#-^
 
 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. 
 
 Gii-BKRT &. RiviNGXON, Printers, St. John's Square, London.
 
 ^l 3 1205 02042 8445 
 
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