#-^
is) yol^t
rf^P
MARSTON;
OR, THE
SOLDIER AND STATESMAN.
VOL. II.
LON DON :
GILBERT & RIVINGTON, PRINTERS,
ST. John's square.
MARSTON:
OE, THE
SOLDIER AND STATESMAN.
REV. GEORGE CROLY, LL.D.
AUTHOR OF " SALATHIEL," &C. &C.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
SECOND EDITION.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1847.
MAESTON,
MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN.
CHAPTER XVI.
" The tent of Alp was on the shore,
The sound was hushed, the prayei' was o'er,
The watch was set, the night-round made,
All mandates, issued and obeyed.
Few hours remain, and he hath need
Of rest, to nerve for many a deed
Of slaughter ; but within his soul.
His thoughts, like troubled waters roll."
BVRON.
The news which I had brought, of the positions
of the armies, rendered me an object of marked inte-
rest. I was questioned on every point — first, and
especially, on the intentions of the commander-in-
chief, with the most anxious yet most polished mi-
nuteness. But, as on this subject my lips were
comparatively sealed, the state of the troops with
whom they were so soon to be brought into contact,
became the more manageable topic. On mentioning
VOL. II. B
O MARSTON.
that Dumourier was placed in command, I received
free and full communications on the subject of his
qualities, as the last hope of revolutionary France.
One had known him in his early career in the engi-
neers ; another had served with him in Corsica ; a
third had met him at the court of Portugal ; the con-
curring testimony being, that he was a coxcomb of
the first water, showy but superficial, and, though
personally brave, sure to be bewildered, when he
found himself for the first time working the wheels
and springs of that puzzling machine, an army in the
field. But, a caustic old Provencal marquis, with
his breast glittering with the stars of a whole constel-
lation of knighthood, yet who sat with the cross-belts
and cartouche-box of the rank and file upon him ;
agreeing with all the premises, stoutly denied the
conclusions. "He is a coxcomb, I own ;" said the
old Marquis. " But then, he is only the fitter to
command an army of upstarts. — He has seen nothing
but Corsican service ; well, he is the fitter to com-
mand an army of banditti — he has been an espion in
Portugal ; and what better training could he have,
for heading an army of traitors ? — Rely upon it, gen-
tlemen, that you have mistaken his character, if you
think that he is not the very man whom the mob of
Paris ought to have chosen for their general. — I
only recommend, that when you go into action,
you should leave your watches in camp ; and, if you
charge any of his battalions, look well to your
purses,"
The old soldier's sally restored our good humour; but
the man best acquainted with the French commander-
MARSTON. 3
in-chlefj was my friend the chevalier at the head of the
table. " It has singularly enough," said he, "happened
to me, to have met M. Dumourier in almost every
scene of his life. Our first meeting was, in the
mihtary hospital in Toulouse; where he had been sent,
like myself, to recover from the wounds of our last
German campaign. He was then a coxcomb, but a
clever one, full of animal spirits, and intoxicated with
the various honours, of having survived the German
bullets, of being appointed to a company, and of
wearing a croix. — Our next meeting was in Portugal.
Our minister had adopted some romantic idea of
shaking the English influence there ; and Dumourier
had been sent as an engineer, to reconnoitre the de-
fences of the country. The word espion was not wholly
applicable to his mission, although there can be no
doubt that the memoir which he brought back with
him, was not a volume of travels. — His services recom-
mended him to the Government, and he was sent to
Corsica. There again I met him, as my regiment
formed part of the force in the island. He was now
high on the staff, our intercourse was renewed, and
he was regarded as a very expert diplomatist. — A
few years after, I found him in a still higher situa-
tion, a favourite of De Choiseul, and managing the
affairs of the Polish confederation. — On his return to
Paris, such was the credit in which he stood, that he
was placed by the minister of war at the head of a
commission to reform the military code ; thus he has
been always distinguished ; and has at least enjoyed
experience."
Even this slight approach to praise was evidently
b3
4 MARSTON.
unpopular among the circle, and I could hear mur-
murs.
" Distinguished ! — yes, but more with the pen than
the sword."
" Diplomacy ! — the business of a clerk. — Com-
mand is another affair."
'' Mon cher Chevalier," said the old Marquis, with
a laugh, " pray, after being in so many places with
him, were you ever with him in the Bastile ?" This
was followed with a roar of merriment.
I saw my friend's swarthy cheek burn. He started
up, and was about to make some fierce retort ; when
a fine old man, a general, with as many orders as the
marquis, and a still whiter head, averted the storm,
by saying, "Whether the chevalier was with M.
Dumourier in that predicament, I know not ; but I
can say, that /was. — I w^as sent there for the high of-
fence of kicking a page of the court down the grande
escalier at Versailles for impertinence ; at the same
time when M. Dumourier was sent there by Lettre de
Cachet, for knowing more than the minister. — I as-
sm'e you, I found him a most agreeable personage ;
very gay, very witty, and very much determined to
pass his time in the pleasantest manner imaginable.
— But our companionship was too brief for a perfect
union of soids," said he, laughing ; " for I was libe-
rated within a week, while he was left behind for, I
think, the better part of a year."
" But his talents?" was the question down the table.
" Gentlemen," said the old man, " my experience
in life lias always made me judge of talents, by cir-
cumstances. — If, for example, I find that a man has
MARSTON. 5
the talent exactly fitted for his position, I give him
credit for all — he had the talent for making the
Bastile endm-able, and I required no other. — But
there were times when graver topics varied our plea-
santry, and he exhibited very various intelligence, a
practical experience of the chief European courts, and,
I am sorry to say, a very striking contempt for their
politics and their politicians alike. — He was espe-
cially indignant at the selfish perfidy with which the
late king had given him up to the ignorant jealousy
of the minister, and looked forward to the new reign,
with a resolute, and sometimes a gloomy, determina-
tion to be revenged. — If that man is a republican, it
is the Bastile that has made him one ; and if he ever
shall have a fair opportunity of displaying his genius ;
unless a cannon-ball stops his career ; I should con-
ceive him capable of producing a powerful impres-
sion in Europe."
The conversation might again have become
stormy, but for the entrance of a patrol, for whom a
vacant space at the table had been left. Forty or
fifty fine, tall fellows now came, laughing, into the
room, flinging down shakos, knapsacks, and sabres,
and fully prepared to enjoy the good cheer provided
for them. I heard the names of the first families of
France among those privates — the Montmorencies,
the Lamoignons, the Nivernois, the Rochefoucaults,
the De Noailles, "familiar as household words." All
was good-humour again. They just had a little ad-
venture, in scaring away a corps of the rustic Na-
tional Guards, who, to expedite their escape, had
flung away their arms, which were brought in as
B 3
6 MARSTON.
good prize. The festivity and frolic of youth, en-
gaged in a cause which conferred a certain dignity
even on their tours de page, renewed the pleasantry
of the night. We again had the chansons; some
gay, some touching ; and I remember one, sung with
exquisite taste by a handsome Italian-faced youth,
a nephew of its writer, the Due de Nivernois.
The duke had requested a ringlet, of a beautiful
woman. She answered, that she had just found a
grey hair among her locks, and must now give them
away no more. The gallant reply was —
" Q,uoi ! vous parlez de cheveux blaucs !
Laissez, laissez coui'ir le temps ;
Que vous iniporte son ravage ?
Les tendres cceurs en sont exempts ;
Leg Amours sont toujours enfants,
Et les Graces sont de tout age.
Pour moi, Themii-e, je le sens,
Je suis toujours dans mon printemps,
Quand je vous offre mon liommage.
Si je n'avais que dixhuit ans,
Je pourrais aimer plus longtemps,
Mais, non pas aimer davantage*."
On returning to look for my distinguished pri-
* Lovely and loved ! shall one slight hair
Touch thy delicious lip with care ?
A heart like thine may laugh at Time —
Tlie Soul is ever in its prime.
All Loves, you know, have infant faces,
A thousand years can't chill the Graces !
While thou art in my soul enshrined,
1 give all sorrows to the wind.
Were I this hour but gay eighteen,
Thou couldst be but my bosom's queen ;
I might for longer years adore,
But could not, could not love thee more.
MARSTON. 7
soner, I found a packet lying on the table of my
apartment ; it had arrived in my absence with the
troops in advance ; and I must acknowledge, that I
opened it with a trembling hand, when I saw that it
came from London, and Mordecai.
It was written in evident anxiety, and its chief
subject was the illness of his daughter. She had
some secret on her mind, w'hich utterly baffled even
the Jew's paternal sagacity. " No letters had reached
either of them from France," and he almost implored
me to return, or, if that were impossible, to write
without delay. — " Mariamne had grown more fan-
tastic, more capricious, and more feeble than ever.
Her eyes had lost their brightness, and her cheek its
colour. Yet she complained of nothing, beyond a
general distaste to existence. — She had seen the
Comtesse de Tourville, and they had many a long
conference together, from which, however, Mariamne
always returned more melancholy. — She had even
refused the match which his wish had provided for
her, and declared her determination to live, like the
daughter of Jephthah, single, to her grave."
The letter then turned on my own circumstances,
and entered into them with the singular mixture of
ardour and sneering which formed this extraordinaiy
character.
" I am doing public business here, as indefatigably
as if I were robbing nabobs in India, or setting up
republics at home. The tardiness of the Horse
Guards in your affair, is to be moved by nothing but
an invasion ; and it would be almost as rational to wait
the growth of an oak, as to wait the signing of your
B 4
8 MARSTON.
commission ; — but it shall be done. I have means
which can make the tardy quick, and open the eyes
of the blind. You shall be a subaltern in the Guards,
unless you are in too much haste to be a general, and
get yourself shot by some Parisian cobbler from be-
hind a hedge. But, let me tell you one fact, and I
might indorse this piece of intelligence ' Secret and
Confidential,^ to the English cabinet, for even our
great minister has yet to learn it — the Allies will
never reach Paris. Rely, and act, upon this. They
might, at this moment, enter the capital, if, instead of
bayonets, they carried only trusses of straw. The
road is open before them, but they will look only
behind. The war was almost a feint from the begin-
ning. — The invasion was the second act of the farce —
the retreat will be the third. Poland has been the true
object ; and, to cover the substantial seizures there,
has been the chief trick of theFrench invasion. — In one
month, from the date of this letter, there will not be an
Austrian or Prussian cartridge to be found in France.
Potsdam and Schoenbrun know more on the subject
than the duke. I write to you, as a friend, and by
Mariamne's especial order, ' to take care of yourself.'
I have seen the retreats of continental armies ; they
are always a scene of horrors. Follow the army so
long as it advances ; then, all is well, and even the
experience of service may be of use to you. B#it, the
moment that you find it come to a stop, turn your
horse's head to any point of the compass but the
front, and ride to the nearest seaport. The duke is a
brave man, and his army is a brave army ; but its es-
cape will be only by miracle. — You have doubtless been
MARSTON. 9
captivated with his wit, and his accomplishments. I
have known him long, and well. But, Europe, within
a month, will decry him, as a fugitive, a fool, and a
dastard. Such is popular justice. A pupil of the
first warrior of Prussia, and wanting only experience
to do honour to the lessons of Frederick, he will be
laughed at by the loose loungers of the Palais Royal,
as ignorant of the art of war ; and branded by the
graver loungers of courts and councils, as ignorant of
the art of government, — Once more, I say, take care
of yourself. The first step in retreat will raise all
France against the Allies. Ten victories would not
cost as much as the first week's march towards the
frontier. Every thicket will have its platoon ; every
hand, for a hundred leagues round, will be on the
trigger. Robbery and murder, famine and fatigue,
disease and death, will be upon the march ; the re-
treat will become a flight, and happy is the man who
will ever see the Rhine again. Be wise in time."
Enclosed was a brief note from Mariamne.
" Sir, — You must not think me dying, because I
importune you no longer. But, can you give me any
tidings of Lafontaine ? I know that he is rash, wild,
enthusiastic ; but I equally know, that he is faithful
and true. Yet, if he has forgotten me, or is married,
or is any thing that, as a preux chevalier, he ought
not to be, tell me at once ; and you shall see how
grateful I can be ; before I cease to be any thing.
But, if he has fallen — if, in the dreadful scenes of
Paris, Lafontaine is no more — tell me not. — Write
some deluding thing to me, conceal your terrible
knowledge. I should not wish to drop down dead
B 5
10 MARSTON.
before my father's face. — He is looking at me while
I write this, and I am trying to laugh ; with a heart
as heavy as lead, and eyes that can scarcely see the
paper. No — for mercy's sake, do not tell me, that he
is dead. Give me gentle words, give me hope, de-
ceive me — as they give laudanum to the dying, not
to prolong life, but to lull agony. Do this, and with
my last pulse I shall be grateful — with my last breath
I shall bless you."
Poor Mariamne ! I had, at least, better hopes
than those for her. But, within this billet was a
third. It was but a few lines ; yet at the foot of
those lines was the signature — "Clotilde de Tour-
ville." The light almost forsook my eyes ; my head
swam ; if the paper had been a talisman, and every
letter written with the pen of magic, it could not
have produced a more powerful effect upon me. My
hands trembled^ and my ears thrilled ; and yet it
contained but a few unimportant M'ords — an inquiry
addressed to Mariamne, whether she could forward a
letter to the Chateau Montauban in Champagne, or
whether her father had any correspondent in the
vicinity, who could send her the picture of a beloved
relative, which, in their flight to England, they had
most reluctantly left behind.
The note at once threw every thing else into the
background. What were invasions and armies — what
were kings and kingdoms— to the slightest wish of
the being who had written that billet ? All this I
admit to be the fever of the mind — a waking dream
— an illusion, to which mesmerism is but a frivolity.
Like all fevers, it is destined to pass away, — or kill
MARSTON. 1 1
the patient ; yet, for the time, what on earth is so
strange, or so powerful — so dangerous to the reason
— so delicious to the soul !
But, after the long reverie into vvhich I sank, with
the writing of Clotilde in my hand ; I recollected
that fortune had, for once, given me the power of
meeting the wishes of this noble and beautiful crea-
ture. The resemblance of the picture, which had so
much perplexed and attracted me, was now explained.
I was in the Chateau de Montauban, and I now blessed
the chance which had sent me to its honoured walls.
To hasten to the chamber where I was again to
look upon the exquisite resemblance, of features
which, till then, I had thought without a similar in
the world, was a matter of instinct ; and winding
my way through the intricacies of galleries and cor-
ridors, loaded wath the baggage of the emigrant
army, and strewed with many a gallant noble, who
had exchanged the down bed of his ancestral man-
sion for the bare floor ; I at length reached the
apartment, to which the captive general had been
consigned. To my utter astonishment, instead of
the silence which I expected under the circum-
stances, I heard the jingling of glasses, and roars of
laughter. Was this the abode of solitude and mis-
fortune ? I entered, and found M. La Fayette, indeed,
conducting himself with the composure of a per-
sonage of his rank ; but the other performers exhi-
biting a totally different temperament. — A group of
Polish officers, who had formerly borne commissions
in the royal service, and now followed the emigrant
troops, had recognized La Fayette, and insisted on
B 6
12 MARSTON.
paying due honours to the " noble comrade" with
whom they had served beyond the Atlantic. Ham-
let's menace to his friend, that he would " teach him
to drink deep ere he depart," had been adopted in
the amplest sense by those jovial sons of the north,
and "healths pottle deep" were sent round the board
with rapid circulation.
My entrance but slightly deranged the symposium,
and I was soon furnished with all the freemasonry of
the feast, by being called on to do honour to the toast
of " His Majesty, the King of Great Britain." My
duty was novv done, my initiation was complete, and
while my eyes were fixed on the portrait which, still
in its unharmed beauty, looked beaming on the wild
revel below ; I heard, in the broken queries, and in-
terjectional panegyrics, of these hyperborean heroes,
more of the history of La Fayette, than I had ever
expected to reach my ears.
His life had been the strongest contrast to the calm
countenance, which I saw so tranquilly listen to its
own tale. — It was Quixotic, and, two hundred
years ago, it could scarcely have escaped the pen of
some French Cervantes. He had begun his career
as an officer in the French household troops, in ab-
solute boyhood. At sixteen he had married ! at
eighteen he had formed his political principles,
and begun his soldiership by crosshig the Atlantic,
and offering his sword to the Republic. To meet the
thousand wonderings at his conduct, he haughtily
exchanged the ancient motto of the La Faycttcs, for a
new one of his own. The words, " Why not ?" were
his answer to all, and they were sufficient.
MARSTON. 13
In America he was even more republican than the
Repubhcans. His zeal was a passion, his love of
liberty a romance, his hostility to the power of Eng-
land an universal scorn of established power. But
if fantastic, he was bold; and if too hot for the
frigidity of America, he was but preparing to touch
France w ith kindred fire.
While this narrative was going on, mingled with
bumpers, and bursts of Slavonic goodfellowship, I
could not help asking myself, whether Lavater was
not a quack, and physiognomy a folly ? Could this
be the dashing Revolutionist ? No plodder at the desk
ever wore a more broadcloth countenance ; an occa-
sional smile was even the only indication of his interest
in jovialities passing around him. He evidently
avoided taking a share in the discussion of his Trans-
atlantic career ; probably from delicacy to his English
auditor. But, when the conversation turned upon
France, the man came forth ; and he vindicated his
political principles, with a spirit that told me what he
might have been, when the blood of youth was
added to the glow of imagination. He was now evi-
dently exhausted by toil, and dispirited by disappoint-
ment. — No man could be more thoroughly ruined ;
baffled in theory, undone in practice ; an exile from
his country, a fugitive from his army ; overwhelmed
by the hopelessness of giving a constitution to France;
— with nothing but the dungeon before him, and the
crash of the guillotine behind. — There sat the idol
of a fantastic popularity.
"What was to be done ?" said La Fayette. " France
was bankrupt — the treasury was empty — the pro-
14 MARSTON.
fligate reign of Louis XV. had at once wasted the
wealth, dried up the resources, and corrupted the
mind of France. Ministers wrung their hands, the
king sent for his confessor^ the queen wept — but the
nation groaned. — In 1787 the Assembly of the No-
tables was summoned. It was the first time since
the reign of Henry IV. France had been a stern
and formal despotism for almost two hundred years.
She had seen England extend from an island into an
empire ; she had seen America extend from a colony
into a continent. What had been the worker of the
miracle ? — Liberty. While all the despotisms re-
mained within the boundaries ; fixed centuries ago,
like vast dungeons, never extending, and never open-
ing to the light and air, except through the dilapi-
dations of time ; I saw England and America spreading,
like fertile fields, open to every breath of heaven and
every beam of day, expanding from year to year by
the cheerful labour of man, and every year covered with
new productiveness for the use of universal mankind.
— There may have been rashness in urging the expe-
riment — there may have been a dangerous disregard
of the actual circumstances of the people, of the time,
and of the world — the hand of the philosopher may
have drawn down the lightning too suddenly, to be
safe; the patriot may have flashed his torch too
strongly, on eyes so long trained to the dungeon. —
The leader of the enterprise himself, like the first dis-
coverer of fire, may have been destined only to bring
down wrath upon his own head, and be condemned to
have his vitals gnawed in loneliness and chains ; — but
nothing shall convince La Fayette, that a great work
MARSTON. 15
has not been begun for the living race, for all nations,
and for all posterity."
I could not suppress the question — " But, when
will the experiment be complete ? When will the
tree thus planted in storms, take hold of the soil ?
When will the tremendous tillage, which begins, by
clearing with the conflagration, and ploughing with
the earthquake ; teem with the harvest, and bring
peace to the people ?"
" Those must be the legacy to our children," was
the reply, in a grave, and almost contrite, tone.
" The works of man are rapid, only when they are
meant for decay. — The American savage builds his
wigwam in a week, to last but for a year. — The Par-
thenon took half an age, and the treasures of a people ;
to last for ever."
We parted, for the night — and for thirty years.
My impression of this remarkable man was, that he
had more heart than head ; that a single idea had
engrossed his faculties, to the exclusion of all others ;
that he was following a phantom, with the belief
that it was a substantial form ; and that, like the
idolaters of old, who offered their children to their
frowning deity, he imagined, that the costlier the
sacrifice, the surer was the propitiation. — Few men
have been more misunderstood, in his own day, or in
ours. Lifted to the skies, for an hour, by popular
adulation ; he has been sunk into obscurity ever
since by historic contempt. Both were mistaken.
He was the man made for the time — precisely the
middle term, between the reign of the nobility and
the reign of the populace. Certainly, not the man
16 MARSTON.
to " ride on the whirlwind and direct the storm ;"
but as certainly, altogether superior to the indolent
luxury of the class among whom he was born.
Glory and liberty, the two highest impulses of our
common nature, sent him, at two and twenty, from
the most splendid court in Europe, to the SM^amps
and snows, the dreary service and dubious battles,
of America. — Eight years of voyages, negotiations,
travels, and exposure to the chances of the field,
proved his energy ; and at the age of thirty, he had
drawn upon himself the eyes of the world. TJiere,
he ought to have rested, or have died. — But the
Revolution swept him oif his feet. It was an
untried power ; a conflict of elements unknown to
the calculation of man ; he was whirled along by a
force which whirled the monarchy, the church, and
the nation along with him.
I have no honour for a similar career, and no
homage for a similar memory ; but it is from those
mingled characters, that history derives her deepest
lesson, her warnings for the weak, her cautions for
the ambitious, and her wisdom for the wise.
On the breaking up of the party for the night, my
first act was, to summon the old Swiss and his wife
who had been left in charge of the mansion, and
collect from them all that their feeble memories
could tell of Clotilde. But Madame la Marechale
was a much more important personage in their old
eyes, than the " charmante et belle" whom they had
dandled on their knees, and who was likely to
remain an infant to them during their lives. The
chateau had been the retreat of the Marechale after
MARSTON. 17
the death of her husband ; and it was in its stately
grounds, and in the woods and wilds which sur-
rounded it for many a league, that Clotilde had
acquired those accomplished tastes, and that cha-
racteristic dignity and force of mind, which dis-
tinguished her from her country-women, however
elegant and attractive, who had been trained in the
salons of the court. The green glades and fresh airs
of the forest had given beauty to her cheek and
grace to her form ; and, scarcely conceiving how the
rouged and jewelled Marechale could have endured
such an absence from the circles of the young queen,
and the " beaux restes" of the wits and beauties of
the court of Louis the XVth, I thanked in soul the
fortunate necessity which had driven her from the
atmosphere of the Du Barrys, to the shades thus
sacred to innocence and knowledge.
But the business of the hour was still to be done.
—The picture was taken down at last, to the great
sorrow of the old servants, who seemed to regard it
as a patron saint, and who declared that its presence,
and its presence alone, could have saved the mansion.
The " patriots," generally beginning their reforms of
the nobility by laying their chateaux in ashes. But
the will of Madame la Marechale was to them as the
laws of the Medes and Persians, irresistible and un-
changeable ; and with heavy hearts they dismounted
the portrait, and assisted in enfolding and encasing
it, with much the same feeling that might have been
shown in paying the last honours to a branch of the
beloved line.
But, in the wall which the picture had covered, I
18 MARSTON.
found a small recess, closed by an iron door, and evi-
dently unknown to the Swiss and his old wife. I
might have hesitated about extending my inquiry
further, but time, the discoverer of all things, saved
my conscience. With a slight pressure against the
lock it gave w^ay ; the door flew open, and dropped
off the hinges, a mass of rust. Within was a casket,
of a larger size than that generally used for jewels ;
but my curiosity durst not go beyond the super-
scription, which was — a consignment of the casket,
by the Marechale, to her banker in London. What-
ever might be the contents, it was clear that, like the
picture, it had been left behind in the hurry of flight,
and that to transmit both to England, was fairly within
my commission. Before our busy work was done,
day was glancing in through the coloured panes of
the huge old chamber. I hurried off the Swiss,
with those precious possessions, to the next town, in
one of the baggage carts ; with a trooper in front to
prevent his search by hands still more hazardous
than those of a custom-house officer. And then,
mounting my horse, and bidding a brief farewell to
the brave and noble fellows, who were already mus-
tering for the march, and envying me with all their
souls ; I set off" at full speed to rejoin the army.
Yet, with all my speed, the action had begun some
hours before I came in sight of the field. With what
pangs of heart, I heard the roar of the cannon, for
league on league, while I was threading my bewil-
dered way, and spurring my tired horse through the
miry paths of a country alternately marsh and forest ;
with what pantings I looked from every successive
MARSTON. 19
height, to discover, even to what quarter the smoke
of the firing might direct me ; with what eager vexa-
tion I questioned every hurrying peasant ; who either
shook his moody head, and refused to answer, or who
answered, with the fright of one expecting to have
his head swept off his shoulders by some of my fierce
looking troop, I shall not now venture to tell. At
length, exhausted by mortal fatigue, and ready to lie
down and die, I made a last effort. I ordered the
troop to halt where they were, pushed on alone, and,
winding my way through a forest covering the side of
a low but abrupt hill, or rather succession of hills, I
suddenly burst out into the light, and saw the whole
battle beneath, around, and before me. It was mag-
nificent.
CHAPTER XVII.
" The night is past, and shines the sun
As if that morn were a jocund one.
Lightly and brightly breaks away
The morning from her mantle grey —
And the noon will look as a sultry day.
Hark to the trump and the drum.
And the mournful soimd of the barbarous horn,
And the flap of the banners, that flit as they're borne,
And the neigh of the steed, and the multitude's hum.
And the clash and the shout, ' They come, they eome.' "
Byron.
The action was a series of those grand manoeuvres
in which the Prussians excelled all the other troops
of Europe. From the spot on which I stood, the
whole immense plain, to the foot of the defiles of
Argonne, was visible ; but the combat, or rather the
succession of combats, was fought along the range of
hills at the distance of some miles. These I could
discover only by the roar of the guns, and by an
occasional cloud of smoke rising among the trees.
The chief Prussian force stood in columns in the
plain below me, in dark masses, making an occa-
sional movement in advance from time to time, or
sending a mounted officer to the troops in action.
MARSTON. 21
Parks of artillery lay formed in the spaces between
the columns ; and the baggage, a much more various
and curious sight than the troops, halting in the
wide grounds of what seemed some noble mansion,
had already begun to exhibit the appearance of a
country fair.
Excepting this busy part of the scene, few things
struck me, as less like what I had conceived of actual
war, than the quietude of all before and around me.
The columns might nearly as well have been masses
of rock ; and the engagement in front was so utterly
lost to view in the forest, that, except for the occa-
sional sound of the cannon, I might have looked
upon the whole scene, as a colossal picture of a
quiet Flemish holiday. — The landscape was beautiful.
Some showery nights had revived the verdure, of
which France has so seldom to boast in her autumn ;
and the green of the plain almost rivalled the deli-
cious verdure of home. The chain of hills, extend-
ing for many a league, was covered with one of the
most extensive forests in the kingdom. The colours
of this vast mass of foliage were glowing in all the
powerful hues of the declining year ; and the clouds
which slowly descended upon the horizon, with all
the tinges of the west burning through their folds,
appeared to be scarcely more than a loftier portion of
those sheets of gold and purple which shone along
the crown of the hills.
But, while I lingered, gazing on the rich and tran-
quil luxury of the scene, and almost forgetting that
there was war in the world ; I was suddenly recalled
to a more substantial condition of that world, by a
22 MARSTON.
trumpet ; and the arrival of my troop, who had at
length struggled up the hill, evidently surprised at
finding me still there, when the suttlers were in full
employment within a few hundred yards below me.
Their petition was unanimous, to be allowed to re-
fresh themselves and their horses at this rare oppor-
tunity; and their request, though respectful in its
words, was yet so decisive in its tone, that, to comply
was fully as much my policy as my inclination. I
mounted my horse, and proceeded, according to the
humble " command " of my brave dragoons. This
was a most popular movement — the men, the very
horses, evidently rejoiced. The fatigue of our hard
riding had passed away at once — the riders laughed
and sang, the chargers snorted and pranced ; and,
when we trotted, huzzaing, into the baggage lines,
half their motley crowd evidently conceived, that
some sovereign prince was come, in fiery haste, to
make the campaign. We were received with all the
applause, that is given by the suttler to all arrivals,
with a full purse in the holsters, and a handsome
valise, no matter from what source filled, on the
croup of the charger. But we had scarcely begun
to taste the gifts that fortune had sent us in the
shape of huge sausages and brown bread — the luxu-
ries ! for which the soldier of Teutchland wooes the
goddess of war — than we found ourselves ordered to
move off the ground, by the peremptory mandate of
a troop of the Royal Guard, who had followed our
movement, more hungry, more thirsty, and more
laced and epaulctted than ourselves. My Hulans
tossed their lances ; and it had been nearly a business
MARSTON. 23
of cold steel, when their officer rode up to demand the
sword of the presumptuous mutineer who had thus
daringly questioned his right to starve us. While I
was deliberating, for a moment, between the shame
of a forced retreat, and the awkwardness of our
taking the bull by the horns, in the shape of the
King's Guard ; I heard a loud laugh, and my name
pronounced, or rather roared, in the broadest accents
of Germany. My friend Vornhorst was the man.
The indefatigable and good-humoured Vornhorst,
who did every thing, and was every where, was soon
shaking my hand with the honest grasp of his honest
nature, and congratulating me on my return.
" We have to do with a set of sharp fellows," said
he, " in these French ; a regiment of their light
cavalry has somehow or other made its way between
the columns of our infantry, and has been picking up
stragglers all last night. The duke, with whom you'
happen to have established a favouritism, that would
make you a chamberlain at the court of Brunswick,
if you were not previously assassinated by the envy
of his chamberlains, or pinked by some lover of the
" dames d'honneur" was beginning to be uneasy
about you ; and, as I had the peculiar good fortune
of the Chevalier Marston's acquaintance, I was sent
to pick him up, if he had fallen in honourable combat
in the plains of Champagne, or if any fragment of
him were recoverable from the hands of the peasantry,
to preserve it for the family mausoleum.'^
I anxiously enquired the news of the army, and
the progress of the great operation which was then
going on.
24 MARSTON.
'^ We have beaten every thing before us, for these
three hours," was the answer. "The resistance in
the plain was sHght, for the French evidently in-
tended to make their stand only in the forest. But
the duke has pushed them strongly on the right
flank, and, as you may perceive, the attack goes on,
in force." He pointed, to the entrance of one of the
defiles, where several columns were in movement, and
where the smoke of the firing rose thickly above the
trees. He then laid his watch on the table, beside
our champagne flask. " The time is come to execute
another portion of my orders. What think you of
following me, and seeing a little of the field?"
" Nothing could delight me more. I am perfectly
at your service."
" Then mount, and in five minutes 1 shall show you
one of the first officers in Europe, the Count Clairfait ;
he is a Walloon, 'tis true ; and has the ill luck to be
an Austrian brigadier besides ; and, to finish his mis-
fortune, has served only against the Turks. But, for
all that, if any man in the army now in the field is
fit to succeed to the command, that man is the Count
Clairfait. — I only wish that he were a Prussian."
" Has he had any thing to do in the campaign ?"
" Every thing that has been done. He has com-
manded the whole advanced guard of the army ; and
let me whisper this in your ear — if his advice had
been taken a week ago, we should by this time have
been smoking our cigars in the Palais Royal."
" I am impatient to be introduced to the Count ;
let us mount and ride on." He looked at his watch
again.
MARSTON. 05
" Not for ten minutes to come. If I made my
appearance before him, five minutes in advance of
the time appointed by my orders, Clairfait would
order me into arrest, if I were his grandmother. He
is the strictest discipHnarian between this and the
North Pole."
"A faultless monster himself, I presume."
" Nearly so ; he has but one fault ; he is too fond
of the sabre and bayonet. * Charge,' is his word of
command. His school was among the Turks, and he
fights a la Turque."
"I should like him the better for it. That dash
and daring is the very thing for success."
" Ay, ay — edge and point are good things in their
way. But they are the temptations of the general.
Frederick's maxim was — " The bullet for the in-
fantry, the spur for the dragoon." The weight of
fire is the true test of infantry, the rapidity of charge
the true test of cavalry. The business of a general
is manoeuvring — to menace masses by greater masses,
to throw the weight of an army on a flank, or pierce
a centre while the flanks are forced to stand by, and see
it beaten ; those were Frederick's lessons to his staff:
and if Clairfait shall go on, with his perpetual hand-
to-hand work, those sharp Frenchmen will soon learn
his trade, and perhaps pay him back in his own coin.
But, Halt squadron. Dress — advance in parade
order."
While I was thus taking my first lesson in the
art of heroes, we had rode through a deep ravine ;
from which, with some difficulty, we struggled
our way to a space of more level ground. Our dis-
VOL. II. c
26 MARSTON.
order on reaching it, required all the count's ready
skill, to bring us into a condition fit for the eye of
this formidable Walloon. But we were scarcely com-
plete, when a group of mounted officers were seen ad-
vancing from a column of glittering lances and sabres,
which rested on the distant verge of the plain. My
friend pronounced the name of Clairfait,and I was soon
introduced to the officer, who was afterwards to play
so distinguished a part in the gallant and melan-
choly history of the Flemish fields. I had pictured
to myself the broad, pkimp face of the Fleming.
I saw a countenance, darkened probably by the
sultry exposure of his southern campaigns, but of
singular depth and power. It was impossible to
doubt, that within the noble forehead before me, was
lodged an intelligence of the first order. His manners
were cold, yet not uncourteous, and to me he spoke
with more than usual attention. But, when he al-
luded to the proceedings of the day, and was in-
formed by Vornhorst that the time appointed for his
movement was come, I never saw a more rapid tran-
sition, from the phlegm of the Netherlander to the
vividness of the man of courage and genius. Waiting,
with his watch in his hand, for the exact moment
appointed in the despatch, it had no sooner arrived,
than his whole force, of Austrian light infantry and
cavalry, moved forward. Nothing could be more regu-
lar than the march, for the first half mile ; we then
entered a portion of the forest, or rather its border,
thinly scattered over an extent of broken country : and,
to preserve the regularity of our movement, soon began
to be wholly impossible. The officers gave up the
MARSTON. 27
attempt in despair, but the troops enjoyed the dis-
order in the highest degree. The ground was so
intersected with small trenches, cut by the foresters,
that every half dozen yards presented a leap, and the
clumps of bushes made it continually necessary to
break the ranks. Wherever I looked, I now saw
nothing but the animation of an immense skirmish,
the use of sabre and pistol alone excepted. Between
two and three thousand cavalry, mounted on the
finest horses of Austria and Turkey, were galloping in
all directions, some springing over the rivulets, some
dashing through the thickets, all in the highest
spirits, calling out to each other, laughing at each
other's mishaps, their horses in as high spirits as them-
selves,bounding,rearing, neighing, springing like deer;
trumpets sounding, standards tossing, officers com-
manding in tones of helpless authority, to which no
one listened, and at which they themselves often
laughed. The whole was like a vast school broke
loose for a holiday; the most joyous, sportive, and
certainly the most showy, display that had ever met
my eye. The view strongly reminded me of some of
the magnificent old hunting pieces of Snyders, the
field sports of the Archduke Ferdinand; we had
every thing but the stag, or the boar, and the dogs.
We had the noble trees, the rich deep glades, the sunny
openings, the masses of verdure; and all crowded
with life. But how infinitely superior in interest !
No holiday sport, or imperial pageant, but an army
rushing into action ; one of the great instruments of
human power and human change called into full
energy ; thousands of bold lives about to be pe-
c 2
Og MARSTON.
rilled ; a victory about to be achieved, which might
fix the fate of Europe ; or perhaps losses to be sus-
tained, which might cover the future generation with
clouds ; and all this is on the point of being done. —
No lazy interval to chill expectancy ; within the day,
within the hour, nay, within the next five hundred
yards, the decisive moment might come.
Still, we rushed on ; the staff pausing from time to
time to listen to the distant cannonade, and ascertain
by its sound, the progress of the attack, which had
already been made on the great centre, and right,
defiles of the forest. In one of these pauses, while I
had ridden up as near as the broken ground would
suffer, towards Count Clairfait, he made a gesture to
me, to look upwards, and I observed, almost for the
first time, a smile on his countenance. I followed the
gesture, and saw, what to me was the novelty, of a
huge shell, leisurely, as it seemed, traversing the air.
The count and his staff immediately galloped off
in all directions ; but I had not rode a hundred
yards, when the shell dropped into the spot where I
had been standing, and burst with a tremendous
explosion almost immediately on its touching the
ground. The cavalry had dispersed, and the explo-
sion was, I believe, without injury. But this, at
least, gave evidence that the enemy were not far off,
and the eagerness of the troops was excited to the
highest pitch : all now pressed forward to the front,
and their cries, in all the languages of the frontier of
Europe, the voices of the officers, and the clangour
of the bugles and trumpets, became an absolute
Babel, but an infinitely bold and joyous one. The
MARSTON. 29
yagers were now ordered to clear the way, and a
thousand Tyrolese and Transylvanian sharpshooters
hurried forward to line the border. A heavy firing
commenced, and orders were given, to halt the
cavalry until the effect of the fire was produced.
This was speedily observed ; the enemy, evidently in
inferior force, and unprepared for this attack, gave
way ; and the first squadrons which reached the open
ground made a dash among them, and took the
greater part prisoners.
The whole day was full of splendid exhibitions.
On reaching the edge of the plain, the first object
below us, was the succession of deep columns which
I had. seen some hours before, and which appeared to
have been rooted to the ground ever since. But an
aide-de-camp from the circle where the count stood,
darted down on the plain, and, as if a flash of light-
ning had awoke them, all were instantly in motion.
The columns on the right now made a sudden push
forward, and four or five strong brigades, which
rapidly followed, as if they had started from the earth,
took up their position.
Vornhorst, who had been beside me during the
whole day, now exhibited great delight. " I told
you," said he, "that Clairfait would turn out well.
I see that he has been taught in our school. Ob-
serve that mancEuvre ; " he continued his comment
with increasing force of gesture — " That was the
Great Frederick's favourite, the oblique formation; the
finest invention in tactics ; with that, he gained Ros-
bach, and beat the French and Austrians ; with that
he gained the battle of Breslau; and with that he
c 3
30 MARSTON.
gained the grand fight of Torgau, and finished the
war. Yet the king always said, that he had learned
the manoeuvre from Epaminondas, and was only
fighting the battle of Leuctra over again. — But, look
there ! " He pointed to a rising ground, a bluff of
the forest ridge, to which a battalion of sharp-
shooters were hastening ; it had seemed destitute of
defence, and the sharpshooters were already begin-
ning to scramble up its sides ; when a large body of
the enemy which had been covered by the forest, as-
cended its summit with a shout, and poured down a
general volley. The whole Prussian line returned it
by one tremendous discharge. The drums and
trumpets clanged, and the battalions and squadrons
advanced, singing the national hymn. The skir-
mishers now poured forward and the battle began.
How shall I speak of what I felt at that moment;
the sensation was indescribable ! It was mingled of
all feelings, but personal ones. I was absorbed in that
glorious roar, in that bold burst of human struggle,
in all that was wild, ardent, and terrible in the power
of man. I had not a thought of any thing, but of the
martial pomp and spirit-stirring grandeur of the
scene before me.
But, I was aroused from my contemplations by
the loud laugh of my veteran friend ; who was trying
the contents of a large brandy flask, which I remem-
bered, and with some not very respectful opinion of
his temperance, to have seen him place in one of his
holsters at our visit to the suttlers. He offered
it to me. "You look wretchedly pale," said he ; "our
style of life is too rough for you gentlemen diplomats,
MARSTON. 31
and you will find this glass, right Nantz ; the very-
best thing, if not the only good thing, that its
country has to give." This dislodged me from my
heroics at once; the brandy was first-rate, and I
found myself restored to the level of the world, and
infinitely the better for the operation.
We now followed the advance of the troops. The
leading columns had already forced their way into
the entrance of the forest ; but it was a forest of three
leagues in depth and twice the number in length, a
wooded province, and the way was to be fought foot
by foot. It is only justice to the French to say,
that they fought well — held the pass boldly — often
charged our advance, and gave way only when they
were on the point of being surrounded. But, our
superiority of discipline and numbers combined, did
not suffer the success to be for a moment doubtful.
Still, as we followed, the battle raged in the depths
of the forest, already as dark as if night had come
on — our only light being the incessant illumination
of the musketry, and the bursts of fire from the
howitzers.
As we were standing on the last height at the en-
trance of the defile, " Look round," exclaimed Vorn-
horst, " and take your first lesson in our art, if you
shall ever adopt the trade of soldiership. — The Duke
has outwitted the .Frenchman. I suspected some-
thing of that sort in the morning, when I first heard
his guns so far to the right. I allow that any general
may be puzzled, for a while, who has five passes to
defend, with half a dozen leagues between them ; and
a Prussian army in front ready to make him choose.
c 4
32 MARSTON.
He has evidently drawn off the strength of his troops
to the Duke's point of attack, and has stripped the
wing before us. Clairfait's mass has been thrown
upon it, and the day is our own. Forward ! "
The roads and the surrounding glades gave fearful
evidence of the obstinacy of the struggle ; but it also
gave some curious evidences of the force of habit, in
making light of the troubles of life. The cavaliy,
which had been comparatively unemployed, from the
nature of the service during the day; had taken
advantage of the opportunity, to consult their own
comfort as much as possible. On the flank and in
rear of the infantry the troopers had taken the whole
affair en amateur, and had lighted their fires, and
cooked their rations, handsomely augmented by the
general spoliation of the hen-coops within many a
league. Something like a fair was established round
them by the suttlers ; while the shells were actually
falling, and many a branch was shattered over their
banquets by the shot which constantly whizzed
through the trees. But, " Vive la fortune !" Even
the sober Teuton, and the rough son of the Bannat,
could enjoy the few chances that war gives for fes-
tivity ; and what the next night or morning might
bring, was not suffered to disturb their sense of
" schnapps" and their supper.
The trampling of horses in our rear, and the
arrival of the chasseurs of the ducal escort, now
told us, that the generalissimo was at hand. He
rode up, in high spirits, received our congratulations
with princely courtesy, and bestowed praises on the
troops ; and especially on Clairfait, which made the
MARSTON. 33
count's dark cheeks and stern features glow. The
whole group now rode together, until we reached the
open country. A decisive success had unquestionably
been gained ; and in war the first success is of pro-
verbial importance. On this point, the duke laid
peculiar weight, in the few words which he could
spare to rae.
" M. Marston," he observed, taking me cordially
by the hand, " we are henceforth more than friends,
we are ' camarades.' We have been in the field to-
gether ; and, with us Prussians, that is a tie for
life."
I made my acknowledgments for his highness's
condescension. Business then took the lead.
" You will now have a good despatch, to transmit
to our friends in England. The Count Clairfait
has shown himself worthy of his reputation. — I un-
derstand, that the enemy's force consisted chiefly of
the household troops of France ; if so, we have
beaten the best soldiers of the kingdom, and the rest
can give us but little trouble. — You will remark upon
these points ; and now — for Paris."
A cry, or rather a shout of assent, from the circle
of officers, echoed the words ; and we all put spurs
to our horses, and followed the cortege through the
noble old grove. But, before we reached its confines,
the firing had wholly ceased, and the enemy were
seen hurrying down the slope of the Argonne, and
crossing in great disorder a plain which separated
them from their main body. Our light troops and
cavalry were dashing out in pursuit, and prisoners
were continually taken. From the spot where we
c 5
34 MARSTON.
halted, the hght of the sinking day showed us the
rapid breaking up of the fugitive column ; the guns,
one by one, left behind ; the muskets thrown away,
and the soldiers scattered ; until our telescopes
could discover scarcely more than a remnant
reaching the protection of the distant hill.
We supped that night on the green sward. The
duke had invited his own staff, and that of Clairfait,
to his tent, in honour of the day ; and I never spent
a gayer evening. His incomparable polish of
manners, mingled with the cordiality which no man
could assume more naturally, when it was his plea-
sure ; and his mixture of courtly pleasantry with
the bold humour which campaigning, in some degree,
teaches to every one ; made him, if possible, more
delightful, to my conception, than even in our first
interview. Towards the close of the supper, which,
like everything else round him, was worthy of Sar-
danapalus ; he addressed himself to me, and giving
a most gracious personal opinion of what my
"services had merited from the English minister,"
said that, "limited as his own means of rewarding
zeal and ability might be, he begged of me to retain
a slight memorial of his friendship, and of our day
together on the heights of Argonne." Taking from
the hand of Guiscard the riband and star of the
" Order of Merit," the famous order instituted by
the Great Frederick, he placed it round my neck,
and proposed my health round the table, as a
" Knight of Prussia."
This was a flattering distinction ; and, if I could
have had entire faith in all the complimentary Ian-
MARSTON. 35
guage addressed to me by the sitters at that stately-
table, I should have had visions of very magnificent
things. But there is no antidote to vanity eqvial to
an empty purse. If I had been born to one of the
leviathan fortunes of our peerage, I might have
imagined myself possessed of all the talents of man-
kind ; but I never could forget the grave lesson, that
I was a younger son. I sat, like the Roman in his
triumph, with the slave behind, to lecture him.
c 6
CHAPTER XVIII.
" Now, silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies,
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
For now, sits Expectation in the air ;
And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point,
With crowns imperial."
Shakspeare.
After the repast ended, and the principal part of
the guests had withdrawn, I was desired to wait for
the communication of important intelligence — Guis-
card and Vornhorst being the only officers of the
staff who remained. A variety of papers, taken in
the portfolio of a French general who had fallen in
the engagement, were laid before us. They were of
every kind, and no bad epitome of the mind of a
brave coxcomb. — Reflections on the conduct of the
Allied armies, and conjectures on their future pro-
ceedings — both so fantastic, that the duke's gravity
often gave way, and even the grim Guiscard some-
times wore a smile. Then came a letter from some
MARSTON. 37
" confi'ere" in Paris, a tissue of gossip and grumbling,
anecdotes of the irregularities of private life, and
merciless abuse of the leaders of party. Interspersed
with those were epistles of a more tender descrip-
tion ; from which it appeared that the general's
heart was as capacious as his ambition ; and that he
contrived to give his admiration to half a dozen of
the elite of Parisian beauty at a time. Vornhorst
was delighted with this portion of the corre-
spondence ; even the presence of the duke could not
prevent him from bursting into explosions of
laughter ; and he ended by imploring its possession,
as models of his future correspondence, in any
emergency which " compelled him to put pen to paper
in matters of the sex." But, nearly the last of the
documents was one deserving of all attention. It
was a statement of the measures enjoined by govern-
ment, for raising the population in arms ; and, as an
appendix, a muster-roll of the various corps already
on their way to join the army of Dumourier. The
duke read this paper, with a countenance from which
all gaiety had vanished, and handed it to Guiscard
to read aloud.
" What think you of that, gentlemen ? " asked the
duke, in his most deliberate tone.
Vornhorst, in his bold, and unhesitating style, said
— " It tells us only, that we shall have some more
fighting ; but, as we are sure to beat them, the more
the better. — Your highness knows, as well as any
man alive, that the maxim of our great master was,
* Always begin the war by fighting as many pitched
38 MARSTON.
battles as you can. Skirmishes teach discipline to
the rabble. Pitched battles are thunderbolts ; they
finish the business at once ; and, like the thunder-
bolts, they appear to defy resistance by man.'"
" I think," said Guiscard, with his deep physi-
ognomy still darkening, " that we have lost, what is
the most difficult of all things to recover — time."
The duke bit his lip. " How was it to be helped,
Guiscard? You know the causes of the delay — they
were many and stubborn."
"Ay," was the reply, with an animation, which
struck me with surprise, "as many, as the block-
heads in Berlin, and as stubborn, as the Aulic
council."
"Well," said the duke, turning to me, with his
customary grace of manner — "What does our friend,
the Englishman, say ? "
Of course, I made no pretence to giving a military
opinion. I merely said, "' That I had every reliance
on the experienced conduct of his highness, and the
established bravery of his army."
" The truth is, M. Marston, as Guiscard says, we
have lost time, though through no fault of ours. And I
observe,from these papers, that the enemy have availed
themselves of the delay, by bringing up strong corps
from every point. Still, our duty lies plain before
us ; we must advance, and rescue the unfortunate
royal family — and, we must tranquillize France, by
overthrowing the rabble influence ; we may then
retire, with the satisfaction of having fought without
ambition, and being victorious without a wish for
MARSTON. ' 39
aggrandizement." After a pause, which none at-
tempted to interrupt, he finished by saying — " I
admit, that our work is likely to become more diffi-
cult, than I had supposed."
Vornhorst's sanguine nature heard this with visible
reluctance. ^' Pardon me, your highness, but my
opinion is for instant action, whatever may happen.
Let us but move to-morrow morning, and I promise
you another battle of Rosbach within the next twelve
hours." The idea was congenial to the gallantry of
the duke ; he smiled, and shook the bold speaker by
the hand.
'•' I see, by these lists," said Guiscard, as he slowly
perused the returns, " that the troops with which we
have been engaged to-day amounted to little more than
twenty thousand men, under their new general, Du-
mourier. They fought badly, I think. But, I scarcely
expected that they would have fought at all, since
the emigration of their officers. — Sixteen or eighteen
thousand men are already moving up from Flanders ;
a strong corps under my old acquaintance and coun-
tryman, Kellerman — and whatever he may be as an
officer, a bolder and braver soldier does not exist —
are coming, by forced marches, from the Rhine ; the
sea-coast towns are stripped of their garrisons ; and
I should not be surprised to find, that we rather
under, than over, calculated the force, which will be
in line against us within a week."
" So be it ! " exclaimed Vornhorst, " What are
troops, without discipline ; and generals, without
science ? Both made to be beaten. Fifty thousand
Prussians would march through Europe. — I am for
40 MARSTON.
the advance. — That was a brilliant dash of Clair-
fait's this afternoon. Let us match it to-morrow
morning."
" It was admirable ! " replied the duke, with the
colour mounting to his cheek. "Any officer in
Europe might envy the decision, the spirit, and the
success. His sagacity in discovering the weak point
of the enemy's position, and his skill in its attack,
deserve all praise. — His flank movement ivas perfectly
admirable.''
^' Well, we have only to try him again," exclaimed
Vornhorst, with increasing animation. " We have
turned the position, and taken a thousand prisoners,
and guns. Our men are in high spirits ; and, if I
were in command of a corps to-morrow, my only
countersign would be ' Paris.' "
" Vornhorst," said the duke, " you have only an-
ticipated my intention with regard to yourself. — You
shall have a command ; the three brigades of Prussian
grenadiers shall be given into your charge ; and you
shall operate on the flank. It is my wish to make
our principal movement in that direction, and I know
you well."
Vornhorst's gratitude almost denied him words ;
but his countenance always spoke better than his
tongue.
One of those papers contained a detail of several
projects by the leading members of the Assembly for
the government of France. Guiscard, after bending
his wise head over them, pronounced them all equally
futile, and equally tending to democracy. The duke
was of the opposite opinion, and after a glance at the
MARSTON. 41
papers, observed — *' that he thought some of those
schemes ingenious ; but that they so closely resem-
bled the ideas thrown out in Germany, under the
patronage of the emperor Joseph, as to deprive them
of any strong claim to originality. No," said he
gaily, " I shall never believe that Frenchmen are
changed, until I hear that there is no ballet in Paris ;
you might as well tell me, that the Swiss will abjure
the money which makes a part of his definition, as
the Frenchman give up the laced coat, the powdered
queue, and the order of St. Louis at his button-hole.
Those things are the man, they are his mind, his
senses, himself. He is a creation of monarchy — a
clever, amusing, ingenious, and brave one ; but, rely
upon my knowledge of human nature — if French
nature be any thing of the kind — that a capital with-
out balls, and a government without embroidery, will
disgust him beyond all forgiveness. — If a democracy
were formed to-morrow, it Avould be danced away in
a week ; or if every pedigree in France were burned
in this evening's fire, you would have the Boulevards
crowded with marquises and marchionesses, before
the month was over." He laughed at his own picture
of a revolution, and his manner would have made his
sentiments popular on any subject. Still, our long-
headed friend, Guiscard, was not to be convinced.
" I have every contempt," said he, in a hurried tone,
" for the shallowness of mob-orators, attempting to
mould men by theories ; but the question, whether
France is to remain a monarchy or not, is one, of the
most pressing importance to your highness's opera-
tions. It is only in this practical sense that I should
42 MARSTON.
think of the topic at aU. You have taken the fron-
tier towns, and have beaten the frontier army. So
far as the regular force of France is concerned, the
war is at an end. But then comes the grand point —
a country of thirty milhons of people cannot be con-
quered, if they can but be roused to resist. All the
troops of Europe — nay, perhaps of the earth — might
perish, before they fully conquered a country so large
as France, with so powerful a population. It seems
even to be one of the provisions of Providence against
ambition, that an invasion of a populous country is the
most difficult operation in the world, unless the people
welcome the invader. It gives every ditch the character
of a fortress, and every man the spirit of a soldier.
I recollect no instance in European history, Avhere an
established kingdom was conquered by invasion. They
all stand, at this hour, as they stood a thousand years
ago. In France, we have found the people without
leaders, and the troops, without experience ; of course,
they have not resisted our hussars and guns. But —
they have not joined us. In any other country of
Europe, we should have had recruits, crowding to
ask for service. But, the French farmer shuts up
his house ; the peasant flies ; the citizen barricades
his gates, and gives us cannon-shot for answer. The
whole land rejects us, if it dares not repel ; and, if we
conquer, we shall have to colonize."
" Well, we must fight them into it," said Vorn-
horst.
"Or leave them to fight themselves out of it," I
observed — " my national prejudices are not favourable
to reasoning at the point of the bayonet."
MARSTON. 43
" Or take the chances of the world, and float on,
wherever the surge carries us," laughed the duke.
But Guiscard was still inflexible. His deep eye
flashed with a beam, for which I could never have
looked, under those projecting brows. His cheek was
visited by a tinge which argued a passionate interest in
the subject; and, as he spoke, he showed that he might
have figured in senates and councils. Of course, at
this distance of time, I can offer but a faint trace of
his bold and almost prophetic wisdom.
" I see no result for France, but a democracy. This
war is like no other, since the fall of the Roman em-
pire. It is a war of the passions. What man can
calculate the power of those untried elements ? I
implore your highness to consider, with the deepest
caution, every step to be taken, from this moment.
Europe has no commander whom it can place in a
rank with yourself; and if you, at the head of the
first army of Europe, shall find it necessary to re-
treat before the peasantry of France ; it will form a
disastrous era in the art of war, and a still more
disastrous omen to every crowned head of Europe."
The duke looked uneasy. But he merely said with
a smile — " My dear Guiscard, we must keep these
sentiments to ourselves, in camp. — You are a cosmo-
polite, and look on these things with too refined a
speculation. Like myself, you have dined and supped
with the Diderots and Raynals — pleasant people, no
doubt, but dangerous advisers.^'
" I have ! " exclaimed his excited hearer ; " and
neither I, nor any other man, could have met them
44 MARSTON.
without admiring their talents. But I always looked
on their coterie, as a sort of moral lunatics, the
madder the more light they have."
" Our question is simply one of fact," said the
duke.
" Yes, but of a fact, on which the fate of Europe
hinges at this moment ! — The monarchy of France is
already cloven down. What shape of power is now
to take up its fallen sword? The sovereignty of
time, laws, and loyalty, is in the grave, and the
funeral rites will be bloody ; but what hand is to
make the ground of that grave tirm enough, to bear
the foundations of a new throne ?"
" The heels of our boots and the hoofs of our
horses — they will trample it solid enough !" exclaimed
Vornhorst.
" The much stronger probability is," replied Guis-
card, " that they will trample it into a mire, so deep,
that we may reckon the Allied powers fortunate if
they ever escape from it. France is revolutionized
irrecoverably. Three things have been done, within
the last three months, any one of which would over-
throw the strongest government on the Continent. —
By confiscating the property of the rich, she has
set the precedent for breaking down all property, has
thrown the prize into the hands of the populace, and
thus, after corrupting them by the robbery, has bound
them by the bribe ! — By destroying and banishing the
nobility, she has done more than to extinguish an
antagonist of the mob ; she has swept away a pro-
tector of the people ! The provinces will be helpless ;
MARSTON. 45
Paris will be the sovereign, and Paris itself will have
the mob for its master. — By her third step, the ruin
of the church, she has given the death-blow to the
few and feeble feelings, which acknowledged higher
objects than the things of the hour. — But, the press-
ing point for us is, how the Revolution will act upon
the military spirit of the nation. The French may
succumb; but they make good soldiers. They are
the only nation in Europe who, in spite of all
their defeats, regard war as their natural ))ath to
power."
"Yet, they fly before our squadrons," observed
the duke.
" Yes, as schoolboys fly before their master ; until
they ai*e strong enough to rebel ; or as the Indians fled
before the lances and horses of Cortes, until they
became accustomed to them. — It would be infinitely
wiser to leave the republicans to struggle with each
other, than to unite them by a national attack. — Mobs,
like the wolves, always fall upon the wounded. The
first faction that receives a blow in the campaigns of
the Palais Royal, will have all the others tearing it to
fragments. The custom will spread ; every new drop
of blood will let loose a torrent in retaliation ; and
when France has thus been drained of her fever, will
be the time, either to restore her, or to paralyse, for
ever, her power of disturbing the world."
The sound of a gun reminded us, that the hour of
the evening hymn had come. It broke up our coun-
cil. The incomparable harmony of so many thousand
voices again ascended into the air; and at the dis-
charge of another gun, all was still once more. The
46 MARSTON.
night had now fallen, and the fatigues of the day
made repose welcome. But the conversation of the
last hour made me anxious to obtain all the know-
ledge of the country, and of the campaign, which
could be obtained from Guiscard. Vornhorst, full of
a soldier's impetuosity, had gone to the quarters of
his grenadiers, and was busy with hurried prepara-
tions for the morrow. The duke had retired, but,
through the curtains of his tent, I could see the
lamps by whose light his secretaries were in attend-
ance. With Guiscard, I continued pacing up and
down in front of our quarters, listening to the ob-
servations of a mind as richly stored, and as original,
as I have ever met among mankind.
He still persisted in his conviction, " that we had
come at the wrong time ; it was either too early or too
late ; before the nation had grown weary of anarchy,
and after they had triumphed over the throne. — The
rebound," said he energetically, "will be terrible.
Ten times our force would be thrown away in this
war. The army may drive all things before its front ;
but it will be assailed in the rear, in the flanks ;
every where. It is like the eruption which I have
seen poured from Etna into the sea. — It drove the
tide before it, and threw the surges up in vapour ; but
they were too powerful for it, after all. And there
stands the lava fixed and cold, and there roll the
surges again, burying it for ever from the sight of
man."
A sudden harmony of trumpets, from various
points of the vast encampment, pierced the ear; and
in another moment the whole line of the hills was
MARSTON. 47
crowned with flame. The signal for lighting the
fires of the Austrian and Prussian outposts, had
been given, and the effect was almost magical. In
this army all things were done with a regularity
almost perfect. The trumpet spoke, and the answer
was instantaneous. All comparisons are feeble to
realities of this order — seen, too, while the heart of
man is quickened to enjoy and wonder, and feels
scarcely less than a new existence, in the stin-ing
events which occur every where round him. The
first comparison that struck me was the vague one,
of a shower of stars. The mountain pinnacles were
in a blaze. The fires of the bivouacs soon spread
through the forest, then down the slopes of the hills,
and then blazed round the horizon.
The night was fine, the air flowed in freshness
and fragrance from the verdure of the immense
woods ; and the scent of the thyme and heath-flowers,
pressed by my foot, rose "wooingly on the air."
All was calm, and odorous. The flourish of the
evening trumpets still continued to swell, in the rich
harmonies which German skill alone can breathe,
and thoughts of the past and the future began to steal
over my mind. — I was once more in England, gazing
on the splendid beauty of Clotilde ; and again imagin-
ing the thousand forms in which my weary fortunes
must be shaped, before I dared to offer her a share
in my hopes of happiness. — I saw Mariamne once
more ; with her smile reminding me of Shakspeare's
exquisite picture —
" Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful,
In the contempt and anger of that lip !"
48 MARSTON.
Then came a vision of my early home. — The halls of
Mortimer castle — the feebly surviving parent there,
whom I still loved — the heartless and haughty
brother — the pomp and pageantry to which he was
born ; while I was flung out into the wilderness, like
the son of the handmaid, to perish, or, like him,
escape only by miracle. — " At that hour, perhaps,
there were revels in the house of my fathers, while
their descendant was wandering on a hill-side, in
the midst of hostile armies, exposed to the chances
of the conflict, and possibly only measuring with his
pace the extent of his grave." But, while I was thus
sinking in heart; my hand, in some unconscious
movement, struck the badge of Frederic's order on
my bosom. What trifles change the current of human
thoughts ! That " star" threw more light over my
darkness, than the thousand constellations which
studded the vault above my head. Success and
public name again filled my mind. I saw things,
events, and persons, through a brilliant haze of hope ;
and, determining to follow fortune wherever she might
lead me, abjured all remembrance of calamity in my
unfriended, yet resolute, career. Is it to consider
the matter too curiously, to conceive that the laws
of nature aflect the mind ? or that the spirit of man
resembles an instrument, after all — an ^olian harp,
which owes all its pulses to the gusts that pass across
its strings, — simply depending upon the stronger or
the feebler breeze ; whether it shall ring with joyous
and triumphant chords, or sink into throbs and sounds
of sorrow ?
The galloping of horses aroused me. It was
MARSTON. 49
Guiscard with an escort. "What! not in your bed
yet ?" was his hurried salutation. " So much the
better ; you ivill have a showy despatch, to send to
England to-morrow. — Clairfaithas just outdone him-
self. He found the French retreating, and he fol-
lowed them without loss of time. His troops had
been so dispersed by the service of the day, that he
could collect but fifteen hundred hussars ; and with
these he gallantly set forth, to pick up stragglers.
His old acquaintance, Chazot, whom he had beaten
the day before, was in command of a rearguard of
ten thousand men. His fifteen hundred brave fellows
were now exposed to ruin ; and doubtless, if they
had exhibited any symptom of retreating, they must
have been ruined. But here Clairfait's a la Turque
style was exactly in place. He ordered, that not a
shot should be fired, but that the spur and sabre
should do the business ; and at once plunged into
the mass of infantry, cavalry, and artiller}'. — In five
minutes the whole were put to the rout ; guns, bag-
gage, and ammunition taken ; and the French gene-
ral-in-chief was as much stripped of his rear-guard as
ever was peacock plucked of his tail."
"Will the duke follow up the blow?" was mj"-
inquiry.
" Beyond all doubt. — I have just left him, giving
orders for the advance of the whole line at daybreak ;
and unless M. Dumourier is remarkably on the alert,
we shall have him supping in camp, within the next
twenty-four hours. — But you will have better intelli-
gence from himself; for he bade me prepare you for
VOL. II. D
50 MARSTON.
meeting him, as he rides to the wing, from which
the march begins."
" Excellent news ! You and Vornhorst will be
field-marshals before the campaign is over." His
countenance changed.
'* No ; my course unfortunately lies in a different
direction. The duke has been so perplexed, by the
delays continually forced upon him by the cabinets,
that he has been more than once on the point of
giving up the command. Clairfait's success, and the
prospect of cutting off the retreat of the French, or
of getting between them and Paris, have furnished
him with new materials ; and I am now on my way
to Berlin, to put matters in the proper point of \dew.
— Farewell, Marston, I am sorry to lose you as a
comrade; but we must meet again; — though no laurels
for me now. The duke must not find me here ; he
will pass by within the next few minutes. Fare-
well !"
The noble fellow sprang from his horse, and shook
my hand with a fervour which I had not thought to
be in his calm and lofty nature.
" Farewell !" he uttered once more, threw himself
on the saddle, and was gone.
I had scarcely lost the sound of his horse's hoofs,
as they rattled up the stony ravine of the hill; when
the sound of a body of cavalry announced the ap-
proach of the generalissimo. He rode up, and ad-
dressed me with his usual courtesy. " I really am
afraid, Mr. Marston, that you will think me in a
conspiracy to prevent your enjoying a night's rest ;
MARSTON. 51
for all our meetings, I think, have been at the
'witching hour!' But, would you think it too much,
to mount your horse, and ride with me, before you
send your despatches to your cabinet ? — I must visit
the troops of the left wing without delay; we can
converse on the way."
I was all obedience — "a knight of Prussia; and
therefore at his highness's service."
"Well, well, I thought so. You English gentle-
men are ready for every thing. — In the mean time,
while your horse is saddling, look over this letter. —
That was a gallant attempt of Clairfait's, and, if we
had not been too far off to support him, we might
have pounced upon the main body, as effectually as
he did upon the rear. — Chazot has escaped, but one
of M. Dumourier's aides-de-camp, a remarkably in-
telligent fellow, has been taken, and on him has been
found the paper, which I beg you to peruse."
It was a letter from the commander-in-chief for the
Bureau de la Guerre in Paris.
"Monsieur le Mixistre, — I write this, after
having been on horseback for eighteen hours. We
must have reinforcements without a moment's delay,
or we are lost — the honour of France is lost — France
herself is lost. I have with me less than 20,000
men to defend the road to Paris against 100,000.
The truth must be told — truth becomes a citizen.
We have been beaten ! I have been unable to hold
the passes of Argonne, and the enemy's hussars are
already scouring the country in my rear. I have
sent order upon order to Kellerman, and all his an-
swer is, that he is preparing to advance ; but he has
D 2
52 MARSTON.
not stirred a step. — I dare say, that he is playing at
trictrac at Mentz this moment." The letter then
gave details.
^' My march from the Argonne has been a bold
manoeuvre, but it has cost us something. Chazot,
to whom I entrusted the protection of the march,
and to whom I had given the strictest orders to keep
the enemy's light troops at a distance ; has suffered
himself to be entrapped by those experienced cam-
paigners, and has lost men. — Duval fought bravely
at the head of his brigade, and Miranda narrowly
escaped being taken, in a dashing attempt to save
the park of artillery. He had a horse killed under
him, and was carried from the field. .Macdonald,
who takes this, will explain more. He is a promis-
ing officer — give him a step. In the mean time, send
me every man that you can. France is in danger."
"The object now," observed the duke, "will be,
to press upon the enemy, in his present state of dis-
order, until we shall either be enabled to force him
to fight a pitched battle at a disadvantage, or strike
in between him and the capital. — And now for-
ward !"
I mounted, and we rode through the camp — the
duke occasionally giving some order for the morning
to the officers commanding the successive divisions,
and conversing with me on the points in discussion
between England and the Allies. He was evidently
dissatisfied with continental politics.
" The king and the emperor are both sincere ;
but that is more than I can always say for those
about them. We have too many Italians, and even
MARSTON. 53
Frenchmen, at our German courts. They are repub-
licans to a man ; and in consequence, eveiy im-
portant measure is betrayed. — I can perceive in the
manoeuvring of the enemy's general, that he must
have been acquainted with my last despatch from
Berlin ; and, I am so thoroughly persuaded of the
fact, that I mean to manoeuvre, to-morrow, on that
conviction. — The order from Berlin is, that I shall
act upon his flanks. Well then — within two hours
after daylight, I shall make a push for his centre ;
and, breaking through that, shall separate his wings,
and crush them at my leisure. One would think,"
said he, pausing, and looking round him with the
exultation of conscious power, " that the troops had
overheard us, and already anticipated a victory."
The sight from the knoll, where we drew our bri-
dles, was certainly of the most striking kind. The
fires, which at first I had seen glittering only on the
mountain tops, were now blazing in all quarters ; in
the cleared spaces of the forest, on the heaths and
in the ravines : the heaps of faggots gathered for the
winter consumption of the cities, by the woodmen of
the province, were put in requisition, and the axes of
the pioneers added many a huge larch and ancient
elm to the blaze. Soldiers seldom think much of those
who are to come after them ; and the flames shot up
among the thickets with the most unsparing bril-
Hancy. Cheerfulness, too, prevailed ; the sounds of
laughter, and gay voices, and songs, arose on every
side.
The well-preserved game of this huge hunting-
ground, the old vexation of the French peasant, now
D 3
54 MARSTON.
fell into hands which had no fear of the galleys for a
shot at a wild boar, or bringing down a partridge.
The fires exhibited many a substantial specimen of
forest luxury, in the act of preparation. No man
enjoys rest and food, like the soldier. A day's
fighting and fasting gives a sense of delight to both,
such as the man of cities can scarcely conceive. No
epicure at his most recherche board, ever knew the
true pleasure of the senses, equal to the campaigner
stretched upon the grass, until his supper is ready,
and then sitting down to it. I acknowledge, that to
me, the simple rest, and the simple meal, often gave a
sense of enjoyment, which I have never felt in the
luxuries of higher life. The instantaneous sleep that
followed ; the night without a restless moment ; the
awaking, with all my powers refreshed, and yet
with as complete an unconsciousness of the hours past
away, as if I had lain down but the moment before,
and started from night into sunshine — all belong to
the campaigner : he has his troubles like other men ;
but his enjoyments are his own, exclusive, delicious,
incomparable.
An officer of the staff now rode up, to make a re-
port on some movement of the division intended to
lead in the morning, and the duke gave me permission
to retire. Ke galloped off in the direction of the co-
lumn, and I slowly pursued my way to my quarters.
Yet, I could not resist many a halt, to gaze on the
singular beauty of the bursts of flame which lighted
the landscape. More than once they reminded me
of the famous Homeric description, of the Trojan
bivouac, by the ships. All the images were the
MARSTON. 55
same, except that, for the sea, we had the endless
meadows of Champagne, and, for the ships, the
tents of the enemy. — We had the fires, the ex-
ulting troops, the carouse, the picketed horses,
the shouts and songs, the lustre of the autumnal
sky, and the bold longings for victory, and the
dawn. Even in Pope's feeble translation, the scene
is animated —
" The troops exulting sate in order round,
And beaming fires illumined all the ground."
Then follows the famous simile, of the moon sud-
denly throwing its radiance over the obscure features
of the landscape.
But Homer, the poet of realities, soon returns to
the true material of the warrior scene,
" So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,
And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays,
A thousand piles the dusky hoiTors gild,
And shoot a shadowy lustre o'er the field.
Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend,
Whose imiber'd arms by fits thick flashes send ;
Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn,
And ardent warriors wait the rismg morn."
D 4
CHAPTER XIX.
" If aught against thy life,
Thy country sought of thee, it sought mijustly,
Against the law of nature, law of nations.
No more, thy country ; but an impious crew
Of men conspiring to uphold their state
By worse than hostile deeds ; violating the ends,
For which our country is a name so dear."
Milton.
I LEAVE it to others to give the history of this
campaign, one of the most memorable of Europe from
its consequences. The tramp of that army roused
the slumbering giant of France. If the Frenchman
said of a battle, that it was like a ball-room, " you see
little beyond your opposite partner ;" he might have
said of a campaign, that you scarcely see even so
much. The largeness of the scale is beyond all per-
sonal observation. I can answer only for myself,
that I was on horseback before daybreak, and marched
in the midst of columns which had no more doubt of
beating up the enemy's quarters, than they had of
eating their first meal. All were in the highest
spirits ; and the opinions of the staff, among whom
MARSTON. 57
the duke had assigned me a place, were so sanguine,
that I felt some concern at their reaching the ear of
the captive aide-de-camp. This induced me to draw
him away gradually from the crowd. I found him
lively, as his countrymen generally are, but exhibiting
at once a strength of observation and a frankness of
language, more uncommon.
" I admit,^' said he, " that you have beaten us ;
but this is the natural eifect of your incomparable
discipline. Our army is new, our general new, every
thing new; but our imprudence, in venturing to meet
your 100,000 with our 25,000.— Yet France is not
beaten. In fact, you have not met the French, up
to this hour."
" What !" I exclaimed in surprise ; " of what nation
are the troops which we have fought in the Argonne,
and are now following on the high-road to Paris ?
The Duke of Brunswick will be amused, by hearing
that he has been wasting his cannon-shot on spectres."
" Ah, you English," he replied with a broad laugh,
which made me still more doubt his nation, " are
such matter-of-fact people, that you require substance
in every thing. — But, what are the troops of France ?
Brave fellows enough, but not one of them has ever
seen a shot fired in his life ; even the few battalions
which we had in America saw nothing but hedge-
firing. The men before you have never seen more
service than they could find in a cabaret quarrel, or
in hunting a highwayman. Some of them, I admit,
have served their king in the shape of shouldering
their muskets at his palace gates in Versailles, or
marching in a procession of cardinals and confessors
D 5
58 MARSTON.
to Notre-Dame. My astonishment is, that at the
first shot they did not all run to their soup, and at
the second leave their muskets to take care of them-
selves. But they are brave ; and, if they once learn
to fight, the pupils may beat the master."
" You are a philosopher. Monsieur, but, I hope,
no prophet. I think I observe in you something of
our English blood after all. — You have opinions, and
you speak them."
"Not quite English, nor yet quite French. My
father was a Briton, but a borderer ; so not even ex-
actly either English or Scotch. He took up arms
for the son of James — of course was ruined, as every
one was, who had to do with a Stuart, from the be-
ginning of time — luckily escaped, after the crash of
Culloden, entered the Scottish Brigade here, and left
me nothing but his memory, his sword, and the
untarnished name of Macdonald." I bowed to a
name so connected with honour ; and the lively aide-
de-camp and I became, from that moment, fast
friends. After a long and fatiguing march, in one of
the most sultry days of the year, our advanced guard
reached the front of the enemy's position. The out-
posts were driven in at once ; and the whole army,
as it came up, was formed in order of battle. Rumours
had been spread, of large reinforcements being on
their way to the enemy ; and the clouds of dust
which rose along the plain, and the growing sound of
baggage waggons and heavy guns behind the hills,
rendered it probable. Still, the country before us was
clear, and our force moved slowly forward to storm an
extensive range of heights, in the shape of a half-
MARSTON. 59
moon, which commanded the field. This was one of
the sights, which nothing but war can furnish, and
to which no other sight on earth is equal. The
masses, the shouts, the rapidity of the movements —
the galloping of the cavalry — the rolling of the parks
of artillery — the rush of the light troops — the press-
ing march of the battalions — and all glittering with
all the pomps of waving standards, flashing sabres,
and columns of bayonets, that looked like sheets
of steel. The aide-de-camp evidently enjoyed the
sight, as much as myself, and gave way to that in-
stinct, by which man is a wolf, let the wise say what
they will, and exults in war. But, when he heard
shots fired from the range of hills, his countenance
changed.
" There must be some mistake here,^' he said, with
sudden gravity. *^ Dumourier could never have in-
tended to hold his position so far in advance, and so
wholly unprotected. — Those troops will be lost, and
the whole campaign may be compromised.^'
The attack now commenced along the line, and the
resistance was evidently serious. A heavy fire was
sustained for some time ; but the troops gradually
established themselves on the lower part of the range.
" I kno\y it all now ! " exclaimed my agitated com-
panion, after a long look through my glass : " it is
Kellerman's corps, which ought to have been a league
to the rear of its present position at this moment.
He must have received counter orders since I left
him, or been desperately deceived ; another half hour
there, and he will never leave those hills, but a pri-
D 6
(30 MARSTON.
soner or a corpse." From the shaking of his bridle,
and the nervous quivering of his manly countenance,
I saw how eagerly he would have received permission
to bring the French general out of his dilemma. But
he was a man of honour, and I was sure of him. In
the midst of a thunder of cannon, which seemed to
shake the ground under our feet, the firing suddenly
ceased on the enemy^s side. The cessation was fol-
lowed on ours ; there was an extraordinary silence
over the field, and probably the generalissimo ex-
pected a flag of truce, or some proposal for the capi-
tulation of the enemy's corps. But none came ; and
after a pause, in which aides-de-camp and orderlies
were continually galloping between the advance and
the spot where the duke stood at the head of his
staff, the line moved on again, and the hill was in our
possession. But Kellerman was gone ; and before
our light troops could make any impression on the
squadrons which covered the movement, he had again
taken up a position on that formidable ground, which
was destined to figure so memorably in the annals
of French soldiership, the heights of Valmy.
" What think you now, my friend ?" was my
question.
"Just what I thought before," was the answer.
" We want science, without which bravery may fail ;
but we have bravery, without which science must fail.
— Kellerman may have deceived himself in his first
position, but he has evidently retrieved his error.
He has now shortened his distance from his reinforce-
ments, and has secured one of the strongest positions
MARSTON. Gl
In the country. You may drive him out of it before
nightfall; but you might as well storm Ehrenbreit-
stein, or your own Gibraltar, by morning."
" Well ; the experiment is about to be made, for
my glass shows me our howitzers en masse, moving
up to salute him with grape and canister. He will
have an uneasy bivouac of it : what say you ?"
Whether Kellerman can manoeuvre, I do not know;
but that he will fight, I am perfectly sure. He is old,
but one of the steadiest officers in our service. — If it
is in his orders to maintain those heights, he will
hold them, to his last cartridge and his last man."
Our conversation was now lost in the roar of
artillery ; and after a tremendous fire of an hour on
the French position, which was answered with equal
weight from the heights, a strong division was sent
to assail the principal battery. The attempt was
gallantly made, and the success seemed infallible ;
when I heard, through all the roar, the exclamation
of Macdonald, " Brave Steingell ! " At the words,
he pointed to a heavy column of infantry, hurrying
down the ravine, in rear of the redoubt.
" Those are from the camp," he exclaimed, " and a
few thousands more will make the post impregnable."
The sight of the column seemed to have given re-
newed vigour to both sides ; for, while the French
guns rapidly increased their fire, aided by the mus-
ketry of the newly arrived troops ; the Prussian
artillerists, then the first in Europe, threw their shot
in such showers, that the forest, which had hitherto
largely screened the enemy, began to fall in masses ;
branch and trunk were swept away, and the ground
62 MARSTON.
became as naked of cover, as if it had been stripped
by the axe. The troops thus exposed could not
withstand this " iron hail/' and they were palpably
staggered. At length, the retreat of a brigade, after
suffering immense loss, shook the whole line, and
produced a charge of our dragoons up the hill. I
gave an involuntary glance at Macdonald. He was
pale and exhausted ; but in another moment his eye
sparkled, his colour came, and I heard him, almost
unconsciously, exclaim, " Bravo, Chazot ! All is not
lost yet." I saw a group of mounted officers gallop-
ing into the very spot which had been abandoned by
the brigade, and followed by the colours of three or
four battalions, which were planted directly under our
fire. " There comes Chazot with his division !" cried
the aide-de-camp ; " gallant fellow, let him now make
up for his ill fortune ! Monsieur Brunswick will not
sleep on the hill of Valmy to-night. He has been
unable to force the centre ; and now both flanks are
secured : another attack would cost him ten thousand
men. — Nor will Monsieur Brunswick sleep on the
hills of Valmy to-morrow. Dumourier was right;
there was his Thermopylag. But it will not be
stormed. Vive la France /"
The prediction was nearly true. The unexpected
reinforcements, and the approach of night, deter-
mined the generalissimo to abandon the assault, for
the time. The fire soon slackened, the troops were
withdrawn, and, after a heavy loss on both sides,
both slept upon the field.
I was roused at midnight from the deep sleep of
fatigue, by an order to attend the duke ; who was
MARSTON. GS
then holding a council. Vornhorst was my sum-
moner, and on our way he slightly explained the
purpose of his mission. " We are all in rather bad
spirits, at the result of to-day's action. The affair
itself was not much, as it was only one of detach-
ments, but it shows two things : — that the French
are true to their revolutionary nonsense ; and that
they can fight. On even ground we have beaten
them, and shall beat them again ; but if Champagne
gives them cover, what will it be, when we get into
the broken country that lies between us, and Paris ?
Still, there has been no rising of the people, and
until then, we have nothing to fear for the event of
the campaign."
"^ What then have you to fear ?" was my question.
"What calls the council to-night?"
" My good friend," said Vornhorst, with a grave
smile, which more reminded me of Guiscard, "re-
member the Arab apologue, — that every man is born
with two strings tied to him, one large and visible,
but made of twisted feathers ; the other so fine as
to be invisible, but made of twisted steel. Thus,
there are few men without a visible motive, which
all can see ; and an invisible one, which, however,
pulls them just as the puller pleases. — Berlin pulls
now, and the duke's glory and the good of Europe
will be sacrificed to policy."
" But will the king suffer this ? Will the emperor
stand by, and see this done?"
" They are both zealous for the liberation of the
unfortunate royal family. But, entre nous — and this
is a secret which I scarcely dare whisper even in a
64 MARSTON.
French desert — their councillors have other ideas. —
Poland is the prize to which the ministers of both
courts look. They know, that the permanent pos-
session of French provinces is impossible. — It would
be against the will of your great country, against
the deepest request of the French king, and against
their own declarations. But, Polish seizures would
give them provinces, to which nobody has laid
claim, and which nobody can envy. The conse-
quence is, that a negotiation is on foot, at this hour,
to conclude the war by treaty, and, having ensured
the safety of the royal family, to withdraw the army
into Lorraine."
" Why then am I summoned ? "
" To put your signature to the preliminaries."
I started with indignation. " They shall wait
long, if they wait till I sign them. — I shall not attend
this council."
" Observe," said Vornhorst, " I have spoken only
on conjecture. If I return without you, my can-
dour will be rewarded by an instant sentence for
Spandau."
This decided me. I shook my gallant friend by
the hand ; the cloud passed from his brow, and we
rode together to the council. It was of a more
formal nature than I had yet witnessed. Two
officers expressly sent from Vienna and Berlin,
military envoys, had brought the decisions of their
respective cabinets upon the crisis. The duke said
little. He had lost his gay nonchalance of manner,
and was palpably dispirited and disappointed. His
address to me was as gracious as ever ; but it was
MARSTON. 65
more of the diplomatist, and less of the soldier.
Our sitting closed with a resolution, to agree upon
an armistice, and to make the immediate release of
the royal family one of the stipulations. I placed,
in the strongest light that I could, the immense
impulse which any pause in our advance must give
to the revolutionary spirit in France. I was over-
ruled. The proposal for the armistice was signed
by all present but one — that one myself. And as
we broke up silently and sullenly, at the lirst
glimpse of a cold and stormy dawn, the fit omen of
our future fate, I saw a secretary of the duke,
accompanied by Macdonald, sent off to the head-
quarters of the enemy.
All was now over, and I thought only of returning
to my post at Paris. I spent the rest of the day in
paying parting civilities to my gallant friends, and
ordered my caleche to be in readiness by morning.
But my prediction had been only too true, though I
had not calculated on so rapid a fulfilment. The
armistice was regarded as a national triumph. By
the electric change of public opinion, in this most
electric of all countries, every man in France was
a soldier, and every soldier a hero. This was the
miracle of twenty-four hours. Dumourier's force
instantly swelled to 100,000 men. He might have
had a million, if he had asked for them. The whole
country became suddenly impassable. Every village
poured out its company of armed peasants ; and,
notwithstanding the diplomatic cessation of hostili-
ties, a real, universal, and desperate peasant war
broke upon us on every side.
66 MARSTON.
After a week of this most harassing warfare, in
which we lost ten times the number of men, which
it would have cost, to march over the bodies of
Dumourier's army to the capital ; the order was
issued for a general retreat to the frontier. I re-
membered Mordecai's letter ; but it was now too
late. Even if I could have turned my horse's head
to a French port, I felt myself bound to share the
fortunes of the gallant army to which I had been so
closely attached. In the heat of youth, I went
even further ; and, as my mission had virtually
ceased, and I wore a Prussian order, I took the
i^ridiplomatic step, of proposing to act as one of the
duke's aides-de-camp, until the army had left the
enemy's territory. Behold me now, a hulan of the
duke's guard !
I found no reason to repent my choice, though
our service was remarkably severe. The peasant
war was chiefly against the light troops and irre-
gulars of the retreating army — the columns being
too formidable to admit of attack, by the multitude.
Forty thousand men, of the main army of France,
were appointed to the duty of " seeing us out of the
country." But, every attempt at foraging, every
movement beyond the range of our cannon, was
instantly met by a peasant skirmish. Every village
exhibited a barricade, from which we were fired on ;
every forest produced a succession of sharp en-
counters ; and the passage of every river required
as much precaution, as if we were at open war.
Thus we were perpetually on the wing, and our
personal escapes were often of the most hair-breadth
MARSTON. 67
kind. If we passed through a thicket, we were
sure to be met by a discharge of bullets ; if we dis-
mounted from our horses to take our hurried and
scanty meal, we found some of them shot at the
inn-door ; if we flung ourselves, tired as hounds
after a chase, on the straw of a village stable, the
probability was, that we were awakened by finding
the thatch in a blaze. How often we envied the
easier life of the battalions ! But there, an enemy,
more fearful than the peasantry, began to show
itself. The weather had changed to storms of rain
and bitter wind ; the plains of Champagne, never
famed for fertility, were now as wild and bare as a
Russian steppe. The worst provisions, supplied on
the narrowest scale — above all, disgust, the most
fatal canker of the soldier's soul — spread disease
.among the ranks ; and the roads on which we
followed the march, gave terrible evidence of the
havoc. The mortality at last became so great,
that it seemed not unlikely that the whole army
would thus melt away, before it reached the boun-
dary of this land of death.
The horror of the scene even struck the enemy;
and whether through fear of the contagion, or through
the uselesness of hunting down men who were tread-
ing to the grave by thousands, the peasantry ceased
to follow us. Yet such was the wretchedness of that
hideous progress, that this cessation of hostility was
scarcely a relief. The animation of the skirmishes,
though it often cost life, yet kept the rest more
alive ; the stratagem, the adventure, the surprise,
nay, even the defeat, relieved us from the dreadful
68 MARSTON.
monotony of the half-existence, to which we were
now condemned. Our buoyant and brilliant career
was at an end ; the light troops were now only the
mutes and mourners of a funeral procession of 70,000
men.
I still look back with an indescribable shudder, at
the scenes which we were compelled to witness from
day to day during that month of misery ; for the
march, which began in the first days of October, was
protracted till its end. I had kept up my spirits,
when many a more vigorous frame had sunk, and
many a maturer mind had desponded; but the per-
petual recurrence of the same dreary spectales ; the
dying, and the more fortunate dead, covering the
highways, the fields, and the village streets; at length
sank into my soul. Some recollections of earlier
principles, and the memory of my old friend Vincent,
prevented my taking the summary and unhappy
means of ridding myself of my burden, which I
saw daily resorted to among the soldiery — a bullet
through the brain, or a bayonet through the heart,
cured all. But, thanks to early impressions, I was
determined to wait the hand of the enemy, or the
course of nature. Many a night I lay down beside
my starving charger, with something of a hope, that
I should never see another morning ; and many a
morning, when I dragged my feeble limbs from the
cold and wet ground, I looked round the horizon for
the approach of some enemy's squadron, or peasant
band, which might give me an honourable chance of
escape from an existence now no longer endurable.
But all was in vain. For leagues round, no living
MARSTON. 69
object was visible, except thiat long column, silently
and slowly winding on through the distance, like an
army of spectres.
My diminished squadron had at length become
almost the only rear-guard. From a hundred and
fifty as fine fellows as ever sat a charger, we were
now reduced to a third. All its officers, youths of
the first families of Prussia, had either been left
behind, dying in the villages, or had been laid in
their graves by the road-side, and I was now the
only commandant. Perhaps even this circumstance
was the means of saving my life. My new respon-
sibility compelled me to make some exertion ; and
I felt that, live or die, I might still earn an honour-
able name. Even in those darkest hours, the thought,
that Clotilde might ask where and how I finished
my ill-fortuned career ; or that she gave a moment's
sorrow to one who remembered her to the last ; had
its share in restoring me to the world. In that fond
frenzy, which seems so fantastic, when it is past, but
which is so natural, and actually so irresistible, while
it is in the mind ; I WTote down my feelings, wild as
they were — my impossible hopes, my inextinguishable
affection, my dying devotement to her image ; finish-
ing with a promise, to w'atch over her ; if there could
be an intercourse between the living and the dead, in
that world to which I felt myself hastening. — Placing
the paper in my bosom, with a locket containing a
ringlet of her beautiful hair, which Mariamne had
contrived to obtain for me ; I felt as if I had done
my last duty among mankind.
Still, we wandered on, through a country' which
70 MARSTON.
had the look of a boundless cemetery. Not a peasant
was now to be met; not a sound of human labour, of joy
or sorrow, reached the ear ; not a smoke rose from
mansion or cottage ; all was still, except when the
wind burst in bitter gusts over the plain, or the
almost ceaseless rain swelled into sheets, and sent
the rivers roaring down before us. If the land had
never been inhabited, or had been swept of its inha-
bitants by an avenging Providence, it could not have
been more solitary. I never conceived the idea of
the wilderness before. It was the intensity of deso-
lation.
We seemed even to make no progress. We all began
to think, that the scene would never change. But,
one evening, when the troop had lain down under
the shelter of a knoll, my sergeant, a fine Hunga-
rian, whose eyes had been sharpened by hussar ser-
vice on the Turkish border, roused me, saying that
he had discovered French horse-tracks in advance of
us. We were all quickly on the alert ; the horse-
tracks were found to be numerous, and it was evi-
dent, that a strong body of the enemy's cavalry had
managed to get in between us and the army. It is
true, that there was a treaty, in which its unmolested
movement was an article. But, it might have been
annulled; or the French general might have been
inclined to make a daring experiment on our worn-
down battalions. — We M^ere on horseback imme-
diately. The track led us along the high-road for
one or two leagues, and then turned off towards
a village on a height at some distance. We now
paused, and the question was, whether to follow the
MARSTON. 71
enemy, or to rest ourselves, and our tired horses, for
the night. But, we had scarcely come to the de-
cision of unloosing girths, when the sky above the
village showed a sudden glow ; and a confused
clamour of voices came upon the wind. Dispatch-
ing an orderly to the duke, to inform him of the
French movement, we now rode towards the village.
We found the road in its immediate neighbourhood
covered with fugitives ; who, however, instead of
flying from us, with the usual horror of the peasantry,
hung on our bridles, and implored us with every
wild gesticulation, to hasten to the gates. All that
I could learn from the outcries of men, women, and
children, was, that their village, or rather town —
for we found it of considerable size — had been the
quarters of some of the Austrian cavalry, and that
the officers had given a ball, to which the leading
families had been invited. The ball was charged as
a national crime by the democrats in Paris, and a
regiment of horse had been sent to punish those un-
fortunate people.
To attack such a force with fifty worn-out men,
was obviously hopeless ; and my hulans, brave as
they were, hung down their heads ; but a fresh con-
course came rushing from the gates with even louder
outcries than before, and the words, massacre and
conflagration, were in the mouths of all. While I
pondered for a moment on our want of means, a fine
old man, with his white hair stained with blood from
a sabre wound in his forehead, clung to my charger's
neck, and implored me, by the honour of soldiership,
to make but one effort against the revolutionary
72 MARSTON.
brigands, as he termed them. " I am a French
officer and a noble !" he exclaimed — " I have served
my king, I have a son in the army of Conde, and
now the wretches have seized on my only daughter,
my Amalie, and they are carrying her to their ac-
cursed guillotine."
I could resist no longer; yet I looked round de-
spairingly at my force. " Follow me," said the
agonized old man ; " one half of the villains are
drunk in the cafes already, the other half are busy
in that horrid procession to the axe. I shall take
you by a private way, and you may fall upon them
by surprise. — You shall find me, and all who belong
to me, sword in hand by your side. — Come on ; and
the God of battles, and protector of the unhappy,
will give you victory." He knelt at my feet, with
his hands upraised. — " For my child's sake !" — he
continued faintly to exclaim — " for my innocent
child's sake !" I saw tears fall down some of our
bronzed faces, and I had but one word to utter ; but
that was — "Forward!" We followed our guide
swiftly and silently through the narrow streets ; and
then suddenly emerging into the public square, saw
such a sight of public terror, as never before met my
eyes.
The market-place was lighted up, and filled with
dragoons. Leaving my hulans under cover of a dark
street, and riding forward to reconnoitre, I saw, with
astonishment, the utter carelessness with which they
abandoned themselves to their indulgences, in the
midst of an irritated population. Some were drink-
ing on horseback ; some had thrown themselves on
MARSTON". 73
the benches of the market-place, and were evidently in-
toxicated. The people stood at the corners of the
streets, looking on, palpably in terror, yet as palpably
indignant at the outrage of the military. From the
blaze in some of the windows, and the shrieks of
females, I could perceive that plunder was going on.
Yet, a strong body of cavalry, mounted in the middle
of the square, and keeping guard round a waggon on
which a guillotine had been already erected, still
made me think an attack hopeless. I now saw a
rush of the people from one of the side streets ; a
couple of dragoon helmets were visible above the
crowd; and three or four carts followed, filled with
young females in white robes and flowers, as if
dressed for a ball. I felt my horse's bridle pulled,
and saw the old noble. "■ Now or never !" he cried,
in a voice almost choked with emotion. "Those are
for the guillotine — barbarians ! brigands ! — they will
murder my Amalie." He sank before me. " What !
is this an execution?" I exclaimed. His answer was
scarcely above a whisper, for he seemed fainting.
" The villains have been sent," said he, *" to burn the
town ; they have seized the children of our best
families, compelled them to dress as they were
dressed for the Prussian ball, and are now about to
murder them by their accursed guillotine." Point-
ing to one lovely girl, who, pale as a spectre, stood in
the foremost of those vehicles of death, he exclaimed,
" Amalie ! O, my Amalie ! "
The cart was already within a few feet of the scaf-
fold, when I gave the word to my troopers. The
brave fellows answered my "Forward 1" with a shout,
VOL. II. E
74 MARSTON.
charged sabre in hand, and in an instant had thrown
themselves between the victims and the guillotine.
Their escort, taken completely by surprise, was
broken at the first shock ; we dashed without loss of
time on the squadrons scattered round the market,
and swept it clear of them. Our success was com-
plete. The regiment, intoxicated, and unacquainted
with our force — which they probably thought to be
the advance of the who^c Prussian cavalry — after
having lost many men, for the peasantry showed no
mercy on the dismounted, turned at full gallop into
the open country. The towns-people now performed
their part. The victims were hurried away by their
families, in lamentations and rejoicings, tears and
kisses. The old noble's daughter, half dead, was
carried off in her father's arms, with a thousand
benedictions on me. The guillotine was hewn down
with a hundred axes, and the fragments burned in
the square. Its waggon was made to serve as a por-
tion of a barricade ; and with every vehicle, which
could be rolled out, the entrance to the street was
fortified; with the national rapidity, in any deed, good
or ill, under the stars.
After having appeased our hunger, and that of our
famishing horses, and being offered all the purses,
which the French dragoons had left them ; we finished
the exploit by a general cheer in honour of the ladies,
and marched on our route, followed by the prayers
of the whole community. Thus ended the only pro-
ductive skii^mish of the retreat. But, it fed us, broke
the monotony of the march, and gave us something
to talk of — and the soldier asks but little more. A
MARSTON. 75
gallant action had certainly been done ; not the less
gallant for its being a humane one ; and even my
bold hulans gave me credit for being a "smart
officer," a title of no slight value in their dashing
service.
Yet what, as the poet Saadi says, is fortune, " but a
peacock, a showy tail on a frightful pair of legs ?" Our
triumph was to be suddenly followed by a reverse. The
burgundy and champagne of the old count's cellar
had made us festive, and our voices were heard along
the road, with a gaiety imprudent in a hostile land.
The sound of a trumpet in our front brought us to
our senses, and a dead stand. But we were in a vein
of heroism, and instead of taking to our old hussar
habits, and slipping round the enemy's flanks ; we
determined to cut our way through them, if they had
the whole cavalry of France for their appui. The
word was given, and the spur carried us through a
strong line of cavalry posted across the road. But
the moon had just risen, enough to show us a still
stronger line a few hundred yards beyond, which it
would be folly to touch. There was now no resource,
but to return as we went, which we did at full speed,
and again crushed our antagonists. But, there again
we saw squadron after squadron blocking up the road.
All was now desperate. Yet, Frederick's law of arms
was well known — " the officer of cavalry who ivaits
to be charged, must be broke." We made a plunge
at our living circumvallation ; but the French dra-
goons had now learned common sense — they opened
for us ; and when we were once fairly in, enveloped
us completely ; it was then a troop to a brigade ;
E 2
76 MARSTON.
fifty jaded men and horses, to fifteen hundred, fresh
from camp. What happened further I know not. I
saw, for a minute or two, a great deal of pistol-firing
and a great deal of sabre clashing ; I felt my horse
stagger under me, at the moment when I aimed a
blow at a gigantic cuirassier ; a pistol exploded close
to my ear, as I was going down ; and I heard
no more.
CHAPTER XX.
" 0, Nation miserable !
Wlien shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne,
By his own interdiction stands accursed,
And doth blaspheme his breed ? Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king. —
Fare thee well !
Those evils thou i-epeat'st upon thyself,
Have banished me."
Shakspeare,
On opening my eyes again, I found the scene
strangely altered. I was lying in a little chamber
furnished with Parisian elegance — a sufficient con-
trast to a sky dark as pitch, or only illumined by
carbines, and the sparkles of sabres delving at each
other. — I was lying on an embroidered sofa ; an
equally strong contrast to my position, among the
bodies of fallen men and the heels of plunging
horses. A showy Turkish cloak, or I'obe tie chumbre,
had superseded my tarnished jacket. I was completely
altered as a warrior ; and, from the glance which I
cast on a mirror, surrounded with gilded nymphs and
swains enough to have furnished a ballet ; I saw in
E 3
78 MARSTON.
my haggard countenance, and a wound across my
forehead, which a riband but half concealed, that I
was not less altered as a man.
All round me looked so perfectly like the scenes,
with which I had been familiar in my romance-
reading days ; that, bruised and feeble as I was, I
almost expected to find my pillow attended by some
of those slight figures in long white drapery, with
blue eyes, and ivory fingers, which of old ministered
to so many ill-used knights and wayworn pilgrims.
But my reveries were broken by a sharp voice in the
outer chamber, insisting on an entrance into mine,
and replied to by a weak and garrulous female one,
refusing the admission. The dialogue was something
of this order —
" Strong or weak, well or ill, able or not able, I
must send him, before twelve o'clock to-night, to
Paris."
" But, the poor gentleman's wounds are still un-
healed."
" Still, he must set out. The ' malle poste' will be
at the door ; and, if he had fifty wounds on him, he
must go. The marquis is halfway to Paris by this
time ; perhaps more than halfway to the guillotine."
This was followed by a burst of sobs from the
female ; whom I discovered, by her sorrowing confes-
sions, to have been a nurse in the family.
" Well," was the ruffian's reply ; " women of all
ages are fools : what is it to you whether this young
fellow is shot, or hanged ? He was taken in arms
against the Republic, one and indivisible. All the
enemies of France must perish ! That is the decree."
MARSTON. 79
The old woman now partially opened the door, to
see whether I slept ; and I closed my eyes, for the
purpose of hearing all that was to be heard, without
inteiTuption. The speaker, whom I alternately took
for the gendarme of the district, and the executioner,
gave vent to his swelling soul, in the national style.
" Ventre, Saint Ch'is. I am an ill-used man.
What ! leave me! leave Jean Jacques Louis Gilet, in
charge of this wretched aristocrat ! while I should be
marching with my battalion, and at its head too, if
merit met its reward; to sweep the foes of the Republic
from the face of the earth. — No ; I shall not remain in
this paltry place, a village functionary, when I ought
to be on the highest bench of justice. — Am I to be
playing the part of arresting aristocrats, when I might
be commandant of a brigade, and marching over the
bodies of the crowned tyrants of the earth to glory !*'
As his harangue glowed, his pace quickened, and
his voice grew more vehement ; until, pi'obably im-
patient of the time which lay between him and the
first offices of the Republic, he overpowered the
resistance of the nurse, and burst into the chamber.
Throwing himself into a theatrical attitude before a
mirror — for what Frenchman ever passes one without
a glance of happy recognition ? — " Rise, aristocrat !"
he cried, in the tone of Talma, in " Brutus," calling
up the shade of Caesar. " Rise, and account to the
world for your crimes against the liberty of man ! "
I looked with such surprise on this champion of
the sons of Adam — a little meagre creature, who
seemed to be shaped on the model of one of his own
pens, stripped, withered, and ink-dried ; that I actually
E 4
80 MARSTON.
burst into laughter. His indignation rose, and pulling
out a pistol with one hand, and a roll of paper from
his bosom with the other, he presented them to-
gether. I perceived, as I lay on my pillow, that the
pistol was without a lock, and thus was comforted ;
but the paper was of a more formidable description.
It was the famous decree of " Fraternization," by
which France declared " that she would grant suc-
cour to every people who wished to recover their
liberty," and commanded her generals "to aid all
such, and to defend all citizens who might be
troubled in the cause of freedom."
This paper indeed startled me ; for it was the con-
summation which I had dreaded so long. I saw at
once, that France, in those wild words, had declared
war against every throne in Europe ; and that we were
now beginning the era of struggle and suffering
which Mordecai's strong sense had predicted, and of
which no human sagacity could foresee the end. My
countenance probably showed the impression which
this European anathema had made upon me ; for
Monsieur Gilet became more heroic than ever ; throw-
ing aside his pistol, which he had at length disco-
vered to be Jiors de combat, and drawing the falchion
which clattered at his heels, and was nearly as long
as himself, he flourished it in quick march backward
and forward before the mirror — that mirror never
forgotten ! — and in all the whirlwind of his rage,
panted for the conquest of " perfidious Albion," the
" traitor" Pitt, and the whole brood of hoary power.
I was too feeble to turn him out of the room, and too
contemptuous to reply. But his overthrow was not
MARSTON. 81
the further off. The old nurse, who, old as she was,
still retained some of the sinews and all the im-
tability of a stout Champenoise peasant, roused by
his insults to the aristocracy ; one of whom she pro-
bably regarded herself, from having lived so long
under their roof; watched her opportunity, made a
spring at him like a wild-cat, wrested the sabre from
his hand, and, grasping the struggling and screaming
little functionary in her strong arms, carried him
like a child out of the room.
She then returned, and having locked the door to
prevent a second inroad, sat down by my couch ; and,
with the usual passion of women after strong excite-
ment, burst into exclamations and tears. What I
could collect from her broken narrative, was little
more than the commonplace of national misery, in
that fearful time. She had been a servant in the
family of the noble whose daughter I had saved from
death. She had been the nurse of the young countess;
and all the blessings that sorrow and gratitude ever
gathered together, could not be exceeded by the
praises which she poured upon my head. On its
being rumoured in the town, that I was attacked and
killed by a body of cavalry sent to revenge their
comrades ; the Marquis Lanfranc — I now first learned
the name of my entertainer — had gone to look for
my remains in the field. I was found still breathing ;
and, to avoid further danger, was carried to this
dweUing, a hunting-lodge in the heart of the forest.
But the marquis's humanity had brought evil on
himself. His visits to the lodge had been remarked,
and on this very morning he had been arrested, and
E 5
82 MARSTON.
conveyed, with his daughter, in a carriage escorted
by gendarmes to the capital. My detection fol-
lowed, of course ; the papers foiuid on my person
proved that I was an agent of England ; and the
ofhcious M. Gilet had spent the morning, in exhibit-
ing to the neighbourhood the order of the " Com-
mittee of Public Safety," a name which froze the
blood ; to conduct me forthwith to their tribunal. I
tell all this in my own way ; for the dame's mixtures
of sighs, sobs, and vehement indignation, would have
defied all record.
My prospect was now black enough, for justice
was a word unheard-of in the present condition of
things ; and my being an Englishman, and in the
civil service of my country, would have been a death-
warrant. I must acknowledge, too, that I had fairly
thrown away all chance, by my adoption of the Prussian
sabre. Yet, even in that moment ; and let me give
myself credit for the recollection, my first enquiry
was, for the fate of my squadron. The old woman
could tell me but little on the subject ; but that
little was consolatory. The French troopers, who
had come back triumphing into the town, had not
brought any Prussian prisoners : two or three fo-
reigners, who had lost their horses, were sheltered
in her master's stables, until they could make their
escape ; and even of them she had heard no more.
The truth is, that nothing is more difficult in war
than to catch a hussar, who understands his business ;
and the probability was, that the chief part of them
had slipped away, leaving the French to sabre each
other in the dark. The fall of my horse alone had
MARSTON. 83
brought me down, otherwise I might have escaped,
and been at that hour caracohng in Berlin.
Monsieur Gilet, with some of the civic authorities,
paid me a second visit in the evening, to prepare me
for my journey. To me it was become indifferent
whether I died in the carriage, or by the edge of the
guillotine ; the journey was short in either case, and
the shorter and sooner the better. I answered none
of their interrogatories ; told them I was at their dis-
posal ; directed the old woman to remember me to
her master and mistress, if she ever should see them
in this world ; shook her strong old hand, and bade
God bless her. In return, she kissed me on both
cheeks, whispered a thousand benedictions, and left
the room violently sobbing; yet with a parting
glance at Monsieur Gilet and his collaborateurs, so
mingled of wrath and ridicule, that it was beyond all
my deciphering.
" Time and the hour run through the roughest day,"
says the great poet ; and, with the coming of mid-
night, a chaise de poste drew up at the door. As I
was a prisoner of importance, M. Gilet was not suf-
fered to take all the honour of my introduction to
the axe on himself; and the mayor and deputy-
mayor of the district insisted on this opportunity of
making themselves known to the heads of the Re-
public. They mounted on the box in front, a couple of
gendarmes sat behind, M. Gilet took his seat by my
side, and, with an infinite cracking of whips, we
moved out upon the causeway.
I soon discovered, that my companion was by no
E 6
84 MARSTON.
means satisfied with ' existing circumstances.' The
officiousness of the pair of mayors prodigiously dis-
pleased him. He broke forth —
" See these two beggars," he exclaimed, " pretend-
ing to patriotism ! They have no energy, no courage,
no civism — why, you might have remained for a
twelvemonth under their very nostrils, before they
would have found you out. Gilet is the man for the
service of his country." Merely to stop the torrent
of his complainings, I asked him some vague ques-
tions relative to the noble, whom I was now following
to Paris.
" Hah ! Citizen Lanfranc. All is over with him.
He once held his head high enough, but it will soon
be as low as ever it was high — yet I could have for-
given his aristocracy, if he had not put these two
^ chiens ' above me."
The position in which the mayor and his deputy
sat, on the box of the chaise ; continually presenting
them to the eye of my companion, kept his choler
peculiarly active.
" One of these fellows," he exclaimed, " was the
Marquis's cook, another his perruquier ! — but, /was
his tailor. Every man of talent knows the supe-
riority of my profession ; — for what is the first of
nobles without elegance of costume, or what indeed
would man himself be, without my art, the noblest and
the earliest art of mankind? — and yet he made these
two * brigands ' mayor and deputy — peste ! I did my
duty. I denounced him on the spot. — I did more.
The aristocrat had a faction in the town. It was
filled with his dependents. In fact, it had been built
MARSTON. 85
on his grounds, and tenanted by the old hangers-on
of the family. So, to make a clear stage, I denounced
the town." He clapped his hands, with the exidtation
of civic triumph.
My recollection of the miseries which his malice
had caused, roused me into wrath. He became in-
solent in turn, until, rash as the act was, I grasped
him by the collar, with the full intent of throwing
the little writhing wretch out of the window. But,
while I was dragging him from the seat to which he
clung screaming for help, and had already forced him
half-way outside, a shot whistled close by the head
of the postilion, which brought him to a full stop.
" Mort de ma vie ! — Brigands ! " exclaimed Monsieur
Gilet ; and, dropping back into the carriage, at-
tempted to make a screen of my body, by slipping
adroitly behind me. Two or three shots now rattled
through the trees, followed by a rush of peasants,
who unceremoniously knocked down the two oflficials
in front, and began a general scuffle with the gen-
darmes. The night was so dark, that I could dis-
cover nothing of the melee, but by the blaze of their
fusils. All, however, was quieted in a few moments,
by the disappearance of the gendarmes, and the
complete capture of the convoy ; M. Gilet, mayors,
and all. Whether we had fallen into the hands of
highwaymen, or of stragglers from the French army,
was doubtful for a while ; as not a syllable was spoken,
nor a sound uttered, except by the unhappy func-
tionaries, who grumbled prodigiously, as they were
dragged along through "rough and smooth, moss
and mire," and whose pace was evidently quickened
86 MARSTON.
by man}^ a kick, and blow of the fusil. This was a
rude march for me, too, with my unhealed wound,
and my week's sojourn in bed ; but I was treated,
if not with tenderness, without incivility ; while my
compagnons de voyage were insulted with every con-
temptuous phrase in a vocabulary, at least as rich in
those matters as any other in Europe. At length,
after about an hour's rapid movement, we reached an
open ground, and one of those wide, old, staring,
yet not uncomfortable farm-houses, which are to be
found in the northern provinces of France.
Signs of comfort within were visible even at a dis-
tance, and the light of a huge wood fire had been
seen for the last quarter of an hour, gleaming through
the woods, and leaving us in doubt whether we were
approaching a horde of gipsies, or about to realize
the classic scenes of Gil Bias.
But, it was only a farm-house, after all. The good
dame of the house, with an enormous cap, enormous
petticoats, enormous earrings, and all the glaring
good humour of a countenance of domestic plenty
and power, came to meet us on the threshold ;
and her reception of me was ardent, to the very
verge of strangulation. Nothing could exceed her
rapture, or the fierceness of her embraces, except
her indignation at the sight of my travelling com-
panions. Her disgust at the mayor and his deputy
— and certainly after their night trip they were not
figures to charm the eye — was pitched in the highest
key of scorn, or to be surpassed only by the torrent
of contcmjit which her well-practised elocution poured
upon the " IruUre tailleur." I really believe, that.
MARSTON. 87
if she could h^ve boiled him in the huge soup-kettle
which bubbled upon the fire ; without spoiling our
supper; she would have flung him in upon the spot.
The peasants who had captured us— bold, tall fellows,
well dressed and well armed with cutlass and fusil,
in the style of the gardes- de-chasse, could scarcely be
kept from taking them out to the next tree, to make
marks of them ; and it was probably by my inter-
cession alone that they were consigned to an out-
house for the night. How the scene was to
end with me, I knew not ; though the jovial visage
of my protectress showed me that I was secure.
But the prisoners had no sooner been flung out ; than
I was ushered into an inner room, prepared with
somewhat more of attention ; where, to my surprise
and delight, the Marquis Lanfranc came forward to
shake my hand ; and, with a thousand expressions of
gratitude, made me known to his daughter.
The adventure happened to be of the simplest
order. The arrest of the Marquis was, of course,
known in an instant, and a party of his foresters had
immediately determined to take the law into their
own hands ; posted themselves on the road by which
his carriage was to pass ; and released him without
difficulty. My release was merely a sequel to the
drama. I had been left behind, in the hunting-
lodge, by its owner, under the impression, that an
individual who could not be moved without hazard
of his life, would escape the vengeance of village
patriotism. But the nurse had no sooner ascertained
that I was to be arrested, than she sent an express
to the farm-house. The consequence naturally fol-
83 MARSTON.
lowed, in my liberty ; and the night which I expected
to have spent on my way to the dungeon, presented
me with the pleasant exchange of a hospitable shelter,
the society of an accomplished man, and his hand-
some daughter ; and last, though least, a couple of
kisses from my late nurse ; according to the custom of
the country, almost as glowing and remorseless as
those of my portly landlady herself.
We sat together, for some hours, and scarcely felt
them pass, in the anxious topics which engrossed us
■ — the perils of France, the prospects of the Allies,
and the captivity of the unhappy Bourbons. Now
and then the conversation turned on their own hair-
breadth escapes, and those of their friends. Among
the rest, the hazards of the De Tourville family were
mentioned, and I heard the name of Clotilde, with a
sensation indescribable. The name was connected
with such displays of fortitude, nobleness of spirit,
and deep devotion to the royal cause, that, if I loved
before, I now honoured her. She had saved the lives
of her household ; she had, by an act of extraordinary,
but most perilous affection, saved the life of her
mother, at the moment when the first revolt broke
out ; and, young as she was, had exhibited such
generosity and strength of mind, that the Marquis's
eyes filled with tears as he told it ; and Amalie hid
her fine face to conceal her emotions : what must
have been mine !
Our conversation was not unfrequently interrupted
by bursts of merriment from the outer room, where
the peasants sat at a supper, provided by the Marquis
for his bold rescuers — an indulgence which they
MARSTON. S9
seemed to enjoy with the highest zest imaginable.
Songs were sung with very various kinds of merit in
the performer, but all well received. Healths were
proposed, in which the existing Government was
certainly not much honoured ; and, if the good wishes
of the party could have sent the " Committee of Pub-
lic Safety," the butcher cabinet of France, to the
darkest spot on earth, or under it, its time would
have been brief. At length, the Marquis and his
daughter, who were to be on the wing at daybreak
for the German frontier, and who had generously
offered to take charge of my invalid frame in the
same direction, retired ; and wrapping myself up in
a cloak, furnished by my landlady and formed to her
showy proportions, I thre,w myself on the sofa, and
was in the land of dreams.
But though I slept, I did not rest. My fever, or
my lassitude, or probably some presentiment of the
troubled career into which I was to be plunged, made
" tired nature's sweet restorer " a stepmother to me.
I can never endure to hear the dreams of others, and
therefore I cannot endure to inflict my own on
them; but, on that night. Queen Mab, like Jehu,
" drove furiously." Every possible species of dis-
appointment, vexation, and difficulty; every con-
ceivable shape of things, past and present, rushed
through my brain ; and all wild, fierce, disastrous,
and melancholy. — I was beckoned along dim shades
by shapeless phantoms ; I was trampled in battle ;
I was brought before a tribunal ; I was on board a
ship, which blew up ; I was flung strangling down
an infinite depth in a midnight ocean. At length
90 MARSTON.
my horror exceeded the privilege even of dreams.
I made one desperate effort to rise, and awoke with
a bound on the floor. There I found a real obstacle;
a ruffian in a red cap. One strong hand was on my
throat ; and by the glimmer of the dying lantern,
which hung from the roof, I saw the glitter of a
pistol-barrel in the other. " Surrender, in the name
of the Republic ! " were the words which told me
my fate. Four or five wearers of the same ominous
cap, with sabres and pistols, were round me, and
after a brief struggle, I was secured. Cries were now
heard outside the door, and a wounded gendarme
was brought in, borne in the arms of his comrades.
From their confused clamour, I could merely ascer-
tain, that the gendarmes who had escaped in the
original melee, had obtained assistance, and returned
on their steps. The farm-house had been surrounded,
and the Marquis was indebted only to the vigilance
of his peasantry, for a second escape, with his daugh-
ter. The garcles-de-chasse had kept the gendarmes
at bay, until their retreat was secure ; and the post-
chaise which had brought M. Gilet and his coad-
jutors, was, by this time, some leagues off, at full
speed, beyond the fangs of Republicanism.
This at least was comfort, even though I was left
behind. But it was clear, that the gallant old noble
was blameless in the matter, and that nothing was
to be blamed, but my habitual ill luck. " En route"
was the last order which 1 heard ; and with a gen-
darme, in a strange kind of post-waggon rolled out
from the farmer's stable, I was despatched, before
daybreak, on my startling journey.
MARSTON. 91
I found my gendarme a facetious fellow ; though
his merriment might not be well adapted to cheer his
prisoner. He whistled, he sang, he screamed, he
stamped, to get rid of the ennui of travelling with so
silent a companion. He told stories of his own
prowess ; libelled M. Gilet, who seemed to be in the
worst possible odour with man and woman ; and
abused all, mayors, deputy-mayors, and authorities,
with the tongue of a leveller. But my facetious
friend had his especial chagrins.
" I have all my life," said he, ^' been longing to see
Paris ; and have never been able to stir a step beyond
this stupid province. Yet I have had my chances
too. I was once valet to a German count, and we
were on the way to Paris together, when the post-
chaise was stopped, the baron was arrested as a
swindler, and I was charged as his accomplice. He
was sent to the galleys; I got off. I then had a
second chance. I enlisted in a regiment of dragoons,
which was to be quartered in Versailles. But such
was my fate, that I had no sooner passed the first
drill, when we were ordered off to Loraine, to watch
old King Stanislaus, the Pole, who lived there like
one of his own bears, frozen and fat. Still, T was
determined to see Paris. I asked leave of absence ;
the adjutant laughed at me, the colonel turned on his
heel, and the provost-marshal gave me a week of the
black hole. But a week is but seven days after all,
and on my seeing the parade again — I — ''
" You deserted ?"
" Not quite that," was the reply. " I took leave —
and, as I had seen enough of the black hole already,
Q2 MARSTON.
I took good care to give the provost-marshal no
notice on the subject. A fortnight's march brought
me within sight of the towers of Notre-Dame. But,
as I was resting myself on the roadside, our adjutant,
as ill luck would have it, came by in the coupe of the
diligence. He jumped out. I was seized, given up
to the next guard-house, and after fitting me with a
pair of fetters, by way of boots, I was ordered to
take my passage with a condemned regiment for the
W'est Indies. — There I served ten years ; I saw the
regiment reduced to a skeleton, by short rations and
new rum ; and returned the tenth representative of
fifteen hundred felons. — At last I have a chance;
the gendarme of the village was so desperately mauled
by the foresters in the attempt to carry you prisoner,
that he has been forced to take to his bed, and let
me take his place. The thing is certain now. — You
will be guillotined, but / shall see Paris."
Yet what is certain in this most changeful of pos-
sible worlds ?
" Fate granted half the prayer,
The rest the gods dispersed m empty air."
We had toiled through our long journey, rendered
doubly long by the dreariest and deepest roads on
earth ; and were winding round the spur of Mont-
martre ; when a troop of citizen heroes, coming forth
to sweep the country of the retreating Prussians, and
whose courage had risen to the boiling point by the
news of the retreat, surrounded the carriage. My
Prussian uniform was evidence, for the brains of the
patriots ; and the quick discovery of Parisian ears,
that I had not learned my Fi'ench in their capital.
MARSTON. 93
settled the question, of my beiyg a traitor. The
gendarme joined in the charge with his natural volu-
bility ; but, rather rashly insisted on his right, to
take his prisoner into Paris on his own behalf. I saw
a cloud gathering on the brow of the chef, a short,
corpulent, grim-looking fellow, with the true Fau-
bourg St. Antoine physiognomy. The prize was too
valuable, not to be turned to good account with' the
authorities ; and he resolved on returning at the
head of his brother patriots, to present me as the
first-fruits of his martial career. The dispute grew
hot ; my escort was foolish enough to clap his hand
on the hilt of his sabre ; — an affront intolerable to a
citizen, at the head of fifty or sixty braves from the
counter or the shambles ; the result was, a succes-
sion of blows from the whole troop, which finished,
in my seeing him stripped of every thing, and flung
into the cachot of the corps de garde ; from which his
only view of his beloved Paris must have been
throusrh iron bars.
My captor, determined to enter the capital, for
once, with eclat; now seated himself beside me, and,
surrounded by his pike-bearers, we began our marfch
down the hill.
My new friend was communicative ; and he gave me
his history in a breath. — He had been a clerk in one
of the small tribvuials of the south ; inflamed with
patriotism, and indignant at the idea of selling his
talents at the rate of ten sous a-day, " in a rat-hole
called a bureau," he had resolved on being known to
the world, and to Paris he came. " Paris was the
94 MARSTON.
true place for talent." His civisme had there become
conspicuous; he had " assisted" at the birth of liberty.
" He had carried a musket on the 10th of August, and
had been appointed by the Republic, to the com-
mand of the civic force," which now moved, before
and behind me. He was a '•^ grand homme^' already.
" Danton had told him so, within the last fortnight ;
and France and Europe would no sooner read his
last chanson on the * Crimes of Kings,' than his
fame would be fixed with posterity."
He then gave me his political creed. " We have
cut down the throne," said he, clapping his hands
with exultation, " and now you may buy it for fire-
wood. — But you are an aristocrat, and of course a
slave ; while we have got liberty, equality, and a
triumvirate that shears off the heads of traitors, at a
sign. Suspicion of being suspected is quite suffi-
cient. Away goes the culprit; a true patriot is
ordered to take possession of his house, until the
national pleasure is known ; and thus every thing
goes on well. — Of course, you have heard of the
clearance of the prisons. A magnificent work. Five
thousand aristocrats, rich, noble, and enemies to
their country, sent headless to the shades of tyrants !
Vive la Republique ! But a grand idea strikes me.
You shall see Danton himself, the genius of liberty,
the hero of human nature, the terror of kings." The
thought was new, and a new thought is enough to
turn the brain of the Gaul at any time. He thrust
his head out of the window, ordered a general halt ;
and, instead of taking me to the quarters of the
MARSTON. 95
National Guard, resolved to have the merit of de-
livering up an " agent of Pitt and his English guineas"
to the master of the Republic.
After threading a labyrinth of streets, so dreary
and so dilapidated, as almost to give me the idea that
I had never been in Paris before, we drove up to the
grim entrance of the Abbaye. My companion there left
me in charge of the sentinel, and darted in. " And
is this," thought I, as I looked round the narrow
space of the four walls, " the spot where so many
hundreds were butchered ; this the scene of the very
triumph of massacre ; this miserable court the last
field of so many gallant lives ; these stones the last
resting-place of so many, whose tread had been on
cloth of gold ; these old and crumbling walls, giving
the last echo to the voices of statesmen and nobles,
the splendid courtiers, the brilliant orators, and the
hoary ecclesiastics, of the most superb kingdom of
Europe ?" Even by the feeble lamp-light, which
rather showed the darkness than the forms of the
surrounding buildings, it seemed to me that I could
discover the colour of the slaughter on the ground ;
and there still were heaps, in corners, which looked
to me like the clay hastily flung over the remnants of
the murdered.
But, my reveries were broken up by the return of
the little captain, more angry than ever. He had
missed the opportunity of seeing the "great man ;"
who had gone to the Salpetriere. And some of the
small men, who performed as his jackals, having
discovered, that the captain vvas looking for a share
96 MARSTON.
in their plunder, had thought proper to treat him,
his commission, and even his civism, with extreme
contempt.
*' A la Salpetriere." There again disappointment
met us. The great man had been there " but a few
minutes before," and we dragged on our slow way
through mire and ruts, that would have been for-
midable to an artillery waggon with all its team.
My heart, buoyant as it had been, sank within me
as I looked up at the frowning battlements, the
huge towers, more resembling those of a fortress
than of even a prison, the massive gates, and the
general gloomy aspect of the whole vast circumfer-
ence, giving so emphatic a resemblance of the dreari-
ness and the despair within.
" Auoc Carmes ! " was now the direction ; for my
conductor's resolve to earn his reward before day-
break, was rendered more pungent by his interview
with the gens de bureau at the Abbaye. He was
sure that they would be instantly on the scent ; and
if they once took me out of his hands, adieu to
dreams, of which Alnaschar, the glassman's, were
only a type.
" You may think yourself fortunate," he ex-
claimed, " in having been in my charge ! That
brute of a country gendarme could have shown you
nothing. Now, / know every jail in Paris. — I have
studied them. They form the true knowledge of a
citizen. To crush tyrants, to extinguish nobles, to
avenge the cause of reason on priests, and to raise
the people to a knowledge of their rights ; those are
MARSTON. 97
the triumphs of a patriot. Yet, what teacher is
equal to the jail for them all ? Mais, voila les
Cannes !"
I saw a low range of blank wall, beyond which
rose an ancient tower.
" Here," said he, " liberty had a splendid triumph.
— ^A hundred and fifty tonsured apostles of incivism
here fell in one day beneath the two-handed sword
of freedom. — A cardinal, two archbishops, digni-
taries, monks, all hoary with prejudices, antiquated
with abuses, extinguishers of the new light of
liberty, here were offered on the national altar !
Chantons la Carmagnole"
But, he was destined to be disappointed once
more. — " Danton had been there, but was suddenly
called away by a messenger from the Jacobins." —
Our direction was changed again. " Now," said he,
" we shall be disappointed no longer. Once engaged
in debate, he will be fixed for the night. Allans, you
shall see the 'grand patriot,' 'the regenerator,' 'the
first man in the world.' — Aux Jacobins ! "
Our unfortunate postillion, falling with fatigue on
his horses' necks, proposed going to an inn, and
renewing our search in the morning ; but, the
captain had made up his mind, and, drawing a
pistol from his breast, exhibited this significant sign
to the driver. The horses, as tired as their driver,
were lashed on. I had for some time been con-
sidering, as we passed through the deserted streets,
whether it was altogether consistent with the feelings
of manhood, to suffer myself to be dragged round
the capital, at the mercy of this lover of lucre ; but
VOL. II. F
98 MARSTON.
an apathy had come over me, which made me con-
temptuous of hfe ; although the sight of his pistol
rather excited me to make the attempt, from the very
insolence of his carrying it. But we still rolled on.
At length, in one of the streets, which seemed darker
and more miserable than all the rest ; we were
brought to a full stop by the march of a strong
body of the National Guard, which halted in front
of an enormous old building, frowning with battle-
ment and bartizan. " Le Temple!" exclaimed my
companion, with almost a shriek of exultation.
I glanced upward, and saw a light, of that pale
glimmer which, in my boyish days, I had always
attributed to spectres passing along the dim case-
ments of a gallery. I cannot express how deeply
that image sank upon me. I saw there only a huge
tomb — the tomb of living royalty, — of the last of
a line of monarchs, honoured by all the feelings that
still bound the heart of man to France. All was
spectral. But, whatever might be the work of my
ima2;ination, there was enouo-h of terrible truth
before me, to depress, and sting, and wring the
mind. Within a step of the spot where I sat, were the
noblest and the most vmhappy beings in existence —
the whole family of the throne, caught in one snare
.of treason. — Husband, wife, sister, children! — Not
one rescued, not one safe, to relieve the wretched-
ness of their ruin by the hope that there was an
individual of their circle beyond their prison bars —
all consigned to the grave together — all alike con-
scious that every day which sent its light through
their melancholy casements, only brought them
MARSTON. 99
nearer to a death of misery ! — But I must say no
more of this. My heart withered within me, as I
looked on the towers of the Temple. It almost
withers within me, at this moment, when I think
of them. They are levelled long since ; but, wliile I
wTite, I see them before me again, a sepulchre ; I
see the mustering of that crowd of more than
savages, which kept guard before their gate ; I see the
pale glimmer of that lamp, which was then, perhaps,
lighting the steps of Marie Antoinette to her so-
litary cell.
Of all the sights of that melancholy wandering,
this sight the most disheartened me. Whatever had
been my carelessness of life before, it was now
almost scorn. " What was I, when such victims
were prepared for sacrifice ? What was the crush
of my obscure hopes, when the sitters on thrones
were thus levelled with the earth ? If I perished in
the next moment, no chasm would be left in society ;
perhaps but one or two human beings, if even
they, would give a recollection to my grave. — But
here the objects of national homage and gallant
loyalty, beings whose rising radiance had filled the
eye of nations, and whose sudden fall was felt as
an eclipse of European light, were exposed to the
deepest sufferings of the captive. — What, then, was
I, that I should murmur ; or, still more, that I
should resist ; or, most of all, that I should desire
to protract an existence which, to this hour, had
been that of a vexed spirit ; and which, to the last
hour of my career, seemed to show but cloud on
cloud ? "
F 2
100 MARSTON.
Some of this depression may have been the
physical result of fatigue, for T had been now four-
and-tvventy hours without rest ; and the dismal
streets, the dashing rain, and the utter absence of
human movement, as we dragged our dreary way
along ; would have made even the floor of a dungeon
welcome.
At length, our postillion, after nearly relieving us
of all the troubles of this world, by running on the
verge of the moat which once surrounded the
Bastille ; and where nothing but the screams of my
companion prevented him from plunging in, wholly
lost his way. The few lamps in this intricate and
miserable quarter had been blown out by the
tempest, and our only resource -appeared to be
patience, until the tardy break of a winter's morn.
However, this my companion's patriotism would not
suffer. "The Club would be adjourned! Danton
would be gone ! " He should not hear the Jacobin
lion roar, nor have the reward on which he reckoned,
for flinging me into his jaws. Utterly indifferent as
to where I was to be deposited, I saw and heard
nothing, until I was roused by my companion's cry
of " La Place de Greve."
A large fire was burning in the midst of its
gloomy square ; round which a party of the National
Guard were standing, with their muskets piled, and
wrapped in their cloaks, against the inclemency of
the night. Further off, and in the centre, feebly
seen by the low blaze, was a wooden structure, on
whose corners torches were flai'ing in the wind.
" Voila, la guillotine ! " exclaimed my captor, with
MARSTON. 101
the sort of ecstasy which might issue from the lips
of a worshipper. As I raised my eyes, an accidental
flash of the fire showed the whole outline of the
horrid machine. I saw the glitter of the very axe
that was to drop upon my head. My imagination
saw even new ghastliness in the shape of its huge
scythe-like steel ; it seemed made for massacre.
All my apathy was now gone. The horrors of public
execution stood in a visible shape before me at once.
I might have fallen in the field with fortitude ; I
might have submitted to the death-bed, as the course
of nature ; I might have even died with exultation,
in some great public cause. But, to perish by the
frightful thing which shot up its spectral height
before me ; to be dragged as a spectacle to scoffing
and scorning crowds — dragged, perhaps, in the
feebleness and squalid helplessness of a confinement,
which might have exhibited me to the Avorld in
imbecility or cowardice ; to be flung, stigmatized
as a felon, into the common grave of felons — the
thought darted through my mind like a jet of fire ;
but it gave me the strength of fire. I determined
to die by the bayonets of the guard, or by any other
death than this. My captor perceived my agitation,
and my eye glanced on his withered and malignant
visage, as with a smile he was cocking his pistol.
I sprang on him like a tiger. In our struggle the
pistol went off, and a gush of blood from his cheek
showed that it had inflicted a severe wound. I was
now his master, and, grasping him by the throat
with one hand, with the other I threw open the
door and leaped upon the pavement. The report of
F 3
102 MAESTON.
the pistol caught the ears of the guard, whom I saw
hurrying to unpile their muskets. But this was a
work of confusion, and, before they could snatch up
their arms, I had made my choice of the darkest and
narrowest of the wretched lanes which issue into the
square. A few shots were fired after me, and I darted
forward, leaving them as they might, to follow.
I twined my course through numberless streets,
most of which have been since swept away ; but, on
turning into the Boulevard, and when I had some
hope of taking refuge in my old hotel, I found that
I had plunged into a crowd of persons hurrying along,
apparently, on some business which strongly excited
them. Some carried lanterns, some pikes, and there
^vas a general appearance of more than republican en-
thusiasm, even of savage ferocity, among them, that
gave sufficient evidence of my having fallen into ha-
zardous society. I attempted to draw back, but this
would not be permitted; the words, " Spy, traitor, slave
of the Monarchiques !" were heaped upon me. It may
naturally be supposed that I made all kinds of pro-
testations to escape being piked or pistoled. But
they had no time to wait for apologies. The cry of
" Death to the traitor ! " was followed by the brand-
ishing of a whole circle of knives round me. At
that moment, when I must have fallen helplessly, a
figure stepped forward, and opening the slide of his
dark lantern directly on his own face, whispered the
word " Mordecai." I recognised, I shall not say
with what feelings, the police agent, who had for-
merly conveyed me out of the city. He was dressed,
like the majority of the crowd, in the republican
MARSTON. 103
costume ; and certainly there never was a more
extraordinary figure. He wore the red cap of the
butchers of the Faubourgs ; an enormous beard
covered his breast, a short Spanish mantle hung
from his shoulders, a short leathern doublet, with a
belt like an armoury, stuck with knives and pistols,
a sabre, and huge trousers striped with red ; the
new fashion, to imitate streams of gore, completed
the patriot uniform. Others wore broad bands of
linen round their waists, inscribed, "2d, 3d, and
4th September," — the days of massacre ! These
were its heroes. I was in the midst of the elite of
murder.
" Citizens," exclaimed the Jew in a voice of
thunder, driving back the foremost, " hold your
hands ; are you about to destroy a friend of free-
dom ? — Your knives have drunk the blood of aristo-
crats ; but they are the defence of liberty. This
citizen is one of ourselves. — He has returned from
the frontier, to join the brave men of Paris, in their
march to the downfall of tyrants. But, forward. —
Our friends await us in the glorious club of the
Jacobins. This is the hour of victory. Advance,
regenerated sons of freedom ! Forward, French-
men ! "
His speech had the full effect. The rapid ex-
ecutors of public vengeance fell back ; and the Jew,
whispering to me, ''You must follow us, or be
killed," — I chose the easier alternative at once, and
stepped forward like a good citizen. As my pro-
tector pushed the crowd before him, in which he
seemed to be a leader, he said to me from time to
F 4
104< MARSTON.
time, '^'' Make no resistance. — A word would be the
signal for your death — we are going to the hall of
the Jacobins. This is a great night among them,
and the chiefs of the party will either be ruined to-
night, or be masters of every thing by morning."
I remained silent, as I was ordered ; and we hurried
on, until there was a halt in front of an ancient
building. "The hall of the Jacobins," whispered
the Jew.
We plunged into the dark passages of a vast pile,
evidently once a convent, and where the chill of the
massive walls struck to the marrow. I felt, as if
walking through a charnel-house. A twinkling light,
towards the end of an immense and lofty aisle, was
our guide ; and the crowd, long famiUar with the
way, poured on through the intricacies, where so
many penitential feet had trod before them. At
length, a spiral stair brought us to a lai-ge gallery,
where our entrance was marked wath a shout of
congratulation ; and stumbling over the benches and
each other, we at length took our seats in the loftiest
part; which, in both the club and the National
Assembly, was called, from its height, the Mountain ;
and from the character of its possessors, was a
mountain of flame.
In the area below, once the nave of the church,
sat the Jacobin club. I now, for the first time, saw
that memorable and terrible assemblage. Nothing
could be more suited than its aspect to its deeds.
The hall was of such extent, that a large portion of
it was scarcely visible, and the few lights which
hung from the walls but dimly displayed even the
MARSTON. 105
remainder. The French love of decoration had no
place here ; neither statues nor pictures, neither
gilding nor sculpture, relieved the heaviness of the
huge hall. Nothing of the arts was visible, but
their rudest specimens ; the grim effigies of monks
and martyrs, or the coarse and blackened carvings
of a barbarous age. The area was full ; for the club
contained nearly two thousand members, and on this
night all were present. Yet, except for the occa-
sional cries of approval, or anger, when any speaker
had concluded ; and the habitual murmur of every
large assembly, they might have been taken for a
host of spectres ; the hall had so entirely the aspect
of a huge vault, the air felt so thick, and the gloom
was so feebly dispersed by the chandeliers. All was
sepulchral. Even the chair of the president stood
on a tomb, an antique structure of black marble.
The elevated stand, from which the speakers gene-
rally addressed the assembly, had the strongest
resemblance to a scaffold ; and behind it, covering
the wall, were suspended chains, and instruments of
torture of every horrid kind, used in the dungeons
of old times ; and, though placed there for the sake
of contrast with the mercies of the age of philosophy;
yet enhancing the general idea of a scene of death.
It required no addition to its gloom, to render the
hall of the Jacobins fearful ; but the meetings were
always held at night, and often prolonged through
the whole night. Always stormy, daggers were often
drawn and pistols fired — assassination in the streets
sometimes followed bitter attacks on the benches ;
and at this period, the mutual wrath and terror of
F 5
106 MARSTON.
the factions had risen to such a height, that every
meeting might be regarded as only a prelude to exile
or the axe. The deliberation of this especial night
was to settle the question, whether the Monarch or
the Jacobin club was to ascend the scaffold. — It
was the debate on the execution of the unhappy
Louis XVI.
The arrival of the crowd, among whom I had
taken my unwilling seat, evidently gave new spirits
to the regicides ; the moment was critical. Even in
Jacobinism all were not equally black, and fear of
the national revulsion at so desperate a deed startled
many. The leaders had held a secret consultation,
while the debate was drawing on its "slow length;
and Danton's old expedient " terror" had been re-
solved on. His emissaries were suddenly sent round
Paris to summon all his banditti ; and the low cafes,
the Faubourg taverns, and every haunt of the very
drunkenness of crime, had poured forth. The remnant
of the Marseillois — actual galley-slaves, who had led
the late massacres ; the paid assassins of the Marais,
and the sabreurs of the Royal Guard, who, after their
treason to their king, had found a profitable trade
in living on the robbery of the nobles and priests,
formed this reinforcement; and their entrance into
the gallery was recognized by a clapping of hands
from below, which they answered by a triumphant
roar, accompanied with the clashing of their knives
and sabres.
Danton immediately bounded into the Tribune. I
had seen him before, on the fearful night which pre-
pared the attack on the palace ; but he was then in
MARSTON. 107
affected savageness of the rabble. He now played
the leader of a political sect ; and the commence-
ment of his address adopted something of the deco-
rum of public council. In this there was an artifice ;
for, resistless as the club was, it still retained a jea-
lousy of the superior legislative rank of the assembly
of national representatives, the Convention. The
forms of the Convention were strictly imitated ; and
even those Jacobins who usually led the debate,
scrupulously wore the dress of the better orders.
Robespierre was elaborately dressed, whenever he
appeared in the Tribune ; and even Danton aban-
doned the canaille costum.e for the time. I was
struck with his showy stature, his bold forehead,
and his commanding attitude, as he stood waving his
hand over the multitude below, as if he waved a
sceptre. His appeai^ance was received with a general
shout from the gallery, which he returned by one
profound bow ; and then stood erect, till all sounds
had sunk. His powerful voice then rang through
the extent of the hall. He began, by congratulating
the people, on their having relieved the Republic
from its external dangers. His language at first was
moderate, and his recapitulation of the perils which
must have befallen a conquered country, was suffi-
ciently true, and even touching; but his tone soon
changed, and I saw the true democrat — " What ! "
he cried, " are those perils, to the horrors of do-
mestic perfidy ? What are the ravages on the fron-
tier, to poison and the dagger at our fire-sides ? What
is a gallant death in the field, to assassination in cold
blood ? Listen, fellow-citizens, there is at this hour
F 6
108 MARSTON.
a plot laid for your destruction, deeper than ever
existed in the shallow heads, or could ever be ex-
ecuted by the coward hearts, of a foreign soldiery.
Where is that plot ? In the streets ? No. The cou-
rage of our brave patriots is as proof against cor-
ruption, as it is against fear." This was followed by
a shout from the gallery. "Is it in the Tuileries?
No ; there the national sabre has cut down the tree
which cast its deadly fruits among the nation.
Where then is the focus of the plot — where the ga-
thering of the storm that is to shake down the battle-
ments of the Republic — where that terrible deposit
of combustibles which the noble has gathered, the
priest has piled, and the king has stood ready to kindle?
Brave citizens, that spot is ," he paused, looking
mysteriously round, while a silence deep as death
pervaded the multitude ; then, as if suddenly re-
covering himself, he thundered out — "The Temple !"
No language can describe the shout, or the scene,
that followed. The daring word was now spoken, which
all had anticipated ; but which Danton alone had the
desperate audacity to utter. The mob in the gallery
screamed, howled, roared, embraced each other ; then
rising, and taking hands, danced, flourished their
weapons, and sang the Marseillaise and the Carmag-
nole. The club below were scarcely less violent in
their demonstrations of furious joy. Danton had
now accomplished his task ; but his vanity thirsted
for additional applause, and he entered into a cata-
logue of his services to llepublicanism. In the
midst of the detail, a low but singularly penetrating
voice was heard from the extremity of the hall.
MARSTON. 109
" Descend, man of massacre !"
I saw Danton start back, as if he had been shot.
At length, recovering his breath, he said feebly —
" Citizens, of what am I accused ?"
" Of the three days of September," uttered the
voice again, in a tone so deeply sepulchral, that it
palpably awed the whole assemblage.,
" Who is it that insults me ? who dares to malign
me ?" feebly cried Danton, — There was no answer ;
and encouraged by the silence, he now exclaimed,
"What spy of the Girondists, what traitor of the
Bourbons, what hireling of the gold of Pitt is among
us?" his visage, even at the distance I could ob-
serve, had turned clay-colour.—" W^ho accuses me ?"
" I !" replied the voice, and I saw a thin tall figure
stalk up the length of the hall, and stand at the foot
of the tribune. " Descend !" was the only word
which he spoke ; and Danton, as if under a spell ; to
my astonishment, obeyed without a word, and came
down. The stranger instantly sprang into his place
— none knew his name ; and the rapidity and bold-
ness of his assault suspended all, in wonder like my
own. I can give but a most incomplete conception
of the extraordinary eloquence of this mysterious in-
truder. — He charged Danton, with having con-
structed the whole conspiracy against the unfortunate
prisoners of September ; with having deceived the
people by imaginary alarms of the approach of the
enemy ; with having plundered the national treasury,
to pay the assassins ; and, last and most deadly
charge of all, with having formed a plan for a Na-
tional Dictatorship, of which he himself was to be
110 MARSTON.
the first possessor. The charge was sufficiently pro-
bable, and was not now heard for the first time. But
the intense keenness and fierce promptitude with
which the speaker poured the charge upon him, gave
it a new aspect ; and I could see in the changing
physiognomies round me, that the great democrat
"w^as already in danger. He obviously felt his peril
himself; for starting up from the bench to which he
had returned, he cried out, or rather yelled —
" Citizens, this man thirsts for my blood. — Am I
to be sacrificed ? Am I to be exposed to the daggers
of assassins?" — But no answering shout now arose;
a dead silence reigned : all eyes were still turned
to the tribune. I saw Danton, after a gaze of total
helplessness on all sides, throw up his hands, like a
drowning man, and stagger back to his seat. But
nothing could be more unfortunate than his inter-
ruption ; for the speaker now poured the renewed
invective, like a stream of molten iron, full on his
personal character and career.
" Born a beggar, Danton, your only hope of bread
was crime. Adopting the profession of an advocate,
your only conception of law was chicanery. Coming
to Paris, you took up patriotism as a trade, and
turned the trade into an imposture. — Trained to de-
pendence, you always hung on some master, till he
spurned you. Always a menial, till you could be a
tyrant. Always a swindler, till you could be a public
plunderer. Always a dastard, until you could be a
man of massacre ; always a slave, until you could be
a regicide !"
Danton had enemies, even among Republicans,
MARSTON. 1 1 1
and as I glanced at Robespierre, who was listening
with bent brow and the deepest attention, to the lan-
guage of this fiery speaker, I saw a flash of malignant
joy pass across his sallow visage ; even sounds of ap-
proval began to murmur through the hall. As I again
looked towards Danton, I never observed so total a
change in any human being. He writhed, like one
stretched upon the rack. His broad bold face seemed
actually to have been withered by years ; if he had
drunk poison, it could not have been more ghastly.
He strove several times to rise ; but his limbs failed,
and he sank back again. The speaker, after a pause,
Uke that of the executioner marking a victim bound
on the wheel, proceeded to crush him, blow by blow.
— " You licked the dust before Mirabeau ; you at-
tempted to betray him, and he trampled on you ; —
you took refuge in the cavern of Marat, until he
found you too base even for his base companionship,
and he, too, spurned you ; you then clung to the
skirts of Robespierre. — Viper ! known only by your
coils and your poison ; Uke the original serpent, de-
graded even from the brute into the reptile, you
already feel your sentence. — I pronounce it before
all. The man to whom you now cling, will crush
you. — Maximilien Robespierre, is not your heel
already lifted up, to tread out the life of this traitor ?
Maximilien Robespierre," he repeated, with a still
more piercing tone, " do I not speak the truth ?
have I not stripped the veil from your thoughts ?
am I not looking on your heart?"
He then addressed each of the Jacobin leaders, in
a brief appeal. " Billaud de Varennes, stand forth —
1 ] 2 MARSTON.
do you not long to strike your dagger into the bosom
of this new tyrant? — CoUot d'Herbois, are you not
sworn to destroy him? — Couthon, have you not pro-
nounced him perjured, perfidious, and unfit to live ?
— St. Just, have you not in your bosom the list of
those who have pledged themselves, that Danton shall
never be Dictator ; that his grave shall be dug, before
he shall tread on the first step of the throne ; that his
ashes shall sooner be scattered to the four winds of
heaven ; that he shall never gorge on France ?"
A hollow murmur, like an echo of the vaults be-
neath, repeated the concluding words. The murmur
had scarcely subsided; when this extraordinary appa-
rition, flinging round him a long white cloak, which
he had hitherto carried on his arm, and which, in
the dim light, gave him the look of one covered with
a shroud ; cried out, in a voice of still deeper solem-
nity, " George Jacques Danton, you have this night
pronounced the death of your king; I now pro-
nounce your own. — By the victims of the 20th of
June — by the victims of the 10th of August — by the
victims of the 2nd of September — by the thousands
whom your thirst of blood has slain — by the tens of
thousands whom your treachery has sent to perish
in a foreign grave — by the millions whom the war
which you have kindled will lay in the field of
slaughter — I cite you to appear before a tribunal,
where sits a Judge whom none can elude, and none
can defy. Within a year and a month, I cite you to
meet the spirits of your victims, before the throne of
the Eternal."
He stopped — not a voice was heard. He de-
MARSTON. 1 ] 3
scended the steps of the Tribune, and stalked slowly
through the hall — not a hand was raised against him.
He pursued his way, with as much calmness and se-
curity as if he had been a supernatural visitant ; until
he plunged into the darkness, as if he had dissolved
in air.
This denunciation threw a complete damp on the
regicidal ardour; no one ventured to mount the
Tribune. And the club was about to have broken
up, for the night ; when a loud knocking at one of
the gates, and the beating of drums, aroused the
drowsy sitters. The " mountain" was still as much
awake as ever; but seemed occupied wdth evident
expectation of either a new revolt, or a spectacle ;
pistols were taken out to be new primed, and the points
and edges of knives duly examined. The doors at
length were thrown open, and a crowd, one half of
whom appeared to be in the last stage of intoxica-
tion, and the other half not far from insanity, came,
dancing and chorusing, into the body of the build-
ing. In the midst of their troop they carried two
busts covered with laurels — the busts of the regicides
Ravaillac and Clement, with flags before them, in-
scribed, " They were glorious ; for they slew kings !"
The busts were presented to the president ; and their
bearers, a pair of j)oissardes, insisted on giving him
the republican embrace, in sign of fraternization.
The president, in return, invited them to the " honour
of a sitting ;" and thus reinforced, the discussion on
the death of the unhappy monarch commenced once
more, and the vote was carried by acclamation. The
National Convention was still to be applied to for the
114 MARSTON.
completion of the sentence ; but the decree of the
Jacobins was the law of the land !
I had often looked towards the gallery door, during
the nigh£, for the means of escape ; but my police
friend had forbade my moving before his return.
I therefore remained ; until the club were breaking
up, and the gallery began to clear. Cautious as I
had been, I could not help exhibiting, from time to
time, some indignation at the atrocities of the night,
and especially at the sentence of the helpless king.
In all this I had found a sympathizing neighbour,
who had exhibited marked civility in explaining the
peculiarities of the place, and giving me brief
sketches of the speakers, as they rose in succession.
He had especially agreed with me, in deprecating
the cruelty of the regicidal sentence. I now rose, to
bid my gentlemanlike cicerone good night; when, to
my surprise, I saw him make a sign to two loiterers
near the door, who instantly pinioned me.
" We cannot part quite so soon, Monsieur 1' Aris-
tocrat," said he ; " and though I much regret that
I cannot have the honour of accommodating you in
the Temple, near your friend. Monsieur Louis Capet ;
yet you may rely on my services in procuring a
lodging in one of the most agreeable prisons in
Paris,"
I had been entrapped in the most established
style, and I had nothing to thank for it but fortune.
Resistance was in vain, for they pointed to the
pistols inside their coats ; and with a vexed heart,
and making many an angry remark on the treachery
of the villain who had ensnared me — matters which
MARSTON. 115
fell on his ear probably with about the same effect
as the rain on the pavement at my feet — I was put into
a close carriage, and, with my captors, carried off to
the well known and hideous prison, the St. Lazare.
CHAPTER XXI.
" A plague upon them. Why should I not hate them ?
, Would hatred kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter searching terms,
Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-faced envy in her loathsome hive."
SHAKSPEARE.
On reaching the prison, I gave up all for lost ;
sullenly resigned myself to what now seemed the
will of fate ; and without a word, except in answer
to the interrogatory of my name and country, fol-
lowed the two horrid-looking ruffians who performed
the office of turnkeys. The St. Lazare had been a mo-
nastery, and its massiveness, gloom, and confusion of
buildings ; with its extreme silence at that late hour ;
gave me the strongest impression of a huge cata-
comb above ground. The door of a cell was opened
for me, after traversing a long succession of cloisters ;
and on a little wooden trestle, and wrapt in my cloak,
I attempted to sleep. But if sleep has not much to
boast of in Paris at any time, what was it then ?
I had scarcely closed my eyes, when I was roused by
a rapid succession of musket-shots, fired at the oppo-
MARSTON. 117
site side of the cloister, the light of torches flashing
through all the avenues, and the shouts of men
and women in wrath, terror, and agony.
T flung myself off my uneasy bed, and climbing
up by my prison bars, endeavoured to ascertain the
cause of the melee. But the imperfect light served
to show little more, than a general mustering of the
national guard in the court, and a huge and heavy
building, into which they were discharging random
shots whenever a head appeared at its casements.
A loud huzza followed, whenever one of those shots
appeared to take effect, and a laugh equally loud ran
through the ranks when the bullet wasted itself
on the massive mullions or stained glass of the win-
dows. A tall figure on horseback, whom I after-
wards learned to be Henriot, the commandant of the
national guard, galloped up and down the court, with
the air of a general-in- chief manoeuvring an army.
He had actually provided himself with a truncheon,
to meet all the emergencies of supreme command.
While this sanguinary, and yet mocking, represen-
tation of warfare was going on, M. le Commandant
was in full eloquence, and prodigious gesticulation.
" A la gloire, mes enfans !" was bis constant cry.
" Fight, mes braves ! the honour of France demands
it : the eyes of Europe — of the world — are turned
upon you. Vive la Republiqiie /" And all this fan-
farronade, accompanied with waving his hat, and spur-
ring his horse into foam and fury.
But, fortune is a jade after all; and the hero of the
tricoloured scarf was destined to have his laurels a
little shorn, even on this narrow field. While his
118 MARSTON.
charger was rattling over the cloisters, and his
veterans from the cellars and counters of Paris,
were popping off their muskets at the unfortunates
who started up against the old casement, I heard a
sudden rush and run ; a low postern of the cloister
had been flung back, and the prisoners within the
building had made a sally on tl^eir tormentors. A mas-
sacre at the Bicetre, in which six thousand perished,
had warned these unhappy people, that neither the
prison wall, nor night, was to be security against
the bloodhounds with whom murder seemed to have
grown into a pastime. And after having seen several
of their number shot down within their dungeon,
they determined, if they must die, at least to die in
manly defence. Their rush was perfectly success-
ful ; it had the effect of a complete surprise ; and
though their only weapons were fragments of their
firewood — for all fire-arms and knives had been
taken from them immediately on their entrance into
the prison ; they routed the heroes of the guard at
the first charge. Even the gallant commander him-
self only shared the fate of his '^ camai'ades :" a
flourish or two of his sabre, and an adjuration to
"liberty," had no other effect than to insure a heavier
shower of blows ; and I had the gratification of see-
ing the braggadocio go down from his saddle in the
midst of a group, who certainly had no veneration
for the majesty of the truncheon.
The victory was achieved ; but, like many other
victories, it produced no results : the gates of the St.
Lazare were too strongly guarded to be forced by an
unarmed crowd; and I saw the prisoners successively
MARSTON. ]]9
and gloomily return to the only roof, melancholy as
that was, which could now shelter them.
The morning brought my case before the autho-
rities of this den. Half a dozen coarse and filthy
men in uniform, some of them evidently sufferers in
the tumult of the night, for their heads were ban-
daged — a matter which gave good reason to expect
increased brutishness in their tempers ; formed the
tribunal. The hall in which they had established
their court, had once been the kitchen of the con-
vent ; and, though all signs of hospitality had long
vanished, its rude and wild construction, its stone
floor and vaulted roof, and even its yawning and
dark recesses for the different operations which, in
other days, had made it a scene of cheerful bustle ;
now gave it only a look of extreme dreariness. I
could have easily imagined it to be a chamber of the
Inquisition. But, men in my circumstances have
not much time for the work of fancy; and I was
instantly called on for " my name, and business in
France." I had heard enough of popular justice to
believe, that I had now arrived within sight of the
last struggle ; and I resolved to give these ruffians
no triumph over the Englishman.
" Citizen, who are you ?'' Was the first interro-
gatory, in a fierce tone.
" I am no citizen, no Frenchman, and no repub-
lican," was my answer. My judges stared at each
other.
" You are a prisoner. How came you here ?"
" You are judges. How came you there ?"
120 MARSTON.
" You are charged with crimes against the Re-
pubhc."
" In my countryj no man is expected to criminate
himself."
" But you are a traitor : can you deny that ?"
" I am no traitor to my king ; can you say as
much for yourselves?" They now began to cast
furious glances at me.
" You are insolent ; what brought you into the
territory of France ?"
" The same thing which placed you on that bench
— force."
*^ Are you mad ?"
" No — are you ?"
" Do you not know that we can send you to the
guillotine ?"
" If you do, I shall only go before you"
This put an end to my interrogatory, at once.
I had accidentally touched upon the nerve which
quivered in every bosom of these felons. There
was a singular -presentiment, a kind of superstition,
in the midst of all their scoffings, which made the
very mention of the grave ominous. Life had already
become precarious among the possessors of power;
and the slightest intimation of death was actually for-
midable to a race of villains, whose hands were hourly
imbrued in slaughter.
They now felt themselves at once menaced and in-
sulted. An immediate order for my confinement as
a " Brigand Anglais," was made out by the indignant
" commission," and I was transferred from my lonely
MARSTOX. - 1;21
cell, into the huge crowded building in the opposite
cloister, which had been the scene of the attack on the
previous night. 1 could now with Cato, " smile on
the drawn dagger, and defy its point/' And I walked
from the tribunal with the air of a Cato.
But this change, intended for my infinite degra-
dation, until the guillotine should have dispatched
its business in arrear ; I found much to my advan-
tage. The man who expects nothing, cannot be
hurt by disappointment; and, when I was conducted
from my solitary cell into the midst of four or five
hundred prisoners, I felt the human feelings rekindle
in me, which had been chilled between my four stone
walls.
The prisoners with whom I was now to take my
chance, were of all ranks, all professions, and de-
grees of crime. Wealth, however, in the eyes of the
democracy, being the unpardonable crime.
But, some of the prisoners were from La Vendee,
peasants mixed with nobles ; who, though no formal
shape of resistance to the republic was yet declared,
had exhibited already that gallant contempt of the
new tyranny, which afterwards immortalized the
name. It was this sturdy portion, which had made
the dash on the night of the riot ; and their daring
had the effect, at least, of saving their fellow-pri-
soners in future from being made marks, to teach
the national guard the art of shooting. Even their
sentries kept a respectful distance ; and M. Henriot,
wisely mindful of his flagellation, flourished his staff
of command no more within our cloister. AVe were,
in fact, left almost wholly to ourselves. Yet, if a
VOL. II. G
122 MARSTON.
philosopher desired to take a lesson in human
nature, this was the spot of earth for the study.
We had it, in every shape and shade. We had it
in the wits and blockheads, the courtiers and the
clowns, the opulent and the ruined, the brave and
the pusillanimous — and all under the strongest
pressure of those feelings which force the nature of
man into its most undisguised display. — Death was
before every eye. Where was the use of wearing a
mask, when the wearer was so soon to part with his
head? Pretence gradually vanished, and a general
spirit of boldness, frankness, and a bearing, if not
exactly of dignity, at least of manliness, superseded
the customary cringing of society under a despotism.
In all but the name, we were better republicans,
than the tribe who shoutecl in the streets, or robbed
in the tribunals.
I made this remark one day to the Marquis de
Cassini, a philosopher, and pupil of the great Buffon.
" The reason is," said he, " that the minds of men
differ chiefly by their circumstances ; as the bodies
of men differ chiefly by their clothes. — Throw off
their dress, whether embroidery or rags, and you
will find the same number of ribs in them all."
" But my chief surprise," said I, " is, to find in
this prison more mutual kindness, and, in every
sense, more generosity of sentiment, than one gene-
rally expects to meet with in the world."
** Helvctius would tell you, that all this is self-
interest," was my pale-visaged and contemplative
friend's reply.
" But," said I, " I always regarded M. Helvetius,
MARSTON. 123
in- the light of a well-trained baboon, who thought,
that when men stared at his tricks, they were ad-
miring his talents/'
"The truth," replied Cassini, "is, that self-interest
is the mere creature of society, and is the most
active in the basest society. It is the combined
cowardice and cruelty, of men struggling for exist-
ence ; the savageness of the forest, where men can-
not gather acorns enough to share with their fellows ;
the effort for life, where there is but one plank in a
storm, and where, if you are to cling at all, it must
be by drowning the weaker party. But here,'' and
he cast his eyes round the mingled crowd, " as there
is not the slightest possibility that any one of us
shall escape, we have the better opportunity of show-
ing our original bienseance. — All the selfishness on
earth will not save us from the guillotine ; and
therefore, we are the more ready to accommodate
each other, for the rest of our journey."
I agreed with him on the philosophy of the case ;
and in return, he introduced me to some of the
Vendean nobles, who had hitherto exhibited their
general scorn of Parisian contact, by confining
themselves to the circle of their followers. I was
received with the distinction due to my introducer,
and invited to join their supper that night. The
prison had once been the chapel of the convent ;
and though the desecration had taken place a
hundred years before, and the revolutionary spoilers
had spared but little of the remaining ornament ;
the original massiveness of the building, and the
nobleness of its architecture, had withstood the
G 2
124 MARSTON.
assaults of both time and plunder. The roofs of
the aisles could not be reached except by flame, and
the monuments of the ancient priors and prelates,
when they had once been stripped of their bronzes,
were too solid for the passing fury of the mob. And
thus, among emblems of mortality, and the recol-
lections of old pomp, were flung some hundreds of
people, who knew as little of each other as if they
had met in a caravansery, and who, perhaps, ex-
pected to part as soon. The scene was curious, but
by no means uncheerful. The national spirit is
inextinguishable; and, however my countrymen may
bear up against the extremes of ill-fortune, no man
meets its beginnings, with so easy an air as the man
of France.
Our supper was laid out in one of the side
chapels ; and, coarse and scanty as it was, I seldom
recollect an evening which I passed with a lighter
sense of the burden of a prisoner's time. I found
the Vendean nobles a manlier race, than their more
courtly countrymen. Yet they had a courtliness of
their own ; but it was more the manner of our own
country gentlemen of the last century, than the
polish of Versailles. Their habits of living on their
domains, their intercourse with the peasantry, and
the general simplicity of country life, had drawn a
strong line of distinction. Like all Frenchmen of
the day, they conversed largely upon the politics of
France ; yet, there was a striking reverve in their
style. The existing royal family were but little
mentioned, or mentioned only with a kind of sacred
respect. Their misfortunes prohibited the slightest
MARSTON. 125
severity of language ; yet still, it was not difficult to
see, that those straightforward and honest lords of
the soil, who were yet to prove themselves the true
chevaliers of France, could feel as acutely the in-
juries inflicted by the absurdities and vices of the
successive administrations, as if they had figured in
the clubs of the capital. But the profligacies of the
preceding monarch, and the tribe of fools and
knaves whom those profligacies as naturally gathered
round him, as the plague propagates its own con-
tagion, met with no mercy. Louis XV., Du Barry,
and the corrupting and corrupted cabinets, which
had at length rendered monarchy odious, were de-
nounced in terms worthy of gallant men ; who,
though resolved to sink or swim with the throne,
experienced a generous indignation at the crimes
which had raised the storm.
We had our chansons too, and some of them
were as contemptuous, as ever came from the pen of
Parisian satire. Among my recollections of the night
was one of those songs, of which the refrain was —
" Le Bien-Aime — de V Almanac."
A burlesque on the title — Le Bien-x\ime, &c., which
the court calendar, and the court calendar alone, had
annually given to the old king. I can offer only
a paraphrase.
" Louis Quinze, our burning shame !
Hear our song, ' old well-beloved,'
What if eoui'ts and camps are tame,
(Pension'd beggars, laced and gloved,)
France's love grows rather slack,
Idol of — the Almanac.
G 3
126 MARSTON.
" Let your flatterers hang or drown,
We are of another school ;
Truth no more shall be put down,
We can call a fool a fool,
Fearless of Bastile or rack,
Titus of — the Almanac.
" Louis, trample on your serfs,
You shall trample us, no moi-e.
Revel in your pare aux cerfs*,
Eat and driuk — 'twill soon be o'er.
France will steer another tack,
Solon of — the Almanac !
" Hear your praises from your pages,
Hear them from your liveried lords.
Let your valets earn their wages.
Liars, living on their words ;
Other nuts they soon shall crack,
Ceesar of — the Almanac !
" When a dotard fills the throne.
Fit for nothing but a nurse.
When a nation's general groan,
Changes only to its curse ;
What are annies at thy back,
Henri of — the Almanac ?
" When the truth is bought and sold.
When the wrongs of man are spurn'd.
Then the crown's last knell is toll'd,
Then, old Time, thy glass is turn'd.
And comes, flying from thy pack.
To nations a new Almanac !
" Mistress, minister, Bourbon,
Rule by bayonets, bribes, and spies.
Charlatans in church and throne,
France is opening all her eyes —
Down go minion, king, and quack,
Here's to our new Almanac !"
* A scene of peculiar infamy near Paris.
MARSTON. 127
When I returned to the place where my mat-
tress was flung, the crowd had abeady sunk to
rest, and there was. a general silence throughout
the building. The few lights which our jailers sup-
plied to us, had become fewer; and, but for the
tread of the doubled sentries outside, I might have
imagined myself in a vast cemetery. The agita-
tion of the day, followed by the somewhat unsuitable
gaiety of the evening, had thrown me into such a
state of mental and bodily fatigue, that I had scarcely
laid my side on my bed, untempting as it was, before
I dropped into a heavy slumber. The ingenuity of
our tormentors, however, prohibited our knowing
any thing in the shape of indulgence ; and in realiza-
tion of the dramatist's renowned mot, "traitors never
sleep," the prison door was suddenly flung open at
midnight — a drum rattled through the aisle — the
whole body of the prisoners were ordered to stand
forth, and answer to their names ; the ceremony
concluding with the march of the night-guard into
the chapel, and their being ordered to load with ball
cartridge, to give us sufficient knowledge of the re-
sult of any attempt in future. This refinement in
cruelty we owed to the escapade of the night before.
At length, after a variety of insulting queries, even
this scene w^as over. The guard marched out, the
roll of their drum died away among the cloisters ;
we went shivering to our beds ; threw om*selves
down dressed as we were, and tried to forget France
and our jailers.
But a French night, in those times, was like none
else, and I had yet to witness a scene, such as I be-
G 4
128 MARSTON.
lieve could not have existed in any other country of
the globe.
After some period of feverish sleep, I was awakened
by a strange murmur, which, mixing with my dreams,
had given me the comfortless idea of hearing the
roar of the multitude at some of the horrid displays
of the guillotine ; and as I half opened my unwilling
eyes, still dim with sleep, I saw a long procession of
figures, in flowing mantles and draperies, moving
down the huge hall. A semicircle of beds filled the
extremity of the chapel, which had been vacated by
a draft of unfortunate beings, carried off during the
day to the guillotine. While my eyes, with a
strange and almost superstitious anxiety — such is
the influence of time and place — followed this ex-
traordinary train, I saw it take possession of the
range of beds ; each new possessor sitting wrapt in
his pale vesture, and perfectly motionless. I can
scarcely describe the sensations, with which I conti-
nued to gaze on the spectacle. My eyes sometimes
closed, and I almost conceived that the whole was a
dream ; but the forms were too distinct, for this con-
jecture, and the question with me now became —
" are they flesh and blood ?" I had not sunk so far
into reverie, as to imagine that they were the actual
spectres of the unhappy tenants of those beds on the
night before, all of whom were now, doubtless, in the
grave ; but the silence, the distance, and the dimness
perplexed me, and I left the question to be settled
by the event. — At a gesture from the central figure
they all rose, and a man loaded with fetters was
brought forward in front of the circle.
MARSTON. ] 29
I now found that a trial was going on : the group
were the judges, the man was the criminal ; there
was an accuser, there was an advocate, all the gene-
ral process of a trial was passing before my view.
But, all that I could discover was, that the accused
was charged with incivisme, and that, defying the court
and disdaining the charge, he was pronounced guilty
— the whole circle standing up, as the sentence was
pronounced^ and with a solemn waving of their arms
and murmur of their voices, assenting to the act of
the judge. The victim was then seized upon, swept
away into the darkness, and after a brief pause I
heard a shriek and a crash ; — the sentence had been
fulfilled, all was over. The court now covered their
heads with their mantles, as if in sorrow for this
formidable necessity.
But, how shall I speak of the closing scene ?
However it surprised and absorbed me in that mo-
ment of nervous awe, I can allude to it now, only, as
characteristic of a time when every mind in France
was half lunatic. — I saw a figure enveloped in star-
coloured light, emerge from the darkness, slowly
ascend, in a vesture floating round it like the robes
which Raphael or Guido gives to the beings of an-
other sphere ; and, accompanied by a burst of har-
mony as it rose, ascend to the roof, where it sud-
denly disappeared. — All was instantly the silence
and the darkness of the grave '.
Daylight brought back my senses ; and I was con-
vinced that the pantomimic spirit of the people,
* This extraordinary scene was one of the facts of prison hfe under
the Republic.
G 5
130 MARSTON.
however unaccountably it might disregard proprie-
ties, had been busy with the scene. On mentioning
it to Cassini, he let me into the solution at once.
" Have you never observed/' said he, " the passion
of all people for walking on the edge of a precipice,
climbing a church tower, looking down from a bat-
tlement, or doing any one thing which gives them
the nearest possible chance of breaking their necks ?
then, you can comprehend the performance of last
night. Here we are, like fowls in a coop : every day
sees some of us taken out ; and the amusement of
the remaining fowls is, to imagine how the heads of
the others were taken from their bodies. The pri-
soners were practising a trial."
I gave an involuntary look of surprise at this spe-
cies of indulgence, and remarked something on its
violation of common feeling — to say nothing of the
almost profaneness which it involved.
" As to the feeling," said Cassini, with that shrug,
which no shoulders but those of a Frenchman can
ever give, " it is a matter of taste ; and perhaps we
have no right to dictate in such matters to persons
who would think a week a long lease of life, and who,
instead of seven days, may not have so many hours.
As to the profanation, if your English scruples
make you sensitive on such points, I can assure you,
that you might have seen some things much more
calculated to excite your sensibilities. — The display
last night was simply the trial of a royalist ; and as
we are all more or less angry with republicanism at
this moment, and with some small reason too ; the
royalist, though he was condemned, as every body
MARSTON. 131
now is, was suffered to have his apotheosis. — But /
have seen exhibitions, in which the republican was
the criminal, and the scene which followed, was
really startling even to my rather callous conceptions.
Sometimes we had even one of the colossal ruffians,
who are now lording it over France. I have seen
St. Just, Couthon, Carrier, Danton, nay Robespierre
himself, arraigned before our midnight tribunal ; for
this amusement is the only one which we can enjoy
without fear of interruption from our jailers. — Thus
we enjoy it with the greatest gusto, and revenge
ourselves for the tribulations of the day by trying
our tormentors at night.''
" I am satisfied with the reason, although I am
not yet quite reconciled to the performance. But,
who were the actors ? "
"You are now nearer the truth, than you sus-
pected. We have men of every trade here, and,
among the rest, we have actors, enough to stock the
Comedie Franqaise. If you remain a little longer
among us, you will see some of the best farces of the
best time played uncommonly well by our fellow
detenus. But in the interim — for our theatre is per-
mitted by the municipality, to open in the St. Lazare
only four times a month — a piece of cruelty which
we all regard as intolerable — our actors refresh their
faculties with all kinds of displays. You acknow-
ledge that the scene last night was well got up ; and
if you should see the trial of some of our ' Grands
Democrats,' be assured, that your admiration will
not be attracted by gossamer draperies, blue lights,
or the harmonies of the old asthmatic organ in yonder
G 6
132 MARSTON.
gallery ; our pattern will be taken from the last
scene of ' II Don Giovanni/ You will have no
pasteboard figure suspended from the roof, and
wafted upward in starlight or moonlight. But, if
you wish to see the exhibition, I am concerned to
tell you, that you must wait ; for to-night all our
artistes are busy. In what, do you conceive ? "
I professed my inability to fathom '" the infinite
resources of the native mind, where amusement was
the question."
"Well then— not to keep you in suspense — we
are to have a masquerade.'*
The fact was even so. France having grown tired
of all things that had been ; grew tired of weeks,
and Decades were the law of the land. The year
was divided into packs of ten days each, and she
began the great game of time, by shuffling and cut-
ting her cards anew. The change was not marked
by any peculiar good fortune ; for it was laughed at,
as every thing in France was ; except an order for
deportation to the colonies, or a march to the
scaffold. The populace, fully admitting the right of
government to deal with kings and priests as it
pleased ; regarded the interference with their plea-
sures as a breach of compact ; and the result was,
that the populace had their Dimanche as well as
their Decadi, and that the grand experiment for
wi{)ing out the Sunday, issued in giving them two
holidays instead of one.
It was still early in the day, when some bustle in
the porch of the prison turned all eyes towards it,
and a new detachment of prisoners was brought in.
MARSTON. 133
I shall say nothing of the scenes of wretchedness
which followed ; the wild terrors of women on
finding themselves in this melancholy place, which
looked, and was, scarcely more than a vestibule to
the tomb ; the deep distress of parents, with their
children clinging round them, and the general
despair ; a despair which was but too well founded.
But the tumult of their settling and distribution
among the various quarters of the chapel had
scarcely subsided, when another scene was at hand.
The commissary of the district came in, with a list
of the prisoners summoned before the tribunal.
Our prison population was thus, like the waters of a
bath, as one stream flowed in another flowed out ;
but the level was constantly sustained. With an in-
stinctive pang, I heard my name called. Cassini
approached me with a smile, which he evidently put
on, to conceal his emotion.
"This is quick work, M. Marston," said he,
taking my hand. " But, as the ruffian in the school
fable says, ' Hodie tibi, eras mihi' — twelve hours
will probably make all the difference between us."
I took off" the little locket containing my last re-
membrance of Clotilde, and put it into his hands,
requesting him, if he survived, to transmit it to her,
with an assurance that I remembered her, in an
hour when all else was forgotten.
" I shall perform the part of your legatee," said
he, " till to-morrow ; then I must probably look for
some other depositary ; here you know that heirship
is rapid, and that the will is to be executed before the
ink is dry." He turned away, to hide his emotion. —
134 MARSTON.
" I have not known you long, sir," said he ; '' but in
this place we must be expeditious in every thing.
You are too young to die. If you are sacrificed, I am
convinced that you will die like a gentleman and a
man of honour. — And yet T have some hope, some
presentiment, nay almost a consciousness, that you
will not be cut off; at least until you are as weary
of the world, as I am."
I endeavoured to put on a face of resignation, if
not of cheerfulness, and said, " That though my
country might revenge my death ; my being engaged
in its service would only make my condemnation
inevitable. But I was prepared."
" At all events, my young friend," said he, " if
you escape from this pandemonium of France, take
this paper, and vindicate the memory of Cassini."
He gave me a memoir, which I could not help
receiving with a smile, from the brevity of the period
during which the trust w^as likely to hold. The
gendarme now came up to demand my attendance^
I shook hands with the marquis, who at that mo-
ment was certainly no philosopher ; and followed
the train.
We were about fifty in number ; and after being
placed in open artillery waggons, the procession
moved rapidly through the suburb, until we reached
one of those dilapidated and hideous-looking build-
ings, which were still to be found startling the
stranger's eye, with the recollections of the St.
Bartholomew and the Fronde.
A crowd, assembled round the door of one of
these melancholy abodes, and the bayonets of a
MARSTON. 135
company of the national guard glittering above their
heads, indicated the place of our destination. The
crowd shouted at the " aristocrats, thirsting for the
blood of the good citizens." The guard opened,
and we were rapidly passed through several halls,
the very dwelling of decay ; until we reached a large
court, where the prisoners remained, while the judges
were occupied in deciding on the fate of the train
which the morning had already provided. I say
nothing of the insults which were intended, if not to
add new bitterness to death ; to indulge the wretched
men and women attending on the tribunal, with
opportunities of triumphing over those born to better
things. While we remained in the court, shouts too,
were heard at intervals, which^ as the turnkeys in-
formed us, arose from the spectators of the execu-
tions ; death, in these fearful days, immediately
following sentence. Yet, to the last, the ludicrous
often mingled with the melancholy. While I was
taking my place in the file, according to the order
of our summons, and was next in rotation for trial ;
a smart and over-dressed young man stepped out of
his place in the rank, and, drawing from his bosom
a large roll of manuscript, presented it to me, with
the special entreaty that, " in case I survived, I
should take care of its propagation throughout
Europe." My answer naturally was, " That my
fate was fully as precarious as that of the rest, and
that thus I had no conceivable hope of being able
to give his pamphlet to mankind."
" Mais, monsieur," that phrase which means so
many inexpressible things — " You must observe,
13G MARSTON.
that by putting my pamphlet into your charge, it
has a double chance. You may read it as a part of
your defence ; — it is a treatise on the government of
France, which settles all the disputed questions,
reconciles republicanism with monarchy, and shows
how a revolution may be made to purify all things,
without overthrowing any. Thus my sentiments
will become public at once, the world will be en-
lightened, and, though you may perish, France will
be saved."
Nothing could be more convincing ; yet I con-
tinued stubborn. He persisted. I suggested the
" possibility of my not being suffered to make any
defence whatever, but of being swept away at once ;
in this case, endangering the total loss of his con-
ceptions to the world ; " but I had to deal with a
man of resources.
" Bon" said the author and philanthropist ; " for
that event I am already provided. I have a second
copy folded on my breast, which I shall read, when
I am called on for trial. Thus, those immortal
truths shall not be left to accident ; thus, I shall
have two chances for celebrity ; the labour of my
life shall be known ; nor shall the name of Jean
Jacques Pelletier go to the tomb, without the re-
nown due to a philosopher."
All further deprecation on my part was now cut
short by the appearance of the guard, by whom I was
marched into the presence of the tribunal. The day
had waned, and two or three lamps exhibited to my
weary eye the judges, whose decision was to make
the difference between life and death, within the
MARSTON. 137
next half hour. Their appearance was the reverse of
one, likely to reconcile the unfortunate to the severity
of the law. They were seven or eight ruffians, sit-
ting on a raised platform, with a long table in their
front, covered with papers, and with what seemed
to be property taken from the condemned — watches,
purses, and trinkets ; and among those piles, the
fragments of a dinner — plates and soups, with
several bottles of cognac and wine. Justice was so
indefatigable in France, that its ministers were forced
to mingle all the functions of public and private life
together ; and to be intoxicated in the act of passing
sentence of death was no uncommon casualty.
The judges of those sectional tribunals were gene-
rally miscreants, of the lowest description, who had
driven away the magistracy ; and, under the pretext
of administering justice, w^ere actually driving a trade
in robbery of every kind. The old costume of the
courts of law was, of course, abjured; and the new
civic costume, which was obviously constructed on
the principle of leaving the hands free for butchery,
was displayed a la rigueur on the bench. A short
coat without sleeves, the shirt sleeves tucked up as
for instant execution, the neck open, no collar, fierce
moustaches, a head of clotted hair, sometimes a red
nightcap stuck on one side, and sometimes a red
handkerchief tied round it as a temporary " bonnet
de nuit" — for the judges frequently, in drunkenness
or fatigue, threw themselves on the bench or the
floor, and slept — exhibited the regenerated aspect of
Themis, in the capital of the polished world.
My name was now called. I shall not say with
138 MARSTON.
what a throb of heart I heard it. But, at the
moment when I was stepping forward, I felt my
skirt pulled by one of the guard behind me. I
looked, and recognized through all his beard, and
the hair that in profusion covered his physiognomy,
my police friend, who seemed to possess the faculty
of being every where — a matter, however, rendered
easier to him, by his being in the employ of the
government — and who simply whispered the words —
*' Be firm, and acknowledge nothing." Slight as the
hint was, it had come in good time ; for I had grown
desperate from the sight of the perpetual horrors
round me, and, like Cassini's idea of the man walk-
ing on the edge of the precipice, had felt some incli-
nation to jump off, and take my chance. But now,
defiance took the place of despair ; and, instead of
openly declaring my purposes and performances, my
mind was made up to leave them to their own
blunders.
On my being marched to the platform between
two frightful-looking men, whose coats and trousers
seemed to have been dyed in gore, and who, to make
" assurance doubly sure," wore on their waist-belts
the word "September," painted in broad characters;
I was then interrogated in nearly the same style as
before. I gave them, as before, brief answers.
" Who are you ?" asked the principal distributor
of rabble justice. The others stooped forward, pen
in hand, to record my conviction.
My answer was —
" A man." (Murmurs on the platform.)
" Whence come you ?"
MARSTON. 139
" From your prison."
" You are not a Frenchman ?"
"No, thank Heaven !" (Murmurs again.)
"Beware, sir, of insolence to the tribunal. We
can send you instantly to punishment."
" I know it. — Why then try me at all ?"
*' Because, prisoner, we desire to hear the truth
first."
" First or last, can you bear to hear it ?" (Angry
looks, but more attention.)
" We have no time to waste — the business of the
Republic must be done. Are you a citizen ?"
" I am; — a citizen of the world."
"You must not equivocate with justice. Where
did you live before you were arrested ?"
" On the globe." (A half-suppressed laugh among
the crowd in the back ground.)
" Of what profession ?"
" None."
" On what then do you live, have lived, or expect
to live?"
*• To-day on nothing, for your guards have given
me nothing. Yesterday, I lived on what I could get.
To-morrow, it depends on circumstances, whether
I shall want any thing." (A low murmur of ap-
plause among the bystanders, who now gathered
closer to the front.)
" Prisoner," said the chief, swilling a glass of
cognac to strengthen the solemnity of his juris-
prudence, " the Republic must not be trifled with.
You are arraigned of incivisme. Of what country
are you a subject?"
140 MARSTON.
" Of France, while I remain on her territory."
" Have you fought for France ?"
" I have ; for her laws, her liberty, her property,
and her honour." (Bravo ! from the crowd.)
" Yet you are not a Republican ?"
" No ; no more than you are."
This produced confusion on the bench. The hit
was contemptuously accidental ; but it was a home-
thrust at the chief, who had formerly been a domes-
tic in the Tuileries, and was still strongly suspected
of being a spy of the Bourbons. The crowd who
knew his story, and who are always delighted Avith a
blow at power, burst into a general roar. But a
little spruce fellow on the bench, who had already
exhibited a desire to take his share in the interroga-
tory, now thrust his head over the table, and said in
his most searching tone —
'^To come to the point — Prisoner, how do you
live ? What are your means ? All honest men must
have visible means. That is my question." (All
eyes were turned on me.)
I was now growing angry ; and, pointing to the
pile of purses and watches on the table —
" No man," said I, " needs ask what are your
visible means, when they see that pile before you.
Yet I doubt if that proves you to be an honest man.
That is my answer."
The little inquisitor looked furious, and glanced
towards the chief for protection ; but his intrusion
had provoked wrath in that quarter, and his glance
was returned with a rigid smile.
" Prisoner," said the head of the tribunal, " though
MARSTON. 141
the question was put improperly, it was in itself a
proper one. How do you live?"
" By my abilities."
" That is a very doubtful support in these times."
" I do not recommend you, or any of those round
you, to make the experiment," was my contemptuous
answer.
The bystanders gave a general laugh, in which
even the guard joined. To turn the laugh against
one, is the most unpardonable of all injuries in
France, and my answer roused up the whole tribunal.
They scarcely gave themselves the trouble of a con-
sultation. A few nods and whispers settled the
whole affair; and the chief, standing up, and draw-
ino; his sabre from its sheath ; then the sig-nificant
custom of those places of butchery, pronounced the
fatal words, " Guilty of incivisme. Let the criminal
be conducted to la Force," — the well-known phrase
for immediate execution.
The door was opened, from which none ever came
back. Two torches were seen glaring down the
passage, and I was seized by the grim escort, who
were to lead me to the axe.
The affectation of cowardice is as childish as the
affectation of courage ; but I felt a sensation at that
moment which took me by surprise. I had been
perfectly assured of ray sentence, from the first
glance at the judges. If ever there was a spot on
earth which deserved Dante's motto of Erebus —
it was the revolutionary tribunal. Despair was
written all over it, in characters impossible to be
mistaken. I had fixed my resolution, to go through
142 MARSTON.
the whole scene, if not with heroism, at least with
that decent firmness which becomes a man ; yet the
sound of the words which consigned me to the
scaffold struck me with a general chill. Momentary
as the period was, the question passed through my
mind, are those pai'alysed limbs the same which bore
me so well through the hazards of the campaign ?
Why am I to feel the fluttering of heart now, more
than when I was facing sabres and cannon-shot?
Why am I thus frigid and feeble, when I so lately
fought and marched, and defied alike fatigue and
wounds ? But, I felt in this chamber of death an in-
conceivable exhaustion, which had never approached
me in the havoc of the field. My feet refused to
move, my lips to breathe ; all objects swam round
me, and sick to fainting, I blindly thrust out my hand
to save me from falling, and thus giving the last
triumph to my murderers.
At this decisive moment, I found my hand caught
by a powerful grasp, and a strong voice exclaiming,
" Messieurs, I demand the delay of this sentence.
The criminal before you is of higher importance to
the state, than the wretches whom justice daily com-
pels you to sacrifice. His crime is of a deeper dye.
— I exhibit the mandate of the government, to arrest
the act of the tribunal, and order him to be reserved,
until he reveals the w hole of the frightful plots which
endanger the Republic."
The speaker then advanced to the platform ; and,
taking a paper from his bosom, displayed to the court
and the crowd, the order for my being remanded to
prison, signed by the Triumvirate, whose word was
MARSTON. 143
law in France. Some confusion followed on the
bench, and some bustle among the spectators ; but
the document was undeniable, and my sentence was
suspended. I am not sure, that the people within
much regretted the delay, however those who had been
lingering outside might feel themselves ill-used by a
pause in the executions, which had now become a
popular amusement ; for the crowd instantly pushed
forward to witness another trial of sarcasm between
me and my judges. But this the new authority
sternly forbade.
" The prisoner," said he, in a dictatorial tone, " is
now in my charge. He is a prisoner of state — an
Englishman — an agent of the monster Pitt" — (he
paused, and was answered with a general shudder) ;
" and, above all, has actually been in arms with the
fiend Brunswick," (a general groan,) " and with those
worse than fiends, those parricides, those emigrant
nobles, who have come to burn our harvests, slay
our waives and children, and destroy the proudest
monument of human wisdom, the grandest triumph
of human success, and the most illustrious monu-
ment of the age of regeneration — the Republic of
France." Loud acclamations followed this popular
rhetoric; and the panegyrist, grasping me by the arm,
walked with me rapidly out of court. All made way
for him, and, before another word could be uttered
by the astounded bench, we were in one of the
covered carriages reserved for prisoners of the higher
rank, and on our way, at full gallop, through the
intricate streets of Paris.
All this was done with such haste, that I had
14-4 MARSTON.
scarcely time to know what my own emotions were ;
but the relief from immediate death, or rather from
those depressing; and overwhelming sensations which
perhaps make its worst bitterness, was something ;
and hope dawned on me once more. Still, it was
w^holly in vain, that I attempted to make my man
of mystery utter a word. Nothing could extort a
syllable from him, and he was evidently unwilling
that I should even see his face, imperfect as the
chance was, among the few lamps which Paris then
exhibited to enlighten the dismal darkness of her
thoroughfares. Yet, the idea, that my rescue was
not without a purpose, predominated ; and I was
beginning even to imagine that I already felt the
fresh air of the fields, and that our journey would
terminate outside the walls of Paris ; when the car-
riage came to a full stop, and, by the light of a torch
streaming on the wind, I saw the gate of the St.
Lazare. All was now over; resistance, or escape,
w^as equally beyond me. The carriage was sur-
rounded by the guard, who ordered me to descend ;
their officer received the rescript for my safe custody,
and I had nothing before me but the dungeon. But,
at the moment when my foot was on the step of the
vehicle, my companion stooped forward, and uttered
in my ear, the word " Mordecai." I was hurried
onward, and the carriage drove away.
This talismanic word changed the current of my
thoughts at once. It had so often and so powerfully
operated in my favour, that I could scarcely doubt
its effect once more ; yet before me were the stern
realities of confinement. What dexterity of friend-
MARSTON. 145
ship, or even the stronger love of woman, could
make my dungeon vanish into " thin air ?" Still
there had been an interposition, and to that inter-
position, whether for future good or ill, it was clearly
due, that I was not already flung, a headless trunk,
into a nameless grave.
VOL. II.
CHAPTER XXII.
" But where is the ii'on-bouncl prisoner, where ?
For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.
Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn,
Like a limb from his country, cast bleeding and torn,
Oh, no ; for a darker departure is near.
The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier ;
His death-bell is tolling. Oh, mercy, dispel
Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell.
Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs.
And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.
Accursed be the faggots that blaze at his feet.
Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat,
With the smoke of its ashes, to poison the gale."
Campbell.
As I passed again through the cloisters, my ear
was caught by the sound of music and dancing.
The contrast was strong to the scene from which
I had just returned. To my look of my surprise,
the turnkey answered, " Perhaps you have forgotten,
that this is Decadi, on this night we always have
our masquerade. If you have not got a dress, I
shall supply you ; my wife is afripiere in the Antoine ;
she supplies all the civic fetes with costumes, and
you may have any dress you like, from a grand
signior with his tiu*ban, down to a colporteur with
his pack, or a watchman with his nightcap."
MARSTON. 1 \ 7
My mind was still too unsettled, to enjoy mas-
querading, notwithstanding the tem})tation of the
turnkey's wardrobe ; and I felt all that absence of
accommodation to circumstances, that want of plas-
ticity, that failure of grasping at every hair's-breadth
of enjoyment, which is declared by foreigners to form
the prodigious deficiency of John Bull. If I could
have taken refuge, for that night at least, in the
saddest cell of the old convent, or in the deepest
dungeon of the new prison, I should have gone to
either with good-will. I longed to lay down my
aching brains upon my pillow, and forget tlie time.
But, prisoners have no choice ; and the turnkey,
after repeating his recommendations, that I should
not commit an act of such profound offence, as to
appear in the assembly without a domino ; if I
should take nothing else from the store of the most
popular marchande in Paris, the wife of his bosom :
at last, with a shake of his head at my want of taste,
unlocked the gate, and thrust me into the midst of
my old quarters, the chapel.
There a new scene indeed awaited me. The place
which I had left filled with trembling clusters of
people, whole families clinging to each other in
terror, loud or mute, but all in the deepest dread of
their next summons ; I found in a state of the most
extravagant festivity — the chapel lighted up from
floor to roof — bouquets planted, w^herever it was
possible to fix an artificial flower — gaudy wreaths
depending from the galleries — and all the genius of
this country of extremes lavished on attempts at
decoration. Rude as the materials were, they pro-
duced at first sight a remarkably striking eflfect.
H 2
lis MARSTON.
More striking still was the spectacle of the whole
multitude, in every grotesque dress of the world,
dancing away, as if life was but one festival.
As I stood aloof for a while, wholly dazzled by the
glare, the movement, and the multitude ; I was re-
cognised by some of my "old" acquaintance — the
acquaintance of twenty-four hours — but here time,
like every thing else, had changed its meaning, and a
new influx had recruited the hall. Cassini and some
others came forward and welcomed me, like one who
had returned from the tomb — the news of the day
was given and exchanged — a bottle of champagne
was prescribed as the true medicine for my lowness
of pulse — and I gradually gave myself up to the
spirit of the hour.
As I wandered through the crowd, a mask dressed
as a sylph bent its head over my shoulder, and T
heard the words, " Why are you not in a domino ?"
I made some careless answer. '- Go and get one
immediately," was the reply. " Take this card,
fasten it on your robe, and meet me here again."
The mask put a card marked with a large rose into
my hand, and glided off among the crowd. I still
lingered, leaning against a pillar of the aisle. The
mask again approached me. " Monsieur Anglais,"
was the whisper, "you do not know your friends.
Go and furnish yourself with a domino. It is essen-
tial to your safety." " Who are my friends, and why
do you give me this advice ?" was my enquiry. The
mask lightly tripped round me, laid its ungloved
liand on mine, as if in the mere sport of the dance ;
and, from its whiteness and delicacy, I saw that it
was the hand of a female. I was now more per-
MARSTON. 149
plexed than ever. As the form floated round me
with the lightness of a zephyr, it whispered the word
" Mordecai/' and again flew off into an eddy of the
multitude. I now obeyed the command ; w^ent to
the little shrine, where the turnkey's wife had opened
her friperie, equipped myself with the dress ap-
pointed ; and, with the card fixed upon my bosom,
returned to take my station beside the pillar. But
no sylph came again. I listened for that soft, low
voice; but listened in vain. I consoled myself by
asking, " what was all this, but the common sport of
a masquerade ?"
However, an object soon di^ew the general atten-
tion so strongly, as to put an end to private curiosity
for a while. This was a mask in the uniform of a
national guard, but so outrageously fine, that his
entree excited an universal burst of laughter. But
when, after a few displays of what was apparently
all but intoxication, he began a detail of his own
exploits, it was evident that the whole was a daring
caricature ; and as nothing could be less popular
among us than the heroes of the shops, the " Colonels
Calicot," and " Moustaches au comptoir" all his
burlesque told incomparably. The old officers
among us, the Vendeans, and all the ladies — for the
sex are aristocrats under every government and in
every region of the globe — were especially delighted.
"Charlemagne Fripon," colonel of the "brave bat-
talion of the Marais," was evidently worth a dozen
field-marshals, in his own opinion ; and his declared
contempt for Vendome, Marlborough, and Frederick
le Grand, was only less piquant, than his perfect
II 3
150 MARSTON.
imitation and keen burlesque of Santerre, Henriot,
and our municipal warriors. At length, when his
plaudits and popularity were at their height, he
pro])osed, a general toast to the " young heroism "
of the capital, and prefaced it by a camp song, well
known in the old French service.
" AVANCEZ, BRAVES GUERRIERS."
" Shoulder arms — brave regiment !
Hark, the bugle sounds, ' advance.'
Pile the baggage — strike the tent ;
France demands you — fight for France.
If the hero gets a ball,
His accounts are closed — that's all !
" Wlio would waste his daj's at home,
Made for women to despise ;
When, where'er we choose to roam.
All the world before us lies,
Following our bugle's call ;
Life one holiday — that's all !
" When the soldier's coin is spent.
He has but to fight for more ;
He pays neither tax nor rent,
He's but where he was before.
If he conquer, if he fall —
Fortune de la guerre — that's all !
" Let the peasant live, in toil ;
With the soldier all is sport ;
Let your monks, like vipers, coil
In the cloister, or the court ;
Let them fatten in their stall.
We can fatten too — that's all !
" What civrc we for fortune's frown,
All that comes, is for the best ;
What's the noble's bed of down
To the soldier's evening rest ?
MARSTON. 15]
On the heath, or in the hall ;
All alike to him — that's all !
" When the morn is on the sky,
Hark the gay reveille ruigs !
Glory lights the soldier's eye,
To the gory breach he springs,
Plants his colour's on the wall,
Wins and weax's the crolx — that's all !"
The dashing style in which this hereditary song
of the French soldiery was given by " Colonel
Charlemagne Fripon " of the " brave battalion of
the Marais," his awkward imitation of the old regime,
and his affectation of military nonchalance, excited
shouts of applause. His performance was encored,
and he was danced round by a group of nymphs and
graces ; among whom his towering figure looked
like a grenadier of Brobdignag in the circle of u
Lilliputian light company. He carried on the farce
for a while with great adroitness and animation ; but
at length, putting the circle of tinsel and tiffany aside,
and striding up to me, he insisted on making me a
recruit for the "brave battalion of the Marais/'
But I had no desire to play a part in this pantomime,
and tried to disengage myself. One word again
made me a captive : that word was now " Lafon-
taine ; " and at the same moment, I saw the sylph
bounding to my side. What was I to think of this
extraordinary combination ? All was as strange as
a dream. The " colonel," as if fatigued, leaned
against the pillar, and slightly removing his mask,
I saw, with sudden rejoicing, the features of that
gallant young friend, whom 1 had almost despaired
of ever seeing again. " Wait in this spot, until I
H 4
152 MARSTON.
return," was all that I heard, before he and the
sylph had waltzed away far down the hall.
I waited long, in growing anxiety ; but the plea-
santry of the night went on as vividly as ever, and
some clever tableaux vivants varied the quadrilles.
While all eyes were fixed on a Avell-performed
picture of Hector and Andromache, and the hero
was in the act of taking the plumed helmet from his
brow, with a grace which enchanted our whole
female population ; an old Savoyard and his daughter
came up, one playing the hand-organ of their country,
and the other dancing to her tambourine. This was
pretty, but my impatience was ill disposed to look
or listen ; when the old man's mask being half
turned aside, I again saw my friend. He now moved
slowly through the crowd, and I followed. We
gradually twined our way through the labyrinth of
pillars, leaving the festivity further and further be-
hind, until we came to a low door, at which the
Savoyard tapped, and a watchword being given, the
cell was opened. There our robes and masks were
laid aside ; we found peasant dresses, for which we
exchanged them ; and following a muffled figure,
who carried a lantern, we commenced our movements
once more. At length we came to a stop, and our
guide lifting up a ponderous stone which covered the
entrance to a deep and dark staircase, we began to
descend. I now, with a new feeling of security, heard
the voice of Lafontaine at my side. " I doubt," said he,
" whether a hundred years ago any one of us would
have ventured on a night march of this kind ; for, be
it known to you, that we are now in the vaults of
MARSTON. 153
the convent, and shall have to go through a whole
regiment of monks and abbots in full parade." I
observed that, " if we were to meet them at all, they
would be less likely to impede our progress, dead
than alive ;" but I still advised Lafontaine to allude
as little as he could to the subject, lest it might
have the effect of alarming our fair companion.
"There is no fear of that," he whispered, "for little
Julie is in love with M. le Comte, our gallant guide ;
and a girl of eighteen, desperately in love, is afraid
of nothing. — You Englishmen are not remarkable
for superstition; and as for me and my compatriots,
we have lost our reverence for monks in any shape,
since the taking of the Bastile."
We now went on drearily and wearily through a
range of catacombs, stopping from time to time to
ascertain whether we were pursued ; and occasionally
not a little startled by the sudden burst of sound
that came from the revelry above, through the venti-
lators of these enormous vaults.
The way v/as long, damp, and heart-sickening, from
the fear of pursuit, and the dread of finding some
obstacle at the close. But these were not times for
repairing old convents. We found no further ob-
stacle than a decayed portcullis ; one of whose bars
easily gave way, and we emerged into the open air.
Yet, we had not recollected the moat which sur-
rounded the building. There it lay, broad and deep.
We were all in consternation. To return, would be
misery ; to remain, was impossible ; to be taken, was
death. To attempt the drawbridge, was hopeless,
H 5
154 MAESTON.
for there we heard the tread of the sentinel, upon its-
creaking boards.
We held our little council of war, and with as
little effect as councils of war in general. The
Count endeavoured to persuade his little Julie to
escape by the catacomb, and leave him to his fate.
But this she indignantly refused, and I left them
with their arms round each other's necks, weeping
and repeating vows of eternal fidelity. Lafontaine,
bold as a lion, yet easily dejected, wrapped his head
in his cloak, and flung himself on the ground, deter-
mined to be shot as soon as the daylight should dis-
cover him to the sentinel.
My English nature was of "sterner stufl'," and
thinking that the day of evil could not be put off
too far, picked my way among the works of many a
year of dilapidation, along the edge of the fosse, and
was returning hopelessly; when I observed a light
moving along the opposite side. In a few moments
more, I saw by the gleam some persons descend the
bank, get into a boat, and crossing the moat, pass
along at the foot of the wall. From the few words
which escaped them, it was evident that they were
a ])arty of the secret police, conveying to the convent,
according to the Jacobin custom, a prisoner, whom
it might have been hazardous to arrest in open day.
I flew back to my despairing friends ; embarked
thei[n in the boat; and was on the point of stepping
in after them, when a shot was fired from the wall
above my head. 1 felt myself struck ; and thinking
that I was mortally wounded, I pushed tlie boat off.
MARSTON. 155
and fell. It had scarcely reached the opposite side,
before the guard sprang out upon me ; and dying, as
I then believed myself to be, I was hurried back
into the St. Lazare.
That morning was one of the " grand days" of the
guillotine. My wound was no sooner stanched,
and the surgeons of the prison had no sooner given
their opinion, that I was not likely to die by the
bullet ; than I was ordered to mount one of the long
file of waggons, in which the " conspirators against the
freedom of the human race" were to finish their career.
The popular love of pageantry svas not forgotten in
the display, and we were preceded, surrounded, and
followed by trumpets, drums, and troops, enough
to have formed the triumph of a successful general.
Our procession had more than the usual object
of those dreadful displays : it was at once an act of
revenge and an act of policy. During the period
in which the gates of the convent shut out the living
world from us, a desperate struggle had been going
on between the two ruling factions. In this con-
test for life and death, the more furious, of course,
triumphed ; for such is the history of rabble revolu-
tion in all ages. — The Girondist, with his eloquence,
naturally fell before the Jacobin, with his libel ; the
Girondist, affecting a deference for law, was trampled
by the Jacobin, who valued nothing but force ; the
tongue and the pen were extinguished by the dagger;
and this day was the consummation. A debate in
the Convention, of singular talent and unexampled
ferocity, had finished, by the impeachment of the
principal Girondists. Justice here knew nothing
H 6
156 MARSTON.
of the " law's delay ;" and the fallen orators now
headed our melancholy line ; bound, bareheaded,
half naked, and more than half dead with weariness,
shame, and the sense of ruin ; — there could scarcely
be more in the blow, which put an end to all their
perturbations on this side of the grave.
We had frequent halts, and I had full leisure to
gaze around ; for, rapidly as the guillotine per-
formed its terrible task, our procession had been
extended by additional victims from every prison
which we passed ; and we passed so many, that I
began to think the city one vast dungeon. AVhat
strange curiosity is it, that could collect such myriads
to look upon us ? Every street was crow^ded wdth a
living mass ; every casement was filled ; every roof
presented a line of eyes straining for a glance below.
Instead of the crowd of a populous city, I could have
believed that I saw the population of a kingdom
poured in and compressed into the streets, through
w^hich we wound our slow way. From time to time
a shout arose, as some conspicuous member of the
Convention made his appearance in the vehicle of
death : then execrations, scoffs, and insults, of every
bitterness, were poured upon the unfortunate cul-
prit; who seldom attempted to make any other re-
turn, than a gesture of despair, or a supplication to
be suffered to die in peace. Yet all w^as not insen-
sibility. I saw friends, bold enough to brave the
vengeance of the government, press forward, to take
a last grasp of the hand that must so soon be cold ;
and my heart was wrung by partings between still
dearer objects and the condemned ; — wives rushing
MAKSTON. 157
through the multitude ; children held up to their
fathei''s arms ; beautiful and graceful young women,
forcing their wild way through the line of troops, to
take a last look, and exchange a last word, with
those whom they would have rejoicingly followed to
the tomb !
Our progress lasted half the day 5 and the sun
was already near its setting, when the waggon in
which I sat, turned into the Place de Greve. But
I must, I dare, describe no more. I shall not say
what I saw in that general receptacle of murder, —
the range of low biers which lay surrounding the
scaffold, now the last resting-place of men who, but
a few hours before, flourished in the possession of
every faculty of our being ; and, still more, with all
those faculties in the full ardour of public life ; with
brilliant ambition to stimulate them, with prospects
of boundless power to reward ; and with that most
exhilarating and tempting spell of human existence,
popular acclamation, resounding in their ears. I
had personally known some of them, I had seen
them all ; and now, I beheld those highly-gifted, and
fiery-souled men, shaken down in an instant, like a
shock of corn ; swept to death, as if they were but
so many weeds ; extinguished in one moment, and in
the next, flung aside, a heap of clay, to make room
for other dead. And this was Republicanism — this
was the reign of knowledge, the triumph of freedom,
the glory of political regeneration ! Even in that
most trying moment, when I saw the waggon, in
which I had remained the last survivor but one, give
up my unfortunate companion to the executioner, my
158 MARSTON.
parting words to him, as I shook his cold hand,
were — " Better the forest and the savage, than re-
publicanism ! — Doubly accursed be murder, Avhen it
takes the name of freedom !"
I then resolved to see and hear no more ; gave a
brief and still a fond recollection to England ; and,
committing my spirit to the Great Disposer of
human things I prepared for the final blow !
But, I was again to be respited. While I awaited
the summons to mount the fatal steps ; a party of
dragoons rode into the square, seized every waggon,
without a moment's delay, and ordered the whole
to be driven out; for the reception of a column of
wounded, both French and Austrians, who, having
been brought to the city gates, now waited the
means of transport to the great military hospital at
Vincennes.
The colonel of dragoons in charge of the column,
had applied to the government for the means of
carriage ; they referred him to the municipality ; who
referred him to the staff of the National Guard ; who
referred him to the prefect ; who referred him to the
subprefect ; who referred him to his subordinate
functionaries; who knew nothing on the subject;
until the colonel accidentally heard, that the requi-
site vehicles were to be seen in the Place de Greve.
Indignant at the impertinences of office, and regard-
ing it as the natural right of the soldier, to be first
served in all cases ; he sent off a squadron at full
speed to make the seizure. The affair was settled at
once. The remonstrances of the civil officers against
our being thus withdrawn from their grasp, were
MARSTON. 159
answered by bursts of laughter at their impudence,
and blows with the flat of the sabre for their pre-
sumption. Tlie National Guard soon showed that
they had no wish to try their bayonets against those
expert handlers of the sword ; and the whole train of
fifty or sixty waggons, of which about a tenth remained
full, were hurried down the Boulevard ; leaving the
scaffold a sinecure. At the barrier, a new arrange-
ment took place ; the wounded were piled into the
carriages along with us, and the whole were marched
to the grand depot of the garrison at Paris.
I had seen Vincennes already, and under trying cir-
cumstances ; its frowning physiognomy had not since
been altered, nor, as a prison, was it more congenial to
my feelings than before. Yet, on hearing the hollow
tread of our horses^ hoofs over its drawbridge, and
seeing myself actually within its massive walls ; I
experienced a feeling of satisfaction, which I had
never expected to enjoy within bolts and bars. In
this world contrast is everything. I had been so
fevered with alternate peril and escape ; so sick of
doubt, and so perplexed with the thousand miseries
of flight ; that, to find myself secure from casualty
for the next twenty-four hours, and relieved from
the trouble of thinking for myself, or thinking of
anything, was a relief, which amounted almost to a
pleasure. I never laid myself down to sleep with
greater thankfulness, than when, stretched on the
guard-bed of the barrack-room, where the whole
crowd of prisoners were packed together, I listened
to the beat of the night-drum, and the changing of
IGO MARSTON.
the guard. They told me that, for once at least, I
might sleep, without a police officer, to bid me, like
Master Barnardine, " arise, and be hanged."
Time in a garrison is the most lingering of all
conceivable things, except time in a prison. I had
it now, loaded with the double weight. There was no
resource to be found, in the fractured and bandaged
portion of human nature round me. The Austrians
were brave boors, who spoke nothing but Styrian or
Carinthian, or some border dialect, of which nothing
but barbarism had ever heard, and which nothing
but Austrian organs could have ever pronounced.
The French recruits were from provinces which had
their own " beloved patois," and which, to the
Parisian, held nearly the same rank of civilized
respect, as the kingdom of Ashantee. Besides, it
was to be remembered, that all round me was a
scene of suffering — the dismal epilogue of a field of
battle ; or rather the dropping of the curtain on the
royal stage ; the glitter and the noise gone by, and
the actors reduced from their pomps and vanities,
and sent home to the shivering necessities of poor
human existence.
Life to me was now as stagnant as the ditch
round the fortress ; all feeling was as languid as
the heavy air of our casemates. The mind lost all
curiosity relative to the external world ; and, beyond
the casual knowledge which dropped, with official
mystery, from the lips of our governor, and which
simply told us, that the war still continued, and that
the armies of the Republic were "invincible;" we
MARSTON. 161
could not have been more separated from sympathy,
even "with Paris itself, if vre had been transported to
one of the belts of Jupiter. But this was to change.
The commandant one day walked up to me ;
and with an air of embarrassment put a sealed letter
into my hands. It was marked secret and immediate.
I opened it, and I shall not say with what feelings I
saw — an order for my attendance, signed Robes-
pierre. "
If the grim majesty of death had put his signature
in person to this order, it could not have borne a
more mortal aspect. I felt a pang ; but it did not
continue long. Inevitable things are not the hardest
to be borne. iVt all events, there was no time for
pondering on the subject; the carriage which had
brought the order and the government hnissier, was
at the gate. The commandant, with an ominous
look, wished me "good fortune." I hurried into
the carriage, and we flew on the road to Paris.
On reaching the barrier, we turned to the quarter
of the Luxembourg, and stopped at the gate of a
moderate-looking house. I Avas shown into a small
and simple room ; where I found a man, advanced
in years, and of a striking aspect. He said not a
word; and I had no inclination to converse. The one
or two hesitating syllables which I addressed to him,
were answered only by a bow, and a look, as if he
did not imderstand the language. I spoke no more ;
and I awaited the approach of the terror of France,
and horror of Europe ; during half an hoin-, which
seemed to me interminable.
The door at last opened, a valet came in, and
102 MARSTON.
the name of " Robespierre " thrilled through every
fibre ; but, instead of the frowning giant to which
my fancy had involuntarily attached the name, I saw
following him, a slight figure, highly dressed, and
even with the air of a fop on the stage. Holding a
perfumed handkerchief in one hand, which he waved
towards his face like one indulging in the fragrance ;
and a diamond snuff-box in the other, he advanced
with a sliding step ; and after a sallow smile to me,
and a solemn bow to the old man, congratulated
himself on the " honour of the acquaintance, which
he had been indebted to his friend Elnathan for
making, in person.'^
I was all astonishment : I had come, in expecta-
tion of my death-warrant — I had a reception like
an ambassador. I now perplexed myself with the
idea, that I had been mistaken for some stranger
in the foreign diplomacy ; but I was soon set right,
by his pronouncing my name, and making some
allusions to " the influence of my family in the
British Parliament."
Yet, I was still in the tiger's den, and I expected
to feel the talons. I was happily disappointed ; the
claw was sheathed in velvet. A slight refection was
brought in by an embroidered domestic, and it was
evidently the wish of this tremendous demagogue to
appear the man of refinement, for the time.
" My friend Elnathan," said he, " has informed
me, that you wish to return to England ? "
This was pronounced in the meekest tone of in-
terrogatory ; and, with eyes scarcely raised to either
of us, he awaited my confirmation of his idea.
MARSTON. 163
It •vvas given most unhesitatingly ; and my glance
at the countenance of the old man was answered by
another ; which told me, that I saw the corre-
spondent of my friend Mordecai.
"The circumstances are simply these/' said the
dictator, in the same delicate tone ; " the govern-
ment lias occasion to arrange some matters of im-
portance with the British cabinet. The successes of
the Republic have raised jealousies ; which it is for
the advantage of human nature that we should re-
concile, if possible. — France and England are the
only free countries : their hostility can only be in-
jurious to freedom."
He paused, and his cold grey eye, after traversing
the floor, was slowly raised to me.
I admitted my perfect agreement in the opinion,
that " wherever national conflict could be avoided, it
was the business of all rational men to maintain
j)eace." I saw a grim smile pass over his sallow
features, probably at having found another dupe.
Elnathan sat in profound silence, without the move-
ment of a muscle.
Robespierre, rising, now took a letter from a port-
folio, and put it into the Jew's hand. He had got
over that strange embarrassment with which his
habitual nervousness marked his first address ; and
spoke largely, and with a considerable expression of
authority.
"The English government," said he, "have ex-
pressed some unnecessary uneasiness at the ])rogress
of opinion in Europe. The late victory, which has
decided the fate of the Austrian Netherlands, will
1G4 MARSTON.
probably increase that uneasiness. — Communications
through the usual channels are slow, imperfect, and
open to espionage. — I have, therefore, applied to my
friend Elnathan, to point out some individual in
whom he has perfect confidence, and through whom
the communication can be made. — He has named
you."
Elnathan, with his huge hands clasped on his
breast, and his bushy brows bent deep over his eyes,
bent forward, with almost oriental affirmation.
"When will you be ready to set out for Calais ? ''
" This moment," was my willing answer.
"No, we are not quite prepared." He walked for
a while about the room, pondering on the subject;
then, turning to Elnathan, he directed the Jew to
get ready some papers connected with the financial
dealings which his Jewish brethren were then be-
ginning to carry on extensively throughout Europe.
Those were to be arranged by the next day, and for
those T must wait.
" You shall be under the care of Elnathan," said
the master of ray fate. " He will obtain 3'our pass-
ports from the Foreign Office, and you will leave
Paris to-morrow evening, at furthest. — We must
avoid all observation, in this matter, Elnathan," said
he, turning to the Jew. " Paris is a hot-bed of
spies. Apropos, M. Marston, where do you propose
to spend the evening ? "
My mind glanced at Vincenncs ; and his eye, cold
as it was, caught my startled conception.
" Pardon me," said the man of terrors, Avith the
blandest smile which his physiognomy could put on ;
MARSTON. 165
" your return to-niglit to the fortress, would only set
all the tongues of Paris in motion to-morrow. — You
must be seen in public to-night, at the opera, the
theatre, or where you will. You must figure as an
Englishman, travelling at his pleasure and his leisure;
a Milor. What say you, Elnathan?"
"Madame Roland gives a 5oi?*ee to-night," humbly
interposed the Jew.
"Ha ! — that is the best of all. — You must go
there. You will be seen by all the world. Elnathan
will introduce you to the ' philosophic lad}' ' of the
circle." He then resumed his pacing round the
room. I could observe the vulpine expression of his
visage, the twitching of his hands, the keen sidelong
look of a man living in perpetual alarm. I saw the
man.
We now prepared to take our leave ; but he sud-
denly resumed the petit-maitre, flourished his per-
fumed handkerchief again, gave a passing smile to
the mirror, and offered me the honours of his snuff-
box with the affectation of the stage. But, as we
reached the door of the apartment, he made a long,
single stride, which brought him up close to me.
'• Remember, sir," said he, in a stern voice, wholly
unlike the past — "you have it in charge from me,
to inform your government of the actual feeling of
France. It is true, that there are madmen among
us ; Brissotins, Girondists, and other enthusiasts ;
who talk of war. — / tell you that they are madmen,
and that / will have no war. —There may be con-
spirators, who wish to shake the Republic, and look
to war as the means of raisin"; themselves on its
166 MARSTON.
ruins. — /tell you, and you may tell your cabinet,
that they shall not accomplish their objects here ;
and that, if they accomplish them, it will be alone
the fault and the folly of Enj^land. — Impress those
truths on the minds of your coimtrymen : the Re-
public desires no war ; her principle is peace, her
purpot,e is peace, her prosperity is peace. There
will be, there shall be, there must be, no war." He
folded his arms, and stood like a pillar, till we with-
drew.
I happened to ascertain shortly afterwards, that,
on this very day, Robespierre had presided at a
council, which sent off orders to Dumourier, to open
the Scheldt; the notorious and direct preliminary
to war with England. — Such is the sincerity of
diplomacy !
CHAPTER XXIII.
■ The star that bids the shepherd fold,
Now the top of heaven doth hold.
And the gilded car of day
His glowing axle doth allay,
In the steep Atlantic stream
And the slope sun his upward heam
Shoots against the dusky Pole,
Pacing toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east.
Meanwhile, welcome Joy and Feast,
Midnight Shout and Revelry,
Tipsy Dance, and Jollity.
Bx'aid you locks with rosy twine,
Dropping odours, ch'opping wine."
MiLTO.V.
I SPENT the rest of the day with Elnathan. His
hotel was splendid, and all that surrounded him gave
the impression of great opulence ; but it was obvious,
that he lived like a man in a gunpowder magazine.
He had several sons and daughters, whom, in his
fears, he had contrived to send for safety, to his con-
nexions in Germany ; and he now lived alone ; his
wife having been dead for some years. All his
wealth could not compensate him for the anxiety of his
position ; and doubtless he would have perished long
16S MARSTON.
before, in the general massacre of the opulent ; ex-
cept for his being the chief channel of moneyed com-
munication between the government and Germany.
In the course of our lonely, but most recherche, dinner,
he explained to me slightly the means of my recent
preservation. The police-officer had acquainted him
with my being the bearer of a letter from his friend.
The message of the head of the Republic, requiring
a confidential bearer of documents, struck him as
affording an opportunity for my liberation; and no
time was lost in proposing my name to authority.
" And now," said my entertainer, after drinking
my safe arrival, in a bumjjer of imperial tokay, " En
avant, for Madame Roland."
We drove to a splendid mansion in the Rue de la
Revolution, The street in front was crowded with
equipages. The house had belonged to the Austrian
ambassador ; and, on the declaration of war, it had
been taken possession of by the Republic without
ceremony.
I observed to Elnathan, as we passed through the
long and stately suite of rooms, that, "to judge from
the furniture, republicanism was not republican every
where."
" Nowhere, but in the streets, or the prisons," was
his reply, in a whisper. " Since the Austrian left it,
the whole hotel has been furnished anew, at the most
})rofuse expense, which I had the honour of supply-
ing. — Roland is a great personage, but a nobody, a
mill-horse at the wheel of office. He is probably
drudging over his desk, at this moment ; but Ma-
dame is of another mould. — La voila!" He turned^
MARSTON. 169
and made a profound bow to a very showy female,
who had advanced from a group, for the purpose of
receiving the Jew and the stranger. I had now, for
the first time, the honour of seeing this remarkable
personage. Her figure was certainly striking, and
her physiognomy conveyed a great deal of her cha-
racter for intelligence and decision. She had evi-
dently dressed herself on the model of the classique ;
and though not handsome enough for a A^enus, nor
light enough for a nymph, she might have made a
tolerable Minerva. She had probably some thoughts
of the kind ; for before we had time to make our
bows, she threw herself into an attitude of the
Galerie des Antiques, and, with her eyes fixed pro-
foundly on the ground, awaited our incense. But
when this part was played, the idol condescended to
become human, and she spoke with that torrent of
language which her clever countrywomen have at
such unrivalled command.
She was " delighted, charmed, enchanted," to make
my acquaintance. — "She had owed many marks of
friendship to M. Elnathan ; but this surpassed them
all — she admired the English — they were always the
friends of liberty — France was now beginning a race
in the arena of freedom. The rivalry was brilliant,
the prize was inestimable." I could only bow.
Again, "she was enraptured to meet an Englishman ;
the countryman of Milton and Wilkes, of Charles Fox
and William Tell." I fear that I gave a smile to
her remorseless melange. But she was above all
embarrassment ; and still poured out her historic
VOL. II. I
170 MARSTON.
raptures. " She adored England, the cradle of
Cromwell and Luther — she had been lately study-
ing our history, and had wept floods of tears over
the execution of William III. — Enfin, she hoped that
Shakspeare, *ce beau, ce superbe Shakspeare,' was
in good health, and meant to give the world many,
many more charming tragedies."
Madame had now discharged her first volley ; and
she wheeled back upon a group of members of the Con-
vention, sullen-looking sages, with wild hair hang-
ing over their shoulders, and the genuine Carmagnole
physiognomy. With these men she was evidently
deep in vehement discussion, and her whole volume of
politics was flung at their heads with as little mercy,
as her literary stores had been poured upon me.
But the crowd pressed towards another object of
curiosity, and I followed it, under the guidance of
my Asmodeus ; to a music room, splendidly fitted
up, and filled with the most select orchestra of the
capital. But it was an amateur, that was there to
attract all eyes and ears. — " Madame de Fontenai,"
whispered the Jew, as he glanced towards a woman of
a singularly expressive countenance and statue-like
form, half sitting, half reposing, on a sofa. She was
surrounded by a group soliciting her, for a " few notes,
a suspiration, a sotipcon'' — of, as Elnathan observed
to me, " one of the most delicious voices which had
ever crossed the Pyrenees," and the Jew had all the
musical taste of his nation. At last, the siren con-
sented, and a harp was brought, and placed before
her, with the same homage which might have at-
MARSTON. 171
tended an offering to the Queen of Cyprus, in her
own island, three thousand vears ae;o.
After a brief and brilliant prelude, which showed
her perfect command of the instrument, and trying
her voice, in a few notes, whose sweetness justified
Elnathan's panegyric ; throwing up her fine eyes, as
if to meet some descending inspiration, she began.
Her style was to me entirely new, and was exquisite ;
and rather letting her hand drop among the strings,
than striking them, and rather breathing out her
feelings, than performing any music of mortal com-
position, she sang one of the fantastic, but impas-
sioned reveries of " the sweet south."
MADRIGAL.
" Tus ojos y los mios
Se miran y hablan.
Pero los corazones
No se declaran.
Mas te prevengo
Que si tu no te explicas,
Yo no te entiendo.
" Las dudas de un amante
No han de saberse.
Que al decirlas se sabe.
Que desmerecen.
No — en el sileneio
No son pensamientos
Del mas aprecio*."
* " Silence is the true love-token ;
Passion only speaks in sighs ;
Would you keep its charm unbroken,
Trust the eloquence of eyes.
Ah no !
Not so. [From
I 2
] 72 MARSTON.
The song closed in a burst of plaudits, as general
and marked as if they had been given to a prima
donna in a theatre, and she received them as if she
was in a theatre.
"You should be presented to Madame de Fon-
tenai," was my guide's suggestion. — " She is our
reigning celebrite at present, as Madame Roland is
our publicite. You see we are nice in our dis-
tinctions. — I shall probably to-night show you an-
other, a very handsome creature indeed, without half
the talents of either, but with more admirers than
both; who has obtained the title o^ owe f elicit e.""
But who, or what, is this fascinating creature ?
" The daughter of Cabarus, the Spanish am-
bassador here some years ago. She is now a widow,
rich, giving recherche suppers, followed by all the
world, and, as she declares, -persecuted by M. Tallien ;
who, as perseverance is nine-tenths of success in
everything, will probably succeed in making her
Madame Talhen."
I had now the honour of being presented, and was
received with very flattering attention. This I pro-
bably owed to the Jew, who seemed to have the key
From my soul all doubts remove ;
Tell me, tell me — that you love.
" Looks the heart alone discover ;
If the tongue its thoughts can tell,
'Tis in vain you play the lover.
You have wgsqv felt the spell.
Ah no !
Not so.
Speak the word, all words above ;
Tdl me, tell mc — that you love."
MARSTON. 173
to every one's smiles, as he had to most of their
escritoires. She was certainly a person of most
distinguished appearance. — Not handsome, so far as
beauty depends on feature ; for she had the olive
tinge of her country, and she had the not Spanish
"petit nez retrousse." But her figure was fine ; and
never was any costume more studied to exhibit all
its graces. Accustomed as I had become to foreign
life, I acknowledge, that I was a little surprised at
the unhesitatingly classical development of her
form ; — arms naked to the shoulder, or clasped only
with golden serpents; a robe a la Diane, and suc-
cinct as ever huntress wore ; silver sandals, a jewelled
cestus, and a tunic of white satin deeply embroidered
with gold, depending simply to the knee !
But when she placed me on the sofa beside her,
and entered into conversation, everything was for-
gotten, in her incomparable elegance of manner.
She had singular brilliancy of eye ; it almost spoke ;
it perpetually flashed, and it filled up the pauses
when she ceased to speak, with a meaning absolutely
mental. But her language was eloquent ; sometimes,
in that tone of gentle and touching confidence, which
wins upon the feelings ; sometimes, in that anima-
tion, which made the hearer almost think that he
was looking at her soul through her vivid coun-
tenance. Before a few minutes had elapsed, I could
fully comprehend her title, to the renown of the most
captivating conv^ersationist of Paris.
As I at length relinquished this enviable and
envied position, to give way to the crowd who
brought their tribute to the fauteuil, or rather the
I 3
174 MARSTON.
shrine, of this dazzling woman — " You have still,"
said my companion, " to see another of our sove-
reigns ; for, as we have a triumvirate in the Tuileries,
the world of taste is ruled by three rivals ; and they
are curiously characteristic of the classes from which
they have sprung. The lady of the mansion, you
must have perceived to be, republican, in every sense
of the word — clever undoubtedly, but as undoubtedly
bourgeoise ; intelligent in no slight degree, but too
much in earnest for elegance ; perpetually taking
the lead on those desperate subjects, in which women
can only be, and ought to be, smatterers ; and all
this, to the infinite amusement of her hearers, and
the unbounded terror of her meek and very helpless
husband."
I remarked, '* that she had, at least, the important
merit, of giving very splendid entertainments."
" Yes, and of also possessing as honest a heart as
she possesses a rash brain. She is kind, generous,
and even rational, where she has not a revolution to
make, or to unmake. But, suffer her to touch on
politics, and you might as well bring a lunatic into
the light of the full moon."
" But that singular being, to whom we have just
been listening, and whose song I shall hear to-night
in my dreams — can she be a politician, a republican ?
I have never seen a countenance more likely to be
contemptuous of the canaille ! "
" You are perfectly in the right. She has a sphere
of her own, which has no more to do with our world,
than if she lived in the evening star. — She exists
simply to enjoy homage, and to reward it, as you
MARSTON 175
have seen, by a song or a smile ; yet she too has
been on the verge of the scaffold. Some of our
leading political characters are contending for her
influence, her fortune, or her hand ; and whether
the contest will end in raising M.TalHen to the head
of the Republic, or extinguishing him within the
week, is a question which chance alone can decide. —
She may yet be a queen."
" She seems fitter to be a Circe, or a Calypso.
Or if a queen, she would be a Cleopatra."
^' No," said Elnathan, with the only laugh which
I had seen on his solemn visage during the night.
" She has known too much of courts, to desire
royalty. She reigns, as the widow of M. de Fon-
tenai. If Tallien falls, she will have the power of
choosing from all his successors. — When age comes
at last, and conquests are hopeless, she will turn
devote, fly to her native Spain, abjure the face of
man, spend her money on wax-dolls ; and after
being worshipped by the multitude as a saint, and
panegyrized by the monks as a miracle; she Avill
die with her face turned to Paris after all, as good
Mussulmen send their last breath in the direction of
Mecca."
I 4
CHAPTER XXIV.
" Ci'owds in the lighted street,
And the chariots rush and roll,
And the stifling throng, as when numbers meet
With one impulse of soul :
I plunged into that tide,
As it rushed resistless where
The proud theatre's portals wide
Shook to the echoing air.
Slowly the curtain rose:
A woman there stood lone,
'Mid a pulseless hush, such as marks the close
Of some warring trumpet's tone ;
Parted her lips, and from that hour.
My life of life began."
Simmons.
We now plunged into the centre of a circle of
men in military costume, full of the war, and criti-
cising Dumourier's campaign with the utmost seve-
rity. As I listened, with some surprise at the
multiplicity of capital errors, which the most suc-
cessful general of France had contrived to squeeze
into a single month of operations, I observed a man,
of a pale thin visage, like one suffering from ill
health or excessive mental toil, but of a singularly
MARSTON. 177
intellectual expression ; listening to the group of
tacticians, with a quiet smile.
" Let me have the honour of presenting M.
Marston to the minister at war," was my introduc-
tion to the celebrated Carnot; with whom Elnathan
seemed to be on terms of peculiar intimacy. The
minister entered at once, and good-humouredly, into
conversation.
" You must not think our favourite general," said
he, " altogether the military novice, which those
gentlemen of the National Guard have decided him
to be. I feel an additional interest in the question,
because I myself had a little official battle to fight,
to place him at the head of the army of Flinders.
But I saw that he had military talent, and that, with
a republic, cancels all sins."
I made some passing remark, on the idleness of
disputing the ability of an officer who answered
cavils by conquests ; observing, that the only rational
altar raised by the Romans, a people of warriors, was
to " Good Fortune."
"Ah yes, you think, in the Choiseul style, that
the first question in choosing a general should be,
' is he lucky ? ' I must own, that General Du-
mourier has fought his battle, against principle. But
those gentlemen do not perceive, that there lies the
very merit for which the Republic must uphold him.
His troops were in an exhausted country ; they had
provisions but for two days. He must fight at once
or retreat. — Another general might have retreated ;
and made his apology by the state of his haversacks.
Dumourier took the other alternative : he fought ;
I 5
178 MARSTON.
and the general who fights, is the only general who
gains victories."
One of the tacticians at whom he had indulged in
a sneer, Santerre, the commandant of the city
cavalry, a huge and heavy hero, with enormous jack-
boots and a clattering sabre, now strode up to us,
and pronounced that the campaign had been hitherto
*' against all rule."
" You mistake, my good friend," said the now
half angry minister — " you mistake acting above rule,
for acting against rule. — Our war is new, our force is
new, our position new ; and we must meet the strug-
gle by new means. Follow the routine, and all is
lost. Invent, act, hazard, strike, and we shall tri-
umph ; as Dumourier has done."
Santerre attempted to say something ; but the
fieiy little tactician would not be interrupted.
" France is surrounded with enemies. To conquer,
we must astonish. If we wait to be attacked, we
must feel the weakness of defence — the spirit of the
French soldier is attack. Within the frontier, he is
a bird in a cage ; beyond it, he is a bird in the air.
Why has France always triumphed in the beginning
of a war ? because she has always invaded. — The
French soldier must march, he must fight, he must
feel that he hazards every thing, before he rises to
that pitch of daring, that ardour, that elan, by which
he gains every thing. — Let him, like the Greek, burn
his ships behind him, and from that moment he is
invincible."
I listened with strong interest to this develop-
ment of the principles on which the great war of
MARSTON. 179
Europe was to be sustained. The speaker uttered his
oracular sentences with a glow, which left his hearers
almost as breathless as himself. I saw before me
the living genius of French victory.
While we were standing, silenced by this burst ; an
incident occurred, as if expressly to give demon-
stration to his theory. An aide-de-camp entered the
room, bringing despatches from the army of Flan-
ders. He had but just arrived in Paris, and not find-
ing the w^ar-minister at his bureau, had followed him.
Of course, the strongest conceivable curiosity was
excited ; but not a syllable was to be learned from the
official mystery of the aide-de camp. He made his
advance to the minister, deposited the despatch in
his hands, and then drew up his stately figure, im-
pervious to all questioning. Carnot retired to an
alcove, to read the missive, and in the mean time, the
general anxiety rose to an absolute fever. The dance
ceased, the tables of loto and faro were deserted, the
whole business of life was broken up, and five hun-
dred of the handsomest, most brilliant, best dressed
of the earth, w^ere left standing in an agony of sus-
pense. It would have justified a counter-revolution.
At length Carnot, probably wholly forgetting the
scene of suffering which he had left behind, came
forward, with the important despatch, open in his
hand. When he read the date, and pronounced the
words " Head-quarters, Brussels," all was known,
and all was rapture. The French deserve good news,
beyond all other people of the globe, for none ever
enjoy it so much. I thought, that they would have
embraced the little minister to death ; no living man
I 6
180 MARSTON.
certainly was ever nearer being pressed into Elysium.
Absolute shouts of Vive la Republique ! and plaudits
from innumerable pairs of the most delicate hands,
echoed through the suite of salons. The lady of the
mansion made a set speech to him, at the conclusion
of which she rushed on him with open arms, and
kissed him on both cheeks, '^ Au nom de la Repub-
lique." Even the ethereal Madame de Fontenai con-
descended so far to human feelings, as to move from
her couch, advance, drooping her fine eyes, and, with
her hand on her bosom, like a sultana, bend her mag-
nificent head in silent homage before him. I watched
the pantomime of this matchless creature, with a full
acknowledgment of its beauty. A single word would
have impaired it; but she did not utter a syllable.
On retiring, she slowly raised her expressive coun-
tenance, as if she thanked some visionary protector
of France for this crowning triumph ; and then, with
hands clasped, and step by step, sank back into the
crowd.
Supper was now announced ; and we were led into
a new suite of rooms, filled with all the luxuries and
hospitalities of a most sumptuous entertainment.
Carnot, now doubly popular, was surrounded by the
whole elite of name and beauty. But, whether from the
politeness, by which even the republicans of former
rank were desirous of distinguishing themselves from
the roturier, or with the purpose of making his opin-
ions known in that country which has been always
the great tribunal of European opinion, and always
will be, — he made me sit down by his side.
He talked largely of our interests, and continually
MARSTON. 131
reverted to the advantages of a closer alliance with
France. " The two countries," said he, " are made
for combination ; combined, they could conquer the
globe ; France the empire of the land, England the
empire of the sea. — Nature has divided between
them the sceptre of the world."
I observed that " when the conquest was achieved,
the victors, like Augustus and Antony, might quarrel
at last."
" Well, then, even if they did, the combat would
finish in a day, wliat it Avould have taken centuries of
the tardy wars of old times to decide. Six hours at
Pharsalia settled the civil wars of Rome, and pacified
the world for five hundred years."
"But, which side would be content to be the
beaten one ?" I asked.
" Neither," replied a cynical, but remarkably
broad-foreheaded and deep-browed personage, at the
opposite side of the table. " The combat would be
eternal, or must end in mutual ruin. An universal
empire would be beyond the government of man by
law^, or his control by the sword.- — I prefer enlight-
ening the people, until they shall want no controul."
"But wall they buy your lamp ?" said Carnot, with
a smile.
" At least they have done so pretty extensively, if
I am to believe the public. It was but this day,
that I received a notice, that there had been sent
forth the hundred thousandth copy of my ' Qu'est
ce que le Tiers Etat ?' "
" That was not a lamp, but a firebrand," said a
182 MARSTON.
hollow voice, at a distance down the table ; which
reminded me of the extraordinary orator whom I had
heard in the Jacobin Club. Carnot looked round to
discover this strange accuser, and added, in a loud
and stern tone —
" Whether lamp or firebrand, I pronounce to all
good Frenchmen, that it was a great gift to France.
It was the grammar of a new language, the language
of liberty ! It was the sound of a trumpet, the
trumpet of revolution ! Still, M. de Sieyes," said
he, turning to the author of this celebrated perform-
ance, " all things have their time, and yours is not
yet come. I cannot give up the soldier. — I am for
no civil movement, when the countrj^ is in peril.
You must sweep war from your gates, before you
can sit down to teach a people. Even then the task
is not easy. To know nothing, or to know some-
thing badly, are two kinds of ignorance, which will
always tempt the majority of mankind."
" Is there not a third kind of ignorance more
dangerous still — that of knowing more than one
ought to know ?" interposed another speaker, whose
countenance had already struck me. His composed
yet keen physiognomy strongly reminded me of the
portraits of the Italian Conclave — some of the cardi-
nals of Giorgione and Titian ; at once subtle and
dignified.
Carnot smiled, and said to me in a low tone, " That
is a touch at Sieyes. Those two men never meet,
without a fencing-match. One of them has been a
bishop, and cannot forgive the loss of his mitre.
MARSTON. 1 83
Sieyes has been nothing, but intends to be more than
a bishop yet — if he can. Talleyrand and he hate
each other, with the hatred of rival beauties."
It was evident that Sieyes was stung. He almost
sprang from his seat. I saw his powerful countenance
flush to the forehead. But he merely said — " Pray,
Monsieur, what is a vizard ? Is it not the favourite
instrument of a hypocrite ?"
The character of the person to whom the question
was addressed seemed to be known ; and a smothered
laugh ran round the table. But there was not the
slightest appearance of perturbation in his manner,
as he answered —
" Monsieur, I shall have the honour to inform you.
A vizard is a contrivance for concealment, whether in
pasteboard, or in an inflexible visage — whether in a
woman, who seeks to disguise her features, or in a
man who seeks to hide his heart — whether in a mas-
querader, or an assassin. — For example, when I hear
a spy talk of his honesty, an intriguer of his con-
science, a renegade of his candour, or a pensioner of
his patriotism, I do not require to look at him —
I say at once, that man wears a vizard." He paused
a moment. " This," said he, " is the vizard in public
life. In private, it is the impartiality of authors to
their own performances, the justice of partizans,
the originality of plagiaries, and the principle of
pamphleteers.'"
This daring delivery of sentiment hit so many,
that it could be resented by none ; for no one could
have assailed it, without making himself responsible
to the whole charge. Silence fell upon the table.
184 MARSTON.
However, lapses of this order are not fatal in France,
and the topic of the campaign was too recent not to
press once more. Various anecdotes of the gallantry of
the troops were detailed, and the conversation was
again led by the minister. " These instances of
heroism," said he, " show us the spirit which war,
and war alone, can kindle in a people. In peace,
the lower qualities take the lead ; in war, the higher.
The man must then be shown ; deception can have
place no longer ; the mind grows muscular like the
frame ; the spirit glows with the blood ; a nobler
career of eminence spreads before the nation, cheered
by rewards, at once of a more splendid rank, and
distributed on a loftier principle. — We shall no more
have a Pompadour, or a Du Barry, giving govern-
ments and marshals' batons. The character of the
nation will become, like its swords, at once bright,
sharp, and solid ; the reign of corruption is gone
already, the reign of dupery cannot long survive.
France will set an example, which the world wall be
proud to imitate, or will be forced to follow."
"You remind me. Monsieur le Ministre, of the
Spartans ; who, when they returned from beating
the enemy, found their slaves in possession of their
households. You conquer Prussians and Austrians
on the frontier, and leave monks at home. — But, as
long as you spare the spiders, you must not com-
plain of cobwebs. Crush intriguers, and you will
put an end to intrigue," said the bold ex-
bishop.
" The man insults the Republic, who charges her
citizens with intrigue," was the whispered, and very
MARSTON. 185
formidable, menace of Sieyes. " Monsieur, you have
yet to learn, what is a constitution."
The Abbe had incurred some ridicule by his
readiness in proposing constitutions. His anta-
gonist, like a hornet, instantly fixed his sting upon
the naked spot.
" Pardon me. Monsieur, I perfectly know what is
a modern constitution — it is the credit of a charlatan
— it is the stock of a political pedlar, made only for
sale to simpletons — it is an umbrella, to be taken
down, when it rains — it is a surtout in summer, and
nakedness in winter. It is, in short, a contrivance,
to make a reputation for a sciolist, and to govern
mankind on the principles of a dreamer."
"This is the language of faction," exclaimed
Sieyes, indignantly rising.
" No," said his imperturbable antagonist ; " the
language of faction is the language of quacks ; it is
the language learned in the clubs and taught in the
streets, the language which takes it for granted, that
the hearer is as destitute of brains, as the speaker is
of principle." All eyes were now turned on the
parties.
But his hearer simply said, yet with a glance of
fire —
" Monseigneur, you should remember, that you are
not now in your old diocese, haranguing your chap-
lains. You forget also, that in France the age of
quackery is over. There are no more dupes — have
you your passports ready ?"
This produced not even a sneer on the marble
countenance of the adversary.
1 86 MARSTON.
'' Monsieur de Sieyes," was the ready reply, " let
me not, at least, hear you talk of despair. Quackery
will never be at an end in France. — The quack is a
polypus; cut him into a thousand pieces, he only
grows the faster ; — he is a fungus, give him only a
stone to cling to, and he covers it ; — he is the viper,
even while he hides in his hole, only preparing to
bite in the sunshine ; and when all the world think
him frozen for life, only concocting venom for his
summer exploits. — Quacks will live, as long as there
are dupes, as leeches will live, as long as there are
asses' heels to hang on." He then rose, making a
profound bow, with " Bon soir. Monsieur I'Abbe —
never fear — dupes will be eternal."
This produced some confusion and consternation,
among the friends of Sieyes. But a new scene of
the night was announced, and all flowed towards the
private theatre.
T was yet to see more of this daring talker ; but
I was not surprised to hear next day, that he had
left Paris at midnight, and was gone, no one knew
whither. The capital might have been hazardous
for him. Sieyes was probably above revenge; but
there were those, who would have readily taken the
part upon themselves, and a ci-devant bishop would
have made a showy victim. How he escaped even
so long, is among the wonders of a life of wonder.
I afterwards saw the fugitive, at the head of Euro-
pean councils, a prince and a prime minister ; the
overthrower of the dynasty by which he rose, the
restorer of the dynasty under which he fell ; bearing
a charmed life, and passing among the havoc of
MARSTON. 187
factions, and even escaping from the wrecks of
empire, more like an impalpable spirit than a man.
But the change of his style in after-life, was
scarcely less remarkable than the change of his
fortunes. He was then no longer the hot and heady
satirist ; he had become the sly and subtle scorner.
No man said so many cutting things, though, so few
of which any one could take advantage : he anato-
mized human character, without the appearance of
inflicting a wound ; had all the pungency of wit
without its peril, and reigned supreme by a terror,
which every one pretended not to feel. The change,
after all, was only one of weapons ; in the first period
it was the knife, in the second the razor — and per-
haps the latter was the more deadly of the two.
The theatre was fitted up with the taste, of a people
more essentially theatrical than any other in the world.
Not merely the eye, but the tongue, of France is
theatrical ; not merely the stage, but every portion
of private life ; every sentiment, every sound, is
theatrical ; the stage itself is the only natural thing
in the country, from Calais to Bayonne.
As we took our seats in the little gilded box, made
only for two ; though probably for tete-a-tetes of a
more imaginative order than ours ; Elnathan observed
to me, "You will now see two of the most remark-
able artistes in France — Talma, beyond all compa-
rison our first actor; and another, an amateur, whom
I think altogether one of the finest women in exist-
ence. — You may pronounce, that she ought to be
younger, for perfection ; but there is a beauty in
the fruit as well as in the flower, and not the less
188 MARSTOK.
beautiful, for its being of a different kind. But,
judge for yourself."
The curtain now drew up, and we saw the com-
mencement of the little drame of Paul et Virginie.
St. Pierre's charming story has since been worn out
on all the boards of Europe ; but it was then new to
the stage, and the audience gazed and listened, and
were agonized and enraptured, in all the freshness
which novelty could give. It must be owned, that
the whole stage preparation exhibited the national
skill. The scenery was painted by the first Parisian
artists. We had to the life, the luxuriant vegetation
of the Mauritius, the brilliant sky, and the deep
purple of the surrounding seas. An orchestra of a
few instruments, but those first rate, alternately
soothed and excited the most excitable of all audi-
ences. Even the negro-dances at the commence-
ment of the little drama, were performed by some of
the most favourite ballerine of the Academic. Yet
every eye still looked for the appearance of the two
stars of the night.
Talma's entree was received with unbounded plau-
dits. Yet he was so simply dressed, and looked so
completely the young wanderer of the cane-groves,
that I should never have conceived him to be the grand
pillar of tragedy in France. He was simply the
handsome peasant of the tropics ; yet, as his part
advanced, I could discover in his deep eye and
powerful tone, the actor capable of reaching the
heights of dramatic passion. He was scarcely above
the middle size, with features whose magic consisted
in their flexibihty. I have never seen a countenance
MARSTON. 189
SO capable of change as Talma's, and in which the
change was so instantaneous, and so total. From
the most sportive openness, a word threw it into the
most indignant storm, or the most incurable despair.
From wild joy, it was suddenly clouded with a weight
of sorrow that "refused to be comforted." His
accents were singularly sweet, yet clear; and, like
his change of countenance, capable of the most rapid
change from cheerfulness to the agonies of a break-
ing heart. The charm of this great performer was
reality ; — the power to carry away the audience with
him into the scene of the moment. I had not been
five minutes looking at him, when I was as com-
])letely in the Mauritius, as if I had been basking in
its golden sunshine, and imbibing the breeze from
its fan-palms.
But his fascination and ours was complete, when
Virginie appeared. Nothing could be less artificial
than her costume ; the simple dress of Bengalese
blue cloth, a few cowrie shells round her neck, and a
shell comb fastening up the braids of a profusion of
raven hair. She came floating, rather than walking,
down the mountain path ; and her first few words,
when Paul rushed forward, and knelt to kiss her feet ;
and the half playful, half fond, air with which she
repelled him, seemed to me the most exquisite of all
performances. I observed, too, that her style had
more nature in it, than even Talma's. I had till
then forgotten that he was an actor ; but, placed
beside her, I could have almost instinctively pro-
nounced, that Paul was a Frenchman, and Virginie
a Creole. I whispered the remark to Elnathan, who
190 MARSTON.
answered, " that I was right in point of fact ; for the
representative of Virginie, though not a native of the
Mauritius, was of tropical birth — the widow of a
French noble, who had married her in the colonies,
and who had been one of the victims of the Re-
volution."
" And yet, an amateur actress ? "
" Yes ; but we never ask such questions in France.
Eveiybody does the same. You should see one of
our ' bals a la victime,' in which the express qualifi-
cation for a ticket is, having lost a relative by the
guillotine."
" But, who is this charming woman ? "
" A woman of birth and fortune, and supposed, at
this moment, to exercise the highest influence, with
the most influential personage of the government ; —
even the bewitching Madame de Fontenai has given
way to her supremacy."
I observed, " That though neither could compete
with English beauty in point of features ; there was
a singular fascination in both — their countenances
seemed remarkably connected with the play of their
minds.
"There is still a distinction," said Elnathan, after
a long and calm look through his lorgnette — in the
style of that inspection which an artist might give to
a picture of acknowledged renown ; or perhaps,
which a Mahometan dealer might fix on an importa-
tion from Circassia ; " yet, one, which," said he,
dropping his glass, " I find it difficult to define."
"You have already," said I, "given Madame Ro-
land her place at the head of Republicans, — let us
MARSTON. 191
suppose Madame de Fontenai the fine and fastidious
aristocrat. — While this lovely being's elegance of
manner, and mixture of grace and dignity, would
make an admirable figure at the head of a French
court ; if such a thing were not now beyond all
possibility."
" Are you aware," said the Jew, with sudden
seriousness, " that a prediction, or at least some
extraordinary conjecture, on the subject, has gone
the round of the circles ? The tale is, that while she
was still a child, in the West Indies, one of the negro
dispensers of fortune, an Obi woman, pronounced
that she should ascend a throne. I must, however,
add the finale, to qualify it — that she should die in
an hospital."
"The scale," said I, "goes down too suddenly, in
that case : she had better remain the beautiful and
happy creature that she is. — Yet a being, formed in
that expressive mould, was surely not meant either
to live or die, like the rest of the world."
" True ; in other countries," said Elnathan, with
a glance round, as if a huissier was at his elbow ;
" but here, the affair is different — or rather, the
course of nature is the scaffold. That beautiful
woman has lately had the narrowest escape from the
Revolutionary committee ; and I can tell you, that
it is utterly impossible to know what to-morrow may
bring even to her. — She is too lovely not to be an
object of rivalrj^; and a word may be death."
Such was my first sight of Josephine de Beau-
harnais.
This charming performance proceeded with in-
1 92 MARSTON.
finite interest. But it differed from the course,
which I have since seen it take. The scene next
showed Virginie in France. She was in the midst
of all the animation of Parisian life — no longer the
simple and exquisite child of nature, but the con-
scious beauty ; still in all the bloom of girlhood,
but exhibiting the graces of the woman of fashion.
Surrounded by the admiration and adulation of the
glittering world, she had given herself up to its in-
fluence, until her early feelings were beginning to
fade away.
The scene opened with a ball. Virginie, dressed
in the perfection of Parisian taste, was floating down
the dance, radiant with jewels and joy, the very
image of delight ; when her eye dropped upon the
figure of a stranger, standing in a recess of the
superb apartment, with arms folded, a moody brow,
and a burning gaze fixed upon her. A pang shot
through her heart. In her exquisite acting, a single
gesture, a single glance, showed that all the recol-
lections of her native isle had returned. — She was
the child of nature and of sensibility once more.
She tottered from the dance, tremblingly approached
the stranger, and fell at his feet. That stranger was
Paul ; and Talma, in his finest tragedy, never dis-
played more profound emotion, nor produced more
enthusiastic applause, than when he raised her up,
and with one look, and one word, " Virginie," — for-
got all and forgave all.
But we were spared the catastrophe ; which would
certainly have been but an ill return for the profusion
of soft sorrows, and ardent applauses, which the fair
MARSTON. 193
spectators gave to the performance. The ruling
genius of the night, the minister's wife, to do honour
to the triumphs of the State ; had employed the
talents of her decorateurs actively, during our stay
at the supper-table ; and when the curtain rose for
the third act, instead of " a stormy sea and the
hon'ors of shipwreck,^' according to the stage direc-
tion ; we saw a stage Olympus, in which the whole
elite of the Celestials escorted a formidable BcUona-
like figure, the cuirassed and helmed Republic, to
an altar covered with laurels, and flaming with in-
cense, inscribed " a la Liberie" Some stanzas,
more remarkable for their patriotism than their
poetry, were chanted by Minerva, Juno, and the
rest of the Olympians, in honour of the "jour
raagnifique de victoire, Jemappes." A train of
figurantes! the monarchies of Europe! — came forw^ard,
dancing, and depositing their crowns and sceptres
at the foot of the altar, (a sign, at least, tolerably
significant ;) the whole, concluding with an exhibi-
tion of the bust of Dumourier, on which Madame
laid a chaplet of laiu*el, accompanied with a speech
in the highest republican style — bust, speech, and
Madame, being all alike received with true Gallic
rapture.
On that night, to have doubted the " irresistible,
universal, and perpetual " triumph of the Republic,
would have been high-treason to taste, to hospitality,
and the ladies ; and, for that night, our belief was
unbounded. All made up their minds, that a new
era of human felicity had arrived ; that " all the
world was a stage," in the most dancing and delight-
VOL. II. K
194 MARSTON.
fill sense of the words; and that feasting and /e/es
were to form the staple of life, for every future age.
We were to live in a laurel — a rosebud world. I
heard round me in a thousand whispers, from some
of the softest politicians that ever wore a smile, the
assurance, that France was to become a political
Arcadia, or rather an original Paradise, in which
toil and sorrow had no permission to be seen. In
short, the world, from that hour forth, was to be
changed ; despotism was extinguished ; man was
regenerated ; balls and suppers were to be the only
rivalry of nations ; Paris was, of course, to lead
France ; France, of course, to lead the globe ; — all
was to be beauty, bonhomtnie, and bonbons! — Under
the shade of the triumphant tricolor, all nations
\vere to waltz, make epigrams, and embrace for
ever !
CHAPTER XXV.
" Oh, how comely it is, and Jiow revivmg,
To the spirits of just meu long oppressed,
When Heaven into the hands of their deliverer
Puts invincible might,
To quell the mighty of the eai'th, the oppressor,
The brute and boisterous force of violent men,
Hardy and industrious to support
Tyrannic power ; but raging to pursue
The righteous, and all such as honour truth.
Hell their ammunition.
And feats of war defeats
With plain, heroic magnitude of mind."
M I I.TOX.
Elnathan was a man of many cares, and of
every kind of wisdom, but one — the wisdom of know-
ing when he had wealth enough. He evidently loved
accumulation ; and the result was, that every hour of
his existence was one of alarm. Half the bankers of
France were already in prison ; and yet he carried on
the perilous game of commerce. He was known to
be immensely opulent ; and he must have regarded
the day which passed over his head, without seeing
his strong boxes put under the government seal, and
himself thrown into some oubliette, as a sort of
K 2
196 MARSTON.
miracle. But he was now assailed by a new
alarm. War with England began to be rumoured
among the bearded brethren of the synagogue ; and
Elnathan had ships on every sea, from Peru to Japan.
Like Shakspeare's princely merchant —
" His mind was tossing on the ocean,
There, where his argosies with portly sail,
Like signiors, and rich burghers of the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Did overpower the petty traffickers.
As tliey flew by them with their woven wings."
The first shot fired would inevitably pour out the
whole naval force of England ; and his argosies
would put their helms about, and steer for Ports-
mouth, Plymouth, and every port, but a French one.
If this formidable intelligence had awakened even
the haughtiness of the French government to a sense
of public peril, what effect must it not have in the
counting-house of a man whose existence was trade ?
While I was on my pillow, luxuriating in dreams of
French fetes, Paul and Virginie carried off to the
clouds, and Parisian belles dancing cotillons in the
bowers of a Mahometan paradise ; Elnathan spent
the night at his desk, surrounded by his bustling
generation of clerks, writing to correspondents at
every point of the compass, and preparing insurances
with the great London establishments ; which I was
to carry with me, though unacquainted with the
transaction on which so many millions of francs hung
trembling.
We parted. The postillions cracked their whips,
the little Norman horses tore their way over the
MARSTON. ] 97
rough pavement ; the sovereign people scattered off
on every side, to save their lives and limbs ; and the
plain of St. Denis, rich with golden corn, and tracked
by lines of stately trees, opened far and wide before
me. From the first ascent I gave 2i parting glance to
Paris, mingled of rejoicing and regret. What hours
of interest, of novelty, and of terror, had I not passed
within the circuit of those walls ! Yet, how the eye
cheats reality ! that city of imprisonment and frantic
liberty, of royal sorrow and cruel popular exultation,
now looked a vast circle of calm and stately beauty.
How delusive is distance in every thing! Across
that plain, surrounded with those soft hills, and glit-
tering in the purple of this glorious evening, it looked
a paradise. — I knew it to be a pandemonium !
I speeded on ; every thing was animated and ani-
mating in my journey. It was the finest season of the
year ; the roads were good ; the prospects — as I swept
valley and rushed round hill, with the insolent speed
of a government employe, leaving all meaner vehicles,
travellers, and the whole workday world behind —
seemed to me to redeem the monotonous character
of French landscape. But, how much of its colouring
was my own ! Was I not free ? was I not returning
to England? was I not approaching scenes, and forms,
and the realities, of those recollections, which, even
in the field of battle, and at the foot of the scaffold,
had alternately cheei'ed and pained, delighted and
distressed me ? — yet which, even with all their
anxieties, were dearer than the most gilded hopes of
ambition. W^as I not about to meet the gay smile
and poignant vivacity of Mariamne ? was I not about
K 3
198 MARSTON.
to wander in the shades of my paternal castle? to
see those relatives, who were to shape so large a share
of my future happiness ; to meet in public life the
eminent public men, with whose renown the courts,
and even the camps of Europe were already ringing :
and last, proudest, and most profound feeling of all —
was I not to venture near the shrine, on which I had
placed my idol ; to offer her the solemn and distant
homage of the heart ; perhaps to hear of her from
day to day ; perhaps to see her noble beauty ; per-
haps even to hear that voice, of which the simplest
accents sank into ray soul ? — But I must not attempt
to describe sensations which are in their nature
beyond language ; which dispose the spirit of man
to silence ; and which, in their truth and intensity,
suffer but one faculty to exist, absorbing all the rest
in deep and delicious reverie.
I drove, with the haste of a courier, to London ;
and after having deposited my despatches with one
of the under-secretaries of the Foreign-office, I flew to
Mordecai's den in the city. London appeared to me
more crowded than ever ; the streets longer, the
buildings dingier ; and the whole, seen after the
smokeless and light-coloured towns of the Continent,
looked an enormous manufactory, where men wore
themselves out in perpetual dimness and bustle, to
make their bread, and die. But my heart beat quickly,
as I reached the door of that dingiest of all its dwell-
ings, where the lord of hundreds of thousands of
pounds burrowed himself from the eyes of mankind.
I knocked, but was long unanswered ; at last a
meagre clerk, evidently of the " fallen people," and
MARSTUN. 199
who seemed dug up from the depths of the dungeon,
gave me the inteUigence that " his master and family
had left England." The answer was like an ice-bolt
through my frame. This was the moment to which
I had looked forward with, I shall not say, what
emotions. I could scarcely define them ; but they
had a share of every strong, every faithful, and every
touching remembrance in my nature. My disap-
pointment was a pang. My head grew dizzy, I
reeled ; and asked leave to enter the gloomy door,
and rest for a moment. But this the guardian of
the den was too cautious to allow ; and I should have
probably fainted in the street, but for the appearance
of an ancient Rebecca, the wife of the clerk, who,
feelmg the compassion which belongs to the sex in
all instances, and exerting the authority which is so
generally claimed by the better-halves of men;
pushed her husband back, and led the way into the
old cob webbed parlour.
A glass of water, the sole hospitality of the
house, revived me ; and after some enquiries alike
fruitless with the past, I was about to take mv
leave, when the clerk, in his removal of some
papers, not to be trusted within reach of a stranger,
dropped a letter from the bundle, on which was
my name. From its variety of addresses, it had
evidently travelled far, and had been returned from
half the post-offices of the Continent. It was two
months' old, but it was from Mordecai; and after
alluding to some pecuniary transactions with his
foreign brethren, always the first topic, it hurried
on in his usual abrupt strain : — " Mariamne has in-
K 4
200 MARSTON.
sisted on my leaving England, for a while. This is
perplexing ; as the war must produce a new loan,
and London is, after all, the only place where those
affairs can be transacted without trouble. — My child is
well, and yet, she looks pallid from time to time, and
sheds tears, when she thinks herself unobserved.
All this may pass away, but it makes me uneasy ;
and, as she has evidently made up her mind to travel,
1 have only to give way — for, with all her caprices,
she is my child, my only and my beloved child.
" I have heard a good deal of your proceedings,
from my kinsman in Paris. You have acquitted
yourself well, and it shall not be unknown in the
quarter where it may be of most service to you. — I
have been stopped by Mariamne's singing in the
next room, and her voice has almost unmanned me ;
she is melancholy of late, and her only music now is
taken from those ancestral hymns which our nation
regard as the songs of the Captivity. Her tones at
this moment are painfully touching, and I have been
forced to lay down my pen, for she has melted me to
tears. Yet her colour has not altogether faded
lately, and I think sometimes that her eyes look
brighter than ever! — Heaven help me, if I should
lose her. I should then be indeed alone.
" You may rely on my intelligence — a war is
inevitable. You may also rely on ray conjecture ;
that it will be the most desperate war which Europe
has seen. — One that will break up foundations, as
well as break down superstructures ; not a war of
politics, but of principles ; not a war for conquest,
but for ruin. — All the treasuries of Europe will be
MARSTON. 201
bankrupt within a twelvemonth of its commence-
ment; unless England shall become their banker.
This will be the harvest of the men of money. — It is
unfortunate that your money is all lodged for your
commission ; otherwise, in the course of a few oper-
ations, you might make cent, per cent., which I pro-
pose to do. — Apropos of commissions. I had nearly
omitted, in my own family anxieties, to mention the
object for which I began my letter. I have failed in
arranging the affair of your commission ! This was
not for want of zeal. But the prospect of a war has
deranged and inflamed every thing. The young
nobihty have besieged the Horse-guards. All the
weight of the aristocracy has pressed upon the
minister, and private influence has been driven from
the field : the spirit is too gallant a one to be
blamed. But why shall a man of your sense be
dependent on a single cast of the die ? Think of
my suggestion. Are there not a hundred other pur-
suits, in which an intelligent mind, like your own,
might follow fortune? You have seen enough of
campaigning to know, that it is not all a flourish of
trumpets ; has the world but one gate, and that the
Horse-guards? — If my personal judgment were to
be asked, I should feel no regret for a disappointment
which may have come, only to turn your knowledge
and ability to purposes not less suitable to an active
spirit, nor less likely to produce a powerful impres-
sion on the world — the only thing, after all, worth
living for ! You may laugh at this language from a
man of my countr}^, and my trade. But even / have
my ambition ; and you may yet discover it to be not
K 5
202 MARSTON,
less bold, than if I carried the lamp of Gideon, or
wielded the sword of the Maccabee. — I must stop
again; my poor restless child is coming into the
room at this moment, complaining of the cold, in
one of the finest days of summer. She says, that
this villa has grown sunless, airless, and comfortless.
Finding that I am writing to you, she sends her best
wishes ; and bids me ask, ' what is the fashionable
colour for mantles in Paris,' and also 'what is
become of that " wandering creature, Lafontaine," ' if
you should happen to recollect such a personage."
" P. S. — My daughter insists on our setting out
from Brighton to-morrow, and crossing the Channel
the day after. She has a whim for revisiting Swit-
zerland ; and in the mean time begs that if, during
our absence, " you should have a whim for sea air
and solitude, you may make of the villa any use you
please. — Yours sincerely."
After reading this strange and broken letter, I
was almost glad, that I had not seen Mariamne.
Lafontaine was in her heart still, in spite of absence.
At this I did not wonder, for the heart of woman,
when once struck, is almost incapable of change :
but the suspense was killing her ; and I had no
doubt, that her loss would sink even her strong-
headed parent to the grave. Yet, what tidings had
I to give ? Whether her young soldier was shot in
the attempt to escape from the St. Lazare, or thrown
into some of those hideous dungeons, where so many
thousands were dying in misery from day to day,
was entirely beyond my power to tell. It was surely
better, that she should be roving over the bright
MARSTON. 203
hills, and breathing the fresh breezes, of Switzerland,
than listening to my hopeless conjectures at home ;
trying to reconcile herself to all the chances which
passion is so painfully ingenious in creating ; and
dying, like a flower in all its beauty, on the spot
where it had grown.
But, the letter contained nothing of the one name,
for which my first glance had looked over every line
with breathless anxiety. There was not a syllable
of Clotilde ! The father's cares had absorbed all
other thoughts ; and the letter was to me a blank in
that knowledge for which I panted, as the hart pants
for the fountains. Still, I was not dead to the calls
of friendship ; and that night's mail carried a long
epistle to Mordecai, detailing my escapes, and the
services of his kindred in France ; and for Mariamne's
ear, all that I could conceive cheering, in my hopes
of that " wandering creature, Lafontaine."
But I was now forced to think of sterner subjects. I
had arrived in England at a time of the most extra-
ordinary public excitement. Every man felt, that
some great trial of England and of Europe w^as at
hand ; though none could distinctly define either its
nature or its cause. France, which had then begun
to pour out her furious declamations against this
country, was, of course, generally looked to as the
quarter from w^hich the storm was to come ; but the
higher minds evidently contemplated hazards nearer
home. Affiliated societies, corresponding clubs, and
all the revolutionary apparatus, from whose crush
and clamour I had so lately emerged, met the ear
and the eye on all occasions ; and the fiery ferocity
K 6
204 MARSTON.
of French rebellion was nearly rivalled by the grave
insolence of English " Rights of Man." But, I am
not about to write the history of a national fever.
The Republicanism, which Cicero and Plutarch instil
into us all, had been extinguished in me by the
squalid realities of France. I had seen the dis-
secting-room, and was cured of my love for the
science. My spirit, too, required rest. I could
have exclaimed, with all the sincerity, and with all
the weariness too, of the poet : —
" Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumoui' of oppression and deceit.
Of unsuccessful or successful war.
Might never reach me more !"
But, perhaps fortunately for my understanding, if
not for my life, I was not suffered to take refuge in
the wilderness. London was round me ; rich and
beggared, splendid and sullen, busy and idle Lon-
don. — I was floating on those waves of human being,
in which the struggler must make for the shore, or
sink. — I was in the centre of that huge whispering
gallery, where every sound of earth was echoed and
re-echoed with new power ; and where it was impos-
sible to dream. My days too were spent in com-
munication with government, and a large portion of
my nights was employed in carrying on those cor-
respondences, which, though seldom known in the
routine of Downing Street, formed the essential part
of its intercourse with the continental cabinets.
But, a period of the deepest suspense remained.
Parliament had been summoned for the 13th of De-
MARSTON. 205
cember. Nearly to the last moment, the cabinet
had been kept in uncertainty as to the actual intent
of France. There had been declamation in abund-
ance in the French legislature and the journals ; but,
with this unsubstantial evidence, the cabinet could
not meet the country. Couriers had been sent in all
directions ; boats were stationed along the coast, to
bring the first intelligence of actual hostilities ; every
conceivable expedient was adopted ; but all in vain.
The day of opening the Session was now within
twenty-four hours. At length, after lingering, in
expectancy of the arrival of despatches from our
ambassador at the Hague, I offered to cross the sea
in the first fishing-boat which I could find, and
ascertain the facts. My offer was accepted ; and in
the twilight of a winter's morning, and in the midst
of a snow-storm, I was making my shivering way
homeward through the wretched lanes which, dark
as pitch and narrow as footpaths, then led to the
centre of the diplomatic world ; when, in my haste,
I nearly overset a meagre figure, which, half-blinded
by the storm, was tottering towards the Foreign-
office. After a growl, in the most angry jargon,
the man recognized me ; he was the clerk whom I
had seen at Mordecai's house. He had, but an hour
before, received, by one of the private couriers of
the firm, a letter, with orders to deliver it with all
expedition. He put it into my hand : it was from
Elnathan, and was simply in these words : — " My
kinsman and your friend has desired me, to forward
to you the earliest intelligence of hostilities. — I send
you a copy of the bulletin which will be issued at
206 MARSTON.
noon, this day. It is yet unknown ; but I have it
from a source on which you may perfectly rely. Of
this, make what use you think advantageous. Your
well-wisher.''
With what pangs the great money-trafficker must
have consigned to my use a piece of intelligence,
which must have been a mine of wealth to the man
who carried it first to the Stock Exchange, I could
easily conjecture. But I saw in it the powerful
pressure of Mordecai, which none of his tribe seemed
to have the means of resisting. My sensations were
singular, as I traced my way up the dark and lum-
bering staircase of the Foreign office ; with the con-
sciousness that, if I had chosen to turn my steps in
another direction, I might, before night, be master
of thousands, or hundreds of thousands. But, it
is only due to the sense of honour which had been
impressed on me, even in the riot and roughness of
my Eton days, to say, that I did not hesitate for a
moment. Sending one of the attendants to arouse
the chief clerk, I stood waiting his arrival, with the
bulletin unopened in my hands. — But the official had
gone to his house in the country, and might not return
for some hours. My perplexity increased. Every
moment might supersede the value of my intelligence.
At length a twinkling light through the chinks of
one of the dilapidated doors, told me, that there was
some one within ; from whom I might, at least, ask
when and how ministers were to be approached. I
knocked, the door was opened, and, to my surprise,
I found that the occupant of the chamber was one of
the most influential members of administration. The
MARSTON. 207
fire had sunk to embers, the lamp was dull, and the
hearer was half frozen, and half asleep. But, no
sooner had he cast his eyes upon my mysterious
despatch, than all his faculties were in full activity.
" This," said he, '' is the most important paper
that has reached this country, since the taking of the
Bastile. The Scheldt is opened ! This act in-
volves an attack on Holland ; the defence of our ally
is a matter of treaty, and we must arm without
delay. The war is begun, but where it shall end " —
he paused, and fixing his eyes above, with a solem-
nity of expression which I scarcely expected to find in
the hard-lined countenance, " or who shall live to see
its close — who can tell ?"
" We have been waiting," added he, " for this in-
telligence, from week to week, with the fullest expect-
ation that it would come ; and yet, when it has come,
it strikes one like a thunder-clap. — This is the third
night that I have sat at this table, unable to go to
rest. You see, sir, that our life is, at least, not the
bed of roses for which the world is so apt to give us
credit. It is like the life of my own hills — the higher
the sheiling, the rougher the blast."
I still honour the memory of this remarkable man.
He was a Scot, and with all the best characteristics
of his country. I had heard him in Parliament,
where he was the most powerful second of the most
powerful minister that England had seen. But, if
all men were inferior to the premier in majesty and
fulness of conception, the man to whom I now lis-
tened had no superior in readiness of retort, or
208 MARSTON.
aptness of illustration — in that mixture of sport and
satire, of easy jest and subtle sarcasm, which forms
the happiest talent for the general uses of debate.
If Pitt moved like the armed man of chivalry, or
rather, like the main body of the battle — for never
was man more entitled to the appellation of a " host
in himself "—never were front, flanks, and rear of the
host covered by a more quick-witted and indefatigable
auxiliary. He was a man of family, and brought
with him into public life not the manners of a menial
of office, but the bearing of a gentleman. Birth
and blood were in his bold and manly countenance ;
and I could have felt no difficulty in conceiving him,
if his course had followed his nature, the chieftain
on his hills, at the head of his gallant retainers, pur-
suing the wild sports of his romantic region ; or in
some foreign land, gathering the laurels, which the
Scotch soldier has so often and so gallantly added to
the honours of the empire.
He was perfectly familiar with the great question
of the time, and saw the bearings of my news at once.
" This paper," said he, " announces the fact, that a
French squadron has actually sailed up the Scheldt, to
attack Antwerp. Yet, it is not ten years, since France
protested against the same act by Austria, as a vio-
lation of the rights of Holland. The new aggres-
sion, is, therefore, not simply a solitary violence, but
a systematic fraud ; not merely the breach of an
individual treaty, but a declaration that no treaty is
henceforth to be held binding ; — it is more than
an act of rapine ; it is an universal dissolution of the
MARSTON. 209
principles by which society is held together. — In
what times are we about to live ?"
My remark was simply, " That it depended on the
spirit of England herself, whether the conflict was to
be followed by honour or by shame ; that she had a
glorious career before her, if she had magnanimity
sufficient to take the part marked out for her by cir-
cumstances ; and that, with the championship of the
world in her hands, even defeat would have the na-
ture of a triumph."
He now turned the conversation to myself; spoke
with more than official civility of my services, and
peculiarly of the immediate one ; and asked, in what
Ijranch of diplomacy I desired advancement?
My answer was prompt. '•' In none. I desired
pi'omotion but in one way — the army." I then
briefly stated the accidental loss of my original ap-
pointment ; and received, before I left the chamber,
a note for the Secretary at war, recommending me,
in the strongest terms, for a commission in the
Guards.
The world was now before me, and the world
in the most vivid, various, and dazzling shape;
in the boldest developement of grandeur, terror, and
wild vicissitude, which it exhibited for a thousand
years — England was at w^\r !
There is no sight on earth more magnificent, or
more awful, than a great nation going to war. I saw
the scene in its highest point of view, by seeing it in
England. The perfect freedom of the country, its
infinite, and constantly conflicting, variety of opinion ;
its passionate excitement, and its stupendous power.
210 MARSTON.
gave the crisis a character of interest, grandeur,
and indefinite but vast purposes, unexampled in any-
other time, or in any other country. When one of
the Continental monarchies commenced war, the
operation, however large and formidable, was simple.
A monarch resolved ; a council sat, less to guide than
to echo his resolution; an army marched, invaded
the enemy's territory, fought a battle — perhaps a
dubious one — rested on its arms ; and while Te Deum
was sung in both capitals alike, for the " victory " of
neither, the ministers of both were constructing an
armistice, a negotiation, and a peace — each and all
to be null and void, on the first opportunity.
But the war of England was a war of the people
— a war of wrath and indignation — a war of civilized
society, entrusted to a single championship — a great
effort of human nature to discharge, in the shape of
blood, a disease which was sapping the vitals of Eu-
rope ; or in a still higher, and therefore a more faith-
ful conception, the gathering of a tempest, which, after
sweeping France in its fury, was to restore the ex-
hausted soil and blasted vegetation of society through-
out the Continent ; and in whose wildest hour, Eng-
land, serene and undismayed, was to
" Ride in the whirlwind, and dii'ect the storm."
I shall acknowledge, that I looked upon the coming
conflict with mingled alarm and rejoicing. For the
latter feeling, perhaps I ought to make some apo-
logy ; but I was young, ardent, and ambitious. My
place in life was unfixed ; standing in that unhappy,
middle position, in which stands a man of birth, too
MARSTON. 211
high to suffer his adoption of the humbler means of
existence, and yet of resources too inadequate to sus-
tain him without bold and indefatigable exertion; —
I felt a very inferior degree of compunction, at the
crisis which offered to give me at least a chance of
being seen, known, and understood, among men. I
felt, like the sailor whose bark was becalmed, and who
saw the storiii lifting the surges that were to carry
him along with them; or like the traveller in an
earthquake, who saw the ground swallowing up the
river which had hitherto presented an impassable
obstacle — distant cities and mountains might sink,
before the concussion had done its irresistible will,
but, at all events, it had cleared his way.
In thoughts like those, rash and unconnected as
they were, I spent many a restless day, and still more
restless night. I often sprang from a pillow which,
if I had lived in the days of witchcraft, I should have
thought spelled to refuse me sleep ; and walking for
hours about my chamber, endeavoured to reduce into
shape the speculations, which filled my mind with
splendours and catastrophes worthy of oriental dreams.
Yet, why did I not then pursue the career, in which I
had begun the world? Why not devote myself to diplo-
macy? For this I had two reasons. The first — and, let
me confess, the most imperious — was, that my pride
had been deeply hurt by the loss of my commission.
I felt that I had not only been deprived of a noble
profession, accidental as was the loss ; but that I had
subjected myself to the trivial, yet stinging re-
marks, which never fail to find an obnoxious cause
for every failure. While this cloud hung over me, I
0{2 MARSTON.
was determined, never to return to my father's house.
Good-natured as the friends of my family might be,
I was fully aware of the style in which misfortune is
treated, in the idleness of country life ; and the Hon-
ourable Mr. Marston's loss of his rank in his Ma-
jesty's guards, or his preference of a more pacific
promotion, was too tempting a topic, to lose any of
its stimulants, in the popular ignorance of the true
transaction.
My next reason was, that my mind was harassed
and wearied by disappointment, until I should not
have regretted to terminate the struggle in the first
field of battle. The only woman whom I loved, and
whom, with the usual frenzy of passion, I solemnly
believed to be the only woman on earth deserving to
be so loved, had vanished from my most anxious
enquiry. The only woman whom I regarded as a
friend, was in another country, probably dying. If
I could have returned to Mortimer Castle — which I
had already determined to be impossible — I should
have found only a callous, perhaps a contemptuous,
head of the family, angry at my return to burden
him. Even Vincent — my old and kind-hearted friend
Vincent — had been a soldier ; and though I was sure
of never receiving a reproach from his wise and gentle
lips ; was I equally sure that I could escape the flash,
or the sorrow, of his eye ?
In thoughts like those, and they were dangerous
ones, I made many a solitary rush out into the wild
winds and beating snows of the winter, which had set
in early, and been remarkably severe ; walking, often
bareheaded, in the most lonely places of the suburbs,
MARSTON. 213
stripping my bosom to the blast, and longing for its
tenfold chill, to assuage the fever which burned
within me. I had also found the old delay, at the
Horse-guards. The feelings of this period make me
look with infinite compassion, on the unhappy beings
who take their lives into their own hands, and who
extinguish all their earthly anxieties, at a plunge.
But, T had imbibed principles, of a firmer substance,
and but upon one occasion, and one alone, felt
tempted to an act of despair.
Taking my lonely dinner in a tavern of the suburbs,
the waiter handed me a newspaper, which he had
rescued for my behoof from the hands of a group,
eager, as all the world then was, for French intel-
ligence. My eye rambled into the " fashionable
column ;" and the first paragraph, headed " Mar-
riage in high life," announced that, on the morrow,
were to be solemnized "the nuptials of Clotilde,
Countess de Tourville, with the Marquis de Montre-
cour, colonel of the French Mousquetaires," &c. The
paper dropped from my hands. I rushed out of the
house ; and, scarcely knowing where I went, I hurried
on, until I found myself out of the sight or sound of
mortal.
The night was utter darkness ; there was no lamp
near ; the wind roared ; and it was only by the flash
of the foam that I discovered the broad sheet of
water before me. I had strayed into Hyde Park,
and was on the bank of the Serpentine. — With what
ease misht I not there finish all ! Life was a burden,
thought was a torment, the light of day a loath-
ing. — But the paroxysm soon gave way. Impres-
214 MARSTON.
sions of the duty of human nature, made in earUer
years, revived within me with a singular freshness
and force. Tears gushed from my eyes, fast and
flowing ; and, with a long-forgotten prayer for pati-
ence, I turned from the place of temptation.
As I reached the streets once more, I heard the
trumpets of the Life Guards, and the band of a
battalion returning to their quarters. They had
been lining the streets, for the king's procession to
open the sitting of Parliament. This was the 13th
of December — the memorable day to which every
heart in Europe was more or less vibrating ; yet
which I had totally forgotten. — What is man but an
electrical machine after all ? The sound and sight
of soldiership restored me. The machine required
only to be touched, to shoot out its latent sparks ;
and, with a new spirit and a new determination kind-
ling through every fibre, I hastened to be present
at that high debate, which was to be the judgment
of nations.
My official intercourse with ministers had given
me some privileges, and I obtained a seat under the
gallery ; that part of the House of Commons which
is occasionally allotted to strangers of a certain rank.
The house was crowded, and every countenance was
marked with solemn anxiety. Grey, Sheridan, and
other distinguished names of party, had already
taken their seats ; but the great heads of Govern-
ment and Opposition were still absent. At length,
a buzz among the crowd who filled the floor; and
the name of Fox, repeated in every tone of congratu-
lation, announced the pre-eminent orator of Eng-
MARSTON. 215
land. I now saw Fox for the first time ; and I was
instantly struck with the singular similitude of all
that I saw of him, to all that I had conceived from his
character and his style. In the broad bold forehead,
it could not be difficult to discover, the strong sense
— in the relaxed mouth, the self-indulgent and reck-
less enjoyment — in the quick, small eye under those
magnificent black brows, the man of sagacity, of
sarcasm, and of humour ; — and in the grand contour
of a countenance and head, which might have been
sculptured to take its place among the sages and
sovereigns of antiquity; the living proof of those
extraordinary powers, which could have been checked
in their ascent to the highest elevation of public life,
only by prejudices and passions not less extraordi-
naiy. As he advanced up the house, he recognised
nearly every one on both sides, and spoke or smiled
to them all. The business of the night was not yet
begun ; the Speaker was occupied with some matters
of routine; and Fox stopped several times on his
way ; and was surrounded by a circle with whom,
as I might judge from their laughter, he ex-
changed some pleasantry of the hour. A^'hen at
length he arrived at the seat reserved for him, he
threw himself upon it, with the easy look of a man
who had reached home — gave a nod to Windham,
held out a linger to Grey, warmly shook hands with
Sheridan ; and then, opening his well-known blue
and buff costume, threw himself back on the bench,
and laughingly gasped for air.
But, another movement of the crowd at the bar,
announced another arrival ; and Pitt entered the
215 MARSTON.
house. His look and movement were equally cha-
racteristic with those of his great rival. He looked
to neither the right nor the left ; replied to the salu-
tations of his friends by the slightest possible bow ;
neither spoke nor smiled ; but, advancing, with a
measured step, and remarkably erect figure, took his
seat in total silence. The speaker now read the
king's speech, and, calling on " Mr. Pitt," the minister
rose. T have for that rising but one description —
the one which filled my mind at the moment, from
the noblest poet of the world.
" Deep on his front engraven.
Deliberation sat, and public care.
Sage he stood,
With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies. His look
Drew audience and attention, still as night,
Or summer's noontide air."
CHAPTER XXVI.
" This was the noblest Roman of them aJl.
He, only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the elements
So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world. This was a man."
Shakspeare.
I HAD been familiar with the debates of the French
Convention, and had witnessed French eloquence in
its highest exertions. I had listened to some of their
public speakers, with strong interest, but it was only
while they were confined to detail. No man tells a story-
better than a French conteiir. There lies the natural
talent of the people. Nothing can be happier than
their seizure of slight circumstances, of the passing
colours of events, and of those transient thoughts which
make a story as pretty as a piece of ladies' embroidery
— a tasteful display of trivial difficulties gracefully sur-
mounted. But, even in their ablest speakers I could
perceive a constant dissatisfaction with themselves,
unless they happened to produce some of those
startling conceptions, which roused their auditory to
a stare, a start, or a clapping of hands. I had seen even,
VOL. II. L
218 MARSTON.
Mlrabeau, with all his conscious talent, look round
in despair, for applause ; as a sailor thrown overboard,
might look for a buoy ; I had seen him as much
exhausted, and even overwhelmed, by the want of
applause; as if he had dropped into an exhausted
receiver. If some lucky epigram did not come to
his rescue, he was undone.
I was now to be the spectator of a different scene.
Here too were passion and resentment, the keenness
of rivalry and the ardour of triumph ; but here was
no aifectation. Men spoke, as men speak, when their
essential interests are engaged — plainly, boldly, and
directly — vigorously often, sometimes vehemently ;
but with that general, strong reality, which adminis-
ters eloquence to even the most xnitaught orders of
mankind, and without which the most decorated
eloquence is only the wooden sword of Harlequin.
Pitt took the lead, in all senses of the phrase. On
this night, he was magnificent. His exposition of
the state of Europe, though perfectly unadorned, had
yet an effect upon the House, not unlike that of
opening a volume to a multitude who had but just
learned to read. All was novelty, conviction, and
amazement. His appeal to the principles by which
a great people should shape its conduct, had all the
freshness and all the strength of feelings drawn, at the
moment, from the depths of his own noble bosom ;
while his hopes of the victory of England over the
temptations to public overthrow, exhibited all the
fire, and almost all the sacred conviction, of pro-
phecy.
He described the system of France as " subversion
MARSTON. 219
on principle," its purpose "universal tumult, its instru-
ment remorseless bloodshed, and its triumph a general
reduction of society to the wild fury and squalid
necessities of the savage state. This," he exclaimed,
turning his full front to the House, and raising
his hand with the solemnity of an adjuration — "this
we must resist, in the name of that Omnipotent Dis-
poser, who has given us hearts to feel the blessings
of society; or we must acknowledge ourselves un-
worthy to hold a name among nations ! This we
must resist — live or die. This anarchy we must meet
by order — subtlety by sincerity — intrigue by reso-
lution — treachery by good faith — menace by courage.
We must remember, that we have been made trustees
of the honour of the past, and of the hopes of the
future. — A great country like ours has no alternative,
but to join the enemy of all justice, or to protect all
justice; to league against all government, or to stand
forth its indefatigable and invincible champion. —
This is the moment for our decision. Empires are
not afforded time for delay. All great questions are
simple. Shrink, and you are undone, and Europe is
undone along with you ; be firm, and you will have
saved the world!"
The feelings with which this lofty language was
heard were intense. The House listened, in a state
of solemn emotion, hour after hour ; deeply silent, but
when some chord was so powerfully touched, that it
gave an universal thrill. Again, those involuntary
bursts of admiration were as suddenly hushed, by the
eagerness of the House to listen, and the awful im-
portance of the subject. It was not until the great
220 MARSTON.
minister sat down, that the true feeling was truly
exhibited; the applause was then unbounded — a
succession of thunders.
I had now leisure, to glance at the Opposition.
Fox, for a while, seemed good-humouredly inclined
to give up the honour of the reply to some of the
popular speakers round him ; but the occasion was
too grave to be intrusted to inferior powers, and, on
a general call for his name, he rather reluctantly
rose. The world is too familiar with the renown of
this celebrated man, to permit me more than a sketch
of his style.
Of all the public speakers whom I have ever heard.
Fox appeared to me the most subtle — of course, not
in the crafty and degrading sense of the word ; but in
the art of approaching his case ; there he was masterly,
and matchless. — He loitered, he lingered, he almost
trifled by the way, until the observer began to believe,
that he had either no object in view, or had forgotten
it altogether. In the next moment, he rushed to the
assault, and carried all by storm. On this occasion,
he had a difficult part to play ; for the hourly horrors
of the French capital had begun to alienate the aris-
tocracy of England, and had even raised disgust among
that most influential body, the middle class. The
skill with which the orator glided over this portion
of his subject was admirable ; no Camilla ever " flew
o'er the unbending corn" with a lighter foot. He
could not altogether evade the topic. But he treated
it, as one might treat the narrative of a distressing
casualty ; or a disease, only to be touched on by man
with the pity due to human infirmity, or even with
MARSTON, 221
the respect due to a dispensation from above. He
often paused, seemed at a loss for words, of which,
however, he never failed to find the most pungent ;
and assumed, in a remarkable degree, the appearance
of speaking only from strong compulsion, a feeling of
reluctant duty, a sense of moral necessity. I here
observed his incomparable management ; but it was
when he had made his way through this difficult
performance, that I followed him with unequivocal
delight. He had been hitherto Milton's lion, " paw-
ing to get free his hinder parts." He was now let
loose, in all his symmetry and power ; like the lion,
with the forest and the plain before him. "Why has
the monarchy of France fallen ?" he exclaimed. " Be-
cause, like those on whom the malediction of Scrip-
ture has been pronounced, it had eyes, yet would
not see, and ears, yet would not hear. A new, ar-
dent, and irresistible population was growing up
round it year by year, yet it could see nothing be-
yond its own worn-out circle of nobles, priests, and
princes. — In making this war," said he, "you are
beginning a contest, of which no man can calculate
the means, no man can state the objects, and no man
can foresee the end. You are not warring alone
against the throne of France, nor even against the
people of France ; but, you are warring against every
people of the earth, which desires to advance its
own prosperity, to invigorate its own constitution, or
to place itself in that condition of peace, purity, and
freedom, which is not more the desire of man, than
it is the command of Providence."
The House, following him, with loud applause ; he
L 3
222 MARSTON.
now burst into reprobation of the names of aristocrat
and democrat ; which he declared to be mere inven-
tions of party and prejudice. " If you require," ex-
claimed he, " to make political hostilities immortal,
give them names ; if you wish to break down the
national strength, divide it into factions. If you
would not merely overthrow the pillar of the national
prosperity, but prevent it from being ever raised
again, you have only to crush it into fragments, the
deed is then irreparable. Let us then hear no more
the names of national division abroad, reinforced and
envenomed by the folly of our country. Arm against
your enemy, if you will ; but here you would arm
one hand against the other."
To the charge of defending the French mob, his
answer w^as in the most prompt and daring style.
" Who are the French mob ? The French nation.
— Dare you put eight-and-twenty millions of men
into your bill of attainder ? No indictment ever
drawn by the hand of man is broad enough for it.
Impeach a nation, and you impeach the Providence
that made it. Impeach a nation, and you are im-
peaching only your own rashness and presumption.
You are impeaching even the unhappy monarch,
whom you profess to defend. Man every where is
the creature of circumstances. Nations are only
what their governments make them. — But, France
is in a state of revolt. Be it so. I demand, what
nation ever revolted against justice, truth, and
honour ? You might as well tell me, that they re-
belled against the light of heaven ; that they rejected
the fruits of the earth ; that they refused to breathe
MARSTON. 223
the air. — Men do not war against their natural bene-
factors ; they are not mad enough, to repel the very
instincts of" preservation. I pronounce fearlessly,
that no nation ever rose, or ever will rise, against a
sincere, rational, and benevolent authority. No
nation was ever born blind. Infatuation is not a
law of human nature. The monarchy of France
was the criminal." This was sophistry, but it was
skilfully suited to the time.
Another burst, which produced vast effect on the
House, referred to the exclusiveness of the chief
public employments.
" The people have overthrown the titles and dig-
nities of France. I admit it. But, was it from a
natural hatred of those distinctions ? That I deny.
They are congenial to the heai't of man. The
national hatred lay, in the sense of that intolerable
injustice, which turns honour into shame. For cen-
turies, those titles and dignities were to the people
not badges of honour, but brands of scorn. They
were not public calls to generous emulation, but
royal proclamations of everlasting contempt. They
were not ramparts, surrounding the state, but bar-
riers, shutting out the people. How would such
insults to the common origin of man, to the common
powers of the human mind, to the common desire of
distinction born with every man, be endured in this
country ? Is it then to be wondered at, that France
should have abolished them by acclamation ?"
He now became more daring still, and yet more
sophistical; closing with a boldness of figure unusual
even to himself.
L 4
224 MARSTON.
" I contend, that this was a victory gained, not for
a populace, but for a people, for all France, for
twenty-eight millions of men — over a portion of
society who had lost their rank, a body already sen-
tenced by their personal inefficiency — a caste, who,
like a famished garrison, had been starved, by the
sterility of the spot in which they had inclosed
themselves ; or, like the Indian devotees, had turned
themselves into cripples, by their pretence of a sacred
superiority to the habits of the rest of mankind."
Opposition still exhibited its ranks but slightly di-
minished, and the chief passages of this impassioned
appeal, which continued for three hours, were re-
ceived with all the fervour of party. Burke then
rose. Strong interest was directed to him, not
merely from his eminent name, but from the public
curiosity to hear his explanation of that estrange-
ment, which had been for some time spreading,
under his auspices, through the leading personages
of the Opposition. Like most men who have made
themselves familiar with the works of a great writer,
I had formed a portraiture of him by anticipation.
I never was more disappointed. Instead of the ex-
pressive countenance and commanding figure, which
I had imagined, to enshrine the soul of the most
splendid of all orators ; I saw a form of the middle
size, and of a homely appearance, a heavy physiog-
nomy, and the whole finished by two appurtenances,
which would have been fatal to the divinity of the
Apollo Belvidere, spectacles and a wig. His voice
and manner were scarcely less prepossessing ; the
one was as abrupt and clamorous, as the other was
MARSTON. 225
rustic and ungraceful. He had the general look of
a farmer of the better order ; and seemed, at best,
made to figure on a grand jury.
But I soon felt, how trivial are externals, in com-
parison of genuine ability; or perhaps, how much
even their repulsiveness may add to the power of
genius. I had listened but a few minutes, when I
forgot everything, except that a man of the highest
faculties was before me ; with those faculties wrought
to the highest tension by their subject. Taking a
wholly new line of argument, he dwelt as little on
the political views of England with Pitt, as he did
upon the revolutionary regeneration of France with
Fox. His view was exclusively English. " I do
not charge," he exclaimed, turning full on the Op-
position bench, " individuals with conspiracy ; but I
charge them with giving the sanction of their name
to principles, which have in them all the germs of
conspiracy. Sir, the maxim of resisting the begin-
nings of evil, is as sound in the concerns of nations,
as in the morality of individual minds. Nay, I am
not sure, whether mischief is not more effectually
done in that incipient state, than when the evil
comes full-formed. It is less perceived, and it thus
destroys with impunity. — The locust, before it gets
its wings, destroys the crop with a still more ra-
pacious tooth, than when its armies are loading the
wind."
After illustrating his principle, with vast variety
of allusion, he touched, in a gentler tone, on the
schism of his party. " Honourable members have
talked largely of their zeal for the constitution. Sir,
L 5
226 MARSTON.
I am content, to follow the wisdom, which judges of
the faith by the works. In my humble measure, I
have been a zealous worshipper of the constitution.
There was a time when those honourable gentlemen
and myself — and I speak of that time with the
regret due to long friendship — took ' sweet counsel
together,' and bowed before that common worship
as friends. That time is past. We have since
taken different paths. — I have been charged with
apostasy. But, what is my apostasy ? That I have
not followed the frenzy and ingratitude of the hour ;
that, while the most awful event in the history of
human change has been transacting before us, I have
not shut my ears and eyes to its moral ; that I
have not followed the throng into the valley, and
there joined the fabricators of the new idolatry, the
priesthood of the golden calf of revolution ; nay,
shared the polluted feast and the intoxicated dance ;
while the thunders of divine vengeance were rolling
on the mount above."
It was obvious from his manner, and his frequent
return to the topic, that the charge of desertion had
deeply wounded his generous and sensitive nature ;
and nothing struck me as more characteristic of his
faculties, than the unexhausted amplification of de-
fence which seemed to pour into his mind, at every
return. But I hasten on.
" In those ranks," said he, " I fought for nearly
the half of that portion of life allotted to man ; cer-
tainly for that portion of my course, in which the
vigour and the applicability of all the best parts of
human nature have their fullest play. — I came to it
MARSTON. 227
a volunteer ; I fought side by side with its foremost ;
I shared the ' winter of their discontent,' as wilHngly
as the summer of their prosperity : I took the buffets
of ill fortune, and they were many, with as cheerful
a countenance and as unshaken a fidelity, as any
man. But, when I saw a new banner raised among
them, blazoned with mottoes of evil, and refused to
follow, Vv'ho were the deserters ? They or I ? " As
he spoke these words, he drew his otherwise rather
stooping form to its full height, Ufted his hand above
his head, and stood like one at once demanding and
defying the investigation of the empire.
The roar of applause which followed, seemed to
shake the very Avails. He was powerfully moved ; his
countenance changed from its usual palhdness to deep
suffusion ; and his hands rather tossed, than waved
in the air. At last I saw one of them thrust sti'ongly
into his bosom, as if the gesture was excited by
some powerful recollection. "Do I speak without
proof of the public hazards ?" he exclaimed. " I
can give you demonstration — I need invoke neither
powers above, nor powers below, to enlighten you.
I have the oracle within my hand." The House
fixed all its eyes upon him. He dropped his voice,
and spoke with a faint, but clear, tone, which formed
a remarkable contrast to his usually bold, and even
harsh enunciation : " Sir," said he, in this half-
whispered voice, " before I join these gentlemen in
their worship, I must know what deity presides in
their temple ; I must see that the incense which
fumes before its altar, is taken from the sacred re-
positories of the constitution, not the smuggled
L 6
228 MARSTON.
importation of foreign revolt — that pernicious com-
pound of civil mischief and mad metaphysics — which,
instead of consummating and purifying the sacrifice,
only poisons the air. I must see something of the
hierarch too, before I join in his aspirations ; I must
see that he is lawfully inducted into his office, that
he is not a rebel in the garb of loyalty — a blasphemer
where he professes to pray — a traitor where he pro-
pounds allegiance."
Fox here, evidently taking the description to him-
self, exhibited palpable signs of displeasure. Burke
caught the expression at once, and instantly changed
the whole current of his conceptions. " If," said he,
" the honourable gentleman thinks that I designate
hi7n as the high-priest of this new worship, he does
me as much injustice as himself. No, no ! When
we shall see the Republican Pantheon thrown open,
he, and such as he, will not be called to officiate at
the altar. He is much more likely to be the victim.
The popular ornaments, now flung so lavishly upon
him, will more probably be but the decorations for
his sacrifice. The chaplet will but bind him to the
horns of that abhorred altar, which reeks with so
much of the best blood of France." Here a cor-
pulent noble^ peculiarly hostile to Burke, laughed
contemptuously. The orator instantly turned upon
him. " True," said he, " there may be a good deal
of variety in that procession. There may be the
mummer as well as the priest; we may see the
mountebank selling his potions, and playing his
tricks, as well as the sacrificer with his axe — unless
the ambition of the bloated performer should prefer
MARSTON. 229
to combine the offices, and be at once the butcher
and the buffoon."
The hit was felt on all sides, and the laughter was
unbounded. He then rose, as was his custom, into
a higher strain. " I can imagine that procession,"
said he, " or rather, that triumph, of the principles
of change. — Like the return of the classical Bacchus
from his Indian conquests, the triumpher," and he
now cast a look at Fox, " secure of his supremacy,
exulting in his prowess, and thinking the civilized
world at his feet ; but, not without the companionship
of his trusty Silenus " — and here again he turned his
glance on the noble lord — " that veteran follower,
whose ambition is limited to his cups, and the vigour
of whose fidelity is shown only in the constancy of
his intoxication ; — the whole procession being drawn
by the wild lords of the forest and the wilderness,
who, harnessed as they may be for the moment, will
no sooner find their food stinted, than they will
resume the natural instincts of the lion and the tiger,
turn on their drivers, and devour them." An uni-
versal cheer accompanied the words.
"But, sir," he exclaimed, turning to the chair,
" we have higher topics to think of, and to those I
now call the attention of the representatives of Eng-
land. I have alluded to the revolutionary temple.
I here have its deity." With those words, he plucked
from his bosom a large dagger, held it for a moment
up to the light, and then flung it at the foot of the
table. The astonishment, and even the alarm, of
the whole assembly was beyond description. They
started from their seats, as if assassination had stood
230 MARSTON.
before them in a visible shape. Some crowded round
Burke, some caught at the dagger, which was event-
ually carried to the Speaker, and became the object
of universal curiosity. All was confusion, for a con-
siderable time. At length Burke, in a few wordsj
delivered in his most impressive tone, explained the
phenomenon. " That dagger," said he, " is one of
thousands, perhaps of millions, which the preachers
of the new philosophy ai'e now forging for popular
conviction. You see, that by its construction it is
equally fitted for the head of a pike, or for a dagger
— equally serviceable for tearing down a monarchy in
the field, or stabbing its friends in their chambers.
You have it, the emblem at once of rebellion and
assassination. Those are the arguments of the new
school, those are the instruments by which the limbs
of the state are to be amputated, for replacement by
the inventions of the revolutionary mechanists. Those
are the keys, by which the locks of cabinets and
councils are henceforth to be opened, and the secrets
of national wealth laid bare to the rapacity of the
rabble. You now know the quarter from which
your dangers are to come. I deprecate foreign hos-
tility, but I dread civil blood. War may even be
essential, to shake society from its stagnation ; but
all human nature abhors the assassin, who sits beside
us, and under the mask of brotherhood, strikes his
weapon to the heart."
The debate had been prolonged through the greater
part of the night, and yet such was the interest felt
in its subject, that the streets in the neighbourhood
continued full to the last. All the hotels and coffee-
MARSTON. 031
houses were filled with people waiting for the divi-
sion. Groups, with lighted torches, were lingering
every where, and passing the intelligence along, as
members happened casually to make their appear-
ance in the course of the night. Shouts, and expres-
sions of wrath, alternately arose, according to the
nature of the intelligence ; and a species of open-air
legislature was held, during one of the bitterest nights
of winter ; with discussions as active, though perhaps
not altogether so classic, as those within. Public
curiosity was roused to its wildest height ; every
public sentiment had its full expression ; and whether
the acclamation was louder when, at the breaking up
of the House, Fox's corpulent frame was seen toiling
its slow way through the pressure ; or when Pitt's
slender figure and passionless face were recognized,
might have perplexed the keenest investigators of
popular feeling.
On returning to my chamber, exhausted ; yet ani-
mated with a new sense of the value of existence in
such a country, and of the noble faculties which she
carried in her bosom ; I saw a large packet on my
table. I gazed on its envelope for a few moments,
with that strange emotion, which sometimes makes
us dread to open the very letter which we most de-
sire to receive. — It was obviously from Downing
Street. At last, and tremblingly, I opened it. — It
contained my commission in the Guards !
My destiny was now fixed, and it is impossible to tell,
how much I felt relieved. I had spent the preceding
period in such perplexing indecision, that I felt my
232 MARSTON.
heart withering within me. But, all was now clear.
My course was decided. 1 was in other hands than
my own, and whatever might be the result, I was no
longer answerable for either good or ill fortune. No
human being who has not felt the trial, almost the
torment, of being left to decide on the conduct which
may make or mar him for life ; can conceive the de-
pression into which it plunges the mind. From this
I was now rescued ; I was wholly free ; an estab-
lished routine, a vigorous profession, a regulated
pursuit, and that pursuit one of the most honourable
nature, was suddenly prepared for me, by the en-
closure upon my table. After again and again reading
this simple but expressive document, I threw myself
on my bed, and attempted to forget it and the world.
But I could forget neither; my eyelids would not
close ; sleep had gone from me. After a useless
effort for composure, I rose, relighted my lamp, and
spent the rest of the night in writing to my relatives,
to Vincent, to Mordecai, and every one to whom I
felt his majesty's sign manual a vindication of my
whole career. There was still one cloud, that over-
hung my prospect, one gloomy and bitter remem-
brance : but that cloud I had neither the power, nor
even the wish to dispel ; that remembrance was al-
ready a part of my being ; to extinguish it was
impossible. I resolved to cherish it, as a sacred
recollection, to combine it with the aspirations of my
new pursuit, and render them thus still nobler ; to
reserve it, as a treasure inaccessible to the knowledge
of mankind ; but to which I might return in my hours
MARSTON. 233
of discontent with the world, and restore my sense of
the beauty of mind and form, which might still exist,
in the shape of human nature.
Yet, it may be justly supposed, that, during the
interval of my equipment, I did not limit my feelings
to this lonely abstraction. I spent an anxious period,
in making enquiries for the Marechale, in every
quarter which offered the slightest probability of dis-
covering her abode. Though I had seen the announce-
ment of Clotilde's approaching marriage in the public
journals, I had seen no mention of its having taken
place. But my search was wholly unproductive. The
captivating duchess, who received me with the kind-
ness which seemed a part of her nature, while she
joined in the general admiration of the "young, the
lovely, and the accomplished Comtesse," " her dearest
of friends/' could tell me nothing more, than that she
had left London, with the intention of visiting France.
There her knowledge ceased. I learned only further,
that she had grown singularly fond of solitude, Avas
melancholy, and had no hesitation in expressing the
deepest dislike to the marriage proposed by her
family. My enquiry was at an end.
Hopeless as this intelligence was, it relieved me
from the certainty, which would have been despair.
While Clotilde remained unallied to one whom I
could not avoid regarding as an uncongenial spirit ;
there was, at least, the chance of happiness remain-
ing for me. If there should be a war, my regiment
would be among the first to be employed, and France
would inevitably be the first object of a British ex-
pedition. The " march to Paris" had been pro-
234 MARSTON.
claimed by orators, exhibited in theatres, and chanted
in street ballads. I was young, ardent, and active.
My family name was one known to the table, at which
I seated myself on my introduction to the Guards,
and I was immediately on the best footing with the
gallant young men of a corps which has never suf-
fered a stain. I had even some peculiar sources of
favour in their eyes. — I had actually made a cam-
paign. This was more than had been done by any
member of the regiment. The Guards, always brave,
and always foremost, as they were ; had not seen a
shot fired, for a quarter of a. century. The man who
had seen the realities of war on the magnificent scale
of continental campaigning, thus possessed a certain
superiority. And I had actually learned enough, under
the Duke of Brunswick, a master of tactics ; to render
my services useful, at the moment.
The discipline of the British army was not then,
what it has since been, among the most effective in
Europe. — It was not then, the "grenadier army."
There was no peculiarly strong reason for the minute
toil of foreign discipline, in an army Avhich had never
been engaged, since the American War. But, other
days were now obviously at hand, and the passion for
discipline, and above all others, for the Prussian dis-
cipline, became universal. With the exaggeration,
common to all popular impulses, the tactics of Frede-
rick were now regarded as the secrets of victory.
That great soldier, and most crafty of men, by his
private reviews, to which no stranger, even of the
highest rank, was ever admitted; and by a series of
mystifications, had laboured to produce this impression
MARSTON. 235
upon Europe, and had largely succeeded. Mankind
love being cheated ; and what the charlatanism of
necromancy had effected a thousand years ago, was
then effected by the charlatanism of genius. If I,
too, had seen the Prussian troops only at Potsdam, I
should probably have mistaken the truncheon for a
talisman, like the rest of the world. But the field
suffers no mystification. I had seen, that the true
secret of this great tactician, for such unquestionably
he was ; consisted in his rejecting the superfluities of
service, and retaining the substance ; in reducing
tactics to the ready application of force ; and in sim-
plifying the old and tardy manoeuvres of the French
and Austrian battalions, to the few expeditious and
essential formations required before an enemy in the
field. — I was soon offered the adjutancy, and I ac-
cepted it rejoicingly.
In those days, by a curious anomaly, which can
scarcely be believed in ours, every regiment was prac-
tically free to choose its own system of manoeuvre.
The natural consequence was, that no two regiments
executed any one movement alike. Thus, to brigade
the army was impossible, and every field-day was
a scene of ludicrous confusion. But, the Prussian
discipline, which has since been made the basis of the
British, was then perfectly new, and it had all the
effect of a brilliant novelty. Our parade w"as con-
stantly crowded with officers of the highest grades,
anxious to transmit its practice to their regiments.
The king, always attached to German recollections,
and who would have made as good a soldier as any
of his forefathers, was frequently a spectator; and
2S6 MARSTON.
the regiment, thus stimulated, rapidly displayed all
the completeness and precision of movement which,
to this day, makes a review of the Guards the finest
military spectacle in Europe.
The adjutant was not forgotten in the general
applause. I was promised promotion, in the most
gratifying language of royalty itself, and all the glit-
tering prospects of the most glittering of all pursuits
opened before me. — I still had my moments of de-
pression. Clotilde often rose before me, like a de-
parted spirit, in the solitude of my chamber. I
mentally saw her, in the midst of those sumptuous
balls and banquets which the nobility gave in such
profusion at this period. When a shape, however
faintly resembling her incomparable elegance of form,
passed before my eye ; or a voice, in the slightest
degree reminding me of her touching tones, reached
my ear; I felt an irresistible pang, which, for the
time, embittered all the scene around me.
But I had in no period of my life, been suifered to
linger long in melancholy. One night, on return-
ing from a dinner at H House, I found a
gentleman in possession of my chamber, with my
fire briskly blazing, supper on the table, and every
appearance of his having made himself master of the
establishment. As I paused at the door; in some
surprise at the ease of the proceeding ; the intruder
turned round, and I saw the face of my old and
excellent friend Vincent. I was delighted to take
the honest hand of one, who was enough to redeem
the character of human nature. He was full of con-
gratulations, and country news. He told me that
MARSTON. 237
this, his first visit to London for years, was simply,
to shake hands with his pupil ; to hear from him his
adventures; and to have the opportunity of seeing
his regiment on parade. He had, on that day, en-
joyed all his objects together. He had visited our
parade. The regiment " reminded him of the grena-
diers of Maria Theresa, in the first Hungarian cam-
paign ; and all that he wished for me was, that I had
seen Daun or Laudohn."
But he had more important topics. By an acci-
dental meeting with an old college friend, high in
office, he had ascertained, that an expedition to
Holland was resolved on ; and that it was to take
place without delay. — " Williamstadt was bombarded,
and must fall in a few days, if not relieved. With
its fall, the Seven Provinces would be thrown open.
In this emergency, aid had been solicited from Eng-
land. An envoy had just arrived, soliciting imme-
diate succours."
Vincent's country news was brief. My lordly
brother was in pursuit of a neighbouring heiress ;
and, as a prospective remedy for matrimonial ennui,
was also speculating on the chance of employment
on some foreign embassy. — Vincent himself had
married one of his daughters to a neighbouring
squire; whom he denominated an "unlicked cub,"
but an honest man. Thus I had the knowledge of
all that the country could furnish, and thus " runs
the world away."
War was proclaimed. The French advance into
the territories of our old and very helpless ally, awoke
England at once. The perfectly fruitless negotia-
238 MARSTON.
tions, by which the shde from disgust into war is
generally managed, had produced their effect ; and
France, furious for its prey, and England, indignant
at the French bulletins, for the first time were to be
brought face to face. The Guards were ordered for
embarkation. We received the order in the spirit of
a jubilee. All had been prepared. And, on the day
before our final parade, I received my appointment
to a company.
That parade, next morning, was one which I be-
lieve was never forgotten, by any individual, who had
the good fortune to witness it. Of all the striking
ceremonials which I have ever seen, it was the most
striking. The king had given notice of his intention
to be present, and bid us farewell. At six o'clock,
the three regiments were drawn up in front of the
Horse Guards, a body of three thousand men, and
finer-looking troops never bore arms. All the avenues
to the park were crowded with the multitude.
Exactly at the appointed half-hour, a rush of the
people towards the parade showed that the king,
always punctual, was at hand. He came, surrounded
by general officers ; with the Prince of Wales, then a
most chivalric figure, in the uniform of his regiment
of light dragoons ; and the Duke of York, as a field-
marshal. The enthusiasm of the troops could not
be restrained, as this brilliant staff" approached their
line ; and three cheers were given with all the zeal
of honest loyalty. There are times when tears are
the only substitute for speech ; and the king, one of
the most kind-hearted of men, was visibly affected
at this reception. Another cortege now approached ;
MARSTON. 239
they were the carriages of the queen and princesses.
The scene now became almost painful. There was
many a tear from royal and noble eyes — the impulse
of high emotion, not of sorrow — or if tinged with
the thoughts which always shade the name of war,
yet undegraded by weakness. The multitude caught
the feeling; the shouts subsided; and all was weep-
ing, and waving of handkerchiefs.
The king put an end to this embarrassing sym-
pathy. He rode forward, and taking his station
in the centre of the parade, gave the word to
" march." He was answered by one gallant
"huzza" from the line, repeated by the thousands
and tens of thousands who now moved before and
around us. Our bands struck up, and with the
monarch and his sons at our head, and the queen
and princesses following in their equipages, we
marched through streets, crowded to the roof, echo-
ing with acclamations, and wishing us all good for-
tune as we passed along ; until we left the mighty
metropolis behind. Even then, it was only to meet
the new multitude of the country. The road to
Greenwich, where we were to embark, exhibited a
population as countless, enthusiastic, and full of
good wishes, as those with whom we had just parted.
The king still rode in our front ; flags, banners, and
every kind of animating testimonial met our eyes ;
and if ever there was a just triumph before the vic-
tory, it was in that honest and generous display of
the true heart of England.
The embarkation took place within a few hours ;
and on that night, we slept on the element which
240 MARSTON.
Britain has so long made her field of battle. The
weather was serene, and we fully enjoyed the fresh-
ness of the air, and the brightness of the view, as we
rounded the coast. At the mouth of the Thames,
we met a strong squadron of the line of battle, ap-
pointed for our convoy, and bringing numerous
transports with troops. Our fleet had now become
extensive, and as we moved out from the land, the
sight became continually more animated and exciting.
The despatch of the look-out frigates, the constant
passing of signals, the firing of guns to regulate the
sailing of the great convoy, the manoeuvres of those
floating castles, the seventy-fours and three-deckers,
the harmony of their bands as they passed us,
sweeping along under a cloud of canvas, with the
hum of the thousands on board — all formed one of
the most heart-stirring combinations that could exist
to the eye, or perhaps, to the heart of a human
being.
I stood gazing from the poop of our transport the
entire day : and even when evening came, it was but a
change of interest and beauty. We sailed proudly
along ; a moving multitude — a fragment of a mighty
nation — almost a nation ourselves, on the face of the
deep. Within the horizon which now lay beneath my
glance, smooth as glass, and shining in the richness
of the departing day, what materials of living power
were gathered ; what bold hearts ; what high hopes ;
what indefatigable perseverance ; what accomplished
intelligence ! a force, inferior to the one before me,
had more than once changed the fate of the world.
It might be now on its way, only to change that fate
MARSTON. 0[1
once more. The cause, too, was a noble one. It was
stained by no aggression, no perfidy, or desire of con-
quest. It was simply to protect a friendly nation,
and to sustain the faith of treaties. It had no taint
of cruelty or crime to degrade the soldiership of
England. We were acting in the character which
had already exalted her name, as protector of the
weak and punisher of the powerful ; the great cham-
pion of justice, truth, and right, throughout the
world.
VOL. II. M
CHAPTER XXVII.
" Suppose that you have seeu
The well-appointed king
Embark his royalty. And his brave fleet,
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning.
Play with your fancies, and in them behold
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing ;
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confused ; behold the threaded sail
Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge."
SlIAKSPEARE.
On the second evening, we had left the green hills
and white cliffs behind, and saw the long level of the
coast of Holland. But, if the coast was repellent,
nothing could exceed the eagerness of the inhabitants
to welcome our arrival. On our first approach to
the land, every boat that could swim came off,
crowded with people, some to take refuge on board
the fleet, but thousands to urge our speedy landing.
The ferocious plunder which had become the prin-
ciple of the republican arms, had stricken terror into
the hearts of the Hollanders ; a people remarkably
attached to home, and fond, or even jealous, of the
MARSTON. 2 j 3
preservation of the most trivial article of property
connected with that home. The French troops, often
pressed with hunger, and adopting the desperate
maxim of " making war support war/' had committed
such wanton havoc of property in the Netherlands ;
that, at this distance, the common effect of exaggera-
tion described them as rather demons than men.
The man-of-war boats were instantly cheering round
us ; and my regiment had the honour to be the first on
shore. War is of all things the most picturesque, and
there never was a gala on the waters of the Adriatic
more gay or glittering than the landing. But we
had infinitely the advantage in our numbers, in the
gallantry, and, what gave a higher feeling to the whole,
in the reality of all our objects. This was no painted
pageant ; it was real strength, real soldiership ; the
cannon that roared above our heads, as we descended
into the boats, were the thunderers which had shaken
many a battlement; the flotilla of launches, long-
boats, and cutters, which covered the sea, was manned
with the soldiers and sailors destined to fight the actual
battle of human freedom on every shore of the globe.
The ships were that British fleet, whose name was
synonymous with the mightiest exploits of war, and
which it would have been well worth going round
the globe to see.
On this night we bivouacked; for the shore offered
no human habitation, and it was too late for the
landing of our tents. But the sand was dry ; our
fires were soon lighted ; all was sport and activity ;
our bands played " Welcome to Holland ;" our men
danced with the peasantry ; all had the look of a mag-
M 2
244 MARSTON.
nificent frolic ; and, when at last I threw myself on my
open-air pillow, I dreamed of the " March to Paris."
At daybreak we moved in advance, in the highest
spirits, and only longing to have an opportunity of
trying our strength with the enemy. From time to
time, the sound of a cannonade reached us, and
heightened our eagerness. But Holland is proverb-
ially difficult for any movements but those of a track-
schuyt ; and the endless succession of narrow roads,
the perpetual canals, and the monotony of her level
fields, rich as they were, exhausted us more than the
distance. But the spell of human hearts is excite-
ment, and war is all excitement. All round us was
new, and, from the colonel to the rank and file, the
" general camp, pioneers and all," enjoyed the quaint
novelty of Dutch life. The little villages, so unlike
our own, and yet so admirably fitted for peasant
comfort ; the homesteads embedded in plantations of
willows ; the neatness of every thing round the
farm-houses, and even the sleekness of the cattle,
which seemed by their tameness to form a part of
the tenancy — all were objects of constant curiosity
on our march ; and we could easily comprehend the
horror with which the arrival of a French commis-
sariat must strike these comfortable burghers. But
the punctuality of British payments was perfectly
known already ; the whole plenty of the land was
poured out before us ; and we regaled sumptuously.
On the second evening of our march through this
landscape of fatness, we were warned of our approach
to the besieged fortress, by the louder roar of the
cannon, and not less by the general desolation of the
MARSTON. 045
country. The enemy's hussars had made a wide
sweep, and wherever they were seen, the villagers
had fled instantly, carrying- off their cattle. We found
the traces of those foraying excursions in the frag-
ments of burned mills, a favourite object of destruc-
tion with the French — for what purpose I never could
comprehend, except the pleasure of seeing them burn
— in cottages unroofed, for the sake of the thatch ;
in broken moveables, and, in some instances, in the
skeletons of horses and remnants of arms ; for the
peasantry were not always patient sufferers, and some
of the smaller detachments of the plunderers had
met with severe retaliation.
At length we halted for the evening, and orders were
issued for a general movement at daybreak, to attack
the French force coverins: the siege of Williamstadt.
The order was received with shouts ; and the night
was spent in high exultation. The cannonade, which
was now within a few miles of us, continued with
such violence during the night, that sleep was next
to impossible ; and long before the first streak of
light in the east, we were busy in the numberless
preparations for a first action. Orderlies and aides-
de-camp were speedily in motion, and at the first tap
of the reveille all were on parade. The sun rose
brightly, gave one broad blaze along our columns, and
after thus cheering us, instantly plunged into a mist,
which, except that it was not actually black, obscured
our road nearly as much as if it had been midnight.
This was simply a specimen of the new land on which
we now set foot. But it perplexed all the higher
powers prodigiously ; generals and the staff galloping
M 3
24a MARSTON.
round us in all directions, the whole one mass of con-
fusion. Yet we still pushed on, toiling our puzzled
way ; when, as if by magic, a regiment of the enemy's
hussars suddenly dashed full into the flank of our
column.
Never was there a more complete surprise. The
enemy were as much astonished as ourselves ; for the
collision had been the result of an attempt to find
their way through the fog back to their camp ; but I
now for the first time saw the temper of John Bull
in the field. The attack of the hussars was evidently
looked on by our men less as a military movement,
than as a piece of foreign impudence. To fire, might
be hazardous to some of our advancing columns,
which we could hear, though not see ; but the word
" charge " from our gallant old colonel was enough ;
they rushed with the bayonet on the cavalry, forced
their way in between the squadrons, which had been
brought to a stand by the narrowness of the dyke ;
escape was impossible, and in a few minutes, the whole
laid down their arms, gave up their horses to our fifers
and drummers, and were marched to the rear.
As if to reward us for this dashing affair, a gust of
wind blew aside the fog ; the sun gleamed again ; and
Williamstadt, the French camp, the covering force
formed in columns and waiting for us, and the whole
country to the horizon, green as a duck-pond, and
nearly as smooth, burst on our view. The sudden-
ness of the dis])lay was like the drawing-up of a
stage curtain, with a melo-dramatic army and castle
behind. Our advance was now rapid. The difficulty
of the ground, intersected with high narrow cause-
MARSTON. 247
ways stretching over marshj^ fields, retarded our pro-
gress ; and for two hours — and they were the two
longest hours which any of us had ever spent — we
were forced to content ourselves with firing at our
long range, and watching the progress of our more
distant columns moving on the flank of the enemy.
But, to a military eye, nothing could be more inter-
esting, than the view of the vast field on which those
concentric movements were developing themselves
from hour to hour. At length, we received the order
to advance, and drive in a strong column, which had
just debouched from a wood in front of us. Our
men rushed on with a cheer, threw in a heavy volley,
and charged. Their weight was irresistible, and the
French column broke, and took refuge again in the
wood. Another glance showed me the whole British
force in motion, every where pressing on ; the enemy
every where retreating, and with all their columns
converging upon their camp. Those are the brilliant
moments of a soldier's life. All was exultation. We
had met the enemy, and driven him from his position.
But the most difficult task of the day was still to be
achieved. The camp of the French had been placed
in strong ground ; heavy batteries commanded every
approach ; and Dampierre, their general, an officer of
known ability, had exhibited all his skill in rendering
the position, if not impregnable, at least, one which
could not be forced without the most serious loss.
The day was already far spent, and the troops were
wearied with six hours' marching and fighting ;
but nothing could restrain their eagerness to finish
the victory. The heads of columns again advanced,
M 4
24S MARSTON.
and the firing became tremendous on both sides.
The French batteries poured an absolute shower of
balls upon us, and we were beginning to lose men,
when a strange and indescribable sound suddenly
caught every ear. Such was the universal sense of
something more singular, and even more formidable,
than the work of war, that the fii'e on both sides
rapidly subsided, and every eye was turned to look for
the cause. It soon exhibited itself. With a roar like
thunder, we saw the sea bursting in upon the plain
where the enemy lay entrenched. — The Dutch gar-
rison had sallied out from Williamstadt, on the re-
pulse of the French, and cut the dyke in several places.
The ocean now fought the battle ; each chasm in
the long mound which protected the fields from
inundation, was the channel of a roaring cataract;
the trenches were soon filled ; as the waters advanced,
the field-works were washed away ; wave still rolled
on wave ; cannon, tents, baggage, every thing but
the soldier himself, was seen gradually sinking, or
floating away on the surface of the surge. Within
the hour, the ground on which we had fought during
the day was completely covered with the flood. The
French camp was totally buried. The enemy had
only time to make a hurried retreat, or rather flight,
along the causeways which stood above the waters.
As an army, they were utterly ruined ; when they at
last reached firm ground, they scattered through the
country, and those battalions never appeared in the
field again.
Our troops entered the relieved fortress, with
drums beating and colours flying. We were re-
MARSTON. 049
ceived as deliverers ; all that the place could offer
was heaped upon us ; and if praise could have repaid
our exploits, never was praise more abundant, than
from the lips of the whole population.
The catastrophe was complete; and when, at night,
I broke away from the heat and noise of the huge bar-
rack in which we had been placed, as the post of
favour ; and walked upon the rampart, nothing could
form a more expressive contrast to the tumult of the
day. The moon was high, and her light showed the
w^hole extent of the late field of battle. But all was
now one immense, shining lake. Where cavalry had
charged and artillery had roared, and the whole living
clash and confusion of a stubborn engagement had
filled the eye and ear, but a few hours before, all was
now an expanse of quiet water, calm as the grave,
without a vestige of the struggle, but with hundreds
of the combatants sleeping their last sleep below, and
the whole artillery and equipment of a powerful army
submerged.
I was still gazing from the ramparts, when I ob-
served a body of cavalry advancing along the dyke,
at a rapid pace, with a group of staff officers among
them. The alarm was given by the sentries; and,
after some brief pause, it was ascertained that they
were the escort of the new commander-in-chief of
the allied armies in the Netherlands. My first im-
pression was, that the man to whom so important a
trust was given, must be Clairfait ; and 1 hastened
down to meet him at our quarters. But I was disap-
pointed ; and for the dark and decided physiognomy,
and mihtary frankness of that distinguished soldier,
M 5
250 MARSTON.
I saw the Prince Cobourg, stern and lofty in his air,
evidently too Austrian to be popular, yet known to
be a gallant officer. But my disappointment was
considerably assuaged, by seeing one of his staff throw
himself off his horse, and hasten towards me with
almost joyous salutation. My surprise and pleasure
were equal, when I found him to be Guiscard !
Supper was on the table when I introduced the
Prussian philosopher to my brother officers ; and
they were delighted with him. But he was the phi-
losopher no longer, or rather had thrown off the half
misanthropy which had made him so strong a con-
trast to my honest friend Vornhorst. His very coun-
tenance had adopted a different expression. It was
no longer stern and sarcastic, but was lighted up
with pleasantry; and the only conception of the
change which I could form was, either that he had
arrived at that height of philosophy to which every
thing seems trivial, or that he had met with some of
those extraordinary instances of good fortune which
throw all the world into sunshine for the moment.
But he was full of knowledge on the subject most
interesting to his hearers ; and he gave us his in-
formation of the allied councils, and the movements
of the armies, with a copiousness and courtesy which
all our questioning could not tire.
" We have now," said he, " the finest army in line
that Europe has ever seen ; little less than 200,000
men are under the command of the prince. If he is
suffered to move them in a mass, they must break
through any part of the French territory which they
choose. If they divide, they will be beaten. It will
MARSTON. 251
now take only three pitched battles to reach Paris —
for the three covering armies fight with the guillotine
in their rear. But a single unlucky skirmish may
bring every peasant in France upon us ; and it takes
but fifteen days to make the French peasant a soldier.
Blows, and those straightforward, are our true po-
licy. If we negociate, we shall be beaten ; if beaten
here, we shall be beaten on the Rhine, and perhaps
even on the Danube."
The news of Duraourier's attempt to overthrow
his government had reached us, but in the usual
way of mystification. The answer of Guiscard was
prompt and plain. " Dumourier," said he, " is one
of those men who have a one-sided understanding.
He is a capital soldier, but a childish statesman ;
while, with an absurdity by no means limited to
himself, he thinks that his talent lies in statesman-
ship. The result has been, that the factions have
always managed him, as they do all men of his calibre.
But, when he attempted to act for himself, they
crushed him without mercy ; when he ceased to be
a tool, he necessarily became a victim. The army is
now in retreat. To the French, retreat is always
ruin ; the horseman sells his horse ; the foot-soldier
sells his musket ; and the artilleryman sells his
powder and ball, breaks up his gun-carriage for a
fire, and throws his gun into the next ditch. The
peasantry then fall on them all, repay their plunder
with the pike and the pitchfork, and in three days
the army is dissolved."
" But will Cobourg follow up his blow ? " was the
question on all sides.
M 6
T
252 JVIARSTON.
"The commander-in-chief," was the answer, "is
inteUigent and brave. He has learned his profession
under the greatest soldier whom Russia has ever
produced, or perhaps ever will produce — Suwarrow.
— But he himself is under orders. If he were a re-
publican general, he would instantly march, and
within a week he would be in the Tuileries. But,
as an Austrian commander, he must wait for the
opinion of men — too far off to know a single fact of
the campaign ; too blind to see it, if they were on
the spot; and too jealous even of their own general
to suffer him to beat the enemy, if victory would
throw their nothingness into the shade."
Every hour now produced its event. A general feu-
de-joie announced the, first success of the campaign on
the Rhine : Mayence had been taken, with its garri-
son of 20,000 men. The French general, Custine,
had made an unsuccessful attack on the lines of the
besiegers, to relieve the fortress in its last extremity ;
had been beaten, and driven back into the Vosges,
where he was at liberty to starve among the most
barren mountains of France. But this intelhgence
came qualified by the formidable rumour, that Prussia
was already making terms with the French, that it
had acknowledged the government, as the " Re-
public," and even that the Prussians had sung the
Marsellaise. Thus we had the light and shade.
But Avhile politicians tremble, soldiers are gay.
What were all those shiftings and doublings to us ?
We had all the luxuries of the most luxurious of all
lives, the foreign camp. We had now marched be-
yond the region of fogs and bogs, and were moving
MARSTON. 053
through the richest soil, and not the least beautiful
landscape, of the Continent. Holland was left be-
hind, Flanders was round us, France was before us.
We had the finest army in Europe, untouched by dis-
aster, confident in its strength, and with the enemy in
full flight. If we despised the fugitives, we fully as
much despised the politicians ; the man with the
sword in his hand naturally scorns the man with the
pen behind his ear. Thus we galloped, danced, and
dreamed on. The spring, too, had come ; the harsh-
ness of a foreign winter had been changed, within a
few days, to the delightful softness of early summer.
The fields were covered with flowers, and the country
Avas filled with preparations for the rural fetes of the
first of May.
I enjoyed the scene doubly, for I had been sent,
along with a squadron of dragoons, to the advanced
posts, and thus escaped the turmoil of the camp.
My quarters were in one of the old Flemish country-
houses, which had been the head-quarters of the
French general, and thus been preserved from the
usual ravage. The chateau was large, well furnished
in the national fashion, and the half-dozen domestics
who remained after the flight of their master, were
charmed with the expenditure which always follows
the presence of English troops. My companion,
the captain of dragoons, was one of the gallant speci-
mens of his country — the heir of a noble family,
generous and gay, brave as his own sword, and
knowing as little of the soldier's life, as became a
young aristocrat with the prospect of thirty thou-
sand a-year. He insisted on our giving a ball to the
f
254 MARSTON.
Flemings ; and our invitations were sent out accord-
ingly, for half a dozen leagues round. They in-
cluded, of course, the camp ; and every lounger who
could obtain leave for the night, came crowding in
upon our ball.
Nothing could succeed better. All was festivity
within doors. But not so all without, for the night
suddenly changed from serenity to storm. England
is not the only spot famed for fickleness of atmo-
sphere. By midnight, every beech and elm round
the chateau was tossing and bending down to the
roots, and a heavy snowfall was already sheeting the
fields. As the storm rose, it occurred to me to
ascertain, what provision might have been made
against it by our soldiers, who were lodged in the
barns and extensive outhouses of the chateau.
Leaving my dragoon friend to act as master of the
ceremonies, I sallied forth.
The storm was now at its height ; and it was with
some difficulty that I could make my way. In the
midst of the excessive darkness, I felt some animal
make a sudden spring on me, which nearly brought
me to the ground. Wolves were not common in the
country, but there had been some recent instances of
their issuing from the forests, and my first idea was,
that I had been thus attacked. But, I soon recog-
nised in my companion the huge house-dog of the
chateau, with whom I had already struck up a par-
ticular friendship. More sharpsighted than myself,
he had rushed across the wood after me, and exhibited
all imaginable rejoicing at the rencontre. I reached the
barns, found all my men wrapped in that quiet, which
MARSTON. Oj5
cares nothing for the troubles of kings and cabinet
councils, and was preparing to return ; when Caesar,
with every demonstration of having found something
of importance, brought me a letter which he had
just dug out of the snow. By the light of the lan-
tern, I discovered it to be, the Report of a French
officer, informing his general of our intended ball,
and proposing a plan for carrying off the whole
party together. I was thunderstruck. The letter
was dated three days before, and though evidently
dropped by some negligence, yet giving full time for
the writer to make his report in person, and bring the
force necessary for our capture. If it succeeded, an
exploit of this order might have paralysed the whole
campaign ; for nearly the entire staff of the army,
besides a crowd of regimental officers of all grades,
were within the walls of the chateau.
I hastened back, showed the Report to one or two
of the General officers, in private, for the purpose
of avoiding alarm to our fair partners ; and we then
considered, what means were left to protect us from
the approaching catastrophe. Our little council of
war was perplexed, and its propositions, various as
they were, came finally to the usual result — that we
had got into a scrape, and that we must get out of it
as well as we could. To send the ladies away was
impossible, in a tempest which already flooded
every road, and with all the trees crashing over their
heads. To expect reinforcements from the camp, at
such a distance, and in such weather, was hopeless ;
with the recollection, too, that the whole affair might
be over in the next quarter of an hour, and our
256 MARSTON,
entire assembly be in march before the French
hussars.
This was the first occasion of my responsibihty as
a soldier ; and I learned, from this time forth, to give
commanders-in-chief some credit for their respon-
sibilities. The agonies of that half-hour I have never
forgotten. Military failure was nothing, compared
with the universal shame and blighting which must
fail on the officer, who suffered such a disgrace to be
inflicted on him in the presence of the whole army.
My resolution was desperately, but decidedly taken —
if the post fell into the enemy's hands, on that night
to throw away my sword and abandon my profession ;
unless some French bayonet or bullet relieved me
from all the anxieties of this feverish world. To pro-
pose the command of the post to any of the superior
officers present was, as I well knew, contrary to rule ;
and on me and the dragoon, consequently, devolved
the whole duty.
The service of outposts was a branch of soldier-
ship, at that period, wholly unpractised by the Bri-
tish troops ; but I had seen it already, on its most
jjerfect scale, in the Prussian retreat. My first step
now was, to warn my soldiers and the dragoons of
the probability of attack ; and my second, to call for
a favourite quadrille, in which I saw all our guests
busily engaged, before I left the chateau. I now pro-
ceeded to repeat my Prussian lesson, in reconnoitring
the avenues to the house. This, which ought to have
been our first act on taking possession, had been
neglected ; in the common belief, that the enemy were
in full retreat. The gallant captain of dragoons pro-
MARSTON. 257
posed to take a gallop at the head of a party along
the chamsee, and ascertain whether there were any
symptomsof movement along the road. He mounted,
and was gone. Posting the remaining dragoons in
the farm-yard, I went to the front to make such pre-
parations as the time might allow, for the enemy.
Like the greater number of the Flemish chateaux,
the house was approached by a long avenue lined with
stately trees ; but it wanted the customary canal, or
the fosse, which, however detestable as an accompani-
ment to the grounds in peace, makes a tolerable pro-
tection in times of war, at least from marauding parties.
All was broad and open, except where the garden
walls, and hedges of the lawn, shut it in. As the
avenue was the only approach accessible to cavalry,
and as this was the force which would probably be
used for a covp-de-main, if it were to be attempted
at all ; I set all hands at work to secure it. Wild as
the night was, my men wielded the spade and mat-
tock with good will ; and we had completed a trench
of some feet deep and wide, half across the road ;
when I caught the trampling of cavalry at a distance.
My chagrin was irrepressible ; — the enemy would be
upon us, before we had got through our work, and
we must be taken, or fly. My men worked vigor-
ously ; but the cavalry were upon us — and to my
utter astonishment and infinite relief, our labours
produced a roar of laughter. The party were our
own dragoons ; who had looked for the French ad-
vance in vain, and were now amusing themselves with
our waste of toil. We forgave them their jest ; they
passed, and we prepared to follow to our quarters.
258 MARSTON.
Still, the French officer's report haunted me ; the
precision of its terms, and the feasibility of the enter-
prize itself, struck me with new force ; and, even
after I had given the word to move, I halted the men,
and climbing a little pleasure-turret by the side of
the avenue, gave a parting glance round the horizon.
But, nothing was to be seen. The night was as dark
as a dungeon, and I prepared to descend ; when, at the
moment, the distant sound of a trumpet broke on
the air ! I listened, and thought that I recognised
the French call, for cavalry to ''^ saddle and mount."
I sprang down ; every man piled his arms, took spade
and mattock in hand once more, and in a few minutes
the trench was completed across the road. Still, no
further notice of approaching troops was to be heard;
and I heard a low, but rather provoking, laugh spread
among my company. Yet, I determined to persevere ;
and ordering some of the trees round us to be cut
down, formed a rude species of chevaux-de-frise in
front of our trench. It was scarcely finished, when
the distant trampling of cavalry was heard in the lull
of the gale. All were now convinced ; and, dispatch-
ing a notice to the dragoons to be ready, we stood to
our arms. Giving the strictest orders that not a word
should be spoken, nor a shot fired, I waited for the
enemy. The trampling now increased every moment ;
and it was evident that the body of cavalry must be
large, though of its actual numbers we could form no
conjecture. They suddenly stopped at the entrance
of the avenue, and I was in fear that my trou-de-rat
would be discovered; but the national impatience
soon spared me this vexation. The cavalry, hearing
MARSTON. 259
nothing in the shape of resistance, and not relishing
the pelting of the storm in the open country, rushed
in without further search, and came pouring on, at
the gallop. The avenue was long, and the whole
corps was already within it ; when the leading squad-
rons came at full speed upon my rude fortification.
In they dashed, into the very heart of my chevaux-
de-frise. Nothing could equal the confusion. Some
sprang over the trees, but it was only to be flung
into the trench ; some even leaped the trench, but
it was only to be met by our bayonets. The greater
number, startled by the cries of their unlucky com-
rades in front, attempted to rein back ; but found it
impossible, from the weight of the squadrons still
pushing on from behind. At this point, while they
stood, a struggling mass, wholly unable to move
either backward or forward ; I gave the word, to fire,
and poured in a volley with terrible execution. An
ineffectual firing of pistols was the only return.
Some of their officers now rushed to the front, with
the usual gallantry of their character ; called on their
men to advance, and charged the trench ; but this
dash only filled it with falling men and horses. I
gave them a second volley, which was followed by a
howl of despair ; the whole of their leading squadron
was brought down — every shot had told. The mass
still stood, evidently taken by surprise, and wholly
unable to extricate themselves. I now ordered our
dragoons to mount, take a circuit to the head of the
avenue, and, if possible, close them in. While we con-
tinued our fire, I heard the effect of my order, in the
shout of a charo;e at the further end of the avenue.
OQQ MAESTON.
The staff and other officers in the chateau had
already hurried out at the sound of the firing : some
had come up to us, and others had joined the dra-
goons. A proposal was now sent by a general officer
to the commandant of the enemy, to surrender, with
a threat of being put to the sword, in case of an
instant's delay. The brave Frenchman was indig-
nant at the proposal, and threatened to hang the
bearer of it on the next tree. But the British camp
had by this time been alarmed. Bugles and trum-
pets were heard in every direction. Our dragoons
had already shut up the avenue ; and after some slight
discussion, the advance of a few squadrons more,
M'hich came up at the gallop, proved the total impos-
sibility of escape, and the affair was at an end. — This
night's melee had no rival in the campaign ; it put
into our hands twelve hundred of the best cavalry
in the French army, and almost wholly stripped the
enemy of the means of protecting his flanks ; while
it made a most brilliant figure in the Gazette — the
true triumph of the British soldier.
To me, it was a restoration to life from the depths
of despair. It may be perfectly true, that many a
post has been surprised, and many an officer cap-
tured, without being objects of penalty, or even of
public observation ; but my case was different. My
character as a soldier was essential to my existence.
The eyes of many, at home and abroad, were on me ;
and the scorn of one being, wherever she was, would
have been fatal to me. But, of those bitter extremes I
say no more ; my spirit was buoyant with a sense that
I had done my duty in the most effective style. Nor
MARSTON. 261
was I left to my solitary sense on the subject. My
return to the chateau was as triumphant, as if I had
gained a pitched battle at the head of a hundred
thousand men. Our fair guests, who had spent the
hour before in the terrors of immediate capture, were
boundless in their congratulations and expressions of
gratitude. The officers, to whom my defence had
made the whole difference between a French prison
and liberty, spoke in the manliest and most cheering
terms, of my conduct. The scene of the struggle
was visited during the next day by every officer of
the army, who could obtain a horse and an hour's
leave ; and the report which was forwarded to the
commander-in-chief contained language, which was
regarded as a sure pledge of promotion.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
" Let them come ;
They come like sacrifices in theii' trim.
And to the fire-eyed Maid of smoky war,
All hot and bleeding we will offer them.
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit
Up to his ears in blood."
Shakspeare.
GuiscARD hurried over to join in the congratula-
tion. He had been employed until a late hour in
sending despatches to his court, relative to the
growing problems of our politics with Prussia ; and
taking the first opportunity of throwing aside the
envoy, he came at speed to shake hands with me.
His impatience to see the ground scarcely suffered
him to sit down at table ; his toast " to the brave
British army" was given, and we went out to traverse
the avenue. After having inspected every corner of
it with his keen military glance — " You will find my
theory right," said he ; " war is always a succession
of mistakes. There never was a battle fought,
in which even the successful general could not point
out a series of his own blunders, any one of which
MARSTON. 263
might have ruined him. — The only distinction is,
that there are brilUant mistakes, and stupid ones.
Yours was of the former order ; the Frenchman's of
the latter. If, instead of sending his whole brigade
headlong down the road, like clowns at a fair, he
had dismounted half a squadron of his dragoons, and
sent them to fire into the casements of the chateau ;
while he kept the rest of his men in hand in the
neighbourhood ; he must have captured every soul of
the party, and by this time had you all fast at the
French head-quarters ; but he blundered, and he has
paid the price of blundering."
To my laughing reply, " that there was, at least,
some merit in the steadiness of the men who beat
him " — " Of course," was his answer. " The Ena;-
lish steadiness is like the English fire, the grand
cure for the English contempt of the tactician.
Yours is an army of forlorn hopes ; you are made
for assaults : but it must be owned, that your troops
of old managed that part of their business well, and
I dare say, that the art is not lost among you yet.
Still, there are other matters to be thought of. "Pray,"
said he, turning his keen eye on me, " can any one
in the chateau tell me, how near us the French
are to-night ? " I acknowledged my ignorance. " I
ask the question," said he, "because I think it by
no means impossible, that they are at this moment
marching down upon you. — Not that they can
afibrd to lose a brigade of cavalry a-night, and I
therefore think you safe enough for the twelve hours
to come ; but, I am far from answering for the next
twenty-four. Dampierre commands them ; I know
264 MARSTON.
him well — he is a bold and also a clever fellow ; and
the loss of his cavalry last night will leave him
no alternative, but to attack you, or to meet the
guillotine. These are fine times to make a general
officer look about him. — My last letters from the
Rhine state, that the two generals of the two co-
vering armies on the frontier have been put under
arrest, and that they are now both on their way
to Paris, from which Custine and Beauharnais will
probably never return with their heads on their
shoulders."
I shuddered at this fate of brave men, overcome
only by circumstances : and asked, " whether it was
possible that such a system could last, or in any
case could be endured by men with swords in their
hands,"
•' It can, and will," was the reply. " Soldiers are
the simplest race of mankind, when they come in
contact with the cunning men of cities. An army,
showy and even successful as it may be, is always an
instrument and no more — a terrible instrument, I
grant you, but as much in the hands of the civilian,
as one of your howitzers is in the hands of the men
who load and fire it. At this moment sixty com-
missioners, ruffians and cut-throats to a man — fellows
whom the true soldier abhors, and who are covered
with blood from top to toe ; are on their way from
Paris to the head- quarters of the fourteen armies of
the republic. — Woe be to the general who has a will
of his own ! Those fellows will arrest him, in the
midst of his own staff, carry him off* in the presence
of his army, and send him to give a popular holiday
MARSTON. 265
to the Parisians, by his execution within half an
hour after his arrival. So much for the power of an
army."
" But Frenchmen are human beings after all.
Must not those horrors revolt human nature ? " was
my question, put with indignant sincerity. He
looked at me with a quiet smile.
" You are romantic, Marston, but you are of an
age that becomes romance. When you shall have
lived as long in the world as I have done, and seen
as much of the world as I have seen, you will know
that it is utterly selfish. It may be true, that some
generous spirits are to be found here and there, some
fond hearts to cling to, some noble natures which
inspire an involuntary homage to their superiority ;
but you might as well expect to be lighted on your
way by a succession of meteors. In the world, you
will find that every man carries his lantern for him-
self ; and that whether small or great his light, the
first object is, to guide his own steps, with not the
slightest care whether yours may not be into the
swamp — unless, indeed, he may have a particular
object in bewildering you into the very heart of it.
But now, to more pressing aflfairs than my honest
and luckless philosophy. Get leave from your
colonel to take a ride with me. I feel a sudden
wish to know what Dampierre is doing ; and a few
hours, and as few leagues, may supply us with
information, on points which your brave countrymen
seem so constitutionally to despise. — But recollect
that / am a Prussian."
We returned to the table, which was crowded
VOL. II. N
266 MARSTON.
with visitors, and spent an hour or two in great
enjojonent ; for what enjoyment can be higher than
the conversation of minds wilHng to give and receive
intellectual pleasure ? And Guiscard was never
more animated, easy, and abundant, in communi-
cating that pleasure. He was a model of the most
accomplished order of the continental gentleman.
He had commenced life as a scholar ; a disappoint-
ment in his affections drove him into the army. He
discovered that he was made for the profession ;
and, combining the accomplished diplomatist with
the almost chivalric soldier, he had rapidly risen to
the highest rank of the royal staff*. But he had the
still rarer qualities of a sincere heart, and was a firm
and willing friend.
The orderly now returned with the leave for which
I had applied. The post was left in charge of the
captain of dragoons ; and Guiscard and I, without
mentioning our purpose, rode out quietly, as if to
enjoy the cool of the evening. It was well worth
enjoying. The storm had gone down at daybreak,
and been succeeded by a glowing sun ; the fields
flourished again, and if I had been disposed to forget
the tremendous business which might be preparing
for the morrow, I might have lingered long over
the matchless luxuriance of the Flemish landscape.
There certainly never was one which gave slighter
evidence of the approach of two hostile armies.
From the first hill which we ascended, the view,
for leagues round, exhibited nothing but the rich
tranquillity of a country wholly agi'icultural ; soft
uplands, covered with cattle grazing ; ploughed
MARSTON. C(37
fields, purpling in the twilight ; clumps of trees
sheltering villages, from which the smoke of the
evening fires rose slowly on the almost breathless
air, giving the full impression of the comfort of
the meal within ; and at intervals, some huge old
chateau, with its buttressed and richly-wrought
architecture — those carvings and colourings which
so strikingly convey the idea of a past age of quaint
luxury and lavish wealth — rose from the centre of its
beech grove, glaring against the sunset, as if it had
been suddenly covered with a sheet of gold. All
was peace, and the few peasants whom we met, as
the night fell, all told the same tale, that there
had been no patrols in their neighbourhood of late,
and that, with the exception of the attack on the
'' out-posts of the English," they had not heard or
seen anything of the French, for a month before.
The night had now fallen, and though calm, it
was one of remarkable darkness. We passed village
after village, but by this time all were asleep, and
except the disturbance of the house-dogs as we rode
by, not a sound was to be heard. I too felt every
inclination to take my share of " nature's sweet re-
storer, balmy sleep," and proposed to my com-
panion, to turn om" horses into the first farm-yard,
and " borrow an hour " or two's rest from the
farmer's hospitality, and clean straw.
" I agree with you," was the answer, "that Dam-
pierre is clearly not on this road ; but, that is no rea-
son why he may not be on some other. On con-
sidering the matter, I think that we have been wrong
in looking for him here ; for his national adroitness
N 2
268 MARSTON.
is much more likely to have tried a movement in any
other direction. He may now be marching on either
the right or the left of the spot where we are standing ;
and if he is the officer that I believe him to be, he
is trying that game at this moment."
" What then is to be done, but ride back to our
quarters, unless we should prefer being cut off by his
advance ?" was my question.
" One thing is to be done," was the reply — " we
must not let ourselves be laughed at ; and if we re-
turn with nothing more for our night's work, than the
story, that we slept in a Flemish barn, we shall be
laughed at. — So far as I am concerned, I care nothing
for the sneers of ignorance ; but, my young friend,
your late conduct has inevitably made you an object
of envy already ; and the only way to pluck the sting
out of envy, is by giving the envious some new ser-
vice to think of."
We now agreed to separate, and examine the
country to the right and left, for an hour precisely ;
meeting at one of the villages in the road, if no ad-
vance of the enemy were discernible within that
time. We parted, and I commenced as comfortless
an expedition, as it would be easy to imagine. The
Flemish cross-roads, never very passable, were now
deep in mire ; the rivulets, of which they are gene-
rally the conduits, had been swelled by the storm of
the night before ; and I floundered on, for nearly the
appointed time, in all the perplexity of a stray tra-
veller.
I was on the point of returning, when I observed
a sudden light rising above some farm-houses, about
MARSTON. 2G9
half a league off. The light rapidly increased, and
I rode forward, in some degree guided by its illumina-
tion. But, after blazing fiercely for a while, it sank as
suddenly as it rose ; and I was again left bewildered
among hedges and ditches. But, a loud hum of
voices, followed by the sound of many footsteps, now
convinced me, that a large body of men were near ;
though whether peasants roused by the fire, or bat-
talions, I was still unable to discover. While I stood
under cover of a clump of trees by the road-side, the
question was settled, by the march of a patrol of ca-
valry, followed at brief intervals by squadrons and light
troops intermixed. It was evident, that Dampierre
meditated a surprise of the British forces, and that
the whole of his skirmishers were already in motion.
How long this movement had continued, or how near
the enemy might already have approached to the
British camp, was entirely beyond my conjecture ;
and, for the first few moments, the probability of the
surprise, and the possibility of my being already so
completely within the range of the French march as
to preclude my bearing the intelligence in sufficient
time, made the drops of anxiety and perturbation roll
down my forehead. — But, every thing must be tried.
I no longer attempted to wind my way back through
the network of lanes ; but, in the spirit of an English
sportsman, took the country in a straight line towards
the British quarters. My horse, a thorough bred
English hunter, evidently preferred leaping the Flem-
ish fences, to wading his way through the swamps ;
and I had the honour of bringing the first informa-
N 3
270 MARSTON.
tion, and the happiness of finding that I had brought
it just in the right time.
The camp was immediately under arms ; every
preparation was made, with a silence which gave me a
high conception of the capabihties of the British
soldier for every species of service ; and, without a
sound among ten thousand men, we waited for the
approach of the enemy.
Dampierre's manoeuvre had been a dashing one ;
conceived and managed with the skill of an able
officer. His purpose had been, to throw his main
body into the rear of our position; and while he
drew off our attention by a false attack on our front,
avail himself of the confusion of a night attack to
crush us. Whether the fighting qualities of the
Englishman would not have made him repent of his
plan under any circumstances, is no longer the ques-
tion ; but the surprise was now wholly his own. —
The first volley which we poured into his columns, as
they crept up stealthily towards our line, was so
heavy that it finished the battle. By the blaze of the
musketry, we could see the French masses actually
rolling back upon each other, staggering and shaken
like landsmen at sea, or like walls in an earth-
quake. Our cavalry were now ordered to follow ;
but the enemy were too quick in making their escape;
and the intersected nature of the country forbade any
continued pursuit. A few shots from our howitzers,
which ripped up the ground after them, were all that
we could send as our parting present; and the en-
gagement, which began in such silence and stern-
MARSTON. 07 1 '
ness, finished in roars of laughter from all our bat-
talions.
Day broke, and the order was issued, to follow the
French general. The troops, animated by the pros-
pect of coming to action at last, and utterly wearied
with the idleness of the camp, received the intel-
ligence with shouts ; and the whole moved rapidly
forward. DampieiTC, before the march of the previ-
ous night, had provided for casualty, by forming an
entrenched camp, in the famous position of Famars.
It was strong by nature, and he had added to its
strength by covering it with field-works, and a power-
ful ai'tillery. It was late in the day, before we came
within sight of it ; and its strength, from the height
of its glacis — the natural glacis made by a succession
of sloping hills — was all displayed to full and formi-
dable advantage.
The troops, fatigued with the length of the march
under the burning sun of one of the hottest days that
I ever felt ; were now halted at the foot of the heights;
and the plans of attack proposed were various enough
to have perplexed the Aulic Council itself. Lines
of circumvallation, bombardment, and waiting the
effects of famine, were successively urged. But the
British style prevailed at last over the scientific.
The Guards were ordered to head the column which
was to storm the lines in front ; while columns on the
right and left were put in motion at the same instant.
We rushed forward under a general discharge of the
French artillery and musketry, and in a quarter of an
hour the position was in our hands. The difficulty
of its approach, and the broken nature of the ground
N 4
272 MARSTON.
in its rear, still enabled the French general to make
his retreat, with the chief part of his forces. But, our
prize Vas well worth the trouble ; for we brought
back two thousand prisoners, and the whole artillery
in position.
The war had now begun in earnest ; and our ad-
vance was unintermitted. On the eighth day from
the storm of Famars, we again came in sight of Dam-
pierre. He was now the assailant ; our army, which
had never exceeded ten thousand men, (such was the
military parsimony of those days,) with the Prussian
troops, and some of the smaller German contingents,
were now unwisely spread, to cover a line of nearly
thirty miles. The French general had seized the
opportunity of retaliating his ill fortune upon the
allied troops. At daybreak we were roused by the
tidings, that the French had broken through our
weak extended line in several places, and had got
into the rear of the whole army. The force of the
enemy, its direction, and its object, were alike matters
of total ignorance ; and, for some hours, it was im-
possible to obtain any exact information.
It was in vain, that we adopted all the usual expe-
dients, of detaching officers, examining peasants, or
judging of the progress of the engagement by the
sound of the advancing or retreating fire. We had
only to wait, drawn up ready for action, and take our
chance of the result. Of all the contingencies of the
field, none is more perplexing ; but I had a personal
source of anxiety, to add to the general vexation. I
had every reason to believe, that my excellent friend,
Guiscard, had either fallen into the hands of the
MARSTON. 073
enemy, or had been killed on the night when we
separated. If either misfortune had occurred, it was
solely in consequence of his zeal for my character ;
and the thought inexpressibly distressed me. 1 had
made the most persevering enquiries for him, but
without any success ; or rather, with a painful gather-
ing of facts, all which told against my feelings. — His
horse had been found straying through the country ;
his helmet had been also found ; with a fragment of a
sabre, in a spot evidently much trampled, and which,
therefore, appeared to be the scene of the personal
rencontre in which he had probably fallen. Every
thing had been found, but his body.
At length, the firing, which had continued with
more or less steadiness during the day, approached
our position, and we were ordered to advance. The
countrj' was now a portion of an ancient forest, and
it was difficult to see in front of us, beyond a few
hundred yards. As we made way, we could hear
not only the musketry, but the shouting of the troops
engaged ; as, growing constantly more impatient, we
pressed on. At length, an officer came galloping to-
wards us. Judge of ray astonishment and delight,
when I saw Guiscard. As he reined up beside me —
" I have not a moment," said he, " to speak to you;
you shall hear of my adventures by and by. I was
in as much fear for you, as you probably were for me.
But now, tell me, where I am to look for the officer
in command of the column."
The general was soon found ; and Guiscard com-
municated to him that the enemy had concentrated
his chief force directly in front of us, where a Prussian
N 5
274 MARSTON.
column was posted; that the Prussians had vigor-
ously resisted several successive attacks; but that
the force converging on it was too powerful, and
that it must speedily retire. "Then let it retire,"
was the generaFs reply, "and we shall take its
place,"
" Pardon me, general," was the prompt suggestion
of the pupil of a more experienced school ; " but, if
you will permit me, I shall ride back to my country-
men, inform them of your advance, and make them
hold their position ; until you come out from the
forest upon the enemy's flank."
His opinion was received, and he put spurs to his
horse, and was gone. We now moved with all speed
to the right of our former direction ; and after half
an hour's toiling through the intricacies of a wood, on
which no axe seemed to have fallen since the Deluge,
passed round the enemy, and came full upon their
rear. A few volleys, thrown in upon them in this
state of alarm, broke them. The Prussian fire in front,
and ours in the rear, made their disorder irreparable.
In this crisis, Dampierre rushed forward, with a group
of aides-de-camp, to restore the engagement ; striking
the fugitives with his sabre, and desperately exposing
his person to the balls, which now fell thick as hail
around him. For a while, he seemed to bear a charmed
life ; but a rifleman of the Prussian hulans took a
sure aim. He fired, and I saw the unfortunate ge-
neral fall from his horse. He died instantly. — A more
gallant death, though scarcely a more expeditious
one, than awaited the unsuccessful generals of the
merciless Republic. We buried him on the spot
MARSTON.
where he fell, with the honours due to a distinguished
soldier. — Before nightfall, the French had retired in
all quarters ; and the remnant of their troops hurried
across the Flemish frontier, utterly disheartened and
ruined.
This engagement, which was known long after, as
the battle of the forest of Vicogne, cleared the Ne-
therlands, raised the fame of the British troops to the
highest pitch, and left in their hands four thousand
prisoners.
The covmcils of the allied camp now assumed a
bolder tone. France was before us. The popular
enthusiasm had been cooled by time and calamity.
Defeat had taught the nation the folly of supposing,
that it could contend single-handed with Europe;
and the only obstacle to our march to Paris was the
line of fortresses erected by Louis XIV. The most
powerful of those fortresses lay in the road by which the
British columns were now advancing ; and it was with
a singular mixture of rejoicing and anxiety, of ardour
and awe ; that I saw, at the breaking of a brilliant
morning, spread beneath me, the strong city of
Valenciennes.
X 6
CHAPTER XXIX.
" Oh, for the sulphurous eve of June,
When down this Belgian hill
His bristlmg guards' superb platoon
He led unbroken still.
*****
Now gladly forward he would dash
Amid that onset — on,
Where blazing shot, and sabre crash,
Pealed o'er his empire gone.
There 'neath his vanquished banners lost
Should close his grand career."
Simmons.
Europe had never seen so complete or so power-
ful an army^ as that which was now assembled within
sight of Valenciennes. The city was already re-
garded as in our possession ; and crowds of military
strangers, from every part of the Continent, came
day by day pouring into the allied camp. Nothing
could equal the admiration excited by the British
troops. The admirable strength, stature, and dis-
cipline of the men, and the successes which they
had already obtained, made them the first object of
universal interest ; and the parades of our regiments
MARSTON. 077
formed a daily levee of princes and nobles. It was
impossible that soldiership could be on a more stately
scale. Other times have followed, which have shown
the still statelier sight of nations marching to battle ;
but the hundred thousand men who marched under
Cobourg to take up their position in the lines of
Valenciennes, filled the eye of Europe; and never
was there a more brilliant spectacle.
At length, orders were issued, to prepare for action,
and the staff of the army were busily employed in
examining the ground. The Guards were ordered
to cover the operations of the pioneers ; and all was
soon in readiness for the night on which the first
trench was to be opened. A siege is always the
most difficult labour of an army, and there is none
which more perplexes a general. To the troops, it
is incessant toil ; to the general, continual anxiety.
The men always have the sense of that disgust, which
grows upon the soldier, when he contemplates a six
weeks' delay in the sight of stone walls; and the
commander, alive to every sound of hazard, feels
that he yet must stand still, and wait for the attack
of every force which can be gathered round the
horizon. He may be the lion, but he is the lion in
a chain — formidable, perhaps, to those who may
venture within its length, but wholly helpless against
all beyond. Yet those feelings, inevitable as they
are, were but slightly felt in our encampment round
the frowning ramparts of the city. We had already
swept all before us ; we had learned the language of
victory ; we were in the midst of a country abound-
ing with all the good things of life, and which.
278 MARSTON.
though far from exhibiting the luxuriant beauty of
the British plains, was yet rich and various enough
to please the eye.
Our camp was one vast scene of gaiety. War
had, if ever, laid aside its darker draperies, and
" grim-visaged" as it is, had smoothed its " wrinkled
front." The presence of so many visitors of the
highest rank gave every thing the air of royalty.
High manners, splendid entertainments, and all the
habits and indulgences of the life of courts, had fled
from France, only to be revived in Flanders. Our
army was a court on the march ; and the commander
of the British — the honest, kind-hearted, and brave
Duke of York — bore his rank like a prince, and
gathered involuntarily round him as showy a circle
as ever figured in St. James's, or even in the glitter-
ing saloons of the Tuileries. Hunting parties, balls,
suppers, and amateur theatrical performances, not
merely varied the time, but made it fly. Hope had
its share too, as well as possession. — Paris was before
us ; and on the road to the capital lay but the one
fortress which was about to be destroyed with our
fire ; and of which our engineers talked with con-
tempt as the decayed work of " old" Vauban.
But the course of victory is like the course of love,
which, the poet says, " never does run smooth."
The successes of the allies had been too rapid for
their cabinets ; and we had found ourselves on the
frontiers of France before the guardian genii of
Europe, in the shape of the stiff'-skirted and anti-
quated privy councillors of Vienna and Berlin, had
made up their minds, as to our disposal of the prize.
MARSTON. 279
Startling words suddenly began to make their ap-
pearance in the despatches, and " indemnity for the
past and security for the future" — those luckless
phrases, which were yet destined to form so large a
portion of senatorial eloquence, and give birth to so
prolific an oifspring of European ridicule — figured
in diplomacy for the first time ; while our pioneers
stood, pickaxe in hand, waiting the order, to break
ground.
We thus lost day after day. Couriers were busy,
while soldiers were yawning themselves to death;
and the only war carried on was in the discontents
of the military councils. — Who was to have Valen-
ciennes ? whose flag was to be hoisted on Lille ?
■\vhose army was to garrison Conde ? became national
questions. Who was to cut the favourite slices of
France ? employed all the gossips of the camp, in
imitation of the graver gossips of the cabinet ; and,
in the mean time, we were saved the trouble of the
division, by a furious decree from the Convention,
ordering every man in France to take up arms ; con-
verting all the churches into arsenals, anathematizing
the German princes, as so many brute beasts, and
recommending to their German subjects the grand
republican remedy of the guillotine for all the dis-
orders of their governments past, present, and to
come.
Circumstances seldom give an infantry officer more
than a view of the movements in front of his regi-
ment ; but, my intimacy with Guiscard allowed me
better opportunities. Among his variety of attain-
ments, he was a first-rate engineer, and he was thus
280 MARSTON.
constantly employed, where any thing connected with
the higher departments of the staff required his
science. He was now attached to the Prussian
mission, which moved with the head-quarters of the
British force ; and our intercourse was continued.
I thus joined the reconnoitring parties under his
command, and received the most important lessons
in my new art. But, one of my first questions to
him, had been the mode of his escape on the night
of our volunteer reconnoisance.
"Escape? Why, I committed the very blunder
against which I had cautioned you, and fell into the
hands of the first hussar patrole that I could possibly
have met. But my story is of the briefest kind.
I had not rode forward half an hour, when my
horse stumbled over something in that most barbaric
of highways, and lamed himself. I ought then to
have returned ; but curiosity urged me on, and lead-
ing my unfortunate charger by the bridle, I threaded
my way through the most intricate mesh of hedge
and ditch within my travelling experience. — The
trampling of horses, and the murmur of men in
march, at last caught my ear; and I began to be
convinced, that the movement which I expected from
Dampierre's activity was taking place."
I could not restrain my sense of alarm, at the im-
minent hazards into which his zeal for my character,
alone had led him. But he would listen to no
apologies.
" The rashness," said he, " was altogether mine.
My chief feeling at the moment, was surprise at my
own insouciance in having thrust you into hazard.
MARSTOiN". 281
I next attempted to make my way across the country
in your direction. To accomplish this object, I
turned my horse loose, taking it for granted that,
lame as he was, he was too good a Prussian, to go
any where but to his own camp. This accounts for
his being found at morn. I had, however, scarcely
thus taken the chance of losing a charger, which had
cost me a hundred and fifty gold ducats ; when I re-
ceived a shot from behind a thicket, which disabled my
left arm, and I was instantly surrounded by a dozen
French hussars. I was foolish enough to be angry,
and angry enough to fight. But as I was neither
Samson, nor they Philistines, my sabre was soon
beaten down, and I had only to surrender. I was next
mounted on the croup of one of their horses, and
after a gallop, reached the French advanced guard.
It was already hurrying on, and I must confess that,
from the silence of the march, and the rapid pace of
their battalions, I began to dread the effects of a
surprise on some of our camps. — My first apprehen-
sion, however, was for you. I thought, that you
must have been entangled in the route of some of
the advancing battalions ; and I enquired of the
colonel of the first to whom I was brought, whether
he had taken any prisoners.
" ' Plenty,' was the answer of the rough Repub-
lican — ^ chiefly peasants and spies ; but we have shot
none of them yet. That would make too much noise ;
so we have sent them to the rear ; where I shall send
you. You will not be shot, till we return to-morrow
morning, after having cut up those chiens Anglais.^ "
" Is it possible, that any soldier could have avowed
282 MARSTON.
SO atrocious an act — a cruelty so utterly barbarian?"
was my exclamation.
" Perfectly," was the reply. " The Frenchman
was merely acting by the letter of the Republican
law. The last decree of the Republic condemns all
prisoners that belong to Britain or her allies, to death.
So I had only to wait my chance. But remember,
Marston, that, in the first place, the Frenchman was
not under circumstances to put his promise in prac-
tice ; he having soon found the English chien more
than a match for the French wolf; and, in the next,
that twelve hours form a very important respite in
the life of the campaigner. — I was sent to the rear
with a couple of hussars to watch me, until the arrival
of the general, who was coming up with the main
body. On foot and disarmed, I had only to follow
them to the next house ; which was luckily one of the
little Flemish inns. My hussars found a jar of
brandy, and got drunk in a moment ; one dropped
on the floor ; the other fell asleep on his horse. I
had now a chance of escape. As I took my last view
of my keeper outside, nodding on his horse's neck ; I
glanced on a huge hay-stack in the stable-yard. The
thought struck me, that, helpless as I was, I might
contrive to give an alarm to some of the British ve-
dettes or patroles ; if your gallant countrymen should
condescend to employ such things. I stole down into
the yard, lantern in hand ; thrust it into the stack,
and had the satisfaction of seeing it burst into a blaze.
I made my next step into the stable, to find a horse;
but the French had been before me, and those clever
fellows seldom leave any thing to be gleaned
MARSTON. 283
after them. What became of my escort, I did not
return to inquh-e ; but I heard a prodigious galloping
through the village, and found the advantage of the
flame, in guiding me through as perplexing a maze of
thicket and morass as I ever attempted at midnight.
The sound of the engagement which followed, di-
rected me to the camp; and I remain, a living example
to my friend, of the advantage of twelve hours be-
tween sentence and execution."
I had another wonder for him ; and nothing could
exceed his gratification when he heard, that his act
had enabled me to give the alarm. But for that
blaze, I should certainly have not been aware of
the movement ; the light alone had led me into
the track of the enemy, and given me time to make
the intelligence useful.
"The worst of all this," said he, with his grave
smile, " is, that the officer in command of your camp
on that night, will get a red riband and a regiment ;
and that you will get only the advantage of recollect-
ing, that in war, and perhaps in every situation of
life, nothing is to be despaired of, and nothing is to
be left untried. — A candle in a lantern, properly used,
probably saved both our lives, the lives of some
thousands of your brave troops, the fate of the cam-
paign, and, with it, half the thrones of Europe,
trembling on the chance of a first campaign. — I shall
yet have some of my mystical countrymen writing
an epic on my Flemish lantern."
During this little narrative, we had been riding
over the bleak downs which render the environs of
Valenciennes such a contrast to the general luxu-
284 MARSTON.
riance of northern France ; and were examining the
approaches to the city, when Guiscard called to his
attendant for his telescope. We were now in the
great coal-field of France ; but the miners had fled,
and left the plain doubly desolate. " Can those,"
said he, " be the miners returning to their homes ?
for if not, I am afraid that we shall have speedy
evidence of the hazards of inactivity." But the
twilight was now deepening, and neither of us could
discern any thing beyond an immense mass of men,
in gray cloaks, hurrying towards the city.
I proposed that we should ride forward, and ascer-
tain the facts. He checked my rein. " No ! Amadis
de Gaul, or Rolando, or by whatever name more
heroic your chivalry prefers being called, we must
volunteer no further. My valet shall return to the
camp and bring us any intelligence which is to be
found there, while we proceed on our survey of the
ground for our batteries."
We had gone but a few hundred yards, and I was
busily employed in sketching the profile of the
citadel, when we heard the advance of a large party
of British cavalry, with several of the staff, and the
Duke of York, then a remarkably handsome young
man, at their head. I had seen the duke frequently
on our parades in England ; but even the brief cam-
paign had bronzed his cheek, and given him the
military air which it requires a foreign campaign to
give. He communicated the sufficiently interesting in-
telHgence ; that since the victory over Dampierre, the
enemy had collected a strong force from their garri-
sons, and after throwing ten thousand men into
MARSTON. 285
Valenciennes, had formed an intrenched camp ;
which was hourly receiving reinforcements. " But
we must put a stop to that/' said the duke, with a
smile ; " and, to save them trouble, and ourselves
time, we shall attack them to-morrow." He then
addressed himself to Guiscard, with the attention
due to his name and rank, and conversed for a few
minutes on the point of attack for the next day —
examined my sketch — said some flattering words on
its correctness, and galloped off.
" Well," said Guiscard, as he followed' with his
glance the flying troop, " war is a showy spectacle,
and I can scarcely wonder, that it should be the
game of princes; but, a little more common sense in
our camps would have saved us to-mon'ow's battle.
The delays of diplomacy are like the delays of law —
the estate perishes, before the process is at an end.
But now to our work." We rode to the various
points, from M^hich a view of the newly arrived mul-
titude could be obtained. Their fires began to blaze ;
and we were thus enabled at once to ascertain their
position, and in some degree, their numbers. There
could not be less than thirty thousand men, the
arrival of the last few hours. "For this contre-
temps" said Guiscard, as he examined their bivouac
with his telescope "we have to thank only ourselves.
— Valenciennes ought to have been stormed, within
the first five minutes after we could have cut down
those poplars for scaling ladders," and he pointed to
the tapering tops of the large plantations lining the
banks of the Scheldt ; " but, we have been quarrel-
ling over our portfolios, while the French have been
286 MARSTON.
gathering every platoon within a hundred miles ;
and now we shall have a desperate struggle, to force
those lines, and probably a long siege as a finale to
the operation. There, take my glass, and judge for
yourself."
I looked, and if the novelty and singularity could
have made me forget the serious business of the
scene, I might have been amply amused. The whole
French force were employed in preparing for the
bivouac ; and fortifying the ground, which they had
evidently taken up with the object of covering the
city. All was in motion. At the distance from
which we surveyed it, the whole position seemed one
huge ant-hill. Torches, thickets burning, and the
fires of the bivouac, threw an uncertain and gloomy
glare over portions of the view, which, leaving the
rest in utter darkness, gave an ominous and ghostly
look to the entire. I remarked this impression to
Guiscard, and observed that it was strange to see a
" scene of the most stirring life so sepulchral."
" Why not ?" was his reply. " The business is
probably much the same."
" Yet sepulchral," I observed, " is not exactly the
word which I would have used. — There is too much
motion, too much hurried and eager restlessness, too
much of the wild and fierce activity, of beings who
have not a moment to lose, and who are busied in
preparations for defence."
" Have you ever been in the Sistine Chapel ?"
asked my companion.
" No ; Italy has been hitherto beyond my flight ;
but the longing to see it, haunts me."
I
MARSTON. 287
" Well then, when your good fortune leads you
to Rome, let your first look be given to that noblest
work of the pencil, and of Michael Angelo : glance
at the bottom of his immortal picture, and you will
see precisely the same wild activity, and the same
strange animation. — The difference only is, that the
actors here are men, there, fiends ; here the scene
is the field of future battle ; there, the region of final
torment. — I am not sure that the difference is much,
after all."
At daybreak, the British line was under arms.
The colour of the national uniform is the most
showy and soldier- like in Europe. But the com-
plete equipment of our troops, and the strength of
our battalions lately reinforced from home, were
in themselves a promise of victory. Yet, there were
feelings still higher, in that display, than the mere
pomp of soldiership. On the success or failure of
the columns, which now waited only the word, to
move ; might depend the weightiest interests of man-
kind. Our war was, what no other war had been,
since the old invasions under the Edwards and
Henrys — national ; it was as romantic as the cru-
sades. England was fighting for none of the objects
w^hich, during the last three hundred years, had sent
armies into the field — not for territory, not for glory,
not for European supremacy, not even for self-
defence. — She was fighting for a Cause ; but that
was the cause of society, of human freedom, of
European progress, of every faculty, feeling, and
possession by which man is sustained in his rank
above the beasts that perish. The very language of
288 MARSTON.
the great dramatist came to my recollection, at the
moment when I heard the first signal-gun for our
being put in motion.
" Now all the youth of England are on fire,
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies.
Now thrive the armourers ; and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,
Followmg the miiTor of all Christian kings
With winged heels, as EngHsh Mercuries."
Our troops, too, had all the ardour, which is added
even to the boldest by the assurance of victory.
They had never come into contact with the enemy
but to defeat them ; and the conviction of their in-
vincibility was so powerful, that it required the
utmost efforts of their officers to prevent their
rushing into profitless peril. The past and the
present were triumphant ; while, to many a mind of
the higher cast, the future was, perhaps, more glit-
tering than either.
Twenty-seven thousand men were appointed for
the attack of the French lines ; and on the first
tap of the drum, a general cheer was given from
all the columns. The cavalry galloped through the
intervals to the front, and batteries of the light guns
were now sent forward to take up positions on the
few eminences which commanded the plain. But the
day had scarcely broke, when one of those dense fogs,
the customary evil of the country, fell suddenly upon
the whole horizon, and rendered movement almost
impossible. Nothing could exceed the vexation of
MARSTON. OS9
the army at this impediment ; and if our soldiers
had ever heard of Homer, there would have been
many a repetition of his warrior's prayer, that " live
or die, it might be in the light of day."
But, in the interval, important changes were made
in the formation of the columns. The French lines
had been found of unexpected strength, and the
Guards were pushed forward, to head a Grand
division placed into command of General Ferrari.
The British were, of course, under the immediate
orders of an officer of their own, and a more gallant
one never led troops into fire. I now, for the first
time, saw the general who was afterwards destined
to sweep the French out of Egypt, and inflict the
first real blow on the military supremacy of France
under Napoleon. — Abercromby, at this period, was in
the full vigour of life ; his strongly formed, manly
figure, his quiet but keen eye, and a countenance of
remarkable steadiness and thought, gave the indica-
tions of a mind firm in all the contingencies of war.
Exactly at noon, the fog drew up, as suddenly
as it had descended, and we had a full view of the
enemy's army. The French had completed their
levies, with the characteristic rapidity cf their na-
tion ; and their force, admirably posted, looked
more numerous and formidable than any which had
hitherto faced us. It was the covering army, not
merely of the fortress, but of the Republic. 1
gave another glance to our own gallant line. It
looked like a living stream of flame. The French
were drawn up in columns in front of their camp,
to which, by the most extraordinary exertion, they
VOL. II. o
290 MARSTON.
had brought up during the night a numerous
artillery, and fortified its circle with powerful re-
doubts ; the guns of the fortress defended their
flank and rear, and their position was evidently of
the strongest kind. But, all view was lost, from
the moment when the head of our brigade ad-
vanced. Every gun that could be brought to
bear upon us opened at once, and all was enveloped
in smoke. For a full hour, we could see nothing, but
the effect of the grape-shot on our own ranks as w^e
poured on, and hear nothing but the peal of the
batteries.
But, at length, shouts began to arise in distant
parts of the field, and we felt that the Division which
had been appointed to assault the rear of the camp,
was making progress. Walmoden, commanding a
brigade under Ferrari, now galloped up, to ascertain,
whether our men were " ready to assault the intrench-
ments." " The British troops are ahvays ready," was
Abercromby's expressive, and somewhat indignant,
answer. At the instant of our moving forward, an
aide-de-camp rode up, to acquaint the general, that
the column under the Duke of York had already
stormed three redoubts. " Gentlemen," said Aber-
cromby, turning to the colonels round him, " we
must try to save our friends further trouble;
forward ! " — In a quarter of an hour we were within
the enemy's lines, every battery was stormed, or
turned, and the French were in confusion. Some
hurried towards the fortress, which now began to
fire ; a large body fled into the open country, and
fell into the hands of his royal highness ; and some,
MARSTON. 09 1
seizing the boats on the river, dropped down with the
stream. All was victory : yet this was to be my day
of ill-fortune.
In pursuing the enemy towards the fortress, a
battalion, which had attempted to cover the retreat,
broke, at the moment Avhen my company were on the
point of charging them. This was too tempting a
chance, to be resisted ; we pushed on, taking pri-
soners at every step, until we actually came within
sight of the gate, by which the fugitives were making
their escape into the town. But we were in a trap,
and soon felt that w^e were discovered, by a heavy
discharge of rausketiy from the rampart. We had
now only to return on our steps, and I had just
given the word ; when the firing was renewed from a
bastion, round which we were hurrjnng in the tAvi-
light. I felt a sudden shock, like that of electricity,
which struck me down ; I made a struggle to rise on
my feet, but my strength wholly failed me, and I
lost all recollection.
On my restoration to my senses, in a few hours
after; I found that I had been carried into the town,
and placed in the military hospital. My first im-
pulse was, to enquire whether any of my brave
fellows had shared my misfortune ; but all round me
were French, wounded in the engagement of the day.
I shrink from all recurrence to these scenes. No
language can express the depth of wretchednesss,
which once was to be found in every militarj'^ hospital
of Europe. It is a more grateful topic, to regard
the change which science and humanity have since
effected in those places of desolation and despair.
o 3
292 MARSTON.
It is to the matchless honour of England, that she
led the way in an achievement so worthy of her
generous and benevolent name.
Of the transactions of the field I knew nothing
beyond my own share of the day ; but I had seen
the enemy in full flight, and that was sufficient.
Within a day or two, the roaring of cannon, the
increased bustle of the attendants, and the tidings
that a black flag had been erected on the hospital,
told me that the siege had begun. I shall pass over
its horrors. Yet, what is all war but a succession
of horrors ? The sights which I saw, the sounds
which I heard, from hour to hour, were enough to
sicken me of human nature. In the gloom and pain
of my sleepless nights, I literally began to think it
possible, that a fiendish nature might supplant the
human condition, and that the work before my
eyes was merely an anticipation of those terrors,
which to name startles the imagination and wrings
the heart. Surrounded with agonies, the involun-
tary remark always came to my mind with renewed
power and pain, in the common occurrences of the
hospital day.
But, besides the sufferings of the wounded, a new
species of suffering, scarcely less painful, and still
more humiliating, began to be prominent. The pro-
visions of the people, insufficiently laid in at the
approach of the besiegers, rapidly failed, and the
hospital itself was soon surrounded by supplicants
for food. The distress, at last, became so excessive,
that it amounted to agony. Emaciated figures of
both sexes stole or forced their way into the building,
MARSTON. 293
to beg our rations, or snatch them from our feeble
hands ; and I often divided my scanty meal with
individuals who had once been in opulent trade, or
been ranked among the semi-7ioblesse of the sur-
rounding country. Sometimes I missed faces, to
which I had been accustomed among those unfor-
tunate beings, and I heard a still more unhappy
tale — shall I call it more unhappy ? They had
perished by the cannon-shot, which now poured into
the city day and night, or had been buried in the
ruins of some of the buildings, which were now con-
stantly falling under the heaviest bombardment in
the annals of war. Of those scenes I say no more.
If the siege of a great fortress is the most trying of
all hazards to the soldier without, what must it be
to the wretches within ? Valenciennes was once
the centre of the lace manufactories of France.
The war had destroyed them at a blow. The pro-
prietors had fled, the thousands of young and old
employed in those delicate and beautiful produc-
tions, had fled too, or remained only to perish of
famine. A city of twenty thousand of the most
ingenious artists was turning day by day into a vast
cemetery.
As I tossed on my mattress night after night, and
heard the roar of the successive batteries, shuddered
at the fall of the shells, and was tortured by the cries
of the crowd flying from the explosions all night long
— I groaned the deepest protest of my spirit against
the passion for glory. It is true, that nations must
defend themselves ; the soldier is a protector to the
industry, the wealth, and the happiness of the coun-
o 3
294 MARSTON.
try ; I am no disciple of the theory, which, dis-
claiming the first instinct of nature, self-preservation,
invites injury by weakness, and creates war by im-
punity ; but the human race ought to outlaw the
man who dares to dream of conquest, and deny all
renown to him who builds his name in the blood of
man.
CHAPTER XXX.
" What's he, that wishes for more men from England I
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our country loss, — and if to live.
The fewer men, the g;reater share of honour.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold ;
Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost :
It yearns me not, if men my garments wear ;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But, if it he a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul aUve."
Shakspeare.
On my capture, one of my first wishes had been,
to acquaint the regiment with the circumstances of
my misfortune, and to reheve my friends of their
anxiety for the fate of a brother officer. But, this
object, which, in the older days of continental cam-
paigning, would h^ve been acceded to, with a bow
and a compliment by Monseigneur le Comte, or Son
Altesse Royale, the governor ; was sturdily refused
by the colonel in charge of the hospital ; a firm
Republican, and the son of a cobbler, who, swearing
by the Goddess of Reason, threatened to hang over
the gate the first man who dared to bring him
another such proposal. I next sent my apphcation
o 4
296 MARSTON
to the commandant, a brave old soldier, who had
served in the royal armies, and retained the feelings of
better times ; but it was probably intercepted ; for no
answer came. This added deeply to my chagrin.
My absence must give rise to conjecture ; my fall had,
probably, been unseen even by my men ; and while I
believed that my character was above the scandal of
either pusillanimity or desertion, it still remained at
the mercy of all.
But, chance came to my relief. It happened, that
I had unconsciously won the particular regard of one
of the Beguines who attended the hospital ; and my
tristesse, which she termed ' effrayante,' one evening
attracted her peculiar notice. Let not my vanity be
called in question ; for my fair admirer was at least
fifty years old, and was about the figure and form of
one of her country churns, although her name was
Juliet ! Pretty as the name was, the Beguine had
not an atom of the poetic about her. Romance
troubled her not. Yet, with a face like the full moon,
and a pile of petticoats which would have made a
dowdy of the " Belvedere Diana," she was a capital
creature. Juliet, fat as she was, had the natural frolic
of a squirrel; she was everywhere, and knew every
thing, and did every thing for everybody; her tongue
and her feet were constantly busy; and I scarcely
knew which was the better emblem of the perpetual
motion. My paleness was peculiarly distressing to
her; " it hurt her feelings ;" it also hurt her honour;
for she had been famous for her nursing ; and, as she
told me, with her plump hands upon her still plumper
hips, and her head thrown back with an air of con-
MARSTON. 097
scious merit, " she had saved more, than even the
doctors had killed."
I had some reluctance to tell her the cause of my
tristesse ; for I knew her zeal, and I dreaded her
plunging into some hazard with the authorities. But,
who has ever been able to keep a secret, where it was
the will of the sex to extort it? Juliet obtained
mine, before she left the ward for the night ; and
desired me to give her a letter, which she pledged
herself to transmit to my regiment. But, this I de-
termined to refuse, and I kept my determination. I
had no desire to see my "fat friend" suspended from
the pillars of the portico ; or to hear of her, at least,
being given over to the mercies of the provost-
marshal. We parted, half in anger on her side, and
with stern resolution on mine.
During the next day, Juliet was not forthcoming,
and her absence produced, what the French call, a
"lively sensation" — which, in nine instances out of
ten, means an intolerable sense of ennui — in the whole
establishment. I shared the general uneasiness, and
at length began to cast glances towards the gate,
where, though I was not exactly prepared to see the
corpulent virtues of my friend in suspension, I had
some tremblings for the state, " sain et sauf," of my
Beguine. At last, her face appeared at the opening
of the great door, flushed with heat and good-nature,
and, as it came moving through the crowd, which
gathered round her with all kinds of enquiries, exhi-
biting no bad resemblance to the moon seen through
a fog; but, whether distinct or dim, hers was full and
flofid to the last. Her good-humoured visage revived
o 5
298 MARSTON.
me, as if I had met a friend, of as many years' standing
as she numbered from her cradle. But, all my en-
quiries for the news of earth, outside the hospital, were
answered only by an " order" to keep myself tranquil,
prevent the discomposure of my pulse, and duly drink
my ptisan. All this, however, was for the general ear.
The feebleness which kept me confined to my bed
during the day, had made my nights wakeful. On
this night, whether from the anxiety of the day, or
the heavier roar of the siege, for the bombardment
was now at its height, I exhibited signs of returning
fever, and the Beguine remained in attendance. But,
when the crowd had gone to such rest as they could
find, amid the thunder of batteries and the bursting
of shells, Juliet approached my pillow, with a broad
smile, which distended her good-natured mouth from
ear to ear, and thrust under my head a small
packet — the whole operation being followed by a
finger pressed to her lips, and a significant glance to
every corner of the huge melancholy hall, to see that
all was secure. She then left me to my meditations !
The mysterious packet contained three letters;
and, eager as I was for their perusal, I almost shud-
dered at their touch ; for they must have been ob-
tained with infinite personal peril, and if found upon
the Beguine, they might have brought her under the
severest vengeance of the garrison. They were from
Guiscard, Mariamnc, and Mordecai. Thus, to three
individuals, all comparatively strangers, was my world
reduced. But they were no common strangers ; and
I felt, while holding their letters in my hand, and
almost pressing them to my heart, how much more
MARSTON. 299
strongly fi'iendship may bind us than the tics of cold
and negligent relationship. I opened the soldier's
letter first. It was like every thing that Guiscard
ever did ; manly, yet kind. " Your disappearance in
that unfortunate rencontre had created much sorrow
and surprise ; but the sorrow was all for your loss to
the 'corps of corps/ and the surprise was, that no
tidings could be heard of you, whether fallen or sur-
viving. The flag and trumpet sent in next morning
to obtain tidings of such as had suffered in that
mad rush to the gates of the town, came back with-
out being permitted to pass beyond the outworks,
bringing a brutal message from the officer on duty,
' that the next flag should be fired on,' and that the
' brave soldiers of the Republic allowed of no com-
promise with the slaves of tyranny !'
" The bravado might be laughed at, but it left me
in the dark, relative to your fate ; and, if you are to be
flattered by the feelings of men who cannot get at
you but by cannon-shot, you may congratulate your-
self on having had as many fine things said of you,
as would make an epitaph for a duke; and, I
believe, with a sincerity at least equal to the best
of them. I write all this laughingly now, but
suspense makes heaviness of heart, and you cost me
some uneasy hours. Of course, I send you none of
our news ; as you will hear it all in good time, and
communications on public matters might bring your
messenger or yourself into difficulties. — You are
alive, and in good hands ; that is the grand point.
Your character is now in my hands, and I shall take
care of it ; I shall see you a general officer yet, if
300 MARSTON.
you have not the greater luck, to retire and Uve an
honest farmer, sitting under your own fig-tree and
your own vine, with an unromantic spouse, and
some half-dozen red-cheeked children. Farewell, we
shall soon see each other."
The last line evidently meant more than met the
eye, and I was now just in the mind to indulge in
the fantasies of my fair correspondent. They were
like herself — a curious mixture of mirth and me-
lancholy.
" Why I wish to write to you, or why I write at
all — which, however, I do decorously at the side of
my father — are questions which I have not taken
the trouble of asking, until this moment. But I am
in Switzerland, where no one has time for anything
but worshipping mountain-tops, and falling down at
the feet of cataracts. Whether it would add to Mr.
Marston's satisfaction, I cannot presume to say, but
I feel better, much better, than when I first came
into this land of fresh breezes and beauty of all kinds
— the population, of every rank, always excepted.
If I were, like you, a philosopher, I should probably
say that nature gets tired of her work, and after
having struck off some part of it with all the spirit
of an Italian painter, disdains the trouble of finishing ;
or, like a French ^fashionable,' coquettes with her
own charms, and is determined to make the world
adore her, in spite of her slippers and her shawl.
Thus, nature, which gave the peacock a diadem on
its head, and a throne in its tail, has given it a pair
of frightful legs. And, on the same charming prin-
ciple, she has given Switzerland the finest of all
MARSTON. .'^01
possible landscapes, and filled them with the most
startling of all possible physiognomies.
" But, no more of theory. It has always made my
head ache, and headachs are, I know, contagious ;
so I spare you. Yet, have you a moment, among
your thousand and one avocations, to remember my
father — or me? I beg that I may not impede the
march of armies, or shock the balance of Europe,
while I solicit you to give me a single line — no
more ; a mere * annonce ' of anything that can tell
me of your ' introuvable' friend Lafontaine. — This is
not for myself. The intelligence is required for a
sister of his, whom I have lately met in this country,
a showy ' citizeness ' of Zurich, embonpoint and
matronly, married to one of the portly burghers of
the city, and exemplary in all the arts of sheep-
shearing, wool-spinning, and cheese-making ; a
mother, surrounded, a la Franc^aise, with a host of
Orlandos, Hyacintes, Aristomenes, and Apollos —
pretty children, with the Frenchman developing in
all its gaudiness ; the Switzer remaining behind,
until it shall come forth in cloudy brows, and a face
stamped with money-making. — Madame Spiegler is
still not beyond a waltz, and in the very whirl of
one last night, she turned to me and implored that
I should^ move heaven and earth,' as she termed it —
with her blue eyes thrown up to the chandelier, and
her remarkably pretty and weM-chausse'd feet still
beating time to the dance ; to bring her disconsolate
bosom tidings of her 'frere, si bien aime,si malheureuxJ'
I promised, and she flew off instantly into the very
302 MARSTON.
core of a dance, consisting of at least a hundred
couples.
*' I have just returned from a drive along the
shore of the Leman. The recollection of Madame
Spiegler, rolling and rushing through the waltz, like
a dolphin through the waves ; or like anything
caught in an enormous whirlpool, and sweeping round
perpetually, until it was swept out of sight, had
fevered me. — The air here is certainly delicious. It
gives a sense of life ; a vivid, yet soft, feeling, that
makes the mere act of breathing it delightful. But I
have mercy on you — not one word of Clarens, not one
word of Meillerie. Take it for granted, that Voltaire's
Castle is burnt down, as it well might be without
any loss to the picturesque ; and that Jean Jacques
never wrote, played the knave, or existed. If I were
a Swiss Caliph Omar, I should make a general
seizure, to be followed by a general conflagration, of
every volume that has ever touched on the wit and
wickedness of the one, or the intolerable sensibihty
of the other. I should next extend the flame to all
Tours, Meditations, and Musings on hills, valleys,
and lakes ; prohibit all sunset * sublimities,' as an
offence against the state ; and lay all raptures at the
' distant view of Mont Blanc,' or the ' ascent of the
Rhighi,' if not under penalty of prison, at least
under a bond, never to be seen in the territory again.
But I must make my adieux. Apropos, if you should
accidentally hear anything of your pelerin-a-pied
friend, Lafontaine — for I conjecture that he has gone
to discover the fountains of the Nile, or is at this
MARSTON. 303
moment a candidate for the office of court-chamber-
lain at Timbuctoo — let me hear it. Madame Spiegler
is really uneasy on the subject, though it has not
diminished either her weight or her velocity, nor
will prevent her waltzing till the end of the world,
or of herself. One sentence — nay, one syllable — will
be enough.
" This twilight is charming, and it is only common
gratitude to Nature, to acknowledge, that she has
done something in the scene before my casement at
this sweet and quiet hour, which places her im-
measurably above the decorateurs of a French salon.
The sun has gone, and the moon has not yet come.
There is scarcely a star ; and yet a light lingers, and
floats, and descends over everything — hill, forest,
and water — like the light that one sometimes sees in
dreams. All is dream-like, the work of a spell laid
over a horizon of a hundi'ed miles. I should scarcely
be surprised to see visionary forms rising from these
woods and waters, and ascending in bright proces-
sion to the clouds. I hear, at this moment, some
touches of music, which I could almost believe to
come from invisible instruments, as they pass along
with the breeze. Still, may I beg of you, Mr.
Marston, not to suppose, that I mean to extend this
letter to the size of a government despatch, nor that
the mark which I find I have left on my paper, is a
tear? — / have no sorrow to make its excuse. But
here, one weeps for pleasure, and I can forgive even
Rousseau his — ' Je m'attendrissais, je soupirais, et je
pleurais comme un enfant. Combien de fois, m'ar-
retant pour pleurer plus a mon aise, assis sur une
304 MARSTON.
grosse pierre, je me suis amuse a voir tomber mes
larmes dans Peau/ Rousseau was lunatic, but he
was not lunatic when he wrote this, or / am growing
so too. For fear of that possible romance, I say,
farewell.
" P.S. — Remember Madame Spiegler. Toiijours ci
vous — Mariamne."
My third letter was Mordecai to the life — a bold,
hurried, yet clear view of the political bearings of
the time. It more than ever struck me, in the
course of his daring paragraphs, what a capital
leader he would have made for a Jewish revolution ;
if one could imagine the men of a thousand years of
slavery grasping the sword and unfurling the banner.
Yet, bold minds may start up among a fallen people ;
and when the great change, which will assuredly
come, is approaching, it is not improbable that it
will be begun by some new and daring spirit
throwing off the robes of humiliation, and teaching
Israel to strike for freedom by some gallant example
— a new Moses smiting the Egyptian, and marching
from the house of bondage, if even into the desert ;
but, only after seeing the host of its old oppressors
left weltering in the surge of blood behind.
After some personal details, and expressions of
joy at the recovering health of his idolized but way-
ward daughter, he plunged into politics. " I have
just returned," said he, "from a visit to some of our
German kindred. You may rely upon it, that a
great game is on foot. Your invasion is a jest.
Your troops will fight, I allow, but your cabinets
will betray. I have seen enough to satisfy me, that
MARSTON. 305
if you do not take Paris within the next three months,
you will not take it within ten times the number of
years. Of course, I make no attempt at prediction.
I leave infallibility to the grave fools of conclaves and
councils; but the French mob will beat them all.
What army can stand before a contagion ?
" When I was last in Sicily, I scrambled to the
summit of Etna during the time of an eruption. On
my way back, I slept at one of the convents on the
slope of the mountain. I was roused from sleep by a
midnight clamour in the court of the convent — the
monks were fluttering in all corners, like frightened
chickens. I came down from my chamber, and was
told the cause of the alarm, in the sudden turn of a
stream of the eruption towards the convent. I
laughed at the idea of hazard from such a source,
when the building was one mass of stone, and, of
course, as I conceived, incombustible. ' Santissima
Madre !' exclaimed the frightened superior, who
stood WTinging his hands and calling on all the saints
in his breviary ; ' you do not know of what stone it
is built. All is lava ; and at the first touch of the
red hot rocks now rolling down upon us, every stone
in the walls will melt, like wax in the furnace.' The
old monk was right. We lost no time in making our
escape to a neighbouring pinnacle, and from it saw
the stream of molten stone roll round the walls, in-
flame them, scorch, swell, and finally melt them
down. Before daylight, the site of the convent was
a gulf of flame.
"This comes of sympathy in stones — what will it
be in men ? Wait a twelvemonth ; and you will see
306 MARSTON.
the flash and flame of French republicanism melting
down every barrier of the Continent. The mob has
the mob on its side for ever. The offer of liberty to
men who have spent a thousand years under des-
potism, is irresistible. Light may blind, but who
loves utter darkness ? The soldier may melt down
like the rest ; he is a man, and may be a madman
like the rest ; he, too, is lava, one of the multitude.
" Their language may be folly or wisdom, it may
be stolen from the ramblings of romance writers, or be
the simple utterance of irrepressible instincts within;
but it is the language which I hear every where
round me. — Men eat and drink to it, work and play
to it, awake and sleep to it. It is in the rocks and
the streams, in the cradle, and almost on the death-
bed. It rings in the very atmosphere ; and what
must be the consequence ? If the French ever cross
the Rhine, they will sweep every thing before them,
as easily as a cloud sweeps across the sky ; and with
as little power in man to prevent them. A cluster of
church steeples or palace turrets could do no more,
to stop the whirl of a hurricane.
" You will call me a panegyrist of Republicanism,
or of France. I have no love for either. But I may
admire the spring of the tiger, or even give him credit
for the strength of his tusks, and the grasp of his
talons, without desiring to see him take the place of
my spaniel on the hearth-rug, or choosing him as the
companion of my travels. — / dread the power of the
multitude, / despair of its discipline, and / shrink
from the fury of its passions. A republic in France
can be nothing but a funeral pile, in which the whole
MARSTON. 307
fabric is made, not for use, but for destruction :
which man cannot inhabit, but which the first torch
will set in a blaze from the base to the summit ; and
upon which, after all, corpses alone crown the whole
hasty and tottering erection. But this I shall say,
that Germany is at this moment on the verge of insur-
rection ; and that the first French flag which waves on
the right bank of the Rhine will be the signal of the
rising. — I say more ; that if the effect is to be per-
manent, pure, or beneficial, it will not be the result
of the tricolor.
" The French conquests have always been brilliant,
but it was the brilliancy of a soap-bubble. A puff of
the weakest lips that ever breathed from a throne, has
always been enough to make the nation conquerors ;
but the hues of glory no sooner began to colour the
thin fabric, than it burst before the eye, and the na-
tion had only to try another bubble. It is my full
impression, that the favouritism of Revolution at this
moment, will even receive its death-blow from France
itself. All is well, while nothing is seen of it but the
blaze ascending, hour by hour, from the fragments
of her throne ; or nothing heard but the theatrical
songs of the pageants which perform the new idolatry
of ' Reason.' — But, when the Frenchman shall come
among nations, with the bayonet in his right hand
and with the proclamation in his left ; when he shall
turn his charger loose into the corn-field, and rob the
peasant whom he harangues on the rights of the peo-
ple — the republican baptism will give no new power
to the conversion. The German phlegm will kick,
while the French vivacite scoffs, and scourges ; and
308 MARSTON.
then alone will the true war begin. — Yet all this may
be but the prelude. When the war of weapons has
been buried in its own ashes, another war may begin,
the war of minds ; the struggle of mighty nations,
the battle of an ambition of which our purblind age
has not even a glimpse — a terrible strife, yet worthy
of the immortal principle in man, and to be rewarded
by a victory, which shall throw all the exploits of
soldiership into the shade."
END OF VOL. II.
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