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diff --git a/23836-h/23836-h.htm b/23836-h/23836-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a234bb --- /dev/null +++ b/23836-h/23836-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3734 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The French Prisoners of Norman Cross</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.headingsummary { margin-left: 5%;} + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The French Prisoners of Norman Cross, by Arthur Brown</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The French Prisoners of Norman Cross, by +Arthur Brown + + +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: The French Prisoners of Norman Cross + A Tale + + +Author: Arthur Brown + + + +Release Date: December 12, 2007 [eBook #23836] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRENCH PRISONERS OF NORMAN +CROSS*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the [1895] Hodder Brothers edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p0b.jpg"> +<img alt="Yaxley Church from the S.E. From photo. by Rev. E. H. +Brown" src="images/p0s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Weep sore for him that goeth away</i>: +<i>for he shall return no more</i>, <i>nor see his native +country</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h1><span class="smcap">the</span><br /> +French Prisoners<br /> +<span class="smcap">of</span><br /> +Norman Cross.</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>A TALE</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by +the</span><br /> +REV. ARTHUR BROWN,<br /> +<i>Rector of Catfield</i>, <i>Norfolk</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">London:<br /> +HODDER BROTHERS,<br /> +18 <span class="smcap">New Bridge Street</span>, <span +class="smcap">E.C.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 2--><a +name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span><span +class="smcap">Printed by</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">nops & tarrant</span>,<br /> +19, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, <span +class="smcap">London</span>, <span class="smcap">E.C.</span></p> +<h2><!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>CHAPTER I.—THE ARRIVAL.</h2> +<p>The tramp of feet was heard one afternoon late in the Autumn +of 1808, on the road that leads from Peterborough to +Yaxley. A body of men, four abreast, and for the most part +in the garb and with the bearing of soldiers, was marching +along. But the sight was not exhilarating. The swing +and springy step of soldiers on the march is always a pleasant +sight; but there was a downcast look on most of these men’s +faces, and a general shabbiness of appearance that was not +attractive. And no wonder: for they had come from the +battlefield, <!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 6</span>and crossed the sea in crowded ships, +not too comfortable; and were drawing near, as prisoners of war, +to the dreary limbo which, unless they chanced to die, was to be +their abode for they knew not how long. To be prisoners of +war is an honourable estate, almost the only captivity to which +no shame attaches: yet this is but cold comfort to compensate for +loss of freedom.</p> +<p>All down the column and on each side of it marched a file of +red-coated militia-men with guns loaded and bayonets fixed, not +as a complimentary escort, but a stern necessity, a fact that had +been proved not an hour before, when some desperate fellow had +broken through the guard, and flung himself from the parapet of +the bridge over the Nene at Peterborough, and was shot the moment +he rose to the surface of the water. Alas! for him, poor +fellow, they could aim well in those days with even the old +“Brown Bess.”</p> +<p>Many a sad procession of unfortunates like <!-- page 7--><a +name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>these had +travelled the same road before, during the last five years, but +they had consisted for the most part of prisoners taken in naval +engagements, such as the seamen and marines captured from the +four Spanish frigates, with a million sterling on board; and the +men brought to England from both French and Spanish possessions +in the West Indies, besides crews of privateers, floating +“Caves of Adullam,” where everyone that was in +distress, or in debt, or discontented, were gathered together, +along with many who had taken to that wild life to escape +political troubles. Perhaps, also, there had been some of +those twelve thousand prisoners who had been sent after +Trafalgar’s fight was over in 1805.</p> +<p>It was now, as we have said, the year 1808. The +Peninsular war had begun, and the prisoners we are describing +were some of those brave Frenchmen who had fought against us in +one of the first engagements, the short but incisive battle of +Vimiero.</p> +<p><!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span>“Why, Tournier, my friend,” cried a young +fellow, marching with the officers at the head of the column, +“how miserable you look! Who would think you were +almost at the end of your journey, and about to find repose in +the hotel the English have provided for us? I have not seen +a smile on your face since the day you left Portugal. +Courage, man, or we shall all have the blue-devils!”</p> +<p>Those who heard him seemed amused, but Tournier did not deign +to notice the raillery, though it was not meant +ill-naturedly.</p> +<p>An English officer, riding at the side a little in advance, +and overheard what was said, looked round on Tournier, and, +struck with his soldierly figure, said quietly, “Let us +hope it will not be for long.”</p> +<p>“Long, sir?” exclaimed the other; “long as +the grave: we are marching there.”</p> +<p>“Mercy on us!” cried the lively Frenchman, +“that’s a pleasant idea! We are going to that +‘undiscovered country,’ as your Shakspeare <!-- page +9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>says, +‘from whose bourn no traveller returns.’ Bah! +let us change the subject, and hope for another ‘Peace of +Amiens,’ and as short a one.”</p> +<p>And then the light-hearted fellow—for a light heart is +often a kind one—seeing that open raillery was powerless, +tried gentler means to cheer his companion up.</p> +<p>“Look, Tournier,” he whispered, after a pause, +“what a charming view is on the left there. We must +be on high ground. What a panorama for poor flat +England! If we are good boys, we shall be out on parole, +and be able to stroll about the country, and chat with the +cherry-lipped maidens at the farms, and drink the farm-house +milk, and, what is better, their famous English beer. And +look, there is a lake, I declare. It seems a good-sized +one. We will go fishing.”</p> +<p>So he ran on; and though the words pattered down in vain, like +rain upon the pavement, yet the evident intention unconsciously +pleased, as kind intentions often, if not always, do, <!-- page +10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>however awkward the way in which they are displayed.</p> +<p>And now, as the column passed a clump of trees at a bend in +the road, the barracks and their surroundings suddenly came into +view. All eyes were directed towards them; and if any of +those unhappy sons of France had indulged in fancy on the way, +and pictured their future place of confinement as some romantic +fortress, with towering walls and gates of iron, they must have +been greatly disappointed.</p> +<p>Nothing could be less romantic than the appearance of these +Norman Cross Barracks. They looked from outside exactly +like a vast congeries of large, high, carpenters’ shops, +with roofs of glaring red tiles, and surrounded by wooden +palisades, very lofty and of prodigious strength. In fact, +the place was like an entrenched camp of a rather more permanent +type. But if there was no architectural beauty, there was +the perfection of security. It looked like business. +The prisoners were in no wise to escape:—</p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 11</span>“All hope abandon, ye who enter +here.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Another regiment of militia, besides the men who formed the +prisoners’ escort, was quartered in what we call the +soldiers’ barracks, to distinguish them from those occupied +by the prisoners. Of these, a strong body were drawn up +right and left of the principal entrance, which was in the +Peterborough Road, and as the column passed between them the +soldiers were ordered to salute the officers. Major Kelly, +the commandant of the troops, and Captain Mortimer, Admiralty +agent to the Depôt, were there to receive them; and a large +number of rustics from Yaxley and Stilton, and other villages, +had collected as near as they could get to the entrance, and made +their remarks in various sympathetic ways, for the country +people, of all classes, were very friendly at all times with the +prisoners.</p> +<p>“Poor lad,” said one woman, as a very youthful +prisoner passed by, “he does look tired. What would +his mother say if she saw him now?”</p> +<p><!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>“God help them,” said another: “they +all seem as if they wanted a good supper, and go to +bed.”</p> +<p>“No fear of supper, neighbour,” replied a man; +“you should just see the quarters of beef that go in at +t’other gate. It makes me real hungry to think of +it.”</p> +<p>A big lad, standing close to a gentleman on horseback, who was +surveying the scene with evident interest, made an ugly face at +one of the prisoners, and said, “Well, mounseer, how do you +find yourself?” But a cut from the horseman’s +whip across his shoulders taught him a sharp lesson of respect +for his betters.</p> +<p>A halt was made as soon as the column was well within the +outer inclosure of the barracks. Then, in the first place, +the officers were marched to one of the barrack-yards that was to +be their quarters; and then, with the marvellous promptitude +which military pre-arrangement secures, the rest of the +prisoners, in batches, were quickly conducted to other +barrack-yards appointed for them.</p> +<p><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span>A tremendous cheering at that moment burst forth from +the prison: a volcano of huzzas, of somewhat foreign accent, shot +up into the air, with shouts of “Vive +l’Empereur.”</p> +<p>Eager eyes had been watching, and though the palisades +surrounding each separate yard were much too lofty for men to +climb up and look over, yet the inmates, though bereft of their +liberty, were not bereft of their wits, as we shall see in more +striking ways as the story proceeds; and some of them, from the +topmost berths on the sides of their immensely high dormitories, +had taken off the tiles, and from thence saw all that was going +on.</p> +<p>We will not attempt to follow the prisoners generally to their +quarters, but accompany the officers alone. Enthusiastic +were the greetings of their companions in tribulation who had +been before them, some as long as five years. The shaking +of hands, and the embracing, and the kissing, and the crying, +were as if a very large family had met after years of +separation. Albeit, <!-- page 14--><a +name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>not one of +the older prisoners had probably ever seen before one of the new +arrivals. All honour to such warmth of excitement. +None but those who have lived for years far away from their +country and home, can understand the intensity of pleasure that +is felt in meeting <i>anybody</i>, literally <i>anybody</i>, who +comes from “the old place.” It may not last, +neither does a flash of lightning, but it is very real while it +lasts. And what if foreigners exhibit their emotions in +ways that may seem effeminate to our phlegmatic +temperaments? Are we always right—ordained by +Providence to set the fashion to all the world in +everything? How often does Virgil make the brave Trojans +and others “weep”? Nevertheless, it would look +funny to see a row of stalwart Grenadiers, each one mopping his +eyes with a white pocket handkerchief!</p> +<p>The hall of reception was an enormous wooden casern or barn, +very long, and, as we have said, extraordinarily high, with +berths or hammocks all up the walls. It served as +dormitory, <!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 15</span>common-room, and dining-hall; not by +any means a sanitary arrangement, yet far better than that of +prisoners of war in some other parts of the country.</p> +<p>Soon after the new-comers had arrived, supper was served, and +as the older prisoners had waited for their arrival, they all sat +down together. We will not say the tables groaned under the +profusion of viands, but there certainly was enough. Every +man had half a pound of beef, together with salt and vegetables, +and a pound and a half of bread. The cooks were appointed +from among the prisoners, and were paid by the English +Government, and so we may be sure they were Frenchmen, and that +those two grand features of good cookery were +manifested—the most was made of what they had, and all was +savoury. Being officers, too, some well supplied with +money, they had wine on the table, and any other luxury they +could meet with.</p> +<p>“To your health, my friends,” said a fine-looking +<!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>Frenchman, who had been longest in prison, and though +well-dressed in civilian clothes, bore unmistakable traces of his +depressing life. “We drink to your health. We +have all heard of your bravery: how you did all that men could do +at Vimiero, but were overwhelmed by numbers. Never +mind. There are yet more than enough of Frenchmen in the +Peninsula to drive the English into the sea. Let me beg a +favour of you. We are very dull in this place, and need +cheering. Relate to us, if you please, any individual acts +of bravery that came to your notice. It will do us good, +and perhaps make us dream to-night we are living soldiers again, +not dead ones.”</p> +<p>At this, a little man from among the new arrivals, with +nothing heroic about him, either in face, or mien, or stature, +jumped on his legs, and with great volubility and much +gesticulation, began as follows:</p> +<p>“You are right, monsieur, that is just what we +want. I will tell you now what I myself did.</p> +<p><!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>“My regiment formed part of General +Brennier’s brigade, and we were ordered to attack the +English left, which we did with incredible fury. We had to +ascend what we thought was an accessible ridge, but we had not +got far when we came to a deep ravine with rocks and water +courses all about, and could only get on with extreme difficulty +and much delay. From my own experience, I should say the +battle ought to have been called the battle of ‘Les +Sauteurs.’ <a name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17" +class="citation">[17]</a> I did never jump so much in my +life. Every step was a leap in that terrible ravine. +We were just like a brigade of frogs. At last we cleared +it, when we suddenly came upon a sight that made my blood +boil. Six of our guns were there, captured, and guarded by +a very large number. ‘Au secours!’ I +roared. I am not very big, but my voice is loud. We +all shouted and rushed upon the enemy. I was <!-- page +18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>the +first to cut a man down at the guns, and we retook them +all.”</p> +<p>“Bravo, bravo!” echoed around.</p> +<p>And then the little man added, in a much more subdued tone, +“However, the English—I heard since there were two +regiments of them—reformed higher up the hill, and poured a +deadly volley into us, and after hard fighting got the guns back +from us: and I was taken prisoner. So was also my brave +general, and wounded too.”</p> +<p>The young officer who had rallied Tournier on the march, rose +and, shrugging his shoulders, remarked, “I have read that +when the Athenians of old had won some great victory, it was +proposed that every general who had had a share in it, should at +a public meeting deposit one after the other in an urn the +written name of the general who he thought had proved himself the +most conspicuous for bravery; and that when the urn was examined, +it was found that, lo! each general had put down <i>his own +name</i>. We will not do so”—with a sly glance +<!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +19</span>at the little man—“and, therefore, let me +tell a story of one, here present, who will never utter a word in +his own praise, but who richly deserves it. There is a +brother sitting amongst us who commanded a troop in as fine a +body of cavalry as ever drew sword, and I had the honour of being +his subaltern. Thirteen hundred of us took part in the +fatal fight of Vimiero, under the command of General +Margaron. That fight, so fatal, ought to have been won by +us, and would have been won but for the woods and hollows that +covered so large a portion of the battle-field, so unfavourable +to cavalry. But, nevertheless, from the first commencement +of the fight we swept backwards and forwards, so far as the +wretched nature of the ground would permit, between the two +armies, and wherever we had a chance we struck hard. The +English had but, as we say, a mere handful of cavalry, but, all +honour to the brave, that handful fought like heroes, and its +commander (his name was Taylor) was a <!-- page 20--><a +name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>paladin among +them; yet not more so than my captain. When one of our +brigades, having been repulsed by the enemy, was being terribly +cut up by their cavalry, a large body of our horse came suddenly +up, and a mêlée ensued of great fierceness. +Three of the enemy, one after another, did my captain slay with +his own hand; and then came a single combat the like of which few +have seen. Some of us left off fighting to witness +it. The English commander, seeing half his men cut to +pieces, rode furiously upon my captain, and tried to cut him +down. It was a beautiful sight. Each was a master of +fence, and the horsemanship was as perfect. But all at once +the horse of Colonel Taylor reared violently and fell dead. +A bullet had struck him, and his master was pitched on the ground +under his adversary’s stirrup, completely at his +mercy. The sword was lifted to strike, but instantly +lowered. ‘Rise, brave friend!’ cried my +captain, ‘I dare not touch thee!’ but as the +Englishman rose from the ground, and <!-- page 21--><a +name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>before he +could frame a word of reply, a second bullet laid him prostrate +again, never to rise. But we had delayed too long. +The English came pouring upon us, and in spite of frantic efforts +we were made prisoners.” Then pointing to his friend, +who was fidgeting and frowning most portentously all the time, he +said—“There is the man—my noble Captain +Tournier!” And with such like tales the evening +passed away.</p> +<p>The curfew bell rang at nine o’clock; the lights were +put out; and all had betaken themselves to their hammocks. +The sentries (not a few,) passed backwards and forwards outside, +or stood at ease in their boxes. The picquets went the +rounds every half-hour. Each soldier on guard was on the +alert, and had need to be. Silence and slumber fell on all +but the many watchers in that large assemblage of unhappy +men.</p> +<p>There was, however, one prisoner who could not sleep that +night. It was not the roughness <!-- page 22--><a +name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>of his +accommodation that kept him awake. Mere hardship would have +been welcome to him, for he was a true soldier. It was the +thoughts of his heart that troubled him; and alas! he knew not +the soothing power of prayer. Not a thought of prayer, not +one paternoster entered his mind. For he had lost his faith +in God. We do not mean that faith which no one has till he +asks the Spirit of God to give it him, and which then makes him +love God in spite of all difficulties; but we mean faith in the +existence of God, which all have by nature, and which sin alone +can extinguish; not only grosser sin, but sinful vanity of +mind.</p> +<p>He thought of his much-loved home, of the mother that was so +dear to him, what agony of mind she must be undergoing; of his +darling Elise, how her dear heart must be full of him. And +then there pierced him, like the sting of an adder, the thought +of separation, certainly for years, perhaps for ever, from all +that happiness: the hopelessness of his condition as a prisoner +<!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>of war at a time when war seemed chronic in Europe, +without prospect of cessation. And in the abject misery of +his soul—misery all the more intense because of his +peculiar sensitiveness of nature—he thus bewailed in secret +and with rebellious will his fate.</p> +<p>“Cruel, cruel destiny! why did not an English bullet put +an end to me at once, instead of my lingering on in this slow +torture? Nothing to look forward to, nothing to be done to +make one ray of hope possible! <i>There</i> is the horror, +<i>there</i> is the cruelty! I would plunge with gaiety +into dangers, and endure without a murmur the tortures of the Red +Indian, if only there were hope at the end. But here I +am—I, who looked forward greedily to a career of honour and +distinction—caught like a rat in a trap, and not even +dead! Oh, cursed was the day on which I was +born!”</p> +<h2><!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +24</span>CHAPTER II.—FORMATION OF THE BARRACKS.</h2> +<p>Some idea has already been given of the formation of the +Norman Cross barracks; but a fuller and more detailed account of +them may, perhaps, be interesting.</p> +<p>Norman Cross is the name given to that part of the parish of +Yaxley, in the county of Huntingdon, where that grand old +thoroughfare of England, the Great North Road, along which +coaches might drive four abreast, is crossed by the Peterborough +Road. In one corner, bounded by these two roads, is a large +piece of pasture land, some forty acres in extent, which +Government purchased in 1796, for the purpose of erecting +barracks on it for prisoners of war, then multiplying fast, and +for a large number of soldiers to guard them.</p> +<p><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>The situation was exceedingly healthy, being at the +highest point of the road sloping up for a mile and a half from +what was then Whittlesea Mere. It was not too near the sea, +to make escape more easy, yet near enough to Yarmouth, +King’s Lynn and Wisbeach, to facilitate the landing and +transport of prisoners to their destination. It was on the +Great North Road, only 78 miles from London, and near enough to +towns to obtain provisions with ease and in abundance. It +was in fact selected by the War Office on all these accounts from +amongst several other eligible sites in the kingdom.</p> +<p>The accounts given of the plan on which these barracks were +constructed do not altogether agree in particulars. There +is a plan of them still in existence which has received the +imprimatur of Major Kelly the Commandant, his signature being on +the back of it in testimony of its correctness. We shall +not therefore be very far wrong in making that our main guide in +the description of them.</p> +<p><!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +26</span>The part where the prisoners were confined consisted of +sixteen large buildings of wood, very long and lofty, each two +stories high, placed at the end of four rectangular pieces of +land (four in each), nearly in the centre of the forty acre +field, and occupying altogether some fifteen acres. Each +rectangle was separated from the others, and was surrounded by +very high and strong palisades. They were placed +symmetrically round a circular block-house, mounted with cannon, +which commanded every one of the sixteen buildings, as well as +the ground attached to them. There were therefore four of +these huge buildings, side by side at intervals, at one end of +each quadrangle, which was again sub-divided so that every +building had an equal portion of ground belonging to it.</p> +<p>A wall of similar palisading (some say it was of brick, but +this is more than doubtful,) surrounded the whole of the +quadrangles at some distance.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p27b.jpg"> +<img alt="Norman Cross Prison. From the original plan" +src="images/p27s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The prison was constructed to contain 5,000 <!-- page 27--><a +name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>prisoners, +and compared with some other places of confinement in England for +a similar purpose must have been tolerably comfortable.</p> +<p>Besides these central buildings, which may be called the +prison proper, there were a great many others scattered about, +intended for various purposes, such as kitchens, bakehouses, +guard-rooms, turnkeys’ lodges, and, more important than all +to the safe custody of the prisoners, two large wooden barracks +like each other, one at the east and the other at the west of the +whole enclosure, for the accommodation of two regiments of +infantry that formed the garrison.</p> +<p>The English officers were quartered in a large wooden house +close to the road towards the south-east corner of the enclosure, +and close to the house of the Commandant. This last was the +only building of brick in the whole place, and remains to this +day, together with the officers’ mess-room, and the house +where they were quartered, now cased with brick.</p> +<p><!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +28</span>It is said that 500 hands were employed in the +construction of these works, and it is not surprising, +considering their extent, and the fact that the War Office was +urgent in pressing them to completion, as the prisoners +multiplied so fast. Amongst other things, they had to sink +some thirty wells in the prisoners’ enclosures and other +parts. They were of considerable depth, and yielded +excellent water, so that the large population of this singular +place had two of the great necessaries of life—good air and +good water. In passing along the Peterborough Road, some of +these wells may be recognised by the boards placed over them, +they being still in use for the cattle grazing peacefully on the +old site, where once so many victims of war had been +collected.</p> +<p>The barracks had been erected barely six years when they were +put up to let by the Government, all the prisoners having been +discharged at the Peace of Amiens in 1802. The +advertisement is to be seen in the columns of <!-- page 29--><a +name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 29</span>the local +paper of that date. Whether any application was made for +the hire of the whole or any part of the premises in consequence, +is not known. He must, at all events, have been an +enterprising man who could aspire to be tenant of the whole of +such an incongruous collection of buildings, which, however +admirably adapted to the object for which they were erected, +could only suit the purpose of some local “Barnum” of +those days. However, the Government evidently feared they +might be wanted again, though not so soon as was actually the +case: for the Peace of Amiens came to an untimely end the +following year.</p> +<p>With regard to the internal administration of the Norman Cross +barracks, very copious particulars are to be found in the +Government Record Office. Indeed, they are so copious as to +be wearisome. Regulations are varied, or new ones added +every year. Thus, at first, there was no <i>parole</i> at +Norman Cross, or any of the other prisons. Officers on +parole had to <!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 30</span>live at certain places in Great +Britain, of which a list is given, under the eye of an +agent. But this regulation must afterwards have been +modified, for it is certain that, as prisoners multiplied, one of +the large buildings at Norman Cross was allotted to the officers, +and that it was no uncommon thing for some of them to be allowed, +under strict rules, to go out on parole. The mile-stone is +still pointed out, which was the ordinary limit of the distance +the poor fellows might go. And a very old man is still +living at Yaxley, who remembers, as a boy, having often seen them +on the road, some very well dressed, others in tatters, few in +uniform.</p> +<p>The daily ration of the prisoners was as follows: Five days in +the week each had a pound or pound-and-a-half of bread, +half-a-pound of beef, with vegetables, or pease, or oatmeal, with +a small quantity of salt. But on Wednesday and Friday, +instead of beef, one pound of codfish or herrings. No ale +or beer <!-- page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 31</span>was allowed, but it could be procured +at the prison canteen.</p> +<p>Besides this, there was a special marketplace in the prison +grounds, and the market hours were from ten to twelve every +morning. Persons were searched at the gate before entering, +to prevent the introduction of liquors, knives, or weapons; and, +after entering, they were allowed no private communication with +prisoners. King’s stores were not allowed to be +bought from them, but straw hats might be purchased. +Persons of credit and respectability might at any time, when +visiting the prison, purchase such trinkets as the prisoners had +to dispose of, being their own handiwork.</p> +<p>Complaints were made at one time in Parliament, and in the +papers, and abroad, of the food and clothing supplied to the +prisoners, but they were proved to be without foundation. +Two Commissioners were appointed by the Government to investigate +the matter, and they reported that the health of the prisoners +was <!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +32</span>excellent, and that the food was good. As to the +clothing, they said that many of the prisoners had such a +propensity for gaming that, notwithstanding every precaution, +they sold their clothes, bedding, and even their food before it +was due, to raise a trifle to gamble with.</p> +<p>But of all who slandered the Government for their treatment of +the prisoners, no one was worse than that most amiable and +pleasant writer, George Borrow. In his book called +<i>Lavengro</i>, with much picturesqueness, but little truth, he +thus describes the prison itself:—“What a strange +appearance had those mighty caserns (five or six of them, he +says, but there were sixteen) with their blank, blind walls, +without windows or gratings, and their slanting roofs, out of +which, through orifices where the tiles had been removed, would +be protruded dozens of grim heads, feasting their prison-sick +eyes on the wide expanse of country unfolded from that airy +height.”</p> +<p><!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>Then again, in his account of the food supplied to the +prisoners, he thus grossly libels the Government, and indeed the +English nation:—“Much had the poor inmates to endure, +and much to complain of, to the disgrace of England be it +said—of England, in general so kind and +bountiful:—rations of carrion meat and bread, from which I +have seen the very hounds occasionally turn away, were unworthy +entertainment even for the most ruffian enemy, when helpless and +a captive. And such, alas! was the fare in those +caserns.”</p> +<p>What could have been the matter with the man to write such +stuff as this!</p> +<p>One other instance of the reckless way in which he writes +about Norman Cross. Speaking of the manner in which a good +many of the prisoners employed themselves in straw-plaiting of a +very superior description, and how in course of time they thus +competed in what was an employment of the English in certain +neighbourhoods, Borrow gives the following <!-- page 34--><a +name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>ridiculous +account of the manner in which the aid of British soldiery was +invoked, to put a stop to the manufacture on the part of the poor +prisoners:—“Then those ruthless inroads, called in +the story of the place <i>straw plait hunts</i>, when in pursuit +of a contraband article, which the prisoners, in order to procure +themselves a few of the necessaries of life, were in the habit of +making, red-coat battalions were marched into the prison, who, +with the bayonet’s point, carried havoc and ruin into every +convenience which ingenious wretchedness had been endeavouring to +raise around it: and the triumphant exit with the miserable +booty: and, worst of all, the accursed bonfire on the barrack +parade of the plaited contrabands beneath the view of the glaring +eye-balls from their lofty roofs, amidst the hurrahs of the +troops, frequently drowned in the curses poured down from above +like a tempest shower, or in the terrific whoop of ‘Vive +l’Empereur.’”</p> +<p><!-- page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +35</span>Very rhetorical, but altogether improbable and utterly +nonsensical!</p> +<p>The explanation of these exaggerations and misstatements on +the part of Borrow is to be found in the fact that, as he admits, +he was quite a boy when he saw Norman Cross barracks. His +father was an officer in one of the regiments on guard there (and +they were constantly changing), and his account was written years +afterwards, when it was not likely he would remember accurately +what he had heard and seen so long ago. Indeed, he +acknowledges as much when he begins his account by the ominous +words, “If I remember right,”—which he +certainly did not.</p> +<p>No. The unfortunate prisoners of Norman Cross were not +petted, neither were they uncared for. They were treated as +prisoners of war, not as criminals; and were not employed (as +English prisoners were in France,) in public and other +works. They had, poor fellows, a heavy lot to bear, but it +is an abominable falsehood <!-- page 36--><a +name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>to say that +it was aggravated by any needless severity on the part of the +English Government.</p> +<h2><!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +37</span>CHAPTER III.—A FRIEND IN NEED.</h2> +<p>It was not long before Captain Tournier was allowed to go out +on parole, and that too with considerable latitude both as to +distance and length of absence. Major Kelly, the +Commandant, and Captain Mortimer, the Admiralty agent, had had +some talk together about the matter, and were not quite in +agreement on the subject.</p> +<p>“We shall have some trouble with that fellow +Tournier. He keeps himself aloof from the others, and takes +no part in their amusements, and goes mooning about as if he had +got mischief brewing.”</p> +<p>“Have you ever found him uncivil or disobedient to +orders?” enquired the major.</p> +<p>“Oh, not in the least; he conducts himself <!-- page +38--><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 38</span>quite +like a gentleman. But I have always found your silent, +moody man the most likely one to try and blow up the +ship.”</p> +<p>Captain Mortimer was an honest, open-hearted sailor, inclined +to be a martinet, but with very little power to discriminate +character and (like a great many other people in the world,) +without painstaking sympathy, as the prisoners found to their +cost in many ways, though they did not know exactly how it +was. Major Kelly, on the contrary, did not judge after the +outward appearance, but detected something in Tournier’s +profound melancholy which he could not understand indeed, but +which his heart revolted from setting down uncharitably to +evil.</p> +<p>So as his authority was supreme in such a matter as granting +parole to a prisoner, the agent having charge only (but it was a +most important one,) of the Commissariat and Transport service, +Tournier soon obtained his parole.</p> +<p><!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +39</span>“You will be disappointed some day about him I +fear, major.”</p> +<p>“Well, it may be; perhaps so—yes;” which may +be regarded as an expression of no very great confidence in the +prophecy.</p> +<p>One day, Tournier was walking down the hill leading to Yaxley +with his now customary gloom over-shadowing his face, when he saw +a horseman approaching. The rider had been watching him for +some little distance as he came up, and just before they met +pulled up his horse, and bowing, said with a pleasant smile, +“Good morning, Captain Tournier, I hope I see you +well.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said the other politely, but +with some little surprise, “I am very well; but pardon me +for asking who it is I have the pleasure of speaking +to?”</p> +<p>“My name is Cosin, and I live at the old house facing +the church close by where we are. So we are +fellow-parishioners, <i>habitants de la même commune</i>, +as you would say in France, I think.”</p> +<p><!-- page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>Again a polite bow. “But will you excuse me +for asking how you know <i>me</i>?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I have heard of you from my friend, Major +Kelly. I will not tell you what he said when he described +you to me, but I knew you at once from his description; and I am +very pleased to have met you.”</p> +<p>Another bow. “He told you, I suppose, that you +would know me by my sour looks. They all tell me that, or +something very similar.”</p> +<p>“Far from it. But you would not like me to repeat +compliments. Yet the major did tell me you took your +captivity too much to heart.”</p> +<p>“That is true, I daresay. But I cannot help +it.”</p> +<p>“Then, if you will allow me, let me try and act the part +of a friend and neighbour. We are close by each other, as +you see. If you will do me the favour of calling on me at +the Manor Farm whenever you may in course of time feel disposed, +I shall be delighted: only the sooner the better.”</p> +<p><!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +41</span>“A thousand thanks,” said the captain with a +faint smile, but with no intention then of availing himself of +the kind offer.</p> +<p>Friendship is not often formed on the instant, as +Jonathan’s for David, when the soul of Jonathan was knit in +a moment with the soul of David, and “Jonathan loved him as +his own soul.” Albeit the two <i>had</i> met +before.</p> +<p>They shook hands heartily and went their ways.</p> +<p>Mr. Cosin was the gentleman who had laid his whip across the +saucy lout’s back at the time the French prisoners were +marching into the barracks. He was possessed of a fair +competence; but loving a country life and something to do, had +hired the Manor Farm in Yaxley. The house was of no great +size, but built of stone, picturesque, and of considerable +antiquity; and it stood, as we have already said, on the opposite +side of the road to the church, looking towards the west end, +where its handsome tower stands, with lofty well-proportioned +<!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +42</span>spire, a conspicuous object to all the fen country for +miles around. It was about a mile from the Norman Cross +barracks.</p> +<p>About two years before this Mr. Cosin had met with the +greatest loss that can befall a man. He had lost his +wife. It changed the whole complexion of his future. +He was like a traveller who had come to the crest of a ridge from +which he could look back on the road he had traversed, and the +unknown future was spread before him, sharply separated from all +the past. In his case that had been a happy past—a +very happy past. But the future, whatever it might be, must +at least be without <i>her</i>. He was still a young man, +and without a family; but he determined to have a sister for his +companion, and a sweet memory for his wife.</p> +<p>What a strange idea! many may say, or something stronger.</p> +<p>Well. It may be so. But he did it.</p> +<p>When Tournier returned to the barracks <!-- page 43--><a +name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>after his +meeting with Cosin, he fell in with his young friend, who has +already been alluded to, and whose name was Villemet.</p> +<p>“Somebody has been asking after you, +Tournier.”</p> +<p>“Who was he?” but not the slightest curiosity was +in the tone of enquiry.</p> +<p>“Our bishop.”</p> +<p>The interest fell lower, if possible.</p> +<p>“You mean the chaplain. What does he +want?”</p> +<p>“To see you.”</p> +<p>Tournier was a gentleman, and therefore repressed the +exclamation that was rising to his lips, and simply said, +“Oh!” in a very languid sort of way.</p> +<p>But it was true. The chaplain to the prisoners had been +asking after Tournier, expressing a very great desire to see him; +and the Chaplain was none other than the Bishop of +Moulines. He had voluntarily come to England, out of pure +compassion for his imprisoned <!-- page 44--><a +name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>countrymen; +and with true missionary zeal was giving himself up to their +spiritual welfare. He was a venerable-looking man, much +respected by the prisoners generally. It was a noble act of +self-sacrifice. <a name="citation44"></a><a href="#footnote44" +class="citation">[44]</a></p> +<p>But his work among the prisoners was no sinecure. Many +of them were deeply tainted with the foul atheism engendered by +the Revolution; many more with the practical atheism that comes +of reckless living. Scenes of cruelty and depravity would +occasionally take place, only too likely where a large number of +men were left so much to themselves. Yet there were +doubtless hundreds among them who, but for the demands of a most +cruel war, would have been living the lives of peaceful, useful +citizens. It may be, moreover, that <!-- page 45--><a +name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>among the +officers there was infidelity behind the outward decorum of +gentlemen.</p> +<p>So the good bishop had plenty on his hands, and he did his +best patiently and perseveringly, though by no means always with +success (as is the case still with good efforts, under much more +favourable circumstances); and all but the vilest respected him, +and many paid at least outward attention to his ministrations: +and for this reason—because they felt there could not be +the slightest doubt that his kind intentions were altogether +sincere.</p> +<p>A few days afterwards, the bishop came up to Tournier as he +was taking exercise in the paved portion of the yard, and shaking +him with gentle courtesy by the hand, said, “Captain +Tournier, will you oblige me by letting us have a short walk +together?” Then turning to others who were near, he +added, with a pleasant smile, “Gentlemen, I hope you are +all well this morning,” and putting his arm in +Tournier’s went to the gate. There was a guard-room +and <!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +46</span>a turnkey’s lodge outside. A glance through +the grating of the heavy door, and the wicket was instantly +unlocked.</p> +<p>They proceeded together along the Peterborough road towards +Yaxley. The day was bright, and the broad distant view from +the high ground they trod was very pretty, with +comfortable-looking homesteads dotted about, the very picture of +freedom and peace.</p> +<p>“The English have chosen an agreeable and healthy spot +for us poor prisoners, Captain Tournier.”</p> +<p>He called himself a “prisoner,” but he was +not. And yet he was—a prisoner to sympathy with the +unhappy.</p> +<p>“May I hope that you are becoming more reconciled with +your lot, my friend,” he said, in a soft persuasive tone, +as if he feared to seem intrusive.</p> +<p>“Not in the slightest degree, Monseigneur,” was +the answer. “Why should I? Yet, believe me, I +am exceedingly touched by your interesting yourself in +me.”</p> +<p><!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +47</span>“You say <i>why</i> should you become more +reconciled with your lot. My simple reply is, because it is +God’s will.”</p> +<p>“I do not wish to shock you—you who are so good +and true, and who hold so high a position in the church: but I +will not deceive you, nor will I play the hypocrite even to gain +your better opinion of me. I will be plain and honest from +the first; and, therefore, I tell you, I do not believe there is +a God.”</p> +<p>The bishop did not withdraw his arm, nor start with horror, +nor call him a fool (though he <i>was</i> one). On the +contrary, he pressed Tournier’s arm a little closer, and +said, very softly, as a kind doctor might say when he finds a +patient’s symptoms more serious than he thought, but does +not therefore give him up, “I am so sorry.”</p> +<p>There was a pause for a minute or two, and they went on +walking together.</p> +<p>Tournier was the first to speak.</p> +<p>“I cannot believe that a good God (and I do <!-- page +48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>not +care to believe in an evil one—a devil, as the heathen do, +so at least I have heard), but I cannot believe that a good God +would blast my hopes as they have been blasted: and, therefore, I +believe in none. I cannot. Excuse me, Monseigneur, +but my reason refuses to let me do so. I can only believe +in fate.”</p> +<p>“And who regulates fate?” asked the bishop.</p> +<p>“Oh, I know not. It regulates itself, I +suppose.”</p> +<p>“And therefore is God,” said the bishop, as if he +were musing. “But tell me, my friend, how it is you +take to heart so keenly the unkindness of fate (as you call it) +to yourself, while thousands are buffeted by misfortunes, perhaps +as great as your own, and yet maintain equanimity of mind, and +even enjoy some pleasure in life?”</p> +<p>“They are not sensitive as I am.”</p> +<p>“And who makes the difference?”</p> +<p>“Fate—Chance—Destiny.”</p> +<p>“How miserable a notion! However, I <!-- page +49--><a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +49</span>should be wanting in my duty to Holy Church, of which I +am an unworthy minister,” and here he disengaged his arm +from Tournier’s, and looking him steadily in the face, with +an expression, not of severity, but of yearning tenderness, that +pierced the manly fellow’s heart more than a hundred +anathemas would have done, “if I did not most solemnly warn +thee that these notions of thine are damnable heresy, and that it +behoves thee therefore to repent of this thy wickedness, if +perhaps the thought of thine heart may be forgiven +thee.”</p> +<p>And then the good bishop took him by the hand and added, +“Still look on me as a would-be friend, and whenever you +want me seek me, and better far, whenever you want God seek Him, +and you shall surely find Him.”</p> +<p>He turned away and went to his lodging, not in the barracks, +but in the village of Stilton, about a mile off.</p> +<p>Captain Tournier soon lost the impression made by the solemn +words, but he never to his <!-- page 50--><a +name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>dying day +forgot the compassionate look that accompanied them. The +old priest left his mark.</p> +<p>Winter had passed, and Spring was far advanced before Tournier +paid his first visit to Mr. Cosin. It was not want of +sociability or indifference to the friendship of such a very +genial man that made him delay. He himself was naturally a +very jolly sort of fellow, so that his friend, Villemet, could +not in the least make out the transformation. In fact, he +began to think him <i>un peu timbré</i>. However, at +last, he made up his mind to call at the Manor Farm; and one +sunny day he appeared at the door, somewhat like a martyr tied to +the stake, but without his cheerfulness of resignation. He +had not long to wait. The door was opened with a will, and +Cosin himself stood before him with welcome beaming in his +face. There could be no doubt of it. His friend, whom +he had treated so coldly, was heartily glad to see him, and said +as much.</p> +<p><!-- page 51--><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>“Can you forgive me, Mr. Cosin, for being so long +in accepting your kind invitation?”</p> +<p>“Not a word about it. I am delighted to have you +under my roof,” and he led him into a cosy sitting-room, +where a young lady was sitting at work.</p> +<p>“Let me introduce you to my sister, Captain +Tournier. Oh, but you must not be so formal, dear Alice, in +your welcome to my friend. I have been expecting him too +long for that. Give him your hand.”</p> +<p>And she did so in the prettiest way imaginable, with all the +simple grace of true kindness of heart.</p> +<p>The effect on Tournier was reviving. It reminded him of +happy days gone by, which he never thought to see again.</p> +<p>Alice Cosin was a girl worth looking at. And the gallant +captain could not refrain from doing so whenever it was possible +without rudeness. And if his true love, in France, had been +watching him, she would have found no fault, if <!-- page 52--><a +name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>her love were +as true as his. A jealous woman is a distrustful one; and a +man who makes his own love first will always keep her first, +however he may admire another. So it was, at all events, +with Tournier.</p> +<p>And how shall we describe the young lady? It shall be +done briefly. She was not what connoisseurs would call a +beauty. Her features were not altogether regular enough for +that, and <i>very</i> regular features are rather of the +dutch-doll type of beauty. But her open brow looked honesty +itself, while a slightly aquiline nose betokened force of +character of the true feminine type. The eyes, however, +formed the great attraction in her face. You were struck by +them at once. True blue eyes, not washed out, not milk and +water, but grey-blue eyes, like “the body of heaven in its +clearness:” yet with a glint in them, as if they could +flash under just provocation.</p> +<p>They spent a pleasant afternoon together, Cosin doing all he +could to divert and amuse <!-- page 53--><a +name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 53</span>his friend, +and his sister helping him: for they were cheerful souls, though +Tournier thought he saw at times a vein of sadness in his host, +amid all his cheerfulness, which, they say, and say truly, always +adds piquancy to mirth.</p> +<p>A message was brought to Cosin that required him to quit the +room, and Alice and Tournier were left alone.</p> +<p>“Do you know, Miss Cosin, what it was that forced me at +last to come and see your brother?”</p> +<p>“Indeed, I do not,” she replied, a little +surprised at the earnestness with which he so abruptly asked the +question.</p> +<p>“It was misery. For months I have kept it to +myself, and at last I could bear it no longer. I must have +gone mad if I could not have spoken to some one outside that +wretched prison house.”</p> +<p>“I am very glad you have taken the first step towards +making my brother your confidant. <!-- page 54--><a +name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>You will find +him a very sensible and sympathizing friend.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but I want you, Miss Cosin, to give me the first +encouragement.”</p> +<p>She was inclined at first to laugh, but seeing how serious, +and even solemn, his manner was, she said, rather severely, +“And do you think, sir, after so very short an +acquaintance, you have any right to expect such a thing of +me?”</p> +<p>He saw instantly what a mistake he had made, and how naturally +she had misunderstood his meaning.</p> +<p>“Oh, pardon me, Miss Cosin; my eagerness to know +something made me frame my words awkwardly. Let me +explain. I have a dear mother in my home in France, and, if +possible, a still dearer friend to whom I am engaged, and I love +her with my whole heart and soul. I cannot tell you how I +love her.”</p> +<p>“Well, Captain Tournier,” said Alice, relaxing her +severity of manner, though it was not very severe.</p> +<p><!-- page 55--><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +55</span>“Separation, and hopelessness of ever seeing them +again, are a torment I find unendurable.”</p> +<p>“Well, sir,” she repeated, but this time with more +softness, and with sympathy in the true blue eyes.</p> +<p>“Did not your brother lose his wife some two years +ago? I was told he did.”</p> +<p>“He did. But I do not see the relevancy of that to +what you have just been saying.”</p> +<p>“Then your brother has actually suffered what I am only +<i>dreading</i> I may have to suffer. He can never, by any +possibility, see his wife again.”</p> +<p>Poor Alice was sorely puzzled. She could only wonder +what he was coming to, and acquiesce.</p> +<p>“But was he really fond of her?”</p> +<p>“I cannot imagine, Captain Tournier, why you should ask +such a question. I am glad you did not ask +<i>him</i>.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but I have a reason for asking. Of your +charity, bear with me a little longer. But <!-- page +56--><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>you +say he really did love his wife passionately?”</p> +<p>“Beyond all doubt. His life was bound up in +hers. When he lost her, he lost his best. He tells me +he will never marry again, and has asked me to be his +companion.”</p> +<p>There was a tone of impatience in her voice, which Tournier, +however, noticed not, but passed from his former eagerness of +manner into a sort of dreamy abstraction, as if talking to +himself.</p> +<p>“And yet the man seems happy—<i>is</i> happy; goes +about as cheerful as the day; laughs and jokes, and enjoys his +life. I cannot comprehend it!”</p> +<p>Alice was indeed in “Wonderland.”</p> +<p>He seemed lost in thought.</p> +<p>At length he changed back to his eager manner again.</p> +<p>“And now, Miss Cosin, comes the question: I want you, of +your great kindness, to answer, and to lead up to which I have +given you so <!-- page 57--><a name="page57"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 57</span>much trouble. Pardon, pardon an +unhappy man. Tell me, what is the secret of your +brother’s power to bear his trouble, and even triumph over +it. I want, <i>myself</i>, to learn it.”</p> +<p>“I can only say,” replied Alice, with all +simplicity, but looking with her clear blue eyes into his face, +“I know God helped him, as no one else could, and was very +kind to him, as He is to all who want Him.”</p> +<p>She was only just in time, for, as she finished, her brother +came back again.</p> +<p>Soon after they took leave of each other, and the captain +returned to his quarters. And as he went along this thought +kept coming into his mind, like the flash of a revolving +light—“Cosin not only believes in God, but has found +Him a help in time of greatest trouble!”</p> +<h2><!-- page 58--><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +58</span>CHAPTER IV.—MUTINY OF THE PRISONERS.</h2> +<p>In the course of the following year, the prisoners of Norman +Cross began to show a spirit of general insubordination. +There had been from time to time individual cases of attempted +outbreak, some few successful, but for the most part ending in +recapture. No one can wonder that, among so many men, in +the full vigour of life, there should be not a few who, sick at +heart of their rigorous captivity, one day succeeding another +with cheerless monotony, the shadows settling deeper and deeper +upon their distant homes, should listen by degrees to any scheme +that the more desperate around them might propose in order to +regain their liberty. The growing agitation was almost +entirely among the lower ranks of <!-- page 59--><a +name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>soldiers and +sailors, although the officers, in their separate quarters, knew +what was going on, and more or less sympathized with it.</p> +<p>There was, however, a particular reason for this state of +things. It did not originate it, but had a great deal to do +with aggravating it. The prisoners, especially the rank and +file, were not in the hands of a sympathetic controller. It +was with them, as it sometimes is now, with large institutions +where numbers are collected. The governor may be an +excellent disciplinarian, and do his duty admirably; but the +inmates never feel, consciously or unconsciously, that there is +one over them who takes an <i>interest</i> in their +welfare. They are in the cold, and, like plants, no one is +likely to grow better in the cold. Such was the character +of the administration of Captain Mortimer, the Admiralty +agent. He had charge of the comforts of the prisoners; he +treated them well according to the letter of his duty; but it was +with coldness and want of sympathy. And <!-- page 60--><a +name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>what he did, +as is always the case, his subordinates did likewise. And +there can be little doubt that this coldness of treatment had +much to do with the increase of insubordination in the +prison.</p> +<p>Victor Malin was a ringleader from the first in this +matter. He was about forty years old; and, as a young man, +had taken an active part in all the diabolical horrors of the +streets of Paris during the reign of terror. He had seen +Louis XVI. guillotined, and a few months later the poor Queen, +and had screamed with joy over it. He had seen heads cut +off by the score, and enjoyed his dinner all the more for the +sight. He was therefore a brute, a great big brute, with +plenty of animal courage; and there was no wickedness under the +sun that he had not practised in his time. He was also one +of the very few among the prisoners who insulted the venerable +chaplain when he could, though all the notice the good man took +of it was to mutter to himself, +“N’importe.”</p> +<p><!-- page 61--><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span>The days were getting short and the nights long when, +one evening, a council of war was being held in one of the +barrack rooms. Not all the inmates were engaged in it, but +only a select few, round one of the tables at the end of the huge +caserne. By far the greater part (and there must have been +over two hundred crowded together in it,) were amusing themselves +in various ways, so far as a very limited choice would +allow. But a Frenchman will beat an Englishman hollow in +finding amusement out of little or nothing; aye, and enjoying it +too with lively satisfaction. Some were busy at work over +the manufacture of those singularly ingenious models, toys, +boxes, and other articles, for sale, which are so well known and +so justly admired all round the neighbourhood, and found in +almost every house to this day. These were the quiet and +sensible men, who made the best of their misfortunes. +Others were playing dominoes, draughts, backgammon, and cribbage, +the boards and <!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 62</span>appliances all their own work. +Some sang songs to a small admiring audience. All talked +and at the same time, and nowhere more than where card-playing +was going on, which was all over the room, and the more +vociferously because, if they could, they played for money or +money’s worth, from a penny to an old shirt, or blanket, or +even the next day’s rations.</p> +<p>The noise was deafening. Yet amidst it all the council +of war went on deliberating as calmly as if they were chatting +together in some peaceful meadow, with only the chirping of birds +to disturb them. They literally put their heads together, +as, figuratively, conspirators always do, and so made one another +hear.</p> +<p>They were a sorry lot, both in face and clothing. Not +one had a decent set of garments on him. The only +difference between the soldiers and the sailors who composed the +council was—the soldiers’ clothes were in rags, while +the sailors mended theirs. In face they <!-- page 63--><a +name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 63</span>were all +alike unsavoury, but Victor Malin “took the +cake.”</p> +<p>“Comrades,” he was saying, leaning forward and +speaking with a harsh powerful voice into the space between the +bowed heads of the others, where, by the way, there must have +been some blue fire playing: “Comrades, we must not follow +the advice of our brother Poivre there. Delay with us is +dangerous. Every day makes it more likely that these +soldiers,”—there was an adjective prefixed, a +favourite one, applied by him to almost +everything—“will find out what we are planning. +The dark nights, now there is no moon, will favour us when once +we get away. Now or never is the word. The men in all +the other yards are waiting for the red flag to be hoisted over +our prison. To-morrow morning, at daybreak, let us +begin.”</p> +<p>Marc Poivre, the man he had alluded to, was a tall, lank +fellow, with muscles of iron, and sunken fiery eyes, that +betokened a fierce <!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 64</span>temper which would not brook much +contradiction.</p> +<p>“I say, wait!” was his sententious reply.</p> +<p>“What for?” said Malin.</p> +<p>“Till the days get shorter still. Till we know +more for certain that the others are ready. Till the +soldiers have lost the suspicions they certainly have, that +something is up. Only to-day I heard one of the red-coats +say to his fellow, ‘When are they going to kick up a +row?’ You know, yourself, Malin, they have doubled +the guard all round.”</p> +<p>“Are you afraid?” sneered Malin.</p> +<p>The sunken eyes burned. But it was not the time for +quarrelling: so Poivre restrained himself, and only said, +“I will answer you another time. Begin to-morrow if +you will. Have your own way. I am content.”</p> +<p>All the others agreed to this, for Poivre was not popular +among them. He was too fond of brawling; and most councils, +especially small ones, are ruled by personal prejudices of some +<!-- page 65--><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +65</span>sort, rather than by honest, independent opinion.</p> +<p>Then all the councillors got on their legs, and shouted, +“Silence! Silence!”</p> +<p>It took some little time to get it owing to the babel that was +going on. At last they prevailed, and then Malin addressed +those present in his stentorian voice:</p> +<p>“Brothers! Our captivity will end to-morrow. +It will be our own fault if we are not all free men before +another sun sets. Then many hours of darkness will befriend +us. Hide by day and hurry on by night. Make for the +sea, but not all in the same direction. With the first +light of day, our companions, all over the prison, will see the +red flag flying. Then shout! Shout every one of +you. Keep on shouting! and the walls of our jail will fall +down flat.”</p> +<p>“Like the walls of Jericho,” cried a derisive +voice. Some said Poivre’s. Malin knew it was, +and did not forget it. But it damped his ardour for a +moment, though the prisoners <!-- page 66--><a +name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>were too +numerous to hear, or too interested to heed it.</p> +<p>“To-morrow! Liberty!” was all the mighty +voice of Malin could add; and then an outburst of cheers followed +that made the red tiles of the long roof rattle.</p> +<p>The morning broke; and then, sure enough, the guards observed +the red flag waving in the breeze. They had not long to +wait before the meaning of it was made plain. A tremendous +shout arose from the yard where the flag was hoisted, and then an +answering shout from each of the other yards in succession, till +they all blended in one continuous roar from more than three +thousand throats. If it subsided in part, or altogether, +for a few moments, it quickly broke out again. The +turnkeys, looking through the gratings of the wickets, saw the +prisoners leaping and jumping about in the greatest state of +excitement (and when a Frenchman is excited, he is excited +indeed); and in some of the yards they had evidently got tools +and implements <!-- page 67--><a name="page67"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 67</span>which must have been brought in by +outsiders.</p> +<p>Major Kelly was promptly on the spot, and at once saw that the +situation was threatening. It was not the uproar that +alarmed him. That, alone, could do no harm, except to the +throats of the shouters, though it betrayed the fact that the +whole of the prisoners were taking part in the rising. What +he feared most was the possession of tools by the prisoners, and +the consequent danger that, if any sufficient opening were made +in one or more of the outer palisades, a considerable number of +prisoners might get out, and much bloodshed take place. +This his humane nature shrank from.</p> +<p>The force under his command consisted, at that particular +time, of only a regiment of militia, and a battalion of the army +reserve, about eleven hundred bayonets. The whole of these +were immediately under arms, and ordered to surround the +enclosure in detachments, with instructions to combine at any +point where there <!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 68</span>seemed any signs of an opening being +made by the prisoners.</p> +<p>Major Kelly then proceeded to consult with his senior officers +and Captain Mortimer. The question was not whether he had +force enough to put down the mutiny by violent measures, but +whether there were men enough to do it without considerable +effusion of blood.</p> +<p>Captain Mortimer at once shewed his quality when asked for his +opinion. “Put it down, major,” he said, +“with a strong hand, and lose no time about it. What +I venture to recommend is, first of all send a shot from the +block-house into one of the prison yards by way of warning; then +march two or three hundred men right into the yard; draw them up, +and let them shoot every rascal that does not take shelter in the +barrack-room. Give them time. Then let an officer go +to the door with a bugler, and tell the <i>canaille</i>, if they +don’t at once leave off their infernal noise and keep +quietly inside, they will be shot down like rats: then fasten up +the door. <!-- page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 69</span>Depend on it, this will soon settle +the other yards. One example will be enough. A rough +beginning will make a speedy ending.”</p> +<p>“But these men,” said Major Kelly sternly, and +with evident disgust, “are not rascals, they are not to be +treated as <i>canaille</i>. The only crime they are guilty +of is fighting for their country. That they want to escape, +however foolish, is only natural. Of course they must be +put down, even if it should cost some lives: but I should prefer +trying milder measures first. What do you say, +gentlemen?”</p> +<p>The other officers all fell in with their commander’s +idea: for, as a rule, the majority of officers partake of the +spirit of their chief without any subserviency; and thus, as we +so often find, a Colonel makes or mars his regiment.</p> +<p>“Then we must have help from Peterborough,” said +the Major. “Take a message from me, Captain Martin, +to the officer in command there. Say that I want all the +men he can spare, and specially every troop of <!-- page 70--><a +name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>yeomanry he +can muster, for we may have to scour the country. My horse +shall be at the main gate in ten minutes—you know he is a +good one; and you, Captain, like a fair pace.”</p> +<p>The gallant Captain smiled as he saluted, and in less than ten +minutes he was in the saddle and flying like a meteor along the +road, for he was a very Jehu.</p> +<p>The stone steps by which the officers mounted are still to be +seen where the main entrance was.</p> +<p>And what were the French and other officers doing all this +time?</p> +<p>They had all along known of the intended outbreak, and urgent +requests had in some way been made to them that they would take +part in it. But with some few exceptions, they had +positively refused. Not, however, without much acrimonious +debate. Those who were in favour of joining in the mutiny +were some captains of privateers, whose sense of honour was not +rendered more acute by their manner <!-- page 71--><a +name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>of life, and +two or three army officers of indifferent character, who had +either abused their parole, or never obtained it.</p> +<p>A night or two before the crisis, the dispute became very +violent.</p> +<p>“What a shame,” cried one of the malcontents, +“that we, who are ready for anything to get free, should be +hindered by you careful and very scrupulous gentlemen!”</p> +<p>“We are not hindering you,” replied Villemet: +“get out if you can whenever you like. We heartily +wish all the prisoners may get out. None of us will +interfere.”</p> +<p>“But you will not help us: and not to help is to +hinder.”</p> +<p>“And we have told you why a score of times,” put +in Tournier in the quietest possible way. “The +English have deprived us of liberty, but they shall never deprive +us of honour. We are on parole, and we are bound in honour, +therefore, not to try and escape even if we could.”</p> +<p><!-- page 72--><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +72</span>“Honour!” said a privateer captain, turning +up his nose in a very pronounced manner.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, honour! Perhaps you do not know the +meaning of the word.”</p> +<p>The nose went down, and the temper went up. “I do, +sir, quite as much as you. But I don’t call truckling +to the enemy honour.”</p> +<p>“Nor do I,” said Tournier.</p> +<p>The perfect quietness of his manner provoked the other more +than any angry words would have done.</p> +<p>“But that’s what you are doing—truckling to +the English.”</p> +<p>The malcontents applauded.</p> +<p>This emboldened him to go on. “You are traitors to +your own countrymen.”</p> +<p>“You know,” said Tournier calmly, “I cannot +treat you for that insult as I would if free—that is, if it +were not beneath me to notice it from one like you.”</p> +<p>He sprung up and struck Tournier.</p> +<p>They all sprung up. Tournier himself sprung <!-- page +73--><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>up. A general fight seemed imminent. But the +greater part were gentlemen, and Tournier, still calm, said with +a smile, “Take no notice of it, my friends. Let us +withdraw. At least we will bear away the palm of victory +over our tempers.”</p> +<p>The malcontents were disconcerted at this magnanimity.</p> +<p>Only Villemet would have a parting shot, and as he retired, +said, “If ever I meet that <i>coquin</i> outside these +cursed walls, I’ll horsewhip him black and blue.”</p> +<p>The man was making for Villemet, but his companions pulled him +back.</p> +<p>Within an hour Captain Martin had returned with a troop of +yeomanry. They had just had a field-day, and for some +reason, one of the troops had not been dismissed like the +rest. So, without waiting a moment, officers and men +galloped off to Norman Cross. The other troops of yeomanry +were to follow as soon as they could be got together, along with +three or four companies of volunteers and militia.</p> +<p><!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +74</span>The tumult was still continuing among the prisoners, +though with more frequent spells of comparative quiet: symptoms, +perhaps, of exhaustion. No opening had yet been discovered +in the palisades, though the soldiers thought they sometimes +heard, when a lull in the uproar occurred, the sound of heavy +blows against them, which almost directly ceased when the uproar +abated. And it made some entertain the idea, that the +otherwise childish shouting was not without a rational object, +namely, to drown the noise of blows.</p> +<p>At length darkness came on. It promised to be an +intensely dark night—one of those nights, of which there +are only a few in every year, when you cannot, as we say, see +your own hand.</p> +<p>Watch-fires were kindled at every station where a detachment +was posted round the prison enclosure. All the troops were +under arms through the night; the gunners in the block-house +ready for action; and the yeomanry <!-- page 75--><a +name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>patrolling +the Peterborough and Great North roads. At about three in +the morning a sentinel fired his piece, and the nearest +detachment fell in, and hurried at the double to the spot. +The prisoners were escaping through an opening in one of the +palisades, but the prompt arrival of the soldiers quickly stopped +the exodus. Some were thrust back again, and an array of +bayonets at the charge, together with a volley from the rear +ranks, fired, at first, by the commandant’s express orders, +into the air, effectually prevented all further attempt. +Nine prisoners escaped, and got clear away, surmounting the +difficulty of the last palisading of all by friendly help from +outside, as it was supposed, a rope with a hook at the end being +found next morning at a certain spot. In all probability it +was a sweet-heart’s act, some acquaintance formed at the +barrack market.</p> +<p>Several other openings were made, but the soldiers, after the +first alarm, were so much on <!-- page 76--><a +name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 76</span>the alert, +that hardly any more escaped. Altogether less than a score +got clear away, besides the nine already mentioned; but how they +managed to get over the last palisade was a mystery, except there +were, as in the other case, assistance from without, though no +trace of it was discovered. Sad to relate, however, more +than half of those who obtained their freedom were recaptured +after a few days, some of them a long way off from Norman +Cross.</p> +<p>One other attempt at escape deserves to be recorded, because +it was planned with skill and daring worthy of a better +result. In the barrack-yard where Malin was confined, there +happened to be several sappers, and they had dug a mine, with +very imperfect tools, some thirty-four feet in length, towards +the Great North Road, but unfortunately it fell short of the +required distance, and the men were found when daylight broke +still within the outer wall of the prison.</p> +<p><!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +77</span>So ended the only general outbreak that was ever made by +the prisoners of Norman Cross; and Major Kelly could ever after +enjoy the immense satisfaction of reflecting that the suppression +of so serious an attempt was brought about without a drop of +blood.</p> +<p>As an instance of the extreme peril they ran who contrived to +escape, it is recorded on a tombstone in the Churchyard of East +Dereham, how Jean de Narde, son of a Notary Public of St. Malo, a +French prisoner of war (most likely from Norman Cross), escaped +from the Bell Tower of the Church (where he had been confined +temporarily on his re-capture), and was pursued and shot by a +soldier on duty October 6th, 1799, aged 28 years. Oh, why +did not that stupid fool of a soldier miss him!</p> +<p>But it is pleasant to add that, in the year 1857, when French +and English were fighting side by side in the Crimea, the then +Vicar and two friends erected a tombstone as a memorial <!-- page +78--><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 78</span>of +poor de Narde’s untimely fate, and “as a tribute of +respect to that brave and generous Nation, once our foes, but now +our allies and brethren.” And they add the words +which all but those who make profit out of war will heartily echo +and re-echo, “Ainsi soit il.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>CHAPTER V.—NEARLY A SUICIDE.</h2> +<p>An important change took place in the management of the +barracks at Norman Cross a few months after the event narrated in +the preceding chapter. Captain Mortimer, the admiralty +agent, resigned his position there on promotion to another +charge. Whether the relations between him and Major Kelly +became rather strained, or whether he himself was a little +ashamed of the violent measures he had recommended to suppress +the mutiny, and which certainly had made him more unpopular than +ever, cannot be determined. But resign he did in the month +of August, 1811, and was succeeded by Captain John Draper, +R.N. The exchange was a blessed one for the prisoners: not +because the important duties were done <!-- page 80--><a +name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span>more +punctually and exactly, but because the one was a sympathising +man, and the other a mere machine. There was all the +difference between the two men that there is between the music of +a street piano that rattles through long runs with provoking +correctness, and a sweet air played by the fair hands of one +whose soul is in her music.</p> +<p>The prisoners felt the relief before they knew whence it came, +as men breathing the close atmosphere of a crowded room may feel +invigorated before they know that a supply of pure oxygen has +been introduced therein. It was not that they fared any +better than before. They had the same rations, though the +new agent saw with his own eyes that they were good and +sufficient. They had the same cramped-up sleeping bunks, +only he never let a man be without proper covering, even if he +punished him afterwards if he gambled it away. They were +still prisoners, hard and fast; yet, somehow, the bondage was not +so galling as it <!-- page 81--><a name="page81"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 81</span>used to be. The agent’s +manner was kind and friendly. He spoke cheerily to the +prisoners. He asked questions. He took notice of the +desponding, and there were many such. The sick he tenderly +cared for. This was to the ordinary rank and file. To +the officers he was all this and more. Not because he cared +more for them, but because, as a rule, he could unbend to them +more than to the others without risk of lowering his +position. He frequently visited their quarters, chatted +freely with them, played billiards with them, was pleased to see +the English officers mix at proper times with them, admired +heartily the beautiful handiwork of the common men. The +only man he could not abide was the one who, whether officer or +private, was a fraud or a sham.</p> +<p>And in this treatment of his unfortunate charge the Commandant +entirely went along with him.</p> +<p>War was still raging. That in the Peninsula—which +so many now-a-days know nothing about, <!-- page 82--><a +name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>but prefer +“Tit-Bits,” or the writings of sceptical ladies, but +in which the most splendid generalship and indomitable bravery +were displayed on <i>both</i> sides as in no other country, and +which formed one of the hinges on which the fortune of Napoleon +turned, the other being the ice-bound plains of Russia—was +pouring fresh prisoners into England (20,000 in ten months is the +number once mentioned in a despatch of Wellington’s), and +no doubt Norman Cross had its share. But for all who +arrived there Captain Draper had a friendly look, and for many a +word of kindness.</p> +<p>He had not been long at his post before he became acquainted +with Captain Tournier; and his sympathy for him, quickly +awakened, was all the more increased by what he heard from Major +Kelly. They both soon had more reason than ever to be drawn +to him.</p> +<p>There was a French agency in London, sanctioned by the English +government, through which prisoners of war had under certain <!-- +page 83--><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +83</span>restrictions the means of communication with their +friends abroad. Tournier had from the first, as we may be +sure, availed himself of this privilege. From his +mother’s letters he could not hide from himself the fact +that his absence from her, under such melancholy circumstances, +was prejudicially affecting her health. The dear old soul +always tried to make the best of it, but nature would out, +although it was more from indirect remarks than from any positive +complaints, that Tournier gathered the true state of the +case. Of course it grieved him exceedingly, and added fresh +poignancy to his unhappiness. But there was one thing that, +for the first two years, her letters always contained in one form +or another, that made some sweet amends, and that was that she +invariably added how his dear Elise soothed and comforted +her. “Whenever I see her,” his mother would +write, “I seem to see you; and she says the same of +me.”</p> +<p>For the last few months, however, Tournier could not but +observe, but most unwillingly, <!-- page 84--><a +name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>there had +been a gradual cessation of these fond remarks in his +mother’s letters, and, worse still, a corresponding +chilliness in those of his Elise. At first, it was +“How weary it is without you!” then, “How can I +go on living without you?” then, “How long will it be +before I shall see you?” This is not a romantic way +of putting it; but the downward progress of a woman’s heart +that is not true, does not deserve romantic description. +The auctioneer’s formula is quite good enough, +“Going—going—gone.”</p> +<p>Still the man who loved her with true and generous affection +could not, and would not, believe evil. “Poor dear +heart,” he would say; “she is indeed to be +pitied! How can she help being weary of my absence so +long?”</p> +<p>And here it must not fail to be recorded, that Tournier was no +longer the same man that he had been when first he arrived at +Norman Cross—a proud, bitterly disappointed, sensitive, +angry man, who had lost what little faith he ever had in +God. He was still a faulty character, no <!-- page 85--><a +name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>doubt. +Poor erring men do not leap into perfection at a bound. But +the revolving light that first sent forth its rays into his mind, +some two years ago, in Cosin’s house, had gone on revolving +till it became a settled and influential conviction—that +God is good, and will help all who want Him, even in their direst +need. <i>How</i> good and <i>how</i> mighty to save God +was, he had yet to learn: but that He <i>was</i> good, and that +He would help <i>him</i>, that he firmly believed. And who +had done it for him—this miracle, if you like to call +it?—God. By weak human instrumentality, by degrees: +but yet God: for none else could have done it.</p> +<p>It made him stronger, much stronger, to bear the bitter +trouble that yet oppressed him day by day. It made him hope +on, even in the dark. It gave him an object in life, when +all he once had lived for seemed swept away.</p> +<p>The reality of his belief was before long put to a very severe +test. A letter from his mother arrived one day. The +unusually shaky hand-writing <!-- page 86--><a +name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>of the +address instantly struck him, and a horrible dread that something +was wrong seized him. It might have turned out nothing +after all, for where we remember one presentiment that turns out +true, we forget twenty that turn out false. But in this +case it possessed him. He had been very far from well for +some time past. In fact, the three years of prison life, +and its attendant anxieties, were telling on him. He was +lying on a sofa, which his friend at the farm had sent to the +prison for him, when the letter was put in his hand. +“I cannot read this here,” he muttered, and hurried +out of the room, and thence into the road. Taking the way +towards Yaxley, he almost ran down a lane that turned towards +Whittlesea mere to a favourite spot by the water, where he had +often gone fishing with Cosin (for it was deep there), and was +very secluded. He called it his <i>sanctuaire</i>. +Flinging himself down, he tore open the letter with trembling +hands, and began to read:—</p> +<p>“Oh, my dear, dear son! How can I write <!-- page +87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>what +I have to say to you? The good God give you strength to +bear it like a man. Elise has run away from her home. +Your friend, Colonel Fontenoy, has been staying in our +neighbourhood, having recovered from his wounds: and made love to +her in spite of the opposition of her family (you know what a +handsome man he is), and by this time they are married in Paris . +. .”</p> +<p>Whether Tournier got as far as this, no one could say. +He was found some hours after with the letter crumpled up in his +hand, lying lifeless on the green turf.</p> +<p>But what had been going on during the interval between his +beginning the letter and his swooning away? One thing was +most certain: The footsteps leading to the brink of the water, +again and again repeated, were signs of an awful struggle between +the impulse to get free from the troubles of this life (though +not of the next), and the determination to trust in God and do +the right.</p> +<p><!-- page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>His fellow-prisoners had noticed his agitated manner and +hasty departure after receiving the letter, and when he did not +return to the barracks for some hours, they communicated with the +officer of the guard, who lost no time in informing the +Commandant. Major Kelly fancied Tournier might be with his +friend at the Manor Farm, but, not being quite easy about it, he +went there himself.</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Cosin, “I’ll be bound he is +at his favourite haunt. The prison is not the place to read +love-letters in. He always goes there when he wants to be +alone. Shall we go and see, major?”</p> +<p>There, as has been said, they found him. The first +impression was that he was dead. And no wonder: he looked +so like it. But closer examination shewed that life was +still in him. As quickly as possible they obtained a light +cart, and tenderly placed the body in it—Cosin supporting +the head—and gently drove away.</p> +<p>“I wish you would allow me to take him to <!-- page +89--><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>my +house,” said Cosin: “it is nearer than the barracks; +and by the look of the poor, dear fellow, he will not bear much +shaking, and—I should so like to have him.”</p> +<p>The major thought a minute, and said, “Perhaps you are +right. It is nearer and quieter than the barracks. I +can authorise you to take charge of him, though Draper may be +jealous of you.”</p> +<p>So they brought him to the Manor House, and carried him +upstairs with utmost care, and placed him in Cosin’s own +room, for none other was ready, and put him to bed.</p> +<p>He was still unconscious, and no restoratives they applied to +the best of their ability had any effect. Would he ever +wake up again?</p> +<p>Meanwhile, a doctor was sent for post-haste. Those at +the barracks were all English, of whom Mr. Vise, of Stilton, was +chief; and he, happening to be there at the time, instantly drove +to the Manor House.</p> +<p>“Brain fever,” said the doctor, after careful <!-- +page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>examination of the patient: “and a very bad case +too I fear. It is of course too early to speak positively +as yet: but so far as I see at present, I should say it is +extremely improbable that he will ever regain +consciousness. Perfect quietude is all-essential to +him. His life depends on it. He must have had intense +irritation of the brain, and some shock must have supervened to +bring him to the state in which I find him. What is that +paper clutched so tightly in his hand?” he added. +“It may explain something.” And then, with a +doctor’s skill, he succeeded in disengaging from his grasp +the fatal letter, and read it.</p> +<p>“There is the explanation, at least in part.”</p> +<p>Each of the others read the letter so far as was needful, but, +like gentlemen, no further. And Cosin understood it all +better than the others could.</p> +<p>Full directions were given by the doctor as to treatment, and +his last words were, “You must never leave him for a minute +night nor day; <!-- page 91--><a name="page91"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 91</span>and if he wake—<i>if</i> he +wake—let nothing on any account excite him.”</p> +<p>No doubt the doctor was right in theory, but medical +directions are sometimes more easy to give than to carry out.</p> +<p>The doctor then drove away with Major Kelly, having first +ascertained that Alice Cosin had sent for the best nurse in the +village, who, wonderful to say, was a very good one.</p> +<p>Soon after they had left, Villemet came hurrying to the house, +having obtained leave from the major. He seemed to have run +all the way.</p> +<p>“You are the very man I want,” said Cosin.</p> +<p>“Do let me see him,” cried the other, all out of +breath.</p> +<p>“You shall directly, only you must restrain your +feelings, and on no account disturb him. He is so ill, it +would kill him outright if you did.”</p> +<p>And he told him why it was he was so glad he had come: +because, if their friend chanced to <!-- page 92--><a +name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>arouse, it +would not excite him so much to see Villemet, as it would to see +any one else. “I only wish you could stop all +night,” he added.</p> +<p>“So I can. The major said I might if you wanted +me; but I did not like to intrude myself upon you.”</p> +<p>And they two kept watch all through the night, hearing the +church-clock, close by, strike every hour; Cosin keeping out of +sight, and Villemet sitting where the eyes of the patient might +more easily see him, should they ever open again.</p> +<p>The fever increased. Restlessness began. Then a +murmur, very faint, startled them; but it was nothing. +Louder and articulate words came next; and delirium set in, +lasting many weary hours. He was in France—always in +France. He spoke of his mother; was talking to her: called +her by name. But he never once mentioned the name +Elise.</p> +<p>A tear came into Villemet’s eye when he heard his poor +friend express his joy at seeing <!-- page 93--><a +name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 93</span>his +mother—he thought of his own—but he dashed it +away. Why be ashamed, strong man? It becomes the +brave to weep sometimes. Only noodles never do so. +There must be brains to produce tears, and a heart too: and +noodles have neither.</p> +<p>This went on for many hours. They wanted Villemet to +take some rest, but he refused. He dosed in his chair, but +the slightest sound awoke him: a sentinel at the shrine of +friendship. At length, on the third day in the early +morning, the eyes of the sick man opened, and fully rested on the +familiar face of his friend. Instantly, but without any +startling haste, Villemet was on his knee beside him, looking at +him with a placid smile, as if nothing had happened.</p> +<p>“I have been so happy. I have been to France, and +seen the old place—and my mother. But is it not +strange? I never saw her, E—.” And the +eyes closed again, and the voice sank out.</p> +<p><!-- page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +94</span>Some hours of unconsciousness followed, but with +decreasing restlessness. The doctor gave hope. Only +he again warned them that the next waking would be the critical +one. “Whatever you do,” he said, “keep +him, if you can, from reverting to the past as long as +possible.”</p> +<p>Yet it so happened that the next time Tournier aroused, +Villemet was out of the room, and Cosin had taken his +place. The afternoon sun was lighting up his face with a +slanting ray as he sat by the bedside and looked toward the +window; and when he turned his eyes again on his friend, he could +hardly refrain from starting. Tournier was gazing on him +with a look of intense earnestness.</p> +<p>“Where am I?”</p> +<p>“You are on a visit to me, and have been very ill, and I +want you to go to sleep again, and not think about +anything.”</p> +<p>“But do you know,” said Tournier, making a feeble +effort to put out his hand, which his <!-- page 95--><a +name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>friend gently +took, “that when I first woke up, such horrid thoughts came +into my mind! but I caught sight of your face, and they went +away.”</p> +<p>“That’s right. Now take this nourishment, +and try to sleep again. We shall have plenty of time to +talk when you are stronger, and I shall be always close +by.”</p> +<p>It would be wearisome to describe at any length the various +stages of recovery: for recover he did, and became as strong and +vigorous as ever. No little share had Alice Cosin in +bringing this about, though in that unobtrusive, and often +unknown, way in which dear, kind women work, for she was one of +those who had the mark of the true lady in her household +duties. She knew everything, and saw to everything, and did +anything that would make the household comfortable.</p> +<p>And when Tournier got strong enough to think and converse +without restraint, he told Cosin, with great emotion, the +terrible nature of that struggle he had had beside the water of +the <!-- page 96--><a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +96</span>mere before they found him, and what it was God had made +use of to save him.</p> +<p>“I cannot describe,” he said, “the hell that +rose up within me when I read that she was married. I +rushed to the water (I knew it was deep there,) in furious +passion, to fling myself in. It was not fear that stopped +me—never in my life was I afraid of anything—it was a +voice, not outside me, but within: a voice that was more distinct +to me than a bell tolled close to my ear, and all the more +because it never reached me through the ear; it reached my brain +though, aye, and my heart. And it said, ‘God is +good. God can help.’ Over and over again I +rushed to the water to drown myself, and over and over again that +voice within stopped me at the brink. Oh, it was frightful! +but God <i>was</i> good, and God <i>did</i> help me.”</p> +<p>Many a time after this did the friends converse together, in +their walks, when they rode out, and as they sat at the +fire-side; and without any affectation of superior wisdom, yet, +when <!-- page 97--><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +97</span>Tournier at any time appeared to flag or grow weary in +bearing up under his still severe trials, Cosin would cheer him +by telling him, out of the fulness of his own heart, that all +hopeless trouble came from trying to live without God, and that +no one is really wise who thinks he knows better than He.</p> +<p>And when, on one occasion, Tournier was much depressed, +because he had asked himself a question which every man must one +day ask, if he means to be truly happy, though some, by +God’s grace, learn the answer before they know the +immensity of it.</p> +<p>“I cannot understand how it is that God can be so good +to such imperfect, nay, I will out with the word, sinful +creatures as we are? I am afraid I have made use of +religious jargon, like many others.”</p> +<p>“My dear fellow,” replied Cosin, “God is +good to all; but we have no right to <i>claim</i> any share in +His goodness except through <i>Christ</i>. If we left that +out it would be jargon indeed.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 98--><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +98</span>CHAPTER VI.—A DUEL AND TWO DEATHS.</h2> +<p>Victor Malin and Marc Poivre hated each other with perfect +hatred. But there was this peculiarity in their mutual +animosity: it was intermittent. One day they would be +glaring at each other like wild beasts; the next, they would be +walking in the prison-yard arm in arm, singing bacchanalian +songs, as inseparable chums. Their relations had not +improved since the riot, for Malin had lost credit with the other +prisoners since the failure of it, and laid the blame on Poivre +for making fun of him, while there rankled, deep in +Poivre’s breast, the recollection that Malin had as good as +called him a coward.</p> +<p>It was in one of the intermittent periods, when they were +bosom friends again, that, on a <!-- page 99--><a +name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 99</span>certain +evening, they were playing cards together. The stakes were +high for them, for each had a little money just then, the result +of the sale of some fancy work of theirs, at which they were very +clever, though they did not often condescend to take the +trouble. Malin had made the model of a guillotine out of a +beef bone, and Poivre some dominoes, dice, and box of similar +material.</p> +<p>The luck, as we say, had run all along in favour of +Poivre. Malin was becoming savage. He lost all his +money, then his next day’s rations, then his shirt (not +worth much). Poivre was one of those gamblers who take +infernal delight in heaping on the agony when their opponent +loses his temper badly. He made the other furious by +pretending to pity him for his ill-fortune; and when he got down +to the shirt, calmly suggested whether there was not something +else he had that he might stake in order to regain his luck.</p> +<p>“You’d take my soul,” cried Malin, with an +<!-- page 100--><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +100</span>oath so loud and frightful, or rather such a volley of +them, that the other men in the room came crowding around +them.</p> +<p>“Not worth anything,” replied Poivre; +“can’t see it.”</p> +<p>“It’s worth as much as yours.”</p> +<p>“That’s not saying much.”</p> +<p>The atmosphere was thick with oaths, and as oaths and devils +go together, the atmosphere must have been of a sulphureous +nature, as it always is at such times, though we may not notice +it.</p> +<p>“Don’t talk to me, <i>poltron</i>!” cried +Malin.</p> +<p>“That’s the second time you have called me +so,” said Poivre, starting up, his temper rising at a bound +to “stormy,” and shaking his fist at the other.</p> +<p>“And not the last!” shouted Malin, glad to find +the other as angry as himself. “I tell you, you are a +<i>poltron</i>, before all these gentlemen. You have no +more courage than a rabbit, and no more spirit than an old +woman. You ran away <!-- page 101--><a +name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>at +Talavera. You did all you could to make us afraid the night +before we struck for liberty. You—”</p> +<p>“Liar!” screamed Poivre: “to-morrow I will +prove it on your great big carcase. Valentin, my friend, +come with me.”</p> +<p>A gentleman of not very prepossessing appearance responded to +the call.</p> +<p>Most of the prisoners were delighted. It was the +prospect of a little amusement, of which they did not enjoy +much.</p> +<p>The formalities of a duel were gone through with the utmost +possible punctilio. The seconds arranged that, as there +were no swords to be had, the principals should fight with knives +fastened to short sticks, with guards and handles. And as +this took up time, it was agreed to put off the duel to sunrise +on the second day. So all the next they were shaping and +sharpening the knives with the best tools they had; and some +armourers, who happened to belong to their yard, helped them.</p> +<p><!-- page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +102</span>Warning was given in the common room that night that +there should be as little noise and talking as possible on the +part of the prisoners, lest the soldiers on guard should hear it, +and be led to interfere.</p> +<p>So, as soon as it was light, the two men, Malin and Poivre, +were standing, like two fools, in due position, and in that part +of the yard which was furthest from the gates, ready, as soon as +the signal was given, to try and cut each other to pieces.</p> +<p>Yet, were they greater fools than they who fight with better +weapons? We may admire their pluck, but we cannot admire +their sense. A duel proves nothing but that each is a brave +man, except it be the duel between French political adversaries +in these days, when one pricks the other, and both are +satisfied!</p> +<p>But they have saluted and begun. At first they eyed each +other steadily, and made feints, and changed their ground. +And this went on <!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 103</span>so long that at last some irreverent +bystander, longing to see business done, cried out, +“Allons, mes amis, avancez.” And at that moment +a skilful thrust from Malin wounded Poivre in the face, and the +first blood was drawn. But Malin received it back with +interest, for Poivre, who was a tall and very muscular man, beat +down the other’s guard, and laid open his bare head. +And then both slashed and gashed away without any attempt at +guarding, till the disgusting spectacle was ended by Malin +dropping down, like a fat pig cut up before he was killed.</p> +<p>The guards came up, and the doctor was sent for. They +were both removed to the prison hospital. But there was +nothing to be done for Malin. His gross habit of body, from +years of dissipation, made his many wounds fatal. He died +the next day. The good chaplain visited him—but he +was insensible.</p> +<p>Poivre remained some time in hospital, and listened +respectfully to the bishop; but <!-- page 104--><a +name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>when he +came out he was received as a hero, and that soon drowned +reflection. So hard is it to turn to God one who has for +years forsaken Him. It is not impossible, and there is good +reason for saying so; but it is not probable, for experience +teaches us that such is the case.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>There was a young man in hospital at the same time as Poivre, +in an advanced stage of consumption. Nature had never +intended him to be a soldier. He was a sturdy, well-made, +good-looking young fellow, but with the hidden seeds of that fell +disease in his constitution which only waited development. +Had he been let alone in his little heritage in the sunny south +of France, he might have lived happily to at least a fair age: +but conscription, mercilessly enforced, not for defence of +country, but to gratify the satanic ambition of one man, seized +upon him, and he became a soldier, sorely against his will, in +one of the armies of the Peninsula.</p> +<p><!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +105</span>It is always a marvel how men could stand the wear and +tear of those seven years of incessant warfare in that +country. Yet the veteran soldiers of France and England did +stand it, and many lived to tell the tale in after years to their +children in quiet resting-places. But how many, who +survived, came home when all was over to suffer to their dying +day the effects of over-taxed energies?</p> +<p>Such was the case, though taken prisoner some time before all +was over, with Gaspard Berthier, who now lay broken-down in the +prison hospital at Norman Cross.</p> +<p>Marc Poivre was a rough comforter to him. Their berths +were near each other, and as Poivre was somewhat softened at +first, he deigned to notice the poor young fellow.</p> +<p>“That cough of yours, Gaspard,” said he, “is +very bad.”</p> +<p>“I fear it annoys you,” replied the other. +“I am very sorry, but I cannot help it. I wish I +could, for my sake as well as others!”</p> +<p><!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span>“I think you might stop it more than you +do,” said a gruff voice from a face of vinegar close by: +“specially of nights.”</p> +<p>“Don’t vex the poor lad,” said Poivre; +“he won’t be here long; his time is very +short.”</p> +<p>“I am not so sure of that,” replied Gaspard, with +some animation. “I thought your time was short, when +they brought you in the other day in such a pickle: but I was +wrong, you see.”</p> +<p>Poivre laughed; but added with more feeling than he usually +shewed, “I fear not, Gaspard; your last campaign is over, +depend upon it.”</p> +<p>A bright answer came to this doleful prophecy. “I +am glad of it, for then they will discharge me, and let me go +home.”</p> +<p>“He never ought to have been a soldier,” growled +the man of vinegar.</p> +<p>This remark was not relished by those of the patients who +belonged to the same yard as Gaspard—<!-- page 107--><a +name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 107</span>there were +from thirty to forty in hospital all told—for he was a +kind-hearted fellow, ready to do anyone a good turn, and, though +quiet, by no means a fool, as rowdies always are. So the +man of vinegar was hushed down.</p> +<p>The truth was that, as is sometimes the case with consumptive +patients, Gaspard was so sanguine about himself, that he never +thought he was going to die. To the last he believed he +would recover. And, happily, his was not that painful form +of the disease where there is a great deal of suffering, and a +literal dying by inches, so that the poor sick one longs to be +released.</p> +<p>The good chaplain noticed this feature of his complaint, but +instead of continually insisting on the fact that he was a dying +man, he took the poor fellow, as it were, on his own ground, and +treated him as if he were going to live.</p> +<p>“Gaspard, my son,” the old man would say, +“we must all die, and they live the happiest <!-- page +108--><a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +108</span>who are best prepared for it. Religion is not for +dying people only: it is for those who have years before them in +this world, for those who are the busiest of the busy, for strong +men as well as more feeble women, for old and young, for rich and +poor alike, for those in the midst of temptation as well as for +men shut up in convents, for the soldier amidst the excitements +of war, and for the husbandman plying his peaceful +occupations. Therefore, Gaspard, let us all have +religion.”</p> +<p>It would not be becoming to attempt to narrate all that was +said in the intercourse between the minister and his +charge. There are many religions in the world, but only one +way in which we can find peace with God. No mere form will +save anybody; and to whatever communion we belong, there is but +one essential mark that distinguishes in God’s sight all +who are of the one true spiritual Church—and we have it on +the highest authority—“They shall be all taught of +<i>God</i>.” And for want of that <!-- page 109--><a +name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>teaching +men go wrong in a thousand different ways!</p> +<p>Gaspard died, and they buried him. The place of +interment for the prisoners of Norman Cross was a large field of +several acres about a quarter of a mile from the corner where the +Peterborough and Great North Roads meet, and on the west side of +the latter. It was therefore a very short distance from the +barracks. Why the Government purchased so large a field for +the purpose it is impossible to say, unless they anticipated a +very indefinite duration of the war. Not more than a small +quarter of it has apparently been consecrated by the presence of +the dead.</p> +<p>Here they brought poor Gaspard’s emaciated body, and +laid the child of sunny France in England’s colder +soil. The prison officials carried him, but no mourners +followed, save Poivre, who got leave for that purpose. The +chaplain at the head, and a sergeant’s guard <!-- page +110--><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +110</span>bringing up the rear, completed the procession. +It has been said that the same coffin was used over and over +again, and that each body was taken out of it at the grave and +lowered without one; but it is impossible to credit it for a +moment. Such a man as the Bishop of Moulines would never +have suffered such barbarism, and the country that spent +£300,000 a year on this one prison, would never have +grudged a coffin apiece to each poor fellow’s body that +required one. The libel must have originated with somebody +(not an undertaker,) who thought in his poor heart that one was +good enough for all. “It was only a +prisoner.”</p> +<p>There, without attracting the notice of the others, and so +depressing them, but with decency and reverence, they laid the +dead to rest.</p> +<p>It is a sacred spot still. How many have been laid there +of those exiles from their fatherland, no record shows, and no +one knows their <!-- page 111--><a name="page111"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 111</span>names save He who is the common +Father of us all, and before whom not one of them is +forgotten. No prisoner was buried in the church or +churchyard; nor did such exclusion arise from any want of +respect, but from necessity; though it would be pleasant to have +had to relate that some notice was in some way taken in the +<i>parish books</i> of Yaxley of these interesting parishioners, +who were fellow-men, and who had done no wrong but die for their +country. But not one word is written about them, nor one +allusion made to them.</p> +<p>Much more to be regretted, however, is the fact that, in the +portion of the pasture field where the dust of these poor fellows +awaits the day of resurrection, not one single thing of any the +slightest sort is to be seen to indicate the solemn use to which +it has been put. The soil, more sympathetic than man, still +points by its depression to the spot where each grave has been, +but no other record, no token whatever, not even an +enclosure. So that <!-- page 112--><a +name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 112</span>when the +authorities sold back the field, they sold it along with all the +dead that lay in part of it.</p> +<p>Cui bono?</p> +<p>The answer is—in the words of the +“Stranger”—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Give something to the dead.</p> +<p>“Give what?</p> + +<p> Respect.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 113</span>CHAPTER VII.—ATTEMPTED +ESCAPE.</h2> +<p>It must have been a great aggravation of the trials of a +prisoner of war that, from first to last, he was uncertain as to +the duration of his captivity. Had it not been for the sham +peace of Amiens, some of the prisoners would have been in +confinement seventeen years, while others were set at liberty +after only one or two. It may be said, Yes, but then they +might always hope. But hope, like other things, wants +something to feed upon. It cannot bring much consolation, +when it lives upon fluctuation and uncertainty. And so a +criminal, who knows how long exactly his term will last, is in +this respect better off than a prisoner of war, for he escapes +the agitation of uncertainty; just as it has been known that a +person threatened with <!-- page 114--><a +name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>blindness, +has become much less irritable when he knew for certain he could +never see again, than he was when recovery was doubtful.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p113b.jpg"> +<img alt="Robert Lewin, aged 94. The only Yaxley Man who +remembers Norman Cross Barracks. From a photograph taken by Rev. +E. H. Brown" src="images/p113s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The scales of hope went up and down continually at Norman +Cross, according to the intelligence that reached the prisoners +from each seat of war. The triumphs of Napoleon on the +Continent, and the victories of Wellington in the Peninsula, were +pondered over with deepest interest by both officers and +men. But no prophet was there among them, or anywhere else, +who could forecast the issue that was swiftly coming on. At +the commencement of the year 1812, all was still uncertain. +In the Eastern provinces of Spain the French were almost +everywhere triumphant. Napoleon was beginning his grand +preparation for the invasion of Russia. Our cousins in +America were displaying their brotherly instincts by declaring +war against us in our trouble. Peace seemed as far off as +ever.</p> +<p>Captain Tournier did not return to the <!-- page 115--><a +name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 115</span>barracks +until his health was completely re-established, and Major Kelly +was very liberal in his allowance of time. He quitted the +hospitable roof of his friend with much regret, but with a heart +full of gratitude, and went back to his discomforts as a man +returning to his duty, not what he liked, but his duty, and what +he meant to make the best of.</p> +<p>Alice Cosin was much struck with the alteration in him, so +much so indeed that she did not quite like it. “He +seems so cheerful,” she remarked to her brother, +“going back to that horrid place after all the comforts he +has enjoyed with us.”</p> +<p>“Ah, dear Alice,” he replied, “Tournier +always was a man, but he is more a man than ever now, and is +going to play the man with his troubles, which is far harder work +than fighting with sword and pistol.”</p> +<p>Villemet, however, had been ordered back some time before, and +returned to prison, it must be owned, with very bad grace.</p> +<p><!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>That nice little bedroom, so sweet and clean, with +creepers peeping in at him through the window, and reminding him +of home; and those blue eyes, that always looked so true, made it +hard work to leave. He went off with a heavy heart and the +gloominess of a mute; and as he shook hands with his friends, he +made the most profound bow to Alice, and said, “Miss Cosin, +I am going from paradise to I’ll not say what. You +cannot imagine how awful the change will be.”</p> +<p>A shower of good wishes refreshed him for the moment, but they +did not prevent his entering the hated prison like a bear with a +scalded head.</p> +<p>This amiable mood, not altogether to be wondered at, was not +improved by the atmosphere of the prison, which he found more +than ever charged with the depressing opinion among the prisoners +that there was less likelihood than ever of the war coming to an +end. Villemet, as we have seen, was a light-hearted fellow, +even to a <!-- page 117--><a name="page117"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 117</span>fault; but his light-heartedness was +simply nature’s good gift to him, it was not the fruit of +principle, like the newly-found cheerfulness of his friend +Tournier, and could not, or at least did not, stand the strain of +long continued uncertainty.</p> +<p>“I will stand this vile bondage no longer,” he +said to himself one day. “Better be shot in trying to +escape than stay longer in this foul den, and lose all my best +days of manhood, buried before my time. Honour! +What’s honour among thieves? The English have robbed +me of my liberty, and I will rob them of my presence. So we +shall be quits. If they catch me, I will pay the penalty +with my life. Is that not a fair bargain?”</p> +<p>It was bad logic. But when passion urges a man, good-bye +to his logic!</p> +<p>Villemet said nothing to Tournier about it. He knew it +would be of no use. Nor did he say anything to +anybody. He had no wish to incur the responsibility of +involving others in the rash attempt.</p> +<p><!-- page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +118</span>There was an inn called the “Wheat Sheaf” +in the parish of Stibbington, about five miles from the +barracks. It was a favourite rendezvous of the officers on +parole, not for the sake of tippling, the chief attraction of +such places in these more enlightened days, but because they +could get a recherché dinner there, the mother of the +highly respectable landlord being a singularly good cook. +Villemet knew the place well, and had been often there. +Thither he proceeded one afternoon on a day when he knew few, if +any, from the barracks would be there, and had some dinner all by +himself in the familiar parlour. Then he sat down in the +well-worn arm-chair, and rang for a cigar. “If +anybody calls to see me,” he said to the waiting-maid, +“shew him in here, and mind you don’t let anyone +disturb me while he is here. Now don’t you +forget,” he added with a severe look the girl had never +seen before in the merry fellow’s face; “nobody +whatever is to come in while we are talking.”</p> +<p><!-- page 119--><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>In the evening of the same day, as it began to get +dark, Tournier, who had been spending the day with Cosin, was on +the point of getting up to return to the barracks, when the +landlord of the “Wheat Sheaf” was announced. He +had asked to see Tournier.</p> +<p>“Tell him to come in here,” said Cosin, “and +I will leave you to yourselves.”</p> +<p>“Pray don’t,” said the other laughing; +“I have no secrets with the worthy host of the ‘Wheat +Sheaf.’”</p> +<p>“I have brought bad news, gentlemen,” said the man +hurriedly; “your friend, Mr. Villemet, has made away with +himself—”</p> +<p>“What! killed himself?” both exclaimed in +horror.</p> +<p>“Not quite so bad as that, though it may end in +something quite as bad. He has bolted, and never means to +come back alive.”</p> +<p>“How do you know?”</p> +<p>“My servant girl took it into her head to listen at the +door, while a stranger, who had called <!-- page 120--><a +name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>upon the +gentleman, was talking with him in the parlour; and she heard him +mention something about a brace of pistols he had brought; and +also, which was the best way to the Lincolnshire coast; and +whether he could find him up a horse somewhere, she +couldn’t catch the name of the place. My wife and I +were out at the time, but when we came home she let out all about +it.”</p> +<p>Well might they both look grave.</p> +<p>“How long ago did you first hear about this?”</p> +<p>“Less than two hours. I started directly. If +the girl had only repeated some tittle-tattle I should have taken +no notice of course, but as it was, I felt bound to let you +know.”</p> +<p>“Had Mr. Villemet left before you came away?”</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly: full an hour before.”</p> +<p>“Don’t let anyone know about it. It will be +better for <i>you</i> not to mention it. It might spoil +your custom.”</p> +<p><!-- page 121--><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +121</span>Thus cautioned, the worthy landlord went away.</p> +<p>“Can you lend me a horse, Cosin?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and go with you myself.”</p> +<p>He ordered two horses to be ready in half-an-hour, and himself +went round to three or four neighbours, and invited them to join +the party, telling them, of course, the object of their sudden +departure. Not one of them hesitated a moment, for Villemet +was popular among them; and the farmers of Yaxley were, at that +time, manly, steady, and obliging fellows, in no wise ashamed to +be seen in their place in the house of God. And the race is +happily not extinct.</p> +<p>“Shall we take pistols?”</p> +<p>“Yes. But don’t use them if you can possibly +help it.”</p> +<p>They cantered off, a party of six, all firm in the saddle, and +passed the barracks without attracting much attention, as it was +dark.</p> +<p>The difficulty was to know what road Villemet had taken, but +they all agreed they must <!-- page 122--><a +name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>chance it, +and go straight away to Spalding. Thither they galloped as +fast as horses’ legs could carry them, arriving there soon +after midnight.</p> +<p>A belated hostler at one of the inns was asked whether he had +seen a horseman, or horsemen, pass through the town lately. +He scratched his head and meditated.</p> +<p>“Aye, to be sure I have. Leastways, one. +What a memory I have! Why I had my lantern with me, and +took a good look at him. By George, his horse was +steaming. But it was a poor creature, and would sweat, I +should think, if he only whisked his tail twice, only he’d +got none.”</p> +<p>“What a picture of a screw!” said one of the +party, laughing heartily with the rest.</p> +<p>“Just what we wanted,” said Tournier; and giving +the man a tip, they all went off again.</p> +<p>They had gone but a few miles when they heard the sound of +horse’s feet in front of them. They halted and +listened. It was only one horse, and they could distinguish +the voice of <!-- page 123--><a name="page123"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 123</span>the rider urging the poor beast +along, with not very gentle thuds of a whip.</p> +<p>“It is Villemet’s voice,” said Tournier: +“and he evidently hears us coming.”</p> +<p>And now was the critical time. They wanted to secure +without hurting him; and they also wanted to save him from the +after misery of having hurt, or perhaps killed, one of +them. So they broke into a canter, and, as they had +arranged beforehand, began to sing at the top of their voices a +jolly uproarious huntman’s song; and passing Villemet (who +took them for roysterers going home,) on the right and left, +reined up their horses, the foremost riders seizing the bridle, +and the next two pointing their pistols at the runaway, and +cried, “Stand and deliver in the king’s name,” +and then all burst out laughing.</p> +<p>Bewildered by this, Villemet’s hand yet sought his +pistol, but Tournier grasped his wrist and held it as in a vice, +saying, “Don’t you know me, old friend?”</p> +<p><!-- page 124--><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +124</span>“I don’t call you a friend,” said +Villemet, “to put a pistol at my head, and stop me from +escaping!”</p> +<p>“My dear man,” answered one of the party, +“none of our pistols are cocked.”</p> +<p>At this, Villemet made a frantic effort to disengage his hand, +but he was overpowered, and both his pistols taken from him.</p> +<p>“Remember, sir,” the other said, “we can +cock our pistols in a moment, and use them too: they are all +loaded.”</p> +<p>“Look here, my friend,” said Tournier, calmly, +“we have no wish to attend your funeral at Yaxley, or to +have you shut up in the barracks all the rest of your time. +So, if you will pass your word of honour to <i>me</i> that you +will not again attempt to escape, and come back with us, no one +shall know anything about this matter; and, as you will remember, +your parole from the major extends over to-morrow, so you will be +all right in that quarter.”</p> +<p>Villemet made no reply. The proposal was <!-- page +125--><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +125</span>hard of digestion in his very ruffled state, but there +was certainly gilt on the gingerbread.</p> +<p>“And what if I refuse your gracious offer?” at +last he said.</p> +<p>“Then, in that case,” replied Tournier, “we +shall tie your feet under the belly of this noble steed, with our +pistols at full cock, lest he should run away, and take you back +in triumph to Norman Cross to meet the fate you +deserve.”</p> +<p>The compact was made, and faithfully adhered to.</p> +<p>All parties concerned kept the secret well, and happily the +air of Yaxley was unfavourable to idle gossip.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The overpowering sense of weariness and impatience which must +have afflicted the prisoners, as in the case of Villemet, had its +simplest and most direct antidote in <i>occupation</i>. A +well known German poet has said, that occupation and sympathy are +the two great remedies for grief of all sorts. Happily +there were a great <!-- page 126--><a name="page126"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 126</span>many of the prisoners who tried the +first of these specifics. They spent a considerable portion +of their time in making a variety of articles of more or less +elaborate workmanship, and in many cases of great artistic +beauty. Indeed, it is difficult which to admire most, the +skill displayed in their work, or the dexterity with which they +turned to account the very limited material that was within their +reach—for the most part wood, straw, and beef-bones. +It is surprising what delicate things they produced out of the +last, which the kitchen supplied them with in abundance.</p> +<p>Some of them (no doubt sailors,) made models of ships, exact +in the minutest details. Others, of the same material, made +work-boxes, watch-stands, statuettes (one of the crucifixion and +madonna), boxes of dominoes, a carved spinning-jenny, the figures +representing the costumes of the period, guillotines, models of +the block-house (partly wood), and many more articles of all +descriptions.</p> +<p><!-- page 127--><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +127</span>Besides these really wonderful survivals of the +soup-caldron (which by the way was five feet across, and more +than three feet deep), the straw work of the prisoners was +equally beautiful. There was a model of the noble west +front of Peterborough Cathedral in straw marqueterie (and another +in <i>grass</i>); also a picture representing a church, with mill +and bridge, and a barge on the river; with all kinds of boxes, +fire-screens, dressing-cases, tea-caddies, etc. These are +given simply as specimens of the really skilled work they did, +and which must have cost them much patience, and an infinite +amount of care and trouble.</p> +<p>It is said that some of the prisoners made a good deal of +money by the sale of these articles to visitors at the prison, +and that when their liberation came at last, they had amassed +fabulous little fortunes. At all events, their industry was +rewarded. They obtained the means of adding to their +comforts; and much better than this, whether they gained much or +<!-- page 128--><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +128</span>little in money, busy employment saved them from that +greatest of all evils, the curse of even enforced idleness.</p> +<p>And so the handiwork of the prisoners of Norman Cross, who +wisely chose to work, instead of idly repining in their trouble, +is a useful lesson to all—to make the best of our +circumstances, however trying and forlorn, by doing with our +might the work we <i>can</i> do, even if it be not the work we +<i>like</i> the best.</p> +<h2><!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 129</span>CHAPTER VIII.—AN ENEMY TURNS +UP.</h2> +<p>Captain Draper had only been eighteen months at Norman Cross +when, to the great regret of all—prisoners, officials, and +soldiers, he was seized with sudden illness and died. He +was admirably fitted for the position he held there, but, like +many a man engaged in much higher and more important work than +his, and for which far greater qualifications are required, he +was cut off in the midst of his usefulness.</p> +<p>That we cannot understand why such things happen is only to +confess how limited is our knowledge; to complain of them, is to +doubt the goodness and wisdom of the Almighty. Perhaps it +is not a bad guess to suppose they are intended to teach us that +most wholesome lesson—that few in this world are important, +none <i>necessary</i>.</p> +<p><!-- page 130--><a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +130</span>Every possible token of respect was shewed to his +memory. With the prisoners themselves it was more than +respect. Rough as many of them were, demoralized by +severance from family ties, soured by hopelessness, they had +found a man, to use an expression of holy writ, who had showed +them “the kindness of God” in their affliction: and +now he was gone from them for ever.</p> +<p>They addressed a petition to the commandant that some of them +might be allowed to attend the funeral at Yaxley Church, a +request which Major Kelly granted with the greatest readiness, +and was much touched by the concluding words of the petition, +that he need not be afraid of incurring any risk by letting them +come out for the occasion, because, wild as many of them were, +there was not a single man amongst them that was such a +<i>mauvais sujet</i> as to take advantage of the opportunity to +attempt his escape.</p> +<p>Both officers and men were represented, as well as a +considerable number of the regiments <!-- page 131--><a +name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 131</span>on guard, +though Major Kelly was too sound a soldier to detach too many, +knowing that it was right to provide against not only what was +likely, but also what was possible to happen.</p> +<p>It was a touching sight, as a military funeral always is, even +when the departed one is an ordinary and undistinguished +man. How much more when he has taken an honourable part in +many a glorious field of battle! And how much more yet, +when, as in this case, he has fallen on the field of unromantic +duty, done with faithfulness, and with kindness, and with +humanity.</p> +<p>His record still exists, and may be seen to this day on the +north wall of the Lady-chapel of the grand old church of Yaxley, +honouring alike the good man whose remains lie there, and the +“poor prisoners,” whose friend he was.</p> +<p>The tablet has the following words on it:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Inscribed at the desire and at the sole +expense of the French prisoners of war at Norman Cross, to the +memory of Captain John Draper, R.N., who for the last 18 months +of his life was agent to the <!-- page 132--><a +name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>depôt; in testimony of their esteem and gratitude +for his humane attention to their comforts during that too short +period. He died Feb. 23, 1813, aged 53 years.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When all was over, Tournier remained behind to view the sacred +edifice with his friend Cosin.</p> +<p>“What a magnificent church,” he exclaimed, after +he had looked round. “Why, it is a small +cathedral! Are all your parish churches like +this?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Cosin, smiling, “this is the +finest in the neighbourhood.”</p> +<p>“But what is the meaning of those wooden boxes all +about?” asked Tournier: “they look like (forgive me +for saying so,) what we call ‘<i>stalles pour les +bestiaux</i>,’ but there are seats in +them”—peeping into one of the square pews.</p> +<p>“Oh, that is where we sit and worship.”</p> +<p>“How droll!”</p> +<p>So it strikes a stranger! Taste in such matters had not +yet come into fashion, or rather, it had gone away, and not yet +come back.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Tournier, greatly interested, and +<!-- page 133--><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +133</span>looking round with admiration on the noble building, +with its beautiful windows and four fine chapels, “if my +village church in France were anything like this, I would take a +pride in doing my utmost to preserve and beautify it. It is +a glorious gift. But, excuse me, my dear friend, it does +not look <i>cared for</i>.”</p> +<p>Then he asked about its age, and Cosin shewed him a place in +the wall of one of the chapels where two hands are supporting a +heart in some sort of relief. No inscription whatever +accompanies the simple representation. “There,” +he told Tournier, “is said to be deposited the heart of +William of Yaxley, a native of the place, who was Abbot of +Thorney, near Peterborough, and who built, or enlarged this +church. He was a true Yaxley man, and directed that his +body should be buried in Thorney Abbey, and his heart in the wall +of Yaxley Church. I have often thought how I should like to +make a hole <a name="citation133"></a><a href="#footnote133" +class="citation">[133]</a> in that wall, and search for that +heart, but <!-- page 134--><a name="page134"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 134</span>to my mind it would be nothing less +than sacrilege to do such a thing merely to gratify +curiosity. No! Let William of Yaxley’s heart +rest where he wished it to be. Yaxley was the home of his +heart; Yaxley Church is the gift of his heart, and there should +his heart rest in peace.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>On the 21st of June, 1813, the battle of Vittoria was +fought. The French, under Marshal Jourdan, took up a strong +position before the town, but after obstinate resistance were +beaten and driven through the place. The whole of their +artillery, baggage, and ammunition, together with property valued +at a million sterling, was captured; and they fled in the +greatest disorder, never rallying till they reached the <!-- page +135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>Pyrenees. It was the last great battle on the +soil of Spain, but it was not the first time the pass of +Roncesvalles had witnessed a French disaster.</p> +<p>The consequence was—a fresh batch of prisoners arrived +at Norman Cross, and it was probably the last.</p> +<p>Captain Tournier was standing talking with a number of other +officers, both English and French, near the entrance gate of the +barracks, when they saw them approaching along the road.</p> +<p>As the new comers passed by, their reception, as always, was +respectful and sympathetic. The Frenchmen scrutinized their +fellows with friendly eyes to see if they could detect among them +some former comrade, and when they happened to do so, which of +course was not often, gave lively tokens of recognition. +Tournier was not in the front part of the group of officers, but +nevertheless could see fairly well.</p> +<p><!-- page 136--><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>And he <i>did</i> see! He saw a face he had not +looked on for years, and which he had hoped never to see again: a +face that he had tried, oh, so hard, to forget: a face that +haunted him in his dreams: the face of the man he hated more than +anybody in the world! and there he was walking along (even in +this his humiliation,) with his old air of a man for whom all the +world was made; handsome as ever, but with those same cold eyes +that looked on everything as a joke, whether it were a +man’s life or a woman’s honour!</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with Tournier?” said one +of the officers; “he has broken through like a madman and +gone after someone yonder, as if he meant to do him grievous +bodily harm!”</p> +<p>It was true. Tournier had uttered a strong exclamation, +and broken through those in front of him with almost violence, +and gone after somebody. He made for his man, and got up to +him near enough to touch him, when he stopped short. +“Fool that I am!” he thought; <!-- page 137--><a +name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>“I +shall save his life by exposing him now! No! I will +wait till I can make sure of him!”</p> +<p>And he turned away in terrible agitation.</p> +<p>All was brought back to his mind, and yet more to his +heart. The man that had wronged him, that had caused him +such anguish, that had well-nigh destroyed his life as he had his +happiness, was brought close to him, at his very elbow, by this +strange chance. And what for? Was it not that he +might take vengeance on the scoundrel? He had forgiven her, +but he never could forgive him. It was not meant that he +should. So he thought.</p> +<p>And up and down the road he walked for hours, still thinking, +till the stars came out in their glory, and looked down on him +like pitying eyes. And once he looked up and noticed them, +and they seemed to repeat the sweet refrain, “God is good, +and can help.” But he thrust it from him, and said +aloud, “Then why did God <i>send</i> him to me.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“How oft the sight of means to do ill +deeds,<br /> +“Makes deeds ill done!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 138--><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>Wearied with walking, he bethought himself where he +should go for the night. Not to the barracks. How +could he sleep under the same roof with that villain? The +very sight of him would goad him on to commit some indecorum +before the others. Should he go to his friend +Cosin’s? No! Something within made him shrink +from encountering, in his present temper, that tranquil +eye. He would be all for peace; and what had he to do with +peace while her dishonour (as he put it) was unavenged, as well +as his own.</p> +<p>However, to walk about all night, especially when by yourself, +is not pleasant. Alas, for those who have to do it, and +with no relief to come its rounds! So Tournier determined +to get quarters at the “Wheat Sheaf,” and knocked the +landlord up, as it was past midnight.</p> +<p>Next morning he went to the barracks, and sent in his name to +the commandant, asking for an interview. Major Kelly looked +surprised; it was not the usual way of approach.</p> +<p><!-- page 139--><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +139</span>“I am very sorry, sir,” said Tournier, +“to trouble you in this irregular way; but the fact is, I +am in great perplexity as to what I ought to do, and could not +explain myself first to anyone else.”</p> +<p>“What is your difficulty, Captain Tournier?” said +the major, rather coldly.</p> +<p>“Among the prisoners who arrived yesterday was a certain +Colonel Fontenoy, who is my bitterest enemy, having wronged me +past all endurance. I cannot be in the same quarters with +him. Could you do me the very great kindness of putting me +into one of the other wards, even though it be that of common +men?”</p> +<p>Major Kelly paused awhile, as if thinking. “Is +this Colonel Fontenoy,” he said, at length, “the same +man as he who did indeed wrong you so shamefully, and drove you +to desperation?”</p> +<p>“The very same.”</p> +<p>“When you first spoke,” said the major, “I +was going to say that it was quite out of my power to arrange the +prisoners with exact regard, <!-- page 140--><a +name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 140</span>or even any +regard, to their private quarrels; but then yours is no common +case, and I may add, your sensitiveness of no ordinary kind, I +will see to the matter. But not to put you among the common +men. You can stay in your old quarters, and I will put the +colonel into other, and perhaps better ones. Of course I am +bound to act justly towards him; and if he behaves himself, he +will be out on parole; but I will confine him to the road in the +west direction, so that you can keep out of his way.”</p> +<p>Major Kelly was as good as his word. But Tournier had no +intention of keeping out of the colonel’s way, whenever he +should get out on parole. The old feelings, natural but not +Christian, had revived in him with a sudden rush at the sight of +the man, and he was completely carried away by them. His +only fear was lest, through precipitancy, or the interference of +others, he should be hindered from obtaining from Fontenoy the +satisfaction he demanded, if that be rightly satisfaction which +consists in <!-- page 141--><a name="page141"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 141</span>killing or wounding another, or in +being killed or wounded oneself.</p> +<p>He never left the barracks for many days after this, but +relapsed into his old moody ways. Villemet could not make +out what was the matter with him.</p> +<p>One day they were walking together in the yard, when Tournier +suddenly said, “Villemet, I want you to do something for +me. It will, perhaps, be the last favour you will ever show +me.”</p> +<p>“Then I would rather not do it.”</p> +<p>“But you must. Who do you think is in the prison +at this present moment?—Fontenoy. He came with the +others some days ago.”</p> +<p>“Is it possible?” cried Villemet, almost jumping +with astonishment.</p> +<p>“And I want you to be my second: for as soon as ever he +gets out on parole, I mean to challenge him, and the duel must be +<i>à l’ontrance</i>.”</p> +<p>“With the greatest possible pleasure,” said his +friend.</p> +<p>But they had to wait. It was some time <!-- page +142--><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +142</span>before Fontenoy was out on parole. The major was +in no hurry about it, out of consideration probably for +Tournier.</p> +<p>At last, one day, Villemet, who kept up a sharp enquiry, +announced the good news that the colonel was to be out next +day. Both of them accordingly were on the watch for him in +the road; and, sure enough, saw him coming along towards them, +snuffing the air with great delight, and looking about him with +evident satisfaction. The satisfaction, however, was not of +long duration.</p> +<p>As the colonel’s eye caught the first glimpse of two +gentlemen approaching him, he seemed to smell, as it were, +something wrong, for</p> +<blockquote><p>“Conscience does make cowards of us +all”;</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and when he came near enough to distinguish features as well +as figure, he turned pale, and his effrontery for the moment left +him. But it soon came back, and he met Tournier’s +cruelly stern gaze with a look of careless defiance. +Tournier stopped in front of him.</p> +<p><!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>“Colonel Fontenoy,” he said, with the +coldness of the grave: “my friend here has something to say +to you on my behalf.”</p> +<p>The colonel began to speak; but Tournier at once silenced +him.</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> have nothing to say to you, sir,” and +passed on.</p> +<p>Then Villemet proceeded to execute his commission with all +frigid politeness and particularity. It is not worth while +to relate what such a man as Fontenoy said on the occasion. +But the challenge was accepted. The seconds were to arrange +all the rest.</p> +<p>As the day drew near when, as Tournier learned, the colonel +would again be out on parole, he felt a strong desire to make his +confession to the bishop. There might be but a step between +him and death. Besides, he was not easy in his mind. +He was not quite sure he was doing right in thus seeking the life +of his enemy.</p> +<p>So he sought and, as always, found a ready hearer in the +chaplain. But when he came to <!-- page 144--><a +name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>tell him +what he contemplated doing, the good man looked pained and +surprised.</p> +<p>“And do you really think, my son, that the minister of +God can forgive a sin before it is committed? and that sin wilful +murder?”</p> +<p>“Murder?”</p> +<p>“Yes, murder!”</p> +<p>“How can that be, when each has an equal +chance?”</p> +<p>“Of committing murder!”</p> +<p>“There are many who fight duels.”</p> +<p>“There are many who do wrong, my son.”</p> +<p>“Then is killing in battle murder?”</p> +<p>“No, for it is not done in revenge. It is the +motive that makes killing murder. Your motive is +revenge.”</p> +<p>And then he went on to urge Tournier, for whom he had +entertained the tenderest regard, that he would give up his +bloody intention, and leave his enemy to God. He +expostulated with him, used the most affectionate entreaties, +appealed to the authority of his holy office.</p> +<p><!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +145</span>But all in vain. Tournier stoutly, but in the +most respectful language, refused to comply, and the bishop +refused to grant him absolution.</p> +<p>But Tournier was most unhappy. Let those who remonstrate +with another, apparently in vain, remember to their comfort, that +oftentimes the remonstrance has not been entirely thrown +away. The first blow of the hammer does not drive home the +nail, but it begins to do so.</p> +<p>One more evening before the fatal day: That evening he would +spend with his friends at the Manor House. He had treated +them badly for several weeks, and never gone near them; but they +received him just as cordially as ever, and took no notice of his +absence, only expressed their pleasure at seeing him, which +touched him all the more; and then the thought caused a lump in +his throat that, perhaps, he might never see them again. He +did not like to speak of what he was about to do before Alice, +because it was an unpleasant subject for ladies’ ears, but +<!-- page 146--><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +146</span>when she went out of the room, he began at once to tell +her brother all, from first to last.</p> +<p>Never had he seen Cosin so greatly disturbed. He +listened with open mouth and staring eyes to all that Tournier +said without uttering a word. Not a remark did he make: not +a question did he ask. Then, when the tale was told, and +Tournier was waiting for some reply, Cosin started from his +chair, and began to pace up and down the room in extreme +agitation. At length he stopped in front of the other, and +said, sternly but sorrowfully,—</p> +<p>“Then, after all, you have given up God.”</p> +<p>“I hope not.”</p> +<p>“But you have, on your own shewing: and taken up with +the devil.”</p> +<p>Tournier writhed under this, and was about to say something +sharp, but Cosin went on,—</p> +<p>“I will prove it to you. God says, +‘Vengeance is mine: I will repay’; and you say, +‘Not so, I will avenge myself.’ And whenever we +contradict God, we take up with the devil.”</p> +<p><!-- page 147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>Then Cosin sat down again, and in his old gentle tone +of voice, said,—</p> +<p>“Which do you think has sinned most against the other: +Fontenoy against you, or you against God?”</p> +<p>Tournier was silent. He was thinking of all the misery +<i>that</i> man had brought upon him. How happy he might +have been, if he had not come between him and his love. He +thought of his future, and how, even if ever he were set at +liberty again, life would be a blank to him. And he ground +his teeth with rage.</p> +<p>And then he heard his friend Cosin saying with quiet voice, +like the voice of conscience,—</p> +<p>“When once you had given up God, in years gone by, and +you scouted Him who had given you every comfort and blessing you +possessed, who had preserved you every day and night, so that you +would have dropped down dead had He withheld His hand any moment, +and who had covered your head in the day of battle—did He +take vengeance on you? or did He open <!-- page 148--><a +name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>your eyes +and make you see some glimpse of His goodness?”</p> +<p>Then, after a pause, he went on in the same quiet +way,—</p> +<p>“And when, in the madness of your distress, you tried +again and again to drown yourself, as if there were no God, no +life after death, no power to help in the Almighty; whose voice +was it in your heart that bade you stop each time, and bade you +hope?</p> +<p>“And, as you lay on that sick bed, and your life +trembled in the balance, whose power was it that gave the turn to +your distempered mind, instead of dealing with you after your +sin, and rewarding you after your iniquity?”</p> +<p>Once more he paused. Then said in a yet lower tone of +voice, almost in a whisper, but with perfect naturalness, +“And far, far above all, when we were yet without strength, +ungodly sinners, who was it signalized His love towards us by +dying for us on the cross?”</p> +<p>More passed between the two friends that <!-- page 149--><a +name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +149</span>night. But Cosin could elicit no definite promise +from the other. He only said, with great emotion, as they +parted,—</p> +<p>“Truest and best of friends, I shall think all night of +these things.”</p> +<p>And he did turn and twist about for hours in his berth, so +that more than once his fellow prisoners cried out angrily, +“What <i>is</i> the matter with you, Tournier?” +But he fell asleep towards morning, as soon as he had at last +made up his mind that Fontenoy might kill <i>him</i> if he could, +but he himself would fire into the ground.</p> +<p>As he went out in the morning he met the chaplain. He +stopped him and said, “You are going, I see, to keep your +appointment. Spare yourself the trouble. Your enemy +has been struck down by another hand than yours. The +Almighty has smitten him with paralysis. He is never likely +to recover.”</p> +<p>But he <i>did</i> recover; and so we take our leave of him +with the greatest possible pleasure.</p> +<h2><!-- page 150--><a name="page150"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 150</span>CHAPTER IX.—PRISONERS +EMANCIPATED.</h2> +<p>The retreat of Napoleon, after the battle of Leipsic, was as +disastrous to him as his retreat from Moscow. On the 9th of +November, 1813, he reached Paris, and on the 21st of the +following month the allied armies crossed the Rhine, and carried +the war into France. Soon after, the English, under +Wellington, defeated the French, under Soult—“the +bravest of the brave,” in several engagements in the South +of France, until the knell of Napoleon’s arms was sounded +in the bloody battle of Toulouse, fought on Easter Sunday, the +11th of April, 1814. Six days before the battle, Napoleon +had abdicated at Fontainebleau. If the electric telegraph +had been known in those days, all the lives lost in that fearful +fight might have been saved. But <!-- page 151--><a +name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 151</span>that would +have been a small matter to Napoleon.</p> +<p>The war was ended. That long, weary war—so wanton, +so unnecessary, save for Europe’s liberty, and +England’s existence—that had left its trail of blood +almost everywhere, and desolated so many thousands of homes, was +ended.</p> +<p>To many and many a poor prisoner, the year 1814 must have been +like the blessed year of jubilee. Two hundred thousand +Frenchmen were set free in Russia alone: but they had not been in +confinement for very long. In continental countries there +must have been many more. Some fifty thousand were located +in various parts of England and Scotland, of whom a large number +had been imprisoned for several years, and they were no doubt the +most joyous of all.</p> +<p>But it must have been anything but an easy matter even to get +rid of such numbers of men, all in a state of more or less +excitement, intoxicated <!-- page 152--><a +name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 152</span>with a +sense of newly gained liberty. Without proper precautions +an emancipation on so large a scale would have led to much +disorder, at least in the neighbourhood where prisoners had been +confined. To avoid this they were marched off in +detachments to the sea-coast, where ships were ordered to attend +and embark them for conveyance to their own dear France.</p> +<p>Such necessary arrangements of course took time, and it was +not until August that the last batch of prisoners left Norman +Cross.</p> +<p>Of course, the poor fellows were aware of the great change in +their condition that was coming by what they gathered from the +current news of the day; yet, whenever the actual proclamation of +liberty reached them, we can but faintly imagine the delirium of +excitement that followed. Then, in the place where for so +many years the sighing of the prisoners had been heard, mingled, +it might be, with the sound of revelry, in which the wretched +tried to drown their misery, pealed <!-- page 153--><a +name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>forth the +shouts of those who sang for very joy and gladness of heart.</p> +<p>Poivre was still among them. That man of the revolution, +like many others of the older prisoners, had learned something by +his captivity. He used to think, and with too much reason, +that the rich and high-born were the vultures that preyed on the +poor; but now he had discovered that one risen from the ranks +might be as heartless and oppressive as “Monsieur” of +old, and be utterly indifferent how many lives were lost, and how +many imprisoned for years, to gain his own selfish ends.</p> +<p>They were sitting together at supper, some of them, a few +evenings before their turn came to leave, when the remark was +made that “the little corporal” would never have +another chance, but was driven into a hole at last.</p> +<p>“Think you so?” replied Poivre; “I am not so +sure of that. It must be a curious hole that man cannot get +out of sooner or later. He has the cleverness of the devil, +if there be one.”</p> +<p><!-- page 154--><a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +154</span>“Would you fight again for him, Poivre, if he did +come out of his hole?”</p> +<p>“Not I,” said he, “if I could help it. +Some of us have had enough of him. We begin to think we +have not been fighting for “France and glory,” but +for him, and he does not care two pins for us. But there +are thousands of fellows who are such fools that, if the emperor +were only able to shew himself again, they would flock to him, +and be ready to become food for powder the next moment. I +am going to prophecy, my friends. Mark what I say. +When all our countrymen have been set free, Napoleon will have an +army, a grand army, ready to hand. Depend on it, he has his +eye on this, and will make use of the opportunity; but he will +not find Marc Poivre in the ranks!”</p> +<p>Human prophecies are acute guesses, and when they come true, +correct guesses. Such was Poivre’s prophecy. +But was it not a fatal mistake, though, perhaps, one that could +not be avoided, to place an army within Napoleon’s <!-- +page 155--><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +155</span>grasp, even as we had given him back the sailors that +manned his navy by the bogus peace of Amiens?</p> +<p>This at least is certain, that the volcano which had desolated +Europe for so many years but had become quiescent when Napoleon +abdicated at Fontainebleau, burst forth again with an awful blaze +in 1815, and was only extinguished for ever at Waterloo. +So, some at least of the prisoners at Norman Cross may again have +fought gallantly against us.</p> +<p>Captain Tournier, like the rest, was longing to see once more +his old home, but had first to pay a farewell visit to his +friends at the Manor House. He was with them only a couple +of nights, and Villemet was invited to stay also. The +meeting could not be otherwise than mingled with sadness to each +of them. They had known each other now for nearly six +years, and those years had been made interesting by intercourse +of no ordinary kind.</p> +<p>At dinner, Cosin was the most cheerful of <!-- page 156--><a +name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 156</span>them +all. He was really very sorry to part with his friends, +especially with Tournier, whom he loved as a brother; but he +could not for the life of him make out why two men who had just +obtained the freedom they had so long pined for, and were on the +point of starting for the homes they had dreamt of every night +for years, should be so awfully down. And least of all, +like a stupid fellow that he was, and as most men are in such +matters, could he imagine why Alice should take upon herself to +look so supremely wretched, and hardly open her mouth all dinner +time.</p> +<p>Nothing could exceed the minute attention which Villemet paid +to her, though all in good taste, but with an anxious, if not +mournful air, as if he were appointed to watch over her health, +and was not quite happy about it.</p> +<p>Alice received his attentions with perfect politeness, but her +ears were evidently occupied with something else.</p> +<p>Tournier took no more notice of her than any <!-- page +157--><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>gentleman would naturally do to the lady of the house +at a party of four. Almost all his conversation was +addressed to Cosin, and consisted chiefly of references to happy +days gone by, during their intercourse with each other. +Each allusion ended with a sort of sigh, as if to say, “Ah, +there will be no more of that now!”</p> +<p>“Upon my word, Cosin,” he cried, “if it were +not for my sweet old mother, I would almost be a prisoner again +to live near you.”</p> +<p>The blue eyes brightened a little. And there was someone +who noticed it, and, oh! how he wished he had made the same +remark.</p> +<p>To understand Tournier’s enthusiasm, we must know +something of how a deeply sensitive nature is drawn toward the +one who has saved his soul from death.</p> +<p>“Come, my friends,” said Cosin, “let us be +merry while we can, which to my thinking is always, if we cast +our future upon God. There is no happiness unalloyed with +sorrow in this world. We must wait for that. I drink +to the <!-- page 158--><a name="page158"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 158</span>perpetual amity of our two +countries. God has made us neighbours: why should we +quarrel? We have been fighting, but we have not been +quarrelling. Let French and English be better friends than +ever. And when the devil of ambition next arises in either +country, and tempts us to disagree, let us bid him leave his foul +work alone, for we, the people, are fast friends for +ever.”</p> +<p>Next morning, the four went out for their last ride +together. Alice and Villemet went first, and the others +followed. As they passed the familiar spot where Villemet +had spent so many weary days and nights, Alice remarked, how glad +he must be that he was a free man once more.</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss Cosin,” he replied in a very +dissatisfied tone; “yet I am not free altogether, my body +is, but I shall leave my heart behind me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that will never do,” said Alice, with more +vivacity than he quite liked: “you will <!-- page 159--><a +name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 159</span>want your +heart. You could never be a heartless man I am quite +sure,” and she looked archly at the handsome young fellow +as she said it, and smiled so provokingly.</p> +<p>“It is true however,” he said, but in such a +melancholy way, that Alice felt sure something serious was +coming.</p> +<p>“If I might only leave my heart with you,” he +added, “I should be quite content to go away without +it.”</p> +<p>“But what on earth should I do with it?” she said, +purposely disregarding the sentimental, and sticking to the +literal meaning of his words.</p> +<p>“Keep it close to your own,” was his reply.</p> +<p>“Then should I be queen of hearts indeed!”</p> +<p>“You are that already to me.”</p> +<p>It was time, she thought, to put a stop to this; so, after +riding on a little further, Alice said very demurely, “I +thought, sir, you were more in jest than earnest, but, at all +events, I am altogether in earnest when I say, that you must <!-- +page 160--><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +160</span>never repeat to me what you uttered just now. I +wish always to regard you as a friend—a friend found under +circumstances of deep interest to my brother and myself—but +nothing more; never anything more! Let us join the +others.”</p> +<p>And she turned her horse’s head, and met her brother and +Tournier, her face slightly flushed; while Villemet rode after +her much more disturbed than ever he had been when charging a +whole battery of guns.</p> +<p>They too had been talking together as they followed the others +along the familiar road that passed by the barracks. It was +on the old subject that Tournier seemed never to weary of.</p> +<p>“There,” he said, pointing to the spot where he +had first met Cosin, “that is where I first set eyes on +your sunny English face. I remember it by that blighted +tree in the hedge-row. I often thought, when I passed it +afterwards, that it was exactly like me at that +time—half-dead for want of God—fungus +everywhere.”</p> +<p><!-- page 161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>Then, as they passed the barracks, he said, “Stop +a moment, Cosin. Look at that gate yonder. How well I +remember coming out of that gate in an awful state of +mind—nearly mad—determined, as a last resource, to +see if you, or anybody, really believed in God; and I found you +did, for you lived as if you did. And then began those +blessed years of teaching, not so much by words as by example, +which have made me a happy man, though, God knows, and you know +too well, a very faulty one.”</p> +<p>“Say no more, my good friend,” replied Cosin; +“only let not our separation now be an end to our +intercourse. You shall ever be to us a welcome +visitor.”</p> +<p>“And I, for my part, shall ever be delighted to renew my +acquaintance with the place which has been at once, the saddest +and the happiest in my life.”</p> +<p>The others had now joined them.</p> +<p>“Tournier will soon be here again!” cried Cosin to +his sister, unable to repress the pleasure <!-- page 162--><a +name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 162</span>that he +felt, but entirely, dull fellow that he was, on his own +account.</p> +<p>And all, saving Villemet, finished their ride in the best of +spirits.</p> +<p>Next day came the parting.</p> +<h2><!-- page 163--><a name="page163"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 163</span>CHAPTER X.—ENGLAND AND FRANCE +UNITED.</h2> +<p>Who could describe the pleasure felt by the Frenchmen as they +gazed once more on the shores of their own dear country after so +long an absence! Even Villemet lost his lugubrious looks, +while his friend, brimming over with joy, seemed almost ready to +leap into the sea to get there. He sprung about the deck, +sang snatches of songs, laughed at every remark Villemet made +even when there was nothing to laugh at, in fact, made himself +somewhat ridiculous.</p> +<p>As soon as they landed, they instantly made arrangements to +post straight away to their homes, which were not far apart from +each other. Villemet’s came first; and there, as they +drove up, a perfect swarm of younger <!-- page 164--><a +name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 164</span>brothers +and sisters came out to devour him; his old father and mother +looking on behind with calmer but not less real delight. It +was a pretty sight, and as Tournier drove away amid their joyful +greetings, he could not help for the moment envying him, and +contrasting the scene with that which was awaiting himself, with +only one welcome—only one—but then that was the +welcome of a mother!</p> +<p>He had to pass a well-known house; but as he drew near, he +dashed down the blind, and turned away fiercely, till it was +passed. “Dead!” he muttered.</p> +<p>The nearer he drew to his old home the more familiar were the +objects that met his eye, till at last he spun through the gates, +and up the drive, and almost leaping into the house, cried to the +smiling servants, “Is she in her old room?”</p> +<p>And there he found her. She was pretty as ever, prettier +than ever, as <i>he</i> thought.</p> +<p><!-- page 165--><a name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +165</span>“Mother, I have come to take care of you at +last,” he said; “and <i>to</i> the last, thank +God.”</p> +<p>“Thank God,” she murmured in reply.</p> +<p>But though his mother seemed almost like her old self under +the exhilaration of that happy meeting, Tournier could not but +observe how feeble she was in every way. And when the first +gush of joy was over, he saw it more plainly; and every day he +noticed it increasingly. Where some stamina is left, a +sudden stimulus may lead to permanent improvement, but when there +is none, excitement only revives for the moment, and leaves the +patient weaker than ever. So was it with the dear old +lady. Those years of lonely sorrow, aggravated by +uncertainty and bitter disappointment, had killed her; and +Tournier had only come in time to make the last few months of her +life her happiest ones for many a day past.</p> +<p>One evening, as the end was drawing near, <!-- page 166--><a +name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 166</span>she +suddenly said, “My son, what will you do when I am +gone?”</p> +<p>“Sweet mother,” was his reply, “I shall +trust in God to help me bear my sorrow patiently. I know He +will.”</p> +<p>“Why not marry a wife? It is God’s own +remedy for man’s loneliness.”</p> +<p>“Where shall I find one? I know no woman that I +could trust <i>now</i>.” Then, after a pause, he +added, “And yet there is one I could trust. Yes, +those blue eyes could be trusted. I would spurn the man who +dared to say they could not.”</p> +<p>Then he told his mother all about Alice; and she listened with +deepest interest, and a little flush came over her delicate pale +face. But it became pale as before when he said, “Ah! +mother mine, Alice Cosin is not for me, nor for anyone: she is +bound for life to her good brother, and I would not break that +lovely bond even if I could.”</p> +<p>In the autumn of 1815 she died, her eyes <!-- page 167--><a +name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>fixed to +the last on her son. And when they closed for ever, it +seemed to him that love unutterable was extinguished. But +he took refuge in his God.</p> +<p>It was hard work, however, to keep on living in the old place +where everything reminded him so much of the past, both of joy +and pain. He would have asked his friend, Villemet, to take +compassion on his loneliness, and come and stay with him awhile; +but the irrepressible fellow had gone off to the wars some time +ago, and joined the army of Napoleon, distinguishing himself +greatly at Waterloo. Again and again had Tournier’s +thoughts reverted to Alice Cosin, but each time he had repelled +the pleasing idea as an impossibility. “How could +I,” he repeated, as the fair vision floated away, +“for my selfish ends spoil the happiness of a friend like +him?”</p> +<p>Fortified by this resolution, he determined at length to find +consolation in fulfilling his promise of a visit to +England. There was no <!-- page 168--><a +name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 168</span>reason why +he should not enjoy the immense pleasure of seeing his friend +again, and of course his sister. It would do him all the +good in the world.</p> +<p>So he started with gladness to visit once more the land to +which he had been unwillingly conveyed as a prisoner some seven +years before. The old welcome was renewed with yet greater +heartiness, and Tournier felt for the first time at home since +his mother’s death. Only, at their first greeting, he +thought it proper to shew a little sort of restraint in +addressing Alice, and he could not but notice that this assumed +restraint made her beaming face look rather grave.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p168b.jpg"> +<img alt="The House of the Commandant. New the residence of J. +A. Herbert, Esq., J.P. From photo. by Rev. E. H. Brown" +src="images/p168s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>One of the first things Tournier said he must see was the +barracks.</p> +<p>“They have just finished pulling them all down,” +said Cosin. “Every building except Major +Kelly’s house, and the officers’ quarters has been +removed and the material sold by auction. However, you +would like to see the <!-- page 169--><a name="page169"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 169</span>old spot. I am sorry I cannot +go with you to-morrow, but Alice can shew you the way if you have +forgotten it!”</p> +<p>So they rode there the next morning.</p> +<p>“It seems like a dream,” said Tournier, as he +gazed for a long while upon the site where, as he too well knew, +so many hearts had ached for years. “Who is going to +live in the house of Major Kelly?”</p> +<p>“He has bought it for himself, but he is not there +now.”</p> +<p>“How I should have liked to see him. He was a fine +officer and an excellent man. And now, Miss Cosin, will you +mind going with me to another spot more interesting to me than +even this, I mean the prisoners’ burial ground, where my +body would now have been laid but for your dear brother and +you?”</p> +<p>That last word would have made Alice willing to go anywhere, +and she cheerfully consented to pay the rather doleful visit.</p> +<p>When they reached the portion of the field <!-- page 170--><a +name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 170</span>where the +interments had taken place, they let their horses nibble the +grass, and silently surveyed the scanty mounds.</p> +<p>Tournier was lost in thought, and Alice watched him.</p> +<p>“Poor fellows, poor fellows,” he said at length: +“how many of them I have known! Some of them were in +my squadron. Nearly all young, or in the prime of +life—all dead before their time, worn out or +broken-hearted.”</p> +<p>“How many, do you think, are buried here?” asked +Alice.</p> +<p>“Roughly speaking, I should say at least three or four +hundred.”</p> +<p>“Will not the Government mark the spot, or at least +raise some memorial to these brave men?”</p> +<p>“I should think so,” replied Tournier; “or +if the English Government failed to do so, ours will not forget +them. And yet, the shameful butchery of Marshal Ney does +not favour the idea. They may look on them, as they <!-- +page 171--><a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +171</span>did him, as soldiers of Napoleon, not of +France.”</p> +<p>Then they slowly wended their way homeward, Tournier turning +round on his saddle to take a last look at the place that +interested him so deeply, and again exclaiming, “There +should I be lying now, in a dishonoured grave, but for +God’s great mercy.”</p> +<p>That night, poor Alice could not sleep, but watered her pillow +with tears.</p> +<p>“He does not care for me a bit,” she said; +“he is just the same as he used to be, only stiffer in his +manner. But what does it matter? I could never leave +my darling brother; and what is more, I never will. But he +is so nice, nicer than ever.” And the tears came +again, with a wee bit of vexation in them, and kept on at +intervals, till kindly sleep at length fell on those dear blue +eyes, and dried them up.</p> +<p>And while this was going on, her brother and his friend were +smoking and talking together below.</p> +<p><!-- page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +172</span>“You must find it very wearysome, Tournier, to +live by yourself now. You are not the man to like that sort +of thing. You are too unselfish to be a confirmed +bachelor. Excuse me for touching on a painful subject, I +use the privilege of a friend.”</p> +<p>“I thank you for doing so. But the fact is, and +<i>you</i> cannot be surprised at it, I have lost all faith in a +woman’s constancy. No doubt there are many of my +countrywomen who would make me a happy man, but I don’t +know them, and do not mean to search them out.”</p> +<p>Cosin was silent.</p> +<p>What good angel put it into Tournier’s mind to come out +with it? but he <i>did</i> burst forth, after a pause, with the +imprudent assertion, “The only woman in the world I know in +whom anybody might place entire reliance is your sister. +Sure am I that the blue sky of Heaven does not more truly reflect +the love of God than her blue eyes reflect constancy and +truth!”</p> +<p><!-- page 173--><a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +173</span>Tournier felt he had betrayed himself, and was +vexed.</p> +<p>As to Cosin, he opened his eyes with amazement at the +other’s vehemence of manner. Then a bright smile of +surprise lighted up his face, and he said, “Why on earth +then do you not ask her to be your wife?”</p> +<p>“My dear fellow,” replied Tournier, in his turn +amazed, “you surely know why. Did you not tell me +years ago that she would always be your companion through life? +and do you think I could be such a base scoundrel as to breathe +one single syllable to her that might tempt her for even a moment +to think of leaving you?”</p> +<p>Cosin seemed really angry instead of pleased at this, and said +severely, “And so <i>you</i> thought <i>me</i> such a +selfish brute, that I would rather keep her sweet companionship +to myself, and be her gaoler more than her brother, than give her +a free woman’s choice to marry anyone that was worthy of +her, and on whom (lucky dog!) she <!-- page 174--><a +name="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 174</span>had set her +dear heart? I do not thank you for the +compliment.”</p> +<p>Tournier looked on his irritated friend with admiring +surprise. It was like the harsh grating of a heavy door +that had hitherto barred his way to happiness, but was now +opening.</p> +<p>“The thing is,” said Cosin in a milder tone, +“does Alice like <i>you</i>?”</p> +<p>“I cannot say. She never did anything to make me +suppose it. But I was not observant, for I did not think +about it.”</p> +<p>“And yet, silly fellow that I am,” said Cosin, +“I now remember how her face always lighted up when she +heard about you, or we talked of your coming. What a blind +bat I have been! Oh, how I hope she does like you. I +am sure she must. But you must find it out, and if she has +any scruples left, tell her to come to me and I will satisfy +her.”</p> +<p>And Tournier, nothing loth, did find it out next day. +The interview shall not be described, for such things are +sometimes related with admirable <!-- page 175--><a +name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>taste and +effect, but much more often are made ridiculous; and as this was +pre-eminently sensible, natural and real, it shall not run the +risk of being spoilt by any attempt of the kind. It must be +sufficient to say that the interview was perfectly successful, +only Alice persisted in saying that, although she entirely and +joyfully believed what Tournier told her about her brother, yet +she must speak to him herself, and hear from his own lips that he +gave a willing consent. And Tournier only admired her the +more for it.</p> +<p>Away, therefore, she went with radiant face to seek her +brother; nor did it take long to get his consent. As she +came into the room he forestalled her object, and folding her to +his breast said, “Dear Alice, I know what you are going to +say. Your face tells the tale. You have fulfilled, +more than fulfilled, your loving duty to me. Do one thing +more to make me happy—go and make that dear good +<i>fellow</i> happy all the rest of his days. And +remember,” he <!-- page 176--><a name="page176"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 176</span>added, as he held her a little from +him, and looked into her blushing face with pretended severity, +“you shall never come under my roof again if you disobey +me! Come, I will give you to him myself.”</p> +<p>And they found Tournier awaiting the verdict without the +slightest degree of suspense.</p> +<p>“I have brought you your wife,” Cosin cried.</p> +<p>What followed may well be imagined by all but ill-natured +people, who see no chance of their ever being placed in a similar +predicament themselves.</p> +<p>In the course of the evening, Cosin suddenly said with great +gravity, amounting almost to solemnity, and looking first at +Tournier, and then at Alice: “There is a matter that still +remains to be settled. You have run away, Tournier, with my +wife, and it is only fit and right that you should make what +compensation is in your power.”</p> +<p><!-- page 177--><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>Both the others were taken rather aback, especially as +Cosin continued to seem very much in earnest.</p> +<p>“There must be a marriage-settlement of some +sort.”</p> +<p>“Assuredly,” Tournier replied, relieved, but still +somewhat puzzled.</p> +<p>“Whatever you think right, I shall be delighted to +do.”</p> +<p>“Do you really mean that?” said Cosin, still very +seriously.</p> +<p>“Indeed I do. Everything I possess I would +joyfully give to my sweet love,” looking at her with +intense affection. “She is worth more than all I have +beside.”</p> +<p>“But I want more than money and lands,” persisted +Cosin. “Mind, you have agreed to do whatever I may +propose.”</p> +<p>“Yes. Anything you require. I trust you as +my own soul.”</p> +<p>“Then the marriage-settlement must be this: That so long +as we all three live, you two shall <!-- page 178--><a +name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 178</span>come and +spend a good part of the summer with me every year, and that you +will let me spend a good part of every winter with you in your +sunny home. Provided always—here comes the +lawyer—that if we do at any time wish to turn summer into +winter, or winter into summer, we may do so by mutual +agreement.”</p> +<p>“Could anything be better!” cried the others in +great delight. “Agreed, agreed.”</p> +<p>Then Cosin, no longer able to look grave, laughingly +exclaimed, “Signed, sealed, and delivered.”</p> +<p>A few weeks after, Captain Tournier went over to France to +prepare his house for the reception of his bride. He did +not stop long, but returned with a heart full of gratitude to +God, and joyful expectation of a happy future.</p> +<p>They were married in Yaxley Church in the presence of a +crowded congregation. More than half the people who +attended could see nothing because of the bullock-boxes: but they +<!-- page 179--><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +179</span>were there, and their hearts too. And when the +grand old bells pealed forth a joyous welcome, the bridegroom +could hardly repress a tear (only one!) for they reminded him how +often the merry sound that now so truly harmonized with his +over-brimming joy, had seemed of old to mock his misery as he +listened to them from within his prison walls.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Their happy union, to compare small things with great, may be +taken as an emblem of the <i>entente cordiale</i> that ought ever +to subsist between the two countries of France and England, and +which can only be jeopardized by that rabid journalism which, +with slight occasion, or none at all, seems always to take +delight in doing its utmost to “let loose the dogs of +war.”</p> +<p>One word more.</p> +<p>The two stone bosses which for many years have capped the +piers of the west gateway of Yaxley Churchyard, formerly occupied +the <!-- page 180--><a name="page180"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 180</span>same position on the piers of the +principal entrance to the Norman Cross Barracks. And when +the poor prisoners of old passed between them, they were entering +the place of captivity and grief and hopelessness. But now, +as the good Yaxley people pass between the same bosses to go into +their noble House of Prayer, they may rejoice in the thought that +they are entering the place where liberty and peace and +everlasting hope await them as the gift of God, through Jesus +Christ their Saviour.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">THE END.</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17" +class="footnote">[17]</a> See account of the battle of +Vimiero in Napier’s History of the Peninsular War, Book II, +Chapter V.</p> +<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44" +class="footnote">[44]</a> This is fact, not fiction. +It would be interesting to know the history of this good man +after the prisoners were discharged in 1814. One thing is +certain, that he must ever have enjoyed a feast of memory to his +dying day in having been a shepherd and bishop of souls to these +poor prisoners.</p> +<p><a name="footnote133"></a><a href="#citation133" +class="footnote">[133]</a> It is much to be regretted that +the ravenous curiosity of a former vicar has since made this very +hole. A wooden box was found with a heart inside in perfect +form, but which instantly crumbled to dust when exposed to the +air. The dust was returned to the cavity, and the box is +kept at the Vicarage; but an aromatic odour still impregnates the +box, just as the church William of Yaxley built still preserves +the holy use to which it was devoted.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRENCH PRISONERS OF NORMAN +CROSS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 23836-h.htm or 23836-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/8/3/23836 + + + +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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