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diff --git a/31901-h/31901-h.htm b/31901-h/31901-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70b3f4c --- /dev/null +++ b/31901-h/31901-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,22352 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Tom Burke of 'Ours' by Charles James Lever + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume I (of II), by +Charles James Lever + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume I (of II) + +Author: Charles James Lever + +Illustrator: Phiz. + +Release Date: April 6, 2010 [EBook #31901] +Last Updated: February 27, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM BURKE OF "OURS", VOLUME *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +TOM BURKE OF “OURS.” +</h1> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +By Charles James Lever +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +With Illustrations By Phiz. and Browne +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I +</p> +<div class="mynote"> +<p> +<b>Transcriber's Note</b>: Two print editions have been used for this +Project Gutenberg Edition of “Tom Burke of 'Ours'”: The Little Brown +edition (Boston) of 1913 with illustrations by Phiz; and the Chapman and +Hall editon (London) of 1853 with illustrations by Browne. Illegible and +missing pages were found in both print editions. +</p> +<p> +DW +</p> +<br /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<table summary="" border="3" cellpadding="0"> +<tbody> +<tr> +<td> + <a +href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31902/31902-h/31902-h.htm"><b>VOLUME +TWO</b> </a> +</td> +<td> +</td> +</tr> +</tbody> +</table> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="frontispiece" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="titlepage" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>TOM BURKE OF “OURS."</b> </a><br /> <br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> MYSELF <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> DARBY THE “BLAST.” +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE +DEPARTURE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> MY +WANDERINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE +CABIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> MY +EDUCATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> KEVIN +STREET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> NO. +39, AND ITS FREQUENTERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. +</a> THE FRENCHMAN'S STORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> +CHAPTER X. </a> THE CHURCHYARD <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> TOO LATE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> A CHARACTER <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> AN UNLOOKED-FOR +VISITOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE +JAIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE +CASTLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE +BAIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> MR. +BASSET'S DWELLING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. +</a> THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> +CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE QUARREL <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> THE FLIGHT <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE ÉCOLE +MILITAIRE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THE +TUILERIES IN 1803 <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. +</a> A SURPRISE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER +XXIV. </a> THE PAVILLON DE FLORE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE SUPPER AT +“BEAUVILLIERS'S” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> THE +TWO VISITS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> THE +MARCH TO VERSAILLES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. +</a> THE PARK OF VERSAILLES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> +CHAPTER XXIX. </a> LA ROSE OF PROVENCE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> A WARNING <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> THE CHÂTEAU <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> THE CHÂTEAU +d'ANCRE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> THE +TEMPLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> THE +CHOUANS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> THE +REIGN OF TERROR UNDER THE CONSULATE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> +CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> THE PALAIS DE JUSTICE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> THE TRIAL <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> THE +CUIRASSIER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> A +MORNING AT THE TUILLERIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER +XL. </a> A NIGHT IN THE TUILERIES GARDENS <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> A STORY OF THE YEAR +'92 <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> THE +HALL OF THE MARSHALS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. +</a> THE MARCH ON THE DANUBE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a> THE CANTEEN <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a> THE “VIVANDIÈRE OF +THE FOURTH” <br /><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0001"> Law and Physic in the Chamber of Death </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0002"> The Curse </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0003"> The Struggle </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0004"> Saldin Danceth a Lively Measure </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0005"> Tom Receives a Strange Visitor </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0006"> Peeping Tom </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0007"> May Good Digestion Wait on Appetite </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0008"> Darby Exchanges Compliments With a “sodger” +</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0009"> Monsieur Crillac's Salon </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0010"> The Rose of Provence </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0011"> The Lady of the Lake </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0012"> The Chouans </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0013"> Capture of the “Red-beard” </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0014"> The Templars </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0015"> The Witness </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0016"> Napoleon Sends Burke from the Room </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0017"> The Scene Shifted </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0018"> The “big Pioche” Indulging in Delicacies </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0019"> Tom Masters the “maitre D'armes” </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linkimage-0020"> Minnet <i>and</i> Pioche </a> +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> TO MISS EDGEWORTH. +</p> +<p> +Madam,—This weak attempt to depict the military life of France, +during the brief but glorious period of the Empire, I beg to dedicate to +you. Had the scene of this, like that of my former books, been laid +chiefly in Ireland, I should have felt too sensibly my own inferiority to +venture on the presumption of such a step. As it is, I never was more +conscious of the demerits of my volume than when inscribing it to you; but +I cannot resist the temptation of being, even thus, associated with a +name,—the first in my country's literature. +</p> +<p> +Another motive I will not conceal,—the ardent desire I have to +assure you, that, amid the thousands you have made better, and wiser, and +happier, by your writings, you cannot count one who feels more proudly the +common tie of country with you, nor more sincerely admires your goodness +and your genius, than +</p> +<p> +Your devoted and obedient servant, +</p> +<p> +CHARLES J. LEVER. <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<p> +Temple-O, Nov. 25, 1848. +</p> +<p> +PREFATORY EPISTLE FROM MR. BURKE. +</p> +<p> +My dear O'Flaherty,—It seems that I am to be the “next devoured.” +Well, be it so; my story, such as it is, you shall have. Only one +condition would I bargain for,—that you seriously disabuse your +readers of the notion that the life before them was one either of much +pleasure or profit. I might moralize a little here about neglected +opportunities and mistaken opinions; but, as I am about to present you +with my narrative, the moral—if there be one—need not be +anticipated. +</p> +<p> +I believe I have nothing else to premise, save that if my tale have little +wit, it has some warning; and as Bob Lambert observed to the hangman who +soaped the rope for his execution, “even that same 's a comfort.” If our +friend Lorrequer, then, will as kindly facilitate my debut, I give him +free liberty to “cut me down” when he likes, and am, +</p> +<p> +Yours, as ever, +</p> +<p> +TOM BURKE. +</p> +<p> +To T. O'Flaherty, Esq. +</p> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<h2> +PREFACE. +</h2> +<p> +I WAS led to write this story by two impulses: first, the fascination +which the name and exploits of the great Emperor had ever exercised on my +mind as a boy; and secondly, by the favorable notice which the Press had +bestowed upon my scenes of soldier life in “Charles O'Malley.” +</p> +<p> +If I had not in the wars of the Empire the patriotic spirit of a great +national struggle to sustain me, I had a field far wider and grander than +any afforded by our Peninsular campaigns; while in the character of the +French army, composed as it was of elements derived from every rank and +condition, there were picturesque effects one might have sought for in +vain throughout the rest of Europe. +</p> +<p> +It was my fortune to have known personally some of those who filled great +parts in this glorious drama. I had listened over and over to their +descriptions of scenes, to which their look, and voice, and manner +imparted a thrilling intensity of interest. I had opportunities of +questioning them for explanations, of asking for solutions of this and +that difficulty which had puzzled me, till I grew so familiar with the +great names of the time, the events, and even the localities, that when I +addressed myself to my tale, it was with a mind filled by my topics to the +utter exclusion of all other subjects. +</p> +<p> +Neither before nor since have I ever enjoyed to the same extent the sense +of being so entirely engrossed by a single theme. A great tableau of the +Empire, from its gorgeous celebrations in Paris to its numerous +achievements on the field of battle, was ever outspread before me, and I +sat down rather to record than to invent the scenes of my story. A feeling +that, as I treated of real events I was bound to maintain a degree of +accuracy in relation to them, even in fiction, made me endeavor to possess +myself of a correct knowledge of localities, and, so far as I was able, +with a due estimate of those whose characters I discussed. +</p> +<p> +Some of the battlefields I have gone over; of others, I have learned the +particulars from witnesses of the great struggles that have made them +famous. To the claim of this exactness I have, therefore, the pretension +of at least the desire to be faithful. For my story, it has all the faults +and shortcomings which beset everything I have ever written; for these I +can but offer regrets, only the more poignant that I feel how justly they +are due. +</p> +<p> +The same accuracy which I claim for scenes and situations, I should like, +if I dared, to claim for the individuals who figure in this tale; but I +cannot, in any fairness, pretend to more than an attempt to paint +resemblances of those whom I have myself admired in the description of +others. Pioche and Minette are of this number. So is, but of a very +different school, the character of Duchesne; for which, however, I had +what almost amounted to an original. As to the episodes of this story, one +or two were communicated as facts; the others are mere invention. +</p> +<p> +I do not remember any particulars to which I should further advert; while +I feel, that the longer I dwell upon the theme, the more occasion is there +to entreat indulgence,—an indulgence which, if you are not weary of +according, will be most gratefully accepted by +</p> +<p> +Your faithful servant, +</p> +<p> +CHARLES LEVER +</p> +<p> +Casa Capponi, Florence, May, 1867. +</p> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<h1> +TOM BURKE OF “OURS.” +</h1> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I. MYSELF. +</h2> +<p> +It was at the close of a cold, raw day in January—no matter for the +year—that the Gal way mail was seen to wind its slow course through +that long and dull plain that skirts the Shannon, as you approach the +“sweet town of Athlone.” The reeking box-coats and dripping umbrellas that +hung down on every side bespoke a day of heavy rain, while the splashed +and mud-stained panels of the coach bore token of cut-up roads, which the +jaded and toil-worn horses amply confirmed. If the outsiders—with +hats pressed firmly down, and heads bent against the cutting wind—presented +an aspect far from comfortable, those within, who peeped with difficulty +through the dim glass, had little to charm the eye; their flannel +nightcaps and red comforters were only to be seen at rare intervals, as +they gazed on the dreary prospect, and then sank back into the coach to +con over their moody thoughts, or, if fortunate, perhaps to doze. +</p> +<p> +In the rumble, with the guard, sat one whose burly figure and rosy cheeks +seemed to feel no touch of the inclement wind that made his companions +crouch. An oiled-silk foraging-cap fastened beneath the chin, and a large +mantle of blue cloth, bespoke him a soldier, if even the assured tone of +his voice and a certain easy carriage of his head had not conveyed to the +acute observer the same information. Unsubdued in spirit, undepressed in +mind, either by the long day of pouring rain or the melancholy outline of +country on every side, his dark eye flashed as brightly from beneath the +brim of his cap, and his ruddy face beamed as cheerily, as though Nature +had put forth her every charm of weather and scenery to greet and delight +him. Now inquiring of the guard of the various persons whose property lay +on either side, the name of some poor hamlet or some humble village; now +humming to himself some stray verse of an old campaigning song,—he +passed his time, diversifying these amusements by a courteous salute to a +gaping country girl, as, with unmeaning look, she stared at the passing +coach. But his principal occupation seemed to consist in retaining one +wing of his wide cloak around the figure of a little boy, who lay asleep +beside him, and whose head jogged heavily against his arm with every +motion of the coach. +</p> +<p> +“And so that's Athlone, yonder, you tell me,” said the captain, for such +he was,—“'the sweet town of Athlone, ochone!' Well, it might be +worse. I 've passed ten years in Africa,—on the burning coast, as +they call it: you never light a fire to cook your victuals, but only lay +them before the sun for ten minutes, game something less, and the joint's +done; all true, by Jove! Lie still, my young friend, or you'll heave us +both over! And whereabouts does he live, guard?” +</p> +<p> +“Something like a mile and a half from here,” replied the gruff guard. +</p> +<p> +“Poor little fellow! he's sleeping it out well. They certainly don't take +overmuch care of him, or they'd never have sent him on the top of a coach +in weather like this, without even a greatcoat to cover him. I say, Tom, +my lad, wake up; you're not far from home now. Are you dreaming of the +plum-pudding and the pony and the big spaniel, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Whisht!” said the guard, in a low whisper. “The chap's father is dying, +and they've sent for him from school to see him.” +</p> +<p> +A loud blast of the horn now awoke me thoroughly from the half-dreamy +slumber in which I had listened to the previous dialogue, and I sat up and +looked about me. Yes, reader, my unworthy self it was who was then +indulging in as pleasant a dream of home and holidays as ever blessed even +a schoolboy's vigils. Though my eyes were open, it was some minutes before +I could rally myself to understand where I was, and with what object. My +senses were blunted by cold, and my drenched limbs were cramped and +stiffened; for the worthy captain, to whose humanity I owed the share of +his cloak, had only joined the coach late in the day, and during the whole +morning I had been exposed to the most pitiless downpour of rain and +sleet. +</p> +<p> +“Here you are!” said the rough guard, as the coach drew up to let me down. +“No need of blowing the horn here, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +This was said in allusion to the miserable appearance of the ruined cabin +that figured as my father's gate lodge, where some naked children were +seen standing before the door, looking with astonishment at the coach and +passengers. +</p> +<p> +“Well, good-by, my little man. I hope you 'll find the governor better. +Give him my respects; and, hark ye, if ever you come over to Athlone, +don't forget to come and see me: Captain Bubbleton,—George Frederick +Augustus Bubbleton, Forty-fifth Regiment; or, when at home, Little +Bubbleton, Herts, and Bungalow Hut, in the Carnatic^ that's the mark. So +good-by! good-by!” +</p> +<p> +I waved my hand to him in adieu, and then turned to enter the gate. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Freney,” said I, to a half-dressed, wild-looking figure that rushed +out to lift the gate open,—for the hinges had been long broken, and +it was attached to the pier by some yards of strong rope,—“how is my +father?” +</p> +<p> +A gloomy nod and a discouraging sign with his open hand were the only +reply. +</p> +<p> +“Is there any hope?” said I, faintly. +</p> +<p> +“Sorrow one of me knows; I dare n't go near the house. I was sarved with +notice to quit a month ago, and they tell him I 'm gone. Oh vo, vo! what +'s to become of us all!” +</p> +<p> +I threw the bag which contained my humble wardrobe on my shoulder, and +without waiting for further questioning, walked forward. Night was falling +fast, and nothing short of my intimacy with the place from infancy could +have enabled me to find my way. The avenue, from long neglect and disuse, +was completely obliterated; the fences were broken up to burn; the young +trees had mostly shared the same fate; the cattle strayed at will through +the plantations; and all bespoke utter ruin and destruction. +</p> +<p> +If the scene around me was sad, it only the better suited my own heart. I +was returning to a home where I had never heard the voice of kindness or +affection; where one fond word, one look of welcome, had never met me. I +was returning, not to receive the last blessing of a loving parent, but +merely sent for as a necessary ceremony on the occasion. And perhaps there +was a mock propriety in inviting me once more to the house which I was +never to revisit. My father, a widower for many years, had bestowed all +his affection on my elder brother, to whom so much of his property as had +escaped the general wreck was to descend. He had been sent to Eton under +the guidance of a private tutor, while an obscure Dublin school was deemed +good enough for me. For him every nerve was strained to supply all his +boyish extravagance, and enable him to compete with the sons of men of +high rank and fortune, whose names, mentioned in his letters home, were an +ample recompense for all the lavish expenditure their intimacy entailed. +My letters were few and brief; their unvaried theme the delay in the last +quarter's payment, or the unfurnished condition of my little trunk, which +more than once exposed me to the taunts of my schoolfellows. +</p> +<p> +He was a fair and delicate boy, timid in manner and retiring in +disposition; I, a browned-faced varlet, who knew every one from the herd +to the high-sheriff. To him the servants were directed to look up as the +head of the house; while I was consigned either to total neglect, or the +attentions of those who only figured as supernumeraries in our Army List. +Yet, with all these sources of jealousy between us, we loved each other +tenderly. George pitied “poor Tommy,” as he called me; and for that very +pity my heart clung to him. He would often undertake to plead my cause for +those bolder infractions his gentle nature never ventured on; and it was +only from long association with boys of superior rank, whose habits and +opinions he believed to be standards for his imitation, that » at length +a feeling of estrangement grew up between us, and we learned to look +somewhat coldly on each other. +</p> +<p> +From these brief details it will not be wondered at it I turned homeward +with a heavy heart. From the hour I received the letter of my recall—which +was written by my father's attorney in most concise and legal phrase—I +had scarcely ceased to shed tears; for so it is, there is something in the +very thought of being left an orphan, friendless and unprotected, quite +distinct from the loss of affection and kindness which overwhelms the +young heart with a very flood of wretchedness. Besides, a stray word or +two of kindness had now and then escaped my father towards me, and I +treasured these up as my richest possession. I thought of them over and +over. Many a lonely night, when my heart has been low and sinkings I +repeated them to myself, like talismans against grief; and when I slept, +my dreams would dwell on them and make my waking happy. +</p> +<p> +As I issued from a dark copse of beech-trees, the indistinct outline of +the old house met my eye. I could trace the high-pitched roof, the tall +and pointed gables against the sky; and with a strange sense of +undefinable fear,' beheld a solitary light that twinkled from the window +of an upper room, where my father lay. The remainder of the building was +in deep shadow. I mounted the long flight of stone steps that led to what +once had been a terrace; but the balustrades were broken many a year ago; +and even the heavy granite stone had been smashed in several places. The +hall door lay wide open, and the hall itself had no other light save such +as the flickering of a wood fire afforded, as its uncertain flashes fell +upon the dark wainscot and the floor. +</p> +<p> +I had just recognized the grim, old-fashioned portraits that covered the +walls, when my eye was attracted by a figure near the fire. I approached, +and beheld an old man doubled with age. His bleared eyes were bent upon +the wood embers, which he was trying to rake together with a stick; his +clothes bespoke the most miserable poverty, and afforded no protection +against the cold and cutting blast. He was croning some old song to +himself as I drew near, and paid no attention to me. I moved round so as +to let the light fall on his face, and then perceived it was old Lanty, as +he was called. Poor fellow! Age and neglect had changed him sadly since I +had seen him last. He had been the huntsman of the family for two +generations; but having somehow displeased my father one day at the cover, +he rode at him and struck him on the head with his loaded whip. The man +fell senseless from his horse, and was carried home. A few days, however, +enabled him to rally and be about again; but his senses had left him +forever. All recollection of the unlucky circumstance had faded from his +mind, and his rambling thoughts dwelt on his old pursuits; so that he +passed his days about the stables, looking after the horses and giving +directions about them. Latterly he had become too infirm for this, and +never left his own cabin; but now, from some strange cause, he had come up +to “the house,” and was sitting by the fire as I found him. +</p> +<p> +They who know Ireland will acknowledge the strange impulse which, at the +approach of death, seems to excite the people to congregate about the +house of mourning. The passion for deep and powerful excitement—the +most remarkable feature in their complex nature—seems to revel in +the details of sorrow and suffering. Not content even with the tragedy +before them, they call in the aid of superstition to heighten the +awfulness of the scene; and every story of ghost and banshee' is conned +over in tones that need not the occasion to make them thrill upon the +heart. At such a time the deepest workings of their wild spirits are +revealed. Their grief is low and sorrow-struck, or it is loud and +passionate; now breaking into some plaintive wail over the virtues of the +departed, now bursting into a frenzied appeal to the Father of Mercies as +to the justice of recalling those from earth who were its blessing: while, +stranger than all, a dash of reckless merriment will break in upon the +gloom; but it is like the red lightning through the storm, that as it +rends the cloud only displays the havoc and desolation around, and at its +parting leaves even a blacker darkness behind it. +</p> +<p> +From my infancy I had been familiar with scenes of this kind; and my habit +of stealing away unobserved from home to witness a country wake had +endeared me much to the country-people, who felt this no small kindness +from “the master's son.” Somehow the ready welcome and attention I always +met with had worked on my young heart, and I learned to feel all the +interest of these scenes fully as much as those about me. It was, then, +with a sense of desolation that I looked upon the one solitary mourner who +now sat at the hearth,—that poor old idiot man who gazed on vacancy, +or muttered with parched lip some few words to himself. That he alone +should be found to join his sorrows to ours, seemed to me like utter +destitution, and as I leaned against the chimney I burst into tears. +</p> +<p> +“Don't cry, alannah! don't cry,” said the old man; “it 's the worst way at +all. Get up again and ride him at it bould. Oh vo! look at where the thief +is taking now,—along the stonewall there!” Here he broke out into a +low, wailing ditty:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“And the fox set him down and looked about— +And many were feared to follow; +'Maybe I 'm wrong,'says he, 'but I doubt +That you 'll be as gay to-morrow. +For loud as you cry, and high as you ride, +And little you feel my sorrow, +I'll be free on the mountain-side, +While you 'll lie low to-morrow. +Oh, Moddideroo, aroo, aroo!'” +</pre> +<p> +“Ay, just so; they 'll run to earth in the cold churchyard. Whisht!—hark +there! Soho, soho! That's Badger I hear.” +</p> +<p> +I turned away with a bursting heart, and felt my way up the broad oak +stair, which was left in complete darkness. As I reached the corridor, off +which the bedrooms lay, I heard voices talking together in a low tone; +they came from my father's room, the door of which lay ajar. I approached +noiselessly and peeped in: by the fire, which was the only light now in +the apartment, sat two persons at a set table, one of whom I at once +recognized as the tall, solemn-looking figure of Doctor Finnerty; the +other I detected, by the sharp tones of his voice, to be Mr. Anthony +Basset, my father's confidential attorney. +</p> +<p> +On the table before them lay a mass of papers, parchments, leases, deeds, +together with glasses and a black bottle, whose accompaniments of hot +water and sugar left no doubt as to its contents. The chimney-piece was +crowded with a range of vials and medicine bottles, some of them empty, +some of them half finished. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/008.jpg" alt="Law and Physic in the Chamber of Death 008" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +From the bed in the corner of the room came the heavy sound of snoring +respiration, which either betokened deep sleep or insensibility. If I +enjoyed but little favor in my father's house, I owed much of the coldness +shown to me to the evil influence of the very two persons who sat before +me in conclave. Of the precise source of the doctor's dislike I was not +quite clear, except, perhaps, that I recovered from the measles when he +predicted my certain death; the attorney's was, however, no mystery. +</p> +<p> +About three years before, he had stopped to breakfast at our house on his +way to Ballinasloe fair. As his pony was led round to the stable, it +caught my eye. It was a most tempting bit of horseflesh, full of spirit +and in top condition, for he was going to sell it. I followed him round, +and appeared just as the servant was about to unsaddle him. The attorney +was no favorite in the house, and I had little difficulty in persuading +the man, instead of taking off the saddle, merely to shorten the stirrups +to the utmost limit. The next minute I was on his back flying over the +lawn at a stretching gallop. Fences abounded on all sides, and I rushed +him at double ditches, stone walls, and bog-wood rails, with a mad delight +that at every leap rose higher. After about three quarters of an hour thus +passed, his blood, as well as my own, being by this time thoroughly +roused, I determined to try him at the wall of an old pound which stood +some few hundred yards from the front of the house. Its exposure to the +window at any other time would have deterred me from even the thought of +such an exploit, but now I was quite beyond the pale of such cold +calculations; besides that, I was accompanied by a select party of all the +laborers, with their wives and children, whose praises of my horsemanship +would have made me take the lock of a canal if before me. A tine gallop of +grass sward led to the pound, and over this I went, cheered with as merry +a cry as ever stirred a light heart. One glance I threw at the house as I +drew near the leap. The window of the breakfast parlor was open; my father +and Mr. Basset were both at it, I saw their faces red with passion; I +heard their loud shout; my very spirit sickened within me. I saw no more; +I felt the pony rush at the wall,—the quick stroke of his feet,—the +rise,—the plunge,—and then a crash,—and I was sent +spinning over his head some half-dozen yards, ploughing up the ground on +face and hands. I was carried home with a broken head; the pony's knees +were in the same condition. My father said that he ought to be shot for +humanity's sake; Tony suggested the same treatment for me, on similar +grounds. The upshot, however, was, I secured an enemy for life; and worse +still, one whose power to injure was equalled by his inclination. +</p> +<p> +Into the company of these two worthies I now found myself thus +accidentally thrown, and would gladly have retreated at once, but that +some indescribable impulse to be near my father's sickbed was on me; and +so I crept stealthily in and sat down in a large chair at the foot of the +bed, where unnoticed I listened to the long-drawn heavings of his chest, +and in silence wept over my own desolate condition. +</p> +<p> +For a long time the absorbing nature of my own grief prevented me hearing +the muttered conversation near the lire; but at length, as the night wore +on and my sorrow had found vent in tears, I began to listen to the +dialogue beside me. +</p> +<p> +“He 'll have five hundred pounds under his grandfather's will, in spite of +us. But what 's that?” said the attorney. +</p> +<p> +“I 'll take him as an apprentice for it, I know,” said the doctor, with a +grin that made me shudder. +</p> +<p> +“That's settled already,” replied Mr. Basset. “He's to be articled to me +for five years; but I think it 's likely he 'll go to sea before the time +expires. How heavily the old man is sleeping! Now, is that natural sleep?” +</p> +<p> +“No, that's always a bad sign; that puffing with the lips is generally +among the last symptoms. Well, he'll be a loss anyhow, when he's gone. +There's an eight-ounce mixture he never tasted yet,—infusion of +gentian with soda. Put your lips to that.” +</p> +<p> +“Devil a one o' me will ever sup the like!” said the attorney, finishing +his tumbler of punch as he spoke. “Faugh! how can you drink them things +that way?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure it's the compound infusion, made with orangepeel and cardamom seeds. +There is n't one of them did n't cost two and ninepence. He 'll be eight +weeks in bed come Tuesday next.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well! If he lived till the next assizes, it would be telling me +four hundred pounds; not to speak of the costs of two ejectments I have in +hand against Mullins and his father-in-law.” +</p> +<p> +“It's a wonder,” said the doctor, after a pause, “that Tom didn't come by +the coach. It's no matter now, at any rate; for since the eldest son's +away, there's no one here to interfere with us.” +</p> +<p> +“It was a masterly stroke of yours, doctor, to tell the old man the +weather was too severe to bring George over from Eton. As sure as he came +he'd make up matters with Tom; and the end of it would be, I 'd lose the +agency, and you would n't have those pleasant little bills for the +tenantry,—eh. Fin?” +</p> +<p> +“Whisht! he's waking now. Well, sir; well, Mr. Burke, how do you feel now? +He 's off again!” +</p> +<p> +“The funeral ought to be on a Sunday,” said Basset, in a whisper; “there +'ll be no getting the people to come any other day. He 's saying +something, I think.” +</p> +<p> +“Fin,” said my father, in a faint, hoarse voice,—“Fin, give me a +drink. It 's not warm!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; I had it on the fire.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, it 's myself that 's growing cold. How 's the pulse now. Fin? +Is the Dublin doctor come yet?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir; we 're expecting him every minute. But sure, you know, we 're +doing everything.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I know it. Yes, to be sure, Fin; but they 've many a new thing up in +Dublin there, we don't hear of. Whisht! what's that?” +</p> +<p> +“It 's Tony, sir,—Tony Basset; he 's sitting up with me.” +</p> +<p> +“Come over here, Tony. Tony, I'm going fast; I feel it, and my heart is +low. Could we withdraw the proceedings about Freney?” +</p> +<p> +“He 's the biggest blackguard—” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! no matter now; I 'm going to a place where we 'll all need mercy. +What was it that Canealy said he 'd give for the land?” +</p> +<p> +“Two pound ten an acre; and Freney never paid thirty shillings out of it.” +</p> +<p> +“It's mighty odd George didn't come over.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, I told you there was two feet of snow on the ground.” +</p> +<p> +“Lord be about us, what a severe season! But why isn't Tom here?” I +started at the words, and was about to rush forward, when he added,—“I +don't want him, though.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you don't,” said the attorney; “it's little comfort he ever +gave you. Are you in pain there?” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, great pain over my heart. Well, well! don't be hard to him when I 'm +gone.” +</p> +<p> +“Don't let him talk so much,” said Basset, in a whisper, to the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“You must compose yourself, Mr. Burke,” said the doctor. “Try and take a +sleep; the night isn't half through yet.” +</p> +<p> +The sick man obeyed without a word; and soon after, the heavy respiration +betokened the same lethargic slumber once more. +</p> +<p> +The voices of the speakers gradually fell into a low, monotonous sound; +the long-drawn breathings from the sickbed mingled with them; the fire +only sent forth an occasional gleam, as some piece of falling turf seemed +to revive its wasting life, and shot up a myriad of bright sparks; and the +chirping of the cricket in the chimney-corner sounded to my mournful heart +like the tick of the death-watch. +</p> +<p> +As I listened, my tears fell fast, and a gulping fulness in my throat made +me feel like one in suffocation. But deep sorrow somehow tends to sleep. +The weariness of the long day and dreary night, exhaustion, the dull hum +of the subdued voices, and the faint light, all combined to make me +drowsy, and I fell into a heavy slumber. +</p> +<p> +I am writing now of the far-off past,—of the long years ago of my +youth,—since which my seared heart has had many a sore and scalding +lesson; yet I cannot think of that night, fixed and graven as it lies in +my memory, without a touch of boyish softness. I remember every waking +thought that crossed my mind: my very dream is still before me. It was of +my mother. I thought of her as she lay on a sofa in the old drawing-room; +the window open, and the blinds drawn, the gentle breeze of a June morning +flapping them lazily to and fro as I knelt beside her to repeat my little +hymn, the first I ever learned; and how at each moment my eyes would turn +and my thoughts stray to that open casement, through which the odor of +flowers and the sweet song of birds were pouring, and my little heart was +panting for liberty, while her gentle smile and faint words bade me +remember where I was. And then I was straying away through the old garden, +where the very sunlight fell scantily through the thick-woven branches, +loaded with perfumed blossoms; the blackbirds hopped fearlessly from twig +to twig, mingling their clear notes with the breezy murmur of the leaves +and the deep hum of summer bees. How happy was I then! And why cannot such +happiness be lasting? Why can we not shelter ourselves from the base +contamination of worldly cares, and live on amid pleasures pure as these, +with hearts as holy and desires as simple as in childhood? +</p> +<p> +Suddenly a change came over my dream, and the dark clouds began to gather +from all quarters, and a low, creeping wind moaned heavily along. I +thought I heard ray name called. I started and awoke. For a second or two +the delusion was so strong that I could not remember where I was; but as +the gray light of a breaking morning fell through the half-open shutters, +I beheld the two figures near the fire. They were both sound asleep, the +deep-drawn breathing and nodding heads attesting the heaviness of their +slumber. +</p> +<p> +I felt cold and cramped, but still afraid to stir, although a longing to +approach the bedside was still upon me. A faint sigh and some muttered +words here came to my ear, and I listened. It was my father; but so +indistinct the sounds, they seemed more like the ramblings of a dream. I +crept noiselessly on tiptoe to the bed, and drawing the curtain gently +over, gazed within. He was lying on his back, his hands and arms outside +the clothes. His beard had grown so much and he had wasted so far that I +could scarcely have known him. His eyes were wide open, but fixed on the +top of the bed; his lips moved rapidly, and by his hands, as they were +closely clasped, I thought it was in prayer. I leaned over him, and placed +my hand in his. For some time he did not seem to notice it; but at last he +pressed it softly, and rubbing the fingers to and fro, he said, in a low, +faint voice,—“Is this your hand, my boy?” +</p> +<p> +I thought my heart had split, as in a gush of tears I bent down and kissed +him. +</p> +<p> +“I can't see well, my dear; there's something between me and the light, +and a weight is on me—here—here—” +</p> +<p> +A heavy sigh, and a shudder that shook his whole frame, followed these +words. +</p> +<p> +“They told me I wasn't to see you once again,” said he, as a sickly smile +played over his mouth; “but I knew you'd come to sit by me. It 's a lonely +thing not to have one's own at such an hour as this. Don't weep, my dear, +my own heart's failing me fast.” +</p> +<p> +A broken, muttering sound followed, and then he said, in a loud voice; “I +never did it! it was Tony Basset. He told me,—he persuaded me. Ah! +that was a sore day when I listened to him. Who 's to tell me I 'm not to +be master of my own estate? Turn them adrift,—ay, every man of them. +I 'll weed the ground of such wretches,—eh, Tony? Did any one say +Freney's mother was dead? they may wake her at the cross roads, if they +like. Poor old Molly! I 'm sorry for her, too. She nursed me and my sister +that's gone; and maybe her deathbed, poor as she was, was easier than mine +will be,—without kith or kin, child or friend. Oh, George!—and +I that doted on you with all my heart! Whose hand's this? Ah, I forgot; my +darling boy, it's you. Come to me here, my child! Was n't it for you that +I toiled and scraped this many a year? Wasn't it for you that I did all +this? and—God, forgive me!—maybe it 's my soul that I 've +perilled to leave you a rich man. Where 's Tom? where 's that fellow now?” +</p> +<p> +“Here, sir!” said I, squeezing his hand, and pressing it to my lips. +</p> +<p> +He sprang up at the words, and sat up in his bed, his eyes dilated to +their widest, and his pale lips parted asunder. +</p> +<p> +“Where?” cried he, as he felt me over with his thin fingers, and drew me +towards him. +</p> +<p> +“Here, father, here!” +</p> +<p> +“And is this Tom?” said he, as his voice fell into a low, hollow sound; +and then added: “Where's George? answer me at once. Oh, I see it! He isn't +here; he would n't come over to see his old father. Tony! Tony Basset, I +say!” shouted the sick man, in a voice that roused the sleepers, and +brought them to his bedside, “open that window there. Let me look out,—do +it as I bid you,—open it wide. Turn in all the cattle you can find +on the road. Do you hear me, Tony? Drive them in from every side. +Finnerty, I say, mind my words; for” (here he uttered a most awful and +terrific oath), “as I linger on this side of the grave, I 'll not leave +him a blade of grass I can take from him.” +</p> +<p> +His chest heaved with a convulsive spasm; his face became pale as death; +his eyes fixed; he clutched eagerly at the bedclothes; and then, with a +horrible cry, he fell back upon the pillow, as a faint stream of red blood +trickled from his nostril and ran down his chin. +</p> +<p> +“It 's all over now!” whispered the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“Is he dead?” said Basset. +</p> +<p> +The other made no reply; but drawing the curtains close, he turned away, +and they both moved noiselessly from the room. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II. DARBY THE “BLAST.” +</h2> +<p> +If there are dreams which, by their vividness and accuracy of detail, seem +altogether like reality, so are there certain actual passages in our lives +which, in their indistinctness while occurring, and in the faint +impression they leave behind them, seem only as mere dreams. Most of our +early sorrows are of this kind. The warm current of our young hearts would +appear to repel the cold touch of affliction; nor can grief at this period +do more than breathe an icy chill upon the surface of our affections, +where all is glowing and fervid beneath. The struggle then between the +bounding heart and the depressing care renders our impressions of grief +vague and ill defined. +</p> +<p> +A stunning sense of some great calamity, some sorrow without hope, mingled +in my waking thoughts with a childish notion of freedom. Unloved, uncared +for, my early years presented but few pleasures. My boyhood had been a +long struggle to win some mark of affection from one who cared not for me, +and to whom still my heart had clung, as does the drowning man to the last +plank of all the wreck. The tie that bound me to him was now severed, and +I was without-one in the wide world to look up to or to love. +</p> +<p> +I looked out from my window upon the bleak country. A heavy snowstorm had +fallen during the night. A lowering sky of leaden hue stretched above the +dreary landscape, across which no living thing was seen to move. Within +doors all was silent. The doctor and the attorney had both taken their +departure; the deep wheel-track in the snow marked the road they had +followed. The servants, seated around the kitchen fire, conversed in low +and broken whispers. The only sound that broke the stillness was the +ticking of the clock upon the stair. There was something that smote +heavily on my heart in the monotonous ticking of that clock: that told of +time passing beside him who had gone; that seemed to speak of minutes +close to one whose minutes were eternity. I crept into the room where the +dead body lay, and as my tears ran fast, I bent over it. I thought +sometimes the expression of those cold features changed,—now +frowning heavily, now smiling blandly on me. I watched them, till in my +eager gaze the lips seemed to move and the cheek to flush. How hard is it +to believe in death! how difficult to think that “there is a sleep that +knows no waking!” I knelt down beside the bed and prayed. I prayed that +now, as all of earth was nought to him who was departed, he would give me +the affection he had not bestowed in life. I besought him not to chill the +heart that in its lonely desolation had neither home nor friend. My throat +sobbed to bursting as in my words I seemed to realize the fulness of my +affliction. The door opened behind me as with bent-down head I knelt. A +heavy footstep slowly moved along the floor; and the next moment the +tottering figure of old Lanty stood beside me, gazing on the dead man. +There was that look of vacancy in his filmy eye that showed he knew +nothing of what had happened. +</p> +<p> +“Is he asleep. Master Tommy?” said the old man, in a faint whisper. +</p> +<p> +My lips trembled, but I could not speak the word. +</p> +<p> +“I thought he wanted the 'dogs' up at Meelif; but I 'm strained here about +the loins, and can't go out myself. Tell him that, when he wakes.” +</p> +<p> +“He'll never wake now, Lanty; he's dead!” said I, as a rush of tears half +choked my utterance. +</p> +<p> +“Dead!” said he, repeating the word two or three times,—“dead! Well, +well! I wonder will Master George keep the dogs now. There seldom comes a +better; and 'twas himself that liked the cry o' them.” +</p> +<p> +He tottered from the room as he spoke, and I could hear him muttering the +same words over and over, as he crept slowly down the stair. +</p> +<p> +I have said that this painful stroke of fortune was as a dream to me; and +so for three days I felt it. The altered circumstances of everything about +me were inexplicable to my puzzled brain. The very kindness of the +servants, so unusual to me, struck me forcibly. They felt that the time +was past when any sympathy for me had been the passport to disfavor, and +they pitied me. +</p> +<p> +The funeral took place on the third morning. Mr. Basset having acquainted +my brother that there was no necessity for his presence, even that +consolation was denied me,—to meet him who alone remained of all my +name and house belonging to me. How I remember every detail of that +morning! The silence of the long night broken in upon by heavy footsteps +ascending the stairs; strange voices, not subdued like those of all in our +little household, but loud and coarse; even laughter I could hear, the +noise increasing at each moment. Then the muffled sound of wheels upon the +snow, and the cries of the drivers as they urged their horses forward. +Then a long interval, in which nought was heard save the happy whistle of +some poor postilion, who, careless of his errand, whiled away the tedious +time with a lively tune. And lastly, there came the dull noise of feet +moving step by step down the stair, the muttered words, the shuffling +sound of feet as they descended, and the clank of the coffin as it struck +against the wall. +</p> +<p> +The long, low parlor was filled with people, few of whom I had ever seen +before. They were broken up into little knots, chatting cheerfully +together while they made a hurried breakfast. The table and sideboard were +covered with a profusion I had never witnessed previously. Decanters of +wine passed freely from hand to hand; and although the voices fell +somewhat as I appeared amidst them, I looked in vain for one touch of +sorrow for the dead, or even respect for his memory. +</p> +<p> +As I took my place in the carriage beside the attorney, a kind of dreamy +apathy settled down on me, and I scarcely knew what was passing. I only +remember the horrible shrinking sense of dread with which I recoiled from +his one attempt at consolation, and the abrupt way in which he desisted, +and turned to converse with the doctor. How my heart sickened as we drew +near the churchyard, and I beheld the open gate that stood wide awaiting +us! The dusky figures, with their mournful black cloaks, moved slowly +across the snow, like spirits of some gloomy world; while the death-bell +echoed in my ears, and sent a shuddering through my frame. +</p> +<p> +“What is to become of the second boy?” said the clergyman, in a low +whisper, but which, by some strange fatality, struck forcibly on my ear. +</p> +<p> +“It's not much matter,” replied Basset, still lower; “for the present he +goes home with me. Tom, I say, you come back with me to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said I, boldly; “I'll go home again.” +</p> +<p> +“Home!” repeated he, with a scornful laugh,—“home I And where may +that be, youngster?” +</p> +<p> +“For shame, Basset!” said the clergyman; “don't speak that way to him. My +little man, you can't go home today. Mr. Basset will take you with him for +a few days, until your late father's will is known, and his wishes +respecting you.” +</p> +<p> +“I'll go home, sir!” said I, but in a fainter tone, and with tears in my +eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well! let him do so for to-day; it may relieve his poor heart. +Come, Basset, I 'll take him back myself.” +</p> +<p> +I clasped his hand as he spoke, and kissed it over and over. +</p> +<p> +“With all my heart,” cried Basset. “I'll come over and fetch him +to-morrow;” and then he added, in a lower tone, “and before that you 'll +have found out quite enough to be heartily sick of your charge.” +</p> +<p> +All the worthy vicar's efforts to rouse me from my stupor or interest me +failed. He brought me to his house, where, amid his own happy children, he +deemed my heart would have yielded to the sympathy of my own age. But I +pined to get back; I longed—why, I knew not—to be in my own +little chamber, alone with my grief. In vain he tried every consolation +his kind heart and his life's experience had taught him; the very +happiness I witnessed but reminded me of my own state, and I pressed the +more eagerly to return. +</p> +<p> +It was late when he drew up to the door of the house, to which already the +closed window shutters had given a look of gloom and desertion. We knocked +several times before any one came, and at length two or three heads +appeared at an upper window, in half-terror at the unlooked-for summons +for admission. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, my dear boy!” said the vicar, as he kissed me; “don't forget +what I have been telling you. It will make you bear your present sorrow +better, and teach you to be happier when it is over.” +</p> +<p> +“Come down to the kitchen, alannah!” said the old cook, as the hall door +closed; “come down and sit with us there. Sure it 's no wonder your heart +'ud be low.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Master Tommy; and Darby “the Blast” is there, and a tune and the +pipes will raise you.” +</p> +<p> +I suffered myself to be led along listlessly between them to the kitchen, +where, around a huge fire of red turf, the servants of the house were all +assembled, together with some neighboring cottagers; Darby “the Blast” +occupying a prominent place in the party, his pipes laid across his knees +as he employed himself in concocting a smoking tumbler of punch. +</p> +<p> +“Your most obadient!” said Darby, with a profound reverence, as I entered. +“May I make so bowld as to surmise that my presence is n't unsaysonable to +your feelings? for I wouldn't be contumacious enough to adjudicate without +your honor's permission.” +</p> +<p> +What I muttered in reply I know not; but the whole party were speedily +reseated, every eye turned admiringly on Darby for the very neat and +appropriate expression of his apology. +</p> +<p> +Young as I was and slight as had been the consideration heretofore +accorded me, there was that in the lonely desolation of my condition which +awakened all their sympathies, and directed all their interests towards +me; and in no country are the differences of rank such slight barriers in +excluding the feeling of one portion of the community from the sorrows of +the others: the Irish peasant, however humble, seems to possess an +intuitive tact on this subject, and to minister all the consolations in +his power with a gentle delicacy that cannot be surpassed. +</p> +<p> +The silence caused by my appearing among them was unbroken for some time +after I took my seat by the fire; and the only sounds were the clinking of +a spoon against the glass, or, the deep-drawn sigh of some compassionate +soul, as she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye with her apron. +</p> +<p> +Darby alone manifested a little impatience at the sudden change in a party +where his powers of agreeability had so lately been successful, and +fidgeted on his chair, unscrewed his pipes, blew into them, screwed them +on again, and then slyly nodded over to the housemaid, as he raised his +glass to his lips. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind me,” said I to the old cook, who, between grief and the glare +of a turf fire, had her face swelled out to twice its natural size,—“never +mind me, Molly, or I 'll go away.” +</p> +<p> +“And why would you, darlin'? Troth, no! sure there 's nobody feels for you +like them that was always about you. Take a cup of tay, alannah; it 'll do +you good.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Master Tom,” said the butler; “you never tasted anything since +Tuesday night.” +</p> +<p> +“Do, sir, av ye plaze!” said the pretty housemaid, as she stood before me, +cup in hand. +</p> +<p> +“Arrah! what's tay?” said Darby, in a contemptuous tone of voice. “A few +dirty laves, with a drop of water on top of them, that has neither +beatification nor invigoration. Here 's the <i>fons animi</i>!” said he, +patting the whisky bottle affectionately. “Did ye ever hear of the +ancients indulging in tay? D'ye think Polyphamus and Jupither took tay?” +</p> +<p> +The cook looked down abashed and ashamed. +</p> +<p> +“Tay's good enough for women,—no offence, Mrs. Cook!—but you +might boil down Paykin, and it'd never be potteen. <i>Ex quo vis ligno non +fit Mercurius</i>,—'You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.' +That's the meaning of it; ligno 's a sow.” +</p> +<p> +Heaven knows I was in no mirthful mood at that moment; but I burst into a +fit of laughing at this, in which, from a sense of politeness, the party +all joined. +</p> +<p> +“That's it, acushla!” said the old cook, as her eyes sparkled with +delight; “sure it makes my heart light to see you smilin' again. Maybe +Darby would raise a tune now, and there 's nothing equal to it for the +spirits.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Mr. M'Keown,” said the housemaid; “play 'Kiss me twice!' Master Tom +likes it.” +</p> +<p> +“Devil a doubt he does!” replied Darby, so maliciously as to make poor +Kitty blush a deep scarlet; “and no shame to him! But you see my fingers +is cut. Master Tom, and I can't perform the reduplicating intonations with +proper effect.” +</p> +<p> +“How did that happen. Darby?” said the butler. +</p> +<p> +“Faix, easy enough. Tim Daly and myself was hunting a cat the other +evening, and she was under the dhresser, and we wor poking her with a +burnt stick and a raypinghook, and she somehow always escaped us, and +except about an inch of her tail, that we cut off, there was no getting at +her; and at last I hated a toastin'-fork and put it in, when out she flew, +teeth and claws, at me. Look, there 's where she stuck her thieving nails +into my thumb, and took the piece clean out. The onnatural baste!” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah!” said the old cook, with a most reflective gravity, “there 's +nothing so treacherous as a cat! “—a moral to the story which I +found met general assent among the whole company. +</p> +<p> +“Nevertheless,” observed Darby, with an air of ill-dissembled +condescension, “if it isn't umbrageous to your honor, I 'll intonate +something in the way of an ode or a canticle.” +</p> +<p> +“One of your own. Darby,” said the butler, interrupting. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I've no objection,” replied Darby, with an affected modesty; “for +you see, master, like Homer, I accompany myself on the pipes, though—glory +be to God!—I'm not blind. The little thing I 'll give you is +imitated from the ancients—like Tibullus or Euthropeus—in the +natural key.” +</p> +<p> +Mister M'Keown, after this announcement, pushed his empty tumbler towards +the butler with a significant glance gave a few preparatory grunts with +the pipes, followed by a long dolorous quaver, and then a still more +melancholy cadence, like the expiring bray of an asthmatic jackass; all of +which sounds, seeming to be the essential preliminaries to any performance +on the bagpipes, were listened to with great attention by the company. At +length, having assumed an imposing attitude, he lifted up both elbows, +tilted his little finger affectedly up, dilated his cheeks, and began the +following to the well-known air of “Una:”— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MUSIC. + +Of all the arts and sciences, +'T is music surely takes the sway; +It has its own appliances +To melt the heart or make it gay. +To raise us, +Or plaze us, +There 's nothing with it can compare; +To make us bowld, +Or hot or cowld, +Just as suits the kind of air. + +There 's not a woman, man, or child. +That has n't felt its powers too; +Don't deny it!—when you smiled +Your eyes confess'd, that so did you. + +The very winds that sigh or roar; +The leaves that rustle, dry and sear; +The waves that beat upon the shore,— +They all are music to your ear. +It was of use +To Orpheus,— +He charmed the fishes in the say; +So everything +Alive can sing,— +The kettle even sings for tay! + +There's not a woman, man, or child. +That hau n't felt its power too; +Don't deny it!—when you smiled +Your eyes confess'd, that so did you. +</pre> +<p> +I have certainly since this period listened to more brilliant musical +performances, but for the extent of the audience, I do not think it was +possible to reap a more overwhelming harvest of applause. Indeed, the old +cook kept repeating stray fragments of the words to every air that crossed +her memory for the rest of the evening; and as for Kitty, I intercepted +more than one soft glance intended for Mister M'Keown as a reward for his +minstrelsy. +</p> +<p> +Darby, to do him justice, seemed fully sensible of his triumph, and sat +back in his chair and imbibed his liquor like a man who had won his +laurels, and needed no further efforts to maintain his eminent position in +life. +</p> +<p> +As the wintry wind moaned dismally without, and the leafless trees shook +and trembled with the cold blast, the party drew in closer to the cheerful +turf fire, with that sense of selfish delight that seems to revel in the +contrast of indoor comfort with the bleakness and dreariness without. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Darby,” said the butler, “you weren't far wrong when you took my +advice to stay here for the night; listen to how it 's blowing.” +</p> +<p> +“That 's hail!” said the old cook, as the big drops came pattering down +the chimney, and hissed on the red embers as they fell. “It 's a cruel +night, glory be to God!” Here the old lady blessed herself,—a +ceremony which the others followed. +</p> +<p> +“For all that,” said Darby, “I ought to be up at Crocknavorrigha this +blessed evening. Joe Neale was to be married to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“Joe! is it Joe?” said the butler. +</p> +<p> +“I wish her luck of him, whoever she is!” added the cook. +</p> +<p> +“Faix, and he's a smart boy!” chimed in the housemaid, with something not +far from a blush as she spoke. +</p> +<p> +“He was a raal devil for coortin', anyhow!” said the butler. +</p> +<p> +“It's just for peace he's marrying now, then,” said Darby; “the women +never gave him any quietness. Just so, Kitty; you need n't be looking +cross that way,—it 's truth I'm telling you. They were always coming +about him, and teasing him, and the like, and he could n't bear it any +longer.” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, howld your prate!” interrupted the old cook, whose indignation for +the honor of the sex could not endure more. “He's the biggest liar from +this to himself; and that same 's not a small word. Darby M'Keown.” +</p> +<p> +There was a pointedness in the latter part of this speech which might have +led to angry consequences, had I not interposed by asking Mr. M'Keown +himself if he ever was in love. +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, it 's wishing it, I am, the same love. Sure my back and sides is +sore with it; my misfortunes would fill a book. Did n't I bind myself +apprentice to a carpenter for love of Molly Scraw, a niece he had, just to +be near her and be looking at her; and that 's the way I shaved off the +top of my thumb with the plane. By the mortial, it was near killing me. I +usedn't to eat or drink; and though I was three years at the thrade, faix, +at the end of it, I could n't tell you the gimlet from the handsaw!” +</p> +<p> +“And you wor never married, Mister M'Keown?” said Kitty. +</p> +<p> +“Never, my darling, but often mighty near it. Many 's the quare thing +happened to me,” said Darby, meditatingly; “and sure if it was n't my +guardian angel, or something of the kind, prevented it, I 'd maybe have +more wives this day than the Emperor of Roossia himself.” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, don't be talking!” grunted out the old cook, whose passion could +scarcely be restrained at the boastful tone Mister M'Keown assumed in +descanting on his successes. +</p> +<p> +“There was Biddy Finn,” continued Darby, without paying any attention to +the cook's interruption; “she might be Mrs. M'Keown this day, av it wasn't +for a remarkable thing that happened.” +</p> +<p> +“What was that?” said Kitty, with eager curiosity. +</p> +<p> +“Tell us about it. Mister M'Keown,” said the butler. +</p> +<p> +“The devil a word of truth he'll tell you,” grumbled the cook, as she +raked the ashes with a stick. +</p> +<p> +“There 's them here does not care for agreeable intercoorse,” said Darby, +assuming a grand air. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Daxby; I 'd like to hear the story,” said I. +</p> +<p> +After a few preparatory scruples, in which modesty, offended dignity, and +conscious merit struggled, Mr. M'Keown began by informing us that he had +once a most ardent attachment to a certain Biddy Finn, of Ballyclough,—a +lady of considerable personal attractions, to whom for a long time he had +been constant, and at last, through the intervention of Father Curtin, +agreed to marry. Darby's consent to the arrangements was not altogether +the result of his reverence's eloquence, nor indeed the justice of the +case; nor was it quite owing to Biddy's black eyes and pretty lips; but +rather to the soul-persuading powers of some fourteen tumblers of strong +punch which he swallowed at a <i>séance</i> in Biddy's father's house one +cold evening in November, after which he betook himself to the road +homewards, where—But we must give his story in his own words: +</p> +<p> +“Whether it was the prospect of happiness before me, or the potteen,” +quoth Darby, “but so it was,—I never felt a step of the road home +that night, though it was every foot of five mile. When I came to a stile, +I used to give a whoop, and over it; then I'd run for a hundred yards or +two, flourish my stick, cry out, 'Who 'll say a word against Biddy Finn?' +and then over another fence, flying. Well, I reached home at last, and wet +enough I was; but I did n't care for that. I opened the door and struck a +light; there was the least taste of kindling on the hearth, and I put some +dry sticks into it and some turf, and knelt down and began blowing it up. +</p> +<p> +“'Troth,' says I to myself, 'if I wor married, it isn't this way I'd be,—on +my knees like a nagur; but when I 'd come home, there 'ud be a fine fire +blazin' fornint me, and a clean table out before it, and a beautiful cup +of tay waiting for me, and somebody I won't mintion, sitting there, +looking at me, smilin'.' +</p> +<p> +“'Don't be making a fool of yourself, Darby M'Keown,' said a gruff voice +near the chimley. +</p> +<p> +“I jumped at him, and cried out, 'Who 's that?' But there was no answer; +and at last, after going round the kitchen, I began to think it was only +my own voice I heard; so I knelt down again, and set to blowing away at +the fire. +</p> +<p> +“'And it's yerself, Biddy,' says I, 'that would be an ornament to a dacent +cabin; and a purtier leg and foot—' +</p> +<p> +“'Be the light that shines, you're making me sick. Darby M'Keown,' said +the voice again. +</p> +<p> +“'The heavens be about us!' says I, 'what 's that? and who are you at +all?' for someways I thought I knew the voice. +</p> +<p> +“'I 'm your father!' says the voice. +</p> +<p> +“'My father!' says I. 'Holy Joseph, is it truth you 're telling me?' +</p> +<p> +“'The divil a word o' lie in it,' says the voice. 'Take me down, and give +me an air o' the fire, for the night 's cowld.' +</p> +<p> +“'And where are you, father,' says I, 'av it's plasing to ye?' +</p> +<p> +“'I 'm on the dhresser,' says he. 'Don't you see me?' +</p> +<p> +“'Sorra bit o' me. Where now?' +</p> +<p> +“'Arrah, on the second shelf, next the rowling-pin. Don't you see the +green jug?—that's me.' +</p> +<p> +“'Oh, the saints in heaven be about us!' says I; 'and are you a green +jug?' +</p> +<p> +“'I am,' says he; 'and sure I might be worse. Tim Healey's mother is only +a cullender, and she died two years before me.' +</p> +<p> +“'Oh! father, darlin',' says I, 'I hoped you wor in glory; and you only a +jug all this time!' +</p> +<p> +“'Never fret about it,' says my father; 'it 's the transmogrification of +sowls, and we 'll be right by and by. Take me down, I say, and put me near +the fire.' +</p> +<p> +“So I up and took him down, and wiped him with a clean cloth, and put him +on the hearth before the blaze. +</p> +<p> +“'Darby,' says he, 'I'm famished with the druth. Since you took to +coortin' there 's nothing ever goes into my mouth; haven't you a taste of +something in the house?' +</p> +<p> +“I wasn't long till I hated some wather, and took down the bottle of +whiskey and some sugar, and made a rousing jugful, as strong as need be. +</p> +<p> +“'Are you satisfied, father?' says I. +</p> +<p> +“'I am,' says he; 'you 're a dutiful child, and here 's your health, and +don't be thinking of Biddy Finn,' +</p> +<p> +“With that my father began to explain how there was never any rest nor +quietness for a man after he married,—more be token, if his wife was +fond of talking; and that he never could take his dhrop of drink in +comfort afterwards. +</p> +<p> +“'May I never,' says he, 'but I 'd rather be a green jug, as I am now, +than alive again wid your mother. Sure it 's not here you'd be sitting +to-night,' says he, 'discoorsing with me, av you wor married; devil a bit. +Fill me,' says my father, 'and I 'll tell you more.' +</p> +<p> +“And sure enough I did, and we talked away till near daylight; and then +the first thing I did was to take the ould mare out of the stable, and set +off to Father Curtin, and towld him all about it, and how my father would +n't give his consent by no means. +</p> +<p> +“'We'll not mind the marriage,' says his rivirence; 'but go back and bring +me your father,—the jug, I mean,—and we 'll try and get him +out of trouble; for it 's trouble he 's in, or he would n't be that way. +Give me the two pound ten,' says the priest; 'you had it for the wedding, +and it will be better spent getting your father out of purgatory than +sending you into it. '” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, aren't you ashamed of yourself?” cried the cook, with a look of +ineffable scorn, as he concluded. +</p> +<p> +“Look now,” said Darby, “see this; if it is n't thruth—” +</p> +<p> +“And what became of your father?” interrupted the butler. +</p> +<p> +“And Biddy Finn, what did she do?” said the housemaid. +</p> +<p> +Darby, however, vouchsafed no reply, but sat back in his chair with an +offended look, and sipped his liquor in silence. +</p> +<p> +A fresh brew of punch under the butler's auspices speedily, however, +dispelled the cloud that hovered over the conviviality of the party; and +even the cook vouchsafed to assist in the preparation of some rashers, +which Darby suggested were beautiful things for the thirst at this hour of +the night; but whether in allaying or exciting it, he did n't exactly lay +down. The conversation now became general; and as they seemed resolved to +continue their festivities to a late hour, I took the first opportunity I +could, when unobserved, to steal away and return to my own room. +</p> +<p> +No sooner alone again than all the sorrow of my lonely state came back +upon me; and as I laid my head on my pillow, the full measure of my misery +flowed in upon my heart, and I sobbed myself to sleep. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III. THE DEPARTURE +</h2> +<p> +The violent beating of the rain against the glass, and the loud crash of +the storm as it shook the window-frames or snapped the sturdy branches of +the old trees, awoke me. I got up, and opening the shutters, endeavored to +look out; but the darkness was impenetrable, and I could see nothing but +the gnarled and grotesque forms of the leafless trees dimly marked against +the sky, as they moved to and fro like the arms of some mighty giant. +Masses of heavy snow melted by the rain fell at intervals from the steep +roof, and struck the ground beneath with a low sumph like thunder. A +grayish, leaden tinge that marked the horizon showed it was near daybreak; +but there was nought of promise in this harbinger of morning. Like my own +career, it opened gloomily and in sadness: so felt I at least; and as I +sat beside the window, and strained my eyes to pierce the darkening storm, +I thought that even watching the wild hurricane without was better than +brooding over the sorrows within my own bosom. +</p> +<p> +How long I remained thus I know not; but already the faint streak that +announces sunrise marked the dull-colored sky, when the cheerful sounds of +a voice singing in the room underneath attracted me. I listened, and in a +moment recognized the piper. Darby M'Keown. He moved quickly about, and by +his motions I could collect that he was making preparations for his +journey. +</p> +<p> +If I could venture to pronounce, from the merry tones of his voice and the +light elastic step with which he trod the floor, I certainly would not +suppose that the dreary weather had any terror for him. He spoke so loud +that I could catch a great deal of the dialogue he maintained with +himself, and some odd verses of the song with which from time to time he +garnished his reflections. +</p> +<p> +“Marry, indeed! Catch me at it—nabocklish—with the countryside +before me, and the hoith of good eating and drinking for a blast of the +chantre. Well, well! women 's quare craytures anyway. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +'Ho, ho! Mister Ramey, +No more of your blarney, +I 'd have yoa not make so free; +You may go where you plaze. +And make love at your ease. +But the devil may have you for me.' +</pre> +<p> +Very well, ma'am. Mister M'Keown is your most obedient,—never say it +twice, honey; and isn't there as good fish, eh?—whoop! +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +'Oh! my heart is unazy. +My brain is run crazy, +Sure it 's often I wish I was dead; +'Tis your smile now so sweet! +Now your ankles and feet. +That 's walked into my heart, Molly Spread! +Tol de rol, de rol, oh!' +</pre> +<p> +Whew! thttt 's rain, anyhow. I would n't mind it, bad as it is, if I +hadn't the side of a mountain before me; but sure it comes to the same in +the end. Catty Delany is a good warrant for a pleasant evening; and, +please God, I 'll be playing 'Baltiorum' beside the fire there before this +time to-night. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +'She 'd a pig and boneens. +And a bed and a dresser. +And a nate little room +For the father confessor; +With a cupboard and curtains, and something, I 'm towld. +That his riv'rance liked when the weather was cowld. +And it 's hurroo, hurroo! Biddy O'Rafferty!' +</pre> +<p> +After all, aix, the priest bates us out. There 's eight o'clock now, and +I'm not off; devil a one's stirring in the house either. Well, I believe I +may take my leave of it; sorrow many tunes of the pipes it's likely to +hear, with Tony Basset over it. And my heart 's low when I think of that +child there. Poor Tom! and it was you liked fun when you could have it.” +</p> +<p> +I wanted but the compassionate tone in which these few words were spoken +to decide me in a resolution that I had been for some time pondering over. +I knew that ere many hours Basset would come in search of me; I felt that, +once in his power, I had nothing to expect but the long-promised payment +of his old debt of hatred to me. In a few seconds I ran over with myself +the prospect of misery before me, and determined at once, at every hazard, +to make my escape. Darby seemed to afford me the best possible opportunity +for this purpose; and I dressed myself, therefore, in the greatest haste, +and throwing whatever I could find of my wardrobe into my carpet-bag, I +pocketed my little purse, with all my worldly wealth,—some twelve or +thirteen shillings,—and noiselessly slipped downstairs to the room +beneath. I reached the door at the very moment Darby opened it to issue +forth. He started back with fear, and crossed himself twice. +</p> +<p> +“Don't be afraid. Darby,” said I, uneasy lest he should make any noise +that would alarm the others; “I want to know which road you are travelling +this morning.” +</p> +<p> +“The saints be about us, but you frightened me. Master Tommy; though, +intermediately, I may obsarve, I 'm by no ways timorous. I 'm going within +two miles of Athlone.” +</p> +<p> +“That's exactly where I want to go. Darby; will you take me with you?” for +at the instant Captain Bubbleton's address flashed on my mind, and I +resolved to seek him out and ask his advice in my difficulties. +</p> +<p> +“I see it all,” replied Darby, as he placed the tip of his finger on his +nose. “I conceive your embarrassments,—you're afraid of Basset; and +small blame to you. But don't do it. Master Tommy,—don't do it, +alannah! that 's the hardest life at all.” +</p> +<p> +“What?” said I, in amazement. +</p> +<p> +“To 'list! Sure I know what you're after. Faix, it would sarve you better +to larn the pipes.” +</p> +<p> +I hastened to assure Darby of his error; and in a few words informed him +of what I had overheard of Basset's intentions respecting me. +</p> +<p> +“Make you an attorney!” said Darby, interrupting me abruptly; “an +attorney! There's nothing so mean as an attorney. The police is gentlemen +compared to them,—they fight it out fair like men; but the other +chaps sit in a house planning and contriving mischief all day long, +inventing every kind of wickedness, and then getting people to do it. See, +now, I believe in my conscience the devil was the first attorney, and it +was just to serve his own ends that he bred a ruction between Adam and +Eve. But whisht! there's somebody stirring. Are you for the road?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Darby; my mind's made up.” +</p> +<p> +Indeed, his own elegant eulogium on legal pursuits assisted my resolution, +and filled my heart with renewed disgust at the thought of such a guardian +as Tony Basset. +</p> +<p> +We walked stealthily along the gloomy passages, traversed the old hall, +and noiselessly withdrew the heavy bolts and the great chain that fastened +the door. The rain was sweeping along the ground in torrents, and the wind +dashed it against the window panes in fitful gusts. It needed all our +strength to close the door after us against the storm, and it was only +after several trials that we succeeded in doing so. The hollow sound of +the oak door smote upon my heart as it closed behind me; in an instant the +sense of banishment, of utter destitution, was present to my mind. I +turned my eyes to gaze upon the old house,—to take my last farewell +of it forever! Gloomy as my prospect was, my sorrow was less for the sad +future than for the misery of the moment. +</p> +<p> +“No, Master Tom! no, you must go back,” said Darby, who watched with a +tender interest the sickly paleness of my cheek, and the tottering +uncertainty of my walk. +</p> +<p> +“No, Darby,” said I, with an effort at firmness; “I'll not look round any +more.” And bending my head against the storm, I stepped out boldly beside +my companion. We walked on without speaking, and soon left the neglected +avenue and ruined gate lodge behind us, as we reached the highroad that +led to Athlone. +</p> +<p> +Darby, who only waited to let my first burst of sorrow find its natural +vent, no sooner perceived from my step and the renewed color of my cheek +that I had rallied my courage once more, than he opened all his stores of +agreeability, which, to my inexperience in such matters, were by no means +inconsiderable. Abandoning at once all high-flown phraseology,—which +Mr. M'Keown, I afterwards remarked, only retained as a kind of gala suit +for great occasions,—he spoke freely and naturally. Lightening the +way with many a story,—now grave, now gay,—he seemed to care +little for the inclemency of the weather, and looked pleasantly forward to +a happy evening as an ample reward for the present hardship. +</p> +<p> +“And the captain, Master Tom; you say he's an agreeable man?” said Darby, +alluding to my late companion on the coach, whose merits I was never tired +of recapitulating. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, delightful! He has travelled everywhere, and seems to know everybody +and everything. He 's very rich, too; I forget how many houses he has in +England, and elephants without number in India.” +</p> +<p> +“Faix, you were in luck to fall in with him!” observed Darby. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, that I was I I 'm sure he 'll do something for me; and for you too, +Darby, when he knows you have been so kind to me.” +</p> +<p> +“Me! What did I do, darling? and what could I do, a poor piper like me? +Wouldn't it be honor enough for me if a gentleman's son would travel the +road with me? Darby M'Keown's a proud man this day to have you beside +him.” +</p> +<p> +A ruined cabin in the road, whose blackened walls and charred timbers +denoted its fate, here attracted my companion's attention. He stopped for +a second or two to look on it; and then, kneeling down, he muttered a +short prayer for the eternal rest of some one departed, and taking up a +stone, he threw it on a heap of similar ones which lay near the doorside. +</p> +<p> +“What happened there, Darby?” said I, as he resumed his way. +</p> +<p> +“They wor out in the thrubles!” was his only reply, as he cast a glance +behind, to perceive if any one had remarked him. +</p> +<p> +Though he made no further allusion to the fate of those who once inhabited +the cabin, he spoke freely of his own share in the eventful year of +'Ninety-eight' justifying, as it then seemed to me, every step of the +patriotic party, and explaining the causes of their unsuccess so naturally +and so clearly that I could not help following with interest every detail +of his narrative, and joining in his regrets for the unexpected and +adverse strokes fortune dealt upon them. As he warmed with his subject, he +spoke of France with an enthusiasm that I soon found contagious. He told +me of the glorious career of the French armies in Italy and Austria; and +of that wonderful man, of whom I then heard for the first time, as +spreading a halo of victory over his nation,—contrasting, as he went +on, the rewards which awaited heroism and bravery in that service with the +purchased promotion in ours, artfully illustrating his position by a +reference to myself, and what my fortunes would have been if born under +that happier sky. “No elder brother there,” said he, “to live in +affluence, while the younger ones are turned out to wander on the wide +world, houseless and penniless. And all these things we might have done, +had we been but true to ourselves.” I drank in all he said with avidity. +The bearing of his arguments on my own fortunes gave them an interest and +an apparent truth my young mind eagerly devoured; and when he ceased to +speak, I pondered over all he told me in a spirit that left its impress on +my whole future life. +</p> +<p> +It was a new notion to me to connect my own fortunes with anything in the +political condition of the country; and while it gave my young heart a +kind of martyred courage, it set my brain a-thinking on a class of +subjects which never before possessed any interest for me. There was a +flattery, too, in the thought that I owed my straitened circumstances less +to any demerits of my own, than to political disabilities. The time was +well chosen by my companion to instil his doctrines into my heart. I was +young, ardent, enthusiastic; my own wrongs had taught me to hate injustice +and oppression; my condition had made me feel, and feel bitterly, the +humiliation of dependence; and if I listened with eager curiosity to every +story and every incident of the bygone Rebellion, it was because the +contest was represented to me as one between tyranny on one side and +struggling liberty on the other. I heard the names of those who sided with +the insurgent party extolled as the great and good men of their country; +their ancient families and hereditary claims furnishing a contrast to many +of the opposite party, whose recent settlement in the island and new-born +aristocracy were held up in scoff and derision. In a word, I learned to +believe that the one side was characterized by cruelty, oppression, and +injustice; the other, conspicuous only for endurance, courage, patriotism, +and truth. What a picture was this to a mind like mine! and at a moment, +too, when I seemed to realize in my own desolation an example of the very +sufferings I heard of! +</p> +<p> +If the portrait McKeown drew of Ireland was sad and gloomy, he painted +France in colors the brightest and most seductive. Dwelling less on the +political advantages which the Revolution had won for the popular party, +he directed my entire attention to the brilliant career of glory the +French army had followed; the triumphant success of the Italian campaign; +the war in Germany; and the splendor of Paris, which he represented as a +very paradise on earth; but above all, he dwelt on the character and +achievements of the First Consul, recounting many anecdotes of his early +life, from the period when he was a schoolboy at Brienne to the hour when +he dictated the conditions of peace to the oldest monarchies of Europe, +and proclaimed war with the voice of one who came as an avenger. +</p> +<p> +I drank in every word he spoke with avidity. The very enthusiasm of his +manner was contagious; I felt my heart bound with rapturous delight at +some hardy deed of soldierlike daring, and conceived a kind of wild +idolatry for the man who seemed to have infused his own glorious +temperament into the mighty thousands around him, and converted a whole +nation into heroes. +</p> +<p> +Darby's information on all these matters—which seemed to me +something miraculous—had been obtained at different periods from +French emissaries who were scattered through Ireland; many of them old +soldiers who had served in the campaigns of Egypt and Italy. +</p> +<p> +“But sure, if you 'd come with me, Master Tom, I could bring you where +you'll see them yourself; and you could talk to them of the battles and +skirmishes, for I suppose you spake French.” +</p> +<p> +“Very little. Darby. How sorry I am now that I don't know it well.” +</p> +<p> +“No matter; they'll soon teach you, and many a thing besides. There 's a +captain I know of, not far from where we are this minute, could learn you +the small sword,—in style, he could. I wish you saw him in his green +uniform with white facings, and three elegant crosses upon it that General +Bonaparte gave him with his own hands; he had them on one Sunday, and I +never see'd anything equal to it.” +</p> +<p> +“And are there many French officers hereabouts?” +</p> +<p> +“Not now; no, they're almost all gone. After the rising they went back to +France, except a few. Well, there'll be call for them again, please God.” +</p> +<p> +“Will there be another Rebellion, then, Darby?” +</p> +<p> +As I put this question fearlessly, and in a voice loud enough to be heard +at some distance, a horseman, wrapped up in a loose cloth cloak, was +passing. He suddenly pulled up short, and turning his horse round, stood +exactly opposite to the piper. Darby saluted the stranger respectfully, +and seemed desirous to pass on; but the other, turning round in his +saddle, fixed a stern look on him, and he cried out,— +</p> +<p> +“What! at the old trade, M'Keown. Is there no curing you, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Just so, major,” said Darby, assuming a tone of voice he had not made use +of the entire morning; “I 'm conveying a little instrumental recreation.” +</p> +<p> +“None of your damned gibberish with me. Who 's that with you?” +</p> +<p> +“He 's the son of a neighbor of mine, your honor,” said Darby, with an +imploring look at me not to betray him. “His father 's a schoolmaster,—a +philomath, as one might say.” +</p> +<p> +I was about to contradict this statement bluntly, when the stranger called +out to me,— +</p> +<p> +“Mark me, young sir, you 're not in the best of company this morning, and +I recommend you to part with your friend as soon as may be. And you,” said +he, turning to Darby, “let me see you in Athlone at ten o'clock to-morrow. +D' ye hear me?” +</p> +<p> +The piper grew pale as death as he heard this command, to which he only +responded by touching his hat in silence; while the horseman, drawing his +cloak around, dashed his spurs into his beast's flanks, and was soon out +of sight. Darby stood for a moment or two looking down the road, where the +stranger had disappeared; a livid hue colored his cheek, and a tremulous +quivering of his under-lip gave him the appearance of one in ague. +</p> +<p> +“I'll be even with ye yet,” muttered he between his clenched teeth; “and +when the hour comes—” +</p> +<p> +Here he repeated some words in Irish with a vehemence of manner that +actually made my blood tingle; then suddenly recovering himself, he +assumed a kind of sickly smile. “That's a hard man, the major.” +</p> +<p> +“I'm thinking,” said Darby, after a pause of some minutes,—“I 'm +thinking it 's better for you not to go into Athlone with me; for if +Basset wishes to track you out, that 'll be the first place he 'll try. +Besides, now that the major has seen you, he'll never forget you.” +</p> +<p> +Having pledged myself to adopt any course my companion recommended, he +resumed,— +</p> +<p> +“Ay, that 's the best way. I 'll lave you at Ned Malone's in the Glen; and +when I 've done with the major in the morning, I 'll look after your +friend the captain, and tell him where you are.” +</p> +<p> +I readily assented to this arrangement; and only asked what distance it +might yet be to Ned Malone's, for already I began to feel fatigue. +</p> +<p> +“A good ten miles,” said Darby,—“no less; but we 'll stop here +above, and get something to eat, and then we 'll take a rest for an hour +or two, and you 'll think nothing of the road after.” +</p> +<p> +I stepped out with increased energy at the cheering prospect; and although +the violence of the weather was nothing abated, I consoled myself with +thinking of the rest and refreshment before me, and resolved not to bestow +a thought upon the present. Darby, on the other hand, seemed more +depressed than before, and betrayed in many ways a state of doubt and +uncertainty as to his movements,—sometimes pushing on rapidly for +half a mile or so; then relapsing into a slow and plodding pace; often +looking back too, and more than once coming to a perfect stand-still, +talking the whole time to himself in a low muttering voice. +</p> +<p> +In this way we proceeded for above two miles, when at last I descried +through the beating rain the dusky gable of a small cabin in the distance, +and eagerly asked if that were to be our halting place. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Darby, “that 's Peg's cabin; and though it 's not very +remarkable in the way of cookery or the like, it 's the only house within +seven miles of us.” +</p> +<p> +As we came nearer, the aspect of the building became even less enticing. +It was a low mud hovel, with a miserable roof of sods, or scraws, as they +are technically called; a wretched attempt at a chimney occupying the +gable; and the front to the road containing a small square aperture, with +a single pane of glass as a window, and a wicker contrivance in the shape +of a door, which, notwithstanding the severity of the day, lay wide open +to permit the exit of the smoke, which rolled more freely through this +than through the chimney. A filthy pool of stagnant, green-covered water +stood before the door, through which a little causeway of earth led. Upon +this a thin, lank-sided sow was standing to be rained, on, her long, +pointed snout turned meditatively towards the luscious mud beside her. +Displacing this Important member of the family with an unceremonious kick. +Darby stooped to enter the low doorway, uttering as he did so the +customary “God save all here!” As I followed him in, I did not catch the +usual response to the greeting, and from the thick smoke which filled the +cabin, could see nothing whatever around me. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Peg,” said Darby, “how is it with you the day?” +</p> +<p> +A low grunting noise issued from the foot of a little mud wall beside the +fireplace. I turned and beheld the figure of a woman of some seventy years +of age, seated beside the turf embers; her dark eyes, bleared with smoke +and dimmed with age, were still sharp and piercing; and her nose, thin and +aquiline, indicated a class of features by no means common among the +people. Her dress was the blue frieze coat of a laboring man, over the +woollen gown usually worn by women. Her feet and legs were bare; and her +head was covered with an old straw bonnet, whose faded ribbon and +tarnished finery betokened its having once belonged to some richer owner. +There was no vestige of any furniture,—neither table nor chair, nor +dresser, nor even a bed, unless some straw laid against the wall in one +corner could be thus called; a pot suspended over the wet and sodden turf +by a piece of hay rope, and an earthen pipkin with water stood beside her. +The floor of the hovel, lower in many places than the road without, was +cut up into sloppy mud by the tread of the sow, who ranged at will through +the premises. In a word, more dire and wretched poverty it was impossible +to conceive. +</p> +<p> +Darby's first movement was to take off the lid and peer into the pot, when +the bubbling sound of the boiling potatoes assured him that we should have +at least something to eat; his next, was to turn a little basket upside +down for a seat, to which he motioned me with his hand; then, approaching +the old woman, he placed his hand to his mouth and shouted in her ear,— +</p> +<p> +“What 's the major after this morning, Peg?” +</p> +<p> +She shook her head gloomily a couple of times, but gave no answer. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm thinking there 's bad work going on at the town there,” cried he, in +the same loud tone as before. +</p> +<p> +Peg muttered something in Irish, but far too low to be audible. +</p> +<p> +“Is she mad, poor thing?” said I, in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +The words were not well uttered when she darted on me her black and +piercing eyes, with a look so steadfast as to make me quail beneath them. +</p> +<p> +“Who 's that there?” said the hag, in a croaking, harsh voice. +</p> +<p> +“He 's a young boy from beyond Loughrea.” +</p> +<p> +“No!” shouted she, in a tone of passionate energy; “don't tell me a lie. I +'d know his brows among a thousand,—he 's a son of Matt Burke's, of +Cronmore.” +</p> +<p> +“Begorra, she is a witch; devil a doubt of it!” muttered Darby between his +teeth. “You 're right, Peg,” continued he, after a moment. “His father's +dead, and the poor child's left nothing in the world.” +</p> +<p> +“And so ould Matt's dead?” interrupted she. “When did he die?” +</p> +<p> +“On Tuesday morning, before day.” +</p> +<p> +“I was driaming of him that morning, and I thought he kem up here to the +cabin door on his knees, and said, 'Peggy, Peggy M'Casky! I'm come to ax +your pardon for all I done to you.' And I sat up in my bed, and cried out, +'Who 's that?' and he said, ''T is me,—'t is Mister Burke; I 'm come +to give you back your lease.' 'I 'll tell you what you 'll give me back,' +says I; 'give me the man whose heart you bruck with bad treatment; give me +the two fine boys you transported for life; give me back twenty years of +my own, that I spent in sorrow and misery.'” +</p> +<p> +“Peg, acushla! don't speak of it any more. The poor child here, that 's +fasting from daybreak, he is n't to blame for what his father did. I think +the praties is done by this time.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he lifted the pot from the fire, and carried it to the door to +strain off the water. The action seemed to rouse the old woman, who rose +rapidly to her legs, and, hastening to the door, snatched the pot from his +hand and pushed him to one side. +</p> +<p> +“'Tis two days since I tasted bit or sup; 'tis God himself knows when and +where I may have it again; but if I never broke my fast, I'll not do it +with the son of him that left me a lone woman this day, that brought the +man that loved me to the grave, and my children to shame forever.” +</p> +<p> +As she spoke, she dashed the pot into the road with such force as to break +it into fifty pieces; and then, sitting down on the outside of the cabin, +she wrung her hands and moaned piteously, in the very excess of her +sorrow. +</p> +<p> +“Let us be going,” said Darby, in a whisper. “There 'a no spaking to her +when she 's one of them fits on her.” +</p> +<p> +We moved silently from the hovel, and gained the road. My heart was full +to bursting; shame and abasement overwhelmed me, and I dated not look up. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Peg. I hope we 'll be better friends when we meet again,” said +Darby, as he passed out. +</p> +<p> +She made no reply, but entered the cabin, from which, in an instant after, +she emerged, carrying a lighted sod of turf in a rude wooden tongs. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/042.jpg" alt="The Curse 42 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> + +</p> +<p> +“Come along quick!” said Darby, with a look of terror; “she's going to +curse you.” +</p> +<p> +I turned round, transfixed and motionless. If my life depended on it, I +could not have stirred a limb. The old woman by this time had knelt down +on the road, and was muttering rapidly to herself. +</p> +<p> +“Gome along, I say I,” said Darby, pulling me by the arm. +</p> +<p> +“And now,” cried the hag aloud, “may bad luck be your shadow wherever you +walk, with sorrow behind and bad hopes before you! May you never taste +happiness nor ease; and, like this turf, may your heart be always burning +here, and—” +</p> +<p> +I heard no more, for Darby, tearing me away by main force, dragged me +along the road, just as the hissing turf embers had fallen at my feet +where the hag had thrown them. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV. MY WANDERINGS. +</h2> +<p> +I CANNOT deny it,—the horrible imprecation I had heard uttered +against me seemed to fill up the cup of my misery. An outcast, without +home, without a friend, this alone was wanting to overwhelm me with very +wretchedness; and as I covered my face with both hands, I thought my heart +would break. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come. Master Tom!” said Darby, “don't be afeard; it'll never do you +harm, all she said. I made the sign of the cross on the road between you +and her with the end of my stick, and you 're safe enough this time. Faix, +she 's a quare divil when she 's roused,—to destroy an illigint pot +of praties that way! But sure she had hard provocation. Well, well! you +war n't to blame, anyhow; Tony Basset will have a sore reckoning some day +for all this.” +</p> +<p> +The mention of that name recalled me in a moment to the consideration of +my own danger if he were to succeed in overtaking me, and I eagerly +communicated my fear to Darby. +</p> +<p> +“That's thrue,” said he; “we must leave the highroad, for Basset will be +up at the house by this, and will lose no time in following you out. If +you had a bit of something to eat.” +</p> +<p> +“As to that. Darby,” said I, with a sickly effort to smile, “Peg's curse +took away my appetite, full as well as her potatoes would have done.” +</p> +<p> +“'T is a bad way to breakfast, after all,” said Darby. “Do you ever take a +shaugh of the pipe, Master Tom?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said I, laughing, “I never learned to smoke yet.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” replied he, a little piqued by the tone of my answer, “'t is worse +you might be doin' than that same. Tobacco's a fine thing for the heart! +Many's the time, when I 'm alone, if I had n't the pipe I 'd be lone and +sorrowful,—thinking over the hard times and the like; but when I 've +filled my dudeen, and do be watching the smoke curling up, I begin +dhraming about sitting round the fire with pleasant companions, chatting +away, and discoorsing, and telling stories. And then I invint the stories +to myself about quare devils of pipers travelling over the country, making +love here and there, and playing dhroll tunes out of their own heads; and +then I make the tunes to them. And after that, maybe, I make words, and +sometimes lay down the pipe and begin singing to myself; and often I take +up the bagpipes and play away with all my might, till I think I see the +darlingest little fairies ever you seen dancing before me, setting to one +another, and turning round, and capering away,—down the middle and +up again; small chaps, with three-cornered hats, and wigs, and little red +coats all slashed with goold; and beautiful little craytures houlding +their petticoats, this way to show a nate leg and foot; and I do be +calling out to them,—'Hands round!' 'That 's your sowl!' 'Look at +the green fellow; 'tis himself can do it!' 'Rise the jig, hoo!'—and +faix 't is sorry enough I 'm when they go, and lave me all alone by +myself.” +</p> +<p> +“And how does all that come into your head. Darby?” “Troth, 'tis hard to +tell,” said Darby, with a sigh. “But my notion is, that the poor man that +has neither fine houses, nor fine clothes, nor horses, nor sarvants to +amuse him, that Providence is kind to him in another way, and fills his +mind with all manner of dhroll thoughts and quare stories and bits of +songs, and the like, and lets him into many a sacret about fairies and the +good people that the rich has no time for. And sure you must have often +remarked it, that the quality has never a bit of fun in them at all, but +does be always coming to us for something to make them laugh. Did you +never lave the parlor, when the company was sitting with lashings of wine +and fruit, and every convaniency, and go downstairs to the kitchen, where +maybe there was nothing but a salt herrin' and a jug of punch; and if you +did, where wais the most fun, I wondher? Arrah, when they bid me play a +tune for them, and I look at their sorrowful pale faces, and their dim +eyes and the stiff way they sit upon their chairs, I never put heart in +it; but when I rise 'Dirty James,' or 'The Little Bould Fox,' or 'Kiss my +Lady,' for the boys and girls, sure 't is my whole sowl does be in the +bag, and I squeeze the notes out of it with all my might.” +</p> +<p> +In this way did Darby converse until we reached a cross road, when, coming +to a halt, he pointed with his finger to the distance, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“Athlone is down beyond that low mountain. Now, Ned Malone's is only six +short miles from this. You keep this byroad till you reach the smith's +forge; then turn off to the lift, across the fields, till you come to an +ould ruin; lave that to your right hand, and follow the boreen straight; +'twill bring you to Ned's doore.” +</p> +<p> +“But I don't know him,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“What signifies that? Sure 'tis no need you have. Tell him you 'll stop +there till Darby the Blast comes for you. And see, now, here 's all you +have to do: put your right thumb in the palm of your lift hand,—this +way,—and then kiss the other thumb, and then you have it. But mind +you don't do that till you 're alone with him; 't is a token between +ourselves.” +</p> +<p> +“I wish you were coming with me, Darby; I'd rather not leave you!” +</p> +<p> +“'Tis myself mislikes it, too,” said Darby, with a sigh. “But I daren't +miss going to Athlone; the major would soon ferret me out; and it's worse +it would be for me.” +</p> +<p> +“And what am I to do if Mr. Basset comes after me?” +</p> +<p> +“If he has n't a throop of horse at his back, you may laugh at him in Ned +Malone's, And now good-by, acushla; and don't let your heart be low,—you +'ll be a man soon, you know.” +</p> +<p> +The words of encouragement could not have been more happily chosen to +raise my drooping spirits. The sense of opening manhood was already +stirring within me, and waited but for some direct occasion to elicit it +in full vigor. +</p> +<p> +I shook Darby's hand with a firm grasp, and assuming the easiest smile I +could accomplish, I set out on the path before me with all the alacrity in +my power. +</p> +<p> +The first thought that shot across my mind when I parted with my companion +was the utter loneliness of my condition; the next—and it followed +immediately on the other—was the bold consciousness of personal +freedom. I enjoyed at the moment the untrammelled liberty to wander +without let or control. All memory of Tony Basset was forgotten, and I +only remembered the restraint of school and the tyranny of my master. My +plan—and already I had formed a plan—was to become a farmer's +servant, to work as a daily laborer. Ned Malone would probably accept of +me, young as I was, in that capacity; and I had no other ambition than +such as secured my independence. +</p> +<p> +As I travelled along I wove within my mind a whole web of imaginary +circumstances: of days of peaceful toil; of nights of happy and contented +rest; of friendship formed with those of my own age and condition; of the +long summer evenings when I should ramble alone to commune with myself on +my humble but happy lot; on the red hearth in winter, around which the +merry faces of the cottagers were beaming, as some pleasant tale was told;—and +as I asked myself, would I exchange a life like this for all the +advantages of fortune my brother's position afforded him, my heart +replied, No! Even then the words of the piper had worked upon me, and +already had I connected the possession of wealth with oppression and +tyranny, and the lowly fortunes of the poor man as alone securing +high-souled liberty of thought and freedom of speech and action. +</p> +<p> +I trudged along through the storm, turning from time to time to see that I +was not pursued; for as the day waned, my fear of being overtaken +increased, and in every moaning of the wind and every rustle of the +branches I thought I heard Tony Basset summoning me to stop and surrender +myself his prisoner. This dread gradually gave way, as the loneliness of +the road was unbroken by a single traveller; the wild half-tilled fields +presented no living object far or near; the thick rain swooped along the +swampy earth, and, in its misty darkness, shut out all distant prospect; +and a sadder picture eye never rested on. +</p> +<p> +At length I reached the ruined church Darby spoke of, and following the +track he indicated, soon came out upon the boreen, where for the first +time some little shelter existed. +</p> +<p> +It was only at nightfall, when fatigue and hunger had nearly obtained the +victory over me, that I saw, at some short distance in front, the long +roof of a well-thatched cabin. As I came nearer, I could perceive that it +contained several windows, and that the door was sheltered by a small +porch,—marks of comfort by no means common among the neighboring +farmers; lights moved here and there through the cabin; and the voices of +people driving in the cows, and the barking of dogs, were welcome sounds +to my ear. A half-clad urchin, of some seven years old, armed with a huge +bramble, was driving a flock of turkeys before him as I approached; but +instead of replying to my question, “If this were Ned Malone's,” the +little fellow threw down his weapon, and ran for his life. Before I could +recover from my surprise at his strange conduct, the door opened, and a +large, powerful-looking man, in a long blue coat, appeared. He carried a +musket in his hand, which, as soon as he perceived the figure before him, +he laid down within the porch, calling out to some one inside,— +</p> +<p> +“Go back, Maurice,—it's nothing. Well, sir,” continued he, +addressing me, “do you want anybody hereabouts?” +</p> +<p> +“Is this Ned Malone's, may I ask?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“It is,” answered he; “and I am Ned Malone, at your service. And what +then?” +</p> +<p> +There was something in the cold, forbidding tone in which he spoke, as +well as in the hard severity of his look, that froze all my resolution to +ask a favor, and I would gladly have sought elsewhere for shelter for the +night had I known where to look. +</p> +<p> +The delay this indecision on my part created, caused him to repeat his +question, while he fixed his eyes on me with a dark and piercing +expression. +</p> +<p> +“Darby the Blast told me,” said I, with a great effort to seem at ease, +“that you would give me shelter to-night. To-morrow morning he 's to come +here for me.” +</p> +<p> +“And who are you,” said he, harshly, “that I am to take into my house? In +these troublesome times a man may ask the name of his lodger.” +</p> +<p> +“My name is Burke. My father's name was Burke, of Cremore; but he 's dead +now.” +</p> +<p> +“'T is you that Basset is after all day, is it?” +</p> +<p> +“I can't tell; but I fear it may be.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, some one told him that you took the Dublin road, and another sent +him up here, and the boys here sent him to Durragh. And what are you +after, young gentleman? Do you dislike Tony Basset? Is that it?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I; “I 'm resolved never to go home and live with him. He made +my father hate me, and through him I have been left a beggar.” +</p> +<p> +“There 's more than you has a score to settle with Tony. Come into the +house and get your clothes dried. But stop, I have a bit of a caution to +give you. If you see anything or anybody while you 're under my roof that +you did n't expect—” +</p> +<p> +“Trust me there!” interrupted I, eagerly, and making the sign the piper +had taught me. +</p> +<p> +“What!” cried Malone, in astonishment; “are you one of us? Is a son of +Matt Burke's going to redress the wrongs his father and grandfather before +him inflicted? Give me your hand, my brave boy; there 's nothing in this +house isn't your own from this minit.” +</p> +<p> +I grasped his strong hand in mine, and with a proud and swelling heart, +followed him into the cabin. +</p> +<p> +A whisper crept round the various persons that sat and stood about the +kitchen fire as I appeared among them; and the next moment one after +another pressed anxiously forward to shake hands with me. +</p> +<p> +“Help him off with his wet clothes, Maurice,” said Malone, to a young man +of some twenty years; and in a few seconds my wet garments were hung on +chairs before the blaze, and I myself, accompanied with a frieze coat that +would make a waistcoat for an elephant, sat basking before the cheerful +turf fire. The savory steam of a great mess of meat and potatoes induced +me to peep into the large pot over the fire. A hearty burst of laughing +from the whole party acknowledged their detection of my ravenous hunger, +and the supper was smoking on the board in a few minutes after. Unhappily, +a good number of years have rolled over my head since that night; but I +still hesitate to decide whether to my appetite or to Mrs. Malone's +cookery should attribute it, but certainly my performance on that occasion +called forth unqualified admiration. +</p> +<p> +I observed during the supper that one of the girls carried a plateful of +the savory dish into a small room at the end of the kitchen, carefully +closing the door after her as she entered; and when she came out, +exchanging with Malone a few hurried words, to which the attention of the +others was evidently directed. The caution I had already received, and my +own sense of propriety, prevented my paying any attention to this, and I +conversed with those about me, freely narrating the whole circumstances of +my departure from home, my fear of Basset, and my firm resolve, come what +might, never to become an inmate of his house and family. Not all the +interest they took in my fortunes, nor even the warm praises of what they +called my courage and manliness, could ward off the tendency to sleep, and +my eyes actually closed as I lay down in my bed, and notwithstanding the +noise of voices and the sounds of laughter near me, sank into the heaviest +slumber. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V. THE CABIN. +</h2> +<p> +Before day broke the stir and bustle of the household awoke me, and had it +not been for the half-open door, which permitted a view of the proceedings +in the kitchen, I should have been sadly puzzled to remember where I was. +The cheerful turf fire, the happy faces, and the pleasant voices all +reminded me of the preceding night, and I lay pondering over my fortunes, +and revolving within myself many a plan for the future. +</p> +<p> +In all the daydreams of ambition in which youth indulges, there is this +advantage over the projects of maturer years,—the past never mingles +with the future. In after life our bygone existence is ever tingeing the +time to come; the expectations friends have formed of us, the promises we +have made to our own hearts, the hopes we have created, seem to pledge us +to something which, if anattained, sounds like failure. But in earlier +years, the budding consciousness of our ability to reach the goal doea but +stimulate us, and never chills our efforts by the dread of disappointment; +we have, as it were, only bound ourselves in recognizances with our own +hearts,—the world has not gone bail for us, and our falling short +involves not the ruin of others, nor the loss of that self-respect which +is but the reflex of the opinion of society. I felt this strongly; and the +more I ruminated on it, the more resolutely bent was I to adopt some bold +career,—some enterprising path, where ambition should supply to me +the pleasures and excitements that others found among friends and home. +</p> +<p> +I now perceived how unsuitable would be to me the quiet monotony of a +peasant's life; how irksome the recurrence of the same daily occupations, +the routine of ceaseless labor, the intercourse with those whose views and +hopes strayed not beyond their own hedgerows. A soldier's life appeared to +realize all that I looked for; but then the conversation of the piper +recurred to me, and I remembered how he painted these men to me as mere +hireling bravos, to whom glory or fame was nothing,—merely actuated +by the basest of passions, the slaves of tyranny. All the atrocities he +mentioned of the military in the past year came up before me, and with +them the brave resistance of the people in their struggle for +independence. How my heart glowed with enthusiasm as I thought over the +bold stand they had made, and how I panted to be a man, and linked in such +a cause! Every gloomy circumstance in my own fate seemed as the result of +that grinding oppression under which my country suffered,—even to +the curse vented on me by one whose ruin and desolation lay at my own +father's door. My temples throbbed, and my heart beat painfully against my +side, as I revolved these thoughts within me; and when I rose from my bed +that morning, I was a rebel with all my soul. +</p> +<p> +The day, like the preceding one, was stormy and inclement; the rain poured +down without ceasing, and the dark, lowering sky gave no promise of better +things. The household of the cottage remained all at home, and betook +themselves to such occupations as indoor permitted. The women sat down to +their spinning-wheels; some of the men employed themselves in repairing +their tools, and others in making nets for fishing: but all were engaged. +Meanwhile, amid the sounds of labor was mixed the busy hum of merry +voices, as they chatted away pleasantly, with many a story and many a song +lightening the long hours of the dark day. As for me, I longed impatiently +for Darby's return: a thousand half-formed plans were flitting through my +mind; and I burned to hear whether Basset was still in pursuit of me; what +course he was adopting to regain me within his control; if Darby had seen +my friend Bubbleton, and whether he showed any disposition to befriend and +protect me. These and such like thoughts kept passing through my mind; and +as the storm would shake the rude door, I would stand up with eagerness, +hoping every moment to see him enter. But the day moved on, and the dusky +half-light of a wintry afternoon was falling, and Darby made not his +appearance. When I spoke of him to the others, they expressed no surprise +at his absence, merely remarking that he was always uncertain,—no +one knew when to expect him; that he rarely came when they looked for him, +and constantly dropped in when no one anticipated it. +</p> +<p> +“There he is now, then!” said one of the young men, springing up and +opening the door; “I hear his voice in the glen.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you see him, Maurice?” cried Malone. “Is it him?” +</p> +<p> +The young man stepped back, his face pale as death, and his mouth partly +open. +</p> +<p> +He whispered a word in the old man's ear; to which the other responded,—“Where?” +</p> +<p> +The youth pointed with his finger. “How many are they?” was his next +question, while his dark eye glanced towards the old musket that hung on +the wall above the fire. +</p> +<p> +“Too many,—too many for us,” said Maurice, bitterly. +</p> +<p> +The women, who had gathered around the speaker, looked at each other with +an expression of utter wretchedness, when one of them, breaking from the +others, rushed into the little inner room off the kitchen, and slammed the +door violently behind her. The next instant the sound of voices was heard +from the room, as if in altercation. Malone turned round at once, and +throwing the door wide open, called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Be quiet, I say; there's not a moment to be lost. Maurice, put that gun +away; Shamus, take up your net again; sit down, girls.” +</p> +<p> +At the same instant he drew from his bosom a long horse pistol, and having +examined the loading and priming, replaced it within his waistcoat, and +sat down on a chair beside the fire, his strongly marked countenance fixed +on the red blaze, while his lips muttered rapidly some words to himself. +</p> +<p> +“Are ye ready there?” he cried, as his eyes were turned towards the small +door. +</p> +<p> +“In a minit,” said the woman from within. +</p> +<p> +At the same instant the sounds of voices and the regular tramp of men +marching were heard without. +</p> +<p> +“Halt! stand at ease!” called out a deep voice; and the clank of the +muskets as they fell to the ground was heard through the cabin. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, every one within had resumed his previous place and occupation, +and the buzz of voices resounded through the kitchen as though no +interruption whatever had taken place. The latch was now lifted, and a +sergeant, stooping to permit his tall feather to pass in, entered, +followed by a man in plain clothes. +</p> +<p> +The latter was a short, powerfully-built man, of about fifty; his hair, of +a grizzly gray, contrasted with the deep purple of his countenance, which +was swollen and bloated; the mouth, its most remarkable feature, was large +and thick-lipped, the under-lip, projecting considerably forward, and +having a strange, convulsive motion when he was not speaking. +</p> +<p> +“It's a hard day. Mister Barton,” said Malone, rising from his seat, and +stroking down his hair with one hand; “won't ye come over and take an air +at the fire?” +</p> +<p> +“I will, indeed, Ned,” said he, taking the proffered seat, and stretching +out his legs to the blaze. “It's a severe season we have. I don't know how +the poor are to get in the turf; the bogs are very wet entirely.” +</p> +<p> +“They are, indeed, sir; and the harvest 'ill be very late getting in now,” +said one of the young men, with a most obsequious voice. “Won't ye sit +down, sir?” said he to the sergeant. +</p> +<p> +A nod from Mister Barton in acquiescence decided the matter, and the +sergeant was seated. +</p> +<p> +“What's here, Mary?” said Barton, striking the large pot that hung over +the fire with his foot. +</p> +<p> +“It's the boys' dinner, sir,” said the girl. +</p> +<p> +“I think it wouldn't be a bad job if we joined them,” replied he, +laughingly,—“eh, sergeant?” +</p> +<p> +“There 'ill be enough for us all,” said Malone; “and I'm sure ye're +welcome to it.” +</p> +<p> +The table was quickly spread, the places next the fire being reserved for +the strangers; while Malone, unlocking a cupboard, took down a bottle of +whiskey, which he placed before them, remarking, as he did so,— +</p> +<p> +“Don't be afeard, gentlemen, 'tis Parliament.” +</p> +<p> +“That 's right, Malone. I like a man to be loyal in these bad times; +there's nothing like it. (Faith, Mary, you're a good cook; that's as +savory a stew as ever I tasted.) Where 's Patsey now? I have n't seen him +for some time.” +</p> +<p> +The girl's face grew dark red, and then became as suddenly pale; when, +staggering back, she lifted her apron to her face, and leaned against the +dresser. +</p> +<p> +“He's transported for life,” said Malone, in a deep, sepulchral voice, +while all his efforts to conceal agitation were fruitless. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I remember,” said Barton, carelessly; “he was in the dock with the +Hogans. (I 'll take another bone from you, Ned. Sergeant, that 's a real +Irish dish, and no bad one either.)” +</p> +<p> +“What's doing at the town to-day?” said Malone, affecting an air of easy +indifference. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing remarkable, I believe. They have taken up that rascal. Darby the +Blast, as they call him. The major had him under examination this morning +for two hours; and they say he 'll give evidence against the Dillons, (a +little more fat, if ye please;) money, you know, Ned, will do anything +these times.” +</p> +<p> +“You ought to know that, sir,” said Maurice, with such an air of assumed +innocence as actually made Barton look ashamed. In an instant, however, he +recovered himself, and pretended to laugh at the remark. “Your health, +sergeant; Ned Malone, your health; ladies, yours; and boys, the same.” A +shower of “thank ye, sir's,” followed this piece of unlooked-for courtesy. +“Who's that boy there, Ned?” said he, pointing to me as I sat with my eyes +riveted upon him. +</p> +<p> +“He's from this side of Banagher, sir,” said Malone, evading the question. +</p> +<p> +“Come over here, younker. What 's his name?” +</p> +<p> +“Tom, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“Come over, Tom, till I teach you a toast. Here's a glass, my lad; hold it +steady, till I fill you a bumper. Did you ever hear tell of the croppies?” +</p> +<p> +“No, never!” +</p> +<p> +“Never heard of the croppies! Well, you're not long in Ned Malone's +company anyhow, eh? ha! ha! ha! Well, my man, the croppies is another name +for the rebels, and the toast I 'm going to give you is about them. So +mind you finish it at one pull. Here now, are you ready?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, quite ready,” said I, as I held the brimming glass straight before +me. +</p> +<p> +“Here 's it, then,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“'May every croppy taste the rope. +And find some man to hang them; +May Bagnal Harvey and the Pope +Have Heppenstal to hang them!'” +</pre> +<p> +I knew enough of the meaning of his words to catch the allusion, and +dashing the glass with all my force against the wall, I smashed it into a +hundred pieces. Barton sprang from his chair, his face dark with passion. +Clutching me by the collar with both hands, he cried out,— +</p> +<p> +“Halloo! there without, bring in the handcuffs here! As sure as my name 's +Sandy Barton, we 'll teach you that toast practically, and that ere long.” +</p> +<p> +“Take care what you do there,” said Malone, fiercely. “That young +gentleman is a son of Matthew Burke of Cremore; his relatives are not the +kind of people to figure in your riding-house.” +</p> +<p> +“Are you a son of Matthew Burke?” +</p> +<p> +“I am.” +</p> +<p> +“What brings you here then? why are you not at home?” +</p> +<p> +“By what right do you dare to ask me? I have yet to learn how far I am +responsible for where I go to a thief-catcher.” +</p> +<p> +“You hear that, sergeant? you heard him use a word to bring me into +contempt before the people, and excite them to use acts of violence +towards me?” +</p> +<p> +“No such thing. Mister Barton!” said Malone, coolly; “nobody here has any +thought of molesting you. I told you that young gentleman's name and +condition, to prevent you making any mistake concerning him; for his +friends are not the people to trifle with.” +</p> +<p> +This artfully-put menace had its effect. Barton sat down again, and +appeared to reflect for a few minuted; then taking a roll of paper from +his pocket, he began leisurely to peruse it. The silence at this moment +was something horribly oppressive. +</p> +<p> +“This is a search-warrant, Mr. Malone,” said Barton, laying down the paper +on the table, “empowering me to seek for the body of a certain French +officer, said to be concealed in these parts. Informations on oath state +that he passed at least one night under your roof. As he has not accepted +the amnesty granted to the other officers in the late famous attempt +against the peace of this country, the law will deal with him as strict +justice may demand; at the same time, it is right you should know that +harboring or sheltering him, under these circumstances, involves the +person or persons so doing in his guilt. Mr. Malone's well-known and tried +loyalty,” continued Barton, with a half grin of most malicious meaning, +“would certainly exculpate him from any suspicion of this nature; but +sworn informations are stubborn things, and it is possible, that in +ignorance of the danger such a proceeding would involve—” +</p> +<p> +“I thought the thrubbles was over, sir,” interrupted Malone, wiping his +forehead with the back of his hand, “and that an honest, industrious man, +that minded his own business, had nothing to fear from any one.” +</p> +<p> +“And you thought right,” said Barton, slowly and deliberately, while he +scanned the other's features with a searching look; “and that is the very +fact I'm come to ascertain. And now, with your leave, we'll first search +the house and offices, and then I 'll put a little interrogatory to such +persons as I think fit, touching this affair.” +</p> +<p> +“You're welcome to go over the cabin whenever you like,” said Malone, +rising, and evidently laboring to repress his passionate indignation at +Barton's coolness. +</p> +<p> +Barton stood up at the same moment, and giving a wink at the sergeant to +follow, walked towards the small door I've already mentioned. Malone's +wife at this started forward, and catching Barton's arm, whispered a few +words in his ear. +</p> +<p> +“She must be a very old woman by this time,” said Barton, fixing his sharp +eyes on the speaker. +</p> +<p> +“Upwards of ninety, sir, and bedridden for twelve years,” said the woman, +wiping a tear away with her apron. +</p> +<p> +“And how comes it she's so afraid of the soldiers, if she's doting?” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah! they used to frighten her so much, coming in at night, and firing +shots at the doore, and drinking and singing songs, that she never got +over it; an that's the rayson. I 'll beg of your honor not to bring in the +sergeant, and to disturb her only as little as you can, for it sets her +raving about battles and murders, and it 's maybe ten days before we 'll +get her mind at ease again.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, I'll not trouble her,” said he, quickly, “Sergeant, step back +for a moment.” +</p> +<p> +With this he entered the room, followed by the woman whose uncertain step +and quiet gesture seemed to suggest caution. +</p> +<p> +“She 's asleep, sir,” said she, approaching the bed. “It 's many a day +since she had as fine a sleep as that. 'T is good luck you brought us this +morning, Mister Barton.” +</p> +<p> +“Draw aside the curtain a little,” said Barton, in a low voice, as if +fearing to awake the sleeper. +</p> +<p> +“'Tis rousing her up, you'll be, Mister Barton, she feels the light at +wanst.” +</p> +<p> +“She breathes very long for so old a woman,” said he somewhat louder, “and +has a good broad shoulder, too. T 'd like, if it was only for curiosity, +just to see her face a little closer. I thought so! Come, captain; it 's +no use—” +</p> +<p> +A scream from the woman drowned the remainder of the speech, while at the +same instant one of the young men shut-to the outside door, and barred it. +The sergeant was immediately pinioned with his hands behind his back, and +Malone drew his horse-pistol from his bosom, and holding up his hand, +called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Not a word,—not a word! If ye spake, it will be the last time ever +you 'll do so!” said he to the sergeant +</p> +<p> +At the same moment, the noise of a scuffle was heard in the inner room, +and the door burst suddenly open, and Barton issued forth, dragging in his +strong hands the figure of a young, slightly-formed man. His coat was off, +but its trousers were braided with gold, in military fashion; and his +black mustache denoted the officer. The struggle of the youth to get free +was utterly fruitless; Barton's grasp was on his collar, and he held him +as though he were a child. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/059.jpg" alt="The Struggle 059 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +Malone stooped down towards the fire, and, opening the pan of his pistol, +examined the priming; then, slapping it down again, he stood erect, +“Barton,” said he, in a tone of firm determination I heard him use for the +first time,—“Barton, it 's bad to provoke a man with the halter +round his neck. I know what 's before me well enough now. But see, let him +escape; give him two hours to get away, and here I 'll surrender myself +your prisoner, and follow you where you like.” +</p> +<p> +“Break in the door, there, blast ye!” was the reply to this offer, as +Barton shouted to the soldiers at the top of his voice. Two of the young +men darted forward as he spoke, and threw themselves against it. “Fire +through it!” cried Barton, stamping with passion. +</p> +<p> +“You will have it, will you, then?” said Malone, as he ground his teeth in +anger; then raising his pistol, he sprang forward, and holding it within a +yard of Barton's face, shouted out, “There!” +</p> +<p> +The powder flashed in the lock, and quick as its own report. Barton hurled +the Frenchman round to protect him from the ball, but only in time to +receive the shot in his right arm as he held it uplifted. The arm fell +powerless to his side; while Malone, springing on him like a tiger, +grasped him in his powerful grip, and they both rolled upon the ground in +terrible conflict. The Frenchman stood for an instant like one transfixed; +then, bursting from the spot, dashed through the kitchen to the small room +I had slept in. One of the young men followed him. The crash of glass and +the sounds of breaking woodwork were heard among the other noises; and at +the same moment the door gave way in front, and the soldiers with fixed +bayonets entered at a charge. +</p> +<p> +“Fire on them I fire on them!” shouted Barton, as he lay struggling on the +ground; and a random volley rang through the cabin, filling it with smoke. +</p> +<p> +A yell of anguish burst forth at the moment; and one of the women lay +stretched upon the hearth, her bosom bathed in blood. The scene was now a +terrible one; for although overpowered by numbers, the young men rushed on +the soldiers, and regardless of wounds, endeavored to wrest their arms +from them. The bayonets glanced through the blue smoke, and shouts of rage +and defiance rose up amid frightful screams of suffering and woe. A +bayonet stab in the side, received I know not how, sent me half fainting +into the little room through which the Frenchman had escaped. The open +window being before me, I did nob deliberate a second, but mounting the +table, crept through it, and fell heavily on the turf outside. In a moment +after I rallied, and staggering onwards, reached a potato field, where, +overcome by pain and weakness, I sank into one of the furrows, scarcely +conscious of what had occurred. +</p> +<p> +Weak and exhausted as I was, I could still hear the sounds of the conflict +that raged within the cabin. Gradually, however, they grew fainter and +fainter, and at last subsided altogether. Yet I feared to stir; and +although night was now falling, and the silence continued unbroken, I lay +still, hoping to hear some well-known voice, or even the footstep of some +one belonging to the house. But all was calm, and nothing stirred; the +very air, too, was hushed,—not a leaf moved in the thin, frosty +atmosphere. The dread of finding the soldiers in possession of the cabin +made me fearful of quitting my hiding place, and I did not move. Some +hours had passed over ere I gained courage enough to raise my head and +look about me. +</p> +<p> +My first glance was directed towards the distant highroad, where I +expected to have seen some of the party who attacked the cabin, but far as +my eye could reach, no living thing was to be seen; my next was towards +the cabin, which, to my horror and amazement, I soon perceived was +enveloped in a thick, dark smoke, that rolled lazily from the windows and +doorway, and even issued from the thatched roof. As I looked, I could hear +the crackling of timber and the sound of wood burning. These continued to +increase; and then a red, forked flame shot through one of the casements, +and turning upwards, caught the thatch, where, passing rapidly across the +entire roof, it burst into a broad sheet of fire, which died out again as +rapidly, and left the gloomy smoke triumphant. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile a roaring sound, like that of a furnace, was heard from within; +and at last, with an explosion like a mortar, the roof burst open, and the +bright blaze sprang forth. The rafters were soon enveloped in fire, and +the heated straw rose into the air, and floated in thin streaks of flame +through the black sky. The door cases and the window frames were all +burning, and marked their outlines against the dark walls: and as the +thatch was consumed, the red rafters were seen like the ribs of a +skeleton; but they fell in one by one, sending up in their descent +millions of red sparks into the dark air. The black wall of the cabin had +given way to the heat, and through its wide fissure I could see the +interior, now one mass of undistinguishable ruin: nothing remained, save +the charred and blackened walls. +</p> +<p> +I sat gazing at this sad sight like one entranced. Sometimes it seemed to +me as a terrible dream; and then the truth would break upon me with +fearful force, and my heart felt as though it would burst far beyond my +bosom. The last flickering flame died away, the hissing sounds of the fire +were stilled, and the dark walls stood out against the bleak background in +all their horrible deformity, as I rose and entered the cabin. I stood +within the little room where I had slept the night before, and looked out +into the kitchen, around whose happy hearth the merry voices were so +lately heard. I brought them up before me, in imagination, as they sat +there. One by one I marked their places in my mind, and thought of the +kindness of their welcome to me, and the words of comfort and +encouragement they spoke' The hearth was now cold and black; the pale +stars looked down between the walls, and a chill moonlight flickered +through the gloomy ruin. My heart had no room for sorrow; but another +feeling found a place within it: a savage thirst for vengeance,—vengeance +upon those who had desecrated a peaceful home, and brought blood and death +among its inmates! Here was the very realization before my eyes of what +M'Keown had been telling me; here the horrible picture he had drawn of +tyranny and outrage. In the humble cottagers I saw but simpleminded +peasants, who had opened their doors to some poor unfriended outcast,—one +who, like myself, had neither house nor home. I saw them offering their +hospitality to him who sought it, freely and openly; and at last +adventuring all they possessed in the world, rather than betray him,—and +their reward was this! Oh, how my heart revolted at such oppression! how +my spirit fired at such indignity! I thought a life passed in opposition +to such tyranny were too short a vengeance; and I knelt me down beside +that blackened hearth, and swore myself its enemy to the death. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI. MY EDUCATION. +</h2> +<p> +As I thought over the various incidents the last few days of my life had +presented, I began to wonder with myself whether the world always went on +thus, and if the same scenes of misery and woe I had witnessed were in the +ordinary course of nature. The work of years seemed to me to have been +accomplished in a few brief hours. Here, where I stood but yesterday, a +happy family were met together; and now, death and misfortune had laid +waste the spot, and save the cold walls, nothing marked it as a human +habitation. What had become of them? where had they gone to? Had they fled +from the blood-stained hands of the cruel soldiery, or were they led away +to prison? These were the questions constantly recurring to my mind. And +the French officer, too,—what of him? I felt the deepest interest in +his fate. Poor fellow! he looked so pale and sickly; and yet there was +something both bold and manly in his flashing eye and compressed lip. He +was doubtless one of those Darby alluded to. What a lot was his! and how +little did my own sorrows seem, as I compared them with his houseless, +friendless condition! +</p> +<p> +As my thoughts thus wandered on, a dark shadow fell across the gleam of +moonlight that lit up the ruined cabin. I turned suddenly, and saw the +figure of a man leaning against the doorpost. For a second or two fear was +uppermost in my mind, but rallying soon, I called out, “Who 's there?” +</p> +<p> +“'T is me. Darby M'Keown!” said a well-known voice, but in a tone of +deepest sorrow. “I came over to have a look at the ould walls once more.” +</p> +<p> +“You heard it all, then. Darby?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; they wor bringing the prisoners into Athlone as I left the town, and +I thought to myself you 'd maybe be hiding somewhere hereabouts. Is the +captain away? Is he safe?” +</p> +<p> +“The French officer? Yes, he escaped early in the business. I know he must +be far off by this time; Heaven knows which way, though.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe I could guess,” said Darby, quietly. “Well, well! it 's hard to +know what 's best. Sometimes it would seem the will of God that we are n't +to succeed; and if we hadn't right on our side, it would not be easy to +bear up against such misfortunes as these.” +</p> +<p> +There was a silence on both sides after these words, during which I +pandered them well in my mind. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Mister Tom!” said Darby, suddenly; “'tis time we were moving. You +'re not safe here no more nor others. Basset is looking for you +everywhere, and you 'll have to leave the neighborhood, for a while at +least. Your friend, the captain, too, is gone; his regiment marched +yesterday. So now make up your mind what to do.” +</p> +<p> +“That's easily done, Darby,” said I, attempting to seem at ease. +“Whichever is your road shall be mine, if you let me.” +</p> +<p> +“Let you? Yes, with a hearty welcome, too, my darling! But the first thing +is to get you some clothes that won't discover on you. Here 's a hat I +squeezed into my own that 'll just fit you; and I 've a coat here that 's +about your size. That's enough for the present; and as we go along, I 'll +teach you your part, how you are to behave, and he 'll be no fool that 'll +find you out after ten days or a fortnight.” +</p> +<p> +My change of costume was soon effected, and my wound, which turned out to +be a trifling one, looked after. I took a farewell look at the old walls, +and stepped after my companion down the boreen. +</p> +<p> +“If we make haste,” said Darby, “we'll be beyond Shannon Harbor before +day; and then, when we 're on the canal, we 'll easy get a lift in some of +the boats going to Dublin.” +</p> +<p> +“And are you for Dublin?” inquired I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I'm to be there on the twenty-fourth of this month, please God. +There 's a meeting of the friends of Ireland to be then, and some +resolutions will be taken about what 's to be done. There 's bad work +going on in the Parliament.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, Darby! What is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! you couldn't understand it well. But it's just as if we war n't to +have anything to say to governing ourselves; only to be made slaves of, +and sent abroad to fight for the English, that always hate us and abuse +us.” +</p> +<p> +“And are we going to bear with this?” cried I, passionately. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Darby, laying his hand on my shoulder,—“no; not at least +if we had twenty thousand like you, my brave boy. But you'll hear +everything yourself soon. And now, let me attend to your education a bit, +for we're not out of the enemy's country.” +</p> +<p> +Darby now commenced his code of instruction to me, by which I learned that +I was to perform a species of second to him in all minstrelsy; not exactly +on the truest principles of harmony, but merely alternating with him in +the verses of his songs. These, which were entirely of his own +composition, were all to be learned,—and orally, too, for Mister +M'Keown was too jealous of his copyright ever to commit them to writing, +and especially charged me never to repeat any lyric in the same +neighborhood. +</p> +<p> +“It's not only the robbery I care for,” quoth Darby, “but the varmints +desthroys my poethry completely; some' times changing the words, injuring +the sentiments, and even altering the tune. Now, it's only last Tuesday I +heerd 'Behave politely,' to the tune of 'Look how he sarved me!'” +</p> +<p> +Besides the musical portion of my education, there was another scarcely +less difficult to be attended to: this was, the skilful adaptation of our +melodies, not only to the prevailing tastes of the company, but to their +political and party bearings; Darby supplying me with various hints how I +was to discover at a moment the peculiar bias of any stranger's politics. +</p> +<p> +“The boys,” said Darby, thereby meaning his own party, “does be always sly +and careful, and begin by asking, maybe, for 'Do you incline?' or 'Crows +in the barley,' or the like. Then they 'll say, 'Have you anything new, +Mister M'Keown, from up the country?' 'Something sweet, is it?' says I. +'Ay, or sour, av ye have it,' they 'll 'say. 'Maybe ye'd like +“Vinegar-hill,” then,' says I. Arrah, you'd see their faces redden up with +delight; and how they 'll beat time to every stroke of the tune, it 's a +pleasure to play for them. But the yeos (meaning the yeomen) will call out +mightily,—'Piper! halloo there! piper, I say, rise The Boyne water, +or Croppies lie down.'” +</p> +<p> +“And of course you refuse, Darby?” +</p> +<p> +“Refuse! Refuse, is it? and get a bayonet in me? Devil a bit, my dear. I +'ll play it up with all the spirit I can; and nod my head to the tune, and +beat the time with my heel and toe; and maybe, if I see need of it, I +fasten this to the end of the chanter, and that does the business +entirely.” +</p> +<p> +Here Darby took from the lining of his hat a bunch of orange ribbon, whose +faded glories showed it had done long and active service in the cause of +loyalty. +</p> +<p> +I confess Darby's influence over me did not gain any accession of power by +this honest avowal of his political expediency; and the bold assertion of +a nation's wrongs, by which at first he won over my enthusiasm, seemed +sadly at variance with this truckling policy. He was quicksighted enough +to perceive what was passing in my mind, and at once remarked,— +</p> +<p> +“'Tis a hard part we're obliged to play, Master Tom; but one comfort we +have,—it 's only a short time we 'll need it. You know the song? +“Here he broke into the popular tune of the day:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“'And the French will come again, +Says the Shan van vaugh; +And they 'll bring ten thousand men. +Says the Shan van vaugh; +And with powder and with ball, +For our rights we 'll loudly call: +Don't you think they 'll hear us then! +Says the Shan van vaugh.' +</pre> +<p> +Ye must larn that air, Master Tom. And see, now, the yeos is as fond of it +as the boys; only remember to put their own words to it,—and devil a +harm in that same when one 's not in earnest. See, now, I believe it 's a +natural pleasure for an Irishman to be humbugging somebody; and faix, when +there 's nobody by he 'd rather be taking a rise out of himself than doing +nothing. It 's the way that 's in us, God help us! Sure it 's that same +makes us sich favorites with the ladies, and gives us a kind of native +janius for coortin': +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“''T is the look of his eye, +And a way he can sigh, +Makes Paddy a darlin' wherever he goes; +With a sugary brogue. +Ye 'd hear the rogue +Cheat the girls before their nose.' +</pre> +<p> +And why not? Don't they like to be chated, when they 're sure to win after +all,—to win a warm heart and a stout arm to fight for them?” +</p> +<p> +This species of logic I give as a specimen of Mister M'Keown's power of, +if not explaining away a difficulty, at least getting out of all reach of +it,—an attribute almost as Irish as the cause it was 'employed to +defend. +</p> +<p> +As we journeyed along, Darby maintained a strict reserve as to the event +which had required his presence in Athlone; nor did he allude to the mayor +but passingly, observing that he did n't know how it happened that a +Dublin magistrate should have come up to these parts,—“though, to be +sure, he 's a great friend of the Right Honorable.” +</p> +<p> +“And who is he?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“The Right Honorable! Don't you know, then? Why, I did n't think there was +a child in the county could n't tell that. Sure, it 's Denis Browne +himself.” +</p> +<p> +The name seemed at once to suggest a whole flood of recollections; and +Darby expatiated for hours long on the terrible power of a man by whose +hands life and death were distributed, without any aid from judge or jury,—thus +opening to me another chapter of the lawless tyranny to which he was +directing my attention, and by which he already saw my mind was greatly +influenced. +</p> +<p> +About an hour after daybreak we arrived at a small cabin; which served as +a lockhouse on the canal side. It needed not the cold, murky sky, nor the +ceaseless pattering of the rain, to make this place look more comfortless +and miserable than anything I had ever beheld. Around, for miles in +extent, the country was one unbroken flat, without any trace of wood, or +even a single thorn hedge, to relieve the eye. Low, marshy meadows, where +the rank flaggers and reedy grass grew tall and luxuriant, with here and +there some stray patches of tillage, were girt round by vast plains of +bog, cut up into every variety of trench and pit. The cabin itself, though +slated and built of stone, was in bad repair; the roof broken in many +places, and the window mended with pieces of board, and even straw. As we +came close. Darby remarked that there was no smoke from the chimney, and +that the door was fastened on the outside. +</p> +<p> +“That looks bad,” said he, as he stopped short about a dozen paces from +the hovel, and looked steadily at it; “they've taken him too!” +</p> +<p> +“Who is it, Darby?” said I; “what did he do?” +</p> +<p> +M'Keown paid no attention to my question, but unfastening the hasp, which +attached the door without any padlock, entered. The fire was yet alive on +the hearth, and a small stool drawn close to it showed where some one had +been sitting. There was nothing unusual in the appearance of the cabin; +the same humble furniture and cooking utensils lying about as were seen in +any other. Darby, however, scrutinized everything most carefully, looking +everywhere and into everything; till at last, reaching his hand above the +door, he pulled out from the straw of the thatch a small piece of dirty +and crumpled paper, which he opened with the greatest care and attention, +and then flattening it out with his hand, began to read it over to +himself, his eye flashing and his cheek growing redder as he pored over +it. At last he broke silence with,— +</p> +<p> +“'T is myself never doubted ye, Tim, my boy. Look at that, Master Tom. But +sure, you wouldn't understand it, after all. The yeos took him up last +night. 'T is something about cutting the canal and attacking the boat that +'s again' him; and he left that there—that bit of paper—to +give the boys courage that he wouldn't betray them' That 's the way the +cause will prosper,—if we 'll only stick by one another. For many a +time, when they take a man up, they spread it about that he's turned +informer against the rest; and then the others gets careless, and don't +mind whether they're taken or not.” +</p> +<p> +Darby replaced the piece of paper carefully; and then, listening for a +moment, exclaimed,—“I hear the boat coming; let's wait for it +outside.” +</p> +<p> +While he employed himself in getting his pipes into readiness, I could not +help ruminating on the strength of loyalty to one another the poor people +observed amid every temptation and every seduction; how, in the midst of +such misery as theirs, neither threats nor bribery seemed to influence +them, was a strong testimony in favor of their truth, and, to such a +reasoner as I was, a no less cogent argument for the goodness of the cause +that elicited such virtues. +</p> +<p> +As the boat came alongside, I remarked that the deck was without a +passenger. Heaps of trunks and luggage littered it the entire way; but the +severity of the weather had driven every one under cover, except the +steersman and the captain, who, both of them wrapped up in thick coats of +frieze, seemed like huge bears standing on their hindquarters. +</p> +<p> +“How are you, Darby?” shouted the skipper. “Call out that lazy rascal to +open the lock.” +</p> +<p> +“I don't think he's at home, sir,” said Darby, as innocently as though he +knew nothing of the reason for his absence. +</p> +<p> +“Not at home! The scoundrel, where can he be, then? Come, youngster,” +cried he, addressing me, “take the key there, and open the lock.” +</p> +<p> +Until this moment, I forgot the character which my dress and appearance +assigned to me. But a look from the piper recalled me at once to +recollection; and taking up the iron key, I proceeded, under Darby's +instructions, to do what I was desired, while Darby and the captain amused +themselves by wondering what had become of Tim, and speculated on the +immediate consequences his absence would bring down on him. +</p> +<p> +“Are you going with us, Darby?” said the captain. +</p> +<p> +“Faix, I don't know, sir,” said he, as if hesitating. “Ar there was any +gentleman that liked the pipes—” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; come along, man,” rejoined the skipper. “Is the boy with you? +Very well; come in, youngster.” +</p> +<p> +We were soon under way again; and Darby, having arranged his instrument to +his satisfaction, commenced a very spirited voluntary to announce his +arrival. In an instant the cabin door opened, and a red-faced, +coarse-looking fellow, in uniform, called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Halloo, there! is that a piper?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Darby, without turning his face round; while, at the same +time, he put a question in Irish to the skipper, who answered it with a +single word. +</p> +<p> +“I say, piper, come down here!” cried the yeoman, for such he was,—“come +down here, and let 's have a tune!” +</p> +<p> +“I 'm coming, sir!” cried Darby, standing up; and holding out his hand to +me, he called out,—“Tom, alannah, lead me down stairs.” +</p> +<p> +I looked up in his face, and to my amazement perceived that he had turned +up the white of his eyes to represent blindness, and was groping with his +hand like one deprived of sight. As any hesitation on my part might have +betrayed him at once, I took his hand, and led him along, step by step, to +the cabin door. +</p> +<p> +I had barely time to perceive that all the passengers were habited in +uniform, when one of them called out,—“We don't want the young +fellow; let him go back. Piper, sit down here.” +</p> +<p> +The motion for my exclusion was passed without a negative; and I closed +the door, and sat down by myself among the trunks on deck. +</p> +<p> +For the remainder of the day I saw nothing of Darby,—the shouts of +laughter and clapping of hands below stairs occasionally informing me how +successful were his efforts to amuse his company; while I had abundant +time to think over my own plans, and make some resolutions for the future. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII. KEVIN STREET. +</h2> +<p> +How this long, melancholy day wore on I cannot say. To me it was as gloomy +in revery as in its own dismal aspect; the very sounds of mirth that +issued from the cabin beneath grated harshly on my ear; and the merry +strains of Darby's pipes and the clear notes of his rich voice seemed like +treachery from one who so lately had spoken in terms of heart-breathing +emotion of his countrymen and their wrongs. While, therefore, my +estimation for my companion suffered, my sorrow for the cause that +demanded such sacrifices deepened at every moment, and I panted with +eagerness for the moment when I might take my place among the bold +defenders of my country, and openly dare our oppressors to the battle. All +that M'Keown had told me of English tyranny and oppression was connected +in my mind with the dreadful scene I had so lately been a witness to, and +for the cause of which I looked no further than an act of simple +hospitality. From this I wandered on to the thought of those brave allies +who had deserted their career of Continental glory to share our almost +hopeless fortunes here; and how I burned to know them, and learn from them +something of a soldier's ardor. +</p> +<p> +Night had fallen when the fitful flashing of lamps between the tall elms +that lined the banks announced our approach to the capital. There is +something dreadfully depressing in the aspect of a large city, to the +poor, unfriended youth, who without house or home is starting upon his +life's journey. The stir, the movement, the onward tide of population, +intent on pleasure or business, are things in which he has no part. The +appearance of wealth humiliates, while the sight of poverty affrights him; +and, while every one is animated by some purpose, he alone seems like a +waif thrown on the shores of life, unclaimed, unlocked for. Thus did I +feel among that busy crowd who now pressed to the deck, gathering together +their luggage, and preparing for departure. Some home awaited each of +these,—some hearth, some happy faces to greet their coming. But I +had none of these. This was a sorrowful thought; and as I brooded over it, +my head sank upon my knees, and I saw nothing of what was going forward +about me. +</p> +<p> +“Tom,” whispered a low voice in my ear,—“Master Tom, don't delay, my +dear; let us slip out here. The soldiers want me to go with them to their +billets, and I have promised; but I don't mean to do it.” +</p> +<p> +I looked up. It was Darby, buttoned up in his coat, his pipes unfastened +for the convenience of carriage. +</p> +<p> +“Slip out after me at the lock here; it 's so dark we 'll never be seen.” +</p> +<p> +Keeping my eye on him, I elbowed my way through the crowded deck, and +sprang out just as the boat began her forward movement. +</p> +<p> +“Here we are, all safe!” said Darby, patting me on the shoulder. “And now +that I 've time to ask you, did you get your dinner, my child?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh yes; the captain brought me something to eat.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, that's right, anyhow. Glory be to God! I ate heartily of some bacon +and greens; though the blackguards—bad luck to them for the same!—made +me eat an orange lily whole, afraid the <i>greens</i>, as they said, might +injure me.” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder. Darby,” said I, “that you haven't more firmness than to change +this way at every moment.” +</p> +<p> +“Firmness, is it? Faix, it's firm enough I'd be, and Stiff, too, if I did +n't. Sure it 's the only way now at all. Wait, my honey, till the time +comes round for ourselves, and faix, you 'll never accuse me of coorting +their favor; but now, at this moment, you perceive, we must do it to learn +their plans. What do you think I got to-night? I learned all the signs the +yeos have when they 're drinking together, and what they say at each sign. +Thers 's a way they have of gripping the two little fingers together that +I'll not forget soon.” +</p> +<p> +For some time we walked on at a rapid pace, without exchanging more than +an occasional word. At last we entered a narrow, ill-lighted street, which +led from the canal harbor to one of the larger and wider thoroughfares. +</p> +<p> +“I almost forget the way here,” said Darby, stopping and looking about +him. +</p> +<p> +At last, unable to solve the difficulty, he leaned over the half-door of a +shop, and called out to a man within, “Can you tell where is Kevin +Street?” +</p> +<p> +“No. 39?” said the man, after looking at him steadily for a moment. +</p> +<p> +Darby stroked down one side of his face with his hand slowly; a gesture +immediately imitated by the other man. +</p> +<p> +“What do you know?” said Darby. +</p> +<p> +“I know 'U,'” replied the man. +</p> +<p> +“And what more?” +</p> +<p> +“I know 'N'” +</p> +<p> +“That 'ill do,” said Darby, shaking hands with him cordially. “Now, tell +me the way, for I have no time to spare.” +</p> +<p> +“Begorra! you 're in as great haste as if ye were Darby the Blast himself. +Ye 'll come in and take a glass?” +</p> +<p> +Darby only laughed, and again excusing himself, he asked the way; which +having learned, he wished his newly-made friend good-night, and we +proceeded. +</p> +<p> +“They know you well hereabouts; by name, at least,” said I, when we had +walked on a little. +</p> +<p> +“That they do,” said Darby, proudly. “From Wexford to Belfast there 's few +does n't know me; and they 'll know more of me, av I 'm right, before I +die.” +</p> +<p> +This he spoke with more of determination than I ever heard him use +previously. +</p> +<p> +“Here 's the street now; there 's the lamp,—that one with the two +burners there. Faix, we 've made good track since morning, anyhow.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke we entered a narrow passage, through which the street lamp +threw a dubious half-light. This conducted us to a small paved court, +crossing which we arrived at the door of a large house. Darby knocked in a +peculiar manner, and the door was speedily opened by a man who whispered +something, to which M'Keown made answer in the same low tone. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm glad to see you again,” said the man, louder, as he made way for him +to pass. +</p> +<p> +I pushed forward to follow, when suddenly a strong arm was stretched +across my breast, and a gruff voice asked,—“Who are you?” +</p> +<p> +Darby stepped back, and said something in his ear. The other replied, +sturdily, in the negative; and although Darby, as it appeared, used every +power of persuasion he possessed, the man was inexorable. +</p> +<p> +At last, when the temper of both appeared nearly giving way. Darby turned +to me, and said,—“Wait for me a moment, Tom, where you are, and I +'ll come for you.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he disappeared, and the door closed at the same time, leaving +me in darkness on the outside. My patience was not severely taxed; ere +five minutes the door opened, and Darby, followed by another person, +appeared. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Burke,” said this latter, with the tone of voice that at once bespoke +a gentleman, “I am proud to know you.” He grasped my hand warmly as he +spoke, and shook it affectionately. “I esteem it an honor to be your +sponsor here. Can you find your way after me? This place is never lighted; +but I trust you 'll know it better ere long.” +</p> +<p> +Muttering some words of acknowledgment, I followed my unseen acquaintance +along the dark corridor. +</p> +<p> +“There's a step, here,” cried he; “and now mind the stairs.” +</p> +<p> +A long and winding flight conducted us to a landing, where a candle was +burning in a tin sconce. Here my conductor turned round. +</p> +<p> +“Your Christian name is Thomas, I believe,” said he. At the same moment, +as the light fell on me, he started suddenly back, with an air of mingled +astonishment and chagrin. “Why, M'Keown, you told me—” The rest of +the sentence was lost in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“It 's a disguise I made him wear,” said Darby. “He 'd no chance of +escaping the country without it.” +</p> +<p> +“I 'm not speaking of that,” retorted the other, angrily. +</p> +<p> +“It is his age, I mean; he's only a boy. How old are you, sir?” continued +he, addressing me, but with far less courtesy than before. +</p> +<p> +“Old enough to live for my country; or die for it either, if need be,” +said I, haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“Bravo, my darling!” cried the piper, slapping me on the shoulder with +enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +“That's not exactly my question,” said the stranger, smiling +good-naturedly; “I want to know your age.” +</p> +<p> +“I was fourteen in August,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“I had rather you could say twenty,” responded he, thoughtfully. “This is +a sad mistake of yours, Darby. What dependence can be placed on a child +like this? He's only a child, after all.” +</p> +<p> +“He's a child I'll go bail for with my head,” said Darby. +</p> +<p> +“Your head has fully as much on it as it is fit to carry,” said the other, +in a tone of rebuke. “Have you told him anything of the object and +intentions of this Society? But of course you have revealed everything. +Well, I 'll not be a party to this business. Young gentleman,” continued +he, in a voice of earnest and impressive accent, “all I know of you is the +few particulars this man has stated respecting your unfriended position, +and the cruelty to which you fear to expose yourself in trusting to the +guardianship of Mr. Basset. If these reasons have induced you, from +recklessness and indifference, to risk your life, by association with men +who are actuated by high and noble principles, then, I say, you shall not +enter here. If, however, aware of the object and intentions of our Union, +you are desirous to aid us, young though you be, I shall not refuse you.” +</p> +<p> +“That's it,” interrupted Darby; “if you feel in your heart a friend to +your country—” +</p> +<p> +“Silence!” said the other, harshly; “let him decide for himself.” +</p> +<p> +“I neither know your intentions, nor even guess at them,” said I, frankly. +“My destitution, and the poor prospect before me, make me, as you suppose, +indifferent to what I embark in, provided that it be not dishonorable. +</p> +<p> +“It is not danger that will deter me, that 's all I can promise you.” +</p> +<p> +“I see,” said the stranger, “this is but another of your pranks, Mr. +M'Keown; the young gentleman was to be kidnapped amongst us. One thing,” +said he, turning to me, “I feel assured of, that anything you have +witnessed here is safe within your keeping; and now we'll not press the +matter further. In a few days you can hear, and make up your mind on all +these things; and as you are not otherwise provided, let us make you our +guest in the mean while.” +</p> +<p> +Without giving me time to reply, he led me downstairs again, and unlocking +a room on the second floor, passed through several rooms, until he reached +one comfortably fitted up like a study. +</p> +<p> +“You must be satisfied with a sofa here for to-night but to-morrow I will +make you more comfortable.” +</p> +<p> +I threw my eyes over the well-filled bookshelf with delight, and was +preparing to thank him for all his kindness to me, when he added,— +</p> +<p> +“I must leave you now, but we 'll meet to-morrow; so good-night. Come +along, M'Keown; we shall want you presently.” +</p> +<p> +I would gladly have detained Darby to interrogate him about my new abode +and its inhabitants; but he was obliged to obey, and I heard the door +locked as they closed it on the outside, and shortly after the sounds of +their feet died away, and I was left in silence. +</p> +<p> +Determined to con over, and if possible explain to myself, the mystery of +my position, I drew my sofa towards the fire and sat down; but fatigue, +stronger than all my curiosity, had the mastery, and I was soon sound +asleep. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII. NO. 39, AND ITS FREQUENTERS. +</h2> +<p> +When my eyes opened the following morning, it was quite pardonable in me +if I believed I was still dreaming. The room, which I had scarcely time to +look at the previous evening, now appeared handsomely, almost richly +furnished. Books in handsome bindings covered the shelves, prints in +gilded frames occupied the walls, and a large mirror filled the space +above the chimney. Various little articles of taste, in bronze and marble, +were scattered about, and a silver tea equipage of antique pattern graced +a small table near the fire. A pair of splendidly mounted pistols hung at +one side of the chimney glass, and a gorgeously gilt sabre occupied the +other. +</p> +<p> +While I took a patient survey of all these, and was deliberately examining +myself as to how and when I had first made their acquaintance, a voice +from an adjoining room, the door of which lay open, exclaimed,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>Sacristi! quel mauvais temps!</i>” and then broke out into a little +French air, to which, after a minute, the singer appeared to move, in a +kind of dancing measure. “Qui, c'est ça!” exclaimed he, in rapture, as he +whirled round in a pirouette, overturning a dressing-table and its +contents with a tremendous crash upon the floor. +</p> +<p> +I started up, and without thinking of what I was doing, rushed in. +</p> +<p> +“Ha! bonjour,” said he, gayly, stretching out two fingers of a hand almost +concealed beneath a mass of rings. And then suddenly changing to English, +which he spoke perfectly, saving with a foreign accent,—“How did you +sleep? I suppose the <i>tintamarre</i> awoke you.” +</p> +<p> +I hastened to apologize for my intrusion; which he stopped at once by +asking if I had passed a comfortable night, and had a great appetite for +breakfast. +</p> +<p> +Assuring him of both facts, I retreated into the sitting room, where he +followed me, laughing heartily at his mishap, which he confessed he had +not patience to remedy. “And what 's worse,” added he; “I have no servant. +But here 's some tea and coffee; let us chat while we eat.” +</p> +<p> +I drew over my chair at his invitation, and found myself—before half +an hour went by—acted on by that strange magnetism which certain +individuals possess, to detail to my new friend the principal events of my +simple story, down to the very moment in which we sat opposite to each +other. He listened to me with the greatest attention, occasionally +interposing a question, or asking an explanation of something which he did +not perfectly comprehend; and when I concluded, he paused for some +minutes, and then, with a slight laugh, said:— +</p> +<p> +“You don't know how you disappointed the people here. Your travelling +companion had given them to understand that you were some other Burke, +whose alliance they have been long desiring. In fact, they were certain of +it; but,” said he, starting up hastily, “it is far better as it is. I +suspect, my young friend, the way in which you have been entrapped. Don't +fear; we are perfectly safe here. I know all the hackneyed declamations +about wrongs and slavery that are in vogue; and I know, too, how timidly +they shrink from every enterprise by which their cause might be honorably, +boldly asserted. I am myself another victim to the assumed patriotism of +this party. I came over here two years since to take the command. A +command,—but in what an army! An undisciplined rabble, without arms, +without officers, without even clothes; their only notion of warfare, a +midnight murder, or a reckless and indiscriminate slaughter. The result +could not be doubtful,—utter defeat and discomfiture. My countrymen, +disgusted at the scenes they witnessed, and ashamed of such <i>confrerie</i>; +accepted the amnesty, and returned to France. I—” +</p> +<p> +Here he hesitated, and blushed slightly; after which he resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“I yielded to a credulity for which there was neither reason nor excuse: I +remained. Promises were made me, oaths were sworn, statements were +produced to show how complete the organization of the insurgents really +was, and to what purpose it might be turned. I drew up a plan of a +campaign; corresponded with the different leaders; encouraged the +wavering; restrained the headstrong; confirmed the hesitating; and, in +fact, for fourteen months held them together, not only against their +opponents, but their own more dangerous disunion. And the end is,—what +think you? I only learned it yesterday, on my return from an excursion in +the West which nearly cost me my life. I was concealed in a cabin in +woman's clothes—” +</p> +<p> +“At Malone's, in the Glen?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; how did you know that?” +</p> +<p> +“I was there. I saw you captured and witnessed your escape.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Diantre</i>! How near it was!” +</p> +<p> +He paused for a second, and I took the opportunity to recount to him the +dreadful issue of the scene, with the burning of the cabin. He grew sickly +pale as I related the circumstance; then flushing as quickly, he +exclaimed,— +</p> +<p> +“We must look to this; these people must be taken care of, I 'll speak to +Dalton; you know him?” +</p> +<p> +“No; I know not one here.” +</p> +<p> +“It was he who met you last night; he is a noble fellow. But stay; there +'s a knock at the door.” +</p> +<p> +He approached the fireplace, and taking down the pistols which hung beside +it, walked slowly towards the door. +</p> +<p> +“'Tis Darby, sir,—Darby the Blast, coming to speak a word to Mister +Burke,” said a voice from without. +</p> +<p> +The door was opened at once, and Darby entered. Making a deep reverence to +the French officer, in whose presence he seemed by no means at his ease. +Darby dropped his voice to its most humble cadence, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“Might I be so bould as to have a word with ye, Master Tom?” +</p> +<p> +There was something in the way this request was made that seemed to imply +a desire for secrecy,—so, at least, the Frenchman understood it,—and +turning hastily rounds he said,— +</p> +<p> +“Yes, to be sure. I 'll go into my dressing-room; there is nothing to +prevent your speaking here.” +</p> +<p> +No sooner was the door closed, than Darby drew a chair close to me, and +bending down his head, whispered,— +</p> +<p> +“Don't trust him,—not from here to that window. They 're going to do +it without him; Mahony told me so himself. But my name was not drawn, and +I 'm to be off to Kildare this evening. There 's a meeting of the boys at +the Curragh, and I want you to come with me.” +</p> +<p> +The state of doubt and uncertainty which had harassed my mind for the last +twenty-four hours was no longer tolerable; so I boldly asked M'Keown for +an explanation as to the people in whose house I was,—their objects +and plans, and how far I was myself involved in their designs. +</p> +<p> +In fewer words than I could convey it. Darby informed me that the house +was the meeting place of the United Irishmen, who still cherished the hope +of reviving the scenes of '98; that, conscious the failure before was +attributable to their having taken the field as an army when they should +have merely contented themselves with secret and indirect attacks, they +had resolved to adopt a different tactique. It was, in fact, determined +that every political opponent to their party should be marked,—himself, +his family, and his property; that no opportunity was to be lost of +injuring him or his, and, if need be, of taking away his life; that +various measures were to be propounded to Parliament by their friends, to +the maintenance of which threats were to be freely used to the Government +members; and with respect to the great measure of the day,—the +Union,—it was decided that on the night of the division a certain +number of people should occupy the gallery above the Ministerial benches, +armed with hand-grenades and other destructive missiles; that, on a signal +given, these were to be thrown amongst them, scattering death and ruin on +all sides. +</p> +<p> +“It will be seen, then,” said Darby, with a fiendish grin, “how the +enemies of Ireland pay for their hatred of her! Maybe they 'll vote away +their country after that!” +</p> +<p> +Whether it was the tone, the look, or the words that suddenly awoke me +from my dreamy infatuation, I know not; but coming so soon after the +Frenchman's detail of the barbarism of the party, a thorough disgust +seized me, and the atrocity of this wholesale murder lost nothing of its +blackness from being linked with the cause of liberty. +</p> +<p> +With ready quickness, Darby saw what my impression was, and hastily +remarked:— +</p> +<p> +“We 'll be all away out of this, Master Tom, you know, before that. We 'll +be up in Kildare, where we 'll see the boys exercising and marching; +that's what 'ill do your heart good to look at. But before we go, you 'll +have to take the oath, for I'm answerable for you all this time with my +own head; not that I care for that same, but others might mistrust ye.” +</p> +<p> +“Halloo!” cried the Frenchman, from within; “I hope you have finished your +conference there, for you seem to forget there's no fire in this room.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; and I beg a thousand pardons,” said Darby, servilely. “And +Master Tom only wants to bid you goodby before he goes.” +</p> +<p> +“Goes! goes where? Are you so soon tired of me?” said he, in an accent of +most winning sweetness. +</p> +<p> +“He's obliged to be at the Curragh, at the meeting there,” said Darby, +answering for me. +</p> +<p> +“What meeting? I never heard of it.” +</p> +<p> +“It 's a review, sir, of the throops, that 's to be by moonlight.” +</p> +<p> +“A review!” said the Frenchman, with a scornful laugh. “And do you call +this midnight assembly of marauding savages a review?” +</p> +<p> +Darby's face grew dark with rage, and for a second I thought he would have +sprung on his assailant; but with a fawning, shrewd smile he lisped out,— +</p> +<p> +“It's what they call it. Captain; sure the poor boys knows no better.” +</p> +<p> +“Are you going to this review?” said the Frenchman, with an ironical +pronunciation of the word. +</p> +<p> +“I scarce know where to go, or what to do,” said I, in a tone of +despairing sadness; “any certainty would be preferable to the doubts that +harass me.” +</p> +<p> +“Stay with me,” said the Frenchman, interrupting me and laying his hand on +my shoulder; “we shall be companions to each other. Your friend here knows +I can teach you many things that may be useful to you hereafter; and +perhaps, with all humility I may say, your stay will be as profitable as +at the camp yonder.” +</p> +<p> +“I should not like to desert one who has been so kind to me as Darby; and +if he wishes—” +</p> +<p> +Before I could finish my sentence, the door was opened by a key from +without, and Dalton, as he was called, stood amongst us. +</p> +<p> +“What, Darby!” said he, in a voice of something like emotion; “not gone +yet! You know I forbid you coming up here; I suspected what you would be +at. Come, lose no more time; we 'll take care of Mr. Burke for you.” +</p> +<p> +Darby hung his head sorrowfully, and left the room without speaking, +followed by Dalton, whose voice I heard in a tone of anger as he descended +the stairs. +</p> +<p> +There was a certain openness, an easy air of careless freedom, in the +young Frenchman, which made me feel at home in his company almost the very +moment of our acquaintance; and when he asked some questions about myself +and my family, I hesitated not to tell him my entire history, with the +causes which had first brought me into Darby's society, and led me to +imbibe his doctrines and opinions. He paused when I finished, and after +reflecting for some minutes, he looked me gravely in the face, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“But you are aware of the place you are now in?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said I; “further than the fact of my having enjoyed a capital +night's rest and eaten an excellent breakfast, I know nothing about it.” +</p> +<p> +A hearty burst of laughter from my companion followed this very candid +acknowledgment on my part. +</p> +<p> +“Then, may I ask, what are your intentions for the future? Have you any?” +</p> +<p> +“At least one hundred,” said I, smiling; “but every one of them has about +as many objections against it. I should like much, for instance, to be a +soldier,—not in the English service though. I should like to belong +to an army where neither birth nor fortune can make nor mar a man's +career. I should like, too, to be engaged in some great war of liberty, +where with each victory we gained the voices of a liberated people would +fall in blessings upon us. And then I should like to raise myself to high +command by some great achievement.” +</p> +<p> +“And then,” said the Frenchman, interrupting, “to come back to Ireland, +and cut off the head of this terrible Monsieur Basset. N'est-ce pas, Tom?” +</p> +<p> +I could not help joining in his laugh against myself; although in good +truth I had felt better pleased if he had taken up my enthusiasm in a +different mood. +</p> +<p> +“So much for mere dreaming!” said I, with half a sigh, as our laughter +subsided. +</p> +<p> +“Not so,” said he, quickly,—“not so; all you said is far more +attainable than you suspect. I have been in such a service myself. I won +my 'grade' as officer at the point of my sword, when scarcely your age; +and before I was fifteen, received this.” +</p> +<p> +He took down the sword that hung over the chimney as he said these words, +and drawing it from the scabbard, pointed to the inscription, which in +letters of gold adorned the blade,—“Rivoli,” “Arcole;” then turning +the reverse, I read,—“Au Lieutenant Charles Gustave de Meudon, +Troisième Cuirassiers.” +</p> +<p> +“This, then, is your name?” said I, repeating it half aloud. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” replied he, as he drew himself up, and seemed struggling to repress +a feeling of pride that sent the blood rushing to his cheek and brow. +</p> +<p> +“How I should like to be you!” was the wish that burst from me at that +moment, and which I could not help uttering in words. +</p> +<p> +“Hélas, non!” said the Frenchman, sorrowfully, and turning away to conceal +his agitation; “I have broken with fortune many a day since.” +</p> +<p> +The tone of bitter disappointment in which these words were spoken left no +room for reply, and we were both silent. +</p> +<p> +Charles—for so I must now call him to my reader, as he compelled me +to do so with himself—Charles was the first to speak. +</p> +<p> +“Not many months ago my thoughts were very like your own; but since then +how many disappointments! how many reverses!” +</p> +<p> +He walked hurriedly up and down the room as he said this; then stopping +suddenly before me, laid his hand on my shoulder, and with a voice of +impressive earnestness said:— +</p> +<p> +“Be advised by me: join not with these people; do not embark with them in +their enterprise. Their enterprise!” repeated he, scornfully: “they have +none. The only men of action here are they with whom no man of honor, no +soldier, could associate; their only daring, some deed of rapine and +murder. No! liberty is not to be achieved by such hands as these. And the +other,—the men of political wisdom, who prate about reform and the +people's rights, who would gladly see such as me adventure in the cause +they do not care themselves to advocate,—they are all false alike. +Give me,” cried he, with energy, and stamping his foot upon the ground,—“give +me a demibrigade of ours, some squadrons of Milhaud's cavalry, and trois +bouches a feu to open the way before us. But why do I speak of this? Some +midnight burning, some savage murder, some cowardly attack on unarmed and +defenceless people,—these are our campaigns here. And shall I stain +this blade in such a conflict?” +</p> +<p> +“But you will go back to France?” said I, endeavoring to say something +that might rally him from his gloom. +</p> +<p> +“Never,” replied he, firmly, “never! I alone, of all my countrymen, +maintained, that to leave the people here at such a crisis was unfair and +unmanly. I alone believed in the representations that were made of +extended organization, of high hopes, and ardent expectations. I accepted +the command of their army. Their army! what a mockery! When others +accepted the amnesty, I refused, and lived in concealment, my life hanging +upon the chance of being captured. For fourteen months I have wandered +from county to county, endeavoring to rally the spirit I had been taught +to think only needed restraint to hold back its impetuous daring. I have +spent money largely, for it was largely placed at my disposal; I have +distributed places and promises; I have accepted every post where danger +offered; and in return, I hoped that the hour was approaching when we +should test the courage of our enemies by such an outbreak as would +astonish Europe. And what think you has all ended in? But my cheek burns +at the very thought! An intended attack on the Government Members of +Parliament,—an act of base assassination,—a cowardly murder! +And for what, too?—to prevent a political union with England I Have +they forgotten that our cause was total rupture! independence! open enmity +with England! But, c'est fini, I have given them my last resolve. +Yesterday evening I told the delegates the only chance that, in my +opinion, existed of their successfully asserting their own independence. I +gave them the letters of French officers, high in command and station, +concurring with my own views; and I have pledged myself to wait one month +longer,—if they deem my plans worthy of acceptance,—to +consider all the details, and arrange the mode of proceeding. If they +refuse, then I leave Ireland forever within a week. In America, the cause +I glory in is still triumphant; and there, no prestige of failure shall +follow me to damp my own efforts, nor discourage the high hopes of such as +trust me. But you, my poor boy,—and how have I forgotten you in all +this sad history I—I will not suffer you to be misled by false +representations and flattering offers. It may be the only consolation I +shall carry with me from this land of anarchy and misfortune. But even +that is something,—if I rescue one untried and uncorrupted heart +from the misery of such associates. You shall be a soldier,—be my +companion here while I stay. I 'll arrange everything for your comfort; we +'ll read and talk together; and I will endeavor to repay the debt I owe to +France, by sending back there one better than myself to guard her eagles.” +</p> +<p> +The tears ran fast down my cheeks as I heard these words; but not one +syllable could I utter. +</p> +<p> +“You do not like my plan. Well—” +</p> +<p> +Before he could conclude, I seized his hand with rapture within both of +mine, and pressed it to my lips. +</p> +<p> +“It is a bargain, then,” said he, gayly. “And now let us lose no more +time; let us remove this breakfast-table, and begin at once.” +</p> +<p> +Another table was soon drawn over to the fire, upon which a mass of books, +maps, and plates were heaped by my companion, who seemed to act in the +whole affair with all the delight of a schoolboy in some exploit of +amusement. +</p> +<p> +“You are aware, Tom, that this place is a prison to me, and therefore I am +not altogether disinterested in this proposal. You, however, can go out +when you please; but until you understand the precautions necessary to +prevent you from being traced here, it is better not to venture into the +city.” +</p> +<p> +“I have no wish whatever to leave this,” said I, quickly, while I ranged +my eye with delight over the pile of books before me, and thought of all +the pleasure I was to draw from their perusal. +</p> +<p> +“You must tell me so three weeks hence, if you wish to flatter me,” +replied Charles, as he drew over his chair, and pointed with his hand to +another. +</p> +<p> +It needed not the pleasing and attractive power of my teacher to make my +study the most captivating of all amusements. Military science, even in +its gravest forms, had an interest for me such as no other pursuit could +equal. In its vast range of collateral subjects, it opened an +inexhaustible mine to stimulate industry and encourage research. The great +wars of the world were the great episodes in history, wherein monarchs and +princes were nothing, if not generals. With what delight, then, did I hang +over the pages of Carnot and Jomini! With what an anxious heart would I +read the narrative of a siege, where, against every disadvantage of +numbers and munitions of war, some few resisted all the attacks of the +adverse forces, with no other protection save that of consummate skill! +With what enthusiasm did I hear of Charles the Twelfth, of Wallenstein, of +the Prince Eugene! And how often-times did I ask myself in secret, Why had +the world none such as these to boast of now?—till at last the name +of Bonaparte burst from my companion's lips, as, with a torrent of +long-restrained devotion, he broke forth into an eloquent and impassioned +account of the great general of his age! +</p> +<p> +That name once heard, I could not bear to think or speak of any other. How +I followed him,—from the siege of Toulon, as he knelt down beside +the gun which he pointed with his own hand, to the glorious battlefields +of Italy,—and heard, from one who listened to his shout of +“Suivez-moi” on the bridge of Lodi, the glorious heroism of that day! I +tracked him across the pathless deserts of the East,—beneath the +shadow of the Pyramids, whose fame seems somehow to have revived in the +history of that great man. And then I listened to the stories—and +how numerous were they!—of his personal daring; the devotion and +love men bore him; the magic influence of his presence; the command of his +look. The very short and broken sentences he addressed to his generals +were treasured up in my mind, and repeated over and over to myself. +Charles possessed a miniature of the First Consul, which he assured me was +strikingly like him; and for hours long I could sit and gaze upon that +cold, unimpassioned brow, where greatness seemed to sit enthroned. How I +longed to look upon that broad and massive forehead,—the deep-set, +searching eye,—the mouth, where sweetness and severity seemed +tempered,—and that finely rounded chin, that gave his head so much +the character of antique beauty! His image filled every avenue of my +brain; his eye seemed on me in my waking moments, and I thought I heard +his voice in my dream. Never did lover dwell more rapturously on the +memory of his mistress than did my boyish thoughts on Bonaparte. What +would I not have done to serve him? What would I not have dared to win one +word, one look of his, in praise? All other names faded away before his;—the +halo around him paled every other star; the victories! had thought of +before with admiration I now only regarded as trifling successes, compared +with the overwhelming torrent of his conquests. Charles saw my enthusiasm, +and ministered to it with eager delight. Every trait in his beloved leader +that could stimulate admiration or excite affection, he dwelt on with all +the fondness of a Frenchman for his idol; till at last the world seemed to +my eyes but the theatre of his greatness, and men the mere instruments of +that commanding intellect that ruled the destinies and disposed of the +fortunes of nations. +</p> +<p> +In this way, days and weeks, and even months rolled on, for Charles's +interest in my studies had induced him to abandon his former intention of +departure; and he now scarcely took any part in the proceedings of the +delegates, and devoted himself almost exclusively to me. During the +daytime we never left the house; but when night fell we used to walk +forth, not into the city, but by some country road, often along the +canal-side,—our conversation on the only topic wherein we felt +interested. And these rambles still live within my memory with all the +vivid freshness of yesterday; and while my heart saddens over the +influence they shed upon my after life, I cannot help the train of +pleasure with which even yet I dwell upon their recollection. How guarded +should he be who converses with a boy, forgetting with what power each +word is fraught by the mere force of years,—how the flattery of +equality destroys judgment, and saps all power of discrimination,—and, +more than all, how dangerous it is to graft upon the tender sapling the +ripe fruits of experience, not knowing how, in such, they may grow to very +rankness! Few are there who cannot look back to their childhood for the +origin of opinions that have had their influence over all their latter +years; and when these have owed their birth to those we loved, is it +wonderful that we should cling to faults which seemed hallowed by +friendship? +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile I was becoming a man, if not in years, at least in spirit and +ambition. The pursuits natural to my age were passed over for the studies +of more advanced years. Military history had imparted to me a soldier's +valor, and I could take no pleasure in anything save as it bore upon the +one engrossing topic of my mind. Charles, too, seemed to feel all his own +ambition revived in mine, and watched with pride the progress I was making +under his guidance. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX. THE FRENCHMAN'S STORY +</h2> +<p> +While my life slipped thus pleasantly along, the hopes of the insurgent +party fell daily and hourly lower; disunion and distrust pervaded all +their councils, jealousies and suspicions grew up among their leaders. +Many of those whose credit stood highest in their party became informers +to the Government, whose persevering activity increased with every +emergency; and finally, they who would have adventured everything but some +few months before, grew lukewarm and indifferent. A dogged carelessness +seemed to have succeeded to their outbreak of enthusiasm, and they looked +on at the execution of their companions and the wreck of their party with +a stupid and stolid indifference. +</p> +<p> +For some time previous the delegates met at rare and irregular intervals, +and finally ceased to assemble altogether. The bolder portion of the body, +disgusted with the weak and temporizing views of the others, withdrew +first: and the less determined formed themselves into a new Society, whose +object was merely to get up petitions and addresses unfavorable to the +great project of the Government,—a Legislative Union with England. +</p> +<p> +From the turn events had taken, my companion, as it may be supposed, took +no interest in their proceedings. Affecting to think that all was not +lost,—while in his heart he felt bitterly the disappointment of his +hopes,—a settled melancholy, unrelieved even by those flashes of +buoyancy which a Frenchman rarely loses in any misfortune, now grew upon +him. His cheek grew paler, and his frame seemed wasting away, while his +impaired strength and tottering step betrayed that something more than +sorrow was at work within him. Still he persevered in our course of study, +and notwithstanding all my efforts to induce him to relax in his labors, +his desire to teach me grew with every day. For some time a short, hacking +cough, with pain in his chest, had seized on him, and although it yielded +to slight remedies, it returned again and again. Our night walks were +therefore obliged to be discontinued, and the confinement to the house +preyed upon his spirits and shook his nerves. Boy as I was, I could not +look upon his altered face and attenuated figure without a thrilling fear +at my heart lest he might be seriously ill. He perceived my anxiety +quickly, and endeavored, with many a cheering speech, to assure me that +these were attacks to which he had been long accustomed, and which never +were either lasting or dangerous; but the very hollow accents in which he +spoke robbed these words of all their comfort to me. +</p> +<p> +The winter, which had been unusually long and severe, at length passed +away, and the spring, milder and more genial than is customary in our +climate, succeeded; the sunlight came slanting down through the narrow +court, and fell in one rich yellow patch upon the floor. Charles started; +his dark eyes, hollow and sunk, glowed with unwonted brightness, and his +haggard and hollow cheek suddenly flushed with a crimson glow. +</p> +<p> +“Mon cher,” said he, in a voice tremulous with emotion, “I think if I were +to leave this I might recover.” +</p> +<p> +The very possibility of his death, until that moment, had never even +crossed my mind, and in the misery of the thought I burst into tears. From +that hour the impression never left my mind; and every accent of his low, +soft voice, every glance of his mild, dark eye, sank into my heart, as +though I heard and saw them for the last time. There was nothing to fear +now, so far as political causes were concerned, in our removing from our +present abode; and it was arranged between us that we should leave town, +and take up our residence in the county of Wicklow. There was a small +cottage at the opening of Glenmalure which my companion constantly spoke +of; he had passed two nights there already, and left it with many a +resolve to return and enjoy the delightful scenery of the neighborhood. +</p> +<p> +The month of April was drawing to a close, when one morning soon after +sunrise we left Dublin. A heavy mist, such as often in northern climates +ushers in a day of unusual brightness, shrouded every object from our view +for several miles of the way. Charles scarcely spoke; the increased +exertion seemed to have fatigued and exhausted him, and he lay back in the +carriage, his handkerchief pressed to his mouth, and his eyes half closed. +</p> +<p> +We had passed the little town of Bray, and entered upon that long road +which traverses the valley between the two Sugar Loaves, when suddenly the +sun burst forth; the lazy mists rolled heavily up the valley and along the +mountainsides, disclosing as they went patches of fertile richness or dark +masses of frowning rock. Above this, again, the purple heath appeared +glowing like a gorgeous amethyst, as the red sunlight played upon it, or +sparkled on the shining granite that rose through the luxuriant herbage. +Gradually the ravine grew narrower; the mountain seemed like one vast +chain, severed by some great convulsion,—their rugged sides appeared +to mark the very junction; trunks of aged and mighty trees hung +threateningly above the pass; and a hollow echoing sound arose as the +horses trod along the causeway. It was a spot of wild and gloomy grandeur, +and as I gazed on it intently, suddenly I felt a hand upon my shoulder. I +turned round: it was Charles's, his eyes riveted on the scene, his lips +parted with eagerness. He spoke at length; but at first his voice was +hoarse and low, by degrees it grew fuller and richer, and at last rolled +on in all its wonted strength and roundness. +</p> +<p> +“See there,—look!” cried he, as his thin, attenuated figure pointed +to the pass. “What a ravine to defend! The column, with two pieces of +artillery in the road; the cavalry to form behind, where you see that open +space, and advance between the open files of the infantry; the tirailleurs +scattered along that ridge where the furze is thickest, or down there +among those masses of rock. Sacristi! what a volume of fire they 'd pour +down! See how the blue smoke and the ring of the musket would mark them +out as they dotted the mountain-side, and yet were unapproachable to the +enemy! And think then of the rolling thunder of the eighteen-pounders +shaking these old mountains, and the long, clattering crash of the platoon +following after, and the dark shakos towering above the smoke! And then +the loud 'Viva!'—I think I hear it.” +</p> +<p> +His cheek became purple as he spoke, his veins swollen and distended; his +voice, though loud, lost nothing of its musical cadence; and his whole +look betokened excitement, almost bordering on madness. Suddenly his chest +heaved, a tremendous fit of coughing seized him, and he fell forward upon +my shoulder. I lifted him up; and what was my horror to perceive that all +his vest and cravat were bathed in florid blood, which issued from his +mouth! He had burst a blood-vessel in his wild transport of enthusiasm, +and now lay pale, cold, and senseless in my arms. +</p> +<p> +It was a long time before we could proceed with our journey, for although +fortunately the bleeding did not continue, fainting followed fainting for +hours after. At length we were enabled to set out again, but only at a +walking pace. For the remainder of the day his head rested on my shoulder, +and his cold hand in mine, as we slowly traversed the long, weary miles +towards Glenmalure. The night was falling as we arrived at our journey's +end. Here, however, every kindness and attention awaited us; and I soon +had the happiness of seeing my poor friend in his bed, and sleeping with +all the ease and tranquillity of a child. +</p> +<p> +From that hour every other thought was merged in my fears for him. I +watched with an agonizing intensity every change of his malady; I scanned +with an aching heart every symptom day by day. How many times has the +false bloom of hectic shed happiness over me! How often in my secret walks +have I offered up my prayer of thankfulness, as the deceitful glow of +fever colored his wan cheek, and lent a more than natural brilliancy to +his sunk and filmy eye! The world to me was all nothing, save as it +influenced him. Every cloud that moved above, each breeze that rustled, I +thought of for him; and when I slept, his image was still before me, and +his voice seemed to call me oftentimes in the silence of the night, and +when I awoke and saw him sleeping, I knew not which was the reality. +</p> +<p> +His debility increased rapidly; and although the mild air of summer and +the shelter of the deep valley seemed to have relieved his cough, his +weakness grew daily more and more. His character, too, seemed to have +undergone a change as great and as striking as that in his health. The +high and chivalrous ambition, the soldierlike heroism, the ardent spirit +of patriotism that at first marked him, had given way to a low and tender +melancholy,—an almost womanish tenderness,—that made him love +to have the little children of the cabin near him, to hear their innocent +prattle and watch their infant gambols. He talked, too, of home; of the +old château in Provence, where he was born, and described to me its +antiquated terraces and quaint, old-fashioned alleys, where as a boy he +wandered with his sister. +</p> +<p> +“Pauvre Marie!” said he, as a deep blush covered his pale cheek, “how have +I deserted you!” The thought seemed full of anguish for him, and for the +remainder of the day he scarcely spoke. +</p> +<p> +Some days after his first mention of his sister, we were sitting together +in front of the cabin, enjoying the shade of a large chestnut-tree, which +already had put forth its early leaves, and tempered if it did not exclude +the rays of the sun. +</p> +<p> +“You heard me speak of my sister,” said he, in a low and broken voice. +“She is all that I have on earth near to me. We were brought up together +as children; learned the same plays, had the same masters, spent not one +hour in the long day asunder, and at night we pressed each other's hands +as we sunk to sleep. She was to me all that I ever dreamed of girlish +loveliness, of woman's happiest nature; and I was her ideal of boyish +daring, of youthful boldness, and manly enterprise. We loved each other,—like +those who felt they had no need of other affection, save such as sprang +from our cradles, and tracked us on through life. Hers was a heart that +seemed made for all that human nature can taste of happiness; her eye, her +lip, her blooming cheek knew no other expression than a smile; her very +step was buoyancy; her laugh rang through your heart as joy-bells fill the +air; and yet,—and yet! I brought that heart to sorrow, and that +cheek I made pale, and hollow, and sunken as you see my own. My cursed +ambition, that rested not content with my own path in life, threw its +baleful shadow across hers. The story is a short one, and I may tell it to +you. +</p> +<p> +“When I left Provence to join the army of the South, I was obliged to +leave Marie under the care of an old and distant relative, who resided +some two leagues from us on the Loire. The chevalier was a widower, with +one son about my own age, of whom I knew nothing save that he had never +left his father's house; had been educated completely at home; and had +obtained the reputation of being a sombre, retired bookworm, who avoided +the world, and preferred the lonely solitude of a provincial château to +the gay dissipations of Paris. +</p> +<p> +“My only fear in intrusting my poor sister in such hands was the dire +stupidity of the <i>séjour</i>; but as I bid her goodby, I said, +laughingly, 'Prenez garde, Marie, don't fall in love with Claude de +Lauzan.' +</p> +<p> +“'Poor Claude!' said she, bursting into a fit of laughter; 'what a sad +affair that would be for him!' So saying, we parted. +</p> +<p> +“I made the campaign of Italy, where, as I have perhaps too often told +you, I had some opportunities of distinguishing myself, and was promoted +to a squadron on the field of Arcole. Great as my boyish exultation was at +my success, I believe its highest pleasure arose from the anticipation of +Marie's delight when she received my letter with the news. I wrote to her +nearly every week, and heard from her as frequently. At the time I did not +mark, as I have since done, the altered tone of her letters to me: how, +gradually, the high ambitious daring that animated her early answers +became tamed down into half regretful fears of a soldier's career; her +sorrows for those whose conquered countries were laid waste by fire and +sword; her implied censure of a war whose injustice she more than hinted +at; and, lastly, her avowed preference for those peaceful paths in life +that were devoted to the happiness of one's fellows, and the worship of +Him who deserved all our affection. I did not mark, I say, this change,—the +bustle of the camp, the din of arms, the crash of mounted squadrons, are +poor aids to reflection, and I thought of Marie but as I left her. +</p> +<p> +“It was after a few months of absence I returned to Provence,—the <i>croix +d'honneur</i> on my bosom, the sabre I won at Lodi by my side. I rushed +into the room bursting with impatience to clasp my sister in my arms, and +burning to tell her all my deeds and all my dangers. She met me with her +old affection; but how altered in its form! Her gay and girlish lightness, +the very soul of buoyant pleasure, was gone; and in its place a mild, sad +smile played upon her lip, and a deep, thoughtful look was in her dark +brown eye. She looked not less beautiful,—no, far from it; her +loveliness was increased tenfold. But the disappointment smote heavily on +my heart. I looked about me like one seeking for some explanation; and +there stood Claude—pale, still, and motionless—before me: the +very look she wore reflected in his calm features; her very smile was on +his lips. In an instant the whole truth flashed across me: she loved him. +</p> +<p> +“There are thoughts which rend us, as lightning does the rock, opening new +surfaces that lay hid since the Creation, and tearing our fast-knit +sympathies asunder like the rent granite: mine was such. From that hour I +hated him; the very virtues that had, under happier circumstances, made us +like brothers, but added fuel to the flame. My rival, he had robbed me of +my sister;—he had left me without that one great prize I owned on +earth; and all that I had dared and won seemed poor, and barren, and +worthless, since she no longer valued it. +</p> +<p> +“That very night I wrote a letter to the First Consul. I knew the ardent +desire he possessed to attach to Josephine's suite such members of the old +aristocracy as could be induced to join it. He had more than once hinted +to me that the fame of my sister's beauty had reached the Tuileries; that +with such pretensions as hers, the seclusion of a château in Provence was +ill suited to her. I stated at once my wish that she might be received as +one of the Ladies of the Court, avowing my intention to afford her any sum +that might be deemed suitable to maintain her in so exalted a sphere. +This, you are not aware, is the mode by which the members of a family +express to the consul that they surrender all right and guardianship in +the individual given, tendering to him full power to dispose of her in +marriage, exactly as though he were her own father. +</p> +<p> +“Before day broke my letter was on its way to Paris; in less than a week +came the answer, accepting my proposal in the most flattering terms, and +commanding me to repair to the Tuileries with my sister, and take command +of a regiment d' elite then preparing for service. +</p> +<p> +“I may not dwell on the scene that followed; the very memory of it is too +much for my weak and failing spirits. Claude flung himself at my feet, and +confessed his love. He declared his willingness to submit to any or +everything I should dictate: he would join the army; he would volunteer +for Egypt. Poor fellow! his trembling accents and bloodless lip comported +ill with the heroism of his words. Only promise that in the end Marie +should be his, and there was no danger he would not dare, no course in +life, however unsuited to him, he would not follow at my bidding. I know +not whether my heart could have withstood such an appeal as this, had I +been free to act; but now the die was cast. I handed him the First +Consul's letter. He opened it with a hand trembling like palsy, and read +it over; he leaned his head against the chimney when he finished, and gave +me back the letter without a word. I could not bear to look on him, and +left the room. +</p> +<p> +“When I returned he was gone. We left the château the same evening for +Paris. Marie scarcely spoke one word during the journey; a fatuous, stupid +indifference to everything and every one had seized her, and she seemed +perfectly careless whither we went. This gradually yielded to a settled +melancholy, which never left her. On our arrival in Paris, I did not dare +to present myself with her at the Tuileries; so, feigning her ill health +as an excuse, I remained some weeks at Versailles, to endeavor by +affection and care to overcome this sad feature of her malady. It was +about six weeks after this that I read in the 'Journal des Débats' an +announcement that, Claude de Lauzan had accepted holy orders, and was +appointed <i>curé</i> of La Flèche, in Brittany.' At first the news came +on me like a thunder-clap; but after a while's reflection I began to +believe it was perhaps the very best thing could have happened. And under +this view of the matter I left the paper in Marie's way. +</p> +<p> +“I was right. She did not appear the next morning at breakfast, nor the +entire day after. The following day the same; but in the evening came a +few lines written with a pencil, saying she wished to see me. I went;—but +I cannot tell you. My very heart is bursting as I think of her, as she sat +up in her bed; her long, dark hair falling in heavy masses over her +shoulders, and her darker eyes flashing with a brightness that seemed like +wandering intellect. She fell upon my neck and cried; her tears ran down +my cheek, and her sobs shook me. I know not what I said: but I remember +that she agreed to everything I had arranged for her; she even smiled a +sickly smile as I spoke of what an ornament she would be to the belle +cour,—and we parted. +</p> +<p> +“That was the last good-night I ever wished her. The next day she was +received at Court, and I was ordered to Normandy; thence I was sent to +Boulogne, and soon after to Ireland.” +</p> +<p> +“But you have written to her,—you have heard from her?” +</p> +<p> +“Alas! no. I have written again and again; but either she has never +received my letters, or she will not answer them.” +</p> +<p> +The tone of sorrow he concluded in left no room for any effort at +consolation, and we were silent; at last he took my hand in his, and as +his feverish fingers pressed it, he said,—“'T is a sad thing when we +work the misery of those for whose happiness we would have shed our +heart's blood.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X. THE CHURCHYARD +</h2> +<p> +The excitement caused by the mere narration of his sister's suffering +weighed heavily on De Meudon's weak and exhausted frame. His thoughts +would flow in no other channel; his reveries were of home and long past +years; and a depression far greater than I had yet witnessed settled down +upon his jaded spirits. +</p> +<p> +“Is not my present condition like a just retribution on my ambitious +folly?” was his continued reflection. And so he felt it. With a +Frenchman's belief in destiny, he regarded the failure of all his hopes, +and the ruin of the cause he had embarked in, as the natural and +inevitable consequences of his own ungenerous conduct; and even reproached +himself for carrying his evil fortune into an enterprise which, without +him, might have been successful. These gloomy forebodings, against which +reason was of no avail, grew hourly upon him, and visibly influenced his +chances of recovery. +</p> +<p> +It was a sad spectacle to look on one who possessed so much of good, so +many fair and attractive qualities, thus wasting away without a single +consolation he could lay to his bruised and wounded spirit. The very +successes he once gloried to remember, now only added bitterness to his +fallen state. To think of what he had been, and look on what he was, was +his heaviest affliction; and he fell into deep, brooding melancholy, in +which he scarcely spoke, but sat looking at vacancy, waiting as it were +for death. +</p> +<p> +I remember it well. I had been sitting silently by his bedside; for hours +he had not spoken, but an occasional deep-drawn sigh showed he was not +sleeping. It was night, and all in the little household were at rest; a +slight rustling of the curtain attracted me, and I felt his hand steal +from the clothes and grasp my own. +</p> +<p> +“I have been thinking of you, my dear boy,” said he, “and what is to +become of you when I'm gone. There, do not sob! The time is short now, and +I begin to feel it so; for somehow, as we approach the confines of +eternity, our mental vision grows clearer and more distinct,—doubts +that have long puzzled us seem doubts no longer. Many of our highest hopes +and aspirations—the daydreams that made life glorious—pass +before our eyes, and become the poor and empty pageants of the hour. Like +the traveller, who as he journeys along sees little of the way, but at the +last sits down upon some grassy bank, and gazes over the long line of +road; so, as the close of life draws near, we throw a backward glance upon +the past. But how differently does all seem to our eyes! How many of those +we envied once do we pity now! how many of those who appeared low and +humble, whose thoughts seemed bowed to earth, do we now recognize as +soaring aloft, high above their fellow-men, like creatures of some other +sphere!” He paused; then in a tone of greater earnestness added: “You must +not join these people, Tom. The day is gone by when anything great or good +could have been accomplished. The horrors of civil war will ever prevent +good men from uniting themselves to a cause which has no other road save +through bloodshed; and many wise ones, who weigh well the dangers, see it +hopeless. France is your country: there liberty has been won; there lives +one great man, whose notice, were it but passingly bestowed, is fame. If +life were spared me, I could have served you there; as it is, I can do +something.” +</p> +<p> +He paused for a while, and then drawing the curtain gently to one side, +said,—“Can it be moonlight? it is so very bright.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I; “the moon is at the full.” +</p> +<p> +He sat up as I spoke, and looked eagerly out through the little window. +</p> +<p> +“I have got a fancy,—how strange, too; it is one I have often smiled +at in others, but I feel it strongly now: it is to choose some spot where +I shall be laid when I am dead. There is a little ruin at the bottom of +this glen; you must remember it well. If I mistake not, there is a well +close beside it. I remember resting there one hot and sultry day in July. +It was an eventful day, too. We beat the King's troops, and took seventy +prisoners; and I rode from Arklow down here to bring up some ammunition +that we had secreted in one of the lead mines. Well I recollect falling +asleep beside that well, and having such a delightful dream of home when I +was a child, and of a pony which Marie used to ride behind me; and I +thought we were galloping through the vineyard, she grasping me round the +waist, half laughing, half in fear,—and when I awoke I could not +remember where I was. I should like to see that old spot again, and I feel +strong enough now to try it.” +</p> +<p> +I endeavored, with all my power of persuasion, to prevent his attempting +to walk such a distance, and in the night air too; but the more I reasoned +against it, the more bent was he on the project, and at last I was obliged +to yield a reluctant consent, and assist him to rise and dress. The energy +which animated him at first soon sank under the effort, and before we had +gone a quarter of a mile he grew faint and weary; still he persevered, and +leaning heavily on my arm, he tottered along. +</p> +<p> +“If I make no better progress,” said he, smiling sadly, “there will be no +need to assist me coming back.” +</p> +<p> +At last we reached the ruin, which, like many of the old churches in +Ireland, was a mere gable, overgrown with ivy, and pierced with a single +window, whose rudely-formed arch betokened great antiquity. Vestiges of +the side walls remained in part, but the inside of the building was filled +with tombstones and grave-mounds, selected by the people as being a place +of more than ordinary sanctity; among these the rank dock weeds and +nettles grew luxuriantly, and the tall grass lay heavy and matted. We sat +for some time looking on this same spot. A few garlands were withering on +some rude crosses of stick, to mark the latest of those who sought their +rest there; and upon these my companion's eyes were bent with a melancholy +meaning. +</p> +<p> +How long we sat there in silence I know not; but a rustling of the ivy +behind me was the first thing to attract my attention. I turned quickly +round, and in the window of the ruin beheld the head of a man bent eagerly +in the direction we were in; the moonlight fell upon him at the moment, +and I saw that the face was blackened. +</p> +<p> +“Who's that?” I called aloud, as with my finger I directed De Meudon to +the spot. No answer was returned, and I repeated my question yet louder; +but still no reply, while I could mark that the head was turned slightly +round, as if to speak with some one without. The noise of feet, and the +low murmur of several voices, now came from the side of the ruin; at the +same instant a dozen men, their faces blackened, and wearing a white badge +on their hats, stood up as if out of the very ground around us. +</p> +<p> +“What are you doing here at this time of night?” said a hard voice, in +tones that boded but little kindliness. +</p> +<p> +“We are as free to walk the country, when we like it, as you are, I hope,” +was my answer. +</p> +<p> +“I know his voice well,” said another of the crowd; “I told you it was +them.” +</p> +<p> +“Is it you that stop at Wild's, in the glen?” said the first speaker. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” replied I. +</p> +<p> +“And is it to get share of what 's going, that ye 're come to join us +now?” repeated he, in a tone of mockery. +</p> +<p> +“Be easy, Lanty; 'tis the French officer that behaved so stout up at Ross. +It 's little he cares for money, as myself knows. I saw him throw a +handful of goold among the boys when they stopped to pillage, and bid them +do their work first, and that he 'd give them plenty after.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe he 'd do the same now,” said a voice from the crowd, in a tone of +irony; and the words were received by the rest with a roar of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Stop laughing,” said the first speaker, in a voice of command; “we've +small time for joking.” As he spoke he threw himself heavily on the bank +beside De Meudon, and placing his hand familiarly on his arm, said, in a +low but clear voice: “The boys is come up here to-night to draw lots for +three men to settle Barton, that 's come down here yesterday, and stopping +at the barrack there. We knew you war n't well lately, and we did n't +trouble you; but now that you 're come up of yourself among us, it 's only +fair and reasonable you 'd take your chance with the rest, and draw your +lot with the others.” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, he 's too weak; the man is dying,” said a voice near. +</p> +<p> +“And if he is,” said the other, “who wants his help? sure, is n't it to +keep him quiet, and not bethray us?” +</p> +<p> +“The devil a fear of that,” said the former speaker; “he's thrue to the +backbone; I know them that knows him well.” +</p> +<p> +By this time De Meudon had risen to his feet, and stood leaning upon a +tall headstone beside him; his foraging cap fell off in his effort to +stand, and his long thin hair floated in masses down his pale cheeks and +on his shoulders. The moon was full upon him; and what a contrast did his +noble features present to the ruffian band that sat and stood around him! +</p> +<p> +“And is it a scheme of murder, of cold, cowardly assasination, you have +dared to propose to me?” said he, darting a look of fiery indignation on +him who seemed the leader. “Is it thus you understand my presence in your +country and in your cause? Think ye it was for this that I left the +glorious army of France,—that I quitted the field of honorable war +to mix with such as you? Ay, if it were the last word I were to speak on +earth, I 'd denounce you, wretches that stain with blood and massacre the +sacred cause the best and boldest bleed for!” +</p> +<p> +The click of a trigger sounded harshly on my ear, and my blood ran cold +with horror. De Meudon heard it too, and continued,—“You do but +cheat me of an hour or two, and I am ready.” +</p> +<p> +He paused, as if waiting for the shot. A deadly silence followed; it +lasted for some minutes, when again he spoke,—“I came here to-night +not knowing of your intentions, not expecting you; I came here to choose a +grave, where, before another week pass over, I hoped to rest. If you will +it sooner, I shall not gainsay you.” +</p> +<p> +Low murmurs ran through the crowd, and something like a tone of pity could +be heard mingling through the voices. +</p> +<p> +“Let him go home, then, in God's name!” said one of the number; “that's +the best way.” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, take him home,” said another, addressing me; “Dan Kelly 's a hard man +when he 's roused.” +</p> +<p> +The words were repeated on every side, and I led De Meudon forth leaning +on my arm; for already, the excitement over, a stupid indifference crept +over him, and he walked on by my side without speaking. +</p> +<p> +I confess it was not without trepidation, and many a backward glance +towards the old ruin, that I turned homeward to our cabin. There was that +in their looks at which I trembled for my companion; nor do I yet know why +they spared him at that moment. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI. TOO LATE. +</h2> +<p> +The day which followed the events I have mentioned was a sad one to me. +The fatigue and the excitement together brought on fever with De Meudon. +His head became attacked, and before evening his faculties began to +wander. All the strange events of his checkered life were mixed up in his +disturbed intellect; and he talked on for hours about Italy, and Egypt, +the Tuileries, La Vendee, and Ireland, without ceasing. The entire of the +night he never slept, and the next day the symptoms appeared still more +aggravated. The features of his insanity were wilder and less +controllable. He lost all memory of me; and sometimes the sight of me at +his bedside threw him into most terrific paroxysms of passion; while at +others, he would hold my hand for hours together, and seem to feel my +presence as something soothing. His frequent recurrence to the scene in +the churchyard showed the deep impression it had made upon his mind, and +how fatally it had influenced the worst symptoms of his malady. +</p> +<p> +Thus passed two days and nights. On the third morning, exhaustion seemed +to have worn him into a false calm. His wild, staring eye had become +heavier, his movements less rapid; the spot of color had left his cheek; +the mouth was pinched up and rigid; and a flatness of the muscles of the +face betokened complete depression. He spoke seldom, and with a voice +hoarse and cavernous, but no longer in the tone of wild excitement as +before. I sat by his bedside still and in silence, my own sad thoughts my +only company. As it grew later, the sleepless days and nights I had +passed, and the stillness of the sickroom, overcame me, and I slept. +</p> +<p> +I awoke with a start; some dreamy consciousness of neglect had flashed +across me, and I sat up. I peeped into the bed, and started back with +amazement. I looked again, and there lay De Meudon, on the outside of the +clothes, dressed in his full uniform,—the green coat and white +facing, the large gold epaulettes, the brilliant crosses on the breast; +his plumed chapeau lay at one side of him, and his sabre at the other. He +lay still and motionless. I held the candle near his face, and could mark +a slight smile that curled his cold lip, and gave to his wan and wasted +features something of their former expression. +</p> +<p> +“Oui, mon cher,” said he, in a weak whisper, as he took my hand and kissed +it, “c'est bien moi.” And then added, “It was another of my strange +fancies to put on these once more before I died; and when I found you +sleeping, I arose and did so. I have changed something since I wore this +last: it was at a ball at Cambacérès.” +</p> +<p> +My joy at hearing him speak once more with full possession of his reason, +was damped by the great change a few hours had worked in his appearance. +His skin was cold and clammy; a gluey moisture rested on his cheek; and +his teeth were dark and discolored. A slimy froth, too, was ever rising to +his lips as he spoke; while at every respiration his chest heaved and +waved like a stormy sea. +</p> +<p> +“You are thirsty, Charles,” said I, stooping over him to wet his lips. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said he, calmly, “I have but one thing which wants relief; it is +here.” +</p> +<p> +He pressed his hand to his heart as he spoke, while such a look of misery +as crossed his features I never beheld. +</p> +<p> +“Your heart—” +</p> +<p> +“Is broken,” said he, with a sigh. For some minutes he said nothing, then +whispered: “Take my pocket-book from beneath my pillow; yes, that 's it. +There is a letter you 'll give my sister; you 'll promise me that? Well, +the other is for Lecharlier, the <i>chef</i> of the Polytechnique at +Paris; that is for you,—you must be <i>un élève</i> there. There are +some five or six thousand francs,—it 's all I have now: they are +yours; Marie is already provided for. Tell her—But no; she has +forgiven me long since,—I feel it. You 'll one day win your grade,—high +up; yes, you must do so. Perhaps it may be your fortune to speak with +General Bonaparte; if so, I beg you say to him, that when Charles de +Meudon was dying, in exile, with but one friend left of all the world, he +held this portrait to his lips, and with his last breath he kissed it.” +</p> +<p> +The fervor of the action drew the blood to his face and temples, which as +suddenly became pale again. A shivering ran through his limbs; a quick +heaving of his bosom; a sigh; and all was still. He was dead! +</p> +<p> +The stunning sense of deep affliction is a mercy from on high. Weak human +faculties, long strained by daily communing with grief, would fall into +idiocy were their acuteness not blunted and their perception rendered +dull. It is for memory to trace back through the mazes of misery the +object of our sorrow, as the widow searches for the corpse of him she +loved amid the slain upon the battlefield. +</p> +<p> +I sat benumbed with sorrow, a vague desire for the breaking day my only +thought. Already the indistinct glimmerings of morning were visible, when +I heard the sounds of men marching along the road towards the house. I +could mark, by the clank of their firelocks and their regular step, that +they were soldiers. They halted at the door of the cabin, whence a loud +knocking now proceeded. +</p> +<p> +“Halloo, there!” said a voice, whose tones seemed to sink into my very +heart; “halloo, Peter! get up and open the door.” +</p> +<p> +“What's the matter?” cried the old man, starting up, and groping his way +towards the door. +</p> +<p> +The sound of several voices and the noise of approaching footsteps drowned +the reply; and the same instant the door of the little room in which I sat +opened, and a sergeant entered. +</p> +<p> +“Sorry to disturb ye, sir,” said he, civilly; “but duty can't be avoided. +I have a warrant to arrest Captain de Meudon, a French officer that is +concealed here. May I ask where is he?” +</p> +<p> +I pointed to the bed. The sergeant approached, and by the half-light could +just perceive the glitter of the uniform, as the body lay shaded by the +curtain. +</p> +<p> +“I arrest you, sir, in the King's name,” said he. “Halloo, Kelly! this is +your prisoner, isn't he?” +</p> +<p> +A head appeared at the door as he spoke; and as the eyes wandered +stealthily round the chamber, I recognized, despite the change of color, +the wretch who led the party at the churchyard. +</p> +<p> +“Come in, damn ye,” said the sergeant, impatiently; “what are you afraid +for? Is this your man? Halloo, sir!” said he, shaking the corpse by the +shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“You must call even louder yet,” said I, while something like the fury of +a fiend was working within me. +</p> +<p> +“What!” said the sergeant, snatching up the light and holding it within +the bed. He started back in horror as he did so, and called out, “He is +dead!” +</p> +<p> +Kelly sprang forward at the word, and seizing the candle, held it down to +the face of the corpse; but the flame rose as steadily before those cold +lips as though the breath of life had never warmed them. +</p> +<p> +“I 'll get the reward, anyhow, sergeant, won't I?” said the ruffian, while +the thirst for gain added fresh expression to his savage features. +</p> +<p> +A look of disgust was the only reply he met with, as the sergeant walked +into the outer room, and whispered something to the man of the house. At +the same instant the galloping of a horse was heard on the causeway. It +came nearer and nearer, and ceased suddenly at the door, as a deep voice +shouted out,— +</p> +<p> +“Well! all right, I hope, sergeant. Is he safe?” +</p> +<p> +A whispered reply, and a low, muttered sound of two or three voices +followed, and Barton—the same man I had seen at the fray in Malone's +cabin—entered the room. He approached the bed, and drawing back the +curtains, rudely gazed on the dead man, while over his shoulder peered the +demoniac countenance of the informer Kelly, his savage features working in +anxiety lest his gains should have escaped him. +</p> +<p> +Barton's eye ranged the little chamber till it fell on me, as I sat still +and motionless against the wall. He started slightly, and then advancing +close, fixed his piercing glance upon me. +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” cried he, “you here! Well, that is more than I looked for this +morning. I have a short score to settle with you. Sergeant, here 's one +prisoner for you, at any rate.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Kelly, springing forward, “he was at the churchyard with the +other; I'll swear to that.” +</p> +<p> +“I think we can do without your valuable aid in this business,” said +Barton, smiling maliciously. “Come along, young gentleman; we 'll try and +finish the education that has begun so prosperously.” +</p> +<p> +My eyes involuntarily turned to the table where De Meudon's pistols were +lying. The utter hopelessness of such a contest deterred me not, I sprang +towards them; but as I did so, the strong hand of Barton was on my collar, +and with a hoarse laugh, he threw me against the wall, as he called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Folly, boy! mere folly. You are quite sure of the rope without that. +Here, take him off!” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, two soldiers seized me on either side, and before a minute +elapsed, pinioned my arms behind my back. In another moment the men fell +in, the order was given to march, and I was led away between the files, +Kelly following at the rear; while Barton's voice might be heard issuing +from the cabin, as he gave his orders for the burial of the body, and the +removal of all the effects and papers to the barrack at Glencree. +</p> +<p> +We might have been about an hour on the road when Barton overtook us. He +rode to the head of the party, and handing a paper to the sergeant, +muttered some words, among which I could only gather the phrase, +“Committed to Newgate;” then, turning round in his saddle, he fixed his +eyes on Kelly, who, like a beast of prey, continued to hang upon the track +of his victim. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Dan,” cried he, “you may go home again now. I am afraid you 've +gained nothing this time but character.” +</p> +<p> +“Home!” muttered the wretch in a voice of agony; “is it face home after +this morning's work?” +</p> +<p> +“And why not, man? Take my word for it, the neighbors will be too much +afraid to meddle with you now.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mister Barton! oh, darling! don't send me back there, for the love of +Heaven! Take me with you!” cried the miserable wretch, in tones of +heart-moving misery. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, young gentleman,” said he, taming towards me, and catching me by the +sleeve, “spake a word for me this day!” +</p> +<p> +“Don't you think he has enough of troubles of his own to think of, Dan?” +said Barton, with a tone of seeming kindliness. “Go back, man; go back! +there 's plenty of work before you in this very county. Don't lay your +hand on me, you scoundrel; your touch would pollute a hangman.” +</p> +<p> +The man fell back as if stunned at the sound of these words; his face +became livid, and his lips white as snow. He staggered a pace or two, like +a drunken man, and then stood stock-still, his eyes fixed upon the road. +</p> +<p> +“Quick march!” said the sergeant. +</p> +<p> +The soldiers stepped out again; and as we turned the angle of the road, +about a mile farther, I beheld Kelly still standing in the self same +attitude we left him. Barton, after some order to the sergeant, soon left +us, and we continued our march till near nine o'clock, when the party +halted to breakfast. They pressed me to eat with every kind entreaty, but +I could taste nothing, and we resumed our road after half an hour. But the +day becoming oppressively hot, it was deemed better to defer our march +till near sunset; we stopped, then, during the noon, in a shady thicket +near the roadside, where the men, unbuckling their knapsacks and loosening +their stocks, lay down in the deep grass, either chatting together or +smoking. The sergeant made many attempts to draw me into conversation, but +my heart was too full of its own sensations either to speak or listen; so +he abandoned the pursuit with a good grace, and betook himself to his pipe +at the foot of a tree, where, after its last whiff escaped, he sank into a +heavy sleep. +</p> +<p> +Such of the party as were not disposed for sleep gathered together in a +little knot on a small patch of green grass, in the middle of a beech +clump, where, having arranged themselves with as much comfort as the place +permitted, they began chatting away over their life and its adventures +pleasantly and freely. I was glad to seek any distraction from my own +gloomy thoughts in listening to them, as I lay only a few yards off; but +though I endeavored with all my might to attend to and take interest in +their converse, my thoughts always turned to him I had lost forever,—the +first, the only friend I had ever known. All care for myself and what +fortune awaited me was merged in my sorrow for him. If not indifferent to +my fate, I was at least unmindful of it, and although the words of those +near me fell upon my ear, I neither heard nor marked them. +</p> +<p> +From this dreamy lethargy I was at last suddenly aroused by the hearty +bursts of laughter that broke from the party, and a loud clapping of hands +that denoted their applause of something or somebody then before them. +</p> +<p> +“I say, George,” said one of the soldiers, “he's a queer 'un, too, that +piper.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, he 's a droll chap,” responded the other solemnly, as he rolled +forth a long curl of smoke from the angle of his mouth. +</p> +<p> +“Can you play 'Rule Britannia,' then?” asked another of the men. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir,” said a voice I at once knew to be no other than my friend +Darby's,—“no, sir. But av the 'Fox's Lament,' or 'Mary's Dream;' +wasn't uncongenial to your sentiments, it would be a felicity to me to +expatiate upon the same before yez.” +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Bell,” cried a rough voice, “does that beat you now?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said another, “not a bit. He means he 'll give us something Irish +instead; he don't know 'Rule Britannia! '” +</p> +<p> +“Not know 'Rule Britannia!' Why, where the devil were you ever bred or +born, man,—eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Kerry, sir, the kingdom of Kerry, was the nativity of my father; my +maternal progenitrix emanated from Clare. Maybe you 've heard the adage,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“'From Keiry his father, from Clare came his mother; +He 's more rogue nor fool on one side and the other.' +</pre> +<p> +Not but that, in my humble individuality, I am an exceptions illustration +of the proverbial catastrophe.” +</p> +<p> +Another shout of rude laughter from his audience followed this speech, +amid the uproar of which Darby began tuning his pipes, as if perfectly +unaware that any singularity on his part had called forth the mirth. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what are we to have, old fellow, after all that confounded +squeaking and grunting?” said he who appeared the chief spokesman of the +party. +</p> +<p> +“'Tis a trifling production of my own muse, sir,—a kind of +biographical, poetical, and categorical dissertation of the delights, +devices, and daily doings of your obaydient servant and ever submissive +slave, Darby the Blast.” +</p> +<p> +Though it was evident very little of his eloquent announcement was +comprehended by the party, their laughter was not less ready, and a +general chorus proclaimed their attention to the song. +</p> +<p> +Darby accordingly assumed his wonted dignity of port, and having given +some half dozen premonitory flourishes, which certainly had the effect of +astonishing and overawing the audience, he began, to the air of “The Night +before Larry was stretched,” the following ditty:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DARBY THE BLAST. + +Oh! my name it is Darby the Blast; +My country is Ireland all over; +My religion is never to fast, +But live, as I wander, in clover; +To make fun for myself every day, +The ladies to plaise when I 'm able, +The boys to amuse as I play, +And make the jugs dance on the table. +Oh! success to the chanter, my dear! + +Your eyes on each side you may cast, +But there is n't a house that is near ye +But they 're glad to have Darby the Blast, +And they 'll tell ye 'tis he that can cheer ye. +Oh! 't is he can put life in a feast; +What music lies under his knuckle; +As he plays “Will I send for the Priest?” +Or a jig they call “Cover the Buckle.” +Oh! good luck to the chanter, your sowl! + +But give me an audience in rags; +They 're illigant people for list'ning; +'T is they that can humor the bags +As I rise a fine tune at a christ'ning. +There 's many a weddin' I make +Where they never get further nor sighing; +And when I perform at a wake, +The corpse looks delighted at dying. +Oh! success to the chanter, your sowl! +</pre> +<p> +“Eh! what's that?” cried a gruff voice; “the corpse does what?” +</p> +<p> +“'T is a rhetorical amplification, that means he would if he could,” said +Darby, stopping to explain. +</p> +<p> +“I say,” said another, “that's all gammon and stuff; a corpse could n't +know what was doing,—eh, old fellow?” +</p> +<p> +“'T is an Irish corpse I was describin',” said Darby, proudly, and +evidently, while sore pushed for an explanation, having a severe struggle +to keep down his contempt for the company that needed it. +</p> +<p> +An effort I made at this moment to obtain a nearer view of the party, from +whom I was slightly separated by some low brushwood, brought my hand in +contact with something sharp; I started and looked round, and to my +astonishment saw a clasp knife, such as gardeners carry, lying open beside +me. In a second I guessed the meaning of this. It had been so left by +Darby, to give me an opportunity of cutting the cords that bound my arms, +and thus facilitating my escape. His presence was doubtless there for this +object, and all the entertaining powers he displayed only brought forth to +occupy the soldiers' attention while I effected my deliverance. Regret for +the time lost was my first thought; my second, more profitable, was not to +waste another moment. So, kneeling down I managed with the knife to cut +some of my fastenings, and after some little struggle freed one arm; to +liberate the other was the work of a second, and I stood up untrammelled. +What was to be done next? for although at liberty, the soldiers lay about +me on every side, and escape seemed impossible. Besides, I knew not where +to turn, where to look for one friendly face, nor any one who would afford +me shelter. Just then I heard Darby's voice raised above its former pitch, +and evidently intended to be heard by me. +</p> +<p> +“Sure, there's Captain Bubbleton, of the Forty-fifth Regiment, now in +Dublin, in George's Street Barracks. Ay, in George's Street Barracks,” +said he, repeating the words as if to impress them on me. “'T is himself +could tell you what I say is thrue; and if you wouldn't put confidential +authentification on the infirmation of a poor leather-squeezing, +timber-tickling crayture like myself, sure you 'd have reverential +obaydience to your own commissioned captain.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don't think much of that song of yours, anyhow, old Blow, or +Blast, or whatever your name is. Have you nothing about the service, eh? +'The British Grenadiers;' give us that.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; 'The British Grenadiers,' that's the tune!” cried a number of the +party together. +</p> +<p> +“I never heard them play but onst, sir,” said Darby, meekly; “and they +were in sich a hurry that day, I couldn't pick up the tune.” +</p> +<p> +“A hurry! what d' you mean?” said the corporal. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; 't was the day but one after the French landed; and the British +Grenadiers that you were talking of was running away towards Castlebar.” +</p> +<p> +“What 's that you say there?” cried out one of the soldiers, in a voice of +passion. +</p> +<p> +“'Tis that they wor running away, sir,” replied Darby, with a most +insulting coolness; “and small blame to thim for that same, av they wor +frightened.” +</p> +<p> +In an instant the party sprang to their legs, while a perfect shower of +curses fell upon the luckless piper, and fifty humane proposals to smash +his skull, break his neck and every bone in his body, were mooted on all +sides. Meanwhile M'Keown remonstrated, in a spirit which in a minute I +perceived was not intended to appease their irritation; on the contrary, +his apologies were couched in very different guise, being rather excuses +for his mishap in having started a disagreeable topic, than any regret for +the mode in which he treated it. +</p> +<p> +“And sure, sir,” continued he, addressing the corporal, “'t was n't my +fault av they tuck to their heels; would n't any one run for his life av +he had the opportunity?” +</p> +<p> +He raised his voice once more at these words with such significance that I +resolved to profit by the counsel if the lucky moment should offer.—I +had not long to wait. The insulting manner of Darby, still more than his +words, had provoked them beyond endurance, and one of the soldiers, +drawing his bayonet, drove it through the leather bag of his pipes. A +shout of rage from the piper, and a knockdown blow that levelled the +offender, replied to the insult. In an instant the whole party were upon +him. Their very numbers, however, defeated their vengeance; as I could +hear from the tone of Darby's voice, who, far from declining the combat, +continued to throw in every possible incentive to battle, as he struck +right and left of him. “Ah, you got that!—Well done!—'Tis +brave you are! ten against one!—Devil fear you!” +</p> +<p> +The scuffle by this time had brought the sergeant to the spot, who in vain +endeavored to ascertain the cause of the tumult, as they rolled over one +another on the ground, while caps, belts, and fragments of bagpipes were +scattered about on every side. The uproar had now reached its height, and +Darby's yells and invectives were poured forth with true native fluency. +The moment seemed propitious to me. I was free,—no one near; the +hint about Bubbleton was evidently intended for my guidance. I crept +stealthily a few yards beneath the brushwood, and emerged safely upon the +road. The sounds of the conflict, amid which Darby's own voice rose +pre-eminent, told me that all were too busily engaged to waste a thought +on me. I pressed forward at my best pace, and soon reached the crest of a +hill, from which the view extended for miles on every side. My eyes, +however, were bent in but one direction: they turned westwards, where a +vast plain stretched away towards the horizon, its varied surface +presenting all the rich and cultivated beauty of a garden; villas and +mansions surrounded with large parks; waving cornfields and orchards in +all the luxuriance of blossom. Towards the east lay the sea; the coast +line broken into jutting promontories and little bays, dotted with white +cottages, with here and there some white-sailed skiff, scarce moving in +the calm air. But amid all this outspread loveliness of view, my attention +was fixed upon a dense and heavy cloud that seemed balanced in the bright +atmosphere far away in the distance. Thither my eyes turned, and on that +spot was my gaze riveted, for I knew that beneath that canopy of dull +smoke lay Dublin. The distant murmur of the angry voices still reached me +as I stood. I turned one backward look; the road was lonely, not a shadow +moved upon it. Before me the mountain road descended in a zigzag course +till it reached the valley. I sprang over the low wall that skirted the +wayside, and with my eyes still fixed upon the dark cloud, I hurried on. +My heart grew lighter with every step; and when at length I reached the +shelter of a pine-wood, and perceived no sign of being pursued, my spirits +rose to such a pitch of excitement that I shouted for very joy. +</p> +<p> +For above an hour my path continued within the shelter of the wood; and +when at last I emerged, it was not without a sense of sudden fear that I +looked back upon the mountains which frowned above me, and seemed still so +near. I thought, too, I could mark figures on the road, md imagined I +could see them moving backwards and forwards, like persons seeking for +something; and then I shuddered to think that they too might be at that +very moment looking at me. The thought added fresh speed to my flight, and +for some miles I pressed forward without even turning once. +</p> +<p> +It was late in the evening as I drew near the city. Hungry and tired as I +was, the fear of being overtaken was uppermost in my thoughts; and as I +mingled in the crowds that strolled along the roads enjoying the delicious +calmness of a summer's eve, I shrank from every eye like something guilty, +and feared that every glance that fell on me was detection itself. +</p> +<p> +It was not until I entered the city, and found myself traversing the +crowded and narrow streets that formed the outskirts, that I felt at ease; +and inquiring my way to George's Street Barracks, I hurried on, regardless +of the strange sights and sounds about. At that hour the humbler portion +of the population was all astir; their daily work ended, they were either +strolling along with their families for an evening walk, or standing in +groups around the numerous ballad-singers, who delighted their audience +with diatribes against the Union, and ridiculous attacks on the Ministry +of the day. These, however, were not always unmolested, for as I passed +on, I saw more than one errant minstrel seized on by the soldiery, and +hurried off to the guardhouse to explain some uncivil or equivocal +allusion to Lord Castlereagh or Mr. Cook,—such evidences of +arbitrary power being sure to elicit a hearty groan or shout' of derision +from the mob, which in turn was replied to by the soldiers. These scolding +matches gave an appearance of tumult to the town, which on some occasions +did not stop short at mere war of words. +</p> +<p> +In the larger and better streets such scenes were unfrequent; but here +patrols of mounted dragoons or police passed from time to time, exchanging +as they went certain signals as to the state of the city; while crowds of +people thronged the pathways, and conversed in a low tone, which broke +forth now and then into a savage yell as often as some interference on the +part of the military seemed to excite their angry passions. At the Castle +gates the crowd was more dense and apparently more daring, requiring all +the efforts of the dragoons to keep them from pressing against the +railings, and leave a space for the exit of carriages which from time to +time issued from the Castle yard. Few of these, indeed, went forth +unnoticed. Some watchful eye would detect the occupant as he lay back to +escape observation; his name would be shouted aloud, as an inevitable +volley of hisses and execrations showered upon him. And in this way were +received the names of Mr. Bingham, Colonel Loftus, the Right Hon. Denis +Browne, Isaac Corry, and several others who happened that day to be dining +with the Lord-Lieutenant, and were now on their way to the House of +Commons. +</p> +<p> +Nothing struck me so much in the scene as the real or apparent knowledge +possessed by the mob of all the circumstances of each individual's +personal and political career; and thus the price for which they had been +purchased—either in rank, place, or pounds sterling—was cried +aloud amid shouts of derision and laughter, or the more vindictive yells +of an infuriated populace. +</p> +<p> +“Ha, Ben! what are you to get for Baltinglass? Boroughs is up in the +market.” “Well, Dick, you won't take the place; nothing but hard cash.” +“Don't be hiding. Jemmy.” “Look at the Prince of Orange, boys!” “A groan +for the Prince of Orange!”—here a fearful groan from the mob echoed +through the streets. “There 's Luke Fox; ha! stole away!”—here +followed another yell. +</p> +<p> +With difficulty I elbowed my way through the densely-packed crowd, and at +last reached the corner of George's Street, where a strong police force +was stationed, not permitting the passage of any one either up or down +that great thoroughfare. Finding it impossible to penetrate by this way, I +continued along Dame Street, where I found the crowd to thicken as I +advanced. Not only were the pathways, but the entire streets, filled with +people; through whom the dragoons could with difficulty force a passage +for the carriages, which continued at intervals to pass down. Around the +statue of King William the mob was in its greatest force. Not merely the +railings around the statue, but the figure itself was surmounted by +persons, who, taking advantage of their elevated and secure position, +hurled their abuse upon the police and military with double bitterness. +These sallies of invective were always accompanied by some humorous +allusion, which created a laugh among the crowd beneath; to which, as the +objects of the ridicule were by no means insensible, the usual reply was +by charging on the people, and a command to keep back,—a difficult +precept when pressed forward by some hundreds behind them. As I made my +way slowly through the moving mass, I could see that a powerful body of +horse patrolled between the mob and the front of the College, the space +before which and the iron railings being crammed with students of the +University, for so their caps and gowns bespoke them. Between this party +and the others a constant exchange of abuse and insult was maintained, +which even occasionally came to blows whenever any chance opportunity of +coming in contact, unobserved by the soldiery, presented itself. +</p> +<p> +In the interval between these rival parties, each member's carriage was +obliged to pass; and here each candidate for the honors of one and the +execrations of the other, met his bane and antidote. +</p> +<p> +“Ha, broken beak, there you go! bad luck to you!” “Ha, old vulture, +Flood!” +</p> +<p> +“Three cheers for Flood, lads!” shouted a voice from the College; and in +the loud cry the yells of their opponents were silenced, but only to break +forth the next moment into further license. +</p> +<p> +“Here he comes, here he comes!” said the mob; “make way there, or he 'll +take you flying! it 's himself can do it. God bless your honor, and may +you never want a good baste under ye!” +</p> +<p> +This civil speech was directed to a smart, handsome-looking man of about +five and forty, who came dashing along on a roan thoroughbred, perfectly +careless of the crowd, through which he rode with a smiling face and a +merry look. His leathers and tops were all in perfect jockey style, and +even to his long-lashed whip he was in everything a sportsmanlike figure. +</p> +<p> +“That's Greorge Ponsonby,” said a man beside me, in answer to my question. +“And I suppose you know who that is?” +</p> +<p> +A perfect yell from the crowd drowned my reply; and amid the mingled +curses and execrations of the mass, a dark-colored carriage moved slowly +on, the coachman evidently fearful at every step lest his horses should +strike against some of the crowd, and thus license the outbreak that +seemed only waiting an opportunity to burst forth. +</p> +<p> +“Ha, Bladderchops, Bloody Jack! are you there?” shouted the savage +ringleaders, as they pressed up to the very glasses of the carriage, and +stared at the occupant. +</p> +<p> +“Who is it?” said I, again. +</p> +<p> +“John Toler, the Attorney-General.” +</p> +<p> +Amid deafening cries of vengeance against him, the carriage moved on, and +then rose the wild cheers of the College men to welcome their partisan. +</p> +<p> +A hurrah from the distant end of Dame Street now broke on the ear, which, +taken up by those bearer, swelled into a regular thunder; and at the same +moment the dragoons cried out to keep back, a lane was formed in a second, +and down it came six smoking thoroughbreds, the postilions in white and +silver, cutting and spurring with all their might. Never did I hear such a +cheer as now burst forth. A yellow chariot, its panels covered with +emblazonry, came flying past; a hand waved from the window in return to +the salutation of the crowd, and the name of Tom Conolly of Castletown +rent the very air. Two outriders in their rich liveries followed, unable +to keep their place through the thick mass that wedged in after the +retiring equipage. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had the last echo of the voices subsided when a cheer burst from +the opposite side, and a waving of caps and handkerchiefs proclaimed that +some redoubted champion of Protestant ascendancy was approaching. The +crowd rocked to and fro as question after question poured in. +</p> +<p> +“Who is it? who is coming?” But none could tell, for as yet the carriage, +whose horses were heard at a smart trot, had not turned the corner of +Grafton Street. In a few moments the doubt seemed resolved, for scarcely +did the horses appear in sight when a perfect yell rose from the crowd and +drowned the cheers of their opponents. I cannot convey anything like the +outbreak of vindictive passion that seemed to convulse the mob as a +splendidly appointed carriage drove rapidly past and made towards the +colonnade of the Parliament House. A rush of the people was made at the +moment, in which, as in a wave, I was borne along in spite of me. The +dragoons, with drawn sabres, pressed down upon the crowd, and a scene of +frightful confusion followed: many were sorely wounded by the soldiers; +some were trampled under foot; and one poor wretch, in an effort to +recover himself from stumbling, was supposed to be stooping for a stone, +and cut through the skull without mercy. He lay there insensible for some +time; but at last a party of the crowd, braving everything, rushed forward +and carried him away to an hospital. +</p> +<p> +During this, I had established myself on the top of a lamp-post, which +gave me a full view, not only of all the proceedings of the mob, but of +the different arrivals as they drew up at the door of the House. The +carriage whose approach was signalized by all these disasters, had now +reached the colonnade. The steps were lowered, and a young man of the very +handsomest and most elegant appearance descended slowly from the chariot. +His dress was in the height of the reigning fashion, but withal had a +certain negligence that bespoke one who less paid attention to toilette, +than that his costume was a thing of course, which could not but be, like +all about him, in the most perfect taste. In his hand he held a white +handkerchief, which, as he carelessly shook, the perfume floated over the +savage-looking, half-naked crowd around. He turned to give some directions +to his coachman; and at the same moment a dead cat was hurled by some one +in the crowd and struck him on the breast, a cry of exultation rending the +very air in welcome of this ruffian act. As for him, he slowly moved his +face round towards the mob, and as he brushed the dirt from his coat with +his kerchief, he be, stowed on them one look so full of immeasurable +heartfelt contempt that they actually quailed beneath it. The cry grew +fainter and fainter, and it was only as he turned to enter the House that +they recovered self-possession enough to renew their insulting shout. I +did not need to ask the name, for the yell of “Bloody Castlereagh” shook +the very air. +</p> +<p> +“Make way there! make way, boys!” shouted a rough voice from the crowd; +and a roar of laughter, that seemed to burst from the entire street, +answered the command, and the same instant a large burly figure advanced +through a lane made for him in the crowd, mopping his great bullet head +with a bright scarlet handkerchief. +</p> +<p> +“Long life to you, Mr. Egan!” shouted one. “Three cheers for Bully Egan, +boys!” cried another; and the appeal was responded to at once. +</p> +<p> +“Make way, you blackguards! make way, I say,” said Egan, affecting to be +displeased at this display of his popularity; “don't you see who's +coming?” +</p> +<p> +Every eye was turned at once towards Daly's Clubhouse, in which direction +he pointed; but it was some minutes before the dense crowd would permit +anything to be seen. Suddenly, however, a cheer arose wilder and louder +than any I had yet heard; from the street to the very housetops the cry +was caught up and repeated, while a tumultuous joy seemed to rock the +crowd as they moved to and fro. +</p> +<p> +At this moment the excitement was almost maddening. Every neck was +strained in one direction, every eye pointed thither, while the prolonged +cheering was sustained with a roar as deafening as the sea in a storm. At +last the crowd were forced back, and I saw three gentlemen advancing +abreast: the two outside ones were holding between them the weak and +trembling figure of an old and broken man, whose emaciated form and +withered face presented the very extreme of lassitude and weakness; his +loose coat hung awkwardly on his spare and shrunken form, and he moved +along in a shuffling, slipshod fashion. As they mounted the steps of the +Parliament House, the cheering grew wilder and more enthusiastic; and I +wondered how he who was evidently the object could seem so indifferent to +the welcome thus given him, as with bent-down head he pressed on, neither +turning right nor left. With seeming difficulty he was assisted up the +steps, when he slowly turned round, and removing his hat, saluted the +crowd. The motion was a simple one, but in its very simplicity was its +power. The broad white forehead,—across which some scanty hair +floated,—the eye that now beamed proudly forth, was turned upon +them; and never was the magic of a look more striking. For a second all +was hushed, and then a very thunder of applause rolled out, and the name +of Henry Grattan burst from every tongue. +</p> +<p> +Just then one of the mob, exasperated by a stroke from the flat of a +dragoon's sabre, had caught the soldier by the foot and flung him from his +saddle to the ground; his comrades flew to his rescue at once, and charged +the crowd, which fell back before them. The College men, taking advantage +of this, sprang forward on the mob, armed with their favorite weapons, +their hurdles of strong oak; the street was immediately torn up behind, +and a shower of paving stones poured in upon the luckless military, now +completely hemmed in between both parties. Tells of rage and defiance rose +on either side, and the cheers of the victors and cries of the wounded +were mixed in mad confusion. +</p> +<p> +My lamp-post was no longer an enviable position, and I slipped gently down +towards the ground; in doing so, however, I unfortunately kicked off a +soldier's cap. The man turned on me at once and collared me, and +notwithstanding all my excuses insisted on carrying me off to the +guardhouse. The danger of such a thing at once struck me, and I resisted +manfully. The mob cheered me, at which the soldier only became more angry; +and ashamed, too, at being opposed by a mere boy, he seized me rudely by +the throat. My blood rose at this, and I struck boldly at him; my fist met +him in the face, and before he could recover himself the crowd were upon +him. Down he went, while a rush of the mob, escaping from the dragoons, +flowed over his body. At the same moment the shout, “Guard, turn out!” was +heard from the angle of the Bank, and the clattering of arms and the roll +of a drum followed. A cheer from the mob seemed to accept the challenge, +and every hand was employed tearing up the pavement and preparing for the +fray. Whether by my own self-appointment, or by common consent, I cannot +say, but I at once took the leadership; and having formed the crowd into +two parties, directed them, if hard pressed, to retreat either by College +Street or Westmoreland Street. Thus one party could assist the other by +enfilading the attacking force, unless they were in sufficient strength to +pursue both together. We had not long to wait the order of battle. The +soldiers were formed in a second, and the word was given to advance at a +charge. The same instant I stepped forward and cried, “Fire!” Never was an +order so obeyed; a hundred paving stones showered down on the wretched +soldiers, who fell here and there in the ranks. “Again!” I shouted to my +second battalion, that stood waiting for the word; and down came another +hailstorm, that rattled upon their caps and muskets, and sent many a stout +fellow to the rear. A wild cheer from the mob proclaimed the victory; but +at the same instant a rattling of ramrods and a clank of firelocks was +heard in front, and from the rear of the soldiers a company marched out in +echelon, and drew up as if on parade. All was stilled; not a man moved in +the crowd,—indeed our tactics seemed now at an end; when suddenly +the word, “Make ready—present!” was called out, and the same instant +a ringing discharge of musketry tore through the crowd. Never did I +witness such a scene as followed. All attempts to retreat were blocked up +by the pressure from behind; and the sight of the wounded who fell by the +discharge of the soldiers seemed to paralyze every effort of the mob. One +terrified cry rose from the mass, as they shrank from the muskets. Again +the ramrods were heard clinking in the barrels. I saw there was but one +moment, and cried out, “Courage, lads, and down upon them!”—and with +that I dashed madly forward, followed by the mob, that like a mighty mass +now rolled heavily after me. The soldiers fell back as we came on; their +bayonets were brought to the charge; the word “Fire low!” was passed along +the line, and a bright sheet of flame flashed forth, and was answered by a +scream of anguish that drowned the crash of the fire. In the rush +backwards I was thrown on the ground, and at first believed I had been +shot; but I soon perceived I was safe, and sprang to my legs. But the same +moment a blow on the head from the but-end of a musket smote me to the +earth, and I neither saw nor heard of anything very clearly afterwards. I +had, indeed, a faint, dreamy recollection of being danced upon and +trampled by some hundred heavy feet, and then experiencing a kind of +swinging, rocking motion, as if carried on something; but these sensations +are far too vague to reason upon, much less to chronicle. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XII. A CHARACTER. +</h2> +<p> +There must have been a very considerable interval from the moment I have +last recorded to that in which I next became a responsible individual; but +in what manner, in what place, or in what company it was passed, the +reader must excuse my indulging, for many important reasons,—one of +which is, I never clearly knew anything of the matter. +</p> +<p> +To date my recollections from my first consciousness, I may state that I +found myself on my back in a very narrow bed, a table beside me covered +with phials and small flasks, with paper cravats, some of which hung down, +queue fashion, to an absurd extent. A few rush backed and bottomed chairs +lay along the walls, which were coarsely whitewashed. A window, of very +unclean and unprepossessing aspect, was partly shaded by a faded scarlet +curtain, while the floor was equally sparingly decked with a small and +ragged carpet. Where was I? was the frequent but unsatisfactory query I +ever put to myself. Could this be a prison? had I been captured on that +riotous evening, and carried off to jail? or was I in Darby M'Keown's +territory?—for somehow, a very general impression was on my mind +that Darby's gifts of ubiquity were somewhat remarkable,—or, lastly +(and the thought was not a pleasant one), was this the domicile of Anthony +Basset, Esq., attorney-at-law? To have resolved any or all of these doubts +by rising and taking a personal survey of the premises would have been my +first thought; but unluckily I found one of my arms bandaged, and enclosed +in a brace of wooden splints; a very considerable general impression +pervaded me of bruises and injuries all over my body; and, worse still, a +kind of megrim accompanied every attempt to lift my head from the pillow, +that made me heartily glad to lie down again and be at rest. +</p> +<p> +That I had not fallen into unfriendly hands was about the extent to which +my deductions led me; and with this consolatory fact, and a steady resolve +to remain awake three days, if necessary, so as to interrogate the first +visitor who should approach me, I mustered all my patience, and waited +quietly. What hour of the day it was when first I awoke to even thus much +of consciousness I cannot say; but I well remember watching what appeared +to me twelve mortal hours in my anxious expectation. At last a key turned +in an outer lock, a door opened, and I heard a heavy foot enter. This was +shortly followed by another step, whose less imposing tread was, I +suspected, a woman's. +</p> +<p> +“Where, in the devil's name, is the candle?” said a gruff voice, that +actually seemed to me not unknown. “I left it on the table when I went +out. Oh, my shin's broke!—that infernal table!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!” screamed the female voice. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, you 've caught it too!” cried the other, in glee; “did you think you +saw a little blue flame before you when your shin was barked?” +</p> +<p> +“You're a monster!” said the lady, in a tone of passionate indignation. +</p> +<p> +“Here it is,—I have it,” replied the other, not paying the slightest +attention to the endearing epithet last bestowed; “and damn me, if it 's +not burned down to the socket. Halloo there, Peter Dodd! You scoundrel, +where are you?” +</p> +<p> +“Call him Saladin,” said the lady, with a sneer, “and perhaps he 'll +answer.” +</p> +<p> +“Imp of darkness, where are you gone to? Peter—Dodd—Dodd—Peter! +Ah, you young blackguard! where were you all this time?” +</p> +<p> +“Asleep, sir; sure you know well, sir, it 's little rest I get,” said a +thin, childish voice in answer. “Wasn't it five o'clock this morning when +I devilled the two kidneys ye had for supper for the four officers, and +had to borrey the kian pepper over the way?” +</p> +<p> +“I'll bore a gimlet hole through your pineal gland, and stuff it with +brass-headed nails, if you reply to me. Anna Maria, that was a fine +thought, eh? glorious, by Jove! There, put the candle there, hand your +mistress a chair; give me my robe-de'chambre. Confound me, if it's not +getting like the kingdom of Prussia on the map, full of very straggling +dependencies. Supper, Saladin!” +</p> +<p> +“The sorrow taste—” +</p> +<p> +“What, thou piece of human ebony! what do you say?” +</p> +<p> +“Me hab no—a—ting in de larder,” cried the child, in a broken +voice. +</p> +<p> +“Isn't there a back of a duck and two slices of cold bacon?” asked the +lady, in the tone of a cross-examining barrister. +</p> +<p> +“I poisoned the bacon for the rats, Miss; and for the duck—” +</p> +<p> +“Let me strangle him with my own hands,” shouted the man; “let me tear him +up into merrythoughts. Look here, sirrah,” said he, in a voice like John +Kemble's; “there may be nothing which man eats within these walls; there +may not be wherewithal to regale a sickly fly,—no, not enough for +one poor spider to lunch upon; but if you ever dare to reply to me, save +in Oriental phrase, I 'll throw you in a sack, call my mutes, and hurl you +into the Bosphorus.” +</p> +<p> +“Where, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“The Dodder, you son of a burned father! My hookah.” +</p> +<p> +“My slippers,” repeated the lady. +</p> +<p> +“My lute, and the sherbet,” added the gentleman. +</p> +<p> +By the stir in the chamber, these arrangements, or something equivalent to +them, seemed to have taken place; when again I heard,—“Dance a +lively measure, Saladin; my soul is heavy.” +</p> +<p> +Here a most vile tinkling of a guitar was heard, to which, by the sounds +of the feet, I could perceive Saladin was moving in a species of dance. +</p> +<p> +“Let the child go to bed, and don't be making a fool of yourself,” said +the lady, in a voice of bursting passion. +</p> +<p> +“Thank Heaven,” said I, half aloud, “she isn't mad.” +</p> +<p> +“Tink, tink, a - tink - a - tink, tink - a - tink - a - dido!” thrummed +out her companion. “I say, Saladin, heat me a little porter, with an egg +and some sugar.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/127.jpg" alt="Saldin Danceth a Lively Measure 127" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +The door closed as the imp made his exit, and there was silence for some +seconds, during which my uppermost thought was, “What infernal mischance +has thrown me into a lunatic asylum?” At length the man spoke,— +</p> +<p> +“I say, Anna Maria, Cradock has this run of luck a long time.” +</p> +<p> +“He plays better than you,” responded the lady, sharply. +</p> +<p> +“I deny it,” rejoined he, angrily. “I play whist better than any man that +ever lived, except the Begum of Soutancantantarahad, who beat my father. +They played for lacs of rupees on the points, and a territory on the rub; +five to two, first game against the loser, in white elephants.” +</p> +<p> +“How you do talk!” said Anna Maria. “Do you forget that all this rubbish +does n't go down with me?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I mean old Hickory, that had the snuffshop in Bath, used only to +give me one point in the rub, and we played for sixpence; damme, I 'll not +forget it,—he cleaned me out in no time. Tink, tink, a-tink-a-tink, +tink-a-tinka-dido! Here, Saladin! bear me the spicy cup, ambrosial boy!” +</p> +<p> +“Ahem!” said the lady, in a tone that didn't sound exactly like +concurrence. +</p> +<p> +“Eat a few dates, and then repose,” said the deep voice. +</p> +<p> +“I wish I had them, av they were eatable,” said Saladin, as he turned +away. +</p> +<p> +“Wretch, you have forgotten to salaam; exit slowly. Tink, tink, +a-tink-a-tink! Anna Maria, he's devilish good now for black parts; I think +I'll make Jones bring him out. Wouldn't it be original to make Othello +talk broken English? 'Farewell de camp!' Eh, by Jove! that 's a fine +thought. 'De spirit stir a drum, de piercy pipe.' By Jove! I like that +notion.” +</p> +<p> +Here the gentleman rose in a glorious burst of enthusiasm, and began +repeating snatches from Shakspeare, in the pleasant travesty he had hit +upon. +</p> +<p> +“Cradock revoked, and you never saw him,” said the lady, dryly, +interrupting the monologue. +</p> +<p> +“I did see it clearly enough, but I had done so twice the same game,” said +he, gayly; “and if the grave were to give up its dead, I, too, should be a +murderer. Fine thought that, is n't it?” +</p> +<p> +“He won seventeen and sixpence from you,” rejoined she, pettishly. +</p> +<p> +“Two bad half-crowns,—dowlas, filthy dowlas,” was the answer. +</p> +<p> +“And the hopeful young gentleman in the next room,—what profitable +intentions, may I ask you, have you with respect to him?” +</p> +<p> +“Burke! Tom Burke! Bless your heart, he 's only son and heir to Burke of +Mount Blazes, in the county Galway. His father keeps three packs of +harriers, one of fox, and another of staghounds,—a kind of brindled +devils, three feet eight in height; he won't take them under. His father +and mine were schoolfellows at Dundunderamud, in the Himalaya, and he—that +is, old Burke—saved my father's life in a tiger hunt. And am I to +forget the heritage of gratitude my father left me?” +</p> +<p> +“You ought not, perhaps, since it was the only one he bequeathed,” quoth +the lady. +</p> +<p> +“What! is the territory of Shamdoonah and Bunfunterabad nothing? are the +great suits of red emeralds and blue opal, that were once the crown jewels +of Saidh Sing Doolah, nothing? is the scymitar of Hafiz, with verses of +the Koran in letters of pure brilliants, nothing?” +</p> +<p> +“You'll drive me distracted with your insane folly,” rejoined the lady, +rising and pushing back her chair with violence. “To talk this way when +you know you have n't got a five pound note in the world.” +</p> +<p> +“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed out the jolly voice of the other; “that's good, +faith. If I only consented to dip my Irish property, I could raise +fourteen hundred and seventy thousand pounds,—so Mahony tells me. +But I 'll never give up the royalties,—never! There, you have my +last word on the matter: rather than surrender my tin mine, I'd consent to +starve on twelve thousand a year, and resign my claim to the title which, +I believe, the next session will give me; and when you are Lady Machinery—something +or other—maybe they won't bite, eh? Ramskins versus wrinkles.” +</p> +<p> +A violent bang of the door announced at this moment the exit of the lady +in a rage, to which her companion paid no attention, as he continued to +mumble to himself, “Surrender the royalties,—never! Oh, she 's gone. +Well, she's not far wrong, after all. I dare not draw a cheque on my own +exchequer at this moment for a larger sum than—let me see—twenty-four, +twenty-five, twenty-eight and tenpence; with twenty-nine shillings, the +grand firm of Bubbleton and Co. must shut up and suspend their payments.” +So saying, he walked from the room in stately fashion, and closed the door +after him. +</p> +<p> +My first thought, as I listened to this speech, was one of gratefulness +that I had fallen into the friendly hands of my old coach companion, whose +kindness still lived fresh in my memory; my next was, what peculiar form +of madness could account for the strange outpouring I had just overheard, +in which my own name was so absurdly introduced, coupled with family +circumstances I knew never had occurred. Sleep was now out of the question +with me; for whole hours long I could do nothing but revolve in my mind +all the extraordinary odds and ends of my friend Bubbleton's conversation, +which I remembered to have been so struck by at my first meeting with him. +The miraculous adventures of his career, his hairbreadth 'scapes, his +enormous wealth, the voluptuous ease of his daily life, and his habits of +luxury and expenditure with which he then astounded me, had now received +some solution; while, at the same time, there was something in his own +common-sense observations to himself that puzzled me much, and gave a +great difficulty to all my calculations concerning him. +</p> +<p> +To all these conflicting doubts and difficulties sleep at last succeeded. +But better far for me it had not; for with it came dreams such as sick men +only experience: all the distorted images that rose before my wandering +faculties, mingling with the strange fragments of Bubbleton's +conversation, made a phantasmagoria the most perplexing and +incomprehensible; and which, even on waking, I could not banish, so +completely had Saladin and his pas seul, the guitar, the hookah, and the +suit of red emeralds taken hold of my erring intellect. +</p> +<p> +Candid, though not fair reader, have you ever been tipsy? Have you ever +gone so far over the boundaryline that separates the land of mere sobriety +from its neighboring territory, the country of irresponsible impulses, +that you actually doubted which was the way back,—that you thought +you saw as much good sense and good judgment on the one side of the +frontier as the other, with only a strong balance of good-fellowship to +induce a preference? If you know this state,—if you have taken the +precise quantum of champagne or moselle mousseux that induces it, and yet +goes no farther,—then do you perfectly understand all the trials and +difficulties of my waking moments, and you can appreciate the arduous task +I undertook in my effort to separate the real from the imaginary, the true +types from their counterfeits; in a word, the wanderings of my own brain +from those of Captain Bubbleton's. +</p> +<p> +In this agreeable and profitable occupation was I engaged; when the same +imposing tread and heavy footstep I had heard the previous evening entered +the adjoining room and approached my door. The lock turned, and the +illustrious captain himself appeared. And here let me observe, that if +grave censure be occasionally bestowed on persons who, by the assumption +of voice, look, or costume, seek to terrorize over infant minds, a no less +heavy sentence should be bestowed on all who lord it over the frail +faculties of sickness by any absurdity in their personal appearance. And +that I may not seem captious, let me describe my friend. The captain, who +was somewhere about the forties, was a full-faced, chubby, good-looking +fellow, of some five feet ten or eleven inches in height; his countenance +had been intended by nature for the expression of such emotions as arise +from the enjoyment of turtle, milk punch, truffled turkeys, mulled port, +mullagatawny, stilton, stout, and pickled oysters; a rich, mellow-looking +pair of dark-brown eyes, with large bushy eyebrows meeting above the nose, +which latter feature was a little “on the snub and off the Roman;” his +mouth was thick-lipped, and had that peculiar mobility which seems +inseparable wherever eloquence or imagination predominate; in color, his +face was of that uniform hue painters denominate as “warm, “—in +fact, a rich sunset Claude-Lorrainish tint that seemed a compound, the +result of high-seasoned meats, plethora, punch, and the tropics; in +figure, he was like a huge pudding-bag, supported on two short little +dumpy pillars, that from a sense of the superincumbent weight had wisely +spread themselves out below, giving to his lower man the appearance of a +stunted letter A; his arms were most preposterously short, and for the +convenience of locomotion he used them somewhat after the fashion of fins. +As to his costume on the morning in question, it was a singularly dirty +and patched dressing-gown of antique silk, fastened about the waist by a +girdle, from which depended a scymitar on one side and a meerschaum on the +other; a well-worn and not over clean-looking shawl was fastened in +fashion of a turban round his head; a pair of yellow buskins with faded +gold tassels decorated legs which occasionally peeped from the folds of +the <i>robe-de-chambre</i> without any other covering. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/132.jpg" alt="Tom Receives a Strange Visitor 132 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +Such was the outward man of him who suddenly stopped short at the doorway, +while he held the latch in his hand, and called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Burke, Tom Burke! don't be violent, don't be outrageous; you see I'm +armed! I'd cut you down without mercy if you attempt to lift a finger! +Promise me this,—do you hear me?” +</p> +<p> +That any one even unarmed could have conceived fear from such a poor weak +object as I was seemed so utterly absurd that I laughed outright; an +emotion on my part that seemingly imparted but little confidence to my +friend the captain, who retreated still closer to the door, and seemed +ready for flight. The first use I could make of speech, however, was, to +assure him that I was not only perfectly calm and sensible, but deeply +grateful for kindness which I knew not how, nor to whom, I became +indebted. +</p> +<p> +“Don't roll your eyes there; don't look so damned treacherous!” said he. +“Keep down your hands; keep them under the bedclothes. I 'll put a bullet +through your skull if you stirred!” +</p> +<p> +I again protested that any manifestation of quietness he asked for I would +immediately comply with, and begged him to sit down beside me and tell me +where I was and how I had come hither. Having established an outwork of a +table and two chairs between us, and cautiously having left the door ajar +to secure his retreat, he drew the scymitar and placed it before him, his +eyes being fixed on me the entire time. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, as he assumed a seat, and leaned his arm on the table, +“so you are quiet at last. Lord, what a frightful lunatic you were! Nobody +would approach your bed but me. The stoutest keeper of Swift's Hospital +fled from the spot; while I said, 'Leave him to me, the human eye is your +true agent to humble the pride of maniacal frenzy.'” +</p> +<p> +With these words he fixed on me a look such as the chief murderer in a +melodrama assumes at the moment he proceeds to immolate a whole family. +</p> +<p> +“You infernal young villain, how I subdued you! how you quailed before +me!” +</p> +<p> +There was something so ludicrous in the contrast of this bravery with his +actual terror, that again I burst out a-laughing; upon which he sprang up, +and brandishing his sabre, vowed vengeance on me if I stirred. After a +considerable time spent thus, I at last succeeded in impressing him with +the fact, that if I had all the will in the world to tear him to pieces, +my strength would not suffice to carry me to the door,—an assurance +which, however sorrowfully made by me, I perceived to afford him the most +unmixed satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“That's right, quite right,” said he; “and mad should he be indeed who +would measure strength with me. The red men of Tuscarora always called me +the 'Great Buffalo.' I used to carry a bark canoe with my squaw and nine +little black devils under one arm, so as to leave the other free for my +tomahawk. 'He, how, he!' that 's the war step.” +</p> +<p> +Here he stooped down to his knees, and then sprang up again, with a yell +that actually made me start, and brought a new actor on the scene in the +person of Anna Maria, whose name I had so frequently heard the night +before. +</p> +<p> +“What is the matter?” said the lady, a short, squablike woman, of nearly +the captain's age, but none of his personal attractions. “We can't have +him screaming all day in that fashion.” +</p> +<p> +“It isn't he; it was I who was performing the war dance. Come, now, let +down your hair, and be a squaw,—do. What trouble is it? And bring in +Saladin; we'll get up a combat scene. Devilish fine thought that!” +</p> +<p> +The indignant look of the lady in reply to this modest proposal again +overpowered me, and I sank back in my bed exhausted with laughter,—an +emotion which I was forced to subdue as well as I might on beholding the +angry countenance with which the lady regarded me. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Burke,” cried the captain, “let me present you to my sister, Miss +Anna Maria Bubbleton.” +</p> +<p> +A very dry recognition on Miss Anna Maria's part replied to the effort I +made to salute her; and as she turned on her heel, she said to her +brother, “Breakfast's ready,” and left the room. +</p> +<p> +Bubbleton jumped up at this, rubbed his mouth pleasantly with his hand, +smacked his lips; and then dropping his voice to a whisper, muttered, +“Excuse me, Tom; but if I have a weakness it is for Yarmouth bloaters, and +anchovy toast, milk chocolate, marmalade, hot rolls, and reindeer tongue, +with a very small glass of pure white brandy as a qualifier.” So saying, +he whisked about and made his exit. +</p> +<p> +While my host was thus occupied, I was visited by the regimental surgeon, +who informed me that my illness had now been of some weeks' duration; +severe brain fever, with various attending evils, and a broken arm, being +the happy results of my evening's adventure at the Parliament House. +</p> +<p> +“Bubbleton is an old friend of yours,” continued the doctor. And then, +without giving me time to reply, added, “Capital fellow,—no better; +a little given to the miraculous, eh? but nothing worse.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, he does indeed seem to have a strong vein for fiction,” said I, half +timidly. +</p> +<p> +“Bless your heart, he never ceases. His world is an ideal thing, fall of +impossible people and events, where he has lived at least some centuries, +enjoying the intimacies of princes, statesmen, poets, and warriors. He +has, in his own estimation, unlimited wealth and unbounded resources, the +want of which he is never convinced of till pressed for five shillings to +buy his dinner.” +</p> +<p> +“And his sister,” said I; “what of her?” +</p> +<p> +“Just as strange a character in the opposite direction. She is as matter +of fact as he is imaginative. To all his flights she as resolutely enters +a dissentient; and he never inflates his balloon of miracles without her +stepping forward to punch a hole in it. But here they come.” +</p> +<p> +“I say. Pepper, how goes your patient? Spare no pains, old fellow,—no +expense; only get him round. I've left a cheque for you for five hundred +in the next room. This is no regimental case; come, come! it 's my way, +and I insist upon it.” +</p> +<p> +Pepper bowed with an air of the deepest gratitude, and actually looked so +overpowered by the liberality that I began to suspect there might be less +truth in his account of Bubbleton than I thought a few minutes before. +</p> +<p> +“All insanity has left him,—that's pleasant. I say, Tom, you must +have had glorious thoughts, eh? When you were mad, did you ever think you +were an anaconda bolting a goat, or the Eddystone Lighthouse when the +foundation began to shift?” +</p> +<p> +“No, never.” +</p> +<p> +“How odd! I remember being once thrown on my head off a drag. I was +breaking in a pair of young unicorns for the Queen of—” +</p> +<p> +“No!” said Anna Maria, in a voice of thunder, holding up her finger, at +the same moment, in token of reproof. +</p> +<p> +The captain became mute on the instant, and the very word he was about to +utter stuck in his throat, and he stood with his mouth open, like one in +enchantment. +</p> +<p> +“You said a little weak tea, I think,” said Miss Bubbleton, turning +towards the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; and some dry toast, if he liked it; and, in a day or two; a half +glass of wine and water.” +</p> +<p> +“Some of that tokay old Pippo Esterhazy sent us.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said the lady again, in the same tone of menace. +</p> +<p> +“And perhaps, after a week, the open air and a little exercise in a +carriage.” +</p> +<p> +“The barouche and the four ponies,” interrupted Bubbleton. +</p> +<p> +“No!” repeated Miss Anna Maria, but in such a voice of imperious meaning +that the poor captain actually fell back, and only muttered to himself, +“What would be the use of wealth, if one could n't contribute to the +enjoyment of one's friends?” +</p> +<p> +“There's the drum for parade,” cried the doctor; “you'll be late, and so +shall I.” +</p> +<p> +They both bustled out of the room together; while Miss Anna Maria, taking +her work out of a small bag she carried on her arm, drew a chair to the +window and sat down, having quietly intimated to me that, as conversation +was deemed injurious to me, I must not speak one syllable. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII. AN UNLOOKED-FOR VISITOR. +</h2> +<p> +All my endeavors to ascertain the steps by which I came to occupy my +present abode were fruitless, inasmuch as Captain Bubbleton contrived to +surround his explanation with such a mist of doubtful if not impossible +circumstances, that I gave up the effort in despair, and was obliged to +sit down satisfied with the naked fact, that it was by some soldiers of +his company I was captured, and by them brought to the guard-house. +Strangely enough, too, I found, that in his self-mystification the worthy +captain had invested me with all the honors of a stanch loyalist who had +earned his cracked skull in defence of the soldiery against the mob; and +this prevailing impression gave such a tone to his narrative, that he not +only set to work to trace back a whole generation of Burkes famed for +their attachment to the House of Hanover, but also took a peep into the +probable future, where he saw me covered with rewards for my heroism and +gallantry. +</p> +<p> +Young as I was, I hesitated long how far I dare trust him with the real +state of the case. I felt that in so doing I should either expose him to +the self-reproach of having harbored one he would deem a rebel; or, by +withdrawing from me his protection, give him perhaps greater pain by +compelling him to such an ungracious act. Yet how could I receive +attention and kindness under these false colors? This was a puzzling and +difficult thing to resolve; and a hundred times a day I wished I had never +been rescued by him, but taken my chance of the worst fortune had in store +for me. +</p> +<p> +While, therefore, my strength grew with every day, these thoughts harassed +and depressed me. The continual conflict in my mind deprived me of all +ease, and scarcely a morning broke in which I had not decided on avowing +my real position and my true sentiments; and still, when the moment came, +the flighty uncertainty of Bubbleton's manner, his caprice and +indiscretion, all frightened me, and I was silent. I hoped, too, that some +questioning on his part might give me a fitting opportunity for such a +disclosure; but here again I was deceived. The jolly captain was far too +busy inventing his own history of me, to think of asking for mine; and I +found out from the surgeon of the regiment, that according to the +statement made at the mess-table, I was an only son, possessed of immense +estates,—somewhat encumbered, to be sure (among other debts, a large +jointure to my mother); that I had come up to town to consult the +Attorney-General about the succession to a title long in abeyance in my +family, and was going down to the House in Lord Castlereagh's carriage, +when, fired by the ruffianism of the mob I sprang out, and struck one of +the ringleaders, etc. +</p> +<p> +How this visionary history had its origin, or whether it had any save in +the wandering fancies of his brain, I know not; but either by frequent +repetition of it, or by the strong hold a favorite notion sometimes will +take of a weak intellect, he so far believed it true that he wrote more +than one letter to Lord Castlereagh to assure him that I was rapidly +recovering, and would be delighted to receive him; which, whether from a +knowledge of the captain's character, or his indifference as to my fate, +the Secretary certainly never took any notice of whatever. +</p> +<p> +Bubbleton had too much experience of similar instances of neglect to be +either afflicted or offended at this silence; on the contrary, he +satisfied his mind by an excuse of his own inventing, and went about +saying, “I think we 'll have Castlereagh down to-day to see Burke,” until +it became a cant on parade and a jest at mess. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile his active mind was not lying dormant. Indignant that no +inquiries had been made after me, and astonished that no aide-de-camp—not +even a liveried menial of the Viceroy's household—had come down to +receive the daily bulletin of my health, and somewhat piqued, perhaps, +that his own important services regarding me remained unacknowledged, he +set about springing a mine for himself which very nearly became my ruin. +</p> +<p> +After about ten days spent by me in this state of painful vacillation, my +mind vibrating between two opposite courses, and seeing arguments for +either, both in the matter-of-fact shortness of Miss Bubbleton's not +over-courteous manner, and the splendidly liberal and vast conceptions of +her brother, I went to my bed one night resolved that on the very next +morning I would hesitate no longer; and as my strength would now permit of +my being able to walk unassisted, I would explain freely to Bubbleton +every circumstance of my life, and take my leave of him, to wander, I knew +not where. This decision at length being come to, I slept more soundly +than I had slept for many nights, nor awoke until the loud step and the +louder voice of the captain had aroused me from my slumbers. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Tom! a good night, my lad? How soundly you sleep! Just like the +Lachigong Indians; they go to bed after the hunting season, and never wake +till the bears come in next fall. I had the knack myself once; but then I +always took six or seven dozen of strong Burton ale first; and that, they +said, was n't quite fair. But for a white man, I 'd back myself for a +thousand to-morrow. But what 's this I have to tell you? Something or +other was in my head for you. Oh, I have it! I say, Tom, old fellow, I +think I have touched them up to some purpose. They did n't expect it. No, +hang it! they little knew what was in store for them; they weren't quite +prepared for it. By Jove, that they were n't!” +</p> +<p> +“Who are they?” said I, sitting up in my bed, and somewhat curious to hear +something of these astonished individuals. +</p> +<p> +“The Government, my lad; the Castle; the Private Sec.; the Major; the +Treasury; the Board of Green Cloth; the—what d' ye call them?—the +Privy Council.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, what has happened them?” +</p> +<p> +“I 'll show you what 's happened. Lie down again and compose yourself. He +won't be here before twelve o'clock; though, by the bye, I promised on my +honor not to say a word about his coming. But it 's over now.” +</p> +<p> +“Who is it?” said I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I can't tell now. You 'll see him very soon; and right glad he 'll be +to see you, so he says. But here they are; here 's the whole affair.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he covered the bed with a mass of news' papers, and blotted, +ill-written manuscripts, among which he commenced a vigorous search at +once. +</p> +<p> +“Here it is; I've found it out. Listen to this: 'The Press, Friday, August +10. The magnificent ourang-outang that Captain Bubbleton is about to +present to the Lady-Lieutenant—' No, that is n't it; it must be in +Faulkner. Ay, here we have it: 'In Captain Bubbleton's forthcoming volume, +which we have been favored with a private perusal of, a very singular +account is given of the gigantic mouse found in Candia, which grows to the +size of a common mastiff—'No, that 's not it. You 've heard of that, +Tom, though, have n't you?” +</p> +<p> +“Never,” said I, trying to repress a smile. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm amazed at that; never heard of my curious speculations about the +Candian mouse! The fellow has a voice like a human being; you 'd hear him +crying in the woods, and you 'd swear it was a child. I 've a notion that +the Greeks took their word 'mousikos' from this fellow. But that 's not +what I 'm looking for; no, but here it is. This is squib No. 1: 'Tuesday +morning. We are at length enabled to state that the young gentleman who +took such a prominent part in defending the military against the savage +and murderous attack of the mob in the late riot in College Green is now +out of danger; being removed to Captain Bubbleton's quarters in George's +Street Barracks, he was immediately trepanned—'” +</p> +<p> +“Eh? trepanned!” +</p> +<p> +“No, you weren't trepanned; but Pepper said you might have been though, +and he 'd just as soon do it as not; so I put in trepanned. 'The pia mater +was fortunately not cut through.' That you don't understand; but no +matter,—hem, hem! 'Congestion of—' hem, hem! 'In our next, we +hope to give a still more favorable report.' Then here's the next: 'To the +aide-decamp sent to inquire after the “hero of College Green,” the answer +this morning was, “Better; able to sit up.”' Well, here we go,—No. +3: 'His Excellency mentioned this morning at the Privy Council the +satisfaction he felt at being able to announce that Mr. (from motives of +delicacy we omit the name) is now permitted to take some barley gruel, +with a spoonful of old Madeira. The Bishop of Ferns and Sir Boyle Roach +both left their cards yesterday at the barracks.' I waited a day or two +after this; but—would you believe it?—no notice was taken; not +even the Opposition papers said a word, except some insolent rascal in +'The Press' asks, 'Can you tell your readers, Are we to have anything more +from Captain Bubbleton?' So then I resolved to come out in force, and here +you see the result: 'Friday, 20th. It is now our gratifying task to +announce the complete restoration of the young gentleman whose case has, +for some weeks past, been the engrossing topic of conversation of all +ranks and classes, from the table of the Viceroy to the humble denizen of +Mud Island. Mr. Burke is the only son and heir to the late Matthew Burke, +of Cremore, county of Galway. His family have been long distinguished for +their steady, uncompromising loyalty; nor is the hereditary glory of their +house likely to suffer in the person of the illustrious youth, who, we +learn, is now to be raised to the baronetcy under the title of Sir Thomas +Bubbleton Burke, the second name assumed to commemorate the services of +Captain Bubbleton, whose—'Of course I dilated a little here to round +the paragraph. Well, this did it; here was the shell that exploded the +magazine. For early this morning I received a polite note from the Castle,—I +won't tell you the writer, though; I like a good bit of surprise. And +egad, now I think on 't, I won't say anything more about the letter +either, only that we 're in luck, my lad, as you 'll soon acknowledge. +What 's the hour now? Ah! a quarter to twelve. But wait, I think I hear +him in the next room. Jump up, and dress as fast as you can, while I do +the honors.” +</p> +<p> +With this the captain bustled out of the room; and, although he banged the +door after him, I could hear his voice in the act of welcoming some new +arrival. +</p> +<p> +In spite of the sea of nonsense and absurdity through which I had waded in +the last half-hour, the communication he had made me excited my curiosity +to the utmost, and in some respect rendered me uneasy. It was no part +whatever of my object to afford any clue to Basset by which he might trace +me; and although much of the fear I had formerly entertained of that +dreaded personage had evaporated with increased knowledge of the world, +yet old instincts preserved their influence over me, and I felt as though +Tony Basset would be a name of terror to me for my life long. It was quite +clear, however, that the application from the Castle to which he alluded +could have no reference to the honest attorney; and with this comforting +reflection, which I confess came somewhat late, I finished my dressing, +and prepared to leave my room. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, here he comes!” cried Bubbleton, as he flung open my door, and +announced my approach. “Come along, Tom, and let us see if your face will +let you be recognized.” +</p> +<p> +I scarcely had crossed the threshold when I started back with affright, +and had it not been for the wall against which I leaned, must have fallen. +The stranger, whose visit was to afford me so much of pleasure was no +other than Major Barton; there he stood, his arm leaning on the +chimney-piece, the same cool malicious smile playing about the angles of +his mouth which I noticed the first day I saw him in the glen. His sharp +eyes shot on me one quick, searching glance, and then turned to the door; +from which again they were directed to me as if some passing thought had +moved them. +</p> +<p> +Bubbleton was the first to speak, for not noticing either the agitation I +was under or the stern expression of Barton's features, he ran on:— +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Major! that's your friend, isn't it? Changed a bit, I suppose; a +little blanched, but in a good cause, you know,—that's the thing. +Come, Tom, you don't forget your old friend. Major—what 's the +name?” +</p> +<p> +“Barton,” repeated the other, dryly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Major Barton; he 's come from his Excellency. I knew that last +paragraph would do it,—eh. Major?” +</p> +<p> +“You were quite right, sir,” said Barton, slowly and distinctly, “that +paragraph did do it; and very fortunate you may esteem yourself, if it +will not do you also.” +</p> +<p> +“Eh, what! how me? What d' you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“How long, may I beg to ask,” continued Barton, in the same quiet tone of +voice, “have you known this young gentleman?” +</p> +<p> +“Burke,—Tom Burke? Bless your heart, since the height of that +fender. His father and mine were schoolfellows. I 'm not sure he was n't +my godfather, or, at least, one of them; I had four.” Here the captain +began counting on his fingers. “There was the Moulah, one; the Cham, two—” +</p> +<p> +“I beg your pardon for the interruption,” said Barton, with affected +politeness; “how long has he occupied these quarters? That fact may +possibly not be too antiquated for your memory.” +</p> +<p> +“How long?” said Bubbleton, reflectingly. “Let me see: here we are in +August—” +</p> +<p> +“Three weeks on Tuesday last,” said I, interfering, to prevent any further +drain on so lavish an imagination. +</p> +<p> +“Then you came here on the day of the riots?” said Barton. +</p> +<p> +“On that evening,” was my reply. +</p> +<p> +“On that evening,—just so. Before or after, may I isk?” +</p> +<p> +“I shall answer no further questions,” said I, resolutely. “If you have +any charge against me, it is for you to prove it.” +</p> +<p> +“Charge against you!” said Bubbleton, laughing. “Bless your heart, boy, +don't mistake him; they've sent him down to compliment you. Lord +Castlereagh mentions in his note—Where the devil did I throw that +note?” +</p> +<p> +“It's of no consequence, Captain,” said Barton, dryly; “his lordship +usually intrusts the management of these matters to me. May I learn, is +this young gentleman known in your regiment? Has he been at your mess?” +</p> +<p> +“Tom Burke known among us! Why, man, he 's called nothing but 'Burke of +Ours.' He 's one of ourselves; not gazetted, you know, but all the same in +fact. We could n't get on without him; he's like the mess-plate, or the +orderly-book, or the regimental snuffbox.” +</p> +<p> +“I 'm sincerely sorry, sir,” rejoined Barton, slowly, “to rob you and the +gallant Forty-fifth of one upon whom you place such just value; but 'Burke +of Ours' must consent to be Burke of mine at present.” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure, my dear major, of course; anything convivial,—nothing +like good fellowship. We'll lend him to you for to-day,—one day, +mark me,—we can't spare him longer. And now I think of it, don't +press him with his wine; he 's been poorly of late.” +</p> +<p> +“Have no fears on that score,” said Barton, laughing outright; “our habits +of life, in his circumstances, are rigidly temperate.” Then, turning to +me, he continued, in an altered voice: “I need scarcely explain to you, +sir, the reason of my visit. When last we parted I did not anticipate that +our next meeting would have been in a royal barrack; but you may thank +your friend here for my knowledge of your abode—” +</p> +<p> +Bubbleton attempted to interpose here a panegyric on himself; but Barton +went on,— +</p> +<p> +“Here is an order of the Privy Council for your apprehension; and here—” +</p> +<p> +“Apprehension!” echoed the captain, in a voice of wonderment and terror. +</p> +<p> +“Here, sir, is your committal to Newgate. I suppose you'll not give me the +trouble of using force; I have a carriage in waiting below, and request +that we may lose no more time.” +</p> +<p> +“I am ready, sir,” said I, as stoutly as I was able. +</p> +<p> +“To Newgate!” repeated Bubbleton, as, overcome with fright, he sank back +in a chair, and crossed his arms on his breast. “Poor fellow! poor fellow! +perhaps they 'll bring it in manslaughter, eh?—or was it a bank +robbery?” +</p> +<p> +Not even the misery before me could prevent my smiling at the worthy +captain's rapidly conceived narrative of me. I was in no merry mood, +however; and turning to him, grasped his hand. +</p> +<p> +“It may happen,” said I, “that we never meet again. I know not—indeed, +I hardly care—what is before me; but with all my heart I thank you +for your kindness. Farewell.” +</p> +<p> +“Farewell,” said he, half mechanically, as he grasped my hand in both of +his, and the large tears rolled down his cheeks. “Poor fellow! all my +fault; see it now.” +</p> +<p> +I hurried after Barton downstairs, a nervous choking in my throat nearly +suffocating me. Just as I reached the door the carriage drew up, and a +policeman let down the steps. Already my foot was on them, when Bubbleton +was beside me. +</p> +<p> +“I'll go with him, Major; you'll permit me, won't you?” +</p> +<p> +“Not at present, Captain,” said Barton, significantly; “it may happen that +we shall want you one of these days. Good-by.” +</p> +<p> +He pushed me forward as he spoke, and entered the carriage after me. I +felt the pressure of poor Bubbleton's hand as he grasped mine for the last +time, and discovered he had slipped something into my palm at parting. I +opened and found two guineas in gold, which the kindhearted fellow had +given me; perhaps they were his only ones in the world. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV. THE JAIL. +</h2> +<p> +From the moment the carriage-door closed upon us, Barton never addressed +one word to me, but leaning back, seemed only anxious to escape being +recognized by the people, whose attention was drawn to the vehicle by +seeing two mounted policemen ride at either side of it. We drove along the +quays, and crossing an old, dilapidated bridge, traversed several obscure +and mean-looking streets, through which numbers of persons were hurrying +in the same direction we were going. At length we arrived at a large open +space, thronged with people whose dress and appearance bespoke them from +the country. They were all conversing in a low, murmuring tone, and +looking up from time to time towards a massive building of dark granite, +which I had only to glance at to guess was Newgate. Our pace slackened to +a walk as we entered the crowd; and while we moved slowly along, I was +struck by the eager and excited faces I saw on every side. It could be no +common occasion which impressed that vast multitude with the one character +of painful anxiety I beheld. +</p> +<p> +As they stood gazing with upturned faces at the frowning portals of the +jail, the deep, solemn tolling of a bell rung out at the moment, and as +its sad notes vibrated through the air, it seemed to strike with a +mournful power on every heart in the crowd. In an instant, too, the +windows of all the houses were thronged with eager faces,—even the +parapets were crowded; and while every sound was hushed, each eye was +turned in one direction. I followed with my own whither the others were +bent, and beheld above my head the dark framework of the “drop,” covered +with black cloth, above which a piece of rope swung back-. wards and +forwards with the wind. The narrow door behind was closed; but it was +clear that each second that stole by was bringing some wretched criminal +closer to his awful doom. +</p> +<p> +As we neared the entrance, the massive doors were opened on a signal from +a policeman on the box of the carriage, and we drove inside the gloomy +vestibule. It was only then, as the heavy door banged behind me, that my +heart sank. Up to that moment a mingled sense of wrong, and a feeling of +desperate courage, had nerved me; but suddenly a cold chill ran through my +veins, my knees smote each other, and fear such as till then I never knew +crept over me. The carriage-door was now opened, the steps lowered, and +Barton descending first, addressed a few words to a person near him, whom +he called Mr. Gregg. +</p> +<p> +It was one of those moments in life in which every passing look, every +chance word, every stir, every gesture, are measured up, and remembered +ever after. And I recollect now how, as I stepped from the carriage, a +feeling of shame passed across me lest the bystanders should mark my fear, +and what a relief I experienced on finding that my presence was unnoticed; +and then the instant after, that very same neglect—that cold, cold +indifference to me—smote as heavily on my spirits, and I looked on +myself as one whose fate had no interest for any, in whose fortune none +sympathized. +</p> +<p> +“Drive on!” cried a rough voice to the coachman; and the carriage moved +through the narrow passage, in which some dozen of persons were now +standing. The next moment, a murmur of “They are coming!” was heard; and +the solemn tones of a man's voice chanting the last offices of the Romish +Church reached us, with the measured footfall of persons crossing the +flagged courtyard. In the backward movement now made by those around me, I +was brought close to a small arched doorway, within which a flight of +stone steps ascended in a spiral direction; and towards this point I +remarked that the persons who approached were tending. My eyes scarcely +glanced on those who came first; but they rested with a fearful interest +on the bareheaded priest, who, in all the trappings of his office, walked, +book in hand, repeating with mournful impressiveness the litany for the +dead. As he came nearer, I could see that his eyes were dimmed with tears, +and his pale lips quivered with emotion, while his very cheek trembled +with a convulsive agony. Not so he who followed. He was a young man, +scarce four and twenty; dressed in loose white trousers and shirt, but +without coat, vest, or cravat; his head bare, and displaying a broad +forehead, across which some straggling hairs of light brown were blown by +the wind. His eye was bright and flashing, and in the centre of his pale +cheek a small crimson spot glowed with a hectic coloring. His step was +firm, and as he planted it upon the ground a kind of elasticity seemed to +mark his footfall. He endeavored to repeat after the priest the words as +they fell from him; but as he looked wildly around, it was clear his mind +was straying from the subject which his lips expressed, and that thoughts +far different were passing within him. Suddenly his eyes fell upon the +major, who stood close to where I was. The man started back, and for a +second even that small spot of crimson left his cheek, which became nearly +livid in its pallor. A ghastly smile, that showed his white teeth from +side to side, crossed his features, and with a voice of terrible +earnestness, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“'T is easy for you to look calm, sir, at your morning's work, and I hope +you 're plazed at it.” Then frowning fearfully, as his face grew purple, +he added, “But, by the Eternal I you 'd not look that way av we two stood +by ourselves on the side of Sliebmish, and nothing but our own four arms +between us.” +</p> +<p> +The horrible expression of vengeance that lit up his savage face at these +words seemed to awe even the callous and stern nature of Barton himself. +All his efforts to seem calm and at ease were for the moment unavailing, +and he shrank from the proud and flashing eye of the felon, as though he +were the guilty one in the presence of his accuser. +</p> +<p> +Another stroke of the heavy bell rang out. The prisoner started, and +turning round his head, seemed to peer anxiously through the crowd behind +him, when his eyes fell upon the figure of a man apparently a year or two +younger than himself, and whose features, even in their livid coloring, +bore a striking resemblance to his own. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Patsey,” cried he, “come along with us.” Then turning to the +jailer, while his face assumed a smile, and his voice a tone of winning +softness, he asked, “It is my brother, sir; he is come up nigh eighty +miles to see me, and I hope you 'll let him come upon the drop.” +</p> +<p> +There was something in the quiet earnestness of his manner in such a +moment that thrilled upon the heart more painfully than even the violent +outbreak of his passion; and when I saw the two brothers hand in hand, +march step by step along, and then disappear in the winding of the dark +stair, a sick, cold feeling came over me, and even the loud shout that +rent the air from the assembled thousands without scarce roused me from my +stupor. +</p> +<p> +“Come, sir,” cried a man, who in the dress of an official had been for +some minutes carefully reading over the document of my committal, “after +me, if you please.” +</p> +<p> +I followed him across the courtyard in the direction of a small building +which stood isolated and apart from the rest, when suddenly he stopped, +and carefully examining the paper in his hand, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“Wait a moment; I 'll join you presently.” +</p> +<p> +With these words, he hurried back towards the gate, where Barton still' +stood with two or three others. What passed between them I could not hear; +but I could distinctly mark that Barton's manner was more abrupt and +imperious than ever, and that while the jailer—for such he was—expressed +his scruples of one kind or another, the major would not hear him with +patience, but turning his back upon him, called out loud enough to be +heard even where I stood,— +</p> +<p> +“I tell you I don't care, regular or irregular; if you refuse to take him +in charge, on your head be it. We have come to a pretty pass. Pollock,” +said he, turning to a person beside him, “when there is more sympathy for +a rebel in his Majesty's jail, than respect for a Government officer.” +</p> +<p> +“I'll do it, sir,—I'll do it,” cried the jailer; saying which he +motioned me to follow, while he muttered between his teeth, “there must +come an end to this, one day or other.” +</p> +<p> +With that he unlocked a strongly barred gate, and led me along a narrow +passage; at the extremity of which he opened a door into a small and +rather comfortably furnished room. +</p> +<p> +“Here, sir,” said he, “you 'll be better than where I have my orders to +put you; and in any case, I trust that our acquaintance will be but a +short one.” +</p> +<p> +These were the first words of kindness I had heard for some time past. I +turned to thank the speaker; but already the door had closed, and he was +gone. +</p> +<p> +The quickly succeeding incidents of my life, the dark destiny that seemed +to track me, had given a reflective character to my mind while I was yet a +boy. The troubles and cares of life, that in manhood serve only to mould +and fashion character,—to call forth efforts of endurance, of +courage, or ability,—come upon us in early years with far different +effect and far different teaching. Every lesson tit deceit and duplicity +is a direct shock to some preconceived notion of faith and honor; every +punishment, whose severity in after years we had forgotten in its justice, +has to the eyes of youth a character of vindictive cruelty. Looking only +to effects, and never to causes, our views of life are one-sided and +imperfect; the better parts of our nature will as often mislead us by +false sympathy, as will the worst ones by their pernicious tendency. +</p> +<p> +From the hour I quitted my father's house to the present, I had seen +nothing but what to me appeared the sufferings of a poor, defenceless +people at the hands of wanton tyranny and outrage. I had seen the +peasant's cabin burned because it had been a shelter to an outcast; I had +heard the loud and drunken denunciations of a ruffianly soldiery against +those who professed no other object, who acknowledged no other wish, than +liberty and equality; and in my heart I vowed a rooted hate to the enemies +of my country,—a vow that lost nothing of its bitterness because it +was made within the walls of a prison. +</p> +<p> +In reflections like these my evening passed on, and with it the greater +part of the night also. My mind was too much excited to permit me to +sleep, and I longed for daybreak with that craving impatience which sick +men feel who count the long hours of darkness, and think the morning must +bring relief. It came at last; and the heavy, clanking sounds of massive +doors opening and shutting—the mournful echoes that told of +captivity and durance—sighed along the corridors, and then all was +still. +</p> +<p> +There is a time in reverie when silence seems not to encourage thought, +but rather, like some lowering cloud, to hang over and spread a gloomy +insensibility around us. Long watching and much thinking had brought me +now to this; and I sat looking upon the faint streak of sunlight that +streamed through the barred window, and speculating within myself when it +would fall upon the hearth. Suddenly I heard the sound of footsteps in the +corridor; my door was opened, and the jailer entered, followed by a man +carrying my breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“Come, sir,” said the former, “I hope you have got an appetite for our +prison fare. Lose no time; for there is a carriage in waiting to bring you +to the Castle, and the major himself is without.” +</p> +<p> +“I am ready this moment,” said I, starting up, and taking my hat; and +notwithstanding every entreaty to eat, made with kindness and good-nature, +I refused everything, and followed him out into the courtyard, where +Barton was pacing up and down, impatiently awaiting our coming. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XV. THE CASTLE. +</h2> +<p> +Scarcely had the carriage driven from the gloomy portals of the jail, and +entered one of the long, straggling streets that led towards the river, +when I noticed a singular-looking figure who ran alongside, and kept up +with us as we went. A true type of the raggedness of old Dublin, his +clothes fluttered behind him like ribbons; even from his hat, his long, +red hair straggled and streamed, while his nether garments displayed a +patchwork no tartan could vie with. His legs were bare, save where a +single topboot defended one of them; the other was naked to the foot, clad +in an old morocco slipper, which he kicked up and caught again as he went +with surprising dexterity, accompanying the feat with a wild yell which +might have shamed a warwhoop. He carried a bundle of printed papers over +one arm; and flourished one of them in his right hand, vociferating +something all the while with uncommon energy. Scarcely had the carriage +drawn up at the door of an old-fashioned brick building when he was beside +it. +</p> +<p> +“How are ye. Major? How is every bit of you, sir? Are ye taking them this +mornin'—'t is yourself knows how! Buy a ha'porth, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“What have you got to-day, Toby?” said the major, with a greater degree of +complacency in his manner than I had ever noticed before. +</p> +<p> +“An illigant new song about Buck Whaley; or maybe you 'd like 'Beresford's +Jig, or the Humors of Malbro' Green.'” +</p> +<p> +“Why, man, they 're old these three weeks.” +</p> +<p> +“True for ye, Major. Begorra! there 's no chating you at all, at all. +Well, maybe you 'll have this: here 's the bloody and cruel outrage +committed by the yeomen on the body of a dacent and respectable young man, +by the name of Darby M'Keown, with the full and true account of how he was +inhumanly stabbed and murdered on the eighth day of July—” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, give me that. I hope they 've done for that scoundrel; I have been on +his track three years.” +</p> +<p> +The fellow drew near, and, as he handed the paper to the major, contrived +to approach close to where I stood. “Buy one, master,” said he; and as he +spoke, he turned completely round, so as only to be observed by myself, +and as suddenly the whole expression of his vacant features changed like +magic, and I saw before me the well-known face of Darby himself. +</p> +<p> +“Did you get an answer to that for me, Toby?', said the major. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; here it is.” And with that he pulled off his tattered hat, and +withdrew a letter which lay concealed within the lining. “'T is sixpence +you ought to be afther givin' me this mornin', Major,” continued he, in an +insinuating tone of voice; “the devil a less than twenty-one mile it is +out of this, not to spake of the danger I run, and the boys out on every +side o' me.” +</p> +<p> +“And what's the news up the country, Toby?” asked the major, as he broke +the seal of the letter. +</p> +<p> +“'T is talking of a risin' they do be still, sir,—av the praties was +in; glory be to God, they say it 'll be a great sayson.” +</p> +<p> +“For which, Toby,—the crops or the croppies?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied Toby, with a most provoking look of idiocy. “And you +won't buy Darby sir?” rejoined he, flourishing the printed placard. “No +matter; here 's the whole, full, thrue, and particular account—” And +so he turned the angle of the building, and I could hear his voice +mingling with the street noises as he wended his way down Dame Street. +</p> +<p> +The major looked after him and smiled; and brief as was that smile, I saw +in it how thoroughly he was duped. +</p> +<p> +“Come, sir, follow me, if you please,” said he, addressing me. +</p> +<p> +I mounted a flight of old and neglected stairs, and entered an anteroom, +where, having waited for a few seconds, the major whispered an order to +the porter, and passed on to the inner room, leaving me behind. +</p> +<p> +As Major Barton passed out by one door, the porter turned the key in the +other, and placing it in his pocket, drew his chair to the window and +resumed the newspaper he was reading when we entered. How long I waited I +cannot say. My thoughts, though sad ones, chased each other rapidly, and I +felt not the time as it passed. Suddenly the door opened, and I heard my +name called. I drew a deep breath, like one who felt his fate was in the +balance, and entered. +</p> +<p> +The room, which was plainly furnished, seemed to serve as an office. The +green covered table that stood in the middle was littered with letters and +papers, among which a large, heavy-browed, dark-featured man was searching +busily as I came in. Behind, and partly beside him, stood Barton, in an +attitude of respectful attention; while, with his back to the fire, was a +third person, whose age might have been from thirty-five to forty. His +dress was in the perfection of the mode: his topboots reaching to the +middle of his leg; his coat, of the lightest shade of sky-blue, was lined +with white silk; and two watch chains hung down beneath his buff +waistcoat, in the acme of the then fashion. His features were frank and +handsome, and saving a dash of puppyism that gave a character of weakness +to the expression, I should deem him a manly, fine-looking fellow. +</p> +<p> +“So this is your 'Robespierre,' Major, is it?” cried he, bursting into a +laugh, as I appeared. +</p> +<p> +Barton approached nearer to him, and muttered something in a low, mumbling +tone, to which the other seemed to pay little if any attention. +</p> +<p> +“You are here, sir,” said the dark-featured man at the table, holding in +his hand a paper as he spoke, “you are here under a warrant of the Privy +Council, charging you with holding intercourse with that rebellious and +ill-fated faction who seek to disturb the peace and welfare of this +country,—disseminating dangerous and wicked doctrines, and being in +alliance with France—with France—What 'a that word, Barton?—to—” +</p> +<p> +“In two words, young gentleman,” said the young man at the fire, “you are +charged with keeping very bad company, learning exceedingly unprofitable +notions, and incurring very considerable present risk. Now I am not +disposed to think that at your age, and with your respectable connections, +either the cause or its associates can have taken a very strong hold of +your mind. I am sure that you must have received your impressions, such as +they are, from artful and designing persons, who had only their own ends +in view when involving you in their plots. If I am justified in this +opinion, and if you will pledge me your honor—” +</p> +<p> +“I say, Cooke, you can't do this. The warrant sets forth—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, we 'll admit him to bail.” +</p> +<p> +“It is not bailable. Right Honorable,” said Barton, addressing the large +man at the table. +</p> +<p> +“Phelan,” said the younger man, turning away in pique, “we really have +matters of more importance than this boy's case to look after.” +</p> +<p> +“Boy as he is, sir,” said Barton, obsequiously, “he was in the full +confidence of that notorious French captain for whose capture you offered +a reward of one thousand pounds.” +</p> +<p> +“You like to run your fox to earth. Barton,” replied the Under-Secretary, +calmly, for it was he who spoke. +</p> +<p> +“In alliance with France,” continued the dark man, reading from the paper, +over which he continued to pore ever since, “for the propagation—ay, +that's it—the propagation of democratic—” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, Browne; never mind the warrant. If he can find bail—say +five hundred pounds—for his future appearance, we shall be +satisfied.” +</p> +<p> +Browne, who never took his eyes from the paper, and seemed totally +insensible to everything but the current of his own thoughts, now looked +up, and fixing his dark and beetling look upon me, uttered in a deep, low +tone,— +</p> +<p> +“You see, sir, the imminent danger of your present position, and at the +same time the merciful leniency which has always characterized his +Majesty's Government,—ahem! If, therefore, you will plead guilty to +any transportable felony, the grand jury will find true bills—” +</p> +<p> +“You mistake, Browne,” said Cooke, endeavoring with his handkerchief to +repress a burst of laughter; “we are going to take his bail.” +</p> +<p> +“Bail!” said the other, in a voice and with a look of amazement absolutely +comic. +</p> +<p> +Up to this moment I had not broken silence, but I was unable to remain +longer without speaking. +</p> +<p> +“I am quite ready, sir,” said I, resolutely, “to stand my trial for +anything laid to my charge. I am neither ashamed of the opinions I +profess, nor afraid of the dangers they involve.” +</p> +<p> +“You hear him, sir; you hear him,” said Barton, triumphantly, turning +towards the Secretary, who bit his lip in disappointment, and frowned on +me with a mingled expression of anger and warning. “Let him only proceed, +and you 'll be quite satisfied, on his own showing, that he cannot be +admitted to bail.” +</p> +<p> +“Bail!” echoed the Right Honorable, whose faculties seemed to have stuck +fast in the mud of thought, and were totally unable to extricate +themselves. +</p> +<p> +At the same moment, a gentle tap was heard at the door, and the porter +entered with a card, which he delivered to the Secretary. +</p> +<p> +“Let him wait,” was the brief reply, as he threw his eyes over it.” +Captain Bubbleton!”, muttered he, between his teeth; “don't know him.” +</p> +<p> +I started at the name, and felt my cheek flush. He saw it at once. +</p> +<p> +“You know this gentleman, then?” said he, mildly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; to his humanity I am indebted for my life.” +</p> +<p> +“I think I shall be able to show, sir,” said Barton, interposing, “that +through this Burke's instrumentality a very deep scheme of disaffection is +at this moment in operation among the troops in garrison. It was in the +barrack at George's Street that I apprehended him.” +</p> +<p> +“You may withdraw, sir,” said the Secretary, turning towards me. “Let +Captain Bubbleton come in.” +</p> +<p> +As I left the room, the burly captain entered; but so flurried and excited +was he, that he never perceived me, as we passed each other. +</p> +<p> +I had not been many minutes in the outer room when a loud laugh attracted +me, in which I could distinctly recognize the merry cadence of my friend +Bubbleton; and shortly after the door was opened, and I was desired to +enter. +</p> +<p> +“You distinctly understand, then, Captain Bubbleton,” said Mr. Cooke, +“that in accepting the bail in this case, I am assuming a responsibility +which may involve me in trouble?” +</p> +<p> +“I have no doubt of it,” muttered Barton, between his teeth. +</p> +<p> +“We shall require two sureties of five hundred pounds each.” +</p> +<p> +“Take the whole myself, by Jove!” broke in Bubbleton, with a flourish of +his hand. “In for a penny,—eh, Tom?” +</p> +<p> +“You can't do that, sir,” interposed Barton. +</p> +<p> +The Secretary nodded an assent, and for a moment or two Bubbleton looked +nonplussed. +</p> +<p> +“You 'll of course have little difficulty as to a co-surety,” continued +Barton, with a grin. “Burke of 'Ours' is sufficiently popular in the +Forty-fifth to make it an easy matter.” +</p> +<p> +“True,” cried Bubbleton, “quite true; but in a thing of this kind, every +fellow will be so deuced anxious to come forward,—a kind of military +feeling, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“I understand it perfectly,” said Cooke, with a polite bow; “although a +civilian, I think I can estimate the esprit de corps you speak of.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing like it! nothing like it, by Jove! I 'll just tell you a story, a +little anecdote, in point. When we were in the Neelgharries, there was a +tiger devilish fond of one of ours. Some way or other, Forbes—that +was his name—” +</p> +<p> +“The tiger's? +</p> +<p> +“No, the captain's. Forbes had a devilish insinuating way with him,—women +always liked him,—and this tiger used to come in after mess, and +walk round where he was sitting, and Forbes used to give him his dinner, +just as you might a dog—” +</p> +<p> +The Castle clock struck three just at this moment. The Secretary started +up. +</p> +<p> +“My dear captain,” cried he, putting his hand on Bubbleton's arm, “I never +was so sorry in my life; but I must hurry away to the Privy Council. I +shall be here, however, at four; and if you will meet me at that time with +the other security, we can arrange this little matter at once.” So saying, +he seized his hat, bowed politely round the room, and left us. +</p> +<p> +“Come along, Tom!” cried Bubbleton, taking me by the arm. “Devilish good +fellow that! Knew I 'd tickle him with the tiger; nothing to what I could +have told him, however, if he had waited.” +</p> +<p> +“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Barton, interposing between us and the +door; “Mr. Burke is in custody until the formality at least of a bail be +gone through.” +</p> +<p> +“So he is,” said Bubbleton; “I forgot all about it. So good-by, Tom, for +half an hour; I 'll not be longer, depend on it.” +</p> +<p> +With this he shook me warmly by the hand, bustled out of the room, and +hurried downstairs, humming a tune as he went, apparently in capital +spirits, while I knew from his manner that the bail he was in search of +had about as much existence as the tiger in the Neelgharries. +</p> +<p> +“You can wait in this room, sir,” said Barton, opening the door of a small +apartment which had no other exit save through this office. +</p> +<p> +I sat down in silence and in sorrow of heart, to speculate, as well as I +was able, on the consequences of my misfortune. I knew enough of Bubbleton +to be certain that all chance of assistance in that quarter was out of the +question: the only source he could draw upon being his invention; the only +wealth he possessed, the riches of his imagination, which had, however, +this advantage over any other species of property I ever heard of,—the +more he squandered it, the more affluent did he become. Time wore on; the +clock struck four, and yet no appearance of Bubbleton. Another hour rolled +by,—no one came near me; and at length, from the perfect stillness +without, I believed they had forgotten me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVI. THE BAIL. +</h2> +<p> +Six o'clock, seven, and even eight struck; and yet no one came. The +monotonous tread of the sentry on guard at the Castle gate and the +occasional challenge to some passing stranger were the only sounds I heard +above the distant hum of the city, which grew fainter gradually as evening +fell. At last I heard the sound of a key moving in a lock, the bang of a +door, and then came the noise of many voices as the footsteps mounted the +stairs, amid which Bubbleton's was pre-eminently loud. The party entered +the room next to where I sat, and from the tones I could collect that +Major Barton and Mr. Cooke were of the number. Another there was, too, +whose voice was not absolutely new or strange to my ears, though I could +not possibly charge my memory where I had heard it before. +</p> +<p> +While I was thus musing, the door opened noiselessly, and Bubbleton +entering without a word, closed it behind him, and approached me on +tiptoe. +</p> +<p> +“All right, my boy; they're doing the needful outside; ready in ten +minutes: never was such a piece of fortune; found out a glorious fellow; +heard of him from Hicks the money-lender; he'll go security to any amount; +knows your family well; knew your father, grandfather, I believe; +delighted to meet you; says he 'd rather see you than fifty pounds.” +</p> +<p> +“Who is he, for Heaven's sake?” said I, impatiently; for it was a new +thing to me to receive anything like kindness on the score of my father's +memory. +</p> +<p> +“Eh! who is he? He 's a kind of a bill-broking, mortgaging, bail-giving, +devilish good sort of fellow. I 've a notion he 'd do a bit of something +at three months.” +</p> +<p> +“But his name? what 's he called?” +</p> +<p> +“His name is,—let me see,—his name is—But who cares for +his name? He can write it, I suppose, on a stamp, my boy; that 's the +mark. Bless your heart, I only spoil a stamp when I put my autograph +across it; it would be worth prime cost till then. What a glorious thing +is youth,—unfledged, unblemished youth,—to possess a name new +to the Jews, a reputation against which no one has 'protested' I Tom +Burke, my boy, I envy you. Now, when I write George Frederick Augustus +Bubbleton on any bill, warrant, or quittance, straightway there 's a grin +around the circle,—a kind of a damned impertinent sort of a +half-civil smile, as though to say 'nulla bona,' payable nowhere. But +hold! that was a tap at the door. Oh, they want us.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, the captain opened the door and introduced me. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Tom,” cried he, “come here, and thank our kind friend, Mr.—Mr.—” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Basset!” said I, starting back, as my eyes beheld the pale, sarcastic +features of the worthy attorney, who stood at the table, conversing in a +low tone with the Under-Secretary. +</p> +<p> +“Eh I what 's the matter?” whispered Bubbleton as he saw my color come and +go, and perceived that I leaned on a chair for support. “What the devil 's +wrong now?” +</p> +<p> +“You 've betrayed me to my greatest enemy,” said I, in a low, distinct +voice. +</p> +<p> +“Eh! what? Why, you seem to have nothing but foes in the world. Confound +it, that's always my luck; my infernal good-nature is everlastingly making +a wrong plunge.” +</p> +<p> +“In that case, if I understand the matter aright, the bail is +unnecessary,” said Mr. Cooke, addressing Basset, who never turned his head +to the part of the room where we stood. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir; it is not necessary. While the law assists me to resume my +guardianship of this young gentleman, I am answerable for his appearance.” +</p> +<p> +“The indentures are quite correct,” said Barton, as he laid the papers on +the table, “as I believe Mr. Basset's statement to be also.” +</p> +<p> +“No bail necessary,” interrupted Bubbleton, rubbing his hands pleasantly; +“so much the better. Wish them good evening, Tom, my hearty; we shall be +back in time for supper. You wouldn't take an oyster, Mr. Cooke?” +</p> +<p> +“I thank you very much, but I am unfortunately engaged.” +</p> +<p> +“Not so fast, captain, I beg you,” said Basset, with a most servile but +malignant expression in his features. “The habits I would inculcate to my +apprentice are not exactly consistent with mess parties and barrack +suppers.” +</p> +<p> +“Apprentice! apprentice!” said Bubbleton, starting as if stung by a wasp. +“Eh! you 're surely not—not the—the—” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; there's the indenture, signed and sealed, if you are desirous +to satisfy yourself. The young gentleman himself will not deny his +father's instructions concerning him.” +</p> +<p> +I hung down my head, abashed and ashamed. The tears started to my eyes; I +turned away to wipe them, and feared to face the others again. I saw that +Bubbleton, my only friend, believed I had practised some deceit on him; +and how to explain, without disclosing what I dare not. +</p> +<p> +There was a bustle in the room; a sound of voices; the noise of feet +descending the stairs; and when I again looked round, they were all gone +save Basset, who was leisurely collecting his papers together and +fastening them with a string. I turned my eyes everywhere, to see if +Bubbleton had not remained. But no; he had left me like the rest, and I +was alone with the man I most dreaded and disliked of all the world. +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir,” said Basset, as he thrust the papers into the pocket of his +greatcoat, “I'm ready now.” +</p> +<p> +“Where to, sir?” replied I, sternly, as he moved to leave the room; for +without thinking of how and why I was to succeed in it, a vague resolution +of defiance flitted through my mind. +</p> +<p> +“To my house, sir; or to Newgate, if you prefer it. Don't mistake, young +gentleman, for a moment, the position you occupy; you owe your liberation +at this moment not to any merits of your own. Your connection with the +disaffected and rebellious body is well known: my interest with the +Government is your only protection. Again, sir, let me add, that I have no +peculiar desire for your company in my family; neither the habits nor the +opinions you have acquired will suit those you 'll meet there.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, then, have you interfered with me?” said I, passionately. “Why not +have left me to my fate? Be it what it might, it would have been not less +acceptable, I assure you, than to become an inmate of your house.” +</p> +<p> +“That question were very easily answered,” said he, interrupting me. +</p> +<p> +“Then, why not do so?” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, sir; these are not the terms which are to subsist between us, +nor is this the place to discuss our difference. Follow me.” +</p> +<p> +He led the way downstairs as he spoke, and, taking my arm within his, +turned into the street. Without a word on either side, we proceeded down +Parliament Street, and crossing Essex Bridge, followed the quays for some +time; then turning into Stafford Street, we arrived at a house, when +having taken a latchkey from his pocket. Basset opened the door and +ushered me in, muttering half aloud as he turned the key in the lock, and +fastened the bolt, “Safe at last!” We turned from the narrow hall into a +small parlor, which, from its dingy furniture of writing-desk and stools, +I guessed to serve as an office. Here my companion lit a candle from the +embers of the fire, and having carefully closed the door, he motioned me +to a seat. +</p> +<p> +“I have already told you, sir, that I am not in the least covetous of your +company in my house; circumstances which I may or may not explain +hereafter have led me to rescue you from the disgrace you must eventually +have brought upon your family.” +</p> +<p> +“Hold, sir; I have none, save a brother—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir; and your brother's feelings are, I trust, not to be +slightingly treated—a young gentleman whose position and prospects +are of the very highest order.” +</p> +<p> +“You are his agent, I perceive Mr. Basset,” said I, with a significant +smile. +</p> +<p> +“I am, sir,” replied he, with a deep flush that mounted even to his +forehead. +</p> +<p> +“Then let me save you all further trouble on my account,” said I, calmly. +“My brother's indifference to me or my fate has long since absolved me +from any regret I might feel for the consequences which my actions might +induce on his fortunes. His own conduct must stamp him, as mine must me. I +choose to judge for myself; and not even Mr. Basset shall decide for me, +although I am well aware his powers of discrimination have had the double +advantage of experience on both sides of the question.” +</p> +<p> +As I said this, his face became almost livid, and his white lips quivered +with passion. He knew not before that I was acquainted with his history, +nor that I knew of his having sold to the Government information which +brought his schoolfellow and benefactor to the scaffold. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come,” continued I, gaining courage, as I saw the effect my words +produced, “it is not your interest to injure me, however it may be your +wish. Is there no arrangement we can come to, mutually advantageous? We +shall be but sorry companions. I ought to have some property under my +grandfather's will.” +</p> +<p> +“There is, I believe, five hundred pounds,” said Basset, with a slow +distinctness, as if not rejecting the turn the conversation had taken. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, what will you take to cancel that indenture? You don't set a +very high value on my services, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +“You forget, I perceive,” said he, “that I am answerable for your future +appearance if called on.” +</p> +<p> +“There was no bail-bond drawn out, no sum mentioned, if I mistake not, Mr. +Basset.” +</p> +<p> +“Very true, sir; very true; but I pledged myself to the law adviser,—my +character is responsible.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, let me have two hundred pounds; bum that cursed indenture—” +</p> +<p> +“Two hundred pounds! Do you fancy, then, that you are in the possession of +this legacy? Why, it never may, in all likelihood it never will, be yours; +it's only payable on your attaining your majority.” +</p> +<p> +“Give me one hundred pounds, then,—give me fifty; let me only be +free, at liberty, and not absolutely a beggar on the streets.” +</p> +<p> +Basset leaned his head on the chimney, and seemed sunk in reflection; +while I, wound up to the highest pitch of excitement, trod up and down the +room, pouring forth from time to time short and broken sentences, +declaratory of my desire to surrender all that I might chance to inherit +by every casualty in life, to my last guinea, only let there be no +constraint on my actions, no attempt to control my personal liberty. +</p> +<p> +“I see,” cried I, passionately,—“I see what hampers you. You fear I +may compromise my family! It is my brother's fair fame you are thinking +of. But away with all dread on that score. I 'll leave Ireland; I have +long since determined on that.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said Basset, slowly, as he turned round his head, and looked me +full in the face. +</p> +<p> +“Would you go to America, then?” +</p> +<p> +“To America? No,—to France! That shall be the land of my adoption, +as it is this moment of all my heart's longings.” +</p> +<p> +His eyes sparkled, and a gleam of pleasure shot across his cold features, +as if he caught a glow of the enthusiasm that lit up mine. +</p> +<p> +“Come,” cried he, “I 'll think of this. Give me till tomorrow, and if you +'ll pledge yourself to leave Ireland within a week—” +</p> +<p> +“I 'll pledge myself to nothing of the kind,” replied I, fiercely. “It is +to be free,—free in thought as in act,—that I would barter all +my prospects with you. There must be but one compact between us,—it +must begin and end here. Take a night if you will to think it over, and +to-morrow morning—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, to-morrow morning be it,” said he, with more of animation in +his tone; “and now to supper!” +</p> +<p> +“To bed, rather,” said I, “if I may speak my mind; for rest is what I now +stand most in need of.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVII. MR. BASSET'S DWELLING +</h2> +<p> +Excepting the two dingy-looking, dust-covered parlors, which served as +office and dining-room, the only portion of Mr. Basset's dwelling +untenanted by lodgers was the attics. The large brass plate that adorned +the hall door, setting forth in conspicuous letters, “Anthony Basset, +Attorney,” gave indeed a most inadequate notion of the mixed population +within, whose respectability, in the inverse ratio of their height from +the ground, went on growing beautifully less, till it found its +culminating point in the host himself, on whose venerable head the light +streamed from a cobweb-covered pane in the roof. The stairs were dark and +narrow; the walls covered with a dull-colored old wainscot, that flapped +and banged with every foot that came and went; while the windows were +defended by strong iron railings, as if anything inside them could +possibly demand such means of protection. +</p> +<p> +I followed Mr. Basset as he led the way up these apparently interminable +stairs, till at length the decreasing head room betokened that we were +near the slates. Mumbling a half apology for the locale, he introduced me +into a long, low attic, where a settle bed of the humblest pretensions and +a single rush-bottomed chair supporting a basin were the only articles of +furniture. Something like the drop curtain of a strolling theatre closed +up the distance; but this I could only perceive imperfectly by the dim +twilight of a dip candle, and in my state of fatigue and weariness, I had +little inclination to explore further. Wishing me a good night, and +promising that I should be called betimes next morning, Mr. Basset took +his leave; while I, overcome by a long day of care and anxiety, threw +myself on the bed, and slept far more soundly than I could have believed +it were possible for me to do under the roof of Anthony Basset. +</p> +<p> +The sun was streaming in a rich flood of yellow light through a small +skylight, and playing its merry gambols on the floor, when I awoke. The +birds, too, were singing; and the hum of the street noises, mellowed by +distance, broke not unpleasantly on the ear. It did not take me long to +remember where I was, and why. The conversation of the evening before +recurred at once to my mind; and hope, stronger than ever before I felt +it, filled my heart. It was clear Basset could place little value on such +services as mine; and if I could only contrive to make it his interest to +part with me, he would not hesitate about it. I resolved that, whatever +price he put upon my freedom, if in my power I should pay it. My next plan +was to find out, through some of the persons in correspondence with +France, the means of reaching that country, in whose military service I +longed to enroll myself. Had I but the papers of my poor friend Charles de +Meudon, there had been little difficulty in this; but unfortunately they +were seized by Major Barton on the day of his death, and I had never seen +them since. +</p> +<p> +While I revolved these thoughts within myself I heard the merry notes of a +girl's voice, singing apparently in the very room with me. I started up +and looked about me, and now perceived that what seemed so like a drop +curtain' the night before was nothing more or less than a very large +patchwork quilt, suspended on a line across the entire attic, from the +other side of which came the sounds in question. It was clear, both from +the melody and the voice, that she could not be a servant; and somewhat +curious to know more of my fair neighbor, I rose gently, and slipping on +my clothes, approached the boundary of my territory with noiseless step. +</p> +<p> +A kind of whistling noise interrupted every now and then the lady's song, +and an occasional outbreak of impatience would burst forth in the middle +of the “Arrah, will you marry me, dear Alley Croker?” by some malediction +on a “black knot” or a broken string. I peeped over the “drop,” and beheld +the figure of a young, plump, and pretty girl, busily engaged in lacing +her stays,—an occupation which accounted equally for the noise of +the rushing staylace and the bit of peevishness I had heard. I quite +forgot how inadvisable was the indulgence of my curiosity in my admiration +of my fair neighbor, whose buxom figure, not the less attractive for the +shortness of her drapery, showed itself to peculiar advantage as she bent +to one side and the other in her efforts to fasten the impracticable +bodice. A mass of rich brown hair, on which the sun was playing, fell over +her neck and on her shoulders, and half concealed her round, well-turned +arms as they plied their busy task. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/166.jpg" alt="Peeping Tom 166 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“Well, ain't my heart broke with you, entirely?” exclaimed she, as a +stubborn knot stopped all further progress. +</p> +<p> +At this moment the cord, on which through inadvertence I had leaned +somewhat too heavily, gave way, and down came the curtain with a squash to +the floor. She sprang back with a bound, and, while a slight but momentary +blush flushed her cheek, stared at me half angrily, and then cried out,—“Well, +I hope you like me?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, that I do,” said I, readily;—“and who wouldn't that saw you?” +</p> +<p> +Whether it was the naivete of my confession, or my youth, or both, I can't +well say, but she laughed heartily at my speech, and threw herself into a +chair to indulge her mirth. +</p> +<p> +“So we were neighbors, it seems,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“And if we were,” said she, roguishly, “I think it's a very unceremonious +way you 've opened the acquaintance.” +</p> +<p> +“You forget, apparently, I haven't left my own territory.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I 'm sure I wish you would, if you 're any good at a black knot; my +heart and my nails are both broke with one here.” +</p> +<p> +I didn't wait for any more formal invitation, but stepped at once over the +frontier; while she, rising from the chair, turned her back towards me, as +with her finger she directed me to the most chaotic assemblage of knots, +twists, loops, and entanglements I ever beheld. +</p> +<p> +“And you're Burke, I suppose,” cried she, as I commenced my labors. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; I'm Burke.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I hope you 're done with wildness by this time. Uncle Tony tells +fine tales of your doings.” +</p> +<p> +“Uncle Tony! So you 're Mr. Basset's niece? Is that—” +</p> +<p> +“You did n't take me for his wife, I hope?” said she, again bursting out +into laughter. +</p> +<p> +“In truth, I never thought so well of him as to suppose it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, I 'm sure it 's little I expected you to look so mild and so +quiet. But you need n't pinch me, for all that. Is n't your name Tom?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; I hope you 'll always call me so.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe I will. Is n't that done yet? And there 's the milk bell. Uncle +will be in a nice passion if I 'm not down soon. Cut it,—cut it at +once.” +</p> +<p> +“Now do be patient for a minute or two; it's all right if you stay quiet. +I 'll try my teeth on it.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; but you needn't try your lips too,” said she, tartly. +</p> +<p> +“Why, it 's the only plan to get your fingers out of the way. I 'm sure I +never was so puzzled in all my life.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing like practice, my boy,—nothing,” cried a merry voice from +the door behind me, half choked with laughing; while a muttered anathema, +in a deeper tone, followed. I looked back, and there stood Bubbleton, his +face florid with laughter, endeavoring to hold back Mr. Basset, whose +angry look and flashing eye there was no mistaking. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Burke,—Burke, I say! Nelly, what does this mean? How came this +young gentleman—” +</p> +<p> +“As to that,” said I, interrupting him, and my blood somewhat chafed by +his manner, “this piece of trumpery tumbled down when I leaned my arm on +it. I had no idea—” +</p> +<p> +“No, no; to be sure not,” broke in Bubbleton, in an ecstasy. “The thing +was delicious; such a bit of stage effect. She was there, as it might be, +combing her hair, and all that sort of thing; Tom was here, raving about +absence and eternal separation. You are an angry father, or uncle,—all +the same; and I 'm Count Neitztachenitz, the old friend and brother +officer of Tom's father. Now, let Miss Nelly—But where is she? Why, +she's gone! Eh, and Basset? Basset! Why, he 's gone! Come, Tom, don't you +go too. I say, my boy, devilish well got up that. You ought to have had a +white satin doublet and hose, slashed with pale cherry-colored ribbons to +match, small hat looped, aigrette and white plume. She was perfect; her +leg and foot were three certain rounds of applause from the pit and +gallery.” +</p> +<p> +“What nonsense!” said I, angrily; “we weren't playing a comedy.” +</p> +<p> +“Were n't you, though? Well, I 'm deuced sorry for it, that 's all; but it +did look confoundedly like an undress rehearsal.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, no foolery, I beg. I'm here in a very sad plight, and this +piece of nonsense may not make matters any better. Listen to me, if you +can, patiently for five minutes, and give me your advice.” +</p> +<p> +I took him by the arm as I spoke, and leading him from the room,—where +I saw that everything was only suggesting some piece of scenic effect,—and +in as few words as I could command, explained how I was circumstanced; +omitting, of course, any detail of my political bias, and only stated so +much of my desire as implied my wish to be free of my contract with +Basset, and at liberty to dispose of myself as I liked in future. +</p> +<p> +“I see,” cried Bubbleton, as I finished; “the old fox has this five +hundred pounds of yours.” +</p> +<p> +“No, I didn't say that; I only mean—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, it 's all the same. If he has n't, you know he ought.” +</p> +<p> +“No; that 's not essential either.” +</p> +<p> +“No matter, he would if he could; it just comes to the same thing, and you +only wish to get clear out of his hands at any cost. Is n't that it?” +</p> +<p> +“Exactly; you have it all perfectly.” +</p> +<p> +“Bless your heart, boy, there 's nothing easier; if I were in your place, +should arrange the affair in less than a week. I 'd have fits,—strong +fits,—and burn all the papers in the office during the paroxysm. I +'d make a pile of deeds, leases, bonds, and settlements in the backyard.” +</p> +<p> +“I don't fancy your plan would be so successful as you flatter yourself,” +said a dry, husky voice behind; “there 's rather a stringent law for +refractory apprentices, as Mr. Burke may learn.” We turned round, and +there stood Mr. Basset, with a grin of most diabolical malignity in his by +no means pleasant features. “At the same time,” continued he, “your +suggestions are of infinite value, and shall be duly appreciated in the +King's Bench.” +</p> +<p> +“Eh,—King's Bench! Lord bless you, don't speak of it. Mere trifles,—I +just threw them out as good hints; I had fifty far better to come. There +'s the young lady, now. To be sure, he has started that notion himself, so +I must not pretend it was mine. But Miss Nelly, I think, Tom—” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Basset is well aware,” interrupted I, “that I am only desirous to be +free and untrammelled; that whatever little means I may derive from my +family, I 'm willing to surrender all, short of actual beggary, to attain +this object,—that I intend quitting Ireland at once. If, then, he +consent to enter into an arrangement with me, let it be at once, and on +the spot. I have no desire, I have no power, to force him by a threat, in +case of refusal; but I hope he will make so much of amends to one of whose +present desolation and poverty he is not altogether innocent.” +</p> +<p> +“There, there; that's devilish well said. The whole thing is all clear +before me. So come along, Basset; you and I will settle all this. Have you +got a private room where we can have five minutes' chat together? Tom, +wait for me here.” +</p> +<p> +Before either of us could consent or oppose his arrangement, he had taken +Basset's arm, and led him downstairs; while I, in a flurry of opposing and +conflicting resolves, sat down to think over my fortunes. +</p> +<p> +Tired at length with waiting, and half suspecting that my volatile friend +had forgotten me and all my concerns, I descended to the parlor in hopes +to hear something of the pending negotiation. At the head of a long, +narrow table sat my fair acquaintance, Miss Nelly, her hair braided very +modestly at each aide of her pretty face, which had now assumed an almost +Quakerish propriety of expression. She was busily engaged in distributing +tea to three pale, red-eyed, emaciated men, whose spongy-looking, +threadbare garments bespoke to be attorney's clerks, A small imp, a kind +of embryo practitioner, knelt before the fire in the act of toasting +bread, but followed with his sharp piercing eyes every stir in the +apartment and seemed to watch with malicious pleasure the wry faces +around, whenever any undue dilution of the bohea, or any curtailment of +the blue milk, pressed heavily on the guests. These were not exactly the +circumstances to renew my acquaintance with my fair neighbor, had I been +so minded; so having declined her offer of breakfast, I leaned moodily on +the chimneypiece, my anxiety to know my fate becoming each instant more +painful. Meanwhile not a word was spoken,—a sad, moody silence, +unbroken save by the sounds of eating, pervaded all, when suddenly the +door of the front parlor was flung open, and Bubbleton's pleasant voice +was heard as he talked away unceasingly; in an instant he entered, +followed by Basset, over whose hard countenance a shade of better nature +seemed to pass. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/171.jpg" alt="May Good Digestion Wait on Appetite 171 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“In that case,” cried the captain, “I'm your man, not that I 'm anything +of a performer at breakfast or dinner; supper 's rather my forte,—an +odor of a broiled bone at three in the morning, a herring smeared with +chetna and grilled with brandy, two hundred of small oysters, a few hot +ones to close with, a glass of seltzer dashed with hollands for health, +and, then any number you like of glasses, of hot brandy and water +afterwards for pleasure.” +</p> +<p> +While Bubbleton ran on in this fashion, he had broken about half a dozen +eggs into the slop basin, and seasoning the mess with pepper and vinegar, +was busily engaged in illustrating the moderation of his morning appetite. +</p> +<p> +“Try a thing like this, Tom,” cried he, not defining how it was to be +effected under the circumstances; while he added in a whisper, “your +affair's all right.” +</p> +<p> +These few words brought courage to my heart; and I ventured to begin the +breakfast that had lain untasted before me. +</p> +<p> +“I think, Mr. Burke,” said Basset, as soon as he recovered from the +surprise Bubbleton's mode of breakfasting had excited,—“I think and +trust that all has been arranged to your satisfaction.” Then turning to +the clerks, who ate away without even lifting their heads,—“Mr. +Muggridge, you will be late at the Masters' Office; Jones, take that +parcel to Hennet; Kit, carry my bag up to the Courts.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Nelly did not wait for the part destined for her, but with a demure +face rose from the table and left the room; giving me, however, one sly +glance as she passed my chair that I remembered for many a day after. +</p> +<p> +“You 'll excuse me, gentlemen, if I am pressed for time this morning; a +very particular case comes on in the Common Pleas.” +</p> +<p> +“Never speak of it, my dear fellow,” said Bubbleton, who had just +addressed himself to a round of spiced beef; “business has its calls just +as pleasure has,—ay, and appetite too. That would make an excellent +bit of supper, with some mulled port, after a few rubbers of shorts.” +</p> +<p> +Basset paid little attention to this speech, but turning to me, continued: +</p> +<p> +“You mentioned your intention of leaving Ireland, I think. Might I ask +where you have decided on,—from where? Is it possible that your +brother—” +</p> +<p> +“My brother's anxieties on my account, Mr. Basset, can scarcely be very +poignant, and deserve no particular respect or attention at my hands. I +suppose that this morning has concluded all necessary intercourse between +us; and if you have satisfied my friend Captain Bubbleton—” +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly, perfectly. Another cup of tea, if you please. Yes, nothing +could be more gratifying than Mr. Basset's conduct; you are merely to sign +the receipt for the legacy, and he hands you over one hundred pounds. +Isn't that it?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, quite correct; my bill for one hundred at three months.” +</p> +<p> +“That's what I mean. But surely you're not done breakfast; why, Tom, you +'ve eaten nothing. I have been picking away this half hour, just to +encourage you a bit. Well, well! I lunch in Stephen's Green at three; so +here goes.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Basset now took from his pocket-book some papers, which, having +glanced his eye over, he handed to me. +</p> +<p> +“This is a kind of acknowledgment, Mr. Burke, for the receipt of a legacy +to which you could be only entitled on attaining your majority. Here are +your indentures to me; and this is my acceptance for one hundred pounds.” +</p> +<p> +“I am content,” said I, eagerly, as I seized the pen. The thought of my +liberty alone filled my mind, and I cared little for the conditions +provided I secured that. +</p> +<p> +Basset proffered his hand. I was in no humor to reject anything that even +simulated cordiality; I shook it heartily. Bubbleton followed my example, +and having pledged himself to see more of his pleasant acquaintance, +thrust his arm through mine and bustled out; adding, in a tone loud enough +to be overheard,— +</p> +<p> +“Made a capital fight of it; told him you were a Defender, a United +Irishman, a Peep-o'-day Boy, and all that sort of thing. Devilish glad to +get rid of you, even on Miss Nelly's account.” +</p> +<p> +And so he rattled away without ceasing, until we found ourselves at the +George's Street Barracks, my preoccupation of mind preventing my even +having remarked what way we came. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII. THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS +</h2> +<p> +I WAS not sorry to find that Miss Bubbleton did not respond to the noisy +summons of the captain, as he flourished about from one room to the other, +making the quarters echo to the sweet name of “Anna Maria.” “Saladin,” +“Grimes,” “Peter,” were also shouted out unsuccessfully; and with a fierce +menace against various grooms of the chambers, waiting-men, and lackeys, +who happily were still unborn, Bubbleton flung himself into a seat, and +began to conjecture what had become of the inhabitants. +</p> +<p> +“She's paying a morning call,—gone to see the Duchess; that 's it. +Or perhaps she 's looking over that suit of pearls I bought yesterday at +Gallon's; pretty baubles, but dear at eight hundred pounds. Never mind; +what 's money for, eh, Tom?” +</p> +<p> +As he looked at me for a reply, I drew my chair closer towards him, and +assuming as much of importance as my manner could command, I besought his +attention for a moment. Hitherto, partly from my own indecision, partly +from his flighty and volatile bearing, I never had an opportunity either +to explain my real position or my political sentiments, much less my +intentions for the future. The moment had at length arrived, and I +resolved to profit by it; and in as few words as I was able, gave a brief +narrative of my life, from the hour of my father's death to the day in +which I fell into his own hands in Dublin, only omitting such portions as +might, by the mention of names, compromise others concerned. +</p> +<p> +Nothing could possibly be more attentive than he was during the entire +detail. He leaned his head on his hand, and listened with eager curiosity +to all my scrapes and difficulties, occasionally nodding in assent, and +now evincing by his excited air his desire to learn farther; and when I at +last wound up by avowing my long cherished desire to enter the French +service, he sat perfectly silent, and seemed to reflect gravely on the +whole. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Tom,” said he, at length, as he stared me full in the face, and +laid his hand impressively on my knee, “there 's good stuff in that,—excellent +stuff, depend upon it.” +</p> +<p> +“Good stuff! what do you mean?” said I, in amazement. +</p> +<p> +“I mean,” replied he, “there's bone in it, sinew in it, substance in it; +there are some admirable situations too. How Fulham would come out in Tony +Basset,—brown shorts, white stockings, high shoes and buckles, his +own very costume. And there's that little thing, Miss Booth, for Nelly; +give her a couple of songs,—ballad airs take best. Williams should +be Barton; a devilish fine villain in coarse parts, Williams,—I +think I see him stealing along by the flats with his soldiers to the +attack. Then the second act should open: interior of hut; peasants round a +table (eating always successful on the stage; nothing like seeing a fat +fellow bolting hard eggs, and blustering out unpronounceable jokes over a +flagon of colored water). You, by right, should have your own part; +splendid thing, devilish fine,—your sensations when the cabin was on +tire, and the fellows were prodding about with their bayonets to discover +you.” +</p> +<p> +“And who 's to perform Captain Bubbleton?” asked I, venturing for once to +humor his absurdity. +</p> +<p> +“Eh? Oh I there's nothing for me; no marked feature, nothing strong, +nothing characteristic. That has been through life my greatest, my very +highest ambition,—that no man should ever detect, by anything in my +manner, my dress, or my style of conversation, that I was not John Nokes +or Peter Styles. You 'll meet me at a dinner party, Tom; you 'll converse +with me, drink with me; we'll sit the evening together, grow intimate, +perhaps you 'll borrow fifty pounds of me; and yet I 'd wager another, +you'd never guess that I rode a hippopotamus across the Ganges after +tiffin one day, to pay my respects to the Governor-Greneral. That, let me +tell you, Tom, is the very proudest boast a man can make. Do you see that +scar? It looks nothing now. That was a bite from a ferocious boa: the +villain got into my room before breakfast; he had eaten my chokeedar, a +fellow I was very fond of—” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, I remember you mentioned that to me. And now to come back to my dull +story, to which, I assure you, however dramatic you may deem it, I 'd +prefer adding an act or so before it comes before the world. I intend to +leave this to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no; you mustn't think of it yet awhile. Why, my dear fellow, you 've +a hundred pounds; only think of that! Twenty will bring you to Paris; +less, if you choose. I once travelled from Glugdamuck to the Ghauts of +Bunderamud for half a rupee; put my elephants on three biscuits a day; +explained to them in Hindostanee—a most expressive language—that +our provisions had fallen short; that on our arrival all arrears of grub +should be made up. They tossed up their trunks thus in token of assent, +and on we marched. Well, when we came to Helgie, there was no water—” +</p> +<p> +“Very true,” interrupted I, half in despair at the torrent of +story-telling I had got involved in. “But you forget I have neither +elephants, nor camels, nor coolies, nor chokeedars; I'm a mere adventurer, +with, except yourself, not a friend in the world.” +</p> +<p> +“Then why not join us?” cried the ever ready captain. “We are to have our +orders for foreign service in a few weeks; you 've only to volunteer; you +'ve money enough to buy your kit. When you 're fairly in, it 's only +writing to your brother. Besides, something always turns up; that 's my +philosophy. I rarely want anything I don't find means to obtain, somehow +or other.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said I, resolutely, “I will never join the service of a country +which has inflicted such foul wrong on my native land.” +</p> +<p> +“All stuff and nonsense!” cried Bubbleton. “Who cares the deuce of clubs +about politics? When you 're my age, you 'll find that if you 're not +making something of politics, they 'll make very little of you. I 'd as +soon sell figs for my grocer or snuff for my tobacconist as I 'd bother my +head governing the kingdom for Billy Pitt. He 's paid for it,—that's +his business, not mine. No, no, my boy; join us,—you shall be 'Burke +of Ours!' We 'll have a glorious campaign among the Yankees. I 'll teach +you the Seneca language, and we 'll have a ramble through the Indian +settlements. Meanwhile you dine to-day at the mess; to-morrow we picnic at +the Dargle; next day we—What the deuce is next day to be? Oh yes! +next day we all dine with you. Nothing stiff or formal,—a snug, +quiet thing for sixteen; I'll manage it all.” +</p> +<p> +Here was an argument there was no resisting; so I complied at once, +comforting myself with a silent vow, come what might, I 'd leave Ireland +the day after my dinner party. +</p> +<p> +Under whatever guise—with what history of my rank, wealth, and +family influence—Bubbleton thought proper to present me to his +brother officers, I cannot say; but nothing could possibly be more kind, +or even more cordial, than their reception of me. And although I had some +difficulty in replying to questions put under mistaken notions of my +position and intentions, I readily followed, as far as I was able, the +line suggested by my imaginative friend, whose representations, I +suspected, would be received with a suitable limitation by his old +associates. +</p> +<p> +There is, perhaps, no species of society so striking and so captivating to +the young man entering on life as that of a military mess. The easy, +well-bred intimacy, that never degenerates into undue familiarity; the +good-humored, playful raillery, that never verges on coarseness or +severity; the happy blending of old men's wisdom and young men's buoyancy,—are +all very attractive features of social intercourse, even independently of +the stronger interest that invests the companionship of men whose career +is arms. I felt this, and enjoyed it too; not the less pleasantly that I +discovered no evidence of that violent partisan feeling I had been led to +believe was the distinguishing mark of the Royalist soldier. If by chance +any allusion was made to the troubles of the period, it was invariably +done rather in a tone of respect for mistaken and ill directed political +views, than in reprehension of disloyalty and rebellion; and when I heard +the dispassionate opinions and listened to the mild counsels of these men, +whom I had always believed to be the veriest tyrants and oppressors, I +could scarcely credit my own senses, so utterly opposed were my +impressions and my experience. One only of the party evinced an opposite +feeling. He was a pale, thin, rather handsome man, of about five and +twenty, who had lately joined them from a dragoon regiment, and who by +sundry little innuendoes, was ever bringing uppermost the preference he +evinced for his former service, and his ardent desire to be back again in +the cavalry. +</p> +<p> +Captain Montague Crofts was indeed the only exception I witnessed to the +almost brotherly feeling that prevailed in the Forty-fifth. Instead of +identifying himself with the habits and opinions of his brother officers, +he held himself studiously apart. Regarding his stay in the regiment like +a period of probation, he seemed resolved to form neither intimacies nor +friendships, but to wait patiently for the time of his leaving the corps +to emancipate himself from a society below his caste. +</p> +<p> +The cold, repulsive, steady stare, the scarcely bowed head, the impassive +silence with which he heard the words of Bubbleton's introduction of me, +formed a strong contrast with the warm cordiality of the others; and +though at the time little disposed to criticise the manner of any one, and +still less to be dissatisfied with anything, I conceived from the moment a +dislike to Captain Crofts, which I felt to increase with every minute I +spent in his company. The first occasion which suggested this dislike on +my part, was from observing that while Bubbleton—whose historical +accuracy or blind adherence to reality no one in the corps thought of +requiring—narrated some of his incredible adventures. Crofts, far +from joining in the harmless mirth which such tales created, invariably +took delight in questioning and cross-questioning the worthy captain, +quoting him against himself, and playing off a hundred tricks, which, +however smart and witty in a law court, are downright rudeness when +practised in society. Bubbleton, it is true, saw nothing in all this save +the natural interest of a good listener,—but the others did; and it +was quite clear to me, that while one was the greatest favorite in the +regiment, the other had not a single friend amongst them. To me, Crofts +manifested the most perfect indifference, not ever mixing himself in any +conversation in which I bore a part. He rarely turned his head towards +that part of the table at which I sat; and by an air of haughty +superciliousness, gave me plainly to understand that our acquaintance, +though confessedly begun, was to proceed no further. I cannot say how +happy I felt to learn that one I had so much cause to dislike was a +violent aristocrat, an ultra-Tory, a most uncompromising denouncer of the +Irish Liberal party, and an out-and-out advocate of severe and harsh +measures towards the people. He never missed an opportunity for the +enunciation of such doctrines, which, whatever might be the opinions of +the listeners, there was at the time I speak of no small risk in +gainsaying, and this immunity did Crofts enjoy to his heart's content. +</p> +<p> +Slight as these few reminiscences of the mess are, they are the called-up +memories of days not to be forgotten by me; for now, what with my habitual +indecision on the one hand, and Bubbleton's solicitations on the other, I +continued to linger on in Dublin,—leading the careless, easy life of +those about me, joining in all the plots for amusement which the capital +afforded, and mixing in every society to which my military friends had +access. Slender as were my resources, they sufficed, in the eyes of all +who knew not their limit, to appear abundant. Crofts was the only rich man +in the regiment; and my willingness to enter into every scheme of +pleasure, regardless of cost, impressed them all with the notion that +Bubbleton for once was right, and that “Burke was a kind of Westcountry +Croesus,” invaluable to the regiment. +</p> +<p> +Week after week rolled on, and still did I find myself a denizen of +George's Street. The silly routine of the barrack life filled all my +thoughts, save when the waning condition of my purse would momentarily +turn them towards the future; but these moments of reflection came but +seldom, and at last came not at all. It was autumn; the town almost +divested of its inhabitants,—at least of all who could leave it,—and +along the parched, sunburned streets a stray jingle or a noddy was rarely +seen to pass. The squares, so lately crowded with equipages and cavalcades +of horsemen, were silent and deserted; the closed shutters of every house, +and the grass-grown steps, vouched for the absence of the owners. The same +dreamy lethargy that seemed to rest over the deserted city appeared to +pervade everything; and save a certain subdued activity among the +officials of the Castle,—a kind of ground-swell movement that boded +something important,—there was nothing stirring. The great measure +of the Union, which had been carried on the night of the riots, had, +however, annihilated the hopes of the Irish Liberal party; and many who +once had taken a leading part in politics had now deserted public life +forever. +</p> +<p> +They with whom I associated cared but little for these things. There were +but two or three Irish in the regiment, and they had long since lost all +their nationality in the wear and tear of the service; so that I heard +nothing of what occupied the public mind, and lived on, in the very midst +of the threatening hurricane, in a calm as deep as death itself. +</p> +<p> +I had seen neither Barton nor Basset since the day of my leave-taking; +and, stranger still, never could meet with Darby, who seemed to have +deserted Dublin. The wreck of the party he belonged to seemed now +effectually accomplished, and the prospect of Irish independence was lost, +as it seemed, forever. +</p> +<p> +I was sitting one evening in the window of Bubbleton's quarters, thinking +over these things; not without self-reproach for the life I was leading, +so utterly adverse to the principles I had laid down for my guidance. I +thought of poor De Meudon, and all his ambitious dreams for my success, +and I felt my cheek flush with shame for my base desertion of the cause to +which, with his dying breath, he devoted me. I brought up in memory those +happy evenings as we wandered through the fields, talking over the +glorious campaigns of Italy or speculating on the mighty changes we +believed yet before us; and then I thought of the reckless orgies in which +my present life was passed. I remembered how his full voice would falter +when one great name fell from his lips; and with what reverence he touched +his chapeau as the word “Bonaparte” escaped from him; and how my heart +thrilled to think of an enthusiasm that could light up the dying embers of +a broken heart, and make it flash out in vivid brilliancy once more,—and +longed to feel as he did. +</p> +<p> +For the first time for some weeks I found myself alone. Bubbleton was on +guard; and though I had promised to join him at supper, I lingered at home +to think and ponder over the past,—I scarcely dared to face the +future. It was growing dusky. The richly golden arch of an autumn moon +could be seen through the hazy mist of that half frost which is at this +season the sure harbinger of a hot day on the morrow. The street noises +had gradually died away, and save the distant sound of a ballad-singer, +whose mournful cadence fell sadly on the ear, I heard nothing. +</p> +<p> +Without perceiving it, I found myself listening to the doggerel of the +minstrel, who, like most of her fellows of the period, was celebrating the +means that had been used by Government to carry their favorite measure,—the +Union with England. There was, indeed, very little to charm the ear or win +the sense, in either the accent or the sentiment of the melody; yet +somehow she had contrived to collect a pretty tolerable audience, who +moved slowly along with her down the street, and evinced by many an +outburst of enthusiasm how thoroughly they relished the pointed allusions +of the verse, and how completely they enjoyed the dull satire of the song. +</p> +<p> +As they approached the barracks, the procession came to a halt,—probably +deeming that so valuable a lesson should not be lost to his Majesty's +service; and forming into a circle round the singer, a silence was +commanded, when, with that quavering articulation so characteristic of the +tribe, and that strange quality of voice that seems to alternate between a +high treble and a deep bass, the lady began:— +</p> +<p> +“Don't be crowdin' an me that a way. There it is now,—ye 're tearin' +the cloak off the back o' me! Divil receave the note I 'll sing, if ye +don't behave! And look at his honor up there, with a tenpenny bit in the +heel of his fist for me. The Lord reward your purty face; 't is yourself +has the darlin' blue eyes! Bad scran to yez, ye blaggards! look at my +elegant bonnet the way you 've made it!” +</p> +<p> +“Arrah! rise the tune, and don't be blarneying the young gentleman,” said +a voice from the crowd,—and then added, in a lower but very audible +tone, “Them chaps hasn't a farthin' beyond their pay,—three and +ninepence a day, and find themselves in pipeclay!” +</p> +<p> +A rude laugh followed this insolent speech; and the ballad-singer, whose +delay had only been a ruse to attract a sufficient auditory, then began to +a very well-known air: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Come hither, M.P.'s, and I 'll tell +My advice, and I 'm sure you 'll not mock it: +Whoe'er has a country to sell, +Need never want gold in his pocket. +Your brother a bishop shall be; +Yourself—if you only will make a +Voice in our ma-jo-rity— +We'll make you chief judge In Jamaica. +Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay!” +</pre> +<p> +The mob chorus here broke in, and continued with such hearty enthusiasm +that I lost the entire of the next verse in the tumult. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Your father, they say, is an ass, +And your mother not noted for knowledge; +But he 'll do very well at Madras, +And she shall be provost of college. +Your aunt, lady's-maid to the Queen; +And Bill, if he 'll give up his rakin', +And not drunk in daytime be seen, +I 'll make him a rosy archdeacon. +Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay! + +“A jollier set ne'er was seen +Than you 'll be, when freed from your callin'; +With an empty house in College Green,— +What an elegant place to play ball in! +Ould Foster stand by with his mace, +He 'll do mighty well for a marker; +John Toler—” +</pre> +<p> +“Here 's the pollis!” said a gruff voice from the crowd; and the word was +repeated from mouth to mouth in every accent of fear and dread; while in +an instant all took to flighty—some dashing down obscure lanes and +narrow alleys, others running straight onwards towards Dame Street, but +all showing the evident apprehension they felt at the approach of these +dreaded officials. The ballad' singer alone did not move,—whether +too old or too infirm to trust to speed, or too much terrified to run, I +know not; but there she stood, the last cadence of her song still dying on +her lips, while the clattering sounds of men advancing rapidly were heard +in the distant street. +</p> +<p> +I know not why,—some strange momentary impulse, half pity, half +caprice, moved me to her rescue, and I called out to the sentry, “Let that +woman pass in!” She heard the words, and with an activity greater than I +could have expected, sprang into the barrack yard, while the police passed +eagerly on in vain pursuit of their victims. +</p> +<p> +I remained motionless in the window-seat, watching the now silent street, +when a gentle tap came to my door. I opened it, and there stood the figure +of the ballad-singer, her ragged cloak gathered closely across her face +with one hand, while with the other she held the bundle of printed songs, +her only stock-in-trade. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIX. THE QUARREL +</h2> +<p> +While I stood gazing at the uncouth and ragged figure before me, she +pushed rudely past, and shutting the door behind her, asked, in a low +whisper, “Are ye alone?”—and then, without waiting for a reply, +threw back the tattered bonnet that covered her head, and removing a wig +of long black hair, stared steadfastly at me. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know me, now?” said the hag, in a voice of almost menacing +eagerness. +</p> +<p> +“What!” cried I, in amazement; “it surely cannot be—Darby, is this +really you?” +</p> +<p> +“Ye may well say it,” replied he, bitterly.—“Ye had time enough to +forget me since we met last; and 'tis thinking twice your grand friends +the officers would be, before they 'd put their necks where mine is now to +see you. Read that,”—as he spoke, he threw a ragged and torn piece +of printed paper on the table,—“read that, and you 'll see there 's +five hundred pounds of blood money to the man that takes me. Ay, and here +I stand this minit in the King's barrack, and walked fifty-four miles this +blessed day just to see you and speak to you once more. Well, well!” He +turned away his head while he said this, and wiping a starting tear from +his red eyeball, he added, “Master Tom, 'tis myself would never b'lieve ye +done it.” +</p> +<p> +“Did what?” said I, eagerly. “What have I ever done that you should charge +me thus?” +</p> +<p> +But Darby heard me not; his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and his lips moved +rapidly as though he were speaking to himself. +</p> +<p> +“Ay,” said he, half aloud, “true enough; 'tis the gentlemen that betrayed +us always,—never came good of the cause where they took a part. But +you,”—here he turned full round, and grasping my arm, spoke directly +to me, “you that I loved better than my own kith and kin, that I thought +would one day be a pride and glory to us all; you that I brought over +myself to the cause—” +</p> +<p> +“And when have I deserted,—when have I betrayed it?” +</p> +<p> +“When did you desert it?” repeated he, in a tone of mocking irony. “Tell +me the day and hour ye came here, tell me the first time ye sat down among +the red butchers of King George, and I 'll answer ye that. Is it here you +ought to be? Is this the home for him that has a heart for Ireland? I +never said you betrayed us. Others said it; but I stood to it, ye never +did that. But what does it signify? 'Tis no wonder ye left us; we were +poor and humble people; we had nothing at heart but the good cause—” +</p> +<p> +“Stop!” cried I, maddened by this taunt. “What could I have done? where +was my place?” +</p> +<p> +“Don't ask me; if your own heart doesn't teach thee, how can I? But it's +over now; the day is gone, and I must take to the road again. My heart is +lighter since I seen you; and it will be lighter again when I give you +this wamin',—God knows if you 'll mind it. You think yourself safe +now since you joined the sodgers; you think they trust you, and that +Barton's eye is n't on ye still. There is n't a word you say is n't noted +down,—not a man you spake to isn't watched. You don't know it; but I +know it. There 's more go to the gallows in Ireland over their wine, than +with the pike in their hands. Take care of your friends, I say.” +</p> +<p> +“You wrong them. Darby; and you wrong me. Never have I heard from one here +a single word that could offend the proudest heart among us.” +</p> +<p> +“Why would they? what need of it? Ar'n't we down, down? ar'n't we hunted +like wild beasts? is the roof left to shelter us? dare we walk the roads? +dare we say 'God save ye!' when we meet, and not be tried for pass words? +It 's no wonder they pity us; the hardest heart must melt sometimes.” +</p> +<p> +“As to myself,” said I,—for there was no use in attempting to reason +with him further,—“my every wish is with the cause as warmly as on +the day we parted. But I look to France—” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, and why not? I remember the time your eye flashed and your cheek grew +another color when you spoke of that.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Darby,” said I, after a pause; “and I had not been here now, but +that the only means I possessed of forwarding myself in the French service +are unfortunately lost to me.” +</p> +<p> +“And what was that?” interrupted he, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Some letters which the poor Captain de Meudon gave me,” said I, +endeavoring to seem as much at ease as I could. +</p> +<p> +Darby stooped down as I spoke, and ripping open the lining of his cloak, +produced a small parcel fastened with a cord, saying, “Are these what you +mean?” +</p> +<p> +I opened it with a trembling hand, and to my inexpressible delight, +discovered Charles's letter to the head of the Ecole Polytechnique, +together with a letter of credit and two cheques on his banker. The note +to his sister was not, however, among them. +</p> +<p> +“How came you by these papers, Darby?” inquired I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“I found them on the road Barton travelled, the same evening you made your +escape from the yeomanry; you remember that? They were soon missed, and an +orderly was sent back to search for them. Since that, I 've kept them by +me; and it was only yesterday that I thought of bringing them to you, +thinking you might know something about them.” +</p> +<p> +“There 's a mark on this one,” said I, still gazing on the paper in my +hand; “it looks like blood.” +</p> +<p> +“If it is, it 's mine, then,” said Darby, doggedly. And after a pause, he +continued: “The soldier galloped up the very minute I was stooping for the +papers. He called out to me to give them up; but I pretended not to hear, +and took a long look round to see what way I could escape where his horse +could n't follow me. But he saw what I was at; and the same instant his +sabre was in my shoulder, and the blood running hot down my arm. I fell on +my knees; but if I did, I took this from my breast” (here he drew forth a +long-barrelled rusty pistol), “and shot him through the neck.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/188.jpg" + alt="Darby Exchanges Compliments With a 'sodger' 188 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“Was he killed?” said I, in horror at the coolness of the recital. +</p> +<p> +“Sorrow one o' me knows. He fell on his horse's mane, and I saw the beast +gallop with him up the road with his arms hanging at each side of the +neck. And then I heard a crash, and I saw that he was down, and the horse +was dragging him by the stirrup; but the dust soon hid him from my sight. +And indeed I was growing weak too; so I crept into the bushes until it was +dark, and then got down to Glencree.” +</p> +<p> +The easy indifference with which he spoke, the tone of coolness in which +he narrated this circumstance, thrilled through me far more painfully than +the most passionate description; and I stood gazing on him with a feeling +of dread that unhappily my features but too plainly indicated. He seemed +to know what was passing in my mind; and as if stung by what he deemed my +ingratitude for the service he had rendered me, his face grew darkly red, +the swollen veins stood out thick and knotted in his forehead, his livid +lips quivered, and he said in a thick, guttural voice,— +</p> +<p> +“Maybe ye think I murdered him?” And then, as I made no answer, he resumed +in a different tone: “And faix, ye war n't long larnin' their lessons. But +hear me now: there never was a traitor to the cause had a happy life or an +easy death; there never was one betrayed us but we were revenged on him or +his. I don't think ye 're come to that yet; for if I did, by the mortial—” +</p> +<p> +As he pronounced the last word, in a tone of the fiercest menace, the +sound of many voices talking without, and the noise of a key turning in +the lock, broke in upon our colloquy; and Darby had scarcely time to +resume his disguise when Bubbleton entered, followed by three of his +brother officers, all speaking together, and in accents that evidently +betokened their having drunk somewhat freely. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you, again and again, the diamond wins it But here we are,” cried +Bubbleton; “and now for a pack of cards, and let 's decide the thing at +once.” +</p> +<p> +“You said you 'd bet fifty, I think?” drawled out Crofts, who was +unquestionably the most sober of the party. “But what have we here?” At +this instant his eye fell upon Darby, who had quietly ensconced himself +behind the door, and hoped to escape unseen. “Eh, what's this, I say?” +</p> +<p> +“What!” cried Bubbleton; “what do I see? A nymph with bright and flowing +hair; a hag like Hecuba, by Jove! Tom Burke, my man, how comes the damsel +here?” +</p> +<p> +“'Tis Kitty, ould Kitty Cole, your honor—The young gentleman was +buying a ballad from me, the Heavens prosper him!” said Darby. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing treasonous, I hope; no disloyal effusion, Tom; no scandal about +Queen Elizabeth, my boy,—eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Come, old lady,” said Cradock, “let's have the latest novelty of the +Liberty.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Bubbleton; “strike the harp in praise of—Confound the +word!” +</p> +<p> +“Hang the old crone!” broke in Hilliard. “Here are the cards. The game +stands thus: a spade is led,—you 've got none; hearts are trumps.” +</p> +<p> +“No, you mistake; the diamond's the trump,” said Cradock. +</p> +<p> +“I cry halt,” said Crofts, holding up both his hands; “the first thing is, +what's the bet?” +</p> +<p> +“Anything you like,” cried Bubbleton; “fifty,—a hundred,—five +hundred.” +</p> +<p> +“Be it then five hundred. I take you,” said Crofts, coolly, taking a +memorandum book from his pocket. +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” interposed Hilliard; “Bubbleton, you sha'n't do any such thing. +Five,—ten,—twenty, if you wish; but I 'll not stand by at such +a wager.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, if twenty be as much as you have got permission to bet,” +replied Crofts, insolently, “there's my stake.” So saying, he threw a note +on the table, and looked over at Bubbleton, as if awaiting his doing the +same. +</p> +<p> +I saw my poor friend's embarrassment, and without stirring from my place, +slipped a note into his hand in silence. A squeeze of his fingers replied +to me, and the same instant he threw the crumpled piece of paper down, and +cried out, “Now for it; decide the point.” +</p> +<p> +Crofts at once drew his chair to the table, and began with the utmost +coolness to arrange the cards; while the others, deeply interested in the +point at issue, looked on without speaking. I thought this a good +opportunity for Darby to effect his escape, and raising my hand +noiselessly, I pointed to the door. Darby, who had been only waiting for +the fortunate moment, stole quietly towards it; but while his hand was on +the lock, Crofts lifted his eyes towards me, and then throwing them half +round, intimated at once that he observed the manoeuvre. The blood +suffused my face and temples, and though I saw the door close behind the +piper, I could not recover from my embarrassment, or the fear that pressed +on me lest Crofts should have penetrated the secret of Darby's disguise, +and augured from the fact something to my discredit. +</p> +<p> +“The game is now arranged,” said he. “The spade being led here, the second +player follows suit; the third, having none, trumps the card, and is +overtrumped by the last in play. The trick is lost, therefore, and with it +the game.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” interrupted Bubbleton, “you mistake altogether. The diamond,—no, +the heart; I mean the—the—What the deuce is it? I say, +Cradock, I had it all correct a minute ago; how is it, old fellow?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, you 've lost, that's all,” said the other, as he looked intently on +the table, and seemed to consider the point. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Bubbleton, there's no doubt about it; you've lost. We forgot all +about the last player,” said Hilliard. +</p> +<p> +A violent knocking at the outer door drowned the voices of all within, +while a gruff voice shouted out, “Captain Bubbleton, the grand round is +coming up Parliament Street.” +</p> +<p> +Bubbleton snatched up his sword, and dashing through the room, was +followed by the others in a roar of laughter, Crofts alone remaining +behind, proceeded leisurely to open the folded piece of bank paper that +lay before him, while I stood opposite unable to take my eyes from him. +Slowly unfolding the note, he flattened it with his hand, and then +proceeded to read aloud,— +</p> +<p> +“Payez au porteur la somme de deux mille livres—,' +</p> +<p> +“I beg pardon,” interrupted I. “There's a mistake there; that belongs to +me.” +</p> +<p> +“I thought as much,” replied Crofts, with a very peculiar smile; “I +scarcely supposed my friend Bubbleton had gone so far.” +</p> +<p> +“There's the sum, sir,” said I, endeavoring to control my temper, and only +eager to regain possession of what would at once have compromised me, if +discovered. “This is what Captain Bubbleton lost; twenty pounds, if I +mistake not?” +</p> +<p> +“I must entreat your pardon, sir,” said Crofts, folding up the French +billet de hanque, “My wager was not with you, nor can I permit you to pay +it. This is at present my property, and remains so until Captain Bubbleton +demands it from me.” +</p> +<p> +I was struck dumb by the manner in which these words were spoken. It was +clear to me, that not only he suspected the disguise of the ballad-singer, +but that by the discovery of the French note he connected his presence +with its being in my possession. Rousing myself for the effort, I said,— +</p> +<p> +“You force me, sir, to speak of what nothing short of the circumstance +could have induced me to allude to. It was I gave Captain Bubbleton that +note. I gave it in mistake for this one.” +</p> +<p> +“I guessed as much, sir,” was the cool answer of Crofts, as he placed the +note in his pocket-book and clasped it. “But I cannot permit your candid +explanation to alter the determination I have already come to,—even +had I not the stronger motive which as an officer in his Majesty's pay I +possess,—to inform the Government, on such infallible evidence, how +deeply interested our French neighbors are in our welfare when they supply +us with a commodity which report says is scarce enough among themselves.” +</p> +<p> +“Do not suppose, sir, that your threat—for as such I understand it—has +any terror for me. There is, it's true, another whose safety might be +compromised by any step you might take in this affair; but when I tell you +that it is one who never did, never could have injured you, and, moreover, +that nothing treasonous or disloyal lies beneath your discovery—” +</p> +<p> +“You are really taking a vast deal of trouble, Mr. Burke,” said he, +stopping me with a cold smile, “which I am forced to say is unnecessary. +Your explanation of how this <i>billet de banque</i> came into your +possession may be required elsewhere, and will, I am certain, meet with +every respect and attention. As for me, an humble captain, with only one +principle to sustain me, one clue to guide me, in what I am disposed to +consider a question of some importance, I shall certainly ask advice of +others better able to direct me.” +</p> +<p> +“You refuse, then, sir, to restore me what I have assured you is mine?” +</p> +<p> +“And what I have no doubt whatever you are correct in calling so,” added +he, contemptuously. +</p> +<p> +“And you persist in the refusal?” said I, in a voice which unhappily +betrayed more temper than I had yet shown. +</p> +<p> +“Even so, sir,” said he, moving towards the door. +</p> +<p> +“In that case,” said I, springing before him, and setting my back against +it, you don't leave this room until in the presence of a third party,—I +care not who he be,—I have told you somewhat more of my opinion of +you than it is necessary I should say now. +</p> +<p> +The insulting expression of Crofts' features changed suddenly as I spoke, +the color left his cheek, and he became as pale as death; his eye wandered +round the room with an uncertain look, and then was fixed steadfastly on +the door, against which I stood firmly planted. At length his face +recovered its wonted character, and he said, in a cool, distinct manner,— +</p> +<p> +“Your difficulties have made you bold, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“Not more bold than you 'll find me whenever you think fit to call on me. +But perhaps I am wrong for suggesting a test, which report, at least, says +Captain Crofts has little predilection for.” +</p> +<p> +“Insolent cub!” said he, half drawing his sword from the scabbard, and as +hastily replacing it when he perceived that I never moved a muscle in my +defence, but stood as if inviting his attack. “Let me pass, sir,” cried +he, impetuously; “stand by this instant.” +</p> +<p> +I made no reply, but crossing my arms on my breast, stared at him firmly +as before. He had now advanced within a foot of me, his face purple with +passion, and his hands trembling with rage. +</p> +<p> +“Let me pass, I say!” shouted he, in an accent that boded his passion had +completely got the ascendant. At the same instant he seized me by the +collar, and fixing his grip firmly in my clothes, prepared to hurl me from +the spot. +</p> +<p> +The moment had now come that for some minutes past I had been expecting, +and with my open hand I struck him on the cheek, but so powerfully that he +reeled back with the stroke. A yell of rage burst from him, and in an +instant his sword leaped from the scabbard, and he darted fiercely at me. +I sprang to one side, and the weapon pierced the door and broke off short; +still, more than half the blade remained, and with this he flew towards +me. One quick glance I gave to look for something which might serve to arm +me; and the same moment the sharp steel pierced my side, and I fell +backwards with the shock, carrying my antagonist along with me. The +struggle was now a dreadful one; for while he endeavored to withdraw the +weapon from the wound, my hands were on his throat, and in his strained +eyeballs and livid color might be seen that a few seconds more must decide +the contest. A sharp pang shot through me. Just then a hot gush of warm +blood ran down my side, and I saw above me the shining steel, which he was +gradually shortening in his hand before he ventured to strike. A wild cry +broke from me; while at the instant, with a crash, the door of the room +fell forward, torn from its hinges. A heavy foot approached, and the blow +of a strong arm felled Crofts to the earth, where he lay stunned and +senseless. In a second I was on my feet. My senses were reeling and +uncertain; but I could see that it was Darby who came to my rescue, and +who was now binding a sash round my wound to stanch the blood. +</p> +<p> +“Now for it,—life or death 's on it now,” said he, in a low but +distinct whisper. “Wipe the blood from your face, and be calm as you can +when you're passing the sentry.” +</p> +<p> +“Is he—” I dared not speak the word as I looked on the still +motionless body that lay before me. +</p> +<p> +Darby raised one arm, and as he let it go, it fell heavily on the ground. +He stooped down, and placing his lips near the mouth, endeavored to +ascertain if he breathed; and then, jumping to his feet, he seized my arm, +and, in a tone I shall never forget, he said, “It 's over now!” +</p> +<p> +I tottered back as he spoke. The horrible thought of murder,—the +frightful sense of crime, the heaviest, the blackest that can stain the +heart of man,—stunned me. My senses reeled; and as I looked on that +corpse stretched at my feet, I would have suffered my every bone to be +broken on the rack, to see one quiver of life animate its rigid members. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Darby was kneeling down, and seemed to search for something +beside the body. “Ah! right! Come now,” said he; “we must be far from this +before daybreak. And it 's lucky if we We the means to do it.” +</p> +<p> +I moved onward like one walking ib a dream when horrible images surround +him and dreadful thoughts are ever crowding fast; but where, amid all, +some glimmering sense of hope sustains him, and he half feels that the +terrors will pass away, and his soul be calm and tranquil once more. What +is it? what has happened? was the ever-rising question, as I heard Darby +groping his way along the dark gallery and the darker stairs. +</p> +<p> +“Be steady, now,” said he, in a whisper; “we 're at the gate.” +</p> +<p> +“Who comes there?” cried the sentry. +</p> +<p> +“A friend!” said Darby, in a feigned voice, answering for me, while he +dropped behind me. +</p> +<p> +The heavy bolts were withdrawn, and I felt the cold air of the streets on +my cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Where to, now?” said I, with a dreamy oonsciousness that some place of +safety must be sought, without well knowing why or wherefore. +</p> +<p> +“Lean on me, and don't speak,” said Darby. “If you can walk as far as the +end of the quay, we 're all safe.” +</p> +<p> +I walked on without further questioning, and almost without thought; and +though, from time to time, Darby spoke to several persons as we passed, I +heard not what they said, nor took any notice of them. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XX. THE FLIGHT +</h2> +<p> +“Are ye getting weak?” said Darby, as I staggered heavily against him, and +gasped twice or thrice for breath. “Are ye bleeding still?” was his next +question, while he passed his hand gently within the sash, and felt my +wound. I endeavored to mutter something in reply, to which he paid no +attention; but stooping down, he threw me across his shoulder, and darting +off at a more rapid pace than before, he left the more frequented +thoroughfare, and entered a narrow and gloomy alley, unlighted by a single +lamp. As he hurried onward, he stopped more than once, as if in quest of +some particular spot, but which in the darkness he was unable to detect. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Holy Mother!” he muttered, “the blood is soaking through me! Master +Tom, dear! Master Tom, my darlin' speak to me,—speak to me, +acushla!” But though I heard each word distinctly, I could not utter one; +a dreamy stupor was over me, and I only wished to be left quiet. “This +must be it; ay, here it is,” said Darby, as he laid me gently down on the +stone sill of the door, and knocked loudly with his knuckles. +</p> +<p> +The summons, though repeated three or four times, was unheeded; and +although he knocked loudly enough to have alarmed the neighborhood, and +called out at the top of his voice, no one came; and the only sounds we +could hear were the distant cadences of a drinking song, mingled with wild +shouts of laughter, and still wilder cries of agony and woe. +</p> +<p> +“Here they are, at last!” said Darby, as he almost staved in the door with +a heavy stone. +</p> +<p> +“Who's there?” cried a harsh and feeble voice from within. +</p> +<p> +“'Tis me, Molly; 'tis Darby M'Keown, Open quick, for the love of Heaven! +here 's a young gentleman bleedin' to death on the steps.” +</p> +<p> +“Ugh! there 's as good as ever he was, and going as fast, too, here +within,” said the crone. “Ye must take him away; he would n't mind him now +for a king's ransom.” +</p> +<p> +“I 'll break open the door this minit,” said Darby, with a horrible oath, +“av ye don't open it.” +</p> +<p> +“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the hag. “If ye wor Darby M'Keown, ye 'd know well +how easy that is. Try it,—try it, acushla! oak timber and nails is +able to bear all you'll do!” +</p> +<p> +“See now,” said Darby, dropping his voice to a whisper; “see, Molly, here +'s five goold guineas for ye, av ye 'll let us in. 'T is a man's life 's +on it, and one I 'd give my own for twice over.” +</p> +<p> +“Av ye offered me forty,” replied she, “I dar'n't do it. Ye don't know the +sorrow that 's here this night; 't is Dan Fortescue is going. I 'm coming, +I 'm coming!” muttered she to some call from within. And then, without +waiting to hear more, she shuffled back along the passage, and left us +once more alone. +</p> +<p> +“There's nothing for it but this now,” said Darby, as, retiring a few +paces, he dashed his shoulder against the door with all his force; but +though a powerful man, and though every window rattled and trembled with +the tremendous shock, the strong panels withstood the stroke, and never +yielded in the least. “'T is no use firing through the lock,” said he, in +a tone of despair. “Blessed Joseph! what 's to be done?” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, the light tread of a barefooted child was heard coming up the +lane, and the same moment a little girl approached the door. She carried a +cup in her hand, and held it carefully, as if fearful of spilling its +contents. As she neared the door, she seemed uncertain how to proceed, and +at last, as if gaining courage, tapped twice at it with her knuckles. +</p> +<p> +“Don't ye know me, Nora?” said Darby; “don't ye know Darby the Blast?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Mister M'Keown, is this you? Ah, I'm afeard it 's little use there is +in coming here to-night; Mr. Fortescue's dying within, and Doctor Kenagh +can't leave him, I 'm bringing him this to take, but—” +</p> +<p> +“Nora, dear,” said Darby, “I 've a secret for Mr. Fortescue, and must see +him before he dies. Here 's a crown, my darlin', and don't tell any one I +gave it to ye.” Here he stooped down, and whispered rapidly some words in +her ear. +</p> +<p> +“Who 's there?” broke in the hag 's voice from within. “'T is me; Nora,” +said the child, boldly. “Are ye alone, there? do ye see any one about the +door?” +</p> +<p> +“Sorra one. Can't you let me in out of the cowld?” “Come in quick, then,” +said the crone, as she opened the door carefully, and only wide enough to +let the child pass; but the same instant Darby dashed forward his foot, +and flinging the door full wide, seized me by the collar, and dragged me +in after him, closing the door at once behind him. +</p> +<p> +The screams of the hag, though loud and vehement, were as unheeded as were +Darby's own efforts to attract notice half an hour before. +</p> +<p> +“Be quiet, I say; hush yer crying, or be the sowl o' the man that 's dyin' +I 'll dhrive a ball through ye.” The sight of a pistol barrel seemed at +last to have its effect, and she contented herself with a low wailing kind +of noise, as she tottered after us along the passage. +</p> +<p> +The cold air of the street and the rest combined had given me strength, +and I was able to follow Darby as he led the way through many a passage +and up more than one stair. +</p> +<p> +“Here it is,” said the child, in a whisper, as she stopped at the door of +a room which lay half ajar. +</p> +<p> +We halted in silence, and listened to the breathings of a man whose short, +sobbing respiration, broken by hiccup, denoted the near approach of death. +</p> +<p> +“Go on,” cried a deep, low voice, in a tone of eagerness; “ye 'll not have +the cough now for some time.” +</p> +<p> +The sick man made no reply, but his hurried breathing seemed to show that +he was making some unwonted effort. +</p> +<p> +At last he spoke, but in a voice so faint and husky, we could not hear the +words. The other, however, appeared to listen, and by a stray +monosyllable, dropped at intervals, to follow the tenor of his speech. At +last the sound ceased, and all was still. +</p> +<p> +“Go in now,” said Darby, in a whisper, to the child; “I 'll follow you.” +</p> +<p> +The little girl gently pushed the door and entered, followed by M'Keown, +who, however, only advanced one foot within the room, as if doubting what +reception he should meet with. +</p> +<p> +By the uncertain light of a wood fire, which threw in fitful flashes its +glare around, I perceived that a sick man lay on a mean-looking, miserable +bed in one corner of a dark room; beside him, seated on a low stool, sat +another, his head bent down to catch the low breathings which the dying +man gave forth from time to time. The heavy snoring sound of others asleep +directed my eyes to a distant part of the chamber, where I saw three +fellows lying on the floor, partly covered by a blanket. I had barely time +to see this much, when the figure beside the bed sprang forward, and in a +low but menacing tone, addressed M'Keown. +</p> +<p> +The last words only could I catch, as he said, “And if he wakes up, he may +know you still.” +</p> +<p> +“And if he does,” said Darby, doggedly, “who cares? Isn't there as good +blood as his shed for the cause? Look here!” +</p> +<p> +He dragged me forward as he spoke, and, tearing open my coat, pointed to +the sash that was now saturated with the blood that flowed at every stir +from my wound. The other looked fixedly at me for a second or two, took my +hand within his, and letting it fall heavily, he whispered a word to +M'Keown, and turned away. +</p> +<p> +“No, no!” cried Darby, violently. “By the holy Mass! ye 'll not trate me +that way. Sit down, Master Tom,” said he, as he forced me into an old +armchair beside the fire. “Here, take a drink of water. Come here, doctor; +come here, now; stop the bleeding. Stand by me this wonst, and by this—” +</p> +<p> +Here he crossed his fingers before him, and looked fervently upwards. But +at this instant the sick man sprang up in his bed, and looked wildly about +him. +</p> +<p> +“Isn't that Darby? isn't that M'Keown there?” cried he, as he pointed with +his finger. “Darby,” he continued, in a low, clear whisper, “Darby, see +here, my boy. You often said I 'd do nothing for the cause. Is this +nothing?” He threw back the bedclothes, as he spoke, and disclosed a +ghastly wound that divided his chest, exposing the cartilage of the ribs, +which stood out amid the welling blood that oozed forth with every +respiration he made. “Is it nothing that I gave up rank, and place, and +fortune; the broad acres that were in my family for three centuries; all +my hopes, all my prospects—” +</p> +<p> +“And if you did,” interrupted M'Keown, hastily, “you knew what for.” +</p> +<p> +“I knew what for!” repeated the sick man, as a deadly smile played upon +his livid face and curled his white lip. “I know it now, at least. To +leave my inheritance to a bastard; to brand my name with disgrace and +dishonor; to go down to the grave a traitor; and, worse still—” +</p> +<p> +He shuddered violently here, and though his mouth moved, no sound came +forth; he sank back, worn out and exhausted. +</p> +<p> +“Was he there,” said Darby to the doctor, with a significant emphasis on +the word,—“was he there to-night?” +</p> +<p> +“He was,” replied the other. “He thinks, too, he fired the shot that did +it; but, poor fellow! he was down before that. The boys brought him off. +That child is going fast,” continued he, as his eye fell upon me. +</p> +<p> +“Look to him, then, and don't be losin' time,” said Darby, fiercely. “Look +to him,” he added more mildly, and “the Heavens will bless ye! Here 's +twenty goolden guineas,—it's all I've saved these eight years,—here +they 're for you, and save his life.” +</p> +<p> +The old man knelt down beside me, and slipping a scissors within the scarf +that lay fastened to my side with clotted blood, he proceeded to open and +expose the situation of my wound. A cold, sick feeling, a kind of +half-fainting sensation, followed this, and I could hear nothing of the +dialogue that passed so near me. An occasional sting of pain shot through +me as the dressing proceeded; but save this, I had little consciousness of +anything. +</p> +<p> +At length, like one awakening from a heavy slumber, with faculties half +clouded by the dreamy past, I looked around me. All was still and +motionless in the room. The doctor sat beside the sick man's bed; and +Darby, his eyes riveted on me, knelt close to my chair, and held his hand +upon the bandage over my wound. +</p> +<p> +A gentle tap here came to the door, and the child I had seen before +entered noiselessly, and approaching the doctor, said, “the car is come, +sir.” +</p> +<p> +The old man nodded in silence, and then, turning towards Darby, he +whispered something in his ear. M'Keown sprang to his legs at once, his +cheek flushed deeply, and his eyes sparkled with animation. +</p> +<p> +“I have it! I have it!” cried he, “There never was such luck for us +before.” +</p> +<p> +With that he drew the old man to one side, and speaking to him in a low +but rapid tone, evinced by the violence of his gestures and the tremulous +eagerness of his voice how deeply he was interested. +</p> +<p> +“True enough, true enough,” said the old man, after a pause. “Poor Dan has +but one more journey before him.” +</p> +<p> +“Is he able to bear it, doctor?” said Darby, pointing towards me with his +finger; “that's all I ask. Has he the strength in him?” +</p> +<p> +“He'll do now,” replied the other, gruffly; “there's little harm done him +this time. Let him taste that whenever you find him growing weak; and keep +his head low, and there 's no fear of him.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, he took from a cupboard in the wall a small phial, which he +handed to M'Keown, who received the precious elixir with as much reverence +as though it contained the very wellspring of human existence. “And now,” +said Darby, “the less time lost now the better; it will soon be daylight +on us. Master Tom, can you rise, acushla? are you able to stand up?” +</p> +<p> +I made the effort as well as I could, but my limbs seemed chained down, +and even my arm felt like lead beside me. +</p> +<p> +“Take him on your back,” said the old man, hurriedly; “you 'll stay here +till sunrise. Take him downstairs, on your back, and when you have him in +the open air, turn him towards the wind, and keep his head low,—mind +that.” +</p> +<p> +I made another attempt to stand up; but before I could effect it, Darby's +strong arms were round my waist, and I felt myself lifted on his shoulder +and borne from the room, A muttered good-by passed between the others, and +Darby began to descend the stairs cautiously, while the little child went +before with a candle. As the street door was opened, I could perceive that +a car and horse stood in waiting, accompanied by two men, who, the moment +they saw me, sprang forward to Darby's assistance, and helped to place me +on the car. M'Keown was soon beside me, and supporting my head upon his +shoulder, he contrived to hold me in a leaning position, giving me at the +same time the full benefit of the cool breeze, which already refreshed and +restored me. +</p> +<p> +The vehicle now moved on in darkness and in silence. At first our pace was +slow, but it gradually quickened as we passed along the quay; for as such +I recognized it by the dull sound of the river near us. The bright lamps +of the greater thoroughfares soon made their appearance; and as we +traversed these, I could mark that our pace slackened to a walk, and that +we kept the very middle of the wide street, as if to avoid observation. +Gradually we emerged from this, and, as I heard by the roll of the wheels, +reached the outskirts of the town. We had not been many minutes there when +the horse was put to his speed, and the car whirled along at a tremendous +rate. Excepting a sense of weight and stiffness in the side, I had no +painful feeling from my wound; while the rapidity with which we passed +through the air imparted a sensation of drowsiness far from unpleasant. +</p> +<p> +In this state I scarcely was conscious of what passed about me. Now and +then some occasional halt, some chance interruption, would momentarily +arouse me, and I could faintly hear the sound of voices; but of what they +spoke I knew nothing. Darby frequently questioned me, but my utmost effort +at reply was to press his hand. By times it would seem to me as though all +I felt were but the fancies of some sick dream, which the morning should +dispel and scatter. Then I thought that we were flying from an enemy, who +pressed hotly on us, and gained at every stride; a vague, shadowy sense of +some horrible event mingling with all, and weighing heavily on my heart. +</p> +<p> +As the time wore on, my senses became clearer, and I saw that we were +travelling along the seaside. The faint gray light of breaking day shed a +cold gleam across the green water, which plashed with a mournful cadence +on the low, flat shore. I watched the waves as they beat with a heavy +sough amid the scattered weeds, where the wild cry of the curlew mingled +with the sound as he skimmed along the gloomy water, and my heart grew +heavier. There is something—I know not what—terribly in unison +with our saddest thoughts, in the dull plash of the sea at night: the +loudest thunders of the storm, when white-crested waves rise high and +break in ten thousand eddies on the dark rocks, are not so suggestive of +melancholy as the sighing moan of the midnight tide. Long-buried griefs, +long-forgotten sorrows, rise up as we listen; and we feel as though that +wailing cry were the funeral chant over cherished hopes and treasured +aspirations. +</p> +<p> +From my dark musings I was roused suddenly by Darby's voice, asking of the +men who sat at the opposite side how the wind was. +</p> +<p> +“Westing by south,” replied one; “as fair as need be, if there was enough +of it. But who knows, we may have a capful yet, when the sun gets up.” +</p> +<p> +“We 'll not have long to wait for that,” cried the other; “see there!” +</p> +<p> +I lifted my eyes as he spoke, and beheld the pink stain of coming day +rising above the top of a large mountain. +</p> +<p> +“That's Howth,” said Darby, seizing with eagerness the proof of my +returning senses. +</p> +<p> +“Come, press on as fast as you can,” said one of the men; “we must catch +the ebb, or we'll never do it.” +</p> +<p> +“Where does she lie?” said Darby, in a low whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Under the cliffs, in Bolskaton Bay,” said the last speaker, whom I now +perceived by his dress and language to be a sailor. +</p> +<p> +My curiosity was now excited to the utmost to know whither we were bound; +and with an effort I articulated the one word, “Where?” +</p> +<p> +Darby's eyes brightened as I spoke; he pressed my hand firmly within his, +but made no reply. Attributing his silence to caution, I pressed him no +further; and indeed, already my former indifference came back on me, and I +felt listless as before. +</p> +<p> +“Turn off there to the right,” cried the sailor to the driver. And +suddenly we left the highroad, and entered a narrow byway, which seemed to +lead along the side of the mountain close to the water's edge. Before we +had proceeded far in this direction, a long, low whistle was heard from a +distance. +</p> +<p> +“Stop there, stop!” said the sailor, as he knelt upon the car, and replied +to the signal. “Ay, all right; there they are,” said he, as, pointing to a +little creek between the rocks below us, we saw a small rowboat with six +men lying on their oars. +</p> +<p> +“Can't he walk?” said the sailor, in a half whisper, as he stood beside +the car. “Well, let 's lose no more time; we 'll take him down between +us.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” said Darby; “put him on my back; I 'll do it myself.” +</p> +<p> +“The ground's slippier than you take it,” said the other; “my way 's the +safest.” +</p> +<p> +With that he lifted me from the car, and placing me between Darby and +himself, they grasped each other's hands beneath me, and soon began a +descent which I saw would have been perfectly impracticable for one man to +have accomplished with another on his back. +</p> +<p> +During the time, my desire to know where they were bringing me again grew +stronger than ever; and as I turned to ask Darby, I perceived that the +tears were coursing each other fast down his weatherbeaten cheeks, while +his lips shook and trembled like one in an ague. +</p> +<p> +“Mind your footing there, my man, I say,” cried the sailor, “or you'll +have us over the cliff.” +</p> +<p> +“Round the rock to the left there,” cried a voice from below. “That's it, +that's it; now you're all right. Steady there; give me your hand.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, two men advanced from the boat, and assisted us down the +sloping beach, where the wet seaweed made every step a matter of +difficulty. +</p> +<p> +“Lay him in the stern there; gently, lads, gently,” said the voice of one +who appeared the chief amongst them. “That's it; throw those jackets under +his head. I say, piper, ar'n't you coming with us?” +</p> +<p> +But Darby could not speak one word. A livid pallor was over his features, +and the tears fell, drop by drop, upon his cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Master Tom,” said he, at length, as his lips almost touched me, “my +child, my heart's blood, you won't forget poor Darby. Ye 'll be a great +man yet; ye 'll be all I wish ye. But will you remember a poor man like +me?” +</p> +<p> +“Jump ashore there, my good fellow,” cried the coxswain; “we'll have +enough to do to round the point before the tide ebbs.” +</p> +<p> +“One minit more, and God love ye for it,” said Darby, in a voice of +imploring accent. “Who knows will we ever meet again; 't is the last time, +maybe, I 'll ever look on him.” +</p> +<p> +I could but press his hand to my heart; for my agitation increased the +debility I felt, and every effort to speak was in vain. +</p> +<p> +“One half minit more,—if it 's only that he 'll be able to say, 'God +bless you, Darby!' and I 'll be happy.” +</p> +<p> +“Push off, my lads!” shouted the sailor, sternly; and as he spoke the oars +plashed heavily in the sea, and the boat rocked over with the impulse. +Twice the strong stroke of the oars sent the craft through the clear +water, when the piper clasped his arm wildly around me, and kissing me on +the cheek, he sprang over the side. The waves were nearly to his +shoulders; but in a few seconds he had buffeted through them, and stood +upon the shore. +</p> +<p> +With a last effort I waved my hand in adieu; and as I sank back exhausted, +I heard a wild cry burst from him, half in triumph, half in despair. One +glance more I caught of his figure as we stood out to sea; he was kneeling +on the beach, bareheaded, and as if in prayer. The tears gushed from my +eyes as I beheld him, and the long pent up sorrow at last broke forth, and +I sobbed like a child. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, my lad! don't feel downhearted,” said the sailor, laying his +hand on my shoulder; “the world can scarce have been over rough to one so +young as you are. Lift up your head, and see what a glorious morning we +'ve got! And there comes the breeze over the water. We hadn't such weather +the last time we made this trip, I assure you.” +</p> +<p> +I looked up suddenly; and truly never did such a scene of loveliness meet +my eyes. The sun had risen in all his glorious brilliancy, and poured a +flood of golden light across the bay, tipping with a violet hue the +far-off peaks of the Wicklow mountains, and lighting up the wooded valleys +at their feet. Close above us rose the rugged sides of Howth in dark +shadow; the frowning rocks and gloomy caverns contrasting with the +glittering tints of the opposite coast, where every cottage and cliff +sparkled in the dancing sunlight. +</p> +<p> +As we rounded the point, a cheer broke from the men, and was answered at +once. I turned my head, and saw beneath the tall cliffs the taper spars of +a small vessel, from which the sails hung listlessly, half brailed to the +mast. +</p> +<p> +“There she lies,” said the skipper. “That 's the 'Saucy Sal,' my master; +and if you're any judge of a craft, I think you 'll like her. Give way, +lads,—give way; when that rock yonder 's covered, the tide is at the +flood.” +</p> +<p> +The boat sprang to the strong jerk of their brawny arms, and in a few +minutes glided into the little creek where the “Saucy Sal” lay at anchor. +</p> +<p> +Lifting me up, they placed me on board the little vessel; while, without +losing a moment, they proceeded to ship the anchor and shake out the +canvas. In less than five minutes the white sails bent to the breeze, the +water rustled at the prow, and we stood out to sea. +</p> +<p> +“Where to?” said I, in a faint whisper, to the sailor who held the tiller +beside me. +</p> +<p> +“Down Channel, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“And then?” asked I once more,—“and then?” +</p> +<p> +“That must depend on the revenue cruisers, I believe,” said he, more +gruffly, and evidently indisposed to further questioning. +</p> +<p> +Alas! I had too little interest in life to care for where, and laying my +head upon my arm, fell into a heavy stupor for several hours. +</p> +<p> +The hot sun, the breeze, the unaccustomed motion, and worse than all, the +copious libations of brandy and water I was forced from time to time to +take, gradually brought on fever; and before evening, a burning thirst and +throbbing headache seized me, and my senses, that hitherto had been but +lethargic, became painfully acute, and my reason began to wander. In this +state I remained for days, totally unconscious of the flight of time; +frightful images of the past pursuing each other through my heated brain, +and torturing me with horrors unspeakable. +</p> +<p> +It was in one of my violent paroxysms I tore the bandage from my side, and +reopening my half-healed wound, became in a moment deluged with blood. I +have no memory of aught that followed; the debility of almost death itself +succeeded, and I lay without sense or motion. To this circumstance I owed +my life, for when I next rallied the fever had left me, my senses were +unclouded, my cheek no longer burned, nor did my temples throb; and as the +sea breeze played across my face, I drank it in with ecstasy, and felt +once more the glorious sensations of returning health. +</p> +<p> +It was evening; the faint wind that follows sunset scarce filled the sails +as we glided along through the waveless sea. I had been listening to the +low, monotonous song of one of the sailors as he sat mending a sail beside +me, when suddenly I heard a voice hail us from the water. The skipper +jumped on the halfdeck, and immediately replied. The words I could not +hear, but by the stir and movement about me I saw something unusual had +occurred, and by an effort I raised my head above the bulwark and looked +about me. A long, low craft lay close alongside us, filled with men, whose +blue caps and striped shirts struck me as strange and uncommon, not less +than their black belts and cutlasses, with which every man was armed. +After an interchange of friendly greetings with our crew,—for such +they seemed, although I could not catch the words,—she moved rapidly +past us. +</p> +<p> +“There's their flotilla, sir,” said the helmsman, as he watched my eye +while it wandered over the water. +</p> +<p> +I crept up higher, and followed the direction of his finger. Never shall I +forget that moment. Before me, scarce as it seemed a mile distant, lay a +thousand boats at anchor, beneath the shadow of tall sandhills, decorated +with gay and gaudy pennons, crowded with figures whose bright colors and +glittering arms shone gorgeously in the setting sunlight. The bright waves +reflected the myriad tints, while they seemed to plash in unison with the +rich swell of martial music that stole along the water with every +freshening breeze. The shore was covered with tents, some of them +surmounted with large banners that floated out gayly to the breeze; and +far as the eye could reach were hosts of armed men dotted over the wide +plain beside the sea. Vast columns of infantry were there,— cavalry +and artillery, too,—their bright arms glittering, and their gay +plumes waving, but all still and motionless, as if spellbound. As I +looked, I could see horsemen gallop from the dense squares, and riding +hurriedly to and fro. Suddenly a blue rocket shot into the calm sky, and +broke in a million glittering fragments over the camp; the deep roar of a +cannon boomed out; and then the music of a thousand bands swelled high and +full, and in an instant the whole plain was in motion, and the turf +trembled beneath the tramp of marching men. Regiment followed regiment, +squadron poured after squadron, as they descended the paths towards the +beach; while a long, dark line wound through the glittering mass, and +marked the train of the artillery, as with caissons and ammunition wagons +they moved silently over the grassy surface. +</p> +<p> +All that I had ever conceived of warlike preparation was as nothing to the +gorgeous spectacle before me. The stillness of the evening air, made +tremulous with the clang of trumpets and the hoarse roar of drums; the +mirror-like sea, colored with the reflection of bright banners and waving +pennants; and then the simultaneous step of the mighty army,—so +filled up every sense that I feared lest all might prove the mere pageant +of a dream, and vanish as it came. +</p> +<p> +“What a glorious sight!” cried I, at length, half wild with enthusiasm. +“Where are we?” +</p> +<p> +“Where are we?” repeated the skipper, smiling. “Look out, and you 'll soon +guess that. Are those very like the uniforms of King George? When did you +see steel breastplates and helmets before? This is France, my lad!” +</p> +<p> +“France! France!” said I, stupefied with the mere thought. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, to be sure. That 's the Army of England, as they call it, you see +yonder; they are practising the embarkation. See the red rockets! There +they go,—three, four, five, six,—that's the signal. In less +than half an hour thirty thousand men will be ready to embark. Mark how +they press on faster and faster! and watch the cavalry, as they dismount +and lead their horses down the steep! See how the boats pull in shore! +But, hallo there! we shall get foul of the gunboats,—already we 've +run in too close. Down helm, my lad; keep the headland yonder on your +lee.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, the light craft bent over to the breeze, and skipped freely +over the blue water. Each moment wafted us farther away from the bright +scene, and soon a projecting point shut out the whole, save the swell of +the brass bands as it floated on the breeze, and I might have believed it +a mere delusion. +</p> +<p> +“They practise that manoeuvre often enough to know it well,” said the +skipper, “sometimes at daybreak, now at noonday, and again, as we see, at +sunset; and no one knows at what moment the attack that seems a feint may +not turn out to be real. But here we are now alongside; our voyage is +ended.” +</p> +<p> +The anchor plashed from our bow, while a signal was made from the shore +and answered by us; and in an instant we were surrounded with boats. +</p> +<p> +“Ha, Antoine!” cried a sous-officier in a naval uniform, who sat on the +gunwale of a long eight-oar gig, and touched his hat in recognition of our +skipper; “what news <i>outre mer</i>? what are we doing in Ireland?” +</p> +<p> +“My young friend here must tell you that,” replied the skipper, +laughingly, as he laid his hand on my shoulder. “Let me present him to +you: Mr. Burke,—Lieutenant Brevix.” +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant saluted me politely; and then, springing up, he jumped +gayly on board of us, and shook our hands with great appearance of +cordiality. +</p> +<p> +“They 'll want to see you ashore, Antoine, as soon as may be; there are +despatches going off to-night for Paris, and they 'll be glad to send the +last accounts of the state of the Channel.” +</p> +<p> +“Light winds and no cruisers are all I have to tell them, then,” said the +skipper. +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant now took him aside, and they conversed for some time in a +low tone, during which I occupied myself by watching the sentinels who +paraded incessantly to and fro along a low wooden pier that stretched out +into the sea, and formed, with a promontory at some distance, a small +harbor. Their watch seemed of the most vigilant, if I might judge from the +low but continued cry which passed from mouth to mouth of “Sentinelle, +prenez garde a vous;” while from each boat across the harbor a sing-song +note chanted in response the monotonous sounds, “Bon quart!” as each +quarter of an hour stole past. +</p> +<p> +These precautions against the approach of any strange craft extended, as I +afterwards learned, along the entire coast from Dieppe to Ostend; yet were +they not sufficient to prevent frequent visits from the English spies, who +penetrated into every quarter of the camp, and even had the hardihood to +visit the theatre of the town, and express loudly their disapprobation of +the performance. +</p> +<p> +“You 'd better come ashore with me, sir,” said the lieutenant; “Colonel +Dorsenne will be glad to ask you some questions. What papers have you +got?” +</p> +<p> +“None, save a few private letters,” said I, somewhat confused at the +question. +</p> +<p> +“No matter,” said he, gayly. “I hear from Antoine you wish to join the +service here. That wish is your best recommendation to the colonel; he 'll +not trouble you for reasons, I warrant you. Conduct monsieur to the +quartier-général,” said the lieutenant to a corporal, who, with his party +of four men, stood awaiting at the landing-place the arrival of any one +from the boats; and in an instant, the men falling to each side of me, +took their way along the pier. +</p> +<p> +I could mark as we went that more than once their looks were bent on me +with an expression of compassion and pity, which at the time I was at a +loss to explain. I knew not then that the road we were taking was that +which so often led to death; and that it was only on the very day before, +two Englishmen were shot for having ventured on shore without authority. +</p> +<p> +The consigne of the corporal passed us through one post after another, +until we reached the open plain, over which now the night was falling +fast. A lantern at some distance off marked the quarters of the officer on +duty; and thither we directed our steps, and at last reached a small +wooden hut, from within which the sounds of mirth and revelry proceeded. +The voice of the sentinel who challenged us brought an officer to the +door, who the moment his eyes fell on me stepped back, and passing his +hand hurriedly across his forehead muttered, half inaudibly, “Another +already!” +</p> +<p> +While he retired into an inner apartment, I had time to look at the +singular decorations which adorned the walls of the antechamber. Around on +every side, and arranged like trophies, were grouped the weapons of +different arms of the service, surmounted with some device emblematic of +their peculiar character; or sometimes the mere record of some famous +battle in which they had pre-eminently distinguished themselves. Here were +the long, straight swords of the cuirassier crossed above the steel +breastplate, and surmounted by the heavy helmet half hid in leopard skin, +and bearing the almost effaced word “Arcole” in front; there was the short +carbine of the voltigeur, over which hung the red cap and its gay gold +tassel, with the embroidered motto “En avant” in gold letters. The long +and graceful weapon of the lancer, the curved sabre of the <i>chasseur à +cheval</i>, even the axe of the pioneer was not wanting,—displaying +at a glance some trait of every branch of the mighty force that bore the +proud designation of “La Grande Armée.” +</p> +<p> +I was busily engaged inspecting these when the door opened, and an officer +in full uniform appeared. His figure was above the middle size, strongly +and squarely built; and his bronzed features, and high, bold forehead, +gave him a soldier-like air. +</p> +<p> +“Your name, sir,” said he, quickly, as he drew himself up before me, and +looked sternly in my face. +</p> +<p> +“Burke,—Thomas Burke.” +</p> +<p> +“Write it down, Auguste,” said he, turning to a young officer, who stood, +pen in hand, behind him. +</p> +<p> +“Your rank or profession?” +</p> +<p> +“Gentilhomme,” said I, not knowing that the word expressed nobility. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, <i>pardieu</i>,” cried he, as he showed his white teeth in a grin; +“produce your papers, if you have any.” +</p> +<p> +“I have nothing save those letters,” said I, handing him those of De +Meudon. +</p> +<p> +Scarce had his eye glanced over them, when I saw his color heighten and +his cheek tremble. +</p> +<p> +“What!” cried he, “are you the same young Irishman who is mentioned here, +the constant companion and friend of poor Charles? He was my schoolfellow; +we were at Brienne together. What a mistake I was about to fall into! How +did you come, and when?” +</p> +<p> +Before I could reply to any of his many questions, the naval officer I had +met at the harbor entered, and delivered his report. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; I know it all,” said Dorsenne, hurriedly throwing his eye over +it. “It 's all right, perfectly right, Brevix. Let Capitaine Antoine be +examined at the quartier-général. I 'll take care of monsieur here. And, +to begin; come and join us at supper.” +</p> +<p> +Passing his arm familiarly over my shoulder, he led me into the adjoining +room, where two other officers were seated at a table covered with silver +dishes and numerous flasks of wine. A few words sufficed for my +introduction; and a few glasses of champagne placed me as thoroughly at my +ease as though I had passed my life amongst them, and never heard any +other conversation than the last movement of the French army, and their +projects for future campaigns. +</p> +<p> +“And so,” said the colonel, after hearing from me a short account of the +events which had induced me to turn my eyes to France,—“and so you'd +be a soldier? <i>Eh bien!</i> see nothing better going myself. There 's +Davernac will tell you the same, though he has lost his arm in the +service.” +</p> +<p> +“Oui, pardieu,” said the officer on my right; “I am not the man to +dissuade him from a career I 've ever loved.” +</p> +<p> +“À vous, mon ami,” said the young officer who first addressed me on my +arrival, as he held out his glass and clinked it against mine. “I hope we +shall have you one of these days as our guide through the dark streets of +London. The time may not be so distant as you think; never shake your head +at it.” +</p> +<p> +“It is not that I would mean,” said I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“What then?” said the colonel. “You don't suppose such an expedition as +ours could fail of success?” +</p> +<p> +“Nor that either,” replied I; “I am not so presumptuous as to form an +opinion on the subject.” +</p> +<p> +“Diantre, then! what is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Simply this: that whatever fortune awaits me, I shall never be found +fighting against the country under whose rule I was born. England may not +be—alas! she has not been—just to us. But whatever resistance +I might have offered in the ranks of my countrymen, I shall never descend +to in an invading army. No, no; if France have no other war than with +England,—if she have not the cause of Continental liberty at heart,—she +'ll have no blood of mine shed in her Service.” +</p> +<p> +“Sacristi!” said the colonel, sipping his wine coolly, “you had better +keep these same opinions of yours to your self. There 's a certain little +General we have at Paris who rarely permits people to reason about the +cause of the campaign. However, it is growing late now, and we 'll not +discuss the matter at present. Auguste, will you take Burke to your +quarters? And to-morrow I 'll call on the general about his brevet for the +Polytechnique.” +</p> +<p> +I felt now that I had spoken more warmly than was pleasing to the party; +but the sentiments I had announced were only such as in my heart I had +resolved to abide by, and I was pleased that an opportunity so soon +offered to display them. I was glad to find myself at rest at last; and +although events pressed on me fast and thick enough to have occupied my +mind, no sooner had I laid my head on my pillow than I fell into a sound +sleep. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXI. THE ÉCOLE MILITAIRE +</h2> +<p> +Let me now skip over at a bound some twelve months of my life,—not +that they were to me without their chances and their changes, but they +were such as are incidental to all boyhood,—and present myself to my +reader as the scholar at the Polytechnique. What a change had the time, +short as it was, worked in all my opinions! how completely had I unlearned +all the teaching of my early instructor, poor Darby! how had I been taught +to think that glory was the real element of war, and that its cause was of +far less moment than its conduct! +</p> +<p> +The enthusiasm which animated every corps of the French army, and was felt +through every fibre of the nation, had full sway in the little world of +the military school. There, every battle was known and conned over; we +called every spot of our playground by some name great in the history of +glory; and among ourselves we assumed the titles of the heroes who shed +such lustre on their country; and thus in all our boyish sports our talk +was of the Bridge of Lodi, Arcole, Rivoli, Castiglione, the Pyramids, +Mount Tabor. While the names of Kleber, Kellerman, Massena, Desaix, Murat, +were adopted amongst us, but one name only remained unappropriated; and no +one was bold enough to assume the title of him whose victories were the +boast of every tongue. If this enthusiasm was general amongst us, I felt +it in all its fullest force, for it came untinged with any other thought. +To me there was neither home nor family; my days passed over in one +unbroken calm,—no thought of pleasure, no hope of happiness, when +the fête day came round. My every sense was wrapped up in the one great +desire,—to be a soldier; to have my name known among those great men +whose fame was over Europe; to be remembered by him whose slightest word +of praise was honor itself. When should that day come for me? When should +I see the career open before me? These were my earliest waking thoughts, +my last at nightfall. +</p> +<p> +If the intensity of purpose, the strong current of all my hopes, formed +for me an ideal and a happy world within me, yet did it lend a trait of +seriousness to my manner that seemed like melancholy; and while few knew +less what it was to grieve, a certain sadness in me struck my companions, +on which they often rallied me, but which I strove in vain to conquer. It +was true that at certain times my loneliness and isolation came coldly on +my heart; when one by one I saw others claimed by their friends, and +hurrying away to some happy home, where some fond sister threw her arm +around a brother's neck, or some doting mother clasped her son close to +her bosom and kissed his brow, a tear would find its way down my cheek, +and I would hasten to my room, and locking the door, sit down alone to +think, till my sad heart grew weary, or my sterner nature rose within me, +and by an effort over myself, I turned to my studies and forgot all else. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile I made rapid progress; the unbroken tenor of my thoughts gave me +a decided advantage over the others, and long before the regular period +arrived, the day for my final examination was appointed. +</p> +<p> +What a lasting impression do some passages of early life leave behind +them! Even yet,—and how many years are past!—how well do I +remember all the hopes and fears that stirred my heart as the day drew +near! how each morning at sunrise I rose to pore over some of the books +which formed the subjects of examination: how, when the gray dawn was only +breaking, have I bent over the pages of Vauban and the calculations of +Carnot! and with what a sinking spirit have I often found that a night +seemed to have erased all the fruit of a long day's labor, and that the +gain of my hard-worked intellect had escaped me,—and then again, +like magic, the lost thought would come back, my brain grow clear, and all +the indistinct and shadowy conceptions assume a firm and tangible reality +which I felt like power! At such times as these my spirits rose, my heart +beat high, a joyous feeling throbbed in every pulse, and an exhilaration +almost maddening elevated me, and there was nothing I would not have +dared, no danger I would not have confronted. Such were the attractions of +my boyish days, and such the temperament they bequeathed to my manhood. +</p> +<p> +It was on the 16th of June, the anniversary of Marengo, when the drum beat +to arms in the court of the Polytechnique; and soon after the scholars +were seen assembling in haste from various quarters, anxious to learn if +their prayer had been acceded to,—which asked permission for them to +visit the Invalides, the usual indulgence on the anniversary of any great +victory. +</p> +<p> +As we flocked into the court we were struck by seeing an orderly dragoon +standing beside the headmaster, who was eagerly perusing a letter in his +hands; when he had concluded, he spoke a few words to the soldier, who at +once wheeled round his horse and trotted rapidly from the spot. +</p> +<p> +Again the drums rolled out, and the order was given to form in line. In an +instant the command was obeyed, and we stood in silent expectation of the +news which we perceived awaited us. +</p> +<p> +“Messieurs les élèves,” he began, when stillness was restored, “this day +being the anniversary of the glorious battle of Marengo, the General +Bonaparte has decreed that a review should be held of the entire school. +Lieutenant-General d'Auvergne will arrive here at noon to inspect you, and +on such reports as I shall give of your general conduct, zeal, and +proficiency will recommendations be forwarded to the First Consul for your +promotion.” +</p> +<p> +A loud cheer followed this speech. The announcement far surpassed our most +ardent hopes, and there was no limit to our enthusiasm; and loud vivas in +honor of General Bonaparte, D'Auvergne, and the headmaster himself were +heard on all sides. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely was the breakfast over when our preparations began. What a busy +scene it was! Here were some brushing up their uniforms, polishing their +sword-hilts, and pipeclaying their cross-belts; there might be seen others +conning over the directions of field manoeuvres, and refreshing their +memory of the words of command; some practised marching in groups along +the corridor; others, too much excited by the prospect before them, jumped +madly from place to place, shouting and singing snatches of soldier songs; +but all were occupied. As for me, it was only two days before I had +obtained my grade of corporal; my new uniform had only just come home, and +I put it on for the first time with no inconsiderable pride; indeed, I +could scarce turn my eyes as I walked from the stripes upon my arm that +denoted my rank. +</p> +<p> +Long before the appointed time we were all assembled, and when the clock +struck twelve and the drum beat out, not a boy was absent. We were drawn +up in three columns according to our standing, spaces being left between +each to permit of our wheeling into line at the word of command. The +headmaster passed down our ranks, narrowly inspecting our equipments and +scrutinizing every detail of our costume; but a stronger impulse than +ordinary was now at work, and not the slightest irregularity was anywhere +detectable. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the time passed on, and although every eye was directed to the +long avenue of lime-trees by which the general must arrive, nothing moved +along it; and the bright streaks of sunlight that peeped between the trees +were unbroken by any passing shadow. Whispers passed along the ranks,—some +fearing he might have forgotten the whole appointment; others suspecting +that another review elsewhere had engrossed his attention; and at last a +half murmur of dissatisfaction crept through the mass, which only the +presence of the <i>chef</i> restrained within due bounds. +</p> +<p> +One o'clock struck, and yet no rider appeared; the alley remained silent +and deserted as before. The minutes now seemed like hours; weariness and +lassitude appeared everywhere. The ranks were broken, and many wandered +from their posts, and forgot all discipline. At last a cloud of dust was +seen to rise at a distance, and gradually it approached the long avenue, +and every eye was turned in the direction, and in an instant the +stragglers resumed their places, and all was attention and anxiety, while +every look pierced eagerly the dense cloud, to see whether it was not the +long-wished-for staff which was coming. At length the object burst upon +our sight; but what was our disappointment to see that it was only a +travelling carriage with four post-horses that approached. No appearance +of a soldier was there,—not one solitary dragoon. A half-uttered +shout announced our dissatisfaction, for we at once guessed it was merely +some chance visitor, or perhaps the friends of some of the scholars, who +had thus excited our false hopes. +</p> +<p> +The chef himself participated in our feelings; and passing down the lines, +he announced that if the general did not arrive within ten minutes, he +would himself dismiss us, and set us at liberty. A cheer of gratitude +received this speech, and we stood patiently awaiting our liberation, when +suddenly, from the guard-house at the gate, the clash of arms was heard, +and the roll of drums in salute, and the same instant the carriage we had +seen rolled into the courtyard and took up its station in the middle of +the square. The next moment the door was opened and the steps lowered, and +an officer in a splendid uniform assisted three ladies to alight. Before +we recovered from the surprise of the proceeding, the master had +approached the party, and by his air of deference and deep respect denoted +that they were no ordinary visitors. But our attention was quickly drawn +from the group that now stood talking and laughing together, for already +the clank of a cavalry escort was heard coming up the avenue, and we +beheld the waving plumes and brilliant uniform of a general officer's +staff advancing at a rapid trot. The drums now rolled out along the lines; +we stood to arms; the gallant cortege turned into the court and formed in +front of us. All eyes were fixed on the general himself, the perfect beau +ideal of an old soldier. He sat his horse as firmly and gracefully as the +youngest aide-de-camp of his suite; his long white hair, dressed in queue +behind, was brushed back off his high broad forehead; his clear blue eye, +mild yet resolute, glanced over our ranks; and as he bowed to the +headmaster, his whole gesture and bearing was worthy of the Court of which +once he was a brilliant member. +</p> +<p> +“I have kept my young friends waiting for me,” said he in a low but clear +voice, “and it now remains for me to make the only amende in my power,—a +short inspection. Dorsenne, will you take the command?” +</p> +<p> +I started at the name, and looked round; and close beside him stood the +same officer who had so kindly received me the day I landed in France. +Though he looked at me, however, I saw he did not remember me, and my +spirits sank again as I thought how utterly friendless and alone I was. +</p> +<p> +The general was true to his word in making the inspection as brief as +possible. He rode leisurely down the ranks, stopping from time to time to +express his satisfaction, or drop some chance word of encouragement or +advice, which we caught up with eagerness and delight. Forming us into +line, he ordered his aide-de-camp to put us through some of the ordinary +parade manoeuvres, which we knew as thoroughly as the most disciplined +troops. During all this time the group of ladies maintained their position +in front, and seemed to watch the review with every semblance of interest. +The general, too, made one of the party, and appeared from time to time to +explain the intended movement, and direct their attention to the scene. +</p> +<p> +“Let them march past in salute,” said he, at length. “The poor fellows +have had enough of it; I must not encroach on the entire holiday.” +</p> +<p> +A unanimous cheer was the reply to this kind speech, and we formed in +sections and marched by him at a quickstep. The chef d'école had now +approached the staff, and was making his report on the boys, when the +general again interrupted him by saying,— +</p> +<p> +“Madame has expressed a wish to see the boys at their usual exercise of +the play hour. If the request be admissible—” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly, mon général; of course,” said he. And stepping forward, he +beckoned to one of the drummers to come near. He whispered a word, and the +tattoo beat out; and, like magic, every one sprang from his ranks, caps +were flung into the air, and vivas rung out from every quarter of the +court. +</p> +<p> +The sudden transition from discipline to perfect liberty added to our +excitement, and we became half wild with delight. The first mad burst of +pleasure over, we turned, as if by instinct, to our accustomed +occupations. Here were seen a party collecting for a drill, officers +gathering and arranging their men, and sergeants assisting in the muster; +there, were others, armed with spades and shovels, at work on an +entrenchment, while some were driving down stockades and fixing a +palisade; another set, more peaceful in their pursuits, had retired to +their little gardens, and were busy with watering-pots and trowels. +</p> +<p> +The section I belonged to were the seniors of the school, and we had +erected a kind of fort which it was our daily amusement to defend and +attack, the leadership on either side being determined by lots. On this +day the assault had fallen to my command, and I hurried hither and thither +collecting my forces, and burning for the attack. +</p> +<p> +We were not long in assembling; and the garrison having announced their +readiness by the display of a flag from the ramparts, the assault began. I +know not why nor wherefore, but on this day my spirits were unusually +high; it was one of those chance occasions when my temperament, heated and +glowing, had elevated me in my own esteem, and I would have given my life +for some opportunity of distinguishing myself. +</p> +<p> +I led my party on, then, with more than common daring, and though repulsed +by the besieged, we fell back only for a moment, and returned to the +assault determined to succeed; the others, animated by the same spirit, +fought as bravely, and the cheers that rose from one side were replied to +by shouts as full of defiance from the other. Heated and excited, I turned +round to order an attack of my whole force, when to my surprise I beheld +that the general and his staff, accompanied by the ladies, had taken their +places a short distance off, and were become interested spectators of the +siege. This alone was wanting to stimulate my efforts to the utmost, and I +now returned to the fight with tenfold impetuosity. But if this feeling +animated me, it also nerved my antagonists, for their resistance rose with +every moment, and as they drove us back from their walls, cheers of +triumph rang out and proclaimed the victory. +</p> +<p> +Already the battle had lasted nearly an hour, and all that was obtained +was a slight breach in one of the outworks, too small to be practicable +for assault. In this state were matters, when the sound of a cavalry +escort turned every eye towards the entrance to the courtyard, where we +now beheld a squadron of the Landers rouges following a numerous and +brilliant staff of general officers. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had they entered the gates when a loud cry rent the air, and +every voice shouted, “C'est lui! c'est lui!” and the next moment, “Vive +Bonaparte! vive le Premier Consul!” All that I ever heard from poor De +Meudon came rushing on my mind, and my heart swelled out till it seemed +bursting my very bosom. The next instant my eye turned to the little fort; +the moment was propitious, for there every cap was waving, every look bent +towards him, I seized the opportunity, and pointing silently to the +breach, stole forward. In a second I was beneath the grassy rampart; in +another, I reached the breach; the next brought me to the top, where, with +a shout of victory, I called on my men to follow me. On they came rushing,—but +too late; already the garrison were upon me, and overcome by numbers, I +fought alone and unsupported. Step by step they drove me to the edge of +the rampart; already my foot was on the breach, when with a spring I +dashed at the flagstaff, and carried it with me as I fell headlong into +the ditch. In a moment I was on my legs, but so stunned and crushed that I +fell almost immediately again; cold perspiration broke over my face and +forehead, and I should have fainted but that they dashed some water over +me. +</p> +<p> +As I lay sick and faint I lifted my eyes; and what was my amazement to +see, not the little companions of the school about me, but the gorgeous +uniform of staff officers, and two elegantly-dressed ladies, one of whom +held a cup of water in her hand and sprinkled it over my brow. I looked +down upon my torn dress, and the sleeve of my coat, where the marks of my +rank were already half effaced, and I felt the tears start into my eyes as +the remembrance of my late failure crossed my mind. At the instant the +crowd opened, and a pale but handsome face, where command was tempered by +a look of almost womanly softness, smiled upon me. +</p> +<p> +[Illlustration: C'était bien fait, mon enfant 223] +</p> +<p> +“C'était bien fait, mon enfant,” said he, “trés bien fait; and if you have +lost a coat by the struggle, why I must even see if I can't give you +another to replace it. Monsieur Legrange, what is the character of this +boy in the school? Is he diligent, zealous, and well-conducted!” +</p> +<p> +“All of the three. General,” said the chef, bowing obsequiously. +</p> +<p> +“Let him have his brevet,—to date from to-day. Who are his friends?” +</p> +<p> +A whispered answer replied to this inquiry. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said the first speaker; “reason the more we should take care of +him. Monsieur,” continued he, turning towards me, “to-morrow you shall +have your epaulettes. Never forget how you gained them; and remember ever +that every grade in the service is within the reach of a brave man who +does his duty.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he passed on, while, overcome by emotion, I could not speak or +move. +</p> +<p> +“There, he is much better now,” said a soft voice near me; “you see his +color is coming back.” +</p> +<p> +I looked up, and there were two ladies standing beside me. The elder was +tall and elegantly formed; her figure, which in itself most graceful, +looked to its full advantage by the splendor of her dress; there was an +air of stateliness in her manner, which had seemed hauteur were it not for +a look of most benevolent softness that played about her mouth whenever +she spoke. The younger, who might in years have seemed her daughter, was +in every respect unlike her: she was slight and delicately formed; her +complexion and her black eyes, shaded by a long dark fringe, bespoke the +Provençal; her features were beautifully regular, and when at rest +completely Greek in their character, but each moment some chance word, +some passing thought, implanted a new expression, and the ever-varying +look of her flashing eyes and full round lips played between a smile and +that arch spirit that essentially belongs to the fair daughters of the +South. It was not until my fixed gaze had brought a deep blush to her +cheek, that I felt how ardently I had been looking at her. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said she, hurriedly, “he's quite well now;” and at the same +moment she made a gesture of impatience to pass on. But the elder held her +arm close within her own, as she whispered, with something of half malice, +“But stay, Marie; I should like to hear his name. Ah,” cried she, starting +in affected surprise, “how flushed you are! there must be something in the +air here, so we had better proceed.” And with a soft smile and a courteous +motion of her hand, she passed on. +</p> +<p> +I looked after them as they went. A strange odd feeling stirred within my +heart,—a kind of wild joy, with a mingled sense of hope too vague to +catch at. I watched the drooping feather of her bonnet, and the folds of +her dress as they fluttered in the wind; and when she disappeared from my +sight, I could scarce believe that she was not still beside me, and that +lier dark eyes did not look into my very soul. But already my companions +crowded about me, and amid a hundred warm congratulations and kind wishes, +I took my way back to the college. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely was breakfast over the following morning, when the order arrived +for my removal from the scholar quarter of the Polytechnique to that +occupied by the cadets. A small tricolored cockade affixed to my hat was +the only emblem of my new rank; but simple as it was, no decoration ever +attracted more envy and admiration from the beholders, nor gave more pride +to the wearer, than that knot of ribbon. +</p> +<p> +“At number thirteen you 'll find your quarters, Monsieur le Cadet,” said a +sergeant, as he presented me with the official order. +</p> +<p> +I remember at this very hour what a thrill his military salute sent +through me. It was the first acknowledgment of my grade; the first +recognition that I was no longer a mere schoolboy. I had not much time +granted me to indulge such sensations, for already my schoolfellows had +thronged round me, and overwhelmed me with questions and felicitations. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, what a fortunate fellow! No examination to go through; has his grade +given him without toiling for it.”—“Is it the cavalry, Burke”—“Are +you a cheval?”—“When do you join?”—“Where is your regiment?”—“Shall +we see you again?”—“Won't you write to us all about the corps when +you join them?”—“Who is your comrade?”—“Yes, tell us that; who +is he?” +</p> +<p> +“Ma foi,” said I, “I know not more than yourselves. You are all aware to +what an accident I owe my promotion. Where I am destined for, or in what +corps, I can't tell. And as to my comrade—” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! take care he 's no tyrant,” said one. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes,” cried another; “show him you know what a small sword is at +once.” +</p> +<p> +“Burke won't be trifled with,” cried a third. +</p> +<p> +And then followed a very chorus of voices, each detailing some atrocity +committed by the cadets on their newly-joined associates. One had a friend +wounded in the side the very day he joined; another knew some one who was +thrown out of a window: here was an account of a delicate boy who passed +an entire night in the snow, and died of a chest disease three weeks +after; there, a victim to intemperance met his fate in the orgy that +celebrated his promotion. This picture, I confess, did somewhat damp the +ardor of my first impressions; and I took leave of my old friends with not +less feeling of affection, that I doubted how much kindness and good +feeling I had to expect from my new ones. +</p> +<p> +In this mood of mind I shook their hands for the last time, and followed +the soldier who carried my baggage to the distant quarter of the école. As +I entered the large court by the richly ornamented gate, whose bronzed +tracery and handsome carving dated from the time of Louis the Fourteenth, +my heart swelled with conscious pride. The façade of the square, unlike +the simple front of the scholars' quarters, was beautifully architectural; +massive consoles supported the windows, and large armorial insignia, cut +on stone, surmounted the different entrances. But what most captivated my +spirits and engaged my attention was a large flag in the centre, from +which waved the broad ensign of France, beside which a sentinel paced to +and fro. He presented arms as I passed; and the click of his musket, as he +stood erect, sent a thrill through me, and made my very fingers tingle +with delight. +</p> +<p> +“This is number thirteen, sir,” said the soldier, as we arrived in front +of one of the doorways; and before I could reply, the door opened, and a +young officer, in the uniform of an infantry regiment, appeared. He was +about to pass out, when his eye resting on the luggage the soldier had +just placed beside him, he stopped suddenly, and, touching his cap, asked +in a polite tone,— +</p> +<p> +“Not Mr. Burke, is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, bowing in return. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, mon camarade,” said he, holding out his hand, “delighted to see you. +Have you breakfasted? Well, you 'll find all ready for you in the +quarters. I shall be back soon. I 'm only going to a morning drill, which +won't last half an hour; so make yourself at home, and we'll meet soon +again.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he once more saluted me, and passed on. “Not very like what I +feared,” thought I, as I entered the quarters, whose look of neatness and +comfort so pleasantly contrasted with my late abode. I had barely time to +look over the prints and maps of military subjects which ornamented the +walls, when my new friend made his appearance. +</p> +<p> +“No parade to-day, thank Heaven,” said he, throwing down his cap and +sabre, and lolling at full length on the little camp sofa. “Now, mon cher +camarade, let us make acquaintance at once, for our time is likely to be +of the shortest. My name is Tascher, a humble sous-lieutenant of the +Twenty-first Regiment of Foot. As much a stranger in this land as +yourself, I fancy,” continued he, after a slight pause, “but very well +contented to be adopted by it.” +</p> +<p> +After this opening, he proceeded to inform me that he was the nephew of +Madame Bonaparte,—her sister's only son,—who, at his mother's +death, left Guadaloupe, and came over to France, and became an éleve of +the Polytechnique. There he had remained five years, and after a severe +examination, obtained his brevet in an infantry corps; his uncle Bonaparte +having shown him no other favor nor affection than a severe reprimand on +one occasion for some boyish freak, when all the other delinquents escaped +scot-free. +</p> +<p> +“I am now under orders for service,” said he; “but where for, and when, I +can't tell. But this I know, that whatever good fortune may be going +a-begging, I, Lieutenant Tascher, am very likely to get only the hem of +the garment.” +</p> +<p> +There was a tone of easy and frank good-nature in all he said, which at +once disposed me to like the young Creole; and we spent the whole +afternoon recounting our various adventures and fortunes, and before night +came on were sworn friends for life. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXII. THE TUILERIES IN 1803 +</h2> +<p> +The life of the cadet differed little from that of the schoolboy. The same +routine of study, the same daily round of occupation and duty, were his. +Until drafted to the particular corps to which he might be appointed, he +only could absent himself from the college by special leave; and the most +rigid of all military discipline prevailed during the brief interval which +was to fit him for the arduous life of a soldier. The evenings, however, +were at our disposal; and what a pleasure it was, the fatigue of the day +over, to wander forth into the city,—that brilliant Paris, near +which I had lived so long, and yet had seen so little of! +</p> +<p> +At first the splendor of the shops, the unceasing flow of population, the +might and grandeur of the public buildings, attracted all my attention; +and when these wore off in novelty, I could still wander with delight +through the gay gardens of the Tuileries, and watch the sparkling +fountains as they splashed in the pale moonlight, and look upon the happy +children who played about them, their merry laughter ringing through the +water's plash. What a fairy scene it was to watch the groups as they +passed and repassed—came and went and disappeared—amid those +dark alleys where the silent footstep did not mar the sounds of happy +voices! and then, how have I turned from these to throw a wistful glance +towards the palace windows, where some half-closed curtain from time to +time would show the golden sparkle of a brilliant lustre or the rich frame +of a mirror,—mayhap an open sash would for a moment display some +fair form, the outline only seen as she leaned on the balcony and drank in +the balmy air of the mild evening, while the soft swell of music would +float from the gorgeous saloon, and falling on my ear, set me a-dreaming +of pleasures my life had never known! +</p> +<p> +My utter loneliness pressed deeper on me every day; for while each of my +companions had friends and relatives, among whom their evenings were +passed, I was friendless and alone. The narrowness of my means—I had +nothing save my pay—prevented my frequenting the theatre, or even +accepting such invitations as the other cadets pressed upon me; and thus +for hours long have I sat and watched the windows of the palace, weaving +to myself stories of that ideal world from which my humble fortune +debarred me. +</p> +<p> +It had been years since the Tuileries exhibited anything resembling the +state that formerly prevailed in that splendid palace; but at the period I +speak of Bonaparte had just been chosen Consul for life, and already the +organization of his household had undergone a most considerable +alteration. In the early years of the Consulate a confused assemblage of +aides-de-camp, whose heavy gait and loud speech betokened less the court +than the camp, were the only attendants on his person; he lived in the +centre pavilion, as if in a tent in the midst of his army. But now he +inhabited the splendid suite of rooms to the left of the pavilion,—<i>de +l'horloge</i>, as it is called,—which stretches away towards the +river. The whole service of the palace was remodelled; and without +wounding those prejudices that attached to the times of the deposed +Monarchy by adopting the titles of chamberlain, or gentlemen of the +chamber, he gradually instituted the ceremonial of a Court by preferring +to the posts about his person those whose air and manners savored most of +the higher habitudes of society, and whose families were distinguished +among the noblesse of the kingdom. +</p> +<p> +Duroc, the chief aide-de-camp of the General, was appointed governor of +the palace; and it was said that the Consul himself studied all the +ancient ceremonial of the old Court, and ordained that every etiquette of +royalty should be resumed with the most unerring accuracy. The +chamberlains were represented by prefects of the palace; and Josephine had +her ladies of honor, like any princess of the blood royal. +</p> +<p> +The Consul, still imitating the observances of the Bourbons, had his <i>petits +levers</i> and his grand receptions; and if the new-created functionaries +possessed little of the courteous ease and high-bred habitudes of the old +Court, there was in their hard-won honors—most of them promoted on +the very field of battle—that which better suited the prejudices of +the period, and scarcely less became the gilded saloons of the Tuileries. +</p> +<p> +Like all newly-organized societies, the machinery worked ill at first. Few +if any of them had ever seen a Court; and the proud but yet respectful +obedience which characterized the French gentleman in the presence of his +sovereign was converted into an obsequious and vulgar deference towards +Bonaparte, equally opposite to the true type, as it was foreign to the +habits, of the blunt soldier who proffered it. +</p> +<p> +But what, after all, signified these blemishes? There was beauty: never in +the brighter annals of France had more lovely women filled those gorgeous +saloons. There was genius, heroism: the highest chivalry of the great +nation could scarce vie with the proud deeds of those grouped around him,—the +mighty one on whom each eye was fixed. And if, as M. Talleyrand remarked, +there were those who knew not how to walk on the waxed floor of a palace, +few could tread more finely the field of battles, and step with firmer +foot the path that led to glory. Yet, with all the First Consul's pride in +those whose elevation to rank and dignity was his own work, his +predilections leaned daily more and more towards the high and polished +circles of the Faubourg St. Germain. The courteous and easy politeness of +Talleyrand, the chivalrous and courtly bearing of the Comte de Narbonne, +and the graceful elegance of Ségur's manners, formed too striking a +contrast with the soldierlike rudeness of the newly-promoted generals, not +to make a profound impression on one who could, in the deepest and +weightiest concerns of life, take into calculation the most minute and +trivial circumstances. +</p> +<p> +This disparity, remarkable as it was among the men, was still more so in +the ladies of the Court,—few of those newly elevated having tact +enough either to imitate successfully the polished usages of the old +nobility, or resolution sufficient to maintain their original habits +without blushing at their own want of breeding. +</p> +<p> +If I have been led somewhat from the current of my own story by this +digression, it is merely that I may passingly note down some of the +features of the period,—one of the most remarkable in the history of +Modern Europe, and one which already, to the far-seeing eye of some, +betokened the speedy return to those very institutions of Monarchy to +uproot which cost the best blood of France, and a revolution the most +terrific the world has ever witnessed. +</p> +<p> +And now, looking back on the great career of that great man, no portion of +his history can, perhaps, present anything to compare with the splendor of +the Consulate. A long succession of victories, the spoils of half Europe, +glory to very satiety, had intoxicated the nation. A country flourishing +in every element of prosperity; social order restored; a high position +amid surrounding nations; and everything that could gratify national +ambition obtained,—France stood at the very pinnacle of her +greatness. Even the splendor of those names who represented the various +states of Europe at her Court seemed to attest her supremacy. The stately +and polished Whitworth, conspicuous by the elegance of his appearance and +the perfection of his aristocratic bearing; the Russian Ambassador, +Marcoff; the Chevalier Azara, the Minister of Spain, the courtier of +Europe; Baron de Cetto, the Envoy of Saxony, one of the most +distinguished, both by manners and ability, m the whole diplomatic circle, +were among those who frequented the First Consul's levies, which already, +in the splendor of costume and the gorgeous display of uniform, rivalled +the most sumptuous days of the Monarchy. +</p> +<p> +All the long-forgotten ceremonial of a Court was restored. Dinners, most +splendid in all the array of pomp and grandeur, were given every week; +fêtes, that vied with the luxurious era of Louis the Fourteenth himself, +took place frequently; and Paris became the rendezvous for all Europe, +curious to behold the rich trophies of successful wars, and mix in the +delight of a capital where pleasure reigned triumphant. +</p> +<p> +The theatre presented an array of genius and talent hitherto unequalled. +Talma and Mademoiselle Mars were in the very zenith of their fame, and +obtained a large share of Bonaparte's favor, whose tastes were eminently +dramatic. In a word, a new era had commenced, and every class and walk, +every condition of man, seemed resolved to recompense itself, by the +pursuit of pleasure, for the long and dark night of trouble through which +it had passed. +</p> +<p> +While, therefore, the Court of the First Consul partook of such features +as those, the circle of Josephine possessed attractions totally different. +There, amid her intimate friends, all the charm and fascination of French +society held sway. Each evening saw assembled around her the wittiest and +most polished persons of the day,—the gay and spirited talkers who +so pre-eminently gave the tone to Parisian society: the handsomest women, +and the most distinguished of the litterateurs of the period, found ready +access to one whose own powers of pleasing have left an undying impression +on some, who even still can recall those delightful moments. +</p> +<p> +Such were, in brief, the leading features of the Court then held in the +Tuileries; and such the germ of that new order of things which was so soon +to burst forth upon astonished Europe under the proud title of The Empire. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIII. A SURPRISE. +</h2> +<p> +I WAS sitting one evening alone in my quarters, an open volume before me, +in which I persuaded myself I was reading, while my thoughts were far +otherwise engaged, when my comrade Tascher suddenly entered the room, and +throwing himself into a chair, exclaimed, in a tone of passionate +impatience,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i> it is a fine thing to be nephew to the first man in +France!” +</p> +<p> +“What has happened?” said I, when I perceived that he stopped short +without explaining further. +</p> +<p> +“What has happened!—enough to drive one mad. Just hear this. You +know how fond I am of Paris, and how naturally I must wish to be near the +Tuileries, where I have the <i>entrée</i> to my aunt's soirees. Well, +there was a vacancy occurred yesterday in the huitieme hussars,—a +corps always stationed here or at Versailles,—and as I am longing to +have a cavalry grade, I waited on Madame Bonaparte to solicit her interest +in my favor. She promised, of course. The General was to breakfast with +her, and it was all settled: she was to ask him for the promotion, and I +had not a doubt of success; in fact, if I must confess, I told two or +three of my friends, and actually received their congratulations. +</p> +<p> +“It so fell out, however, that he did not come to breakfast, nor dinner +either,—there's no knowing that man. But what think you? He walked +in this evening, just as we were preparing to act a proverb. Such a scene +as it was, to be sure. No one expected him. Most of us were dressed up in +costumes of one kind or other; and I, <i>ma foi!</i>—ridiculous +enough, I suppose,—I was costumed like a galley slave. He stood for +a second or two at the door with his arms folded, and his stern eyes +wandering over the whole room. There was not one amongst us would not have +wished himself many a mile away; even my aunt herself seemed quite +confused, and blushed, and grew pale, and blushed again. +</p> +<p> +“'Ha!' cried he at last, in his dry, short voice. 'Pardon, ladies and +gentlemen, I have made a mistake; I believed I was in the Palace of the +Tuileries, and I find this is the Porte St. Martin.' +</p> +<p> +“'Fi donc, Bonaparte!' cried my aunt, blushing, while with one of her +sweetest-smiles she endeavored to bring him back to good-humor. 'See how +you have frightened Madame de Narbonne—she 'll never be able to play +the miller's wife; and Marie here,—her tears will wash away all her +rouge.' +</p> +<p> +“'And this amiable gentleman, what is to become of him?' said he, +interrupting her, while he laid his hand on my shoulder, and I stood +trembling like a culprit beside him. +</p> +<p> +“'Ah, there! that 's Tascher,' said she, laughingly; and as if happy to +escape from her greater embarrassment by any means, she continued: 'Your +question comes, indeed, quite a propos. I have a request to make in his +favor: there's a vacancy in the huitieme, I think it is,—eh, +Edward?' (I nodded slightly, for if my life depended on it, I could not +have uttered a word.) 'Now, I am sure he 's been sous-lieutenant long +enough; and in the infantry too.' +</p> +<p> +“'Can you ride well, sir?' said he, turning to me with a half frown on his +pale face. +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, General,' replied I, with my heart almost choking me as I spoke. +</p> +<p> +“'Well, sir, you shall be employed, and in a service worthy your present +tastes, if I may judge from your costume. A detachment of prisoners is to +march to-morrow from this for the Bagne de Brest; hold yourself in +readiness to accompany the military escort. Go, sir, and report yourself +to your colonel.' He waved his hand when he had finished; and how I left +the room, reached the street, and found myself here, hang me if I can tell +you.” +</p> +<p> +“And is there no help for this? Must you really go?” said I, +compassionating the dejected and sorrow-struck expression of the youth. +</p> +<p> +“Must I go! <i>Ma foi</i> you know little of this dear uncle of mine, if +you ask such a question. When once his mind 's made up, anything like an +attempt to argue only confirms his resolve. The best thing now is, to obey +and say nothing; for if my aunt remonstrates, I may spend my life in +garrison there over the galley slaves.” +</p> +<p> +A knocking at the outer door interrupted our conversation at this moment, +and a corporal of the staff entered, with a despatch-bag at his waist. +</p> +<p> +“Sous-Lieutenant Tascher,” said he, touching his cap, and presenting a +large official-looking letter to my companion, who threw it from him on +the table, and turned away to hide his confusion. “Monsieur Burke,” said +the corporal, withdrawing another ominous document from his leathern +pouch. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Diantre!</i>” cried Tascher, turning quickly about, “have I got you +into a scrape as well as myself? I remember now the General asked me who +was my 'comrade.'” +</p> +<p> +I took the paper with a trembling hand, and tore it open. The first line +was all I could read; it was a War Office official, appointing me to the +vacant commission in the huitieme hussars. +</p> +<p> +Tascher's hand shook as he leaned on my shoulder, and I could feel a +convulsive twitching of his fingers as his agitation increased; but in a +second or two he recovered his self-command, and taking my hand within +both of his, he said, while the large tears were starting from his eyes,— +</p> +<p> +“I'm glad it's you, Burke!” and then turned away, unable to say more. +</p> +<p> +It was some time before I could bring myself to credit my good fortune. +Had I been free to choose, I could have desired nothing better nor more to +my liking; and when I succeeded at length, then came my embarrassment at +my poor friend's disappointment, which must have been still more poignant +as contrasted with my success. Tascher, however, had all the Creole warmth +of temperament. The first burst over, he really enjoyed the thought of my +promotion; and we sat up the entire night talking over plans for the +future, and making a hundred resolves for contingencies, some of which +never arose, and many, when they came, suggested remedies of their own. +</p> +<p> +At daybreak my comrade's horses came to the door, and a mounted orderly +attended to accompany him to the prison where the convoy were assembled. +We shook hands again and again. He was leaving what had been his home for +years,—Paris, the gay and brilliant city in whose pleasures he had +mixed, and whose fascinations he had tasted. I was parting from one with +whom I had lived in a friendship as close as can subsist between two +natures essentially different. We both were sad. +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, Burke!” said he, as he waved his hand for the last time. “I hope +you'll command the huitieme when next we meet.” +</p> +<p> +I hurried into the quarters, which already seemed lonely and deserted, so +soon does desolation throw its darkening shadow before it. The sword that +had hung above the chimney crosswise on my own was gone; the shako, too, +and the pistols were missing; the vacant chair stood opposite to mine; and +the isolation I felt became so painful that I wandered out into the open +air, glad to escape the sight of objects every one of which only suggested +how utterly alone I stood in the world when the departure of one friend +had left me companionless. +</p> +<p> +No one save he who has experienced it can form any just idea of the +intense hold a career of any kind will take of the mind of him who, +without the ties of country, of kindred, and of friends, devotes all his +energies in one direction. The affections that might, under other +influences, have grown up,—the hopes that might have flourished in +the happy sphere of a home,—become the springs of a more daring +ambition. In proportion as he deserts other roads in life, the path he has +struck out for himself seems wider and grander, and his far-seeing eye +enables him to look into the long distance with a prophetic vision, where +are rewards for his hard won victories, the recompense of long years of +toil. The pursuit, become a passion, gradually draws all into its vortex; +and that success which at first he believed only attainable by some one +mighty effort, seems at last to demand every energy of his life and every +moment of his existence: and as the miser would deem his ruin near should +the most trifling opportunity of gain escape him, so does the ambitious +man feel that every incident in life must be made tributary to the success +which is his mammon. It was thus I thought of the profession of arms: my +whole soul was in it; no other wish, no other hope, divided my heart; that +passion reigned there alone. How often do we find it in life that the +means become the end,—that the effort we employ to reach an object +takes hold upon our fancy, gains hourly upon our affections, and at length +usurps the place of what before had been our idol? As a boy, liberty, the +bold assertion of my country's rights, stirred my heart, and made me wish +to be a soldier. As years rolled on, the warlike passion sank deeper and +deeper in my nature,—the thirst for glory grew upon me; and +forgetting all save that, I longed for the time when on the battle-field I +should win my name to fame and honor. +</p> +<p> +In this wise were my musings, as I loitered homeward and entered my +quarters. A sealed packet, addressed Sous-Lieutenant Burke,—how that +humble title made my heart beat!—lay on my table. Supposing it +referred to my new appointment, I sat down to con it over at my leisure; +but no sooner had I torn open the envelope than a card fell to the ground. +I took it up hastily, and read,—“D'après l'ordre de Madame +Bonaparte, j'ai l'honneur de vous inviter à une soirée—” +</p> +<p> +“What!” cried I, aloud; “<i>me!</i>—invite me to the Palace! There +must be some mistake here.” And I turned again to the envelope, where my +name was legibly written, with my grade and the number of my new corps. +There could be no doubt of it; and yet was it still inexplicable. I that +was so perfectly alone,—a stranger, without a friend, save among the +humble ranks of the school,—how came such a distinction as this to +be conferred on me? I thought of Tascher; but then we had lived months +together, and such a thing had never been even alluded to. The more I +reflected on it, the greater became my difficulty; and in a maze of +confusion and embarrassment, I passed the day in preparation for the +evening,—for, as was customary at the period, the invitations for +small parties were issued on the very mornings' themselves. +</p> +<p> +My first care was to look after the uniform of my new corps, in which I +knew I must appear. My last remaining bank note—the sole survivor of +my little stock of wealth—was before me; and I sat calculating with +myself the costly outlay of a hussar dress, the full uniform of which had +not till now entered into my computation. Never was my ingenuity more +sorely tried than in the endeavor to bring the outlay within the narrow +limits of my little purse; and when at length I would think that all had +been remembered, some small but costly item would rise up against me, and +disconcert all my calculations. +</p> +<p> +At noon I set out to wait on my new colonel, whose quarters were in the +Place Vendome. The visit was a short and not over pleasant one; a crowd of +officers filled the rooms, among whom I edged my way with difficulty +towards the place where Colonel Marbois was standing. He was a short, +thick-set, vulgar-looking man, of about fifty; his mustache and whiskers +meeting above the lip, and his bushy, black beard below, gave him the air +of a pioneer, which his harsh Breton accent did not derogate from. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, c'est vous!” said he, as my name was announced. “You 'll have to +learn in future, sir, that officers of your rank are not received at the +levies of their colonel. You hear me: report yourself to the <i>chef +d'escadron</i>, however, who will give you your orders. And mark me, sir, +let this be the last day you are seen in that uniform.” +</p> +<p> +A short and not very gracious nod concluded the audience; and I took my +leave not the less abashed that I could mark a kind of half smile on most +of the faces about me as I withdrew from the crowd,—scarcely in the +street, however, when my heart felt light and my step elastic. I was a +sous-lieutenant of hussars; and if I did my duty, what cared I for the +smiles and frowns of my colonel? and had not the General Bonaparte himself +told me that “no grade was too high for the brave man who did so?” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/239.jpg" alt="Monsieur Crillac's Salon 239 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +I can scarcely avoid a smile even yet as I call to mind the awe I felt on +entering the splendid shop of Monsieur Crillac,—the fashionable +tailor of those days, whose plateglass windows and showy costumes formed +the standing point for many a lounger around the corner of the Rue de +richelieu and the Boulevard. His saloon, as he somewhat ostentatiously +called it, was the rendezvous for the idlers of a fashionable world, who +spent their mornings canvassing the last gossip of the city and devising +new extravagances in dress. The morning papers, caricatures, prints of +fashions, patterns of waistcoats, and new devices for buttons, were +scattered over a table, round which, in every attitude of indolence and +ease, were stretched some dozen of the exquisites of the period, engaged +in that species of half-ennui, half-conversation, that forms a +considerable part of the existence of your young men of fashion of every +age and every country. Their frock-coats of light cloth, high-collared, +and covered with buttons; their <i>bottes à revers</i> reaching only +mid-leg, and met there by a tight <i>pantalon collant</i>; their hair +studiously brushed back off their foreheads, and worn long, though not in +queue behind,—bespoke them as the most accurate types of the mode. +</p> +<p> +The appearance of a youth in the simple uniform of the Polytechnique, in +such a place, seemed to excite universal astonishment. Such a phenomenon +apparently had never been witnessed before; and as they turned fully round +to stare at me, it was clear they never deemed that any mark of rudeness +could be felt by one so humble as I was. Monsieur Crillac himself, who was +sipping his glass of <i>eau sucrée</i>, with one arm leaning on the +chimney-piece, never deigned to pay me other attention than a half-smile, +as, with a voice of most patronizing softness, he lisped out,— +</p> +<p> +“What can we do for you here, Monsieur?” +</p> +<p> +Apparently the answer to this question was a matter of interest to the +party, who suddenly ceased talking to listen. +</p> +<p> +“I wish to order a uniform,” said I, summoning up all my resolution not to +seem abashed. “This is a tailor's, if I don't mistake?” +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur is quite correct,” replied the imperturbable proprietor, whose +self-satisfied smile became still more insulting, “but perhaps not exactly +what you seek for. Gentlemen who wear your cloth seldom visit us.” +</p> +<p> +“No, Crillac,” interrupted one of the bystanders; “I never heard that you +advertised yourself as fashioner to the Polytechnique, or tailor in +ordinary to the corps of Pompiers.” +</p> +<p> +“You are insolent, sir!” said I, turning fiercely round upon the speaker. +The words were scarce spoken, when the party sprang to their legs,—some +endeavoring to restrain the temper of the young man addressed; others, +pressing around, called on me to apologize on the spot for what I had +said. +</p> +<p> +“No, no; let us have his name,—his name,” said three or four in a +breath. “De Beauvais will take the punishment into his own hands.” +</p> +<p> +“Be advised, young gentleman; unsay your words, and go your way,” said an +elder one of the party; while he added in a whisper, “De Beauvais has no +equal in Paris with the small sword.” +</p> +<p> +“There is my address,” said I, seizing a pen, and writing on a piece of +paper before me. +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” said De Beauvais, as he threw his eye on the writing; “he has got +his grade, it seems: all the better that,—I half shrunk from the +ridicule of an affair with a cadet. So you are serious about this?” +</p> +<p> +“Sir!” said I, all my efforts being barely enough to repress my rising +passion. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well! enough about it. To-morrow morning; the Bois de Boulogne; the +rapier. You understand me, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +I nodded, and was about to leave the place, when I remembered that in my +confusion I had neither asked my antagonist's name nor rank. +</p> +<p> +“And you, sir,” said I, “may I have the honor to learn who you are?” +</p> +<p> +“Pardieu, my young friend!” cried one of the others; “The information will +not strengthen your nerves. But if you will have it, he is the Marquis de +Beauvais, and tolerably well known in that little locality where he +expects to meet you to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Till then, sir,” replied I, touching my cap, as I turned into the street; +not, however, before a burst of laughter rang through the party at a +witticism of which I was the object, and the latter part of which only +could I catch. +</p> +<p> +It was De Beauvais who spoke: “In which case, Crillac, another artist must +take his measure.” +</p> +<p> +The allusion could not be mistaken, and I confess I did not relish it like +the others. +</p> +<p> +I should, I fear, have fallen very low in the estimate of my companions +and associates could the real state of my heart at that moment have been +laid open to them. It was, I freely own, one of great depression. But an +hour ago, and life was opening before me with many a bright and cheerful +hope; and now in an instant was my fortune clouded. Let me not be +misunderstood: among the rules of the Polytechnique, duelling was strictly +forbidden; and although numerous transgressions occurred, so determined +was the head of the Government to put down the practice, that the +individuals thus erring were either reduced in rank or their promotion +stopped for a considerable period, while the personal displeasure of +Greneral Bonaparte rarely failed to show itself with reference to them. +Now, it was clear to me that some unknown friend, some secret well-wisher, +had interested himself in my humble fate,—that I owed my newly +acquired rank to his kindness and good offices. What, then, might I not be +forfeiting by this unhappy rencontre? Was it not more than likely that +such an instance of misconduct, the very day of my promotion, might +determine the whole tenor of my future career? What misrepresentation +might not gain currency about my conduct? These were sad reflections +indeed, and every moment but increased them. +</p> +<p> +When I reached the college, I called on one of my friends; but not finding +him in his quarters, I wrote a few lines, begging he would come over to me +the moment he returned. This done, I sat down alone to think over my +adventure, and devise if I could some means to prevent its publicity, or +if not that, its being garbled and misstated. Hour after hour rolled past—my +wandering thoughts took no note of time—and the deep-tolled bell of +the Polytechnique struck eight before I was aware the day was nearly over. +Nine was the hour mentioned on my card of invitation: it flashed suddenly +on me. What was to be done? I had no uniform save that of the ecole. Such +a costume in such a place would, I feared, be considered too ridiculous; +yet to absent myself altogether was impossible. Never was I in such a +dilemma. All my endeavors to rescue myself were fruitless; and at last, +worn out with the conflict of my doubts and fears, I stepped into the +fiacre and set out for the Palace. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIV. THE PAVILLON DE FLORE. +</h2> +<p> +As my humble carriage slackened its pace to a walk on approaching the +Place Carousel, I for the first time perceived that the open space around +was thronged with equipages, moving slowly along in line towards the gate +of the Palace. A picket of dragoons was drawn up at the great archway, and +mounted gendarmes rode up and down to preserve order in the crowd. Before +me stretched the long facade of the Tuileries, now lighted up in its +entire extent; the rich hangings and costly furniture could be seen even +where I was. +</p> +<p> +What a sinking sense of shame overwhelmed me as I thought of my humble +position amid that mighty concourse of all that was great and illustrious +in France! and how I shrunk within myself as I thought of the poor scholar +of the Polytechnique—for such my dress, proclaimed me—mixing +with the most distinguished diplomatists and generals of Europe! The +rebuke I had met with from my colonel in the morning was still fresh in my +recollection, and I dreaded something like a repetition of it. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, why had I not known that this was a grand reception?” was the +ever-rising thought of my mind. My card of invitation said a soiree,—even +that I might have dared: but here was a regular levée! Already I was near +enough to hear the names announced at the foot of the grand staircase, +where ambassadors, senators, ministers of state, and officers of the +highest rank succeeded each other in quick succession. My carriage stood +now next but two. I was near enough to see the last arrival hand his card +to the huissier in waiting, and hear his title called out, “Le Ministre de +la Guerre,” when the person in the carriage before me cried to his +coachman, “To the left,—the Pa villon de Flore;” and at the same +moment the carriage turned from the line, and drove rapidly towards a +distant wing of the Palace. +</p> +<p> +“Move up! move up!” shouted a dragoon. “Or are you for the soiree de +Madame?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes!” said I, hastily, as I heard his question. +</p> +<p> +“Follow that carriage, then,” said he, pointing with his sabre; and in a +moment we left the dense file, and followed the sounds of the retiring +wheels towards a dark corner of the Palace, where a single lamp over a +gate was the only light to guide us. +</p> +<p> +Never shall I forget the sense of relief I felt as I lay back in the +carriage, and listened to the hum and din of the vast crowd growing each +moment fainter. “Thank Heaven,” said I, “it's no levee!” Scarce half a +dozen equipages stood around the door as we drove up, and a single dragoon +was the guard of honor. +</p> +<p> +“Whom shall I announce, sir?” said a huissier in black, whose manner was +as deferential as though my appearance bespoke an ambassador. I gave my +name, and followed him up a wide stair, where the deep velvet carpet left +no footfall audible. A large bronze candelabra, supporting a blaze of +waxlights, diffused a light like day on every side. The doors opened +before us as if by magic, and I found myself in an antechamber, where the +huissier, repeating my name to another in waiting, retired. Passing +through this, we entered a small drawing-room, in which sat two persons +engaged at a chess table, but who never looked up or noticed us as we +proceeded. At last the two wings of a wide folding door were thrown open, +and my name was announced in a low but audible voice. +</p> +<p> +The salon into which I now entered was a large and splendidly-furnished +apartment, whose light, tempered by a species of abat-jour, gave a kind of +soft mysterious effect to everything about, and made even the figures, as +they sat in little groups, appear something almost dramatic in their +character. The conversation, too, was maintained in a half-subdued tone,—a +gentle murmur of voices, that, mingling with the swell of music in another +and distant apartment, and the plash of a small fountain in a vase of +goldfish in the room itself, made a strange but most pleasing assemblage +of sounds. Even in the momentary glance which, on entering, I threw around +me, I perceived that no studied etiquette or courtly stateliness +prevailed. The guests were disposed in every attitude of lounging ease and +careless abandon; and it was plain to see that all or nearly all about +were intimates of the place. +</p> +<p> +As the door closed behind me, I stood half uncertain how to proceed. +Unhappily, I knew little of the habitudes of the great world, and every +step I took was a matter of difficulty. +</p> +<p> +“I think you will find Madame Bonaparte in that room,” said a middle-aged +and handsome man, whose mild voice and gentle smile did much to set me at +my ease. “But perhaps you don't know her.” +</p> +<p> +I muttered something I meant to be a negative, to which he immediately +replied,— +</p> +<p> +“Then let me present you. There is no ceremony here, and I shall be your +groom of the chambers. But here she is. Madame la Consulesse, this young +gentleman desires to make his respects.” +</p> +<p> +“Ha! our friend of the Polytechnique,—Monsieur Burke, is it not?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Madame,” said I, bowing low, and blushing deeply as I recognized, in +the splendidly-attired and beautiful person before me, the lady who so +kindly held the water to my lips the day of my accident at the school. +</p> +<p> +“Why, they told me you were promoted,—a hussar, I think.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Madame; but—but—” +</p> +<p> +“You are too fond of old associations to part from them easily,” said she, +laughing. “Come here, Stephanie, and see a miracle of manhood, that could +resist all the <i>clinquant</i> of a hussar for the simple costume of the +É cole Militaire. Monsieur de Custine, this is my young friend of whom I +told you the other day.” +</p> +<p> +The gentleman, the same who had so kindly noticed me, bowed politely. +</p> +<p> +“And now I must leave you together, for I see they are teasing poor Madame +Lefebvre.” And with a smile she passed on into a small boudoir, from which +the sounds of merry laughter were proceeding. +</p> +<p> +“You don't know any one here?” said Monsieur de Custine, as he motioned me +to a place beside him on a sofa. “Nor is there any very remarkable person +here to point out to you this evening. The First Consul's levée absorbs +all the celebrities; but by and by they will drop in to pay their +respects, and you 'll see them all. The handsome woman yonder with her fan +before her is Madame Beauharnais Lavalette, and the good-looking young +fellow in the staff uniform is Monsieur de Melcy, a stepson of General +Rapp.” +</p> +<p> +“And the large handsome man with the embroidered coat who passed through +so hurriedly?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, he is somebody,—that's Decrès, the Ministre de la Marine; he +is gone to the levee. And there, next the door, with his eyes cast down +and his hands folded, that is the Abbé Maynal, one of the most 'spirituel' +men of the day. But I suppose you 'd much rather look at the beauties of +the Court than hear long stories about literature and politics. And there +is the gem of loveliness among them.” +</p> +<p> +I turned my eyes as he spoke, and close beside me, engaged in an eager +conversation with an old lady, stood a young and most beautiful girl. Her +long hair, through which, in the then mode, violets were wreathed and +interwoven, descended in rich masses of curl over a neck white as marble. +The corsage of her dress, which, in imitation of Greek costume, was made +low, displayed her well-rounded shoulders to the greatest advantage; and +though rather below than above the middle size, there was a dignity and +grace in the air of her figure, and a certain elegance about her slightest +movements, that was most fascinating. +</p> +<p> +“And the 'Rose de Provence,'—how is she this evening?” said my +companion, rising suddenly, and presenting himself with a smile before +her. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! you here. Monsieur de Custine? we thought you had been at Nancy.” +</p> +<p> +The accent, the tone of voice in which she said these few words, sent a +thrill through me; and as I looked again, I recognized the young lady who +stood at Madame Bonaparte's side on the memorable day of my fall. Perhaps +my astonishment made me start; for she turned round towards me, and with a +soft and most charming smile saluted me, +</p> +<p> +“How they are laughing in that room!” said she, turning towards her other +companions. “Monsieur de Custine has deserted his dear friend this +evening, and left her to her unassisted defence.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi</i>,” replied he, “I got ill rewarded for my advocacy. It was +only last week, when I helped her out through one of her blunders in +grammar she called me a 'ganache' for my pains.” +</p> +<p> +“How very ungrateful! You that have been interpreter to her, her tutor for +the entire winter, without whom she could neither have obtained an ice nor +a glass of water!” +</p> +<p> +“So is it; but you are all ungrateful. But I think I had better go and pay +my respects to her. Pray, come along with me.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/247.jpg" alt="The Rose of Provence 247 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +I followed the party into a small room fitted up like a tent, where, amid +some half-dozen persons assembled around like an audience, sat a large, +florid, and good-looking person, her costume of scarlet velvet, turban, +and robe adding to the flushed and high-colored expression of her +features. She was talking in a loud voice, and with an accent of such <i>patois</i> +as I should much more naturally have expected in a remote faubourg than in +the gilded <i>salons</i> of the Tuileries. She had been relating some +anecdotes of military life, which came within her own experience; and +evidently amused her auditory as much by her manner as the matter of her +narrative. +</p> +<p> +“Oui, parbleu,” said she, drawing a long breath, “I was only the wife of a +sergeant in the 'Gardes Françaises' in those days; but they were pleasant +times, and the men one used to see were men indeed. They were not as much +laced in gold, nor had not so much finery on their jackets; but they were +bold, bronzed, manly fellows. You 'd not see such a poor, miserable little +fellow as De Custine there, in a whole demi-brigade.” When the laugh this +speech caused, and in which her own merry voice joined, subsided, she +continued; “Where will you find, now, anything like the Twenty-second of +the line? Pioche was in that. Poor Pioche! I tied up his jaw in Egypt when +it was smashed by a bullet. I remember, too, when the regiment came back, +your husband, the General, reviewed them in the court below, and poor +Pioche was quite offended at not being noticed. 'We were good friends,' +quoth he, 'at Mount Tabor, but he forgets all that now; that 's what comes +of a rise in the world. “Le Petit Caporal” was humble enough once, I +warrant him; but now he can't remember me.' Well, they were ordered to +march past in line; and there was Pioche, with his great dark eyes fixed +on the General, and his big black beard flowing down to his waist. But no, +he never noticed him no more than the tambour that beat the rappel. He +could bear it no longer; his head was twisting with impatience and +chagrin; and he sprang out of the lines, and seizing a brass gun,—a +<i>pièce de quatre</i>,—he mounted it like a fusee to his shoulder, +and marched past, calling out, 'Tu'—he always <i>tu'toied</i> him—' +tu te rappelles maintenant, n'est-ce pas, petit?'” +</p> +<p> +No one enjoyed this little story more than Madame Bonaparte herself, who +laughed for several minutes after it was over. Story after story did she +pour forth in this way; most of them, however, had their merit in some +personality or other, which, while recognized by the rest, had no +attraction for me. There was in all she said the easy self-complacency of +a kind-hearted but vulgar woman, vain of her husband, proud of his +services, and perfectly indifferent to the habits and usages of a society +'whose manners she gave herself no trouble to imitate, nor of whose +ridicule was she in the least afraid. +</p> +<p> +I sauntered from the room alone, to wander through the other apartments, +where objects of art and curiosities of every kind were profusely +scattered. The marbles of Greece and Rome, the strange carvings of Egypt, +the rich vases of Sevres were there, amid cabinet pictures of the rarest +and most costly kind. Those delicious landscapes of the time of Louis the +Fifteenth, where every charm of nature and art was conveyed upon the +canvas: the cool arbors of Versailles, with their terraced promenades and +hissing fountains,—the subjects which Vanloo loved to paint, and +which that voluptuous Court loved to contemplate,—the long alleys of +shady green, where gay groups were strolling in the mellow softness of an +autumn sunset; those proud dames whose sweeping garments brushed the +velvet turf, and at whose sides, uncovered, walked the chivalry of France,—how +did they live again in the bright pencil of Moucheron! and how did they +carry one in fancy to the great days of the Monarchy! Strange place for +them, too,—the boudoir of her whose husband had uprooted the ancient +dynasty they commemorated, had erased from the list of kings that proudest +of all the royal stocks in Europe. Was it the narrow-minded glory of the +Usurper, that loved to look upon the greatness he had humbled, that +brought them there? or was it rather the wellspring of that proud hope +just rising in his heart, that he was to be successor of those great kings +whose history formed the annals of Europe itself? +</p> +<p> +As I wandered on, captivated in every sense by the charm of what to me was +a scene in fairyland, I came suddenly before a picture of Josephine, +surrounded by the ladies of her Court. It was by Isabey, and had all the +delicate beauty and transparent finish of that delightful painter. Beside +it was another portrait by the same artist; and I started back in +amazement at the resemblance. Never had color better caught the rich tint +of a Southern complexion; the liquid softness of eye, the full and +sparkling intelligence of ready wit and bright fancy, all beamed in that +lovely face. It needed not the golden letters in the frame which called it +“La Rose de Provence.” I sat down before it unconsciously, delighted that +I might gaze on such beauty unconstrained. The white hand leaned on a +balustrade, and seemed almost as if stretching from the very canvas. I +could have knelt and kissed it. That was the very look she wore the hour I +saw her first,—it had never left my thoughts day or night. The +half-rising blush, the slightly averted head, the mingled look of +impatience and kindness,—all were there; and so entranced had I +become, that I feared each instant lest the vision would depart, and leave +me dark and desolate. The silence of the room was almost unbroken. A +distant murmur of voices, the tones of a harp, were all I heard; and I +sat, I know not how long, thus wrapped in ecstasy. +</p> +<p> +A tall screen of Chinese fabric separated the part of the room I occupied +from the rest, and left me free to contemplate alone those charms which +each moment grew stronger upon me. An hour might perhaps have thus +elapsed, when suddenly I heard the sound of voices approaching, but in a +different direction from that of the salons. They were raised above the +ordinary tone of speaking, and one in particular sounded in a strange +accent of mingled passion and sarcasm which I shall never forget. The door +of the room was flung open before I could rise from my chair; and two +persons entered, neither of whom could I see from my position behind the +screen. +</p> +<p> +“I ask you, again and again, Is the treaty of Amiens a treaty, or is it +not?” said a harsh, imperious tone I at once recognized as that of the +First Consol, while his voice actually trembled with anger. +</p> +<p> +“My Lord Whitworth observed, if I mistake not,” replied a measured and +soft accent, where a certain courtier-like unction prevailed, “that the +withdrawal of the British troops from Malta would follow, on our making a +similar step as regards our forces in Switzerland and Piedmont.” +</p> +<p> +“What right have they to make such a condition? They never complained of +the occupation of Switzerland at the time of the treaty. I will not hear +of such a stipulation. I tell you. Monsieur de Talleyrand, I 'd rather see +the English in the Faubourg St. Antoine than in the Island of Malta. Why +should we treat with England as a Continental power? Of India, if she +will; and as to Egypt, I told my lord that sooner or later it must belong +to France.” +</p> +<p> +“A frankness he has reason to be thankful for,” observed M. de Talleyrand, +in a voice of sarcastic slyness. +</p> +<p> +“Que voulez-vous?” replied Bonaparte, in a raised tone. “They want a war, +and they shall have it. What matter the cause?—such treaties of +peace as these had better be covered with black crape.” Then dropping his +voice to a half-whisper, he added: “You must see him to-morrow; explain +how the attacks of the English press have irritated me; how deeply wounded +I must feel at such a license permitted under the very eyes of a friendly +government,—plots against my life encouraged, assassination +countenanced! Repeat, that Sebastiani's mission to Egypt is merely +commercial; that although prepared for war, our wish, the wish of France, +is peace; that the armaments in Holland are destined for the Colonies. +Show yourself disposed to treat, but not to make advances. Reject the word +ultimatum, if he employ it; the phrase implies a parley between a superior +and an inferior. This is no longer the France that remembers an English +commissary at Dunkirk. If he do not use the word, then remark on its +absence; say, these are not times for longer anxiety,—that we must +know, at last, to what we are to look; tell him the Bourbons are not still +on the throne here; let him feel with whom he has to deal.” +</p> +<p> +“And if he demand his passport,” gravely observed Talleyrand, “you can be +in the country for a day; at Plombiferes,—at St. Cloud.” +</p> +<p> +A low, subdued laugh followed these words, and they walked forward towards +the salons, still conversing, but in a whispered tone. +</p> +<p> +A cold perspiration broke over my face and forehead, the drops fell +heavily down my cheek, as I sat an unwilling listener of this eventful +dialogue. That the fate of Europe was in the balance I knew full well; and +ardently as I longed for war, the dreadful picture that rose before me +damped much of my ardor; while a sense of my personal danger, if +discovered where I was, made me tremble from head to foot. It was, then, +with a sinking spirit, that I retraced my steps towards the salons, not +knowing if my absence had not been remarked and commented on. How little +was I versed in such society, where each came and went as it pleased him,—where +the most brilliant beauty, the most spiritual conversationalist, left no +gap by absence,—and where such as I were no more noticed than the +statues that held the waxlights! +</p> +<p> +The salons were now crowded: ministers of state, ambassadors, general +officers in their splendid uniforms, filled the apartments, in which the +din of conversation and the sounds of laughter mingled. Yet, through the +air of gayety which reigned throughout,—the tone of light and +flippant smartness which prevailed,—I thought I could mark here and +there among some of the ministers an appearance of excitement and a look +of preoccupation little in unison with the easy intimacy which all seemed +to possess. I looked on every side for the First Consul himself, but he +was nowhere to be seen. Monsieur Talleyrand, however, remained: I +recognized him by his soft and measured accent, as he sat beside Madame +Bonaparte, and was relating some story in a low voice, at which she seemed +greatly amused. I could not help wondering at the lively and animated +character of features, beneath which were concealed the dark secrets of +state affairs, the tangled mysteries of political intrigue. To look on +him, you would have said, “There sits one whose easy life flows on, +unruffled by this world's chances.” +</p> +<p> +Not so the tall and swarthy man, whose dark mustache hangs far below his +chin, and who leans on the chimneypiece yonder; the large veins of his +forehead are swollen and knitted, and his deep voice seems to tremble with +strong emotion as he speaks. +</p> +<p> +“Pray, Monsieur, who is that officer yonder?” said I, to a gentleman +beside me, and whose shoulder was half turned away. +</p> +<p> +“That,” said he, raising his glass, “that is Savary, the Minister of +Police. And, pardon, you are Mr. Burke,—is 't not so?” +</p> +<p> +I started as he pronounced my name, and looking fixedly at him, recognized +the antagonist with whom I was to measure swords the next morning in the +Bois de Boulogne. I colored at the awkwardness of my situation; but he, +with more ease and self-possession, resumed,— +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur, this is, to me at least, a very fortunate meeting. I have +called twice, in the hope of seeing you this evening, and am overjoyed now +to find you here. I behaved very ill to you this morning; I feel it now, I +almost felt it at the time. If you will accept my apology for what has +occurred, I make it most freely. My character is in no need of an affair +to make me known as a man of courage; yours, there can be no doubt of. May +I hope you agree with me? I see you hesitate: perhaps I anticipate the +reason,—you do not know how far you can or ought to receive such an +amende?” I nodded, and he continued: “Well, I am rather a practised person +in these matters, and I can safely say you may.” +</p> +<p> +“Be it so, then,” said I, taking the hand he proffered, and shaking it +warmly; “I am too young in the world to be my own guide, and I feel you +would not deceive me.” +</p> +<p> +A gratified look, and a renewed pressure of the hand, replied to my +speech. +</p> +<p> +“One favor more,—you must n't refuse me. Let us sup together. My <i>calèche</i> +is below; people are already taking their leave here; and, if you have no +particular reason for remaining—” +</p> +<p> +“None; I know no one.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Allons</i>, then,” said he, gayly, taking my arm. And I soon found +myself descending the marble stairs beside the man I had expected to stand +opposed to in deadly conflict a few hours later. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXV. THE SUPPER AT “BEAUVILLIERS'S” +</h2> +<h3> +“Where to?,” asked the coachman, as we entered the <i>calèche</i>. +</h3> +<p> +“Beauvilliers,” said the marquis, throwing himself back in his seat, and +remaining for some minutes silent. +</p> +<p> +At last, as if suddenly recollecting that we were strangers to each other, +he said, “You know Beauvilliers, of course?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” replied I, with hesitation; “I really have not any acquaintance.” +</p> +<p> +“Parbleu,” said he, laughing, “you ought at least to have his friendship. +He is the most celebrated restaurateur of this or any other age; no one +has carried the great art of the cuisine to a higher perfection, and his +cellars are unequalled in Paris. But you shall pronounce for yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“Unhappily my judgment is of little value. Do you forget that the diet +roll of the Polytechnique is a bad school for gastronomy?” +</p> +<p> +“But a glorious preparation for it,” interrupted he. “How delightful must +be the enjoyment to the unsophisticated palate of those first impressions +which a <i>carpe à la Chambord</i>, a pheasant <i>truffé</i>, a dish of <i>ortolans +à la Provengale</i>, inspire! But here we are. Our party is a small one,—an +old préfet of the South, an abbé, a secretary of the Russian embassy, and +ourselves.” +</p> +<p> +This information he gave me as we mounted a narrow and winding stair, +dimly lighted by a single lamp. On reaching the landing, however, a waiter +stood in readiness to usher us into a small apartment decorated with all +the luxury of gold and plate glass, so profusely employed in the interior +of all cafés. The guests already mentioned were there, and evidently +awaiting our arrival with no small impatience. +</p> +<p> +“As usual, Henri,” said the old man, whom I guessed to be the préfet,—“as +usual, an hour behind your appointment.” +</p> +<p> +“Forgive him. Monsieur,” said abbé, with a simper. “The fascinations of a +Court—” +</p> +<p> +The grimace the old man made at this last word threw the whole party into +a roar of laughter, which only ceased by the marquis presenting me in all +form to each of his friends. +</p> +<p> +“À table, à table, for Heaven's sake!” cried the préfet, ringing the bell, +and bustling about the room with a fidgety impatience. +</p> +<p> +This was, however, unneeded; for in less than five minutes the supper made +its appearance, and we took our places at the board. +</p> +<p> +The encomiums pronounced as each dish came and went satisfied me that the +feast was unexceptionable. As for myself, I ate away, only conscious that +I had never been so regaled before, and wondering within me how far +ingenuity had been exercised to produce the endless variety that appeared +at table. The wine, too, circulated freely; and Champagne, Bordeaux, and +Chambertin followed one another in succession, as the different meats +indicated the peculiar vintage. In the conversation I could take no part,—it +was entirely gastronomic; and no man ever existed more ignorant of the +seasons that promised well for truffles, or the state of the atmosphere +that threatened acidity to the vines. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Henri,” said the préfet, when the dessert made its appearance, and +the time for concluding the gourmand dissertation seemed arrived,—“well! +and what news from the Tuileries?” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing—absolutely nothing,” said he, carelessly,—“the same +people; the same topics; the eternal game of tric-trac with old Madame +d'Angerton; Denon tormenting some new victim with a mummy or a map of +Egypt; Madame Lefebvre relating camp anecdotes—” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, she is delightful!” interrupted the prefet. +</p> +<p> +“So thinks your chief, at least, Askoff,” said De Beauvais, turning to the +Russian. “He sat on the sofa beside her for a good hour and a half.” +</p> +<p> +“Who sat near him on the other side?” slyly asked the other. +</p> +<p> +“On the other side? I forget: no, I remember it was Monsieur de Talleyrand +and Madame Bonaparte. And, now I think of it, he must have overheard what +they said.” +</p> +<p> +“Is it true, then, that Bonaparte insulted the English ambassador at the +reception? Askoff heard it as he left the Rue St. Honoré.” +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly true. The scene was a most outrageous one; and Lord Whitworth +retired, declaring to Talleyrand—at least, so they say—that +without an apology being made, he would abstain from any future visits at +the Tuileries.” +</p> +<p> +“But what is to come of it?—tell me that. What is to be the result?” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i> I know not. A reconciliation to-morrow; an article in the +'Moniteur;' a dinner at the Court; and then another rupture, and another +article.” +</p> +<p> +“Or a war,” said the Russian, looking cautiously about, to see if his +opinion met any advocacy. +</p> +<p> +“What say you to that, mon ami?” said De Beauvais, turning to me. “Glad +enough, I suppose, you 'll be to win your epaulettes as colonel.” +</p> +<p> +“That, too, is on the cards,” said the abbé, sipping his glass quietly. +“One can credit anything these times.” +</p> +<p> +“Even the Catholic religion, Abbé,” said De Beauvais, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“Or the Restoration,” replied the abbé, with a half-malicious look at the +préfet, which seemed greatly to amuse the Russian. +</p> +<p> +“Or the Restoration!” repeated the préfet, solemnly, after him,—“or +the Restoration!” And then filling his glass to the brim, he drained it to +the bottom. +</p> +<p> +“It is a hussar corps you are appointed to?” said De Beauvais, hastily +turning towards me, as if anxious to engage my attention. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; the huitieme,” said I: “do you know them?” +</p> +<p> +“No; I have few acquaintances in the army.” +</p> +<p> +“His father, sir,” said the préfet, with a voice of considerable emphasis, +“was an old garde du corps in those times when the sword was only worn by +gentlemen.” +</p> +<p> +“So much the worse for the army,” whispered the abbé, in an undertone, +that was sufficiently audible to the rest to cause an outbreak of +laughter. +</p> +<p> +“And when,” continued the préfet, undisturbed by the interruption, “birth +had its privileges.” +</p> +<p> +“Among the rest, that of being the first beheaded,” murmured the +inexorable abbé. +</p> +<p> +“Were truffles dear before the Revolution, préfet?” said De Beauvais, with +a half-impertinent air of simplicity. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir; nothing was dear save the King's favor.” +</p> +<p> +“Which could also be had for paying for,” quoth the abbé. +</p> +<p> +“The 'Moniteur' of this evening, gentlemen,” said the waiter, entering +with the paper, whose publication had been delayed some two hours beyond +the usual period. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, let us see what we have here,” said De Beauvais, opening the journal +and reading aloud: “'Greneral Espinasse is appointed to the command of the +fourth corps, stationed at Lille; and Major-General Lannes to the fortress +of Montreil, vacant by—' No matter,—here it is. 'Does the +English government suppose that France is one of her Indian possessions, +without the means to declare her wrongs or the power to avenge them? Can +they believe that rights are not reciprocal, and that the observance of +one contracting party involves nothing on the part of the other?'” +</p> +<p> +“There, there, De Beauvais; don't worry us with that tiresome nonsense.” +</p> +<p> +“'Or,' continued the marquis, still reading aloud, 'do they presume to say +that we shall issue no commercial instructions to our agents abroad lest +English susceptibility should be wounded by any prospect of increased +advantages to our trade?'” +</p> +<p> +“Our trade!” echoed the préfet, with a most contemptuous intonation on the +word. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, for those good old times, when there was none!” said the abbé, with +such a semblance of honest sincerity as drew an approving smile from the +old man. +</p> +<p> +“Hear this, Préfet,” said De Beauvais: “'From the times of Colbert to the +present'—what think you? the allusion right royal, is it not?—'From +the times of Colbert our negotiations have been always conducted in this +manner.'” +</p> +<p> +“Sir, I beseech you read no more of that intolerable nonsense.” +</p> +<p> +“And here,” continued the marquis, “follows a special invocation of the +benediction of Heaven on the just efforts which France is called on to +make, to repress the insolent aggression of England. Abbé, this concerns +you.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course,” said he, meekly. “I am quite prepared to pray for the party +in power; if Heaven but leaves them there, I must conclude they deserve +it.” +</p> +<p> +A doubtful look, as if he but half understood him, was the only reply the +old préfet made to this speech; at which the laughter of the others could +no longer be repressed, and burst forth most heartily. +</p> +<p> +“But let us read on. Whose style is this, think you? 'France possessed +within her dominion every nation from the North Sea to the Adriatic. And +how did she employ her power?—in restoring to Batavia +self-government; in giving liberty to Switzerland; and in ceding Venice to +Austria, while the troops at the very gates of Vienna are halted and +repass the Rhine once more. Are these the evidences of ambition? Are these +the signs of that overweening lust of territory with which England dares +to reproach us? And if such passions prevailed, what was easier than to +have indulged them? Was not Italy our own? Were not Batavia, Switzerland, +Portugal, all ours? But no, peace was the desire of the nation; peace at +any cost. The colony of St. Domingo, that immense territory, was not +conceived a sacrifice too great to secure such a blessing.'” +</p> +<p> +“Pardieu! De Beauvais, I can bear it no longer.” +</p> +<p> +“You must let me give you the reverse of the medal. Hear now what England +has done.” +</p> +<p> +“He writes well, at least for the taste of newspaper readers,” said the +abbé, musingly; “but still he only understands the pen as he does the +sword,—it must be a weapon of attack.” +</p> +<p> +“Who is the writer, then?” said I, in a half-whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Who!—can you doubt it?—Bonaparte himself. What other man in +France would venture to pronounce so authoritatively on the prospects and +the intentions of the nation?” +</p> +<p> +“Or who,” said the abbé, in his dry manner, “could speak with such +accuracy of the 'Illustrious and Magnanimous Chief 'that rules her +destinies?” +</p> +<p> +“It is growing late,” said the préfet, with the air of one who took no +pleasure in the conversation, “and I start for Rouen to-morrow morning.” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, préfet! one bumper before we part,” said Be Beauvais. +“Something has put you out of temper this evening; yet I think I know a +toast can restore you to good-humor again.” +</p> +<p> +The old man lifted his hand with a gesture of caution, while he suddenly +directed a look towards me. +</p> +<p> +“No, no; don't be afraid,” said De Beauvais, laughing; “I think you 'll +acquit me of any rashness. Fill up, then; and here let us drink to one in +the old palace of the Tuileries who at this moment can bring us back in +memory to the most glorious days of our country.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i> that must be the First Consul, I suppose,” whispered the +abbé, to the prefet, who dashed his glass with such violence on the table +as to smash it in a hundred pieces. +</p> +<p> +“See what comes of impatience!” cried De Beauvais, laughing. “And now you +have not wherewithal to pledge my fair cousin the 'Rose of Provence.'” +</p> +<p> +“The Rose of Provence!” said each in turn; while, excited by the wine, of +which I had drunk freely, and carried away by the enthusiasm of the +moment, I re-echoed the words in such a tone as drew every eye upon me. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! you know my cousin, then?” said De Beauvais,—looking at me with +a strange mixture of curiosity and astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said I; “I have seen her—I saw her this evening at the +Palace.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I must present you,” said he, smiling good-day naturedly. +</p> +<p> +Before I could mutter my acknowledgment, the party had risen, and were +taking leave of each other for the night. +</p> +<p> +“I shall see you soon again, Burke,” said De Beauvais, as he pressed my +hand warmly; “and now, adieu!” +</p> +<p> +With that we parted; and I took my way back towards the Polytechnique, my +mind full of strange incidents of this the most eventful night in my quiet +and monotonous existence. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVI. THE TWO VISITS. +</h2> +<p> +Amid all the stirring duties of the next day, amid all the excitement of a +new position, my mind recurred continually to the events of the previous +twenty-four hours: now dwelling on the soiree at the Palace,—the +unaccustomed splendor, the rank, the beauty I had witnessed; now on that +eventful moment I spent behind the screen; then on my strange rencontre +with my antagonist, and that still stranger supper that followed it. +</p> +<p> +It was not, indeed, without certain misgivings, which I could neither +account for nor dismiss from my mind, that I reflected on the character +and conversation of my new associates. The tone of levity in which they +dared to speak of him whose name was to me something bordering on +idolatry,—the liberty with which they ventured to canvass his +measures and his opinions, even to ridiculing them,—were so many +puzzles to my mind; and I half reproached myself for having tamely +listened to language which now, as I thought over it, seemed to demand my +notice. Totally ignorant of all political intrigue,—unconscious that +any party did or could exist in France save that of the First Consul +himself,—I could find no solution to the enigma, and at last began +to think that I had been exaggerating to myself the words I had heard, and +permitting my ignorance to weigh with me, where with more knowledge I +should have seen nothing reprehensible. And if the spirit in which they +discussed the acts of Bonaparte differed from what I had been accustomed +to, might it not rather proceed from my own want of acquaintance with the +usages of society, than any deficiency in attachment on their sides? The +préfet was, of course, as an officer of the Government, no mean judge of +what became him; the abbé, too, as a man of education and in holy orders, +was equally unlikely to express unbecoming opinions; the Russian scarcely +spoke at all; and as for De Beauvais, his careless and headlong +impetuosity made me feel easy on his score. And so I reasoned myself into +the conviction that it was only the ordinary bearing and everyday habit of +society to speak thus openly of one who in the narrower limits of our +little world was deemed something to worship. +</p> +<p> +Shall I own what then I could scarcely have confessed to myself, that the +few words De Beauvais spoke at parting,—the avowed cousinship with +her they called “La Rose de Provence,”—did much to induce this +conviction on my mind? while his promise to present me was a pledge I +could not possibly believe consistent with any but right loyal thoughts +and honest doctrines. Still, I would have given anything for one friend to +advise with,—one faithful counsellor to aid me. But again was I +alone in the world; and save the short and not over-flattering reception +of my colonel, I had neither seen nor spoken to one of my new corps. +</p> +<p> +That evening I joined my regiment, and took up my quarters in the +barracks, where already the rumor of important political events had +reached the officers, and they stood in groups discussing the chances of a +war, or listening to the “Moniteur,” which was read out by one of the +party. What a strange thrill it sent through me to think that I was privy +to the deepest secret of that important step on which the peace of Europe +was resting,—that I had heard the very words as they fell from the +lips of him on whom the destiny of millions then depended! With what a +different interpretation to me came those passages in the Government +journal which breathed of peace, and spoke of painful sacrifices to avoid +a war, for which already his very soul was thirsting! and how to my young +heart did that passion for glory exalt him who could throw all into the +scale! The proud position he occupied,—the mighty chief of a mighty +nation; the adulation in which he daily lived; the gorgeous splendor of a +Court no country in Europe equalled,—all these (and more, his future +destiny) did lie set upon the cast for the great game his manly spirit +gloried in. +</p> +<p> +In such thoughts as these I lived as in a world of my own. Companionship I +had none; my brother officers, with few exceptions, had risen from the +ranks, and were of that class which felt no pleasure save in the coarse +amusements of the barrack-room or the vulgar jests of the service. The +better classes lived studiously apart from these, and made no approaches +to intimacy with any newly joined officer with whose family and +connections they were unacquainted; and I, from my change of country, +stood thus alone, unacknowledged and unknown. At first this isolation +pained and grieved me, but gradually it became less irksome; and when at +length they who had at first avoided and shunned my intimacy showed +themselves disposed to know me, my pride, which before would have been +gratified by such an acknowledgment, was now wounded, and I coolly +declined their advances. +</p> +<p> +Some weeks passed in this manner, during which I never saw or heard of De +Beauvais, and at length began to feel somewhat offended at the suddenness +with which he seemed to drop an intimacy begun at his own desire; when one +evening, as I had returned to my barrack-room after parade, I heard a +knock at my door. I rose and opened it, when, to my surprise, I beheld De +Beauvais before me. He was much thinner than when I last saw him, and his +dress and appearance all betokened far less of care and attention. +</p> +<p> +“Are these your quarters?” said he, entering and throwing a cautious look +about. “Are you alone here?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I; “perfectly.” +</p> +<p> +“You expect no one?” +</p> +<p> +“Not any,” said I, again, still more surprised at the agitation of his +manner, and the evident degree of anxiety he labored under. +</p> +<p> +“Thank Heaven!” said he, drawing a deep sigh as he threw himself on my +little camp-bed, and covered his face with his hands. +</p> +<p> +Seeing that something weighed heavily on him, I half feared to interfere +with the current of his thoughts, and merely drew my chair and sat down +beside him. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Burke, mon cher, have you any wine? Let me have a glass or two, +for save some galette, and that not the best either, I have tasted nothing +these last twenty-four hours.” +</p> +<p> +I soon set before him the contents of my humble larder, and in a few +moments he rallied a good deal, and looking up with a smile said,— +</p> +<p> +“I think you have been cultivating your education as gourmand since I saw +you; that pasty is worthy our friend in the Palais Royal. Well, and how +have you been since we met?” +</p> +<p> +“Let me rather ask yow,” said I, “You are not looking so well as the last +time I saw you. Have you been ill?” +</p> +<p> +“Ill! no, not ill. Yet I can't say so; for I have suffered a good deal, +too. No, my friend; I have had much to harass and distress me. I have been +travelling, too, long distances and weary ones,—met some +disappointments; and altogether the world has not gone so well with me as +I think it ought. And now of you,—what of yourself?” +</p> +<p> +“Alas!” said I, “if you have met much to annoy, I have only lived a dull +life of daily monotony. If it has had little to distress, there is fully +as little to cheer; and I half suspect the fine illusions I used to +picture to myself of a soldier's career had very little connection with +reality.” +</p> +<p> +As De Beauvais seemed to listen with more attention than such a theme +would naturally call for, I gradually was drawn into a picture of my +barrack life, in which I dwelt at length on my own solitary position, and +the want of that companionship which formed the chief charm of my +schoolboy life. To all this he paid a marked attention,—now +questioning me on some unexplained point; now agreeing with me in what I +said by a word or a gesture. +</p> +<p> +“And do you know, Burke,” said he, interrupting me in my description of +those whose early coldness of manner had chilled my first advances,—“and +do you know,” said he, impetuously, “who these aristocrats are? The sons +of honest <i>bourgeois</i> of Paris. Their fathers are worthy men of the +Rue Vivienne or the Palais,—excellent people, I 've no doubt, but +very far better judges of point lace and pâté, de Périgord than disputed +precedence and armorial quarterings. Far better the others,—the +humble soldiers of fortune, whose highest pride is their own daring, their +own undaunted heroism. Well, well,” added he, after a pause, “I must get +you away from this; I can manage it in a day or two. You shall be sent +down to Versailles with a detachment.” +</p> +<p> +I could not help starting with surprise at these words, and through all +the pleasure they gave me my astonishment was still predominant. +</p> +<p> +“I see you are amazed at what I say; but it is not so wonderful as you +think. My cousin has only to hint to Madame Bonaparte, who is at present +there, and the thing is done.” +</p> +<p> +I blushed deeply as I thought of the agency through which my wishes were +to meet accomplishment, and turned away to hide my embarrassment. +</p> +<p> +“By the bye, I have not presented you to her yet. I 've had no +opportunity; but now I shall do so at once.” +</p> +<p> +“Pray, tell me your cousin's name,” said I, anxious to say anything to +conceal my confusion. “I 've only heard her name called 'La Rose de +Provence.'” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, that was a silly fancy of Madame la Consulesse, because Marie is +Provengale, But her name is De Rochfort,—at least her mother's name; +for, by another caprice, she was forbidden by Bonaparte to bear her +father's name. But this is rather a sore topic with me; let us change it. +How did you like my friends the other evening? The abb, is agreeable, is +he not?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, hesitating somewhat; “but I am so unaccustomed to hear +General Bonaparte discussed so freely—” +</p> +<p> +“That absurd Polytechnique!” interrupted De Beauvais. “How many a fine +fellow has it spoiled with its ridiculous notions and foolish prejudices!” +</p> +<p> +“Come, come,” said I; “you must not call prejudices the attachment which +I, and all who wear an epaulette, feel in our glorious chief. There, +there! don't laugh, or you 'll provoke me; for if I, an alien, feel this, +how should you, who are a Frenchman born, sympathize with such a proud +career?” +</p> +<p> +“If you talk of sympathy, Burke, let me ask you. Have you ever heard speak +of certain old families of these realms who have been driven forth and +expatriated to seek a home among strangers,—themselves the +descendants of the fairest chivalry of our land, the proud scions of Saint +Louis? and has your sympathy never strayed across sea to mingle with their +sorrows?” His voice trembled as he spoke, and a large tear filled his eye +and tracked its way along his cheek, as the last word vibrated on his +tongue; and then, as if suddenly remembering how far he had been carried +away by momentary impulse, he added, in an altered voice, “But what have +we to do with these things? Our road is yet to be travelled by either of +us,—yours a fair path enough, if it only fulfil its early promise. +The fortunate fellow that can win his grade while yet a schoolboy—” +</p> +<p> +“How came you to know—” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I know more than that, Burke; and, believe me, if my foolish conduct +the first day we met had led to anything disastrous, I should have passed +a life of sorrow for it ever after. But we shall have time enough to talk +over all these matters in the green alleys of Versailles, where I hope to +see you before a week be over. Great events may happen ere long, too. +Burke, you don't know it; but I can tell you, a war with England is at +this moment on the eve of declaration.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps,” said I, somewhat piqued by the tone of superiority in which he +had spoken for some minutes, and anxious to assume for myself a position +which, I forgot, conferred no credit by the manner of its attainment, “I +know more of that than you are aware of.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh,” replied he, carelessly, “the gossip of a mess is but little to be +relied on. The sabreurs will always tell you that the order to march is +given.” +</p> +<p> +“I don't mean that,” said I, haughtily. “My information has a higher +source, the highest of all,—Greneral Bonaparte himself!” +</p> +<p> +“How! what! Bonaparte himself!” +</p> +<p> +“Listen to me,” said I; and hurried on by a foolish vanity, and a strange +desire I cannot explain to make a confidant in what I felt to be a secret +too weighty for my own bosom, I told him all that I had overheard when +seated behind the screen in the salon at the Tuileries. +</p> +<p> +“You heard this,—you, yourself?” cried he, as his eyes flashed, and +he grasped my arm with an eager grip. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, with my own ears I heard it,” said I, half trembling at the +disclosure I made, and ready to give all I possessed to recall my words. +</p> +<p> +“My friend, my dear friend,” said he, impetuously, “you must hesitate no +longer; be one of us.” +</p> +<p> +I started at the words, and growing pale with agitation as the very +thought of the importance of what I had related flashed across me, I +stammered out, “Take care what you propose to me, De Beauvais. I do not, I +cannot, fathom your meaning now; but if I thought that anything like +treachery to the First Consul—that anything traitorous to the great +cause of liberty for which he has fought and conquered—was +meditated, I 'd go forthwith and tell him, word for word, all I have +spoken now, even though the confession might, as it would, humble me +forever, and destroy all my future hope of advancement.” +</p> +<p> +“And be well laughed at for your pains, foolish boy!” said he, throwing +himself back in his chair, and bursting out into a fit of laughter. “No, +no, Burke; you must not do anything half so ridiculous, or my pretty +cousin could never look at you without a smile ever after. And <i>à propos</i>, +of that, when shall I present you? That splendid jacket, and all that +finery of dolman there, will make sad work of her poor heart.” +</p> +<p> +I blushed deeply at the silly impetuosity I had betrayed myself into, and +muttered some equally silly apology for it. Still, young as I was, I could +perceive that my words made no common impression on him, and would have +given my best blood to recall them. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know, De Beauvais,” said I, affecting as much of coolness as I +could, “do you know, I half regret having told you this. The manner in +which I heard this conversation—though, as you will see, quite +involuntary on my part—should have prevented my ever having repeated +it; and now the only reparation I can make is to wait on my colonel, +explain the whole circumstance, and ask his advice.” +</p> +<p> +“In plain words, to make public what at present is only confided to a +friend. Well, you think the phrase too strong for one you have seen but +twice,—the first time not exactly on terms such as warrant the +phrase. But come, if you can't trust me, I 'll see if I can't trust you.” +</p> +<p> +He drew at these words a roll of paper from his pocket, and was proceeding +to open it on the table when a violent knocking was heard at my door. +</p> +<p> +“What 's that? who can it be?” said he, starting up, and growing pale as +death. +</p> +<p> +The look of terror in his face appalled me; and I stood, not able to +reply, or even move towards the door, when the knocking was repeated much +louder, and I heard my name called out. Pointing to a closet which led +from the room, and without speaking a word, I walked forward and unlocked +the door. A tall man, wrapped in a blue cloak, and wearing a cocked hat +covered with oilskin, stood before me, accompanied by a sergeant of my +troop. +</p> +<p> +“This is the sous-lieutenant, sir,” said the sergeant, touching his cap. +</p> +<p> +“That will do,” replied the other; “you may leave us now.” Then turning to +me he added, “May I have the favor of a few minutes' conversation with +you, Mr. Burke? I am Monsieur Gisquet, chef de police of the department.” +</p> +<p> +A trembling ran through me at the words, and I stammered out something +scarce audible in reply. Monsieur Gisquet followed me as I led the way +into my room, which already had been deserted by De Beauvais; and casting +a quick glance around, he leisurely took off his hat and cloak and drew a +chair towards the table. +</p> +<p> +“Are we alone, sir?” said he, in a measured tone of voice, while his eye +fell with a peculiar meaning on a chair which stood opposite to mine, on +the opposite side of the stove. +</p> +<p> +“I had a friend with me when you knocked,” I muttered, in a broken and +uncertain accent; “but perhaps—” +</p> +<p> +Before I could finish my sentence the door of the cabinet slowly opened, +and De Beauvais appeared, but so metamorphosed I could scarcely recognize +him; for, short as the interval was, he had put on my old uniform of the +Polytechnique, which, from our similarity in height, fitted him perfectly. +</p> +<p> +“All safe, Tom,” said he, stealing out, with an easy smile on his +countenance. “Par Saint Denis! I thought it was old Legrange himself come +to look for me. Ah, Monsieur, how d' ye do? You have given me a rare +fright tonight. I came to spend the day with my friend here, and, as ill +luck would have it, have outstayed my time. The <i>école</i> closes at +nine, so that I 'm in for a week's arrest at least.” +</p> +<p> +“A cool confession this, sir, to a minister of police!” said Gisquet, +sternly, while his dark eyes surveyed the speaker from head to foot. +</p> +<p> +“Not when that minister is called Gisquet,” said he, readily, and bowing +courteously as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“You know me, then?” said the other, still peering at him with a sharp +look. +</p> +<p> +“Only from your likeness to a little boy in my company,” said he, “Henri +Gisquet. A fine little fellow he is, and one of the cleverest in the +school.” +</p> +<p> +“You are right, sir; he is my son,” said the minister, as a pleased smile +passed over his swarthy features. “Come, I think I must get you safe +through your dilemma. Take this; the officer of the night will be +satisfied with the explanation, and Monsieur Legrange will not hear of +it.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he seized a pen, and writing a few lines rapidly on a piece of +paper, he folded it note fashion, and handed it to De Beauvais. +</p> +<p> +“A handsome ring, sir!” said he, suddenly, and holding the fingers within +his own; “a very costly one, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said De Beauvais, blushing scarlet. “A cousin of mine—” +</p> +<p> +“Ha, ha! an amourette, too. Well, well, young gentleman! no need of +further confessions; lose no more time here. Bonsoir.” +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, Burke,” said De Beauvais, shaking my hand with a peculiar +pressure. +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, Monsieur Gisquet. This order will pass me through the barrack, +won't it?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; to be sure. You need fear no interference with my people either, go +where you will this evening.” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks, sir, once more,” said he, and departed. +</p> +<p> +“Now for our business, Mr. Burke,” said the minister, opening his packet +of papers before him, and commencing to con over its contents. “I shall +ask you a few questions, to which you will please to reply with all the +accuracy you can command, remembering that you are liable to be called on +to verify any statement hereafter on oath. With whom did you speak on the +evening of the 2d of May, at the soiree of Madame Bonaparte?” +</p> +<p> +“I scarcely remember if I spoke to any one save Madame herself. A strange +gentleman, whose name I forget, presented me; one or two others, also +unknown to me, may have spoken a passing word or so; and when coming away +I met Monsieur de Beauvais.” +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur de Beauvais! who is he?” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi</i> I can't tell you. I saw him the day before for the first +time; we renewed our acquaintance, and we supped together.” +</p> +<p> +“At Beauvilliers's?” said he, interrupting. +</p> +<p> +“Pardieu, Monsieur!” said I, somewhat stung at the espionage on my +movements; “you seem to know everything so well already, it is quite +needless to interrogate me any further.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps not,” replied he, coolly. “I wish to have the names of the party +you supped with.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, there was one who was called the préfet, a large, full, elderly +man.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, I know him,” interrupted Gisquet again. “And the others?” +</p> +<p> +“There was an abbé, and a secretary of the Russian mission.” +</p> +<p> +“No other?” said he, in a tone of disappointment. +</p> +<p> +“No one, save De Beauvais and myself; we were but five in all.” +</p> +<p> +“Did no one come in daring the evening? +</p> +<p> +“No, not any.” +</p> +<p> +“Nor did any leave the party?” +</p> +<p> +“No; we separated at the same moment.” +</p> +<p> +“Who accompanied you to the barracks?” +</p> +<p> +“No one; I returned alone.” +</p> +<p> +“And this Monsieur de Beauvais,—you can't tell anything of him? What +age is he? what height?” +</p> +<p> +“About my own,” said I, blushing deeply at the thought of the events of a +few moments back. “He may be somewhat older, but he looks not much more +than twenty-one or two.” +</p> +<p> +“Have you mentioned any of these circumstances to any of your brother +officers or to your colonel?” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, never.” +</p> +<p> +“Very right, sir. These are times in which discretion is of no common +importance. I have only to recommend similar circumspection in future. It +is probable that some of these gentlemen may visit you and write to you; +they may invite you to sup or to dine. If so, sir, accept the invitation. +Be cautious, however, not to speak of this interview to any one. Remember, +sir, I am the messenger of one who never forgave a breach of trust, but +who also never fails to reward loyalty and attachment. If you be but +prudent, Mr. Burke, your fortune is certain.” +</p> +<p> +With these words. Monsieur Gisquet threw his cloak over his shoulder, and +raising his hat, he bowed formally to me and withdrew; leaving me to +meditations which, I need not say, were none of the happiest. +</p> +<p> +If my fears were excited by the thought of the acquaintances I had so +rashly formed, so also was my pride insulted by the system of watching to +which my movements had been subjected; and deeper still, by the insulting +nature of the proposal the minister of police had not scrupled to make to +me,—on reflecting over which, only, did I perceive how base and +dishonorable it was. +</p> +<p> +“What!” asked I of myself, “is it a spy—is it a false underhand +betrayer of the men into whose society I have been admitted on terms of +friendly intercourse—he would make of me? What saw he in me or in my +actions to dare so far? Was not the very cloth I wear enough to guard me +against such an insult?” Then came the maddening reflection, “Why had I +not thought of this sooner? Why had I not rejected his proposal with +scorn, and told him that I was not of the stuff he looked for?” +</p> +<p> +But what is it that he wished to learn? and who were these men, and what +were their designs? These were questions' that flashed across me; and I +trembled to think how deeply implicated I might become at any moment in +plans of which I knew nothing, merely from the imprudence with which I had +made their acquaintance. The escape of De Beauvais, if discovered, would +also inevitably involve me; and thus did I seem hurried along by a train +of incidents without will or concurrence, each step but increasing the +darkness around me. +</p> +<p> +That Gisquet knew most of the party was clear; De Beauvais alone seemed +personally unknown to him. What, then, did he want of me? Alas! it was a +tangled web I could make nothing of: and all I could resolve on was, to +avoid in future all renewal of intimacy with De Beauvais; to observe the +greatest circumspection with regard to all new acquaintance; and since the +police thought it worth their while to set spies upon my track, to limit +any excursions, for some time at least, to the routine of my duty and the +bounds of the barrack-yard. These were wise resolutions, and if somewhat +late in coming, yet not without their comfort; above all, because, in my +heart, I felt no misgivings of affection, no lack of loyalty, to him who +was still my idol. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well,” thought I, “something may come of this,—perhaps a war. +If so, happy shall I be to leave Paris and all its intrigues behind me, +and seek distinction in a more congenial sphere, and under other banners +than a police minister would afford me.” +</p> +<p> +With thoughts like these I fell asleep, to dream over all the events of +the preceding day, and wake the next morning with an aching head and +confused brain,—my only clear impression being that some danger hung +over me; but from what quarter, and how or in what way it was to be met or +averted, I could not guess. +</p> +<p> +The whole day I felt a feverish dread lest De Beauvais should appear. +Something whispered me that my difficulties were to come of my +acquaintance with him; and I studiously passed my time among my brother +officers, knowing that, so long as I remained among them, he was not +likely to visit me. And when evening came, I gladly accepted an invitation +to a barrack-room supper, which, but the night before, I should have +declined without hesitation. +</p> +<p> +This compliance on my part seemed well taken by my companions; and in +their frank and cordial reception of me, I felt a degree of reproach to +myself for my having hitherto lived estranged from them. We had just taken +our places at table, when the door was flung wide open, and a young +captain of the regiment rushed in, waving a paper over his head, as he +called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Good news, mes braves, glorious news for you! Listen to this: The English +ambassador has demanded his passports, and left Paris. Expresses are sent +off to the fourth corps to move towards the coast; twelve regiments have +received orders to march; so that before my Lord leaves Calais, he may +witness a review of the army. '” +</p> +<p> +“Is this true?” +</p> +<p> +“It is all certain. Read it; here 's the 'Moniteur,' with the official +announcement.” +</p> +<p> +In an instant a dozen heads were bent over the paper, each eager to scan +the paragraph so long and ardently desired. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Burke, I hope you have not forgotten your English,” said the major. +“We shall want you soon to interpret for us in London; if, pardieu, we can +ever find our way through the fogs of that ill-starred island.” +</p> +<p> +I hung my head without speaking; the miserable isolation of him who has no +country is a sad and sickening sense of want no momentary enthusiasm, no +impulse of high daring can make up for. Happily for me, all were too +deeply interested in the important news to remark me, or pay any attention +to my feelings. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVII. THE MARCH TO VERSAILLES +</h2> +<p> +They who remember the excited state of England on the rupture of the peace +of Amiens; the spirit of military ardor that animated every class and +condition of life; the national hatred, carried to the highest pitch by +the instigations and attack of a violent press,—can yet form but an +imperfect notion of the mad enthusiasm that prevailed in France on the +same occasion. The very fact that there was no determinate and precise +cause of quarrel added to the exasperation on both sides. It was less like +the warfare of two great nations, than the personal animosity of two +high-spirited and passionate individuals, who, having interchanged words +of insult, resolve on the sword as the only arbiter between them. All that +the long rivalry of centuries, national dislike, jealousy in every form, +and ridicule in a thousand shapes could suggest, were added to the already +existing hate, and gave to the coming contest a character of blackest +venom. +</p> +<p> +In England, the tyrannic rule of Bonaparte gave deep offence to all true +lovers of liberty, and gave rise to fears of what the condition of their +own country would become should he continue to increase his power by +conquest. In France, the rapid rise to honor and wealth the career of arms +so singularly favored, made partisans of war in every quarter of the +kingdom. The peaceful arts were but mean pursuits compared with that royal +road to rank and riches,—the field of battle; and their +self-interest lent its share in forming the spirit of hostility, which +wanted no element of hatred to make it perfect. +</p> +<p> +Paris,—where so lately nothing was heard save the roll of splendid +equipages, the din of that gay world whose business is amusement; where +amid gilded salons the voluptuous habits of the Consulate mixed with the +less courtly but scarce less costly display of military splendor,—became +now like a vast camp. Regiments poured in daily, to resume their march the +next morning; the dull rumble of ammunition wagons and caissons, the +warlike clank of mounted cavalry, awoke the citizens at daybreak; the +pickets of hussar corps and the dusty and travel-stained infantry soldiers +filled the streets at nightfall. Yet through all, the mad gayety of this +excited nation prevailed. The cafés were Crowded with eager and delighted +faces; the tables spread in the open air were occupied by groups whose +merry voices and ready laughter attested that war was the pastime of the +people, and the very note of preparation a tocsin of joy and festivity. +The walls were placarded with inflammatory addresses to the patriotism and +spirit of France. The papers teemed with artful and cleverly written +explanations of the rupture with England; in which every complaint against +that country was magnified, and every argument put forward to prove the +peaceful desires of that nation whose present enthusiasm for war was an +unhappy commentary on the assertion. The good faith of France was +extolled; the moderation of the First Consul dwelt upon; and the treachery +of that “perfidious Albion, that respected not the faith of treaties,” was +displayed in such irrefragable clearness, that the humblest citizen +thought the cause his own, and felt the coming contest the ordeal of his +own honor. +</p> +<p> +All the souvenirs of the former wars were invoked to give spirit to the +approaching struggle, and they were sufficiently numerous to let no week +pass over without at least one eventful victory to commemorate. Now it was +Kellerman's cuirassiers, whose laurel-wreathed helmets reminded the +passing stranger that on that day eight years they tore through the dense +ranks of the Austrians, and sabred the gunners at the very guns. Now it +was the Polish regiments, the steel-clad lancers, who paraded before the +Tuileries in memory of the proud day they marched through Montebello with +that awful sentence on their banners, “Venice exists no longer!” Here were +corps of infantry, intermingled with dragoons, pledging each other as they +passed along; while the names of Castiglione, Bassano, and Roveredo rang +througl the motley crowd. The very children, “les enfants de troupe,” +seemed filled with the warlike enthusiasm of their fathers; and each +battalion, as it moved past, stepped to the encouraging shouts of +thousands who gazed with envious admiration on the heroes of their +country. +</p> +<p> +Never did the pent-up feelings of a nation find vent in such a universal +torrent of warlike fervor as now filled the land. The clank of the sabre +was the music that charmed the popular ear; and the “coquette vivandiére,” +as she tripped along the gravel avenued of the Tuileries gardens, was as +much an object of admiration as the most splendidly attired beauty of the +Faubourg St. Germain. The whole tone of society assumed the feature of the +political emergency. The theatres only represented such pieces as bore +upon the ancient renown of the nation in arms,—its victories and +conquests; the artists painted no other subjects; and the literature of +the period appealed to few other sympathies than are found in the rude +manners of the guardroom or around the watchfires of the bivouac. Pegault +Lebrun was the popular author of the day; and his works are even now no +mean indication of the current tastes and opinions of the period. +</p> +<p> +The predictions too hastily made by the English journals, that the +influence of Bonaparte in France could not survive the rupture of that +peace which had excited so much enthusiasm, were met by a burst of +national unanimity that soon dispelled the delusive hope. Never was there +a greater error than to suppose that any prospect of commercial +prosperity, any vista of wealth and riches, could compensate to Frenchmen +for the intoxication of that glory in which they lived as in an orgy. Too +many banners floated from the deep aisles of the Invalides—too many +cannon, the spoils of the Italian and German wars, bristled on the rampart—not +to recall the memory of those fête days when a bulletin threw the entire +city into a frenzy of joy. The Louvre and the Luxembourg, too, were filled +with the treasures of conquered States; and these are not the guarantees +of a long peace. +</p> +<p> +Such! in brief, was the state of Paris when the declaration of war by +Great Britain once more called the nation to arms. Every regiment was at +once ordered to make up its full complement to the war standard, and the +furnaces were employed in forging shot and casting cannon throughout the +length and breadth of France. The cavalry corps were stationed about St. +Omer and Compiègne, where a rich corn country supplied forage in +abundance. Among the rest, the order came for the huitième to march: one +squadron only was to remain behind, chosen to execute <i>le service des +dépêches</i> from St. Cloud and Versailles to Paris; and to this I +belonged. +</p> +<p> +From the evening of Monsieur Gisquet's visit I had never seen or heard of +De Beauvais; and at last the hope grew in me that we were to meet no more, +when suddenly the thought flashed across my mind: this is what he spoke +of,—he promised I should be sent to Versailles! Can it be chance? or +is this his doing? These were difficult questions to solve, and gave me +far more embarrassment than pleasure. My fear that my acquaintance with +him was in the end to involve me in some calamity, was a kind of +superstition which I could not combat; and I resolved at once to see my +colonel,—with whom, happily, I was now on the best of terms,—and +endeavor to exchange with some other officer, any being willing to accept +a post so much more agreeable than a mere country quarter, I found the old +man busied in the preparations for departure; he was marking out the days +of march to the adjutant as I entered. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Burke,” said he, “you are the fortunate fellow this time; your +troop remains behind.” +</p> +<p> +“It is on that account, sir, I am come. You'll think my request a strange +one, but if it be not against rule, would you permit me to exchange my +destination with another officer?” +</p> +<p> +“What,—eh? the boy 's mad! Why, it 's to Versailles you are going.” +</p> +<p> +“I know, sir; but somehow I'd rather remain with the regiment.” +</p> +<p> +“This is very strange,—I don't understand it,” said he, leisurely; +“come here.” With that he drew me into the recess of a window where we +could talk unheard by others. “Burke,” continued he, “I'm not the man to +question my young fellows about secrets which they 'd rather keep for +themselves; but there is something here more than common. Do you know that +in the order it was your squadron was specially marked out—all the +officers' names were mentioned, and yours particularly—for +Versailles?” +</p> +<p> +A deadly paleness and a cold chill spread over my face. I tried to say +some commonplace, but I could not utter more than the words, “I feared +it.” Happily for me he did not hear them, but taking my hand kindly, said,— +</p> +<p> +“I see it all: some youthful folly or other would make you better pleased +to leave Paris just now. Never mind,—stormy times are coming; you +'ll have enough on your hands presently. And let me advise you to make the +most of your time at Versailles; for if I 'm not mistaken, you 'll see +much more of camps than courts for some time to come.” +</p> +<p> +The rest of that day left me but little time for reflection; but in such +short intervals as I could snatch from duty, one thought ever rose to my +mind: Can this be De Beauvais's doing? has he had any share, in my present +destination,—and with what object? “Well,” said I to myself at last, +“these are but foolish fears after all, and may be causeless ones. If I +but follow the straight path of my duty, what need I care if the whole +world intrigued and plotted around me? And after all, was it not most +likely that we should never see each other again?” +</p> +<p> +The day was just breaking when we left Paris; the bright beams of a May +morning's sun were flickering and playing in the rippling river that ran +cold and gray beneath. The tall towers of the Tuileries threw their long +shadows across the Place Carrousel, where a dragoon regiment was encamped. +They were already astir, and some of the men were standing around the +fountains with their horses, and others were looking after the saddles and +accoutrements in preparation for the march; a half-expiring fire here and +there marked where some little party had been sitting together, while the +jars and flasks about bespoke a merry evening. A trumpeter sat, +statue-like, on his white horse his trumpet resting on his knee,—surveying +the whole scene, and as if deferring to the last the wakeful summons that +should rouse some of his yet sleeping comrades: I could see thus much as +we passed. Our road led along the quay towards the Place Louis the +Fifteenth, where an infantry battalion with four guns was picketed. The +men were breakfasting and preparing for the route. They were part of the +grande armée under orders for Boulogne. +</p> +<p> +We soon traversed the Champs Élysées, and entered the open country. For +some miles it was merely a succession of large cornfields, and here and +there a small vineyard, that met the eye on either side: but as we +proceeded farther, we were girt in by rich orchards in full blossom, the +whole air loaded with perfume; neat cottages peeped from the woody +enclosures, the trellised walls covered with honeysuckles and wild roses; +the surface, too, was undulating, and waved in every imaginable direction, +offering every variety of hill and valley, precipice and plain, in even +the smallest space. As yet no peasant was stirring, no smoke curled from a +single chimney, and all, save the song of the lark, was silent. It was a +peaceful scene, and a strong contrast to that we left behind us, and +whatever ambitious yearnings filled my heart as I looked upon the armed +ranks of the mailed cuirassiers, I felt a deeper sense of happiness as I +strayed along those green alleys through which the sun came slanting +sparingly, and where the leaves only stirred as their winged tenants moved +among them. +</p> +<p> +We travelled for some hours through the dark paths of the Bois de +Boulogne, and again emerged in a country wild and verdant as before. And +thus passed our day; till the setting sun rested on the tall roof of the +great Palace, and lit up every window in golden splendor as we entered the +town of Versailles. +</p> +<p> +I could scarce avoid halting as I rode up the wide terrace of the Palace. +Never had I felt before the overcoming sense of grandeur which +architecture can bestow. The great façade in its chaste and simple beauty, +stretched away to a distance, where dark lime-trees closed the background, +their tall summits only peeping above the lofty terrace in which the +château stands. On that terrace, too, were walking a crowd of persons of +the Court, the full-dress costume showing that they had but left the +salons to enjoy the cool and refreshing air of the evening. I saw some +turn and look after our travel-stained and dusty party, and confess I felt +a half sense of shame at our wayworn appearance. +</p> +<p> +I had not long to suffer such mortification, for ere we marched more than +a few minutes, we were joined by a Maréchal de Logis, who accompanied us +to our quarters,—one of the buildings adjoining the Palace,—where +we found everything in readiness for our arrival. And there! to my +surprise, discovered that a most sumptuous supper awaited me,—a +politeness I was utterly a stranger to, not being over-cognizant of the +etiquette and privilege which await the officer on guard at a Royal +Palace. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVIII. THE PARK OF VERSAILLES +</h2> +<p> +The instructions delivered to me soon after my arrival in Versailles +convinced me that the transmission of despatches was not the service we +were called on to discharge, but merely a pretence to blind others as to +our presence; the real duty being the establishment of a cordon around the +Royal Palace, permitting no one to enter or pass within the precincts who +was not provided with a regular leave, and empowering us to detain all +suspected individuals, and forward them for examination to St. Cloud. +</p> +<p> +To avoid all suspicion as to the true object, the men were ordered to pass +from place to place as if with despatches, many being stationed in +different parts of the park; my duty requiring me to be continually on the +alert to visit these pickets, and make a daily report to the Préfet de +Police at Paris. +</p> +<p> +What the nature of the suspicion, or from what quarter Monsieur Savary +anticipated danger, I could not even guess; and though I well knew that +his sources of information were unquestionable, I began at last to think +that the whole was merely some plot devised by the police themselves, to +display uncommon vigilance and enhance their own importance. This +conviction grew stronger as day by day I remarked that no person more than +ordinary had even approached near the town of Versailles itself, while the +absurd exactitude of inquiry as to every minute thing that occurred went +on just as before. +</p> +<p> +While my life passed on in this monotonous fashion, the little Court of +Madame Bonaparte seemed to enjoy all its accustomed pleasure. The actors +of the Français came down expressly from Paris, and gave nightly +representation in the Palace; <i>fourgons</i> continued to arrive from the +capital with all the luxuries for the table; new guests poured in day +after day; and the lighted-up saloons, and the sounds of music that filled +the Court, told each evening, that whatever fear prevailed without, the +minds of those within the Palace, had little to cause depression. +</p> +<p> +It was not without a feeling of wounded pride I saw myself omitted in all +the invitations; for although my rank was not sufficient of itself to lead +me to expect such an attention, my position as the officer on guard would +have fully warranted the politeness, had I not even already received marks +of civility while in Paris. From time to time, as I passed through the +park, I came upon some of the Court party; and it was with a sense of +painful humiliation I observed that Madame Bonaparte had completely +forgotten me, while from one whose indifference was more galling still, I +did not even obtain a look in passing. How had I forfeited the esteem +which voluntarily they had bestowed on me,—the good opinion which +had raised me from an humble cadet of the Polytechnique to a commission in +one of the first corps in the service? Under what evil influence was I +placed? +</p> +<p> +Such were the questions that forced themselves on me night and day; that +haunted my path as I walked, and my dreams at night. As the impression +grew on me, I imagined that every one I met regarded me with a look of +distance and distrust,—that each saw in me one who had forfeited his +fair name by some low or unworthy action,—till at last I actually +avoided the walks where I was likely to encounter the visitors of the +Palace, and shunned the very approach of a stranger, like a guilty thing. +All the brilliant prospects of my soldier's life, that a few days back +shone out before me, were now changed into a dreamy despondence. The +service I was employed on—so different from what I deemed became a +chivalrous career—was repugnant to all my feelings; and when the +time for visiting my pickets came, I shrank with shame from a duty that +suited rather the spy of the police than the officer of hussars. +</p> +<p> +Every day my depression increased. My isolation, doubly painful from the +gayety and life around me, seemed to mark me out as one unfit to know, and +lessened me in my own esteem; and as I walked the long, dark alleys of the +park, a weighty load upon my heart, I envied the meanest soldier of my +troop, and would willingly have changed his fortune with my own. It was a +relief to me even when night came—the shutters of my little room +closed, my lamp lighted—to think that there at least I was free from +the dark glances and sidelong looks of all I met; that I was alone with my +own sorrow,—no contemptuous eye to pierce my sad heart, and see in +my gloom a self-convicted criminal. Had I one, but one friend, to advise +with! to pour out all my sufferings before him, and say, “Tell me, how +shall I act? Am I to go on enduring? or where shall I, where can I, +vindicate my fame?” +</p> +<p> +With such sad thoughts for company, I sat one evening alone,—my mind +now recurring to the early scenes of my childhood, and to that harsh +teaching which even in infancy had marked me for suffering; now straying +onward to a vision of the future I used to paint so brightly to myself,—when +a gentle tap at the door aroused me. +</p> +<p> +“Come in,” said I, carelessly, supposing it a sergeant of my troop. +</p> +<p> +The door slowly opened, and a figure wrapped in a loose horseman's cloak +entered. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! Lieutenant, don't you know me?” said a voice, whose peculiar tone +struck me as well known. “The Abbé d'Ervan, at your service.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said I, starting with surprise, not less at the unexpected +visitor himself than at the manner of his appearance. “Why, Abbé, you must +have passed the sentinel.” +</p> +<p> +“And so I did, my dear boy,” replied he, as he folded up his cloak +leisurely on one chair, and seated himself on another opposite me. +“Nothing wonderful in that, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +“But the countersign; they surely asked you for it?” +</p> +<p> +“To be sure they did, and I gave it,—'Vincennes;' au easy word +enough. But come, come! you are not going to play the police with me. I +have taken you in, on my way back to St. Cloud, where I am stopping just +now, to pay you a little visit and talk over the news.” +</p> +<p> +“Pardon me once more, my dear abbé; but a young soldier may seem +over-punctilious. Have you the privilege to pass through the royal park +after nightfall?” +</p> +<p> +“I think I have shown you that already, my most rigid inquisitor, +otherwise I should not have known the password. Give me your report for +to-morrow. Ah, here it is! What's the hour now?—a quarter to eleven. +This will save you some trouble.” +</p> +<p> +So saying, he took a pen and wrote in a large free hand, “The Abbe +d'Ervan, from the château d'Ancre to St. Cloud.” +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur Savary will ask you no further questions, trust me. And now, if +you have got over all your fears and disquietudes, may I take the liberty +to remind you that the château is ten leagues off; that I dined at three, +and have eaten nothing since. Abbés you are aware, are privileged +gastronomists, and the family of D'Ervan have a most unhappy addiction to +good things. A poulet, however, and a flask of Chablis, will do for the +present; for I long to talk with you.” +</p> +<p> +While I made my humble preparations to entertain him, he rambled on in his +usual free and pleasant manner,—that mixture of smartness and +carelessness which seemed equally diffused through all he said, imparting +a sufficiency to awake, without containing anything to engage too deeply, +the listener's attention. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, Lieutenant, make no apology for the fare: the paté is +excellent; and as for the Burgundy, it is easy enough to see your +Chambertin comes from the Consul's cellar. And so you tell me that you +find this place dull, which I own I'm surprised at. These little soirées +are usually amusing; but perhaps at your age the dazzling gayety of the +ballroom is more attractive.” +</p> +<p> +“In truth, Abbé, the distinction would be a matter of some difficulty to +me, I know so little of either. And indeed, Madame la Consulesse is not +over likely to enlighten my ignorance; I have never been asked to the +Palace.” +</p> +<p> +“You are jesting, surely?” +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly in earnest, I assure you. This is my third week of being +quartered here; and not only have I not been invited, but, stranger still, +Madame Bonaparte passed and never noticed me; and another, one of her +suite, did the same: so you see there can be no accident in the matter.” +</p> +<p> +“How strange!” said the abbé, leaning his head on his hand. And then, as +if speaking to himself, muttered, “But so it is; there is no such tyrant +as your <i>parvenu</i>. The caprice of sudden elevation knows no guidance. +And you can't even guess at the cause of all this?” +</p> +<p> +“Not with all my ingenuity could I invent anything like a reason.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well; we may find it out yet. These are strange times altogether. +Lieutenant. Men's minds are more unsettled than ever they were. The +Jacobin begins to feel he has been laboring for nothing; that all he deems +the rubbish of a monarchy has been removed, only to build up a greater +oppression. The soldier sees his conquests have only made the fortune of +one man in the army, and that one not overmindful of his old companions. +Many begin to think—and they may have some cause for the notion—that +the old family of France knew the interests of the nation best, after all; +and certain it is, they were never ungrateful to those who served them. +Your countrymen had always their share of favor shown them; you do +surprise me when you say you've never been invited.” +</p> +<p> +“So it is, though; and, worse still, there is evidently some secret +reason. Men look at me as if I had done something to stain my character +and name.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no; you mistake all that. This new and patchwork Court does but try +to imitate the tone of its leader. When did you see De Beauvais?” +</p> +<p> +“Not for some months past. Is he in Paris?” +</p> +<p> +“No; the poor fellow has been ill. He 's in Normandy just now, but I +expect him back soon. There is a youth who might be anything he pleased: +his family, one of the oldest in the South; his means abundant; his own +ability first-rate. But his principles are of that inflexible material +that won't bend for mere convenience' sake; he does not like, he does not +approve of, the present Government of France.” +</p> +<p> +“What would he have, then? Does not Bonaparte satisfy the ambition of a +Frenchman? Does he wish a greater name than that at the head of his +nation?” +</p> +<p> +“That's a brilliant lamp before us. But see there,” cried the abbé, as he +flung open the shutter, and pointed to the bright moon that shone pale and +beautiful in the clear sky—“see there! Is there not something +grander far in the glorious radiance of the orb that has thrown its lustre +on the world for ages? Is it not a glorious thought to revel in the times +long past, and think of those, our fathers, who lived beneath the same +bright beams, and drank in the same golden waters? Men are too prone to +measure themselves with one of yesterday; they find it hard to wonder at +the statue of him whom they have themselves placed on the pedestal. +Feudalism, too, seems a very part of our nature.” +</p> +<p> +“These are thoughts I've never known, nor would I now wish to learn them,” +said I; “and as for me, a hero needs no ancestry to make him glorious in +my eyes.” +</p> +<p> +“All true,” said the abbé, sipping his glass, and smiling kindly on me. “A +young heart should feel as yours does; and time was when such feelings had +made the fortune of their owner. But even now the world is changed about +us. The gendarmes have the mission that once belonged to the steel-clad +cuirassiers; and, in return, the hussar is little better than a mouchard.” +</p> +<p> +The blood mounted to my face and temples, and throbbed in every vein and +artery of my forehead, as I heard this contemptuous epithet applied to the +corps I belonged to,—a sarcasm that told not less poignantly on me, +that I felt how applicable it was to my present position. He saw how +deeply mortified the word had made me; and, putting his hand in mine, with +a voice of winning softness he added:— +</p> +<p> +“One who would be a friend must risk a little now and then; as he who +passes over a plank before his neighbor will sometimes spring to try its +soundness, even at the hazard of a fall. Don't mistake me, Lieutenant; you +have a higher mission than this. France is on the eve of a mighty change; +let us hope it may be a happy one. And now it 's getting late,—far +later, indeed, than is my wont to be abroad,—and so I 'll wish you +good-night. I 'll find a bed in the village; and since I have made you out +here, we must meet often.” +</p> +<p> +There was something—I could not define what exactly—that +alarmed me in the conversation of the abbé; and lonely and solitary as I +was, it was with a sense of relief I saw him take his departure. +</p> +<p> +The pupil of a school where the Consul's name was never mentioned without +enthusiasm and admiration, I found it strange that any one should venture +to form any other estimate of him than I was used to hear; and yet in all +he said I could but faintly trace out anything to take amiss. That men of +his cloth should feel warmly towards the exiled family was natural enough. +They could have but few sympathies with the soldier's calling, and of +course felt themselves in a very different position now from what they +once had occupied. The restoration of Catholicism was, I well knew, rather +a political and social than a religious movement; and Bonaparte never had +the slightest intention of replacing the Church in its former position of +ascendency, but rather of using it as a state engine and giving a +stability to the new order of things, which could only be done on the +foundation of prejudices and convictions old as the nation itself. +</p> +<p> +In this way the rising generation looked on the priests; and in this way +had I been taught to regard the whole class of religionists. It was, then, +nothing wonderful if ambitious men among them, of whom D'Ervan might be +one, felt somewhat indignant at the post assigned them, and did not +espouse with warmth the cause of one who merely condescended to make them +the tool of his intentions. “Yes, yes,” said I to myself, “I have defined +my friend the abbé; and though not a very dangerous character after all, +it 's just as well I should be on my guard. His being in possession of the +password, and his venturing to write his name in the police report, are +evidences that he enjoys the favor of the Préfet de Police. Well, well, +I'm sure I am heartily tired of such reflections. Would that the campaign +were once begun! The roll of a platoon and the deep thunder of an +artillery fire would soon drown the small whispering of such miserable +plottings from one's head.” +</p> +<p> +About a week passed over after this visit, in which, at first, I was +rather better pleased that the abbé, did not come again; but as my +solitude began to press more heavily on me, I felt a kind of regret at not +seeing him. His lively tone in conversation, though spiced with that <i>morqueur</i> +spirit which Frenchmen nearly all assume, amused me greatly; and little +versed as I was in the world or in its ways, I saw that he knew it +thoroughly. +</p> +<p> +Such were my thoughts as I returned home one evening along the broad alley +of the park, when I heard a foot coming rapidly up behind me. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Lieutenant,” cried the voice of the very man I was thinking of, +“your people are terribly on the alert to-night. They refused to let me +pass, until I told them I was coming to you; and here are two worthy +fellows who won't take my word for it without your corroboration.” +</p> +<p> +I then perceived that two dismounted dragoons followed him at the distance +of a few paces. +</p> +<p> +“All right, men,” said I, passing my arm beneath the abba's, and turning +again towards my quarters. “Would n't they take the password, then?” +continued I, as we walked on. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi</i>, I don't know, for I haven't got it.” +</p> +<p> +“How I not got it?” +</p> +<p> +“Don't look so terribly frightened, my dear boy! you 'll not be put under +arrest or any such mishap on my account. But the truth is, I 've been away +some days from home, and have not had time to write to the minister for +the order; and as I wanted to go over to St. Cloud this evening, and as +this route saves me at least a league's walking, of course I availed +myself of the privilege of our friendship both to rest my legs and have a +little chat with you. Well! and how do you get on here now? I hope the +château is more hospitable to you, eh? Not so?—that is most strange. +But I have brought you a few books which may serve to while away the +hours; and as a recompense, I 'll ask you for a supper.” +</p> +<p> +By this time we were at the door of my quarters, where, having ordered up +the best repast my cuisine afforded, we sat down to await its appearance. +Unlike the former evening, the abbe now seemed low and depressed; spoke +little, and then moodily, over the unsettled state of men's minds, and the +rumors that pervaded Paris of some momentous change,—men knew not +what; and thus, by a stray phrase, a chance word, or an unfinished +sentence, gave me to think that the hour was approaching for some great +political convulsion. +</p> +<p> +“But, Lieutenant, you never told me by what accident you came first +amongst us: let me hear your story. The feeling with which I ask is not +the fruit of an impertinent curiosity. I wish sincerely to know more about +one in whose fortunes I have taken a deep interest. De Beauvais told me +the little anecdote which made you first acquainted; and though the event +promised but little of future friendship, the circumstances have turned +out differently. You have not one who speaks and thinks of you more highly +than he does. I left him this morning not many miles from this. And now +that I think of it, he gave me a letter for you,—here it is.” So +saying, he threw it carelessly on the chimney-piece, and continued: “I +must tell you a secret of poor De Beauvais, for I know you feel interested +in him. You must know, then, that our friend is desperately in love with a +very beautiful cousin of his own, one of the suite of Madame Bonaparte. +She 's a well-known Court beauty; and if you had seen more of the +Tuileries, you'd have heard of La Rose de Provence.” +</p> +<p> +“I have seen her, I think,” muttered I, as my cheek grew crimson, and my +lips trembled. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” resumed the abbé, and without noticing my embarrassment, “this +love affair, which I believe began long ago, and might have ended in +marriage,—for there is no disparity of rank, no want of wealth, nor +any other difficulty to prevent it,—has been interrupted by General +Bonaparte, because, and for no other reason, mark ye, than that De +Beauvais's family were Bourbonists. His father was a captain of the Garde +du Corps, and his grandfather a grand falconer, or something or other, +with Louis the Fifteenth. Now, the young marquis was well enough inclined +to go with the current of events in France. The order of things once +changed, he deemed it best to follow the crowd, and frequented the +Tuileries like many others of his own politics,—I believe you met +him there,—till one morning lately he resolved to try his fortune +where the game was his all. And he waited on Madame Bonaparte to ask her +consent to his marriage with his cousin; for I must tell you that she is +an orphan, and in all such cases the parental right is exercised by the +head of the Government. Madame referred him coldly to the General, who +received him more coldly still; and instead of replying to his suit, as he +expected, broke out into invectives against De Beauvais's friends; called +them<i>Chouans</i>and assassins; said they never ceased to plot against +his life with his most inveterate enemies, the English; that the exiled +family maintained a corps of spies in Paris, of whom he half suspected him +to be one; and, in a word, contrived to heap more insult on him in one +quarter of an hour than, as he himself said, his whole family had endured +from the days of Saint Louis to the present. De Beauvais from that hour +absented himself from the Tuileries, and indeed almost entirely from +Paris,—now living with his friends in Normandy, now spending a few +weeks in the South. But at last he has determined on his course, and means +to leave France forever. I believe the object of his coming here at this +moment is to see his cousin for the last time. Perhaps his note to you has +some reference to it.” +</p> +<p> +I took the letter with a trembling hand,—a fear of something +undefined was over me,—and tearing it open, read as follows:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Friend,—The Abbé, d'Ervan will deliver this into your +hands, and if you wish it, explain the reason of the request +it contains,—which is simply that you will afford me the +shelter of your quarters for one day in the park at +Versailles. I know the difficulty of your position; and if +any other means under heaven presented itself, I should not +ask the favor, which, although I pledge my honor not to +abuse, I shall value as the dearest a whole life's gratitude +can repay. My heart tells me that you will not refuse the +last wish of one you will never see after this meeting. I +shall wait at the gate below the Trianon at eleven o'clock +on Friday night, when you can pass me through the sentries. + +Yours, ever and devoted, + +Henri De Beauvais. +</pre> +<p> +“The thing is impossible,” said I, laying down the letter on the table, +and staring over at D'Ervan. +</p> +<p> +“No more so, dear friend, than what you have done for me this evening, and +which, I need not tell you, involves no risk whatever. Here am I now, +without pass or countersign, your guest,—the partaker of as good a +supper and as excellent a glass of wine as man need care for. In an hour +hence,—say two at most,—I shall be on my way over to St. +Cloud. Who is, then, I ask you, to be the wiser? You'll not put me down in +the night report. Don't start: I repeat it, you can't do it, for I had no +countersign to pass through; and as the Consul reads these sheets every +morning, you are not going to lose your commission for the sake of an +absurd punctilio that nobody on earth will thank you for. Come, come, my +worthy lieutenant, these same excellent scruples of yours savor far more +of the scholar at the rigid old Polytechnique than the young officer of +hussars. Help me to that ortolan there, and pass the bottle. There! a +bumper of such a vintage is a good reward for so much talking.” +</p> +<p> +While the abbé, continued to exert himself, by many a flippant remark and +many a smart anecdote, to dissipate the gloom that now fell over my +spirits, I grew only more and more silent. The one false step I had taken +already presented itself before me as the precedent for further wrong, and +I knew not what course to take, nor how to escape from my dilemma. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Lieutenant,” said D'Ervan, after a pause of some minutes, during +which he had never ceased to regard me with a fixed, steady stare, “you +are about as unlike the usual character of your countrymen as one can well +conceive.” +</p> +<p> +“How so?” said I, half smiling at the remark. +</p> +<p> +“All the Irishmen I have ever seen,” replied he,—“and I have known +some scores of them,—were bold, dashing, intrepid fellows, that +cared nothing for an enterprise if danger had no share in it; who loved a +difficulty as other men love safety; who had an instinct for where their +own reckless courage would give them an advantage over all others; and +took life easily, under the conviction that, every day could present the +circumstance where a ready wit and a stout heart could make the way to +fortune. Such were the Irish I knew in the brigade; and though not a man +of the number had ever seen what they called the Green Island, they were +as unlike the English, or French, or Germans, or any other people, as—as +the old Court of Louis the Fourteenth was unlike the guardroom style of +reception that goes on nowadays yonder.” +</p> +<p> +“What you say may be just,” said I, coolly; “and if I seem to have few +features of that headlong spirit which is the gift of my nation, the +circumstances of my boyhood could well explain, perhaps excuse them. From +my earliest years I have had to struggle against ills that many men in a +long lifetime do not meet with. If suspicion and distrust have crept or +stolen into my heart, it is from, watching the conduct of those I deemed +high-spirited and honorable, and seeing them weak and, vacillating and +faithless. And lastly, if every early hope that stirred my heart does but +wane and pale within me, as stars go out when day is near, you cannot +wonder that I, who stand alone here, without home or friend, should feel a +throb of fear at aught which may tarnish a name that has yet no memory of +past services to rely upon. And if you knew how sorely such emotions war +against the spirit that lives here, believe me you had never made the +reproach; my punishment is enough already.” +</p> +<p> +“Forgive me, my dear boy, if I said anything that could wound you for a +moment,” said the abbé. “This costume of mine, they say, gives a woman's +privilege, and truly I believe it does something of the sex's impertinence +also.. I ought to have known you better; and I do know you better by this +time. And now let me press a request I made some half an hour ago: tell me +this same story of yours. I long to learn something of the little boy, +where I feel such affection for the man.” +</p> +<p> +The look of kindness and the tone of soothing interest that accompanied +these words I could not resist; so, drawing my chair close towards him, I +began the narrative of my life. He listened with the most eager attention +to my account of the political condition of Ireland; questioned me closely +as to my connection with the intrigues of the period; and when I mentioned +the name of Charles de Meudon, a livid paleness overspread his features as +he asked, in a low, hollow tone, if I were with him when he died? +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” replied I, “by his bedside.” +</p> +<p> +“Did he ever speak to you of me? Did he ever tell you much of his early +life when in Provence?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; he spoke often of those happy days in the old château, where +his sister, on whom he doted to distraction, was his companion. Hers was a +sad story, too. Strange, is it not,—I have never heard of her since +I came to France?” +</p> +<p> +A long pause followed these words, and the abbé, leaned his head upon his +hand, and seemed to be lost in thought. +</p> +<p> +“She was in love with her cousin,” I continued, “and Charles, unhappily, +refused his consent. Unhappily, I say; for he wept over his conduct on his +deathbed.” +</p> +<p> +“Did he?” cried the abbé, with a start, while his eye flashed fire, and +his nostrils swelled and dilated like a chafed horse. “Did he do this?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, bitterly he repented it; and although he never confessed it, I could +see that he had been deceived by others, and turned from his own +high-souled purpose, respecting his sister. I wonder what became of +Claude,—he entered the Church.” +</p> +<p> +“Ay, and lies there now,” replied the abbé, sternly. +</p> +<p> +“Poor fellow! is he dead, too? and so young.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; he contrived to entangle himself in some Jacobite plot.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, he was a Royalist.” +</p> +<p> +“So he was. It might have been another conspiracy, then,—some <i>Chouan</i> +intrigue. Whatever it was, the Government heard of it. He was arrested at +the door of his own <i>presbyière</i>; the grenadiers were drawn up in his +own garden; and he was tried, condemned, and shot in less than an hour. +The officer of the company ate the dinner that was preparing for him.” +</p> +<p> +“What a destiny! And Marie de Meudon?” +</p> +<p> +“Hush! the name is proscribed. The De Meudons professed strong Royalist +opinions, and Bonaparte would not permit her bearing her family name. She +is known by that of her mother's family except by those poor minions of +the Court who endeavor, with their fake affectation, to revive the +graceful pleasantries of Marie Antoinette's time, and they call her La +Rose de Provence.” +</p> +<p> +“La Bose de Provence,” cried I, springing up from my chair, “the sister of +Charles!” while a thrill of ecstasy ran through my frame,—followed +the moment after by a cold, faint feel,—and I sank almost breathless +in the chair. +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” cried the abbè, leaning over me, and holding the lamp close to my +face, “what—” And then, as he resumed his place, he slowly muttered +between his teeth, “I did not dream of this!” +</p> +<p> +Not a word was now spoken by either. The abbè, sat mute and motionless, +his eyes bent upon the floor, and his hands clasped before him. As for me, +every emotion of hope and fear, joy and sorrow, succeeded one another in +my mind; and it was only as I thought of De Beauvais once more that a +gloomy despair spread itself before me, and I remembered that he loved +her, and how the abbè, hinted his passion was returned. +</p> +<p> +“The day is breaking,” said D'Ervan, as he opened the shutter and looked +out; “I must away. Well, I hope I may tell my poor friend De Beauvais that +you 'll not refuse his request. Charles de Meudon's sister may have a +claim on your kindness too.” +</p> +<p> +“If I thought that she—” +</p> +<p> +“You mean, that she loved him. You must take his word for that; she is not +likely to make a confidant of you. Besides, he tells you it's a last +meeting; you can scarcely say nay. Poor girl, he is the only one remaining +to her of all her house! On his departure you are not more a stranger here +than is she in the land of her fathers.” +</p> +<p> +“I'll do it I I'll do it!” cried I, passionately. “Let him meet me where +he mentioned; I 'll be there.” +</p> +<p> +“That's as it should be,” said the abbé, grasping my hand, and pressing it +fervently. “But come, don't forget you must pass me through this same +cordon of yours.” +</p> +<p> +With a timid and shrinking heart I walked beside the abbé, across the open +terrace, towards the large gate, which with its bronzed and gilded tracery +was already shining in the rich sunlight. +</p> +<p> +“A fine-looking fellow, that dragoon yonder; he 's deco' rated, I see.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; an old hussar of the Garde.” +</p> +<p> +“What 's he called?” +</p> +<p> +“Pierre Dulong; a name well known in his troop.” +</p> +<p> +“Halte-la!” cried the soldier, as we approached. +</p> +<p> +“Your officer,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“The word?” +</p> +<p> +“Arcole.” +</p> +<p> +“Pass, 'Arcole;' and good-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, Lieutenant; adieu, Pierre,” said the abbé, as he waved his hand +and passed out. +</p> +<p> +I stood for a minute or two uncertain of purpose; why, I know not. The +tone of the last few words seemed uttered in something like a sneer. “What +folly, though!” said I to myself. “D'Ervan is a strange fellow, and it is +his way.” +</p> +<p> +“We shall meet soon, Abbé,” I cried out, as he was turning the corner of +the park wall. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, rely on it; we shall meet,—and soon.” +</p> +<p> +He kept his word. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIX. LA ROSE OF PROVENCE. +</h2> +<p> +The one thought that dwelt in my mind the entire day was that Marie de +Rochfort was Charles de Meudon's sister. The fact once known, seemed to +explain that secret power she exercised over my hopes and longings. The +spell her presence threw around ever as she passed me in the park; that +strange influence with which the few words I had heard her speak still +remained fast rooted in my memory,—all these did I attribute to the +hold her name had taken of my heart as I sat night after night listening +to her brother's stories. And then, why had I not guessed it earlier? why +had I not perceived the striking resemblance which it now seemed +impossible to overlook? The dark eye, beaming beneath a brow squarely +chiselled like an antique cameo; the straight nose, and short, up-turned +lip, where a half-saucy look seemed struggling with a sweet smile; and +then the voice,—was it not his own rich. Southern accent, tempered +by her softer nature? Yes; I should have known her. +</p> +<p> +In reflections like these I made my round of duty, my whole heart wrapped +up in this discovery. I never thought of De Beauvais, or his letter. It +seemed to me as though I had known her long and intimately. She was not +the Rose de Provence of the Court, the admired of the Tuileries, the +worshipped belle of Versailles; but Marie de Meudon, the sister of one who +loved me as a brother. +</p> +<p> +There was a dark alley near the Trianon that led along the side of a +little lake, where rocks and creeping plants, rudely grouped together, +gave a half-wild aspect to the scene; the tall beech and the drooping +ash-trees that grew along the bank threw their shadows far across the +still water. And here I had remarked that Mademoiselle de Meudon came +frequently alone. It was a place, from its look of shade and gloom, little +likely to attract the gay visitors of the Court, who better loved the +smoothly-shaven grass of the Palace walks, or the broad terraces where +bright fountains were plashing. Since I discovered that she avoided me +when we met, I had never taken this path on my rounds, although leading +directly to one of my outposts, but preferred rather a different and +longer route. +</p> +<p> +Now, however, I sought it eagerly; and as I hurried on, I dreaded lest my +unwonted haste might excite suspicion. I resolved to see and speak to her. +It was her brother's wish that I should know her; and till now I felt as +though my great object in coming to France was unobtained, if I knew not +her whose name was hallowed in my memory. Poor Charles used to tell me she +would be a sister to me. How my heart trembled at the thought! As I drew +near I stopped to think how she might receive me; with what feelings hear +me speak of one who was the cause of all her unhappiness. But then they +said she loved De Beauvais. What! was poor Claude forgotten? Was all the +lovedream of her first affection passed? +</p> +<p> +My thoughts ran wild as different impulses struggled through them, and I +could resolve on nothing. Before me, scarcely a dozen paces, and alone, +she stood looking on the calm lake, where the light in golden and green +patches played, as it struggled through the dense foliage. The clattering +of my sabre startled her, and without looking back, she dropped her veil, +and moved slowly on. +</p> +<p> +“Mademoiselle de Meudon!” said I, taking off my shako, and bowing deeply +before her. +</p> +<p> +“What! how! Why this name, sir? Don't you know it's forbidden here?” +</p> +<p> +“I know it, Madame. But it is by that name alone I dare to speak to you. +It was by that I learned to know you,—from one who loved you, and +who did not reject my humble heart; one who, amid all the trials of hard +fate, felt the hardest to be,—the wrong he did his sister.” +</p> +<p> +“Did you speak of my brother Charles?” said she, in a voice low and +tremulous. +</p> +<p> +“I did, Madame. The last message his lips ever uttered was given to me,—and +for you. Not until last night did I know that I was every hour of the day +so near to one whose name was treasured in my heart.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, tell me of him! tell me of my dear Charles!” cried she, as the tears +ran fast down her pale cheeks. “Where was his death? Was it among +strangers that he breathed his last? Was there one there who loved him?” +</p> +<p> +“There was! there was!” cried I, passionately, unable to say more. +</p> +<p> +“And where was that youth that loved him so tenderly? I heard of him as +one who never left his side,—tending him in sickness, and watching +beside him in sorrow. Was he not there?” +</p> +<p> +“I was! I was! My hand held his; in my ear his last sigh was breathed.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! was it you indeed who were my brother's friend?” said she, seizing my +hand, and pressing it to her lips. The hot tears dropped heavily on my +wrist, and in my ecstasy I knew not where I was. “Oh,” cried she, +passionately, “I did not think that in my loneliness such a happiness as +this remained for me! I never dreamed to see and speak to one who knew and +loved my own dear Charles; who could tell me of his solitary hours of +exile,—what hopes and fears stirred that proud heart of his; who +could bring back to me in all their force again the bright hours of our +happy youth, when we were all to each other,—when our childhood knew +no greater bliss than that we loved. Alas, alas! how short-lived was it +all! He lies buried beyond the sea in the soil of the stranger; and I live +on to mourn over the past and shudder at the future. But come, let us sit +down upon this bank; you must not leave me till I hear all about him. +Where did you meet first?” +</p> +<p> +We sat down upon a grassy bench beside the stream, where I at once began +the narrative of my first acquaintance with De Meudon. At first the rush +of sensations that came crowding on me made me speak with difficulty and +effort. The flutter of her dress as the soft wind waved it to and fro, the +melody of her voice, and her full, languid eye, where sorrow and +long-buried affection mingled their expression, sent thrilling through my +heart thoughts that I dared not dwell upon. Gradually, as I proceeded, my +mind recurred to my poor friend, and I warmed as I spoke of his heroic +darings and his bold counsels. All his high-souled ardor, all the +nobleness of his great nature,—his self-devotion, and his suffering,—were +again before me, mingled with those traits of womanly softness which only +belong to those whose courage was almost fanaticism. How her dark eyes +grew darker as she listened, and her parted lips and her fast-heaving +bosom betrayed the agitation that she felt! And how that proud look melted +into sorrow when I told of the day when his outpouring heart recurred to +home and her, the loved one of his boyhood. Every walk in that old +terraced garden, each grassy alley and each shady seat, I knew as though I +saw them. +</p> +<p> +Although I did not mention Claude, nor even distinctly allude to the +circumstances which led to their unhappiness, I could see that her cheek +became paler and paler; and that, despite an effort to seem calm, the +features moved with a slight jerking motion, her lip trembled +convulsively, and, with a low, sad sigh she fell back fainting. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/300.jpg" alt="The Lady of the Lake 300 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +I sprang down the bank towards the lake, and in an Instant dipped my shako +in the water; and as I hastened back, she was sitting up, her eyes staring +madly 'round her, her look wild almost to insanity, while her outstretched +finger pointed to the copse of low beech near us. +</p> +<p> +“There, there! I saw him!” said she. “He was there now. Look! look!” +</p> +<p> +Shocked at the terrified expression of her features, and alarmed lest ray +story had conjured up before her disordered imagination the image of her +lost brother, I spoke to her in words of encouragement. +</p> +<p> +“No, no!” replied she to my words, “I saw him,—I heard his voice, +too. Let us leave this; bring me to the Trianon; and—” +</p> +<p> +The terrified and eager look she threw around at each word did not admit +of longer parley, and I drew her arm within mine to lead her forward. +“This is no fancy, as you deem it,” said she, in a low and broken tone, to +which an accent of bitterness lent a terrible power; “nor could the grave +give up before me one so full of terror to my heart as him I saw there.” +</p> +<p> +Her head sank heavily as she uttered this; and, notwithstanding every +effort I made, she spoke no more, nor would give me any answer to my +questions regarding the cause of her fears. +</p> +<p> +As we walked forward we heard the sound of voices, which she at once +recognized as belonging to the Court party, and pressing my hand slightly, +she motioned me to leave her. I pressed the pale fingers to my lips, and +darted away, my every thought bent on discovering the cause of her late +fright. +</p> +<p> +In an instant I was back beside the lake. I searched every copse and every +brake; I wandered for hours through the dark woods; but nothing could I +see. I stooped to examine the ground, but could not even detect the +pressure of a footstep. The dried branches lay unbroken, and the leaves +unpressed around; and I at last became convinced that an excited brain, +and a mind harassed by a long sorrow, had conjured up the image she spoke +of. As I approached the picket, which was one of the most remote in my +rounds, I resolved to ask the sentry had he seen any one. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Lieutenant,” said the soldier; “a man passed some short time ago in +an undress uniform. He gave the word, and I let him proceed.” +</p> +<p> +“Was he old or young?” +</p> +<p> +“Middle-aged, and of your height.” +</p> +<p> +“Which way did he take?” +</p> +<p> +“He turned towards the left as he passed out; I lost sight of him then.” +</p> +<p> +I hurried immediately onward, and entered the wood by the path in the +direction mentioned, my mind painfully excited by what I heard, and +resolved to do everything to probe this matter to the bottom. But, though +I walked miles in every direction, I met none save a few fagot-gatherers, +and they had not seen any one like him I sought for. +</p> +<p> +With a weary and a heavy heart I turned towards my quarters, all the +happiness of the morning dashed by the strange event I have related. My +night was feverish and disturbed; for a long time I could not sleep, and, +when I did, wild and terrible fancies came on me, and I started up in +terror. A horrible face recurred at every instant to my mind's eye; and +even when awake, the least noise, the slightest rustling of the leaves in +the park, agitated and excited me. At last, worn out with the painful +struggle, between sleep and waking, I arose and dressed. +</p> +<p> +The day was breaking, and already the birds were carolling to the rising +sun. I strolled out into the park. The fresh and bracing air of morning +cooled my burning brow; the mild influences of the hour, when sweet +perfumes float softly in the dew-loaded breeze, soothed and calmed me; and +I wandered back in thought to her who already had given a charm to my +existence I never knew before. +</p> +<p> +The long-wished-for dream of my boyhood was realized at last. I knew the +sister of my friend; I sat beside her, and heard her speak to me in tones +so like his own. I was no longer the friendless alien, without one to care +for, one to feel interested in his fortunes. The isolation that pressed so +painfully on me fled before that thought: and now I felt raised in my own +esteem by those dark eyes that thanked me as I spoke of poor Charles. What +a thrill that look sent through my heart! Oh, did she know the power of +that glance! Could she foresee what seeds of high ambition her every smile +was sowing! The round of my duty was to me devoid of all fatigue, and I +returned to my quarters with a light step and a lighter heart. +</p> +<p> +The entire day I lingered about the Trianon and near the lake; but Marie +never came, nor did she appear in the walks at all. “Was she ill? Had the +vision, whatever it was, of yesterday, preyed upon her health?” were my +first thoughts, and I inquired eagerly if any doctor had been seen about +the château. But no, nothing unusual seemed to have occurred, and a ball +was to take place that very evening. I would have given worlds, were they +mine, even to know in what part of the Palace she was lodged; and fifty +times did I affect to have some duty, as an excuse to cross the terrace +and steal a cautious glance towards the windows,—but in vain. +</p> +<p> +So engrossed was my mind with thoughts of her that I forgot all else. The +pickets, too, I had not visited since daybreak, and my report to the +minister remained unfilled. It was late in the evening when I sallied +forth to my duty, and night, with scarce a star, was falling fast. My +preoccupation prevented my feeling the way as I walked along; and I had +already visited all the outposts except one, when a low, faint whistle, +that seemed to issue from the copse near me, startled me. It was repeated +after a moment, and I called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Who 's there? Advance.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, I thought it was you, Burke!” said a voice I at once knew to be +Beauvais's. “You broke faith with me at the town-gate yonder, and so I had +to come down here.” +</p> +<p> +“How? You surely were not there when I passed?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but I was, though. Did you not see the woodcutter, with his blouse +on his arm, lighting his pipe at the door of the guardhouse?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; but you can't mean that it was you.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you remember his saying, 'Buy a cheap charretie of wood, Lieutenant; I +'ll leave it at your quarters? '” +</p> +<p> +“De Beauvais,” said I, gravely, “these risks may be fatal to us both. My +orders are positive; and if I disobey them, there are no powerful friends +nor high relatives to screen me from a deserving punishment.” +</p> +<p> +“What folly you speak, Burke! If I did not know you better, I should say +you grudged me the hospitality I have myself asked you for. One night to +rest,—and I need it much, if you knew but all,—and one day to +speak to Marie, and you have done with me. Is that too much?” +</p> +<p> +“No,—not if I did not betray a trust in sheltering you, far too +little to speak of, much less thank me for. But—” +</p> +<p> +“Do spare me these scruples, and let us take the shortest way to your +quarters. A supper and three chairs to sleep on, are worth all your +arguments, eloquent though they be.” +</p> +<p> +We walked on together, almost in silence: I overwhelmed with fear for the +result should my conduct ever become known; he evidently chagrined at my +reception of him, and little disposed to make allowances for scruples he +would not have respected himself. +</p> +<p> +“So here we are at last,” said he, as he threw himself on my little sofa, +seemingly worn out with exhaustion. I had now time to look at him by the +light, and almost started back at the spectacle that presented itself. His +dress, which was that of the meanest peasant, was ragged and torn; his +shoes scarce held together with coarse thongs; and his beard, unshaven for +weeks past, increased the haggard look of features where actual want and +starvation seemed impressed. +</p> +<p> +“You are surprised at my costume,” said he, with a sad smile; “and, +certes, Crillac would not court a customer habited as I am just now. But +what will you say when I assure you that the outward man—and you +will not accuse him of any voluptuous extravagance—has a very great +advantage over the inner one? In plain words, Lieutenant, you 'd hurry +your cook, if you knew I have not tasted food, save what the hedges +afford, for two days: not from poverty neither; there 's wherewithal there +to dine, even at Beauvilliers's.” He rattled a well-filled purse as he +spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, De Beauvais! you accuse me of doing the honors with a bad +grace; and, in truth, I wish I were your host outside the pickets. But let +me retrieve my character a little. Taste this capon.” +</p> +<p> +“If you never dined with a wolf, you shall now,” said he, drawing his +chair to the table and filling a large goblet with Burgundy. +</p> +<p> +For ten or fifteen minutes he ate on like a man whom long starvation had +rendered half savage; then ceasing suddenly, he looked up, and said, +“Lieutenant, the cuisine here might tempt a more fastidious man than I am; +and if these people are not hospitable enough to invite you to their +soiries, they certainly do not starve you at home.” +</p> +<p> +“How knew you that I was not asked to the château?” said I, reddening with +a sense of offended pride I could not conceal. +</p> +<p> +“Know it? Why, man, these things are known at once. People talk of them in +saloons and morning visits, and comment on them in promenades; and though +I seem not to have been keeping company with the beau monde latterly, I +hear what goes on there too. But trust me, boy, if your favor stands not +high with the Court of to-day, you may perhaps be preparing the road to +fortune with that of to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Though you speak in riddle, De Beauvais, so long as I suspect that what +you mean would offer insult to those I serve, let me say,—and I say +it in all temper, but in all firmness,—you 'll find no ready +listener in me. The highest favor I aspire to is the praise of our great +chief, General Bonaparte; and here I pledge his health.” +</p> +<p> +“I'll drink no more wine to-night,” said he, sulkily pushing his glass +before him. “Is this to be my bed?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course not; mine is ready for you. I 'll rest on the sofa there, for I +shall have to visit my pickets by daybreak.” +</p> +<p> +“In Heaven's name, for what?” said he, with a half sneer. “What can that +poor Savary be dreaming of? Is there any one about to steal the staircase +of the Louvre, or the clock from the pavilion of the Tuileries? Or is it +the savants of the Institute he 's afraid of losing?” +</p> +<p> +“Rail on, my good friend; you 'll find it very hard to make an old scholar +of the Polytechnique think poorly of the man that gains battles.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, I give up my faith in physiognomy. Do you remember that same +evening in the Tuileries when I asked your pardon, and begged to be your +friend? I thought you a different fellow then from what I see you now; +that silly hussar pelisse has turned many a head before yours.” +</p> +<p> +“You wish to make me angry, De Beauvais, and you 'll not succeed. A +night's rest will bring you to better temper with all the world.” +</p> +<p> +“Will it, faith! In that case a tolerably large portion of it must take +leave of it before morning; for I promise you, my worthy hussar, there are +some I don't expect to feel so very charitably towards as you expect.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well! What say you to bed?” +</p> +<p> +“I 'll sleep where I am,” said he, with some harshness in his tone. +“Good-night.” +</p> +<p> +The words were scarcely uttered when he turned on his side, and, shading +his eyes from the light with his hand, fell fast asleep. +</p> +<p> +It was already past midnight, and as I was fatigued with my day's walking, +I soon retired to my bed, but not to rest. Whenever I closed my eyes, +Beauvais's pale and worn face seemed before me,—the haggard +expression of suffering and privation. And then I fell to thinking what +enterprise of danger could involve him in such necessities as these. It +must be one of peril, or he had not become what now I saw him. His very +voice was changed,—its clear, manly tone was now harsh and +dissonant; his frank and cheerful look was downcast and suspicious. +</p> +<p> +At last, worn out with thinking, I fell asleep; but was suddenly awakened +by a voice shouting from the outer room. I sat up and listened. It was De +Beauvais, calling wildly for help; the cry grew fainter, and soon sank +into the long-drawn respiration of repose. Poor fellow! even in his dreams +his thoughts were of strife and danger. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXX. A WARNING. +</h2> +<p> +The day was breaking when I was up and stirring, resolving to visit the +pickets before De Beauvais awoke; for even still the tone of ridicule he +assumed was strong before me. I passed stealthily through the room where +he was still sleeping; the faint light streamed through the half-closed +shutters, and fell upon a face so pale, so haggard, and so worn, that I +started back in horror. How altered was he, indeed, from what I had seen +him first! The cheek once ruddy with the flush of youth was now pinched +and drawn in; the very lips were bloodless, as if not illness alone, but +long fasting from food, had pressed upon him. His hair, too, which used to +fall upon his shoulders and on his neck in rich and perfumed locks, silky +and delicate as a girl's, was now tangled and matted, and hung across his +face and temples wild and straggling. Even to his hands his changed +condition was apparent, for they were torn and bleeding; while in the +attitude of sleep, you could trace the heavy unconscious slumber of one +utterly worn out and exhausted. His dress was of the coarse stuff the +peasants wear in their blouses; and even that seemed old and worn. What +strange career had brought him down to this I could not think; for poor as +all seemed about him, his well-stocked purse showed that his costume was +worn rather for disguise than necessity. +</p> +<p> +Such was my first thought; my second, more painful still, recurred to her +he loved, by whom he was perhaps beloved in turn. Oh! if anything can add +to the bitter smart of jealousy, it is the dreadful conviction that she +for whom our heart's best blood would flow to insure one hour of +happiness, has placed her whole life's fortune on the veriest chance,—bestowing +her love on one whose life gives no guarantee for the future,—no +hope, no pledge, that the world's wildest schemes of daring and ambition +are not dearer to his eyes than all her charms and affections. How does +our own deep devotion come up before us contrasted with this! and how, in +the consciousness of higher motives and more ennobling thoughts, do we +still feel inferior to him who, if poor in all besides, is rich in her +love! +</p> +<p> +Such envious feelings filled my heart as I looked on him; and with slow, +sad step I moved on, when by accident I came against a chair, and threw it +down. The noise awoke him, and with a spring he was on his legs, and +drawing a pistol from his bosom, cried out,— +</p> +<p> +“Ha! what is 't? Why, Burke, it 's you! What hour is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Not four yet. I 'm sorry to have disturbed you, De Beauvais; but the +chair here—” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; I placed it so last night. I felt so very heavy that I could +not trust myself with waking to a slight noise. Where to, so early? Ah! +these pickets; I forgot.” And with that he lay down again, and before I +left the house was fast asleep once more. +</p> +<p> +Some trifling details of duty detained me at one or two of the outposts, +and it was beyond my usual time when I turned homeward. I had but just +reached the broad alley that leads to the foot of the great terrace, when +I saw a figure before me hastening on towards the château. The flutter of +the dress showed it to be a woman; and then the thought flashed on me,—it +was Mademoiselle de Meudon. Yes, it was her step; I knew it well. She had +left the place thus early to meet De Beauvais. +</p> +<p> +Without well knowing what I did, I had increased my speed, and was now +rapidly overtaking her, when the noise of my footsteps on the ground made +her turn about and look back. I stopped short suddenly. An indistinct +sense of something culpable on my part in thus pursuing her flitted across +my mind, and I could not move. There she stood, too, motionless; but for a +second or two only, and then beckoned to me with her hand. I could +scarcely trust my eyes, nor did I dare to stir till she had repeated the +motion twice or thrice. +</p> +<p> +As I drew near, I remarked that her eyes were red with weeping, and her +face pale as death. For a moment she gazed steadfastly at me, and then, +with a voice whose accent I can never forget, she said,— +</p> +<p> +“And you, too, the dearest friend of my own Charles, whose very deathbed +spoke of loyalty to him, how have you been drawn from your allegiance?” +</p> +<p> +I stood amazed and astounded, unable to utter a word in reply, when she +resumed,— +</p> +<p> +“For them there is reason, too: they lived, or their fathers did, in the +sunshine of the old Monarchy; wealth, rank, riches, power,—all were +theirs. But you, who came amongst us with high hopes of greatness, where +others have earned them on the field of battle,—whose youth is a +guarantee that base and unworthy thoughts should form no part of his +motives, and whose high career began under the very eyes of him, the idol +of every soldier's heart,—oh I why turn from such a path as this, to +dark and crooked ways, where low intrigue and plot and treachery are +better weapons than your own stout heart and your own bright sword?” +</p> +<p> +“Hear me, I pray you,” said I, bursting into impatience,—“hear me +but one word, and know that you accuse me wrongfully. I have no part in, +nor have I knowledge of, any treason.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, speak not thus to me! There are those who may call their acts by +high-sounding titles, and say, 'We are but restoring our own sovereigns to +the land they owned.' But you are free to think and feel; no prestige of +long years blinds your reason or obstructs your sense of right.” +</p> +<p> +“Once more I swear, that though I can but guess at where your suspicions +point, my faith is now as true, my loyalty as firm, as when I pledged +myself at your dear brother's side to be a soldier.” +</p> +<p> +“Then why have you mixed yourself with their intrigues? Why are you +already suspected? Why has Madame Bonaparte received orders to omit your +name in all the invitations to the château?” +</p> +<p> +“Alas! I know not. I learn now, for the first time that suspicion ever +attached to me.” +</p> +<p> +“It is said, too,—for already such things are spoken of,—that +you know that dreadful man whose very presence is contamination. Oh! does +it not seem like fate that his dark path should traverse every portion of +my destiny?” +</p> +<p> +The sobs that burst from her at these words seemed to rend her very bosom. +“They say,” continued she, while her voice trembled with strong emotion,—“they +say he has been here.” +</p> +<p> +“I know not of whom you speak,” said I, as a cold chill ran through my +blood. +</p> +<p> +“Mehée de la Touche,” replied she, with an effort. +</p> +<p> +“I never heard of him till now; the very name is unknown to me.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank God for this!” muttered she between her teeth. “I thought, perhaps, +that De Beauvais had made you known to each other.” +</p> +<p> +“No; De Beauvais never introduced me, save to some friends of his one +evening at a supper, several months back; and only one of them have I ever +seen since,—an Abbé, d'Ervan. And, indeed, if I am guilty of any +breach of duty, I did not think the reproach was to come from you.” +</p> +<p> +The bitterness of these last words was wrung from me in a moment of +wounded pride. +</p> +<p> +“How! what mean you?” said she, impetuously. “No one has dared to call my +fidelity into question, nor speak of me as false to those who cherish and +protect me.” +</p> +<p> +“You mistake my meaning,” said I, sadly and slowly. Then hesitating how +far I should dare allude to De Beauvais's affection, I stopped, when +suddenly her face became deeply flushed, and a tear started to her eye. +</p> +<p> +“Alas, she loves him!” said I to my heart, and a sickness like death +passed over me. “Leave me, leave me quickly!” cried she. “I see persons +watching us from the terrace.” And with that she moved hastily on towards +the château, and I turned into one of the narrow walks that led into the +wood. +</p> +<p> +Two trains of thought struggled for mastery in my mind: how had I become +suspected? how should I wipe out the stain upon my honor? +</p> +<p> +There was not an incident of my life since my landing in France I did not +call to mind; and yet, save in the unhappy meeting with De Beauvais, I +could not see the slightest probability that even malevolence could attach +anything to my reputation. “From d'Ervan, it is true, I heard more than +once opinions that startled me; less, however, by anything direct in their +meaning, than that they were totally new and strange. And yet the abbé, I +had every reason to believe, was a friend of the present Government; at +least it was evident he was on terms of close intimacy with Monsieur +Savary. +</p> +<p> +“De Beauvais must clear up some of these doubts for me,” thought I; “he +must inform me more particularly as to those to whom he introduced me. I +shall endeavor to learn, too, something of their schemes, and thus guard +myself against the mere chance of suspicion; for unquestionably he is not +in ignorance of the movement, whatever it be.” And with such intentions I +hurried onwards, eager to reach my quarters. +</p> +<p> +As I entered my room, a low, heavy sob broke on my ear; I started back +with surprise. It was De Beauvais, who sat, his head buried in his hands, +leaning on the table. +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” said he, springing up, and passing his hand hurriedly across his +eyes, “so soon back! I scarcely expected you.” +</p> +<p> +“It is past ten o'clock,—a full hour later than my usual return.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” rejoined he, with an air of impertinent surprise. “So then your +pickets have been arresting and detaining some poor devils gathering +fagots or acorns? or have you unfathomed the depth of this terrible plot +your Préfet de Police has become insane about?” +</p> +<p> +“Neither,” said I, affecting a careless tone. “The Government of the +Consul is sufficiently strong to make men's minds easy on that score. +Whatever intrigues are at work, they are as little likely to escape his +keen eye as their perpetrators are, when taken, the fire of a grenadier +company.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi!</i> sir, you speak confidently,” replied he, in an accent of +pride totally different from his former tone. “And yet I have heard of +persons just as confident, too, who afterwards confessed they had been +mistaken. But perhaps it seems less strange to you that a sous-lieutenant +of artillery should rule the destinies of France, than that the King of +the country should resume the throne of his ancestors.” +</p> +<p> +“Take care, De Beauvais, with whom you speak. I warn you; and be assured I +'ll not be trifled with. One word more, and I put you under arrest.” +</p> +<p> +“Not here, surely,” replied he, in a low and searching voice,—“not +here. Let us walk out into the park. Let it be in the great alley, or on +the terrace yonder; or, better still, let the capture take place in the +wood; but do not let your loyalty violate the hospitality of your home.” +</p> +<p> +“Forgive me, I pray; I knew not what I said. You tempted me sorely, +though. Think but for a moment, De Beauvais, how I stand here, and let +your own heart judge me. I am an alien,—a friendless stranger. There +lives not one in all the length and breadth of France who would raise a +finger, or speak one word, to save me were my head in peril. My sword and +my fidelity are all my hope; that both should remain pure and unblemished +is all my wish. The grade I have I owe to him—” +</p> +<p> +“Great cause for gratitude, truly!” he broke in. “The chief <i>élève</i> +of the Polytechnique is made a sous-lieutenant of cavalry, with functions +of a sergeant of the gendarmerie, with orders to stop all travellers, and +search their pockets. Shame on it! It was not thus the rightful sovereigns +of France regarded those who wore their epaulettes; not thus did they +esteem the soldier's part. Think, for a second, what you are, and then +reflect what you might be. Cold and unimpassioned as you call yourself, I +know your heart better. There lives not one who treasures a higher +ambition in his breast than you. Ah! your eyes sparkle already. Think, +then, I say, what a career opens before you, if you have courage to +embrace it. It 's a great game that enables a man to spring from +sous-lieutenant to colonel of a regiment. Come, Burke! I can have no +reason, save your welfare, to press these considerations on you. What are +you writing there?” +</p> +<p> +“A report to the Préfet de Police. I see now, however late it is, the +unworthiness of the part I 've acted, in remaining in a service where I +'ve listened to statements such as these. I shall ask to have my grade +withdrawn, and be reduced to the ranks; there, perhaps, I may be permitted +to carry a soldier's musket without a stain upon my honor.” +</p> +<p> +“You can do better, sir,” interrupted he, as his face grew purple with +passion, and his eyes flashed fire, “far better: call up your dragoons +yonder, and place me, where you threatened, under arrest; forward your +report to the minister, that Henri de Beauvais, Marquis et Pair de France +when such things were, has been taken with the 'Croix de St. Louis' and +the cordon in his possession.” Here he took from his bosom the decoration, +and waved it above his head. “Add, too, that he came prepared to tempt +your loyalty with this.” He drew forth at the words a parchment document, +and dashed it on the table before me. “There, sir, read it; it is the +King's own handwriting,—your brevet of colonel to a regiment of the +Gardes. Such proofs of your devotion can scarcely go unrewarded. They may +raise you to the rank of police spy. There is a lady yonder, too, who +should also share in your elevation, as she does in your loyal sentiments; +Mademoiselle de Meudon may be too quick for you. Lose no time, sir; such +chances as these are not the fruit of every day. After all, I can scarcely +go to the guillotine under better auspices than with my cousin and my +friend as my betrayers. Mayhap, too, they 'll do you the honor to make you +mount guard beside the scaffold. Such an occasion to display your devotion +should not escape you,—David found it profitable to catch the +expiring agonies of his own friends, as with easel and brush he sat beside +the guillotine: the hint should not be lost.” +</p> +<p> +The insulting emphasis with which he spoke the last words cut me to the +very heart, and I stood speechless before him, trembling like a criminal. +</p> +<p> +“Let us part, De Beauvais,” said I, at length, as I held my hand towards +him. “Let us say adieu to each other, and forever. I can forgive all you +have said to me, far better than I could myself had I listened to your +persuasions. What may be honorable and just in you, would be black +ingratitude and dark treachery in me. I shall now endeavor to forget we +have ever met, and once more, good-by!” +</p> +<p> +“You are right,” replied he, after a pause of some seconds, and in a tone +of great sadness; “we never should have met. Adieu!” +</p> +<p> +“One word more, De Beauvais. I find that I have been suspected of some +treasonable intercourse; that even here I am watched and spied upon. Tell +me, I beseech you, before you go, from what quarter comes this danger, +that I may guard against it.” +</p> +<p> +“In good truth, you give me credit for quicker perceptions than I have any +right to. How so loyal a gentleman should lie under such an imputation I +cannot even guess.” +</p> +<p> +“Your sneers shall not provoke me. The fact is as I state it; and if you +will not help me to the discovery, tell me, at least, who are the persons +to whom you introduced me formerly at Beauvilliers's?” +</p> +<p> +“Very excellent company! I trust none of them have cheated you at écarte.” +</p> +<p> +“Pray, have done with jesting, and answer me. Who is your Abbé?” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi</i>, he is the Abbé, d'Ervan. What part of France he comes +from, who are his family, friends, and resources,—are all questions +I have never thought proper to ask him; possibly because I am not so +scrupulous on the score of my acquaintances as you are. He is a very +clever, amusing, witty person; knows almost every one; has the entrée into +every house in the Faubourg St. Germain; can compose a couplet and sing +it; make a mayonnaise or a madrigal better than any man I know; and, in +fact, if he were one of these days to be a minister of France, I should +not be so very much surprised as you appear this moment at my not knowing +more about him. As to the other, the Russian secretary,—or spy, if +you like the phrase better, he was unlucky enough to have one of his +couriers robbed by a party of brigands, which scandal says were sent out +for the purpose by Monsieur de Talleyrand. His secret despatches were +opened and read; and as they were found to implicate the Russian +Government in certain intrigues carrying on, the Czar had only one course +open, which was to recall the secretary and disavow his whole proceedings. +The better to evince his displeasure, I hear they have slit his nose, and +sent him to pass the winter at Tobolsk. Lastly, the préfet. What shall I +say of him, save that he was a préfet in the South, and wants to be one +again? His greatest endeavors in any cause will be to pledge its success +in Burgundy, or, if you wish, drink the downfall of its enemy; and as to +his enthusiasm, he cares a devilish deal more for a change of weather than +a change of dynasty, particularly in the truffle season, or when the vines +are ripening. Such are the truly dangerous associates you have kept +company with. It now only remains to speak of my humble self, whose +history, I need scarcely say, is far more at your service than worth the +hearing. Are you satisfied?” +</p> +<p> +“Quite so, as regards me; by no means so, however, as to your fate. Short +as our intimacy has been, I have seen enough of you to know that qualities +like yours should not be wasted in a mad or hopeless enterprise.” +</p> +<p> +“Who told you it was either?” interrupted he, impetuously. “Who dares to +say that the rule of a Usurper is more firmly placed than the prestige of +a Monarchy that goes back to Hugues Capet? Come, come! I will not discuss +these questions with you, nor have I temper now left to do so. Give me the +countersign to pass the sentry, and let us part.” +</p> +<p> +“Not in anger, though, De Beauvais.” +</p> +<p> +“Not in friendship, sir,” replied he, proudly, as he waved back, with his, +my proffered hand. “Adieu!” said he, in a softened tone, as he moved from +the room; and then, turning quickly round, he added, “We may meet again +hereafter, and scarcely can do so on equal terms. If fortune stand by you +I must be a beggar; should I win, yours is indeed a sorry lot. When that +time comes, let him with whom the world goes best not forget the other. +Good-by!” And with that he turned away, and left the house. +</p> +<p> +I watched him as he strode along the silent alleys, careless and free as +though he had no cause for fear, till he disappeared in the dark wood: and +then I sat down at the door to think over our interview. Never had my +heart felt more depressed. My own weakness in having ever admitted the +intimacy of men whose dangerous designs were apparent had totally +undermined the strong principle of rectitude I should have relied upon in +such a trial, and on which I could have thrown myself for support. What +had I to guide me after all, save my devotion to the cause of Bonaparte +himself? The prejudices of education, the leanings of family opinion, the +inclinations of friends, exist not for the alien. He has to choose his +allegiance; it is not born with him. His loyalty is not the growth of a +hundred different sympathies, that have twined round his heart in +childhood and grown with him to manhood; speaking of home and infancy, of +his own native streams and mountains, of a land that was his father's. No! +with him it is not a conviction,—it is but a feeling. +</p> +<p> +Such was the substance of my reverie; and as I arose and strolled out into +the park, it was with a deeply-uttered vow to be true to him and his +fortunes whose name first lit the spark of ambition in my heart, and +through weal or woe to devote myself to him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXI. THE CHÂTEAU +</h2> +<p> +The same day that De Beauvais left me, the Court took its departure from +Versailles. A sudden resolution of the Consul to visit the camp at +Boulogne, where he was to be accompanied by Madame Bonaparte, was +announced as the reason for this change; while a dark rumor ran that some +detected scheme for his assassination had induced his friends to advise +this step. Certain it was, the preparations were made with the utmost +speed, and in less than an hour after the despatch had arrived from Paris, +the Court was on its way back to the capital. +</p> +<p> +It was not without a sense of sadness that I watched the equipages as they +rolled one by one from beneath the deep colonnade, and traversed the wide +terrace, to disappear in the recesses of the dark forest. I strained my +eyes to catch even a passing look at one who to me had made every walk and +every alley a thing to love. But I could not see her; and the last roll of +the retiring wheels died away in the distance without one friendly voice +to say adieu, one smile at parting. +</p> +<p> +Though I had not participated in the festivities of the château, nor even +been noticed by any of the guests, the absence of its gay world, the +glitter of its brilliant cortege, the neighing steeds in all their bright +panoply, the clank of military music, the gorgeously dressed ladies who +strolled along its terraced walks, made the solitude that followed appear +dark and desolate indeed; and now, as I walked the park, whose avenues at +noonday were silent as at midnight, the desertion imparted a melancholy +feeling to my heart I could not explain. How often had I stopped beneath +that balcony, striving to distinguish the soft tones of one gentle voice +amid the buzz of conversation! How had I watched the crowded promenade +every evening upon the terrace, to see one figure there among the rest! +and when my eye had fallen upon her, how has it followed and traced her as +she went! And now I frequented each spot where I had ever seen her,—pacing +at sunset the very walk she used to take, dwelling on each word she ever +spoke to me. The château, too, of which before I had not passed the door, +I now revisited again and again, lingering in each room where I thought +she had been, and even resting on the chairs, and calling up before me her +image as though present. +</p> +<p> +Thus passed over weeks and months. The summer glided into the mellow +autumn, and the autumn itself grew cold and chill, with grayish skies and +sighing winds that swept the leaves along the dark walks and moaned sadly +among the tall beech-trees. The still, calm waters of the little lake, +that reflected the bright foliage and the deep blue sky motionless as in a +mirror, was now ruffled by the passing breeze, and surged with a low, sad +sound against its rocky sides; and as I watched these changes, I sorrowed +less for the departing season than that every trace of her I loved was +fading from before me. The bare and skeleton branches now threw their +gaunt shadows where I had seen her walk at noonday enveloped in deep +shade. Dark, watery clouds were hurrying across the surface of the stream +where I had seen her fair form mirrored. The cold winds of coming winter +swept along the princely terrace where not a zephyr rustled her dress as +she moved. And somehow, I could not help connecting these changes with my +own sensations, and feeling that a gloomy winter was approaching to my own +most cherished hopes. +</p> +<p> +Months passed over with me thus, in which, save on my round of duty, I +never spoke to any one. D'Ervan did not return as he promised,—a +circumstance which, with all my solitude, I sincerely rejoiced at. And of +De Beauvais I heard nothing; and yet, on one account, I could have wished +much to learn where he was. Unhappily, in the excitement of the morning I +last saw him, he forgot on the table at my quarters the commission of +colonel by which he had endeavored to tempt my ambition, and which I never +noticed till several hours after his departure. Unwilling to destroy, and +yet fearful of retaining it in my possession, I knew not well what to do, +and had locked it up in my writing-desk, anxiously looking for an +opportunity to forward it to him. None such, however, presented itself, +nor did I ever hear from him from the hour he left me. +</p> +<p> +The unbroken solitude in which I lived disposed me to study, and I resumed +the course which in earlier days had afforded me so much interest and +amusement; and by this, not only was my mind drawn off from the +contemplation of the painful circumstances of my own loneliness, but +gradually my former ardor for military distinction came back in all its +force. And thus did I learn, for the first time, how many of the griefs +that our brains beget find their remedies in the source they spring from,—the +exercise of the intellect being like that of the body, an essential to a +healthy state of thinking and feeling. Each day imparted fresh energy to +me in the path I followed; and in these solitary hours I made those +acquisitions in knowledge which in after life were to render me the most +important services, and prepare me for the contingencies of a soldier's +career. +</p> +<p> +While thus engaged, time rolled over, and already the dark and gloomy +month of January set in with clouded skies and nights of storm and rain. +Everything wore its most cheerless aspect. Not only were the trees +leafless and bare, the roads broken up and fissured with streams of water, +but the neglected look of the château itself bespoke the sad and gloomy, +season. The closed shutters, the closely barred doors, the statues covered +up with mats to protect them from the weather, the conservatories +despoiled of all their gay habitants, betrayed that the time was passed +when in the warm air of sunset happy groups wandered hither and thither, +inhaling the rich odors of the flowers and gazing on the brilliant +landscape. +</p> +<p> +It was about nine o'clock at night. The storm that usually began each +evening at the same hour was already stirring in fitful gusts among the +bare branches of the trees, or sending a sudden plash of rain against the +windows, when, as I drew closer to ray fire, and was preparing to enjoy +myself for the evening over my book, I heard the regular tramping sound of +a cavalry horse approaching along the terrace; the jingle of the +accoutrements was a noise I could not mistake. I arose, but before I +reached the door I heard a deep voice call out,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The Sous-Lieutenant Burke; a despatch from Paris.” I took +the paper, which was sealed and folded in the most formal +manner, and returning to the room, opened it. The contents +ran thus:— + +Sous-Lieutenant: On receipt of this you are commanded to +station four dragoons of your party, with a corporal, on the +road leading from Chaillot to Versailles, who shall detain +all persons passing that way unable to account +satisfactorily for their presence. You will also station a +picket of two dragoons at the cross-road from the Tron to +St. Cloud for the like purpose. The remainder of your party +to be under arms during the night, and if requisite, at the +disposal of Captain Lepelletier. For the execution of which, +the present order will be your responsibility. + +(Signed) Savary, + +Colonel de Gendarmerie d'Elite. + +Given at the Tuileries, January 14, 1804. +</pre> +<p> +“So,” thought I, “there is, then, something astir after all. These +precautions all indicate minute and accurate information; and now to +perform my part.” Just at that instant I perceived at my feet a small +note, which apparently had fallen from the envelope as I opened it. I took +it up. It was addressed: “Sous-Lieutenant Burke,” with the words “in +haste” written in the corner. Tearing it open at once, I read the +following:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +All is discovered; Pichegru arrested; Moreau at the +Temple. A party have left this to capture the others at the +Château d'Ancre; they cannot be there before midnight; +you may then yet be in time to save H. de B., who is among +them. Not an instant must be lost. +</pre> +<p> +There was no signature to this strange epistle, but I knew at once from +whom it came. Marie alone could venture on such a step to save her lover. +My own determination was taken at once; should my head be on it, I 'd do +her bidding. While I sent for the sergeant to give him the orders of the +colonel, I directed my servant to bring round my horse to the door as +lightly equipped as possible, and, save the holsters, nothing of his usual +accoutrements. Meanwhile I prepared myself for the road by loading my +pistols and fastening on my sword. The commission, too, which De Beauvais +had left behind, I did not forget, but taking it from my desk, I placed it +safely in my bosom. Nor was the brief billet omitted, which, having read +and re-read, I placed in the lining of my cap for safety. One difficulty +still presented itself: where was the château, and how in the darkness of +a winter's night should I find it? I just then remembered that my troop +sergeant, a sharp, intelligent fellow, had been for some weeks past +engaged in procuring forage about the neighborhood, for several miles +round. I sent for him at once and asked him if he knew it. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, lieutenant; perfectly. It was an old-seigneurie once; and though +much dismantled, has a look of respectability still about it. I 've often +been there to buy corn; but the gruff old farmer, they say, hates the +military, and it 's not easy to get him to deal with us at all.” +</p> +<p> +“What's the distance from here?” +</p> +<p> +“Two leagues and a half, almost three; indeed you may count it as much, +the road is so bad.” +</p> +<p> +“Now then for the way. Describe it; be as brief as you can.” +</p> +<p> +“You know the cross on the high road beyond Ypres?” +</p> +<p> +“I do. Proceed.” +</p> +<p> +“Passing the cross and the little shrine, go forward for a mile or +something more, till you come to a small cabaret on the roadside, at the +end of which you 'll find a 'chemin de traverse,' a clay road, which will +lead you up the fields about half a league to a large pond where they +water the cattle; cross this, and continue till you see the lights of a +village to your left; the barking of the dogs will guide you if the lights +be out; don't enter the village, but go on till you meet an old gateway +covered with ivy,—enter there, and you are in the avenue of the +château. The high road is full five leagues about, but you 'll easily find +this way. There 's a mastiff there you should be on your guard against,—though +you must not fire on him either; they were going to take my life once that +I half drew a pistol from my holster against him, and I heard one of the +fellows say to another that monseigneur's dog was well worth a bleu any +day, whatever he meant by that.” +</p> +<p> +Very few minutes sufficed to give my orders respecting the picket, and I +was in my saddle and ready for the road; and although my departure excited +no surprise among my men, coupled as it was with the orders I had just +given, I overheard the troop sergeant mutter to another as I passed out, +“Parbleu, I always suspected there was something wrong about that old +château yonder; come what weather it would, they'd never let you take +shelter within the walls of it.” +</p> +<p> +The night was so dark that when I turned into the road I could not even +distinguish my horse's head; heavy drifts of rain, too, went sweeping +along, and the wind roared through the forest with a noise like the sea in +a storm. +</p> +<p> +I now put spurs to my horse, and the animal, fresh from long pampering, +sprang forward madly, and dashed onward. The very beating of the rain, the +adverse wind, seemed to chafe his spirits and excite his courage. With +head bent down, and hands firmly grasping the reins, I rode on, till the +faint glimmering of a light caught my eye at a distance; a few miles +brought me beside it. It was a little candle that burned in the shrine +above the image of the Virgin. Some pious but humble hand had placed it +there, regardless of the rain and storm; and there it was now burning +secure from the rude assaults of the harsh night, and throwing its yellow +light on the few cheap trinkets which village devotion had consecrated to +the beloved saint. As I looked at the little altar, I thought of the +perilous enterprise I was engaged in. I could have wished my heart to have +yielded to the influence of a superstition which for every moment of life +seems to have its own apt consolation and succor. For when, as wayworn +travellers refresh their parched lips at some roadside well, and bless the +charity that carved the little basin in the rock,—so followers of +this faith have ever and anon before their eyes some material evidence of +their Church's benevolence: now arming them against the arrows of the +world; now rendering them grateful for benefits received; now taxing their +selfishness by sacrifices which elevate them in their own esteem; now +comforting them by examples which make them proud of their afflictions. It +is this direct appeal from the human heart to the hourly consolations of +religion, that forms the stronghold of belief in Catholic countries. +</p> +<p> +These thoughts were passing through my mind long after I left the little +shrine behind me. “So,” said I, “here must be the <i>cabaret</i> the +sergeant spoke of,” as I heard the sound of a voice issuing from a small +house on the roadside. For a second or two I hesitated whether I should +not dismount and ask the way; but a moment's consideration satisfied me it +were better to risk nothing by delay, and cautiously advancing, I heard by +the sound of my horse's feet that we had left the highroad, and were now +on the clay path I looked for. +</p> +<p> +Again I dashed onward at a gallop, my powerful horse splashing through the +deep ground, or striding boldly across the heavy furrows; now breasting +some steep and rugged ascent where the torn-up way gave passage to a +swollen rivulet; now plunging down into some valley where the darkness +seemed thicker and more impenetrable still. At last I could see, far down +beneath me, the twinkling light of the village, and began to deliberate +with myself at what point I should turn off leftwards. Each moment the +path seemed to lead me in the direction of the light, while I felt that my +road led straight onwards. I drew my rein to deliberate what course I +should take, when directly in front of me I thought I could detect the +clank of a sabre flapping against the flank of a horse. I lowered my head +on a level with my horse's main, and could now distinctly hear the sound I +suspected; and more still, the deep tones of a soldier's voice +interrogating some one, who by the patois of his answer I guessed to be a +peasant. +</p> +<p> +“You are certain, then, we have not come wrong?” said the horseman. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! I know the way too well for that,—travelling it daylight and +dark since I was a boy. I was born in the village below. We shall soon +reach the little wooden bridge, and then, taming to the left, beside +Martin Guichard's—” +</p> +<p> +“What care I for all that?” interrupted the other, roughly. “How far are +we now from the château? Is it still a league off?” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> no, nor the half of it. When you rise the hill yonder, +you 'll see a light,—they always have one burning in the tourelle +there,—and that 's the château.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank Heaven for that!” muttered I. “And now only let me pass them, and +all is safe.” +</p> +<p> +The figures before me, whom I could now dimly trace in the darkness, were +descending step by step a rugged and narrow path, where a tall hedge +formed a wall on either side. To get before them here, therefore, was out +of the question; my only chance was by a detour through the fields to come +down upon the village, and if possible gain the bridge he spoke of before +them. Quick as the thought, I turned from the deep road to the still +deeper earth of the ploughed field beside it. My horse, a strong and +powerful Norman, needed but the slightest movement of the hand to plunge +hotly on. My eyes bent upon the twinkle of the few lights that still +marked the little hamlet, I rode fearlessly forward,—now tearing +madly through some low osier fence; now slipping in the wet and plashy +soil, where each stride threatened to bring us both to the earth. The +descent became soon almost precipitous; but the deep ground gave a +footing, and I never slackened my speed. At length, with a crashing sound, +I found that we had burst the little enclosure of some village garden, and +could dimly trace the outline of a cottage at some distance in front. +Dismounting now, I felt my way cautiously for the path that usually +conducts at the end of the cabin to the garden. This I soon made out, and +the next minute was in the street. Happily, the storm, which raged still +as violently as before, suffered no one to be without doors, and save the +rare glimmer of a light, all was sunk in darkness. +</p> +<p> +I walked on beside my horse for some minutes, and at last I heard the +rushing sound of a swollen river as it tore along in its narrow bed; and +approaching step by step discovered the little bridge, which simply +consisted of two planks, unprotected by any railing at either side. With a +little difficulty I succeeded in leading my horse across, and was just +about to mount, when the sound of the trooper's voice from the village +street again reached me. +</p> +<p> +A sudden thought flashed through my mind. Each moment might now be +precious; and stooping down, I lifted the end of the plank and sent it +with a crash into the stream; the other soon followed it, and before I was +in my saddle again the torrent was carrying them along amid the rocks of +the stream. +</p> +<p> +“Here is a misfortune,” cried the peasant, in a tone of misery; “the +bridge has been carried away by the flood.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Tonnerre de ciel</i>! and is there no other way across?” said the +dragoon, in a voice of passion. +</p> +<p> +I waited not to hear more, but giving the spur to my horse, dashed up the +steep bank, and the next moment saw the light of the château,—for +such I guessed to be a bright star that twinkled at a distance. “Speed now +will do it,” said I, and put my strong Norman to his utmost. The wind tore +past me scarce faster than I went, while the beating rain came round me. +The footway soon altered, and I found that we were crossing a smooth turf +like a lawn. “Ha! this is the old gate,” thought I, as a tall archway, +overhung with ivy and closed by a strong door, opposed farther progress. I +beat loudly against it with the heavy handle of my whip, but to no +purpose; the hoarse voice of the storm drowned all such sounds. I +dismounted and endeavored to make myself heard by knocking with a large +stone. I shouted, I cried aloud, but all in vain. My terror increased +every instant. What was to be done? The dragoon might arrive at any +moment, and then I myself must share the ruin of the others. Maddened by +the emergency that each moment grew more pressing, I sprang into the +saddle, and following the direction of the wall, rode round to the other +side of the château, seeking some open spot, some break whereby to enter. +</p> +<p> +I had not gone far when I saw a portion of the wall which broken and +dilapidated, afforded the opportunity desired. I hesitated not, but dashed +wildly at it. My horse, unaccustomed to such an effort, chested the +barrier, and came rolling head foremost to the earth, throwing me several +yards before him. A cry of pain escaped me as I fell; and I scarcely could +gain my knees to rise, when the hoarse bay of a savage dog broke upon my +ear, and I heard the animal tearing through the brushwood towards me. I +drew my sabre in a trice, and scarce knowing at what side to defend +myself, laid wildly about me, while I shouted with all my might for help. +The furious beast sprang like a tiger at my throat, and, though wounded by +a chance cut, seized me in his terrible fangs. Fortunately the strong +collar of my uniform served to protect me; but the violence of the assault +carried me off my balance, and we rolled one over the other to the ground. +Grasping his throat with both hands, I endeavored to strangle him, while +he vainly sought to reach my face. +</p> +<p> +At this critical moment my cries were heard within, and numerous lights +flitted up and down in front of the château, and a crowd of persons, all +armed, were quickly about me. Seizing the dog by his collar, a peasant +tore him away; while another, holding a lantern to my face, cried out in a +voice of terror, “They are upon us! we are lost!” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> you should let Colbert finish his work,—he is a +'blue;' they are but food for dogs any day.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/327.jpg" alt="The Chouans 327 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“Not so,” said another, in a low, determined voice; “this is a surer +weapon.', I heard the cock of a pistol click as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Halt there! stop, I say!” cried a voice, in a tone of command. “I know +him; I know him well. It 's Burke; is it not?” +</p> +<p> +It was De Beauvais spoke, while at the same moment he knelt down beside me +od the grass, and put his arm round my neck. I whispered one word into his +ear. He sprang to his feet, and with a hasty direction to assist me +towards the house, disappeared. Before I could reach the door he was again +beside me. +</p> +<p> +“And you did this to save me, dear friend?” said he, in a voice half +stifled with sobs. “You have run all this danger for my sake?” +</p> +<p> +I did not dare to take the merit of an act I had no claim to, still less +to speak of her for whose sake I risked my life, and leaned on him without +speaking, as he led me within the porch. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down here for a moment,—but one moment,” said he, in a whisper, +“and I'll return to you.” +</p> +<p> +I sat down upon a bench, and looked about me. The place had all the +evidence of being one of consequence in former days. The walls, wainscoted +in dark walnut wood, were adorned with grotesque carvings of hunting +scenes and instruments of venery. The ceiling, in the same taste, +displayed trophies of weapons, intermingled with different emblems of the +<i>chasse</i>; while in the centre, and enclosed within a garter, were the +royal arms of the Bourbons,—the gilding that once shone on them was +tarnished and faded; the fleurs-de-lis, too, were broken and dilapidated; +while but a stray letter of the proud motto remained, as if not willing to +survive the downfall of those on whom it was now less a boast than a +sarcasm. +</p> +<p> +As I sat thus, the wide hall was gradually filled with men, whose anxious +and excited faces betokened the fears my presence had excited, while not +one ventured to speak or address a word to me. Most of them were armed +with cutlasses, and some carried pistols in belts round their waists; +while others had rude pikes, whose coarse fashion betokened the handiwork +of a village smith. They stood in a semicircle round me; and while their +eyes were riveted upon me with an expression of most piercing interest, +not a syllable was spoken. Suddenly a door was opened at the end of a +corridor, and De Beauvais called out,— +</p> +<p> +“This way, Burke; come this way!” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXII. THE CHÂTEAU d'ANCRE. +</h2> +<p> +Before I had time to collect myself, I was hurried on by De Beauvais into +a room, when the moment I had entered the door was closed and locked +behind me. By the light of a coarse and rudely formed chandelier that +occupied the middle of a table, I saw a party of near a dozen persons who +sat around it,—the head of the board being filled by one whose +singular appearance attracted all my attention. He was a man of enormous +breadth of chest and shoulders, with a lofty massive head, on either side +of which a quantity of red hair fell in profusion; a beard of the same +color descended far on his bosom, which, with his overhanging eyebrows, +imparted a most savage and ferocious expression to features which of +themselves were harsh and repulsive. Though he wore a blouse in peasant +fashion, it was easy to see that he was not of the lower walk of society. +Across his brawny chest a broad belt of black leather passed, to support a +strong straight sword, the heavy hilt of which peeped above the arm of his +chair. A pair of handsomely-mounted pistols lay before him on the table; +and the carved handle of a poniard could be seen projecting slightly from +the breast-pocket of his vest. Of the rest who were about him I had but +time to perceive that they were peasants; but all were armed, and most of +them wearing a knot of white ribbon at the breast of their blouses. +</p> +<p> +Every eye was turned towards me, as I stood at the foot of the table +astonished and speechless—while De Beauvais, quitting my arm, +hastened to the large man's side, and whispered some words in his ear. He +rose slowly from his chair, and in a moment each face was turned to him. +Speaking in a deep guttural tone, he addressed them for some minutes in a +patois of which I was totally ignorant; every word he uttered seemed to +stir their very hearts, if I were to judge from the short and heavy +respiration, the deep-drawn breath, the flushed faces and staring eyes +around me. More than once some allusion seemed made to me,—at least, +they turned simultaneously to look at me; once, too, at something he said, +each man carried his hand round to his sword-hilt, but dropped it again +listlessly as he continued. The discourse over, the door was unlocked, and +one by one they left the room, each man saluting the speaker with a +reverence as he passed out. De Beauvais closed the door and barred it as +the last man disappeared, and turning hastily round, called out,— +</p> +<p> +“What now?” +</p> +<p> +The large man bent his head down between his hands, and spoke not in +reply; then suddenly springing up, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“Take my horse—he is fresh and ready for the road—and make for +Quilleboeuf; the ford at Montgorge will be swollen, but he 'll take the +stream for you. At the farmer's house that looks over the river you can +stop.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it, I know it,” said De Beauvais. “But what of you, are you to +remain behind?” +</p> +<p> +“I 'll go with him,” said he, pointing towards me. “As his companion, I +can reach the Bois de Boulogne; in any case, as his prisoner. Once there, +you may trust me for the rest.” +</p> +<p> +De Beauvais looked at me for a reply. I hesitated what to say, and at last +said,— +</p> +<p> +“For your sake, Henri de Beauvais, and yours only, have I ventured on a +step which may, in all likelihood, be my ruin. I neither know, nor wish to +know, your plans; nor will I associate myself with any one, be he who he +may, in your enterprise.” +</p> +<p> +“Jacques Tisserand, the tanner,” continued the large man, as if not +heeding nor caring for my interruption, “will warn Armand de Polignac of +what has happened; and Charles de la Riviere had better remain near +Deauville for the English cutter,—she 'll lie off the coast +to-morrow or next day. Away! lose not a moment.” +</p> +<p> +“And my dear friend here,” said De Beauvais, turning to me, “who has +risked his very life to rescue me, shall I leave him thus?” +</p> +<p> +“Can you save him by remaining?” said the other, as he coolly examined the +priming of his pistols. “We shall all escape, if you be but quick.” +</p> +<p> +A look from De Beauvais drew me towards him, when he threw his arms around +my neck, and in a low, broken voice, muttered, “When I tell you that all I +lived for exists to me no longer,—the love I sought refused me, my +dearest ambition thwarted,—you will not think that a selfish desire +for life prompts me now; but a solemn oath to obey the slightest command +of that man,—sworn before my sovereign,—binds me, and I must +not break it.” +</p> +<p> +“Away, away! I hear voices at the gate below,” cried the other. +</p> +<p> +“Adieu! adieu forever,” said De Beauvais, as he kissed my cheek, and +sprang through a small doorway in the wainscot which closed after him as +he went. +</p> +<p> +“Now for our movements,” said the large man, unhooking a cloak that hung +against the wall. “You must tie my hands with this cord in such a way +that, although seemingly secure, I can free myself at a moment; place me +on a horse, a fast one too, beside you; and order your troopers to ride in +front and rear of us. When we reach the Bois de Boulogne, leave the Avenue +des Chasseurs and turn towards St. Cloud. <i>Tonnerre de del</i>, they're +firing yonder!” An irregular discharge of small arms, followed by a wild +cheer, rang out above the sound of the storm. “Again! did you hear that? +there are the carbines of cavalry; I know their ring. Accursed dogs, that +would not do my bidding!” cried he, stamping with passion on the ground, +while, throwing off his blouse, he stuck his pistols in a belt around his +waist, and prepared for mortal combat. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile pistol-shots, mingled with savage shouts and wild hurrahs, were +heard approaching nearer and nearer; and at length a loud knocking at the +front door, with a cry of “They 're here! they 're here!” +</p> +<p> +The large man, now fully armed, and with his drawn sword in his hand, +unlocked the door. The passage without was full of armed peasants, silent +and watchful for his commands. A few words in the former patois seemed +sufficient to convey them, and their answer was a cheer that made the +walls ring. +</p> +<p> +The chief moved rapidly from place to place through the crowds, who at his +bidding broke into parties: some of them occupied doorways which enfiladed +the hall; others knelt down to suffer some to fire above their heads; here +were two posted, armed with hatchets, at the very entrance itself; and six +of the most determined-looking were to dispute the passage with their +muskets. Such was the disposition of the force, when suddenly the light +was extinguished, and all left in utter darkness. The deep breathing of +their anxious breasts alone marked their presence; when without doors the +sounds of strife gradually died away, and the storm alone was heard. +</p> +<p> +As for me, I leaned against a doorway, my arms folded on my bosom, my head +sunk, while I prayed for death, the only exit I could see to my dishonor. +</p> +<p> +There was a terrible pause,—the very hurricane seemed to abate its +violence, and only the heavy rain was heard as it fell in torrents,—when, +with a loud crash, the door in front was burst open, and fell with a bang +upon the floor. Not a word from those within, not a motion, betrayed their +presence; while the whispered tones of a party without showed that the +enemy was there. +</p> +<p> +“Bring up the torches quickly here,” called out a voice like that of an +officer; and as he spoke the red flare of lighted pine branches was seen +moving through the misty atmosphere. +</p> +<p> +The light fell upon a strong party of dismounted dragoons and <i>gendarmerie</i>, +who, carbine in hand, stood waiting for the word to dash forward. The +officer, whose figure I could distinguish as he moved along the front of +his men, appeared to hesitate, and for a few seconds all stood motionless. +At length, as if having resolved on his plan, he approached the doorway, a +pine torch in his hand; another step, and the light must have disclosed +the dense array of armed peasants that stood and knelt around the hall, +when a deep low voice within uttered the one word, “Now!—and quick,” +as if by his breath the powder had been ignited, a volley rang out, +pattering like hail on the steel breastplates and through the branches of +the trees. A mingled shout of rage and agony rose from those without, and +without waiting for a command, they rushed onward. +</p> +<p> +The peasants, who had not time to reload their pieces, clubbed them in +their strong hands, and laid wildly about them. The fight was now hand to +hand; for, narrow as was the doorway, some three or four dragoons pressed +every moment in, and gradually the hall became a dense mass of +indiscriminate combatants. The large man fought like one possessed, and +cleft his way towards the entrance with a long straight dagger, as if +regardless of friends or foes. “À moi! a moi!” cried a tall and powerful +man, as he sprang at his throat; “this is he!” The words were his last, +as, stabbed to the very heart, he sprang backward in his death-agony; but +at the moment a perfect shower of bullets rattled around the large man, +one of which alone took effect in his shoulder. Still he strove onwards, +and at last, with a spring like a savage tiger, he lowered his head, and +bounded clean out into the court. Scarcely, however, had his foot touched +the wet grass, when he slipped forward, and fell heavily on his back. A +dozen swords flashed above him as he lay, and only by the most immense +efforts of the officer was he spared death in a hundred wounds. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/334.jpg" alt="Capture of the 'red-beard' 334 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +The defeat of their leader seemed to subdue all the daring courage of his +party; the few who were able to escape dashed hither and thither, through +passages and doorways they were well acquainted with; while the flagged +floor was bathed in blood from the rest, as they lay in mangled and +frightful forms, dead and dying on every side. +</p> +<p> +Like one in some dreadful dream, I stood spectator of this savage strife, +wishing that some stray bullet had found my heart, yet ashamed to die with +such a stain upon my honor. I crossed my arms before my breast, and waited +for my doom. Two gendarmes passed quickly to and fro with torches, +examining the faces and looks of those who were still likely to live, when +suddenly one of them cried out, as he stood before me,— +</p> +<p> +“What 's this? An officer of hussars here!” +</p> +<p> +The exclamation brought an officer to the spot, who, holding a lantern to +my face, said quickly,—“How is this, sir? how came you here?” +</p> +<p> +“Here is my sword, sir,” said I, drawing it from the scabbard; “I place +myself under arrest. In another place, and to other judges, I must explain +my conduct.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> Jacques,” said the officer, addressing another who sat, +while his wounds were being bound up, on a chair near, “this affair is +worse than we thought of. Here 's one of the huitième in the thick of it.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope, sir,” said I, addressing the young man, whose arm was bleeding +profusely from a sabre wound,—“I hope, sir, your wound may not be of +consequence.” +</p> +<p> +He looked up suddenly, and while a smile of the most insulting sarcasm +curled his bloodless lip, answered,— +</p> +<p> +“I thank you, sir, for your sympathy; but you must forgive me, if one of +these days I cannot bandy consolations with you.” +</p> +<p> +“You are right, Lieutenant,” said a dragoon, who lay bleeding from a +dreadful cut in the forehead; “I'd not exchange places with him myself +this minute for all his epaulettes.” +</p> +<p> +With an overwhelming sense of my own degraded position, when to such +taunts as these I dared not reply, I stood mute and confounded. +</p> +<p> +Meantime the soldiers were engaged in collecting together the scattered +weapons, fastening the wrists of the prisoners with cords, and ransacking +the house for such proofs of the conspiracy as might criminate others at a +distance. By the time these operations were concluded, the day began to +break, and I could distinguish in the courtyard several large covered +carts or charrettes destined to convey the prisoners. One of these was +given up entirely to the chief, who, although only slightly wounded, would +never assist himself in the least, but lay a heavy, inert mass, suffering +the others to lift him and place him in the cart. Such as were too badly +wounded to be moved were placed in a room in the château, a guard being +left over them. +</p> +<p> +A sergeant of the <i>gendarmerie</i> now approached me as I stood, and +commenced, without a word, to examine me for any papers or documents that +might be concealed about my person. +</p> +<p> +“You are in error,” said I, quietly. “I have nothing of what you suspect.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you call this nothing?” interrupted he, triumphantly, as he drew forth +the parchment commission I had placed in my bosom, and forgot to restore +to De Beauvais. “<i>Parbleu!</i> you'd have had a better memory had your +plans succeeded.” +</p> +<p> +“Give it here,” said an officer, as he saw the sergeant devouring the +document with his eyes. “Ah!” cried he, starting, “he was playing a high +stake, too. Let him be closely secured.” +</p> +<p> +While the orders of the officer were being followed up, the various +prisoners were secured in the carts, mounted dragoons stationed at either +side, their carbines held unslung in their hands. At last my turn came, +and I was ordered to mount into a <i>charrette</i> with two gendarmes, +whose orders respecting any effort at escape on my part were pretty +clearly indicated by the position of two pistols carried at either side of +me. +</p> +<p> +A day of heavy, unremitting rain, without any wind or storm, succeeded to +the night of tempest. Dark inky clouds lay motionless near the earth, +whose surface became blacker by the shadow. A weighty and lowering +atmosphere added to the gloom I felt, and neither in my heart within nor +in the world without could I find one solitary consolation. +</p> +<p> +At first I dreaded lest my companions should address me,—a single +question would have wrung my very soul; but happily they maintained a +rigid silence, nor did they even speak to each other during the entire +journey. At noon we halted at a small roadside cabaret, where refreshments +were provided, and relays of horses in waiting, and again set out on our +way. The day was declining when we reached the Bois de Boulogne, and +entered the long avenue that leads to the Barriere de l'Étoile. The heavy +wheels moved noiselessly over the even turf, and, save the jingle of the +troopers' equipments, all was hushed. For above an hour we had proceeded +thus, when a loud shout in front, followed by a pistol-shot, and then +three or four others quickly after it, halted the party; and I could mark +through the uncertain light the mounted figures dashing wildly here and +there, and plunging into the thickest of the wood. +</p> +<p> +“Look to the prisoners,” cried an officer, as he galloped down the line; +and, at the word, every man seized his carbine, and held himself on the +alert. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the whole cavalcade was halted, and I could see that something +of consequence had occurred in front, though of what nature I could not +even guess. At last a sergeant of the gendarmes rode up to our side +splashed and heated. +</p> +<p> +“Has he escaped?” cried one of the men beside me. +</p> +<p> +“Yes!” said he, with an oath, “the brigand has got away; though how he cut +the cords on his wrists, or by what means he sprang from the charrette to +the road, the devil must answer. Ha! there they are firing away after him. +The only use of their powder is to show the fellow where they are.” +</p> +<p> +“I would not change places with our captain this evening,” cried one of +the gendarmerie. “Returning to Paris without the red beard—” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi</i>, you're not wrong there. It will be a heavy reckoning for +him with dark Savary; and as to taking a Breton in a wood—” +</p> +<p> +The word to march interrupted the colloquy, and again we moved forward. +</p> +<p> +By some strange sympathy I cannot account for, I felt glad that the chief +had made his escape. The gallantry of his defence, the implicit obedience +yielded him by the others, had succeeded in establishing an interest for +him in my mind; and the very last act of daring courage by which he +effected his liberty increased the feeling. By what an easy transition, +too, do we come to feel for those whose fate has any similarity with our +own! The very circumstance of common misfortune is a binding link; and +thus I was not without an anxious hope that the chief might succeed in his +escape, though, had I known his intrigue or his intentions, such interest +had scarcely found a place in my heart. +</p> +<p> +Such reflections as these led me to think how great must be the charm to +the human mind of overcoming difficulty or confronting danger, when even +for those of whom we know nothing we can feel, and feel warmly, when they +stand before us in such a light as this. Heroism and bravery appeal to +every nature; and bad must be the cause in which they are exerted, before +we can venture to think ill of those who possess them. +</p> +<p> +The lamps were beginning to be lighted as we reached the Barriére, and +halted to permit the officer of the party to make his report of who we +were. The formality soon finished, we defiled along the Boulevard, +followed by a crowd, that, increasing each moment, at last occupied the +entire road, and made our progress slow and difficult. While the curiosity +of the people to catch sight of the prisoners demanded all the vigilance +of the guards to prevent it, a sad and most appalling stillness pervaded +the whole multitude, and I could hear a murmur as they went that it was +Generals Moreau and Pichegru who were taken. +</p> +<p> +At length we halted, and I could see that the foremost charrette was +entering a low archway, over which a massive portcullis hung. The gloomy +shadow of a dark, vast mass, that rose against the inky sky, lowered above +the wall, and somehow seemed to me as if well known. +</p> +<p> +“This is the Temple?” said I to the gendarme on my right. +</p> +<p> +A nod was the reply, and a half-expressive look that seemed to say, “In +that word you have said your destiny.” +</p> +<p> +About two years previous to the time I now speak of, I remember one +evening, when returning from a solitary walk along the Boulevard, stopping +in front of a tall and weather-beaten tower, the walls black with age, and +pierced here and there with narrow windows, across which strong iron +stanchions ran transversely. A gloomy fosse, crossed by a narrow +drawbridge, surrounded the external wall of this dreary building, which +needed no superstition to invest it with a character of crime and +misfortune. This was the Temple,—the ancient castle of the knights +whose cruelties were written in the dark obbliettes and the noisome +dungeons of that dread abode. A terrace ran along the tower on three +sides. There, for hours long, walked in sadness and in sorrow the last of +France's kings,—Louis the Sixteenth,—his children at his side. +In that dark turret the Dauphin suffered death. At the low casement +yonder, Madame Royale sat hour by hour, the stone on which she leaned wet +with her tears. The place was one of gloomy and sinister repute: the +neighborhood spoke of the heavy roll of carriages that passed the +drawbridge at the dead of night; of strange sounds and cries, of secret +executions, and even of tortures that were inflicted there. Of these +dreadful missions a corps called the “Gendarmes d'Élite” were vulgarly +supposed the chosen executors, and their savage looks and repulsive +exterior gave credibility to the surmise; while some affirmed that the +Mameluke guard the Consul had brought with him from Egypt had no other +function than the murder of the prisoners confined there. +</p> +<p> +Little thought I then that in a few brief months I should pass beneath +that black portcullis a prisoner. Little did I anticipate, as I wended my +homeward way, my heart heavy and my step slow, that the day was to come +when in my own person I was to feel the sorrows over which I then wept for +others. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIII. THE TEMPLE +</h2> +<p> +This was the second morning of my life which opened in the narrow cell of +a prison; and when I awoke and looked upon the bare, bleak walls, the +barred window, the strongly bolted door, I thought of the time when as a +boy I slept within the walls of Newgate. The same sad sounds were now +about me: the measured tread of sentinels; the tramp of patrols; the +cavernous clank of door-closing, and the grating noise of locking and +unlocking heavy gates; and then that dreary silence, more depressing than +all,—how they came back upon me now, seeming to wipe out all space, +and bring me to the hours of my boyhood's trials! Yet what were they to +this? what were the dangers I then incurred to the inevitable ruin now +before me? True, I knew neither the conspirators nor their crime; but who +would believe it? How came I among them? Dare I tell it, and betray her +whose honor was dearer to me than my life? Yet it was hard to face death +in such a cause; no sense of high though unsuccessful daring to support +me; no strongly roused passion to warm my blood, and teach me bravely to +endure a tarnished name. Disgrace and dishonor were all my portion,—in +that land, too, where I once hoped to win fame and glory, and make for +myself a reputation among the first and greatest. +</p> +<p> +The deep roll of a drum, followed by the harsh turning of keys in the +locks along the corridor, interrupted my sad musings; and the next minute +my door was unbolted, and an official, dressed in the uniform of the +prison, presented himself before me. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, monsieur! awake and dressed already!” said he, in a gay and smiling +tone, for which the place had not prepared me. “At eight we breakfast +here; at nine you are free to promenade in the garden or on the terrace,—at +least, all who are not <i>au secret</i>,—and I have to felicitate +monsieur on that pleasure.” +</p> +<p> +“How, then? I am not a prisoner?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, <i>parbleu!</i> you are a prisoner, but not under such heavy +imputation as to be confined apart. All in this quarter enjoy a fair share +of liberty: live together, walk, chat, read the papers, and have an easy +time of it. But you shall judge for yourself; come along with me.” +</p> +<p> +In a strange state of mingled hope and fear I followed the jailer along +the corridor, and across a paved courtyard into a low hall, where basins +and other requisites for a prison toilet were arranged around the walls. +Passing through this, we ascended a narrow stair, and finally entered a +large, well-lighted room, along which a table, plentifully but plainly +provided, extended the entire length. The apartment was crowded with +persons of every age, and apparently every condition, all conversing +noisily and eagerly together, and evidencing as little seeming restraint +as though within the walls of a café. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/341.jpg" alt="The Templars 341 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +Seated at a table, I could not help feeling amused at the strange medley +of rank and country about me. Here were old <i>militaire</i>, with bushy +beards and mustaches, side by side with muddy-faced peasants, whose long, +yellow locks bespoke them of Norman blood; hard, weather-beaten sailors +from the coast of Bretagne, talking familiarly with venerable seigneurs in +all the pomp of powder and a queue; priests with shaven crowns; young +fellows, whose easy looks of unabashed effrontery betrayed the careless +Parisian,—all were mingled up together, and yet not one among the +number did I see whose appearance denoted sorrow for his condition or +anxiety for his fate. +</p> +<p> +The various circumstances of their imprisonment, the imputation they lay +under, the acts of which they were accused, formed the topics of +conversation, in common with the gossip of the town, the news of the +theatres, and the movements in political life. Never was there a society +with less restraint; each man knew his neighbor's history too well to make +concealment of any value, and frankness seemed the order of the day. While +I was initiating myself into so much of the habit of the place, a large, +flat, florid personage, who sat at the head of the table, called out to me +for my name. +</p> +<p> +“The governor desires to have your name and rank for his list,” said my +neighbor at the right hand. +</p> +<p> +Having given the required information, I could not help expressing my +surprise how, in the presence of the governor of the prison, they ventured +to speak so freely. +</p> +<p> +“Ha,” said the person I addressed, “he is not the governor of the Temple; +that's merely a title we have given him among ourselves. The office is +held always by the oldest <i>détenu</i>. Now he has been here ten months, +and succeeded to the throne about a fortnight since. The Abbé, yonder, +with the silk scarf round his waist, will be his successor, in a few +days.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed! Then he will be at liberty so soon. I thought he seemed in +excellent spirits.” +</p> +<p> +“Not much, perhaps, on that score,” replied he. “His sentence is hard +labor for life at the Bagne de Toulon.” +</p> +<p> +I started back with horror, and could not utter a word. +</p> +<p> +“The Abbé,” continued my informant, “would be right happy to take his +sentence. But the governor is speaking to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur le sous-lieutenant,” said the governor, in a deep, solemn +accent, “I have the honor to salute you, and bid you welcome to the +Temple, in the name of my respectable and valued friends here about me. We +rejoice to possess one of your cloth amongst us. The last was, if I +remember aright, the Capitaine de Lorme, who boasted he could hit the +Consul at sixty paces with a pistol bullet.” +</p> +<p> +“Pardon, governor,” said a handsome man in a braided frock; “we had +Ducaisne since.” +</p> +<p> +“So we had, commandant,” said the governor, bowing politely, “and a very +pleasant fellow he was; but he only stopped one night here.” +</p> +<p> +“A single night, I remember it well,” grunted out a thick-lipped, +rosy-faced little fellow near the bottom of the table. “You 'll meet him +soon, governor; he 's at Toulon. Pray, present my respects—” +</p> +<p> +“A fine! a fine!” shouted a dozen voices in a breath. +</p> +<p> +“I deny it, I deny it,” replied the rosy-faced man, rising from his chair. +“I appeal to the governor if I am not innocent. I ask him if there were +anything which could possibly offend his feelings in my allusion to +Toulon, whither for the benefit of his precious health he is about to +repair.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” replied the governor, solemnly, “you are fined three francs. I +always preferred Brest; Toulon is not to my taste.” +</p> +<p> +“Pay! pay!” cried out the others; while a pewter dish, on which some +twenty pieces of money were lying, was passed down the table. +</p> +<p> +“And to resume,” said the governor, turning towards me, “the secretary +will wait on you after breakfast to receive the fees of initiation, and +such information as you desire to afford him for your coming amongst us, +both being perfectly discretionary with you. He who desires the privilege +of our amicable reunion soon learns the conditions on which to obtain it. +The enjoyments of our existence here are cheap at any price. Le Pere +d'Oligny, yonder, will tell you life is short,—very few here are +likely to dispute the assertion, and perhaps the Abbé, Thomas may give you +a strong hint how to make the best of it.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu</i>, governor I you forget the Abbé, left us this morning.” +</p> +<p> +“True, true; how my memory is failing me! The dear Abbé, did leave us, +sure enough.” +</p> +<p> +“Where for?” said I, in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“La Plaine de Grenelle,” said the person beside me, in a low tone. “He was +guillotined at five o'clock.” +</p> +<p> +A sick shudder ran through me; and though the governor continued his +oration, I heard not a word he spoke, nor could I arouse myself from the +stupor until the cheers of the party, at the conclusion of the harangue, +awoke me. +</p> +<p> +“The morning looks fine enough for a walk,” said the man beside me. “What +say you to the gardens?” +</p> +<p> +I followed him without speaking across the court and down a flight of +stone steps into a large open space, planted tastefully with trees, and +adorned by a beautiful fountain. Various walks and alleys traversed the +garden in every direction, along which parties were to be seen walking,—some +laughing, some reading aloud the morning papers; but all engaged, and, to +all seeming, pleasantly. Yet did their reckless indifference to life, +their horrible carelessness of each other's fate, seem to me far more +dreadful than any expression of sorrow, however painful; and I shrank from +them as though the contamination of their society might impart that +terrible state of unfeeling apathy they were given up to. Even guilt +itself had seemed less repulsive than this shocking and unnatural +recklessness. +</p> +<p> +Pondering thus, I hurried from the crowded path, and sought a lonely, +unfrequented walk which led along the wall of the garden. I had not +proceeded far when the low but solemn notes of church music struck on my +ear. I hastened forward, and soon perceived, through the branches of a +beech hedge, a party of some sixteen or eighteen persons kneeling on the +grass, their hands lifted as if in prayer, while they joined in a psalm +tune,—one of those simple but touching airs which the peasantry of +the South are so attached to. Their oval faces bronzed with the sun; their +long, flowing hair, divided on the head and falling loose on either +shoulder; their dark eyes and long lashes,—bespoke them all from +that land of Bourbon loyalty, La Vendue, even had not their yellow +jackets, covered with buttons along the sleeves, and their loose hose, +evinced their nationality. Many of the countenances I now remembered to +have seen the preceding night; but some were careworn and emaciated, as if +from long imprisonment. +</p> +<p> +I cannot tell how the simple piety of these poor peasants touched me, +contrasted, too, with the horrible indifference of the others. As I +approached them, I was recognized; and whether supposing that I was a well +wisher to their cause, or attracted merely by the tie of common +misfortune, they saluted me respectfully, and seemed glad to see me. While +two or three of those I had seen before moved forward to speak to me, I +remarked that a low, swarthy man, with a scar across his upper lip, +examined me with marked attention, and then whispered something to the +rest. At first he seemed to pay little respect to whatever they said,—an +incredulous shake of the head, or an impatient motion of the hand, +replying to their observations. Gradually, however, he relaxed in this, +and I could see that his stern features assumed a look of kinder meaning. +“So, friend,” said he, holding out his tanned and powerful hand towards +me, “it was thou saved our chief from being snared like a wolf in a trap. +Le bon Dieu will remember the service hereafter; and the good King will +not forget thee, if the time ever comes for his better fortune.” +</p> +<p> +“You must not thank me,” said I, smiling; “the service I rendered was one +instigated by friendship only. I know not your plans; I never knew them. +The epaulette I wear I never was false to.” +</p> +<p> +A murmur of dissatisfaction ran along the party, and I could mark that in +the words they interchanged, feelings of surprise were mingled with +displeasure. At last, the short man, commanding silence with a slight +motion of the hand, said,— +</p> +<p> +“I am sorry for it,—your courage merited a better cause; however, +the avowal was at least an honest one. And now, tell us, why came you +here?” +</p> +<p> +“For the very reason I 've mentioned. My presence at the château last +night, and my discovery during the attack, were enough to impute guilt. +How can I clear myself, without criminating those I would not name?” +</p> +<p> +“That matters but little. Doubtless, you have powerful friends,—rich +ones, perhaps, and in office; they will bear you harmless.” +</p> +<p> +“Alas! you are wrong. I have not in all the length and breadth of France +one who, if a word would save me from the scaffold, would care to speak +it. I am a stranger and an alien.” +</p> +<p> +“Hal” said a fair-haired, handsome youth, starting from the grass where he +had been sitting, “what would I not give now, if your lot was mine. They +'d not make my heart tremble if I could forget the cabin I was born in.” +</p> +<p> +“Hush, Philippe!” said the other, “the weapon is not in their armory to +make a Vendean tremble—But, hark! there is the drum for the +inspection. You must present yourself each day at noon, at the low postern +yonder, and write your name; and mark me, before we part, it cannot serve +us, it may ruin you, if we are seen to speak together. Trust no one here' +Those whom you see yonder are half of them <i>moutons</i>.” +</p> +<p> +“How?” said I, not understanding the phrase. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, it was a prison word I used,” resumed he. “I would say they are but +spies of the police, who, as if confined for their offences, are only here +to obtain confessions from unguarded, unsuspecting prisoners. Their +frankness and sincerity are snares that have led many to the guillotine: +beware of them. You dare not carry your glass to your lip, but the +murmured toast might be your condemnation. Adieu!” said he; and as he +spoke he turned away and left the place, followed by the rest. +</p> +<p> +The disgust I felt at first for the others was certainly not lessened by +learning that their guilt was stained by treachery the blackest that can +disgrace humanity; and now, as I walked among them, it was with a sense of +shrinking horror I recoiled from the very touch of the wretches whose +smiles were but lures to the scaffold. +</p> +<p> +“Ha! our lost and strayed friend,” said one, as I appeared, “come hither +and make a clean breast of it. What amiable weaknesses have introduced you +to the Temple?” +</p> +<p> +“In truth,” said I, endeavoring to conceal my knowledge of my +acquaintances' real character, “I cannot even guess, nor do I believe that +any one else is wiser than myself.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i>, young gentleman,” said the Abbé, as he spied me +impertinently through his glass, “you are excessively old-fashioned for +your years. Don't you know that spotless innocence went out with the +Bourbons? Every one since that dies in the glorious assertion of his +peculiar wickedness, with certain extenuating circumstances which he calls +human nature.” +</p> +<p> +“And now, then,” resumed the first speaker, “for your mishap,—what +was it?” +</p> +<p> +“I should only deceive you were I to give any other answer than my first. +Mere suspicion there may be against me; there can be no more.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, let us have the suspicions. The 'Moniteur' is late this +morning, and we have nothing to amuse us.” +</p> +<p> +“Who are you?” cried another, a tall, insolent-looking fellow, with a dark +mustache. “That 's the first question. I've seen a <i>mouton</i> in a +hussar dress before now.” +</p> +<p> +“I am too late a resident here,” answered I, “to guess how far insolence +goes unpunished; but if I were outside these walls, and you also, I 'd +teach you a lesson you have yet to learn, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i>” said one of the former speakers, “Jacques, he has you +there, though it was no great sharpness to see you were a <i>blane-bec</i>.” +</p> +<p> +The tall fellow moved away, muttering to himself, as a hearty laugh broke +forth among the rest. +</p> +<p> +“And now,” said the Abbé, with a simper, “pardon the liberty; but have you +had any trifling inducement for coming to pass a few days here? Were you +making love to Madame la Consulesse? or did you laugh at General +Bonaparte's grand dinners? or have you been learning the English grammar? +or what is it?” +</p> +<p> +I shook my head, and was silent. +</p> +<p> +“Gome, come, be frank with us; unblemished virtue fares very ill here. +There was a gentleman lost his head this morning, who never did anything +all his life other than keep the post-office at Tarbes; but somehow he +happened to let a letter pass into the bag addressed to an elderly +gentleman in England, called the Comte d'Artois, not knowing that the +count's letters are always 'to the care of Citizen Bonaparte.' Well, they +shortened him by the neck for it. Cruel, you will say; but so much for +innocence.” +</p> +<p> +“For the last time, then, gentlemen, I must express my sincere sorrow that +I have neither murder, treason, nor any other infamy on my conscience +which might qualify me for the distinguished honor of associating with +you. Such being the case, and my sense of my deficiency being so great, +you will, I 'm sure, pardon me if I do not obtrude on society of which I +am unworthy, and which I have now the honor to wish a good day to.” With +this and a formal bow, returned equally politely by the rest, I moved on, +and entered the tower. +</p> +<p> +Sombre and sad as were my own reflections, yet did I prefer their company +to that of my fellow-prisoners, for whom already I began to conceive a +perfect feeling of abhorrence. Revolting, indeed, was the indifference to +fame, honor, and even life, which I already witnessed among them; but what +was it compared with the deliberate treachery of men who could wait for +the hour when the heart, overflowing with sorrow, opened itself for +consolation and comfort, and then search its every recess for proofs of +guilt that should bring the mourner to the scaffold? +</p> +<p> +How any government could need, how they could tolerate, such assassins as +these, I could not conceive. And was this his doing? were these his +minions, whose high-souled chivalry had been my worship and my idolatry? +No, no; I'll not believe it. Bonaparte knows not the dark and terrible +secrets of these gloomy walls. The hero of Arcole, the conqueror of Italy, +wots not of the frightful tyranny of these dungeons: did he but know them, +what a destiny would wait on those who thus stain with crime and treachery +the fame of that “Belle France” he made so great! +</p> +<p> +Oh! that in the hour of my accusation,—in the very last of my life, +were it on the step of the guillotine,—I could but speak with words +to reach him, and say how glory like his must be tarnished if such deeds +went on unpunished; that while thousands and thousands were welcoming his +path with cries of wild enthusiasm and joy, in the cold cells of the +Temple there were breaking hearts, whose sorrow-wrung confessions were +registered, whose prayers were canvassed for evidences of desires that +might be converted into treason. He could have no sympathy with men like +these.. Not such the brave who followed him at Lodi; not kindred souls +were they who died for him at Marengo. Alas, alas! how might men read of +him hereafter, if by such acts the splendor of his greatness was to suffer +stain! While thoughts like these filled my mind, and in the excitement of +awakened indignation I trod my little cell backwards and forwards, the +jailer entered, and having locked the door behind him, approached me. +</p> +<p> +“You are the Sous-Lieutenant Burke: is it not so? Well, I have a letter +for you; I promised to deliver it on one condition only,—which is, +that when read, you shall tear it in pieces. Were it known that I did +this, my head would roll in the Plaine de Grenelle before daybreak +tomorrow. I also promised to put you on your guard: speak to few here; +confide in none. And now here is your letter.” +</p> +<p> +I opened the billet hastily, and read the few lines it contained, which +evidently were written in a feigned hand. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Your life is in danger; any delay may be your ruin. Address +the minister at once as to the cause of your detention, and +for the charges under which you are committed; demand +permission to consult an advocate, and when demanded it +can't be refused. Write to Monsieur Baillot, of 4 Rue +Chantereine, in whom you may trust implicitly, and who has +already instructions for your defence. Accept the enclosed, +and believe in the faithful attachment of a sincere friend.” +</pre> +<p> +A billet de hanque for three thousand francs was folded in the note, and +fell to the ground as I read it. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> I'll not ask you to tear this, though,” said the jailer, +as he handed it to me. “And now let me see you destroy the other.” +</p> +<p> +I read and re-read the few lines over and over, some new meaning striking +me at each word, while I asked myself from whom it could have come. Was it +De Beauvais? or dare I hope it was one dearest to me of all the world? +Who, then, in the saddest hour of my existence, could step between me and +my sorrow, and leave hope as my companion in the dreary solitude of a +prison? +</p> +<p> +“Again I say be quick,” cried the jailer; “my being here so long may be +remarked. Tear it at once.” +</p> +<p> +He followed with an eager eye every morsel of paper as it fell from my +hand, and only seemed at ease as the last dropped to the ground; and then, +without speaking a word, unlocked the door and withdrew. +</p> +<p> +The shipwrecked sailor, clinging to some wave-tossed raft, and watching +with bloodshot eye the falling day, where no friendly sail has once +appeared, and at last, as every hope dies out one by one within him, he +hears a cheer break through the plashing of the sea, calling on him to +live, may feel something like what were my sensations, as once more alone +in my cell I thought of the friendly voice that could arouse me from my +cold despair, and bid me hope again. +</p> +<p> +What a change came over the world to my eyes! The very cell itself no +longer seemed dark and dreary; the faint sunlight that fell through the +narrow window seemed soft and mellow; the voices I heard without struck me +not as dissonant and harsh; the reckless gayety I shuddered at, the dark +treachery I abhorred,—I could now compassionate the one and openly +despise the other; and it was with that stout determination at my heart +that I sallied forth into the garden, where still the others lingered, +waiting for the drum that summoned them to dinner. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIV. THE CHOUANS +</h2> +<p> +When night came, and all was silent in the prison, I sat down to write my +letter to the minister. I knew enough of such matters to be aware that +brevity is the great requisite; and therefore, without any attempt to +anticipate my accusation by a defence of my motives, I simply but +respectfully demanded the charges alleged against me, and prayed for the +earliest and most speedy investigation into my conduct. Such were the +instructions of my unknown friend, and as I proceeded to follow them, +their meaning at once became apparent to me. Haste was recommended, +evidently to prevent such explanations and inquiries into my conduct as +more time might afford. My appearance at the château might still be a +mystery to them, and one which might remain unfathomable if any plausible +reason were put forward. And what more could be laid to my charge? True, +the brevet of colonel found on my person; but this I could with truth +allege had never been accepted by me. They would scarcely condemn me on +such testimony, unsupported by any direct charge; and who could bring such +save De Beauvais? Flimsy and weak as such pretexts were, yet were they +enough in my then frame of mind to support my courage and nerve my heart. +But more than all I trusted in the sincere loyalty I felt for the cause of +the Government and its great chief,—a sentiment which, however +difficult to prove, gave myself that inward sense of safety which only can +flow from strong convictions of honesty. “It may so happen,” thought I, +“that circumstances may appear against me; but I know and feel my heart is +true and firm, and even at the worst, such a consciousness will enable me +to bear whatever may be my fortune.” +</p> +<p> +The next morning my altered manner and happier look excited the attention +of the others, who by varions endeavors tried to fathom the cause or learn +any particulars of my fate; but in vain, for already I was on my guard +against even a chance expression, and, save on the most commonplace +topics, held no intercourse with any. Far from being offended at my +reserve, they seemed rather to have conceived a species of respect for one +whose secrecy imparted something of interest to him; and while they tried, +by the chance allusion to political events and characters, to sound me, I +could see that, though baffled, they by no means gave up the battle. +</p> +<p> +As time wore on, this half-persecution died away; each day brought some +prisoner or other amongst us, or removed some of those we had to other +places of confinement, and thus I became forgotten in the interest of +newer events. About a week after my entrance we were walking as usual +about the gardens, when a rumor ran that a prisoner of great consequence +had been arrested the preceding night and conveyed to the Temple; and +various surmises were afloat as to who he might be, or whether he should +be au secret or at large. While the point was eagerly discussed, a low +door from the house was opened, and the jailer appeared, followed by a +large, powerful man, whom in one glance I remembered as the chief of the +Vendean party at the château, and the same who effected his escape in the +Bois de Boulogne. He passed close to where I stood, his arm folded on his +breast; his clear blue eye bent calmly on me, yet never by the slightest +sign did he indicate that we had ever met before. I divined at once his +meaning, and felt grateful for what I guessed might be a measure necessary +to my safety. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you,” said a shrivelled old fellow, in a worn dressing-gown and +slippers, who held the “Moniteur” of that day in his hand, “I tell you it +is himself; and see, his hand is wounded, though he does his best to +conceal the bandage in his bosom.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well! read us the account; where did it occur?” cried two or three +in a breath. +</p> +<p> +The old man seated himself on a bench, and having arranged his spectacles +and unfolded the journal, held out his hand to proclaim silence, when +suddenly a wild cheer broke from the distant part of the garden, whither +the newly arrived prisoner had turned his steps; a second, louder, +followed, in which the wild cry of “Vive le Roi!” could be distinctly +heard. +</p> +<p> +“You hear them,” said the old man; “was I right now? I knew it must be +him.” +</p> +<p> +“Strange enough, too, he should not be <i>au secret</i>,” said another; +“the generals have never been suffered to speak to any one since their +confinement. But read on, let us hear it.” +</p> +<p> +“'On yesterday morning,'” said the little man, reading aloud, “'Picot, the +servant of George, was arrested; and although every endeavor was made to +induce him to confess where his master was—'” +</p> +<p> +“Do you know the meaning of that phrase, Duchos?” said a tall, +melancholy-looking man, with a bald head. “That means the torture; thumb +screws and flint vices are the mode once more: see here.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he undid a silk handkerchief that was wrapped around his +wrist, and exhibited a hand that seemed actually smashed into fragments; +the bones were forced in many places through the flesh, which hung in +dark-colored and blood-stained pieces about. +</p> +<p> +“I would show that hand at the tribunal,” muttered an old soldier in a +faded blue frock; “I'd hold it up when they 'd ask me to swear.” +</p> +<p> +“Your head would only fare the worse for doing so,” said the Abbé. “Read +on Monsieur Duchos.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, where was I? (<i>Pardieu!</i> Colonel, I wish you would cover that +up; I shall dream of that terrible thumb all night.) Here we are: 'Though +nothing could be learned from Picot, it was ascertained that the brigand—'” +</p> +<p> +“Ha, ha!” said a fat little fellow in a blouse, “they call them all +brigands: Moreau is a brigand; Pichegru is a brigand too.” +</p> +<p> +“'That the brigand had passed Monday night near Chaillot, and on Tuesday, +towards evening, was seen at Sainte-Genevieve, where it was suspected he +slept on the mountain; on Wednesday the police traced him to the cabriolet +stand at the end of the Rue de Condé, where he took a carriage and drove +towards the Odéon.'” +</p> +<p> +“Probably he was going to the spectacle. What did they play that night?” +said the fat man; “'La Mort de Barberousse,' perhaps.” +</p> +<p> +The other read on: “'The officer cried out, as he seized the bridle, “Je +vous arrète!” when George levelled a pistol and shot him through the +forehead, and then springing over the dead body dashed down the street. +The butchers of the neighborhood, who knew the reward offered for his +apprehension, pursued and fell upon him with their hatchets; a +hand-to-hand encounter followed, in which the brigand's wrist was nearly +severed from his arm; and thus disabled and overpowered, he was secured +and conveyed to the Temple.'” +</p> +<p> +“And who is this man?” said I in a whisper to the tall person near me.” +</p> +<p> +“The General George Cadoudal,—a brave Breton, and a faithful +follower of his King,” replied he; “and may Heaven have pity on him now!” +He crossed himself piously as he spoke, and moved slowly away. +</p> +<p> +“General Cadoudal!” repeated I to myself; “the same whose description +figured on every wall of the capital, and for whose apprehension immense +rewards were offered.” And with an inward shudder I thought of my chance +intercourse with the man to harbor whom was death,—the dreaded chief +of the Chouans, the daring Breton of whom Paris rung with stories. And +this was the companion of Henri de Beauvais. +</p> +<p> +Revolving such thoughts, I strolled along unconsciously, until I reached +the place where some days before I had seen the Vendeans engaged in +prayer. The loud tone of a deep voice arrested my steps. I stopped and +listened. It was George himself who spoke; he stood, drawn up to his full +height, in the midst of a large circle who sat around on the grass. Though +his language was a <i>patois</i> of which I was ignorant, I could catch +here and there some indication of his meaning, as much perhaps from his +gesture and the look of those he addressed, as from the words themselves. +</p> +<p> +It was an exhortation to them to endure with fortitude the lot that had +befallen them; to meet death when it came without fear, as they could do +so without dishonor; to strengthen their courage by looking to him, who +would always give them an example of what they should be. The last words +he spoke were in a plainer dialect, and almost these: “Throw no glance on +the past. We are where we are,—we are where God, in his wisdom and +for his own ends, has placed us. If this cause be just, our martyrdom is a +blessed one; if it be not so, our death is our punishment. And never +forget that you are permitted to meet it from the same spot where our +glorious monarch went to meet his own.” +</p> +<p> +A cry of “Vive le Roi!” half stifled by sobs of emotion, broke from the +listeners, as they rose and pressed around him. There he stood in the +midst, while like children they came to kiss his hand, to hear him speak +one word, even to look on him. Their swarthy faces, where hardship and +suffering had left many a deep line and furrow, beamed with smiles as he +turned towards them; and many a proud look was bent on the rest by those +to whom he addressed a single word. +</p> +<p> +One I could not help remarking above the others,—a slight, pale, and +handsome youth, whose almost girlish cheek the first down of youth was +shading. George leaned his arm round his neck, and called him by his name, +and in a voice almost tremulous from emotion: “And you, Bouvet de Lozier, +whose infancy wanted nothing of luxury and enjoyment, for whom all that +wealth and affection could bestow were in abundance,—how do you bear +these rugged reverses, my dear boy?” +</p> +<p> +The youth looked up with eyes bathed in tears; the hectic spot in his face +gave way to the paleness of death, and his lips moved without a sound. +</p> +<p> +“He has been ill,—the count has,” said a peasant, in a low voice. +</p> +<p> +“Poor fellow!” said George; “he was not meant for trials like these; the +cares he used to bury in his mother's lap met other consolations than our +ruder ones. Look up, Bouvet, my man, and remember you are a man.” +</p> +<p> +The youth trembled from head to foot, and looked fearfully around, as if +dreading something, while he clutched the strong arm beside him, as though +for protection. +</p> +<p> +“Courage, boy, courage!” said George. “We are together here; what can harm +you?” +</p> +<p> +Then dropping his voice, and turning to the rest, he added, “They have +been tampering with his reason; his eye betrays a wandering intellect. +Take him with you, Claude,—he loves you; and do not leave him for a +moment.” +</p> +<p> +The youth pressed George's fingers to his pale lips, and with his head +bent down and listless gait, moved slowly away. +</p> +<p> +As I wandered from the spot, my heart was full of all I had witnessed. The +influence of their chief had surprised me on the night of the attack on +the château. But how much more wonderful did it seem now when confined +within the walls of a prison,—the only exit to which was the path +that led to the guillotine! Yet was their reliance on all he said as +great, as implicit their faith in him, as warm their affection, as though +success had crowned each effort he suggested, and that fortune had been as +kind as she had proved adverse to his enterprise. +</p> +<p> +Such were the <i>Chohans</i> in the Temple. Life had presented to their +hardy natures too many vicissitudes to make them quail beneath the horrors +of a prison; death they had confronted in many shapes, and they feared it +not even at the hands of the executioner. Loyalty to the exiled family of +France was less a political than a religious feeling,—one inculcated +at the altar, and carried home to the fireside of the cottage. Devotion to +their King was a part of their faith; the sovereign was but a saint the +more in their calendar. The glorious triumphs of the Revolutionary armies, +the great conquests of the Consulate, found no sympathy within their +bosoms; they neither joined the battle nor partook of the ovation. They +looked on all such as the passing pageant of the hour, and muttered to one +another that the bon Dieu could not bless a nation that was false to its +King. +</p> +<p> +Who could see them as they met each morning, and not feel deeply +interested in these brave but simple peasants? At daybreak they knelt +together in prayer, their chief officiating as priest; their deep voices +joined in the hymn of their own native valleys, as with tearful eyes they +sang the songs that reminded them of home. The service over, George +addressed them in a short speech: some words of advice and guidance for +the coming day; reminding them that ere another morning shone, many might +be summoned before the tribunal to be examined, and from, thence led forth +to death; exhorting them to fidelity to each other and loyalty to their +glorious cause. Then came the games of their country, which they played +with all the enthusiasm of liberty and happiness. These were again +succeeded by hours passed in hearing and relating stories of their beloved +Bretagne,—of its tried faith and its ancient bravery; while, through +all, they lived a community apart from the other prisoners, who never +dared to obtrude upon them: nor did the most venturesome of the police +spies ever transgress a limit that might have cost him his life. +</p> +<p> +Thus did two so different currents run side by side within the walls of +the Temple, and each regarding the other with distrust and dislike. +</p> +<p> +While thus I felt a growing interest for these bold but simple children of +the forest, my anxiety for my own fate grew hourly greater. No answer was +ever returned to my letter to the minister, nor any notice taken of it +whatever; and though each day I heard of some one or other being examined +before the “Tribunal Special” or the Préfet de Police, I seemed as much +forgotten as though the grave enclosed me. My dread of anything like +acquaintance or intimacy with the other prisoners prevented my learning +much of what went forward each day, and from which, from some source or +other, they seemed well informed. A chance phrase, an odd word now and +then dropped, would tell me of some new discovery by the police or some +recent confession by a captured conspirator; but of what the crime +consisted, and who were they principally implicated, I remained totally +ignorant. +</p> +<p> +It was well known that both Moreau and Pichegru were confined in a part of +the tower that opened upon the terrace, but neither suffered to +communicate with each other, nor even to appear at large like the other +prisoners. It was rumored, too, that each day one or both were submitted +to long and searching examinations, which, it was said, had hitherto +elicited nothing from either save total denial of any complicity whatever, +and complete ignorance of the plots and machinations of others. +</p> +<p> +So much we could learn from the “Moniteur,” which reached us each day; and +while assuming a tone of open reprobation regarding the <i>Chouans</i>, +spoke in terms the most cautious and reserved respecting the two generals, +as if probing the public mind how far their implication in treason might +be credited, and with what faith the proofs of their participation might +be received. +</p> +<p> +At last the train seemed laid; the explosion was all prepared, and nothing +wanting but the spark to ignite it. A letter from Moreau to the Consul +appeared in the columns of the Government paper; in which, after +recapitulating in terms most suitable the services he had rendered the +Republic while in command of the army of the Rhine,—the confidence +the Convention had always placed in him, the frequent occasions which had +presented themselves to him of gratifying ambitious views (had he +conceived such he adverted, in brief but touching terms, to his conduct on +the 18th Brumaire in seconding the adventurous step taken by Bonaparte +himself, and attributed the neglect his devotion had met with, rather to +the interference and plotting of his enemies than to any estrangement on +the part of the Consul.) Throughout the whole of the epistle there reigned +a tone of reverence for the authority of Bonaparte most striking and +remarkable; there was nothing like an approach to the equality which might +well be supposed to subsist between two great generals,—albeit the +one was at the height of power, and the other sunk in the very depth of +misfortune. On the contrary, the letter was nothing more than an appeal to +old souvenirs and former services to one who possessed the power, if he +had the will, to save him; it breathed throughout the sentiments of one +who demands a favor, and that favor his life and honor, at the hands of +him who had already constituted himself the fountain of both. +</p> +<p> +While such was the position of Moreau,—a position which resulted in +his downfall,—chance informed as of the different ground occupied by +his companion in misfortune, the Greneral Pichegru. +</p> +<p> +About three days after the publication of Moreau's letter, we were walking +as usual in the garden of the Temple, when a huissier came up, and +beckoning to two of the prisoners, desired them to follow him. Such was +the ordinary course by which one or more were daily summoned before the +tribunal for examination, and we took no notice of what had become a +matter of every-day occurrence, and went on conversing as before about the +news of the morning. Several hours elapsed without the others having +returned; and at last we began to feel anxious about their fate, when one +of them made his appearance, his heightened color and agitated expression +betokening that something more than common had occurred. +</p> +<p> +“We were examined with Pichegru,” said the prisoner,—who was an old +quartermaster in the army of the Upper Rhine,—as he sat down upon a +bench and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said the tall colonel with the bald head; “before Monsieur Réal, +I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, before Réal. My poor old general: there he was, as I used to see him +formerly, with his hand on the breast of his uniform, his pale, thin +features as calm as ever, until at last when roused his eyes flashed fire +and his lip trembled before he broke out into such a torrent of attack—” +</p> +<p> +“Attack, say you?” interrupted the Abbé,; “a bold course, my faith! in one +who has need of all his powers for defence.” +</p> +<p> +“It was ever his tactique to be the assailant,” said a bronzed, +soldierlike fellow, in a patched uniform; “he did so in Holland.” +</p> +<p> +“He chose a better enemy to practise it with then, than he has done now,” +resumed the quartermaster, sadly. +</p> +<p> +“Whom do you mean?” cried half a dozen voices together. +</p> +<p> +..."The Consul.” +</p> +<p> +“The Consul! Bonaparte! Attack him!” repeated one after the other, in +accents of surprise and horror. “Poor fellow, he is deranged.” +</p> +<p> +“So I almost thought myself, as I heard him,” replied the quartermaster; +“for, after submitting with patience to a long and tiresome examination, +he suddenly, as if endurance could go no farther, cried out,—'Assez!' +The préfet started, and Thuriot, who sat beside him, looked up terrified, +while Pichegru went on: 'So the whole of this negotiation about Cayenne is +then a falsehood? Your promise to make me governor there, if I consented +to quit France forever, was a trick to extort confession or a bribe to +silence? Be it so. Now, come what will, I 'll not leave France; and, more +still, I 'll declare everything before the judges openly at the tribunal. +The people shall know, all Europe shall know, who is my accuser, and what +he is. Yes! your Consul himself treated with the Bourbons in Italy; the +negotiations were begun, continued, carried on, and only broken off by his +own excessive demands. Ay, I can prove it: his very return from Egypt +through the whole English fleet,—that happy chance, as you were wont +to term it,—was a secret treaty with Pitt for the restoration of the +exiled family on his reaching Paris. These facts—and facts you shall +confess them—are in my power to prove; and prove them I will in the +face of all France.'” +</p> +<p> +“Poor Pichegru!” said the abbe, contemptuously. “What an ill-tempered +child a great general may be, after all! Did he think the hour would ever +come for him to realize such a dream?” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” cried two or three together. +</p> +<p> +“The Corsican never forgets a vendetta,” was the cool reply, as he walked +away. +</p> +<p> +“True,” said the colonel, thoughtfully; “quite true.” +</p> +<p> +To me these words were riddles. My only feeling towards Pichegru was one +of contempt and pity, that in any depth of misfortune he could resort to +such an unworthy attack upon him who still was the idol of all my +thoughts; and for this, the conqueror of Holland stood now as low in my +esteem as the most vulgar of the rabble gang that each day saw sentenced +to the galleys. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXV. THE REIGN OF TERROR UNDER THE CONSULATE. +</h2> +<p> +On the morning that followed the scene I have spoken of came the news of +the arrest, the trial, and the death of the Duc d'Enghien. That terrible +tragedy—which yet weighs, and will weigh forever, on the memory of +the period—reached us in our prison with all the terrible force of +circumstances to make it a day of sorrow and mourning. Such details as the +journals afforded but little satisfied our curiosity. The youth, the +virtues, the bravery of the prince had made him the idol of his party; and +while his death was lamented for his own sake, his followers read in it +the determination of the Government to stop at nothing in their resolve to +exterminate that party. A gloomy silence sat upon the Chouans, who no +longer moved about as before, regardless of their confinement to a prison. +Their chief remained apart: he neither spoke to any one nor seemed to +notice those who passed; he looked stunned and stupefied, rather than +deeply affected, and when he lifted his eyes, their expression was cold +and wandering. Even the other prisoners, who rarely gave way to feeling of +any kind, seemed at first overwhelmed by these sad tidings; and doubtless +many who before had trusted to rank and influence for their safety, saw +how little dependence could be placed on such aid when the blow had fallen +upon a “Condé” himself. +</p> +<p> +I, who neither knew the political movements of the time nor the sources of +the danger the Consul's party anticipated, could only mourn over the +unhappy fate of a gallant prince whose daring had cost him his life, and +never dreamed for a moment of calling in question the honor or good faith +of Bonaparte in an affair of which I could have easily believed him +totally ignorant. Such, indeed, was the representation of the “Moniteur;” +and whatever doubts the hints about me might have excited, were speedily +allayed by the accounts I read of the Consul's indignation at the haste +and informality of the trial, and his deep anger at the catastrophe that +followed it. +</p> +<p> +“Savary will be disgraced for this,” said I to the Abbé, who leaned over +my shoulder while I read the paper; “Bonaparte can never forgive him.” +</p> +<p> +“You mistake, my dear sir,” replied he, with a strange expression I could +not fathom. “The Consul is the most forgiving of men; he never bears +malice.” +</p> +<p> +“But here was a dreadful event,—a crime, perhaps.” +</p> +<p> +“Only a fault,” resumed he. “By the bye, Colonel, this order about closing +the barriers will be excessively inconvenient to the good people of +Paris.” +</p> +<p> +“I have been thinking over that, too,” said an overdressed, +affected-looking youth, whose perfumed curls and studied costume formed a +strange contrast with the habits of his fellow-prisoners. “If they shut up +the Barriére de de l'Étoile, what are they to do for Longchamps?” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> that did not strike me,” interposed the colonel, tapping +his forehead with his finger. “I 'll wager a crown that they haven't +thought of that themselves.” +</p> +<p> +“The Champs Éllysés are surely long enough for such tomfoolery,” said the +quartermaster, in a gruff, savage tone. +</p> +<p> +“Not one half,” was the imperturbable reply of the youth; “and Longchamps +promised admirably this year. I had ordered a <i>calèche</i>,—light +blue, with gilt circles on the wheels, and a bronze carving to the pole,—like +an antique chariot.” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> you are more likely to take your next airing in a simpler +conveyance,” said the quartermaster with a grin. +</p> +<p> +“I was to have driven la Comtesse de Beauflers to the Bois de Boulogne.” +</p> +<p> +“You must content yourself with the Comte de la Marque” (the prison name +of the executioner) “instead,” growled out the other. +</p> +<p> +I turned away, no less disgusted at the frivolity that could only see in +the dreadful event that took place the temporary interruption to a vain +and silly promenade, than at the savage coarseness that could revel in the +pain common misfortune gave him the privilege of inflicting. +</p> +<p> +Such, however, was the prevalent tone of thinking and speaking there. The +death of friends,—the ruin of those best loved and cared for; the +danger that each day came nearer to themselves,—were all casualties +to which habit, recklessness of life, and libertinism had accustomed them; +while about former modes of life,—the pleasures of the capital, its +delights and dissipation,—they conversed with the most eager +interest. It is thus, while in some natures misfortunes will call forth +into exercise the best and noblest traits that in happier circumstances +had never found the necessity that gave them birth; so, in others, +adversity depresses and demoralizes those weaker temperaments that seemed +formed to sail safely in the calm waters, but never destined to brave the +stormy seas of life. +</p> +<p> +With such associates I could have neither sympathy nor friendship; and my +life passed on in one unbroken and dreary monotony, day succeeding day and +night following night, till my thoughts, turned ever inward, had worn as +it were a track for themselves in which the world without and its people +had no share whatever. Not only was my application to the minister +unanswered, but I was never examined before any of the tribunals; and +sometimes the dreadful fate of those prisoners who in the Reign of Terror +passed their whole life in prison, their crimes, their very existence +forgotten, would cross my mind, and strike me with terror unspeakable. +</p> +<p> +If in the sombre atmosphere of the Temple a sad and cheerless monotony +prevailed, events followed fast on each other in that world from which its +gloomy walls excluded us. Every hour was some new feature of the dark +conspiracy brought to light; the vigilance of Monsieur Réal slept not +night or day; and all that bribery, terror, or torture could effect, was +put into requisition to obtain full and precise information as to every +one concerned in the plot. +</p> +<p> +It was a bright, fresh morning in April, the sixth of the month,—the +day is graven on my memory,—when, on walking forth into the garden, +I was surprised to see the prisoners standing in a circle round a tree on +which a placard was fastened, with glances eagerly turned towards the +paper or bent sadly to the ground. They stood around, sad and silent. To +my question of what had occurred, a significant look at the tree was the +only reply I received, while in the faces of all I perceived that some +dreadful news had reached them. Forcing my way with difficulty through the +crowd, I at length approached near enough to read the placard, on which in +large letters was written,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“6 Avril. Le Temple. + +“Charles Pichegru, ez-Général Républicain, s'est é tranglé +dans sa prison.” +</pre> +<p> +“And did Pichegru, the great conqueror of Holland, die by his own hand?” +said I, as my eye rested on the fatal bulletin. +</p> +<p> +“Don't you read it, young man?” replied a deep, solemn voice beside me, +which I at once knew was that of General George himself, “Can you doubt +the accuracy of information supplied by the police?” +</p> +<p> +The bystanders looked up with a terrified and frightened expression, as if +dreading lest the very listening to his words might be construed into an +acquiescence in them. +</p> +<p> +“Trust me, he is dead,” continued he. “They who have announced his fate +here have a right to be relied on. It now only remains to be seen how he +died. These prison maladies have a strange interest for us who live in the +infected climate; and, if I mistake not, I see the 'Moniteur', yonder, a +full hour before its usual time. See what a blessing, gentlemen, you enjoy +in a paternal Government, which in moments of public anxiety can feel for +your distress and hasten to alleviate it!” +</p> +<p> +The tone of sarcasm he spoke in, the measured fall of every word, sank +into the hearers' minds, and though they stood mute, they did not even +move from the spot. +</p> +<p> +“Here is the 'Moniteur' now,” said the quartermaster, opening the paper +and reading aloud. +</p> +<p> +“To his oft-repeated assurances that he would make no attempt upon his +life—'” +</p> +<p> +A rude burst of laughter from George interrupted the reader here. +</p> +<p> +“I ask your pardon, sir,” said he, touching his cap; “proceed. I promise +not to interrupt you again.” +</p> +<p> +“'That he would make no attempt upon his life, Greneral Pichegru obtained +permission that the sentries should be stationed outside his cell during +the night. Having provided himself with a fagot, which he secreted beneath +his bed, he supped as usual in the evening of yesterday, eating heartily +at eleven o'clock, and retiring to rest by twelve. When thus alone he +placed the stick within the folds of the black silk cravat he generally +wore round his neck, in such a manner as, when twisted, to act like a +tourniquet; and having turned it with such a degree of force as to arrest +the return of blood from the head, he fastened it beneath his head and +shoulders, and in this manner, apoplexy supervening, expired.'” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Par Saint Louis</i>, sir,” cried George, “the explanation is +admirable, and most satisfactorily shows how a man may possess life long +enough to be certain he has killed himself. The only thing wanting is for +the general to assist in dressing the proces-verbal, when doubtless his +own views of his case would be equally edifying and instructive. And see, +already the ceremony has begun.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, he pointed to a number of persons who crossed the terrace, +preceded by Savary in his uniform of the Gendarmes d'Élite, and who went +in the direction of the cell where the dead body lay. +</p> +<p> +The prisoners now fell into little knots and groups, talking beneath their +breath, and apparently terrified at every stir about them. Each compared +his sensation of what he thought he heard during the night with the +other's. Some asserted that they distinctly heard the chains of the +drawbridge creak long after midnight; others vouched for the quick tramp +of feet along the corridors, and the sounds of strange voices; one, whose +cell was beneath that of Pichegru, said that he was awoke before day by a +violent crash overhead, followed by a harsh sound like coughing, which +continued for some time and then ceased entirely. These were vague, +uncertain signs, yet what horrible thoughts did they not beget in each +listener's mind! +</p> +<p> +As I stood terror-struck and speechless, I felt a tap oif my shoulder. I +turned; it was the Abbé, who, with a smile of peculiar irony, stood behind +me. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Savary!” said he, in a whisper; “how will he ever get over this +blunder, and it so very like the former one!” +</p> +<p> +He did not wait for a reply, but moved away. +</p> +<p> +“Who is to be the next, sir?” cried George, with a deep voice, as he saw +the assemblage thus accidentally collected about to break up. “Moreau, +perhaps. One thing I bid you all bear witness to: suicide is a crime I 'll +never commit; let no narrative of a cravat and a fagot—” +</p> +<p> +“Do you never eat mushrooms, General?” said the Abbé, dryly; and whether +from the manner of the speaker, or the puzzled look of him to whom the +speech was addressed, the whole crowd burst into a fit of laughter,—the +emotion seemed like one in which relief was felt by all. They laughed long +and loud; and now the faces that a minute before were marked by every +character of deep affliction, looked merry and happy. Each had some story, +some apropos to tell, or some smart witticism to let off against his +neighbor; and to hear them you would say that never was there a subject +more suggestive of drollery than the one of suicide and sudden death. +</p> +<p> +And thus was it ever. No event, however dreadful,—no circumstance, +however shocking,—could do more than momentarily affect those whose +life possessed no security, was governed by no principle. Levity and +unbelief—unbelief that extended not only to matters of religion, but +actually penetrated every relation of life, rendering them sceptical of +friendship, love, truth, honor, and charity—were the impulses under +which they lived; and they would have laughed him to scorn who should have +attempted to establish another code of acting or thinking. Such feelings, +if they made them but little suited to all the habits and charities of +life, certainly rendered them most indifferent to death; and much of that +courage so much lauded and admired on the scaffold had no other source +than in the headlong recklessness the prison had inculcated,—the +indifference to everything, where everything was questionable and +doubtful. +</p> +<p> +I struggled powerfully against the taint of such a consuming malady. I +bethought me of my boyhood and its early purpose,—of him who first +stirred my soul to ambition,—and asked myself, what would he have +thought of me had I yielded to such a trial as this? I pictured before me +a career when such devotion as I felt, aided by a stout heart, must win +its way to honor; and when roused to thought, these low, depressing +dreams, these dark hours of doubt and despair, vanished before it. But +gradually my health gave way, my lethargic apathy increased upon me, the +gloomy walls of my cell had thrown their shadow over my spirit, and I sank +into a state of moping indifference in which I scarcely marked the change +of day and night; and felt at length that had the sentence been pronounced +which condemned me for life to the walls of the Temple, I could have heard +it without emotion. +</p> +<p> +“Come, sous-lieutenant, it's your turn now!” said the turnkey, entering my +cell one morning, where I sat alone at breakfast; “I have just received +the orders for your appearance.” +</p> +<p> +“How! where?” said I, scarcely able to do more than guess at the meaning +of his words; “before the préfet, is it?” +</p> +<p> +“No, no; a very different affair, indeed. You are summoned with the <i>Chouan</i> +prisoners to appear at the Palais de Justice.” +</p> +<p> +“The Palais!” said I, as for the first time for weeks past a sentiment of +fear crept through me. “Are we to be tried without having a list of the +charges alleged against us?” +</p> +<p> +“You 'll hear them time enough in court.” +</p> +<p> +“Without an advocate to defend us.” +</p> +<p> +“The President will name one for that purpose.” +</p> +<p> +“And can the jury—” +</p> +<p> +“Jury! There is no jury; the Consul has suspended trial by jury for two +years. Come, come, don't be downhearted; your friends without are singing +away as gayly as though it were a festival. My faith, that Greneral George +is made of iron, I believe. He has been confined <i>au secret</i> these +ten days, his rations diminished to almost a starvation level, and yet +there is he now, with his countenance as calm and his look as firm as if +he were at large on the hills of La Vendée. Cheer up, then; let the +example of your chief—” +</p> +<p> +“Chief! he is no chief of mine.” +</p> +<p> +“That 's as it may, or may not be,” replied he, gruffly, as though wounded +by what he deemed a want of confidence in his honor. “However, make haste +and dress, for the carriages will be here to convey you to the Palais. And +there now are the Gendarmes d'Élite assembling in the court.” +</p> +<p> +As I proceeded to dress, I could see from the window of my cell that a +squadron of gendarmes, in full uniform, were drawn up in the square of the +prison, along one side of which were several carriages standing, each with +two gendarmes seated on the box. The prisoners were confined to their +walls; but at every window some face appeared peering anxiously at the +proceedings beneath, and watching with inquisitive gaze every, even the +slightest, movement. +</p> +<p> +Just as the clock struck nine the door of my cell was opened, and a +greffier of the court entered, and, taking from a black portmanteau at his +side a roll of paper, began without delay to repeat in a sing-song +recitative tone a formal summons of the Grand Tribunal for the “surrender +of the body of Thomas Burke, sous-lieutenant of the huitieme hussars, now +in the prison of the Temple, and accused of the crime of treason.” +</p> +<p> +The last word made me shudder as it fell from him; and not all my stoical +indifference of weeks past was proof against such an accusation. The +jailer having formally listened to the document, and replied by reading +aloud another, delivered me over to the officer, who desired me to follow +him. +</p> +<p> +In the court beneath the greater number of the prisoners were already +assembled. George, among the number, was conspicuous, not only by his size +and proportions, but by a handsome uniform, in the breast of which he wore +his decoration of St. Louis, from which descended a bright bow of crimson +ribbon. A slight bustle at one of the doorways of the tower suddenly +seemed to attract his attention, and I saw that he turned quickly round, +and forced his way through the crowd to the place. Eager to learn what it +was, I followed him at once. Pushing with some difficulty forward, I +reached the doorway, on the step of which lay a young man in a fainting +fit. His face, pale as death, had no color save two dark circles round the +eyes, which, though open, were upturned and filmy. His cravat had been +hastily removed by some of the bystanders, and showed a purple welt around +his neck, on one side of which a mass of blood escaping beneath the skin, +made a dreadful-looking tumor. His dress denoted a person of condition, as +well as the character of his features; but never had I looked upon an +object so sad and woe-begone before. At his side knelt Greorge; his strong +arm round his back, while his great massive hand patted the water on his +brow. The stern features of the hardy Breton, which ever before had +conveyed to me nothing but daring and impetuous passion, were softened to +a look of womanly kindliness, his blue eye beaming as softly as though it +were a mother leaning over her infant. +</p> +<p> +“Bouvet, my dear, dear boy, remember thou art a Breton; rally thyself, my +child,—bethink thee of the cause.” +</p> +<p> +The name of the youth at once recalled him whom I had seen some months +before among the <i>Chouan</i> prisoners, and who, sad and sickly as he +then seemed, was now much further gone towards the tomb. +</p> +<p> +“Bouvet,” cried Greorge, in an accent of heartrending sorrow, “this will +disgrace us forever!” +</p> +<p> +The youth turned his cold eyes round till they were fixed on the other's +face; while his lips, still parted, and his cheek pale and flattened, gave +him the appearance of a corpse suddenly called back to life. +</p> +<p> +“There, my own brave boy,” said Greorge, kissing his forehead—“there, +thou art thyself again!” He bent over till his lips nearly touched the +youth's ear, and then whispered: “Dost thou forget the last words Monsieur +spoke to thee, Bouvet? 'Conserve-toi pour tes amis, et centre nos ennemis +communs!'” +</p> +<p> +The boy started up at the sounds, and looked wildly about him, while his +hands were open wide with a kind of spasmodic motion. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Tonnerre de ciel!</i>” cried George, with frantic passion; “what have +they done with him? his mind is gone. Bouvet! Bouvet de Lozier! knowest +thou this?” He tore from his bosom a miniature, surrounded with large +brilliants, and held it to the eyes of the youth. +</p> +<p> +A wild shriek broke from the youth as he fell back in strong convulsions. +The dreadful cry seemed like the last wail of expiring reason, so sad, so +piercing was its cadence. +</p> +<p> +“Look, see!” said George, turning a savage scowl upon the crowd; “they +have taken away his mind; he is an idiot.” +</p> +<p> +“The General George Cadoudal,” cried a loud voice from the centre of the +court. +</p> +<p> +“Here,” was the firm reply. +</p> +<p> +“This way, sir; the carriage yonder.” +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur Sol de Gisolles!” +</p> +<p> +“Here,” replied a tall, aristocratic-looking personage, in deep mourning. +</p> +<p> +Sous-Lieutenant Burke was next called, and I followed the others, and soon +found myself seated in a close calecfie, with a gendarme beside me, while +two mounted men of the corps sat at either side of the carriage with drawn +swords. Picot, the servant of George, the faithful Breton, was next +summoned; and Lebourgeois, an old but handsome man, in the simple habit of +a farmer, with his long white hair, and soft kind countenance. Many other +names were called over, and nearly an hour elapsed before the ceremony was +concluded, and the order was given to move forward. +</p> +<p> +At last the heavy gates were opened, and the procession issued forth. I +was surprised to see that the entire Boulevard was lined with troops, +behind which thousands of people were closely wedged, all the windows, and +even the housetops, being filled with spectators. +</p> +<p> +When we reached the quays, the crowd was greater still, and it required +all the efforts of the troops to keep it back sufficiently to permit an +open space for the carriages; while at all the streets that opened at the +quays, mounted dragoons were stationed to prevent any carriage passing +down. Never had I beheld such a vast multitude of people; and yet, through +all that crowded host, a deep, solemn silence prevailed,—not a cry +nor a shout was heard in all the way. Once only, at the corner of the Pont +Neuf, a cry of “Vive Moreau!” was given by some one in the crowd; but it +was a solitary voice, and the moment after I saw a gendarme force his way +through the mass, and seizing a miserable-looking creature by the neck, +hurry him along beside his horse towards the guardhouse. On crossing the +bridge, I saw that a company of artillery and two guns were placed in +position beside Desaix's monument, so as to command the Pont Neuf: all +these preparations clearly indicating that the Government felt the +occasion such as to warrant the most energetic measures of security. There +was something in the earnest look of the cannoniers, as they stood with +their lighted matches beside the guns, that betrayed the resolve of one +whose quick determination was ever ready for the moment of danger. +</p> +<p> +The narrow streets of the Isle St. Louis, more densely crowded than any +part of the way, slackened our pace considerably, and frequently the +gendarmes were obliged to clear the space before the carriages could +proceed. I could not help feeling struck, as we passed along these +miserable and dark alleys,—where vice and crime, and wretchedness of +every type herded together,—to hear at every step some expressions +of pity or commiseration from those who themselves seemed the veriest +objects of compassion. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Voilà,” cried an old creature in rags, on whose cotton bonnet a faded +and dirty tricolored ribbon was fastened—“voilà Moreau! I'd know his +proud face any day. Poor general, I hope it will not go hard with you +to-day!” “Look there,” screamed a hag, as the carriage in which Bouvet sat +passed by—“look at the handsome youth that's dying! Holy Virgin! +he'll not be living when they reach the gate of the Palais!” +</p> +<p> +“And there,” cried another, “there's a hussar officer, pale enough, I trow +he is. Come, I 'll say a prayer or two for him there; it can do him no +harm anyhow.” +</p> +<p> +The hoarse rattle of a drum in front mingled with the noise of the +cavalcade, and I now could hear the clank of a guard turning out. The +minute after we stood before a colossal gateway, whose rich tracery shone +in the most gorgeous gilding; it was in the splendid taste of Louis the +Fourteenth, and well became the entrance of what once had been a royal +palace. “Alas!” thought I, “how unlike those who once trod this wide court +is the melancholy cortege that now enters it!” +</p> +<p> +As each carriage drew up at the foot of a wide flight of stone steps, the +prisoners descended, and escorted by gendarmes on each side, were led into +the building. When all had reached the hall, the order was given to move +forward, and we walked on till we came to a long gallery. On either side +was a range of massive pillars, between which views were obtained of +various spacious but dimly-lighted chambers, apparently neglected and +unused; some benches here and there, an old cabinet, and a deal table, +were all the furniture. Here we halted for a few moments, till a door +opening at the extreme end, a sign was made for us to advance. And now we +heard a low rushing sound, like the distant breaking of the sea in a calm +night; it grew louder as we went, till we could mark the mingling of +several hundred voices, as they conversed in a subdued and under tone. +Then, indeed, a dreadful thrill ran through me, as I thought of the +countless mass before whom I was to stand forth a criminal, and it needed +every effort in my power to keep my feet. +</p> +<p> +A heavy curtain of dark cloth yet separated us from a view of the court; +but we could hear the voice of the president commanding silence, and the +monotonous intonation of the clerk reading the order for the proceedings. +This concluded, a deep voice called out, “Introduce the prisoners!” and +the words were repeated still louder by a huissier at the entrance; and at +a signal the line moved forward, the curtain was drawn back, and we +advanced into the court. +</p> +<p> +The crowd of faces that filled the vast space from the body of the court +below to the galleries above, turned as we passed on to the bench, at one +side of the raised platform near the seat of the judges. A similar bench, +but unoccupied, ran along the opposite side; while directly in front of +the judges were ranged the advocates in rows, closely packed as they could +sit,—a small desk, somewhat advanced from the rest, being the seat +reserved for the Procureur-Général of the court. +</p> +<p> +The vast multitudes of spectators; the pomp and circumstance of a court of +justice; the solemn look of the judges, arrayed in their dark robes and +square black caps, reminding one of the officers of the Inquisition, as we +see them in old paintings; the silence where so many were assembled,—all +struck me with awe, and I scarcely dared to look up, lest in the glances +bent upon me I should meet some whose looks might seem to condemn me. +</p> +<p> +“Proclaim the <i>séance</i>,” said the President. And with: a loud voice +the <i>huissier</i> of the court made proclamation that the tribunal had +commenced its sitting. +</p> +<p> +This concluded, the Procureur-Général proceeded to read the names of the +accused, beginning with Général Moreau, Armand de Polignac, Charles de +Rivière, Sol de Gisolles, George Cadoudal, and some twenty others of less +note, among which I heard with a sinking heart my own name pronounced. +</p> +<p> +Some customary formalities seemed now to occupy the court for a +considerable time; after which the <i>huissier</i> called silence once +more. +</p> +<p> +“Général Moreau!” said the President, in a deep voice that was heard +throughout the entire court. “Rise up, sir,” added he, after a few +seconds' pause. +</p> +<p> +I looked down the bench, at the farthest end of which I saw the tall and +well-knit figure of a man in the uniform of a general of the Republic; his +back was turned towards me, but his bearing and carriage were quite enough +to distinguish the soldier. +</p> +<p> +“Your name and surname,” said the President. +</p> +<p> +Before an answer could be returned, a dull sound, like something heavy +falling, resounded through the court, and in an instant several persons +around me stood up. I bent forward to see, and beheld the figure of Bouvet +de Lozier stretched insensible upon the ground; beside him his faithful +friend George was stooping, and endeavoring to open his vest to give him +air. +</p> +<p> +“Bring some water here quickly!” cried the hardy Breton, in a tone that +showed little respect for where he stood. “Your absurd ceremonial has +frightened the poor boy out of his senses.” +</p> +<p> +“Respect the court, sir, or I commit you!” said the President, in a voice +of anger. +</p> +<p> +A contemptuous look, followed by a still more contemptuous shrug of the +shoulders, was his reply. +</p> +<p> +“Remove the prisoner,” said the President, pointing to the still fainting +youth, “and proclaim silence in the court.” +</p> +<p> +The officers of the tribunal carried the deathlike figure of the boy down +the steps, and bore him to some of the chambers near. +</p> +<p> +This little incident, slight and passing as it was, seemed much to affect +the auditory, and it was some time before perfect silence could be again +restored. +</p> +<p> +“So much for the régime of the Temple!” said George, aloud, as he looked +after the insensible form of his friend. +</p> +<p> +“Silence, sir!” cried one of the judges, M. Thuriot, a harsh and +severe-looking man, whose hatred to the prisoners was the subject of much +conversation in the prison. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, it is you, Tue-Roi!” cried George, punning upon his name, for he had +been one of the regicides. “You there! I thought they had found you out +long ere this.” +</p> +<p> +A burst of laughter that nothing could repress broke through the crowded +court, and it was not until some five or six persons were forcibly removed +by the gendarmes that order was again restored. +</p> +<p> +“Read the act of accusation,” said the President, in a deep solemn voice. +</p> +<p> +“In the name of the Republic, one and indivisible—” +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur le President,” interrupted the Procureur-Général, “I would +submit to the court, that as in the first accusation there are several of +the prisoners not included, they should not remain during the recital of +the indictment.” +</p> +<p> +A conversation of some minutes now took place between the judges, during +which again the silence was unbroken in the court. I turned gladly from +the gaze of the thousand spectators to the bench where my fellow-prisoners +were seated; and however varied by age, rank, and occupation, there seemed +but one feeling amongst them,—a hardy and resolute spirit to brave +every danger without flinching. +</p> +<p> +“Which of the prisoners are not accused under the first act?” said +Thuriot. +</p> +<p> +“Charles Auguste Bebarde, dit le Noir; Guillaume Lebarte; and Thomas +Burke, Sous-Lieutenant in the Eighth Regiment of Hussars.” +</p> +<p> +“Let them withdraw,” said the President. +</p> +<p> +A slight bustle ensued in the body of the court as the gendarmes advanced +to make a passage for our exit; and for a moment I could perceive that the +attention of the assembly was drawn towards us. One by one we descended to +the platform, and with a gendarme on either side, proceeded to pass out, +when suddenly the deep, mellow voice of Cadoudal called out aloud,— +</p> +<p> +“Adieu, my friends, adieu! If we are not to be better treated than our +prince, we shall never see you again.” +</p> +<p> +“Silence, sir!” cried the President, severely; and then, turning towards +the bar of advocates, he continued, “If that man have an advocate in this +court, it would well become him to warn his client that such continued +insult to the tribunal can only prejudice his cause.” +</p> +<p> +“I have none, and I wish for none,” replied George, in a tone of defiance. +“This mockery is but the first step of the guillotine, and I can walk it +without assistance.” +</p> +<p> +A renewed call of “Silence!” and a deep murmur through the assembly, was +all I heard, as the door of the court opened and closed behind us. As we +marched along a low vaulted corridor, the sounds of the court grew fainter +and fainter; and at last the echoes of our own steps were the only noises. +</p> +<p> +The room to which we were conducted was a small whitewashed chamber, +around which ran a bench of unpainted wood. A deal table stood in the +centre, on which was a common-looking earthenware jar of water and some +tin goblets. The window was several feet from the ground, and strongly +barred with iron. +</p> +<p> +“La salle d'attente is gloomy enough,” said one of my companions, “and yet +some of us may be very sorry to leave it.” +</p> +<p> +“Not I, at least,” cried the other, resolutely. “The basket beneath the +guillotine will be an easier couch than I have slept on these three +months.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PALAIS DE JUSTICE +</h2> +<p> +“It will go hard with Moreau to-day,” said the elder of the two prisoners, +a large, swarthy-looking Breton, in the dress of a sailor; “the Consul +hates him.” +</p> +<p> +“Whom does he not hate,” said the younger, a slight and handsome youth—“whom +does he not hate that ever rivalled him in glory? What love did he bear to +Kléber or Desaix?” +</p> +<p> +“It is false,” said I, fiercely. “Bonaparte's greatness stands far too +high to feel such rivalry as theirs. The conqueror of Italy and of Egypt—” +</p> +<p> +“Is a Corsican,” interrupted the elder. +</p> +<p> +“And a tyrant,” rejoined the other, in the same breath. +</p> +<p> +“These words become you well,” said I, bitterly. “Would that no stain lay +on my honor, and I could make you eat them.” +</p> +<p> +“And who are you that dare to speak thus?” said the younger; “or how came +one like you mixed up with men whose hearts were in a great cause, and who +came to sell their lives upon it?” +</p> +<p> +“I tell you, boy,” broke in the elder, in a slow and measured tone, “I +have made more stalwart limbs than thine bend, and stronger joints crack, +for less than thou hast ventured to tell us; but sorrow and suffering are +hard masters, and I can bear more now than I was wont to do. Let us have +no more words.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, he leaned his head upon his hand, and turned towards the +wall; the other, too, sat down in a comer of the cell, and was silent. And +thus we remained for hours long. +</p> +<p> +The dreary stillness, made more depressing by the presence of the two +prisoners, whose deep-drawn breathings were the only sounds they uttered, +had something unspeakably sad and melancholy in it, and more than once I +felt sorry for the few words I had spoken, which separated those whose +misfortunes should have made them brothers. +</p> +<p> +A confused and distant hum, swelling and falling at intervals, now filled +the air, and gradually I could distinguish the shouts of people at a +distance. This increased as it came nearer; and then I heard the tramping +noise of many feet, and of a great multitude of people passing in the +street below, and suddenly a wild cheer broke forth, “Vive le Consul!” +“Vive Bonaparte!” followed the next instant by the clanking sound of a +cavalry escort, while the cry grew louder and louder, and the vivas +drowned all other sounds. +</p> +<p> +“You hear them, Guillaume, you hear them,” said the sailor to the other +prisoner; “That shout is our death-cry. Bonaparte comes not here to-day +but to see his judges do his bidding.” +</p> +<p> +“What care I?” said the other, fiercely. “The guillotine or the sabre, the +axe or the bayonet,—it is all one. We knew what must come of it.” +</p> +<p> +The door opened as he spoke, and a greffier of the tribunal appeared with +four gendarmes. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Messieurs,” said he, “the court is waiting for you.” +</p> +<p> +“And how go matters without, sir?” said the elder, in an easy tone. +</p> +<p> +“Badly for the prisoners,” said the greffier, shaking his head. “Monsieur +Moreau, the general's brother, has done much injury; he has insulted the +Consul.” +</p> +<p> +“Bravely done!” cried the younger man, with enthusiasm. “It is well he +should hear truth one day, though the tongue that uttered it should be +cold the next.” +</p> +<p> +“Move on, sir!” said the greffier, sternly. “Not you,” added he, as I +pressed forward after the rest; “your time has not come.” +</p> +<p> +“Would that it had!” said I, as the door closed upon me, and I was left in +total solitude. +</p> +<p> +The day was over, and the evening already late, when a turnkey appeared, +and desired me to follow him. A moody indifference to everything had +settled on me, and I never spoke as I walked behind him down corridor +after corridor; and across a court, into a large, massive-looking +building, whose grated windows and strongly-barred doors reminded me of +the Temple. +</p> +<p> +“Here is your cell,” said he, roughly, as he unlocked a low door near the +entrance. +</p> +<p> +“It is gloomy enough,” said I, with a sad smile. +</p> +<p> +“And yet many have shed tears to leave it before now,” rejoined he, with a +savage twinkle of his small eyes. +</p> +<p> +I was glad when the hoarse crash of the closed door told me I was alone; +and I threw myself upon my bed and buried my face in my hands. +</p> +<p> +There is a state which is not sleep, and yet is akin to it, into which +grief can bring us,—a half-dreary stupor, where only sorrows are +felt; and even they come dulled and blunted, as if time and years had +softened down their sting. But no ray of hope shines there,—a dreary +waste, without a star. The cold, dark sea, boundless and bleak, is not +more saddening than life then seems before us; there is neither path to +follow nor goal to reach, and an apathy worse than death creeps over all +our faculties. And yet, when we awake we wish for this again. Into this +state I sank, and when morning came felt sorry that the light should shine +into my narrow cell, and rouse me from my stupor. When the turnkey entered +to bring me breakfast, I turned towards the wall, and trembled lest he +should speak to me; and it was with a strange thrill I heard the door +close as he went out. The abandonment of one's sorrow—that daily, +hourly indulgence in grief which the uncheered solitude of a prison begets—soon +brings the mind to the narrow range of one or two topics. With the death +of hope, all fancy and imagination perish, the springs of all speculation +are dried up, and every faculty bent towards one point; the reason, like a +limb unexercised, wastes and pines, and becomes paralyzed. +</p> +<p> +Now and then the thought would flash across me, “What if this were +madness?”—and I shuddered not at the thought. Such had my prison +made me. +</p> +<p> +Four days and nights passed over thus,—a long, monotonous dream, in +which I counted not the time,—and I lay upon my straw bed watching +the expiring light of the candle with that strange interest one attaches +to everything within the limits of a prison-cell. The flame waned and +flickered: now lighting up for a second the cold gray walls, scratched +with many a prisoner's name; now subsiding, it threw strange and fitful +shapes upon them,—figures that seemed to move and to beckon to one +another,—goblin outlines, wild and fanciful. Then came a bright +flash as the wick fell, and all was dark. +</p> +<p> +“If the dead do but sleep!” was the first thought that crossed my mind as +the gloom of total night wrapped every object about me, and a stillness +most appalling prevailed. Suddenly I heard the sounds of a heavy bolt +withdrawn and a door opening; then a low, rushing noise, like wind blowing +through a narrow corridor; and at last the marching sounds of feet, and +the accents of men speaking together: nearer and nearer they came, and at +length halted at the door of my cell. A cold, faint feeling, the sickness +of the heart, crept over me; the hour, the sounds, reminded me of what so +often I had heard men speak of in the Temple, and the dread of +assassination made me tremble from head to foot. The light streamed from +beneath the door, and reached to my bed; and I calculated the number of +steps it would take before they approached me. The key grated in the lock +and the door opened slowly, and three men stood at the entrance. I sprang +up wildly to my feet; a sudden impulse of self-defence seized me; and with +a wild shout for them to come on, I rushed forward. My foot, however, +caught the angle of the iron bedstead, and I fell headlong and senseless +to the ground. +</p> +<p> +Some interval elapsed; and when next I felt consciousness, I was lying +full length on my bed, the cell lit up by two candles on the table, beside +which sat two men, their heads bent eagerly over a mass of papers before +them. One was an old and venerable-looking man, his white hair and long +queue so bespeaking him; he wore a loose cloth cloak that covered his +entire figure, but I could see that a brass scabbard of a sword projected +beneath it; on the chair beside him, too, there lay a foraging-cap. The +other, much younger, though still not in youth, was a thin, pale, careworn +man; his forehead was high and strongly marked; and there was an intensity +and determination in his brow and about the angles of his mouth most +striking; he was dressed in black, with deep ruffles at his wrist. +</p> +<p> +“It is quite clear. General,” said he, in a low and measured voice, where +each word fell with perfect distinctness—“it is quite clear that +they can press a conviction here if they will. The allegations are so +contrived as rather to indicate complicity than actually establish it. The +defence in such cases has to combat shadows, not overturn facts; and, +believe me, a procureur-général, aided by a police, is a dexterous enemy.” +</p> +<p> +“I have no doubt of it,” said the general, rapidly; “but what are the weak +points? where is he most assailable?” +</p> +<p> +“Everywhere,” said the other. “To begin: the secret information of the +outbreak between Lord Whitworth and the Consul; the frequent meetings with +the Marquis de Beauvais; the false report to the Chef de Police; the +concealment of this abbe—By the bye, I am not quite clear about that +part of the case; why have not the prosecution brought this Abbé, forward? +It is plain they have his evidence, and can produce him if they will; and +I see no other name in the act of accusation than our old acquaintance, +Mehée de la Touche—” +</p> +<p> +“The villain!” cried the general, with a stamp of indignation, while a +convulsive spasm seemed to shake every fibre of his frame. +</p> +<p> +“Mehée de la Touche!” said I to myself; “I have heard that name before.” +And like a lightning flash it crossed my mind that such was the name of +the man Marie de Meudon charged me with knowing. +</p> +<p> +“But still,” said the general, “what can they make of all these? That of +indiscretion, folly, breach of discipline, if you will; but—” +</p> +<p> +“Wait a little,” said the other, quietly. “Then comes the night of the +château, in which he is found among the <i>Chouan</i> party in their very +den, taking part in the defence.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no! Lamoriciére, who commanded the cuirassiers, can establish the +fact beyond question, that Burke took no part in the affray, and delivered +his sword at once when called on.” +</p> +<p> +“At least they found him there, and on his person the brevet of colonel, +signed by Monsieur himself.” +</p> +<p> +“Of that I can give no explanation,” replied the general; “but I am in +possession of such information as can account for his presence at the +château, and establish his innocence on that point.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” cried the advocate, for such he was; “with that much may be +done.” +</p> +<p> +“Unhappily, however,” rejoined the general, “if such a disclosure is not +necessary to save his life, I cannot venture to give it; the ruin of +another must follow the explanation.” +</p> +<p> +“Without it he is lost,” said the advocate, solemnly. +</p> +<p> +“And would not accept of life with it,” said I, boldly, as I started up in +my bed, and looked fixedly at them. +</p> +<p> +The general sprang back, astonished and speechless; but the advocate, with +more command over his emotions, cast his eyes upon the paper before him, +and quickly asked,— +</p> +<p> +“And the commission; how do you account for that?” +</p> +<p> +“It was offered to and refused by me. He who made the proposal forgot it +on my table, and I was about to restore it when I was made prisoner.” +</p> +<p> +“What condition was attached to your acceptance of it?” +</p> +<p> +“Some vague, indistinct proposals were made to me to join a conspiracy of +which I was neither told the object nor intentions. Indeed, I stopped any +disclosure by rejecting the bribe.” +</p> +<p> +“Who made these same proposals?” +</p> +<p> +“I shall not tell his name.” +</p> +<p> +“No matter,” said the advocate, carelessly; “it was the Marquis de +Beauvais;” And then, as if affecting to write, I saw his sharp eyes glance +over towards me, while a smile of gratified cunning twitched his lip. “You +will have no objection to say how first you became acquainted with him?” +</p> +<p> +The dexterity of this query, by replying to which I at once established +his preceding assumption, completely escaped me, and I gave an account of +my first meeting with De Beauvais, without ever dreaming of the inferences +it led to. +</p> +<p> +“An unhappy rencontre,” said the advocate, as if musing; “better have +finished the intimacy, as you first intended, at the Bois de Boulogne.” +</p> +<p> +“It may be as you say, sir,” said I, irritated by the flippancy of his +remark; “but perhaps I may ask the name of the gentleman who takes such +interest in my affairs, and by what right he meddles in them?” +</p> +<p> +The general started back in his chair, and was about to speak, when the +advocate laid his hand gently on his arm to restrain him, and, in a voice +of the most unruffled smoothness, replied,— +</p> +<p> +“As to my name, sir, it is Laurence Baillot; my rank is simple avocat to +the Cours et Tribunaux; and the 'right' by which I interfere in matters +personal to you is the consideration of fifty louis which accompanied this +brief.” +</p> +<p> +“And my name, young man, is Lieutenant-Général d'Auvergne,” said the old +man, proudly, as he stared me steadfastly in the face. +</p> +<p> +I arose at once, and saluted the general with a deep and respectful +obeisance. It was the same officer who reviewed us at the Polytechnique +the day of my promotion. +</p> +<p> +“You are now, I hope, satisfied with the reasons of our presence, and that +nothing but considerations of your interest can have influenced our +visit,” said the avocat, with calmness. “Such being the case, sit down +here, and relate all you can of your life since your leaving the +Polytechnique. Be brief, too, for it is now three o'clock; the court opens +at ten, your case will be called the second, and I must at least have +three hours of sleep.” +</p> +<p> +The general pointed to a seat beside him; I sat down, and without any +delay proceeded to give a rapid account of all my adventures and +proceedings to the hour we were then assembled, only omitting all mention +of Mademoiselle de Meudon's name, and such allusions to De Beauvais as +might lead to his crimination. +</p> +<p> +The advocate wrote down, as rapidly as I spoke them, the principal details +of my history, and when I had concluded, perused the notes he had taken +with a quick eye. +</p> +<p> +“This will never do,” said he, with more impatience in his manner than I +had yet witnessed. “Here are a mass of circumstances all unexplained, and +all suspicious. It is now entirely a question of the feeling of the court. +The charges, if pressed, must lead to a conviction. Your innocence, sir, +may satisfy—indeed, it has satisfied—General d'Auvergne, who +else had not been here this night; but the proofs are not before us.” +</p> +<p> +He paused for a moment, and then continued in a lower tone, addressing +himself directly to the general: “We must entreat a delay; a day—two +days, certainly—will establish the proofs against George and his +accomplices; they will be condemned and executed at once. It is most +likely that the court will not recur to capital punishment again. The +example being made, any further demonstration will be needless. I see you +put little faith in this manoeuvre; but, trust me, I know the temper of +the tribunal. Besides, the political stroke has already succeeded. +Bonaparte has conquered all his enemies; his next step will be to profit +by the victory.” These words were riddles to me at the time, though the +day soon came when their meaning was palpable. “Yes, two days will do it,” +said he, confidently raising his voice as he spoke; “and then, whether +there be a hussar the more or one the less in France, will little trouble +the current of events.” +</p> +<p> +“Then how to obtain the time,—that is the question,” said the +general. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, we shall try something. There can always be a witness to be called; +some evidence all-essential not forthcoming; some necessary proof not +quite unravelled. What if we summoned this same Abbé? The court will make +proclamation for him. D'Ervan is the name?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; but if by so doing he may be involved—” +</p> +<p> +“Fear nothing on that score; he'll never turn up, believe me. We can +affect to show that his evidence is all-important. Yes, we'll make the +Abbé, d'Ervan our first witness. Where shall we say he resides? Rouen, I +suppose, will do; yes, Rouen.” And so, without waiting for a reply, he +continued to write. “By this, you perceive,” he remarked, “we shall +disconcert their plans. They are evidently keeping this abbe up for some +greater occasion; they have a case against himself, perhaps, in which the +proofs are not yet sufficient for conviction. We 'll trouble their game, +and they may be glad to compromise with us.” +</p> +<p> +The general looked as much confounded as myself at these schemes of the +lawyer, but we both were silent. +</p> +<p> +A few questions more followed, to which he wrote down my answers as I gave +them, and then starting up, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“And now, General, I must hasten home to bed. Be ready, at all events, for +appearing before the tribunal, Mr. Burke; at ten you will be called. And +so, good-night.” He bowed formally to me, as he opened the door to permit +the general to pass out first. +</p> +<p> +“I'll follow you in a moment,” said the general, while he closed the door +after him, and remained behind with me in the cell. “It was only this +evening, sir,” said he, in a low voice, “at the return of Madame Bonaparte +from Boulogne, that Mademoiselle de Meudon learned you were not at +liberty. She has made me acquainted with the circumstances by which your +present risk has been incurred, and has put me in possession of +wherewithal to establish your innocence as regards the adventure at the +château d'Ancre. This disclosure, if it exculpates you, will of course +criminate her, and among those, too, where she has been received and +admitted on terms of the closest friendship. The natural desire to save +her cousin's life will not cover the act by which so horrible a conspiracy +might have escaped punishment. Bonaparte never forgives! Now, I am in +possession of this proof; and if you demand it, it shall be in your +keeping. I have no hesitation in saying that the other charges against you +can easily be got over, this one being refuted. What do you say?” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing could make me accept of such an exculpation,” said I, resolutely; +“and were it offered in spite of me, I 'll plead guilty to the whole act, +and suffer with the rest.” +</p> +<p> +The old man's eyes glistened with 'pleasure, and I thought I saw a tear +fall on his cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Now,” cried he, as he grasped my hand in both his—“now I feel that +you are innocent, my brave boy, and, come what will, I 'll stand by you.” +</p> +<p> +With that he hurried from the cell, and followed the advocate, who was +already calling with some impatience to have the doors unlocked. +</p> +<p> +I was again alone. No, not alone, for in my narrow cell hope was with me +now. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVII. THE TRIAL. +</h2> +<p> +So doubtful was the Government of the day in what way the people of Paris +would be disposed to regard the trial of the <i>Chouan</i> prisoners,—how +far public sympathy might side with misfortune and heroism, and in what +way they would regard Moreau, whose career in arms so many had witnessed +with pride and enthusiasm,—that for several days they did not dare +to strike the decisive blow which was to establish their guilt, but +advanced with slow and cautious steps, gradually accumulating a mass of +small circumstances, on which the “Moniteur” each day commented, and the +other journals of less authority expatiated, as if to prepare the public +mind for further and more important revelations. +</p> +<p> +At last, however, the day arrived in which the mine was to be sprung. The +secret police—whose information extended to all that went on in +every class of the capital, and who knew the chitchat of the highest +circles equally as they did the grumblings of the Faubourg St. Antoine— +pronounced the time had come when the fatal stroke might no longer be +withheld, and when the long-destined vengeance should descend on their +devoted heads. +</p> +<p> +The want of energy on the part of the prosecution—the absence of +important witnesses and of all direct evidence whatever—which marked +the first four days of the trial, had infused a high hope and a strong +sense of security into the prisoners' hearts. The proofs which they so +much dreaded, and of whose existence they well knew, were not forthcoming +against them. The rumored treachery of some of their party began at length +to lose its terror for them; while in the lax and careless proceedings of +the Procureur-Général they saw, or fancied they saw, a desire on the part +of Government to render the public uninterested spectators of the scene, +and thus prepare the way for an acquittal, while no danger of any +excitement existed. +</p> +<p> +Such was the state of matters at the close of the fourth day. A tiresome +and desultory discussion on some merely legal question had occupied the +court for several hours, and many of the spectators, wearied and tired +out, had gone home disappointed in their expectations, and secretly +resolving not to return the following day. +</p> +<p> +This was the moment for which the party in power had been waiting,—the +interval of false security, as it would seem, when all danger was past, +and no longer any apprehension existed. The sudden shock of the +newly-discovered proofs would then come with peculiar force; while, mo +matter how rapid any subsequent step might be, all charge of precipitancy +or undue haste had been disproved by the tardy nature of the first four +days' proceedings. +</p> +<p> +For the change of scene about to take place, an early edition of the +“Moniteur” prepared the public; and by daybreak the walls of Paris were +placarded with great announcements of the discoveries made by the +Government: how, by their untiring efforts, the whole plot, which was to +deluge France with blood and subvert the glorious institutions of freedom +they had acquired by the Revolution, had been laid open; new and +convincing evidence of the guilt of the <i>Chouans</i> had turned up; and +a frightful picture of anarchy and social disorganization was displayed,—all +of which was to originate in an effort to restore the Bourbons to the +throne of France. +</p> +<p> +While, therefore, the galleries of the court were crowded to suffocation +at an early hour, and every avenue leading to the tribunal crammed with +people anxious to be present at this eventful crisis, the prisoners took +their places on the “bench of the accused,” totally unaware of the reason +of the excitement they witnessed, and strangely puzzled to conceive what +unknown circumstance had reinvested the proceedings with a new interest. +</p> +<p> +As I took my place among the rest, I stared with surprise at the scene: +the strange contrast between the thousands there, whose strained eyes and +feverish faces betokened the highest degree of excitement; and that little +group on which every look was turned, calm and even cheerful. There sat +George Cadoudal in the midst of them, his hands clasped in those at either +side of him; his strongly-marked features perfectly at rest, and his eyes +bent with a steady stare on the bench where the judges were seated. Moreau +was not present, nor did I see some of the <i>Chouans</i> whom I +remembered on the former day. +</p> +<p> +The usual formal proclamation of the court being made, silence was called +by the crier,—a useless precaution, as throughout that vast assembly +not a whisper was to be heard. A conversation of some minutes took place +between the Procureur and the counsel for the prisoners, in which I +recognized the voice of Monsieur Baillot, my own advocate; which was +interrupted by the President, desiring that the proceedings should +commence. +</p> +<p> +The Procureur-Général bowed and took his seat, while the President, +turning towards George, said:— +</p> +<p> +“George Cadoudal, you have hitherto persisted in a course of blank denial +regarding every circumstance of the conspiracy with which you are charged. +You have asserted your ignorance of persons and places with which we are +provided with proof to show you are well acquainted. You have neither +accounted for your presence in suspected situations, nor satisfactorily +shown what were the objects of your intimacy with suspected individuals. +The court now desires to ask you whether, at this stage of the +proceedings, you wish to offer more explicit revelations, or explain any +of the dubious events of your career.” +</p> +<p> +“I will answer any question you put to me,” replied George, sternly; “but +I have lived too long in another country not to have learned some of its +usages, and I feel no desire to become my own accuser. Let him there” (he +pointed to the Procureur-Général) “do his office; he is the paid and +salaried assailant of the innocent.” +</p> +<p> +“I call upon the court,” said the Procureur, rising, when he was suddenly +interrupted by the President, saying,— +</p> +<p> +“We will protect you, Monsieur le Procureur. And once again we would +admonish the accused, that insolence to the authorities of this court is +but a sorry plea in vindication of his innocence, and shall be no +recommendation to our mercy.” +</p> +<p> +“Your mercy!” said George, in a voice of scorn and sarcasm. “Who ever +heard of a tiger's benevolence or a wolf's charity? And even if you wished +it, he whose slaves you are—” +</p> +<p> +“I call upon you to be silent,” said an advocate, rising from a bench +directly behind him. “Another interruption of this kind, and I shall +abandon the defence.” +</p> +<p> +“What?” said George, turning quickly round and staring at him with a look +of withering contempt; “and have they bought you over too?” +</p> +<p> +“Call the first witness,” said the President; and an indistinct murmur was +heard, and a slight confusion seen to agitate the crowd, as the gendarmes +opened a path towards the witness bench. And then I saw two men carrying +something between them, which I soon perceived to be a man. The legs, +which were alone apparent, hung down listlessly like those of a corpse; +and one arm, which fell over the shoulder of the bearer, moved to and fro, +as they went, like the limb of a dead man. Every neck was stretched from +the galleries above, and along the benches beneath, to catch a glimpse of +the mysterious figure, which seemed like an apparition from the grave come +to give evidence. His face, too, was concealed by a handkerchief; and as +he was placed in a chair provided for the purpose, the assistants stood at +either side to support his drooping figure. +</p> +<p> +“Let the witness be sworn,” said the President; and, with the aid of an +officer of the court, a thin white hand was held up, on which the flesh +seemed almost transparent from emaciation. A low, muttering sound +followed, and the President spoke again,—“Let the witness be +uncovered. George Cadoudal, advance!” +</p> +<p> +As the hardy <i>Chouan</i> stepped forward, the handkerchief fell from the +witness's face, while his head slowly turned round towards the prisoner. A +cry, like the yell of a wounded animal, broke from the stout Breton, as he +bounded into the air and held up both his arms to their full height. +</p> +<p> +“Toi, toi!” screamed he, in accents that seemed the very last of a heart +wrung to agony, while he leaned forward and fixed his eyes on him, till +the very orbs seemed bursting from their sockets. “Oui,” added he, in a +lower tone, but one which was felt in every corner of that crowded +assemblage—“oui, c'est lui!” Then clasping his trembling hands +together, as his knees bent beneath him, he turned his eyes upwards, and +said, “Le bon Dieu, that makes men's hearts and knows their thoughts, +deals with us as he will; and I must have sinned sorely towards him when +such punishment as this has fallen upon me. Oh, my brother! my child! my +own Bouvet de Lozier!” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/391.jpg" alt="The Witness 391 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“Bouvet de Lozier!” cried the other prisoners, with a shout wild as +madness itself, while every man sprang forward to look at him. But already +his head had fallen back over the chair, the limbs stretched out rigidly, +and the arm fell heavily down. +</p> +<p> +“He is dying!” “He is dead!” were the exclamations of the crowd, and a +general cry for a doctor was heard around. Several physicians were soon at +his side, and by the aid of restoratives he was gradually brought back to +animation; but cold and speechless he lay, unable to understand anything, +and was obliged to be conveyed back again to his bed. +</p> +<p> +It was some time before the excitement of this harrowing scene was over; +and when order at length was restored in the court, George Cadoudal was +seen seated, as at first, on the bench, while around him his faithful +followers were grouped. Like children round a beloved father, some leaned +on his neck, others clasped his knees; some covered his hands with kisses, +and called him by the most endearing names. But though he moved his head +from, side to side, and tried to smile upon them, a cold vacancy was in +his face; his lips were parted, and his eyes stared wildly before him; his +very hair stood out from his forehead, on which the big drops of sweat +were seen. +</p> +<p> +“Father; dear father, it is but one who is false; see, look how many of +your children are true to you! Think on us who are with you here, and will +go with you to death without shrinking.” +</p> +<p> +“He is but a child, too, father; and they have stolen away his reason from +him,” said another. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, they have brought him to this by suffering,” cried a third, as with +a clenched hand he menaced the bench, where sat the judges. +</p> +<p> +“Order in the court!” cried the President. But the command was reiterated +again and again before silence could be obtained; and when again I could +observe the proceedings, I saw the Procureur-Général addressing the +tribunal, to demand a postponement in consequence of the illness of the +last witness, whose testimony was pronounced all-conclusive. +</p> +<p> +A discussion took place on the subject between the counsel for the +prisoners and the prosecution; and at length it was ruled that this trial +should not be proceeded with till the following morning. +</p> +<p> +“We are, however, prepared to go on with the other cases,” said the +Procureur, “if the court will permit.” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly,” said the President. +</p> +<p> +“In that case,” continued the Procureur, “we shall call on the accused +Thomas Burke, lieutenant of the huitieme hussars, now present.” +</p> +<p> +For some minutes nothing more could be heard, for the crowded galleries, +thronged with expectant hundreds, began now to empty. Mine was a name +without interest for any; and the thronged masses rose to depart, while +their over-excited minds found vent in words which, drowned all else. It +was in vain silence and order were proclaimed; the proceedings had lost +all interest, and with it all respect, and for full ten minutes the uproar +lasted. Meanwhile, M. Baillot, taking his place by my side, produced some +most voluminous papers, in which he soon became deeply engaged. I turned +one look throughout the now almost deserted seats, but not one face there +was known to me. The few who remained seemed to stay rather from indolence +than any other motive, as they lounged over the vacant benches and yawned +listlessly; and much as I dreaded the gaze of that appalling multitude, I +sickened at the miserable isolation of my lot, and felt overwhelmed to +think that for me there was not one who should pity or regret my fall. +</p> +<p> +At last order was established in the court, and the Procureur opened the +proceeding by reciting the act of my accusation, in which all the +circumstances already mentioned by my advocate were dwelt and commented on +with the habitual force and exaggeration of bar oratory. The address was +short, however,—scarcely fifteen minutes long; and by the tone of +the speaker, and the manner of the judges, I guessed that my case excited +little or no interest to the prosecution, either from my own humble and +insignificant position, or the certainty they felt of my conviction. +</p> +<p> +My advocate rose to demand a delay, even a short one, pleading most +energetically against the precipitancy of a proceeding in which the +indictment was but made known the day previous. The President interrupted +him roughly, and with an assurance that no circumstance short of the +necessity to produce some important evidence not then forthcoming, would +induce him to grant a postponement. +</p> +<p> +M. Baillot replied at once, “Such, sir, is our case; a witness, whose +evidence is of the highest moment, is not to be found; a day or two might +enable us to obtain his testimony. It is upon this we ground our hope, our +certainty, of an acquittal. The court will not, I am certain, refuse its +clemency in such an emergency as this.” +</p> +<p> +“Where is this same witness to be found? Is he in Paris? Is he in France?” +</p> +<p> +“We hope in Paris, Monsieur le President.” +</p> +<p> +“And his name?” +</p> +<p> +“The Abbé d'Ervan.” +</p> +<p> +A strange murmur ran along the bench of judges at the words; and I could +see that some of them smiled in spite of their efforts to seem grave, +while the Procureur-Général did not scruple to laugh outright. +</p> +<p> +“I believe, sir,” said he, addressing the President, “that I can +accommodate my learned brother with this so-much desired testimony perhaps +more speedily, I will not say than he wishes, but than he expects.” +</p> +<p> +“How is this?” said my advocate, in a whisper to me. “They have this Abbé +then. Has he turned against his party?” +</p> +<p> +“I know nothing of him,” said I, recklessly; “falsehood and treachery seem +so rife here, that it can well be as you say.” +</p> +<p> +“The Abbe d'Ervan!” cried a loud voice; and with the words the well-known +figure moved rapidly from the crowd and mounted the steps of the platform. +</p> +<p> +“You are lost!” said Baillot, in a low, solemn voice; “it is Mehée de la +Touche himself!” +</p> +<p> +Had the words of my sentence rung in my ears I had not felt them more, +that name, by some secret spell, had such terror in it. +</p> +<p> +“You know the prisoner before you, sir?” said the President, turning +towards the Abbé. +</p> +<p> +Before he could reply, my advocate broke in:— +</p> +<p> +“Pardon me, sir; but previous to the examination of this respectable +witness, I would ask under what name he is to figure in this process? Is +he here the Abbé d'Ervan, the agreeable and gifted frequenter of the +Faubourg St. Germain?—is he the Chevalier Maupret, the companion and +associate of the house of Bourbon?—or is he the no less celebrated +and esteemed citizen Mehé e de la Touche, whose active exertions have been +of such value in these eventful times that we should think no recompense +sufficient for them had he not been paid by both parties? Yes, sir,” +continued he, in an altered tone, “I repeat it: we are prepared to show +that this man is unworthy of all credit; that he whose testimony the court +now calls is a hired spy and bribed calumniator,—the instigator to +the treason he prosecutes, the designer of the schemes for which other +men's blood has paid the penalty. Is this abbé without, and gendarme +within, to be at large in the world, ensnaring the unsuspecting youth of +France by subtle and insidious doctrines disguised under the semblance of +after-dinner gayety? Are we to feel that on such evidence as this, the +fame, the honor, the life of every man is to rest?—he, who earns his +livelihood by treason, and whose wealth is gathered in the bloody sawdust +beneath the guillotine!” +</p> +<p> +“We shall not hear these observations longer,” said the President, with an +accent of severity. “You may comment on the evidence of the witness +hereafter, and, if you are able to do so, disprove it. His character is +under the protection of the court.” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir!” said the advocate, with energy; “no court, however high,—no +tribunal, beneath that of Heaven itself, whose decrees we dare not +question,—can throw a shield over a man like this. There are crimes +which stain the nation they occur in; which, happening in our age, make +men sorry for their generation, and wish they had lived in other times.” +</p> +<p> +“Once more, sir, I command you to desist!” interrupted the President. +</p> +<p> +“If I dare to dictate to the honorable court?” said the so-called Abbé, in +an accent of the most honeyed sweetness, and with a smile of the most +winning expression, “I would ask permission for the learned gentleman to +proceed. These well-arranged paragraphs, this indignation got by heart, +must have vent, since they 're paid for; and it would save the tribunal +the time which must be consumed in listening to them hereafter.” +</p> +<p> +“If,” said the advocate, “the coolness and indifference to blood which the +headsman exhibits, be a proof of guilt in the victim before him, I could +congratulate the prosecution on their witness. But,” cried he, in an +accent of wild excitement, “great Heavens! are we again fallen on such +times as to need atrocity like this? Is the terrible ordeal of blood +through which we have passed to be renewed once more? Is the accusation to +be hoarded, the calumnious evidence secreted, the charge held back, till +the scaffold is ready,—and then the indictment, the slander, the +sentence, and the death, to follow on one another like the flash and the +thunder? Is the very imputation of having heard from a Bourbon to bear its +prestige of sudden death?” +</p> +<p> +“Silence, sir!” cried the President, to whom the allusion to the Duc +d'Enghien was peculiarly offensive, and who saw in the looks of the +spectators with what force it told. “You know the prisoner?” said he, +turning towards D'Ervan. +</p> +<p> +“I have that honor, sir,” said he, with a bland smile. +</p> +<p> +“State to the court the place and the occasion of your first meeting him.” +</p> +<p> +“If I remember correctly, it was in the Palais Royal, at Beauvilliers's. +There was a meeting of some of the <i>Chouan</i> party arranged for that +evening, but from some accident only three or four were present. The +sous-lieutenant, however, was one.” +</p> +<p> +“Repeat, as far as your memory serves you, the conduct and conversation of +the prisoner during the evening in question.” +</p> +<p> +In reply, the Abbé, recapitulated every minute particular of the supper; +scarcely an observation the most trivial he did not recall, and apply, by +some infernal ingenuity, to the scheme of the conspiracy. Although never, +even in the slightest instance, falsifying any speech, he tortured the few +words I did say into such a semblance of criminality that I started, as I +heard the interpretation which now appeared so naturally to attach to +them. (During all this time my advocate never interrupted him once, but +occupied himself in writing as rapidly as he could follow the evidence.) +The chance expression which concluded the evening,—the hope of +meeting soon,—was artfully construed into an arranged and recognized +agreement that I had accepted companionship amongst them, and formally +joined their ranks. +</p> +<p> +From this he passed on to the second charge,—respecting the +conversation I had overheard at the Tuileries, and which I so unhappily +repeated to Beauvais. This the Abbé, dwelt upon with great minuteness, as +evidencing my being an accomplice; showing how I had exhibited great zeal +in the new cause I had embarked in, and affecting to mark how very highly +the service was rated by those in whose power lay the rewards of such an +achievement. +</p> +<p> +Then followed the account of my appointment at Versailles, in which I +heard, with a sinking heart, how thoroughly even there the toils were +spread around me. It appeared that the reason of the neglect I then +experienced was an order from the minister that I should not be noticed in +any way; that the object of my being placed there was to test my fidelity, +which already was suspected; that it was supposed such neglect might +naturally have the effect of throwing me more willingly into the views of +the conspirators, and, as I was watched in every minute particular, of +establishing my own guilt and leading to the detection of others. +</p> +<p> +Then came a narrative of his visits to my quarters, in which the omission +of all mention of his name in my report was clearly shown as an evidence +of my conscious culpability. And, to my horror and confusion, a new +witness was produced,—the sentinel, Pierre Dulong, who mounted guard +at the gate of the château on the morning when I passed the Abbé, through +the park. +</p> +<p> +With an accuracy beyond my belief, he repeated all out conversations, +making the dubious hints and dark suggestions which he himself threw out +as much mine as his own; and having at length given a full picture of my +treacherous conduct, he introduced my intimacy with Beauvais as the +crowning circumstance of my guilt. +</p> +<p> +“I shall pause here,” said he, with a cool malignity, but ill concealed +beneath a look of affected sorrow—“I shall pause here, and, with the +permission of the court, allow the accused to make, if he will, a full +confession of his criminality; or, if he refuse this, I shall proceed to +the disclosure of other circumstances, by which it will be seen that these +dark designs met favor and countenance in higher quarters; and among +those, too, whose sex, if nothing else, should have removed them beyond +the contamination of confederacy with assassination.” +</p> +<p> +“The court,” said the President, sternly, “will enter into no compromise +of this kind. You are here to give such evidence as you possess, fully, +frankly, and without reserve; nor can we permit you to hold out any +promises to the prisoner that his confession of guilt can afford a screen +to the culpability of others.” +</p> +<p> +“I demand,” cried the Procureur-Général, “a full disclosure from the +witness of everything he knows concerning this conspiracy.” +</p> +<p> +“In that case I shall speak,” said the Abbé. +</p> +<p> +At this instant a noise was heard in the hall without; a half murmur ran +through the court; and suddenly the heavy curtain was drawn aside, and a +loud voice called out,— +</p> +<p> +“In the name of the Republic, one and indivisible, an order of council.” +</p> +<p> +The messenger, splashed and covered with mud, advanced through the court, +and delivered a packet into the hands of the President, who, having broken +the large seals, proceeded leisurely to read it over. +</p> +<p> +At the same moment I felt my arm gently touched, and a small pencil note +was slipped into my hand. It ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Sir,—Burke is safe. An order for his transmission +before a military tribunal has just been signed by the First +Consul. Stop all the evidence at once, as he is no longer +before the court + +The court-martial will be but a formality, and in a few days +he will be at liberty. + +Yours, D'AUVERGNE, Lieut,-Général. +</pre> +<p> +Before I could recover from the shock of such glad tidings, the President +rose, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“In the matter of the accused Burke, this court has no longer cognizance, +as he is summoned before the tribunal of the army. Let him withdraw, and +call on the next case,—Auguste Leconisset.” +</p> +<p> +D'Ervan stooped down and whispered a few words to the Procureur-Général, +who immediately demanded to peruse the order of council. To this my +advocate at once objected, and a short and animated discussion on the +legal question followed. The President, however, ruled in favor of my +defender; and at the same instant a corporal's guard appeared, into whose +charge I was formally handed over, and marched from the court. +</p> +<p> +Such was the excited state of my mind, in such a confused whirl were all +my faculties, that I knew nothing of what was passing around me; and save +that I was ordered to mount into a carriage, and driven along at a rapid +pace, I remembered no more. At length we reached the quay Voltaire, and +entered the large square of the barrack. The tears burst out and ran down +my cheeks, as I looked once more on the emblems of the career I loved. We +stopped at the door of a large stone building, where two sentries were +posted; and the moment after I found myself the occupant of a small +barrack-room, in which, though under arrest, no feature of harsh +confinement appeared, and from whose windows I could survey the movement +of the troops in the court, and hear the sounds which for so many a day +had been the most welcome to my existence. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CUIRASSIER. +</h2> +<p> +Although my arrest was continued with all its strictness, I never heard +one word of my transmission before the military tribunal; and a fortnight +elapsed, during which I passed through every stage of expectancy, doubt, +and at last indifference, no tidings having ever reached me as to what +fortune lay in store for me. +</p> +<p> +The gruff old invalid that carried my daily rations seemed but +ill-disposed to afford me any information, even as to the common events +without, and seldom made any other reply to my questioning than an erect +position as if on parade, a military salute, and “Connais pas, mon +lieutenant,”—a phrase which I actually began to abhor from its +repetition. Still, his daily visits showed I was not utterly forgotten; +while from my window I had a view of all that went on in the barrack-yard. +There—for I had neither books nor newspapers—I spent my day +watching the evolutions of the soldiers: the parade at daybreak, the +relieving guards, the drill, the exercise, the very labors of the +barrack-square,—all had their interest for me; and at length I began +to know the very faces of the soldiers, and could recognize the bronzed +and weather-beaten features of the veterans of the republican armies. +</p> +<p> +It was a cuirassier regiment, and one that had seen much service; most of +the <i>sous-officiers</i> and many of the men were decorated, and their +helmets bore the haughty device of “Dix centre un!” in memory of some +battle against the Austrians, where they repulsed and overthrew a force of +ten times their own number. +</p> +<p> +At first their heavy equipments and huge unwieldy horses seemed strange +and uncouth to my eyes, accustomed to the more elegant and trim style of a +hussar corps; but gradually I fancied there was something almost more +soldierlike about them. Their dark faces harmonized too with the great +black cuirass; and the large massive boot mounting to the middle of the +thigh, the long horsehaired helmet, the straight sword, and peculiar, +heavy, plodding step, reminded me of what I used to read of the Roman +centurion; while the horses, covered with weighty and massive trappings, +moved with a warlike bearing and a tramp as stately as their riders. +</p> +<p> +When evening came, and set the soldiers free from duty, I used to watch +them for hours long, as they sat in little groups and knots about the +barrack-yard, smoking and chatting,—occasionally singing too. Even +then, however, their distinctive character was preserved: unlike the +noisy, boisterous merriment of the hussar, the staid cuirassier deemed +such levity unbecoming the dignity of his arm of the service, and there +reigned a half-solemn feature over all their intercourse, which struck me +forcibly. I knew not then—as I have learned full well since—how +every department of the French army had its distinctive characteristic, +and that Napoleon studied and even encouraged the growth of these singular +manners to a great extent; doubtless, too, feeling a pride in his own +thorough intimacy with their most minute traits, and that facility with +which, by a single word, he could address himself to the cherished feeling +of a particular corps. And the tact by which the monarch wins over and +fascinates the nobles of his court was here exercised in the great world +of a camp,—and with far more success too; a phrase, a name, some +well-known battle, the date of a victory, would fall from his lips as he +rode along the line, and be caught up with enthusiasm by thousands, who +felt in the one word a recognition of past services. “Thou”—he +always addressed the soldiers in the second person—“thou wert with +me at Cairo,” “I remember thee at Arcole,” were enough to reward wounds, +suffering, mutilation itself; and he to whom such was addressed became an +object of veneration among his fellows. +</p> +<p> +Certain corps preserved more studiously than others the memories of past +achievements,—the heirlooms of their glory; and to these Bonaparte +always spoke with a feel ing of friendship most captivating to the +soldier's heart, and from them he selected the various regiments that +composed his “Guard.” The cuirassiers belonged to this proud force; and +even an unmilitary eye could mark, in their haughty bearing and assured +look, that they were a favored corps. +</p> +<p> +Among those with whose faces I had now grown familiar there was one whom I +regarded with unusual interest; he seemed to me the very type of his +class. He was a man of gigantic size, towering by half a head above the +very tallest of his fellows, while his enormous breadth of chest and +shoulder actually seemed to detract from his great height. The lower part +of his face was entirely concealed by a beard of bright red hair that fell +in a huge mass over the breast of his cuirass, and seemed by its trim and +fashion to be an object of no common pride to the wearer; his nose was +marked by a sabre-cut that extended across one entire cheek, leaving a +deep blue welt in its track. But saving these traits, wild and savage +enough, the countenance was singularly mild and pleasing. He had large and +liquid blue eyes, soft and lustrous as any girl's,—the lashes, too, +were long and falling; and his forehead, which was high and open, was +white as snow. I was not long in remarking the strange influence this man +seemed to possess over the rest,—an ascendency not in any way +attributable to the mark on his sleeve which proclaimed him a corporal. It +seemed as though his slightest word, his least gesture, was attended to; +and though evidently taciturn and quiet, when he spoke I could detect in +his manner an air of promptitude and command that marked him as one born +to be above his fellows. If he seemed such in the idle hours, on parade he +was the beau ideal of a cuirassier. His great warhorse, seemingly small +for the immense proportions of the heavy rider, bounded with each movement +of his wrist, as if instinct with the horseman's wishes. +</p> +<p> +I waited with some impatience for the invalid's arrival, to ask who this +remarkable soldier was, certain that I should hear of no common man. He +came soon after, and as I pointed out the object of my curiosity, the old +fellow drew himself up with pride, and while a grim effort at a smile +crossed his features, replied,— +</p> +<p> +“That 's Pioche,—le gros Pioche!” +</p> +<p> +“Pioche!” said I, repeating the name aloud, and endeavoring to remember +why it seemed well known to me. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,—Pioche,” rejoined he, gruffly. “If monsieur had ever been in +Egypt, the name would scarcely sound so strange in his ears.” And with +this sarcasm he hobbled from the room and closed the door, while I could +hear him grumbling along the entire corridor, in evident anger at the +ignorance that did not know “Pioche!” +</p> +<p> +Twenty times did I repeat the name aloud, before it flashed across me as +the same Madame Lefebvre mentioned at the soiree in the Palace. It was +Pioche who shouldered the brass fieldpiece, and passed before the general +on parade. The gigantic size, the powerful strength, the strange name,—all +could belong to no other; and I felt as though at once I had found an old +acquaintance in the great cuirassier of the Guard. +</p> +<p> +If the prisoner in his lonely cell has few incidents to charm his solitary +hours, in return he is enabled by some happy gift to make these the +sources of many thoughts. The gleam of light that falls upon the floor, +broken by the iron gratings of his window, comes laden with storied +fancies of other lands,—of far distant countries where men are +dwelling in their native mountains free and happy. Forgetful of his +prison, the captive wanders in his fancy through valleys he has seen in +boyhood, and with friends to be met no more. He turns gladly to the past, +of whose pleasures no adverse fortune can deprive him, and lives over +again the happy hours of his youth; and thinks, with a melancholy not +devoid of its own pleasure, of what they would feel who loved him could +they but see him now. He pictures their sympathy and their sorrow, and his +heart feels lighter, though his eyes drop tears. +</p> +<p> +In this way the great cuirassier became an object for my thoughts by day +and my dreams by night. I fancied a hundred stories of which he was the +hero; and these imaginings served to while away many a tedious hour, and +gave me an interest in watching the little spot of earth that was visible +from my barred window. +</p> +<p> +It was in one of these reveries I sat one evening, when I heard the sounds +of feet approaching along the corridor that led to my room; the clank of a +sabre and the jingle of spurs sounded not like my gruff visitor. My door +was opened before I had time for much conjecture, and Greneral d'Auvergne +stood before me. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! mon lieutenant,” cried he, gayly, “you have been thinking very hardly +of me since we met last, I 'm sure; charging me with forgetfulness, and +accusing me of great neglect.” +</p> +<p> +“Pardon me, General,” said I, hurriedly; “your former kindness, for which +I never can be grateful enough, has been always before my mind. I have not +yet forgotten that you saved my life; more still,—you rescued my +name from dishonor.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, well; that's all past and gone now. Your reputation stands clear at +last. De Beauvais has surrendered himself to the authorities at Rouen, and +made a full confession of everything, exculpating you completely in every +particular; save the indiscretion of your intercourse with Mehée de la +Touche, or, as you know him better, the Abbé, d'Ervan.” +</p> +<p> +“And poor De Beauvais, what is to become of him?” said I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Have no fears on his account,” said he, with something like confusion in +his manner. “She (that is, Madame Bonaparte) has kindly interested herself +in his behalf, and he is to sail for Guadaloupe in a few days,—his +own proposition and wish.” +</p> +<p> +“And does General Bonaparte know now that I was guiltless?” cried I, with +enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +“My dear young man,” said he, with a bland smile, “I very much fear that +the general has little time at this moment to give the matter much of his +attention. Great events have happened,—are happening while we speak. +War is threatening on the side of Austria. Yes, it is true: the camp of +Boulogne has received orders to break up; troops are once more on their +march to the Rhine; all France is arming.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, when shall I be free?” +</p> +<p> +“You are free!” cried he, clapping me gayly on the shoulder. “An amnesty +against all untried prisoners for state of offences has been proclaimed. +At such a moment of national joy—” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“What! and have I not told you my great news? The Senate have presented to +Bonaparte an address, praying his acceptance of the throne of France; or, +in their very words, to make his authority eternal.” +</p> +<p> +“And he?” said I, breathless with impatience to know the result. +</p> +<p> +“He,” continued the general, “has replied as became him, desiring them to +state clearly their views,—by what steps they propose to consolidate +the acquired liberties of the nation. And while avowing that no higher +honor or dignity can await him than such as he has already received at the +hands of the people, 'Yet,' added he, 'when the hour arrives that I can +see such to be the will of France,—when one voice proclaims it from +Alsace to the Ocean, from Lisle to the Pyrenees,—then shall I be +ready to accept the throne of France.'” +</p> +<p> +The general entered minutely into all the circumstances of the great +political change, and detailed the effect which the late conspiracy had +had on the minds of the people, and with what terror they contemplated the +social disorders that must accrue from the death of their great ruler; how +nothing short of a Government based on a Monarchy, with the right of +succession established, could withstand such a terrific crisis. As he +spoke, the words I had heard in the Temple crossed my mind, and I +remembered that such was the anticipation of the prisoners, as they said +among themselves, “When the guillotine has done its work, they 'll patch +up the timbers into a throne.” +</p> +<p> +“And George Cadoudal, and the others?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“They are no more. Betrayed by their own party, they met death like brave +men, and as worthy of a better cause. But let us not turn to so sad a +theme. The order for your liberation will be here to-morrow; and as I am +appointed to a brigade on active service, I have come to offer you the +post of aide-de-camp.” +</p> +<p> +I could not speak; my heart was too full for words. I knew how great the +risk of showing any favor to one who stood in such a position as I did; +and I could but look my gratitude, while the tears ran down my cheeks. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” cried he, as he took my hand in his, “so much is settled. Now to +another point, and one in which my frankness must cause you no offence. +You are not rich,—neither am I; but Bonaparte always gives us +opportunities to gather our epaulettes,—ay, and find the bullion to +make them, too. Meanwhile, you may want money—” +</p> +<p> +“No, Général,” cried I, eagerly; “here are three thousand francs some kind +friend sent me. I know not whence they came; and even if I wanted, did not +dare to spend them. But now—” +</p> +<p> +The old man paused, and appeared confused, while he leaned his finger on +his forehead, and seemed endeavoring to recall some passing thought. +</p> +<p> +“Did they come from you, sir?” said I, timidly. +</p> +<p> +“No, not from me,” repeated he, slowly. “You say you never found out the +donor?” +</p> +<p> +“Never,” said I, while a sense of shame prevented my adding what rose to +my mind,—Could they not be from Mademoiselle de Meudon? +</p> +<p> +“Well, well,” said he, at length, “be it so. And now till to-morrow: I +shall be here at noon, and bring the minister's order with me. And so, +good-by.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-by,” said I, as I stood overcome with happiness. “Let what will come +of it, this is a moment worth living for.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIX. A MORNING AT THE TUILLERIES +</h2> +<p> +True to his appointment, the general appeared the following day as the +hour of noon was striking. He brought the official papers from the +Minister of War, as well as the formal letter naming me his aide-de-camp. +The documents were all perfectly regular; and being read over by the +military commission, I was sent for, when my sword was restored to me by +the colonel of the regiment in garrison, and I was free once more. +</p> +<p> +“You have received a severe lesson, Burke,” said the general, as he took +my arm to lead me towards his carriage, “and all owing to the rashness +with which, in times of difficulty and danger, you permitted yourself to +form intimacies with men utterly unknown to you. There are epochs when +weakness is the worst of evils. You are very young, to be sure, and I +trust the experience you have acquired here will serve for a lifetime.” +</p> +<p> +“Still, sir, in all this sad business, my faith never wavered; my +attachment to the Consul was unshaken.” +</p> +<p> +“Had it been otherwise, do you think you had been here now?” said he, +dryly. “Were not the evidences of your fidelity set off against your +folly, what chance of escape remained for you? No, no; she who befriended +you so steadily throughout this tangled scheme for your ruin, had never +advocated your cause were there reason to suppose you were involved in the +conspiracy against her husband's life.” +</p> +<p> +“Who do you mean?” said I. “I scarcely understand.” +</p> +<p> +“The Consulesse, of course. But for Madame Bonaparte you were lost; even +since I saw you last, I have learned how deeply interested she became in +your fortunes. The letter you received in the Temple came from her, and +the enclosure also. And now, with your leave, we can do nothing better +than pay our respects to her, and make our acknowledgments for such +kindness. She receives at this hour, and will, I know, take your visit in +good part.” +</p> +<p> +While I professed my readiness to comply with the suggestion, we drove +into the court of the Tuileries. It was so early that, except the officers +of the Consul's staff and some of those on guard, we were the only persons +visible. +</p> +<p> +“We are the first arrivals,” said the general, as we drew up at the door +of the pavilion. “I am not sorry for it; we shall have our audience over +before the crowd assembles.” +</p> +<p> +Giving our names to the usher, we mounted the stairs, and passed on from +room to room until we came to a large salon, in which seats were formally +arranged in a semicircle, an armchair somewhat higher than the rest +occupying the centre. Several full-length portraits of the generals of the +Revolutionary armies adorned the walls, and a striking likeness of the +Consul himself, on horseback, held the principal place. I had but time to +see thus much, when the two sides of the folding-doors were flung open, +and Madame Bonaparte, followed by Mademoiselle de Meudon, entered. +Scarcely were the doors closed, when she said, smiling,— +</p> +<p> +“I heard of your arrival. General, and guessed its purport, so came at +once. Monsieur Burke, I am happy to see you at liberty once more.” +</p> +<p> +“That I owe it to you, Madame, makes it doubly dear to me,” said I, +faltering. +</p> +<p> +“You must not overrate my exertions on your behalf,” replied the +Consulesse, in a hurried voice. “There was an amende due to you for the +treatment you met with at Versailles,—all Savary's fault; and now I +am sincerely sorry I ever suffered myself to become a party to his +schemes. Indeed, I never guessed them, or I should not. General d'Auvergne +has made you his aide-decamp, he tells me.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Madame; my good fortune has showered favors on me most suddenly. +Your kindness has been an augury of success in everything.” +</p> +<p> +She smiled, as if pleased, and then said, “I have a piece of advice to +give you, and hope you 'll profit by it.” Then, turning towards the +general, who all this time was deeply engaged in talking to Mademoiselle +de Meudon, she added, “Don't you think. General, that it were as well +Monsieur Burke should not be in the way of meeting the Consul for some +short time to come. Is there any garrison duty, or any service away from +Paris, where for a week or so he could remain?” +</p> +<p> +“I have thought of that, Madame,” said the général. “Two of the regiments +in my brigade are to march tomorrow for the east of France, and I intend +my young friend to proceed to Strasburg at once.” +</p> +<p> +“This is not meant for banishment,” said she to me, with a look of much +sweetness; “but Bonaparte will now and then say a severe thing, likely to +dwell in the mind of him to whom it was addressed long after the sentiment +which dictated it has departed. A little time will efface all memory of +this sad affair, and then we shall be happy to see you here again.” +</p> +<p> +“Or events may happen soon, Madame, by which he may make his own peace +with General Bonaparte.” +</p> +<p> +“True, very true,” said she, gravely. “And as to that. General, what +advices are there from Vienna?” +</p> +<p> +She drew the general aside into one of the windows, leaving me alone with +Mademoiselle de Meudon. But a minute before, and I had given the world for +such an opportunity, and now I could not speak a syllable. She, too, +seemed equally confused, and bent over a large vase of moss-roses, as if +totally occupied by their arrangement. I drew nearer, and endeavored to +address her; but the words would not come, while a hundred gushing +thoughts pressed on me, and my heart beat loud enough for me to hear it. +At last I saw her lips move, and thought I heard my name. I bent down my +head lower; it was her voice, but so low as to be scarcely audible. +</p> +<p> +“I cannot thank you, sir, as I could wish,” said she, “for the service you +rendered me, at the risk of your own life and honor. And though I knew not +the dangers you were to incur by my request, I asked it as of the only one +I knew who would brave such danger at my asking.” She paused for a second, +then continued: “The friend of Charles could not but be the friend of +Marie de Meudon. There is now another favor I would beg at your hands,” +said she, while a livid paleness overspread her features. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, name it!” said I, passionately. “Say, how can I serve you?” +</p> +<p> +“It is this,” said she, with an accent whose solemnity sank into the very +recesses of my heart. “We have ever been an unlucky race; De Meudon is but +a name for misfortune not only have we met little else in our own lives, +but all who have befriended us have paid the penalty of their friendship. +My dear brother knew this well; and I—.” She paused, and then, +though her lips moved, the words that followed were inaudible. “There is +but one on earth,” continued she, as her eyes, brimful of tears, were +turned towards Madame Bonaparte, who still stood talking in the window, +“over whose fortunes my affection has thrown no blight. Heaven grant it +may be ever so!” Then suddenly, as if remembering herself, she added: +“What I would ask is this,—that we should meet no more. Nay, nay; +look not so harshly at me. If I, alone in the world, ask to be deprived of +his friendship who loved my brother so—” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! if you be alone in the world, feel for one like me, who has not even +a country he can call his own. Take not the one hope from my heart, I ask +you. Leave me the thought that there is one, but one, in all this land, to +whom my name, if ever mentioned with praise, can bring one moment's +pleasure,—who can say 'I knew him.' Do not forget that Charles, with +his dying breath, said you would be my sister.” +</p> +<p> +The door of the <i>salon</i> opened suddenly, and a name was announced, +but in my confusion, I heard not what. Madame Bonaparte, however, advanced +towards the new arrival with an air of welcome, as she said,— +</p> +<p> +“We were just wishing for you, general. Pray tell us all the news of +Paris.” +</p> +<p> +The person thus addressed was a very tall and singularly handsome man, +whose dark eyes, and dark whiskers meeting in the middle of his chin, gave +him the appearance of an Italian. He was dressed in a hussar uniform, +whose gorgeous braiding of gold was heightened in effect by a blaze of +orders and stars that covered the entire breast; the scarlet pantaloons, +tight to the leg, displayed to advantage the perfect symmetry of his form; +while his boots of yellow morocco, bound and tasselled with gold, seemed +the very coquetry of military costume. A sabre, the hilt actually covered +with precious stones, clanked at his side, and the aigrette of his plumed +hat was a large diamond. There was something almost theatrical in the +manner of his approach, as with a stately step and a deep bow he took +Madame Bonaparte's hand and kissed it; a ceremony he repeated to +Mademoiselle de Meudon, adding, as he did so,— +</p> +<p> +“And my fair rose de Provence, more beautiful than ever!—how is +she?” +</p> +<p> +“What flattery is he whispering, Marie?” said the Consulesse, laughing. +“Don't you know, Général, that I insist on all the compliments here being +paid to myself. What do you think of my robe? Your judgment is said to be +perfect.” +</p> +<p> +“Charming, absolutely charming!” said he, in an attitude of affected +admiration. “It is only such taste as yours could have devised anything so +beautiful. Yet the roses,—I half think I should have preferred them +white.” +</p> +<p> +“You can scarcely imagine that vain fellow with the long ringlets the +boldest soldier of the French army,” said the general, in a low whisper, +as he drew me to one side. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed! And who is he, then?” +</p> +<p> +“You a hussar, and not know him! Why, Murat, to be sure.” +</p> +<p> +“So, then, Madame, all my news of Monsieur Talleyrand's ball, it seems, is +stale already. You 've heard that the russian and Austrian ministers both +sent apologies?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh dear!” said she, sighing; “have I not heard it a thousand times, and +every reason for it canvassed, until I wished both of their excellencies +at—at Madame Lefebvre's dinner-party?” +</p> +<p> +“That was perfect,” cried Murat, aloud; “a regular bivouac in a salon. +You'd think that the silver dishes and the gilt candelabras had just been +captured from the enemy, and that the cuisine was made by beat of drum.” +</p> +<p> +“The general is an honest man and a brave officer,” said D'Auvergne, +somewhat nettled at the tone Murat spoke in. +</p> +<p> +“No small boast either,” replied the other, shrugging his shoulders +carelessly, “in the times and the land we live in.” +</p> +<p> +“And what of Cambacèrés's soiree,—how did it go off?” interposed +Madame Bonaparte, anxious to relieve the awkward pause that followed. +</p> +<p> +“Like everything in his hotel,—sombre, stately, and stupid; the +company all dull, who would be agreeable everywhere else; the tone of the +reception labored and affected; and every one dying to get away to +Fouché's,—it was his second night for receiving.” +</p> +<p> +“Was that pleasanter, then?” +</p> +<p> +“A hundred times. There are no parties like his: one meets everybody; it +is a kind of neutral territory for the Faubourg and the Jacobin, the +partisan of our people and the followers of Heaven knows who. Fouché slips +about, whispering the same anecdote in confidence to every one, and +binding each to secrecy. Then, as every one comes there to spy his +neighbor, the host has an excellent opportunity of pumping all in turn; +and while they all persist in telling him nothing but lies, they forget +that with him no readier road could lead to the detection of truth.” +</p> +<p> +“The Consul!” said a servant, aloud, as the door opened and closed with a +crash; and Bonaparte, dressed in the uniform of the Chasseurs of the +Guard, and covered with dust, entered. +</p> +<p> +“Was Decrés here?” And then, without waiting for a reply, continued: “It +is settled, all finally arranged; I told you, Madame, the 'pear was ripe.' +I start to-morrow for Boulogne; you, Murat, must accompany me; D'Auvergne, +your division will march the day after. Who is this gentleman?” +</p> +<p> +This latter question, in all its abruptness, was addressed to me, while a +dark and ominous frown settled on his features. +</p> +<p> +“My aide-de-camp, sir,” said the old general, hastily, hoping thus to +escape further inquiry. +</p> +<p> +“Your name, sir?” said the Consul, harshly, as he fixed his piercing eyes +upon me. +</p> +<p> +“Burke, sir; sous-lieutenant—” +</p> +<p> +“Of the Eighth Hussars,” continued he. “I know the rest, sir. Every +conspiracy is made up of knaves and fools; you figured in the latter +capacity. Mark me, sir, your name is yet to make; the time is approaching +when you may have the opportunity. Still, General d' Auvergne, it is not +in the ranks of a <i>Chouan</i> plot I should have gone to select my +staff.” +</p> +<p> +“Pardon me, sir; but this young man's devotion to you—” +</p> +<p> +“Is on record. General; I have seen it in Mehée de la Touche's own +writing,” added Bonaparte, with a sneer. “Give me the fidelity, sir, that +has no tarnish,—like your own, D'Auvergne. Go, sir,” said he, +turning to me, while he waved his hand towards the door; “it will need all +your bravery and all your heroism to make me acquit General d'Auvergne of +an act of folly.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/Napoleon_and_Tom.jpg" + alt=" Napoleon Sends Burke from the Room " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +I hung my head in shame, and with a low reverence and a tottering step +moved from the room and closed the door behind me. +</p> +<p> +I had just reached the street when the general overtook me. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, Burke,” said he; “you must not mind this. I heard Lannes +receive a heavier reproof because he only carried away three guns of an +Austrian battery when there were four in all.” +</p> +<p> +“Bonaparte never forgets, sir,” muttered I, between my teeth, as the +well-remembered phrase crossed my mind. +</p> +<p> +“Then there 's but one thing to do, my boy; give him a pleasanter souvenir +to look back upon. Besides,” added he, in a lower tone, “the general is +ever harsh at the moment of victory; and such is the present. In a few +days more, France will have an emperor; the Senate has declared, and the +army wait but for the signal to salute their monarch. And now for your own +duties. Make your arrangements to start to-night by post for Mayence; I +shall join you there in about ten days. You are, on your arrival, to +report yourself to the general in command, and receive your instructions +from him. A great movement towards the Rhine is in contemplation; but, of +course, everything awaits the progress of political changes in Paris.” +</p> +<p> +Thus conversing, we reached the corner of the Rue de Rohan, where the +general's quarters were. +</p> +<p> +“You'll be here then punctually at eight to-night,” said he; and we +parted. +</p> +<p> +I walked on for some time without knowing which way I went, the strange +conflict of my mind so completely absorbed me,—hope and fear, pride, +shame, and sorrow, alternately swaying me with their impulses. I noticed +not the gay and splendid streets through which I passed, nor the merry +groups which poured along. At length I remembered that but a few hours +remained for me to make some purchases necessary for my journey. My new +uniform as aide-de-camp, too, was yet to be ordered; and by some strange +hazard I was exactly at the corner of the Rue de Richelieu on the +Boulevard, at the very shop of Monsieur Grillac where some months before +began the singular current of ill luck that had followed me ever since. A +half shudder of fear passed across me for a second as I thought of all the +dangers I had gone through; and the next moment I felt ashamed of my +cowardice, and pushing the glass door before me, walked in. I looked about +me for the well-known face of the proprietor, but he was nowhere to be +seen. A lean and wasted little old man, hung round with tapes and +measures, was the only person there. Saluting me with a most respectful +bow, he asked my orders. +</p> +<p> +“I thought this was Crillac's,” said I, hesitatingly. +</p> +<p> +A shrug of the shoulders and a strange expression of the eyebrows was the +only reply. +</p> +<p> +“I remember he lived here some eight or ten months ago,” said I again, +curious to find out the meaning of the man's ignorance of his predecessor. +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur has been away from Paris for some time then?” was the cautious +question of the little man, as he peered curiously at me. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; I have been away,” said I, after a pause. +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur knew Criliac probably when he was here?” +</p> +<p> +“I never saw him but once,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” cried he, after a long silence. “Then you probably never heard of +the <i>Chouan</i> conspiracy to murder the Chief Consul and overthrow the +Government, nor of their trial at the Palais de Justice?” +</p> +<p> +I nodded slightly, and he went on. +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur Crillac's evidence was of great value in the proceeding: he knew +Jules de Polignac and Charles de la Riviere well; and but for him, San +Victor would have escaped.” +</p> +<p> +“And what has become of him since?” +</p> +<p> +“He is gone back to the South; he has been promoted.” +</p> +<p> +“Promoted! what do you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> it is easy enough to understand. He was made chef de +bureau in the department of—” +</p> +<p> +“What! was he not a tailor then?” +</p> +<p> +“A tailor! No,” said the little man, laughing heartily; “he was a +mouchard, a police spy, who knew all the Royalist party well at Bordeaux; +and Fouche brought him up here to Paris, and established him in this +house. Ah, mon Dieu!” said he, sighing, “he had a better and a pleasanter +occupation than cutting out pantaloons.” +</p> +<p> +Without heeding the reiterated professions of the little tailor of his +desire for my patronage, I strolled out again, lost in reflection, and +sick to the heart of a system based on such duplicity and deception. +</p> +<p> +At last in Mayence! What a change of life was this to me! A large fortress +garrisoned by twelve thousand men, principally artillery, awaited here the +orders of the Consul; but whither the destination before them, or what the +hour when the word to march was to summon them, none could tell. Meanwhile +the activity of the troops was studiously kept up; battering trains of +field artillery were exercised day after day; the men were practised in +all the movements of the field; while the foundries were unceasingly +occupied in casting guns and the furnaces rolled forth their myriads of +shell and shot. Staff-officers came and went; expresses arrived from +Paris; and orderlies, travel-stained and tired, galloped in from the other +fortified places near; but still no whisper came to say where the great +game of war was to open, for what quarter of the globe the terrible +carnage was destined. From daylight till dark no moment of our time was +unoccupied; reports innumerable were to be furnished on every possible +subject; and frequently it was far in the night ere I returned to rest. +</p> +<p> +To others this unbroken monotony may have been wearisome and +uninteresting; to me each incident bore upon the great cause I gloried in,—the +dull rumble of the caissons, the heavy clattering of the brass guns, were +music to my ear, and I never wearied of the din and clamor that spoke of +preparation. Such was indeed the preoccupation of my thoughts that I +scarcely marked the course of events which were even then passing, or the +mighty changes that already moved across the destinies of France. To my +eyes the conqueror of Lodi needed no title; what sceptre could equal his +own sword? France might desire in her pride to unite her destinies with +such a name as his; but he, the general of Italy and Egypt, could not be +exalted by any dignity. Such were my boyish fancies; and as I indulged +them, again there grew up the hope within me that a brighter day was yet +to beam on my own fortunes, when I should do that which even in his eyes +might seem worthy. His very reproaches stirred my courage and nerved my +heart. There was a combat, there was a battlefield, before me, in which my +whole fame and honor lay; and could I but succeed in making him confess +that he had wronged me, what pride was in the thought? “Yes,” said I, +again and again, “a devotion to him such as I can offer must have success: +one who, like me, has neither home nor friends nor country to share his +heart, must have room in it for one passion; and that shall be glory. She +whom alone I could have loved,—I dared not confess I did love her,—never +could be mine. Life must have its object; and what so noble as that before +me?” My very dreams caught up the infatuation of my waking thoughts, and +images of battle, deadly contests, and terrific skirmishes were constantly +passing before me; and I actually went my daily rounds of duty buried in +these thoughts, and lost to everything save what ministered to my excited +imagination. +</p> +<p> +We who lived far away on the distant frontier could but collect from the +journals the state of excitement and enthusiasm into which every class of +the capital was thrown by Napoleon's elevation to the Monarchy. Never +perhaps in any country did the current of popular favor run in a stream so +united. The army hailed him as their brother of the sword, and felt the +proud distinction that the chief of the Empire was chosen from their +ranks. The civilian saw the restoration of Monarchy as the pledge of that +security which alone was wanting to consolidate national prosperity. The +clergy, however they may have distrusted his sincerity, could not but +acknowledge that to his influence was owing the return of the ancient +faith; and, save the Vendeans, broken and discomfited, and the scattered +remnants of the Jacobin party, discouraged by the fate of Moreau, none +raised a voice against him. A few of the old Republicans, among whom was +Camot, did, it is true, proclaim their dissent; but so moderately, and +with so little of partisan spirit, as to call forth a eulogium on their +honorable conduct from Napoleon himself. +</p> +<p> +The mighty change, which was to undo all the long and arduous struggles +for liberty which took years in their accomplishments, was effected in one +burst of national enthusiasm. Surrounded by nations on whose friendship +they dared not reckon,—at war with their most powerful enemy, +England,—France saw herself dependent on the genius of one great +man; and beheld, too, the formidable conspiracy for his assassination, +coupled with the schemes against her own independence. He became thus +indissolubly linked with her fortunes; self-interest and gratitude pointed +both in the same direction to secure his services; and the Imperial Crowa +was indeed less the reward of the past than the price of the future. Even +they who loved him least, felt that in his guidance there was safety, and +that without him the prospect was dark and dreary and threatening. +</p> +<p> +Another element which greatly contributed to the same effect, was the +social ruin caused by the Revolution; the destruction of all commerce, the +forfeiture of property, had thrown every class into the service of the +Government. Men gladly advocated a change by which the ancient forms of a +Monarchy might be restored; and with them the long train of patronage and +appointments, their inevitable attendants. Even the old families of the +kingdom hailed the return of an order of things which might include them +in the favors of the Crown; and the question now was, what rank or class +should be foremost in tendering their allegiance to the new sovereign. We +should hesitate ere we condemn the sudden impulse by which many were +driven at this period. Confiscation and exile had done much to break the +spirit of even the hardiest; and the very return to the institutions in +which all their ancient prejudices were involved seemed a pledge against +the tyranny of the mass. +</p> +<p> +As for Napoleon himself, each step in his proud career seemed to evoke the +spirit necessary to direct it; the resources of his mighty intellect +appeared, with every new drain on them, only the more inexhaustible. +Animated through his whole life by the one great principle,—the +aggrandizement of France,—his vast intelligence gathering strength +with his own increase of power, enabled him to cultivate every element of +national greatness, and mould their energies to his will; till at length +the nation seemed but one vast body, of which he was the heart, the +impulse, that sent the life-blood bounding through all its arteries, and +with whose beating pulses every, even the most remote portion, throbbed in +unison. +</p> +<p> +The same day that established the Empire, declared the rank and dignity +accorded to each member of the royal family, with the titles to be borne +by the ministers and other high officers of the Crown. The next step was +the creation of a new order of nobility,—one which, without ancient +lineage or vast possessions, could still command the respect and +admiration of all,—the marshals of France. The names of Berthier, +Murat, Augereau, Massena, Bernadotte, Ney, Soult, Lannes, Mortier, +Davoust, Bessieres, were enough to throw a blaze of lustre on the order. +And had it not been for the omission of Macdonald's name in this glorious +list, public enthusiasm had been complete; but then he was the friend of +Moreau, and Bonaparte “did not forgive.” +</p> +<p> +The restoration of the old titles so long in abeyance, the return to the +pomp and state of Monarchy, seemed like a national fête, and Paris became +the scene of a splendid festivity and a magnificence unknown for many +years past. It was necessary for the new Court to make its impression on +the world; and the endeavor was to eclipse, by luxury and splendor, the +grandeur which in the days of the Bourbons was an heirloom of royalty. To +this end functionaries and officers of the Palace were appointed in +myriads; brilliant and costly uniforms adopted; courtly titles and +ceremonial observances increased without end; and etiquette, carried to a +pitch of strictness which no former reign had ever exhibited, now +regulated every department of the state. +</p> +<p> +While, however, nothing was too minute or too trivial, provided that it +bore, even in the remotest way, on the re-establishment of that throne he +had so long and so ardently desired, Napoleon's great mind was eagerly +bent upon the necessity of giving to the Empire one of those astounding +evidences of his genius which marked him as above all other men. He wished +to show to France that the Crown had devolved upon the rightful successor +to Charlemagne, and to prove to the army that the purple mantle of royalty +could not conceal the spur of the warrior; and thus, while all believed +him occupied with the ordinary routine of the period, his ambitious +thoughts were carrying him away across the Pyrenees or beyond the Danube, +to battlefields of even greater glory than ever, and to conquests prouder +than all his former ones. +</p> +<p> +The same power of concentrativeness that he so eminently possessed +himself, he imparted, as if by magic, to his Government. Paris was France; +to the capital flocked all whose talent or zeal prompted them to seek for +advancement. The Emperor was not only the fountain of all honor, but of +all emolument and place. So patronage was exercised without his +permission; and none was conferred without the conviction that some stanch +adherent was secured whose friendship was ratified, or whose former enmity +was conciliated. +</p> +<p> +Thus passed the year that followed his accession to the throne,—that +brilliant pageant of a nation's enthusiasm rendering tribute to the +majesty of intellect. At length the period of inaction seemed drawing to a +close; and a greater activity in the war department, and a new levy of +troops, betokened the approach of some more energetic measures. Men +whispered that the English expedition was about to sail, and +reinforcements of ammunition and artillery were despatched to the coast, +when suddenly came the news of Trafalgar. Villeneuve was beaten,— +his fleet annihilated,—the whole combination of events destroyed; +and England, again triumphant on the element she had made her own, hurled +defiance at the threats of her enemy. The same despatch that brought the +intelligence to Mayence told us to be in readiness for a movement; but +when, or where to, none of us could surmise. Still detachments from +various corps stationed about were marched into the garrison, skeleton +regiments commanded to make up their deficiencies, and a renewed energy +was everywhere perceptible. At last, towards the middle of August, I was +sent for by the general in command of the fortress, and informed that +General d'Auvergne had been promoted to the command of a cavalry brigade +stationed at Coblentz. +</p> +<p> +“You are to join him there immediately,” continued he; “but here is a note +from himself, which probably will explain everything.” And with that he +handed me a small sealed letter. +</p> +<p> +It was the first, save on purely regimental matters, I had ever received +from him, and somehow I felt unusually anxious about its contents. It ran +in these words:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +My dear B.,—His Majesty has just sent for me, and most +graciously esteeming me not yet too old to serve him, has +given me the command of a brigade,—late the Twelfth, now to +be called 'D'Auvergne's Cavalry.' I would willingly have +mentioned your name for promotion, to which your zeal and +activity would well entitle you; but deemed it better to +let your claim come before the Emperor's personal notice, +which an opportunity will, I trust, soon permit of its +doing. His Majesty, with a kindness which the devotion of a +life could not repay, has also interested himself personally +for me in a quarter where only his influence could have +proved successful. But the explanation of this I reserve for +your arrival. And now I request that you will lose no time +in repairing to Paris, where I shall expect to see you by +Tuesday. + +Yours, + +D'AUVERGNE, Lieut. 'General' +</pre> +<p> +This strange paragraph puzzled me not a little; nor could I, by any +exercise of ingenuity, find out even a plausible meaning for it. I read it +over and over, weighing and canvassing every word, and torturing each +syllable; but all to no purpose. Had the general been some youthful but +unhappy lover, to forward whose suit the Emperor had lent his influence, +then had I understood the allusion; but with the old weather-beaten +officer, whose hairs were blanched with years and service, the very +thought of such a thing was too absurd. Yet what could be the royal favor +so lavishly praised? He needed no intercession with the Empress; at least, +I remembered well how marked the kindness of Josephine was towards him in +former times. But to what use guessing? Thoughts, by long revolving, often +become only the more entangled, and we lose sight of the real difficulty +in canvassing our own impressions concerning it. And so from this text did +I spin away a hundred fancies that occupied me the whole road to Paris, +nor left me till the din and movement of the great capital banished all +other reflections. +</p> +<p> +Arrangement had been made for my reception at the Rue de Rohan; but I +learned that the general was at Versailles with the Court, and only came +up to Paris once or twice each week. His direction to me was, to wait for +his arrival, and not to leave the city on any account. +</p> +<p> +With what a strange feeling did I survey the Palace of the Tuileries,—the +scene of my first moment of delighted admiration of her I now loved, and, +alas! of my first step in the long catalogue of my misfortunes! I lingered +about the gardens with a fascination I could not account for; my destiny +seemed somehow linked with the spot, and I could not reason myself out of +the notion but that there, in that great pile, the fate of my whole life +was to be decided. +</p> +<p> +My entire day was passed in this way; and evening found me seated on one +of the benches near the windows of the pavilion, where I watched the +lustres in the long gallery as one by one they burst into light, and saw +the gilt candelabras twinkling as each taper was illuminated. It was an +evening reception of the Emperor, and I could mark the vast assemblage, in +every variety of uniform, that filled the salons. At length the drums beat +for strangers to leave the gardens; the patrols passed on; and gradually +the crowded walks became thinner and thinner; the sounds of the drum grew +fainter; and finally the whole space became still and noiseless,—not +a voice was to be heard, not a step moved on the gravel. I knew that the +gates were now locked; and yet I stayed on, glad to be alone, and at +leisure to dream away among the fancies that kept ever rising to my mind, +and to follow out the trains of thought that ever and anon opened before +me. +</p> +<p> +As the hour grew later, and the salons filled more and more, the windows +were opened along the terrace to give air, and I could hear the continued +murmur of hundreds of voices conversing, while at times the sound of +laughter rose above the rest. What a rush of thoughts came on me as I sat! +how did I picture to myself the dark intrigues, the subtle plots of wily +diplomatists, the bold and daring aspirations of the brave soldiers, the +high hopes and the ambitious yearnings that were all commingled there, +grouped around him whose dreams were of universal empire! While I mused, +the night glided on, and the solemn sound of the bell of Notre Dame +proclaimed midnight. I now could mark that the salons were thinning, and +the unceasing din of carriages in the Place announced the departure of the +guests. In little more than half an hour the great gallery was empty, and +but a few groups remained in the apartments adjoining. Even they soon +departed; and then I could see the servants passing from room to room +extinguishing the lights, and soon the great facade of the palace wac +wrapped in darkness. A twinkling light appeared here and there for some +time, but it too went out. The night was calm and still and sultry; not a +leaf stirred; and the heavy tread of the sentinels as they paced the +marble vestibule was heard plainly where I stood. +</p> +<p> +How full of thought to me was that vast pile, now shrouded in the gloom of +night! What bold, ambitious deeds,—what dreams of empire,—had +not been conceived there! The great of other days, indeed, entered little +into my mind, as I remembered it was the home of him, the greatest of them +all. How terrible, too, it was to think, that within that silent palace, +which seemed sleeping with the tranquil quiet of an humble cottage, the +dreadful plans which were to convulse the world, to shake thrones and +dynasties, to make of Europe a vast battlefield, were now devising. The +masses of dark cloud that hung heavily in the air, obscuring the sky and +shutting out every star, seemed to my fevered imagination an augury of +evil; and the oppressive, loaded atmosphere, though perfumed with the odor +of flowers, sunk heavily on the spirits. Again the hour rang out, and I +remembered that the gates of the garden were now closed for the night, and +that I should remain where I was till daylight liberated me. My mind was, +however, too full of its own thoughts to make me care for sleep, and I +strolled along the gloomy walks lost in revery. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XL. A NIGHT IN THE TUILERIES GARDENS. +</h2> +<p> +As the night wore on, I remembered that once, when a boy at the +Polytechnique, I longed to penetrate one of the little enclosures which +fenced the small flower-gardens beside the Palace, and which were railed +up from the public promenades by a low iron railing. The bouquets of rich +flowers that grew there, sparkling with the light dew of a little jet +d'eau that fell in raindrops over them, had often tempted my young heart; +but still in the daytime such a transgression would have been immediately +punished. Now, with the strange caprice which so often prompts us in after +years to do that which in youth we wished but could not accomplish, I +wandered towards the gardens, and crossing over the low fence, entered the +parterre; each step awoke the sleeping perfume of the flowers, and I +strolled along the velvet turf until I reached a low bench, half covered +with honeysuckle and woodbine. Here I threw myself down, and, wrapping my +cloak around me, resolved to rest till daybreak. The stillness of all +around, the balmy air, and my own musings, gradually conspired to make me +drowsy, and I slept. +</p> +<p> +My sleep could not have been long, when I was awakened by a noise close +beside me. I started up and looked about, and for some seconds I could +scarcely credit that I was not still dreaming. Not more than a dozen paces +from where I lay, and where before the dark walls of the Palace rose in +unbroken blackness, was now a chamber, brilliantly lighted up by several +wax-lights that stood on a table. At the window, which opened to the +ground and led into the garden, stood the figure of a man, but from his +position before the light I could not remark more than that he wore +epaulettes. It was the noise of the opening jalousies which awoke me; and +I could see his hand stretched out, as if to ascertain whether or not it +was raining. At the table I could perceive another person, on whose +uniform the light fell strongly, displaying many a cross and star, which +twinkled with every stir he made. He was busily engaged writing, and never +lifted his head from the paper. The walls of the room were covered with +shelves filled with books; and on the chairs about, and even on the floor, +lay maps and drawings in every disorder; a sword and belt, as if just +taken off, lay on the table among the writing materials, and a cocked hat +beside them. +</p> +<p> +While I noticed these details, my very heart was chill within me. The dark +figure at the window, which stirred not, seemed as if turned towards me, +and more than once I almost thought I could see his eyes bent upon me. +This was, however, but the mere suggestion of my own fears for in the +shade of the seat no light whatever fell, and I was perfectly concealed. +In the deep stillness I could hear the scraping sound of the pen on the +paper, and scarcely dared to breathe lest I should cause discovery, when +the figure retired from the window, and moved towards the table. For some +minutes he appeared to stoop over a large map, which lay outstretched +before him, and across which I could' see his finger moving rapidly. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/425.jpg" alt="The Scene Shifted 425 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +Suddenly he stood erect, and in a voice which even now rings within my +heart, said, “It must be so, Duroc; by any other route Bernadotte will be +too late!” +</p> +<p> +What was the reply I know not, such terror now fell over me. It was the +Emperor himself who spoke. It was he who the instant before was standing +close beside me at the window; and thus, a second time in my life, did I +become the unwilling eavesdropper of the man I most feared and respected +of all the world. Before I could summon resolution to withdraw, Napoleon +spoke again. +</p> +<p> +“Hardenberg,” said he, in a tone of contemptuous passion, “Hardenberg is +but a Prussian! the event will satisfy his scruples. Besides, if they do +talk about invasion of territory, you can reply: the Margraves were always +open to belligerent parties; remind them of what took place in '96, and +again in 1800,—though, <i>parbleu</i>, the souvenir may not be so +pleasant a one. Protract the discussion, at all events, Duroc; time! time! +Then,” added he, after a brief pause, “let them advance, and they 'll +never pass the Danube. And if they wait for me, I 'll fall upon them here,—here, +between Ulm and Augsburg. You must, however, start for Berlin at once.” +</p> +<p> +At this instant a heavy hand fell upon my shoulder, and passing down my +arm, seized me by the wrist. I started back, and beheld a dragoon, for so +his helmet and cloak bespoke, of enormous stature, who, motioning me to +silence, led me softly and with noiseless step along the flower-beds, as +if fearful of attracting the Emperor's notice. My limbs tottered beneath +me as I went, for the dreadful imputation an accident might fix on me +stared on me with all its awful consequences. Without a word on either +side we reached the little railing, crossed it, and regained the open +park, when the soldier, placing himself in front of me, said, in a deep, +low voice,— +</p> +<p> +“Your name; who are you?” +</p> +<p> +“An officer of the huitieme regiment of hussars,” said I, boldly. +</p> +<p> +“We shall see that presently,” replied he, in a tone of disbelief. “How +came you here?” +</p> +<p> +In a few words I explained how, having remained too late in the garden, I +preferred to pass my night on a bench to the unpleasantness of being +brought up before the officer on duty; adding, that it was only on the +very moment of his coming that I awoke. +</p> +<p> +“I know that,” interrupted he, in a less surly voice. “I found you +sleeping, and feared to awake you suddenly, lest in the surprise a word or +a cry would escape you. One syllable had cost your head.” +</p> +<p> +In the tone of these last few words there was something I thought I could +recognize, and resolving at a bold venture in such an emergency as I found +myself placed, I said at a hazard,— +</p> +<p> +“The better fortune mine, that I fell into the hands of a kind as well as +a brave soldier,—the Corporal Pioche.” +</p> +<p> +“Sacristi! You know me then!” cried he, thunderstruck. +</p> +<p> +“To be sure I do. Could I be an aide-de-camp to the General d'Auvergne, +and not have heard of Pioche?” +</p> +<p> +“An aide-de-camp of the general,” said he, starting back, as he carried +his hand to the salute. “Pardon, mon officier; but you know that duty—” +</p> +<p> +“Quite true; it was all my own indiscretion. And now, Pioche, if you 'll +keep me company here till daybreak—it cannot be far off now—the +light will soon satisfy you that my account of myself is a true one.” +</p> +<p> +“Willingly, sir,” said the gruff cuirassier. “My patrol is, to watch the +parterres from the pavilion to the allée yonder; and, if you please, we +'ll take up our quarters on this bench.” +</p> +<p> +They who know not the strange mixture of deference and familiarity of +which the relation between officer and soldier is made up in the French +service, will perhaps wonder a the tone of almost equality in which we +conversed. But such is the case: the Revolutionary armies acknowledged no +other gredations of rank than such as the service conferred, nor any +degree of superiority save that derivable from greater ability of more +daring heroism; and although the troops more implicitly obeyed the +commands of their officers, the occasion of discipline over a perfect +feeling of equality remained amongst all, whether they wore the epaulets +of colones or carried a musket in the ranks. With time, and the changes +the Consulate had introduced, much of this excessive familiarity was +suppressed; still it was no uncommon thing to hear the humble rank and +file address the general of division as “thou,”—the expression of +closest friendship, probably dating from the hours of schoolboy +attachment. Nor was the officer of rank thought less of because in the +hours of off-duty, he mixed freely with those who had been his companions +through life, and talked with them as brothers. It is probable that in no +other nation such a course could have been practised without a total +subversion of all respect and the ruin of all habits of order. The +Frenchman is, however, essentially military; not merely warlike, like the +inhabitants of Great Britain,—his mind ever inclines to the details +of war as an art. It is in generalship he glories, not the mere conflict +of force; and the humblest soldier in the army takes an interest in the +great game of tactics, which in any other people would be quite +incredible. Hence he submits to the control which otherwise he could not +endure; for this, he yields to command at the hands of one, who, although +his equal in all other respects, he here acknowledges as his superior. He +knows, too, that the grade of officer is open to merit alone, and he feels +that the epaulette may be his own one day. Such causes as these, +constantly in operation, could not fail to raise the morale of an army; +nor can we wonder that from such a source were derived many, if not most, +of the great names that formed the marshals of France. Again, to this +military spirit the French owe the perfection of their tirailleur force,—the +consummate skill of independent parties, of which every campaign gave +evidence. Napoleon found this spirit in the nation, and spared nothing to +give it its fullest development. He quickly saw to what height of +enthusiasm a people could be brought, to whom a cross or a decoration, an +epaulette or a sabre of honor, were deemed the ample rewards of every +daring and of every privation; and never in any age or in any country was +chivalry so universally spread over the wide surface of a people. With +them, rank claimed no exception from fatigue or suffering. The officer +fared little better than the soldier on a march; in a battle, he was only +more exposed to danger. By daring only could he win his way upwards; and +an emulative ardor was continually maintained, which was ever giving to +the world instances of individual heroism far more brilliant than all the +famed achievements of the crusaders. +</p> +<p> +This brief digression, unnecessary perhaps to many of my readers, may +serve to explain to others how naturally our conversation took the easy +tone of familiar equality; nor will they be surprised at the abrupt +question of the cuirassier, as he said,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>Mille tonnerres!</i> lieutenant! was it from your liking the post of +danger you selected that bench yonder?” +</p> +<p> +“The choice was a mere accident.” +</p> +<p> +“An accident, <i>morbleu!</i>” said he, with a low laugh. “That was what +Lasalle called it at the Adige, when the wheel came off the eight-pounder +in the charge, and the enemy carried off the gun. 'An accident!' said the +Petit Caporal to him,—I was close by when he said it,—'will +your friends in Paris call it an accident if the “ordre du jour” to-morrow +condemn you to be shot?' I know him well,” continued Pioche; “that I do. I +was second bombardier with him at Toulon,—ay, at Cairo too. I mind +well the evening he came to our quarters; poor enough we were at the time,—no +clothes, no rations: I was cook to our division; but somehow there was +little duty in my department, till one day the vivandiere's ass, (a brave +beast he was too, before provisions fell short),—a spent shot took +him in the flank, and killed him on the spot. +</p> +<p> +“Sacristi!” what damage it did! All the canteens were smashed to atoms; +horn goblets and platters knocked to pieces; but worst of all, a keg of +true Nantz was broached, and every drop lost. Poor Madame Gougon! she +loved that ass as if he had been one of the regiment; and though we all +offered her assignats on our pay, for a month each, to give us the +carcass, she wouldn't do it. No, faith! she would have him buried, and +with funeral honors! <i>Parbleu!</i> it was a whim; but the poor thing was +in grief, and we could not refuse her. I commanded the party,” continued +Pioche, “and a long distance we had to march, lest the shots might be +heard in the quartier-général. Well, we had some trouble in getting the +poor soul away from the grave. <i>Sacristi!</i> she took it so much to +heart, I thought she 'd have masses said for him. But we did succeed at +last, and before dawn we were all within the camp as if nothing had +happened. The whole of that day, however, the ass was never out of our +minds. It was not grief; no, no! don't think that. We were all thinking of +what a sin it was to have him buried there,—such a fine beast as he +was,—and not a pound of meat to be had if you were to offer a +nine-pounder gun for it. 'He is never the worse for his funeral,' said I; +'remember, boys, how well preserved he was in brandy before he was buried: +let's have him up again!' No sooner was night come, than we set off for +the place where we laid him, and in less than two hours I was busily +employed in making a delicious salmi of his haunch. <i>Mille bommbes!</i> +I think I have the smell of it before me; it was gibier, and the gravy was +like a purie. We were all pleasantly seated round the fire, watching every +turn of the roast, when—crack!—I heard the noise of the patrol +bringing his gun to the present, and before we had time to jump up, the +Petit Caporal was upon us; he was mounted on a little dark Arab, and +dressed in his gray surtout. +</p> +<p> +“'What 's all this here?' cried he, pulling up short, while the barb +sniffed the air, just as if he guessed what the meat was. 'Who has stolen +this sheep?' +</p> +<p> +“'It is not a sheep, Général,' said I, stepping forward, and trying to +hide the long ladle I was basting with. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/430.jpg" + alt="The 'big Pioche' Indulging in Delicacies 430 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“'Not a sheep; then it is an ox, mayhap, or a calf,” said he again, with +an angry look. +</p> +<p> +“'Neither, Général,' said I; 'it was a—a—a beast of our +division.' +</p> +<p> +“'A beast of your division! What does that mean? No trifling, mind! out +with it at once. What's this? Where did it come from?' +</p> +<p> +“'An ass, may it please you, sir,' said I, trembling all over, for I saw +he was in a rare passion. And as he repeated the word after me, I told him +the whole story, and how we could not suffer such capital prog to be eaten +by any other than good citizens of the Republic. +</p> +<p> +“While I was telling him so much, the rest stood round terrified; they +could not even turn the joint, though it was burning; and, to say truth, I +thought myself we were all in a bad way, when suddenly he burst into a fit +of laughing, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“'What part of France do these fellows come from?' +</p> +<p> +“'Alsace, mon général,' was the answer from every one. +</p> +<p> +“'I thought so, I thought so,' said he; 'Sybarites, all.' +</p> +<p> +“'No, mon général, grenadiers of the Fourth. Milhaud's brigade,' said I. +And with that he turned away, and we could hear him laughing long after he +galloped off. I saw he mistook us,” said Pioche, “and that he could not be +angry with the old Fourth.” +</p> +<p> +“You must have seen a great deal of hardship, Pioche,” said I, as he came +to a pause, and wishing to draw him on to speak more of his campaigns. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi!</i> there were few who saw service from '92 to '97 had not +their share of it. But they were brave times, too; every battle had its +day of promotion afterwards. Le Petit Caporal would ride down the ranks +with his staff, looking for this one, and asking for that. 'Where 's the +adjutant of the Sixth?' 'Dead, mon général.' 'Where 's the colonel of the +Voltigeurs?' 'Badly wounded.' 'Carry him this sabre of honor.' 'Who fell +over the Austrian standard, and carried away the fragment of the drapeau?' +'One of my fellows. General; here he is.' 'And what is your name, my brave +fellow?'” +</p> +<p> +The corporal paused here, and drew a deep breath; and after a few seconds' +pause, added in altered tone, “<i>Sacristi!</i> they were fine times!” +</p> +<p> +“But what did he say to the soldier that took the colors?” asked I, +impatiently. “Who was he?” +</p> +<p> +“It was I,” replied Pioche himself, in a deep voice, where pride and +devotion struggled powerfully together. +</p> +<p> +“You, Pioche! indeed! Well, what said the general when he saw you?” +</p> +<p> +“'Ah, Pioche,' said he, gayly, 'my old friend of Toulouse!' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, Général,' said I, 'we 've had some warm work together.' +</p> +<p> +“'True, Pioche, and may again perhaps. But you've been made a corporal +since that; what am I to do for you now?' +</p> +<p> +“This was a puzzling question, and I did not know how to answer it, and he +repeated it before I could make up my mind. +</p> +<p> +“'Is there nothing, then, in which I can be of use to Corporal Pioche?' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, mon général,' said I, 'there is.' +</p> +<p> +“'Speak it out, man, then; what is it?' +</p> +<p> +“'I wish, then, you 'd rate the commissary-general of our division for one +blunder he's ever making. The powder they serve us out is always wet, and +our bread is as hard as <i>mitraille</i>. Neither bayonets nor teeth will +last forever, you know, Général.' And he burst out a-laughing before I +finished. +</p> +<p> +“'Rest assured, Pioche, I'll look to this,' said he; and he kept his +word.” +</p> +<p> +“But why didn't you ask for promotion?” said I. “What folly, was it not, +to throw away such a chance? You might have been an officer ere this.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” replied he, with a sorrowful shake of the head; “that was +impossible.” +</p> +<p> +“But why so? Bonaparte knew you well; he often noticed you.” +</p> +<p> +“True; all true,” said he, more sadly than before. “But then—” +</p> +<p> +“What, then?” asked I, with more of interest than delicacy at the moment. +</p> +<p> +“I never learned to read,” said Pioche, in a low voice, which trembled +with agitation, while he drew his swarthy hand across his eyes, and was +silent. +</p> +<p> +The few words so spoken thrilled most powerfully within me. I saw that I +had awakened the saddest thoughts of the poor fellow's heart, and would +have given worlds to be able to recall my question. Here, then, was the +corroding sorrow of his life,—the grief that left its impress on his +stern features, and tinged with care the open brow of the brave soldier. +Each moment our silence was prolonged made it still more poignant, but I +made an effort to break it, and happily with success. +</p> +<p> +“After all, Pioche,” said I, laying my hand on his arm, “I would willingly +exchange my epaulettes for these stripes on your sleeve, to have had +Bonaparte speak to me as he has spoken to you; that was a prouder +distinction than any other, and will be a fonder recollection, too, +hereafter.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you think so, mon lieutenant?” said the poor fellow, turning round +quickly, as a faint smile played about his features—“do you think +so? <i>Sacristi!</i> I have said as much to myself sometimes, when I've +been alone. And then I 've almost thought I could hear his kind, soft +voice ringing in my ears; for it is kind and soft as a woman's, when he +pleases, though, parbleu! it can call like a trumpet at other times,—ay, +and tingle within your heart till it sets your blood boiling and makes +your hands twitch. I mind well the campaign in the Valais; the words keep +dinning in my ears to this hour.” +</p> +<p> +“What was that, Pioche?” said I, pleased to see him turn from the +remembrance of his own regrets. +</p> +<p> +“It is a good while past now,—I forget the year exactly,—but +we were marching on Italy, and it was in spring. Still, the ground was +covered with snow; every night came on with a hailstorm that lasted till +nigh daybreak, and when we arose from the bivouac we were so stiff and +frozen we could not move. They said at the time something went wrong with +the commissariat; but when did it ever go right, I wonder? Ammunition and +provisions were always late; and though the general used to drive away a +commissary every week or ten days for misconduct, the new ones that came +turned out just as bad. The Petit Caporal kept sending them word to Paris +not to send down any more 'savants,' but a good, honest man, with common +sense and active habits. But, <i>parbleu</i>, birds of that feather must +have been rare just then, for we never could catch one of them. Whatever +was the cause, we never were so ill off; our shakos were like wet paper, +and took any shape; and out of ridicule we used to come upon parade with +them fashioned into three-cocked hats, and pointed caps, and slouched +beavers. The officers couldn't say a word, you know, all this time; it was +not our fault if we were in such misery. Then, as to shoes,—a few +could boast of the upper leathers, but a sole or a heel was not to be +found in a company. Our coats were actually in rags, and a pivot sentry +looked for all the world like a flagstaff, as he stood fluttering in the +wind. +</p> +<p> +“We bore up, however, as well as we could, for some time, grumbling +occasionally over our condition, and sometimes laughing at it when we had +the heart; till at last, when we saw the new convoy arrive, and all the +biscuits distributed among the young regiments and the new conscripts, we +could endure it no longer, and a terrible outcry arose among the troops. +We were all drawn up on parade,—it was an inspection; for, <i>parbleu!</i> +though we were as ragged as scarecrows, they would have us out twice a +week to review us, and put us through the manoeuvres. Scarcely had the +general—it was Bonaparte himself—got halfway down the line, +when a shout ran from rank to rank: 'Bread! shoes! caps! biscuits!' +</p> +<p> +“'What do I hear?' said Bonaparte, standing up in his stirrups, and +frowning at the line. 'Who are the malcontents that dare to cry out on +parade? Let them stand out; let me see them.' +</p> +<p> +“And at once more than half the regiment of grenadiers sprang forward, and +shouted louder than before, 'Bread! bread! let us have food and clothing! +If we are to fight, let us not die of hunger!' +</p> +<p> +“'Grenadiers of the Fourth,' cried he, in a terrible voice, 'to your +ranks! Second division, and third!' shouted he, with his hand up, 'form in +square!—carry arms!—present arms! front rank, kneel! Kneel!' +said he, again louder; for you know we never did that in those days. +However, every word was obeyed, and down dropped the leading files on +their knees; and there we were rooted to the ground. Not a man spoke; all +silent as death. +</p> +<p> +“He then advanced to the front of the staff, and pointing his hand to a +convoy of wagons that could just be seen turning the angle of the road, +with white flags flying, to show what they were, called out, +'Commissary-general, distribute full rations and half ammunition to the +young regiments; half rations and full ammunition to the veterans of +Egypt!' A shout of applause burst out; but he cried louder than before, +'Silence in the ranks!' Then, taking off his chapeau, he stood bareheaded +before us; and in a voice like the bugle that blows the charge, he read +from a large paper in his hand, 'In the name of the French Republic, one +and indivisible. The Directory of the nation decrees, that the thanks of +the Government be given to the Grenadiers of the Fourth, who have deserved +well of their country. Vive la République!' +</p> +<p> +“'Vive la République!' shouted the whole square in a roar, like the sea +itself. Who thought more of hardships or hunger then? Our only desire was +when we were to meet the enemy; and many a jest and many a laugh went +round as we loaded our pouches with the new ammunition. +</p> +<p> +“'Who's that fellow yonder?' said Bonaparte, as he rode slowly down the +line. 'I should know him, I think. Is n't that Pioche?' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, mon général,' said I, saluting him; 'it is what remains of poor +Pioche,—<i>parbleu!</i> very little more than half, though.' +</p> +<p> +“'Ah, glutton!' said he, laughing, 'I ought to have guessed you were here; +one such gourmand is enough to corrupt a whole brigade.' +</p> +<p> +“'Pioche is a good soldier, citizen-general, 'said my captain, who was an +old schoolfellow of mine. +</p> +<p> +“'I know it, Captain,' said the general. +</p> +<p> +“'You were in Excelmans's dragoons, Pioche, if mistake not?' +</p> +<p> +“Two years and ten months, citizen-general.' +</p> +<p> +“'Why did you leave them, and when?' +</p> +<p> +“'At Monte Bello, with the colonel's permission.' +</p> +<p> +“'And the reason?' +</p> +<p> +“'<i>Morbleu!</i> it was a fancy I had. They killed two horses under me +that day, and I saw I was not destined for the cavalry.' +</p> +<p> +“'Ha, ha!' said he, with a sly laugh; 'had they been asses, the thing +might have been different, eh?' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, mon général,' said I, growing red, for I knew what he meant. +</p> +<p> +“'Come, Pioche, you must go back again to your old corps; they want one or +two like you,—though, <i>parbleu!</i> you 'll ruin the Republic in +remounts.' +</p> +<p> +“'As you please it, Général.' +</p> +<p> +“'Well, what shall I do for you besides? Any more commissaries to row, eh? +Methinks no bad time to gratify you in that way.' +</p> +<p> +“'Ah, mon général if you would only hang up one now and then.' +</p> +<p> +“'So I intend, the next time I hear of any of my soldiers being obliged to +eat the asses of the vivandiéres.' And with that he rode on, laughing, +though none, save myself, knew what he alluded to; and, <i>ma foi</i>, I +was not disposed to turn the laugh against myself by telling. But there +goes the <i>réveil</i>, and I must leave you, mon lieutenant; the gates +will be open in a few minutes.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Pioche,” said I, “and many thanks for your pleasant company. I +hope we shall meet again, and soon.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope so, mon lieutenant; and if it be at a bivouac fire, all the +better.” +</p> +<p> +The gallant corporal made his military salute, wheeled about, stiff as if +on parade, and departed; while I, throwing my cloak over my arm, turned +into the broad alley and left the garden. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLI. A STORY OF THE YEAR '92. +</h2> +<p> +I FOUND everything in the rue de rohan as I had left it the day before. +General d'Auvergne had not been there during my absence, but a messenger +from Versailles brought intelligence that the Court would arrive that +evening in Paris, and in all likelihood the general would accompany them. +</p> +<p> +My day was then at my disposal, and having dressed, I strolled out to +enjoy all the strange and novel sights of the great capital. They who can +carry their memories back to Paris at that period may remember the +prodigious amount of luxury and wealth so prodigally exhibited; the +equipages, the liveries, the taste in dress, were all of the most costly +character; the very shops, too, vied with each other in the splendor and +richness of their display, and court uniforms and ornaments of jewelry +glittered in every window. Hussar jackets in all their bravery, chapeaux +covered with feather trimming and looped with diamonds, sabres with ivory +scabbards encrusted with topaz and turquoise, replaced the simple costumes +of the Revolutionary era as rapidly as did the high-sounding titles of +“Excellence” and “Monseigneur” the unpretending designation of “citoyen.” +Still, the military feature of the land was in the ascendant; in the +phrase of the day, it was the “mustache” that governed. Not a street but +had its group of officers, on horseback or on foot; regiments passed on +duty, or arrived from the march, at every turn of the way. The very rabble +kept time and step as they followed, and the warlike spirit animated every +class of the population. All these things ministered to my enthusiasm, and +set my heart beating stronger for the time when the career of arms was to +open before me. This, if I were to judge from all I saw, could not now be +far distant. The country for miles around Paris was covered with marching +men, their faces all turned eastward; orderlies, booted and splashed, +trotted rapidly from street to street; and general officers, with their +aides-de-camp, rode up and down with a haste that boded preparation. +</p> +<p> +My mind was too full of its own absorbing interests to make me care to +visit the theatre; and having dined in a café on the Boulevard, I turned +towards the general's quarters in the hope of finding him arrived. As I +entered the Rue de Rohan, I was surprised at a crowd collected about the +door, watching the details of packing a travelling carriage which stood +before it. A heavy fourgon, loaded with military chests and boxes, seemed +also to attract their attention, and call forth many a surmise as to its +destination. +</p> +<p> +“Le Petit Caporal has something in his head, depend upon it,” said a thin, +dark-whiskered fellow with a wooden leg, whose air and gesture bespoke the +old soldier; “the staff never move off, extra post, without a good reason +for it.” +</p> +<p> +“It is the English are about to catch it this time,” said a +miserable-looking, decrepit creature, who was occupied in roasting +chestnuts over an open stove. “Hot, all hot! messieurs et mesdames! real +'marrons de Nancy,'—the true and only veritable chestnuts with a +truffle flavor. <i>Sacristi!</i> now the sea-wolves will meet their match! +It is such brave fellows as you, monsieur le grenadier, can make them +tremble.” +</p> +<p> +The old pensioner smoothed down his mustache, and made no reply. +</p> +<p> +“The English, indeed!” said a fat, ruddy-faced woman, with a slight line +of dark beard on her upper lip. “My husband 's a pioneer in the +Twenty-second, and says they're nothing better than poltroons. How we made +them run at Arcole! Wasn't it Arcole?” said she, as a buzz of laughter ran +through the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Tonnerre de guerre</i>” cried the little man, “if I was at them!” +</p> +<p> +A loud burst of merriment met this warlike speech; while the maimed +soldier, apparently pleased with the creature's courage, smiled blandly on +him as he said, “Let me have two sous' worth of your chestnuts.” +</p> +<p> +Leaving the party to their discussion, I now entered the house, and edging +my way upstairs between trunks and packing-cases, arrived at the +drawing-room. The general had just come in; he had been the whole morning +at Court, and was eating a hurried dinner in order to return to the +Tuileries for the evening reception. Although his manner towards me was +kind and cordial in the extreme, I thought he looked agitated and even +depressed, and seemed much older and more broken than before. +</p> +<p> +“You see, Burke, you 'll have little time to enjoy Paris gayeties; we +leave to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, sir! So soon?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; Lasalle is off already; Dorsenne starts in two hours; and we three +rendezvous at Coblentz. I wished much to see you,” continued he, after a +minute's pause; “but I could not get away from Versailles even for a day. +Tell me, have you got a letter I wrote to you when at Mayence? I mean, is +it still in existence?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said I, somewhat astonished at the question. +</p> +<p> +“I wrote it hurriedly,” added he, with something of confusion in his +manner; “do let me see it.” +</p> +<p> +I unlocked my writing-desk at once, and handed him his own letter. He +opened it hastily, and having thrown his eyes speedily across it, said, +and in a voice far more at ease than before,— +</p> +<p> +“That will do. I feared lest perhaps—But no matter; this is better +than I thought.” +</p> +<p> +With this he gave the letter back into my hands, and appeared for some +moments engaged in deep thought; then, with a voice and manner which +showed a different channel was given to his thoughts, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“The game has opened; the Austrians have invaded Bavaria. The whole +disposable force of France is on the march,—a hurried movement; but +so it is. Napoleon always strikes like his own emblem, the eagle.” +</p> +<p> +“True, sir; but even that serves to heighten the chivalrous feeling of the +soldier, when the sword springs from the scabbard at the call of honor, +and is not drawn slowly forth at the whispered counsel of some wily +diplomat.” +</p> +<p> +He smiled half-mournfully at the remark, or at my impetuosity in making +it, as he said:— +</p> +<p> +“My dear boy, never flatter yourself that the cause of any war can enter +into the calculation of the soldier. The liberty he fights for is often +the rankest tyranny; the patriotism he defends, the veriest oppression. +Play the game as though the stake were but your own ambition, if you would +play it manfully. As for me, I buckle on the harness for the last time, +come what will of it. The Emperor feels, and justly feels, indignant that +many of the older officers have declined the service by which alone they +were elevated to rank, and wealth, and honor. It was not, then, at the +moment when he distinguished me by an unsought promotion,—still +more, conferred a personal favor on me, that I could ask leave to retire +from the army.” +</p> +<p> +By the tone in which he said these last few words, I saw that the general +was now approaching the topic I felt so curious about, and did not venture +by a word to interrupt or divert his thoughts from it. My calculation +proved correct; for, after meditating some eight or ten minutes, he drew +his chair closer to mine, and in a voice of ill-repressed agitation, spoke +thus:— +</p> +<p> +“You doubtless know the history of our great Revolution,—the causes +that led to, the consequences that immediately sprang from it,—the +terrible anarchy, the utter confiscation of wealth, and, worse still, the +social disorganization that invaded every family, however humble or +however exalted, setting wives against their husbands, children against +their parents, and making brothers sworn enemies to one another. It was in +vain for any man once engaged in the struggle to draw back; the least +hesitation to perform any order of the Convention—the delay of a +moment, to think—was death: some one was ever on the watch to +denounce the man thus deliberating, and he was led forth to the guillotine +like the blackest criminal. The immediate result of all this was a +distrust that pervaded the entire nation. No one knew who to speak to, nor +dare any confide in him who once had been his dearest friend. The old +Royalists trembled at every stir; the few demonstrations they forced +themselves to make of concurrence in the new state of things were received +with suspicion and jealousy. The 'Blues'—for so the Revolutionary +party was called—thirsted for their blood; the aristocracy had been, +as they deemed, long their oppressors, and where vengeance ceased, +cupidity began. They longed to seize upon the confiscated estates, and +revel as masters in the halls where so oft they had waited as lackeys. But +the evil ended not here. Wherever private hate or secret malice lurked, an +opportunity for revenge now offered; and for one head that fell under the +supposed guilt of treason to France, a hundred dropped beneath the axe +from causes of personal animosity and long-nurtured vengeance: and thus +many an idle word uttered in haste or carelessness, some passing slight, +some chance neglect, met now its retribution, and that retribution was +ever death. +</p> +<p> +“It chanced that in the South, in one of those remote districts where +intelligence is always slow in arriving, and where political movements +rarely disturb the quiet current of daily life, there lived one of those +old seigneurs who at that period were deemed sovereign princes in the +little locale they inhabited. The soil had been their own for centuries; +long custom had made them respected and looked up to; while the acts of +kindness and benevolence in which, from father to son, their education +consisted, formed even a stronger tie to the affections of the peasantry. +The Church, too, contributed not a little to the maintenance of this +feudalism; and the château' entered into the subject of the village +prayers as naturally as though a very principle of their faith. There was +something beautifully touching in the intercourse between the lord of the +soil and its tillers: in the kindly interest of the one, repaid in +reverence and devotion by the others; his foresight for their benefit, +their attachment and fidelity,—the paternal care, the filial love,—made +a picture of rural happiness such as no land ever equalled, such as +perhaps none will ever see again. The seigneur of whom I speak was a true +type of this class. He had been in his boyhood a page at the gorgeous +court of Louis the Fifteenth, mixed in the voluptuous fascinations of the +period; but, early disgusted by the sensuality of the day, retired to his +distant château, bringing with him a wife,—one of the most beautiful +and accomplished persons of the Court, but one who, like himself, +preferred the peace and tranquillity of a country life to the whirlwind +pleasures of a vicious capital. For year's they lived childless; but at +last, after a long lapse of time, two children were born to this union, a +boy and girl,—both lovely, and likely in every respect to bless them +with happiness. Shortly after the birth of the girl, the mother became +delicate, and after some months of suffering, died. The father, who never +rallied from the hour of her death, and took little interest in the world, +soon followed her, and the children were left orphans when the eldest was +but four years of age, and his sister but three. Before the count died, he +sent for his steward. You know that the steward, or intendant, in France, +was formerly the person of greatest trust in any family,—the +faithful adviser in times of difficulty, the depositary of secrets, the +friend, in a word, who in humble guise offered his counsel in every +domestic arrangement, and without whom no project was entertained or +determined on; and usually the office was hereditary, descending from +father to son for centuries. +</p> +<p> +“In this family such was the case. His father and grandfather before him +had filled the office, and Léon Guichard well knew every tradition of the +house, and from his infancy his mind had been stored with tales of its +ancient wealth and former greatness. His father had died but a short time +previous, and when the count's last illness seized him, Léon was only in +the second year of his stewardship. Brief as the period was, however, it +had sufficed to give abundant proof of his zeal and ability. New sources +of wealth grew up under his judicious management; improvements were +everywhere conspicuous; and while the seigneur himself found his income +increased by nearly one-half, the tenants had gained in equal proportion,—such +was the result of his activity and intelligence. These changes, marvellous +as they may seem, were then of frequent occurrence. The lands of the South +had been tilled for centuries without any effort at improvement; sons were +content to go on as their fathers had done before them; increased +civilization, with its new train of wants and luxuries, never invaded this +remote, untravelled district, and primitive tastes and simple habits +succeeded each other generation after generation unaltered and unchanged. +</p> +<p> +“Suddenly, however, a new light broke on the world, which penetrated even +the darkness of the far-off valleys of La Provence. Intelligence began to +be more widely diffused; men read and reflected; the rudiments of every +art and every science were put within the reach of humble comprehensions; +and they who before were limited to memory or hearsay for such knowledge +as they possessed, could now apply at the fountain for themselves. Léon +Guichard was not slow in cultivating these new resources, and applying +them to the circumstances about him; and although many an obstacle arose, +dictated by stupid adherence to old customs, or fast-rooted prejudice +against newfashioned methods, by perseverance he overcame them all, and +actually enriched the people in spite of themselves. +</p> +<p> +“The seigneur, himself a man of no mean intellect, saw much of this with +sorrow; he felt that a mighty change was accomplishing, and that as one by +one the ancient landmarks by which men had been guided for ages were +removed, none could foresee what results might follow, nor where the +passion for alteration might cease. The superstitions of the Church, +harmless in themselves, were now openly attacked; its observances, before +so deeply venerated, were even assailed as idle ceremonies; and it seemed +as if the strong cable that bound men to faith and loyalty had parted, and +that their minds were drifting over a broad and pathless sea. Such was the +ominous opening of the Revolution, such the terrible ground-swell before +the storm. +</p> +<p> +“On his deathbed, then, he entreated Léon to be aware that evil days were +approaching; that the time was not distant when men should rely upon the +affection and love of those around them, on the ties that attached to each +other for years long, on the mutual interest that had grown up from their +cradles. He besought him to turn the people's 'minds, as far as might be, +from the specious theories that were afloat, and fix them on their +once-loved traditions; and, above all, he charged him, as the guardian of +his orphan children, to keep them aloof from the contamination of +dangerous doctrines, and to train them up in the ancient virtues of their +house,—in charity and benevolence. +</p> +<p> +“Scarce had the old count's grave closed over him, when men began to +perceive a marked change in Léon Guichard. No longer humble, even to +subserviency, as before, he now assumed an air of pride and haughtiness +that soon estranged his companions from him. As guardian to the orphan +children, he resided in the château, and took on him the pretensions of +the master. Its stately equipage, with great emblazoned panels,—the +village wonder at every fête day,—was now replaced by a more modern +vehicle, newly arrived from Paris, in which Monsieur Guichard daily took +his airings. The old servants, many of them born in the château, were sent +adrift, and a new and very different class succeeded them. All was +changed: even the little path that led up from the presbytère to the +château, and along which the old curé was seen wending his way on each +Sunday to his dinner with the seigneur, was now closed, the gate walled +up; while the Sabbath itself was only dedicated to greater festivities and +excess, to the scandal of the villagers. +</p> +<p> +“Meanwhile the children grew up in strength and beauty; like wild flowers, +they had no nurture, but they flourished in all this neglect, ignorant and +unconscious of the scenes around them. They roved about the livelong day +through the meadows, or that wilderness of a garden on which no longer any +care was bestowed, and where rank luxuriance gave a beauty of its own to +the rich vegetation. With the unsuspecting freshness of their youth, they +enjoyed the present without a thought of the future,—they loved each +other, and were happy. +</p> +<p> +“To them the vague reports and swelling waves of the Revolution, which +each day gained ground, brought neither fear nor apprehension; they little +dreamed that the violence of political strife could ever reach their quiet +valleys. Nor did they think the hour was near when the tramp of soldiery +and the ruffianly shout of predatory war were to replace the song of the +vigneron and the dance of the villager. +</p> +<p> +“The Revolution came at last, sweeping like a torrent over the land. It +blasted as it went; beneath its baneful breath everything withered and +wasted; loyalty, religion, affection, and brotherly love, all died out in +the devoted country; anarchy and bloodshed were masters of the scene. The +first dreadful act of this fearful drama passed like a dream to those who, +at a distance from Paris, only read of the atrocities of that wretched +capital; but when the wave rolled nearer; when crowds of armed men, wild +and savage in look, with ragged uniforms and bloodstained hands, prowled +about the villages where in happier times a soldier had never been seen; +when the mob around the guillotine supplied the place of the gathering at +the market; when the pavement was wet and slippery with human blood,—men's +natures suddenly became changed, as though some terrible curse from on +high had fallen on them. Their minds caught up the fearful contagion of +revolt, and a mad impulse to deny all they had once held sacred and +venerable seized on all. Their blasphemies against religion went hand in +hand with their desecration of everything holy in social life, and a +pre-eminence in guilt became the highest object of ambition. Sated with +slaughter, bloated with crime, the nation reeled like a drunken savage +over the ruin it created, and with the insane lust of blood poured forth +its armed thousands throughout the whole of Europe. +</p> +<p> +“Then began the much-boasted triumphs of the Revolutionary armies,—the +lauded victories of those great asserters of liberty; say rather the +carnage of famished wolves, the devastating rage of bloodthirsty maniacs. +The conscription seized on the whole youth of France, as if fearful that +in the untarnished minds of the young the seeds of better things might +bear fruit in season. They carried them away to scenes of violence and +rapine, where, amid the shouts of battle and the cries of the dying, no +voice of human sympathy might touch their hearts, no trembling of remorse +should stir within them. +</p> +<p> +“'You are named in the conscription, Monsieur, said Léon, in a short, +abrupt tone, as one morning he entered the dressing-room of his young +master. +</p> +<p> +“'I! I named in the conscription!' replied the other, with a look of +incredulity and anger. 'This is but a sorry jest, Master Léon; and not in +too good taste, either.' +</p> +<p> +“'Good or bad,' answered the steward, 'the fact is as I say; here is the +order from the municipalite. You were fifteen yesterday, you know.' +</p> +<p> +“'True; and what then? Am I not Marquis de Neufchâtel, Comte de Rochefort, +in right of my mother?' +</p> +<p> +“'There are no more marquises, no more counts,' said the other, roughly; +'France has had enough of such cattle. The less you allude to them the +safer for your head.' +</p> +<p> +“He spoke truly,—the reign of the aristocracy was ended. And while +they were yet speaking, an emissary of the Convention, accompanied by a +party of troops, arrived at the château to fetch away the newly-drawn +conscript. +</p> +<p> +“I must not dwell on the scene which followed: the heartrending sorrow of +those who had lived but for each other, now torn asunder for the first +time, not knowing when, if ever, they were to meet again. His sister +wished to follow him; but even had he permitted it, such would have been +impossible: the dreadful career of a Revolutionary soldier was an obstacle +insurmountable. The same evening the battalion of infantry to which he was +attached began their march towards Savoy, and the lovely orphan of the +château fell dangerously ill. +</p> +<p> +“Youth, however, triumphed over her malady, which, indeed, was brought on +by grief; and after some weeks she was restored to health. During the +interval, nothing could be more kind and attentive than Léon Guichard; his +manner, of late years rough and uncivil, became softened and tender; the +hundred little attentions which illness seeks for he paid with zeal and +watchfulness; everything which could alleviate her sorrow or calm her +afflicted mind was resorted to with a kind of instinctive delicacy, and +she began to feel that in her long-cherished dislike of the intendant she +had done him grievous wrong. +</p> +<p> +“This change of manner attracted the attention of many besides the +inhabitants of the château. They remarked his altered looks and bearing, +the more studied attention to his dress and appearance, and the singular +difference in all his habits of life. No longer did he pass his time in +the wild orgies of debauchery and excess, but in careful management of the +estate, and rarely or never left the château after nightfall. +</p> +<p> +“A hundred different interpretations were given to this line of acting. +Some said that the more settled condition of political affairs had made +him cautious and careful, for it was now the reign of the Directory, and +the old excesses of '92 were no longer endured; others, that he was +naturally of a kind and benevolent nature, and that his savage manner and +reckless conduct were assumed merely in compliance with the horrible +features of the time. +</p> +<p> +“None, however, suspected the real cause. Léon Guichard was in love! Yes, +the humble steward, the coarse follower of the vices of that detestable +period, was captivated by the beauty of the young girl, now springing into +womanhood. The freshness of her artless nature, her guileless innocence, +her soft voice, her character so balanced between gayety and +thoughtfulness, her loveliness, so unlike all he had ever seen before, had +seized upon his whole heart; and, as the sun darting from behind the +blackest clouds will light up the surface of a bleak landscape, touching +every barren rock and tipping every bell of purple heath with color and +richness, so over his rugged nature the beauty of this fair girl shed a +very halo of light, and a spirit awoke within him to seek for better +things, to endeavor better things, to fly the coarse, depraved habits of +his former self, to conform to the tastes of her he worshipped. Day by day +his stern nature became more softened. No longer those terrible bursts of +passion, to which he once gave way, escaped him; his voice, his very look, +too, were changed in their expression, and a gentleness of manner almost +amounting to timidity now characterized him who had once been the type of +the most savage Jacobin. +</p> +<p> +“She to whom this wondrous change was owing knew nothing of the miracle +she had worked; she would not, indeed, have believed, had one told her. +She scarcely remarked him when they met, and did not perceive that he was +no longer like his former self; her whole soul wrapped up in her dear +brother, s fate, she lived from week to week in the thought of his letters +home. It is true, her life had many enjoyments which owed their source to +the intendant's care; but she knew not of this, and felt more grateful to +him when he came letter in hand from the little post of the village, than +when the fair mossroses of spring filled the vases of the salon, or the +earliest fruits of summer decked her table. At times something in his +demeanor would strike her,—a tinge of sorrow it seemed rather than +aught else; but as she attributed this, as every other grief, to her +brother's absence, she paid no further attention to it, and merely thought +good Leon had more feeling than they used to give him credit for. +</p> +<p> +“At last, the campaign of Arcole over, the young soldier obtained a short +leave to see his sister. How altered were they both! She, from the child, +had become the beautiful girl,—her eyes flashing with the brilliant +sparkle of youth, her step elastic, her color changing with every passing +expression. He was already a man, bronzed and sunburnt, his dark eyes +darker, and his voice deeper; but still his former self in all the warmth +of his affection to his sister. +</p> +<p> +“The lieutenant—for so was he always called by the old soldier who +accompanied him as his servant, and oftentimes by the rest of his +household—had seen much of the world in the few years of his +absence. +</p> +<p> +“The chances and changes of a camp had taught him many things which lie +far beyond its own limits, and he had learned to scan men's minds and +motives with a quick eye and ready wit. He was not long, therefore, in +observing the alteration in Léon Guichard's manner; nor was he slow in +tracing it to its real cause. At first the sudden impulse of his passion +would have driven him to any length,—the presumption of such a +thought was too great to endure. But then the times he lived in taught him +some strong lessons. He remembered the scenes of social disorder and +anarchy of his childhood,—how every rank became subverted, and how +men's minds were left to their own unbridled influences to choose their +own position,—and he bethought him, that in such trials as these +Leon had conducted himself with moderation; that to his skilful management +it was owing if the property had not suffered confiscation like so many +others; and that it was perhaps hard to condemn a man for being struck by +charms which, however above him in the scale of rank, were still +continually before his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Reasoning thus, he determined, as the wisest course, to remove his sister +to the house of a relative, where she could remain during his absence. +This would at once put a stop to the steward's folly,—for so he +could not help deeming it,—and, what was of equal consequence in the +young soldier's eyes, prevent his sister being offended by ever suspecting +the existence of such a feeling towards her. The plan, once resolved on, +met no difficulty from his sister; his promise to return soon to see her +was enough to compensate for any arrangement, and it was determined that +they should set out towards the South by the first week in September. +</p> +<p> +“When the intimation of this change first reached Léon, which it did from +the other servants, he could not believe it, and resolved to hasten to the +lieutenant himself, and ask if it were true. On that day, however, the +young soldier was absent shooting, and was not to return before night. +Tortured with doubt and fear, trembling at the very thought of her +departure whose presence had been the loadstar of his life, he rushed from +the house and hurried into the wood. Every spot reminded him of her; and +he shuddered to think that in a few hours his existence would have lost +its spring; that ere the week was passed he would be alone without the +sight of her whom even to have seen constituted the happiness of the whole +day. Revolving such sad thoughts, he strolled on, not knowing whither, and +at last, on turning the angle of a path, found himself before the object +of his musings. She was returning from a farewell visit to one of the +cottagers, and was hastening to the château to dress for dinner. +</p> +<p> +“'Ah, Monsieur Léon,' said she, suddenly, 'I am glad to meet you here. +These poor people at the wooden bridge will miss me, I fear; you must look +to them in my absence. And there is old Jeannette,—she fancies she +can spin still; I pray you let her have her little pension regularly. The +children at Calotte, too,—they are too far from the school; mind +that they have their books.' +</p> +<p> +“'And are you indeed going from hence, Mademoiselle?' said he, in a tone +and accent so unlike his ordinary one as to make her start with surprise. +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, to be sure. We leave the day after to-morrow.' +</p> +<p> +“'And have you no regret, Mademoiselle, to leave the home of your +childhood and those you have—known there?' +</p> +<p> +“'Sir!' replied she haughtily, as the tone of his voice assumed a meaning +which could not be mistaken; 'you seem to have forgotten yourself +somewhat, or you had not dared—' +</p> +<p> +“'Dared!' interrupted he, in a louder key,—'dared! I have dared more +than that! Yes,' cried he, in a voice where passion could be no longer +held under, 'Léon Guichard, the steward, has dared to love his master's +daughter! Start not so proudly back, Madame! Time was when such an avowal +had been a presumption death could not repay. But these days are passed; +the haughty have been well humbled; they who deemed their blood a stream +too pure to mingle with the current in plebeian veins, have poured it +lavishly beneath the guillotine. Léon Guichard has no master now!' +</p> +<p> +“The fire flashed from his eyes as he spoke, and his color, pale at first, +grew darker and darker, till his face became almost purple; while his +nostrils, swelled to twice their natural size, dilated and contracted like +those of a fiery charger. Terrified at the frightful paroxysm of passion +before her, the timid girl endeavored to allay his anger, and replied,— +</p> +<p> +“'You know well, Léon, that my brother has ever treated you as a friend—' +</p> +<p> +“'He a friend!' cried he, stamping on the ground, while a look of demoniac +malice lit up his features. 'He, who talks to me as though I were a +vassal, a slave; he, who deems his merest word of approval a recompense +for all my labor, all my toil; he, whose very glance shoots into my heart +like a dagger! Think you I forgive him the contemptuous treatment of +nineteen years, or that I can pardon insults because they have grown into +habits? Hear me!'—he grasped her wrist rigidly as he spoke, and +continued, 'I have sworn an oath to be revenged on him, from the hour +when, a boy scarce eight years old, he struck me in the face, and called +me canaille. I vowed his ruin. I toiled for it, I strove for it, and I +succeeded,—ay, succeeded. I obtained from the Convention the +confiscation of your lands,—all, everything you possessed. I held +the titles in my possession, for I was the owner of this broad château,—ay, +Léon Guichard! even so; you were but my guest here. I kept it by me many a +day, and when your brother was drawn in the conscription I resolved to +assert my right before the world.' +</p> +<p> +“He paused for a moment, while a tremendous convulsion shook his frame, +and made him tremble liker one in an ague; then suddenly rallying, he +passed his hand across his brow, and in a lower voice, resumed, 'I would +have done so, but for you.' +</p> +<p> +“'For me! What mean you?' said she, almost sinking with terror. +</p> +<p> +“'I loved you,—loved you as only he can love who can surrender all +his cherished hopes, his dream of ambition, his vengeance even, to his +love. I thought, too, that you were not cold to my advances; and fearing +lest any hazard should apprise you of my success, and thus run counter to +my wishes, I lived on here as your servant, still hoping for the hour when +I might call you mine, and avow myself the lord of this château. How long +I might have continued thus I know not. To see you, to look on you, to +live beneath the same roof with you, seemed happiness enough; but when I +heard that you were to leave this, to go away, never to return perhaps, or +if so, not as her I loved and worshipped, then—But why look you +thus? Is it because you doubt these things? Look here; see this. Is that +in form? Are these signatures authentic? Is this the seal of the National +Convention? What say you now? It is not the steward Léon that sues, but +the Citizen Guichard, proprietaire de Rochefort. Now, methinks, that makes +some difference in the proposition.' +</p> +<p> +“'None, sir,' replied she, with a voice whose steady utterance made each +word sink into his heart, 'save that it adds to my contempt for him who +has dared to seek my affection in the ruin of my family. I did not despise +you before—' +</p> +<p> +“'Beware!' said he, in a voice of menace, but in which no violence of +passion entered; 'you are in my power. I ask you again, will you consent +to be my wife? Will you save your brother from the scaffold, and yourself +from beggary and ruin? I can accomplish both.' +</p> +<p> +“A look of ineffable scorn was all her reply; when he sprang forward and +threw his arm round her waist. +</p> +<p> +“'Or would you drive me to the worst—' +</p> +<p> +“A terrific shriek broke from her as she felt his hand around her, when +the brushwood crashed behind her, and her brother's dogs sprang from the +thicket. With a loud cry she called upon his name. He answered from the +wood, and dashed towards her just as she sank fainting to the ground. Léon +was gone. +</p> +<p> +“As soon as returning strength permitted, she told her brother the fearful +story of the steward; but bound him by every entreaty not to bring himself +in contact with a monster so depraved. When they reached the château, they +learned that Guichard had been there and left it again. And from that hour +they saw him no more. +</p> +<p> +“I must now conclude in a few words; and, to do so, may mention, that in +the year '99 I became the purchaser of Haut Rochefort at a sale of +forfeited estates, it having been bought by Government on some previous +occasion, but from whom and how, I never heard. The story I have told I +learned from the notaire of Hubane, the village in the neighborhood, who +was conversant with all its details, and knew well the several actors in +it, as well as their future fortunes. +</p> +<p> +“The brother became a distinguished officer, and rose to some rank in the +service; but embarking in the expedition to Ireland, was reported to +Bonaparte as having betrayed the French cause. The result was, he was +struck off the list of the army, and pronounced degraded. He died in some +unknown place. +</p> +<p> +“The sister became attached to her cousin, but the brother opposing the +union, she was taken away to Paris. The lover returned to Bretagne, where, +having heard a false report of her marriage at Court, he assumed holy +orders; and being subsequently charged—but it is now believed +falsely—of corresponding with the Bourbons, was shot in his own +garden by a platoon of infantry. But how is this? Are you ill? Has my +story so affected you?” +</p> +<p> +“That brother was my friend,—my dearest, my only friend, Charles de +Meudon!” +</p> +<p> +“What! and did you know poor Charles?” +</p> +<p> +But I could not speak; the tears ran fast down my cheeks as I thought of +all his sorrows,—sorrows far greater than ever he had told me. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Marie!” said the general, as he wiped a tear from his eye; “few have +met such an enemy as she did. Every misfortune of her life has sprung from +one hand: her brother's, her lover's death, were both his acts.” +</p> +<p> +“Lâon Guichard! And who is he? or how could he have done these things?” +</p> +<p> +“Methinks you might yourself reply to your own question.” +</p> +<p> +“I! How could that be? I know him not.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but you do. Lâon Guichard is Mehée de la Touche!” +</p> +<p> +Had a thunderbolt fallen between us I could not have felt more terror. +That name, spoken but twice or thrice in my hearing, had each time brought +its omen of evil. +</p> +<p> +It was the same with whose acquaintance Marie de Meudon charged me in the +garden of Versailles; the same who brought the <i>Chouans</i> to the +guillotine, and had so nearly involved myself in their ruin; and now I +heard of him as one whose dreadful life had been a course of perfidy and +crime,—one who blasted all around him, and scattered ruin as he +went. +</p> +<p> +“I have little more to add,” resumed the general, after a long pause, and +in a voice whose weakened accents evinced how fearfully the remembrance he +called up affected him. “What remains, too, more immediately concerns +myself than others. I am the last of my house. An ancient family, and one +not undistinguished in the annals of France, hangs but on the feeble +thread of a withered and broken old man's life, with whom it dies. My only +brother fell in the Austrian campaign. I never had a sister. Uncles and +cousins I have had in numbers; but death and exile have been rife these +last twenty years, and, save myself, none bears the name of D'Auvergne. +</p> +<p> +“Yet once I nourished the hope of a family,—of a race who should +hand down the ancient virtues of our house to after years. I thought of +those gallant ancestors whose portraits graced the walls of the old +château I was born in, and fancied myself leading my infant boy from +picture to picture, as I pointed out the brave and the good who had been +his forefathers. But this is a dream long since dispelled. I was then a +youth, scarce older than yourself, rich, and with every prospect of +happiness before me. I fell in love, and the object of my passion seemed +one created to have made the very paradise I sought for. She was +beautiful, beyond even the loveliest of a handsome Court; high-born and +gifted. But her heart was bestowed on another,—one who, unlike +myself, encouraged no daring thoughts, no ambitious longings, but who, +wholly devoted to her he loved, sought in tranquil quiet the happiness +such spirits can give each other. She told me herself frankly, as I speak +now to you, that she could not be mine; and then placed my hand in her +husband's. This was Marie de Rochefort, the mother of Mademoiselle de +Meudon. +</p> +<p> +“The world's changes seem ever to bring about these strange vicissitudes +by which our early deeds of good and evil are brought more forcibly to our +memories, and we are made to think over the past by some accident of the +present. After twenty years I came to live in that château where she whom +I once loved had lived and died. I became the lord of that estate which +her husband once possessed, and where in happiness they had dwelt +together. I will not dwell upon the thoughts such associations ever give +rise to; I dare not, old as I am, evoke them.” +</p> +<p> +He paused for some minutes, and then went on: “Two years ago I learned +that Mademoiselle de Meudon was the daughter of my once loved Marie. From +that hour I felt no longer childless. I watched over her,—without, +however, attracting notice on her part,—and followed her everywhere. +The very day I saw you first at the Polytechnique, I was beside her. From +all I could learn and hear, her life bad been one of devoted attachment to +her brother, and then to Madame Bonaparte. Her heart, it was said, was +buried with him she once loved,—at least none since had ever won +even the slightest acknowledgment from her bordering on encouragement. +</p> +<p> +“Satisfied that she was everything I could have wished my own daughter, +and feeling that with youth the springs of affection rarely dry up, I +conceived the idea of settling all my property on her, and entreating the +Emperor to make me her guardian, with her own consent of course. He +agreed: he went further; he repealed, so far as it concerned her, the law +by which the daughters of Royalists cannot inherit, and made her eligible +to succeed to property, and placed her hand at my disposal. +</p> +<p> +“Such was the state of matters when I wrote to you. Since that I have seen +her, and spoken to her in confidence. She has consented to every portion +of the arrangement, save that which involves her marrying; but some +strange superstition being over her mind that her fate is to ruin all with +whom it is linked, that her name carries an evil destiny with it, she +refuses every offer of marriage, and will not yield to my solicitation. +</p> +<p> +“I thought,” said the general, as he leaned on his hand, and muttered half +aloud, “that I had conceived a plan which must bring happiness with it. +But, however, one part of my design is accomplished: she is my heir; the +daughter of my own loved Marie is the child of my adoption, and for this I +have reason to feel grateful. The cheerless feeling of a deathbed where +not one mourns for the dying haunts me no longer, and I feel not as one +deserted and alone. To-morrow I go to wish her adieu; and we are to be at +the Tuileries by noon. The Emperor holds a levée, and our final orders +will then be given.” +</p> +<p> +The old general rallied at the last few words he spoke, and pressing my +hand affectionately, wished me goodnight, and withdrew; while I, with a +mind confused and stunned, sat thinking over the melancholy story he had +related, and sorrowing over the misfortunes of one whose lot in life had +been far sadder than my own. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLII. THE HALL OF THE MARSHALS +</h2> +<p> +Some minutes before noon we entered the Place du Carrousel, now thronged +with equipages and led horses. Officers in the rich uniforms of every arm +of the service were pressing their way to the Palace, amid the crash of +carriages, the buzz of recognitions, and the thundering sounds of the +brass band, whose echo was redoubled beneath the vaulted vestibule of the +Palace. +</p> +<p> +Borne along with the torrent, we mounted the wide stair and passed from +room to room, until we arrived at the great antechamber where the officers +of the household were assembled in their splendid dresses. Here the crowd +was so dense we were unable to move on for some time, and it was after +nearly an hour's waiting that we at last found ourselves within that +gorgeous gallery named by the Emperor “La Salle des Maréchaux.” At any +other moment my attention had been riveted upon the magnificence and +beauty of this great <i>salon</i>—its pictures, its gildings, the +richness of the hangings, the tasteful elegance of the ceiling, with its +tracery of dull gold, the great works of art in bronze and marble that +adorned it on every side,—but now my mind took another and very +different range. Here around me were met the greatest generals and +warriors of Europe,—the names second alone to his who had no equal. +There stood Ney, with his broad, retiring forehead, and his eyes black and +flashing, like an eagle's. With what energy he spoke! how full of +passionate vigor that thick and rapid utterance, that left a tremulous +quivering on his lip even when he ceased to speak! What a contrast to the +bronzed, unmoved features of the large man he addressed, and who listened +to him with such deference of manner: his yellow mustache bespeaks not the +Frenchman; he is a German, by blood at least,—for it is Kellerman, +the colonel of the curassiers of the Guard. And yonder was Soult, with his +strong features seamed by many a day of hardship, the centre of a group of +colonels of the staff to whom he was rapidly communicating their orders. +Close beside him stood Lannes, his arm in a sling; a gunshot wound that +defied the art of the surgeons still deprived him of his left hand. And +there leaned Savary against the window, his dark eyes riveted on the corps +of <i>gendarmerie</i> in the court beneath; full taller by a head than the +largest about him, he seemed almost gigantic in the massive accoutrements +of his service. The fierce Davoust; the gay and splendid Murat, with his +waving plumes and jewelled dolman; Lefebvre, the very type of his class, +moving with difficulty from a wound in his hip,—all were there: +while passing rapidly from place to place, I remarked a young and handsome +man, whose uniform of colonel bore the decoration of the Legion; he +appeared to know and be known to all. This was Eugène Beauharnais, the +stepson of the Emperor. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Général d'Auvergne!” cried he, approaching with a smile, “his Majesty +desires to see you after the levée. You leave to-night, I believe?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Colonel; all is in readiness,” said the general; while I thought a +look of anxiety at the Emperor's summons seemed to agitate his features. +</p> +<p> +“One of your staff?” said Beauharnais, bowing, as he looked towards me. +</p> +<p> +“My aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Burke,” replied the general, presenting me. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! I remember,” said the colonel, as he drew himself proudly up, and +seemed as though the recollection were anything but favorable to me. +</p> +<p> +But just then the wide folding-doors were thrown open, and a loud voice +proclaimed, “Sa Majesté l'Empereur!” +</p> +<p> +In an instant every voice was hushed, the groups broke up, and fell back +into two long lines, between which lay a passage; along this the officers +of the Palace retired slowly, facing the Emperor, who came step by step +after them. I could but see the pale face, massive and regular, like the +head of an antique cameo; the hair combed straight upon his fine forehead; +and his large, full eyes, as they turned hither and thither among that +crowd, once his equals, now how immeasurably his inferiors! He stopped +every now and then to say a word or two to some one as he passed, but in +so low a tone, that even in the dead silence around nothing was audible +save a murmur. It was a relief to my own excited feelings, as, with high, +beating heart, I gazed on the greatest monarch of the world, that I beheld +the others around, the oldest generals, the time-worn companions of his +battles, not less moved than myself. +</p> +<p> +While the Emperor passed slowly along, I could mark that Eugène +Beauharnais moved rapidly through the gallery, whispering now to this one, +now to that, among the officers of superior grade, who immediately after +left the salon by a door at the end. At length he approached General +d'Auvergne, saying,— +</p> +<p> +“The audience of the marshals, will not occupy more than half an hour; +pray be in readiness to wait on his Majesty when he calls. You can remain +in the blue drawing-room next the gallery!” +</p> +<p> +The general bowed, and taking my arm, moved slowly from the spot in the +direction mentioned, and in a few minutes we found ourselves in the small +room where the Empress used to receive her morning visitors during the +Consulate. +</p> +<p> +“You remember this <i>salon</i> Burke?” said the general, carelessly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, but too well; it was here that his Majesty gave me that rebuke—” +</p> +<p> +“True, true, my dear boy; I forgot that completely. But come, there has +been time enough to forget it since. I wonder what can mean this summons +to attend here! I have received my orders; there has been, so far as I +understand, no change of plan. Well, well, we shall soon know. See, the +levée has begun to break up already; there goes the staff of the +artillery; that roll of the drum is for some general of division.” +</p> +<p> +And now the crash of carriages, and the sounds of cavalry escorts jingling +beside them, mingled with the deep beating of the drums, made a mass of +noises that filled the air, and continued without interruption |or above +an hour. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Sacristi</i>” cried the general, “the crowd seems to pour in as fast +as it goes out; this may last for the entire day. I have scarce two hours +left me now.” +</p> +<p> +He walked the room impatiently; now muttering some broken words to +himself, now stopping to listen to the sounds without. Still the din +continued, and the distant roll of equipages, growing louder as they came, +told that the tide was yet pressing onwards towards the Palace. “Three +o'clock!” cried the general, as the bell of the pavilion sounded; “at four +I was to leave. Such were my written orders, signed by the minister.” +</p> +<p> +His impatience now became extreme. He knew how difficult it was, in a +matter of military discipline, to satisfy Napoleon that any breach, even +when caused by his direct orders, was not a fault. Besides, his old habits +had taught him to respect a command from the Minister of War as something +above all others. +</p> +<p> +“Beauharnais must have mistaken,” said he, angrily. “His Majesty gave me +my final directions; I'll wait no longer.” +</p> +<p> +Yet did he hesitate to leave, and seemed actually to rely on me for some +hint for his guidance. I did not dare to offer a suggestion; and while +thus we both stood uncertain, the door opened, and a huissier called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Lieutenant-Greneral d'Auvergne,—this way, sir,” said the official, +as he threw open a folding-door into a long gallery that looked into the +garden. They passed out together, and I was alone. +</p> +<p> +The agitation of the general at this unexpected summons had communicated +itself to me, but in a far different way; for I imagined that his Majesty +desired only to confer some mark of favor on the gallant old general +before parting with him. Yet did I not venture to suggest this to him, for +fear I should be mistaken. +</p> +<p> +While I revolved these doubts in my mind, the door was flung open with a +crash, and a page, in the uniform of the Court, rushed in. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask, sir,” cried he, breathlessly, “can you inform me where is the +aide-de-camp of the General d'Auvergne? I forget the name, unfortunately.” +</p> +<p> +“I am the person,—Lieutenant Burke.” +</p> +<p> +“The same; that is the name. Gome after me with all haste; this way.” And +so saying, he rushed down a flight of stone stairs, clearing six or seven +at a spring. +</p> +<p> +“A hurried business this, Lieutenant,” said the page, laughingly; “took +them by by surprise, I fancy.” +</p> +<p> +“What is it? What do you mean?” asked I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Hush!” said he, placing his fingers on his lips; “here they come.” +</p> +<p> +We had just time to stand to one side of the gallery, as the officers of +the household came up, two and two, followed by the Chancellor of France, +and the Dean of St. Roch in his full canonicals. They approached the +table, on which several papers and documents were lying, and proceeded to +sign their names to different writings before them. While I looked on, +puzzled and amazed, totally unable to make the most vague conjecture of +the nature of the proceedings, I perceived that General d'Auvergne had +entered the room, and was standing among the rest at the table. +</p> +<p> +“Whose signature do you propose here. General?” said the chancellor, as he +took up a paper before him. +</p> +<p> +“My aide-de-camp. Lieutenant Burke.” +</p> +<p> +“He is here, sir,” said the page, stepping forward. +</p> +<p> +“You are to sign your name here, sir, and again on this side,” said the +chancellor, “with your birthplace annexed, age, and rank in the service.” +</p> +<p> +“I am a foreigner,” said I; “does that make any difference here?” +</p> +<p> +“None,” said he, smiling; “the witness is but a very subordinate personage +here.” +</p> +<p> +I took the pen, and proceeded to write as I was desired; and, while thus +engaged, the door opened, and a short, heavy step crossed the room. I did +not dare to look up; some secret feeling of terror ran through me, and +told me it was the Emperor himself. +</p> +<p> +“Well, D'Auvergne,” said he, in a frank, bold way, quite different from +his ordinary voice, “you seem but half content with this plan of mine. <i>Pardieu!</i> +there's many a brave fellow would not deem the case so hard a one.” +</p> +<p> +“As your wish, sire—” +</p> +<p> +“As mine, <i>diantre!</i> my friend. Do not say mine only; you forget that +the lady expressed herself equally satisfied. Come I is the <i>acte</i> +completed?” +</p> +<p> +“It wants but your Majesty's signature,” said the chancellor. +</p> +<p> +The Emperor took the pen, and dashed some indescribable scroll across the +paper; then turning suddenly towards the general, he conversed with him +eagerly for several minutes, but in so low a voice as not to be audible +where I stood. I could but catch the words “Darmstadt— Augsburg—the +fourth corps;” from which it seemed the movements of the army were the +subject; when he added, in a louder voice,— +</p> +<p> +“Every hour now is worth a day, ay, a week, hereafter. Remember that, +D'Auvergne.” +</p> +<p> +“Everything is finished, sire,” said the chancellor, handing the folded +papers to the Emperor. +</p> +<p> +“These are for your keeping, Greneral,” said he, delivering them into +D'Auvergne's hand. +</p> +<p> +“Pardon, sire,” said the chancellor, hastily, “I have made a great error +here. Madame la Comtesse has not appended her signature to the consent.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said the Emperor, smiling. “We have been too hasty, it would +seem; so thinks our reverend father of Saint Roch, I perceive, who is +evidently not accustomed to officiate <i>au coup de tambour</i>.” +</p> +<p> +“Her Majesty the Empress!” said the <i>huissier</i>, as he opened the +doors to permit her to enter. She was dressed in full Court dress, covered +with jewels; she held within her arm the hand of another, over whose +figure a deep veil was thrown, that entirely concealed her from head to +foot. +</p> +<p> +“Madame la Comtesse will have the kindness to sign this,” said the +chancellor, as he handed over a pen to the lady. +</p> +<p> +She threw back her veil as he spoke. As she turned towards the table, I +saw the pale, almost deathlike features of Marie de Meudon. Such was the +shock, I scarce restrained a cry from bursting forth, and a film fell +before my eyes as I looked, and the figures before me floated like masses +of vapor before my sight. +</p> +<p> +The Empress now spoke to the general, but no longer could I take notice of +what was said. Voices there were, but they conveyed nothing to my mind. A +terrible rush of thoughts, too quick for perception, chased one another +through my brain, and I felt as though my temples were bursting open from +some pressure within. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly the general moved forward, and knelt to kiss the Empress's hand; +he then took that of Mademoiselle de Meudon, and held it to his lips. I +heard the word “Adieu!” faintly uttered by her low voice; the veil fell +once more over her features. That moment a stir followed, and in a few +minutes more we were descending the stairs alone, the general leaning on +my arm, his right hand pressed across his eyes. +</p> +<p> +When we reached the court, several officers of rank pressed forward, and I +could hear the buzz of phrases implying congratulations and joy, to which +the old general replied briefly, and with evident depression of manner. +The dreadful oppression of a sad dream was over me still, and I felt as +though to awake were impossible, when, to some remark near him, the +general replied,— +</p> +<p> +“True! Quite true, Monseigneur; I have made her my wife. There only +remains one reparation for it, which is to make her my widow.” +</p> +<p> +“His wife!” said I, aloud, re-echoing the word without knowing. +</p> +<p> +“Even so, mon ami,” said he, pressing my hand softly; “my name and my +fortune are both hers. As for myself,—we shall never meet again.” +</p> +<p> +He turned away his head as he spoke, nor uttered another word during the +remainder of the way. +</p> +<p> +When we arrived at the Rue de Rohan the horses were harnessed to the +carriage, and all in readiness for our departure. The rumor of expected +war had brought, a crowd of idlers about the door, through which we passed +with some difficulty into the house. Hastily throwing an eye over the now +dismantled room, the old general approached the window that looked out +upon the Tuileries. “Adieu!” muttered he to himself; “je ne vous reverrai +jamais!” And with that he pressed his travelling-cap over his brows, and +descended the stairs. +</p> +<p> +A cheer burst from the mob; the postilion's whip cracked loudly; the +horses dashed over the pavement; and ere the first flurry of mad +excitement had subsided from my mind, Paris was some miles behind us, and +we were hastening on towards the frontier. +</p> +<p> +Almost every man has experienced at least one period of his life when the +curtain seems to drop, and the drama in which he has hitherto acted to +end; when a total change appears to pass over the interests he has lived +among, and a new and very different kind of existence to open before him. +Such is the case when the death of friends has left us alone and +companionless; when they into whose ears we poured our whole thoughts of +sorrow or of joy are gone, and we look around upon the bleak world without +a tie to existence, without one hope to cheer us. How naturally then do we +turn from every path and place once lingered over! how do we fly the +thoughts wherein once consisted our greatest happiness, and seek from +other sources impressions less painful, because unconnected with the past! +Still, the bereavement of death is never devoid of a sense of holy calm, a +sort of solemn peace connected with the memory of the lost one. In the +sleep that knows no waking we see the end of earthly troubles; in the +silence of the grave come no sounds of this world's contention; the winds +that stir the rank grass of the churchyard breathe at least repose. Not so +when fate has severed us from those we loved best during lifetime; when +the fortunes we hoped to link with our own are torn asunder from us; when +the hour comes when we must turn from the path we had followed with +pleasure and happiness, and seek another road in life, bearing with us not +only all the memory of the past, but all the speculation on the future. +There is no sorrow, no affliction, like this. +</p> +<p> +It was thus I viewed my joyless fortune,—with such depressing +reflections I thought over the past. What mattered it now how my career +might turn? There lived not one to care whether rank or honor, disgrace or +death, were to be my portion. The glorious path I often longed to tread +opened for me now without exciting one spark of enthusiasm. So is it even +in our most selfish desires, we live less for ourselves than others. +</p> +<p> +If my road in life seemed to present few features to hang hopes on, he who +sat beside me appeared still more depressed. Seldom speaking, and then but +in monosyllables, he remained sunk in reverie. +</p> +<p> +And thus passed the days of our journey, when on the third evening we came +in sight of Coblentz. Then indeed there burst upon my astonished gaze one +of those scenes which once seen are never forgotten. From the gentle +declivity which we were now descending, the view extended several miles in +every direction. Beneath us lay the city of Coblentz, its spires and domes +shining like gilded bronze as the rays of the setting sun fell upon them; +the Moselle swept along one side of the town till it mingled its eddies +with the broad Rhine, now one sheet of liquid gold; the long pontoon +bridge, against whose dark cutwaters the bright stream broke in sparkling +circles, trembled beneath the dull roll of artillery and baggage-wagons, +which might be seen issuing from the town, and serpentining their course +along the river's edge for miles, till they were lost in the narrow glen +by which the Lahn flows into the Rhine. Beyond rose the great precipice of +rock, with its crowning fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, along whose +battlemented walls, almost lost in the heavy clouds of evening, might be +seen dark specks moving from place to place,—the soldiers of the +garrison looking down from their eyrie on the war-tide that flowed +beneath. Lower down the river many boats were crossing, in which, as the +sunlight shone, one could mark the glancing of arms and the glitter of +uniforms; while farther again, and in deep shadow, rose the solitary +towers of the ruined castle of Lahneck, its shattered walls and +grass-grown battlements standing clearly out against the evening sky. +</p> +<p> +Far as we were oif, every breeze that stirred bore towards us the softened +swell of military music, which, even when too faint to trace, made the air +tremulous with its martial sounds. Along the ramparts of the city were +crowds of townspeople, gazing with anxious wonderment at the spectacle; +for none knew, save the generals in command of divisions, the destination +of that mighty force, the greatest Europe had ever seen up to that period. +Such indeed were the measures taken to ensure secrecy, that none were +permitted to cross the frontier without a special authority from the +Minister for Foreign Affairs; the letters in the various post-offices were +detained, and even travellers were denied post-horses on the great roads +to the eastward, lest intelligence might be conveyed to Germany of the +movement in progress. Meanwhile, at Manheim, at Spire, at Strasburg, and +at Coblentz, the long columns streamed forth whose eagles were soon +destined to meet in the great plains of Southern Germany. +</p> +<p> +Such was the gorgeous spectacle that each moment grew more palpable to our +astonished senses,—more brilliant far than anything painting could +realize,—more spirit-stirring than the grandest words that poet ever +sang. +</p> +<p> +“The cuirassiers and the dragoons of the Guard are yonder,” said the +general, as he directed his glass to a large square of the town where a +vast mass of dismounted cavalry were standing. “You see how punctual they +are; we are but two hours behind our time, and they are awaiting our +arrival.” +</p> +<p> +“And do we move forward to-night, General?” asked I, in some surprise. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and every night. The marches are to be made fourteen hours each day. +There go the Lancers of Berg; you see their scarlet dolmans, don't you? +And yonder, in the three large boats beyond the point, there are the +sappers of the Guard. What are the shouts I hear? Whence comes that +cheering? Oh, I see! it's a vivandière; her horse has backed into the +river. See, see! she is going to swim him over! Look how the current takes +him down! Bravely done, faith! She heads him to the stream; it won't do, +though; she must be carried down.” +</p> +<p> +Just at this critical moment a boat shoots out from under the cliff; a few +strokes of the oars and they are alongside. There's a splash and a shout, +and the skiff moves on. +</p> +<p> +“And now I see they have given her a rope, and are towing her and her +horse across. See how the old spirit comes back with the first blast of +the trumpet,” said the old general, as his eyes flashed with enthusiasm. +“That damsel there,—I 'll warrant ye, she 'd have thought twice +about stepping over a rivulet in the streets of Paris yesterday; and look +at her now! Well done! gallantly done! See how she spurs him up the bank! +<i>Ma foi!</i> Mademoiselle, you 'll have no lack of lovers for that +achievement.” +</p> +<p> +A few minutes more and we entered the town, whose streets were thronged +with soldiers hurrying on to their different corps, and eager townsfolk +asking a hundred questions, to which, of course, few waited to reply. +</p> +<p> +“This way, General,” said an officer in undress, who recognized General +d'Auvergne. “The cavalry of the third division is stationed on the +square.” +</p> +<p> +Driving through a narrow street, through which the <i>calèche</i> had +barely room to pass, we now found ourselves in the Place,—a handsome +space surrounded with a double row of trees, under which the dragoons were +lying, holding the bridles of their horses. +</p> +<p> +The general had scarcely put foot to ground when the trumpets sounded the +call. The superior officers came running forward to greet him. Taking the +arm of a short man in the uniform of the cuirassiers, the general entered +a café near, while I became the centre of some dozen officers, all eagerly +asking the news from Paris, and whether the Emperor had yet left the +capital. It was not without considerable astonishment I then perceived how +totally ignorant they all were of the destination of the army; many +alleging it was designed for Russia, and others equally positive that the +Prussians were the object of attack,—the arguments in support of +each opinion being wonderfully ingenious, and only deficient in one +respect, having not a particle of fact for their foundation. +</p> +<p> +In the midst of these conjecturings came a new subject for discussion; for +one of the group, who had just received a letter from his brother, a page +at the Tuileries, was reading the contents aloud for the benefit of the +rest:— +</p> +<p> +“Jules says that they are all astray as to the Emperor's movements. Duroc +has left Paris suddenly, but no one knows for where; the only thing +certain is, a hot campaign is to open somewhere. One hundred and eighty +thousand men—” +</p> +<p> +“Bah!” said an old, white-mustached major, with a look of evident +unbelief; “we never had forty with the army of the Sambre.” +</p> +<p> +“And what then?” said another, fiercely. “Do you compare your army of the +Sambre, your sans-culottes Republicans, with the Imperial troops?” +</p> +<p> +The old major's face became deeply crimsoned, and with a muttered <i>À +demain</i> he walked away. +</p> +<p> +“Go after him, Amédée,” said another; “you had no right to say that.” +</p> +<p> +“Not I, faith,” said the other, carelessly. “There is a grudge between us +these three weeks past, and we may as well have it out. Go on with the +letter, Henri.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it is filled with Court gossip,” said the reader, negligently. “Ha! +what is this, though?—the postscript:— +</p> +<p> +“'I have just time to tell you the strangest bit of news we have chanced +upon for some time past. The Emperor has this moment married old General +d'Auvergne to the very handsomest girl in the Empress's suite,—Mademoiselle +de Meudon. There is a rumor afloat about the old man having made her his +heir, and desiring to confer her hand on some young fellow of his own +choosing. But this passion to make Court matches, which has seized his +Majesty lately, stops at nothing; and it is whispered that old Madame +d'Orvalle is actually terrified at every levee lest she should be disposed +of to one of the new marshals. I must say that the general looks +considerably put out by the arrangement,—not unnaturally, perhaps, +as he is likely to pass the honeymoon in the field; while his +aide-de-camp, a certain Monsieur Burke, whose name you may remember +figuring in the affair of Pichegru and George—'” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps it were as well, sir,” said I, quietly, “that I should tell you +the person alluded to is myself. I have no desire to learn how your +correspondent speaks of me; nor, I take it for granted, do these gentlemen +desire to canvass me in my own hearing. With your leave, then, I shall +withdraw.” +</p> +<p> +“A word. Monsieur; one word, first,” said the officer, whose insolent +taunt had already offended the veteran major. “We are most of us here +staff-officers, and I need not say accustomed to live pretty much +together. Will you favor us, then, with a little explanation as to the +manner in which you escaped a trial in that business. Your name, if I +mistake not, did not figure before the tribunal after the first day?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir; and then?” +</p> +<p> +“And then? Why, there is one only explanation in such a circumstance.” +</p> +<p> +“And that is? if I may be so bold—” +</p> +<p> +“That the <i>mouchard</i> fares better than his victim.” +</p> +<p> +“I believe, sir,” said I, “I comprehend your meaning; I hope there will be +no fear of your mistaking mine.” +</p> +<p> +With that I drew off the long gauntlet glove I wore, and struck him across +the face. +</p> +<p> +Every man sprang backwards as I did so, as though a shell had fallen in +the midst of us; while a deep voice called out from behind, “Le Capitaine +Amédée Pichot is under arrest.” +</p> +<p> +I turned, and beheld the provost-marshal with his guard approach, and take +my adversary's sword from him. +</p> +<p> +“What charge is this, Marshal?” said he, as a livid color spread over his +cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Your duel of yesterday, Capitaine; you seem to forget all about it +already.” +</p> +<p> +“Whenever and wherever you please, sir,” said I, passing close beside him, +and speaking in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +He nodded without uttering a word in reply, and moved after the guard, +while the others dispersed silently, and left me standing alone in the +Place. +</p> +<p> +What would I not have given at that moment for but one friend to counsel +and advise me; and yet, save the general, to whom I dared not speak on +such a subject, I had not one in the whole world. It was, indeed, but too +true, that life had little value for me; yet never did I contemplate a +duel with more abhorrence. The insult I had inflicted, however, could have +no other result. While I reasoned thus, the door of the café, opened, and +the general appeared. +</p> +<p> +“Burke,” cried he, “come in here, and make a hasty supper; you must be in +the saddle in half an hour.” +</p> +<p> +“Quite ready, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it, my lad. Your orders are there: ride forward to Ettingen, and +prepare the billets for the fourth demi-brigade, which will reach that +village by to-morrow evening; you'll have time for something to eat, and a +glass of wine, before the orderly arrives. This piece of duty is put on +you, because a certain Captain Pichot, the only one of the commissaries' +department who can speak German, has just been put under arrest for a duel +he fought yesterday. I wish the court-marshal would shoot the fellow, with +all my heart and soul; he's a perfect curse to the whole division. In any +case, if he escape this time, I'll keep my eye on him, and he'll scarce +get clear through my hands, I'll warrant him.” +</p> +<p> +It may be supposed that I heard these words with no common emotion, +bearing as they did so closely on my own circumstances at the moment. But +I hung down my head and affected to eat, while the old general walked +hastily up and down the <i>salon</i> muttering half aloud heavy +denunciations on the practice of duelling, which at any cost of life he +resolved to put down in his command. +</p> +<p> +“Done already! Why, man, you've eaten nothing. Well, then, I see the +orderly without; you've got a capital moonlight for your ride. And so, <i>au +revoir</i>.” +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, sir,” said I, as I sprang into the saddle. “And now for +Ettingen.” +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIII. THE MARCH ON THE DANUBE. +</h2> +<p> +There is a strange, unnatural kind of pleasure felt sometimes in the +continued attacks of evil fortune: the dogged courage with which we bear +up against the ills of fate, swimming more strongly as the waves grow +rougher, has its own meed of consolation. It is only at such a time, +perhaps, that the really independent spirit of our natures is in the +ascendant, and that we can stand amid the storm, conscious of our +firmness, and bid the winds “blow and crack their cheeks.” Yet, through +how many sorrows must one have waded, ere he reach this point! through +what trials must he have passed I how must hope have paled, and flickered, +and died out I how must all self-love, all ambition, all desire itself +have withered within us, till we become like the mere rock amid the +breakers, against which the waves beat in vain! When that hour comes, the +heart has grown cold and callous, the affections have dried up, and man +looks no more upon his fellow-men as brothers. +</p> +<p> +Towards this sad condition I found myself rapidly verging; the isolation +of my homeless, friendless state, the death of my hopes, the uncheered +path in which I walked, all conspired to make me feel depressed, and I +perceived that a half-recklessness was already stealing over me, and that +in my indifference as to fortune now lay my greatest consolation. There +was a time when such a rencontre as lately befell me had made me miserable +till the hour came when I should meet my adversary; now, my blood boiled +with no indignant passion, no current of angry vengeance stirred through +my veins, a stupid sullenness was over me, and I cared nothing what might +happen. And if this state became not permanent, I owe it to youth alone—the +mainspring of many of our best endeavors. +</p> +<p> +We had travelled some seven or eight miles when we stopped for a few +seconds at the door of a cabaret, and then I discovered for the first time +that my old friend Pioche was the corporal of our little party. To my +slight reproach for his not having sooner made himself known to me, the +honest fellow replied that he saw I was low in spirits about something, +and did not wish to obtrude upon me. +</p> +<p> +“Not but, after all, mon lieutenant, the best way is always to 'face +front' against bad luck, and charge through; <i>sapermint</i>, that's the +way we did at Marengo, when Desaix's corps was cut off from the left—But +pardon, mon officier, I forgot you were not there.” +</p> +<p> +There was something so pleasant in the gruff courtesy of the hardy +cuirassier, that I willingly led him on to speak of his former life,—a +subject which, once entered on, he followed as fancy or memory suggested. +</p> +<p> +“I used to feel low-spirited myself, once,” said Pioche, as he smoothed +down his great mustache with a complacent motion of his fingers—“I +used to be very low in heart when I entered the service first, and saw all +my old school-fellows and companions winning their epaulettes and becoming +captains and colonels,—ay, <i>parbleu</i>, and marshals, too,—while, +because I could not read, I was to remain all my life in the ranks; as if +one could not force a palisade nor break through a square till he had +stuffed his head with learning. All this made me very sad, and I would sit +brooding over it for hours long. But at last I began to think my own lot +was not the worst after all; my duty was easily done, and, when over, I +could sleep sound till the <i>reveil</i> blew. I ran no danger of being +scolded by the Petit Caporal, because my division was not somewhere +yesterday, nor in some other place to-day. He never came with a frown to +ask me why I had not captured another howitzer and taken more prisoners. +No, faith! It was always,—'Well done, Pioche! bravely done, mon +enfant! here's a piece of twenty francs to drink my health.' Or perhaps +he'd mutter between his teeth, 'That honest fellow there would make a +better general than one half of them.' Not that he was in earnest, you +know; but still it was pleasant just to hear it.” +</p> +<p> +“And yet, Pioche,” said I, “it does surprise me why, seeing that this want +of learning was the bar to your promotion, you did not—” +</p> +<p> +“And so I did, mon lieutenant; at least I tried to learn to read. <i>Morbleu!</i> +it was a weary time for me. I'd rather be under arrest three days a week, +than be at it again. Mademoiselle Minette—she was the vivandiére of +ours—undertook to teach me; and I used to go over to the canteen +every evening after drill. Many a sad heart had I over these same lessons. +Saprelotte, I could learn the look of every man in a brigade before I +could know the letters in the alphabet, they looked so confoundedly alike +when they stood up all in a line. The only fellows I could distinguish +were the big ones, that were probably the sergeants and sous-officiers; +and when my eye was fixed on one column, it would stray away to another; +and then mademoiselle would laugh, and that would lead to something else. +Et, <i>ma foi</i>, the spelling-book was soon thrown aside, and lessons +given up for that evening.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose Mademoiselle Minette was pretty, Pioche?” +</p> +<p> +“Was I ay, and is, too. What! mon lieutenant, did you never see her on +parade? She's the handsomest girl in the army, and rides so well,—mille +cannons! She might have been a great lady before this if she 'd have left +the regiment; but no, she'd die first! Her father was tambour-major with +us, and killed at Groningen when she was only an infant; and we used to +carry her about in our arms on the march, and hand her from one to +another. I have seen her pass from the leading files to the baggage-guard, +on a long summer's day; that I have. Le Petit Caporal knows her well; she +gave him a gourd full of eau-de-vie at Cairo when he was so faint he could +scarcely speak. It was after that he saw her in the breach at Acre; one of +our fellows was lying wounded in the ruins, and mademoiselle waited till +the storming party fell back, and then ran up to him with her flask in her +hand. 'Whose pretty ankles are these? I think I ought to know them,' said +an officer, as she passed along. 'No flattery will do with me, Monsieur,' +cried Minette; 'it's hard enough to get one's living here, without giving +Nantz brandy for nothing.' Saerigtif when the laugh made her turn about, +she saw it was the Petit Caporal himself who spoke to her. Poor Minette! +she blushed scarlet, and nearly dropped with shame; but that did not +prevent her dashing up the breach towards the wounded man; not that it was +of any use, though,—he was dead when she got up.” +</p> +<p> +“I should like much to see mademoiselle. Is she still with the Fourth?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, mon lieutenant; I parted with her a few hours ago.” +</p> +<p> +A half suppressed sigh that followed these words showed that the worthy +corporal was touched on the most tender key of his nature, and for some +time he lapsed into a silence I could not venture to break. At length, +desiring to give the conversation a turn, I asked if he knew the Capitaine +Pichot. +</p> +<p> +“Know him!” cried Pioche, almost bounding in his saddle as he spoke. “That +I do. <i>Peste!</i> I have good reason to know him: see there.” With that +he lifted the curled mustache from his upper lip, and disclosed to my view +a blue scar that marked one side of his mouth. “That was his doing.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed! How so, pray?” +</p> +<p> +“I 'll tell you. We were in garrison at Metz, where, as you know, the +great commissariat station is held,—thousands of cannon and mortars, +shells and shot, and tons of powder without end. Well, the orders were +very strict against smoking; any man found with a pipe in his mouth was +sentenced to a week in the 'salle de police,' and I can't say what else +besides. When we marched into the town, this order stared us in the face; +a great placard, with big letters, which they who could read said was +against smoking. Now, most of us came from Alsace, and it was pretty much +like setting a fish to live on dry land, bidding us go without tobacco. As +for me, I smoke just as I breathe, without knowing or thinking of it. My +pipe lies in my mouth as naturally as my foot rests in the stirrup; and +so, although I intended to obey the order, I knew well the time might come +when, just from not thinking, I should be caught smoking away; for if I +were on guard over a magazine it would be all the same,—I could not +help it. So I resolved, as the only way not to be caught tripping, to +leave all my pipes in a secret place, till the time came for us to leave +Metz,—an hour, I need not say, we all anxiously longed for. This I +did,” continued Pioche, “that same evening, and all went on favorably for +some time, when one night, as I was returning to quarters, the devil, who +meddles with everything in this world, made me stick my hands into the +pocket of my undress jacket, and I there discovered a little bit of a pipe +about the length of one joint of your thumb,—a poor scrubby thing of +clay, sure enough; but there it was, and, worse still, ready filled with +tobacco. Had it been a good sized meerschaum, with a tassel and an amber +mouthpiece, I had resisted like a man; but the temptation came in so +humble a shape, I thought I was only guilty of a small sin in +transgressing, and so I lit my little friend, and went gayly along towards +the barracks. Just as I passed the corner of the market-place I heard a +great noise of voices and laughing in the café, and recognized the tones +of our major and some of the officers, as they sat sipping their wine in +the verandah. Before I could raise my hand to my mouth, Capitaine Pichot +cried out, 'Halte-la!—right about face!—attention!—left +wheel!—eyes front!' This I did, as if on parade, and stood stock +still; when suddenly crack went a noise, and a pistol-bullet smashed the +pipe in two, and grazed my lip, when a roar of laughing followed, as he +called out louder than before, 'Quick march!' and I stepped out to my +quarters, never turning my head right or left, not knowing what other ball +practice might be in store for me. <i>Tonnerre de Dieu!</i> a little +windage of the shot might have cost me every tooth I have in the world!” +</p> +<p> +“It was a cruel jest, Pioche, and you 're a good-humored fellow to take it +so easily.” +</p> +<p> +“Not so. Lieutenant. I had no punishment afterwards, and was well content +to be quit for the fright.” +</p> +<p> +With such stray memories of his campaigning days did Pioche beguile the +way: now moralizing over the chances and changes of a soldier's fortune; +now comforting himself with some pleasant reflection, that even in his own +humble walk he had assisted at some of the greatest triumphs of the French +armies. Of the future he spoke with the easy confidence of one who felt +that in the Emperor's guidance there could be full trust,—both of +the cause being a just one, and the result victorious. A perfect type of +his class, his bravery was only to be equalled by the implicit confidence +he felt in his leader. That the troops of any country, no matter how +numerous and well equipped, could resist a French army was a problem he +could not even entertain. The thing was too absurd; and if Napoleon did +not at that moment wield undisputed sway over the whole of Europe, it was +simply owing to his excess of moderation, and the willing sacrifice of his +ambition to his greater love of liberty. +</p> +<p> +I confess, if I were sometimes tempted to smile at the simplicity of the +honest soldier, I was more often carried away by his warm enthusiasm; so +frequently, too, did he interweave in his narrative the mention of those +great victories, whose fame was unquestionable, that in my assent to the +facts I went a great way in my concurrence with the inferences he deduced +from them. And thus we travelled on for several days in advance of the +division, regulating the halting-places and the billets, according to the +nature and facilities of the country. The towns and villages in our +“route” presented an aspect of the most profound peace; and however +strange it seemed, yet each day attested how completely ignorant the +people were of the advance of that mighty army that now, in four vast +columns of march, was pouring its thousands into the heart of Germany. The +Princes of Baden and Darmstadt, through whose territories we passed, had +not as yet given in their adherence to the Emperor; and the inhabitants of +those countries seemed perplexed and confused at the intentions of their +powerful neighbor, whose immense trains of ammunition and enormous parks +of artillery filled every road and blocked up every village. +</p> +<p> +At length we reached Manheim, where a portion of the corps of Maréchal +Davoust were in waiting to join us: and there we first learned, by the +imperial bulletin, the object of the war and the destination of the +troops. The document was written by Napoleon himself, and bore abundant +evidence of his style. After the usual programme, attesting his sincere +love for peace, and his desire for the cultivation of those happy and +industrious habits which make nations more prosperous than glorious, it +went on to speak of the great coalition between Russia and Austria, which, +in union with the “<i>perfide</i> Albion,” had no other thought nor wish +than the abasement and dismemberment of France. “But, soldiers!” continued +he, “your Emperor is in the midst of you. France itself in all its +majesty, is at your back, and you are but the advanced guard of a mighty +people! There are fatigues and privations, battles, and forced marches, +before you; but let them oppose to us every resistance they are able, we +swear never to cry 'Halt!' till we have planted our eagles on the +territory of our enemies!” +</p> +<p> +We halted two days at Manheim to permit some regiments to come up, and +then marched forward to Nordlingen, which place the Emperor himself had +only quitted the night before. Here the report reached us that a smart +affair had taken place the previous morning between the Austrian division +and a portion of Ney's advanced guard, in which we had rather the worst of +it, and had lost some prisoners. The news excited considerable discontent +among the troops, and increased their impatience to move forward to a very +great degree. Meanwhile, the different divisions of the French army were +converging towards Ulm, from the north, south, and west; and every hour +brought them nearer to that devoted spot, which as yet, in the security of +an enormous garrison, never dreamed of sudden attack. +</p> +<p> +The corps of Soult was now pushed forward to Augsburg, and, extended by a +line of communication to Meiningen, the only channel of communication +which remained open to the enemy. The quartier-général of the Emperor was +established at Zummerhausen; Ney was at Guntzburg: Marmont threatened in +the west; and Bernadotte, arriving by forced marches from Prussia, hovered +in the north.—so that Ulm was invested in every direction at one +blow, and that in a space of time almost inconceivable. +</p> +<p> +While these immense combinations were being effected,—requiring as +they did an enormous extent of circumference to march over before the +fortress could be thus enclosed, as it were, within our grasp,—our +astonishment increased daily that the Austrians delayed to give battle; +but, as if terror-stricken, they waited on day after day while the +measures for their ruin were accomplishing. At length a desperate sortie +was made from the garrison; and a large body of troops, escaping by the +left bank of the Danube, directed their course towards Bohemia; while +another corps, in the opposite direction, forced back Ney's advanced +guard, and took the road towards Nordlingen. Having directed a strong +detachment in pursuit of this latter corps, which was commanded by the +Archduke Frederick himself, the Emperor closed in around Ulm, and forcing +the passage of the river at Elchingen, prepared for the final attack. +</p> +<p> +While these dispositions were being effected, the cavalry brigade, under +General d'Auvergne, consisting of three regiments of heavy dragoons, the +Fourth Cuirassiers, and Eighth Hussars, continued to descend the left bank +of the Danube in pursuit of a part of the Austrian garrison which had +taken that line in retreat towards Vienna. We followed as far as Guntzburg +without coming up with them; and there the news of the capitulation of +Meiningen, with its garrison of six thousand men, to Marechal Soult, +reached us, along with an order to return to Ulm. +</p> +<p> +Up to this time all I had seen of war was forced marches, bivouacs hastily +broken up, hurried movements in advance and retreat, the fatigue of night +parties, and a continual alert. At first the hourly expectation of coming +in sight of the enemy kept up our spirits; but when day after day passed, +and the same pursuit followed, where the pursued never appeared, the +younger soldiers grumbled loudly at fatigues undertaken without object, +and, as it seemed to them, by mistake. +</p> +<p> +On the night of the 17th of October we bivouacked within a league of Ulm. +Scarcely were the pickets formed for the night, when orders came for the +whole brigade to assemble under arms at daybreak. A thousand rumors were +abroad as to the meaning of the order, but none came near the true +solution; indeed, the difficulty was increased by the added command, that +the regiments should appear <i>en grande tenue</i>, or in full dress. +</p> +<p> +I saw that my old commander made a point of keeping me in suspense as to +the morrow, and affected as much as possible an air of indifference on the +subject. He had himself arrived late from Ulm, where he had seen the +Emperor; and amused me by mentioning the surprise of an Austrian +aide-de-camp, who, sent to deliver a letter, found his Majesty sitting +with his boots off, and stretched before a bivouac fire. “Yes,” said +Napoleon, divining at once his astonishment, “it is even so. Your master +wished to remind me of my old trade, and I hope that the imperial purple +has not made me forget its lessons.” +</p> +<p> +By daybreak the next morning our brigade was in the saddle, and in motion +towards the quartier-général,—a gently rising ground, surmounted by +a farmhouse, where the Emperor had fixed his quarters. As we mounted the +hill we came in sight of the whole army drawn up in battle array. They +stood in columns of divisions, with artillery and cavalry between them, +the bands of the various regiments in front. The day was a brilliant one, +and heightened the effect of the scene. Beyond us lay Ulm,—silent as +if untenanted: not a sentinel appeared on the walls; the very flag had +disappeared from the battlements. Our surprise was great at this; but how +was it increased as the rumor fled from mouth to mouth,—“Ulm has +capitulated; thirty-five thousand men have become prisoners of war!” +</p> +<p> +Ere the first moments of wonder had ceased, the staff of the Emperor was +seen passing along the line, and finally taking up its station on the +hill, while the regimental bands burst forth into one crash the most +spirit-stirring and exciting. The proud notes swelled and filled the air, +as the sun, bursting forth with increased brilliancy, tipped every helmet +and banner, and displayed the mighty hosts in all the splendor of their +pageantry. Beneath the hill stretched a vast plain in the direction of +Neuburg; and here we at first supposed it was the Emperor's intention to +review the troops. But a very different scene was destined to pass on that +spot. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly a single gun boom, out; and as the lazy smoke moved heavily along +the earth, the gates of Ulm opened, and the head of an Austrian column +appeared. Not with beat of drum or colors flying did they advance; but +slow in step, with arms reversed, and their heads downcast, they marched +on towards the mound. Defiling beneath this, they moved into the plain, +and, corps by corps, piled their arms and resumed their “route,” the white +line serpentining along the vast plain, and stretching away into the dim +distance. Never was a sight so sad as this! All that war can present of +suffering and bloodshed, all that the battlefield can show of dead and +dying, were nothing to the miserable abasement of those thousands, who +from daybreak till noon poured on their unceasing tide! +</p> +<p> +On the hill beside the Emperor stood several officers in white uniform, +whose sad faces and suffering looks attested the misery of their hearts. +“Better a thousand deaths than such humiliation!” was the muttered cry of +every man about me; while in very sorrow at such a scene, the tears +coursed down the hardy cheeks of many a bronzed soldier, and some turned +away their heads, unable to behold the spectacle. +</p> +<p> +Seventy pieces of cannon, with a long train of ammunition wagons, and four +thousand cavalry horses, brought up the rear of this melancholy +procession,—the spoils of the capitulation of Ulm. Truly, if that +day were, as the imperial bulletin announced it, “one of the most glorious +for France,” it was also the darkest in the history of Austria,—when +thirty-two regiments of infantry and fifteen of cavalry, with artillery +and siege defences of every kind, laid down their arms and surrendered +themselves prisoners. +</p> +<p> +Thus in fifteen days from the passing of the Rhine was the campaign begun +and ended, and the Austrian Empire prostrate at the feet of Napoleon. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIV. THE CANTEEN. +</h2> +<p> +The Emperor returned that night to Elchingen, accompanied by a numerous +staff, among whom was the General d'Auvergne. I remember well the toilsome +ascent of the steep town, which, built on a cliff above the Danube, was +now little better than a heap of ruins, from the assault of Ney's division +two days before. Scrambling our way over fallen houses and massive +fragments of masonry, we reached the square that forms the highest point +of the city; from thence we looked down upon the great plain, with the +majestic Danube winding along for miles. In the valley lay Ulm, now sad +and silent: no watch-fires blazed along its deserted ramparts, and through +its open gates there streamed the idle tide of soldiers and camp +followers, curious to see the place which once they had deemed almost +impregnable. The quartier-général was established here, and the different +staffs disposed of themselves, as well as they were able, throughout the +houses near: most of these, indeed, had been deserted by their +inhabitants, whose dread of the French was a feeling ministered to by +every artifice in the power of the Austrian Government. As for me, I was +but a young campaigner, and might from sheer ignorance have passed my +night in the open air, when by good fortune I caught sight of my old +companion, Pioche, hurrying along a narrow street, carrying a basket well +stored with bottles on his arm. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, mon lieutenant, you here! and not supped yet, I 'd wager a crown?” +</p> +<p> +“You'd win it too, Pioche; nor do I see very great chance of my doing so.” +</p> +<p> +“Come along with me, sir; Mademoiselle Minette has just opened her canteen +in the flower-market. Such it was once, they tell me; but there is little +odor left there now, save such as contract powder gives. But no matter you +'ll have a roast capon and sausages, and some of the Austrian wine; I have +just secured half a dozen bottles here.” +</p> +<p> +I need scarcely say that this was an invitation there was no declining, +and I joined the corporal at once, and hurried on to mademoiselle's +quarters. We had not proceeded far, when the noise of voices speaking and +singing in a loud tone announced that we were approaching the canteen. +</p> +<p> +“You hear them, mon lieutenant!” said Pioche, with a look of delight; “you +hear the rogues. <i>Par Saint Jaaques</i>, they know where to make +themselves merry. Good wine for drinking, lodging for nothing, fire for +the trouble of lighting it, are brave inducements to enjoy life.” +</p> +<p> +“But it 's a canteen; surely mademoiselle is paid?” +</p> +<p> +“Not the first night of a campaign, I suppose,” said he, with a voice of +rebuke. “<i>Parbleu</i>! that would be a pretty affair! No, no; each man +brings what he can find, drinks what he is able, and leaves the rest; +which, after all, is a very fair stock-in-trade to begin with. And so now, +mon lieutenant, to commence operations regularly, just sling this ham on +your sabre over your shoulder, and take this turkey carelessly in your +hand,—that 's it. Here we are; follow me.” +</p> +<p> +Passing through an arched gateway, we entered a little courtyard where +several horses were picketed, the ground about them being strewn with +straw knee-deep; cavalry saddles, holsters, and sheepskins lay confusedly +on every side, along with sabres and carbines; a great lamp, detached from +its position over the street entrance, was suspended from a lance out of a +window, and threw its light over the scene. Stepping cautiously through +this chaotic heap, we reached a glass door, from within which the riotous +sounds were most audibly issuing. Pioche pushed it open, and we entered a +large room, full fifty feet in length, at one end of which, under a +species of canopy, formed by two old regimental colors, sat Mademoiselle +Minette,—for so I guessed to be a very pretty brunette, with a most +decidedly Parisian look about her air and toilette; a table, covered with +a snow-white napkin, was in front of her, on which lay a large bouquet and +an open book, in which she appeared to be writing as we came in. The room +on either side was filled by small tables, around which sat parties +drinking, card-playing, singing or quarrelling as it might be, with a +degree of energy and vociferation only campaigning can give an idea of. +</p> +<p> +The first thing which surprised me was, that all ranks in the service +seemed confusedly mixed up together, there being no distinction of class +whatever; captains and corporals, sergeants, lieutenants, colonels, and +tambourmajors, were inextricably commingled, hobnobbing, handshaking, and +even kissing in turn, that most fraternal and familiar “tu” of dearest +friendship being heard on every side. +</p> +<p> +Resisting a hundred invitations to join some party or other as he passed +up the room, Pioche led me forward towards Mademoiselle Minette, to +present me in due form ere I took my place. +</p> +<p> +The honest corporal, who would have charged a square without blinking, +seemed actually to tremble as he came near the pretty vivandiére; and +when, with a roguish twinkle of her dark eye, and a half smile on her +saucy lip, she said, “Ah, c'est toi, gros Pioche?” the poor fellow could +only mutter a “Oui, Mademoiselle,” in a voice scarce loud enough to be +heard. +</p> +<p> +“And monsieur,” said she, “whom I have the honor to see?” +</p> +<p> +“Is my lieutenant. Mademoiselle; or he is aide-de-camp of my general, +which comes to the same thing.” +</p> +<p> +With a few words of gracious civility, well and neatly expressed +mademoiselle welcomed me to the canteen, which, she said, had often been +graced by the presence of General d'Auvergne himself. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, by Saint Denis!” cried Pioche, with energy; “Prince Murat, and +Maréchal Davoust, too, have been here.” +</p> +<p> +Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added something that called a faint +blush to mademoiselle's cheek as she replied, “You think so, do you?” +Then, turning to me, asked if I were not disposed to sup. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, that he is,” interrupted Pioche; “and here is the materiel;”—with +which he displayed his pannier of bottles, and pointed to the spoils +which, following his directions, I carried in my hands. +</p> +<p> +The corporal having despatched the fowls to the kitchen, proceeded to +arrange a little table at a short distance from where mademoiselle sat,—an +arrangement, I could perceive, which called forth some rather angry looks +from those around the room, and I could overhear more than one muttered +Sacre! as to the ambitious pretensions of the “gros Pioche.” +</p> +<p> +He himself paid little if any attention to these signs of discontent, but +seemed wholly occupied in perfecting the table arrangements, which he did +with the skill and despatch of a tavern waiter. +</p> +<p> +“Here, mon lieutenant, this is your place,” said he, with a bow, as he +placed a chair for me at the head of the board; and then, with a polite +obeisance to the lady, he added, “Avec permission, Mademoiselle,” and took +his own seat at the side. +</p> +<p> +A very appetizing dish made its appearance at this moment; and +notwithstanding my curiosity to watch the proceedings of the party, and my +admiration for mademoiselle herself, hunger carried the day, and I was +soon too deeply engaged in the discussion of my supper to pay much +attention to aught else. It was just then that, forgetting where I was, +and unmindful that I was not enjoying the regular fare of an inn, I called +out, as if to the waiter, for “bread.” A roar of laughter ran through the +room at my mistake, when a dark-whiskered little fellow, in an undress +frock, stuck his small sword into a loaf, and handed it to me from the +table where he sat. +</p> +<p> +There was something in the act which rather puzzled me, and might have +continued longer to do so, had not Pioche whispered me in a low voice, +“Take it, take it.” +</p> +<p> +I reached out my hand for the purpose, when, just as I had caught the +loaf, with a slight motion of his wrist he disengaged the point of the +weapon, and gave me a scratch on the back of my hand. The gesture I made +called forth a renewed peal of laughing; and I now perceived, from the +little man's triumphant look at his companions, that the whole thing was +intended as an insult. Resolving, however, to go quietly in the matter, I +held out my hand when it was still bleeding, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“You perceive, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, an accident, <i>morbleu!</i>, said he, with a careless shrug of his +shoulders, and a half leer of impertinent indifference. +</p> +<p> +“So is this also,” replied I, as, springing up, I seized the sword he was +returning to its scabbard, and smashed the blade across my knee. +</p> +<p> +“Well done, well done!” cried twenty voices in a breath; while the whole +room rose in a confused manlier to take one side or other in the contest, +several crowding around the little man, whose voice had suddenly lost its +tone of easy impertinence, and was now heard swearing away, with the most +guttural intonation. +</p> +<p> +“What kind of swordsman are you?” whispered Pioche, in my ear. +</p> +<p> +“Sufficiently expert to care little for an enemy of his caliber.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, you don't know that,” replied he; “it's François, the maïtre d'armes +of the Fourth.” +</p> +<p> +“You must not fight him, Monsieur,” said mademoiselle, as she laid her +hand on mine, and looked up into my face with a most expressive glance. +</p> +<p> +“They are waiting for you without, mon lieutenant,” said an old +sergeant-major, touching his cap as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Come along,” said Pioche, with a deeply-muttered oath; “and, by the blood +of Saint Louis, it shall be the last time Maitre Francois shows his skill +in fence, if I cost them the fire of a platoon to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +I was hurried along by the crowd to the court, a hundred different +advisers whispering their various counsels in my ears as I went. +</p> +<p> +“Take care of his lunge in tierce,—mind that,” cried one. +</p> +<p> +“Push him outside the arm,—outside, remember; take my advice, young +man,” said an old sous-officier,—“close on him at once, take his +point where he gives it, and make sure of your own weapon.” +</p> +<p> +“No bad plan either,” cried two or three. “Monsieur Auguste is right; +Francois can't bear the cold steel, and if he sees it close, he loses his +head altogether.” +</p> +<p> +The courtyard was already cleared for action; the horses picketed in one +corner, the straw removed, and a blaze of light from all the lamps and +candles of the supper-room showed the ground as clearly as at noonday. +While my antagonist was taking off his coat and vest,—an operation I +did not choose to imitate,—I took a rapid survey of the scene, and +notwithstanding the rush of advisers around me, was sufficiently collected +to decide on my mode of acting. +</p> +<p> +“Come, mon lieutenant, off with your frock,” said an officer at my side; +“even if you don't care for the advantage of a free sword-arm, those +fellows yonder won't believe it all fair, if you do not strip.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, take it off,” said a fellow in the crowd, “your fine epaulettes +may as well escape tarnishing; and that new coat, too, will be all the +better without a hole in it.” +</p> +<p> +I hastily threw off my coat and waistcoat, when the crowd fell back, and +the maitre d'armes advancing into the open space with a light and nimble +step, cried out, “En garde, Monsieur!” I stood my ground, and crossed my +sword with his. +</p> +<p> +For a few seconds I contented myself with merely observing my adversary, +who handled his weapon not only with all the skill of an accomplished +swordsman, but with a dexterity that showed me he was playing off his art +before his companions. +</p> +<p> +As if to measure his distance, he made two or three slight passes over the +guard of my sword, and then grating his blade against mine with that +peculiar motion which bodes attack, he fixed his eyes on mine, to draw off +my attention from his intended thrust. The quickness and facility with +which his weapon changed from side to side of mine, the easy motion of his +wrist, and the rigid firm ness of his arm, all showed me I was no match +for him,—although one of the best of my day at the military school,—and +I did not venture to proceed beyond mere defence. He saw this, and by many +a trick endeavored to induce an attack,—now dropping his point +carelessly, to address a monosyllable to a friend near; now throwing open +his guard, as if from negligence. +</p> +<p> +At length, as if tired with waiting, he called out, “<i>Que cela finisse!</i>” +and rushed in on me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/487.jpg" alt="Tom Masters the 'maitre D'armes' " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +The rapidity of the assault, for a second or so, completely overcame me; +and though I defended myself mechanically, I could neither follow his +weapon with my eye nor anticipate his intended thrust. Twice his point +touched my sword-arm above the wrist, and by a slight wound there, saved +my lungs from being pierced. At last, after a desperate rally, in which he +broke in on my guard, he made a fearful lunge at my chest. I bent forward, +and received his blade in the muscles of my back, when, with a wheel +round, I smashed the sword in me, and buried my own up to the hilt in his +body. He fell bathed in blood; and I, staggering backwards, was caught in +Pioche's arms at the moment when all consciousness was fast leaving me. +</p> +<p> +A few minutes after I came to myself, and found that I was lying on a heap +of straw in the yard, while two regimental surgeons were most +industriously engaged in trying to stop the hemorrhage of my wounds. +</p> +<p> +With little interest in my own fate, I could not help feeling anxious +about my antagonist. They shook their heads mournfully in reply to my +question, and desired me to be as calm as possible, for my life hung on a +very thread. The dressing completed, I was carried into the house, and +laid on a bed in a small, neat-looking chamber, which I heard, as they +carried me along, mademoiselle had kindly placed at my disposal. She +herself assisted to place the pillow beneath my head, and then with +noiseless gesture closed the curtains of the window, and took her seat at +the bedside. +</p> +<p> +The moment the others had left the room, I turned to ask for' the maitre +d'armes. But she could only say that his companions of the Fourth had +carried him away to the ambulance, refusing all offers of aid except from +the surgeons of their own corps. +</p> +<p> +“They say,” added she, with a naïve simplicity, “that François is not made +like other folk, and that the only doctors who understand him are in the +Fourth Regiment. However that may be, it will puzzle them sadly this time; +you have given him his <i>coup de congé</i>.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope not, sincerely,” said I, with a shudder. +</p> +<p> +“And why not?” cried mademoiselle, in astonishment. “Is it not a good +service you render to the whole brigade? Would not the division be all the +happier if such as he, and Pichot, and the rest of them—” +</p> +<p> +“Pichot,—Amédée Pichot?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Amédée Pichot, to be sure. But what's that knocking outside? Ah, +there 's Pioche at the window!” +</p> +<p> +Mademoiselle arose and walked towards the door; but before she reached it, +it was opened, and General d'Auvergne entered the room. +</p> +<p> +“Is he here?” asked he, in a low voice. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, General,” said mademoiselle, with a courtesy, as she placed the +chair for him to sit down. “He is much better. I 'll wait outside till you +want me,” added she, as she left the room and closed the door. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come, my boy,” said the kind old man, as he took my hand in his, +“don't give way thus. I have made many inquiries about this affair, and +they all tend to exculpate you. This fellow François is the <i>mauvaise +tete</i> of the regiment, and I only wish his chastisement had come from +some other hand than yours.” +</p> +<p> +“Will he live. General?” asked I, with a smothering fulness in my throat +as I uttered the words. +</p> +<p> +“Not if he be mortal, I believe. The sword pierced his chest from side to +side.” +</p> +<p> +I groaned heavily as I heard these words; and burying my head beneath the +clothes, became absorbed in my grief. What would I not have endured then +of insult and contumely, rather than suffer the terrible load upon my +conscience of a fellow-creature's blood, shed in passion and revenge! How +willingly would I have accepted the most despised position among men to be +void of this crime! +</p> +<p> +“It matters not,” cried I, in my despair—“it matters not how I guide +my path, misfortunes beset me at every turn of the way—” +</p> +<p> +“Speak not thus,” said the general, sternly. “The career you have embarked +in is a stormy and a rough one. Other men have fared worse than you have +in it,—and without repining too. You knew of one such yourself, who +in all the saddest bereavements of his hopes cherished a soldier's heart +and a soldier's courage.” +</p> +<p> +The allusion to my poor friend, Charles de Meudon, brought the tears to my +eyes, and I felt that all my sufferings were little compared with his. +</p> +<p> +“Let your first care be to get well as soon as you can: happily your name +may escape the Emperor's notice in this affair by appearing in the list of +wounded; our friend the maitre d'armes is not likely to discover on you. +The campaign is begun, however, and you must try to take your share of it. +The Emperor's staff starts for Munich to-morrow. I must accompany them; +but I leave you in good hands here, and this detachment will occupy +Elchingen at least ten days longer.” +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had the general left me when mademoiselle re-entered the room. +</p> +<p> +“So Monsieur,” said she, smiling archly, “you have been left in my care, +it seems. Morbleu! it's well the vivandiére of the regiment is not a +prude, or I should scarcely know how to act. Well, well, one can only do +one's best. And now, shall I read for you, or shall I leave you quiet for +an hour or two?” +</p> +<p> +“Just so; leave him alone for a little while,” said a gruff voice from the +end of the bed, at the same time that the huge beard and red mustache of +Pioche appeared peeping above the curtain. +</p> +<p> +“Is he not stupid, that great animal of a cuirassier?” said mademoiselle, +starting at the voice so unexpectedly heard. “I say, mon caporal, right +face,—march. Do you hear, sir? You 've got the feuille de route; +what do you stay for?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Mademoiselle!” said the poor fellow, as he smoothed down his hair on +his forehead, and looked the very impersonation of sheepish admiration. +</p> +<p> +“Well?” replied she, as if not understanding his appeal to her feelings—“well?” +</p> +<p> +A look of total embarrassment, an expression of complete bewilderment, was +his only reply; while his eyes wandered round the room till they met mine; +and then, as if suddenly conscious that a third party was present, he +blushed deeply, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“Too true, mon lieutenant; she does with me what she will.” +</p> +<p> +“Don't believe him. Monsieur,” interposed she, quickly. “I told him to get +knocked on the head a dozen times, and he 's never done so.” +</p> +<p> +“I would though, and right soon too, if you were only in earnest,” said +he, with a vehemence that bespoke the truth of the assertion. +</p> +<p> +“There, there,” said she, with a smile, as she held out her hand to him; +“we are friends.” +</p> +<p> +The poor fellow pressed it to his lips with the respectful devotion of a +Bayard; and with a muttered “This evening,” left the room. +</p> +<p> +“It is no small triumph, Mademoiselle,” said I, “that you have inspired +such a passion in the hardy breast of the cuirassier.” +</p> +<p> +A saucy shake of the head, as though she did not like the compliment, was +the only reply. She bent her head down over her work, and seemed absorbed +in its details; while I, reverting to my own cares, became silent also. +</p> +<p> +“And so, Monsieur,” said she, after a long pause—“and so you deem +this conquest of mine a very wonderful thing?” +</p> +<p> +“You mistake me,” said I, eagerly,—“you mistake me much. My surprise +was rather that one like Pioche, good-hearted, simple fellow as he is, +should possess the refinement of feeling—” +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/Minnet_and_Pioche.jpg" alt="Minnet_and_pioche " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“A clever flank movement of yours. Lieutenant,” interposed she, with a +pleasant laugh; “and I'll not attack you again. And, after all, I am a +little proud of my conquest.” +</p> +<p> +“The confession is a flattering one, from one who doubtless has had a +great many to boast of.” +</p> +<p> +“A great many, indeed!” replied she, naïvely; “so many, that I can't +reckon them,—not to boast of, however, as you term it. <i>Par bleu!</i> +some of them had little of that—But here comes the doctor, and I +must not let him see us talking. <i>Ma foi</i>, they little think when +their backs are turned how seldom we mind their directions!” +</p> +<p> +The surgeon's visit was a matter of a few seconds; he contented himself +with feeling my pulse and reiterating his advice as to quiet. +</p> +<p> +“You have got the best nurse in the army. Monsieur,” said he, as he took +his leave. “I have only one caution to give you,—take care if an +affection of the heart be not a worse affair than a thrust of a small +sword. I have known such a termination of an illness before now.” +</p> +<p> +Mademoiselle made no reply save an arch look of half anger, and left the +room; and I, wearied and exhausted, sank into a heavy slumber. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLV. THE “VIVANDIÈRE OF THE FOURTH” +</h2> +<p> +Von three entire weeks my wound confined me to the limits of mY chamber; +and Yet, were it not for my impatience to be up and stirring, mY life was +not devoid of happiness. +</p> +<p> +Every movement of the army, in its most minute detail, was daily reported +to me by Mademoiselle Minette. The bulletins of the Emperor, the +promotions, the <i>on dits</i> of the bivouac and the march, brought by +the various battalions, as they moved on towards the east, were all +related by her with such knowledge of military phrase and soldiers' style +as to amuse me, equally by her manner as by what she told. +</p> +<p> +The cuirassiers marched soon after I received my wound, and though +attached to the corps, she remained behind at Elchingen, having pledged +herself, as she said, to the general, to restore me safe and sound before +she left me. The little window beside my bed offered a widely-extended +view over the great plain beneath; and there I have sat the entire day, +watching the columns of cavalry and infantry as they poured along, +seemingly without ceasing, towards the Lower Danube. Sometimes the faint +sounds of the soldiers' songs would reach me,—the rude chorus of a +regiment timing their step to some warrior's chant,—and set my heart +a beating to be with them once more; sometimes my eye would rest upon the +slow train of wagons, surmounted with a white flag, that wound their way +heavily in the rear, and my spirit sank as I thought over the poor wounded +fellows that were thus borne onward with the tide of war, as the crushed +serpent trails his wounded folds behind him. +</p> +<p> +Mademoiselle seldom left me. Seated at her work, often for hours without +speaking, she would follow the train of her own thoughts, and when by +chance she gave a passing glance through the window at the scene beneath, +some single word would escape her as to the regiments or their officers, +few of which were unknown to her, at least by reputation. +</p> +<p> +I could not but mark, that within the last twelve or fourteen days she +seemed more sad and depressed than before; the lively gayety of her +character had given place to a meek and suffering melancholy, which I +could not help attributing to the circumstances in which she was placed, +away from all her ordinary pursuits and the companions of her daily life. +I hinted as much one day, and was about to insist on her leaving me, when +she suddenly interrupted me, saying,— +</p> +<p> +“It is all true. I am sad, and know not why, for I never felt happier; +yet, if you wished me to be gay as I used to be, I could not for the +world. It is not because I am far from those I have learned to look on as +my brothers; not so, my changeful fortune has often placed me thus. +Perhaps it's your fault, mon lieutenant,” said she, suddenly, turning her +eyes full upon me. +</p> +<p> +“Mine, Minette,—mine!” said I, in amazement. +</p> +<p> +She blushed deeply, and held down her head, while her bosom heaved several +times convulsively; and then, while a deathly paleness spread over her +cheek, she said, in a low, broken voice,— +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps it is because I am an orphan, and never knew what it was to have +those whose dispositions I should imitate, and whose tastes I should +study; but somehow I feel even as though I could not help becoming like +those I am near to,—following them, ay, and outstripping them, in +all their likings and dislikings.” +</p> +<p> +“And so, as you seem sad and sorrowful, it is more than probable that you +took the color of my thoughts. I should feel sorry, Minette, to think it +were thus; I should ill repay all your kindness to me. I must try and wear +a happier countenance.” +</p> +<p> +“Do so, and mine will soon reflect it,” said she, laughing. “But, perhaps, +you have cause for sorrow,” added she, as she stole a glance at me beneath +her eyelashes. +</p> +<p> +“You know, Minette, that I am an orphan like yourself,” said I, half +evading the question. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” cried she, passionately, “if I had been a man, I should like to be +such a one as Murat there. See how his black eyes sparkle, and his proud +lip curls, when the roll of artillery or the clattering of a platoon is +heard! how his whole soul is in the fight! I remember once—it was at +the Iser—his brigade was stationed beneath the hill, and had no +orders to move forward for several hours. He used to get off his horse and +walk about, and endeavor, by pushing the smoke away, thus, with his hand, +and almost kneeling to the ground, to catch a view of the battle; and then +he would spring into the saddle, and for sheer passion dash the spurs into +his horse's flank, till he reared and plunged again. I watched him thus +for hours. I loved to look on him, chafing and fretting like his own +mettled charger, he was so handsome! 'A drink, Minette! Something to cool +my lips, for Heaven's sake,' said he, at last, as he saw me standing near +him. I filled the little cup you see here with wine, and handed it to him. +Scarcely had he raised it to his lips, when an aide-decamp galloped up, +and whispered some words in haste. +</p> +<p> +“'Ha, ha!' cried he, with a shout of joy; 'they want us, then! The +squadrons will advance by sections, and charge!—charge!' And with +that he flung the goblet from him to the ground; and when I took it up I +found that with the grasp of his strong fingers he had crushed it nearly +together: see here! I never would let it be changed; it is just as at the +time he clasped it, and I kept it as a souvenir of the prince.” +</p> +<p> +She took from a little shelf the cup, as she spoke, and held it up before +me with the devoted admiration with which some worshipper would regard a +holy relic. +</p> +<p> +“And that,” said Minette, as she pressed to her lips a faded cockade, +whose time-worn tints still showed the tricolored emblems of the Republic—“that +do I value above the cross of the Legion itself.” +</p> +<p> +“Whose was it, Minette? Some brave soldier's, I'm sure.” +</p> +<p> +“And you may be sure. That was the cockade of Le Premier Grenadier de la +France,—La Tour d'Auvergne, the cousin of your own general.” +</p> +<p> +Seeing that I had not heard before of him, she paused for a few seconds in +amazement, and then muttered, “A brave school to train the youth of France +it must be where the name of La Tour d' Auvergne was never mentioned!” +</p> +<p> +Having thus vented her indignation, she proceeded to tell me of her hero, +who, though descended from one of the most distinguished families of +France, yet persisted in carrying his musket in the ranks of the +Republican army, never attaining to a higher grade, nor known by any other +title than the “Premier Grenadier de la France.” Foremost in every post of +danger, the volunteer at every emergency of more than ordinary peril, he +refused every proffer of advancement, and lived among his comrades the +simple life of a soldier. +</p> +<p> +“He fell at Neuburg,” said mademoiselle, “scarce a day's march from here; +they buried him on the field, and placed him dead, as he had been ever +while living, with his face towards the enemy. And you never heard of him? +<i>Juste Ciel!</i> it is almost incredible. You never brigaded with the +Forty-fifth of the line; that 's certain.” +</p> +<p> +“And why so?” +</p> +<p> +“Because they call his name at every parade muster as though he were still +alive and well. The first man called is La Tour d' Auvergne, and the first +soldier answers, 'Mort sur le champ de bataille.' That 's a prouder +monument than your statues and tombstones—is it not?” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed it is,” said I, to whom the anecdote was then new, though I +afterwards lived to hear it corroborated in every respect. +</p> +<p> +With many such traits of the service did mademoiselle beguile the time,—now +telling of the pleasant life of the cantonment; now of the wild scenes of +the battlefield. Young as she was, she had seen much of both, and learned +around the bivouac fires the old traditions of the Revolutionary armies, +and the brave deeds of the first veterans of France. In such narratives, +too, her own enthusiastic nature burst forth in all its vehemence: her +eyes would sparkle, and her words come rapidly, as she described some +fierce attack or headlong charge; and it was impossible to listen without +catching up a portion of her ardor, so wrapped up did she herself become +in the excitement of her story. +</p> +<p> +Thus one evening, while describing the passage of the Adige, after +detailing most circumstantially the position and strength of the attacking +columns, and describing how each successive advance was repulsed by the +murderous fire of the artillery, she proceeded to relate the plan of a +flank movement, effected by some light infantry regiment thrown across the +river a considerable distance up the stream. +</p> +<p> +“We came along,” said she, “under the shade of some willows, and at last +reached the ford. The leading companies halted; two officers sounded the +river, and found that it was passable. I was close by at the time. It was +the Colonel Lajolais who commanded the brigade, and he asked me for a +goutte. +</p> +<p> +“'It may be the last you 'll ever give me, Minette,' said he; 'I don't +expect to see you again.' +</p> +<p> +“'Are you going to remain at this side, Colonel?' said I. +</p> +<p> +“'No, <i>parbleu!</i>' said he, 'not when the Twenty-second cross to the +other.' +</p> +<p> +“'Neither am I, then,' said I; 'my place is with the head of the +battalion.' +</p> +<p> +“Well, well; they all pressed me to stay back; they said a thousand kind +things too. But that only decided me the more to go on; and as the signal +rocket was fired, the word was given, and on we went. For the first eight +or ten paces it was mere wading; but suddenly a grenadier in the front +called out, <i>Gare!</i> lift your muskets; it's deep here.' And so it +was. With one plunge down I went; but they seized me by the arms and +carried me along, and some way or other we reached the bank. <i>Morbleu!</i> +I felt half drowned. But there was little time to think over these things, +for scarcely had the column formed when the cry of 'Cavalry!' was given, +and down came the lancers with a swoop. But we were all ready. The flank +companies fell back, and formed in square, and a tremendous volley sent +them off faster than they came. +</p> +<p> +“'Now, then, push forward double quick!' said the old colonel; 'the <i>pas +de charge!</i>, Alas! the poor little drummer was lying dead at his feet. +The thought suddenly seized me; I sprang forward, unstrung his drum, threw +the strap over my shoulder, and beat the <i>pas de charge</i>! A cheer ran +along the whole battalion, and on we went. <i>Mort de ceil!</i> I was +never so near the fire before. There was the enemy, scarce two hundred +yards off,—two great columns, with artillery between,—waiting +for us. 'Keep her back! keep back, Minette, <i>brave fille!</i>' I heard +no more; a shot came whizzing past, and struck me here.” +</p> +<p> +She pulled down her dress as she spoke, and disclosed the scar of a +bullet's track on her white shoulder; then, as if suddenly recollecting, +she blushed deeply, drew her kerchief closely around her, and muttered in +a low voice,— +</p> +<p> +“<i>Ma foi</i>, how these things make one forget to be a woman!” And with +that she hung down her head, and despite all I could say would not utter +another word. +</p> +<p> +Such was the vivandière of the Fourth: blending in her character the +woman's weakness and the soldier's ardor; the delicacy of feeling, which +not even the life of camps and bivouacs could eradicate, with the wild +enthusiasm for glory,—the passion of her nation. It needed not her +dark eyes, shaded with their long black fringe; her oval face, whose +freckles but displayed the transparent skin beneath; her graceful figure +and her elastic step,—to make her an object of attraction in the +regiment. Nor could I be surprised to learn, as I did, how many a high +offer of marriage had been made to her by those soldiers of fortune whose +gallantry and daring had won them honors in the service. +</p> +<p> +To value at their real price such attractions, one should meet them far +away, and remote from the ordinary habits of the world: in the wild, +reckless career of the camp; on the long march; beside the weary +watchfire; ay, on the very field of battle,—amid the din, the +clamor, and the smoke,—the cheers, the cries of carnage. Then, +indeed, such an apparition had something magical in it. To see that tender +girl tripping along fearlessly from rank to rank as though she had a +charmed life, now saluting with her hand some brave soldier as he rode by +to the charge, now stooping beside the wounded, and holding to his +bloodless lips the longed-for cup; to watch her as she rode gracefully at +the head of the regiment, or lay beside the fire of the bivouac, relating +with a woman's grace some story of the campaign, while the gray-bearded +veteran and the raw youth hung on each word, and wondered how the scenes +in which they mingled and acted could bear such interest when told by rosy +lips,—who would wonder if she had many lovers? Who would not rather +be surprised at those who remained coldly indifferent to such charms as +hers? +</p> +<p> +Let my confession, then, excite neither astonishment nor suspicion, when I +acknowledge, that in such companionship the days slipped rapidly over. I +never wearied of hearing her tell of the scenes she had witnessed, nor did +she of recounting them; and although a sense of reproach used now and then +to cross me for the life of inactivity and indolence I was leading. +Mademoiselle Minette promised me many a brave opportunity of distinction +to come, and campaigns of as great glory as even those of Italy and Egypt. +</p> +<p> +END OF VOL. I. <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Burke Of “Ours”, Volume I (of II), by +Charles James Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM BURKE OF “OURS”, VOLUME *** + +***** This file should be named 31901-h.htm or 31901-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/9/0/31901/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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