totally +insensible to everything. +</p> +<p> +The scene of uproar, noise, and confusion on board the <i>Athol</i> is far +beyond my ability to convey. A shipwreck, a fire, and mutiny, all +combined, could scarcely have collected greater elements of discord. Two +large detachments of marines, many of whom, fresh from furlough, were too +drunk for duty, and were either lying asleep along the deck, or riotously +interfering with everybody; a company of Sappers <i>en route</i> to +Woolwich, who would obey none but their own officer, and he was still +ashore; detachments of able-bodied seamen from the <i>Jupiter</i>, full of +grog and prize-money; four hundred and seventy impressed men, cursing, +blaspheming, and imprecating every species of calamity on their captors; +added to which, a crowd of Jews, bumboat women, and slop-sellers of all +kinds, with the crews of two ballast-lighters, fighting for additional +pay, being the chief actors in a scene whose discord I never saw equalled. +Drunkenness, suffering, hopeless misery, and even insubordination, all +lent their voices to a tumult, amid which the words of command seemed +lost, and all effort at discipline vain. +</p> +<p> +How we were ever to go to sea in this state, I could not even imagine. The +ship’s crew seemed inextricably mingled with the rioters, many of whom +were just sufficiently sober to be eternally meddling with the ship’s +tackle; belaying what ought to be ‘free,’ and loosening what should have +been ‘fast’; getting their fingers jammed in blocks, and their limbs +crushed by spars, till the cries of agony rose high above every other +confusion. Turning with disgust from a spectacle so discordant and +disgraceful, I descended the ladders, which led, by many a successive +flight, into the dark, low-ceilinged chamber called the ‘sick bay,’ where +poor Santron was lying in, what I almost envied, insensibility to the +scene around him. A severe blow from the hilt of a cutlass had caused a +concussion of the brain, and, save in the momentary excitement which a +sudden question might cause, left him totally unconscious. His head had +been already shaved before I descended, and I found the assistant-surgeon, +an Irishman, Mr. Peter Colhayne, experimenting a new mode of cupping as I +entered. By some mischance of the machinery, the lancets of the cupping +instrument had remained permanently fixed, refusing to obey the spring, +and standing all straight outside the surface. In this dilemma, Peter’s +ingenuity saw nothing for it but to press them down vigorously into the +scalp, and then saw them backwards the whole length of the head—a +performance the originality of which, in all probability, was derived from +the operation of a harrow in agriculture. He had just completed a third +track when I came in, and, by great remonstrance and no small flattery, +induced him to desist. ‘We have glasses,’ said he, ‘but they were all +broke in the cock-pit; but a tin porringer is just as good.’ And so +saying, he lighted a little pledget of tow, previously steeped in +turpentine, and, popping it into the tin vessel, clapped it on the head. +This was meant to exhaust the air within, and thus draw the blood to the +surface—a scientific process he was good enough to explain most +minutely for my benefit, and the good results of which he most confidently +vouched for. +</p> +<p> +‘They’ve a hundred new conthrivances,’ said Mr. Colhayne, ‘for doing that +simple thing ye see there. They’ve pumps, and screws, and hydraulic +devilments as much complicated as a watch that’s always getting out of +order and going wrong; but with that ye’ll see what good ‘twill do him; +he’ll he as lively as a lark in ten minutes.’ +</p> +<p> +The prophecy was destined to a perfect fulfilment, for poor Santron, who +lay motionless and unconscious up to that moment, suddenly gave signs of +life by moving his features, and jerking his limbs to this side and that. +The doctor’s self-satisfaction took the very proudest form. He expatiated +on the grandeur of medical science, the wonderful advancement it was +making, and the astonishing progress the curative art had made even within +his own time. I must own that I should have lent a more implicit credence +to this paean if I had not waited for the removal of the cupping-vessel, +which, instead of blood, contained merely the charred ashes of the burnt +tow, while the scalp beneath it presented a blackened, seared aspect, like +burnt leather. Such was literally the effect of the operation; but as from +that period the patient began steadily to improve, I must leave to more +scientific inquirers the task of explaining through what agency, and on +what principles. +</p> +<p> +Santron’s condition, although no longer dangerous, presented little hope +of speedy recovery. His faculties were clouded and obscured, and the mere +effort at recognition seemed to occasion him great subsequent disturbance. +Colhayne, who, whatever may have been his scientific deficiencies, was +good-nature and kindness itself, saw nothing for him but removal to +Haslar, and we now only waited for the ship’s arrival at the Nore to +obtain the order for his transmission. +</p> +<p> +If the <i>Athol</i> was a scene of the wildest confusion and uproar when +we tripped our anchor, we had not been six hours at sea when all was a +picture of order and propriety. The decks were cleared of every one not +actually engaged in the ship’s working, or specially permitted to remain; +ropes were coiled, boats hauled up, sails trimmed, hatches down, sentinels +paced the deck in appointed places, and all was discipline and regularity. +From the decorous silence that prevailed, none could have supposed so many +hundred living beings were aboard, still less, that they were the same +disorderly mob who sailed from the Mersey a few short hours before. From +the surprise which all this caused me I was speedily aroused by an order +more immediately interesting, being summoned on the poop-deck to attend +the general muster. Up they came from holes and hatchways, a vast host, no +longer brawling and insubordinate, but quiet, submissive, and civil. Such +as were wounded had been placed under the doctor’s care, and all those now +present were orderly and servicelike. With a very few exceptions they were +all sailors, a few having already served in a king’s ship. The first +lieutenant, who first inspected us, was a grim, greyheaded man past the +prime of life, with features hardened by disappointment and long service, +but who still retained an expression of kindliness and good-nature. His +duty he despatched with all the speed of long habit—read the name, +looked at the bearer of it, asked a few routine questions, and then cried +‘Stand by,’ even ere the answers were finished. When he came to me he said— +</p> +<p> +‘Abraham Hackett. Is that your name, lad?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir. I ‘m called Maurice Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay, Tiernay,’ said he a couple of times over. ‘No such name here.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Where’s Tiernay’s name, Cottle?’ asked he of a subordinate behind him. +</p> +<p> +The fellow looked down the list—then at me—then at the list +again—and then back to me, puzzled excessively by the difficulty, +but not seeing how to explain it. +</p> +<p> +‘Perhaps I can set the matter right, sir,’ said I. ‘I came aboard along +with a wounded countryman of mine—the young Frenchman who is now in +the sick bay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, to be sure; I remember all about it now,’ said the lieutenant, ‘You +call yourselves French officers?’ ‘And such are we, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then how the devil came ye here? Mother Martin’s cellar is, to say the +least of it, an unlikely spot to select as a restaurant.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The story is a somewhat long one, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then I haven’t time for it, lad,’ he broke in. ‘We’ve rather too much on +hand just now for that. If you ‘ve got your papers, or anything to prove +what you assert, I’ll land you when I come into the Downs, and you’ll, of +course, be treated as your rank in the service requires. If you have not, +I must only take the responsibility on myself to regard you as an +impressed man. Very hard, I know, but can’t help it. Stand by.’ +</p> +<p> +These few words were uttered with a most impetuous speed; and as all reply +to them was impossible, I saw my case decided and my fate decreed, even +before I knew they were under litigation. +</p> +<p> +As we were marched forwards to go below, I overheard an officer say to +another— +</p> +<p> +‘Hay will get into a scrape about those French fellows; they may turn out +to be officers, after all.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What matter?’ cried the other. ‘One is dying; and the other Hay means to +draft on board the <i>Téméraire</i>. Depend upon it, we’ll never hear more +of either of them.’ +</p> +<p> +This was far from pleasant tidings; and yet I knew not any remedy for the +mishap. I had never seen the officer who spoke to me ashore since we came +on board. I knew of none to intercede for me; and as I sat down on the +bench beside poor Santron’s cot, I felt my heart lower than it had ever +been before. I was never enamoured of the sea-service; and certainly the +way to overcome my dislike was not by engaging against my own country; and +yet this, in all likelihood, was now to be my fate. These were my last +waking thoughts the first night I passed on board the <i>Athol</i>. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIII. A BOLD STROKE FOR FAME AND FORTUNE +</h2> +<p> +To be awakened suddenly from a sound sleep, hurried half-dressed up a +gangway, and, ere your faculties have acquired free play, be passed over a +ship’s side, on a dark and stormy night, into a boat wildly tossed here +and there, with spray showering over you, and a chorus of loud voices +about you, is an event not easily forgotten. Such a scene still dwells in +my memory, every incident of it as clear and distinct as though it had +occurred only yesterday. In this way was I ‘passed,’ with twelve others, +on board his Majesty’s frigate, <i>Téméraire</i>, a vessel which, in the +sea-service, represented what a well-known regiment did on shore, and bore +the reputation of being a ‘condemned ship’—this depreciating epithet +having no relation to the qualities of the vessel herself, which was a +singularly beautiful French model, but only to that of the crew and +officers, it being the policy of the day to isolate the blackguards of +both services, confining them to particular crafts and corps, making, as +it were, a kind of <i>index expurgatorius</i>, where all the rascality was +available at a moment’s notice. +</p> +<p> +It would be neither agreeable to my reader nor myself, if I should dwell +on this theme, nor linger on a description where cruelty, crime, heartless +tyranny, and reckless insubordination made up all the elements. A vessel +that floated the seas only as a vast penitentiary—the ‘cats,’ the +‘yard-arm,’ and the ‘gangway,’ comprising its scheme of discipline—would +scarcely be an agreeable subject. And, in reality, my memory retains of +the life aboard little else than scenes of suffering and sorrow. Captain +Gesbrook had the name of being able to reduce any, the most insubordinate, +to discipline. The veriest rascals of the fleet, the consummate +scoundrels, one of whom was deemed pollution to an ordinary crew, were +said to come from his hands models of seamanship and good conduct; and it +must be owned, that if the character was deserved, it was not obtained +without some sacrifice. Many died under punishment; many carried away with +them diseases under which they lingered on to death; and not a few +preferred suicide to the terrible existence on board. And although a +‘Téméraire’—as a man who had served in her was always afterwards +called—was now and then shown as an example of sailorlike smartness +and activity, very few knew how dearly that one success had been +purchased, nor by what terrible examples of agony and woe that solitary +conversion was obtained. +</p> +<p> +To me the short time I spent on board of her is a dreadful dream. We were +bound for the Mediterranean, to touch at Malta and Gibraltar, and then +join the blockading squadron before Genoa. What might have been my fate, +to what excess passionate indignation might have carried me, revolted as I +was by tyranny and injustice, I know not, when an accident, happily for +me, rescued me from all temptation. We lost our mizzen-mast, in a storm, +in the Bay of Biscay, and a dreadful blow on the head, from the +spanker-boom, felled me to the deck, with a fracture of the skull. +</p> +<p> +From that moment I know of nothing till the time when I lay in my cot, +beside a port-hole of the maindeck, gazing at the bright blue waters that +flashed and rippled beside me, or straining my strength to rest on my +elbow, when I caught sight of the glorious city of Genoa, with its grand +mountain background, about three miles from where I lay. Whether from a +due deference to the imposing strength of the vast fortress, or that the +line of duty prescribed our action, I cannot say, but the British squadron +almost exclusively confined its operations to the act of blockade. +Extending far across the bay, the English ensign was seen floating from +many a taper mast, while boats of every shape and size plied incessantly +from ship to ship, their course marked out at night by the meteorlike +light that glittered in them; not, indeed, that the eye often turned in +that direction, all the absorbing interest of the scene lying inshore. +Genoa was, at that time, surrounded by an immense Austrian force, under +the command of General Melas, who, occupying all the valleys and deep +passes of the Apennines, were imperceptible during the day; but no sooner +had night closed in, than a tremendous cannonade began, the balls +describing great semicircles in the air ere they fell to scatter death and +ruin on the devoted city. The spectacle was grand beyond description, for +while the distance at which we lay dulled and subdued the sound of the +artillery to a hollow booming, like far-off thunder, the whole sky was +streaked by the course of the shot, and, at intervals, lighted up by the +splendour of a great fire, as the red shot fell into and ignited some +large building or other. +</p> +<p> +As, night after night, the cannonade increased in power and intensity, and +the terrible effects showed themselves in flames which burst out from +different quarters of the city, I used to long for morning, to see if the +tricolour still floated on the walls; and when my eye caught the +well-known ensign, I could have wept with joy as I beheld it. +</p> +<p> +High up, too, on the cliffs of the rugged Apennines, from many a craggy +eminence, where perhaps a solitary gun was stationed, I could see the +beloved flag of France, the emblem of liberty and glory! +</p> +<p> +In the day the scene was one of calm and tranquil beauty. It would have +seemed impossible to connect it with war and battle. The glorious city, +rising in terraces of palaces, lay reflected in the mirrorlike waters of +the bay, blue as the deep sky above them. The orange-trees, loaded with +golden fruit, shed their perfume over marble fountains, amid gardens of +every varied hue; bands of military music were heard from the public +promenades—all the signs of joy and festivity which betokened a +happy and pleasure-seeking population. But at night the ‘red artillery’ +again flashed forth, and the wild cries of strife and battle rose through +the beleaguered city. The English spies reported that a famine and a +dreadful fever were raging within the walls, and that all Masséna’s +efforts were needed to repress an open mutiny of the garrison; but the +mere aspect of the ‘proud city’ seemed to refute the assertion. The gay +carolling of church bells vied with the lively strains of martial music, +and the imposing pomp of military array, which could be seen from the +walls, bespoke a joyous confidence, the very reverse of this depression. +</p> +<p> +From the ‘tops,’ and high up in the rigging, the movements inshore could +be descried; and frequently, when an officer came down to visit a comrade, +I could hear of the progress of the siege, and learn, I need not say with +what delight, that the Austrians had made little or no way in the +reduction of the place, and that every stronghold and bastion was still +held by Frenchmen. +</p> +<p> +At first, as I listened, the names of new places and new generals confused +me; but by daily familiarity with the topic, I began to perceive that the +Austrians had interposed a portion of their force between Masséna’s +division and that of Suchet, cutting off the latter from Genoa, and +compelling him to fall back towards Chiavari and Borghetto, along the +coast of the Gulf. This was the first success of any importance obtained; +and it was soon followed by others of equal significance, Soult being +driven from ridge to ridge of the Apennines, until he was forced back +within the second line of defences. +</p> +<p> +The English officers were loud in condemning Austrian slowness—the +inaptitude they exhibited to profit by a success, and the over-caution +which made them, even in victory, so careful of their own safety. From +what I overheard, it seemed plain that Genoa was untenable by any troops +but French, or opposed to any other adversaries than their present ones. +</p> +<p> +The bad tidings—such I deemed them—came quicker and heavier. +Now, Soult was driven from Monte Notte. Now, the great advance post of +Monte Faccio was stormed and carried. Now, the double eagle was floating +from San Tecla, a fort within cannon-shot of Genoa, A vast semicircle of +bivouac fires stretched from the Apennines to the sea, and their reflected +glare from the sky lit up the battlements and ramparts of the city. +</p> +<p> +‘Even yet, if Masséna would make a dash at them,’ said a young English +lieutenant,’ the white-coats would fallback.’ +</p> +<p> +‘My life on ‘t he ‘d cut his way through, if he knew they were only two to +one!’ +</p> +<p> +And this sentiment met no dissentient. All agreed that French heroism was +still equal to the overthrow of a force double its own. +</p> +<p> +It was evident that all hope of reinforcement from France was vain. Before +they could have begun their march southward, the question must be decided +one way or other. +</p> +<p> +‘There’s little doing to-night,’ said an officer, as he descended the +ladder to the sick bay. ‘Melas is waiting for some heavy mortars that are +coming up; and then there will be a long code of instructions from the +Aulic Council, and a whole treatise on gunnery to be read, before he can +use them. Trust me, if Masséna knew his man, he ‘d be up and at him.’ +</p> +<p> +Much discussion followed this speech, but all more or less agreed in its +sentiment. Weak as were the French, lowered by fever and by famine, they +were still an overmatch for their adversaries. What a glorious avowal from +the lips of an enemy was this! The words did more for my recovery than all +the cares and skill of physic Oh, if my countrymen but knew! if Masséna +could but hear it! was my next thought; and I turned my eyes to the +ramparts, whose line was marked out by the bivouac fires, through the +darkness. How short the distance seemed, and yet it was a whole world of +separation. Had it been a great plain in a mountain tract, the attempt +might almost have appeared practicable; at least, I had often seen fellows +who would have tried it. Such were the ready roads, the royal paths, to +promotion, and he who trod them saved miles of weary journey. I fell +asleep, still thinking on these things; but they haunted my dreams. A +voice seemed ever to whisper in my ear—‘If Masséna but knew, he +would attack them. One bold dash, and the Austrians would fall back.’ At +one instant, I thought myself brought before a court-martial of English +officers, for attempting to carry these tidings; and proudly avowing the +endeavour, I fancied I was braving the accusation. At another, I was +wandering through the streets of Genoa, gazing on the terrible scenes of +famine I had heard of. And lastly, I was marching with a night party to +attack the enemy. The stealthy footfall of the column appeared suddenly to +cease; we were discovered; the Austrian cavalry were upon us! I started +and awoke, and found myself in the dim, half-lighted chamber, with pain +and suffering around me, and where, even in this midnight hour, the +restless tortures of disease were yet wakeful. +</p> +<p> +‘The silence is more oppressive to me than the roll of artillery,’ said +one, a sick midshipman, to his comrade. ‘I grew accustomed to the clatter +of the guns, and slept all the better for it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You ‘ll scarcely hear much more of that music,’ replied his friend. ‘The +French must capitulate to-morrow or next day.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not if Masséna would make a dash at them,’ thought I; and with difficulty +could I refrain from uttering the words aloud. +</p> +<p> +They continued to talk to each other in low whispers, and, lulled by the +drowsy tones, I fell asleep once more, again to dream of my comrades and +their fortunes. A heavy bang like a cannon-shot awoke me; but whether this +were real or not I never knew; most probably, however, it was the mere +creation of my brain, for all were now in deep slumber around me, and even +the marine on duty had seated himself on the ladder, and with his musket +between his legs, seemed dozing away peacefully. I looked out through the +little window beside my berth. A light breeze was faintly rippling the +dark water beneath me. It was the beginning of a ‘Levanter,’ and scarcely +ruffled the surface as it swept along. +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, if it would but bear the tidings I am full of!’ thought I. ‘But why +not dare the attempt myself?’ While in America I had learned to become a +good swimmer. Under Indian teaching, I had often passed hours in the +water; and though now debilitated by long sickness, I felt that the cause +would supply me with the strength I needed. From the instant that I +conceived the thought, till I found myself descending the ship’s side, was +scarcely a minute. Stripping off my woollen shirt, and with nothing but my +loose trousers, I crept through the little window, and lowering myself +gently by the rattlin of my hammock, descended slowly and noiselessly into +the sea. I hung on thus for a couple of seconds, half fearing the attempt, +and irresolute of purpose. Should strength fail, or even a cramp seize me, +I must be lost, and none would ever know in what an enterprise I had +perished. It would be set down as a mere attempt at escape. This notion +almost staggered my resolution, but only for a second or so; and with a +short prayer, I slowly let slip the rope, and struck out to swim. +</p> +<p> +The immense efforts required to get clear of the ship’s side discouraged +me dreadfully, nor probably without the aid of the ‘Levanter’ should I +have succeeded in doing so, the suction of the water along the sides was +so powerful. At last, however, I gained the open space, and found myself +stretching away towards shore rapidly. The night was so dark that I had +nothing to guide me save the lights on the ramparts; but in this lay my +safety. Swimming is, after all, but a slow means of progression. After +what I judged to be an hour in the water, as I turned my head to look +back, I almost fancied that the great bowsprit of the <i>Téméraire</i> was +over me, and that the figure who leaned over the taffrail was steadily +gazing on me. How little way had I made, and what a vast reach of water +lay between me and the shore! I tried to animate my courage by thinking of +the cause, how my comrades would greet me, the honour in which they would +hold me for the exploit, and such like; but the terror of failure damped +this ardour, and hope sank every moment lower and lower. +</p> +<p> +For some time I resolved within myself not to look back—the +discouragement was too great; but the impulse to do so became all the +greater, and the only means of resisting was by counting the strokes, and +determining not to turn my head before I had made a thousand. The monotony +of this last, and the ceaseless effort to advance, threw me into a kind of +dreamy state, wherein mere mechanical effort remained. A few vague +impressions are all that remain to me of what followed. I remember the +sound of the morning guns from the fleet; I remember, too, the hoisting of +the French standard at daybreak on the fort of the Mole; I have some +recollection of a bastion crowded with people, and hearing shouts and +cheers like voices of welcome and encouragement; and then a whole fleet of +small boats issuing from the harbour, as if by one impulse; and then there +comes a bright blaze of light over one incident, for I saw myself, +dripping and almost dead, lifted on the shoulders of strong men, and +carried along a wide street filled with people. I was in Genoa! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIV. GENOA IN THE SIEGE +</h2> +<p> +Up a straight street, so steep and so narrow that it seemed a stair, with +hundreds of men crowding around me, I was borne along. Now, they were +sailors who carried me; now, white-bearded grenadiers, with their bronzed, +bold faces; now, they were the wild-looking Faquini of the Mole, with +long-tasselled red caps, and gaudy sashes around their waists. Windows +were opened on either side as we went, and eager faces protruded to stare +at me; and then there were shouts and cries of triumphant joy bursting +forth at every moment, amidst which I could hear the ever-recurring words—‘Escaped +from the English fleet.’ +</p> +<p> +By what means, or when, I had exchanged my dripping trousers of coarse +sailcloth for the striped gear of our republican mode—how one had +given me his jacket, another a cap, and a third a shirt—I knew not; +but there I was, carried along in triumph, half fainting from exhaustion, +and almost maddened by excitement. That I must have told something of my +history—Heaven knows how incoherently and unconnectedly—is +plain enough, for I could hear them repeating one to the other—‘Had +served with Moreau’s corps in the Black Forest;’ ‘A hussar of the Ninth;’ +‘One of Humbert’s fellows’; and so on. +</p> +<p> +As we turned into a species of ‘Place,’ a discussion arose as to whither +they should convey me. Some were for the ‘Cavalry Barracks,’ that I might +be once more with those who resembled my old comrades. Others, more +considerate, were for the hospital; but a staff-officer decided the +question by stating that the general was at that very moment receiving the +report in the church of the Annunziata, and that he ought to see me at +once. +</p> +<p> +‘Let the poor fellow have some refreshment,’ cried one. ‘Here, take this, +it’s coffee.’ ‘No, no, the <i>petite goutte</i> is hotter—try that +flask.’ ‘He shall have my chocolate,’ said an old major, from the door of +a café; and thus they pressed and solicited me with a generosity that I +had yet to learn how dear it cost. +</p> +<p> +‘He ought to be dressed’; ‘He should be in uniform’; ‘Is better as he is’; +‘The general will not speak to him thus’; ‘He will’; ‘He must.’ +</p> +<p> +Such, and such like, kept buzzing around me, as with reeling brain and +confused vision they bore me up the great steps, and carried me into a +gorgeous church, the most splendidly ornamented building I had ever +beheld. Except, however, in the decorations of the ceiling, and the images +of saints which figured in niches high up, every trace of a religious +edifice had disappeared. The pulpit had gone—the chairs and seats +for the choir, the confessionals, the shrines, altars—all had been +uprooted, and a large table, at which some twenty officers were seated +writing, now occupied the elevated platform of the high altar, while here +and there stood groups of officers, with their reports from their various +corps or parties in out-stations. Many of these drew near to me as I +entered, and now the buzz of voices in question and rejoinder swelled into +a loud noise; and while some were recounting my feat with all the seeming +accuracy of eye-witnesses, others were as resolutely protesting it all to +be impossible. Suddenly the tumult was hushed, the crowd fell back, and as +the clanking muskets proclaimed ‘a salute,’ a whispered murmur announced +the ‘general.’ +</p> +<p> +I could just see the waving plumes of his staff, as they passed up; and +then, as they were disappearing in the distance, they stopped, and one +hastily returned to the entrance of the church. +</p> +<p> +‘Where is this fellow? let me see him,’ cried he hurriedly, brushing his +way through the crowd. ‘Let him stand down; set him on his legs.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He is too weak, <i>capitaine</i>,’ said a soldier. +</p> +<p> +‘Place him in a chair, then,’ said the aide-de-camp, for such he was. ‘You +have made your escape from the English fleet, my man?’ continued he, +addressing me. +</p> +<p> +‘I am an officer, and your comrade,’ replied I proudly; for with all my +debility, the tone of his address stung me to the quick. +</p> +<p> +‘In what service, pray?’ asked he, with a sneering look at my motley +costume. +</p> +<p> +‘Your general shall hear where I have served, and how, whenever he is +pleased to ask me,’ was my answer. +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, <i>parbleu!</i>, cried three or four <i>sous-officiers</i> in a +breath, ‘the general shall see him himself.’ +</p> +<p> +And with a jerk they hoisted me once more on their shoulders, and with a +run—the regular storming tramp of the line—they advanced up +the aisle of the church, and never halted till within a few feet of where +the staff were gathered around the general. A few words—they sounded +like a reprimand—followed; a severe voice bade the soldiers ‘fall +back,’ and I found myself standing alone before a tall and very strongly +built man, with a large, red-brown beard; he wore a grey upper coat over +his uniform, and carried a riding-whip in his hand. +</p> +<p> +‘Get him a seat. Let him have a glass of wine,’ cried he quickly, as he +saw the tottering efforts I was making to keep my legs. ‘Are you better +now?’ asked he, in a voice which, rough as it was, sounded kindly. +</p> +<p> +Seeing me so far restored, he desired me to recount my late adventure, +which I did in the fewest words, and the most concise fashion, I could. +Although never interrupting, I could mark that particular portions of my +narrative made much impression on him, and he could not repress a gesture +of impatience when I told him that I was impressed as a seaman to fight +against the flag of my own country. +</p> +<p> +‘Of course, then,’ cried he, ‘you were driven to the alternative of this +attempt.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not so, general,’ said I, interrupting; ‘I had grown to be very +indifferent about my own fortunes. I had become half fatalist as to +myself. It was on very different grounds, indeed, that I dared this +danger. It was to tell you, for if I mistake not I am addressing General +Massvna, tidings of deep importance.’ +</p> +<p> +I said these words slowly and deliberately, and giving them all the +impressiveness I was able. +</p> +<p> +‘Come this way, friend,’ said he, and, assisting me to arise, he led me a +short distance off, and desired me to sit down on the steps in front of +the altar railing. ‘Now, you may speak freely. I am the General Masséna, +and I have only to say, that if you really have intelligence of any value +for me, you shall be liberally rewarded; but if you have not, and if the +pretence be merely an effort to impose on one whose cares and anxieties +are already hard to bear, it would be better that you had perished on sea +than tried to attempt it.’ +</p> +<p> +There was a stern severity in the way he said this, which for a moment or +two actually overpowered me. It was quite clear that he looked for some +positive fact, some direct piece of information on which he might +implicitly rely; and here was I now with nothing save the gossip of some +English lieutenants, the idle talk of inexperienced young officers. I was +silent. From the bottom of my heart I wished that I had never reached the +shore, to stand in a position of such humiliation as this. +</p> +<p> +‘So, then, my caution was not unneeded,’ said the general, as he bent his +heavy brows upon me. ‘Now, sir, there is but one amende you can make for +this; tell me frankly, have others sent you on this errand, or is the +scheme entirely of your own devising? Is this an English plot, or is there +a Bourbon element in it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Neither one nor the other,’ said I boldly, for indignation at last gave +me courage. ‘I hazarded my life to tell you what I overheard among the +officers of the fleet yonder; you may hold their judgment cheap; you may +not think their counsels worth the pains of listening to; but I could form +no opinion of this, and only thought if these tidings could reach you, you +might profit by them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And what are they?’ asked he bluntly. +</p> +<p> +‘They said that your force was wasting away by famine and disease; that +your supplies could not hold out above a fortnight; that your granaries +were empty, and your hospitals filled.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They scarcely wanted the gift of second-sight to see this,’ said he +bitterly. ‘A garrison in close siege for four months may be suspected of +as much.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; but they said that as Soult’s force fell back upon the city, your +position would be rendered worse.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Fell back from where?’ asked he, with a searching look at me. +</p> +<p> +‘As I understood, from the Apennines,’ replied I, growing more confident +as I saw that he became more attentive. ‘If I understood them aright, +Soult held a position called the “Monte Faccio.” Is there such a name?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Go on,’ said he, with a nod of assent. +</p> +<p> +‘That this could not long be tenable without gaining the highest fortified +point of the mountain. The “Monte Creto” they named it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The attempt on which has failed!’ said Masséna, as if carried away by the +subject; ‘and Soult himself is a prisoner! Go on.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They added, that now but one hope remained for this army.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And what was that, sir?’ said he fiercely. ‘What suggestion of cunning +strategy did these sea-wolves intimate?’ +</p> +<p> +‘To cut your way through the blockade, and join Suchet’s corps, attacking +the Austrians at the Monte Ratte, and by the sea-road gaining the heights +of Bochetta.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Do these heroic spirits know the strength of the same Austrian corps? did +they tell you that it numbered fifty-four thousand bayonets?’ +</p> +<p> +‘They called them below forty thousand; and that now that Bonaparte was on +his way through the Alps, perhaps by this over the Mount Cenis——’ +</p> +<p> +‘What! did they say this? Is Bonaparte so near us?’ cried he, placing a +hand on either shoulder, as he stared me in the face. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; there is no doubt of that. The despatch to Lord Keith brought the +news a week ago, and there is no secret made about it in the fleet.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Over Mount Cenis!’ repeated he to himself. ‘Already in Italy!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Holding straight for Milan, Lord Keith thinks,’ added I. +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir, straight for the Tuileries,’ cried Masséna sternly; and then +correcting himself suddenly, he burst into a forced laugh. I must confess +that the speech puzzled me sorely at the time, but I lived to learn its +meaning; and many a time have I wondered at the shrewd foresight which +even then read the ambitious character of the future Emperor. +</p> +<p> +‘Of this fact, then, you are quite certain. Bonaparte is on his march +hither?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have heard it spoken of every day for the last week,’ replied I; ‘and +it was in consequence of this that the English officers used to remark, if +Masséna but knew it, he’d make a dash at them, and clear his way through +at once.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They said this, did they?’ said he, in a low voice, and as if pondering +over it. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; one and all agreed in thinking there could not be a doubt of the +result.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Where have you served, sir?’ asked he, suddenly turning on me, and with a +look that showed he was resolved to test the character of the witness. +</p> +<p> +‘With Moreau, sir, on the Rhine and the Schwarz-wald; in Ireland with +Humbert.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your regiment?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Ninth Hussar.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The “Tapageurs”’ said he, laughing. ‘I know them, and glad I am not to +have their company here at this moment; you were a lieutenant?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, supposing that, on the faith of what you have told me, I was to +follow the wise counsel of these gentlemen, would you like the alternative +of gaining your promotion in the event of success, or being shot by a <i>peloton</i> +if we fail.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They seem sharp terms, sir,’ said I, smiling, ‘when it is remembered that +no individual efforts of mine can either promote one result or the other.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, but they can, sir,’ cried he quickly. ‘If you should turn out to be +an Austro-English spy; if these tidings be of a character to lead my +troops into danger; if, in reliance on you, I should be led to compromise +the honour and safety of a French army—your life, were it worth ten +thousand times over your own value of it, would be a sorry recompense. Is +this intelligible?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Far more intelligible than flattering,’ said I, laughing; for I saw that +the best mode to treat him was by an imitation of his own frank and +careless humour. ‘I have already risked that life you hold so cheaply to +convey this information, but I am still ready to accept the conditions you +offer me, if, in the event of success, my name appear in the despatch.’ +</p> +<p> +He again stared at me with his dark and piercing eyes; but I stood the +glance with a calm conscience, and he seemed so to read it, for he said— +</p> +<p> +‘Be it so. I will, meanwhile, test your prudence. Let nothing of this +interview transpire—not a word of it among the officers and comrades +you shall make acquaintance with. You shall serve on my own staff. Go now, +and recruit your strength for a couple of days, and then report yourself +at headquarters when ready for duty.—Latrobe, look to the Lieutenant +Tiernay; see that he wants for nothing, and let him have a horse and a +uniform as soon as may be.’ +</p> +<p> +Captain Latrobe, the future General of Division, was then a young gay +officer of about five-and-twenty, very good-looking, and full of life and +spirits—a buoyancy which the terrible uncertainties of the siege +could not repress. +</p> +<p> +‘Our general talks nobly, Tiernay,’ said he, as he gave me his arm to +assist me; ‘but you ‘ll stare when I tell you that “wanting for nothing” + means, having four ounces of black bread, and ditto of blue cheese, per +diem; and as to a horse, if I possessed such an animal, I’d have given a +dinner-party yesterday and eaten him. You look surprised, but when you see +a little more of us here, you’ll begin to think that prison rations in the +fleet yonder were luxuries compared to what we have. No matter, you shall +take share of my superabundance; and if I have little else to offer, I’ll +show you a view from my window, finer than anything you ever looked on in +your life, and with a sea-breeze that would be glorious if it didn’t make +one hungry.’ +</p> +<p> +While he thus rattled on, we reached the street, and there, calling a +couple of soldiers forward, he directed them to carry me along to his +quarters, which lay in the upper town, on an elevated plateau that +overlooked the city and the bay together. +</p> +<p> +From the narrow lanes, flanked with tall, gloomy houses, and steep, +ill-paved streets, exhibiting poverty and privation of every kind, we +suddenly emerged into an open space of grass, at one side of which a +handsome iron railing stood, with a richly ornamented gate, gorgeously +gilded. Within this was a garden and a fish-pond, surrounded with statues, +and farther on, a long, low villa, whose windows reached to the ground, +and were shaded by a deep awning of striped blue and white canvas. +</p> +<p> +Camellias, orange-trees, cactuses, and magnolias abounded everywhere; +tulips and hyacinths seemed to grow wild; and there was in the +half-neglected look of the spot something of savage luxuriance that +heightened the effect immensely. +</p> +<p> +‘This is my Paradise, Tiernay, only wanting an Eve to be perfect,’ said +Latrobe, as he set me down beneath a spreading lime-tree. ‘Yonder are your +English friends; there they stretch away for miles beyond that point. +That’s the Monte Creto, you may have heard of; and there’s the Bochetta. +In that valley, to the left, the Austrian outposts are stationed; and from +those two heights closer to the shore, they are gracious enough to salute +us every evening after sunset, and even prolong the attention sometimes +the whole night through. Turn your eyes in this direction, and you’ll see +the “cornice” road, that leads to la belle France, but of which we see as +much from this spot as we are ever like to do. So much for the geography +of our position; and now to look after your breakfast. You have, of +course, heard that we do not revel in superfluities. Never was the boasted +excellence of our national cookery more severely tested, for we have +successively descended from cows and sheep to goats, horses, donkeys, +dogs, occasionally experimenting on hides and shoe-leather, till we ended +by regarding a rat as a rarity, and deeming a mouse a delicacy of the +season. As for vegetables, there would not have been a flowering plant in +all Genoa, if tulip and ranunculus roots had not been bitter as aloes. +These seem very inhospitable confessions, but I make them the more freely +since I am about to treat you <i>en gourmet</i>. Come in now, and +acknowledge that juniper bark isn’t bad coffee, and that commissary bread +is not to be thought of “lightly.”’ +</p> +<p> +In this fashion did my comrade invite me to a meal, which, even with this +preface, was far more miserable and scanty than I looked for. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXV. A NOVEL COUNCIL OP WAR +</h2> +<p> +I had scarcely finished my breakfast, when a group of officers rode up to +our quarters to visit me. My arrival had already created an immense +sensation in the city, and all kinds of rumours were afloat as to the +tidings I had brought. The meagreness of the information would, indeed, +have seemed in strong contrast to the enterprise and hazard of the escape, +had I not the craft to eke it out by that process of suggestion and +speculation in which I was rather an adept. +</p> +<p> +Little in substance as my information was, all the younger officers were +in favour of acting upon it. The English are no bad judges of our position +and chances, was the constant argument. They see exactly how we stand; +they know the relative forces of our army and the enemy’s; and if the +‘cautious islanders’—such was the phrase—advised a <i>coup de +main</i>, it surely must have much in its favour. I lay stress upon the +remark, trifling as it may seem; but it is curious to know, that with all +the immense successes of England on sea, her reputation at that time among +Frenchmen was rather for prudent and well-matured undertaking than for +those daring enterprises which are as much the character of her courage. +</p> +<p> +My visitors continued to pour in during the morning—officers of +every arm and rank, some from mere idle curiosity, some to question and +interrogate, and not a few to solve doubts in their mind as to my being +really French, and a soldier, and not an agent of that ‘perfide Albion,’ +whose treachery was become a proverb amongst us. Many were disappointed at +my knowing so little. I neither could tell the date of Napoleon’s passing +St. Gothard, nor the amount of his force; neither knew I whether he meant +to turn eastward towards the plains of Lombardy, or march direct to the +relief of Genoa. Of Moreau’s successes in Germany, too, I had only heard +vaguely, and, of course, could recount nothing. I could overhear, +occasionally, around and about me, the murmurs of dissatisfaction my +ignorance called forth, and was not a little grateful to an old artillery +captain for saying, ‘That’s the very best thing about the lad; a spy would +have had his whole lesson by heart.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You are right, sir,’ cried I, catching at the words; ‘I may know but +little, and that little, perhaps, valueless and insignificant, but my +truth no man shall gainsay.’ +</p> +<p> +The boldness of this speech from one wasted and miserable as I was, with +tattered shoes and ragged clothes, caused a hearty laugh, in which, as +much from policy as feeling, I joined myself. +</p> +<p> +‘Come here, <i>mon cher</i>,’ said an infantry colonel, as, walking to the +door of the room, he drew his telescope from his pocket; ‘you tell us of a +<i>coup de main</i>—on the Monte Faccio, is it not?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes,’ replied I promptly, ‘so I understand the name.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, have you ever seen the place?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Never.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, there it is yonder’; and he handed me his glass as he spoke. ‘You +see that large beetling cliff, with the olives at the foot? There, on the +summit, stands the Monte Faccio. The road—the pathway rather, and a +steep one it is—leads up where you see those goats feeding, and +crosses in front of the crag, directly beneath the fire of the batteries. +There’s not a spot on the whole ascent where three men could march +abreast; and wherever there is any shelter from fire, the guns of the +“Sprona,” that small fort to the right, take the whole position. What do +you think of your counsel now?’ +</p> +<p> +‘You forget, sir, it is not my counsel. I merely repeat what I overheard.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And do you mean to say, that the men who gave that advice were serious, +or capable of adopting it themselves?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Most assuredly; they would never recommend to others what they felt +unequal to themselves. I know these English well, and so much will I say +of them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Bah!’ cried he, with an insolent gesture of his hand, and turned away; +and I could plainly see that my praises of the enemy were very ill-taken. +In fact, my unlucky burst of generosity had done more to damage my credit +than all the dangerous or impracticable features of my scheme. Every eye +was turned to the bold precipice, and the stern fortress that crowned it, +and all agreed that an attack must be hopeless. +</p> +<p> +I saw, too late, the great fault I had committed, and that nothing could +be more wanting in tact than to suggest to Frenchmen an enterprise which +Englishmen deemed practicable, and which yet, to the former, seemed beyond +all reach of success. The insult was too palpable and too direct; but to +retract was impossible, and I had now to sustain a proposition which gave +offence on every side. +</p> +<p> +It was very mortifying to me to see how soon all my personal credit was +merged in this unhappy theory. No one thought more of my hazardous escape, +the perils I encountered, or the sufferings I had undergone. All that was +remembered of me was the affront I had offered to the national courage, +and the preference I had implied to English bravery. +</p> +<p> +Never did I pass a more tormenting day. New arrivals continually refreshed +the discussion, and always with the same results. And although some were +satisfied to convey their opinions by a shake of the head or a dubious +smile, others, more candid than civil, plainly intimated that if I had +nothing of more consequence to tell, I might as well have stayed where I +was, and not added one more to a garrison so closely pressed by hunger. +Very little more of such reasoning would have persuaded myself of its +truth, and I almost began to wish that I was once more back in the ‘sick +bay’ of the frigate. +</p> +<p> +Towards evening I was left alone. My host went down to the town on duty; +and after the visit of a tailor, who came to try on me a staff uniform—a +distinction, I afterwards learned, owing to the abundance of this class of +costume, and not to any claims I could prefer to the rank—I was +perfectly free to stroll about where I pleased unmolested, and, no small +blessing, unquestioned. +</p> +<p> +On following along the walls for some distance, I came to a part where a +succession of deep ravines opened at the foot of the bastions, conducting +by many a tortuous and rocky glen to the Apennines. The sides of these +gorges were dotted here and there with wild hollies and fig-trees, stunted +and ill-thriven, as the nature of the soil might imply. Still, for the +sake of the few berries, or the sapless fruit they bore, the soldiers of +the garrison were accustomed to creep out from the embrasures and descend +the steep cliffs—a peril great enough in itself, but terribly +increased by the risk of exposure to the enemy’s tirailleurs, as well as +the consequences such indiscipline would bring down on them. +</p> +<p> +So frequent, however, had been these infractions, that little footpaths +were worn bare along the face of the cliff, traversing in many a zigzag a +surface that seemed like a wall. It was almost incredible that men would +brave such peril for so little, but famine had rendered them indifferent +to death; and although debility exhibited itself in every motion and +gesture, the men would stand unshrinking and undismayed beneath the fire +of a battery. At one spot, near the angle of a bastion, and where some +shelter from the north winds protected the place, a little clump of +orange-trees stood; and towards these, though fully a mile off, many a +foot-track led, showing how strong had been the temptation in that +quarter. To reach it, the precipice should be traversed, the gorge beneath +and a considerable ascent of the opposite mountain accomplished; and yet +all these dangers had been successfully encountered, merely instigated by +hunger! +</p> +<p> +High above this very spot, at a distance of perhaps eight hundred feet, +stood the Monte Faccio—the large black and yellow banner of Austria +floating from its walls, as if amid the clouds. I could see the muzzles of +the great guns protruding from the embrasures; and I could even catch +glances of a tall bearskin, as some soldier passed or repassed behind the +parapet, and I thought how terrible would be the attempt to storm such a +position. It was, indeed, true, that if I had the least conception of the +strength of the fort, I never should have dared to talk of a <i>coup de +main</i>. Still I was in a manner pledged to the suggestion. I had +perilled my life for it, and few men do as much for an opinion; for this +reason I resolved, come what would, to maintain my ground, and hold fast +to my conviction. I never could be called upon to plan the expedition, nor +could it by any possibility be confided to my guidance; responsibility +could not, therefore, attach to me. All these were strong arguments, at +least quite strong enough to decide a wavering judgment. +</p> +<p> +Meditating on these things, I strolled back to my quarters. As I entered +the garden, I found that several officers were assembled, among whom was +Colonel de Barre, the brother of the general of that name who afterwards +fell at the Borodino. He was <i>chef d‘état-major</i> to Masséna, and a +most distinguished and brave soldier. Unlike the fashion of the day, which +made the military man affect the rough coarseness of a savage, seasoning +his talk with oaths, and curses, and low expressions, De Barre had +something of the <i>petit-maître</i> in his address, which nothing short +of his well-proved courage would have saved from ridicule. His voice was +low and soft, his smile perpetual; and although well bred enough to have +been dignified and easy, a certain fidgety impulse to be pleasing made him +always appear affected and unnatural. Never was there such a contrast to +his chief; but indeed it was said, that to this very disparity of +temperament he owed all the influence he possessed over Masséna’s mind. +</p> +<p> +I might have been a general of division at the very least, to judge from +the courteous deference of the salute with which he approached me—a +politeness the more striking, as all the others immediately fell back, to +leave us to converse together. I was actually overcome with the flattering +terms in which he addressed me on the subject of my escape. +</p> +<p> +‘I could scarcely at first credit the story,’ said he, ‘but when they told +me that you were a “Ninth man,” one of the old Tapageurs, I never doubted +it more. You see what a bad character is, Monsieur de Tiernay!’ It was the +first time I had ever heard the prefix to my name, and I own the sound was +pleasurable. ‘I served a few months with your corps myself, but I soon saw +there was no chance of promotion among fellows all more eager than myself +for distinction. Well, sir, it is precisely to this reputation I have +yielded my credit, and to which General Masséna is kind enough to concede +his own confidence. Your advice is about to be acted on, Monsieur de +Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The <i>coup de main</i>——’ +</p> +<p> +‘A little lower, if you please, my dear sir. The expedition is to be +conducted with every secrecy, even from the officers of every rank below a +command. Have the goodness to walk along with me this way. If I understand +General Masséna aright, your information conveys no details, nor any +particular suggestions as to the attack.’ +</p> +<p> +‘None whatever, sir. It was the mere talk of a gunroom—the popular +opinion among a set of young officers.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I understand,’ said he, with a bow and a smile—‘the suggestion of a +number of high-minded and daring soldiers, as to what they deemed +practicable.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Precisely, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Neither could you collect from their conversation anything which bore +upon the number of the Austrian advance guard, or their state of +preparation?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nothing, sir. The opinion of the English was, I suspect, mainly founded +on the great superiority of our forces to the enemy’s in all attacks of +this kind.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Our <i>esprit “tapageur”</i> eh?’ said he, laughing, and pinching my arm +familiarly, and I joined in the laugh with pleasure. ‘Well, Monsieur de +Tiernay, let us endeavour to sustain this good impression. The attempt is +to be made to-night.’ +</p> +<p> +‘To-night!’ exclaimed I, in amazement, for everything within the city +seemed tranquil and still. +</p> +<p> +‘To-night, sir; and, by the kind favour of General Masséna, I am to lead +the attack—the reserve, if we are ever to want it, being under his +own command It is to be at your own option on which staff you will serve.’ +</p> +<p> +‘On yours, of course, sir,’ cried I hastily. ‘A man who stands unknown and +unvouched for among his comrades, as I do, has but one way to vindicate +his claim to credit—by partaking the peril he counsels.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There could be no doubt either of your judgment, or the sound reasons for +it,’ replied the colonel; ‘the only question was, whether you might be +unequal to the fatigue.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Trust me, sir, you’ll not have to send me to the rear,’ said I, laughing. +</p> +<p> +‘Then you are extra on my staff, Monsieur de Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +As we walked along, he proceeded to give me the details of our expedition, +which was to be on a far stronger scale than I anticipated. Three +battalions of infantry, with four light batteries, and as many squadrons +of dragoons, were to form the advance. +</p> +<p> +‘We shall neither want the artillery nor cavalry, except to cover a +retreat,’ said he; ‘I trust, if it come to that, there will not be many of +us to protect; but such are the general’s orders, and we have but to obey +them.’ +</p> +<p> +With the great events of that night on my memory, it is strange that I +should retain so accurately in my mind the trivial and slight +circumstances, which are as fresh before me as if they had occurred but +yesterday. +</p> +<p> +It was about eleven o’clock, of a dark but starry night, not a breath of +wind blowing, that, passing through a number of gloomy, narrow streets, I +suddenly found myself in the courtyard of the Balbé Palace. A large marble +fountain was playing in the centre, around which several lamps were +lighted; by these I could see that the place was crowded with officers, +some seated at tables drinking, some smoking, and others lounging up and +down in conversation. Huge loaves of black bread, and wicker-covered +flasks of country wine, formed the entertainment; but even these, to judge +from the zest of the guests, were no common delicacies. At the foot of a +little marble group, and before a small table, with a map on it, sat +General Masséna himself, in his grey overcoat, cutting his bread with a +case-knife, while he talked away to his staff. +</p> +<p> +‘These maps are good for nothing, Bressi,’ cried he. ‘To look at them, you +‘d say that every road was practicable for artillery, and every river +passable, and you find afterwards that all these fine <i>chaussées</i> are +bypaths, and the rivulets downright torrents. Who knows the Chiavari +road?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Giorgio knows it well, sir,’ said the officer addressed, and who was a +young Piedmontese from Massena’s own village. +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, Birbante!’ cried the general, ‘are you here again?’ and he turned +laughingly towards a little bandy-legged monster, of less than three feet +high, who, with a cap stuck jauntily on one side of his head, and a wooden +sword at his side, stepped forward with all the confidence of an equal. +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, here I am,’ said he, raising his hand to his cap, soldier fashion; +‘there was nothing else for it but this trade,’ and he placed his hand on +the hilt of his wooden weapon. ‘You cut down all the mulberries and left +us no silkworms; you burned all the olives, and left us no oil; you +trampled down our maize crops and our vines. <i>Per Baccho!</i> the only +thing left was to turn brigand like yourself, and see what would come of +it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is he not cool to talk thus to a general at the head of his staff?’ said +Masséna, with an assumed gravity. +</p> +<p> +‘I knew you when you wore a different-looking epaulette than that there,’ +said Giorgio, ‘and when you carried one of your father’s meal-sacks on +your shoulder instead of all that bravery.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> so he did,’ cried Masséna, laughing heartily. ‘That +scoundrel was always about our mill, and, I believe, lived by thieving!’ +added he, pointing to the dwarf. +</p> +<p> +‘Every one did a little that way in our village,’ said the dwarf; ‘but +none ever profited by his education like yourself.’ +</p> +<p> +If the general and some of the younger officers seemed highly amused at +the fellow’s impudence and effrontery, some of the others looked angry and +indignant. A few were really well born, and could afford to smile at these +recognitions; but many who sprung from an origin even more humble than the +general’s could not conceal their angry indignation at the scene. +</p> +<p> +‘I see that these gentlemen are impatient of our vulgar recollections,’ +said Masséna, with a sardonic grin; ‘so now to business, Giorgio. You know +the Chiavari road—what is’t like?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Good enough to look at, but mined in four places.’ +</p> +<p> +The general gave a significant glance at the staff, and bade him go on. +</p> +<p> +‘The white-coats are strong in that quarter, and have eight guns to bear +upon the road, where it passes beneath Monte Ratte.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Why, I was told that the pass was undefended!’ cried Masséna angrily—‘that +a few skirmishers were all that could be seen near it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘All that could be seen!—so they are; but there are eight +twelve-pounder guns in the brushwood, with shot and shell enough to be +seen, and felt too.’ +</p> +<p> +Masséna now turned to the officers near him, and conversed with them +eagerly for some time. The debated point I subsequently heard was how to +make a feint attack on the Chiavari road, to mask the <i>coup de main</i> +intended for the Monte Faccio. To give the false attack any colour of +reality, required a larger force and greater preparation than they could +afford, and this was now the great difficulty. At last it was resolved +that this should be a mere demonstration, not to push far beyond the +walls, but, by all the semblance of a serious advance, to attract as much +attention as possible from the enemy. +</p> +<p> +Another and a greater embarrassment lay in the fact, that the troops +intended for the <i>coup de main</i> had no other exit than the gate which +led to Chiavari, so that the two lines of march would intersect and +interfere with each other. Could we even have passed out our tirailleurs +in advance, the support would easily follow; but the enemy would, of +course, notice the direction our advance would take, and our object be +immediately detected. +</p> +<p> +‘Why not pass the skirmishers out by the embrasures, to the left yonder,’ +said I; ‘I see many a track where men have gone already.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is steep as a wall,’ cried one. +</p> +<p> +‘And there’s a breast of rock in front that no foot could scale.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You have at least a thousand feet of precipice above you, when you reach +the glen, if ever you do reach it alive.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And this to be done in the darkness of a night!’ Such were the +discouraging comments which rattled, quick as musketry, around me. +</p> +<p> +‘The lieutenant’s right, nevertheless,’ said Giorgio. ‘Half the voltigeurs +of the garrison know the path well already; and as to darkness—if +there were a moon you dared not attempt it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There’s some truth in that,’ observed an old major. +</p> +<p> +‘Could you promise to guide them, Giorgio?’ said Masséna. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, every step of the way—up to the very walls of the fort.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There, then,’ cried the general, ‘one great difficulty is got over +already.* +</p> +<p> +‘Not so fast, <i>générale mio</i>,’ said the dwarf; ‘I said I could, but I +never said that I would.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not for a liberal present, Giorgio; not if I filled that leather pouch of +yours with five-franc pieces, man?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I might not live to spend it, and I care little for my next of kin,’ said +the dwarf dryly. +</p> +<p> +‘I don’t think that we need his services, general,’ said I; ‘I saw the +place this evening, and however steep it seems from the walls, the descent +is practicable enough—at least I am certain that our tirailleurs, in +the Black Forest, would never have hesitated about it.’ +</p> +<p> +I little knew that when I uttered this speech I had sent a shot into the +very heart of the magazine, the ruling passion of Masséna’s mind being an +almost insane jealousy of Moreau’s military fame—his famous campaign +of Southern Germany, and his wonderful retreat upon the Rhine, being +regarded as achievements of the highest order. +</p> +<p> +‘I’ve got some of those regiments you speak of in my brigade here, sir,’ +said he, addressing himself directly to me, and I must own that their +discipline reflects but little credit on the skill of so great an officer +as General Moreau; and as to light troops, I fancy Colonel de Vallence +yonder would scarcely feel it a flattery were you to tell him to take a +lesson from them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have just been speaking to Colonel de Vallence, general,’ said Colonel +de Barre. ‘He confirms everything Monsieur de Tiernay tells us of the +practicable nature of these paths; his fellows have tracked them at all +hours, and neither want guidance nor direction to go.’ +</p> +<p> +‘In that case I may as well offer my services,’ said Giorgio, tightening +his belt; ‘but I must tell you that it is too late to begin to-night—we +must start immediately after nightfall. It will take from forty to fifty +minutes to descend the cliff, a good two hours to climb the ascent, so +that you ‘ll not have much time to spare before daybreak.’ +</p> +<p> +Giorgio’s opinion was backed by several others, and it was finally +resolved upon that the attempt should be made on the following evening. +Meanwhile, the dwarf was committed to the safe custody of a sergeant, +affectedly to look to his proper care and treatment, but really to guard +against any imprudent revelations that he might make respecting the +intended attack. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVI. GENOA DURING THE SIEGE +</h2> +<p> +If the natural perils of the expedition were sufficient to suggest grave +thoughts, the sight of the troops that were to form it was even a stronger +incentive to fear. I could not believe my eyes, as I watched the +battalions which now deployed before me. Always accustomed, whatever the +hardships they were opposed to, to see French soldiers light-hearted, gay, +and agile, performing their duties in a spirit of sportive pleasure, as if +soldiering were but fun, what was the shock I received at sight of these +careworn, downcast, hollow-cheeked fellows, dragging their legs wearily +along, and scarcely seeming to hear the words of command; their clothes, +patched and mended, sometimes too big, sometimes too little, showing that +they had changed wearers without being altered; their tattered shoes, tied +on with strings round the ankles; their very weapons dirty and uncared +for; they resembled rather a horde of bandits than the troops of the first +army of Europe. There was, besides, an expression of stealthy, treacherous +ferocity in their faces, such as I never saw before. To this pitiable +condition had they been brought by starvation. Not alone the horses had +been eaten, but dogs and cats; even the vermin of the cellars and sewers +was consumed as food. Leather and skins were all eagerly devoured; and +there is but too terrible reason to believe that human flesh itself was +used to prolong for a few hours this existence of misery. +</p> +<p> +As they defiled into the ‘Piazza,’ there seemed a kind of effort to assume +the port and bearing of their craft; and although many stumbled, and some +actually fell, from weakness, there was an evident attempt to put on a +military appearance. The manner of the adjutant, as he passed down the +line, revealed at once the exact position of affairs. No longer inspecting +every little detail of equipment, criticising this, or remarking on that, +his whole attention was given to the condition of the musket, whose lock +he closely scrutinised, and then turned to the cartouch-box. The ragged +uniforms, the uncouth shakos, the belts dirty and awry, never called forth +a word of rebuke. Too glad, as it seemed, to recognise even the remnants +of discipline, he came back from his inspection apparently well satisfied +and content. +</p> +<p> +‘These fellows turn out well,’ said Colonel de Barre, as he looked along +the line; and I started to see if the speech were an unfeeling jest. Far +from it; he spoke in all seriousness. The terrible scenes he had for +months been witnessing; the men dropping from hunger at their posts; the +sentries fainting as they carried arms, and borne away to the hospital to +die; the bursts of madness that would now and then break forth from men +whose agony became unendurable, had so steeled him to horrors, that even +this poor shadow of military display seemed orderly and imposing. +</p> +<p> +‘They are the 22nd, colonel,’ replied the adjutant, proudly, ‘a corps that +always have maintained their character, whether on parade or under fire!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah! the 22nd, are they? They have come up from Ronco, then?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, sir; they were all that General Soult could spare us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Fine-looking fellows they are,’ said De Barre, scanning them through his +glass. ‘The third company is a little, a very little to the rear—don’t +you perceive it?—and the flank is a thought or so restless and +unsteady.’ +</p> +<p> +‘A sergeant has just been carried to the rear ill, sir,’ said a young +officer, in a low voice. +</p> +<p> +‘The heat, I have no douht; a <i>colpo di sole</i>, as they tell us +everything is,’ said De Barre. ‘By the way, is not this the regiment that +boasts the pretty vivandière? What’s this her name is?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Lela, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, to be sure, Lela. I’m sure I’ve heard her toasted often enough at +cafés and restaurants.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There she is, sir, yonder, sitting on the steps of the fountain’; and the +officer made a sign with his sword for the girl to come over. She made an +effort to arise at the order, but tottered back, and would have fallen if +a soldier had not caught her. Then suddenly collecting her strength, she +arranged the folds of her short scarlet jupe, and smoothing down the +braids of her fair hair, came forward, at that sliding, half-skipping pace +that is the wont of her craft. +</p> +<p> +The exertion, and possibly the excitement, had flushed her cheek, so that +as she came forward her look was brilliantly handsome; but as the colour +died away, and a livid pallor spread over her jaws, lank and drawn in by +famine, her expression was dreadful. The large eyes, lustrous and +wild-looking, gleaming with the fire of fever, while her thin nostrils +quivered at each respiration. +</p> +<p> +Poor girl, even then, with famine and fever eating within her, the traits +of womanly vanity still survived, and as she carried her hand to her cap +in salute, she made a faint attempt at a smile. +</p> +<p> +‘The 22nd may indeed be proud of their vivandière,* said De Barre +gallantly. +</p> +<p> +‘What hast in the <i>tonnslet</i>, Lela?’ continued he, tapping the little +silver-hooped barrel she carried at her back. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Ah, que voulez-vous?</i> cried she laughing, with a low, husky sound, +the laugh of famine. +</p> +<p> +‘I must have a glass of it to your health, <i>ma belle</i> Lela, if it +cost me a crown-piece’; and he drew forth the coin as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +‘For such a toast, the liquor is quite good enough,’ said Lela, drawing +back at the offer of money; while slinging the little cask in front, she +unhooked a small silver cup, and filled it with water. +</p> +<p> +‘No brandy, Lela?’ +</p> +<p> +‘None, colonel,’ said she, shaking her head; ‘and if I had, those poor +fellows yonder would not like it so well.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I understand,’ said he significantly; ‘theirs is the thirst of fever.’ +</p> +<p> +A short, dry cough, and a barely perceptible nod of the head, was all her +reply; but their eyes met, and any so sad an expression as they +interchanged I never beheld! it was a confession in full of all each had +seen of sorrow, of suffering, and of death—the terrible events three +months of famine had revealed, and all the agonies of pestilence and +madness. +</p> +<p> +‘That is delicious water, Tiernay,’ said the colonel, as he passed me the +cup, and thus trying to get away from the sad theme of his thoughts. +</p> +<p> +‘I fetch it from a well outside the walls every morning,’ said Lela; ‘ay, +and within gunshot of the Austrian sentries, too.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There’s coolness for you, Tiernay,’ said the colonel; ‘think what the +22nd are made of when their vivandière dares to do this!’ +</p> +<p> +‘They’ll not astonish him,’ said Lela, looking steadily at me +</p> +<p> +‘And why not, <i>ma belle?</i>’ cried De Barre. ‘He was a Tapageur, one of +the “Naughty Ninth,” as they called them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How do you know that, Lela? Have we ever met before?’ cried I eagerly. +</p> +<p> +‘I’ve seen you, sir,’ said she slyly. ‘They used to call you the corporal +that won the battle of Kehl. I know my father always said so.’ +</p> +<p> +I would have given worlds to have interrogated her further; so fascinating +is selfishness, that already at least a hundred questions were presenting +themselves to my mind. Who could Lela be? and who was her father? and what +were these reports about me? Had I really won fame without knowing it? and +did my comrades indeed speak of me with honour? All these, and many more +inquiries, were pressing for utterance, as General Masséna walked up with +his staff. The general fully corroborated De Barre’s opinion of the +‘22nd.’ They were, as he expressed it, a ‘magnificent body.’ It was a +perfect pleasure to see such troops under arms.’ ‘Those fellows certainly +exhibited few traces of a starved-out garrison.’ +</p> +<p> +Such and such like were the observations bandied from one to the other, in +all the earnest seriousness of truth What more terrible evidence of the +scenes they had passed through, than these convictions! What more stunning +proof of the condition to which long suffering had reduced them! +</p> +<p> +‘Where is our pleasant friend, who talked to us of the Black Forest last +night? Ah, there he is; well, Monsieur Tiernay, do you think General +Moreau’s people turned out better than that after the retreat from +Donau-eschingen?’ +</p> +<p> +There was no need for any reply, since the scornful burst of laughter of +the staff already gave the answer he wanted; and now he walked forward to +the centre of the piazza, while the troops proceeded to march past. +</p> +<p> +The band, a miserable group, reduced from fifty to thirteen in number, +struck up a quick step, and the troops, animated by the sounds, and more +still, perhaps, by Masséna’s presence, made an effort to step out in quick +time; but the rocking, wavering motion, the clinking muskets and uncertain +gait, were indescribably painful to a soldier’s eye. Their colonel, De +Vallence, however, evidently did not regard them thus, for as he joined +the staff, he received the general’s compliments with all the good faith +and composure in the world. +</p> +<p> +The battalions were marched off to barracks, and the group of officers +broke up to repair to their several quarters. It was the hour of dinner, +but it had been many a day since that meal had been heard of amongst them. +A stray café here and there was open in the city, but a cup of coffee, +without milk, and a small roll of black bread, a horrid compound of rye +and cocoa, was all the refreshment obtainable; and yet, I am bold to say +that a murmur or a complaint was unheard against the general or the +Government. The heaviest reverses, the gloomiest hours of ill fortune, +never extinguished the hope that Genoa was to be relieved at last, and +that all we had to do was to hold out for the arrival of Bonaparte. To the +extent of this conviction is to be attributed the wide disparity between +the feeling displayed by the military and the townsfolk. +</p> +<p> +The latter, unsustained by hope, without one spark of speculation to cheer +their gloomy destiny, starved, and sickened, and died in masses. The very +requirements of discipline were useful in averting the despondent vacuity +which comes of hunger. Of the sanguine confidence of the soldiery in the +coming of their comrades, I was to witness a strong illustration on the +very day of which I have been speaking. +</p> +<p> +It was about four o’clock in the afternoon, the weather had been heavy and +overcast, and the heat excessive, so that all who were free from duty had +either lain down to sleep, or were quietly resting within doors, when a +certain stir and movement in the streets, a rare event during the hours of +the siesta, drew many a head to the windows. The report ran, and like +wildfire it spread through the city, that the advanced guard of Bonaparte +had reached Ronco that morning, and were already in march on Genoa. +Although nobody could trace this story to any direct source, each believed +and repeated it; the tale growing more consistent and fuller at every +repetition. I need not weary my reader with all the additions and +corrections the narrative received, nor recount how now it was Moreau with +the right wing of the army of the Rhine; now it was Kellermann’s brigade; +now it was Macdonald, who had passed the Ticino; and last of all, +Bonaparte. The controversy was often even an angry one, when, finally, all +speculation was met by the official report, that all that was known lay in +the simple fact, that heavy guns had been heard that morning, near Ronco, +and as the Austrians held no position with artillery there, the firing +must needs be French. +</p> +<p> +This very bare announcement was, of course, a great ‘come down’ for all +the circumstantial detail with which we had been amusing ourselves and +each other, but yet it nourished hope, and the hope that was nearest to +all our hearts, too! The streets were soon filled; officers and soldiers +hastily dressed, and with many a fault of costume were all commingled, +exchanging opinions, resolving doubts, and even bandying congratulations. +The starved and hungry faces were lighted up with an expression of savage +glee. It was like the last flickering gleam of passion in men whose whole +vitality was the energy of fever! The heavy debt they owed their enemy was +at last to be paid, and all the insulting injury of a besieged and +famine-stricken garrison to be avenged. A surging movement in the crowd +told that some event had occurred; it was Masséna and his staff, who were +proceeding to a watch-tower in the bastion, from whence a wide range of +country could be seen. This was reassuring. The general himself +entertained the story, and here was proof that there was ‘something in +it.’ All the population now made for the walls; every spot from which the +view towards Ronco could be obtained was speedily crowded, every window +filled, and all the housetops crammed. A dark mass of inky cloud covered +the tops of the Apennines, and even descended to some distance down the +sides. With what shapes and forms of military splendour did our +imaginations people the space behind that sombre curtain! What columns of +stern warriors, what prancing squadrons, what earth-shaking masses of +heavy artillery! How longingly each eye grew weary watching—waiting +for the veil to be rent, and the glancing steel to be seen glistening +bright in the sun-rays! +</p> +<p> +As if to torture our anxieties, the lowering mass grew darker and heavier, +and, rolling lazily adown the mountain, it filled up the valley, wrapping +earth and sky in one murky mantle. +</p> +<p> +‘There, did you hear that?’ cried one; ‘that was artillery.’ +</p> +<p> +A pause followed, each ear was bent to listen, and not a word was uttered +for full a minute or more; the immense host, as if swayed by the one +impulse, strained to catch the sounds, when suddenly, from the direction +of the mountain top, there came a rattling, crashing noise, followed by +the dull, deep booming that every soldier’s heart responds to What a cheer +then burst forth! never did I hear—never may I hear—such a cry +as that was; it was like the wild yell of a shipwrecked crew, as some +distant sail hove in sight; and yet, through its cadence, there rang the +mad lust for vengeance! Yes, in all the agonies of sinking strength, with +fever in their hearts, and the death sweat on their cheeks, their cry was +Blood! The puny shout, for such it seemed now, was drowned in the +deafening crash that now was heard; peal after peal shook the air, the +same rattling, peppering noise of musketry continuing through all. +</p> +<p> +That the French were in strong force, as well as the enemy, there could +now be no doubt. Nothing but a serious affair and a stubborn resistance +could warrant such a fire. It had every semblance of an attack with all +arms. The roar of the heavy guns made the air vibrate, and the clatter of +small-arms was incessant. How each of us filled up the picture from the +impulses of his own fancy! Some said that the French were still behind the +mountain, and storming the heights of the Borghetto; others thought that +they had gained the summit, but not <i>en force</i>, and were only +contesting their position there; and a few, more sanguine, of whom I was +one myself, imagined that they were driving the Austrians down the +Apennines, cleaving their ranks, as they went, with their artillery. +</p> +<p> +Each new crash, every momentary change of direction of the sounds, +favoured this opinion or that, and the excitement of partisanship rose to +an immense height. What added indescribably to the interest of the scene, +was a group of Austrian officers on horseback, who, in their eagerness to +obtain tidings, had ridden beyond their lines, and were now standing +almost within musket range of us. We could see that their telescopes were +turned to the eventful spot, and we gloried to think of the effect the +scene must have been producing on them. +</p> +<p> +‘They’ve seen enough!’ cried one of our fellows, laughing, while he +pointed to the horsemen, who, suddenly wheeling about, galloped back to +their camp at full speed. +</p> +<p> +‘You ‘ll have the drums beat to arms now; there’s little time to lose. Our +cuirassiers will soon be upon them,’ cried another, in ecstasy. +</p> +<p> +‘No, but the rain will, and upon us, too,’ said Giorgio, who had now come +up; ‘don’t you see that it’s not a battle yonder, it’s a <i>burrasca</i>. +There it comes.’ And as if the outstretched finger of the dwarf had been +the wand of a magician, the great cloud was suddenly torn open with a +crash, and the rain descended like a deluge, swept along by a hurricane +wind, and came in vast sheets of water, while high over our heads, and +moving onward towards the sea, growled the distant thunder. The great +mountain was now visible from base to summit, but not a soldier, not a +gun, to be seen! Swollen and yellow, the gushing torrents leaped madly +from crag to crag, and crashing trees, and falling rocks, added their wild +sounds to the tumult. +</p> +<p> +There we stood, mute and sorrow-struck, regardless of the seething rain, +unconscious of anything save our disappointment. The hope we built upon +had left us, and the dreary scene of storm around seemed but a type of our +own future! And yet we could not turn away, but with eyes strained and +aching, gazed at the spot from where our succour should have come. +</p> +<p> +I looked up at the watch-tower, and there was Massena still, his arms +folded, on a battlement; he seemed to be deep in thought. At last he +arose, and, drawing his cloak across his face, descended the winding-stair +outside the tower. His step was slow, and more than once he halted, as if +to think. When he reached the walls, he walked rapidly on, his suite +following him. +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, Monsieur Tiernay,’ said he, as he passed me, ‘you know what an +Apennine storm is now; but it will cool the air and give us delicious +weather’; and so he passed on with an easy smile. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVII. MONTE DI PACCIO +</h2> +<p> +The disappointment we had suffered was not the only circumstance adverse +to our expedition. The rain had now swollen the smallest rivulets to the +size of torrents; in many places the paths would be torn away and +obliterated, and everywhere the difficulty of a night march enormously +increased. Giorgio, however, who was, perhaps, afraid of forfeiting his +reward, assured the general that these mountain streams subside even more +rapidly than they rise; that such was the dryness of the soil, no trace of +rain would be seen by sunset, and that we should have a calm, starry +night; the very thing we wanted for our enterprise. +</p> +<p> +We did not need persuasion to believe all he said—the opinion chimed +in with our own wishes, and, better still, was verified to the very letter +by a glorious afternoon. Landward, the spectacle was perfectly enchanting; +the varied foliage of the Apennines, refreshed by the rain, glittered and +shone in the sun’s rays, while in the bay, the fleet, with sails hung out +to dry, presented a grand and an imposing sight. Better than all, Monte +Faccio now appeared quite near us; we could, even with the naked eye, +perceive all the defences, and were able to detect a party of soldiers at +work outside the walls, clearing, as it seemed, some watercourse that had +been impeded by the storm. Unimportant as the labour was, we watched it +anxiously, for we thought that perhaps before another sunset many a brave +fellow’s blood might dye that earth. During the whole of that day, from +some cause or other, not a shot had been fired either from the +land-batteries or the fleet, and as though a truce had been agreed to, we +sat watching each other’s movements peacefully and calmly. +</p> +<p> +‘The Austrians would seem to have been as much deceived as ourselves, +sir,’ said an old artillery sergeant to me, as I strolled along the walls +at nightfall. ‘The pickets last night were close to the glacis, but see, +now they have fallen back a gunshot or more.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But they had time enough since to have resumed their old position,’ said +I, half doubting the accuracy of the surmise. +</p> +<p> +‘Time enough, <i>parbleu!</i> I should think so too! but when the +white-coats manoeuvre, they write to Vienna to ask, “What’s to be done +next?”’ +</p> +<p> +This passing remark, in which, with all its exaggeration, there lay a germ +of truth, was the universal judgment of our soldiers on those of the +Imperial army; and to the prevalence of the notion may be ascribed much of +that fearless indifference with which small divisions of ours attacked +whole army corps of the enemy. Bonaparte was the first to point out this +slowness, and to turn it to the best advantage. +</p> +<p> +‘If our general ever intended a sortie, this would be the night for it, +sir,’ resumed he; ‘the noise of those mountain streams would mask the +sounds of a march, and even cavalry, if led with caution, might be in upon +them before they were aware.’ +</p> +<p> +This speech pleased me, not only for the judgment it conveyed, but as an +assurance that our expedition was still a secret in the garrison. +</p> +<p> +On questioning the sergeant further, I was struck to find that he had +abandoned utterly all hope of ever seeing France again; such, he told me, +was the universal feeling of the soldiery. ‘We know well, sir, that +Massena is not the man to capitulate, and we cannot expect to be relieved’ +And yet with this stern, comfortless conviction on their minds—with +hunger, and famine, and pestilence on every side—they never uttered +one word of complaint, not even a murmur of remonstrance. What would +Moreau’s fellows say of us? What would the army of the Meuse think? These +were the ever-present arguments against surrender; and the judgment of +their comrades was far more terrible to them than the grapeshot of the +enemy. +</p> +<p> +‘But do you not think, when Bonaparte crosses the Alps, he will hasten to +our relief?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not he, sir! I know him well. I was in the same troop with him, a +bombardier at the same gun. Bonaparte will never go after small game where +there’s a nobler prey before him. If he does cross the Alps, he’ll be for +a great battle under Milan; or, mayhap, march on Venice. He’s not thinking +of our starved battalions here; he’s planning some great campaign, depend +on it. He never faced the Alps to succour Genoa.’ +</p> +<p> +How true was this appreciation of the great general’s ambition, I need +scarcely repeat; but so it was at the time; many were able to guess the +bold aspirings of one who, to the nation, seemed merely one among the +numerous candidates for fame and honours. +</p> +<p> +It was about an hour after my conversation with the sergeant, that an +orderly came to summon me to Colonel de Barres quarters; and with all my +haste to obey, I only arrived as the column was formed. The plan of attack +was simple enough. Three Voltigeur companies were to attempt the assault +of the Monte Facoio, under De Barre; while, to engage attention, and draw +off the enemy’s force, a strong body of infantry and cavalry was to +debouch on the Chiavari road, as though to force a passage in that +direction. In all that regarded secrecy and despatch our expedition was +perfect; and as we moved silently through the streets, the sleeping +citizens never knew of our march. Arrived at the gate, the column halted, +to give us time to pass along the walls and descend the glen, an operation +which, it was estimated, would take forty-five minutes; at the expiration +of this they were to issue forth to the feint attack. +</p> +<p> +At a quick step we now pressed forward towards the angle of the bastion, +whence many a path led down the cliff in all directions. Half a dozen of +our men, well acquainted with the spot, volunteered as guides, and the +muskets being slung on the back, the word was given to ‘move on,’ the +rallying-place being the plateau of the orange-trees I have already +mentioned. +</p> +<p> +‘Steep enough this,’ said De Barre to me, as, holding on by briers and +brambles, we slowly descended the gorge; ‘but few of us will ever climb it +again.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You think so?’ asked I, in some surprise. +</p> +<p> +‘Of course, I know it,’ said he. ‘Vallence, who commands the battalions +below, always condemned the scheme; rely on it, he’s not the man to make +himself out a false prophet. I don’t pretend to tell you that in our days +of monarchy there were neither jealousies nor party grudges, and that men +were above all small and ungenerous rivalry; but, assuredly, we had less +of them than now. If the field of competition is more open to every one, +so are the arts by which success is won; a preeminence in a republic means +always the ruin of a rival If we fail, as fail we must, he’ll be a +general.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But why must we fail?’ +</p> +<p> +‘For every reason; we are not in force; we know nothing of what we are +about to attack; and, if repulsed, have no retreat behind us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then why——?’ I stopped, for already I saw the impropriety of +my question. +</p> +<p> +‘Why did I advise the attack?’ said he mildly, taking up my half-uttered +question. ‘Simply because death outside these walls is quicker and more +glorious than within them. There’s scarcely a man who follows us has not +the same sentiment in his heart. The terrible scenes of the last five +weeks have driven our fellows to all but mutiny. Nothing indeed maintained +discipline but a kind of tigerish thirst for vengeance—a hope that +the day of reckoning would come round, and one fearful lesson teach these +same white-coats how dangerous it is to drive a brave enemy to despair.’ +</p> +<p> +De Barre continued to talk in this strain as we descended, every remark he +made being uttered with all the coolness of one who talked of a matter +indifferent to him. At length the way became too steep for much converse, +and slipping and scrambling we now only interchanged a chance word as we +went. Although two hundred and fifty men were around and about us, not a +voice was heard; and, except the occasional breaking of a branch, or the +occasional fall of some heavy stone into the valley, not a sound was +heard. At length a long, shrill whistle announced that the first man had +reached the bottom, which, to judge from the faintness of the sound, +appeared yet a considerable distance off. The excessive darkness increased +the difficulty of the way, and De Barre continued to repeat—‘that we +had certainly been misinformed, and that even in daylight the descent +would take an hour.’ +</p> +<p> +It was full half an hour after this when we came to a small rivulet, the +little boundary line between the two steep cliffs. Here our men were all +assembled, refreshing themselves with the water, still muddy from recent +rain, and endeavouring to arrange equipments and arms, damaged and +displaced by many a fall. +</p> +<p> +‘We ‘ve taken an hour and twenty-eight minutes,’ said De Barre, as he +placed a firefly on the glass of his watch, to see the hour. ‘Now, men, +let us make up for lost time. <i>En avant!</i> +</p> +<p> +‘<i>En avant!</i>,’ was quickly passed from mouth to mouth, and never was +a word more spirit-stirring to Frenchmen! With all the alacrity of men +fresh and ‘eager for the fray,’ they began the ascent, and such was the +emulous ardour to be first, that it assumed all the features of a race. +</p> +<p> +A close pine wood greatly aided us now, and, in less time than we could +believe it possible, we reached the plateau appointed for our rendezvous. +This being the last spot of meeting before our attack on the fort, the +final dispositions were here settled on, and the orders for the assault +arranged. With daylight, the view from this terrace, for such it was in +reality, would have been magnificent, for even now, in the darkness, we +could track out the great thoroughfares of the city, follow the windings +of the bay and harbour, and, by the lights on board, detect the fleet as +it lay at anchor. To the left, and for many a mile, as it seemed, were +seen twinkling the bivouac fires of the Austrian army; while directly +above our heads, glittering like a red star, shone the solitary gleam that +marked out the ‘Monte Faccio.’ +</p> +<p> +I was standing silently at De Barre’s side, looking on this sombre scene, +so full of terrible interest, when he clutched my arm violently, and +whispered—‘Look yonder; see, the attack has begun.’ +</p> +<p> +The fire of the artillery had flashed as he spoke, and now, with his very +words, the deafening roar of the guns was heard from below. +</p> +<p> +‘I told you he’d not wait for us, Tiernay. I told you how it would +happen!’ cried he; then suddenly recovering his habitual composure of +voice and manner, he said, ‘Now for our part, men; forwards!’ +</p> +<p> +And away went the brave fellows, tearing up the steep mountain-side, like +an assault party at a breach. Though hidden from our view by the darkness +and the dense wood, we could hear the incessant din of large and small +arms; the roll of the drums summoning men to their quarters, and what we +thought were the cheers of charging squadrons. +</p> +<p> +Such was the mad feeling of excitement these sounds produced, that I +cannot guess what time elapsed before we found ourselves on the crest of +the mountain, and not above three hundred paces from the outworks of the +fort. The trees had been cut away on either side, so as to offer a species +of glacis, and this must be crossed under the fire of the batteries, +before an attack could be commenced. Fortunately for us, however, the +garrison was too confident of its security to dread a <i>coup de main</i> +from the side of the town, and had placed all their guns along the +bastion, towards Borghetto, and this De Barre immediately detected. A +certain ‘alert’ on the walls, however, and a quick movement of lights here +and there, showed that they had become aware of the sortie from the town, +and gradually we could see figure after figure ascending the walls, as if +to peer down into the valley beneath. +</p> +<p> +‘You see what Vallence has done for us,’ said De Barre bitterly; ‘but for +him we should have taken these fellows, <i>en flagrant délit</i>, and +carried their walls before they could turn out a captain’s guard.’ +</p> +<p> +As he spoke a heavy crashing sound was heard, and a wild cheer. Already +our pioneers had gained the gate, and were battering away at it; another +party had reached the walls, and thrown up their rope-ladders, and the +attack was opened. In fact, Giorgio had led one division by a path +somewhat shorter than ours, and they had begun the assault before we +issued from the pine wood. +</p> +<p> +We now came up at a run, but under a smart fire from the walls, already +fast crowding with men. Defiling close beneath the wall, we gained the +gate, just as it had fallen beneath the assaults of our men. A steep +covered way led up from it, and along this our fellows rushed madly; but +suddenly from the gloom a red glare flashed out, and a terrible discharge +of grape swept all before it. ‘Lie down!’ was now shouted from front to +rear, but even before the order could be obeyed another and more fatal +volley followed. +</p> +<p> +Twice we attempted to storm the ascent; but wearied by the labour of the +mountain pass—worn out by fatigue—and, worse still, weak from +actual starvation, our men faltered! It was not fear, nor was there +anything akin to it; for even as they fell under the thick fire their +shrill cheers breathed stern defiance. They were utterly exhausted, and +failing strength could do no more! De Barre took the lead, sword in hand, +and with one of those wild appeals that soldiers never hear in vain, +addressed them; but the next moment his shattered corpse was carried to +the rear. The scaling party, alike repulsed, had now defiled to our +support; but the death-dealing artillery swept through us without ceasing. +Never was there a spectacle so terrible as to see men, animated by +courageous devotion, burning with glorious zeal, and yet powerless from +very debility—actually dropping from the weakness of famine! The +staggering step—the faint shout—the powerless charge—all +showing the ravages of pestilence and want! +</p> +<p> +Some sentiment of compassion must have engaged our enemies’ sympathy, for +twice they relaxed their fire, and only resumed it as we returned to the +attack. One fearful discharge of grape, at pistol range, now seemed to +have closed the struggle; and as the smoke cleared away, the earth was +seen crowded with dead and dying. The broken ranks no longer showed +discipline—men gathered in groups around their wounded comrades, +and, to all seeming, indifferent to the death that menaced them. Scarcely +an officer survived, and, among the dead beside me, I recognised Giorgio, +who still knelt in the attitude in which he had received his death-wound. +</p> +<p> +I was like one in some terrible dream, powerless and terror-stricken, as I +stood thus amid the slaughtered and the wounded. +</p> +<p> +‘You are my prisoner,’ said a gruff-looking old Groat grenadier, as he +snatched my sword from my hand by a smart blow on the wrist; and I yielded +without a word. +</p> +<p> +‘Is it over?’ said I; ‘is it over?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, <i>parbleu!</i> I think it is,’ said a comrade, whose cheek was +hanging down from a bayonet wound. ‘There are not twenty of us remaining, +and they will do very little for the service of the “Great Republic’” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVIII. A ROYALIST ‘DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE’ +</h2> +<p> +On a hot and sultry day of June I found myself seated in a country cart, +and under the guard of two mounted dragoons, wending my way towards +Kuffstein, a Tyrol fortress, to which I was sentenced as a prisoner. A +weary journey was it; for in addition to my now sad thoughts I had to +contend against an attack of ague, which I had just caught, and which was +then raging like a plague in the Austrian camp. One solitary reminiscence, +and that far from a pleasant one, clings to this period. We had halted on +the outskirts of a little village called ‘Broletto,’ for the siesta, and +there, in a clump of olives, were quietly dozing away the sultry hours, +when the clatter of horsemen awoke us; and on looking up, we saw a cavalry +escort sweep past at a gallop. The corporal who commanded our party +hurried into the village to learn the news, and soon returned with the +tidings that ‘a great victory had been gained over the French, commanded +by Bonaparte in person; that the army was in full retreat; and this was +the despatch an officer of Melas’ staff was now hastening to lay at the +feet of the emperor.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I thought several times this morning,’ said the corporal, ‘that I heard +artillery; and so it seems I might, for we are not above twenty miles from +where the battle was fought.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And how is the place called?’ asked I, in a tone sceptical enough to be +offensive. +</p> +<p> +‘Marengo,’ replied he; ‘mayhap, the name will not escape your memory.’ +</p> +<p> +How true was the surmise, but in how different a sense from what he +uttered it! But so it was; even as late as four o’clock the victory was +with the Austrians. Three separate envoys had left the field with tidings +of success; and it was only late at night that the general, exhausted by a +disastrous day, and almost broken-hearted, could write to tell his master +that ‘Italy was lost.’ +</p> +<p> +I have many a temptation here to diverge from a line that I set down for +myself in these memoirs, and from which as yet I have not wandered—I +mean, not to dwell upon events wherein I was not myself an actor; but I am +determined still to adhere to my rule, and, leaving that glorious event +behind me, plod wearily along my journey. +</p> +<p> +Day after day we journeyed through a country teeming with abundance: vast +plains of corn and maize, olives and vines, everywhere—on the +mountains, the crags, the rocks, festooned over cliffs, and spreading +their tangled networks over cottages; and yet everywhere poverty, misery, +and debasement, ruined villages, and a half-naked, starving populace, met +the eye at every turn. There was the stamp of slavery on all, and still +more palpably was there the stamp of despotism in the air of their rulers. +</p> +<p> +If any spot can impress the notion of impregnability it is Kuffstein. +Situated on an eminence of rock over the Inn, three sides of the base are +washed by that rapid river. A little village occupies the fourth; and from +this the supplies are hoisted up to the garrison above by cranes and +pulleys—the only approach being by a path wide enough for a single +man, and far too steep and difficult of access to admit of his carrying +any burthen, however light. All that science and skill could do is added +to the natural strength of the position, and from every surface of the +vast rock itself the projecting mouths of guns and mortars show resources +of defence it would seem madness to attack. +</p> +<p> +Three thousand men, under the command of General Urleben, held this +fortress at the time I speak of, and by their habits of discipline and +vigilance showed that no over-security would make them neglect the charge +of so important a trust. I was the first French prisoner that had ever +been confined within the walls, and to the accident of my uniform was I +indebted for this distinction. I have mentioned that in Genoa they gave me +a staff-officer’s dress and appointments, and from this casual +circumstance it was supposed that I should know a great deal of Masséna’s +movements and intentions, and that by judicious management I might be +induced to reveal it. +</p> +<p> +General Urleben, who had been brought up in France, was admirably +calculated to have promoted such an object were it practicable. He +possessed the most winning address as well as great personal advantages, +and although now past the middle of life, was reputed one of the +handsomest men in Austria. He at once invited me to his table, and having +provided me with a delightful little chamber, from whence the view +extended for miles along the Inn, he sent me stores of books, journals, +and newspapers, French, English, and German, showing by the very candour +of their tidings a most flattering degree of confidence and trust. +</p> +<p> +If imprisonment could ever be endurable with resignation, mine ought to +have been so. My mornings were passed in weeding or gardening a little +plot of ground outside my window, giving me ample occupation in that way, +and rendering carnations and roses dearer to me, through all my +after-life, than without such associations they would ever have been. Then +I used to sketch for hours, from the walls, bird’s-eye views, prisoner’s +glimpses, of the glorious Tyrol scenery below us. Early in the afternoon +came dinner; and then, with the general’s pleasant converse, a cigar, and +a chess-board, the time wore smoothly on till nightfall. +</p> +<p> +An occasional thunderstorm, grander and more sublime than anything I have +ever seen elsewhere, would now and then vary a life of calm but not +unpleasant monotony; and occasionally, too, some passing escort, on the +way to or from Vienna, would give tidings of the war; but except in these, +each day was precisely like the other, so that when the almanac told me it +was autumn, I could scarcely believe a single month had glided over. I +will not attempt to conceal the fact, that the inglorious idleness of my +life, this term of inactivity at an age when hope, and vigour, and energy +were highest within me, was a grievous privation; but, except in these +regrets, I could almost call this time a happy one. The unfortunate +position in which I started in life gave me little opportunity, or even +inclination for learning. Except the little Père Michel had taught me, I +knew nothing. I need not say that this was but a sorry stock of education, +even at that period, when, I must say, the sabre was more in vogue than +the grammar. +</p> +<p> +I now set steadily about repairing this deficiency. General Urleben lent +me all his aid, directing my studies, supplying me with books, and at +times affording me the still greater assistance of his counsel and advice. +To history generally, but particularly that of France, he made me pay the +deepest attention, and seemed never to weary while impressing upon me the +grandeur of our former monarchies, and the happiness of France when ruled +by her legitimate sovereigns. +</p> +<p> +I had told him all that I knew myself of my birth and family, and +frequently would he allude to the subject of my reading, by saying, ‘The +son of an old “Garde du Corps” needs no commentary when perusing such +details as these. Your own instincts tell you how nobly these servants of +a monarchy bore themselves—what chivalry lived at that time in men’s +hearts, and how generous and self-denying was their loyalty.’ +</p> +<p> +Such and such like were the expressions which dropped from him from time +to time; nor was their impression the less deep when supported by the +testimony of the memoirs with which he supplied me. Even in deeds of +military glory the Monarchy could compete with the Republic, and Urleben +took care to insist upon a fact I was never unwilling to concede—that +the well born were ever foremost in danger, no matter whether the banner +was a white one or a tricolour. +</p> +<p> +‘Le bon sang ne peut pas mentir’ was an adage I never disputed, although +certainly I never expected to hear it employed to the disparagement of +those to whom it did not apply. +</p> +<p> +As the winter set in I saw less of the general. He was usually much +occupied in the mornings, and at evenings he was accustomed to go down to +the village, where, of late, some French <i>émigré</i> families had +settled—unhappy exiles, who had both peril and poverty to contend +against! Many such were scattered through the Tyrol at that period, both +for the security and the cheapness it afforded. Of these, Urleben rarely +spoke; some chance allusion, when borrowing a book or taking away a +newspaper, being the extent to which he ever referred to them. +</p> +<p> +One morning, as I sat sketching on the walls, he came up to me and said, +‘Strange enough, Tiernay, last night I was looking at a view of this very +scene, only taken from another point of sight; both were correct, accurate +in every detail, and yet most dissimilar—what a singular +illustration of many of our prejudices and opinions! The sketch I speak of +was made by a young countrywoman of yours—a highly gifted lady, who +little thought that the accomplishments of her education were one day to +be the resources of her livelihood. Even so,’ said he, sighing, ‘a +marquise of the best blood of France is reduced to sell her drawings!’ +</p> +<p> +As I expressed a wish to see the sketches in question, he volunteered to +make the request if I would send some of mine in return; and thus +accidentally grew up a sort of intercourse between myself and the +strangers, which gradually extended to books and music, and, lastly, to +civil messages and inquiries of which the general was ever the bearer. +</p> +<p> +What a boon was all this to me! What a sun-ray through the bars of a +prisoner’s cell was this gleam of kindness and sympathy! The very +similarity of our pursuits, too, had something inexpressibly pleasing in +it, and I bestowed ten times as much pains upon each sketch, now that I +knew to whose eyes it would be submitted. +</p> +<p> +‘Do you know, Tiernay,’ said the general to me, one day, ‘I am about to +incur a very heavy penalty in your behalf—I am going to contravene +the strict orders of the War Office, and take you along with me this +evening down to the village.’ +</p> +<p> +I started with surprise and delight together, and could not utter a word. +</p> +<p> +‘I know perfectly well,’ continued he, ‘that you will not abuse my +confidence. I ask, then, for nothing beyond your word, that you will not +make any attempt at escape; for this visit may lead to others, and I +desire, so far as possible, that you should feel as little constraint as a +prisoner well may.’ +</p> +<p> +I readily gave the pledge required, and he went on—‘I have no +cautions to give you, nor any counsels—Madame d’Aigreville is a +Royalist.’ +</p> +<p> +‘She is madame, then!’ said I, in a voice of some disappointment. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, she is a widow, but her niece is unmarried,’ said he, smiling at my +eagerness. I affected to hear the tidings with unconcern, but a burning +flush covered my cheek, and I felt as uncomfortable as possible. +</p> +<p> +I dined that day as usual with the general, adjourning after dinner to the +little drawing-room, where we played our chess. Never did he appear to me +so tedious in his stories, so intolerably tiresome in his digressions, as +that evening. He halted at every move—he had some narrative to +recount, or some observation to make, that delayed our game to an enormous +time; and at last, on looking out of the window, he fancied there was a +thunderstorm brewing, and that we should do well to put off our visit to a +more favourable opportunity. +</p> +<p> +‘It is little short of half a league,’ said he, ‘to the village, and in +bad weather is worse than double the distance.’ +</p> +<p> +I did not dare to controvert his opinion, but, fortunately, a gleam of +sunshine shot, the same moment, through the window, and proclaimed a fair +evening. +</p> +<p> +Heaven knows I had suffered little of a prisoner’s durance—my life +had been one of comparative freedom and ease; and yet, I cannot tell the +swelling emotion of my heart with which I emerged from the deep archway of +the fortress, and heard the bang of the heavy gate as it closed behind me. +Steep as was the path, I felt as if I could have bounded down it without a +fear! The sudden sense of liberty was maddening in its excitement, and I +half suspect that had I been on horseback in that moment of wild delight, +I should have forgotten all my plighted word and parole, though I +sincerely trust that the madness would not have endured beyond a few +minutes. If there be among my readers one who has known imprisonment, he +will forgive this confession of a weakness, which to others of less +experience will seem unworthy, perhaps dishonourable. +</p> +<p> +Dorf Kuffstein was a fair specimen of the picturesque simplicity of a +Tyrol village. There were the usual number of houses, with carved +galleries and quaint images in wood, the shrines and altars, the little +‘platz,’ for Sunday recreation, and the shady alley for rifle practice. +</p> +<p> +There were also the trellised walks of vines, and the orchards; in the +midst of one of which we now approached a long, low farmhouse, whose +galleries projected over the river. This was the abode of Madame +d’Aigreville. +</p> +<p> +A peasant was cleaning a little mountain pony, from which a side-saddle +had just been removed as we came up, and he, leaving his work, proceeded +to ask us into the house, informing us, as he went, that the ladies had +just returned from a long ramble, and would be with us presently. +</p> +<p> +The drawing-room into which we were shown was a perfect picture of cottage +elegance; all the furniture was of polished walnut-wood, and kept in the +very best condition. It opened by three spacious windows upon the terrace +above the river, and afforded a view of mountain and valley for miles on +every side. An easel was placed on this gallery, and a small sketch in +oils of Kuffstein was already nigh completed on it. There were books, too, +in different languages, and, to my inexpressible delight, a piano! +</p> +<p> +The reader will smile, perhaps, at the degree of pleasure objects so +familiar and everyday called forth; but let him remember how removed were +all the passages of my life from such civilising influences—how +little of the world had I seen beyond camps and barrack-rooms, and how +ignorant I was of the charm which a female presence can diffuse over even +the very humblest abode. +</p> +<p> +Before I had well ceased to wonder, and admire these objects, the marquise +entered. +</p> +<p> +A tall and stately old lady, with an air at once haughty and gracious, +received me with a profound curtsy, while she extended her hand to the +salute of the general She was dressed in deep mourning, and wore her white +hair in two braids along her face. The sound of my native language, with +its native accent, made me forget the almost profound reserve of her +manner, and I was fast recovering from the constraint her coldness +imposed, when her niece entered the room. Mademoiselle, who was at that +time about seventeen, but looked older by a year or two, was the very +ideal of brunette beauty; she was dark-eyed and black-haired, with a mouth +the most beautifully formed; her figure was light, and her foot a model of +shape and symmetry. All this I saw in an instant, as she came, +half-sliding, half-bounding, to meet the general; and then turning to me, +welcomed me with a cordial warmth, very different from the reception of +Madame la Marquise. +</p> +<p> +Whether it was the influence of her presence, whether it was a partial +concession of the old lady’s own, or whether my own awkwardness was +wearing off by time, I cannot say—but gradually the stiffness of the +interview began to diminish. From the scenery around us we grew to talk of +the Tyrol generally, then of Switzerland, and lastly of France. The +marquise came from Auvergne, and was justly proud of the lovely scenery of +her birthplace. +</p> +<p> +Calmly and tranquilly as the conversation had been carried on up to this +period, the mention of France seemed to break down the barrier of reserve +within the old lady’s mind, and she burst out in a wild flood of +reminiscences of the last time she had seen her native village. ‘The +Blues,’ as the revolutionary soldiers were called, had come down upon the +quiet valley, carrying fire and carnage into a once peaceful district. The +château of her family was razed to the ground; her husband was shot upon +his own terrace; the whole village was put to the sword; her own escape +was owing to the compassion of the gardener’s wife, who dressed her like a +peasant boy, and employed her in a menial station, a condition she was +forced to continue so long as the troops remained in the neighbourhood. +‘Yes,’ said she, drawing off her silk mittens, ‘these hands still witness +the hardships I speak of. These are the marks of my servitude.’ +</p> +<p> +It was in vain the general tried at first to sympathise, and then withdraw +her from the theme; in vain her niece endeavoured to suggest another +topic, or convey a hint that the subject might be unpleasing to me. It was +the old lady’s one absorbing idea, and she could not relinquish it. Whole +volumes of the atrocities perpetrated by the revolutionary soldiery came +to her recollection; each moment as she talked, memory would recall this +fact or the other, and so she continued rattling on with the fervour of a +heated imagination, and the wild impetuosity of a half-crazed intellect. +As for myself, I suffered far more from witnessing the pain others felt +for me, than from any offence the topic occasioned me directly. These +events were all ‘before my time.’ I was neither a Blue by birth nor by +adoption; a child during the period of revolution, I had only taken a +man’s part when the country, emerging from its term of anarchy and blood, +stood at bay against the whole of Europe. These consolations were, +however, not known to the others, and it was at last, in a moment of +unendurable agony, that mademoiselle rose and left the room. +</p> +<p> +The general’s eyes followed her as she went, and then sought mine with an +expression full of deep meaning. If I read his look aright, it spoke +patience and submission; and the lesson was an easier one than he thought. +</p> +<p> +‘They talk of heroism,’ cried she frantically—‘it was massacre! And +when they speak of chivalry they mean the slaughter of women and +children!’ She looked round, and seeing that her niece had left the room, +suddenly dropped her voice to a whisper, and said, ‘Think of her mother’s +fate, dragged from her home, her widowed, desolate home, and thrown into +the Temple, outraged and insulted, condemned on a mock trial, and then +carried away to the guillotine! Ay, and even then, on that spot which +coming death might have sanctified, in that moment when even fiendish +vengeance can turn away and leave its victim at liberty to utter a last +prayer in peace, even then, these wretches devised an anguish greater than +all death could compass. You will scarcely believe me,’ said she, drawing +in her breath, and talking with an almost convulsive effort, ‘you will +scarcely believe me in what I am now about to tell you, but it is the +truth—the simple but horrible truth. When my sister mounted the +scaffold there was no priest to administer the last rites. It was a time, +indeed, when few were left; their hallowed heads had fallen in thousands +before that. She waited for a few minutes, hoping that one would appear; +and when the mob learned the meaning of her delay, they set up a cry of +fiendish laughter, and with a blasphemy that makes one shudder to think +of, they pushed forward a boy, one of those blood-stained <i>gamins</i> of +the streets, and made him gabble a mock litany! Yes, it is true—a +horrible mockery of our service, in the ears and before the eyes of that +dying saint.’ +</p> +<p> +‘When? in what year? in what place was that?’ cried I, in an agony of +eagerness. +</p> +<p> +‘I can give you both time and place, sir,’ said the marquise, drawing +herself proudly up, for she construed my question into a doubt of her +veracity. ‘It was in the year 1703, in the month of August; and as for the +place, it was one well seasoned to blood—the Place de Grève at +Paris.’ +</p> +<p> +A fainting sickness came over me as I heard these words; the dreadful +truth flashed across me that the victim was the Marquise d’Estelles, and +the boy on whose infamy she dwelt so strongly, no other than myself. For +the moment, it was nothing to me that she had not identified me with this +atrocity; I felt no consolation in the thought that I was unknown and +unsuspected. The heavy weight of the indignant accusation almost crushed +me. Its falsehood I knew, and yet could I dare to disprove it? Could I +hazard the consequences of an avowal, which all my subsequent pleadings +could never obliterate. Even were my innocence established in one point, +what a position did it reduce me to in every other! +</p> +<p> +These struggles must have manifested themselves strongly in my looks, for +the marquise, with all her self-occupation, remarked how ill I seemed. ‘I +see sir,’ cried she, ‘that all the ravages of war have not steeled your +heart against true piety; my tale has moved you strongly.’ I muttered +something in concurrence, and she went on. ‘Happily for you, you were but +a child when such scenes were happening. Not, indeed, that childhood was +always unstained in those days of blood; but you were, as I understand, +the son of a “Garde du Corps,” one of those loyal men who sealed their +devotion with their life. Were you in Paris then?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, madam,’ said I briefly. +</p> +<p> +‘With your mother, perhaps?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I was quite alone, madam—an orphan on both sides.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What was your mother’s family name?’ +</p> +<p> +Here was a puzzle; but at a hazard I resolved to claim her who should +sound best to the ears of La Marquise. ‘La Lasterie, madam,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +‘La Lasterie de la Vignoble—a most distinguished house, sir. +Provencal, and of the purest blood. Auguste de la Lasterie married the +daughter of the Duke de Miriancourt, a cousin of my husband’s, and there +was another of them who went as ambassador to Madrid.’ +</p> +<p> +I knew none of them, and I suppose I looked as much. +</p> +<p> +‘Your mother was, probably, of the elder branch, sir?’ asked she. +</p> +<p> +I had to stammer out a most lamentable confession of my ignorance. +</p> +<p> +‘Not know your own kinsfolk, sir—not your nearest of blood!’ cried +she, in amazement. ‘General, have you heard this strange avowal? or is it +possible that my ears have deceived me?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Please to remember, madam,’ said I submissively, ‘the circumstances in +which I passed my infancy. My father fell by the guillotine.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And his son wears the uniform of those who slew him!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Of a French soldier, madam, proud of the service he belongs to; glorying +to be one of the first army in Europe.’ +</p> +<p> +‘An army without a cause is a banditti, sir. Your soldiers, without +loyalty, are without a banner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We have a country, madam.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I must protest against this discussion going further,’ said the general +blandly, while in a lower tone he whispered something in her ear. +</p> +<p> +‘Very true, very true,’ said she; ‘I had forgotten all that. Monsieur de +Tiernay, you will forgive me this warmth. An old woman, who has lost +nearly everything in the world, may have the privilege of bad temper +accorded her. We are friends now, I hope,’ added she, extending her hand, +and, with a smile of most gracious meaning, beckoning to me to sit beside +her on the sofa. +</p> +<p> +Once away from the terrible theme of the Revolution, she conversed with +much agreeability; and her niece having reappeared, the conversation +became animated and pleasing. Need I say with what interest I now regarded +mademoiselle—the object of all my boyish devotion, the same whose +pale features I had watched for many an hour in the dim half-light of the +little chapel, her whose image was never absent from my thoughts waking or +sleeping, and now again appearing before me in all the grace of coming +womanhood! +</p> +<p> +Perhaps to obliterate any impression of her aunt’s severity—perhaps +it was mere manner—but I thought there was a degree of anxiety to +please in her bearing towards me. She spoke, too, as though our +acquaintance was to be continued by frequent meetings, and dropped hints +of plans that implied constant intercourse. Even excursions into the +neighbourhood she spoke of; when, suddenly stopping, she said, ‘But these +are for the season of spring, and before that time Monsieur de Tiernay +will be far away.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who can tell that?’ said I. ‘I would seem to be forgotten by my +comrades.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then you must take care to do that which may refresh their memory,’ said +she pointedly; and before I could question her more closely as to her +meaning, the general had risen to take his leave. +</p> +<p> +‘Madame la Marquise was somewhat more tart than usual,’ said he to me, as +we ascended the cliff; ‘but you have passed the ordeal now, and the +chances are, she will never offend you in the same way again. Great +allowances must be made for those who have suffered as she has. Family—fortune—station—even +country—all lost to her; and even hope now dashed by many a +disappointment.’ +</p> +<p> +Though puzzled by the last few words, I made no remark on them, and he +resumed— +</p> +<p> +‘She has invited you to come and see her as often as you are at liberty; +and, for my part, you shall not be restricted in that way. Go and come as +you please, only do not infringe the hours of the fortress; and if you can +concede a little now and then to the prejudices of the old lady, your +intercourse will be all the more agreeable to both parties.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I believe, general, that I have little of the Jacobin to recant,’ said I, +laughing. +</p> +<p> +‘I should go further, my dear friend, and say, none,’ added he. ‘Your +uniform is the only tint of “blue” about you.’ And thus chatting, we +reached the fortress, and said good-night. +</p> +<p> +I have been particular, perhaps tiresomely so, in retelling these broken +phrases and snatches of conversation; but they were the first matches +applied to a train that was long and artfully laid. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIX. A SORROWFUL PARTING +</h2> +<p> +The general was as good as his word, and I now enjoyed the most +unrestricted liberty; in fact, the officers of the garrison said truly, +that they were far more like prisoners than I was. As regularly as evening +came, I descended the path to the village, and, as the bell tolled out the +vespers, I was crossing the little grass-plot to the cottage. So regularly +was I looked for, that the pursuits of each evening were resumed as though +only accidentally interrupted. The unfinished game of chess, the half-read +volume, the newly-begun drawing, were taken up where we had left them, and +life seemed to have centred itself in those delightful hours between +sunset and midnight. +</p> +<p> +I suppose there are few young men who have not, at some time or other of +their lives, enjoyed similar privileges, and known the fascination of +intimacy in some household, where the affections became engaged as the +intellect expanded, and, while winning another’s heart, have elevated +their own. But to know the full charm of such intercourse, one must have +been as I was—a prisoner—an orphan—almost friendless in +the world—a very ‘waif’ upon the shore of destiny. I cannot express +the intense pleasure these evenings afforded me. The cottage was my home, +and more than my home. It was a shrine at which my heart worshipped—for +I was in love! Easy as the confession is to make now, tortures would not +have wrung it from me then! +</p> +<p> +In good truth, it was long before I knew it; nor can I guess how much +longer the ignorance might have lasted, when General Urleben suddenly +dispelled the clouds, by informing me that he had just received from the +Minister of War at Vienna a demand for the name, rank, and regiment of his +prisoner, previous to the negotiation for his exchange. +</p> +<p> +‘You will fill up these blanks, Tiernay,’ said he, ‘and within a month, or +less, you will be once more free, and say adieu to Kuffstein.’ +</p> +<p> +Had the paper contained my dismissal from the service, I shame to own it +would have been more welcome! The last few months had changed all the +character of my life, suggested new hopes and new ambitions. The career I +used to glory in had grown distasteful; the comrades I once longed to +rejoin were now become almost repulsive to my imagination. The marquise +had spoken much of emigrating to some part of the new world beyond seas, +and thither my fancy alike pointed. Perhaps my dreams of a future were not +the less rose-coloured that they received no shadow from anything like a +‘fact.’ The old lady’s geographical knowledge was neither accurate nor +extensive, and she contrived to invest this land of promise with old +associations of what she once heard of Pondicherry—with certain +features belonging to the United States. A glorious country it would +indeed have been, which, within a month’s voyage, realised all the +delights of the tropics, with the healthful vigour of the temperate zone, +and where, without an effort beyond the mere will, men amassed enormous +fortunes in a year or two. In a calmer mood, I might, indeed must, have +been struck with the wild inconsistency of the old lady’s imaginings, and +looked with somewhat of scepticism on the map for that spot of earth so +richly endowed; but now I believed everything, provided it only ministered +to my new hopes. Laura evidently, too, believed in the ‘Canaan’ of which, +at last, we used to discourse as freely as though we had been there. +Little discussions would, however, now and then vary the uniformity of +this creed, and I remember once feeling almost hurt at Laura’s not +agreeing with me about zebras, which I assured her were just as trainable +as horses, but which the marquise flatly refused ever to use in any of her +carriages. These were mere passing clouds: the regular atmosphere of our +wishes was bright and transparent. In the midst of these delicious +daydreams, there came one day a number of letters to the marquise by the +hands of a courier on his way to Naples. What their contents I never knew, +but the tidings seemed most joyful, for the old lady invited the general +and myself to dinner, when the table was decked out with white lilies on +all sides; she herself, and Laura also, wearing them in bouquets on their +dresses. +</p> +<p> +The occasion had, I could see, something of a celebration about it. +Mysterious hints to circumstances I knew nothing of were constantly +interchanged, the whole ending with a solemn toast to the memory of the +‘Saint and Martyr’; but who he was, or when he lived, I knew not one +single fact about. +</p> +<p> +That evening—I cannot readily forget it—was the first I had +ever an opportunity of being alone with Laura! Hitherto the marquise had +always been beside us; now she had all this correspondence to read over +with the general, and they both retired into a little boudoir for the +purpose, while Laura and myself wandered out upon the terrace, as awkward +and constrained as though our situation had been the most provoking thing +possible. It was on that same morning I had received the general’s message +regarding my situation, and I was burning with anxiety to tell it, and yet +knew not exactly how. Laura, too, seemed full of her own thoughts, and +leaned pensively over the balustrade and gazed on the stream. +</p> +<p> +‘What are you thinking of so seriously?’ asked I, after a long pause. +</p> +<p> +‘Of long, long ago,’ said she, sighing, ‘when I was a little child. I +remember a little chapel like that yonder, only that it was not on a rock +over a river, but stood in a small garden; and though in a great city, it +was as lonely and solitary as might be—the Chapelle de St. Blois.’ +</p> +<p> +‘St. Blois, Laura!’ cried I; ‘oh, tell me about that!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Why, you surely never heard of it before,’ said she, smiling. ‘It was in +a remote quarter of Paris, nigh the outer Boulevard, and known to but a +very few. It had once belonged to our family; for in olden times there +were châteaux and country-houses within that space, which then was part of +Paris, and one of our ancestors was buried there. How well I remember it +all! The dim little aisle, supported on wooden pillars; the simple altar, +with the oaken crucifix, and the calm, gentle features of the poor curé.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Can you remember all this so well?’ asked I eagerly, for the theme was +stirring my very heart of hearts. +</p> +<p> +‘All—everything—the straggling, weed-grown garden, through +which we passed to our daily devotions, the congregation standing +respectfully to let us walk by, for my mother was still the great Marquise +d’Estelles, although my father had been executed, and our estates +confiscated. They who had known us in our prosperity were as respectful +and devoted as ever; and poor old Richard, the lame sacristan, that used +to take my mother’s bouquet from her, and lay it on the altar; how +everything stands out clear and distinct before my memory! Nay, Maurice, +but I can tell you more, for strangely enough, certain things, merely +trifles in themselves, make impressions that even great events fail to do. +There was a little boy, a child somewhat older than myself, that used to +serve the mass with the père, and he always came to place a footstool or a +cushion for my mother. Poor little fellow, bashful and diffident he was, +changing colour at every minute, and trembling in every limb; and when he +had done his duty, and made his little reverence, with his hands crossed +on his bosom, he used to fall back into some gloomy corner of the church, +and stand watching us with an expression of intense wonder and pleasure! +Yes, I think I see his dark eyes, glistening through the gloom, ever fixed +on me! I am sure, Maurice, that little fellow fancied he was in love with +me!’ +</p> +<p> +‘And why not, Laura? was the thing so very impossible? was it even so +unlikely?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not that,’ said she archly; ‘but think of a mere child; we were both mere +children; and fancy him, the poor little boy, of some humble house, +perhaps—of course he must have been that—raising his eyes to +the daughter of the great “marquise”; what energy of character there must +have been to have suggested the feeling! how daring he was, with all his +bashfulness!’ +</p> +<p> +‘You never saw him afterwards?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Never!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Never thought of him, perhaps?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll not say that,’ said she, smiling. ‘I have often wondered to myself +if that hardihood I speak of had borne good or evil fruit. Had he been +daring or enterprising in the right, or had he, as the sad times favoured, +been only bold and impetuous for the wrong!’ +</p> +<p> +‘And how have you pictured him to your imagination?’ said I, as if merely +following out a fanciful vein of thought. +</p> +<p> +‘My fancy would like to have conceived him a chivalrous adherent to our +ancient royalty, striving nobly in exile to aid the fortunes of some +honoured house, or daring, as many brave men have dared, the heroic part +of La Vendée. My reason, however, tells me that he was far more likely to +have taken the other part.’ +</p> +<p> +‘To which you will concede no favour, Laura; not even the love of glory.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Glory, like honour, should have its fountain in a monarchy,’ cried she +proudly. ‘The rude voices of a multitude can confer no meed of praise. +Their judgments are the impulses of the moment. But why do we speak of +these things, Maurice? nor have I, who can but breathe my hopes for a +cause, the just pretension to contend with you, who shed your blood for +its opposite.’ +</p> +<p> +As she spoke, she hurried from the balcony, and quitted the room. It was +the first time, as I have said, that we had ever been alone together, and +it was also the first time she had ever expressed herself strongly on the +subject of party. What a moment to have declared her opinions, and when +her reminiscences, too, had recalled our infancy! How often was I tempted +to interrupt that confession by declaring myself, and how strongly was I +repelled by the thought that the avowal might sever us for ever! While I +was thus deliberating, the marquise, with the general, entered the room, +and Laura followed in a few moments. +</p> +<p> +The supper that night was a pleasant one to all save me. The rest were gay +and high-spirited. Allusions, understood by them but not by me, were +caught up readily, and as quickly responded to. Toasts were uttered, and +wishes breathed in concert, but all was like a dream to me. Indeed my +heart grew*heavier at every moment. My coming departure, of which I had +not yet spoken, lay drearily on my mind, while the bold decision with +which Laura declared her faith showed that our destinies were separated by +an impassable barrier. +</p> +<p> +It may be supposed that my depression was not relieved by discovering that +the general had already announced my approaching departure, and the news, +far from being received with anything like regret, was made the theme of +pleasant allusion, and even congratulation. The marquise repeatedly +assured me of the delight the tidings gave her, and Laura smiled happily +towards me, as if echoing the sentiment. +</p> +<p> +Was this the feeling I had counted on? were these the evidences of an +affection for which I had given my whole heart? Oh, how bitterly I reviled +the frivolous ingratitude of woman! how heavily I condemned their +heartless, unfeeling nature! In a few days, a few hours, perhaps, I shall +be as totally forgotten here as though I had never been, and yet these are +the people who parade their devotion to a fallen monarchy, and their +affection for an exiled house. I tried to arm myself with every prejudice +against Royalism. I thought of Santron and his selfish, sarcastic spirit. +I thought of all the stories I used to hear of cowardly ingratitude and +noble infamy, and tried to persuade myself that the blandishments of the +well born were but the gloss that covered cruel and unfeeling natures. +</p> +<p> +For very pride s sake, I tried to assume a manner cool and unconcerned as +their own. I affected to talk of my departure as a pleasant event, and +even hinted at the career that Fortune might hereafter open to me. In this +they seemed to take a deeper interest than I anticipated, and I could +perceive that more than once the general exchanged looks with the ladies +most significantly. I fear I grew very impatient at last. I grieve to +think that I fancied a hundred annoyances that were never intended for me, +and, when we arose to take leave, I made my adieux with a cold and stately +reserve, intended to be strongly impressive and cut them to the quick. +</p> +<p> +I heard very little of what the general said as we ascended the cliff. I +was out of temper with him, and myself, and all the world; and it was only +when he recalled my attention to the fact, for the third or fourth time, +that I learned how very kindly he meant by me in the matter of my +liberation; for while he had forwarded all my papers to Vienna, he was +quite willing to set me at liberty on the following day, in the perfect +assurance that my exchange would be confirmed. +</p> +<p> +‘You will thus have a full fortnight at your own disposal, Tiernay,’ said +he, ‘since the official answer cannot arrive from Vienna before that time, +and you need not report yourself in Paris for eight or ten days after.’ +</p> +<p> +Here was a boon now thrown away! For my part, I would a thousand times +rather have lingered on at Kuffstein than have been free to travel Europe +from one end to the other. My outraged pride, however, put this out of the +question. La Marquise and her niece had both assumed a manner of sincere +gratification, and I was resolved not to be behindhand in my show of joy. +I ought to have known it, said I again and again. I ought to have known +it. These antiquated notions of birth and blood can never co-exist with +any generous sentiment. These remnants of a worn-out monarchy can never +forgive the vigorous energy that has dethroned their decrepitude. I did +not dare to speculate on what a girl Laura might have been under other +auspices; how nobly her ambition would have soared; what high-souled +patriotism she could have felt; how gloriously she would have adorned the +society of a regenerated nation. I thought of her as she was, and could +have hated myself for the devotion with which my heart regarded her. +</p> +<p> +I never closed my eyes the entire night. I lay down and walked about +alternately, my mind in a perfect fever of conflict. Pride, a false pride, +but not the less strong for that, alone sustained me. The general had +announced to me that I was free. Be it so; I will no longer be a burden on +his hospitality. La Marquise hears the tidings with pleasure. Agreed, +then, we part without regret. Very valorous resolutions they were, but +come to, I must own, with a very sinking heart and a very craven spirit. +</p> +<p> +Instead of my full uniform, that morning, I put on half dress, showing +that I was ready for the road; a sign, I had hoped, would have spoken +unutterable things to La Marquise and Laura. +</p> +<p> +Immediately after breakfast, I set out for the cottage. All the way, as I +went, I was drilling myself for the interview by assuming a tone of the +coolest and easiest indifference. They shall have no triumph over me in +this respect, muttered I. Let us see if I cannot be as unconcerned as they +are! To such a pitch had I carried my zeal for flippancy, that I resolved +to ask them whether they had no commission I could execute for them in +Paris or elsewhere. The idea struck me as excellent, so indicative of +perfect self-possession and command. I am sure I must have rehearsed our +interview at least a dozen times, supplying all the stately grandeur of +the old lady and all the quiet placitude of Laura. +</p> +<p> +By the time I reached the village I was quite strong in my part, and as I +crossed the Platz I was eager to begin it. This energetic spirit, however, +began to waver a little as I entered the lawn before the cottage, and a +most uncomfortable throbbing at my side made me stand for a moment in the +porch before I entered. I used always to make my appearance unannounced, +but now I felt that it would be more dignified and distant were I to +summon a servant, and yet I could find none. The household was on a very +simple scale, and in all likelihood the labours of the field or the garden +were now employing them. I hesitated what to do, and after looking in vain +around the <i>cour</i> and the stable-yard, I turned into the garden to +seek for some one. +</p> +<p> +I had not proceeded many paces along a little alley, flanked by two close +hedges of yew, when I heard voices, and at the same instant my own name +uttered. +</p> +<p> +‘You told him to use caution, Laura; that we know little of this Tiernay +beyond his own narrative——’ +</p> +<p> +‘I told him the very reverse, aunt. I said that he was the son of a loyal +“Garde du Corps,” left an orphan in infancy, and thrown by force of events +into the service of the Republic; but that every sentiment he expressed, +every ambition he cherished, and every feeling he displayed, was that of a +gentleman; nay, further——’ But +</p> +<p> +I did not wait for more, for, striking my sabre heavily on the ground to +announce my coming, I walked hurriedly forward towards a small arbour +where the ladies were seated at breakfast. +</p> +<p> +I need not stop to say how completely all my resolves were routed by the +few words I had overheard from Laura, nor how thoroughly I recanted all my +expressions concerning her. So full was I of joy and gratitude, that I +hastened to salute her before ever noticing the marquise, or being +conscious of her presence. +</p> +<p> +The old lady, usually the most exacting of all beings, took my omission in +good part, and most politely made room for me between herself and Laura at +the breakfast-table. +</p> +<p> +‘You have come most opportunely, Monsieur de Tiernay,’ said she; ‘for not +only were we just speaking of you, but discussing whether or not we might +ask of you a favour.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Does the question admit of a discussion, madame?’ said I, bowing. +</p> +<p> +‘Perhaps not, in ordinary circumstances, perhaps not; but——-’ +she hesitated, seemed confused, and looked at Laura, who went on—‘My +aunt would say, sir, that we may be possibly asking too much—that we +may presume too far.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not on my will to serve you,’ I broke in, for her looks said much more +than her words. +</p> +<p> +‘The matter is this, sir,’ said the aunt: ‘we have a very valued relative——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Friend,’ interposed Laura, ‘friend, aunt.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We will say friend, then,’ resumed she; ‘a friend in whose welfare we are +deeply interested, and whose regard for us is not less powerful, has been +for some years back separated from us by the force of those unhappy +circumstances which have made so many of us exiles! No means have existed +of communicating with each other, nor of interchanging those hopes or +fears for our country’s welfare which are so near to every French heart! +He is in Germany, we are in the wild Tyrol, one-half the world apart, and +dare not trust to a correspondence the utterance of those sympathies which +have brought so many to the scaffold!’ +</p> +<p> +‘We would ask of you to see him, Monsieur de Tiernay, to know him,’ burst +out Laura; ‘to tell him all that you can of France—above all, of the +sentiments of the army; he is a soldier himself, and will hear you with +pleasure.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You may speak freely and frankly,’ continued the marquise; ‘the count is +man of the world enough to hear the truth even when it gives pain. Your +own career will interest him deeply; heroism has always had a charm for +all his house. This letter will introduce you; and as the general informs +us you have some days at your own disposal, pray give them to our service +in this cause.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Willingly, madame,’ replied I, ‘only let me understand a little better——’ +</p> +<p> +‘There is no need to know more,’ interrupted Laura; ‘the Count de Marsanne +will himself suggest everything of which you will talk. He will speak of +us, perhaps—of the Tyrol—of Kuffstein; then he will lead the +conversation to France—in fact, once acquainted, you will follow the +dictates of your own fancy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just so, Monsieur de Tiernay; it will be a visit with as little of +ceremony as possible——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Aunt!’ interrupted Laura, as if recalling the marquise to caution; and +the old lady at once acknowledged the hint by a significant look. +</p> +<p> +I see it all, thought I De Marsanne is Laura’s accepted lover, and I am +the person to be employed as go-between. This was intolerable, and when +the thought first struck me, I was beside myself with passion. +</p> +<p> +‘Are we asking too great a favour, Monsieur de Tiernay?’ said the +marquise, whose eyes were fixed upon me during this conflict. +</p> +<p> +‘Of course not, madame,’ said I, in an accent of almost sarcastic tone. +‘If I am not wrong in my impressions, the cause might claim a deeper +devotion; but this is a theme I would not wish to enter upon.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We are aware of that,’ said Laura quickly; ‘we are quite prepared for +your reserve, which is perfectly proper and becoming.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your position being one of unusual delicacy,’ chimed in the marquise. +</p> +<p> +I bowed haughtily and coldly, while the marquise uttered a thousand +expressions of gratitude and regard to me. +</p> +<p> +‘We had hoped to have seen you here a few days longer, monsieur,’ said +she, ‘but perhaps, under the circumstances, it is better as it is.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Under the circumstances, madame,’ repeated I, ‘I am bound to agree with +you’; and I turned to say farewell. +</p> +<p> +‘Rather, <i>au revoir</i>, Monsieur de Tiernay,’ said the marquise; +‘friendship, such as ours, should at least be hopeful; say then <i>au +revoir</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Perhaps Monsieur de Tiernay’s hopes run not in the same channel as our +own, aunt,’ said Laura, ‘and perhaps the days of happiness that we look +forward to would bring far different feelings to his heart.’ +</p> +<p> +This was too pointed—this was insupportably offensive I and I was +only able to mutter, ‘You are right, mademoiselle’; and then, addressing +myself to the marquise, I made some blundering apologies about haste and +so forth; while I promised to fulfil her commission faithfully and +promptly. +</p> +<p> +‘Shall we not hear from you?’ said the old lady, as she gave me her hand. +I was about to say, ‘Under the circumstances, better not’; but I +hesitated, and Laura, seeing my confusion, said, ‘It might be unfair, +aunt, to expect it; remember how he is placed.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Mademoiselle is a miracle of forethought and candour too,’ said I. +‘Adieu! adieu for ever!’ The last word I uttered in a low whisper. +</p> +<p> +‘Adieu, Maurice,’ said she, equally low, and then turned away towards the +window. +</p> +<p> +From that moment until the instant when, out of breath and exhausted, I +halted for a few seconds on the crag below the fortress, I knew nothing; +my brain was in a whirl of mad, conflicting thought. Every passion was +working within me, and rage, jealousy, love, and revenge were alternately +swaying and controlling me. Then, however, as I looked down for the last +time on the village and the cottage beside the river, my heart softened, +and I burst into a torrent of tears. There, said I, as I arose to resume +my way, there! one illusion is dissipated; let me take care that life +never shall renew the affliction! Henceforth I will be a soldier, and only +a soldier. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XL. THE CHATEAU OF ETTENHEIM +</h2> +<p> +I now come to an incident in my life, which, however briefly I may speak, +has left the deepest impression on my memory. I have told the reader how I +left Kuffstein fully satisfied that the Count de Marsanne was Laura’s +lover, and that in keeping my promise to see and speak with him, I was +about to furnish an instance of self-denial and fidelity that nothing in +ancient or modern days could compete with. +</p> +<p> +The letter was addressed, ‘The Count Louis de Marsanne, Château +d’Ettenheim, à Baden,’ and thither I accordingly repaired, travelling over +the Arlberg to Bregenz, and across the Lake of Constance to Freyburg; my +passport containing a very few words in cipher, which always sufficed to +afford me free transit and every attention from the authorities. I had +left the southern Tyrol in the outburst of a glorious spring, but as I +journeyed northward I found the rivers frozen, the roads encumbered with +snow, and the fields untilled and dreary-looking. Like all countries which +derive their charms from the elements of rural beauty, foliage and +verdure, Germany offers a sad coloured picture to the traveller in winter +or wintry weather. +</p> +<p> +It was thus, then, that the Grand-Duchy, so celebrated for its picturesque +beauty, struck me as a scene of dreary and desolate wildness, an +impression which continued to increase with every mile I travelled from +the highroad. +</p> +<p> +A long unbroken flat, intersected here and there by stunted willows, +traversed by a narrow earth road, lay between the Rhine and the Taunus +Mountains, in the midst of which stood the village of ‘Ettenheim.’ Outside +the village, about half a mile off, and on the border of a vast pine +forest, stood the château. +</p> +<p> +It was originally a hunting-seat of the Dukes of Baden, but from neglect, +and disuse, gradually fell into ruin, from which it was reclaimed, +imperfectly enough, a year before, and now exhibited some remnants of its +former taste, along with the evidences of a far less decorative spirit; +the lower rooms being arranged as a stable, while the stair and entrance +to the first storey opened from a roomy coach-house. Here some four or +five conveyances of rude construction were gathered together, splashed and +unwashed, as if from recent use; and at a small stove in a corner was +seated a peasant in a blue frock, smoking as he affected to clean a bridle +which he held before him. +</p> +<p> +Without rising from his seat he saluted me, with true German phlegm, and +gave me the ‘Guten Tag,’ with all the grave unconcern of a ‘Badener.’ I +asked if the Count de Marsanne lived there. He said yes, but the ‘Graf’ +was out hunting. When would he be back? By nightfall. +</p> +<p> +Could I remain there till his return? was my next question; and he stared +at me as I put it, with some surprise. ‘Warum nicht?’ ‘Why not?’ was at +last his sententious answer, as he made way for me beside the stove. I saw +at once that my appearance had evidently not entitled me to any peculiar +degree of deference or respect, and that the man regarded me as his equal. +It was true I had come some miles on foot, and with a knapsack on my +shoulder, so that the peasant was fully warranted in his reception of me. +I accordingly seated myself at his side, and lighting my pipe from his, +proceeded to derive all the profit I could from drawing him into +conversation. I might have spared myself the trouble. Whether the source +lay in stupidity or sharpness, he evaded me on every point. Not a single +particle of information could I obtain about the count, his habits, or his +history. He would not even tell me how long he had resided there, nor +whence he had come. He liked hunting, and so did the other ‘Herren.’ There +was the whole I could scan; and to the simple fact that there were others +with him, did I find myself limited. +</p> +<p> +Curious to see something of the count’s ‘interior,’ I hinted to my +companion that I had come on purpose to visit his master, and suggested +the propriety of my awaiting his arrival in a more suitable place; but he +turned a deaf ear to the hint, and dryly remarked that the ‘Graf would not +be long a-coming now.’ This prediction was, however, not to be verified; +the dreary hours of the dull day stole heavily on, and although I tried to +beguile the time by lounging about the place, the cold ungenial weather +drove me back to the stove, or to the dark precinct of the stable, +tenanted by three coarse ponies of the mountain breed. +</p> +<p> +One of these was the Grafs favourite, the peasant told me; and indeed here +he showed some disposition to become communicative, narrating various +gifts and qualities of the unseemly looking animal, which, in his eyes, +was a paragon of horse-flesh. ‘He could travel from here to Kehl and back +in a day, and has often done it,’ was one meed of praise that he bestowed; +a fact which impressed me more as regarded the rider than the beast, and +set my curiosity at work to think why any man should undertake a journey +of nigh seventy miles between two such places and with such speed. The +problem served to occupy me till dark, and I know not how long after. A +stormy night of rain and wind set in, and the peasant, having bedded and +foraged his cattle, lighted a rickety old lantern and began to prepare for +bed; for such I at last saw was the meaning of a long crib, like a coffin, +half filled with straw and sheep-skins. A coarse loaf of black bread, some +black forest cheese, and a flask of Kleinthaler, a most candid imitation +of vinegar, made their appearance from a cupboard, and I did not disdain +to partake of these delicacies. +</p> +<p> +My host showed no disposition to become more communicative over his wine, +and, indeed, the liquor might have excused any degree of reserve; and no +sooner was our meal over than, drawing a great woollen cap half over his +face, he rolled himself up in his sheep-skins, and betook himself to +sleep, if not with a good conscience, at least with a sturdy volition that +served just as well. +</p> +<p> +Occasionally snatching a short slumber, or walking to and fro in the roomy +chamber, I passed several hours, when the splashing sound of horses’ feet, +advancing up the miry road, attracted me. Several times before that I had +been deceived by noises which turned out to be the effects of storm, but +now, as I listened, I thought I could hear voices. I opened the door, but +all was dark outside; it was the inky hour before daybreak, when all is +wrapped in deepest gloom. The rain, too, was sweeping along the ground in +torrents. The sounds came nearer every instant, and, at last, a deep voice +shouted out, ‘Jacob.’ Before I could awaken the sleeping peasant, to whom +I judged this summons was addressed, a horseman dashed up to the door and +rode in; another as quickly followed him, and closed the door. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> D’Egville,’ said the first who entered, ‘we have got a +rare peppering!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Even so,’ said the other, as he shook his hat, and threw off a cloak +perfectly soaked with rain; ‘<i>à la guerre comme à la guerre</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +This was said in French, when, turning towards me, the former said in +German, ‘Be active, Master Jacob; these nags have had a smart ride of it.’ +Then, suddenly, as the light flashed full on my features, he started back, +and said, ‘How is this—who are you?’ +</p> +<p> +A very brief explanation answered this somewhat un-courteous question, +and, at the same time, I placed the marquise’s letter in his hand, saying, +‘The Count de Marsanne, I presume.’ +</p> +<p> +He took it hastily, and drew nigh to the lantern to peruse it. I had now +full time to observe him, and saw that he was a tall and well-built man, +of about seven or eight-and-twenty. His features were remarkably handsome, +and although slightly flushed by his late exertion, were as calm and +composed as might be; a short black moustache gave his upper-lip a slight +character of ‘scorn, but the brow, open, frank and good-tempered in its +expression, redeemed this amply. He had not read many lines when, turning +about, he apologised in the most courteous terms for the manner of my +reception. He had been on a shooting excursion for a few days back, and +taken all his people with him, save the peasant, who looked after the +cattle. Then, introducing me to his friend, whom he called Count +d’Egville, he led the way upstairs. +</p> +<p> +It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast to the dark and dreary +coach-house than the comfortable suite of apartments which we now +traversed on our way to a large, well-furnished room, where a table was +laid for supper, and a huge wood fire blazed brightly on the hearth. A +valet, of most respectful manner, received the count’s orders to prepare a +room for me, after which my host and his friend retired to change their +clothes. +</p> +<p> +Although D’Egville was many years older, and of a graver, sterner fashion +than the other, I could detect a degree of deference and respect in his +manner towards him, which De Marsanne accepted like one well accustomed to +receive it. It was a time, however, when, in the wreck of fortune, so many +men lived in a position of mere dependence, that I thought nothing of +this, nor had I even the time, as Count de Marsanne entered. From my own +preconceived notions as to his being Laura’s lover, I was quite prepared +to answer a hundred impatient inquiries about the marquise and her niece, +and as we were now alone, I judged that he would deem the time a +favourable one to talk of them. What was my surprise, however, when he +turned the conversation exclusively to the topic of my own journey, the +route I had travelled. He knew the country perfectly, and spoke of the +various towns and their inhabitants with acuteness and tact. +</p> +<p> +His Royalist leanings did not, like those of the marquise, debar him from +feeling a strong interest respecting the success of the Republican troops, +with whose leaders he was thoroughly acquainted, knowing all their +peculiar excellences and defaults as though he had lived in intimacy with +them. Of Bonaparte’s genius he was the most enraptured admirer, and would +not hear of any comparison between him and the other great captains of the +day. D’Egville at last made his appearance, and we sat down to an +excellent supper, enlivened by the conversation of our host, who, whatever +the theme, talked well and pleasingly. +</p> +<p> +I was in a mood to look for flaws in his character—my jealousy was +still urging me to seek for whatever I could find fault with; and yet all +my critical shrewdness could only detect a slight degree of pride in his +manner, not displaying itself by any presumption, but by a certain +urbanity that smacked of condescension. But even this at last went off, +and before I wished him good-night I felt that I had never met any one so +gifted with agreeable qualities, nor possessed of such captivating +manners, as himself. Even his Royalism had its fascinations, for it was +eminently national, and showed at every moment that he was far more of a +Frenchman than a Monarchist. We parted without one word of allusion to the +marquise or to Laura! Had this singular fact any influence upon the +favourable impression I had conceived of him, or was I unconsciously +grateful for the relief thus given to all my jealous tormentings? Certain +is it that I felt infinitely happier than I ever fancied I should be under +his roof, and, as I lay down in my bed, thanked my stars that he was not +my rival! +</p> +<p> +When I awoke the next morning it was some minutes before I could remember +where I was; and as I still lay, gradually recalling myself to memory, the +valet entered to announce the count. +</p> +<p> +‘I have come to say adieu for a few hours,’ said he; a very pressing +appointment requires me to be at Pforzheim to-day, and I have to ask that +you will excuse my absence. I know that I may take this liberty without +any appearance of rudeness, for the marquise has told me all about you. +Pray, then, try and amuse yourself till evening, and we shall meet at +supper.’ +</p> +<p> +I was not sorry that D’Egville was to accompany him, and, turning on my +side, dozed off to sleep away some of the gloomy hours of a winter’s day. +</p> +<p> +In this manner several days were passed, the count absenting himself each +morning, and returning at nightfall, sometimes accompanied by D’Egville, +sometimes alone. It was evident enough, from the appearance of his horses +at his return, as well as from his own jaded looks, that he had ridden +hard and far; but except a chance allusion to the state of the roads or +the weather, it was a topic to which he never referred, nor, of course, +did I ever advert. Meanwhile our intimacy grew closer and franker. The +theme of politics, a forbidden subject between men so separated, was +constantly discussed between us, and I could not help feeling flattered at +the deference with which he listened to opinions from one so much his +junior, and so inferior in knowledge as myself. Nothing could be more +moderate than his views of government, only provided that it was +administered by the rightful sovereign. The claim of a king to his throne +he declared to be the foundation of all the rights of property, and which, +if once shaken or disputed, would inevitably lead to the wildest theories +of democratic equality. ‘I don’t want to convert you,’ would he say +laughingly; ‘the son of an old “Garde da Corps,” the born gentleman, has +but to live to learn. It may come a little later or a little earlier, but +you’ll end as a good Monarchist.’ +</p> +<p> +One evening he was unusually late in returning, and when he came was +accompanied by seven or eight companions, some younger, some older, than +himself, but all men whose air and bearing bespoke their rank in life, +while their names recalled the thoughts of old French chivalry. I remember +among them was a Coigny, a Gramont, and Rochefoucauld—the last as +lively a specimen of Parisian wit and brilliancy as ever fluttered along +the sunny Boulevards. +</p> +<p> +De Marsanne, while endeavouring to enjoy himself and entertain his guests, +was, to my thinking, more serious than usual, and seemed impatient at +D’Egville’s absence, for whose coming we now waited supper. +</p> +<p> +‘I should not wonder if he was lost in the deep mud of those cross-roads,’ +said Coigny. +</p> +<p> +‘Or perhaps he has fallen into the Republic,’ said Rochefoucauld; ‘it’s +the only thing dirtier that I know of.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Monsieur forgets that I wear its cloth,’ said I, in a low whisper to him; +and low as it was, De Marsanne overheard it. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, Charles,’ cried he, ‘you must apologise, and on the spot, for the +rudeness.’ +</p> +<p> +Rochefoucauld reddened and hesitated. +</p> +<p> +‘I insist, sir,’ cried De Marsanne, with a tone of superiority I had never +seen him assume before. +</p> +<p> +‘Perhaps,’ said he, with a half-sneer, ‘Monsieur de Tiernay might refuse +to accept my excuses.’ +</p> +<p> +‘In that case, sir,’ interposed De Marsanne, ‘the quarrel will become +mine, for he is my guest, and lives here under the safeguard of my +honour.’ +</p> +<p> +Rochefoucauld bowed submissively, and with the air of a man severely but +justly rebuked; and then advancing to me said, ‘I beg to tender you my +apology, monsieur, for an expression which should never have been uttered +by me in your presence.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Quite sufficient, sir,’ said I, bowing, and anxious to conclude a scene +which for the first time had disturbed the harmony of our meetings. Slight +as was the incident, its effects were yet visible in the disconcerted +looks of the party, and I could see that more than one glance was directed +towards me with an expression of coldness and distrust. +</p> +<p> +‘Here comes D’Egville at last,’ said one, throwing open the window to +listen. The night was starlit, but dark, and the air calm and motionless. +‘I certainly heard a horses tread on the causeway.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I hear distinctly the sound of several,’ cried Coigny; ‘and, if I mistake +not much, so does Monsieur de Tiernay.’ This sudden allusion turned every +eye towards me, as I stood still, suffering from the confusion of the late +scene. +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; I hear the tramp of horses, and cavalry too, I should say, by their +measured tread.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There was a trumpet-call!’ cried Coigny; ‘what does that mean?’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is the signal to take open order,’ said I, answering as if the +question were addressed to myself. ‘It is a picket taking a +reconnaissance.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How do you know that, sir?’ said Gramont sternly. +</p> +<p> +‘Ay! how does he know that?’ cried several passionately, as they closed +around me. +</p> +<p> +‘You must ask in another tone, messieurs,’ said I calmly, ‘if you expect +to be answered.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They mean to say, how do you happen to know the German trumpet-calls, +Tiernay,’ said De Marsanne mildly, as he laid his hand on my arm. +</p> +<p> +‘It’s a French signal,’ said I; ‘I ought to know it well.’ +</p> +<p> +Before my words were well uttered the door was thrown open, and D’Egville +burst into the room, pale as death, his clothes all mud-stained and +disordered. Making his way through the others, he whispered a few words in +De Marsanne’s ear. +</p> +<p> +‘Impossible!’ cried the other; ‘we are here in the territory of the +Margrave.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is as I say,’ replied D’Egville; ‘there’s not a second to lose—it +may be too late even now—by Heavens it is!—they’ve drawn a +cordon round the château.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What’s to be done, gentlemen?’ said De Marsanne, seating himself calmly, +and crossing his arms on his breast. +</p> +<p> +‘What do you say, sir?’ cried Gramont, advancing to me with an air of +insolent menace; ‘you, at least, ought to know the way out of this +difficulty.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Or, by Heaven, his own road shall be one of the shortest, considering the +length of the journey,’ muttered another; and I could hear the sharp click +of a pistol-cock as he spoke the words. +</p> +<p> +‘This is unworthy of you, gentlemen, and of me,’ said De Marsanne +haughtily; and he gazed around him with a look that seemed to abash them; +‘nor is it a time to hold such disputation. There is another and a very +difficult call to answer. Are we agreed?’ Before he could finish the +sentence the door was burst open, and several dragoons in French uniforms +entered, and ranged themselves across the entrance, while a colonel, with +his sabre drawn, advanced in front of them. +</p> +<p> +‘This is brigandage,’ cried De Marsanne passionately, as he drew his +sword, and seemed meditating a spring through them; but he was immediately +surrounded by his friends and disarmed. Indeed nothing could be more +hopeless than resistance; more than double our number were already in the +room, while the hoarse murmur of voices without, and the tramp of heavy +feet, announced a strong party. +</p> +<p> +At a signal from their officers the dragoons unslung their carbines, and +held them at the cock, when the colonel called out, ‘Which of you, +messieurs, is the Due d’Enghien?’ +</p> +<p> +‘If you come to arrest him,’ replied De Marsanne, * you ought to have his +description in your warrant.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is the descendant of a Condé ashamed to own his name?’ asked the colonel, +with a sneer. ‘But we ‘ll make short work of it, sirs; I arrest you all My +orders are peremptory, messieurs. If you resist, or attempt to escape—’ +and he made a significant sign with his hand to finish. The ‘Duc’—-for +I need no longer call him De Marsanne—never spoke a word, but with +folded arms calmly walked forward, followed by his little household. As we +descended the stairs, we found ourselves in the midst of about thirty +dismounted dragoons, all on the alert, and prepared for any resistance. +The remainder of a squadron were on horseback without. With a file of +soldiers on either hand, we marched for about a quarter of a mile across +the fields to a small mill, where a general officer and his staff seemed +awaiting our arrival. Here, too, a picket of gendarmes was stationed—a +character of force significant enough of the meaning of the enterprise. We +were hurriedly marched into the court of the mill, the owner of which +stood between two soldiers, trembling from head to foot with terror. +</p> +<p> +‘Which is the Duc d’Enghien?’ asked the colonel of the miller. +</p> +<p> +‘That is he with the scarlet vest’; and the prince nodded an assent. +</p> +<p> +‘Your age, monsieur?’ asked the colonel of the prince. +</p> +<p> +‘Thirty-two—that is, I should have been so much in August, were it +not for this visit,’ said he, smiling. +</p> +<p> +The colonel wrote on rapidly for a few minutes, and then showed the paper +to the general, who briefly said, ‘Yes, yes; this does not concern you nor +me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I wish to ask, sir,’ said the prince, addressing the general, ‘do you +make this arrest with the consent of the authorities of this country, or +do you do so in defiance of them?’ +</p> +<p> +‘You must reserve questions like that for the court who will judge you, +Monsieur de Condé,’ said the officer roughly. ‘If you wish for any +articles of dress from your quarters, you had better think of them. My +orders are to convey you to Strasbourg. Is there anything so singular in +the fact, sir, that you should look so much astonished?’ +</p> +<p> +‘There is, indeed,’ said the prince sorrowfully. ‘I shall be the first of +my house who ever crossed that frontier a prisoner.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But not the first who carried arms against his country,’ rejoined the +other—a taunt the duke only replied to by a look of infinite scorn +and contempt. With a speed that told plainly the character of the +expedition, we were now placed, two together, on country cars, and driven +at a rapid pace towards Strasbourg. Relays of cattle awaited us on the +road, and we never halted but for a few minutes during the entire journey. +My companion on this dreary day was the Baron de St. Jacques, the +aide-de-camp to the duke; but he never spoke once; indeed he scarcely +lifted his head during the whole journey. +</p> +<p> +Heaven knows it was a melancholy journey; and neither the country nor the +season were such as to lift the mind from sorrow; and yet, strange enough, +the miles glided over rapidly, and to this hour I cannot remember by what +magic the way seemed so short. The thought that for several days back I +had been living in closest intimacy with a distinguished prince of the +Bourbon family; that we had spent hours together discussing themes and +questions which were those of his own house, canvassing the chances and +weighing the claims of which he was himself the asserter—was a most +exciting feeling. How I recalled now all the modest deference of his +manner—his patient endurance of my crude opinions—his generous +admissions regarding his adversaries—and, above all, his ardent +devotion to France, whatever the hand that swayed her destinies; and then +the chivalrous boldness of his character, blended with an almost girlish +gentleness-how princely were such traits! +</p> +<p> +From these thoughts I wandered on to others about his arrest and capture, +from which, however, I could not believe any serious issue was to come. +Bonaparte is too noble-minded not to feel the value of such a life as +this. Men like the prince can be more heavily fettered by generous +treatment than by all the chains that ever bound a felon. But what will be +done with him? what with his followers? and lastly, not at all the +pleasantest consideration, what is to come of Maurice Tiernay, who, to say +the least, has been found in very suspicious company, and without a shadow +of an explanation to account for it? This last thought just occurred to me +as we crossed over the long bridge of boats, and entered Strasbourg. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLI. AN ‘ORDINARY’ ACQUAINTANCE +</h2> +<p> +The Duc d’Enghien and his aide-de-camp were forwarded with the utmost +speed to Paris; the remainder of us were imprisoned at Strasbourg. What +became of my companions I know not; but I was sent on, along with a number +of others, about a month later, to Nancy, to be tried by a military +commission. I may mention it here as a singular fact illustrating the +secrecy of the period, that it was not till long after this time I learned +the terrible fate of the poor Prince de Condé. Had I known it, it is more +than probable that I should have utterly despaired of my own safety. The +dreadful story of Vincennes—the mock trial, and the midnight +execution, are all too well known to my readers; nor is it necessary I +should refer to an event on which I myself can throw no new light. +</p> +<p> +That the sentence was determined on before his arrest—and that the +grave was dug while the victim was still sleeping the last slumber before +‘the sleep that knows not waking’—the evidences are strong and +undeniable. But an anecdote which circulated at the time, and which, so +far as I know, has never appeared in print, would seem to show that there +was complicity, at least, in the crime, and that the secret was not +confined to the First Consul’s breast. +</p> +<p> +On that fatal night of the 20th March, Talleyrand was seated at a +card-table at Caulaincourt’s house at Paris. The party was about to rise +from play, when suddenly the ‘pendule’ on the chimney-piece struck two. It +was in one of those accidental pauses in the conversation when any sound +is heard with unusual distinctness. Talleyrand started as he heard it, and +then turning to Caulaincourt, whispered, ‘Yes; ‘tis all over now!’—words +which, accidentally overheard, without significance, were yet to convey a +terrible meaning when the dreadful secret of that night was disclosed. +</p> +<p> +If the whole of Europe was convulsed by the enormity of this crime—the +foulest that stains the name of Bonaparte—the Parisians soon forgot +it in the deeper interest of the great event that was now approaching—the +assumption of the Imperial title by Napoleon. +</p> +<p> +The excitement on this theme was so great and absorbing, that nothing else +was spoken or thought of. Private sorrows and afflictions were disregarded +and despised, and to obtrude one’s hardships on the notice of others, +seemed, at this juncture, a most ineffable selfishness. That I, a +prisoner, friendless and unknown as I was, found none to sympathise with +me, or take interest in my fate, is, therefore, nothing extraordinary. In +fact, I appeared to have been entirely forgotten; and though still in +durance, nothing was said either of the charge to be preferred against me, +nor the time when I should be brought to trial. +</p> +<p> +Giacourt, an old lieutenant of the marines, and at that time +Deputy-Governor of the Temple, was kind and good-natured towards me, +occasionally telling of the events which were happening without, and +giving me the hope that some general amnesty would, in all likelihood, +liberate all those whose crimes were not beyond the reach of mercy. The +little cell I occupied (and to Giacourt’s kindness I owed the sole +possession of it) looked out upon the tall battlements of the outer walls, +which excluded all view beyond, and thus drove me within myself for +occupation and employment. In this emergency, I set about to write some +notices of my life—some brief memoirs of those changeful fortunes +which had accompanied me from boyhood. Many of those incidents which I +relate now, and many of those traits of mind or temper that I recall, were +then for the first time noted down, and thus graven on my memory. +</p> +<p> +My early boyhood, my first experience as a soldier, the campaign of the +‘Schwarzwald,’ Ireland, and Genoa, all were mentioned; and writing as I +did solely for myself, and my own eyes, I set down many criticisms on the +generals, and their plans of campaign, which, if intended for the +inspection of others, would have been the greatest presumption and +impertinence. And in this way Moreau, Hoche, Massëna, and even Bonaparte, +came in for a most candid and impartial criticism. +</p> +<p> +How Germany might have been conquered; how Ireland ought to have been +invaded; in what way Italy should have been treated; and lastly, the grand +political error of the seizure of the Duc d’Enghien, were subjects that I +discussed and determined with consummate boldness and self-satisfaction. I +am almost overwhelmed with shame, even now, as I think of that absurd +chronicle, with its rash judgments, its crude opinions, and its +pretentious decisions. +</p> +<p> +So fascinated had I become with my task, that I rose early to resume it +each morning, and used to fall asleep cogitating on the themes for the +next day, and revolving within myself all the passages of interest I +should commemorate. A man must have known imprisonment to feel all the +value that can be attached to any object, no matter how mean or +insignificant, that can employ the thoughts, amuse the fancy, or engage +the affections. The narrow cell expands under such magic, the barred +casement is a free portal to the glorious sun and the free air; the +captive himself is but the student bending over his allotted task. To this +happy frame of mind had I come, without a thought or a wish beyond the +narrow walls at either side of me, when a sad disaster befell me. On +awaking one morning, as usual, to resume my labour, my manuscript was +gone! the table and writing materials, all had disappeared, and, to +increase my discomfiture, the turnkey informed me that Lieutenant Giacourt +had been removed from his post, and sent off to some inferior station in +the provinces. +</p> +<p> +I will not advert to the dreary time which followed this misfortune, a +time in which the hours passed on unmeasured and almost unfelt. Without +speculation, without a wish, I passed my days in a stupid indolence akin +to torpor. Had the prison doors been open, I doubt if I should have had +the energy to make my escape. Life itself ceased to have any value for me, +but somehow I did not desire death. I was in this miserable mood when the +turnkey awoke me one day as I was dozing on my bed. ‘Get up, and prepare +yourself to receive a visitor,’ said he. ‘There’s an officer of the staff +without, come to see you’; and as he spoke, a young, slightly formed man, +entered, in the uniform of a captain, who, making a sign for the turnkey +to withdraw, took his seat at my bedside. +</p> +<p> +‘Don’t get up, monsieur; you look ill and weak, so pray let me not disturb +you,’ said he, in a voice of kindly meaning. +</p> +<p> +‘I’m not ill,’ said I, with an effort—but my hollow utterance and my +sunken cheeks contradicted my words; ‘but I have been sleeping; I usually +doze at this hour.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The best thing a man can do in prison, I suppose,’ said he, smiling +good-naturedly. +</p> +<p> +‘No, not the best,’ said I, catching up his words too literally. ‘I used +to write the whole day long, till they carried away my paper and my pens.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is just of that very thing I have come to speak, sir,’ resumed he. +‘You intended that memoir for publication?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No; never.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then for private perusal among a circle of friends?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just as little. I scarcely know three people in the world who would +acknowledge that title.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You had an object, however, in composing it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; to occupy thought; to save me from—from——’ +</p> +<p> +I hesitated, for I was ashamed of the confession that nearly burst from +me, and, after a pause, I said, ‘from being such as I now am!’ +</p> +<p> +‘You wrote it for yourself alone, then?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Unprompted; without any suggestion from another?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is it here,’ said I, looking around my cell, ‘is it here that I should be +likely to find a fellow-labourer?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No; but I mean to ask, were the sentiments your own, without any external +influence, or any persuasions from others?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Quite my own.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And the narrative is true?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Strictly so, I believe.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Even to your meeting with the Due d’Enghien. It was purely accidental?’ +</p> +<p> +‘That is, I never knew him to be the duke till the moment of his arrest.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just so; you thought he was merely a Royalist noble. Then, why did you +not address a memoir to that effect to the Minister?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I thought it would be useless; when they made so little of a Condé, what +right had I to suppose they would think much about me?’ +</p> +<p> +‘If he could have proved his innocence——’ He stopped, and then +in an altered voice said—‘But as to this memoir; you assume +considerable airs of military knowledge in it, and many of the opinions +smack of heads older than yours.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They are, I repeat, my own altogether; as to their presumption, I have +already told you they were intended solely for my own eye.’ +</p> +<p> +‘So that you are not a Royalist?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No,’ +</p> +<p> +‘Never were one?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Never.’ +</p> +<p> +‘In what way would you employ yourself if set at liberty to-day?’ +</p> +<p> +I stared, and felt confused; for however easy I found it to refer to the +past, and reason on it, any speculation as to the future was a +considerable difficulty. +</p> +<p> +‘You hesitate; you have not yet made up your mind, apparently.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is not that; I am trying to think of liberty, trying to fancy myself +free—but I cannot!’ said I, with a weary sigh. ‘The air of this cell +has sapped my courage and my energy—a little more will finish the +ruin!’ +</p> +<p> +‘And yet you are not much above four or five-and-twenty years of age?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not yet twenty!’ said I. +</p> +<p> +‘Come, come, Tiernay—this is too early to be sick of life!’ said he, +and the kind tone touched me so that I burst into tears. They were bitter +tears, too; for while my heart was relieved by this gush of feeling, I was +ashamed at my own weakness. ‘Come, I say,’ continued he, ‘this memoir of +yours might have done you much mischief—happily it has not done so. +Give me the permission to throw it in the fire, and, instead of it, +address a respectful petition to the head of the state, setting forth your +services, and stating the casualty by which you were implicated in +Royalism. I will take care that it meets his eye, and, if possible, will +support its prayer. Above all, ask for reinstalment in your grade, and a +return to the service. It may be, perhaps, that you can mention some +superior officer who would vouch for your future conduct.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Except Colonel Mahon——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not the Colonel Mahon who commanded the 13th Cuirassiers?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The same.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That name would little serve you,’ said he coldly: ‘he has been placed <i>en +retraite</i> some time back; and if your character can call no other +witness than him, your case is not too favourable.’ He saw that the speech +had disconcerted me, and soon added, ‘Never mind—keep to the memoir; +state your case, and your apology, and leave the rest to Fortune. When can +you let me have it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘By to-morrow—to-night, if necessary.’ +</p> +<p> +‘To-morrow will do well, and so good-bye. I will order them to supply you +with writing materials’; and slapping me good-naturedly on the shoulder, +he cried, ‘Courage, my lad!’ and departed. +</p> +<p> +Before I lay down to sleep that night, I completed my ‘memoir,’ the great +difficulty of which I found to consist in giving it that dry brevity which +I knew Bonaparte would require. In this, however, I believe I succeeded at +last, making the entire document not to occupy one sheet of paper. The +officer had left his card of address, which I found was inscribed Monsieur +Bourrienne, Rue Lafitte, a name that subsequently was to be well known to +the world. +</p> +<p> +I directed my manuscript to his care, and lay down with a lighter heart +than I had known for many a day. I will not weary my reader with the +tormenting vacillations of hope and fear which followed. Day after day +went over, and no answer came to me. I addressed two notes, respectful, +but urgent, begging for some information as to my demand—none came. +A month passed thus, when, one morning, the governor of the Temple entered +my room, with an open letter in his hand. +</p> +<p> +‘This is an order for your liberation, Monsieur de Tiernay,’ said he; ‘you +are free.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Am I reinstated in my grade?’ asked I eagerly. +</p> +<p> +He shook his head, and said nothing. +</p> +<p> +‘Is there no mention of my restoration to the service?’ +</p> +<p> +‘None, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then what is to become of me—to what end am I liberated?’ cried I +passionately. +</p> +<p> +‘Paris is a great city—there is a wide world beyond it; and a man so +young as you are must have few resources, or he will carve out a good +career for himself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Say, rather, he must have few resentments, sir,’ cried I bitterly, ‘or he +will easily hit upon a bad one’; and with this, I packed up the few +articles I possessed, and prepared to depart. +</p> +<p> +I remember it well: it was between two and three o’clock of the afternoon, +on a bright day in spring, that I stood on the Quai Voltaire, a very small +packet of clothes in a bundle in one hand, and a cane in the other, +something short of three louis in my purse, and as much depression in my +heart as ever settled down in that of a youth not full nineteen. Liberty +is a glorious thing, and mine had been perilled often enough to give me a +hearty appreciation of its blessing; but at that moment, as I stood +friendless and companionless in a great thoroughfare of a great city, I +almost wished myself back again within the dreary walls of the Temple, for +somehow it felt like home! It is true, one must have had a lonely lot in +life before he could surround the cell of a prison with such attributes as +these. Perhaps I have more of the catlike affection for a particular spot +than most men; but I do find that I attach myself to walls with a tenacity +that strengthens as I grow older, and, like my brother parasite, the ivy, +my grasp becomes more rigid the longer I cling. +</p> +<p> +If I know of few merely sensual gratifications higher than a lounge +through Paris, at the flood-tide of its population, watching the varied +hues and complexions of its strange inhabitants, displaying, as they do, +in feature, air, and gesture, so much more of character and purpose than +other people, so also do I feel that there is something indescribably +miserable in being alone, unknown, and unnoticed in that vast throng, +destitute of means for the present, and devoid of hope for the future. +</p> +<p> +Some were bent on business, some on pleasure; some were evidently bent on +killing time till the hour of more agreeable occupation should arrive; +some were loitering along, gazing at the prints in shop-windows, or half +listlessly stopping to read at book-stalls. There was not only every +condition of mankind, from wealth to mendicancy, but every frame of mind, +from enjoyment to utter ennui, and yet I thought I could not hit upon any +one individual who looked as forlorn and cast-away as myself; however, +there were many who passed me that day who would gladly have changed +fortune with me, but it would have been difficult to persuade me of the +fact in the mood I then was. +</p> +<p> +At the time I speak of, there was a species of cheap ordinary held in the +open air on the quay, where people of the humblest condition used to dine. +I need scarcely describe the fare—the reader may conceive what it +was, which, wine included, cost only four sous. A rude table without a +cloth, some wooden platters, and an iron rail to which the knives and +forks were chained, formed the ‘equipage,’ the cookery bearing a due +relation to the elegance of these accessories. As for the company, if not +polite, it was certainly picturesque—consisting of labourers of the +lowest class, the sweepers of crossings, hackney-cabmen out of employ, +that poorest of the poor who try to earn a livelihood by dragging the +Seine for lost articles, and finally, the motley race of idlers who +vacillate between beggary and ballad-singing, with now and then a dash at +highway robbery for a ‘distraction’; a class, be it said without paradox, +which in Paris includes a considerable number of tolerably honest folk. +</p> +<p> +The moment was the eventful one in which France was about once more to +become a monarchy, and as may be inferred from the character of the +people, it was a time of high excitement and enthusiasm. The nation, even +in its humblest citizen, seemed to feel some of the reflected glory that +glanced from the great achievements of Bonaparte, and his elevation was +little other than a grand manifestation of national self-esteem. That he +knew how to profit by this sentiment, and incorporate his own with the +country’s glory, so that they seemed to be inseparable, is not among the +lowest nor the least of the efforts of his genius. +</p> +<p> +The paroxysm of national vanity, for it was indeed no less, imparted a +peculiar character to the period. A vainglorious, boastful spirit was +abroad; men met each other with high-sounding gratulations about French +greatness and splendour, the sway we wielded over the rest of Europe, and +the influence with which we impressed our views over the entire globe. +</p> +<p> +Since the fall of the monarchy there had been half-a-dozen national +fevers! There was the great Fraternal and Equality one; there was the era +of classical associations, with all their train of trumpery affectation in +dress and manner. Then came the conquering spirit, with the flattering +spectacle of great armies; and now, as if to complete the cycle, there +grew up that exaggerated conception of ‘France and her Mission,’ an +unlucky phrase that has since done plenty of mischief, which seemed to +carry the nation into the seventh heaven of overweening self-love. +</p> +<p> +If I advert to this here, it is but passingly, neither stopping to examine +its causes, nor seeking to inquire the consequences that ensued from it, +but, as it were, chronicling the fact as it impressed me as I stood that +day on the Quai Voltaire, perhaps the only unimpassioned lounger along its +crowded thoroughfare. +</p> +<p> +Not even the ordinary ‘à quatre sous’ claimed exemption from this +sentiment. It might be supposed that meagre diet and sour wine were but +sorry provocatives to national enthusiasm, but even they could minister to +the epidemic ardour, and the humble dishes of that frugal board +masqueraded under titles that served to feed popular vanity. Of this I was +made suddenly aware as I stood looking over the parapet into the river, +and heard the rude voices of the labourers as they called for cutlets <i>à +la Caire</i>, potatoes <i>en Mamelouques</i>, or roast beef <i>à la +Monte-Notte</i>, while every goblet of their wine was tossed off to some +proud sentiment of national supremacy. +</p> +<p> +Amused by the scene, so novel in all its bearings, I took my place at the +table, not sorry for the excuse to myself for partaking so humble a +repast. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Sacrebleu!</i>’ cried a rough-looking fellow with a red nightcap set +on one side of the head, ‘make room there, we have the <i>aristocrates</i>, +coming down among us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Monsieur is heartily welcome,’ said another, making room for me; ‘we are +only flattered by such proofs of confidence and esteem.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, <i>parbleu!</i> cried a third. ‘The Empire is coming, and we shall be +well bred and well mannered. I intend to give up the river, and take to +some more gentlemanlike trade than dredging for dead men.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And I, I’ll never sharpen anything under a rapier or a dress sword for +the Court,’ said a knife-grinder; ‘we have been living like <i>canaille</i> +hitherto—nothing better.’ +</p> +<p> +‘À l’Empire, à l’Empire!’ shouted half-a-dozen voices in concert; and the +glasses were drained to the toast with a loud cheer. +</p> +<p> +Directly opposite to me sat a thin, pale, mild-looking man, of about +fifty, in a kind of stuff robe, like the dress of a village curate. His +appearance, though palpably poor, was venerable and imposing—not the +less so, perhaps, from its contrast with the faces and gestures at either +side of him. Once or twice, while these ebullitions of enthusiasm burst +forth, his eyes met mine, and I read, or fancied that I read, a look of +kindred appreciation in their mild and gentle glance. The expression was +less reproachful than compassionate, as though in pity for the ignorance +rather than in reprobation for the folly. Now, strangely enough, this was +precisely the very sentiment of my own heart at that moment. I remembered +a somewhat similar enthusiasm for republican liberty, by men just as +unfitted to enjoy it; and I thought to myself, the Empire, like the +Convention, or the Directory, is a mere fabulous conception to these poor +fellows, who, whatever may be the régime, will still be hewers of wood and +drawers of water to the end of all time. +</p> +<p> +As I was pondering over this, I felt something touch my arm, and, on +turning, perceived that my opposite neighbour had now seated himself at my +side, and, in a low, soft voice, was bidding me ‘Good-day.’ After one or +two commonplace remarks upon the weather and the scene, he seemed to feel +that some apology for his presence in such a place was needful, for he +said— +</p> +<p> +‘You are here, monsieur, from a feeling of curiosity, that I see well +enough; but I come for a very different reason. I am the pastor of a +mountain village of the Ardèche, and have come to Paris in search of a +young girl, the daughter of one of my flock, who, it is feared, has been +carried off, by some evil influence, from her home and her friends, to +seek fortune and fame in this rich capital; for she is singularly +beautiful, and gifted too; sings divinely, and improvises poetry with a +genius that seems inspiration.’ +</p> +<p> +There was a degree of enthusiasm, blended with simplicity, in the poor +cure’s admiration of his ‘lost sheep’ that touched me deeply. He had been +now three weeks in vain pursuit, and was at last about to turn homeward, +discomfited and unsuccessful. ‘Lisette’ was the very soul of the little +hamlet, and he knew not how life was to be carried on there without her. +The old loved her as a daughter; the young were rivals for her regard. +</p> +<p> +‘And to me,’ said the père, ‘whom, in all the solitude of my lonely lot, +literature and especially poetry, consoles many an hour of sadness or +melancholy—to me, she was like a good angel, her presence diffusing +light as she crossed my humble threshold, and elevating my thoughts above +the little crosses and accidents of daily life.’ +</p> +<p> +So interested had I become in this tale, that I listened while he told +every circumstance of the little locality; and walking along at his side, +I wandered out of the city, still hearing of ‘La Marche,’ as the village +was called, till I knew the ford where the blacksmith lived, and the +miller with the cross wife, and the lame schoolmaster, and Pierre the +postmaster, who read out the <i>Moniteur</i> each evening under the elms, +even to Jacques Fulgeron the ‘Tapageur,’ who had served at Jemappes, and, +with his wounded hand and his waxed moustache, was the terror of all +peaceable folk. +</p> +<p> +‘You should come and see us, my dear monsieur,’ said he to me, as I showed +some more than common interest in the narrative. ‘You, who seem to study +character, would find something better worth the notice than these +hardened natures of city life. Come, and spend a week or two with me, and +if you do not like our people and their ways, I am but a sorry +physiognomist.’ +</p> +<p> +It is needless to say that I was much flattered by this kind proof of +confidence and good-will; and finally it was agreed upon between us that I +should aid him in his search for three days, after which, if still +unsuccessful, we should set out together for La Marche. It was easy to see +that the poor curé was pleased at my partnership in the task, for there +were several public places of resort—theatres, ‘spectacles,’ and the +like—to which he scrupled to resort, and these he now willingly +conceded to my inspection, having previously given me so accurate a +description of La Lisette, that I fancied I should recognise her amongst a +thousand. If her long black eyelashes did not betray her, her beautiful +teeth were sure to do so; or, if I heard her voice, there could be no +doubt then; and, lastly, her foot would as infallibly identify her as did +Cinderella’s. +</p> +<p> +For want of better, it was agreed upon that we should make the ‘Restaurant +à Quatre Sous’ our rendezvous each day, to exchange our confidences and +report progress. It will scarcely be believed how even this much of a +pursuit diverted my mind from its own dark dreamings, and how eagerly my +thoughts pursued the new track that was opened to them. It was the utter +listlessness, the nothingness of my life, that was weighing me down; and +already I saw an escape from this in the pursuit of a good object. I could +wager that the pastor of La Marche never thought so intensely, so +uninterruptedly, of Lisette as did I for the four-and-twenty hours that +followed! It was not only that I had created her image to suit my fancy, +but I had invented a whole narrative of her life and adventures since her +arrival in Paris. +</p> +<p> +My firm conviction being that it was lost time to seek for her in obscure +and out-of-the-way quarters of the city, I thought it best to pursue the +search in the thronged and fashionable resorts of the gay world, the +assemblies and theatres. Strong in this conviction, I changed one of my +three gold pieces to purchase a ticket for the opera. The reader may smile +at the sacrifice; but when he who thinks four sous enough for a dinner, +pays twelve francs for the liberty to be crushed in the crowded parterre +of a playhouse, he is indeed buying pleasure at a costly price. It was +something more than a fifth of all I possessed in the world, but, after +all, my chief regret arose from thinking that it left me so few remaining +‘throws of the dice’ for ‘Fortune.’ +</p> +<p> +I have often reflected since that day by what a mere accident I was +present, and yet the spectacle was one that I have never forgotten. It was +the last time the First Consul appeared in public, before his assumption +of the Imperial title; and at no period through all his great career was +the enthusiasm more impassioned regarding him. He sat in the box adjoining +the stage—Cambacérès and Lebrun, with a crowd of others, standing +and not sitting, around and behind his chair. When he appeared, the whole +theatre rose to greet him, and three several times was he obliged to rise +and acknowledge the salutations. And with what a stately condescension did +he make these slight acknowledgments!—what haughtiness was there in +the glance he threw around him! I have often heard it said, and I have +seen it also written, that previous to his assumption of the crown, +Bonaparte’s manner exhibited the mean arts and subtle devices of a +candidate on the hustings, dispensing all the flatteries and scattering +all the promises that such occasions are so prolific of. I cannot, of +course, pretend to contradict this statement positively; but I can record +the impression which that scene made upon me, as decidedly the opposite of +this assumption. I have repeatedly seen him since that event, but never do +I remember his calm, cold features more impassively stern, more proudly +collected, than on that night. +</p> +<p> +Every allusion of the piece that could apply to him was eagerly caught up. +Not a phrase nor a chance word that could compliment, was passed over in +silence; and if greatness and glory were accorded, as if by an instinctive +reverence, the vast assemblage turned towards him, to lay their homage at +his feet. I watched him narrowly, and could see that he received them all +as his rightful tribute, the earnest of the debt the nation owed him. +Among the incidents of that night, I remember one which actually for the +moment convulsed the house with its enthusiasm. One of the officers of his +suite had somehow stumbled against Bonaparte’s hat, which, on entering, he +had thrown carelessly beside his chair. Stooping down and lifting it up, +he perceived to whom it belonged, and then, remarking the mark of a bullet +on the edge, he showed it significantly to a general near him. Slight and +trivial as was the incident, it was instantly caught up by the parterre. A +low murmur ran quickly around; and then a sudden cheer burst forth, for +some one remembered it was the anniversary of Marengo! And now the +excitement became madness, and reiterated shouts proclaimed that the glory +of that day was among the proudest memories of France. For once, and once +only, did any trait of feeling show itself on that impassive face. I +thought I could mark even a faint tinge of colour in that sallow cheek, as +in recognition he bowed a dignified salute to the waving and agitated +assembly. +</p> +<p> +I saw that proud face, at moments when human ambition might have seemed to +have reached its limit, and yet never with a haughtier look than on that +night I speak of. His foot was already on the first step of the throne, +and his spirit seemed to swell with the conscious force of coming +greatness. +</p> +<p> +And Lisette, all this time? Alas, I had totally forgotten her! As the +enthusiasm around me began to subside, I had time to recover myself, and +look about me. There was much beauty and splendour to admire. Madame Junot +was there, and Mademoiselle de Bessières, with a crowd of others less +known, but scarcely less lovely. Not one, however, could I see that +corresponded with my mind-drawn portrait of the peasant beauty; and I +scanned each face closely and critically. There was female loveliness of +every type, from the dark-eyed beauty of Spanish race, to the almost +divine regularity of a Raphaelite picture. There was the brilliant aspect +of fashion, too; but nowhere could I see what I sought for; nowhere detect +that image which imagination had stamped as that of the beauty of ‘La +Marche.’ If disappointed in my great object, I left the theatre with my +mind full of all I had witnessed. The dreadful event of Ettenheim had +terribly shaken Bonaparte in my esteem; yet how resist the contagious +devotion of a whole nation—how remain cold in the midst of the +burning zeal of all France? These thoughts brought me to the consideration +of myself. Was I, or was I not, any longer a soldier of his army? or was I +disqualified for joining in that burst of national enthusiasm which +proclaimed that all France was ready to march under his banner? To-morrow +I ‘ll wait upon the Minister of War, thought I, or I’ll seek out the +commanding officer of some regiment that I know, or at least a comrade; +and so I went on, endeavouring to frame a plan for my guidance, as I +strolled along the streets, which were now almost deserted. The shops were +all closed; of the hotels, such as were yet open were far too costly for +means like mine; and so, as the night was calm and balmy with the fresh +air of spring, I resolved to pass it out of doors. I loitered then along +the Champs-Elysées; and at length stretching myself on the grass beneath +the trees, lay down to sleep. ‘An odd bedroom enough,’ thought I, ‘for one +who has passed the evening at the opera, and who has feasted his ears at +the expense of his stomach.’ I remembered, too, another night when the sky +had been my canopy in Paris, when I slept beneath the shadow of the +guillotine and the Place de Grève. ‘Well,’ thought I, ‘times are at least +changed for the better since that day; and my own fortunes are certainly +not lower.’ +</p> +<p> +This comforting reflection closed my waking memories, and I slept soundly +till morning. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLII. THE ‘COUNT DE MAUREPAS,’ ALIAS———— +</h2> +<p> +There is a wide gulf between him who opens his waking eyes in a splendid +chamber, and with half-drowsy thoughts speculates on the pleasures of the +coming day, and him, who, rising from the dew-moistened earth, stretches +his aching limbs for a second or so, and then hurries away to make his +toilet at the nearest fountain. +</p> +<p> +I have known both conditions, and yet, without being thought paradoxical, +I would wish to say that there are some sensations attendant on the latter +and the humbler lot which I would not exchange for all the voluptuous ease +of the former. Let there be but youth, and there is something of heroism, +something adventurous in the notion of thus alone and unaided breasting +the wide ocean of life, and, like a hardy swimmer, daring to stem the +roughest breakers without one to succour him, that is worth all the +security that even wealth can impart, all the conscious ease that luxury +and affluence can supply. In a world and an age like ours, thought I, +there must surely be some course for one young, active and daring as I am. +Even if France reject me, there are countries beyond the seas where energy +and determination will open a path. ‘Courage, Maurice,’ said I, as I +dashed the sparkling water over my head, ‘the past has not been all +inglorious, and the future may prove even better.’ +</p> +<p> +A roll and a glass of iced water furnished my breakfast, after which I set +forth in good earnest on my search. There was a sort of self-flattery in +the thought that one so destitute as I was could devote his thoughts and +energies to the service of another, that pleased me greatly. It was so +‘unselfish’—at least I thought so. Alas and alas! how egotistical +are we when we fancy ourselves least so. That day I visited St. Roch and +Notre Dame at early mass, and by noon reached the Louvre, the gallery of +which occupied me till the hour of meeting the curé drew nigh. +</p> +<p> +Punctual to his appointment, I found him waiting for me at the corner of +the quay, and although disappointed at the failure of all his efforts, he +talked away with all the energy of one who would not suffer himself to be +cast down by adverse fortune. ‘I feel,’ said he, ‘a kind of instinctive +conviction that we shall find her yet. There is something tells me that +all our pains shall not go unrewarded. Have you never experienced a +sensation of this kind,—a species of inward prompting to pursue a +road, to penetrate into a pass, or to explore a way, without exactly +knowing why or wherefore?’ +</p> +<p> +This question, vague enough as it seemed, led me to talk about myself and +my own position; a theme which, however much I might have shrunk from +introducing, when once opened, I spoke of in all the freedom of old +friendship. +</p> +<p> +Nothing could be more delicate than the priest’s manner during all this +time; nor even when his curiosity was highest did he permit himself to ask +a question or an explanation of any difficulty that occurred; and while he +followed my recital with a degree of interest that was most flattering, he +never ventured on a word or dropped a remark that might seem to urge me to +greater frankness. ‘Do you know,’ said he, at last, ‘why your story has +taken such an uncommon hold upon my attention? It is not from its +adventurous character, nor from the stirring and strange scenes you have +passed through; it is because your old pastor and guide, the Père Delamoy, +was my own dearest friend, my school companion and playfellow from +infancy. We were both students at Louvain together; both called to the +priesthood on the same day. Think, then, of my intense delight at hearing +his dear name once more—ay, and permit me to say it, hearing from +the lips of another the very precepts and maxims that I can recognise as +his own. Ah, yes! <i>mon cher</i> Maurice,’ cried he, grasping my hand in +a burst of enthusiasm, ‘disguise it how you may, cover it up under the +uniform of a “Bleu,” bury it beneath the shako of the soldier of the +Republic, but the head and the heart will turn to the ancient altars of +the Church and the Monarchy. It is not alone that your good blood suggests +this, but all your experience of life goes to prove it. Think of poor +Michel, self-devoted, generous, and noble-hearted; think of that dear +cottage at Kuffstein, where, even in poverty, the dignity of birth and +blood threw a grace and an elegance over daily life; think of Ettenheim +and the glorious prince—the last Condé—and who now sleeps in +his narrow bed in the fosse of Vincennes!’ +</p> +<p> +‘How do you mean?’ said I eagerly; for up to this time I knew nothing of +his fate. +</p> +<p> +‘Come along with me, and you shall know it all,’ said he; and, rising, he +took my arm, and we sauntered along out of the crowded street, till we +reached the Boulevards. He then narrated to me every incident of the +midnight trial, the sentence, and the execution. From the death-warrant +that came down ready filled from Paris, to the grave dug while the victim +was yet sleeping—he forgot nothing; and I own that my very blood ran +cold at the terrible atrocity of that dark murder. It was already growing +dusk when he had finished, and we parted hurriedly, as he was obliged to +be at a distant quarter of Paris by eight o’clock, again agreeing to meet, +as before, on the Quai Voltaire. +</p> +<p> +From that moment till we met the following day, the Duc d’Enghien was +never out of my thoughts, and I was impatient for the priest’s presence +that I might tell him every little incident of our daily life at +Ettenheim, the topics we used to discuss, and the opinions he expressed on +various subjects. The eagerness of the curé to listen stimulated me to +talk on, and I not only narrated all that I was myself a witness of, but +various other circumstances which were told to me by the prince himself; +in particular, an incident he mentioned to me one day of being visited by +a stranger who came, introduced by a letter from a very valued friend; his +business being to propose to the duke a scheme for the assassination of +Bonaparte. At first the prince suspected the whole as a plot against +himself, but on further questioning he discovered that the man’s +intentions were really such as he professed them, and offered his services +in the conviction that no price could be deemed too high to reward him. It +is needless to say that the offer was rejected with indignation, and the +prince dismissed the fellow with the threat of delivering him up to the +Government of the First Consul. The pastor heard this anecdote with deep +attention, and, for the first time, diverging from his line of cautious +reserve, he asked me various questions as to when the occurrence had taken +place, and where—if the prince had communicated the circumstance to +any other than myself, and whether he had made it the subject of any +correspondence. I knew little more than I had already told him: that the +offer was made while residing at Ettenheim, and during the preceding year, +were facts, however, that I could remember. +</p> +<p> +‘You are surprised, perhaps,’ said he, ‘at the interest I feel in all +this; but, strangely enough, there is here in Paris at this moment one of +the great ‘Seigneurs’ of the Ardèche; he has come up to the capital for +medical advice, and he was a great, perhaps the greatest friend of the +poor duke. What if you were to come and pay him a visit with me, there is +not probably one favour the whole world could bestow he would value so +highly. You must often have heard his name from the prince; has he not +frequently spoken of the Count de Maurepas?’ I could not remember having +ever heard the name. ‘It is historical, however,’ said the curé, ‘and even +in our own days has not derogated from its ancient chivalry. Have you not +heard how a noble of the Court rode postillion to the king’s carriage on +the celebrated escape from Varennes? Well, even for curiosity’s sake, he +is worth a visit, for this is the very Count Henri de Maurepas, now on the +verge of the grave!’ +</p> +<p> +If the good curé had known me all my life, he could not more successfully +have baited a trap for my curiosity. To see and know remarkable people, +men who had done something out of the ordinary route of everyday life, had +been a passion with me from boyhood. Hero-worship was, indeed, a great +feature in my character, and has more or less influenced all my career, +nor was I insensible to the pleasure of doing a kind action. It was rare, +indeed, that one so humbly placed could ever confer a favour, and I +grasped with eagerness the occasion to do so. We agreed, then, on the next +afternoon, towards nightfall, to meet at the quay, and proceed together to +the count’s residence. I have often reflected, since that day, that +Lisette’s name was scarcely ever mentioned by either of us during this +interview; and yet, at the time, so preoccupied were my thoughts, I never +noticed the omission. The Château of Ettenheim, and its tragic story, +filled my mind to the exclusion of all else. +</p> +<p> +I pass over the long and dreary hours that intervened, and come at once to +the time, a little after sunset, when we met at our accustomed rendezvous. +</p> +<p> +The curé had provided a <i>fiacre</i> for the occasion, as the count’s +residence was about two leagues from the city, on the way to Belleville. +As we trotted along, he gave me a most interesting account of the old +noble, whose life had been one continued act of devotion to the monarchy. +</p> +<p> +‘It will be difficult,’ said he, ‘for you to connect the poor, worn-out, +shattered wreck before you, with all that was daring in deed and +chivalrous in sentiment; but the “Maurepas” were well upheld in all their +glorious renown, by him who is now to be the last of the race! You will +see him reduced by suffering and sickness, scarcely able to speak, but be +assured that you will have his gratitude for this act of true benevolence. +Thus chatting we rattled along over the paved highway, and at length +entered upon a deep clay road which conducted us to a spacious park, with +a long straight avenue of trees, at the end of which stood what, even in +the uncertain light, appeared a spacious château. The door lay open, and +as we descended, a servant in plain clothes received us, and, after a +whispered word or two from the curé, ushered us along through a suite of +rooms into a large chamber furnished like a study. There were hook-shelves +well filled, and a writing-table covered with papers and letters, and the +whole floor was littered with newspapers and journals. +</p> +<p> +A lamp, shaded by a deep gauze cover, threw a half-light over everything, +nor was it until we had been nearly a couple of minutes in the room that +we became aware of the presence of the count, who lay upon a sofa, covered +up in a fur pelisse, although the season was far advanced in spring. +</p> +<p> +His gentle ‘Good-evening, messieurs,’ was the first warning we had of his +presence, and the curé, advancing respectfully, presented me as his young +friend, Monsieur de Tiernay. +</p> +<p> +‘It is not for the first time that I hear that name,’ said the sick man, +with a voice of singular sweetness. ‘It is chronicled in the annals of our +monarchy. Ay, sir, I knew that faithful servant of his king, who followed +his master to the scaffold.’ +</p> +<p> +‘My father?’ cried I eagerly. +</p> +<p> +‘I knew him well,’ continued he; ‘I may say, without vaunting, that I had +it in my power to befriend him, too. He made an imprudent marriage; he was +unfortunate in the society his second wife’s family threw him amongst. +They were not his equals in birth, and far beneath him in sentiment and +principle. Well, well,’ sighed he, ‘this is not a theme for me to speak +of, nor for you to hear; tell me of yourself. The curé says that you have +had more than your share of worldly vicissitudes. There, sit down, and let +me hear your story from your own lips.’ +</p> +<p> +He pointed to a seat at his side, and I obeyed him at once; for, somehow, +there was an air of command even in the gentlest tones of his voice, and I +felt that his age and his sufferings were not the only claims he possessed +to influence those around him. +</p> +<p> +With all the brevity in my power, my story lasted till above an hour, +during which time the count only interrupted me once or twice by asking to +which Colonel Mahon I referred, as there were two of the name; and again +by inquiring to what circumstances the <i>émigré</i> family were living as +to means, and whether they appeared to derive any of their resources from +France. These were points I could give no information upon, and I plainly +perceived that the count had no patience for a conjecture, and that, where +positive knowledge failed, he instantly passed on to something else. When +I came to speak of Ettenheim his attention became fixed, not suffering the +minutest circumstance to escape him, and even asking for the exact +description of the locality, and its distance from the towns in the +neighbourhood. +</p> +<p> +The daily journeys of the prince, too, interested him much, and once or +twice he made me repeat what the peasant had said of the horse being able +to travel from Strasbourg without a halt. I vow it puzzled me why he +should dwell on these points in preference to others of far more interest, +but I set them down to the caprices of illness, and thought no more of +them. His daily life, his conversation, the opinions he expressed about +France, the questions he used to ask, were all matters he inquired into, +till, finally, we came to the anecdote of the meditated assassination of +Bonaparte. This he made me tell him twice over, each time asking me +eagerly whether, by an effort of memory, I could not recall the name of +the man who had offered his services for the deed. This I could not; +indeed I knew not if I had ever heard it. +</p> +<p> +‘But the prince rejected the proposal?’ said he, peering at me beneath the +dark shadow of his heavy brow; ‘he would not hear of it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Of course not,’ cried I; ‘he even threatened to denounce the man to the +Government.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And do you think that he would have gone thus far, sir?’ asked he slowly. +</p> +<p> +‘I am certain of it. The horror and disgust he expressed when reciting the +story were a guarantee for what he would have done.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But yet Bonaparte has been a dreadful enemy to his race.’ said the count. +</p> +<p> +‘It is not a Condé can right himself by a murder,’ said I, as calmly. +</p> +<p> +‘How I like that burst of generous Royalism, young man!’ said he, grasping +my hand and shaking it warmly. ‘That steadfast faith in the honour of a +Bourbon is the very heart and soul of loyalty!’ +</p> +<p> +Now, although I was not, so far as I knew of, anything of a Royalist—the +cause had neither my sympathy nor my wishes—I did not choose to +disturb the equanimity of a poor sick man by a needless disclaimer, nor +induce a discussion which must be both unprofitable and painful. +</p> +<p> +‘How did the fellow propose the act? had he any accomplices? or was he +alone?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I believe quite alone.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Of course suborned by England? Of that there can be no doubt.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The prince never said so.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, but it is clear enough, the man must have had means; he travelled +by a very circuitous route; he had come from Hamburg probably?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I never heard.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He must have done so. The ports of Holland, as those of France, would +have been too dangerous for him. Italy is out of the question.’ +</p> +<p> +I owned that I had not speculated so deeply in the matter. +</p> +<p> +‘It was strange,’ said he, after a pause, ‘that the duke never mentioned +who had introduced the man to him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He merely called him a valued friend.’ +</p> +<p> +‘In other words, the Count d’Artois,’ said the count; ‘did it not strike +you so?’ +</p> +<p> +I had to confess it had not occurred to me to think so. +</p> +<p> +‘But reflect a little,’ said he. ‘Is there any other living who could have +dared to make such a proposal but the count? Who, but the head of his +house, could have presumed on such a step? No inferior could have had the +audacity! It must have come from one so highly placed that crime paled +itself down to a mere measure of expediency under the loftiness of the +sanction. What think you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I cannot, I will not think so,’ was my answer. ‘The very indignation of +the prince’s rejection refutes the supposition.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What a glorious gift is unsuspectfulness!’ said he feelingly. ‘I am a +rich man, and you I believe are not so; and yet, I’d give all the wealth, +ay, ten times told, not for your vigour of health, not for the lightness +of your heart, nor the elasticity of your spirits, but for that one small +quality, defect though it be, that makes you trustful and credulous.’ +</p> +<p> +I believe I would just as soon that the old gentleman had thought fit to +compliment me upon any other quality. Of all my acquisitions there was not +one I was so vain of as my knowledge of life and character. I had seen, as +I thought, so much of life I I had peeped at all ranks and conditions of +men, and it was rather hard to find an old country gentleman, a <i>Seigneur +de Village</i>, calling me credulous and unsuspecting! +</p> +<p> +I was much more pleased when he told the cure that a supper was ready for +us in the adjoining room, at which he begged we would excuse his absence; +and truly a most admirable little meal it was, and served with great +elegance. +</p> +<p> +‘The count expects you to stop here; there is a chamber prepared for you,’ +said the curé as we took our seats at table. ‘He has evidently taken a +fancy to you. I thought, indeed I was quite certain, he would. Who can +tell what good fortune this chance meeting may lead to, Monsieur Maurice! +<i>À votre santé, mon cher!</i>’ cried he, as he clinked his champagne +glass against mine; and I at last began to think that destiny was about to +smile on me. +</p> +<p> +‘You should see his château in the Ardèche; this is nothing to it! There +is a forest, too, of native oak, and a <i>chasse</i> such as royalty never +owned!’ +</p> +<p> +Mine were delightful dreams that night; but I was sorely disappointed on +waking to find that Laura was not riding at my side through a +forest-alley, while a crowd of <i>piqueurs</i> and huntsmen galloped to +and fro, making the air vibrate with their joyous bugles. Still, I opened +my eyes in a richly furnished chamber, while a lackey handed me my coffee +on a silver stand, and in a cup of costliest Sèvres. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIII. A FOREST RIDE +</h2> +<p> +While I was dressing, a note was handed to me from the curé, apologising +for his departure without seeing me, and begging, as a great favour, that +I would not leave the château till his return. He said that the count’s +spirits had benefited greatly by our agreeable converse, and that he +requested me to be his guest for some time to come. The postscript added a +suggestion that I should write down some of the particulars of my visit to +Ettenheim, but particularly of that conversation alluding to the meditated +assassination of Bonaparte. +</p> +<p> +There were many points in the arrangement which I did not like. To begin, +I had no fancy whatever for the condition of a dependant, and such my +poverty would at once stamp me. Secondly, I was averse to this frequent +intercourse with men of the Royalist party, whose restless character and +unceasing schemes were opposed to all the principles of those I had served +under; and finally, I was growing impatient under the listless vacuity of +a life that gave no occupation, nor opened any view for the future. I sat +down to breakfast in a mood very little in unison with the material +enjoyments around me. The meal was all that could tempt appetite; and the +view from the open window displayed a beautiful flower-garden, +imperceptibly fading away into a maze of ornamental planting, which was +backed again by a deep forest, the well-known wood of Belleville. Still I +ate on sullenly, scarce noticing any of the objects around me. I will see +the count, and take leave of him, thought I suddenly; I cannot be his +guest without sacrificing feeling in a dozen ways. +</p> +<p> +‘At what hour does monsieur rise?’ asked I of the obsequious valet who +waited behind my chair. +</p> +<p> +‘Usually at three or four in the afternoon, sir; but to-day he has desired +me to make his excuses to you. There will be a consultation of doctors +here; and the likelihood is, that he may not leave his chamber.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Will you convey my respectful compliments, then, to him, and my regrets +that I had not seen him before leaving the château?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The count charged me, sir, to entreat your remaining here till he had +seen you. He said you had done him infinite service already; and indeed it +is long since he has passed a night in such tranquillity.’ +</p> +<p> +There are few slight circumstances which impress a stranger more +favourably than any semblance of devotion on the part of a servant to his +master. The friendship of those above one in life is easier to acquire +than the attachment of those beneath. Love is a plant whose tendrils +strive ever upwards. I could not help feeling struck at the man’s manner +as he spoke these few words; and insensibly my mind reverted to the master +who had inspired such sentiments. +</p> +<p> +‘My master gave orders, sir,’ continued he, ‘that we should do everything +possible to contribute to your wishes; that the carriage, or, if you +prefer them, saddle-horses, should be ready at any hour you ordered. The +wood has a variety of beautiful excursions; there is a lake, too, about +two leagues away; and the ruins of Monterraye are also worth seeing.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If I had not engagements in Paris,’ muttered I, while I affected to +mumble over the conclusion of the sentence to myself. +</p> +<p> +‘Monsieur has seldom done a greater kindness than this will be,’ added he +respectfully; ‘but if monsieur’s business could be deferred for a day or +two, without inconvenience——-’ +</p> +<p> +‘Perhaps that might be managed,’ said I, starting up, and walking to the +window, when, for the first time, the glorious prospect revealed itself +before me. How delicious, after all, would be a few hours of such a +retreat!—a morning loitered away in that beautiful garden, and then +a long ramble through the dark wood till sunset. Oh, if Laura were but +here! if she could be my companion along those leafy alleys! If not with, +I can at least think of her, thought I—seek out spots she would love +to linger in, and points of view she would enjoy with all a painter’s +zest. And this poor count, with all his riches, could not derive in a +whole lifetime the enjoyment that a few brief hours would yield to us! So +is it almost ever in this world: to one man the appliances, to another the +faculties for enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +‘I am so glad monsieur has consented,’ said the valet joyously. +</p> +<p> +‘Did I say so? I don’t know that I said anything.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The count will be so gratified,’ added he, and hurried away to convey the +tidings. +</p> +<p> +Well, be it so. Heaven knows my business in Paris will scarcely suffer by +my absence, my chief occupation there being to cheat away the hours till +meal-time. It is an occupation I can easily resume a few days hence. I +took a book, and strolled out into the garden; but I could not read. There +is a gush of pleasure felt at times from the most familiar objects, which +the most complicated machinery of enjoyment often fails to equal; and now +the odour of moss-roses and geraniums, the rich perfume of orange-flowers, +the plash of fountains and the hum of the summer insects, steeped my mind +in delight; and I lay there in a dream of bliss that was like enchantment. +I suppose I must have fallen asleep, for my thoughts took every form of +wildness and incoherency. Ireland; the campaign; the Bay of Genoa; the +rugged height of Kuff-stein, all passed before my mind, peopled with +images foreign to all their incidents. It was late in the afternoon that I +aroused myself, and remembered where I was. The shadows of the dark forest +were stretching over the plain, and I determined on a ride beneath their +mellow shade. As if in anticipation of my wishes, the horses were already +saddled, and a groom stood awaiting my orders. Oh, what a glorious thing +it is to be rich! thought I, as I mounted; from what an eminence does the +wealthy man view life! No petty cares nor calculations mar the conceptions +of his fancy. His will, like his imagination, wanders free and unfettered. +And so thinking, I dashed spurs into my horse, and plunged into the dense +wood. Perhaps I was better mounted than the groom, or perhaps the man was +scarcely accustomed to such impetuosity. Whatever the reason, I was soon +out of sight of him. The trackless grass of the alley, and its noiseless +turf, made pursuit difficult in a spot where the paths crossed and +recrossed in a hundred different directions; and so I rode on for miles +and miles without seeing more of my follower. +</p> +<p> +Forest riding is particularly seductive; you are insensibly led on to see +where this alley will open, or how that path will terminate. Some of the +spirit of discovery seems to seal its attractions to the wild and devious +track, untrodden as it looks; and you feel all the charm of adventure as +you advance. The silence, too, is most striking; the noiseless footfall of +the horse, and the unbroken stillness, add indescribable charm to the +scene, and the least imaginative cannot fail to weave fancies and fictions +as he goes. +</p> +<p> +Near as it was to a great city, not a single rider crossed my path; not +even a peasant did I meet. A stray bundle of faggots, bound and ready to +be carried away, showed that the axe of the woodman had been heard within +the solitude; but not another trace told that human footstep had ever +pressed the sward. +</p> +<p> +Although still a couple of hours from sunset, the shade of the wood was +dense enough to make the path appear uncertain, and I was obliged to ride +more cautiously than before. I had thought that by steadily pursuing one +straight track, I should at last gain the open country, and easily find +some road that would reconduct me to the château; but now I saw no signs +of this. ‘The alley’ was, to all appearance, exactly as I found it—miles +before. A long aisle of beech-trees stretched away in front and behind me; +a short, grassy turf was beneath my feet, and not an object to tell me how +far I had come, or whither I was tending. If now and then another road +crossed the path, it was in all respects like this one. This was puzzling; +and to add to my difficulty, I suddenly remembered that I had never +thought of learning the name of the château, and well knew that to ask for +it as the residence of the Count de Maurepas would be a perfect absurdity. +There was something so ludicrous in the situation, that I could not +refrain from laughing at first; but a moment’s reconsideration made me +regard the incident more gravely. In what a position should I stand, if +unable to discover the château! The curé might have left Paris before I +could reach it; all clue to the count might thus be lost; and although +these were but improbable circumstances, they came now very forcibly +before me, and gave me serious uneasiness. +</p> +<p> +‘I have been so often in false positions in life, so frequently implicated +where no real blame could attach to me, that I shall not be in the least +surprised if I be arrested as a horse-stealer!’ The night now began to +fall rapidly, so that I was obliged to proceed at a slow pace; and at +length, as the wood seemed to thicken, I was forced to get off, and walk +beside my horse. I have often found myself in situations of real peril, +with far less anxiety than I now felt. My position seemed at the time +inexplicable and absurd. I suppose, thought I, that no man was ever lost +in the wood of Belleville; he must find his way out of it sooner or later; +and then there can be no great difficulty in returning to Paris. This was +about the extent of the comfort I could afford myself; for, once back in +the capital, I could not speculate on a single step further. +</p> +<p> +I was at last so weary with the slow and cautious progression I was +condemned to, that I half determined to picket my horse to a tree, and lie +down to sleep till daylight. While I sought out a convenient spot for my +bivouac, a bright twinkling light, like a small star, caught my eye. Twice +it appeared, and vanished again, so that I was well assured of its being +real, and no phantom of my now over-excited brain. It appeared to proceed +from the very densest part of the wood, and whither, so far as I could +see, no path conducted. As I listened to catch any sounds, I again caught +sight of the faint star, which now seemed at a short distance from the +road where I stood. Fastening my horse to a branch, I advanced directly +through the brushwood for about a hundred yards, when I came to a small +open space, in which stood one of those modest cottages, of rough timber, +wherein, at certain seasons, the gamekeepers take refuge. A low, square, +log-hut, with a single door and an unglazed window, comprised the whole +edifice, being one of the humblest, even of its humble kind, I had ever +seen. Stealing cautiously to the window, I peeped in. On a stone, in the +middle of the earthern floor, a small iron lamp stood, which threw a faint +and fickle light around. There was no furniture of any kind—nothing +that bespoke the place as inhabited; and it was only as I continued to +gaze that I detected the figure of a man, who seemed to be sleeping on a +heap of dried leaves in one corner of the hovel. I own that, with all my +anxiety to find a guide, I began to feel some scruples about obtruding on +the sleeper’s privacy. He was evidently no <i>garde-chasse</i>, who are a +well-to-do sort of folk, being usually retired <i>sous-officiers</i> of +the army. He might be a poacher, a robber, or perhaps a dash of both +together—a trade I had often heard of as being resorted to by the +most reckless and abandoned of the population of Paris, when their crimes +and their haunts became too well known in the capital. +</p> +<p> +I peered eagerly through the chamber to see if he were armed; but not a +weapon of any kind was to be seen. I next sought to discover if he were +quite alone; and although one side of the hovel was hidden from my view, I +was well assured that he had no comrade. Come, said I to myself, man to +man, if it should come to a struggle, is fair enough; and the chances are +I shall be able to defend myself. +</p> +<p> +His sleep was sound and heavy, like that after fatigue; so that I thought +it would be easy for me to enter the hovel, and secure his arms, if he had +such, before he should awake. I may seem to my reader, all this time, to +have been inspired with an undue amount of caution and prudence, +considering how evenly we were matched; but I would remind him that it was +a period when the most dreadful crimes were of daily occurrence. Not a +night went over without some terrible assassination; and a number of +escaped galley-slaves were known to be at large in the suburbs and +outskirts of the capital. These men, under the slightest provocation, +never hesitated at murder; for their lives were already forfeited, and +they scrupled at nothing which offered a chance of escape. To add to the +terror their atrocities excited, there was a rumour current at the time +that the Government itself made use of these wretches for its own secret +acts of vengeance; and many implicitly believed that the dark +assassinations of the Temple had no other agency. I do not mean to say +that these fears were well founded, or that I myself partook of them; but +such were the reports commonly circulated, and the impunity of crime +certainly favoured the impression. I know not if this will serve as an +apology for the circumspection of my proceeding, as, cautiously pushing +the door, inch by inch, I at length threw it wide open. Not the slightest +sound escaped as I did so; and yet certainly before my hand quitted the +latch, the sleeper had sprung to his knees, and with his dark eyes glaring +wildly at me, crouched like a beast about to rush upon an enemy. +</p> +<p> +His attitude and his whole appearance at that moment are yet before me. +Long black hair fell in heavy masses at either side of his head; his face +was pale, haggard, and hunger-stricken; a deep, drooping moustache +descended from below his chin, and almost touched his collar-bones, which +were starting from beneath the skin; a ragged cloak, that covered him as +he lay, had fallen off, and showed that a worn shirt and a pair of coarse +linen trousers were all his clothing. Such a picture of privation and +misery I never looked upon before nor since. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Qui va là?</i>’ cried he sternly, and with the voice of one not unused +to command; and although the summons showed his soldier-training, his +condition of wretchedness suggested deep misgivings. +</p> +<p> +‘Qui <i>va là?</i>’ shouted he again, louder and more determinedly. +</p> +<p> +‘A friend—perhaps a comrade,’ said I boldly. +</p> +<p> +‘Advance, comrade, and give the countersign,’ replied he rapidly, and like +one repeating a phrase of routine; and then, as if suddenly remembering +himself, he added, with a low sigh, ‘There is none!’ His arms dropped +heavily as he spoke, and he fell back against the wall, with his head +drooping on his chest. +</p> +<p> +There was something so unutterably forlorn in his look, as he sat thus, +that all apprehension of personal danger from him left me at the moment, +and advancing frankly, I told him how I had lost my way in the wood, and +by a mere accident chanced to descry his light as I wandered along in the +gloom. +</p> +<p> +I do not know if he understood me at first, for he gazed half vacantly at +my face while I was speaking, and often stealthily peered around to see if +others were coming, so that I had to repeat more than once that I was +perfectly alone. That the poor fellow was insane seemed but too probable; +the restless activity of his wild eye, the suspicious watchfulness of his +glances, all looked like madness, and I thought that he had probably made +his escape from some military hospital, and concealed himself within the +recesses of the forest. But even these signs of overwrought excitement +began to subside soon; and as though the momentary effort at vigilance had +been too much for his strength, he now drew his cloak about him, and lay +down once more. +</p> +<p> +I handed him my brandy flask, which still contained a little, and he +raised it to his lips with a slight nod of recognition. Invigorated by the +stimulant, he supped again and again, but always cautiously, and with +prudent reserve. +</p> +<p> +‘You have been a soldier?’ said I, taking my seat at his side. +</p> +<p> +‘I am a soldier,’ said he, with a strong emphasis on the verb. +</p> +<p> +‘I too have served,’ said I; ‘although, probably, neither as long nor as +creditably as you have.’ +</p> +<p> +He looked at me fixedly for a second or two, and then dropped his eyes +without a reply. +</p> +<p> +‘You were probably with the army of the Meuse?’ said I, hazarding the +guess, from remembering how many of that army had been invalided by the +terrible attacks of ague contracted in North Holland. +</p> +<p> +‘I served on the Rhine,’ said he briefly; ‘but I made the campaign of +Jemappes, too. I served the king also—King Louis,’ cried he sternly. +‘Is that avowal candid enough, or do you want more?’ +</p> +<p> +Another Royalist, thought I, with a sigh. Whichever way I turn they meet +me—the very ground seems to give them up. +</p> +<p> +‘And could you find no better trade than that of a <i>mouchard?</i> ‘asked +he sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +‘I am not a <i>mouchard</i>—I never was one. I am a soldier like +yourself; and, mayhap, if all were to be told, scarcely a more fortunate +one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Dismissed the service—and for what?’ asked he bluntly. +</p> +<p> +‘If not broke, at least not employed,’ said I bitterly. +</p> +<p> +‘A Royalist?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Not the least of one, but suspected.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just so. Your letters—your private papers ransacked, and brought in +evidence against you. Your conversations with your intimates noted down +and attested—every word you dropped in a moment of disappointment or +anger; every chance phrase you uttered when provoked—all quoted; +wasn’t that it?’ +</p> +<p> +As he spoke this, with a rapid and almost impetuous utterance, I, for the +first time, noticed that both the expressions and the accent implied +breeding and education. Not all his vehemence could hide the evidences of +former cultivation. +</p> +<p> +‘How comes it,’ asked I eagerly, ‘that such a man as you are is to be +found thus? You certainly did not always serve in the ranks?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I had my grade,’ was his short, dry reply. +</p> +<p> +‘You were a quartermaster—perhaps a sous-lieutenant?’ said I, hoping +by the flattery of the surmise to lead him to talk further. +</p> +<p> +‘I was the colonel of a dragoon regiment,’ said he sternly— ‘and +that neither the least brave nor the least distinguished in the French +army.’ +</p> +<p> +Ah! thought I, my good fellow, you have shot your bolt too high this time; +and in a careless, easy way, I asked, ‘What might have been the number of +your corps?’ +</p> +<p> +‘How can it concern you?’ said he, with a savage vehemence. ‘You say that +you are not a spy. To what end these questions? As it is, you have made +this hovel, which has been my shelter for some weeks back, no longer of +any service to me. I will not be tracked. I will not suffer espionage, by +Heaven!’ cried he, as he dashed his clenched fist against the ground +beside him. His eyes, as he spoke, glared with all the wildness of +insanity, and great drops of sweat hung upon his damp forehead. +</p> +<p> +‘Is it too much,’ continued he, with all the vehemence of passion, ‘is it +too much that I was master here? Are these walls too luxurious? Is there +the sign of foreign gold in this tasteful furniture and the splendour of +these hangings? Or is this’—and he stretched out his lean and naked +arms as he spoke—‘is this the garb—is this the garb of a man +who can draw at will on the coffers of royalty? Ay!’ cried he, with a wild +laugh, ‘if this is the price of my treachery, the treason might well be +pardoned.’ +</p> +<p> +I did all I could to assuage the violence of his manner. I talked to him +calmly and soberly of myself and of him, repeating over and over the +assurance that I had neither the will nor the way to injure him. ‘You may +be poor,’ said I, ‘and yet scarcely poorer than I am—friendless, and +have as many to care for you as I have. Believe me, comrade, save in the +matter of a few years the less on one side, and some services the more on +the other, there is little to chose between us.’ +</p> +<p> +These few words, wrung from me in sorrowful sincerity, seemed to do more +than all I had said previously, and he moved the lamp a little to one side +that he might have a better view of me as I sat; and thus we remained for +several minutes staring steadfastly at each other, without a word spoken +on either side. It was in vain that I sought in that face, livid and +shrunk by famine—in that straggling matted hair, and that figure +enveloped in rags, for any traces of former condition. Whatever might once +have been his place in society, now he seemed the very lowest of that +miserable tribe whose lives are at once the miracle and shame of our +century. +</p> +<p> +‘Except that my senses are always playing me false,’ said he, as he passed +his hand across his eyes, ‘I could say that I have seen your face before. +What was your corps?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Ninth Hussars, “the Tapageurs,” as they called them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘When did you join—and where?’ said he, with an eagerness that +surprised me. +</p> +<p> +‘At Nancy,’ said I calmly. +</p> +<p> +‘You were there with the advanced guard of Moreau’s corps,’ said he +hastily; ‘you followed the regiment to the Moselle.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How do you know all this?’ asked I, in amazement. +</p> +<p> +‘Now for your name; tell me your name,’ cried he, grasping my hand in both +of his—‘and I charge you by all you care for here or hereafter, no +deception with me. It is not a head that has been tried like mine can bear +a cheat.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have no object in deceiving you; nor am I ashamed to say who I am,’ +replied I, ‘My name is Tiernay—Maurice Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +The word was but out when the poor fellow threw himself forward, and +grasping my hands, fell upon and kissed them. +</p> +<p> +‘So, then, cried he passionately, ‘I am not friendless—I am not +utterly deserted in life—you are yet left to me, my dear boy!’ +</p> +<p> +This burst of feeling convinced me that he was deranged; and I was +speculating in my mind how best to make my escape from him, when he pushed +back the long and tangled hair from his face, and staring wildly at me, +said, ‘You know me now—don’t you? Oh, look again, Maurice, and do +not let me think that I am forgotten by all the world. +</p> +<p> +‘Good heavens!’ cried I, ‘it is Colonel Mahon!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, “Le Beau Mahon,”’ said he, with a burst of wild laughter; ‘Le Beau +Mahon, as they used to call me long ago. Is this a reverse of fortune, I +ask you?’ and he held out the ragged remnants of his miserable clothes. ‘I +have not worn shoes for nigh a month. I have tasted food but once in the +last thirty hours! I, that have led French soldiers to the charge full +fifty times, up to the very batteries of the enemy, am reduced to hide and +skulk from place to place like a felon, trembling at the clank of a +gendarme’s boot, as never the thunder of an enemy’s squadron made me. +Think of the persecution that has brought me to this, and made me a beggar +and a coward together!’ +</p> +<p> +A gush of tears burst from him at these words, and he sobbed for several +minutes like a child. +</p> +<p> +Whatever might have been the original source of his misfortunes, I had +very little doubt that now his mind had been shaken by their influence, +and that calamity had deranged him. The flighty uncertainty of his manner, +the incoherent rapidity with which he passed from one topic to another, +increased with his excitement, and he passed alternately from the wildest +expressions of delight at our meeting, to the most heart-rending +descriptions of his own sufferings. By great patience and some ingenuity, +I learned that he had taken refuge in the wood of Belleville, where the +kindness of an old soldier of his own brigade—now a <i>garde-chasse</i>—had +saved him from starvation. Jacques Gaillon was continually alluded to in +his narrative. It was Jacques sheltered him when he came first to +Belleville. Jacques had afforded him a refuge in the different huts of the +forest, supplying him with food—acts not alone of benevolence, but +of daring courage, as Mahon continually asserted. If it were but known, +‘they ‘d give him a <i>peloton</i> and eight paces.’ The theme of Jacques’ +heroism was so engrossing, that he could not turn from it; every little +incident of his kindness, every stratagem of his inventive good-nature, he +dwelt upon with eager delight, and seemed half to forget his own sorrows +in recounting the services of his benefactor. I saw that it would be +fruitless to ask for any account of his past calamity, or by what series +of mischances he had fallen so low. I saw—I will own with some +chagrin—that, with the mere selfishness of misfortune, he could not +speak of anything save what bore upon his own daily life, and totally +forgot me and all about me. +</p> +<p> +The most relentless persecution seemed to follow him from place to place. +Wherever he went, fresh spies started on his track, and the history of his +escapes was unending. The very faggot-cutters of the forest were in league +against him, and the high price offered for his capture had drawn many +into the pursuit. It was curious to mark the degree of self-importance all +these recitals imparted, and how the poor fellow, starving and almost +naked as he was, rose into all the imagined dignity of martyrdom, as he +told of his sorrows. If he ever asked a question about Paris, it was to +know what people said of himself and of his fortunes. He was thoroughly +convinced that Bonaparte’s thoughts were far more occupied about him than +on that empire now so nearly in his grasp, and he continued to repeat with +a proud delight, ‘He has caught them all but me! I am the only one who has +escaped him!’ These few words suggested to me the impression that Mahon +had been engaged in some plot or conspiracy, but of what nature, how +composed, or how discovered, it was impossible to arrive at. +</p> +<p> +‘There!’ said he, at last, ‘there is the dawn breaking! I must be off. I +must now make for the thickest part of the wood till nightfall There are +hiding-places there known to none save myself. The bloodhounds cannot +track me where I go.’ +</p> +<p> +His impatience became now extreme. Every instant seemed full of peril to +him now—every rustling leaf and every waving branch a warning. I was +unable to satisfy myself how far this might be well-founded terror, or a +vague and causeless fear. At one moment I inclined to this—at +another, to the opposite impression. Assuredly nothing could be more +complete than the precautions he took against discovery. His lamp was +concealed in the hollow of a tree; the leaves that formed his bed he +scattered and strewed carelessly on every side; he erased even the +foot-tracks on the clay, and then gathering up his tattered cloak, +prepared to set out. +</p> +<p> +‘When are we to meet again, and where?’ said I, grasping his hand. +</p> +<p> +He stopped suddenly, and passed his hand over his brow, as if reflecting. +‘You must see Caillon; Jacques will tell you all,’ said he solemnly. +‘Good-bye. Do not follow me. I will not be tracked’; and with a proud +gesture of his hand he motioned me back. +</p> +<p> +Poor fellow! I saw that any attempt to reason with him would be in vain at +such a moment; and determining to seek out the <i>garde-chasse</i>, I +turned away slowly and sorrowfully. +</p> +<p> +‘What have been my vicissitudes of fortune compared to his?’ thought I. +‘The proud colonel of a cavalry regiment, a beggar and an outcast!’ The +great puzzle to me was, whether insanity had been the cause or the +consequence of his misfortunes. Caillon will, perhaps, be able to tell me +his story, said I to myself; and thus ruminating, I returned to where I +had picketed my horse three hours before. My old dragoon experiences had +taught me how to ‘hobble’ a horse, as it is called, by passing the bridle +beneath the counter before tying it, and so I found him just as I left +him. +</p> +<p> +The sun was now up, and I could see that a wide track led off through the +forest straight before me. I accordingly mounted, and struck into a sharp +canter. About an hour’s riding brought me to a small clearing, in the +midst of which stood a neat and picturesque cottage, over the door of +which was painted the words ‘Station de Chasse—No. 4.’ In a little +garden in front, a man was working in his shirt sleeves, but his military +trousers at once proclaimed him the <i>garde</i>. He stopped as I came up, +and eyed me sharply. +</p> +<p> +‘Is this the road to Belleville?’ said I. +</p> +<p> +‘You can go this way, but it takes you two miles of a round,’ replied he, +coming closer, and scanning me keenly. +</p> +<p> +‘You can tell me, perhaps, where Jacques Caillon, <i>garde-chaase</i>, is +to be found?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am Jacques Caillon, sir,’ was the answer, as he saluted in soldier +fashion, while a look of anxiety stole over his face. +</p> +<p> +‘I have something to speak to you about,’ said I, dismounting, and giving +him the bridle of my horse. ‘Throw him some corn, if you have got it, and +then let us talk together’; and with this I walked into the garden, and +seated myself on a bench. +</p> +<p> +If Jacques be an old soldier, thought I, the only way is to come the +officer over him; discipline and obedience are never forgotten, and +whatever chances I may have of his confidence will depend on how much I +seem his superior. It appeared as if this conjecture was well founded, for +as Jacques came back, his manner betrayed every sign of respect and +deference. There was an expression of almost fear in his face as, with his +hand to his cap, he asked ‘What were my orders?’ +</p> +<p> +The very deference of his air was disconcerting, and so, assuming a look +of easy cordiality, I said— +</p> +<p> +‘First, I will ask you to give me something to eat; and secondly, to give +me your company for half an hour.’ +</p> +<p> +Jacques promised both, and learning that I preferred my breakfast in the +open air, proceeded to arrange the table under a blossoming chestnut-tree. +</p> +<p> +‘Are you quite alone here?’ asked I, as he passed back and forward. +</p> +<p> +‘Quite alone, sir; and except a stray faggot-cutter or a chance traveller +who may have lost his way, I never see a human face from year’s end to +year’s end. It’s a lonely thing for an old soldier, too,’ said he, with a +sigh. +</p> +<p> +‘I know more than one who would envy you, Jacques,’ said I; and the words +made him almost start as I spoke them. The coffee was now ready, and I +proceeded to make my breakfast with all the appetite of a long fast. +</p> +<p> +There was indeed but little to inspire awe, or even deference, in my +personal appearance—a threadbare undress frock and a worn-out old +foraging-cap were all the marks of my soldierlike estate; and yet, from +Jacques’s manner, one might have guessed me to be a general at the least. +He attended me with the stiff propriety of the parade, and when, at last, +induced to take a seat, he did so full two yards off from the table, and +arose almost every time he was spoken to. Now it was quite clear that the +honest soldier did not know me either as the hero of Kehl, of Ireland, or +of Genoa. Great achievements as they were, they were wonderfully little +noised about the world, and a man might frequent mixed companies every day +of the week, and never hear of one of them. So far, then, was certain—-it +could not be my fame had imposed on him; and, as I have already hinted, it +could scarcely be my general appearance. Who knows, thought I, but I owe +all this obsequious deference to my horse? If Jacques be an old +cavalry-man, he will have remarked that the beast is of great value, and +doubtless argue to the worth of the rider from the merits of his ‘mount.’ +If this explanation was not the most flattering, it was, at all events, +the best I could hit on; and with a natural reference to what was passing +in my own mind, I asked him if he had looked to my horse. +</p> +<p> +‘Oh yes, sir,’ said he, reddening suddenly, ‘I have taken off the saddle, +and thrown him his corn.’ +</p> +<p> +What the deuce does his confusion mean? thought I; the fellow looks as if +he had half a mind to run away, merely because I asked him a simple +question. +</p> +<p> +‘I ‘ve had a sharp ride,’ said I, rather by way of saying something, ‘and +I shouldn’t wonder if he was a little fatigued.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Scarcely so, sir,’ said he, with a faint smile; ‘he’s old, now, but it’s +not a little will tire him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You know him, then?’ said I quickly. +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, sir, and have known him for eighteen years. He was in the second +squadron of our regiment; the major rode him two entire campaigns!’ +</p> +<p> +The reader may guess that his history was interesting to me, from +perceiving the impression the reminiscence made on the relator, and I +inquired what became of him after that. +</p> +<p> +‘He was wounded by a shot at Neuwied, and sold into the train, where they +couldn’t manage him; and after three years, when horses grew scarce, he +came back into the cavalry. A serjeant-major of lancers was killed on him +at “Zwei Brücken.” That was the fourth rider he brought mishap to, not to +say a farrier whom he dashed to pieces in his stable.’ +</p> +<p> +Ah, Jack, thought I, I have it; it is a piece of old-soldier superstition +about this mischievous horse has inspired all the man’s respect and +reverence; and, if a little disappointed in the mystery, I was so far +pleased at having discovered the clue. +</p> +<p> +‘But I have found him quiet enough,’ said I; ‘I never backed him till +yesterday, and he has carried me well and peaceably.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, that he will now, I warrant him; since the day a shell burst under +him at Waitzen he never showed any vice. The wound nearly left the ribs +bare, and he was for months and months invalided; after that he was sold +out of the cavalry, I don’t know where or to whom. The next I saw of him +was in his present service.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then you are acquainted with the present owner?’ asked I eagerly. +</p> +<p> +‘As every Frenchman is!’ was the curt rejoinder. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> it will seem a droll confession, then, when I tell you +that I myself do not even know his name.’ +</p> +<p> +The look of contempt these words brought to my companion’s face could not, +it seemed, be either repressed or concealed, and although my conscience +acquitted me of deserving such a glance, I own that I felt insulted by it. +</p> +<p> +‘You are pleased to disbelieve me, Master Caillon,’ said I sternly, ‘which +makes me suppose that you are neither so old nor so good a soldier as I +fancied; at least in the corps I had the honour to serve with, the word of +an officer was respected like an “order of the day.”’ +</p> +<p> +He stood erect, as if on parade, under this rebuke, but made no answer. +</p> +<p> +‘Had you simply expressed surprise at what I said, I would have given you +the explanation frankly and freely; as it is, I shall content myself with +repeating what I said—I do not even know his name.’ +</p> +<p> +The same imperturbable look and the same silence met me as before. +</p> +<p> +‘Now, sir, I ask you how this gentleman is called, whom I, alone of all +France, am ignorant of?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Monsieur Fouché,’ said he calmly. +</p> +<p> +‘What! Fouché, the Minister of Police?’ +</p> +<p> +This time, at least, my agitated looks seemed to move him, for he replied +quietly— +</p> +<p> +‘The same, sir. The horse has the brand of the “Ministère” on his haunch.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And where is the Ministère?’ cried I eagerly. +</p> +<p> +‘In the Rue des Victoires, monsieur.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But he lives in the country, in a château near this very forest.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Where does he not live, monsieur? At Versailles, at St. Germain, in the +Luxembourg, in the Marais, at Neuilly, the Batignolles. I have carried +despatches to him in every quarter of Paris. Ah, monsieur, what secret are +you in possession of, that it was worth while to lay so subtle a trap to +catch you?’ +</p> +<p> +This question, put in all the frank abruptness of a sudden thought, +immediately revealed everything before me. +</p> +<p> +‘Is it not as I have said?’ resumed he, still looking at my agitated face; +‘is it not as I have said—-monsieur is in the web of the <i>mouchards?</i>’ +</p> +<p> +‘Good heavens! is such baseness possible?’ was all that I could utter. +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll wager a piece of five francs I can read the mystery,’ said Jacques. +‘You served on Moreau’s staff, or with Pichegru in Holland; you either +have some of the general’s letters, or you can be supposed to have them, +at all events; you remember many private conversations held with him on +politics; you can charge your memory with a number of strong facts; and +you can, if needed, draw up a memoir of all your intercourse. I know the +system well, for I was a <i>mouchard</i> myself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You a police spy, Jacques?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, sir; I was appointed without knowing what services were expected from +me, or the duties of my station. Two months’ trial, however, showed that I +was “incapable,” and proved that a smart, <i>sous-offieier</i> is not +necessarily a scoundrel. They dismissed me as impracticable, and made me +<i>garde-chasse</i>; and they were right, too. Whether I was dressed up in +a snuff-brown suit, like a bourgeois of the Rue St. Denis; whether they +attired me as a farmer from the provinces, a retired <i>maître de poste</i>, +an old officer, or the <i>conducteur</i> of a diligence, I was always +Jacques Gaillon. Through everything—wigs and beards, lace or rags, +jackboots or sabots, it was all alike; and while others could pass weeks +in the Pays Latin as students, country doctors, or <i>notaires de village</i>, +I was certain to be detected by every brat that walked the streets.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What a system! And so these fellows assume every disguise?’ asked I, my +mind full of my late rencontre. +</p> +<p> +‘That they do, monsieur. There is one fellow, a Provencal by birth, has +played more characters than ever did Brunet himself. I have known him as a +<i>laquais de place</i>, a cook to an English nobleman, a letter-carrier, +a flower-girl, a cornet-à-piston in the opera, and a curé from the +Ardèche.’ +</p> +<p> +‘A curé from the Ardèche!’ exclaimed I. ‘Then I am a ruined man.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What! has monsieur fallen in with Paul?’ cried he, laughing. ‘Was he +begging for a small contribution to repair the roof of his little chapel, +or was it a fire that had devastated his poor village? Did the altar want +a new covering, or the curé a vestment? Was it a canopy for the Fête of +the Virgin, or a few sous towards the “Orphelines de St. Jude?”’ +</p> +<p> +‘None of these,’ said I, half angrily, for the theme was no jesting one to +me. ‘It was a poor girl that had been carried away.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Lisette, the miller’s daughter, or the schoolmaster’s niece?’ broke he +in, laughing. ‘He must have known you were new to Paris, monsieur, that he +took so little trouble about a deception. And you met him at the +“Charrette Rouge” in the Marais?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No; at a little ordinary in the Quai Voltaire.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Better again. Why, half the company there are <i>mouchards</i>. It is one +of their rallying-points, where they exchange tokens and information. The +labourers, the beggars, the fishermen of the Seine, the hawkers of old +books, the vendors of gilt ornaments, are all spies; the most miserable +creature that implored charity behind your chair as you sat at dinner has, +perhaps, his ten francs a day on the roll of the Préfecture! Ah, monsieur! +if I had not been a poor pupil of that school, I ‘d have at once seen that +you were a victim, and not a follower; but I soon detected my error—my +education taught me at least so much!’ +</p> +<p> +I had no relish for the self-gratulation of honest Jacques, uttered, as it +was, at my own expense. Indeed I had no thought for anything but the +entanglement into which I had so stupidly involved myself; and I could not +endure the recollection of my foolish credulity, now that all the paltry +machinery of the deceit was brought before me. All my regard, dashed as it +was with pity for the poor curé; all my compassionate interest for the +dear Lisette; all my benevolent solicitude for the sick count, who was +neither more nor less than Monsieur Fouché himself, were anything but +pleasant reminiscences now, and I cursed my own stupidity with an honest +sincerity that greatly amused my companion. +</p> +<p> +‘And is France come to this?’ cried I passionately, and trying to console +myself by inveighing against the Government. +</p> +<p> +‘Even so, sir,’ said Jacques. ‘I heard Monsieur de Talleyrand say as much +the other day, as I waited behind his chair. It is only <i>dans les bonnes +maisons</i>, said he, “that servants ever listen at the doors.” Depend +upon it, then, that a secret police is a strong symptom that we are +returning to a monarchy.’ +</p> +<p> +It was plain that even in his short career in the police service, Caillon +had acquired certain shrewd habits of thought, and some power of judgment, +and so I freely communicated to him the whole of my late adventure, from +the moment of my leaving the Temple to the time of my setting out for the +château. +</p> +<p> +‘You have told me everything but one, monsieur,’ said he, as I finished. +‘How came you ever to have heard the name of so humble a person as Jacques +Caillon, for you remember you asked for me as you rode up?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I was just coming to that point, Jacques; and, as you will see, it was +not an omission in my narrative, only that I had not reached so far.’ +</p> +<p> +I then proceeded to recount my night in the forest, and my singular +meeting with poor Mahon, which he listened to with great attention and +some anxiety. +</p> +<p> +‘The poor colonel!’ said he, breaking in, ‘I suppose he is a hopeless +case; his mind can never come right again.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But if the persecution were to cease; if he were at liberty to appear +once more in the world——’ +</p> +<p> +‘What if there was no persecution, sir?’ broke in Jacques. ‘What if the +whole were a mere dream or fancy? He is neither tracked nor followed. It +is not such harmless game the bloodhounds of the Rue des Victoires scent +out.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Was it, then, some mere delusion drove him from the service?’ said I, +surprised. +</p> +<p> +‘I never said so much as that,’ replied Jacques. ‘Colonel Mahon has foul +injury to complain of, but his present sufferings are the inflictions of +his own terror. He fancies that the whole power of France is at war with +him; that every engine of the Government is directed against him; with a +restless fear he flies from village to village, fancying pursuit +everywhere. Even kindness now he is distrustful of; and the chances are, +that he will quit the forest this very day, merely because he met you +there.’ +</p> +<p> +From being of all men the most open-hearted and frank, he had become the +most suspicious; he trusted nothing nor any one; and if for a moment a +burst of his old generous nature would return, it was sure to be followed +by some excess of distrust that made him miserable almost to despair. +Jacques was obliged to fall in with this humour, and only assist him by +stealth and by stratagem; he was even compelled to chime in with all his +notions about pursuit and danger, to suggest frequent change of place, and +endless precautions against discovery. +</p> +<p> +‘Were I for once to treat him frankly, and ask him to share my home with +me,’ said Jacques, ‘I should never see him more.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What could have poisoned so noble a nature?’ cried I. ‘When I saw him +last he was the very type of generous confidence.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Where was that, and when?’ asked Jacques. +</p> +<p> +‘It was at Nancy, on the march for the Rhine.’ +</p> +<p> +‘His calamities had not fallen on him then. He was a proud man in those +days, but it was a pride that well became him. He was the colonel of a +great regiment, and for bravery had a reputation second to none.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He was married, I think?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir; he was never married.’ +</p> +<p> +As Jacques said this, he arose, and moved slowly away, as though he would +not be questioned further. His mind, too, seemed full of its own crowding +memories, for he looked completely absorbed in thought, and never noticed +my presence for a considerable time. At last he appeared to have decided +some doubtful issue within himself, and said— +</p> +<p> +‘Come, sir, let us stroll into the shade of the wood, and I’ll tell you in +a few words the cause of the poor colonel’s ruin—for ruin it is. +Even were all the injustice to be revoked to-morrow, the wreck of his +heart could never be repaired.’ +</p> +<p> +We walked along, side by side, for some time, before Jacques spoke again, +when he gave me, in brief and simple words, the following sorrowful story. +It was such a type of the age, so pregnant with the terrible lessons of +the time, that although not without some misgivings, I repeat it here as +it was told to myself, premising that however scant may be the reader’s +faith in many of the incidents of my own narrative—and I neither beg +for his trust in me, nor seek to entrap it—I implore him to believe +that what I am now about to tell was a plain matter of fact, and, save in +the change of one name, not a single circumstance is owing to imagination. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIV. AN EPISODE OF ‘94 +</h2> +<p> +When the French army fell back across the Sambre, after the battle of +Mons, a considerable portion of the rear, who covered the retreat, were +cut off by the enemy, for it became their onerous duty to keep the allied +forces in check, while the Republicans took measures to secure and hold +fast the three bridges over the river. In this service many distinguished +French officers fell, and many more were left badly wounded on the field; +among the latter was a young captain of dragoons, who, with his hand +nearly severed by a sabre-cut, yet found strength enough to crawl under +cover of a hedge, and there lie down in the fierce resolve to die where he +was, rather than surrender himself as a prisoner. +</p> +<p> +Although the allied forces had gained the battle, they quickly foresaw +that the ground they had won was untenable; and scarcely had night closed +in when they began their preparations to fall back. With strong pickets of +observation to watch the bridges, they slowly withdrew their columns +towards Mons, posting the artillery on the heights around Grandrengs. From +these movements, the ground of the late struggle became comparatively +deserted, and before day began to dawn, not a sound was heard over its +wide expanse, save the faint moan of a dying soldier, or the low rumble of +a cart, as some spoiler of the dead stole stealthily along. Among the +demoralising effects of war, none was more striking than the number of the +peasantry who betook themselves to this infamous trade, and who, +neglecting all thoughts of honest industry, devoted themselves to robbery +and plunder. The lust of gain did not stop with the spoil of the dead, but +the wounded were often found stripped of everything, and in some cases the +traces of fierce struggle, and the wounds of knives and hatchets, showed +that murder had consummated the iniquity of these wretches. +</p> +<p> +In part from motives of pure humanity, in part from feelings of a more +interested nature—for the terror to what this demoralisation would +tend was now great and widespread—the nobles and gentry of the land +instituted a species of society to reward those who might succour the +wounded, and who displayed any remarkable zest in their care for the +sufferers after a battle. This generous philanthropy was irrespective of +country, and extended its benevolence to the soldiers of either army. Of +course, personal feeling enjoyed all its liberty of preference, but it is +fair to say that the cases were few where the wounded man could detect the +political leanings of his benefactor. +</p> +<p> +The immense granaries, so universal in the Low Countries, were usually +fitted up as hospitals, and many rooms of the château itself were often +devoted to the same purpose, the various individuals of the household, +from the ‘seigneur’ to the lowest menial, assuming some office in the +great work of charity. And it was a curious thing to see how the luxurious +indolence of château life became converted into the zealous activity of +useful benevolence; and not less curious to the moralist to observe how +the emergent pressure of great crime so instinctively, as it were, +suggested this display of virtuous humanity. +</p> +<p> +It was a little before daybreak that a small cart drawn by a mule drew up +beside the spot where the wounded dragoon sat, with his shattered arm +bound up in his sash, calmly waiting for the death that his sinking +strength told could not be far distant. As the peasant approached him, he +grasped his sabre in the left hand, resolved on making a last and bold +resistance; but the courteous salutation, and the kindly look of the +honest countryman, soon showed that he was come on no errand of plunder, +while, in the few words of bad French he could muster, he explained his +purpose. +</p> +<p> +‘No, no, my kind friend,’ said the officer, ‘your labour would only be +lost on me. It is nearly all over already! A little farther on in the +field, yonder, where that copse stands, you’ll find some poor fellow or +other better worth your care, and more like to benefit by it. Adieu!’ +</p> +<p> +But neither the farewell, nor the abrupt gesture that accompanied it, +could turn the honest peasant from his purpose. There was something that +interested him in this very disregard of life, as well as in the personal +appearance of the sufferer, and, without further colloquy, he lifted the +half-fainting form into the cart, and disposing the straw comfortably on +either side of him, set out homeward. The wounded man was almost +indifferent to what happened, and never spoke a word nor raised his head +as they went along. About three hours’ journey brought them to a large +old-fashioned chateau beside the Sambre, an immense straggling edifice +which, with a facade of nearly a hundred windows, looked out upon the +river. Although now in disrepair and neglect, with ill-trimmed alleys and +grass-grown terraces, it had been once a place of great pretensions, and +associated with some of the palmiest days of Flemish hospitality. The +Chateau d’Overbecque was the property of a certain rich merchant of +Antwerp, named D’ Aerschot, one of the oldest families of the land, and +was, at the time we speak of, the temporary abode of his only son, who had +gone there to pass the honeymoon. Except that they were both young, +neither of them yet twenty, too people could not easily be found so +discrepant in every circumstance and every quality. He the true descendant +of a Flemish house, plodding, commonplace, and methodical, hating show and +detesting expense. She a lively, volatile girl, bursting with desire to +see and be seen, fresh from the restraint of a convent at Bruges, and +anxious to mix in all the pleasures and dissipations of the world. Like +all marriages in their condition, it had been arranged without their +knowledge or consent. Circumstances of fortune made the alliance suitable; +so many hundred thousand florins on one side were wedded to an equivalent +on the other, and the young people were married to facilitate the +‘transaction.’ +</p> +<p> +That he was not a little shocked at the gay frivolity of his beautiful +bride, and she as much disappointed at the staid demureness of her +stolid-looking husband, is not to be wondered at; but their friends knew +well that time would smooth down greater discrepancies than even these. +And if ever there was a country, the monotony of whose life could subdue +all to its own leaden tone, it was Holland in old days. Whether engaged in +the active pursuit of gain in the great cities, or enjoying the luxurious +repose of château life, a dull, dreary uniformity pervaded everything—the +same topics, the same people, the same landscape, recurred day after day; +and save what the season induced, there was nothing of change in the whole +round of their existence. And what a dull honeymoon was it for that young +bride at the old Château of Overbecque! To toil along the deep sandy roads +in a lumbering old coach with two long-tailed black horses—to halt +at some little eminence, and strain the eyes over a long unbroken flat, +where a windmill, miles off, was an object of interest—to loiter +beside the bank of a sluggish canal, and gaze on some tasteless +excrescence of a summer-house, whose owner could not be distinguished from +the wooden effigy that sat, pipe in mouth, beside him—to dine in the +unbroken silence of a funeral feast, and doze away the afternoon over the +<i>Handelsblatt</i>, while her husband smoked himself into the seventh +heaven of a Dutch Elysium—poor Caroline! this was a sorry +realisation of all her bright dreamings! It ought to be borne in mind, +that many descendants of high French families, who were either too proud +or too poor to emigrate to England or America, had sought refuge from the +Revolution in the convents of the Low Countries; where, without entering +an order, they lived in all the discipline of a religious community. These +ladies, many of whom had themselves mixed in all the elegant dissipations +of the Court, carried with them the most fascinating reminiscences of a +life of pleasure, and could not readily forget the voluptuous enjoyments +of Versailles, and the graceful caprices of ‘Le Petit Trianon.’ From such +sources as these the young pupils drew all their ideas of the world, and +assuredly it could have scarcely worn colours more likely to fascinate +such imaginations. +</p> +<p> +What a shortcoming was the wearisome routine of Overbecque to a mind full +of all the refined follies of Marie Antoinette’s Court! Even war and its +chances offered a pleasurable contrast to such dull monotony, and the +young bride hailed with eagerness the excitement and bustle of the moving +armies—the long columns which poured along the highroad, and the +clanking artillery heard for miles off! Monsieur d’Aerschot, like all his +countrymen who held property near the frontier, was too prudent to have +any political bias. Madame was, however, violently French. The people who +had such admirable taste in toilet could scarcely be wrong in the theories +of government; and a nation so invariably correct in dress, could hardly +be astray in morals. Besides this, all their notions of mortality were as +pliant and as easy to wear as their own well-fitting garments. Nothing was +wrong but what looked ungracefully; everything was right that sat +becomingly on her who did it—a short code, and wonderfully easy to +learn. If I have dealt somewhat tediously on these tendencies of the time, +it is that I may pass the more glibly over the consequences, and not pause +upon the details by which the young French captain’s residence at +Overbecque gradually grew, from the intercourse of kindness and good +offices, to be a close friendship with his host, and as much of regard and +respectful devotion as consisted with the position of his young and +charming hostess. +</p> +<p> +He thought her, as she certainly was, very beautiful; she rode to +perfection, she sang delightfully; she had all the volatile gaiety of a +happy child, with the graceful ease of coming womanhood. Her very passion +for excitement gave a kind of life and energy to the dull old château, and +made her momentary absence felt as a dreary blank. +</p> +<p> +It is not my wish to speak of the feelings suggested by the contrast +between her husband and the gay and chivalrous young soldier, nor how +little such comparisons tended to allay the repinings at her lot. Their +first effect was, however, to estrange her more and more from D’Aerschot, +a change which he accepted with the most Dutch indifference. Possibly, +piqued by this, or desirous of awakening his jealousy, she made more +advances towards the other, selecting him as the companion of her walks, +and passing the greater part of each day in his society. Nothing could be +more honourable than the young soldier’s conduct in this trying position. +The qualities of agreeability which he had previously displayed to +requite, in some sort, the hospitality of his hosts, he now gradually +restrained, avoiding as far as he could, without remark, the society of +the young countess, and even feigning indisposition to escape from the +peril of her intimacy. +</p> +<p> +He did more—he exerted himself to draw D’Aerschot more out, to make +him exhibit the shrewd intelligence which lay buried beneath his native +apathy, and display powers of thought and reflection of no mean order. +Alas! these very efforts on his part only increased the mischief, by +adding generosity to his other virtues! He now saw all the danger in which +he was standing, and, although still weak and suffering, resolved to take +his departure. There was none of the concealed vanity of a coxcomb in this +knowledge. He heartily deplored the injury he had unwittingly done, and +the sorry return he had made for all their generous hospitality. +</p> +<p> +There was not a moment to be lost; but the very evening before, as they +walked together in the garden, she had confessed to him the misery in +which she lived by recounting the story of her ill-sorted marriage. What +it cost him to listen to that sad tale with seeming coldness—to hear +her afflictions without offering one word of kindness; nay, to proffer +merely some dry, harsh counsels of patience and submission, while he added +something very like rebuke for her want of that assiduous affection which +should have been given to her husband! +</p> +<p> +Unaccustomed to even the slightest censure, she could scarcely trust her +ears as she heard him. Had she humiliated herself, by such a confession, +to be met by advice like this? And was it he that should reproach her for +the very faults his own intimacy had engendered? She could not endure the +thought, and she felt that she could hate, just at the very moment when +she knew she loved him! +</p> +<p> +They parted in anger—reproaches, the most cutting and bitter, on her +part; coldness, far more wounding, on his! Sarcastic compliments upon his +generosity, replied to by as sincere expressions of respectful friendship. +What hypocrisy and self-deceit together! And yet deep beneath all, lay the +firm resolve for future victory. Her wounded self-love was irritated, and +she was not one to turn from an unfinished purpose. As for him, he waited +till all was still and silent in the house, and then seeking out +D’Aerschot’s chamber, thanked him most sincerely for all his kindness, +and, affecting a hurried order to join his service, departed. While in her +morning dreams she was fancying conquest, he was already miles away on the +road to France. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +It was about three years after this, that a number of French officers were +seated one evening in front of a little café in Freyburg. The town was +then crammed with troops moving down to occupy the passes of the Rhine, +near the Lake of Constance, and every hour saw fresh arrivals pouring in, +dusty and wayworn from the march. The necessity for a sudden massing of +the troops in a particular spot compelled the generals to employ every +possible means of conveyance to forward the men to their destination, and +from the lumbering old diligence with ten horses, to the light charrette +with one, all were engaged in this pressing service. +</p> +<p> +When men were weary, and unable to march forward, they were taken up for +twelve or fourteen miles, after which they proceeded on their way, making +room for others, and thus forty and even fifty miles were frequently +accomplished in the same day. +</p> +<p> +The group before the café were amusing themselves criticising the strange +appearance of the new arrivals, many of whom certainly made their entry in +the least military fashion possible. Here came a great country waggon, +with forty infantry soldiers all sleeping on the straw. Here followed a +staff-officer trying to look quite at his ease in a donkey-cart. Unwieldy +old bullock-carts were filled with men, and a half-starved mule tottered +along with a drummer-boy in one pannier, and camp-kettles in the other. +</p> +<p> +He who was fortunate enough to secure a horse for himself was obliged to +carry the swords and weapons of his companions, which were all hung around +and about him on every side, together with helmets and shakos of all +shapes and sizes, whose owners were fain to cover their head with the less +soldierlike appendages of a nightcap or a handkerchief. Nearly all who +marched carried their caps on their muskets, for in such times as these +all discipline is relaxed, save such as is indispensable to the +maintenance of order; and so far was freedom conceded, that some were to +be seen walking barefoot in the ranks, while their shoes were suspended by +a string on their backs. The rule seemed to be ‘Get forward—it +matters not how—only get forward!’ +</p> +<p> +And with French troops, such relaxation of strict discipline is always +practicable; the instincts of obedience return at the first call of the +bugle or the first roll of the drum; and at the word to ‘fall in!’ every +symptom of disorder vanishes, and the mass of seeming confusion becomes +the steady and silent phalanx. +</p> +<p> +Many were the strange sights that passed before the eyes of the party at +the café, who, having arrived early in the day, gave themselves all the +airs of ease and indolence before their wayworn comrades. Now laughing +heartily at the absurdity of this one, now exchanging some good-humoured +jest with that, they were in the very full current of their criticism, +when the sharp, shrill crack of a postillion’s whip informed them that a +traveller of some note was approaching. A mounted courier, all slashed +with gold lace, came riding up the street at the same moment, and a short +distance behind followed a handsome equipage, drawn by six horses, after +which came a heavy fourgon, with four. +</p> +<p> +One glance showed that the whole equipage betokened a wealthy owner. There +was all that cumbrous machinery of comfort about it that tells of people +who will not trust to the chances of the road for their daily wants. Every +appliance of ease was there; and even in the self-satisfied air of the +servants who lounged in the rumble might be read habits of affluent +prosperity. A few short years back, and none would have dared to use such +an equipage. The sight of so much indulgence would have awakened the +fiercest rage of popular fury; but already the high fever of democracy was +gradually subsiding, and, bit by bit, men were found reverting to old +habits and old usages. Still each new indication of these tastes met a +certain amount of reprobation. Some blamed openly, some condemned in +secret; but all felt that there was at least impolicy in a display which +would serve as pretext for the terrible excesses that were committed under +the banner of ‘Equality.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If we lived in the days of princes,’ said one of the officers, ‘I should +say there goes one now. Just look at all the dust they are kicking up +yonder; while, as if to point a moral upon greatness, they are actually +stuck fast in the narrow street, and unable, from their own unwieldiness, +to get farther.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Just so,’ cried another; ‘they want to turn down towards the “Swan,” and +there isn’t space enough to wheel the leaders.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Who or what are they?’ asked a third. +</p> +<p> +‘Some commissary-general, I’ll be sworn,’ said the first. ‘They are the +most shameless thieves going; for they are never satisfied with robbery, +if they do not exhibit the spoils in public.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I see a bonnet and a lace veil,’ said another, rising suddenly, and +pushing through the crowd. ‘I’ll wager it’s a danseuse of the Grand +Opéra.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Look at Mérode!’ remarked the former, as he pointed to the last speaker. +‘See how he thrusts himself forward there. ‘Watch, and you’ll see him bow +and smile to her, as if they had been old acquaintances.’ +</p> +<p> +The guess was so far unlucky, that Mérode had no sooner come within sight +of the carriage-window, than he was seen to bring his hand to the salute, +and remain in an attitude of respectful attention till the equipage moved +on. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, Mérode, who is it?—who are they?’ cried several together, as +he fell back among his comrades. +</p> +<p> +‘It’s our new adjutant-general, <i>parbleu!</i>’ said he, ‘and he caught +me staring in at his pretty wife.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Colonel Mahon!’ said another, laughing. ‘I wish you joy of your +gallantry, Mérode.’ ‘And, worse still,’ broke in a third, ‘she is not his +wife. She never could obtain the divorce to allow her to marry again. Some +said it was the husband—a Dutchman, I believe—refused it; but +the simple truth is, she never wished it herself.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How not wish it?’ remarked three or four in a breath. +</p> +<p> +‘Why should she? Has she not every advantage the position could give her, +and her liberty into the bargain? If we were back again in the old days of +the Monarchy, I agree with you she could not go to Court; she would +receive no invitations to the <i>petits soupers</i> of the Trianon, nor be +asked to join the discreet hunting-parties at Fontainebleau; but we live +in less polished days; and if we have little virtue, we have less +hypocrisy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Voilà!</i>’ cried another; ‘only I, for one, would never believe that +we are a jot more wicked or more dissolute than those powdered and +perfumed scoundrels that played courtier in the king’s bedchamber.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There, they are getting out, at the “Tour d’Argent!”’ cried another. ‘She +is a splendid figure, and what magnificence in her dress!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Mahon waits on her like a lackey,’ muttered a grim old lieutenant of +infantry. +</p> +<p> +‘Rather like a well-born cavalier, I should say,’ interposed a young +hussar. ‘His manner is all that it ought to be—full of devotion and +respect.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Bah!’ said the former; ‘a soldier’s wife, or a soldier’s mistress—for +it’s all one—should know how to climb up to her place on the +baggage-waggon, without three lazy rascals to catch her sleeve or her +petticoats for her.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Mahon is as gallant a soldier as any in this army,’ said the hussar; ‘and +I’d not be in the man’s coat who disparaged him in anything.’ +</p> +<p> +‘By St. Denis!’ broke in another, ‘he’s not more brave than he is +fortunate. Let me tell you, it’s no slight luck to chance upon so lovely a +woman as that, with such an immense fortune, too.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is she rich?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Enormously rich. He has nothing. An <i>émigré</i> of good family, I +believe, but without a sou; and see how he travels yonder!’ +</p> +<p> +While this conversation was going forward, the new arrivals had alighted +at the chief inn of the town, and were being installed in the principal +suite of rooms, which opened on a balcony over the ‘Place.’ The active +preparations of the host to receive such distinguished guests—the +hurrying of servants here and there—the blaze of wax-lights that +shone half-way across the street beneath—and, lastly, the appearance +of a regimental band to play under the windows—were all +circumstances well calculated to sustain and stimulate that spirit of +sharp criticism which the group around the café were engaged in. +</p> +<p> +The discussion was, however, suddenly interrupted by the entrance of an +officer, at whose appearance every one arose and stood in attitudes of +respectful attention. Scarcely above the middle size, and more remarkable +for the calm and intellectual cast of his features, than for that, air of +military pride then so much in vogue amongst the French troops, he took +his place at a small table near the door, and called for his coffee. It +was only when he was seated, and that by a slight gesture he intimated his +wishes to that effect, that the others resumed their places, and continued +the conversation, but in a lower, more subdued tone. +</p> +<p> +‘What distinguished company have we got yonder?’ said he, after about half +an hour’s quiet contemplation of the crowd before the inn, and the glaring +illumination from the windows. +</p> +<p> +‘Colonel Mahon, of the Fifth Cuirassiers, general,’ replied an officer. +</p> +<p> +‘Our Republican simplicity is not so self-denying a system, after all, +gentlemen,’ said the general, smiling half sarcastically. ‘Is he very +rich?’ +</p> +<p> +‘His mistress is, general,’ was the prompt reply. +</p> +<p> +‘Bah!’ said the general, as he threw his cigar away, and, with a +contemptuous expression of look, arose and walked away. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> he’s going to the inn!’ cried an officer, who peered out +after him. ‘I’ll be sworn Mahon will get a heavy reprimand for all this +display and ostentation.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And why not?’ said another. ‘Is it when men are arriving half dead with +fatigue, without rations, without billets, glad to snatch a few hours’ +rest on the stones of the “Place,” that the colonel of a regiment should +travel with all the state of an eastern despot?’ +</p> +<p> +‘We might as well have the Monarchy back again,’ said an old +weather-beaten captain; ‘I say far better, for their vices sat gracefully +and becomingly on those essenced scoundrels, whereas they but disfigure +the plainness of our daily habits.’ +</p> +<p> +‘All this is sheer envy, comrades,’ broke in a young major of hussars—‘sheer +envy; or what is worse, downright hypocrisy. Not one of us is a whit +better or more moral than if he wore the livery of a king, and carried a +crown on his shako instead of that naked damsel that represents French +Liberty. Mahon is the luckiest fellow going, and, I heartily believe, the +most deserving of his fortune! And see if General Moreau be not of my +opinion. +</p> +<p> +There he is on the balcony, and she is leaning on his arm.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Parbleu!</i> the major is right!’ said another; ‘but, for certain, it +was not in that humour he left us just now; his lips were closely puckered +up, and his fingers were twisted into his sword-knot—two signs of +anger and displeasure there’s no mistaking.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If he’s in a better temper, then,’ said another, ‘it was never the smiles +of a pretty woman worked the change. There’s not a man in France so +thoroughly indifferent to such blandishments.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Tant pis pour lui,</i>’ said the major; ‘but they’re closing the +window-shutters, and we may as well go home.’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLV. THE CABINET OF A CHEF DE POLICE +</h2> +<p> +Whatever opinion may be formed of the character of the celebrated +conspiracy of Georges and Pichegru, the mode of its discovery, and the +secret rules by which its plans were detected, are among the great +triumphs of police skill. From the hour when the conspirators first met +together in London, to that last fatal moment when they expired in the +Temple, the agents of Fouché never ceased to track them. +</p> +<p> +Their individual tastes and ambitions were studied; their habits carefully +investigated; everything that could give a clue to their turn of thought +or mind well weighed; so that the Consular Government was not only in +possession of all their names and rank, but knew thoroughly the exact +amount of complicity attaching to each, and could distinguish between the +reckless violence of Georges and the more tempered, but higher ambition of +Moreau. It was a long while doubtful whether the great general would be +implicated in the scheme. His habitual reserve—a habit less of +caution than of constitutional delicacy—had led him to few +intimacies, and nothing like even one close friendship; he moved little in +society; he corresponded with none, save on the duties of the service. +Fouché‘s well-known boast of, ‘Give me, two words of a man’s writing and +I’ll hang him,’ were then scarcely applicable here. +</p> +<p> +To attack such a man unsuccessfully, to arraign him on a weak indictment, +would have been ruin; and yet Bonaparte’s jealousy of his great rival +pushed him even to this peril, rather than risk the growing popularity of +his name with the army. +</p> +<p> +Fouché, and, it is said also, Talleyrand, did all they could to dissuade +the First Consul from this attempt, but he was fixed and immutable in his +resolve, and the Police Minister at once addressed himself to his task +with all his accustomed cleverness. +</p> +<p> +High play was one of the great vices of the day. It was a time of wild and +varied excitement, and men sought even in their dissipations, the +whirlwind passions that stirred them in active life. Moreau, however, was +no gambler; it was said that he never could succeed in learning a game. +He, whose mind could comprehend the most complicated question of strategy, +was obliged to confess himself conquered by écarté! So much for the +vaunted intellectuality of the play-table! Neither was he addicted to +wine. All his habits were temperate, even to the extent of unsociality. +</p> +<p> +A man who spoke little, and wrote less, who indulged in no dissipations, +nor seemed to have taste for any, was a difficult subject to treat; and so +Fouché found, as, day after day, his spies reported to him the utter +failure of all their schemes to entrap him. Lajolais, the friend of +Pichegru, and the man who betrayed him, was the chief instrument the +Police Minister used to obtain secret information. Being well born, and +possessed of singularly pleasing manners, he had the entrée of the best +society of Paris, where his gay, easy humour made him a great favourite. +Lajolais, however, could never penetrate into the quiet domesticity of +Moreau’s life, nor make any greater inroad on his intimacy than a +courteous salutation as they passed each other in the garden of the +Luxembourg. At the humble restaurant where he dined each day for two +francs, the ‘General,’ as he was distinctively called, never spoke to any +one. Unobtrusive and quiet, he occupied a little table in a recess of the +window, and arose the moment he finished his humble meal After this he was +to be seen in the garden of the Luxembourg, with a cigar and a book, or +sometimes without either, seated pensively under a tree for hours +together. +</p> +<p> +If he had been conscious of the espionage established over all his +actions, he could scarcely have adopted a more guarded or more tantalising +policy. To the verbal communications of Pichegru and Armand Polignac, he +returned vague replies; their letters he never answered at all; and +Lajolais had to confess that, after two months of close pursuit, the game +was as far from him as ever! +</p> +<p> +‘You have come to repeat the old song to me, Monsieur Lajolais,’ said +Fouché one evening, as his wily subordinate entered the room; ‘you have +nothing to tell me, eh?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very little, Monsieur le Ministre, but still something. I have at last +found out where Moreau spends all his evenings. I told you that about +half-past nine o’clock every night all lights were extinguished in his +quarters, and, from the unbroken stillness, it was conjectured that he had +retired to bed. Now it seems that about an hour later, he is accustomed to +leave his house, and, crossing the Place de l’Odéon, to enter the little +street called the “Allée du Caire,” where, in a small house next but one +to the corner, resides a certain officer, <i>en retraite</i>—a +Colonel Mahon of the Cuirassiers.’ +</p> +<p> +‘A Royalist?’ +</p> +<p> +‘This is suspected, but not known. His polities, however, are not in +question here; the attraction is of a different order.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ha! I perceive; he has a wife or a daughter.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Better still, a mistress. You may have heard of the famous Caroline de +Stassart, that married a Dutchman named D’Aersohot.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Madame Laure, as they called her.’ said Fouché, laughing. +</p> +<p> +‘The same. She has lived as Mahon’s wife for some years, and was as such +introduced into society; in fact, there is no reason, seeing what society +is in these days, that she should not participate in all its pleasures.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No matter for that,’ broke in Fouché; ‘Bonaparte will not have it so. He +wishes that matters should go back to the old footing, and wisely remarks, +that it is only in savage life that people or vices go without clothing.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Be it so, monsieur. In the present case no such step is necessary. I know +her maid, and from her I have heard that her mistress is heartily tired of +her protector. It was originally a sudden fancy, taken when she knew +nothing of life—had neither seen anything, nor been herself seen. By +the most wasteful habits she has dissipated all, or nearly all, her own +large fortune, and involved Mahon heavily in debt; and they are thus +reduced to a life of obscurity and poverty—the very things the least +endurable to all her notions.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, does she care for Moreau?’ asked Fouché quickly; for all stories to +his ear only resolved themselves into some question of utility or gain. +</p> +<p> +‘No, but he does for her. About a year back she did take a liking to him. +He was returning from his great German campaign, covered with honours and +rich in fame; but as her imagination is captivated by splendour, while her +heart remains perfectly cold and intact, Moreau’s simple, unpretending +habits quickly effaced the memory of his hard-won glory, and now she is +quite indifferent to him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And who is her idol now, for, of course, she has one?’ asked Fouché. +</p> +<p> +‘You would scarcely guess,’ said Lajolais. ‘<i>Parbleu!</i> I hope it is +not myself,’ said Fouché, laughing. +</p> +<p> +‘No, Monsieur le Ministre, her admiration is not so well placed. The man +who has captivated her present fancy is neither good-looking nor +well-mannered; he is short and abrupt of speech, careless in dress, +utterly indifferent to woman’s society, and almost rude to them.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You have drawn the very picture of a man to be adored by them,’ said +Fouché, with a dry laugh. +</p> +<p> +‘I suppose so,’ said the other, with a sigh; ‘or General Ney would not +have made this conquest.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah! it is Ney, then. And he, what of him?’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is hard to say. As long as she lived in a grand house of the Rue St. +Georges, where he could dine four days a week, and, in his dirty boots and +unbrushed frock, mix with all the fashion and elegance of the capital; +while he could stretch full length on a Persian ottoman, and brush the +cinders from his cigar against a statuette by Canova, or a gold +embroidered hanging; while in the midst of the most voluptuous decorations +he alone could be dirty and uncared for, I really believe that he did care +for her, at least, so far as ministering to his own enjoyments; but in a +miserable lodging of the “Allée du Caire,” without equipage, lackeys, +liveried footmen——’ +</p> +<p> +‘To be sure,’ interrupted Fouché, ‘one might as well pretend to be +fascinated by the beauty of a landscape the day after it has been +desolated by an earthquake. Ney is right! Well, now, Monsieur Lajolais, +where does all this bring us to?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very near to the end of our journey, Monsieur le Ministre. Madame, or +mademoiselle, is most anxious to regain her former position; she longs for +all the luxurious splendour she used to live in. Let us but show her this +rich reward, and she will be our own!’ +</p> +<p> +‘In my trade, Monsieur Lajolais, generalities are worth nothing. Give me +details; let me know how you would proceed.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Easily enough, sir: Mahon must first of all be disposed of, and perhaps +the best way will be to have him arrested for debt. This will not be +difficult, for his bills are everywhere. Once in the Temple, she will +never think more of him. It must then be her task to obtain the most +complete influence over Moreau. She must affect the deepest interest in +the Royalist cause—I’ll furnish her with all the watchwords of the +party—and Moreau, who never trusts a man, will open all his +confidence to a woman.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Very good; go on!’ cried Fouché, gathering fresh interest as the plot +began to reveal itself before him. +</p> +<p> +He hates writing; she will be his secretary, embodying all his thoughts +and suggestions, and, now and then, for her own guidance, obtaining little +scraps in his hand. If he be too cautious here, I will advise her to +remove to Geneva for change of air; he likes Switzerland, and will follow +her immediately. +</p> +<p> +‘This will do; at least it looks practicable,’ said Fouché thoughtfully. +‘Is she equal to the part you would assign her?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, sir, and to a higher one, too! She has considerable ability, and +great ambition. Her present narrow fortune has irritated and disgusted +her; the moment is most favourable for us.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If she should play us false,’ said Fouché, half aloud. +</p> +<p> +‘From all I can learn, there is no risk of this; there is a headlong +determination in her, when once she has conceived a plan, from which +nothing turns her; overlooking all but her object, she will brave +anything, do anything, to attain it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Bonaparte was right in what he said of Necker’s daughter,’ said Fouché +musingly, ‘and there is no doubt it adds wonderfully to a woman’s head +that she has no heart. And now, the price, Monsieur Lajolais? Remember +that our treasury received some deadly wounds lately—what is to be +the price?’ +</p> +<p> +‘It may be a smart one; she is not likely to be a cheap purchase.’ +</p> +<p> +‘In the event of success—I mean of such proof as may enable us to +arrest Moreau, and commit him to prison——’ +</p> +<p> +He stopped as he got thus far, and paused for some seconds—’ Bethink +you, then, Lajolais,’ said he, ‘what a grand step this would be, and how +terrible the consequences if undertaken on rash or insufficient grounds. +Moreau’s popularity with the army is only second to one man’s! His +unambitious character has made him many friends; he has few, very few, +enemies.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But you need not push matters to the last—an implied, but not a +proven guilt, would be enough; and you can pardon him!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, Lajolais, but who would pardon us?’ cried Fouché, carried beyond all +the bounds of his prudence by the thought of a danger so imminent. ‘Well, +well, let us come back; the price—will that do?’ And taking up a pen +he scratched some figures on a piece of paper. +</p> +<p> +Lajolais smiled dubiously, and added a unit to the left of the sum. +</p> +<p> +‘What! a hundred and fifty thousand francs!’ cried Fouché. +</p> +<p> +‘And a cheap bargain, too,’ said the other; ‘for, after all, it is only +the price of a ticket in the lottery, of which the great prize is General +Ney!’ +</p> +<p> +‘You say truly,’ said the Minister; ‘be it so.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Write your name there, then,’ said Lajolais, ‘beneath those figures; that +will be warranty sufficient for my negotiation, and leave the rest to me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Nature evidently meant you for a <i>chef de police</i>, Master Lajolais.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Or a cardinal, Monsieur le Ministre,’ said the other, as he folded up the +paper—a little insignificant slip, scrawled over with a few figures +and an almost illegible word, and yet pregnant with infamy to one, +banishment to another, ruin and insanity to a third. +</p> +<p> +This sad record need not be carried further. It is far from a pleasant +task to tell of baseness unredeemed by one trait of virtue—of +treachery, unrepented even by regret. History records Moreau’s unhappy +destiny; the pages of private memoir tell of Ney’s disastrous connection; +our own humble reminiscences speak of poor Mahon’s fate, the least known +of all, but the most sorrowful victim of a woman’s treachery! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVI. A GLANCE AT THE ‘PREFECTURE DE POLICE’ +</h2> +<p> +Poor Mahon’s melancholy story made a deep impression upon me, and I +returned to Paris execrating the whole race of spies and <i>mouchards</i>, +and despising, with a most hearty contempt, a Government compelled to use +such agencies for its existence. It seemed to me so utterly impossible to +escape the snares of a system so artfully interwoven, and so vain to rely +on innocence as a protection, that I felt a kind of reckless hardihood as +to whatever might betide me, and rode into the <i>cour</i> of the +Préfecture with a bold indifference as to my fate that I have often +wondered at since. +</p> +<p> +The horse on which I was mounted was immediately recognised as I entered; +and the obsequious salutations that met me showed that I was regarded as +one of the trusty followers of the Minister; and in this capacity was I +ushered into a large waiting-room, where a considerable number of persons +were assembled, whose air and appearance, now that necessity for disguise +was over, unmistakably pronounced them to be spies of the police. Some, +indeed, were occupied in taking off their false whiskers and moustaches; +others were removing shades from their eyes; and one was carefully opening +what had been the hump on his back in search of a paper he was anxious to +discover. +</p> +<p> +I had very little difficulty in ascertaining that these were all the very +lowest order of <i>mouchards</i>, whose sphere of duty rarely led beyond +the Faubourgs or the Batignolles, and indeed soon saw that my own +appearance amongst them led to no little surprise and astonishment. +</p> +<p> +‘You are looking for Nicquard, monsieur?’ said one, ‘but he has not come +yet.’ +</p> +<p> +‘No; monsieur wants to see Boule-de-Fer,’ said another. +</p> +<p> +‘Here’s José can fetch him,’ cried a third. +</p> +<p> +‘He ‘ll have to carry him, then,’ growled out another, ‘for I saw him in +the Morgue this morning!’ ‘What! dead?’ exclaimed several together. +</p> +<p> +‘As dead as four stabs in the heart and lungs can make a man! He must have +been meddling where he had no business, for there was a piece of a lace +ruffle found in his fingers.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, <i>voilà!</i>, cried another, ‘that comes of mixing in high society.’ +</p> +<p> +I did not wait for the discussion that followed, but stole quietly away as +the disputants were waxing warm. Instead of turning into the <i>cour</i> +again, however, I passed out into a corridor, at the end of which was a +door of green cloth. Pushing open this, I found myself in a chamber, where +a single clerk was writing at a table. +</p> +<p> +‘You’re late to-day, and he’s not in a good-humour,’ said he, scarcely +looking up from his paper. ‘Go in!’ +</p> +<p> +Resolving to see my adventure to the end, I asked no further questions, +but passed on to the room beyond. A person who stood within the doorway +withdrew as I entered, and I found myself standing face to face with the +Marquis de Maurepas, or, to speak more properly, the Minister Fouché. He +was standing at the fireplace as I came in, reading a newspaper, but no +sooner had he caught sight of me than he laid it down, and, with his hands +crossed behind his back, continued steadily staring at me. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Diable!</i> exclaimed he, at last, ‘how came you here?’ ‘Nothing more +naturally, sir, than from the wish to restore what you were so good as to +lend me, and express my sincere gratitude for a most hospitable +reception.’ ‘But who admitted you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I fancy your saddle-cloth was my introduction, sir, for it was speedily +recognised. Gesler’s cap was never held in greater honour.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You are a very courageous young gentleman, I must say—very +courageous, indeed,’ said he, with a sardonic grin that was anything but +encouraging. +</p> +<p> +‘The better chance that I may find favour with Monsieur de Fouché,’ +replied I. +</p> +<p> +‘That remains to be seen, sir,’ said he, seating himself in his chair, and +motioning me to a spot in front of it. ‘Who are you?’ +</p> +<p> +‘A lieutenant of the Ninth Hussars, sir; by name Maurice Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I don’t care for that,’ said he impatiently; ‘what’s your occupation?—how +do you live?—with whom do you associate?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have neither means nor associates. I have been liberated from the +Temple but a few days back; and what is to be my future, and where, are +facts of which I know as little as does Monsieur de Fouché of my past +history.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It would seem that every adventurer, every fellow destitute of home, +family, fortune, and position, thinks that his natural refuge lies in this +Ministry, and that I must be his guardian.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I never thought so, sir.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then why are you here? What other than personal reasons procures me the +honour of this visit?’ +</p> +<p> +‘As Monsieur de Fouché will not believe in my sense of gratitude, perhaps +he may put some faith in my curiosity, and excuse the natural anxiety I +feel to know if Monsieur de Maurepas has really benefited by the pleasure +of my society.’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Hardi, monsieur, bien hardi</i>,’ said the minister, with a peculiar +expression of irony about the mouth that made me almost shudder. He rang a +little hand-bell as he spoke, and a servant made his appearance. +</p> +<p> +‘You have forgotten to leave me my snuff-box, Geoffroy,’ said he mildly to +the valet, who at once left the room, and speedily returned with a +magnificently chased gold box, on which the initials of the First Consul +were embossed in diamonds. +</p> +<p> +‘Arrange those papers, and place those books on the shelves,’ said the +Minister. And then turning to me, as if resuming a previous conversation, +went on— +</p> +<p> +‘As to that memoir of which we were speaking t’ other night, monsieur, it +would be exceedingly interesting just now; and I have no doubt that you +will see the propriety of confiding to me what you already promised to +Monsieur de Maurepas.—That will do, Geoffroy; leave us.’ +</p> +<p> +The servant retired, and we were once more alone. +</p> +<p> +‘I possess no secrets, sir, worthy the notice of the Minister of Police,’ +said I boldly. +</p> +<p> +‘Of that I may presume to be the better judge,’ said Fouché calmly. ‘But +waiving this question, there is another of some importance. You have, +partly by accident, partly by a boldness not devoid of peril, obtained +some little insight into the habits and details of this Ministry; at +least, you have seen enough to suspect more, and misrepresent what you +cannot comprehend. Now, sir, there is an almost universal custom in all +secret societies of making those who intrude surreptitiously within their +limits to take every oath and pledge of that society, and to assume every +responsibility that attaches to its voluntary members——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Excuse my interrupting you, sir; but my intrusion was purely involuntary; +I was made the dupe of a police spy.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Having ascertained which,’ resumed he coldly, ‘your wisest policy would +have been to have kept the whole incident for yourself alone, and neither +have uttered one syllable about it, nor ventured to come here, as you have +done, to display what you fancy to be your power over the Minister of +Police. You are a very young man, and the lesson may possibly be of +service to you; and never forget that to attempt a contest of address with +those whose habits have taught them every wile and subtlety of their +fellow-men will always be a failure. This Ministry would be a sorry engine +of government if men of your stamp could outwit it.’ +</p> +<p> +I stood abashed and confused under a rebuke which at the same time I felt +to be but half deserved. +</p> +<p> +‘Do you understand Spanish?’ asked he suddenly. +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir, not a word.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I’m sorry for it; you should learn that language without loss of time. +Leave your address with my secretary, and call here by Monday or Tuesday +next.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If I may presume so far, sir,’ said I, with a great effort to seem +collected, ‘I would infer that your intention is to employ me in some +capacity or other. It is, therefore, better I should say at once, I have +neither the ability nor the desire for such occupation. I have always been +a soldier. Whatever reverses of fortune I may meet with, I would wish +still to continue in the same career. At all events, I could never become +a—a—’ +</p> +<p> +‘Spy. Say the word out; its meaning conveys nothing offensive to my ears, +young man. I may grieve over the corruption that requires such a system, +but I do not confound the remedy with the disease.’ +</p> +<p> +‘My sentiments are different, sir,’ said I resolutely, as I moved towards +the door. ‘I have the honour to wish you a good-morning.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Stay a moment, Tiernay,’ said he, looking for something amongst his +papers; ‘there are, probably, situations where all your scruples could +find accommodation, and even be serviceable, too.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I would rather not place them in peril, Monsieur le Ministre.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There are people in this city of Paris who would not despise my +protection, young man—some of them to the full as well supplied with +the gifts of fortune as Monsieur Tiernay.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And, doubtless, more fitted to deserve it!’ said I sarcastically; for +every moment now rendered me more courageous. +</p> +<p> +‘And, doubtless, more fitted to deserve it,’ repeated he after me, with a +wave of the hand in token of adieu. +</p> +<p> +I bowed respectfully, and was retiring, when he called out in a low and +gentle voice— +</p> +<p> +‘Before you go, Monsieur de Tiernay, I will thank you to restore my +snuff-box.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your snuff-box, sir?’ cried I indignantly; ‘what do I know of it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘In a moment of inadvertence, you may, probably, have placed it in your +pocket,’ said he, smiling; ‘do me the favour to search there.’ +</p> +<p> +‘This is unnecessary insult, sir,’ said I fiercely; ‘and you forget that I +am a French officer!’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is of more consequence that you should remember it,’ said he calmly. +‘And now, sir, do as I have told you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is well, sir, that this scene has no witness,’ said I, boiling over +with passion, ‘or, by Heaven, all the dignity of your station should not +save you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your observation is most just,’ said he, with the same coolness. ‘It is +as well that we are quite alone; and for this reason I beg to repeat my +request. If you persist in a refusal, and force me to ring that bell——’ +</p> +<p> +‘You would not dare to offer me such an indignity,’ said I, trembling with +rage. +</p> +<p> +‘You leave me no alternative, sir,’ said he, rising, and taking the hell +in his hand. ‘My honour is also engaged in this question. I have preferred +a charge—’ +</p> +<p> +‘You have,’ cried I, interrupting, ‘and for whose falsehood I am resolved +to hold you responsible.’ +</p> +<p> +‘To prove which you must show your innocence.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There, then—there are my pockets; here are the few things I +possess. This is my pocket-book—my purse. Oh, heavens, what is +this?’ cried I, as I drew forth the gold box, along with the other +contents of my pocket; and then staggering back, I fell, overwhelmed with +shame and sickness, against the wall. For some seconds I neither saw nor +heard anything; a vague sense of ineffable disgrace—of some ignominy +that made life a misery, was over me, and I closed my eyes with the wish +never to open them more.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The box has a peculiar value in my eyes, sir,’ said he—‘it was a +present from the First Consul—otherwise I might have hesitated——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, sir, you cannot, you dare not, suppose me guilty of a theft. You seem +bent on being my ruin; but, for mercy’s sake, let your hatred of me take +some other shape than this. Involve me in what snares, what conspiracies +you will, give me what share you please in any guilt, but spare me the +degradation of such a shame!’ +</p> +<p> +He seemed to enjoy the torments I was suffering, and actually revel in the +contemplation of my misery; for he never spoke a word, but continued +steadily to stare me in the face. +</p> +<p> +‘Sit down here, monsieur,’ said he, at length, while he pointed to a chair +near him; ‘I wish to say a few words to you, in all seriousness, and in +good faith also.’ +</p> +<p> +I seated myself, and he went on. +</p> +<p> +‘The events of the last two days must have made such an impression on your +mind that even the most remarkable incidents of your life could not +compete with. You fancied yourself a great discoverer, and that, by the +happy conjuncture of intelligence and accident, you had actually fathomed +the depths of that wonderful system of police, which, more powerful than +armies or councils, is the real government of France! I will not stop now +to convince you that you have not wandered out of the very shallowest +channels of this system. It is enough that you have been admitted to an +audience with me, to suggest an opposite conviction, and give to your +recital, when you repeat the tale, a species of importance. Now, sir, my +counsel to you is, never to repeat it; and for this reason: nobody +possessed of common powers of judgment will ever believe you! not one, +sir! No one would ever believe that Monsieur Fouché had made so grave a +mistake, no more than he would believe that a man of good name and birth, +a French officer, could have stolen a snuff-box. You see, Monsieur de +Tiernay, that I acquit you of this shameful act. Imitate my generosity, +sir, and forget all that you have witnessed since Tuesday last. I have +given you good advice, sir; if I find that you profit by it, we may see +more of each other.’ +</p> +<p> +Scarcely appreciating the force of his parable, and thinking of nothing +save the vindication of my honour, I muttered a few unmeaning words, and +withdrew, glad to escape a presence which had assumed, to my terrified +senses, all the diabolical subtlety of Satanic influence. Trusting that no +future accident of my life should ever bring me within such precincts, I +hurried from the place as though it were contaminated and plague-stricken. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVII. THE VILLAGE OP SCHWARTZ-ACH +</h2> +<p> +I was destitute enough when I quitted the Temple, a few days back; but my +condition now was sadder still, for, in addition to my poverty and +friendlessness, I had imbibed a degree of distrust and suspicion that made +me shun my fellow-men, and actually shrink from the contact of a stranger. +The commonest show of courtesy, the most ordinary exercise of politeness, +struck me as the secret wiles of that police whose machinations, I +fancied, were still spread around me. I had conceived a most intense +hatred of civilisation, or, at least, of what I rashly supposed to be the +inherent vices of civilised life. I longed for what I deemed must be the +glorious independence of a savage. If I could but discover this Paradise +beyond seas, of which the marquise raved so much; if I only could find out +that glorious land which neither knew secret intrigues nor conspiracies, I +should leave France for ever, taking any condition, or braving any +mischances fate might have in store for me. +</p> +<p> +There was something peculiarly offensive in the treatment I had met with. +Imprisoned on suspicion, I was liberated without any amende—neither +punished like a guilty man, nor absolved as an innocent one. I was sent +out upon the world as though the State would not own nor acknowledge me—a +dangerous practice, as I often thought, if only adopted on a large scale. +It was some days before I could summon resolution to ascertain exactly my +position. At last I did muster up courage, and, under pretence of wishing +to address a letter to myself, I applied at the Ministry of War for the +address of Lieutenant Tiernay, of the 9th Hussars. I was one of a large +crowd similarly engaged, some inquiring for sons that had fallen in +battle, or husbands or fathers in faraway countries. The office was only +open each morning for two hours, and consequently, as the expiration of +the time drew nigh, the eagerness of the inquirers became far greater, and +the contrast with the cold apathy of the clerks the more strongly marked. +I had given way to many, who were weaker than myself, and less able to +buffet with the crowd about them; and at last, when, wearied by waiting, I +was drawing nigh the table, my attention was struck by an old, a very old +man, who, with a beard white as snow, and long moustaches of the same +colour, was making great efforts to gain the front rank. I stretched out +my hand, and caught his, and by considerable exertion at last succeeded in +placing him in front of me. +</p> +<p> +He thanked me fervently, in a strange kind of German, a patois I had never +heard before, and kissed my hand three or four times over in his +gratitude; indeed, so absorbed was he for the time in his desire to thank +me, that I had to recall him to the more pressing reason of his presence, +and warn him that but a few minutes more of the hour remained free. +</p> +<p> +‘Speak up,’ cried the clerk, as the old man muttered something in a low +and very indistinct voice; ‘speak up, and remember, my friend, that we do +not profess to give information further back than the times of “Louis +Quatorze.”’ +</p> +<p> +This allusion to the years of the old man was loudly applauded by his +colleagues, who drew nigh to stare at the cause of it. +</p> +<p> +‘Sacrebleu! he is talking Hebrew,’ said another, ‘and asking for a friend +who fell at Ramoth-Gilead.’ +</p> +<p> +‘He is speaking German,’ said I peremptorily, ‘and asking for a relative +whom he believes to have embarked with the expedition to Egypt.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Are you a sworn interpreter, young man?’ asked an older and more +consequential-looking personage. +</p> +<p> +I was about to return a hasty reply to this impertinence, but I thought of +the old man, and the few seconds that still remained for his inquiry, and +I smothered my anger, and was silent. +</p> +<p> +‘What rank did he hold?’ inquired one of the clerks, who had listened with +rather more patience to the old man. I translated the question for the +peasant, who, in reply, confessed that he could not tell. The youth was +his only son, and had left home many years before, and never written. A +neighbour, however, who had travelled in foreign parts, had brought +tidings that he had gone with the expedition to Egypt, and was already +high in the French army. +</p> +<p> +‘You are not quite certain that he did not command the army of Egypt?’ +said one of the clerks, in mockery of the old man’s story. +</p> +<p> +‘It is not unlikely,’ said the peasant gravely; ‘he was a brave and a bold +youth, and could have lifted two such as you with one hand, and hurled you +out of that window.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Let us hear his name once more,’ said the elder clerk—‘it is worth +remembering.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have told you already. It was Karl Kléher.’ +</p> +<p> +‘The General—General Kléher!’ cried three or four in a breath. +</p> +<p> +‘Mayhap,’ was all the reply. +</p> +<p> +‘And are you the father of the great general of Egypt?’ asked the elder, +with an air of deep respect. +</p> +<p> +‘Kléher is my son; and so that he is alive and well, I care little if a +general or simple soldier.’ +</p> +<p> +Not a word was said in answer to this speech, and each seemed to feel +reluctant to tell the sad tidings. At last the elder clerk said, ‘You have +lost a good son, and France one of her greatest captains. The General +Kléher is dead.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Dead!’ said the old man slowly. +</p> +<p> +‘In the very moment of his greatest glory, too, when he had won the +country of the Pyramids, and made Egypt a colony of France.’ +</p> +<p> +‘When did he die?’ said the peasant. +</p> +<p> +‘The last accounts from the East brought the news; and this very day the +Council of State has accorded a pension to his family of ten thousand +livres.’ +</p> +<p> +‘They may keep their money. I am all that remains, and have no want of it; +and I should be poorer still before I’d take it.’ +</p> +<p> +These words he uttered in a low, harsh tone, and pushed his way back +through the crowd. +</p> +<p> +One moment more was enough for my inquiry. +</p> +<p> +‘Maurice Tiernay, of the 9th—<i>destitué</i>,’ was the short and +stunning answer I received. +</p> +<p> +‘Is there any reason alleged—-is there any charge imputed to him?’ +asked I timidly. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Ma foi!</i> you must go to the Minister of War with that question. +Perhaps he was paymaster, and embezzled the funds of the regiment; perhaps +he liked Royalist gold better than Republican silver; or perhaps he +preferred the company of the baggage-train and the ambulances, when he +should have been at the head of his squadron.’ +</p> +<p> +I did not care to listen longer to this impertinence, and making my way +out I gained the street. The old peasant was still standing there, like +one stunned and overwhelmed by some great shock, and neither heeding the +crowd that passed, nor the groups that halted occasionally to stare at +him. +</p> +<p> +‘Come along with me,’ said I, taking his hand in mine. ‘Your calamity is a +heavy one, but mine is harder to bear up against.’ +</p> +<p> +He suffered himself to be led away like a child, and never spoke a word as +we walked along towards the <i>barrière</i>, beyond which, at a short +distance, was a little ordinary, where I used to dine. There we had our +dinner together, and as the evening wore on, the old man rallied enough to +tell me of his son’s early life, and his departure for the army. Of his +great career I could speak freely, for Kléber’s name was, in soldier +esteem, scarcely second to that of Bonaparte himself. Not all the praises +I could bestow, however, were sufficient to turn the old man from his +stern conviction, that a peasant in the ‘Lech Thai’ was a more noble and +independent man than the greatest general that ever marched to victory. +</p> +<p> +‘We have been some centuries there,’ said he, ‘and none of our name has +incurred a shadow of disgrace. Why should not Karl have lived like his +ancestors?’ +</p> +<p> +It was useless to appeal to the glory his son had gained—the noble +reputation he had left behind him. The peasant saw in the soldier but one +who hired out his courage and his blood, and deemed the calling a low and +unworthy one. I suppose I was not the first who, in the effort to convince +another, found himself shaken in his own convictions; for I own before I +lay down that night many of the old man’s arguments assumed a force and +power that I could not resist, and held possession of my mind even after I +fell asleep. In my dreams I was once more beside the American lake, and +that little colony of simple people, where I had seen all that was best of +my life, and learned the few lessons I had ever received of charity and +good-nature. +</p> +<p> +From what the peasant said, the primitive habits of the Lech Thai must be +almost alike those of that little colony, and I willingly assented to his +offer to accompany him in his journey homeward. He seemed to feel a kind +of satisfaction in turning my thoughts away from a career that he held so +cheaply, and talked enthusiastically of the tranquil life of the +Bregenzerwald. +</p> +<p> +We left Paris the following morning, and, partly by diligence, partly on +foot, reached Strasbourg in a few days; thence we proceeded by Kehl to +Freyburg, and, crossing the Lake of Constance at Rorschach, we entered the +Bregenzerwald on the twelfth morning of our journey. I suppose that most +men preserve fresher memory of the stirring and turbulent scenes of their +lives than of the more peaceful and tranquil ones, and I shall not be +deemed singular when I say that some years passed over me in this quiet +spot, and seemed as but a few weeks. The old peasant was the <i>Vorsteher</i>, +or ruler of the village, by whom all disputes were settled, and all +litigation of a humble kind decided—a species of voluntary +jurisdiction maintained to this very day in that primitive region. My +occupation there was as a species of secretary to the court, an office +quite new to the villagers, but which served to impress them more +reverentially than ever in favour of this rude justice. My legal duties +over, I became a vine-dresser, a wood-cutter, or a deer-stalker, as season +and weather dictated—my evenings being always devoted to the task of +schoolmaster. A curious seminary was it, too, embracing every class from +childhood to advanced age, all eager for knowledge, and all submitting to +the most patient discipline to attain it. There was much to make me happy +in that humble lot. I had the love and esteem of all around me; there was +neither a harassing doubt for the future, nor the rich man’s contumely to +oppress me; my life was made up of occupations which alternately engaged +mind and body, and, above all and worth all besides, I had a sense of +duty, a feeling that I was doing that which was useful to my fellow-men; +and however great may be a man’s station in life, if it want this element, +the humblest peasant that rises to his daily toil has a nobler and a +better part. +</p> +<p> +As I trace these lines, how many memories of the spot are rising before +me!—scenes I had long forgotten—faces I had ceased to +remember! And now I see the little wooden bridge—a giant tree, +guarded by a single rail, that crossed the torrent in front of our +cottage; and I behold once more the little waxen image of the Virgin over +the door, in whose glass shrine at nightfall a candle ever burned! and I +hear the low hum of the villagers’ prayer as the ‘Angelus’ is singing, and +see on every crag or cliff the homebound hunter kneeling in his deep +devotion! +</p> +<p> +Happy people, and not less good than happy! Your bold and barren mountains +have been the safeguard of your virtue and your innocence! Long may they +prove so, and long may the waves of the world’s ambition be stayed at +their rocky feet! +</p> +<p> +I was beginning to forget all that I had seen of life, or, if not forget, +at least to regard it as a wild and troubled dream, when an accident, one +of those things we always regard as the merest chances, once more opened +the floodgates of memory, and sent the whole past in a strong current +through my brain. +</p> +<p> +In this mountain region the transition from winter to summer is effected +in a few days. Some hours of a scorching sun and south wind swell the +torrents with melted snow; the icebergs fall thundering from cliff and +crag, and the sporting waterfall once more dashes over the precipice. The +trees burst into leaf, and the grass springs up green and fresh from its +wintry covering; and from the dreary aspect of snow-capped hills and +leaden clouds. Nature changes to fertile plains and hills, and a sky of +almost unbroken blue. +</p> +<p> +It was on a glorious evening in April, when all these changes were +passing, that I was descending the mountain above our village after a hard +day’s chamois-hunting. Anxious to reach the plain before nightfall, I +could not, however, help stopping from time to time to watch the golden +and ruby tints of the sun upon the snow, or see the turquoise blue which +occasionally marked the course of a rivulet through the glaciers. The +Alp-horn was sounding from every cliff and height, and the lowing of the +cattle swelled into a rich and mellow chorus. It was a beautiful picture, +realising in every tint and hue, in every sound and cadence, all that one +can fancy of romantic simplicity, and I surveyed it with a swelling and a +grateful heart. +</p> +<p> +As I turned to resume my way, I was struck by the sound of voices +speaking, as I fancied, in French, and before I could settle the doubt +with myself, I saw in front of me a party of some six or seven soldiers, +who, with their muskets slung behind them, were descending the steep path +by the aid of sticks. +</p> +<p> +Weary-looking and footsore as they were, their dress, their bearing, and +their soldierlike air, struck me forcibly, and sent into my heart a thrill +I had not known for many a day before. I came up quickly behind them, and +could overhear their complaints at having mistaken the road, and their +maledictions, uttered in no gentle spirit, on the stupid mountaineers who +could not understand French. +</p> +<p> +‘Here comes another fellow, let us try him,’ said one, as he turned and +saw me near. ‘Schwartz-Ach, Schwartz-Ach,’ added he, addressing me, and +reading the name from a slip of paper in his hand. +</p> +<p> +‘I am going to the village,’ said I in French, ‘and will show the way with +pleasure.’ +</p> +<p> +‘How! what! are you a Frenchman, then?’ cried the corporal, in amazement. +</p> +<p> +‘Even so,’ said I. +</p> +<p> +‘Then by what chance are you living in this wild spot? How, in the name of +wonder, can you exist here?’ +</p> +<p> +‘With venison like this,’ said I, pointing to a chamois buck on my +shoulder, ‘and the red wine of the Lech Thai, a man may manage to forget +Veray’s and the “Dragon Vert,” particularly as they are not associated +with a bill and a waiter!’ +</p> +<p> +‘And perhaps you are a Royalist,’ cried another, ‘and don’t like how +matters are going on at home?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have not that excuse for my exile,’ said I coldly. +</p> +<p> +‘Have you served, then?’ +</p> +<p> +I nodded. +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, I see,’ said the corporal, ‘you grew weary of parade and guard +mounting.’ +</p> +<p> +‘If you mean that I deserted,’ said I, ‘you are wrong there also; and now +let it be my turn to ask a few questions. What is France about? Is the +Republic still as great and victorious as ever?’ +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Sacrebleu</i>, man, what are you thinking of? We are an Empire some +years back, and Napoleon has made as many kings as he has got brothers and +cousins to crown.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And the army, where is it?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ask for some half-dozen armies, and you’ll still be short of the mark. We +have one in Hamburg, and another in the far North, holding the Russians in +check; we have garrisons in every fortress of Prussia and the Rhine Land; +we have some eighty thousand fellows in Poland and Galicia—double as +many more in Spain. Italy is our own, and so will he Austria ere many days +go over.’ +</p> +<p> +Boastfully as all this was spoken, I found it to be not far from truth, +and learned, as we walked along, that the Emperor was, at that very +moment, on the march to meet the Archduke Charles, who, with a numerous +army, was advancing on Ratishon, the little party of soldiers being +portion of a force despatched to explore the passes of the ‘Vorarlberg,’ +and report on how far they might be practicable for the transmission of +troops to act on the left flank and rear of the Austrian army. Their +success had up to this time been very slight, and the corporal was making +for Schwartz-Ach, as a spot where he hoped to rendezvous with some of his +comrades. They were much disappointed on my telling them that I had +quitted the village that morning, and that not a soldier had been seen +there. There was, however, no other spot to pass the night in, and they +willingly accepted the offer I made them of a shelter and a supper in our +cottage. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVIII. A VILLAGE ‘SYNDICUS’ +</h2> +<p> +I SAT up all night listening to the soldiers’ stories of war and +campaigning. Some had served with Soult’s army in the Asturias; some made +part of Davout’s corps in the north of Europe; one had just returned from +Friedland, and amused us with describing the celebrated conference at +Tilsit, where he had been a sentinel on the river-side, and presented arms +to the two emperors as they passed. It will seem strange, but it is a +fact, that this slight incident attracted towards him a greater share of +his comrades’ admiration than was accorded to those who had seen half the +battlefields of modern war. +</p> +<p> +He described the dress, the air, the general bearing of the emperors, +remarking that although Alexander was taller, and handsomer, and even more +soldierlike than our own emperor, there was a something of calm dignity +and conscious majesty in Napoleon that made him appear immeasurably the +superior. Alexander wore the uniform of the Russian guard, one of the most +splendid it is possible to conceive. The only thing simple about him was +his sword, which was a plain sabre with a tarnished gilt scabbard, and a +very dirty sword-knot; and yet every moment he used to look down at it and +handle it with great apparent admiration; ‘and well might he,’ added the +soldier—‘Napoleon had given it to him but the day before.’ +</p> +<p> +To listen even to such meagre details as these was to light up again in my +heart the fire that was only smouldering, and that no life of peasant +labour or obscurity could ever extinguish. My companions quickly saw the +interest I took in their narratives, and certainly did their utmost to +feed the passion—now with some sketch of a Spanish marauding party, +as full of adventure as a romance; now with a description of northern +warfare, where artillery thundered on the ice, and men fought behind +intrenchments of deep snow. +</p> +<p> +From the North Sea to the Adriatic, all Europe was now in arms. Great +armies were marching in every direction—some along the deep valley +of the Danube, others from the rich plains of Poland and Silesia; some +were passing the Alps into Italy, and some again were pouring down for the +Tyrol ‘Jochs,’ to defend the rocky passes of their native land against the +invader. Patriotism and glory, the spirit of chivalry and conquest, all +were abroad, and his must indeed have been a cold heart which could find +within it no response to the stirring sounds around. To the intense +feeling of shame which I at first felt at my own life of obscure +inactivity, there now succeeded a feverish desire to be somewhere and do +something to dispel this worse than lethargy. I had not resolution to tell +my comrades that I had served—I felt reluctant to speak of a career +so abortive and unsuccessful; and yet I blushed at the half-pitying +expressions they bestowed upon my life of inglorious adventure. +</p> +<p> +‘You risk life and limb here in these pine forests, and hazard existence +for a bear or a chamois goat,’ cried one, ‘and half the peril in real war +would perhaps make you a <i>chef d escadron</i> or even a general.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay,’ said another, ‘we serve in an army where crowns are military +distinctions, and the epaulette is only the first step to a kingdom.’ +</p> +<p> +‘True,’ broke in a third, ‘Napoleon has changed the whole world, and made +soldiering the only trade worth following. Masséna was a drummer-boy +within my own memory, and see him now! Ney was not born to great wealth +and honours. Junot never could learn his trade as a cobbler, and for want +of better has become a general of division.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes; and,’ said I, following out the theme, ‘under that wooden roof +yonder, through that little diamond-paned window the vine is trained +across, a greater than any of the last three first saw the light. It was +there Kléber, the conqueror of Egypt, was born.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Honour to the brave dead!’ said the soldiers from their places around the +fire, and carrying their hands to the salute. ‘We’ll fire a salvo to him +to-morrow before we set out!’ said the corporal. ‘And so Kléber was born +there!’ said he, resuming his place, and staring with admiring interest at +the dark outline of the old house, as it stood out against the starry and +cloudless sky. +</p> +<p> +It was somewhat of a delicate task for me to prevent my companions +offering their tribute of respect, but which the old peasant would have +received with little gratitude, seeing that he had never yet forgiven the +country nor the service for the loss of his son. With some management I +accomplished this duty, however, promising my services at the same time to +be their guide through the Bregenzerwald, and not to part with them till I +had seen them safely into Bavaria. +</p> +<p> +Had it not been for my thorough acquaintance with the Tyroler dialect, and +all the usages of Tyrol life, their march would have been one of great +peril, for already the old hatred against their Bavarian oppressors was +beginning to stir the land, and Austrian agents were traversing the +mountain districts in every direction, to call forth that patriotic ardour +which, ill-requited as it has been, has more than once come to the rescue +of Austria. +</p> +<p> +So sudden had been the outbreak of this war, and so little aware were the +peasantry of the frontier of either its object or aim, that we frequently +passed recruits for both armies on their way to headquarters on the same +day—honest Bavarians, who were trudging along the road with pack on +their shoulders, and not knowing, nor indeed much caring, on which side +they were to combat. My French comrades scorned to report themselves to +any German officer, and pushed on vigorously in the hope of meeting with a +French regiment. I had now conducted my little party to Immenstadt, at the +foot of the Bavarian Alps, and, having completed my compact, was about to +bid them good-bye. +</p> +<p> +We were seated around our bivouac fire for the last time, as we deemed it, +and pledging each other in a parting glass, when suddenly our attention +was attracted to a bright red tongue of flame that suddenly darted up from +one of the Alpine summits above our head. Another and another followed, +till at length every mountain-peak for miles and miles away displayed a +great signal-fire! Little knew we that behind that giant range of +mountains, from the icy crags of the Glockner, and from the snowy summit +of the Orteler itself, similar fires were summoning all Tyrol to the +combat, while every valley resounded with the war-cry of ‘God and the +Emperor!’ We were still in busy conjecture what all this might portend, +when a small party of mounted men rode past us at a trot. They carried +carbines slung over their peasant frocks, and showed unmistakably enough +that they were some newly-raised and scarcely disciplined force. After +proceeding about a hundred yards beyond us, they halted, and drew up +across the road, unslinging their pieces as if to prepare for action. +</p> +<p> +‘Look at those fellows, yonder,’ said the old corporal, as he puffed his +pipe calmly and deliberately; ‘they mean mischief, or I ‘m much mistaken. +Speak to them, Tiernay; you know their jargon.’ +</p> +<p> +I accordingly arose and advanced towards them, touching my hat in salute +as I went forward. They did not give me much time, however, to open +negotiations, for scarcely had I uttered a word, when bang went a shot +close beside me; another followed; and then a whole volley was discharged, +but with such haste and ill direction that not a ball struck me. Before I +could take advantage of this piece of good fortune to renew my advances, a +bullet whizzed by my head, and down went the left-hand horse of the file, +at first on his knees, and then, with a wild plunge into the air, he fell, +stone-dead, on the road, the rider beneath him. As for the rest, throwing +off carbines, and cartouch-boxes, they sprang from their horses, and took +to the mountains with a speed that showed how far more they were at home +amidst rocks and heather than when seated on the saddle. My comrades lost +no time in coming up; but while three of them kept the fugitives in sight, +covering them all the time with their muskets, the others secured the +cattle, as in amazement and terror they stood around the dead horse. +</p> +<p> +Although the peasant had received no other injuries than a heavy fall and +his own fears inflicted, he was overcome with terror, and so certain of +death that he would do nothing but mumble his prayers, totally deaf to all +the efforts I made to restore his courage. ‘That comes of putting a man +out of his natural bent,’ said the old corporal. ‘On his native mountains, +and with his rifle, that fellow would be brave enough; but making a +dragoon of him is like turning a Cossack into a foot-soldier. One thing is +clear enough, we’ve no time to throw away here; these peasants will soon +alarm the village in our rear, so that we had better mount and press +forward.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But in what direction?’ cried another; ‘who knows if we shall not be +rushing into worse danger?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay must look to that,’ interposed a third. ‘It’s clear he can’t +leave us now; his retreat is cut off, at all events.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’s the very point I was thinking of, lads,’ said I. ‘The beacon-fires +show that “the Tyrol is up”; and safely as I have journeyed hither, I know +well I dare not venture to retrace my road; I ‘d be shot in the first Dorf +I entered. On one condition, then, I’ll join you; and short of that, +however, I’ll take my own path, come what may of it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What’s the condition, then?’ cried three or four together. +</p> +<p> +‘That you give me the full and absolute command of this party, and pledge +your honour, as French soldiers, to obey me in everything, till the day we +arrive at the headquarters of a French corps.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What, obey a Pekin! take the <i>mot d’ordre</i> from a civilian that +never handled a firelock!’ shouted three or four in derision. +</p> +<p> +‘I have served, and with distinction, too, my lads,’ said I calmly; ‘and +if I have not handled a firelock, it is because I wielded a sabre, as an +officer of hussars. It is not here, nor now, that I am going to tell why I +wear the epaulette no longer. I’ll render account of that to my superiors +and yours! If you reject my offer (and I don’t press you to accept it), +let us at least part good friends. As for me, I can take care of myself.’ +As I said this, I slung over my shoulder the cross-belt and carbine of one +of the fugitives, and selecting a strongly built, short-legged black horse +as my mount, I adjusted the saddle, and sprang on his back. +</p> +<p> +‘That was done like an old hussar, anyhow,’ said a soldier, who had been a +cavalry man, ‘and I ‘ll follow you, whatever the rest may do.’ He mounted +as he spoke, and saluted as if on duty. Slight as the incident was, its +effect was magical. Old habits of discipline revived at the first signal +of obedience, and the corporal having made his men fall in, came up to my +side for orders. +</p> +<p> +‘Select the best of these horses,’ said I, ‘and let us press forward at +once. We are about eighteen miles from the village of Wangheim; by halting +a short distance outside of it, I can enter alone, and learn something +about the state of the country, and the nearest French post. The cattle +are all fresh, and we can easily reach the village before daybreak.’ +</p> +<p> +Three of my little ‘command’ were tolerable horsemen, two of them having +served in the artillery train, and the third being the dragoon I have +alluded to. I accordingly threw out a couple of these as an advanced +picket, keeping the last as my aide-de-camp at my side. The remainder +formed the rear, with orders, if attacked, to dismount at once, and fire +over the saddle, leaving myself and the others to manoeuvre as cavalry. +This was the only way to give confidence to those soldiers, who in the +ranks would have marched up to a battery, but on horseback were totally +devoid of self-reliance. Meanwhile I imparted such instructions in +equitation as I could, my own old experience as a riding-master well +enabling me to select the most necessary and least difficult of a +horseman’s duties. Except the old corporal, all were very creditable +pupils; but he, possibly deeming it a point of honour not to discredit his +old career, rejected everything like teaching, and openly protested that, +save to run away from a victorious enemy, or follow a beaten one, he saw +no use in cavalry. +</p> +<p> +Nothing could be in better temper, however, nor more amicable than our +discourses on this head; and as I let drop, from time to time, little +hints of my services on the Rhine and in Italy, I gradually perceived that +I grew higher in the esteem of my companions, so that ere we rode a dozen +miles together, their confidence in me became complete. +</p> +<p> +In return for all their anecdotes of ‘blood and field,’ I told them +several stories of my own life, and, at least, convinced them that if they +had not chanced upon the very luckiest of mankind, they had, at least, +fallen upon one who had seen enough of casualties not to be easily +baffled, and who felt in every difficulty a self-confidence that no amount +of discomfiture could ever entirely obliterate. No soldier can vie with a +Frenchman in tempering respect with familiarity; so that while preserving +towards me all the freedom of the comrade, they recognised in every detail +of duty the necessity of prompt obedience, and followed every command I +gave with implicit submission. +</p> +<p> +It was thus we rode along, till in the distance I saw the spire of a +village church, and recognised what I knew to be Dorf Wangheim. It was yet +an hour before sunrise, and all was tranquil around. I gave the word to +trot, and after about forty minutes’ sharp riding, we gained a small pine +wood, which skirted the village. Here I dismounted my party, and prepared +to make my entry alone into the Dorf, carefully arranging my costume for +that purpose, sticking a large bouquet of wild flowers in my hat, and +assuming as much as I could of the Tyrol look and lounge in my gait. I +shortened my stirrups, also, to a most awkward and inconvenient length, +and gripped my reins into a heap in my hand. +</p> +<p> +It was thus I rode into Wangheim, saluting the people as I passed up the +street, and with the short dry greeting of ‘Tag,’ and a nod as brief, +playing Tyroler to the top of my bent. The ‘Syndicus,’ or the ruler of the +village, lived in a good-sized house in the ‘Platz,’ which, being +market-day, was crowded with people, although the articles for sale +appeared to include little variety, almost every one leading a calf by a +straw rope, the rest of the population contenting themselves with a wild +turkey, or sometimes two, which, held under the arms, added the most +singular element to the general concert of human voices around. Little +stalls for rustic jewellery and artificial flowers, the latter in great +request, ran along the sides of the square, with here and there a booth +where skins and furs were displayed—more, however, as it appeared, +to give pleasure to a group of sturdy Jagers, who stood around, +recognising the track of their own bullets, than from any hope of sale. In +fact, the business of the day was dull, and an experienced eye would have +seen at a glance that turkeys were ‘heavy,’ and calves ‘looking down.’ No +wonder that it should be so, the interest of the scene being concentrated +on a little knot of some twenty youths, who, with tickets containing a +number in their hats, stood before the syndic’s door. They were +fine-looking, stalwart, straight fellows, and became admirably the manly +costume of their native mountains; but their countenances were not without +an expression of sadness, the reflection, as I soon saw, of the sadder +faces around them. For so they stood, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts, +their tearful eyes turned on the little band. It puzzled me not a little +at first to see these evidences of a conscription in a land where hitherto +the population had answered the call to arms by a levy <i>en masse</i>, +while the air of depression and sadness seemed also strange in those who +gloried in the excitement of war. The first few sentences I overheard +revealed the mystery. Wangheim was Bavarian; although strictly a Tyrol +village, and Austrian Tyrol, too, it had been included within the Bavarian +frontier, and the orders had arrived from Munich at the Syndicate to +furnish a certain number of men by a certain day. This was terrible +tidings; for although they did not as yet know that the war was against +Austria, they had heard that the troops were for foreign service, and not +for the defence of home and country, the only cause which a Tyroler deems +worthy of battle. As I listened, I gathered that the most complete +ignorance prevailed as to the service or the destination to which they +were intended. The Bavarians had merely issued their mandates to the +various villages of the border, and neither sent emissaries nor officers +to carry them out. Having seen how the ‘land lay,’ I pushed my way through +the crowd, into the hall of the Syndicate, and by dint of a strong will +and stout shoulder, at length gained the audience-chamber, where, seated +behind an elevated bench, the great man was dispensing justice. I advanced +boldly, and demanded an immediate audience in private, stating that my +business was most pressing, and not admitting of delay. The syndic +consulted for a second or two with his clerk, and retired, beckoning me to +follow. +</p> +<p> +‘You’re not a Tyroler,’ said he to me, the moment we were alone. +</p> +<p> +‘That is easy to see, Herr Syndicus,’ replied I. ‘I’m an officer of the +staff, in disguise, sent to make a hasty inspection of the frontier +villages, and report upon the state of feeling that prevails amongst them, +and how they stand affected towards the cause of Bavaria.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And what have you found, sir?’ said he, with native caution; for a +Bavarian Tyroler has the quality in a perfection that neither a Scotchman +nor a Russian can pretend to. +</p> +<p> +‘That you are all Austrian at heart,’ said I, determined to dash at him +with a frankness that I knew he could not resist. ‘There’s not a Bavarian +amongst you. I have made the whole tour of the Vorarlberg—through +the Bregenzer-wald, down the valley of the Lech, by Immenstadt, and +Wangheim—and it’s all the same. I have heard nothing but the old cry +of “Gott und der Kaiser!”’ +</p> +<p> +‘Indeed!’ said he, with an accent beautifully balanced between sorrow and +astonishment. +</p> +<p> +‘Even the men in authority, the syndics, like yourself, have frankly told +me how difficult it is to preserve allegiance to a Government by whom they +have been so harshly treated. ‘I’m sure I have the “grain question,” as +they call it, and the “Freiwechsel” with South Tyrol, off by heart,’ said +I, laughing. ‘However, my business lies in another quarter. I have seen +enough to show me that save the outcasts from home and family, that class +so rare in the Tyrol, that men call adventurers, we need look for no +willing recruits here; and you’ll stare when I say that I ‘m glad of it—heartily +glad of it.’ +</p> +<p> +The syndic did, indeed, stare, but he never ventured a word in reply. +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll tell you why, then, Herr Syndicus. With a man like yourself one can +afford to be open-hearted. Wangheim, Luttrich, Kempenfeld, and all the +other villages at the foot of these mountains, were never other than +Austrian. Diplomatists and map-makers coloured them pale blue, but they +were black and yellow underneath; and what’s more to the purpose, Austrian +they must become again. When the real object of this war is known, all +Tyrol will declare for the House of Hapsburg. We begin to perceive this +ourselves, and to dread the misfortunes and calamities that must fall upon +you and the other frontier towns by this divided allegiance; for when you +have sent off your available youth to the Bavarians, down will come +Austria to revenge itself upon your undefended towns and villages.’ +</p> +<p> +The syndic apparently had thought of all these things exactly with the +same conclusions, for he shook his head gravely, and uttered a low, faint +sigh. +</p> +<p> +‘I’m so convinced of what I tell you,’ said I, ‘that no sooner have I +conducted to headquarters the force I have under my command——’ +</p> +<p> +‘You have a force, then, actually under your orders?’ cried he, starting. +</p> +<p> +‘The advanced guard is picketed in yonder pine wood, if you have any +curiosity to inspect them; you’ll find them a little disorderly, perhaps, +like all newly-raised levies, but I hope not discreditable allies for the +great army.’ +</p> +<p> +The syndic protested his sense of the favour, but begged to take all their +good qualities on trust. +</p> +<p> +I then went on to assure him that I should recommend the Government to +permit the range of frontier towns to preserve a complete neutrality; by +scarcely any possibility could the war come to their doors; and that there +was neither sound policy nor humanity in sending them to seek it +elsewhere. I will not stop to recount all the arguments I employed to +enforce my opinions, nor how learnedly I discussed every question of +European politics. The syndic was amazed at the vast range of my +acquirements, and could not help confessing it. +</p> +<p> +My interview ended by persuading him not to send on his levies of men till +he had received further instructions from Munich; to supply my advanced +guards with the rations and allowances intended for the others; and +lastly, to advance me the sum of one hundred and seventy crown thalers, on +the express pledge that the main body of my ‘marauders,’ as I took +opportunity to style them, should take the road by Kempen and Durcheim, +and not touch on the village of Wangheim at all. +</p> +<p> +When discussing this last point, I declared to the syndic that he was +depriving himself of a very imposing sight; that the men, whatever might +be said of them in point of character, were a fine-looking, daring set of +rascals, neither respecting laws nor fearing punishment, and that our +band, for a newly-formed one, was by no means contemptible. He resisted +all these seducing prospects, and counted down his dollars with the air of +a man who felt he had made a good bargain. I gave him a receipt in all +form, and signed Maurice Tiernay at the foot of it as stoutly as though I +had the <i>Grand Livre de France</i> at my back. +</p> +<p> +Let not the reader rashly condemn me for this fault, nor still more rashly +conclude that I acted with a heartless and unprincipled spirit in this +transaction. I own that a species of Jesuistry suggested the scheme, and +that while providing for the exigencies of my own comrades, I satisfied my +conscience by rendering a good service in return. The course of war, as I +suspected it would, did sweep past this portion of the Bavarian Tyrol +without inflicting any heavy loss. Such of the peasantry as joined the +army fought under Austrian banners, and Wangheim and the other border +villages had not to pay the bloody penalty of a divided allegiance. I may +add, too, for conscience’ sake, that while travelling this way many years +after, I stopped a day at Wangheim to point out its picturesque scenery to +a fair friend who accompanied me. The village inn was kept by an old, +venerable-looking man, who also discharged the functions of <i>Vorsteher</i>—the +title Syndicus was abolished. He was, although a little cold and reserved +at first, very communicative after a while, and full of stories of the old +campaigns of France and Austria; amongst which he related one of a certain +set of French freebooters that once passed through Wangheim, the captain +having actually breakfasted with himself, and persuaded him to advance a +loan of nigh two hundred thalers on the faith of the Bavarian Government. +</p> +<p> +‘He was a good-looking, dashing sort of fellow,’ said he, ‘that could sing +French love-songs to the piano and jodle <i>Tyroler Lieder</i> for the +women. My daughter took a great fancy to him, and wore his sword-knot for +many a day after, till we found that he had cheated and betrayed us. Even +then, however, I don’t think she gave him up, though she did not speak of +him as before. This is the fellow’s writing,’ added he, producing a +much-worn and much-crumpled scrap of paper from his old pocket-book, ‘and +there’s his name. I have never been able to make out clearly whether it +was Thierray or Iierray.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I know something about him,’ said I, ‘and, with your permission, will +keep the document and pay the debt. Your daughter is alive still?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, and married, too, at Bruck, ten miles from this.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, if she has thrown away the old sword-knot, tell her to accept this +one in memory of the French captain, who was not, at least, an ungrateful +rogue’; and I detached from my sabre the rich gold tassel and cord which I +wore as a general officer. +</p> +<p> +This little incident I may be pardoned for interpolating from a portion of +my life of which I do not intend to speak further, as with the career of +the Soldier of Fortune I mean to close these memoirs of Maurice Tiernay. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIX. A LUCKY MEETING +</h2> +<p> +The reader will probably not complain if, passing over the manifold +adventures and hair-breadth ‘scapes of my little party, I come to our +arrival at Ingoldstadt, where the headquarters of General Vandamme were +stationed. It was just as the recall was beating that we rode into the +town, where, although nearly eight thousand men were assembled, our +somewhat singular cavalcade attracted no small share of notice. Fresh +rations for ‘man and beast’ slung around our very ragged clothing, and +four Austrian grenadiers tied by a cord, wrist to wrist, as prisoners +behind us, we presented, it must be owned, a far more picturesque than +soldierlike party. +</p> +<p> +Accepting all the attentions bestowed upon us in the most flattering +sense, and affecting not to perceive the ridicule we were exciting on +every hand, I rode up to the état-major and dismounted. I had obtained +from ‘my prisoners’ what I deemed a very important secret, and was +resolved to make the most of it by asking for an immediate audience of the +general. +</p> +<p> +‘I am the <i>officier d ordonnance</i>,’ said a young lieutenant of +dragoons, stepping forward; ‘any communications you have to make must be +addressed to me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I have taken four prisoners, Monsieur le lieutenant,’ said I, ‘and would +wish to inform General Vandamme on certain matters they have revealed to +me.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Are you in the service?’ asked he, with a glance at my incongruous +equipment. +</p> +<p> +‘I have served, sir,’ was my reply. +</p> +<p> +‘In what army of brigands was it, then?’ said he, laughing, ‘for, +assuredly, you do not recall to my recollection any European force that I +know of.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I may find leisure and inclination to give you the fullest information on +this point at another moment, sir; for the present, my business is more +pressing. Can I see General Vandamme?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Of course you cannot, my worthy fellow! If you had served, as you say you +have, you could scarcely have made so absurd a request. A French general +of division does not give audience to every tatterdemalion who picks up a +prisoner on the highroad.’ +</p> +<p> +‘It is exactly because I have served that I do make the request,’ said I +stoutly. +</p> +<p> +‘How so, pray?’ asked he, staring at me. +</p> +<p> +‘Because I know well how often young staff-officers, in their +self-sufficiency, overlook the most important points, and, from the humble +character of their informants, frequently despise what their superiors, +had they known it, would have largely profited by. And, even if I did not +know this fact, I have the memory of another one scarcely less striking, +which was, that General Masséna himself admitted me to an audience when my +appearance was not a whit more imposing than at present.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You knew General Masséna, then? Where was it, may I ask?’ +</p> +<p> +‘In Genoa, during the siege.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And what regiment have you served in?’ +</p> +<p> +‘The Ninth Hussars.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Quite enough, my good fellow. The Ninth were on the Sambre while that +siege was going on,’ said he, laughing sarcastically. +</p> +<p> +‘I never said that my regiment was at Genoa. I only asserted that <i>I</i> +was,’ was my calm reply, for I was anxious to prolong the conversation, +seeing that directly over our heads, on a balcony, a number of officers +had just come out to smoke their cigars after dinner, amongst whom I +recognised two or three in the uniform of generals. +</p> +<p> +‘And now for your name; let us have that,’ said he, seating himself, as if +for a lengthy cross-examination. +</p> +<p> +I stole a quick glance overhead, and seeing that two of the officers were +eagerly listening to our colloquy, said aloud— +</p> +<p> +‘I’ll tell you no more, sir. You have already heard quite enough to know +what my business is. I didn’t come here to relate my life and adventures.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I say, Lestocque,’ cried a large, burly man, from above, ‘have you picked +up Robinson Crusoe, there?’ +</p> +<p> +‘He’s far more like the man Friday, <i>mon général</i>,’ said the young +lieutenant, laughing, ‘although even a savage might have more deference +for his superiors.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What does he want, then?’ asked the other. +</p> +<p> +‘An audience of yourself, <i>mon général</i>—nothing less.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Have you told him how I am accustomed to reward people who occupy my time +on false pretences, Lestocque?’ said the general, with a grin. ‘Does he +know that the “Salle de Police” first, and the “Prévôt” afterwards, +comprise my gratitude?’ +</p> +<p> +‘He presumes to say, sir, that he knows General Masséna,’ said the +lieutenant. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Diable!</i> He knows me, does he say—he knows me? Who is he—what +is he?’ said a voice I well remembered; and at the same instant the brown, +dark visage of General Masséna peered over the balcony. +</p> +<p> +‘He’s a countryman of yours, Masséna,’ said Vandamme, laughing. ‘Eh, are +you not a Piémontais?’ +</p> +<p> +Up to this moment I had stood silently listening to the dialogue around +me, without the slightest apparent sign of noticing it. Now, however, as I +was directly addressed, I drew myself up to a soldierlike attitude, and +replied— +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir. I am more a Frenchman than General Vandamme, at least.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Send that fellow here; send him up, Lestocque, and have a corporal’s +party ready for duty,’ cried the general, as he threw the end of his cigar +into the street, and walked hastily away. +</p> +<p> +It was not the first time in my life that my tongue had brought peril on +my head; but I ascended the stairs with a firm step, and if not with a +light, at least with a resolute, heart, seeing how wonderfully little I +had to lose, and that few men had a smaller stake in existence than +myself. +</p> +<p> +The voices were loud, and in tones of anger, as I stepped out upon the +terrace. +</p> +<p> +‘So we are acquaintances, it would appear, my friend?’ said Masséna, as he +stared fixedly at me. +</p> +<p> +‘If General Masséna cannot recall the occasion of our meeting,’ said I +proudly, ‘I ‘ll scarcely remind him of it.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Come, come,’ said Vandamme angrily, ‘I must deal with this <i>gaillard</i> +myself. Are you a French soldier?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I was, sir—-an officer of cavalry.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And were you broke? did you desert? or what was it?’ cried he +impatiently. +</p> +<p> +‘I kept better company than I believe is considered safe in these days, +and was accidentally admitted to the acquaintance of the Prince de Condé——’ +</p> +<p> +‘That’s it!’ said Vandamme, with a long whistle; ‘that’s the mischief, +then. You are a Vendéan?’ +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir; I was never a Royalist, although, as I have said, exposed to the +very society whose fascinations might have made me one.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Your name is Tiernay, monsieur, or I mistake much?* said a smart-looking +young man in civilian dress. +</p> +<p> +I bowed in assent, without expressing any sentiment of either fear or +anxiety. +</p> +<p> +‘I can vouch for the perfect accuracy of that gentleman’s narrative,’ said +Monsieur de Bourrienne, for I now saw it was himself. ‘You may possibly +remember a visitor——’ +</p> +<p> +‘At the Temple,’ said I, interrupting him. ‘I recollect you perfectly, +sir, and thank you for this recognition.’ +</p> +<p> +Monsieur de Bourrienne, however, did not pay much attention to my +gratitude, but proceeded, in a few hurried words, to give some account of +me to the bystanders. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, it must be owned that he looks devilish unlike an officer of +hussars,’ said Masséna, as he laughed, and made others laugh, at my +strange equipment. +</p> +<p> +‘And yet you saw me in a worse plight, general,’ said I coolly. +</p> +<p> +‘How so—where was that?’ cried he. +</p> +<p> +‘It will be a sore wound to my pride, general,’ said I slowly, ‘if I must +refresh your memory.’ +</p> +<p> +‘You were not at Valenciennes,’ said he, musing. ‘No, no; that was before +your day. Were you on the Meuse, then? No. Nor in Spain? I’ve always had +hussars in my division, but I confess I do not remember all the officers.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Will Genoa not give the clue, sir?’ said I, glancing at him a keen look. +</p> +<p> +‘Least of all,’ cried he. ‘The cavalry were with Soult. I had nothing +beyond an escort in the town.’ +</p> +<p> +‘So there’s no help for it,’ said I, with a sigh. ‘Do you remember a +half-drowned wretch that was laid down at your feet in the Annunziata +Church one morning during the siege?’ +</p> +<p> +‘A fellow who had made his escape from the English fleet, and swam ashore? +What I are you—— By Jove! so it is, the very same. Give me +your hand, my brave fellow. I’ve often thought of you, and wondered what +had befallen you. You joined that unlucky attack on Monte Faccio; and we +had warm work ourselves on hand the day after. I say, Vandamme, the first +news I had of our columns crossing the Alps were from this officer—for +officer he was, and shall be again, if I live to command a French +division.’ +</p> +<p> +Masséna embraced me affectionately, as he said this; and then turning to +the others, said— +</p> +<p> +‘Gentlemen, you see before you the man you have often heard me speak of—a +young officer of hussars, who, in the hope of rescuing a division of the +French army, at that time shut up in a besieged city, performed one of the +most gallant exploits on record. Within a week after he led a +storming-party against a mountain fortress; and I don’t care if he lived +in the intimacy of every Bourbon prince, from the Count D’Artois +downwards, he’s a good Frenchman, and a brave soldier. Bourrienne, you’re +starting for headquarters? Well, it is not at such a moment as this you +can bear these matters in mind, but don’t forget my friend Tiernay; depend +upon it, he’ll do you no discredit. The Emperor knows well both how to +employ and how to reward such men as him.’ +</p> +<p> +I heard these flattering speeches like one in a delicious dream. To stand +in the midst of a distinguished group, while Masséna thus spoke of me, +seemed too much for reality, for praise had indeed become a rare accident +to me; but from such a quarter it was less eulogy than fame. How hard was +it to persuade myself that I was awake, as I found myself seated at the +table, with a crowd of officers, pledging the toasts they gave, and +drinking bumpers in friendly recognition with all around me. +</p> +<p> +Such was the curiosity to hear my story, that numbers of others crowded +into the room, which gradually assumed the appearance of a theatre. There +was scarcely an incident to which I referred, that some one or other of +those present could not vouch for; and whether I alluded to my earlier +adventures in the Black Forest, or the expedition of Humbert, or to the +latter scenes of my life, I met corroboration from one quarter or another. +Away as I was from Paris and its influences, in the midst of my comrades, +I never hesitated to relate the whole of my acquaintance with Fouché—a +part of my narrative which, I must own, amused them more than all the +rest. In the midst of all these intoxicating praises, and of a degree of +wonder that might have turned wiser heads, I never forgot that I was in +possession of what seemed to myself at least a very important military +fact—no less than the mistaken movement of an Austrian general, who +had marched his division so far to the southward as to leave an interval +of several miles between himself and the main body of the Imperial forces. +This fact I had obtained from the grenadiers I had made prisoners, and who +were stragglers from the corps I alluded to. +</p> +<p> +The movement in question was doubtless intended to menace the right flank +of our army, but every soldier of Napoleon well knew that so long as he +could pierce the enemy’s centre such flank attacks were ineffectual, the +question being already decided before they could be undertaken. +</p> +<p> +My intelligence, important as it appeared to myself, struck the two +generals as of even greater moment; and Masséna, who had arrived only a +few hours before from his own division to confer with Vandamme, resolved +to take me with him at once to headquarters. +</p> +<p> +‘You are quite certain of what you assert, Tiernay?’ said he; ‘doubtful +information, or a mere surmise, will not do with him before whom you will +be summoned. You must be clear on every point, and brief—remember +that—not a word more than is absolutely necessary.’ +</p> +<p> +I repeated that I had taken the utmost precautions to assure myself of the +truth of the men’s statement, and had ridden several leagues between the +Austrian left and the left centre. The prisoners themselves could prove +that they had marched from early morning till late in the afternoon +without coming up with a single Austrian post. +</p> +<p> +The next question was to equip me with a uniform—but what should it +be? I was not attached to any corps, nor had I any real rank in the army. +Massena hesitated about appointing me on his own staff without authority, +nor could he advise me to assume the dress of my old regiment. Time was +pressing, and it was decided—I own to my great discomfiture—that +I should continue to wear my Tyroler costume till my restoration to my +former rank was fully established. +</p> +<p> +I was well tired, having already ridden thirteen leagues of a bad road, +when I was obliged to mount once more, and accompany General Massena in +his return to headquarters. A good supper, and some excellent Bordeaux, +and, better than either, a light heart, gave me abundant energy; and after +the first three or four miles of the way I felt as if I was equal to any +fatigue. +</p> +<p> +As we rode along, the general repeated all his cautions to me in the event +of my being summoned to give information at headquarters—the +importance of all my replies being short, accurate, and to the purpose; +and, above all, the avoidance of anything like an opinion or expression of +my own judgment on passing events. I promised faithfully to observe all +his counsels, and not bring discredit on his patronage. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER L. THE MARCH ON VIENNA +</h2> +<p> +All General Masséna’s wise counsels, and my own steady resolves to profit +by them, were so far thrown away, that, on our arrival at Abensberg, we +found that the Emperor had left it four hours before, and pushed on to +Ebersfield, a village about five leagues to the eastward. A despatch, +however, awaited Masséna, telling him to push forward with Oudinot’s corps +to Neustadt, and, with his own division, which comprised the whole French +right, to manoeuvre so as to menace the archduke’s base upon the Iser. +</p> +<p> +Let my reader not fear that I am about to inflict on him a story of the +great campaign itself, nor compel him to seek refuge in a map from the +terrible array of hard names of towns and villages for which that district +is famous. It is enough for my purpose that I recall to his memory the +striking fact, that when the French sought victory by turning and +defeating the Austrian left, the Austrians were exactly in march to +execute a similar movement on the French left wing. Napoleon, however, +gave the first ‘check,’ and ‘mated’ his adversary ere he could open his +game. By the almost lightning speed of his manouvres, he moved forward +from Ratisbon with the great bulk of his army; and at the very time that +the archduke believed him to be awaiting battle around that city, he was +far on his march to Landshut. +</p> +<p> +General Masséna was taking a hurried cup of coffee, and dictating a few +lines to his secretary, when a dragoon officer galloped into the town with +a second despatch, which, whatever its contents, must needs have been +momentous, for in a few minutes the drums were beating and trumpets +sounding, and all the stirring signs of an immediate movement visible. It +was yet an hour before daybreak, and dark as midnight; torches, however, +blazed everywhere, and by their flaring light the artillery trains and +waggons drove through the narrow street of the village, shaking the frail +old houses with their rude trot. Even in a retreating army, I have +scarcely witnessed such a spectacle of uproar, confusion, and chaos; but +still, in less than an hour the troops had all defiled from the town, the +advanced guard was already some miles on its way, and, except a small +escort of lancers before the little inn where the general still remained, +there was not a soldier to be seen. It may seem absurd to say it, but I +must confess that my eagerness to know what was ‘going on’ in front was +divided by a feeling of painful uneasiness at my ridiculous dress, and the +shame I experienced at the glances bestowed on me by the soldiers of the +escort. It was no time, however, to speak of myself or attend to my own +fortunes, and I loitered about the court of the inn wondering if, in the +midst of such stirring events, the general would chance to remember me. If +I had but a frock and a shako, thought I, I could make my way. It is this +confounded velvet jacket and this absurd and tapering hat will be my ruin. +If I were to charge a battery, I’d only look like a merry-andrew after +all; men will not respect what is only laughable. Perhaps after all, +thought I, it matters little; doubtless Masséna has forgotten me, and I +shall be left behind like a broken limber. At one time I blamed myself for +not pushing on with some detachment—at another I half resolved to +put a bold face on it, and present myself before the general; and between +regrets for the past and doubts for the future, I at last worked myself up +to a state of anxiety little short of fever. +</p> +<p> +While I walked to and fro in this distracted mood, I perceived, by the +bustle within-doors, that the general was about to depart; at the same +time several dismounted dragoons appeared leading saddle-horses, +tightening girths, and adjusting curb-chains—all tokens of a start. +While I looked on these preparations, I heard the clatter of a horse’s +hoofs close behind, and the spluttering noise of a struggle. I turned and +saw it was the general himself, who had just mounted his charger, but +before catching his right stirrup the horse had plunged, and was dragging +the orderly across the court by the bridle. Seeing, in an instant, that +the soldier’s effort to hold on was only depriving General Masséna of all +command of the horse, who must probably have fallen on his flank, I jumped +forward, caught the stirrup, and slipped it over the general’s foot, and +then, with a sharp blow on the soldier’s wrist, compelled him to relax his +grasp. So suddenly were the two movements effected, that in less time than +I take to relate it, all was over, and the general, who, for a heavy man, +was a good rider, was fast seated in his saddle. I had now no time, +however, to bestow on him, for the dragoon, stung by the insult of a blow, +and from a peasant, as he deemed it, rushed at me with his sabre. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Halte-là!</i>, cried Masséna in a voice of thunder; ‘it was that +country fellow saved me from a broken bone, which your infernal +awkwardness might have given me. Throw him a couple of florins for me,’ +cried he to his aide-de-camp, who just rode in; ‘and do you, sir, join +your ranks; I must look for another orderly.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I am right glad to have been in the way, general,’ said I, springing +forward, and touching my hat. +</p> +<p> +‘What, Tiernay—this you?’ cried he. ‘How is this? have I forgotten +you all this time? What’s to be done now? You ought to have gone on with +the rest, monsieur. You should have volunteered with some corps, eh?’ +</p> +<p> +‘I hoped to have been attached to yourself, general. I thought I could +perhaps have made myself useful.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, yes, very true; so you might, I’ve no doubt; but my staff is full—I +‘ve no vacancy. What’s to be done now? Lestocque, have we any spare +cattle?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Yes, general; we’ve your own eight horses, and two of Gambronne’s.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, poor fellow, he ‘ll not want them more. I suppose Tiernay may as well +take one of them, at least.’ +</p> +<p> +‘There’s an undress uniform, too, of Cambronne’s would fit Monsieur de +Tiernay,’ said the officer, who, I saw, had no fancy for my motley costume +alongside of him. +</p> +<p> +‘Oh, Tiernay doesn’t care for that; he’s too old a soldier to bestow a +thought upon the colour of his jacket,’ said Masséna. +</p> +<p> +‘Pardon me, general, but it is exactly one of my weaknesses; and I feel +that until I get rid of these trappings I shall never feel myself a +soldier.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I thought you had been made of other stuff,’ muttered the general, ‘and +particularly since there’s like to be little love-making in the present +campaign.’ And with that he rode forward, leaving me to follow when I +could. +</p> +<p> +‘These are Cambronne’s keys,’ said Lestocque, ‘and you’ll find enough for +your present wants in the saddlebags. Take the grey, he’s the better +horse, and come up with us as fast as you can.’ +</p> +<p> +I saw that I had forfeited something of General Masséna’s good opinion by +my dandyism; but I was consoled in a measure for the loss, as I saw the +price at which I bought the forfeiture. The young officer, who had fallen +three days before, and was a nephew of the General Gambronne, was a +lieutenant in Murat’s celebrated corps, the Lancers of ‘Berg,’ whose +uniform was the handsomest in the French army. Even the undress scarlet +frock and small silver helmet were more splendid than many full parade +uniforms; and as I attired myself in these brilliant trappings, I secretly +vowed that the Austrians should see them in some conspicuous position ere +a month was over. If I had but one sigh for the poor fellow to whose <i>galanterie</i> +I succeeded, I had many a smile for myself as I passed and repassed before +the glass, adjusting a belt, or training an aigrette to fall more +gracefully. While thus occupied, I felt something heavy clink against my +leg, and opening the sabretache, discovered a purse containing upwards of +forty golden Napoleons and some silver. It was a singular way to succeed +to a ‘heritage’ I thought, but, with the firm resolve to make honest +restitution, I replaced the money where I found it, and descended the +stairs, my sabre jingling and my spurs clanking, to the infinite +admiration of the hostess and her handmaiden, who looked on my +transformation as a veritable piece of magic. +</p> +<p> +I’m sure Napoleon himself had not framed one-half as many plans for that +campaign as I did while I rode along. By a close study of the map, and the +aid of all the oral information in my power, I had at length obtained a +tolerably accurate notion of the country; and I saw, or I thought I saw, +at least, half-a-dozen distinct ways of annihilating the Austrians. I have +often since felt shame, even to myself, at the effrontery with which I +discussed the great manoeuvres going forward, and the unblushing coolness +with which I proffered my opinions and my criticisms; and I really believe +that General Masséna tolerated my boldness rather for the amusement it +afforded him than from any other cause. +</p> +<p> +‘Well, Tiernay,’ said he, as a fresh order reached him, with the most +pressing injunction to hurry forward, ‘we are to move at once on Moosburg—what +does that portend?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Sharp work, general,’ replied I, not noticing the sly malice of the +question; the Austrians are there in force.’ +</p> +<p> +‘So your grenadiers say so?’ asked he sarcastically. +</p> +<p> +‘Nor general; but as the base of the operations is the Iser, they must +needs guard all the bridges over the river, as well as protect the +highroad to Vienna by Landshut.’ +</p> +<p> +‘But you forget that Landshut is a good eight leagues from that!’ said he, +with a laugh. +</p> +<p> +‘They’ll have to fall back there, nevertheless,’ said I coolly, ‘or they +suffer themselves to be cut off from their own centre.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Would you believe it,’ whispered Masséna to a colonel at his side, ‘the +fellow has just guessed our intended movement?’ +</p> +<p> +Low as he spoke, my quick ears caught the words, and my heart thumped with +delight as I heard them. This was the Emperor’s strategy—Masséna was +to fall impetuously on the enemy’s left at Moosburg, and drive them to a +retreat on Landshut; when, at the moment of the confusion and disorder, +they were to be attacked by Napoleon himself, with a vastly superior +force. The game opened even sooner than expected, and a few minutes after +the conversation I have reported, our tirailleurs were exchanging shots +with the enemy. These sounds, however, were soon drowned in the louder din +of artillery, which thundered away at both sides till nightfall. It was a +strange species of engagement, for we continued to march on the entire +time, the enemy as steadily retiring before us, while the incessant +cannonade never ceased. +</p> +<p> +Although frequently sent to the front with orders, I saw nothing of the +Austrians; a low line of bluish smoke towards the horizon, now and then +flashing into flame, denoted their position, and as we were about as +invisible to them, a less exciting kind of warfare would be difficult to +conceive. Neither was the destruction important; many of the Austrian shot +were buried in the deep clay in our front; and considering the time, and +the number of pieces in action, our loss was insignificant. Soldiers, if +they be not the trained veterans of a hundred battles, grow very impatient +in this kind of operation; they cannot conceive why they are not led +forward, and wonder at the over caution of the general. Ours were mostly +young levies, and were consequently very profuse of their comments and +complaints. +</p> +<p> +‘Have patience, my brave boys,’ said an old sergeant to some of the +grumblers; ‘I’ve seen some service, and I never saw a battle open this way +that there wasn’t plenty of fighting ere it was over.’ +</p> +<p> +A long, low range of hills bounds the plain to the west of Moosburg, and +on these, as night closed, our bivouac fires were lighted, some of them +extending to nearly half a mile to the left of our real position, and +giving the Austrians the impression that our force was stationed in that +direction. A thin drizzly rain, cold enough to be sleet, was falling; and +as the ground had been greatly cut up by the passage of artillery and +cavalry, a less comfortable spot to bivouac in could not be imagined. It +was difficult, too, to obtain wood for our fires, and our prospects for +the dark hours were scarcely brilliant. The soldiers grumbled loudly at +being obliged to sit and cook their messes at the murky flame of damp +straw, while the fires at our left blazed away gaily without one to profit +by them. Frenchmen, however, are rarely ill-humoured in face of the enemy, +and their complaints assumed all the sarcastic drollery which they so well +understand; and even over their half-dressed supper they were beginning to +grow merry, when staff-officers were seen traversing the lines at full +speed in all directions. +</p> +<p> +‘We are attacked—the Austrians are upon us!’ cried two or three +soldiers, snatching up their muskets. +</p> +<p> +‘No, no, friend,’ replied a veteran, ‘it’s the other way—we are +going at them.’ +</p> +<p> +This was the true reading of the problem. Orders were sent to every +brigade to form in close column of attack—artillery and cavalry to +advance under their cover, and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. +</p> +<p> +Moosburg lay something short of two miles from us, having the Iser in +front, over which was a wooden bridge, protected by a strong flanking +battery. The river was not passable, nor had we any means of transporting +artillery across it; so that to this spot our main attack was at once +directed. Had the Austrian general, Heller, who was second in command to +the Archduke Louis, either cut off the bridge, or taken effectual measures +to oppose its passage, the great events of the campaign might have assumed +a very different feature. It is said, however, that an entire Austrian +brigade was encamped near Freising, and that the communication was left +open to save them. +</p> +<p> +Still it must be owned that the Imperialists took few precautions for +their safety; for, deceived by our line of watch-fires, the pickets +extended but a short distance into the plain; and when attacked by our +light cavalry, many of them were cut off at once; and of those who fell +back, several traversed the bridge, with their pursuers at their heels. +Such was the impetuosity of the French attack, that although the most +positive orders had been given by Masséna that not more than three guns +and their caissons should traverse the bridge together, and even these at +a walk, seven or eight were seen passing at the same instant, and all at a +gallop, making the old framework so to rock and tremble, that it seemed +ready to come to pieces. As often happens, the hardihood proved our +safety. The Austrians counting upon our slow transit, only opened a heavy +fire after several of our pieces had crossed, and were already in a +position to reply to them. Their defence, if somewhat late, was a most +gallant one, and the gunners continued to fire on our advancing columns +till we captured the block-house and sabred the men at their guns. +Meanwhile the Imperial Cuirassiers, twelve hundred strong, made a +succession of furious charges upon us, driving our light cavalry away +before them, and for a brief space making the fortune of the day almost +doubtful. It soon appeared, however, that these brave fellows were merely +covering the retreat of the main body, who in all haste were falling back +on the villages of Furth and Arth. Some squadrons of Kellermann’s heavy +cavalry gave time for our light artillery to open their fire, and the +Austrian ranks were rent open with terrific loss. +</p> +<p> +Day was now dawning, and showed us the Austrian army in retreat by the two +great roads towards Landshut. Every rising spot of ground was occupied by +artillery, and in some places defended by stockades, showing plainly +enough that all hope of saving the guns was abandoned, and that they only +thought of protecting their flying columns from our attack. These +dispositions cost us heavily, for as we were obliged to carry each of +these places before we could advance, the loss in this hand-to-hand +encounter was very considerable. At length, however, the roads became so +blocked up by artillery, that the infantry were driven to defile into the +swampy fields at the roadside, and here our cavalry cut them down +unmercifully, while grape tore through the dense masses at half-musket +range. +</p> +<p> +Had discipline or command been possible, our condition might have been +made perilous enough, since, in the impetuosity of attack, large masses of +our cavalry got separated from their support, and were frequently seen +struggling to cut their way out of the closing columns of the enemy. Twice +or thrice it actually happened that officers surrendered the whole +squadron as prisoners, and were rescued by their own comrades afterwards. +The whole was a scene of pell-mell confusion and disorder-some, abandoning +positions when successful defence was possible; others, obstinately +holding their ground when destruction was inevitable. Few prisoners were +taken; indeed, I believe, quarter was little thought of by either side. +The terrible excitement had raised men’s passions to the pitch of madness, +and each fought with all the animosity of hate. +</p> +<p> +Masséna was always in the front, and, as was his custom, comporting +himself with a calm steadiness that he rarely displayed in the common +occurrences of everyday life. Like the English Picton, the crash and +thunder of conflict seemed to soothe and assuage the asperities of an +irritable temper, and his mind appeared to find a congenial sphere in the +turmoil and din of battle. The awkward attempt of a French squadron to +gallop in a deep marsh, where men and horses were rolling indiscriminately +together, actually gave him a hearty fit of laughter, and he issued his +orders for their recall, as though the occurrence were a good joke. It was +while observing this incident, that an orderly delivered into his hands +some maps and papers that had just been captured from the fourgon of a +staff-officer. Turning them rapidly over, Masséna chanced upon the plan of +a bridge, with marks indicative of points of defence at either side of it, +and the arrangements for mining it if necessary. It was too long to +represent the bridge of Moosburg, and must probably mean that of Landshut; +and so thinking, and deeming that its possession might be important to the +Emperor, he ordered me to take a fresh horse, and hasten with it to the +headquarters. The orders I received were vague enough. +</p> +<p> +‘You ‘ll come up with the advance guard some eight or nine miles to the +northward; you ‘ll chance upon some of the columns near Fleisheim.’ +</p> +<p> +Such were the hurried directions I obtained, in the midst of the smoke and +din of a battle; but it was no time to ask for more precise instructions, +and away I went. +</p> +<p> +In less than twenty minutes’ sharp riding I found myself in a little +valley, inclosed by low hills, and watered by a small tributary of the +Danube, along whose banks cottages were studded in the midst of what +seemed one great orchard, since for miles the white and pink blossoms of +fruit-trees were to be seen extending. The peasants were at work in the +fields, and oxen were toiling along with the heavy waggons, or the +scarcely less cumbersome plough, as peacefully as though bloodshed and +carnage were not within a thousand miles of them. No highroad penetrated +this secluded spot, and hence it lay secure, while ruin and devastation +raged at either side of it. As the wind was from the west, nothing could +be heard of the cannonade towards Moosburg, and the low hills completely +shut out all signs of the conflict. I halted at a little wayside forge to +have a loose shoe fastened, and in the crowd of gazers who stood around +me, wondering at my gay trappings and gaudy uniform, not one had the +slightest suspicion that I was other than Austrian. One old man asked me +if it were not true that the ‘French were coming?’ and another laughed, +and said, ‘They had better not’; and there was all they knew of that +terrible struggle—the shock that was to rend in twain a great +empire! +</p> +<p> +Full of varied thought on this theme I mounted and rode forward. At first, +the narrow roads were so deep and heavy, that I made little progress; +occasionally, too, I came to little streams, traversed by a bridge of a +single plank, and was either compelled to swim my horse across, or wander +long distances in search of a ford. These obstructions made me impatient, +and my impatience but served to delay me more, and all my efforts to push +directly forwards only tended to embarrass me. I could not ask for +guidance, since I knew not the name of a single village or town, and to +have inquired for the direction in which the troops were stationed might +very possibly have brought me into danger. +</p> +<p> +At last, and after some hours of toilsome wandering, I reached a small +wayside inn, and, resolving to obtain some information of my whereabouts, +I asked whither the road led that passed through a long, low, swampy +plain, and disappeared in a pine wood. +</p> +<p> +‘To Landshut,’ was the answer. +</p> +<p> +‘And the distance?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Three German miles,’ said the host; ‘but they are worse than five; for +since the new line has been opened this road has fallen into neglect. Two +of the bridges are broken, and a landslip has completely blocked up the +passage at another place.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Then how am I to gain the new road?’ +</p> +<p> +Alas! there was nothing for it but going back to the forge where I had +stopped three hours and a half before, and whence I could take a narrow +bridle-path to Fleisheim, that would bring me out on the great road. The +very thought of retracing my way was intolerable; many of the places I had +leaped my horse over would have been impossible to cross from the opposite +side; once I narrowly escaped being carried down by a millrace; and, in +fact, no dangers nor inconveniences of the road in front of me could equal +those of the course I had just come. Besides all this, to return to +Fleisheim would probably bring me far in the rear of the advancing +columns, while if I pushed on towards Landshut I might catch sight of them +from some rising spot of ground. +</p> +<p> +‘You will go, I see,’ cried the host, as he saw me set out. ‘Perhaps +you’re right; the old adage says, “It’s often the roughest road leads to +the smoothest fortune.”’ +</p> +<p> +Even that much encouragement was not without its value. I spurred into a +canter with fresh spirits. The host of the little inn had not exaggerated—the +road was execrable. Heavy rocks and mounds of earth had slipped down with +the rains of winter, and remained in the middle of the way. The fallen +masonry of the bridges had driven the streams into new channels with deep +pools among them; broken waggons and ruined carts marked the misfortunes +of some who had ventured on the track; and except for a well-mounted and +resolute horseman the way was impracticable. I was well-nigh overcome by +fatigue and exhaustion, as, clambering up a steep hill, with the bridle on +my arm, I gained the crest of the ridge, and suddenly saw Landshut—for +it could be no other—before me. I have looked at many new pictures +and scenes, but I own I never beheld one that gave me half the pleasure. +The ancient town, with its gaunt old belfries, and still more ancient +castle, stood on a bend of the Inn, which was here crossed by a long +wooden bridge, supported on boats, a wide track of shingle and gravel on +either side showing the course into which the melting snows often swelled +the stream. From the point where I stood I could see into the town. The +Platz, the old gardens of the nunnery, the terrace of the castle, all were +spread out before me; and to my utter surprise there seemed little or no +movement going forward. There were two guns in position at the bridge; +some masons were at work on the houses, beside the river, piercing the +walls for the use of musketry, and an infantry battalion was under arms in +the market-place. These were all the preparations I could discover against +the advance of a great army. But so it was; the Austrian spies had totally +misled them, and while they believed that the great bulk of the French lay +around Ratisbon, the centre of the army, sixty-five thousand strong, and +led by Napoleon himself, was in march to the southward. +</p> +<p> +That the attack on Moosburg was still unknown at Landshut seemed certain; +and I now perceived that, notwithstanding all the delays I had met with, I +had really come by the most direct line; whereas, on account of the bend +of the river, no Austrian courier could have brought tidings of the +engagement up to that time. My attention was next turned towards the +direction whence our advance might be expected; but although I could see +nearly four miles of the road, not a man was to be descried along it. +</p> +<p> +I slowly descended the ridge, and, passing through a meadow, was +approaching the highroad, when suddenly I heard the clattering of a horse +at full gallop coming along the causeway. I mounted at once, and pushed +forward to an angle of the road, by which I was concealed from all view. +The next instant, a Hungarian hussar turned the corner at top speed. +</p> +<p> +‘What news?’ cried I, in German; ‘are they coming?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Ay, in force,’ shouted he, without stopping. +</p> +<p> +I at once drew my pistol, and levelled at him. The man’s back was towards +me, and my bullet would have pierced his skull. It was my duty, too, to +have shot him, for moments were then worth days, or even weeks. I couldn’t +pull the trigger, however, and I replaced my weapon in the holster. +Another horseman now swept past without perceiving me, and quickly behind +him came a half squadron of hussars, all riding in mad haste and +confusion. The horses, though ‘blown,’ were not sweated, so that I +conjectured they had ridden fast though not far. Such was the eagerness to +press on, and so intent were they on the thought of their own tidings, +that none saw me, and the whole body swept by and disappeared. I waited a +few minutes to listen, and as the clattering towards Landshut died away, +all was silent. Trusting to my knowledge of German to save me, even if I +fell in with the enemy, I now rode forward at speed in the direction of +our advance. The road was straight as an arrow for miles, and a single +object coming towards me was all I could detect. This proved to be a +hussar of the squadron, whose horse, being dead lame, could not keep up +with the rest, and now the poor fellow was making the best of his way back +as well as he was able. Of what use, thought I, to make him my prisoner—one +more or less at such a time can be of slight avail; so I merely halted him +to ask how near the French were. The man could only speak Hungarian, but +made signs that the lancers were close upon us, and counselled me to make +my escape into the town with all speed. I intimated by a gesture that I +could trust to my horse, and we parted. He was scarcely out of sight when +the bright gleam of brass helmets came into view towards the west, and +then I could make out the shining cuirasses of the Corps de Guides, as, +mounted on their powerful horses, they came galloping along. +</p> +<p> +‘I thought I was foremost,’ said a young officer to me as he rode up. ‘How +came you in advance?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Where’s the état-major?’ cried I, in haste, and not heeding his question. +‘I have a despatch for the Emperor.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Follow the road,’ said he, ‘and you’ll come up with them in half an +hour.’ +</p> +<p> +And with these hurried words we passed each other. A sharp pistol report a +moment after told me what had befallen the poor Hungarian; but I had +little time to think of his fate. Our squadrons were coming on at a sharp +pace, while in their rear the jingling clash of horse artillery resounded. +From a gentle rise of the road I could see a vast distance of country, and +perceive that the French columns extended for miles away—the great +chaussée being reserved for the heavy artillery, while every byroad and +lane were filled with troops of all arms hurrying onward. It was one of +those precipitous movements by which Napoleon so often paralysed an enemy +at once, and finished a campaign by one daring exploit. +</p> +<p> +At such a time it was in vain for me to ask in what direction the staff +might be found. All were eager and intent on their own projects; and as +squadron after squadron passed, I saw it was a moment for action rather +than for thought. Still I did not like to abandon all hope of succeeding +after so much of peril and fatigue, and seeing that it was impossible to +advance against the flood of horse and artillery that formed along the +road, I jumped my horse into a field at the side, and pushed forward. Even +here, however, the passage was not quite clear, since many, in their +eagerness to get forward, had taken to the same line, and, with cheering +cries and wild shouts of joy, were galloping on. My showy uniform drew +many an eye towards me, and at last a staff-officer cried out to me to +stop, pointing with his sabre as he spoke to a hill a short distance off, +where a group of officers were standing. +</p> +<p> +This was General Moulon and his staff, under whose order the advanced +guard was placed. +</p> +<p> +‘A despatch—whence from?’ cried he hastily, as I rode up. +</p> +<p> +‘No, sir; a plan of the bridge of Landshut, taken from the enemy this +morning at Moosburg.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Are they still there?’ asked he. +</p> +<p> +‘By this time they must be close upon Landshut; they were in full retreat +when I left them at daybreak.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We ‘ll be able to speak of the bridge without this,’ said he, laughing, +and turning toward his staff, while he handed the sketch carelessly to +some one beside him; ‘and you’ll serve the Emperor quite as well, sir, by +coming with us as hastening to the rear.’ +</p> +<p> +I professed myself ready and willing to follow his orders, and away I went +with the staff, well pleased to be once more on active service. +</p> +<p> +Two cannon shots, and a rattling crash of small-arms, told us that the +combat had begun; and as we ascended the hill, the bridge of Landshut was +seen on fire in three places. Either from some mistake of his orders, or +not daring to assume a responsibility for what was beyond the strict line +of duty, the French commander of the artillery placed his guns in position +along the river’s bank, and prepared to reply to the fire now opening from +the town, instead of at once dashing onward within the gates. Moulon +hastened to repair the error; but by the delay in pushing through the +dense masses of horse, foot, and artillery that crowded the passage, it +was full twenty minutes ere he came up. With a storm of oaths on the +stupidity of the artillery colonel, he ordered the firing to cease, +commanding both the cavalry and the train waggons to move right and left, +and give place for a grenadier battalion, who were coming briskly on with +their muskets at the sling. +</p> +<p> +The scene was now a madly exciting one. The <i>chevaux défrise</i> at one +end of the bridge was blazing; but beyond it, on the bridge, the Austrian +engineer and his men were scattering combustible material, and with hempen +torches touching the new-pitched timbers. An incessant roll of musketry +issued from the houses on the river-side, with now and then the deeper +boom of a large gun, while the roar of voices, and the crashing noise of +artillery passing through the streets, swelled into a fearful chorus. The +French sappers quickly removed the burning <i>chevaux de frise</i>, and +hurled the flaming timbers into the stream; and scarcely was this done, +when Moulon, dismounting, advanced, cheering, at the head of his +grenadiers. Charging over the burning bridge, they rushed forward; but +their way was arrested by the strong timbers of a massive portcullis, +which closed the passage. This had been concealed from our view by the +smoke and flame; and now, as the press of men from behind grew each +instant more powerful, a scene of terrible suffering ensued. The enemy, +too, poured down a deadly discharge, and grapeshot tore through us at +pistol-range. The onward rush of the columns to the rear defied retreat, +and in the mad confusion, all orders and command were unheard or unheeded. +Not knowing what delayed our advance, I was busily engaged in suppressing +a fire at one of the middle buttresses, when, mounting the parapet, I saw +the cause of our halt. I happened to have caught up one of the pitched +torches at the instant, and the thought at once struck me how to employ +it. To reach the portcullis, no other road lay open than the parapet +itself—a wooden railing, wide enough for a footing, but exposed to +the whole fire of the houses. There was little time for the choice of +alternatives, even had our fate offered any, so I dashed on, and, as the +balls whizzed and whistled around me, reached the front. +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img alt="frontispiece (139K)" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="100%" /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +It was a terrible thing to touch the timbers against which our men were +actually flattened, and to set fire to the bars around which their hands +were clasped; but I saw that the Austrian musketry had already done its +work on the leading files, and that not one man was living amongst them. +By a blunder of one of the sappers, the portcullis had been smeared with +pitch like the bridge; and as I applied the torch, the blaze sprang up, +and, encouraged by the rush of air between the beams, spread in a second +over the whole structure. Expecting my death-wound at every instant, I +never ceased my task, even when it had become no longer necessary, +impelled by a kind of insane persistence to destroy the barrier. The wind +carrying the flame inward, however, had compelled the Austrians to fall +back, and before they could again open a collected fire on us, the way was +open, and the grenadiers, like enraged tigers, rushed wildly in. +</p> +<p> +I remember that my coat was twice on fire as, carried on my comrades’ +shoulders, I was borne along into the town. I recollect, too, the fearful +scene of suffering that ensued, the mad butchery at each doorway as we +passed, the piercing cries for mercy, and the groan of dying agony. +</p> +<p> +War has no such terrible spectacle as a town taken by infuriated soldiery; +and even amongst the best of natures a relentless cruelty usurps the place +of every chivalrous feeling. When or how I was wounded I never could +ascertain; but a round shot had penetrated my thigh, tearing the muscles +into shreds, and giving to the surgeon who saw me the simple task of +saying, ‘<i>Enlevez le—point despair</i>.’ +</p> +<p> +I heard thus much, and I have some recollection of a comrade having kissed +my forehead, and there ended my reminiscences of Landshut. Nay, I am +wrong; I cherish another and a more glorious one. +</p> +<p> +It was about four days after this occurrence that the surgeon in charge of +the military hospital was obliged to secure by ligature a branch of the +femoral artery which had been traversed by the ball through my thigh. The +operation was a tedious and difficult one, for round shot, it would seem, +have little respect for anatomy, and occasionally displace muscles in a +sad fashion. I was very weak after it was over, and orders were left to +give a spoonful of Bordeaux and water from time to time during the evening—a +direction which I listened to attentively, and never permitted my orderly +to neglect. In fact, like a genuine sick man’s fancy, it caught possession +of my mind that this wine and water was to save me; and in the momentary +rally of excitement it gave, I thought I tasted health once more. In this +impression I never awoke from a short doze without a request for my +cordial, and half mechanically would make signs to wet my lips as I slept. +</p> +<p> +It was near sunset, and I was lying with unclosed eyes, not asleep, but in +that semi-conscious state that great bodily depression and loss of blood +induce. The ward was unusually quiet, the little buzz of voices that +generally mingled through the accents of suffering were hushed, and I +could hear the surgeon’s well-known voice as he spoke to some persons at +the farther end of the chamber. +</p> +<p> +By their stopping from time to time, I could remark that they were +inspecting the different beds, but their voices were low and their steps +cautious and noiseless. +</p> +<p> +‘Tiernay—this is Tiernay,’ said some one, reading my name from the +paper over my head. Some low words which I could not catch followed, and +then the surgeon replied— +</p> +<p> +‘There is a chance for him yet, though the debility is greatly to be +feared.’ +</p> +<p> +I made a sign at once to my mouth, and after a second’s delay the spoon +touched my lips; but so awkwardly was it applied, that the fluid ran down +my chin. With a sickly impatience I turned away, but a mild, low voice, +soft as a woman’s, said— +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Allons!</i>—Let me try once more’; and now the spoon met my lips +with due dexterity. +</p> +<p> +‘Thanks,’ said I faintly, and I opened my eyes. +</p> +<p> +‘You’ll soon be about again, Tiernay,’ said the same voice—as for +the person, I could distinguish nothing, for there were six or seven +around me—‘and if I know anything of a soldier’s heart, this will do +just as much as the doctor.’ +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he detached from his coat a small enamel cross, and placed it +in my hand, with a gentle squeeze of the fingers, and then saying ‘<i>Au +revoir</i>,’ moved on. +</p> +<p> +‘Who’s that?’ cried I suddenly, while a strange thrill ran through me. +</p> +<p> +‘Hush!’ whispered the surgeon cautiously; ‘hush! it is the Emperor.’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LI. SCHÖNBRUNN IN 1809 +</h2> +<p> +About two months afterwards, on a warm evening of summer, I entered Vienna +in a litter, along with some twelve hundred other wounded men, escorted by +a regiment of cuirassiers. I was weak and unable to walk. The fever of my +wound had reduced me to a skeleton; but I was consoled for everything by +knowing that I was a captain on the Emperor’s own staff, and decorated by +himself with the Cross of ‘the Legion.’ Nor were these my only +distinctions, for my name had been included among the lists of the <i>officiers +délite</i>—a new institution of the Emperor, enjoying considerable +privileges and increase of pay. +</p> +<p> +To this latter elevation, too, I owed my handsome quarters in the ‘Raab’ +Palace at Vienna, and the sentry at my door, like that of a field-officer. +Fortune, indeed, began to smile upon me, and never are her flatteries more +welcome than in the first hours of returning health, after a long +sickness. I was visited by the first men of the army; marshals and +generals figured among the names of my intimates, and invitations flowed +in upon me from all that were distinguished by rank and station. +</p> +<p> +Vienna, at that period, presented few features of a city occupied by an +enemy. The guards, it is true, on all arsenals and forts, were French, and +the gates were held by them; but there was no interruption to the course +of trade and commerce. The theatres were open every night, and balls and +receptions went on with only redoubled frequency. Unlike his policy +towards Russia, Napoleon abstained from all that might humiliate the +Austrians. Every possible concession was made to their natural tastes and +feelings, and officers of all ranks in the French army were strictly +enjoined to observe a conduct of conciliation and civility on every +occasion of intercourse with the citizens. Few general orders could be +more palatable to Frenchmen, and they set about the task of cultivating +the good esteem of the Viennese with a most honest desire for success. +Accident, too, aided their efforts not a little; for it chanced that a +short time before the battle of Aspern, the city had been garrisoned by +Croat and Wallachian regiments, whose officers, scarcely half civilised, +and with all the brutal ferocity of barbarian tribes, were most favourably +supplanted by Frenchmen in the best of possible tempers with themselves +and the world. +</p> +<p> +It might be argued, that the Austrians would have shown more patriotism in +holding themselves aloof, and avoiding all interchange of civilities with +their conquerors. Perhaps, too, this line of conduct would have prevailed +to a greater extent, had not those in high places set an opposite example. +But so it was; and in the hope of obtaining more favourable treatment in +their last extremity, the princes of the Imperial House, and the highest +nobles of the land, freely accepted the invitations of our marshals, and +as freely received them at their own tables. +</p> +<p> +There was something of pride, too, in the way these great families +continued to keep up the splendour of their households—large +retinues of servants and gorgeous equipages—when the very empire +itself was crumbling to pieces. And to the costly expenditure of that +fevered interval may be dated the ruin of some of the richest of the +Austrian nobility. To maintain a corresponding style, and to receive the +proud guests with suitable magnificence, enormous ‘allowances’ were made +to the French generals; while in striking contrast to all the splendour, +the Emperor Napoleon lived at Schönbrunn with a most simple household and +restricted retinue. +</p> +<p> +‘Berthier’s’ Palace, in the ‘Graben,’ was, by its superior magnificence, +the recognised centre of French society; and thither flocked every evening +all that was most distinguished in rank of both nations. Motives of +policy, or at least the terrible pressure of necessity, filled these +salons with the highest personages of the empire; while as it accepting, +as inevitable, the glorious ascendency of Napoleon, many of the French <i>émigré</i> +families emerged from their retirement to pay their court to the favoured +lieutenants of Napoleon. Marmont, who was highly connected with the French +aristocracy, gave no slight aid to this movement, and, it was currently +believed at the time, was secretly intrusted by the Emperor with the task +of accomplishing what in modern phrase is styled, a ‘fusion.’ +</p> +<p> +The real source of all these flattering attentions on the Austrian side, +however, was the well-founded dread of the partition of the empire—a +plan over which Napoleon was then hourly in deliberation, and to the +non-accomplishment of which he ascribed, in the days of his last exile, +all the calamities of his fall. Be this as it may, few thoughts of the +graver interests at stake disturbed the pleasure we felt in the luxurious +life of that delightful city; nor can I, through the whole of a long and +varied career, call to mind any period of more unmixed enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +Fortune stood by me in everything. Marshal Marmont required as the head of +his état-major an officer who could speak and write German, and, if +possible, who understood the Tyrol dialect. I was selected for the +appointment; but then there arose a difficulty. The etiquette of the +service demanded that the <i>chef d état-major</i> should be at least a +lieutenant-colonel, and I was but a captain. +</p> +<p> +‘No matter,’ said he; ‘you are <i>officier délite</i>, which always gives +brevet rank, and so one step more will place you where we want you. Come +with me to Schônbrunn to-night, and I’ll try and arrange it.’ +</p> +<p> +I was still very weak, and unable for any fatigue, as I accompanied the +marshal to the quaint old palace which, at about a league from the +capital, formed the headquarters of the Emperor. Up to this time I had +never been presented to Napoleon, and had formed to myself the most +gorgeous notions of the state and splendour that should surround such +majesty. Guess then my astonishment, and, need I own, disappointment, as +we drove up a straight avenue, very sparingly lighted, and descended at a +large door, where a lieutenant’s guard was stationed. It was customary for +the marshals and generals of division to present themselves each evening +at Schönbrunn, from six to nine o’clock, and we found that eight or ten +carriages were already in waiting when we arrived. An officer of the +household recognised the marshal as he alighted, and as we mounted the +stairs whispered a few words hurriedly in his ear, of which I only caught +one, ‘Komorn,’ the name of the Hungarian fortress on the Danube where the +Imperial family of Vienna and the cabinet had sought refuge. +</p> +<p> +‘<i>Diantre!</i>’ exclaimed Marmont—‘bad news! My dear Tiernay, we +have fallen on an unlucky moment to ask a favour! The despatches from +Komorn are, it would seem, unsatisfactory. The Tyrol is far from quiet. +Kuffstein, I think that’s the name, or some such place, is attacked by a +large force, and likely to fall into their hands from assault.’ +</p> +<p> +‘That can scarcely be, sir,’ said I, interrupting; ‘I know Kuffstein well +I was two years a prisoner there; and, except by famine, the fortress is +inaccessible.’ +</p> +<p> +‘What! are you certain of this?’ cried he eagerly; ‘is there not one side +on which escalade is possible?’ +</p> +<p> +‘Quite impracticable on every quarter, believe me, sir. A hundred men of +the line and twenty gunners might hold Kuffstein against the world.’ +</p> +<p> +You hear what he says, Lefebvre,’ said Marmont to the officer; ‘I think I +might venture to bring him up?’ The other shook his head doubtfully, and +said nothing. ‘Well, announce me, then,’ said the marshal; ‘and, Tiernay, +do you throw yourself on one of those sofas there, and wait for me.’ +</p> +<p> +I did as I was bade, and, partly from the unusual fatigue, and in part +from the warmth of a summer evening, soon fell off into a heavy sleep. I +was suddenly awakened by a voice saying, ‘Come along, captain, be quick, +your name has been called twice!’ I sprang up and looked about me, without +the very vaguest notion of where I was. ‘Where to? Where am I going?’ +asked I, in my confusion. ‘Follow that gentleman,’ was the brief reply; +and so I did, in the same dreamy state that a sleep-walker might have +done. Some confused impression that I was in attendance on General Marmont +was all that I could collect, when I found myself standing in a great room +densely crowded with officers of rank. Though gathered in groups and knots +chatting, there was, from time to time, a sort of movement in the mass +that seemed communicated by some single impulse; and then all would remain +watchful and attentive for some seconds, their eyes turned in the +direction of a large door at the end of the apartment. At last this was +thrown suddenly open, and a number of persons entered, at whose appearance +every tongue was hushed, and the very slightest gesture subdued. The crowd +meanwhile fell back, forming a species of circle round the room, in front +of which this newly entered group walked. I cannot now remember what +struggling efforts I made to collect my faculties, and think where I was +then standing; but if a thunderbolt had struck the ground before me, it +could not have given me a more terrific shock than that I felt on seeing +the Emperor himself address the general officer beside me. +</p> +<p> +I cannot pretend to have enjoyed many opportunities of royal notice. At +the time I speak of, such distinction was altogether unknown to me; but +even when most highly favoured in that respect, I have never been able to +divest myself of a most crushing feeling of my inferiority—a sense +at once so humiliating and painful, that I longed to be away and out of a +presence where I might dare to look at him who addressed me, and venture +on something beyond mere replies to interrogatories. This situation, good +reader, with your courtly breeding and <i>aplomb</i> to boot, is never +totally free of constraint; but imagine what it can be when, instead of +standing in the faint sunshine of a royal smile, you find yourself +cowering under the stern and relentless look of anger, and that anger an +emperor’s. +</p> +<p> +This was precisely my predicament, for in my confusion I had not noticed +how, as the Emperor drew near to any individual to converse, the others, +at either side, immediately retired out of hearing, preserving an air of +obedient attention, but without in any way obtruding themselves on the +royal notice. The consequence was, that as his Majesty stood to talk with +Marshal Oudinot, I maintained my place, never perceiving my awkwardness +till I saw that I made one of three figures isolated in the floor of the +chamber. To say that I had rather have stood in face of an enemy’s +battery, is no exaggeration. I’d have walked up to a gun with a stouter +heart than I felt at this terrible moment; and yet there was something in +that sidelong glance of angry meaning that actually nailed me to the spot, +and I could not have fallen back to save my life. There were, I afterwards +learned, no end of signals and telegraphic notices to me from the +officers-in-waiting. Gestures and indications for my guidance abounded, +but I saw none of them. I had drawn myself up in an attitude of parade +stiffness—neither looked right nor left—and waited as a +criminal might have waited for the fall of the axe that was to end his +sufferings for ever. +</p> +<p> +That the Emperor remained something like two hours and a half in +conversation with the marshal, I should have been quite ready to verify on +oath; but the simple fact was, that the interview occupied under four +minutes, and then General Oudinot backed out of the presence, leaving me +alone in front of his Majesty. +</p> +<p> +The silence of the chamber was quite dreadful, as, with his hands clasped +behind his back, and his head slightly thrown forward, the Emperor stared +steadily at me. I am more than half ashamed of the confession, but, what +between the effect of long illness and suffering, the length of time I had +been standing, and the emotion I experienced, I felt myself growing dizzy, +and a sickly faintness began to creep over me, and, but for the support of +my sabre, I should actually have fallen. +</p> +<p> +‘You seem weak; you had better sit down,’ said the Emperor, in a soft and +mild voice. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/10606.jpg" width="100%" alt=" 606 " /> +</div> +<p> +‘Yes, sire, I have not quite recovered yet,’ muttered I indistinctly; but +before I could well finish the sentence, Marmont was beside the Emperor, +and speaking rapidly to him. +</p> +<p> +‘Ah, indeed!’ cried Napoleon, tapping his snuff-box, and smiling. ‘This is +Tiernay, then. <i>Parbleu!</i> we have heard something of you before.’ +</p> +<p> +Marmont still continued to talk on; and I heard the words, Rhine, Genoa, +and Kuffstein distinctly fall from him. The Emperor smiled twice, and +nodded his head slowly, as if assenting to what was said. +</p> +<p> +‘But his wound?’ said Napoleon doubtingly. ‘He says that your Majesty +cured him when the doctor despaired,’ said Marmont. ‘I’m sure, sire, he +has equal faith in what you still could do for him.’ +</p> +<p> +‘Well, sir,’ said the Emperor, addressing me, ‘if all I hear of you be +correct, you carry a stouter heart before the enemy than you seem to wear +here. Your name is high in Marshal Masséna’s list; and General Marmont +desires to have your services on his staff. I make no objection; you shall +have your grade.’ +</p> +<p> +I bowed without speaking; indeed, I could not have uttered a word, even if +it had been my duty. +</p> +<p> +‘They have extracted the ball, I hope?’ said the Emperor to me, and +pointing to my thigh. +</p> +<p> +‘It never lodged, sire; it was a round shot,’ said I. ‘<i>Diable!</i> a +round shot! You’re a lucky fellow, Colonel Tiernay,’ said he, laying a +stress on the title—‘a very lucky fellow.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I shall ever think so, sire, since your Majesty has said it,’ was my +answer. +</p> +<p> +‘I was not a lieutenant-colonel at your age,’ resumed Napoleon; ‘nor were +you either, Marmont. You see, sir, that we live in better times—at +least, in times when merit is better rewarded.’ And with this he passed +on; and Marmont, slipping my arm within his own, led me away, down the +great stair, through crowds of attendant orderlies and groups of servants. +At last we reached our carriage, and in half an hour re-entered Vienna, my +heart wild with excitement, and burning with zealous ardour to do +something for the service of the Emperor. +</p> +<p> +The next morning I removed to General Marmont’s quarters, and for the +first time put on the golden aigrette of <i>chef de état-major</i>, not a +little to the astonishment of all who saw the ‘boy colonel,’ as, half in +sarcasm, half in praise, they styled me. From an early hour of the morning +till the time of a late dinner, I was incessantly occupied. The staff +duties were excessively severe, and the number of letters to be read and +replied to almost beyond belief. The war had again assumed something of +importance in the Tyrol. Hofer and Spechbacher were at the head of +considerable forces, which in the fastnesses of their native mountains +were more than a match for any regular soldiery. The news from Spain was +gloomy: England was already threatening her long-planned attack on the +Scheldt. Whatever real importance might attach to these movements, the +Austrian cabinet made them the pretext for demanding more favourable +conditions; and Metternich was emboldened to go so far as to ask for the +restoration of the Empire in all its former integrity. +</p> +<p> +These negotiations between the two cabinets at the time assumed the most +singular form which probably was ever adopted in such intercourse—all +the disagreeable intelligences and disastrous tidings being communicated +from one side to the other with the mock politeness of friendly relations. +As, for instance, the Austrian cabinet would forward an extract from one +of Hofer’s descriptions of a victory; to which the French would reply by a +bulletin of Eugène Beauharnais, or, as Napoleon on one occasion did, by a +copy of a letter from the Emperor Alexander, filled with expressions of +friendship, and professing the most perfect confidence in his ‘brother of +France.’ So far was this petty and most contemptible warfare carried, that +every little gossip and every passing story was pressed into the service, +and if not directly addressed to the cabinet, at least conveyed to its +knowledge by some indirect channel. +</p> +<p> +It is probable I should have forgotten this curious feature of the time, +if not impressed on my memory by personal circumstances too important to +be easily obliterated from memory. An Austrian officer arrived one morning +from Komorn, with an account of the defeat of Lefebvre’s force before +Schenatz, and of a great victory gained by Hofer and Spechbacher over the +French and Bavarians. Two thousand prisoners were said to have been taken, +and the French driven across the Inn, and in full retreat on Kuffstein. +Now, as I had been confined at Kuffstein, and could speak of its +impregnable character from actual observation, I was immediately sent off +with despatches, about some indifferent matter, to the cabinet, with +injunctions to speak freely about the fortress, and declare that we were +perfectly confident of its security. I may mention incidentally, and as +showing the real character of my mission, that a secret despatch from +Lefebvre had already reached Vienna, in which he declared that he should +be compelled to evacuate the Tyrol, and fall back into Bavaria. +</p> +<p> +‘I have provided you with introductions that will secure your friendly +reception,’ said Marmont to me. ‘The replies to these despatches will +require some days, during which you will have time to make many +acquaintances about the Court, and, if practicable, to effect a very +delicate object.’ +</p> +<p> +This, after considerable injunctions as to secrecy, and so forth, was no +less than to obtain a miniature, or a copy of a miniature, of the young +archduchess, who had been so dangerously ill during the siege of Vienna, +and whom report represented as exceedingly handsome. A good-looking young +fellow, a colonel, of two or three-and-twenty, with unlimited bribery, if +needed, at command, should find little difficulty in the mission; at +least, so Marmont assured me; and from his enthusiasm on the subject, I +saw, or fancied I saw, that he would have had no objection to be employed +in the service himself. For while professing how absurd it was to offer +any advice or suggestion on such a subject to one like myself, he entered +into details, and sketched out a plan of campaign, that might well have +made a chapter of <i>Gil Blas</i>. It would possibly happen, he reminded +me, that the Austrian Court would grow suspectful of me, and not exactly +feel at ease were my stay prolonged beyond a day or two; in which case it +was left entirely to my ingenuity to devise reasons for my remaining; and +I was at liberty to despatch couriers for instructions, and await replies, +to any extent I thought requisite. In fact, I had a species of general +commission to press into the service whatever resources could forward the +object of my mission, success being the only point not to be dispensed +with. +</p> +<p> +‘Take a week, if you like—a month, if you must, Tiernay,’ said he to +me at parting; ‘but, above all, no failure! mind that—no failure!’ +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LII. KOMORN FORTY TEARS AGO +</h2> +<p> +I doubt if our great Emperor dated his first despatch from Schönbrunn with +a prouder sense of elevation than did I write ‘Komorn’ at the top of my +first letter to Marshal Marmont, detailing, as I had been directed, every +incident of my reception. I will not pretend to say that my communication +might be regarded as a model for diplomatic correspondence; but, having +since that period seen something of the lucubrations of great envoys and +plenipos, I am only astonished at my unconscious imitation of their style—blending, +as I did, the objects of my mission with every little personal incident, +and making each trivial circumstance bear upon the fortune of my embassy. +</p> +<p> +I narrated my morning interview with Prince Metternich, whose courteous +but haughty politeness was not a whit shaken by the calamitous position of +his country, and who wished to treat the great events of the campaign as +among the transient reverses which war deals out, on this side to-day, on +that to-morrow. I told that my confidence in the impregnable character of +Kuffstein only raised a smile, for it had already been surrendered to the +Tyrolese; and I summed up my political conjectures by suggesting that +there was enough of calm confidence in the Minister’s manner to induce me +to suspect that they were calculating on the support of the northern +powers, and had not given up the cause for lost. I knew for certain that a +Russian courier had arrived and departed since my own coming; and although +the greatest secrecy had attended the event, I ascertained the fact, that +he had come from St. Petersburg, and was returning to Moscow, where the +Emperor Alexander then was. Perhaps I was a little piqued—I am +afraid I was—at the indifference manifested at my own presence, and +the little, or indeed no, importance, attached to my prolonged stay. For +when I informed Count Stadion that I should await some tidings from Vienna +before returning thither, he very politely expressed his pleasure at the +prospect of my company, and proposed that we should have some +partridge-shooting, for which the country along the Danube is famous. The +younger brother of this Minister, Count Ernest Stadion, and a young +Hungarian magnate, Palakzi, were my constant companions. They were both +about my own age, but had only joined the army that same spring, and were +most devoted admirers of one who had already won his epaulettes as a +colonel in the French service. They showed me every object of interest and +curiosity in the neighbourhood, arranged parties for riding and shooting, +and, in fact, treated me in all respects like a much-valaed guest—well +repaid, as it seemed, by those stories of war and battlefields which my +own life and memory supplied. +</p> +<p> +My improved health was already noticed by all, when Metternich sent me a +most polite message, stating, that if my services at Vienna could be +dispensed with for a while longer, it was hoped I would continue to reside +where I had derived such benefit, and breathe the cheering breezes of +Hungary for the remainder of the autumn. +</p> +<p> +It was full eight-and-twenty years later that I accidentally learned to +what curious circumstance I owed this invitation. It chanced that the +young archduchess, who was ill during the siege, was lingering in a slow +convalescence, and to amuse the tedious hours of her sick couch, Madame +Palakzi, the mother of my young friend, was accustomed to recount some of +the stories which I, in the course of the morning, happened to relate to +her son. So guardedly was all this contrived and carried on, that it was +not, as I have said, for nearly thirty years after that I knew of it; and +then, the secret was told me by the chief personage herself, the +Grand-Duchess of Parma. +</p> +<p> +Though nothing could better have chimed in with my plans than this +request, yet, in reality, the secret object of my mission appeared just as +remote as on the first day of my arrival. My acquaintances were limited to +some half-dozen gentlemen-in-waiting, and about an equal number of young +officers of the staff, with whom I dined, rode, hunted, and shot—never +seeing a single member of the Imperial family, nor, stranger still, one +lady of the household. In what Turkish seclusion they lived! when they +ventured out for air and exercise, and where, were questions that never +ceased to torture me. It was true that all my own excursions had been on +the left bank of the river, towards which side the apartment I occupied +looked; but I could scarcely suppose that the right presented much +attraction, since it appeared to be an impenetrable forest of oak; +moreover, the bridge which formerly connected it with the island of Komorn +had been cut off during the war. Of course, this was a theme on which I +could not dare to touch; and as the reserve of my companions was never +broken regarding it, I was obliged to be satisfied with my own guesses on +the subject. I had been about two months at Komorn when I was invited to +join a shooting-party on the north bank of the river at a place called +Ercacs, or, as the Hungarians pronounce it, Ercacsh, celebrated for the +blackcock, or the auerhahn, one of the finest birds of the east of Europe. +All my companions had been promising me great things, when the season for +the sport should begin, and I was equally anxious to display my skill as a +marksman. The scenery, too, was represented as surpassingly fine, and I +looked forward to the expedition, which was to occupy a week, with much +interest. One circumstance alone damped the ardour of my enjoyment: for +some time back exercise on horseback had become painful to me, and some of +those evil consequences which my doctor had speculated on, such as +exfoliation of the bone, seemed now threatening me. Up to this the +inconvenience had gone no further than an occasional sharp pang after a +hard day’s ride, or a dull uneasy feeling which prevented my sleeping +soundly at night. I hoped, however, by time, that these would subside, and +the natural strength of my constitution carry me safely over every +mischance. I was ashamed to speak of these symptoms to my companions, lest +they should imagine that I was only screening myself from the fatigues of +which they so freely partook; and so I continued, day after day, the same +habit of severe exercise; while feverish nights, and a failing appetite, +made me hourly weaker. My spirits never flagged, and perhaps in this way +damaged me seriously, supplying a false energy long after real strength +had begun to give way. The world, indeed, ‘went so well’ with me in all +other respects, that I felt it would have been the blackest ingratitude +against Fortune to have given way to anything like discontent or repining. +It was true, I was far from being a solitary instance of a colonel at my +age; there were several such in the army, and one or two even younger; but +they were unexceptionably men of family influence, descendants of the +ancient nobility of France, for whose chivalric names and titles the +Emperor had conceived the greatest respect; and never, in all the pomp of +Louis the Fourteenth’s Court, were a Gramont, a Guise, a Rochefoucauld, or +a Tavanne more certain of his favourable notice. Now, I was utterly devoid +of all such pretensions; my claims to gentle blood, such as they were, +derived from another land, and I might even regard myself as the maker of +my own fortune. +</p> +<p> +How little thought did I bestow on my wound, as I mounted my horse on that +mellow day of autumn! How indifferent was I to the pang that shot through +me as I touched the flank with my leg! Our road led through a thick +forest, but over a surface of level sward, along which we galloped in all +the buoyancy of youth and high spirits. An occasional trunk lay across our +way, and these we cleared at a leap—a feat which I well saw my +Hungarian friends were somewhat surprised to perceive gave me no trouble +whatever. My old habits of the riding-school had made me a perfect +horseman; and rather vain of my accomplishment I rode at the highest +fences I could find. In one of these exploits an acute pang shot through +me, and I felt as if something had given way in my leg. The pain for some +minutes was so intense that I could with difficulty keep the saddle, and +even when it had partially subsided the suffering was very great. +</p> +<p> +To continue my journey in this agony was impossible; and yet I was +reluctant to confess that I was overcome by pain. Such an acknowledgment +seemed unsoldierlike and unworthy, and I determined not to give way. It +was no use; the suffering brought on a sickly faintness that completely +overcame me. I had nothing for it but to turn back; so, suddenly affecting +to recollect a despatch that I ought to have sent off before I left, I +hastily apologised to my companions, and with many promises to overtake +them by evening, I returned to Komorn. +</p> +<p> +A Magyar groom accompanied me to act as my guide; and, attended by this +man, I slowly retraced my steps towards the fortress, so slowly, indeed, +that it was within an hour of sunset as we gained the crest of the little +ridge, from which Komorn might be seen, and the course of the Danube as it +wound for miles through the plain. +</p> +<p> +It is always a grand and imposing scene, one of those vast Hungarian +plains, with waving woods and golden cornfields, bounded by the horizon on +every side, and marked by those immense villages of twelve or even twenty +thousand inhabitants. Trees, rivers, plains, even the dwellings of the +people, are on a scale with which nothing in the Old World can vie. But +even with this great landscape before me, I was more struck by a small +object which caught my eye as I looked towards the fortress. It was a +little boat, covered with an awning, and anchored in the middle of the +stream, and from which I could hear the sound of a voice, singing to the +accompaniment of a guitar. There was a stern and solemn quietude in the +scene; the dark fortress, the darker river, the deep woods casting their +shadows on the water, all presented a strange contrast to that girlish +voice and tinkling melody, so light-hearted and so free. +</p> +<p> +The Magyar seemed to read what was passing in my mind, for he nodded +significantly, and touching his cap in token of respect, said it was the +young Archduchess Maria Louisa, who, with one or two of her ladies, +enjoyed the cool of the evening on the river. This was the very same +princess for whose likeness I was so eager, and of whom I never could +obtain the slightest tidings. With what an interest that barque became +invested from that moment! I had more than suspected, I had divined, the +reasons of General Marmont’s commission to me, and could picture to myself +the great destiny that in all likelihood awaited her who now, in sickly +dalliance, moved her hand in the stream, and scattered the sparkling drops +in merry mood over her companions. Twice or thrice a head of light-brown +hair peeped from beneath the folds of the awning, and I wondered within +myself if it were on that same brow that the greatest diadem of Europe was +to sit. +</p> +<p> +So intent was I on these fancies, so full of the thousand speculations +that grew out of them, that I paid no attention to what was passing, and +never noticed an object on which the Hungarian’s eyes were bent in earnest +contemplation. A quick gesture and a sudden exclamation from the man soon +attracted me, and I beheld, about a quarter of a mile off, an enormous +timber raft descending the stream at headlong speed. That the great mass +had become unmanageable, and was carried along by the impetuosity of the +current, was plain enough, not only from the zigzag course it took, but +from the wild cries and frantic gestures of the men on board. Though +visible to us from the eminence on which we stood, a bend of the stream +still concealed it from those in the boat. To apprise them of their +danger, we shouted with all our might, gesticulating at the same time, and +motioning to them to put in to shore. It was all in vain; the roar of the +river, which here is almost a torrent, drowned our voices, and the little +boat still held her place in the middle of the stream. Already the huge +mass was to be seen emerging from behind a wooden promontory of the +riverside, and now their destruction seemed inevitable. Without waiting to +reach the path, I spurred my horse down the steep descent, and, half +falling and half plunging, gained the bank. To all seeming now they heard +me, for I saw the curtain of the awning suddenly move, and a boatman’s red +cap peer from beneath it. I screamed and shouted with all my might, and +called out ‘The raft—the raft!’ till my throat felt bursting. For +some seconds the progress of the great mass seemed delayed, probably by +having become entangled with the trees along the shore; but now, borne +along by its immense weight, it swung round the angle of the bank, and +came majestically on, a long, white wave marking its course as it breasted +the water. +</p> +<p> +They see it! they see it! Oh, good heavens! are they paralysed with +terror, for the boatman never moves! A wild shriek rises above the roar of +the current, and yet they do nothing. What prayers and cries of entreaty, +what wild imprecations I uttered, I know not; but I am sure that reason +had already left me, and nothing remained in its place except the mad +impulse to save them, or perish. There was then so much of calculation in +my mind that I could balance the chances of breasting the stream on +horseback, or alone; and this done, I spurred my animal over the bank into +the Danube. A horse is a noble swimmer when he has courage, and a +Hungarian horse rarely fails in this quality. +</p> +<p> +Heading towards the opposite shore, the gallant beast cleared his track +through the strong current, snorting madly, and seeming to plunge at times +against the rushing waters. I never turned my eyes from the skiff all this +time, and now could see the reason of what had seemed their apathy. The +anchor had become entangled, fouled among some rocks or weeds of the +river, and the boatman’s efforts to lift it were all in vain. I screamed +and yelled to the man to cut the rope, but my cries were unheard, for he +bent over the gunwale, and tugged and tore with all his might. I was more +than fifty yards higher up the stream, and rapidly gaining the calmer +water under shore, when I tried to turn my horse’s head down the current; +but the instinct of safety rebelled against all control, and the animal +made straight for the bank. There was, then, but one chance left, and, +taking my sabre in my mouth, I sprang from his back into the stream. In +all the terrible excitement of that dreadful moment I clung to one firm +purpose. The current would surely carry the boat into safety, if once +free; I had no room for any thought but this. The great trees along shore, +the great fortress, the very clouds overhead, seemed to fly past me, as I +was swept along; but I never lost sight of my purpose. And now almost +within my grasp, I see the boat and the three figures, who are bending +down over one that seems to have fainted. With my last effort, I cry again +to cut the rope, but his knife has broken at the handle! I touch the side +of the skiff, I grasp the gunwale with one hand, and seizing my sabre in +the other, I make one desperate cut. The boat swings round to the current—the +boatman’s oars are out—they are saved. My ‘thank God!’ is like the +cry of a drowning man—for I know no more. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LIII. A LOSS AND A GAIN +</h2> +<p> +To apologise to my reader for not strictly tracing out each day of my +history, would be, in all likelihood, as great an impertinence as that of +the tiresome guest who, having kept you two hours from your bed by his +uninteresting twaddle, asks you to forgive him at last for an abrupt +departure. I am already too full of gratitude for the patience that has +been conceded to me so far, to desire to trifle with it during the brief +space that is now to link us together. And believe me, kind reader, there +is more in that same tie than perhaps you think, especially where the +intercourse had been carried on, and, as it were, fed from month to month. +In such cases the relationship between him who writes and him who reads +assumes something like acquaintanceship, heightened by a greater desire on +one side to please than is usually felt in the routine business of +everyday life. Nor is it a light reward, if one can think that he has +relieved a passing hour of solitude or discomfort, shortened a long wintry +night, or made a rainy day more endurable. I speak not here of the greater +happiness in knowing that our inmost thoughts have found their echo in +far-away hearts, kindling noble emotions, and warming generous aspirations—teaching +courage and hope, by the very commonest of lessons, and showing that, in +the moral as in the vegetable world, the bane and antidote grow side by +side, and, as the eastern poet has it, ‘He who shakes the tree of sorrow, +is often sowing the seeds of joy.’ Such are the triumphs of very different +efforts from mine, however, and I come back to the humble theme from which +I started. +</p> +<p> +If I do not chronicle the incidents which succeeded to the events of my +last chapter, it is, in the first place, because they are most imperfectly +impressed upon my own memory; and, in the second, they are of a nature +which, whether in the hearing or the telling, can afford little pleasure; +for what if I should enlarge upon a text which runs but on suffering and +sickness, nights of feverish agony, days of anguish, terrible alternations +of hope and fear, ending, at last, in the sad, sad certainty that skill +has found its limit? The art of the surgeon can do no more, and Maurice +Tiernay must consent to lose his leg! Such was the cruel news I was +compelled to listen to as I awoke one morning, dreaming, and for the first +time since my accident, of my life in Kuffstein. The injuries I had +received before being rescued from the Danube had completed the mischief +already begun, and all chance of saving my limb had now fled. I am not +sure if I could not have heard a sentence of death with more equanimity +than the terrible announcement that I was to drag out existence maimed and +crippled—to endure the helplessness of age with the warm blood and +daring passions of youth, and, worse than all, to forego a career that was +already opening with such glorious prospects of distinction. +</p> +<p> +Nothing could be more kindly considerate than the mode of communicating +this sad announcement; nor was there omitted anything which could +alleviate the bitterness of the tidings. The undying gratitude of the +Imperial family, their heartfelt sorrow for my suffering, the pains they +had taken to communicate the whole story of my adventure to the Emperor +Napoleon himself, were all insisted on; while the personal visits of the +archdukes, and even the emperor himself, at my sick-bed, were told to me +with every flattery such acts of condescension could convey. Let me not be +thought ungrateful, if all these seemed but a sorry payment for the +terrible sacrifice I was to suffer; and that the glittering crosses which +were already sent to me in recognition, and which now sparkled on my bed, +appeared a poor price for my shattered and wasted limb; and I vowed to +myself, that to be once more strong and in health I ‘d change fortunes +with the humblest soldier in the grand army. +</p> +<p> +After all, it is the doubtful alone can break down the mind and waste the +courage. To the brave man, the inevitable is always the endurable. Some +hours of solitude and reflection brought this conviction to my heart, and +I recalled the rash refusal I had already given to submit to the +amputation, and sent word to the doctors that I was ready. My mind once +made up, a thousand ingenious suggestions poured in their consolations. +Instead of incurring my misfortune as I had done, my mischance might have +originated in some commonplace or inglorious accident. In lieu of the +proud recognitions I had earned, I might have now the mere sympathy of +some fellow-sufferer in a hospital; and instead of the ‘Cross of St. +Stephen’ and the ‘valour medal’ of Austria, my reward might have been the +few sous per day allotted to an invalided soldier. +</p> +<p> +As it was, each post from Vienna brought me nothing but nattering +recognitions; and one morning a large sealed letter from Duroc conveyed +the Emperor’s own approval of my conduct, with the cross of commander of +the Legion of Honour. A whole life of arduous services might have failed +to win such prizes, and so I struck the balance of good and evil fortune, +and found I was the gainer! +</p> +<p> +Among the presents which I received from the Imperial family was a +miniature of the young archduchess, whose life I saved, and which I at +once despatched by a safe messenger to Marshal Marmont, engaging him to +have a copy of it made and the original returned to me. I concluded that +circumstances must have rendered this impossible, for I never beheld the +portrait again, although I heard of it among the articles bequeathed to +the Duc de Reichstadt at St. Helena. Maria Louisa was, at that time, very +handsome; the upper-lip and mouth were, it is true, faulty, and the +Austrian-heaviness marred the expression of these features; but her brow +and eyes were singularly fine, and her hair of a luxuriant richness rarely +to be seen. +</p> +<p> +Count Palakzi, my young Hungarian friend, who had scarcely ever quitted my +bedside during my illness, used to jest with me on my admiration of the +young archduchess, and jokingly compassionate me on the altered age we +lived in, in contrast to those good old times when a bold feat or a heroic +action was sure to win the hand of a fair princess. I half suspect that he +believed me actually in love with her, and deemed that this was the best +way to treat such an absurd and outrageous ambition. To amuse myself with +his earnestness, for such had it become, on the subject, I affected not to +be indifferent to his allusions, and assumed all the delicate reserve of +devoted admiration. Many an hour have I lightened by watching the fidgety +uneasiness the young count felt at my folly; for now, instead of jesting, +as before, he tried to reason me out of this insane ambition, and convince +me that such pretensions were utter madness. +</p> +<p> +I was slowly convalescing, about five weeks after the amputation of my +leg, when Polakzi entered my room one morning with an open letter in his +hand. His cheek was flushed, and his air and manner greatly excited. +</p> +<p> +‘Would you believe it, Tiernay,’ said he, ‘Stadion writes me word from +Vienna, that Napoleon has asked for the hand of the young archduchess in +marriage, and that the emperor has consented.’ +</p> +<p> +‘And am I not considered in this negotiation?’ asked I, scarcely +suppressing a laugh. +</p> +<p> +‘This is no time nor theme for jest,’ said he passionately; ‘nor is it +easy to keep one’s temper at such a moment. A Hapsburgher princess married +to a low Corsican adventurer! to the——’ +</p> +<p> +‘Come, Polakzi,’ cried I, ‘these are not the words for me to listen to; +and having heard them, I may be tempted to say, that the honour comes all +off the other side, and that he who holds all Europe at his feet ennobles +the dynasty from which he selects his empress.’ +</p> +<p> +‘I deny it—fairly and fully deny it!’ cried the passionate youth. +‘And every noble of this land would rather see the provinces of the empire +torn from us, than a princess of the Imperial House degraded to such an +alliance!’ +</p> +<p> +‘Is the throne of France, then, so low?’ said I calmly. +</p> +<p> +‘Not when the rightful sovereign is seated on it,’ said he. ‘But are we, +the subjects of a legitimate monarchy, to accept as equals the lucky +accidents of your revolution? By what claim is a soldier of fortune the +peer of king or kaiser? I, for one, will never more serve a cause so +degraded; and the day on which such humiliation is our lot shall be the +last of my soldiering’; and so saying, he rushed passionately from the +room, and disappeared. +</p> +<p> +I mention this little incident here, not as in any way connecting itself +with my own fortunes, but as illustrating what I afterwards discovered to +be the universal feeling entertained towards this alliance. Low as Austria +then was—beaten in every battle, her vast treasury confiscated, her +capital in the hands of an enemy, her very existence as an empire +threatened—the thought of this insult—for such they deemed it—to +the Imperial House, seemed to make the burden unendurable; and many who +would have sacrificed territory and power for a peace, would have scorned +to accept it at such a price as this. +</p> +<p> +I suppose the secret history of the transaction will never be disclosed; +but living as I did, at the time, under the same roof with the royal +family, I inclined to think that their counsels were of a divided nature; +that while the emperor and the younger archdukes gave a favourable ear to +the project, the empress and the Archduke Charles as steadily opposed it. +The gossip of the day spoke of dreadful scenes between the members of the +Imperial House, and some have since asserted that the breaches of +affection that were then made never were reconciled in after-life. +</p> +<p> +With these events of state or private history I have no concern. My +position and my nationality of course excluded me from confidential +intercourse with those capable of giving correct information; nor can I +record anything beyond the mere current rumours of the time. This much, +however, I could remark, that all whom conviction, policy, or perhaps +bribery, inclined to the alliance, were taken into court favour, and +replaced in the offices of the household those whose opinions were +adverse. A total change, in fact, took place in the persons of the royal +suite, and the Hungarian nobles, many of whom filled the ‘Hautes Charges,’ +as they are called, now made way for Bohemian grandees, who were +understood to entertain more favourable sentiments towards France. Whether +in utter despair of the cause for which they had suffered so long and so +much, or that they were willing to accept this alliance with the oldest +dynasty of Europe as a compromise, I am unable to say; but so was it. Many +of the <i>émigré</i> nobility of France, the unflinching, implacable +enemies of Bonaparte, consented to bury their ancient grudges, and were +now seen accepting place and office in the Austrian household. This was a +most artful flattery of the Austrians, and was peculiarly agreeable to +Napoleon, who longed to legalise his position by a reconciliation with the +old followers of the Bourbons, and who dreaded their schemes and plots far +more than he feared all the turbulent violence of the ‘Faubourg.’ In one +day no fewer than three French nobles were appointed to places of trust in +the household, and a special courier was sent off to Gratz to convey the +appointment of maid of honour to a young French lady who lived there in +exile. +</p> +<p> +Each of my countrymen, on arriving, came to visit me. They had all known +my father by name, if not personally, and most graciously acknowledged me +as one of themselves—a flattery they sincerely believed above all +price. +</p> +<p> +I had heard much of the overweening vanity and conceit of the Legitimists, +but the reality far exceeded all my notions of them. There was no +pretence, no affectation whatever about them. They implicitly believed +that in ‘accepting the Corsican,’ as the phrase went, they were displaying +a condescension and self-negation unparalleled in history. The tone of +superiority thus assumed of course made them seem supremely ridiculous to +my eyes—I, who had sacrificed heavily enough for the Empire, and yet +felt myself amply rewarded. But apart from these exaggerated ideas of +themselves, they were most amiable, gentle mannered, and agreeable. +</p> +<p> +The ladies and gentlemen of what was called the ‘Service’ associated all +together, dining at the same table, and spending each evening in a +handsome suite appropriated to themselves. Hither some one or other of the +Imperial family occasionally came to play his whist, or chat away an hour +in pleasant gossip—these distinguished visitors never disturbing in +the slightest degree the easy tone of the society, nor exacting any +extraordinary marks of notice or attention. +</p> +<p> +The most frequent guest was the Archduke Louis, whose gaiety of +temperament and easy humour induced him to pass nearly every evening with +us. He was fond of cards, but liked to talk away over his game, and make +play merely subsidiary to the pleasure of conversation. As I was but an +indifferent ‘whister,’ but a most admirable auditor, I was always selected +to make one of his party. +</p> +<p> +It was on one of the evenings when we were so engaged, and the archduke +had been displaying a more than ordinary flow of good spirits and +merriment, a sudden lull in the approving laughter, and a general +subsidence of every murmur, attracted my attention. I turned my head to +see what had occurred, and perceived that some of the company had risen, +and were standing with eyes directed to the open door. +</p> +<p> +‘The archduchess, your Imperial Highness!’ whispered an aide-de-camp to +the prince, and he immediately rose from the table, an example speedily +followed by the others. I grasped my chair with one hand, and, with my +sword in the other, tried to stand up, an effort which hitherto I had +never accomplished without aid. It was all in vain—my debility +utterly denied the attempt. I tried again, but, overcome by pain and +weakness, I was compelled to abandon the effort, and sink down on my seat, +faint and trembling. By this time the company had formed into a circle, +leaving the Archduke Louis alone in the middle of the room—I, to my +increasing shame and confusion, being seated exactly behind where the +prince stood. +</p> +<p> +There was a hope for me still; the archduchess might pass on through the +rooms without my being noticed. And this seemed likely enough, since she +was merely proceeding to the apartments of the empress, and not to delay +with us. This expectation was soon destined to be extinguished; for, +leaning on the arm of one of her ladies, the young princess came straight +over to where Prince Louis stood. She said something in a low voice, and +he turned immediately to offer her a chair; and there was I seated, very +pale, and very much shocked at my apparent rudeness. Although I had been +presented before to the young archduchess, she had not seen me in the +uniform of the Corps de Guides (in which I now served as colonel), and +never recognised me. She therefore stared steadily at me, and turned +towards her brother as if for explanation. +</p> +<p> +‘Don’t you know him?’ said the archduke, laughing—‘it’s Colonel de +Tiernay; and if he cannot stand up, you certainly should be the last to +find fault with him. Pray sit quiet, Tiernay,’ added he, pressing me down +on my seat; ‘and if you won’t look so terrified, my sister will remember +you.’ +</p> +<p> +‘We must both be more altered than I ever expect if I cease to remember +Monsieur de Tiernay,’ said the archduchess, with a most courteous smile. +Then leaning on the back of a chair, she bent forward and inquired after +my health. There was something so strange in the situation: a young, +handsome girl condescending to a tone of freedom and intimacy with one she +had seen but a couple of times, and from whom the difference of condition +separated her by a gulf wide as the great ocean, that I felt a nervous +tremor I could not account for. Perhaps, with the tact that royalty +possesses as its own prerogative, or, perhaps, with mere womanly +intuition, she saw how the interview agitated me, and, to change the +topic, she suddenly said— +</p> +<p> +‘I must present you to one of my ladies, Colonel de Tiernay, a +countrywoman of your own. She already has heard from me the story of your +noble devotion, and now only has to learn your name. Remember you are to +sit still.’ +</p> +<p> +As she said this, she turned, and drawing her arm within that of a young +lady behind her, led her forward. +</p> +<p> +‘It is to this gentleman I owe my life, Mademoiselle d’Estelles.’ +</p> +<p> +I heard no more, nor did she either; for, faltering, she uttered a low, +faint sigh, and fell into the arms of those behind her. +</p> +<p> +‘What’s this, Tiernay!—how is all this?’ whispered Prince Louis; +‘are you acquainted with mademoiselle?’ +</p> +<p> +But I forgot everything—the presence in which I stood, the agony of +a wounded leg, and all, and with a violent effort sprang from my seat. +</p> +<p> +Before I could approach her, however, she had risen from the chair, and, +in a voice broken and interrupted, said— +</p> +<p> +‘You are so changed, Monsieur de Tiernay—so much changed—that +the shock overpowered me. We became acquainted in the Tyrol, madame,’ said +she to the princess, ‘where monsieur was a prisoner.’ +</p> +<p> +What observation the princess made in reply I could not hear, but I saw +that Laura blushed deeply. To hide her awkwardness perhaps it was, that +she hurriedly entered into some account of our former intercourse, and I +could observe that some allusion to the Prince de Condé dropped from her. +</p> +<p> +‘How strange, how wonderful is all that you tell me!’ said the princess, +who bent forward and whispered some words to Prince Louis; and then, +taking Laura’s arm, she moved on, saying in a low voice ‘<i>Au revoir</i>, +monsieur,’ as she passed. +</p> +<p> +‘You are to come and drink tea in the archduchess’s apartments, Tiernay,’ +said Prince Louis; ‘you ‘ll meet your old friend, Mademoiselle d’Estelles, +and of course you have a hundred recollections to exchange with each +other.’ +</p> +<p> +The prince insisted on my accepting his arm, and, as he assisted me along, +informed me that old Madame d’Aigreville had been dead about a year, +leaving her niece an immense fortune—at least a claim to one—only +wanting the sanction of the Emperor Napoleon to become valid; for it was +one of the estreated but not confiscated estates of La Vendée. Every word +that dropped from the prince extinguished some hope within me. More +beautiful than ever, her rank recognised, and in possession of a vast +fortune, what chance had I, a poor soldier of fortune, of success? +</p> +<p> +‘Don’t sigh, Tiernay,’ said the prince, laughing; ‘you’ve lost a leg for +us, and we must lend you a hand in return’; and with this we entered the +salon of the archduchess. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER LIV. MAURICE TIERNAY’S ‘LAST WORD AND CONFESSION’ +</h2> +<p> +I have been very frank with my readers in these memoirs of my life. If I +have dwelt somewhat vain-gloriously on passing moments of success, it must +be owned that I have not spared my vanity and self-conceit when either +betrayed me into any excess of folly. I have neither blinked my humble +beginnings, nor have I sought to attribute to my own merits those happy +accidents which made me what I am. I claim nothing but the humble +character—a Soldier of Fortune. It was my intention to have told the +reader somewhat more than these twenty odd years of my life embrace. +Probably, too, my subsequent career, if less marked by adventure, was more +pregnant with true views of the world and sounder lessons of conduct; but +I have discovered to my surprise that these revelations have extended over +a wider surface than I ever destined them to occupy, and already I tremble +for the loss of that gracious attention that has been vouchsafed me +hitherto. I will not trust myself to say how much regret this abstinence +has cost me—enough if I avow that in jotting down the past I have +lived my youth over again, and in tracing old memories, old scenes, and +old impressions, the smouldering fire of my heart has shot up a transient +flame so bright as to throw a glow even over the chill of my old age. +</p> +<p> +It is, after all, no small privilege to have lived and borne one’s part in +stirring times; to have breasted the ocean of life when the winds were up +and the waves ran high; to have mingled, however humbly, in eventful +scenes, and had one’s share in the mighty deeds that were to become +history afterwards. It is assuredly in such trials that humanity comes out +best, and that the character of man displays all its worthiest and noblest +attributes. Amid such scenes I began my life, and, in the midst of similar +ones, if my prophetic foresight deceive me not, I am like to end it. +</p> +<p> +Having said this much of and for myself, I am sure the reader will pardon +me if I am not equally communicative with respect to another, and if I +pass over the remainder of that interval which I spent at Komorn. Even +were love-making—which assuredly it is not—as interesting to +the spectator as to those engaged—I should scruple to recount events +which delicacy should throw a veil over; nor am I induced, even by the +example of the wittiest periodical writer of the age, to make a <i>feuilleton</i> +of my own marriage. Enough that I say, despite my shattered form, my want +of fortune, my unattested pretension to rank or station, Mademoiselle +d’Estelles accepted me, and the Emperor most graciously confirmed her +claims to wealth, thus making me one of the richest and the very happiest +among the Soldiers of Fortune. +</p> +<p> +The Père Delamoy, now superior of a convent at Pisa, came to Komorn to +perform the ceremony; and if he could not altogether pardon those who had +uprooted the ancient monarchy of France, yet he did not conceal his +gratitude to him who had restored the church and rebuilt the altar. +</p> +<p> +There may be some who may deem this closing abrupt, and who would wish for +even a word about the bride, her bouquet, and her blushes. I cannot afford +to gratify so laudable a curiosity, at the same time that a lurking vanity +induces me to say, that any one wishing to know more about the <i>personnel</i> +of my wife or myself, has but to look at David’s picture, or the engraving +made from it, of the Emperor’s marriage. There they will find, in the +left-hand corner, partly concealed behind the Grand-Duke de Berg, an +officer of the ‘Guides,’ supporting on his arm a young and very beautiful +girl, herself a bride. If the young lady’s looks are turned with more +interest on her companion than upon the gorgeous spectacle, remember that +she is but a few weeks married. If the soldier carry himself with less of +martial vigour or grace, pray bear in mind that cork legs had not attained +the perfection to which later skill has brought them. +</p> +<p> +I have the scene stronger before me than painting can depict, and my eyes +fill as I now behold it in my memory! +</p> +<p> +THE END <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Maurice Tiernay Soldier of Fortune, by +Charles James Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAURICE TIERNAY SOLDIER OF FORTUNE *** + +***** This file should be named 32425-h.htm or 32425-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/4/2/32425/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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