LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 Class 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 

 .■^'■.'^^.//.// 
 
MAURICE TIERNAY, 
 
 €]^e ^oimer of jfortune* 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES LEVER. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY E. VAN MUYDEN. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 1907. 
 
Copp'ight, 1894, 
 Bv Little, Brown, and Company. 
 
 Wini\3tmtjj ^xtss: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. U.S.A. 
 
NOTICE. 
 
 The strangeness of some of the incidents, and the 
 rapidity with which events so remarkable succeeded 
 each other, almost deterred the writer from ever com- 
 mitting them to the press ; nor was it till after much 
 consultation and some persuasive influence on the part 
 of friends that he at length yielded, and decided upon 
 so doing. Whether in that determination liis choice 
 was a wise one, must be left to the judgment of the 
 reader: for himself he has but to say, that to ponder 
 over some of these early scenes, and turn over in 
 thought some of his youthful passages, has solaced 
 many a weary hour of an age when men make few new 
 friendships, and have almost as few opportunities to 
 cultivate old ones. 
 
 That the chief events related in these pages — such, 
 for instance, as every detail of the French invasion, the 
 capture of Wolfe Tone, and the attack on Monte di 
 Faccio — are rigidly exact, the writer is most sincere in 
 the expression of his conviction ; for the truth of inci- 
 dent purely personal it is needless to press any claim, 
 seeing that he was this hero — owns no higher name 
 than that of a Soldier of Fortune. 
 
 193070 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chafteb Page 
 
 I. " The Days of the Guillotine '* 1 
 
 n. The Restaurant '' au Scelerat " 22 
 
 III. The "Temple" 36 
 
 IV. " The Night of the Ninth Thermidor " . . 47 
 V. The Choice of a Life 55 
 
 VI. " The Army Sixty Years Since " 64 
 
 VII. A Passing Acquaintance 81 
 
 VIII. "Tronchon" 88 
 
 IX. A Scrape and its Consequences 94 
 
 X. An Aristocratic Republican 109 
 
 XI. "The Passage of the Rhine" 115 
 
 XII. "A Glance at Staff Duty" 128 
 
 XIII. A Farewell Letter 138 
 
 XIV. A Surprise and an Escape 146 
 
 XV. Scraps of History 155 
 
 XVI. "An Old General of the Irish Brigade" . 161 
 
 XVII. La Rochelle 171 
 
 XVIII. " The Bay of Rathfran " 180 
 
 XIX. A "Reconnaissance" 192 
 
 XX. KiLLALA 200 
 
 XXI. Our Allies 209 
 
 XXn. The Day of "Castlebar" 217 
 
 XXIII. " The Town-Major of Castlebar " .... 229 
 
 XXIV. " The Mission to the North " 239 
 
 XXV. A Passing Visit to Killala 250 
 
 XXVI. A Remnant of " Fontenoy " 258 
 
 XXVn '< The Cranagh " 272 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapteb Page 
 
 XXVIII. Some Xew Acquaintances 279 
 
 XXIX. " The Breakfast at Letterkenny "... 288 
 
 XXX. Scene in the Royal Barracks 293 
 
 XXXI. A Brief Change of Life and Country . 301 
 
 XXXII. " The Athol Tender " 320 
 
 XXXIII. A Bold Stroke for Fame and Fortune . 333 
 
 XXXIV. " Genoa in the Siege ".....,.. 340 
 XXXV. A Novel Council of War 348 
 
 XXXVI. Genoa during the Siege ....... 359 
 
 XXXVII. Monte di Faccio 368 
 
 XXXVIII. A Royalist "de la Vieille Roche" ... 375 
 
 XXXIX. "A Sorrowful Parting" 388 
 
 XL. " The Chateau of Ettenheim " 399 
 
 XLI. An "Ordinary" Acquaintance 410 
 
 XLII. The "Count de Maurepas," alias , . 425 
 
 XLIII. A Forest Ride 434 
 
 XLIV. An Episode of '94 455 
 
 XLV. The Cabinet of a Chef-de-Police . . • 467 
 
 XL VI. A Glance at the "Prefecture de Police" 474 
 
 XL VII. " The Village of Schwartz- Ach " ... 481 
 
 XL VIII. " A Village Syndicus " 489 
 
 XLIX. "A Lucky Meeting" 501 
 
 L. The March on Vienna 508 
 
 LI. « SCHONBRUNN " IN 1809 525 
 
 LII. "KoMORN Forty Years Ago" 534 
 
 LIII. A Loss AND A Gain 541 
 
 LIV. Maurice Tiernay's " Last Word and 
 
 Confession " 550 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS BY E. VAN MUYDEN. 
 
 The Guillotine Frontispiece 
 
 " The Coneusion was tremendous " 77 
 
 Maurice and General Massena 342 
 
 Maurice Tiernay and Napoleon 524 
 
2 MAURICE TIERXEY. 
 
 That I am simpl}^ recording a matter of fact, the patent 
 of my ancestor's nobility, now in my possession, will suffi- 
 ciently attest ; nor is its existence the less conclusive that it 
 is inscribed on the back of his commission as a captain in 
 the Shanabogue Feucibles, — the well-known " Clear-the- 
 way-boys ; " a proud title, it is said, to which they imparted 
 a new reading at the memorable battle afore-mentioned. 
 
 The document bears the address of a small public-house 
 called the Nest, on the Kells road, and contains in one corner 
 a somewhat lengthy score for potables, suggesting the notion 
 that his Majesty sympathized with vulgar infirmities, and 
 found, as the old song says, "that grief and sorrow are 
 dry." 
 
 The prudence which for some years sealed my grand- 
 father's lips lapsed, after a time, into a careless and even 
 boastful spirit, in which he would allude to his rank in the 
 peerage, the place he ought to be holding, and so on ; till at 
 last some of the Government people, doubtless taking a 
 liking to the snug house and demesne of Timmahoo, de- 
 nounced him as a rebel, — on which he was arrested and 
 thrown into jail, where he lingered for many years, and only 
 came out at last to find his estate confiscated and himself a 
 beggar. 
 
 There was a small gathering of Jacobites in one of the 
 towns of Flanders, and thither he repaired ; but how he lived, 
 or how he died, I never learned. I only know that his son 
 wandered away to the east of Europe, and took service in 
 what was called Trenck's Pandom'S, — as jolly a set of rob- 
 bers as ever stalked the map of Europe, from one side to the 
 other. This was my grandfather, whose name is mentioned 
 in various chronicles of that estimable corps, and who was 
 hanged at Prague afterwards for an attempt to carry off an 
 archduchess of the empire, — to whom, by the wa^^, there is 
 good reason to believe he was privately married. This sus- 
 picion was strengthened by the fact that his infant child 
 Joseph was at once adopted by the imperial famil}^, and 
 placed as a pupil -in the great military school of Vienna. 
 From thence he obtained a commission in the Maria Theresa 
 Hussars, and subsequently, being sent on a private mission 
 to France, entered the semce of Louis XVI., where he mar- 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 3 
 
 ried a lady of the Queen's household, — a Mademoiselle de 
 la Lasterie, — of high rank and some fortune ; and with 
 whom he lived happily till the dreadful events of 17 — , when 
 she lost her life beside my father, then fighting as a Garde 
 du Corps, on the staii'case at Versailles. How he himself 
 escaped on that day, and what were the next features in his 
 history, I never knew ; but when again we heard of him, he 
 was married to the widow of a celebrated orator of the Moun- 
 tain, and he himself an intimate friend of St. Just and Marat 
 and all the most violent of the Republicans. 
 
 My father's history about this period is involved in such 
 obscurity, and his second marriage followed so rapidly on the 
 death of his first wife, that, strange as it may seem, I never 
 knew which of the two was my mother, — the lineal descend- 
 ant of a house noble before the Crusades, or the humble hour- 
 geoise of the Quartier St. Denis. What peculiar line of 
 political action my father followed I am unable to say, nor 
 whether he was suspected with or without due cause ; but 
 suspected he certainly was, and at a time when suspicion 
 was all-sufficient for conviction. He was arrested, and thrown 
 into the Temple, where I remember I used to visit him every 
 week ; and whence I accompanied him one morning, as he 
 was led forth with a string of others, to the Place de la Greve 
 to be guillotined. I believe he was accused of royalism ; and 
 I know that a white cockade was found among his effects, 
 and in mockery was fastened on his shoulder on the day of 
 his execution. This emblem, deep dyed with blood and still 
 dripping, was taken up by a bystander and pinned on my 
 cap, with the savage observation, " Voila! it is the proper 
 color; see that you profit by the way it became so." As, 
 with a bursting heart and a head wild with terror, I turned 
 to find my way homeward, I felt my hand grasped by' another. 
 I looked up, and saw an old man, whose threadbare black 
 clothes and emaciated appearance bespoke the priest in the 
 times of the Convention. 
 
 " You have no home now, my poor boy," said he to me ; 
 " come and share mine." 
 
 I did not ask him why. I seemed to have suddenly become 
 reckless as to everything present or future. The terrible 
 scene I had witnessed had dried up all the springs of my 
 
4 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 youthful heart ; and, infant as I was, I was abeady a sceptic 
 as to everything good or generous in human nature. I 
 followed him, therefore, without a word, and we walked on, 
 leaving the thoroughfares and seeking the less frequented 
 streets, till we arrived in what seemed a subui'ban part of 
 Paris, — at least the houses Avere surrounded with trees and 
 shi'ubs ; and at a distance I could see the hill of Montmartre 
 and its windmills, objects well known to me by many a 
 Sunda}' visit. 
 
 Even after my own home, the poverty of the Pere Michel's 
 household was most remarkable. He had but one small room, 
 of which a miserable settle-bed, two chau'S, and a table con- 
 stituted all the furniture ; there was no fireplace, a little pan 
 for charcoal supplying the only means for warmth or cookery ; 
 a crucifix and a few colored prints of saints decorated the 
 whitewashed walls, and with a string of w'ooden beads, a 
 cloth skull-cap, and a bracket with two or three books, made 
 up the whole inventory of his possessions ; and yet, as he 
 closed the door behind him and drew me towards him to 
 kiss my cheek, the tears glistened in his eyes with gratitude 
 as he said, — 
 
 " Now, my dear Maurice, you are at home." 
 
 " How do you know that I am called Maurice? " said I, in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Because I was an old friend of your poor father, my 
 child. We came from the same country ; we held the same 
 faith, had the same hopes, and may one day yet, perhaps, 
 have the same fate." 
 
 He told me that the closest friendship had bound them 
 together for years past, and in proof of it showed me a 
 variety of papers which my father had entrusted to his 
 keeping, — well aware, as it would seem, of the insecurity of 
 his own life. 
 
 "He charged me to take you home with me, Maurice, 
 should the day come when this might come to pass. You 
 will now live with me, and I will be your father, so far, at 
 least, as humble means will suffer me." 
 
 I was too young to know how deep my debt of gratitude 
 ought to be. I had not tasted the sorrows of utter desertion, 
 nor did I know from what a hurricane of blood and anarchy 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 6 
 
 Fortune had rescued me ; still I accepted the Pore's benevo- 
 lent offer with a thankful heart, and turned to him at once 
 as to all that was left to me in the world. 
 
 All this time, it may be wondered how I neither spoke nor 
 thought of my mother, if she were indeed such; but for 
 several weeks before my father's death I had never seen her, 
 nor did he ever once allude to her. The reserve thus imposed 
 upon me remained sthl, and I felt as though it would have 
 been like a treachery to his memory were I now to speak of 
 her whom in his lifetime I had not dared to mention. 
 
 The P^re lost no time in diverting my mind from the 
 dreadful events I had so lately witnessed. The next morn- 
 ing, soon after daybreak, I was summoned to attend him to 
 the little church of St. Blois, where he said mass. It was a 
 very humble little edifice, which once had been the private 
 chapel of a chateau, and stood in a weed-grown, neglected 
 garden, where broken statues and smashed fountains bore 
 evidence of the visits of the destroyer. A rude effigy of St. 
 Blois, upon whom some profane hand had stuck a Phrygian 
 cap of liberty, and which none were bold enough to displace, 
 stood over the dooi'way ; except this, not a vestige of orna- 
 ment or decoration existed. The altar, covered with a white 
 cloth, displayed none of the accustomed emblems ; and 
 a rude crucifix of oak was the only symbol of the faith 
 remaining. 
 
 Small as was the building, it was even too spacious for the 
 few who came to worship. The terror which prevailed on 
 every side — the dread that devotion to religion shoukl be 
 construed into an adherence to the monarchy, that submis- 
 sion to God should be interpreted as an act of rebellion 
 against the sovereignty of human will — had gradually 
 thinned the numbers, till at last the few who came were only 
 those whose afflictions had steeled them against any re- 
 verses, and who were ready martyrs to whatever might 
 betide them. These were almost exclusively women, — the 
 mothers and wives of those who had sealed then- faith with 
 their blood in the terrible Place de la Greve. Among them 
 was one whose dress and appearance, although not different 
 from the rest, always created a movement of respect as she 
 passed in or out of the chapel. She was a very old lady, 
 
6 ]MArEICE TLERXAY. 
 
 with hair white as snow, and who led by the hand a little 
 girl of about my own age, — her large dark eyes and bril- 
 liant complexion giving her a look of unearthly beauty in 
 that assemblage of fuiTOwed cheeks, and eyes long dimmed 
 by weeping. It was not alone that her featui-es were beau- 
 tifully regular, or that their lines were fashioned in the very 
 perfection of symmetiy, but there was a certain character 
 in the expression of the face so different from all around 
 it as to be abnost electi'ical in effect. Untouched by the 
 teiTible calamities that weighed on every heart, she seemed, 
 m the glad buoyancy of her youth, to be at once above the 
 very reach of soitow, — like one who bore a chaiTQed fate, 
 and whom Fortune had exempted from all the tiials of this 
 life. So at least did I read those features, as they beamed 
 upon me in such a contrast to the almost stem character of 
 the sad and sorrow-struck faces of the rest. 
 
 It was a part of my duty to place a footstool each morning 
 for the 'Olarquise," as she was distinctively called, and on 
 these occasions it was that I used to gaze upon that Uttle 
 gu-rs face with a kind of admii'ing wonder that lingered in 
 my heart for houi'S after. The bold look with which she 
 met mine, if it at first half abashed, at length encouraged 
 me ; and as I stole noiselessly away, I used to feel as though 
 I earned with me some poiiion of that high hope which 
 bounded within her own heart. Sti'ange magnetism! it 
 seemed as though her spmt whispered to me not to be 
 down-hearted or depressed, that the sorrows of life came 
 and went as shadows pass over the earth, that the season 
 of mourning was fast passing, and that for us the world 
 would wear a brighter and more glorious aspect. 
 
 Such were the thoughts her dark eyes revealed to me, and 
 such the hopes I caught up from her proud featm-es. 
 
 It is easy to color a life of monotony ; any hue may soon 
 tinge the outer sm-face, and thus mine speedily assumed a 
 hopeful cast, not the less decided that the distance was lost 
 in vague uncertainty. The nature of my studies — and the 
 Pere kept me rigidly to the desk — offered little to the dis- 
 cursiveness of fancy. The rudiments of Greek and Latin, 
 the lives of saints and martyrs, the litanies of the Church, 
 the invocations peculiar to certain holy days, chiefly filled 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTIXE." 7 
 
 up my time when not sharing those menial offices which our 
 poverty exacted from our own hands. 
 
 Oui- life was of the very simplest. Except a cup of coffee 
 each morning at daybreak, we took but one meal ; our drink 
 was always water. By what means even the humble fare 
 we enjoyed was procm-ed I never knew, for I never saw 
 money in the Pere's possession, nor did he ever appear to 
 buy anything. 
 
 For about two houi's in the week I used to enjoy entu-e 
 liberty, as the Pere was accustomed every Saturday to visit 
 certain persons of his flock who were too infirm to go abroad. 
 Ou these occasions he would leave me with some thoughtful 
 injunction about reflection or pious meditation, perhaps sug- 
 gesting for my amusement the life of St. Vincent de Paul, 
 or some other of those adventurous spkits whose missions 
 among the Indians are so replete with heroic struggles, but 
 still with free permission for me to walk out at large and 
 enjoy myself as I liked best. VTe lived so near the outer 
 boulevard that I could akeady see the open country from 
 our windows ; but fair and enticing as seemed the sunny 
 slopes of Montmartre, bright as glanced the young leaves of 
 spring in the gardens at its foot, I ever turned my steps 
 into the crowded city, and sought the thoroughfares where 
 the great human tide rolled fullest. 
 
 There were ceitain spots which held a kind of supernatural 
 influence over me ; one of these was the Temple, another was 
 the Place de la Greve. The window at which my father used 
 to sit, from which as a kind of signal I have so often seen 
 his red kerchief floating, I never could pass now without 
 stopping to gaze at, — now, thinking of him who had been 
 its inmate ; now, wondering who might be its present occu- 
 pant. It needed not the onward cm-rent of population that 
 each Satm'day bore along, to carry me to the Place de la 
 Greve. It was the great day of the guillotine, and as many 
 as two hundred were often led out to execution. Although 
 the spectacle had now lost every charm of excitement to the 
 population from its frequency, it had become a kind of 
 necessity to their existence, and the sight of blood alone 
 seemed to slake that feverish thu-st for vengeance which no 
 sufferings appeared capable of satiating. It was rare, how- 
 
8 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 ever, when some great and distinguished criminal did not 
 absorb all the interest of the scene. It was at that period 
 when the fierce tyrants of the Convention had tui'ned upon 
 each other, and sought, by denouncing those who had been 
 then' bosom friends, to seal their new allegiance to the people. 
 There was something demoniacal in the exultation with 
 which the mob witnessed the fate of those whom, but a few 
 weeks back, they had acknowledged as then* guides and 
 teachers. The uncertainty of human greatness appeared the 
 most glorious recompense to those whose station debarred 
 them from all the enjoyments of power ; and the}^ stood by 
 the death-agonies of then- former friends with a fiendish joy 
 that all the sufferings of then- enemies had never yielded. 
 
 To me the spectacle had all the fascination that scenes of 
 horror exercise over the mind of j^outh. I knew nothing of 
 the teiTible conflict, nothing of the fierce passions enlisted 
 in the struggle, nothing of the sacred names so basely pol- 
 luted, nothing of that remorseless vengeance with which the 
 low-born and degraded were still hounded on to slaughter. 
 It was a solemn and a fearful sight, but it was no more ; and 
 I gazed upon every detail of the scene with an interest that 
 never wandered from the spot whereon it was enacted. If 
 the parade of soldiers, of horse, foot, and artillery, gave these 
 scenes a character of public justice, the horrible mobs who 
 chanted ribald songs and danced around the guillotine sug- 
 gested the notion of popular vengeance ; so that I was lost 
 in all my attempts to reconcile the reasons of these execu- 
 tions with the circumstances that accompanied them. 
 
 Not daring to inform the Pere Michel of where I had 
 been, I could not ask him for au}^ explanation ; and thus was 
 I left to pick up from the scattered phrases of the crowd 
 what was the guilt alleged against the criminals. In many 
 cases the simple word Chouan^ of which I knew not the 
 import, was all I heard ; in others jeering allusions to former 
 rank and station would be uttered ; while against some the 
 taunt would imply that they had shed tears over others who 
 fell as enemies of the people, and that such sympathy was a 
 costly pleasure to be paid for but with a life's-blood. Such 
 entire possession of me had these awful sights taken, that I 
 lived in a continual dream of them. The sound of every 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 9 
 
 cart-wheel recalled the dull rumble of the hurdle, every dis- 
 tant sound seemed like the far-off hum of the coming multi- 
 tude, every sudden noise suggested the clanking drop of the 
 guillotine ! My sleep had no other images, and I wandered 
 about my little round of duties pondering over this terrible 
 theme. 
 
 Had I been less occupied with my own thoughts, I must 
 have seen that the Pere Michel was suffering under some 
 great calamity. The poor priest became wasted to a shadow ; 
 for entu-e days long he would taste of nothing ; sometimes 
 he would be absent from early morning to late at night, and 
 when he did return, instead of betaking himself to rest, he 
 would drop down before the crucifix in an agony of prayer, 
 and thus spend more than half the night. Often and often 
 have I, when feigning sleep, followed him as he recited the 
 litanies of the breviary, adding my own unuttered prayers 
 to his, and beseeching for a mercy whose object I knew 
 not. 
 
 For some time his little chapel had been closed by the 
 authorities, — a heavy padlock and two massive seals being 
 placed upon the door, and a notice in a vulgar handwriting 
 appended, to the effect that it was by the order of the Com- 
 missaiy of the Department. Could this be the soui*ce of 
 the Pere's soitow, or did not his affliction seem too great 
 for such a cause, were questions I asked myself again and 
 again. 
 
 In this state were matters, when one morning, it was a 
 Saturday, the Pere enjoined me to spend the day in prayer, 
 reciting particularly the litm-gies for the dead, and all those 
 sacred offices for those who have just departed this life. 
 
 " Pray unceasingly, my dear child, — pray with your whole 
 heart, as though it were for one you loved best in the world. 
 I shall not return, perhaps, till late to-night ; but I will kiss 
 you then, and to-morrow we shall go into the woods 
 together." 
 
 The tears fell from his cheek to mine as he said this, and 
 his damp hand trembled as he pressed my fingers. My heart 
 was full to bursting at his emotion, and I resolved faithfully 
 to do his bidding. To watch him as he went, I opened the 
 sash ; and as I did so, the sound of a distant drum, the well- 
 
10 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 known muffled roll, floated on the air, and I remembered it 
 was the day of the guillotine, — that day in which my fever- 
 ish spiiit turned, as it were in relief, to the reality of blood. 
 Remote as was the part of the city we lived in, I could still 
 mark the hastening steps of the foot-passengers, as they lis- 
 tened to the far-off summons, and see the tide was setting 
 towards the fatal Place de la Greve. It was a lowering, 
 heavy morning, overcast with clouds, and on its loaded 
 atmosphere sounds moved slowly and indistincth' ; yet I 
 could trace through all the din of the great city, the inces- 
 sant roll of the drums, and the loud shouts that burst forth 
 from time to time from some great multitude. 
 
 Forgetting everj^thing save my intense passion for scenes 
 of terror, I hastened down the stau's into the street, and at 
 the top of my speed hurried to the place of execution. As 
 I went along, the crowded streets and thronged avenues told 
 of some event of more than common interest; and in the 
 words which fell from those around me, I could trace that 
 some deep Royalist plot had just been discovered, and that 
 the conspirators would all on that day be executed. AVhether 
 it was that the frequent sight of blood was beginning to pall 
 upon the popular appetite, or that these wholesale massacres 
 interested less than the sight of indi\idual suffering, I know 
 not ; but certainly there was less of exultation, less of 
 triumphant scorn in the tone of the speakers. They talked 
 of the coming event as of a common occurrence, which, from 
 mere repetition, was gradually losing interest. 
 
 " I thought we had done with these Chouans," said a man 
 in a blouse, with a paper cap on his head. " Pardie! they 
 must have been more numerous than we ever suspected." 
 
 "That they were, citoyen^" said a haggard-looking fellow, 
 whose features showed the signs of recent strife ; " they were 
 the millions who gorged and fed upon us for centuries, who 
 sipped the red grape of Bordeaux while you and I drank the 
 water of the Seine." 
 
 " Well, their time is come now," cried a third. 
 
 " And when will ours come? " asked a fresh-looking, dark- 
 eyed girl, whose dress bespoke her trade as a flower-girl; 
 "or do you call this cur time, my masters, when Paris has 
 no more pleasant sight than blood, nor any music save the 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE/^ 11 
 
 pa iVa, that drowns the cries at the guillotine? Is this our 
 time, when we have lost those who gave us bread, and got 
 in their place only those who would feed us with carnage ? " 
 
 "Down with her! down with the Chouaue ! a has la 
 Royaliste ! " cried the pale-faced fellow ; and he struck the 
 giii with his fist upon the face, and left it covered with 
 blood. 
 
 ' ' To the Lantern with her ! to the Seine ! " shouted sev- 
 eral voices ; and now, rudely seizing her by the shoulders, 
 the mob seemed bent upon sudden vengeance ; while the 
 poor girl, letting fall her basket, begged with clasped hands 
 for mercy. 
 
 " See here, see here, comrades," cried a fellow, stooping 
 down among the flowers, " she is a Royalist: here are lilies 
 hid beneath the rest." 
 
 What sad consequences this discovery might have led to 
 there is no knowing, when suddenly a violent rush of the 
 crowd tui'ned every thought into a different direction. It 
 was caused by a movement of the Gendarmerie a cheval, who 
 were clearing the way for the approaching procession. I had 
 just time to place the poor girl's basket in her hands, as the 
 onward impulse of the dense mob carried me foi'ward. I saw 
 her no more. A flower — I know not how it came there — 
 was in my bosom ; and seeing that it was a lily, I placed it 
 within my cap for concealment. 
 
 The hoarse clangor of the bassoons — the only instruments 
 which played during the march — now told that the proces- 
 sion was approaching ; and then I could see, above the heads 
 of the multitude, the leopard-skin helmets of the dragoons, 
 who led the way. Save this I could see nothing, as I was 
 borne along in the vast torrent towards the place of execu- 
 tion. Slowly as we moved, our progress was far more rapid 
 than that of the procession, which was often obliged to halt 
 from the density of the mob in front. "We arrived, there- 
 fore, at the Place a considerable time before it ; and now I 
 found myself beside the massive wooden railing placed to 
 keep off the crowd from the space around the guillotine. 
 
 It was the first time I had ever stood so close to the fatal 
 spot, and my eyes devoured every detail with the most 
 searching intensity, — the colossal guillotine itself, painted 
 
12 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 red, and with its massive axe suspended aloft ; the terrible 
 basket, half filled with sawdust, beneath ; the coarse table, 
 on which a rude jar and a cup were placed ; and, more dis- 
 gusting than all, the lounging group, who, with their news- 
 papers in hand, seemed from time to time to watch if the 
 procession were approaching. They sat beneath a misshapen 
 statue of wood, painted red like the guillotine. This was 
 the goddess of Liberty. I climbed one of the pillars of the 
 paling, and could now see the great cart, which, like a boat 
 upon wheels, came slowly along, dragged by six horses. It 
 was crowded with people, so closely packed that they could 
 not move then* bodies, and only waved their hands, which 
 they did incessantly. They seemed, too, as if they were 
 singing ; but the deep growl of the bassoons, and the fierce 
 bowlings of the mob drowned all other sounds. As the cart 
 came nearer, I could distinguish the faces, amid which were 
 those of age and youth, — men and women, bold-visaged boys 
 and fair girls, — some whose ak bespoke the very highest 
 station, and beside them the hardy peasant, apparently more 
 amazed than terrified at all he saw around him. On they 
 came, the great cart surging heavily, like a bark in a stormy 
 sea ; and now it cleft the dense ocean that filled the place, 
 and I could descry the lineaments wherein the stiffened lines 
 of death were already marked. Had any touch of pity still 
 lingered in that dense crowd, there might well have been 
 some show of compassion for the sad convoy, whose faces 
 grew ghastly with terror as they drew near the horrible 
 engine. 
 
 Down the fuiTOwed cheek of age the heavy tears coursed 
 freely, and sobs and broken prayers burst forth from hearts 
 that until now had beat high and proudly. 
 
 " There is the Due d'Angeac," cried a fellow, pointing to 
 a venerable old man, who was seated at the corner of the 
 cart, with an air of calm dignity ; "I know him well, for I 
 was his perruquier." 
 
 "His hair must be content with sawdust this morning, 
 instead of powder," said another ; and a rude laugh followed 
 the ruffian jest. 
 
 " See ! mark that woman with the long dark hak, — that is 
 La Bretonville, the actress of the St. Martin." 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 13 
 
 *' I have often seen her represent terror far more natur- 
 ally," cried a fashionably-dressed man, as he stared at the 
 victim through his opera-glass. 
 
 "Bah!" replied his friend, "she despises her audience, 
 voila tout. Look, Henri, if that little girl beside her be not 
 Lucille, of the Pantheon." 
 
 " Parhleu ! so it is. Why, they '11 not leave a pirouette in 
 the Grand Opera. Pauvre petite, what had you to do with 
 politics ? " 
 
 " Her little feet ought to have saved her head any day." 
 
 " See how grim that old lady beside her looks; I'd swear 
 she is more shocked at the company she 's thrown into than 
 the fate that awaits her. I never saw a ^glance of prouder 
 disdain than she had just bestowed on poor Lucille." 
 
 "That is the old Marquise D'Estelle, the very essence 
 of our old nobility. They used to talk of their mesalli- 
 ance with the Bourbons as the first misfortune of their 
 house." 
 
 " Pdrdie! they have lived to learn deeper son^ows." 
 
 I had by this time discovered her they were speaking of, 
 whom I recognized at once as the old Marquise of the Chapel 
 of St. Blois. My hands nearly gave up their grasp as I 
 gazed on those features which so often I had seen fixed in 
 prayer, and which now — a thought paler, perhaps — wore 
 the self -same calm expression. With what intense agony I 
 peered into the mass, to see if the little girl, her grand- 
 daughter, were with her; and oh the deep relief I felt as 
 I saw nothing but strange faces on every side ! It was 
 terrible to feel, as my eyes ranged over that vast mass, 
 where grief and despair and heart-sinking terror were 
 depicted, that I should experience a spirit of joy and thank- 
 fulness ; and yet I did so, and with my lips I uttered my 
 gratitude that she was spared ! But I had not time for 
 many reflections like this ; already the terrible business of 
 the day had begun, and the prisoners were now descending 
 from the cart, ranging themselves, as their names were 
 called, in a line below the scaffold. With a few exceptions, 
 they took their places in all the calm of seeming indifference. 
 Death had long familiarized itself to their minds in a thou- 
 sand shapes. Day by day they had seen the vacant places 
 
14 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 left by those led out to die, and if their sorrows had not 
 rendered them careless of life, the world itself had grown 
 distasteful to them. In some cases a spii'it of proud scorn 
 was manifested to the very last ; and, strange inconsistency 
 of human nature ! the very men whose licentiousness and 
 frivolity first evoked the terrible storm of popular fury were 
 the first to display the most chivalrous courage in the terrible 
 face of the guillotine. Beautiful women, too, in all the pride 
 of their loveliness, met the inhuman stare of that mob un- 
 dismayed. Nor were these traits without theii* fruits. This 
 noble spirit, this triumphant victory of the well-born and 
 the great, was a continual insult to the populace, who saw 
 themselves defrauded of half their promised vengeance ; 
 and they learned that they might kill, but they could never 
 humiliate them. In vain they dipped their hands in the 
 red life-blood, and, holding up their dripping fingers, asked, 
 ' ' How did it differ from that of the people ? " Their hearts 
 gave the lie to the taunt; for they witnessed instances of 
 heroism, from gray hairs and tender womanhood, that 
 would have shamed the proudest deeds of then- new-born 
 chivalry ! 
 
 " Charles Gregoire Courcelles ! " shouted out a deep voice 
 from the scaffold. 
 
 "That is my name," said a venerable looking old gentle- 
 man, as he arose from his seat, adding, with a placid smile, 
 " but for half a century my friends have called me the Due 
 de Riancourt." 
 
 ' ' We have no dukes nor marquises ; we know of no titles 
 in France," replied the functionary. " All men are equal 
 before the law." 
 
 "If it were so, my friend, you and I might change places ; 
 for you were my steward, and plundered my chateau." 
 
 ' ' Down with the Royalist ! away with the aristocrat ! " 
 shouted a number of voices from the crowd. 
 
 "Be a little patient, good people," said the old man, as 
 he ascended the steps with some difficulty ; "I was wounded 
 in Canada, and have never yet recovered. I shall probably 
 be better a few minutes hence." 
 
 There was something of half simplicity in the careless way 
 the words were uttered that hushed the multitude, and 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 CF 
 
 "THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 15 
 
 already some expressions of sjmipathy were heard ; but as 
 quickly the ribald insults of the hired ruffians of the Con- 
 vention drowned these sounds, and " Down with the Roy- 
 alist" resounded on every side, while two officials assisted 
 him to remove his stock and bare his throat. The Commis- 
 sary, advancing to the edge of the platform, and, as it were, 
 addressing the people, read in a hurried, slurring kind of 
 voice something that purported to be the ground of the 
 condemnation. But of this not a word could be heard. 
 None cared to hear the ten-thousand-time told tale of sus- 
 pected Royalism, nor would listen to the high-sounding 
 declamation that proclaimed the virtuous zeal of the Govern- 
 ment, their untiring energy, their glorious persistence in the 
 cause of the people. The last words were as usual responded 
 to with an echoing shout, and the cry of " Vive la Itepuh- 
 liqiie " rose from the great multitude. 
 
 " Vive le Roi!'' cried the old man, with a voice heard 
 high above the clamor ; but the words were scarce out when 
 the lips that muttered them were closed in death ; so sudden 
 was the act, that a cry burst forth from the mob, but whether 
 in reprobation or in ecstasy I knew not. 
 
 I will not follow the sad catalogue, wherein nobles and 
 peasants, priests, soldiers, actors, men of obscure fortune 
 and women of lofty station, succeeded each other, occupying 
 for a brief minute every eye, and passing away forever. 
 Many ascended the platform without a word ; some waved 
 a farewell towards a distant quarter, where they suspected a 
 friend to be ; others spent their last moments in prayer, and 
 died in the very act of supplication. All bore themselves 
 with a noble and proud courage ; and now some five or six 
 alone remained of whose fate none seemed to guess the issue, 
 since they had been taken from the Temple by some mistake, 
 and were not included in the list of the Commissary. There 
 they sat, at the foot of the scaffold, speechless and stupefied ; 
 they looked as though it were matter of indifference to which 
 side their steps should turn, — to the jail or the guillotine. 
 Among these was the Marquise, who alone preserved her 
 proud self-possession, and sat in all her accustomed dignity ; 
 while close beside her an angry controversy was maintained 
 as to their future destiny, — the Commissary firmly refusing 
 
16 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 to receive them for execution, and the Delegate of the 
 Temple, as he was styled, as flatly asserting that he would 
 not reconduct them to prison. The populace soon grew 
 interested in the dispute, and the most violent altercations 
 arose among the partisans of each side of the question. 
 
 Meanwhile the Commissary and his assistants prepared to 
 depart. Already the massive drapery of red cloth was 
 drawn over the guillotine, and every preparation made for 
 withdrawing, when the mob, doubtless dissatisfied that they 
 should be defrauded of any portion of the entertainment, 
 began to climb over the wooden barricades, and, with fm'ious 
 cries and shouts, threaten vengeance upon any who would 
 screen the enemies of the people. 
 
 The troops resisted the movement, but rather with the air 
 of men entreating calmness, than with the spirit of soldiery. 
 It was plain to see on which side the true force lay. 
 
 " If you will not do it, the people will do it for you," 
 whispered the delegate to the Commissary ; ' ' and who is to 
 say where they will stop when their hands once learn the 
 trick ! " 
 
 The Commissary grew li^idly pale, and made no reply. 
 
 "See there!" rejoined the other, "they are carrying a 
 fellow on their shoulders yonder ; they mean him to be the 
 executioner." 
 
 "But I dare not — I cannot — without my orders." 
 
 " Are not the people sovereign? Whose will have we 
 sworn to obey but theirs ? " 
 
 " My own head would be the penalty if I yielded." 
 
 " It will be, if you resist ; even now it is too late." 
 
 And as he spoke he sprang from the scaffold, and disap- 
 peared in the dense crowd that already thronged the space 
 within the rails. 
 
 By this time the populace were not only masters of the 
 area around, but had also gained the scaffold itself, from 
 which many of them seemed endeavoring to harangue the 
 mob ; others contenting themselves with imitating the ges- 
 tures of the Commissary and his functionaries. It was a 
 scene of the wildest uproar and confusion, — frantic cries and 
 screams, ribald songs and fiendish yellings on every side. 
 The guillotine was again uncovered, and the great crimson 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 17 
 
 drapery, torn into fragments, was waved about like flags, or 
 twisted into uncouth head-dresses. The Commissary, failing 
 in every attempt to restore order peaceably, and either not 
 possessing a sufficient force or distrusting the temper of the 
 soldiers, descended from the scaffold, and gave the order to 
 march. This act of submission was hailed by the mob with 
 the most furious yell of triumph. Up to that very moment 
 they had never credited the bare possibility of a victory ; and 
 now they saw themselves suddenly masters of the field, — 
 the troops in all the array of horse and foot, retiring in dis- 
 comfiture. Their exultation knew no bounds ; and, doubt- 
 less, had there been amongst them those with skill and daring 
 to profit by the enthusiasm, the torrent had rushed a longer 
 and more terrific course than through the blood-steeped clay 
 of the Place de la Greve. 
 
 " Here is the man we want," shouted a deep voice. " St. 
 Just told us t' other day that the occasion never failed to 
 produce one ; and see, here is Jean Gougou ; and though 
 he 's but two feet high, his fingers can reach the pin of the 
 guillotine." 
 
 And he held aloft on his shoulders a misshapen dwarf, 
 who was well-known on the Pont Neuf , where he gained his 
 living by singing infamous songs and performing mockeries 
 of the service of the mass. A cheer of welcome acknow- 
 ledged this speech, to which the dwarf responded by a mock 
 benediction, which he bestowed with all the ceremonious 
 observance of an archbishop. Shouts of the wildest laughter 
 followed this ribaldry, and in a kind of triumph they carried 
 him up the steps and deposited him on the scaffold. 
 
 Ascending one of the chairs, the little wretch proceeded 
 to address the mob, which he did with all the ease and com- 
 posure of a practised public speaker. Not a murmur was 
 heard in that tumultuous assemblage, as he, with a most 
 admirable imitation of Hebert, then the popular idol, assured 
 them that France was at that instant the envy of surround- 
 ing nations ; and that, bating certain little weaknesses on 
 the score of humanity — certain traits of softness and over- 
 mercy — her citizens realized all that ever had been said of 
 angels. From thence he passed on to a mimicry of Marat, 
 of Danton, and of Robespierre, — tearing off his cravat, 
 
 2 
 
18 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 baring his breast, and performing all the oft-exhibited antics 
 of the latter, as he vociferated, in a wild scream, the well- 
 known peroration of a speech he had lately made, "If we 
 look for a glorious morrow of freedom, the sun of out 
 slavery must set in blood ! " 
 
 However amused by the dwarf's exhibition, a feeling of 
 impatience began to manifest itself among the mob, who felt 
 that by any longer delay it was possible time would be given 
 for fresh ti'oops to arrive, and the glorious opportunity of 
 popular sovereignty be lost in the very hour of victory. 
 
 "To work, to work. Master Gougon ! " shouted hundreds 
 of voices; "we cannot spend our day in listening to 
 oratory." 
 
 "You forget, my dear friends," said he, blandly, "that 
 this is to me a new walk in life. I have much to learn, ere 
 I can acquit myself worthily to the Republic." 
 
 " AVe have no leisure for preparatory studies, Gougon," 
 cried a fellow below the scaffold. 
 
 " Let me, then, just begin with monsieur," said the dwarf, 
 pointing to the last speaker, and a shout of laughter closed 
 the sentence. 
 
 A brief and angry dispute now arose as to what was to be 
 done, and it is more than doubtful how the debate might 
 have ended, when Gougon, with a readmess all his own, 
 concluded the discussion by saying, — 
 
 " I have it, citizens, I have it. There is a lady here, who, 
 however respectable her family and connections, will leave 
 few to mourn her loss. She is, in a manner, public property, 
 and if not born on the soil, at least a naturalized French- 
 woman. We have done a great deal for her and in her 
 name, for some time back, and I am not aware of any 
 singular benefit she has rendered us. With youi' permission, 
 then, I '11 begin with her." 
 
 " Name, name — name her ! " was cried by thousands. 
 
 "ia voila" said he, archly, as he pointed with his thumb 
 to the wooden effigy of Liberty above his head. 
 
 The absurdity of the suggestion was more than enough 
 for its success. A dozen hands were speedily at work, and 
 down came the Goddess of Liberty ! The other details of 
 an execution were hurried over with all the speed of prac- 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 19 
 
 tised address, and the figure was placed beneath the drop. 
 Down fell the axe, and Gougon, lifting up the wooden head, 
 paraded it about the scaffold, crying, — 
 
 ' ' Behold ! an enemy of France ! ' Long live the Repub- 
 lic, one and indivisible.' " 
 
 Loud and wild were the shouts of laughter from this 
 brutal mockery ; and for a time it almost seemed as if the 
 ribaldry had turned the mob from the sterner passions of 
 their vengeance. This hope, if one there ever cherished it, 
 was short-lived ; and again the cry arose for blood. It was 
 too plain that no momentary diversion, no passing distrac- 
 tion, could withdraw them from that lust for cruelty that 
 had now gi'own into a passion. 
 
 And now a bustle and movement of those around the 
 stau's showed that something was in preparation ; and in the 
 next moment the old Marquise was led forward between 
 two men. 
 
 ' ' Where is the order for this woman's execution ? " asked 
 the dwarf, mimicking the style and aii* of the Commissary. 
 
 " ^Ye give it : it is from us ! " shouted the mob, with one 
 savage roar. 
 
 Gougon removed his cap, and bowed a token of obedience. 
 
 " Let us proceed in order, citizens," said he, gravely ; "I 
 see no priest here." 
 
 " Shrive her yourself, Gougon; few know the mummeries 
 better! " cried a voice. 
 
 ^' Is there not one here can remember a prayer, or even a 
 verse of the offices ? " said Gougon, with a well-affected 
 horror in his voice. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I do," cried I, my zeal overcoming all sense 
 of the mockery in which the words were spoken ; "I know 
 them all by heart, and can repeat them from ' lux beatissima ' 
 down to ' hora mortis ; ' " and as if to gain credence for my 
 self-laudation, I began at once to recite, in the sing-song 
 tone of the seminary, — 
 
 " Salve, mater salvatoris, 
 Pons salutis, vas honoris ; 
 Scala cceli, porta et via, 
 Salve semper, Maria ! " 
 
20 MAUEICE TTERNAY. 
 
 It is possible I should have gone ou to the very end. if the 
 uproarious laughter which rang around had not stopped me. 
 
 ' ' There 's a brave youth ! " cried Gougon, pointing towards 
 me, with mock admkation. "If it ever come to pass — as 
 what may not in these strange times ? — that we tui'n to 
 priestcraft again, thou shalt be the first archbishop of Paris. 
 Who taught thee that famous canticle ? " 
 
 "The Pere Michel," replied I. in no way conscious of 
 the ridicule bestowed upon me. — --the Pere Michel of St. 
 Blois." 
 
 The old lady lifted up her head at these words, and her 
 dark eyes rested steadily upon me ; and then, with a sign of 
 her hand, she motioned to me to come over to her. 
 
 "Yes; let him come," said Gougon. as if answering the 
 half -reluctant glances of the crowd. And now I was assisted 
 to descend, and passed along over the heads of the people, 
 till I was placed upon the scaffold. Xever can I forget the 
 terror of that moment, as I stood within a few feet of the 
 teiTible guillotine, and saw beside me the horrid basket 
 splashed with recent blood. 
 
 "Look not at these things, child," said the old lady, as 
 she took my hand and drew me towards her. •• but listen to 
 me, and mark my words well." 
 
 "I will. I will," cried I, as the hot tears rolled down my 
 cheeks. 
 
 • • Tell the Pere — you will see him to-night — tell him that 
 I have changed my mind, and resolved upon another course. 
 and that he is not to leave Paris. Let them remain. The 
 torrent runs too rapidly to last. This cannot endm*e much 
 longer. "We shall be among the last victims. You hear me. 
 child?" 
 
 "I do, I do," cried I, sobbing. ••TThy is not the P^re 
 Michel with you now? " 
 
 "Because he is suing for my pardon. — asking for mercy 
 where its veiT name is a derision. Kneel down beside me. 
 and repeat the ' angelus.' " 
 
 I took off my cap, and knelt down at her feet, reciting, in 
 a voice broken by emotion, the words of the prayer. She 
 repeated each syllable after me, in a tone full and unshaken ; 
 and then stooping, she took up the lily which lay in my cap. 
 
"THE DAYS OF THE GUILLOTINE." 21 
 
 She pressed it to her lips two or three times passionately. 
 " Give it to her; tell her I kissed it at my last moment. 
 Tell her — " 
 
 " This ' shrift ' is beyond endurance. Away, holy father ! " 
 cried Gougon, as he pushed me rudely back, and seized the 
 Marquise by the wrist. A faint cry escaped her. I heard 
 no more ; for jostled and pushed about by the crowd, I was 
 driven to the very rails of the scaffold. Stepping beneath 
 these, I mingled with the mob beneath ; and burning with 
 eagerness to escape a scene, to have witnessed which would 
 almost have made my heart break, I forced my way into the 
 dense mass, and by squeezing and creeping succeeded at 
 last in penetrating to the verge of the Place. A terrible 
 shout, and a rocking motion of the mob like the heavy 
 sui'ging of the sea, told me that all was over ; but I never 
 looked back to the fatal spot, but having gained the open 
 streets, ran at the top of my speed towards home. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE RESTAURANT " AU SCELERAT." 
 
 As I gained the street, at a distance from the Place, I was 
 able to increase my speed ; and I did so with an eagerness 
 as if the world depended on my haste. At any other time 
 I would have bethought me of my disobedience to the Pere's 
 commands, and looked forward to meeting him with shame 
 and sorrow; but now I felt a kind of importance in the 
 charge intrusted to me. I regarded my mission as some- 
 thing superior to any petty consideration of self, while the 
 very proximity in which I had stood to peril and death made 
 me seem a hero in my own eyes. 
 
 At last I reached the street where we lived, and, almost 
 breathless with exertion, gained the door. What was my 
 amazement, however, to find it guarded by a sentry, — a 
 large, solemn-looking fellow, with a tattered cocked hat on 
 his head, and a pair of worn striped trousers on his legs, who 
 cried out, as I appeared, ^^Halte la? " in a voice that at once 
 arrested my steps. 
 
 "Where to, youngster?" said he, in a somewhat melted 
 tone, seeing the shock his first words had caused me. 
 
 " I am going home, su-," said I, submissively ; "I live at 
 the third story, in the apartment of the P^re Michel." 
 
 " The P^re Michel will live there no longer, my boy ; his 
 apartment is now in the Temple," said he, slowly. 
 
 ' ' In the Temple ! " said I, whose memory at once recalled 
 my father's fate ; and then, unable to control my feelings, 
 I sat down upon the steps and burst into tears. 
 
 "There, there, child, you must not cry thus," said he; 
 " these are not days when one should weep over misfortunes, 
 — they come too fast and too thick on all of us for that. 
 The P^re was your tutor, I suppose ? " 
 
THE EESTAURANT "AU SC'ELMaT." 23 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 " And your father — where is he? " 
 
 "Dead." 
 
 He made a sign to imitate the guillotine, and I assented 
 by another nod. 
 
 " Was he a Royalist, boy ? " 
 
 "He was an officer in the Garde du Corps," said I, 
 proudly. 
 
 The soldier shook his head mournfully, but with what 
 meaning I know not. 
 
 "And your mother, boy?" 
 
 " I do not know where she is," said I, again relapsing into 
 tears at the thought of my utter desolation. 
 
 The old soldier leaned upon his musket in profound thought, 
 and for some time did not utter a word. At last he said, — 
 
 ' ' There is nothing but the Hotel de Ville for you, my 
 child. They say that the Republic adopts all the orphans of 
 France. What she does with them I cannot tell." 
 
 "But I can, though," replied I, fiercely; "the Noyades 
 or the Seine are a quick and sure provision ; I saw eighty 
 drowned one morning below the Pont Neuf, myself." 
 
 "That tongue of yours will bring you into trouble, 
 youngster," said he, reprovingly; " mind that you say not 
 such things as these." 
 
 " What worse fortune can betide me than to see my father 
 die at the guillotine, and my last, my only friend, carried 
 away to prison ? " 
 
 " You have no care for your own neck, then?" 
 
 ' ' Why should I — what value has life for me ? " 
 
 "Then it will be spared to you," said he, sententiously ; 
 " mark my words, lad. You need never fear death till you 
 begin to love life. Get up, my poor boy ; you must not be 
 found there when the relief comes, and that will be soon. 
 This is all that I have," said he, placing three sous in my 
 palm, "which will buy a loaf; to-morrow there may be 
 better luck in store for you." 
 
 I shook the rough hand he offered with cordial gratitude, 
 and resolved to bear myself as like a man as I could. I 
 drew myself up, touched my cap in soldier-like fashion, and 
 cried out adieu, and then descending into the street, 
 
24 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 hurried awaj^ to hide the tears that were abnost suffocating 
 me. 
 
 Hour after hour I walked the streets ; the mere act of 
 motion seemed to divert ni}^ grief ; and it was oul}- when 
 foot-sore and wear^^ that I could march no longer, and my 
 sorrows came back in full force, and overwhelmed me in 
 theii' flow. It was less pride or shame than a sense of my 
 utter helplessness that prevented me addressing any one of 
 the hundreds who passed me. I bethought me of my in- 
 ability to do anything for my own support, and it was this 
 consciousness that served to weigh me down more than all 
 else ; and yet I felt with what devotion I could serve him 
 who would but treat me with the kindness he might bestow 
 upon his dog ; I fancied with what zeal I could descend to 
 very slaver}" for one word of affection. The streets were 
 crowded with people ; groups were gathered here and there, 
 either listening to some mob orator of the day, or hearing 
 the newspapers read aloud. I tried, by forcing my way into 
 the crowd, to feel myself " one of them," and to think that 
 I had my share of interest in what was going f oi-rs^ard, but in 
 vain. Of the topics discussed I knew nothing, and of the 
 bystanders none even noticed me. High-swelling phrases 
 met the ear at every moment, that sounded strangely enough 
 to me. They spoke of Fraternity, of that brotherhood which 
 linked man to man in close affection ; of Equality, that made 
 all sharers in this world's goods ; of Liberty, that gave 
 freedom to every noble aspiration and generous thought; 
 and for an instant, carried away by the glorious illusion, I 
 even forgot my solitary condition, and felt proud of my 
 heritage as a youth of France. I looked around me, how- 
 ever, and what faces met my gaze ! — the same fearful 
 countenances I had seen around the scaffold ; the wretches, 
 blood-stained and influenced by passion, their bloated cheeks 
 and strained eye-balls glowing with intemperance ; their oaths, 
 their gestures, their very voices having something terrible 
 in them. The mockery soon disgusted me, and I moved 
 away, again to wander about without object or direction 
 through the weary streets. 
 
 It was past midnight when I found myself, without know- 
 ing where I was, in a large open space, in the midst of which 
 
THE RESTAURANT "AU SC^L^RAT." 25 
 
 a solitary lamp was burning. I approached it, and to my 
 horror saw that it was the guillotine, over which in mournful 
 cadence a lantern swung, creaking its chain as the night 
 wind stirred it. The dim outline of the fearful scaffold, the 
 fitful light that fell upon the platform, and the silence, — 
 all conspired to strike terror into my heart; all I had so 
 lately witnessed seemed to rise up again before me, and the 
 victims seemed to stand up again, pale and livid and shud- 
 dering, as last I saw them. 
 
 I knelt down and tried to pray ; but terror was too power- 
 ful to suffer my thoughts to take this direction, and, half- 
 fainting with fear and exhaustion, I lay down upon the 
 ground and slept, — slept beneath the platform of the guillo- 
 tine. Not a dream crossed my slumber, nor did I awake 
 till dawn of day, when the low rumbling of the peasants' 
 carts aroused me, as they were proceeding to the market. 
 I know not why or whence, but I arose from the damp earth, 
 and looked about me with a more daring and courageous 
 spirit than I had hitherto felt. It was May ; the first bright 
 rays of sunshine were slanting along the Place, and the 
 fresh, brisk air felt invigorating and cheering. Whither to ? 
 asked I of myself, and my eyes turned from the dense streets 
 and thoroughfares of the great city to the far-off hills beyond 
 the barrier, and for a moment I hesitated which road to take. 
 I almost seemed to feel as if the decision involved my whole 
 future fortune, — whether I should live and die in the humble 
 condition of a peasant, or play for a great stake in life. 
 " Yes," said I, after a short hesitation, " I will remain here : 
 in the terrible conflict going forward, many must be new 
 adventurers, and never was any one more greedy to learn 
 the trade than myself. I will throw sorrow behind me. 
 Yesterday's tears are the last I shall shed. Now for a bold 
 heart and a ready will, and here goes for the world !" With 
 these stout words I placed my cap jauntily on one side of 
 my head, and with a fearless ah' marched off for the very 
 centre of the city. 
 
 For some hours I amused myself gazing at the splendid 
 shops, or staring in at the richly-decorated cafes, where the 
 young celebrities of the day were assembled at breakfast, in 
 all the extravagance of the new-fangled costume. Then I 
 
26 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 followed the guard to the parade at the Carrousel, and lis- 
 tened to the band ; quittmg which I wandered along the 
 quays, watching the boats as they dragged the river in search 
 of murdered bodies or suicides. Thence I returned to the 
 Palais Royal and listened to the news of the day, as read 
 out by some elected enlightener of his countrymen. 
 
 By what chance I know not, but at last my rambling steps 
 brought me opposite to the great solemn-looking towers of 
 the Temple, — the gloomy prison, within whose walls hun- 
 dreds were then awaiting the fate which already their friends 
 had suffered. Little groups, gathered here and there in the 
 open Place, were communicating to the prisoners by signs 
 and gestures, and from many a small grated window, at an 
 immense height, handkerchiefs were seen to wave in recog- 
 nition of those below. These signals seemed to excite 
 neither watchfulness nor prevention, — indeed, they needed 
 none ; and perhaps the very suspense they excited was a tor- 
 ture that pleased the inhuman jailers. Whatever the reason, 
 the custom was tolerated, and was apparently enjoyed at 
 that moment by several of the turnkeys, who sat at the win- 
 dows, much amused at the efforts made to communicate. 
 Interested by the sight, I sat down upon a stone bench to 
 watch the scene, and fancied that I could read something of 
 the rank and condition of those who signalled from below 
 their messages of hope or fear. At last a deep bell within 
 the prison tolled the hour of noon ; and now every window 
 was suddenly deserted. It was the hour for the muster of 
 the prisoners, which always took place before the dinner at 
 one o'clock. The curious groups soon after broke up. A 
 few lingered around the gate, with, perhaps, some hope of 
 admission to visit then- friends ; but the greater number 
 departed. 
 
 My hunger was now such that I could no longer deny my- 
 self the long-promised meal, and I looked about me for a 
 shop where I might buy a loaf of bread. In my search, I 
 suddenl}^ found myself opposite an immense shop, where 
 viands of every tempting description were ranged with all 
 that artistic skill so purely Parisian, making up a picture 
 whose composition Snyders would not have despised. Over 
 the door was a painting of a miserable wretch, with hands 
 
THE RESTAURANT "AU SC£l£RAT." 27 
 
 bound behind him, and his hair cut close in the well-known 
 crop for the scaffold; and underneath was written, " Au 
 Scelerat ; " while on a large board, in gilt letters, ran the 
 inscription, -^ 
 
 " Boivin Pere et fils, Traiteurs pour MM. les Condamnees." 
 
 I could scarcely credit my eyes, as I read and re-read this 
 infamous announcement ; but there it stood, and in the 
 crowd that poured incessantly to and from the door I saw 
 the success that attended the traffic. A ragged knot were 
 gathered around the window, eagerly gazing at something, 
 which, by then* exclamations, seemed to claim all then- 
 admiration. I pressed forward to see what it was, and be- 
 held a miniature guillotine, which, turned by a wheel, was 
 employed to chop the meat for sausages. This it was that 
 formed the great object of attraction, even to those to whom 
 the prototype had grown flat and uninteresting. 
 
 Disgusted as I was by this shocking sight, I stood watch- 
 ing all that went forward within with a strange interest. It 
 was a scene of incessant bustle and movement ; for now, as 
 one o'clock drew nigh, various dinners were getting ready 
 for the prisoners, while parties of their friends were assem- 
 bling inside. Of these latter there seemed persons of every 
 rank and condition, — some, dressed in all the brilliancy of 
 the mode; others, whose garments bespoke dkest poverty. 
 There were women, too, whose costume emulated the classic 
 drapery of the ancients, and who displayed, in their looped 
 togas, no niggard share of their forms; while others, in 
 shabby mourning, sat in obscure corners, not noticing the 
 scene before them, nor noticed themselves. A strange equi- 
 page, with two horses extravagantly bedizened with rosettes 
 and bouquets, stood at the door; and as I looked, a pale, 
 haggard-looking man, whose foppery in dress contrasted 
 oddly with his care-worn expression, hurried from the shop, 
 and sprung into the carriage. In doing so, a pocket-book 
 fell from his pocket. I took it up; but as I did so, the 
 carriage was already away, and far beyond my power to 
 overtake it. 
 
 Without stopping to examine my prize, or hesitating for a 
 second, I entered the restaurant, and asked for M. Boivin. 
 
28 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 '' Give your orders to me, boy," said a man busily at 
 work behind the counter. 
 
 '' My business is with himself," said I, stoutly. 
 
 " Then you'll have to wait with some patience," said he, 
 sneeringly. 
 
 '•I can do so," was my answer, and I sat down in the 
 shop. 
 
 I might have been half-an-hour thus seated, when an enor- 
 mously fat man, with a huge bonnet rouge on his head, 
 entered from an inner room, and passing close to where I 
 was caught sight of me. 
 
 "Who are you, suTah — what brings you here?" 
 
 " I want to speak with M. Boivin." 
 
 "Then speak," said he, placing his hand upon his 
 immense chest. 
 
 " It must be alone," said I. 
 
 " How so, alone, surah? " said he, growing suddenly pale ; 
 "I have no secrets. I know of nothing that may not be 
 told before all the world." 
 
 Though he said this in a kind of appeal to all around, the 
 dubious looks and glances interchanged seemed to make him 
 far from comfortable. 
 
 " So 3'ou refuse me, then? " said I, taking up my cap, and 
 preparing to depart. 
 
 "Come hither," said he, leading the way into the room 
 from which he had emerged. It was a very small chamber, 
 the most conspicuous ornaments of which were busts and 
 pictures of the various celebrities of the Revolution. Some 
 of these latter were framed ostentatiously, and one, occupy- 
 ing the post of honor above the chimney, at once attracted 
 me ; for in a glance I saw that it was a portrait of him 
 who owned the pocket-book, and bore beneath it the name 
 " Robespierre." 
 
 " Now, su, for your communication," said Boivin ; " and 
 take care that it is of sufficient importance to warrant the 
 interview you have asked for." 
 
 " I have no fears on that score," said I, calmly, still scan- 
 ning the features of the portrait, and satisfying myself of 
 their identity. 
 
 " Look at me, sir, and not at that picture," said Boivin. 
 
THE RESTAURANT "AU SCELERAT." 29 
 
 "And yet it is of M. Robespierre I have to speak," said 
 I, coolly. 
 
 " How so — of M. Robespierre, boy? What is the mean- 
 ing of this? If it be a snare — if this be a trick, you never 
 leave this spot living," cried he, as he placed a massive hand 
 on each of my shoulders and shook me violently. 
 
 "I am not so easily to be terrified, citoyen," said I ; " nor 
 have I any secret cause for fear, whatever you may have. 
 My business is of another kind. This morning, in passing 
 out to his carnage, he dropped his pocket-book, which I 
 picked up. Its contents may well be of a kind that should 
 not be read by other eyes than his own. My request is, 
 then, that you will seal it up before me, and then send some 
 one along with me, while I restore it to its owner." 
 
 " Is this a snare? What secret mischief have we here?" 
 said Boivin, half aloud, as he wiped the cold drops of per- 
 spu'ation from his forehead. 
 
 "Any mishap that follows will depend upon your refusal 
 to do what I ask." 
 
 "How so — I never refused it; you dare not tell M. 
 Robespierre that I refused, sirrah? " 
 
 " I will tell him nothing that is untrue," said I, calmly; 
 for already a sense of power had gifted me with composure. 
 "If M. Robespierre — " 
 
 ' ' Who speaks of me here ? " cried the identical personage, 
 as he dashed hurriedly into the room, and then, not waiting 
 for the reply, went on, — "You must send out your scouts 
 on every side ! I lost my pocket-book as I left this a while 
 ago." 
 
 " It is here, sh-," said I, presenting it at once. 
 
 ' ' How — where was it found — in whose keeping has it 
 been, boy?" 
 
 ' ' In mine only ; I took it from the ground the same mo- 
 ment that you dropped it, and then came here to place it in 
 M. Boivin's hands." 
 
 ' ' Who has taken care of it since that time ? " continued 
 Robespierre, with a slow and sneering accentuation on every 
 word. 
 
 ' ' The pocket-book has never left my possession since it 
 quitted yours," was my reply. 
 
30 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Just so," broke in Boivin, now slowly recovering from 
 his terror. "Of its contents I know nothing; nor have I 
 sought to know anything." 
 
 Robespierre looked at me as if to corroborate this state- 
 ment, and I nodded my head in acquiescence. 
 
 " Who is your father, boy ? " 
 
 " I have none, — he was gniillotined." 
 
 " His name?" 
 
 "Tiernay." 
 
 " Ah, I remember ; he was called I'lrlandais." 
 
 "The same." 
 
 ' ' A famous Royalist was that same Tiernay, and, doubt- 
 less, contrived to leave a heritage of his opinions to his son." 
 
 "He left me nothing. I have neither house, nor home, 
 nor even bread to eat." 
 
 " But you have a head to plan and a heart to feel, 
 youngster; and it is better that fellows like you should not 
 want a dinner. Boivin, look to it that he is taken care of. 
 In a few daj's I will relieve you of the charge. You will 
 remain here, boy ; there are worse resting places, I promise 
 you. There are men who call themselves teachers of the 
 people, who would ask no better life than free quarters on 
 Boivin." And so saying, he hurriedly withdrew, leaving me 
 face to face with my host. 
 
 " So then, youngster," said Boivin, as he scratched his ear 
 thoughtfully, "I have gained a pensioner! ParhJeu! if life 
 were not an uncertain thing in these times, there 's no say- 
 ing how long we might not be blessed with your amiable 
 company." 
 
 "Y"ou shall not be burthened heavily, citoyen," said I; 
 "let me have my dinner — I have not eaten since yesterda}^ 
 morning — and I will go my ways peacefully." 
 
 "Which means straight to Robespierre's dwelling, to tell 
 him that I have turned you out of doors — eh, sirrah ? " 
 
 " Y"ou mistake me much," said I; "this would be sorry 
 gratitude for eaten bread. I meant what I said, — that I 
 will not be an unwelcome guest, even though the alternative 
 be, as it is, something very nigh starvation." 
 
 Boivin did not seem clearly to comprehend the meaning of 
 what I said ; or perhaps my whole conduct and bearing 
 
THE KESTAURANT "AU SCELERAT." 31 
 
 puzzled him, for he made no reply for several seconds. At 
 last, with a kind of sigh, he said, — 
 
 ' ' AVell, well, it cannot be helped ! it must be even as he 
 wished, though the odds are he'll never think more about 
 him. Come, lad, you shall have youi* dinner." 
 
 I followed him through a narrow, unlighted passage, 
 which opened into a room where at a long table were 
 seated a number of men and boys at dinner. Some were 
 dressed as cooks ; others wore a kind of gray blouse, with a 
 badge upon the arm bearing the name " Boivin" in large 
 letters, and were, as I afterwards learned, the messengers 
 employed to carry refreshments into the prison, and 
 who by vu'tue of this sign were freely admitted within 
 the gates. 
 
 Taking my place at the board, I proceeded to eat with a 
 voracity that only a long fast could have excused ; and thus 
 took but little heed of my companions, whose solecisms in 
 table etiquette might otherwise have amused me. 
 
 ''Art a Marmiton, thou?" asked an elderly man in a 
 cook's cap, as he stared fixedly at me for some seconds. 
 
 " No," said I, helping myself, and eating away as before. 
 
 "Thou can'st never be a commission au*e, friend, with an 
 appetite like that," cried another ; "I would n't trust thee to 
 carry a casserole to the fire." 
 
 " Nor shall I be," said I, coolly. 
 
 "What trade, then, has the good fortune to possess your 
 shining abilities ? " 
 
 ' ' A trade that thrives well just now, friend ; pass me the 
 flask." 
 
 " Indeed, and what may it be? " 
 
 " Can you not guess, citoj^en," said I, " if I tell you that 
 it was never more in vogue, and if there be some who will 
 not follow it, they'll wear their heads just as safely by 
 holding their peace?" 
 
 ^'-Parhleu! thou hast puzzled me," said the chief cook; 
 ' ' and if thou be'st not a coffin-maker — " A roar of 
 merriment cut short his speech, in which I myself could 
 not but join heartily. 
 
 "That is, I know," said I, "a thriving business; but 
 mine is even better; and, not to mystify you longer, I'll 
 
32 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 just tell YOU what I am, — which is, simply, a friend of the 
 Citoyen Robespierre." 
 
 The blow told with full force ; and I saw, in the terrified 
 looks that were interchanged around the table, that my 
 sojom-n amongst them, whether destined to be of short or 
 long dui-ation, would not be disturbed by further liberties. 
 It was truly a reign of terror that same period ! The great 
 agent of everything was the vague and shadowy dread of 
 some terrible vengeance, against which precautions were all 
 in vain. Men met each other with secret misgivings, and 
 parted with the same dreadful distiiist. The ties of kindred 
 were all broken ; brotherly affection died out. Existence was 
 become like the struggle for life upon some shipwrecked raft, 
 where each sought safety by his neighbor's doom ! At such 
 a time, with such terrible teachings, children became men 
 in all the sterner featm-es of character; cruelty is a lesson 
 so easily learned. 
 
 As for myself, energetic and ambitious by nature, the 
 ascendancy my first assumption of power suggested was too 
 grateful a passion to be relinquished. The name whose spell 
 was like a talisman became now the secret engine by which 
 I determined to work out my fortune. Robespierre had be- 
 come to my imagination like the slave of Aladdin's lamp, 
 and to conjure him up was to be all-powerful. Even to Boivin 
 himself this influence extended ; and it was easy to perceive 
 that he regarded the whole narrative of the pocket-book as a 
 mere fable, invented to obtain a position as a spy over his 
 household. 
 
 I was not unwilling to encourage the belief, — it added to 
 my importance by increasing the fear I inspired ; and thus I 
 walked indolently about, giving myself those airs of mou- 
 chard that I deemed most fitting, and taking a mischievous 
 delight in the terror I was inspmng. 
 
 The indolence of my life, however, soon wearied me, and I 
 began to long for some occupation or some pm-suit. Teeming 
 with excitement as the world was — every day, every hour, 
 brimful of events — it was impossible to sit calmly on the 
 beach, and watch the great, foaming current of human pas- 
 sions, without longing to be in the stream. Had I been a 
 man at that time, I should have become a furious orator of 
 
THE RESTAURANT "AU SCllLl&RAT." 33 
 
 the Mountain, an impassioned leader of the people. The 
 impulse to stand foremost, to take a bold and prominent 
 position, would have carried me to any lengths. I had caught 
 up enough of the horrid fanaticism of the time to think that 
 there was something grand and heroic in contempt for human 
 suffering ; that a man rose proudly above all the weakness of 
 his nature, when, in the pursuit of some great object, he 
 stifled within his breast every throb of affection, every sen- 
 tunent of kindness and mercy. Such were the teachings 
 rife at the time, such the first lessons that boyhood learned ; 
 and oh what a terrible hour had that been for humanity if 
 the generation then born had grown up to manhood un- 
 chastened and unconverted ! 
 
 But to retui'n to my daily life. As I perceived that a 
 week had now elapsed, and the Citizen Robespierre had not 
 revisited the restaurant, nor taken any interest in my fate 
 or fortunes, I began to fear lest Boivin should master 
 his terror regarding me, and take heart to put me out of 
 doors, — an event which, in my present incertitude, would 
 have been sorely inconvenient. I resolved, therefore, to 
 practise a petty deception on my host to sustain the influ- 
 ence of terror over him. This was to absent myself every 
 day at a certain hour, under the pretence of visiting my 
 patron ; letting fall, from time to time, certain indications to 
 show in what part of the city I had been, and occasionally, 
 as if in an unguarded moment, condescending to relate 
 some piece of popular gossip. None ventured to inquire 
 the source of my information, not one dared to impugn its 
 veracity. Whatever then- misgivings in secret, to myself 
 they displayed the most credulous faith. Nor was their 
 trust so much misplaced, for I had, in reality, become a 
 perfect chronicle of all that went forward in Paris, — never 
 missing a debate in the Convention, where my retentive 
 memory could carry away almost verbally all that I heard ; 
 ever present at every public fete or procession, whether the 
 occasions were some insulting desecration of their former 
 faith, or some tasteless mockery of heathen ceremonial. 
 
 My powers of mimicry, too, enabled me to imitate all the 
 famous characters of the period ; and in my assumed 
 inviolability I used to exhibit the uncouth gestures and 
 
 3 
 
34 JMAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 spluttering utterance of Marat, the wild and terrible 
 ravings of Danton, and even the reedy treble of my own 
 patron Robespierre, as he screamed denunciations against 
 the enemies of the people. It is true these exhibitions of 
 mine were only given in secret to certain parties, who, by a 
 kind of instinct, I felt could be trusted. 
 
 Such was my life, as one day, returning from the Conven- 
 tion, I beheld a man affixing to a wall a great placard, to 
 which the passing crowd seemed to pay deep attention. It 
 was a decree of the Committee of Public Safety, containing 
 the names of above seven hundred Royalists who were con- 
 demned to death, and who were to be executed in three 
 tournees, on three successive days. 
 
 For some time back the mob had not been gratified with a 
 spectacle of this nature. In the ribald language of the 
 day, the " holy guillotine had grown thii'sty from long 
 drought ; " and they read the announcement with greedy 
 eyes, commenting as they went upon those whose names 
 were familiar to them. There were many of noble birth 
 among the proscribed, but by far the greater number were 
 priests, the whole sum of whose offending seemed written in 
 the simple and touching words, ancien Cure of such a 
 parish ! It was strange to mark the bitterness of invective 
 with which the people loaded these poor and innocent men, 
 as though they were the source of all their misfortunes. 
 The lazy indolence with which they reproached them seemed 
 ten times more offensive in theii- eyes than the lives of ease 
 and affluence led by the nobility. The fact was, they could 
 not forgive men of their own rank and condition what they 
 pardoned in the well-born and the noble, — an inconsistency 
 that has characterized democracy in other situations beside 
 this. 
 
 As I ran my eyes down the list of those confined in the 
 Temple, I came to a name which smote my heart with a 
 pang of ingratitude as well as sorrow, — the " Pere Michel 
 Delannois, soi disant cure de St. Blois." My poor friend 
 and protector was there among the doomed ! If up to that 
 moment I had made no effort to see him, I must own the 
 reason lay in my own selfish feeling of shame, the dread that 
 he should mark the change that had taken place in me, — a 
 
THE RESTAURANT "AU SCl:L:feRAT." 35 
 
 change that I felt extended to all about me, and showed 
 itself in my manner as it influenced my every action. It 
 was not alone that I lost the obedient air and quiet sub- 
 missiveness of the child, but I had assumed the very ex- 
 travagance of that democratic insolence which was the mode 
 among the leading characters of the time. 
 
 How should I present myself before him, the very imper- 
 sonation of all the vices against which he used to warn me ? 
 How exhibit the utter failure of all his teachings and his 
 hopes ? What would this be but to embitter his reflections 
 needlessly? Such were the specious reasons with which I 
 fed my self-love, and satisfied my conscience ; but now, as 
 I read his name in that terrible catalogue, their plausibility 
 sei-ved me no longer, and at last I forgot myself to remember 
 only him. 
 
 ''I will see him at once," thought I, "whatever it may 
 cost me. I will stay beside him for his last few hom's of 
 life; and when he carries with him from this world many 
 an evil memory of shame and treachery, ingratitude from me 
 shall not increase the biu'den." 
 
 And with this resolve I turned my steps homeward. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE "TEMPLE. 
 
 At the time of which I write, there was but one motive 
 principle throughout France, — "Terror." By the agency 
 of terror and the threat of denunciation was everything 
 carried on, not only in the public departments of the State, 
 but in all the common occurrences of every-day life. 
 Fathers used it towards their children, children towards 
 then- parents ; mothers coerced theii' daughters, daughters 
 in turn braved the authority of theii* mothers. The tri- 
 bunal of public opinion, open to all, scattered its decrees 
 with a reckless cruelty, — denying to-day what it had decreed 
 but yesterday, and at last obliterating every trace of " right " 
 or " principle" in a people who now only lived for the pass- 
 ing hour, and who had no faith in the future, even of this 
 world. 
 
 Among the very children at play, this horrible doctrine 
 had gained a footing : the tyrant urchin, whose ingenuity 
 enabled him to terrorize, became the master of his play- 
 fellows. I was not slow in acquiring the popular education 
 of the period, and soon learned that fear was a "Bank" on 
 which one might draw at will. Already the domineering 
 habit had given to my air and manner all the insolence of 
 seeming power, and while a mere boy in years, I was a man 
 in all the easy assumption of a certain importance. 
 
 It was with a bold and resolute air I entered the restau- 
 rant, and calling Boivin aside, said, — 
 
 " I have business in the Temple this morning, Boivin ; see 
 to it that I shall not be denied admittance." 
 
 "I am not governor of the jail," grunted Boivin, sulkily, 
 " nor have I the privilege to pass any one." 
 
THE "TEMPLE." 37 
 
 " But your boys have the entree; the ' rats ' [so were they 
 called] are free to pass iu and out." 
 
 " Ay, and I'm responsible for the young rascals, too, and 
 for anything that may be laid to their charge." 
 
 " And you shall extend this same protection to me, Master 
 Boivin, for one day, at least. Nay, my good friend, there 's 
 no use in sulking about it. A certain friend of ours, whose 
 name I need not speak aloud, is little in the habit of being 
 denied anything : are you prepared for the consequence of 
 disobeying his orders ? " 
 
 " Let me see that they are his orders," said he, stuixlily ; 
 " who tells me that such is his will? " 
 
 "I do," was my brief reply, as, with a look of consum- 
 mate effrontery, I drew myself up and stared him insolently 
 in the face. 
 
 ''Suppose, then, that I have my doubts on the matter; 
 suppose — " 
 
 "I will suppose all you wish, Boivin," said I, interrupt- 
 ing, " and even something more; for I will suppose myself 
 returning to the quarter whence I have just come, and within 
 one houi' — ay, within one hour, Boivin — bringing back with 
 me a written order, not to pass me into the Temple, but to 
 receive the body of the Citizen Jean Baptiste Boivin, and 
 be accountable for the same to the Committee of Public 
 Safety." 
 
 He trembled from head to foot as I said these words, and 
 in his shaking cheeks and fallen jaw I saw that my spell was 
 working. 
 
 "And now I ask for the last time, do you consent or 
 not?" 
 
 "How is it to be done?" cried he, in a voice of down- 
 right wretchedness. " You are not ' inscribed' at the secre- 
 taries' office as one of the ' rats.'" 
 
 "I should hope not," said I, cutting him short; "but I 
 may take the place of one for an hour or so. Tristan is 
 about my own size ; his blouse and badge will just suit me." 
 
 " Ay, leave me to a fine of a thousand francs if you should 
 be found out," muttered Boivin, "not to speak of a worse 
 mayhap." 
 
 "Exactly so, — far worse in case of your refusing; but 
 
38 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 there sounds the bell for mustering the prisoners — it is now 
 too late." 
 
 "Not so, not so! " cried Boivin, eagerty, as he saw me 
 prepared to leave the house. "You shall go in Tristan's 
 place. Send him here, that he may tell you everything about 
 the ' service,' and give you his blouse and badge." 
 
 I was not slow in availing myself of the permission, nor 
 was Tristan sorry to find a substitute. He was a dull, 
 depressed-looking boy, not over communicative as to his 
 functions, merely telling me that I was to follow the others, 
 that I came fourth in the line, to answer when my name 
 was called " Tristan," and to put the money I received in my 
 leathern pocket, without uttering a word, lest the jailers 
 should notice it. 
 
 To accoutre myself in the white cotton nightcap and the 
 blouse of the craft was the work of a few seconds ; and 
 then, with a great knife in my girdle and a capacious pocket 
 slung at my side, I looked every inch a " Marmiton." 
 
 In the kitchen the bustle had already begun, and half-a- 
 dozen cooks, with as many under-cooks, were dealing out 
 ' ' portions " with all the speed of a well-practised perfor- 
 mance. Nothing short of great habit could have prevented 
 the confusion degenerating into downright anarchy. The 
 "service" was, indeed, effected with a wonderful rapidity; 
 and certain phrases, uttered with speed, showed how it 
 progressed. " Maigre des cures," — " finished." " Bouillon 
 for the 'expectants,'" — "ready here." "Canards aux 
 olives des condamnees," — "all sei-ved." "Red partridges 
 for the reprieved at the upper table," — ' ' despatched." Such 
 were the quick demands and no less quick replies that rung 
 out amidst the crash of plates, knives, and glasses and the 
 incessant movement of feet, until at last we were all mar- 
 shalled jn a long line, and, preceded by a drum, set out for 
 the prison. 
 
 As we drew near, the heavy gates opened to receive, and 
 closed behind us with a loud bang that I could not help 
 feeling must have smote heavily on many a heart that had 
 passed there. We were now in a large courtyard, where 
 several doors led off, each guarded by a sentinel, whose 
 ragged clothes and rusty accoutrements proclaimed a true 
 
THE "TEMPLE." 39 
 
 soldier of the Republic. One of the large hurdles used for 
 carrying the prisoners to the Place stood in one corner, and 
 two or three workmen were busied in repaiilng it for the 
 coming occasion. 
 
 So much I had time to observe, as we passed along ; and 
 now we entered a dimly-lighted corridor of great extent ; 
 passing down which, we emerged into a second " Cour," 
 traversed by a species of canal or river, over which a bridge 
 led. In the middle of this was a strongly-barred ii'on gate, 
 guarded by two sentries. As we arrived here, our names 
 were called aloud by a species of turnkey ; and at the call 
 "Tristan,"! advanced, and removing the covers from the 
 different dishes, submitted them for inspection to an old, 
 savage-looking fellow, who with a long steel fork pricked 
 the pieces of meat, as though anything could have been con- 
 cealed within them. Meanwhile, another fellow examined 
 my cotton cap and pocket, and passed his hands along my 
 arms and body. The whole did not last more than a few 
 minutes, and the word "forward" was given to pass on. 
 The gloom of the place; the silence, only broken by the 
 heavy bang of an iron-barred door or the clank of chains ; 
 the sad thoughts of the many who trod these corridors on 
 their way to death, — depressed me greatly, and equally 
 unprepared me for what was to come ; for as we drew near 
 the great hall, the busy hum of voices, the sound of laughter, 
 and the noises of a large assembly in full converse suddenly 
 burst upon the ear ; and as the wide doors were thrown open, 
 I beheld above a hundred people, who, either gathered in 
 single groups or walking up and down in parties, seemed all 
 in the fullest enjoyment of social intercourse. 
 
 A great table, with here and there a large flagon of water 
 or a huge loaf of the coarse bread used by the peasantry, 
 ran from end to end of the chamber. A few had already 
 taken their places at this, but some were satisfied with laying 
 a cap or a kerchief on the bench opposite their accustomed 
 seat ; while others again had retired into windows and cor- 
 ners, as if to escape the general gaze, and partake of their 
 humble meal in solitude. 
 
 Whatever restrictions prison discipline might have exer- 
 cised elsewhere, here the widest liberty seemed to prevail. 
 
40 MAURICE TIEENAY. 
 
 The talk was loud, and even boisterous ; the manner to the 
 turnkeys exhibited nothing of fear; the whole assemblage 
 presented rather the aspect of a gathering of riotous Repub- 
 licans than of a band of prisoners under sentence. And yet 
 such were the greater number ; and the terrible slip of paper 
 attached to the back of each, with a date, told the day on 
 which he was to die. 
 
 As I lingered to gaze on this strange gathering, I was 
 admonished to move on, and now perceived that my com- 
 panion had advanced to the end of the hall, by which a 
 small flight of stone steps led out upon a terrace, at the end 
 of which we entered another and not less spacious chamber, 
 equally crowded and noisy. Here the company were of both 
 sexes, and of every grade and condition of rank, — from the 
 highest noble of the once court, to the humblest peasant of 
 La Vende'e. If the sounds of mirth and levity were less fre- 
 quent, the buzz of conversation was, to the full, as loud as 
 in the lower hall, where from difference of condition in life 
 the scenes passing presented stranger and more curious con- 
 trasts. In one corner a group of peasants were gathered 
 around a white-haired priest, who in a low but earnest voice 
 was uttering his last exhortation to them ; in another, some 
 young and fashionably-dressed men were exhibiting to a 
 party of ladies the very airs and graces by which they would 
 have adorned a saloon ; here was a party at piquet ; there, 
 a little group arranging, for the last time, their household 
 cares, and settling, with a few small coins, the account of 
 mutual expenditm-e. Of the ladies, several were engaged at 
 needle-work, — some little preparation for the morrow, the 
 last demand that ever vanity was to make of them ! 
 
 Although there was matter of curiosity in all around me, 
 my eyes sought for but one object, — the cure of St. Blois. 
 Twice or thrice, from the similarity of dress, I was deceived ; 
 and at last, when I really did behold him, as he sat alone in 
 a window, reading, I could scarcely satisfy myself of the 
 reality. He was lividly pale, his eyes deep sunk, and sur- 
 rounded with two dark cncles, while along his worn cheek 
 the tears had marked two channels of purple color. What 
 need of the guillotine there, — the lamp of life was in its last 
 flicker without it. 
 
THE "TEMPLE." 41 
 
 Our names were called, and the meats placed upon the 
 table. Just as the head turnkey was about to give the order 
 to be seated, a loud commotion, and a terrible uproar in the 
 court beneath, drew every one to the window. It was a 
 hurdle, which, emerging from an archway, broke down from 
 over crowding ; and noAV the confusion of prisoners, jailers, 
 and sentries, with plunging horses and screaming sufferers, 
 made a scene of the wildest uproar. Chained two by two, 
 the prisoners were almost helpless, and in their efforts to 
 escape injury made the most terrific struggle. Such were 
 the instincts of life in those on the very road to death ! 
 
 Resolving to profit by the moment of confusion, I hastened 
 to the window, where alone, unmoved by the general com- 
 motion, sat the Pere Michel. He lifted his glassy eyes as I 
 came near, and in a low, mild voice said, — 
 
 "Thanks, my good boy, but I have no money to pay 
 thee ; nor does it matter much now, — it is but another day." 
 
 I could have cried as I heard these sad words ; but master- 
 ing emotions which would have lost time so precious, I drew 
 close, and whispered, — 
 
 " Pere Michel, it is I, your own Maurice." 
 
 He started, and a deep flush suffused his cheek ; and then 
 stretching out his hand, he pushed back my cap, and parted 
 the hail' of my forehead, as if doubting the reality of what 
 he saw ; when with a weak voice he said, — 
 
 " No, no ! thou art not my own Maurice. His eyes shone 
 not with that worldly lustre thine do ; his brow was calm, 
 and fan* as children's should be, — thine is marked with man- 
 hood's craft and subtlety ; and yet thou art like him." 
 
 A low sob broke from me as I listened to his words, and 
 the tears gushed forth, and rolled in torrents down my 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Yes," cried he, clasping me in his arms, "thou art my 
 own dear boy ! I know thee now ; but how art thou here, 
 and thus ? " and he touched my blouse as he spoke. 
 
 "I came to see and to save you, Pere," said I. "Nay, 
 do not try to discoui'age me, but rather give me all your aid. 
 I saw her, — I was with her in her last moments at the guil- 
 lotine ; she gave me a message for you, but this you shall 
 never hear till we are without these walls." 
 
42 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 ''It cannot be, it cannot be," said he, sorrowfully. 
 
 " It can and shall be," said I, resolutely. " I have merely 
 assumed this dress for the occasion ; I have friends, power- 
 ful and willing to protect me. Let us change robes, — give 
 me that soutane, and put on the blouse. When you leave 
 this, hasten to the old garden of the chapel, and wait for 
 my coming ; I will join j^ou there before night." 
 
 " It cannot be," replied be again. 
 
 " Again I say, it shall and must be. Na}^, if you still 
 refuse, there shall be two victims, for I will tear off the dress 
 here where I stand, and openly declare myself the son of the 
 Royalist Tiernay." 
 
 Already the commotion in the court beneath was begin- 
 ning to subside, and even now the turnkeys' voices were 
 heard in the refectory, recalling the prisoners to table, — • 
 another moment and it would have been too late. It was, 
 then, less by persuasion than by actual force I compelled 
 him to yield, and, pulling off his black serge gown, drew 
 over his shoulders my j^ellow blouse, and placed upon his 
 head the white cap of the " Marmiton." The look of shame 
 and sorrow of the poor cure would have betrayed him at once, 
 if any had given themselves the trouble to look at him. 
 
 " And thou, my poor child," said he, as he saw me array 
 myself in his priestly dress, " what is to be thy fate?" 
 
 " All will depend upon you, Pere Michel," said I, holding 
 him by the arm, and trying to fix his wandering attention. 
 "Once out of the prison, write to Boivin, the restaurateur 
 of the ' Scelerat,' and tell him that an escaped convict has 
 scruples for the danger into which he has brought a poor 
 boy, one of his ' Marmitons,' and whom b}^ a noxious drug 
 he has lulled into insensibility, while, having exchanged 
 clothes, he has managed his escape. Boivin will comprehend 
 the danger he himself runs by leaving me here. All will 
 go well ; and now there 's not a moment to lose. Take up 
 your basket, and follow the others." 
 
 " But the falsehood of all this," cried the Pere. 
 
 "But your life, and mine, too, lost, if you refuse," said 
 I, pushing him away. 
 
 " Oh, Maurice, how changed have you become ! " cried he, 
 sorrowfully. 
 
THE "TEMPLE." 43 
 
 ' ' You will see a greater change in me yet, as I lie in the 
 sawdust beneath the scaffold," said I, hastily. " Go, go! " 
 
 There was, indeed, no more time to lose. The muster of 
 the prisoners was forming at one end of the chamber, while 
 the " Marmitons" were gathering up their plates and dishes, 
 previous to departure, at the other ; and it was only by the 
 decisive step of laying myself down within the recesses of 
 the window, in the attitude of one overcome by sleep, that 
 I could force him to obey my direction. I could feel his 
 presence as he bent over me, and muttered something that 
 must have been a prayer. I could know, without seeing, 
 that he still lingered near me, but as I never stirred, he 
 seemed to feel that my resolve was not to be shaken, and at 
 last he moved slowly away. 
 
 At first the noise and clamor sounded like the crash of 
 some desperate conflict, but by degrees this subsided, and I 
 could hear the names called aloud and the responses of the 
 prisoners, as they were " told off" in parties from the differ- 
 ent parts of the prison. Tender leave-takings and affection- 
 ate farewells from many who never expected to meet again 
 accompanied these, and the low sobs of anguish were min- 
 gled with the terrible chaos of voices ; and at last I heard 
 the name of "Michel Delannois." I felt as if my death- 
 summons was in the words "Michel Delannois." 
 
 "That crazy priest can neither hear nor see, I believe," 
 said the jailer, savagely. " Will no one answer for him?" 
 
 " He is asleep yonder in the window," replied a voice from 
 the crowd. 
 
 "Let him sleep, then," said the turnkey ; "when awake 
 he gives us no peace with his prayers and exhortations." 
 
 " He has eaten nothing for three days," observed another; 
 "he is, perhaps, overcome by weakness more than by sleep." 
 
 "Be it so! if he only lie quiet, I care not," rejoined the 
 jailer, and proceeded to the next name on the list. 
 
 The monotonous roll-call, the heat, the attitude in which 
 I was lying, all conspired to make me drowsy ; even the very 
 press of sensations that crowded to my brain lent then- aid, 
 and at last I slept as soundly as ever I had done in my bed 
 at night. I was dreaming of the dark alleys in the wood of 
 Belleville, where so often I had strolled of an evenins: with 
 
44 IVIAURICE TIEENAY. 
 
 Pere Michel ; I was fancying that we were gathering the 
 fresh violets beneath the old trees, when a rude hand shook 
 my shoulder, and I awoke. One of the turnkeys and 
 Boivin stood over me, and I saw at once that my plan had 
 worked well. 
 
 " Is this the fellow?" said the turnkey, pushing me rudely 
 with his foot. 
 
 " Yes," replied Boivin, white with fear ; " this is the boy ; 
 his name is Tristan." The latter words were accompanied 
 with a look of great significance towards me. 
 
 ' ' What care we how he is called ? Let us hear in what 
 manner he came here." 
 
 "I can tell you little," said I, staring and looking wildly 
 around; " I must have been asleep, and dreaming, too." 
 
 "The letter," whispered Boivin to the turnkey, — "the 
 letter says that he was made to inhale some poisonous drug, 
 and that while insensible — " 
 
 "Bah!" said the other, derisivel}^ "this will not gain 
 credit here ; there has been complicity in the affak. Master 
 Boivin. The Commissaii-e is not the man to believe a trumped- 
 up tale of the sort ; besides, you are well aware that you are 
 responsible for these ' rats ' of yours. It is a private arrange- 
 ment between you and the Commissaire, and it is not very 
 probable that he'll get himself into a scrape for you." 
 
 " Then what are we to do? " cried Boivin, passionately, as 
 he wi'ung his hands in despair. 
 
 "I know what I should, in a like case," was the dry 
 repl3\ 
 
 "And that is — " 
 
 ''' Laisser allerf" was the curt rejoinder. " The young 
 rogue has passed for a cw?'e for the last afternoon ; I 'd even 
 let him keep up the disguise a little longer, and it will be all 
 the same by this time to-morrow." 
 
 "You'd send me to the guillotine for another?" said I, 
 boldly. "Thanks for the good intention, my friend; but 
 Boivin knows better than to follow your counsel. Hear me 
 one moment," said I, addressing the latter, and drawing 
 him to one side : " if you don't liberate me within a quarter 
 of an hour, I '11 denounce you and yours to the Commissary. 
 I know well enough what goes on at the ' Scelerat.' — you 
 
THE "TEMPLE." 45 
 
 understand me well. If a priest has really made his escape 
 from the prison, you are not clean-handed enough to meet 
 the accusation ; see to it then, Boivin, that I may be free at 
 once." 
 
 "•Imp of Satan!" exclaimed Boivin, grinding his teeth; 
 '' I have never enjoyed ease or quietness since the first hour 
 I saw you." 
 
 ''It may cost a couple of thousand francs, Boi\in," said 
 I, calmly; ''but what then? Better that than take your 
 seat along with us to-morrow in the Charrette Houge." 
 
 '• Maybe he's right, after all," muttered the turnkey in a 
 half whisper; " speak to the Commissary." 
 
 ''Yes," said I, affecting an air of great innocence and 
 simplicity, — " tell him that a poor orphan boy, without 
 friends or home, claims his pity." 
 
 ^' Scelerat mfarae /" cried Boivin, as he shook his fist at 
 me, and then followed the turnkey to the Commissary's 
 apartment. 
 
 In less time than I could have believed possible, Boivin 
 returned with one of the upper jailers, and told me, in a 
 few dry words, that I was free. "But, mark me," added 
 he, "we part here; come what may, you never shall plant 
 foot within my doors again." 
 
 " Agreed," said I, gayly ; "the world has other dupes as 
 easy to play upon, and I was getting well nigh weary of you." 
 
 " Listen to the scoundrel ! " muttered Boivin ; " what will 
 he say next ? " 
 
 '•Simply this," rejoined I, — "that as these are not be- 
 coming garments for me to wear, for I 'm neither Fere nor 
 Frere, I must have others ere I quit this." 
 
 If the insolence of my demand occasioned some surprise 
 at first, a little cool persistence on my part showed that 
 compliance would be the better policy ; and after conferring 
 together for a few minutes, during which I heard the sound 
 of money, the turnkey retired, and came back speedily with 
 a jacket and cap belonging to one of the drummers of the 
 "Republican Guard," — a gaudy, tasteless affair enough, 
 but as a disguise nothing could have been more perfect. 
 
 "Have you not a drum to give him?" said Boivin, with 
 a most malignant sneer at my equipment. 
 
46 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " He '11 make a noise in the world without that ! " muttered 
 the jailer, half soliloquizing ; and the words fell upon my 
 heart with a strange significance. 
 
 " Your blessing, Boivin," said I, " and we part." 
 
 ''Lete — '' 
 
 " No, no ; don't curse the boy," interposed the jailer, good 
 humoredly. 
 
 "Then, move off, youngster; I've lost too much time 
 with you already." 
 
 The next moment I was in the Place ; a light misty rain 
 was falling, and the night was dark and starless ; the 
 " Scelerat" was brilliant with lamps and candles, and crowds 
 were passing in and out, but it was no longer a home for 
 me ; so I passed on, and continued my way towards the 
 Boulevard. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "the night of the ninth thermidor." 
 
 I had agreed with the Pere Michel to rendezvous at the 
 garden of the little chapel of St. Blois, and thitherward I 
 now turned my steps. 
 
 The success which followed this my first enterprise in life 
 had already worked a wondrous change in all my feelings. 
 Instead of looking up to the poor cure for advice and guid- 
 ance, I felt as though our parts were exchanged, and that it 
 was I who was now the protector of the other. The oft- 
 repeated sneers at les hons Pretres, who were good for noth- 
 ing, must have had a share in this new estimate of my 
 friend ; but a certain self-reliance just then springing up in 
 my heart effectually completed the change. 
 
 The period was essentially one of action and not of reflec- 
 tion. Events seemed to fashion themselves at the will of 
 him who had daring and corn-age to confront them, and they 
 alone appeared weak and poor-spirited who would not stem 
 the tide of fortune. Sentiments like these were not, as may 
 be supposed, best calculated to elevate the worthy Pere in 
 my esteem ; and I already began to feel how unsuited was 
 such companionship for me, whose secret promptings whis- 
 pered ever, " Go forward." 
 
 The very vagueness of my hopes served but to extend the 
 horizon of futurity before me, and I fancied a thousand 
 situations of distinction that might yet be mine. Fame — or 
 its poor counterfeit, notoriety — seemed the most enviable of 
 all possessions. It mattered little by what merits it were 
 won, for in that fickle mood of popular opinion great vices 
 were as highly prized as transcendent abilities, and one might 
 be as illustrious by crime as by genius. Such were not the 
 teachings of the Pere : but they were the lessons that Paris 
 
48 • MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 dinned into my ears unceasingly. Reputation, character, 
 was of no avail in a social condition where all was change 
 and vacillation. What was idolized one day was execrated 
 the next. The hero of yesterday was the object of popular 
 vengeance to-day. The success of the passing hour was 
 everything. 
 
 The streets were crowded as I passed along ; although a 
 drizzling rain was falling, groups and knots of people were 
 gathered together at every corner, and by their eager looks 
 and gestures showed that some event of great moment had 
 occurred. I stopped to ask what it meant, and learned that 
 Robespierre had been denounced in the Assembly, and that 
 his followers were hastening, in arms, to the Place de la 
 Greve. As yet, men spoke in whispers or broken phrases. 
 Many were seen affectionately embracing and clasping each 
 other's hands in passionate emotion ; but few dared to trust 
 themselves to words, for none knew if the peril were really 
 passed, or if the power of the tyrant might not become 
 greater than ever. While I yet listened to the tidings which, 
 in half sentences and broken words, reached my ears, the 
 roll of drums beating the generale was heard, and suddenly 
 the head of a column appeared, carrying torches, and seated 
 upon ammunition wagons and caissons, and chanting in wild 
 chorus the words of the " Marseillaise." On they came, a ter- 
 rible host of half -naked wretches, their heads bound in hand- 
 kerchiefs, and their brawny arms bare to the shoulders. 
 
 The artillery of the Municipale followed, many of the 
 magistrates riding amongst them dressed in the tricolored 
 scarfs of officers. As the procession advanced, the crowds 
 receded, and gradually the streets were left free to the armed 
 force. 
 
 While, terror-struck, I continued to gaze at the counte- 
 nances over which the lurid torch-light cast a horrid glare, 
 a strong hand grasped my collar, and by a jerk swung me 
 up to a seat on one of the caissons ; and at the same time a 
 deep voice said, " Come, youngster, this is more in thy way 
 than mine," and a black-bearded sapeur pushed a drum 
 before me, and ordered me to beat the generale. Such was 
 the din and uproar that my performance did not belie my 
 uniform, and I beat away manfully, scarcely sorry, amid all 
 
"THE NIGHT OF THE NINTH THERMIDOR." 49 
 
 my fears, at the elevated position from which I now surveyed 
 the exciting scene around me. 
 
 As we passed, the shops were closed on either side in 
 haste, and across the windows of the upper stories beds and 
 mattresses were speedily drawn, in preparation for the state 
 of siege now so imminent. Lights flickered from room to 
 room, and all betokened a degree of alarm and terror. 
 Louder and louder pealed the " Marseillaise," as the columns 
 deployed into the open Place, from which every street and 
 lane now poured its crowds of armed men. The line was 
 now formed by the artillery, which, to the number of sixteen 
 pieces, ranged from end to end of the square, — the dense 
 crowd of horse and foot forming behind, the mass dimly 
 lighted by the waving torches that here and there marked 
 the presence of an officer. G-radually the sounds of the 
 " Marseillaise " grew fainter and fainter, and soon a dreary 
 silence pervaded that varied host, more terrible now, as they 
 stood speechless, than in all the tumultuous din of the wildest 
 uproar. Meanwhile, from the streets which opened into the 
 Place at the farthest end, the columns of the National Guard 
 began to move up, the leading files carrying torches ; be- 
 hind them came ten pieces of artillery, which, as they 
 issued, were speedil}^ placed in battery, and flanked by the 
 heavy dragoons of the Guard ; and now, in breathless silence, 
 the two forces stood regarding each other, the cannoniers 
 with lighted matches in their hands, the dragoons firmly 
 clasping their sabres, — all but waiting for the word to plunge 
 into the deadliest strife. It was a terrible moment; the 
 slightest stir in the ranks, the rattling of a horse's panoply, 
 the clank of a sabre, fell upon the heart like the toll of a 
 death-bell. It was then that two or three horsemen were 
 seen to advance from the troops of the Convention, and, 
 approaching the others, were speedily lost among their ranks. 
 A low and indistinct murmur ran along the lines, which 
 each moment grew louder, till at last it burst forth into a cry 
 of ''Vive la Convention!" Quitting their ranks, the men 
 gathered around a general of the National Guard, who 
 addressed them in w^ords of passionate eloquence, but of 
 which I was too distant to hear anything. Suddenly the 
 ranks began to thin ; some were seen to pile their arms, and 
 
 4 
 
50 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 move away in silence ; others marched across the Place, and 
 took up their position beside the troops of the National 
 Guard ; of the cannoniers, many threw down then- matches, 
 and extinguished the flame with their feet, while others 
 again, limbering up theii* guns, slowly retued to the 
 barracks. 
 
 As for myself, too much interested in the scene to remem- 
 ber that I was in some sort an actor in it, I sat upon the 
 caisson, watching all that went foi-ward so eagerly that I 
 never noticed the departure of my companions, nor perceived 
 that I was left by myself. I know not how much later this 
 discovery might have been deferred to me had not an officer 
 of the Guard ridden up to where I was, and said, "Move 
 up, move up, my lad ; keep close to the battery." He 
 pointed at the same time with his sabre in the direction 
 where a number of guns and carriages were already 
 proceeding. 
 
 Not a little flattered by the order, I gathered up reins and 
 whip, and, thanks to the good drilling of the beasts, who 
 readily took their proper places, soon found myself in the 
 line, which now drew up in the rear of the artillery of the 
 Guard, separated from the front by a great mass of horse 
 and foot. I knew nothing of what went foi-ward in the 
 Place ; from what I gathered, however, I could learn that 
 the artillery was in position, the matches burning, and 
 everything in readiness for a cannonade. Thus we remained 
 for about an hour, when the order was given to march. 
 Little knew I that in that brief interval the whole fortunes 
 of France — ay, of humanity itself — had undergone a 
 mighty change ; that the teiTible reign of blood, the tyranny 
 of RobespieiTe, had closed, and that he who had sent so 
 many to the scaffold now lay bleeding and mutilated upon 
 the very table where he had signed the death-warrants. 
 
 The day was just beginning to dawn as we entered the 
 barracks of the Conciergerie, and drew up in a double line 
 along its spacious square. The men dismounted, and stood 
 " at ease," awaiting the arrival of the staff of the National 
 Guard, which it was said was coming ; and now the thought 
 occurred to me of what I should best do, — whether make my 
 escape while it was yet time, or remain to see by what acci- 
 
"THE NIGHT OF THE NINTH THERMIDOR." 51 
 
 dent I had come there. If a sense of duty to the Pere Michel 
 urged me on one side, the glimmering hope of some opening 
 to fortune swayed me on the other. I tried to persuade 
 myself that my fate was bound up with his, and that he 
 should be my guide thi'ough the wild waste before me ; but 
 these convictions could not stand against the very scene in 
 which I stood. The glorious panoply of war, — the har- 
 nessed team, the helmetted dragoon, the proud steed in all 
 the trappings of battle ! How faint were the pleadings of 
 duty against such arguments ! The P^re, too, designed me 
 for a priest. The life of a " seminarist " in a convent was 
 to be mine ! I was to wear the red gown and the white cap 
 of an ''acolyte;" to be taught how to swing a censer, or 
 snuff the candles of the high altar ; to be a train-bearer in a 
 procession, or carry a relic in a glass case ! The hoarse 
 bray of a trumpet that then rung through the court routed 
 these ignoble fancies, and as the staff rode proudly in, my 
 resolve was taken. I was determined to be a soldier. 
 
 The day, I have said, was just breaking, and the officers 
 wore their dark-gray capotes over their uniforms. One, 
 however, had his coat partly open, and I could see the blue 
 and silver beneath, which, tarnished and worn as it was, had 
 to my eyes all the brilliancy of a splendid uniform. He was 
 an old man, and by his position in advance of the others 
 showed that he was the chief of the staff. This was General 
 Lacoste, at tliat time en mission from the army of the Rhine, 
 and now sent by the Convention to report upon the state 
 of events among the troops. Slowly passing along the line, 
 the old general halted before each gun, pointing out to his 
 staff certain minutiae, which, from his gestures and manner, 
 it was easy to see were not the subject of eulogy. Many 
 of the pieces were ill slung and badly balanced on the trucks ; 
 the wheels in some cases were carelessly put on, their 
 tires worn, and the iron shoeing defective. The harnessing, 
 too, was patched and mended in a slovenly fashion, the 
 horses lean and out of condition, the drivers awkward and 
 inexperienced. 
 
 "This is all bad, gentlemen," said he, addressing the 
 officers, but in a tone to be easily heard all around him, 
 " and reflects but little credit upon the state of your disci- 
 
52 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 pline in the capital. "We have been now seventeen months 
 in the field before the enemy, and not idle either ; and yet I 
 would take shame to myself if the worst battery in our artil- 
 lery were not better equipped, better horsed, better driven, 
 and better sei-ved than any I see here." 
 
 One who seemed a superior officer here appeared to inter- 
 pose some explanation or excuse ; but the general would not 
 listen to him, and continued his way along the line, passing 
 around which he now entered the space between the guns 
 and the caissons. At last he stopped directly in front of 
 where I was, and fixed his dark and penetrating eyes steadily 
 on me. Such was their fascination that I could not look from 
 him, but continued to stare as fixedly at him. 
 
 "Look here, for instance," cried he, as he pointed to me 
 with his sword, "is that gamui j^onder like an artillery- 
 driver ; or is it to a drummer-boy you entrust the caisson of 
 an eight-pounder gun? Dismount, siiTah, and come hither," 
 cried he to me, in a voice that sounded like an order for 
 instant execution. " This popinjay dress of j^ours must have 
 been the fancy of some worthy shopkeeper of the ' Qual 
 Lepelletier ; ' it never could belong to any regular corps. 
 Who are you?" 
 
 "Maurice Tiernay, sir," said I, bringing my hand to my 
 cap in military salute. 
 
 " Maurice Tiernay," repeated he, slowh\ after me. " And 
 have you no more to say for yourself than your name ? " 
 
 "Very little, sir," said I, taking courage from the diffi- 
 culty in which I found myself. 
 
 " What of your father, boy, — is he a soldier?" 
 
 "He was, sir," replied I, with firmness. 
 
 " Then he is dead? In what corps did he serve? " 
 
 " In the Garde du Corps," said I, proudly. 
 
 The old general gave a short cough, and seemed to search 
 for his snuff-box to cover his confusion ; the next moment, 
 however, he had regained his self-possession, and continued : 
 " And since that event — I mean, since 3^ou lost yowY father 
 ■ — what have you been doing? How have 3'ou supported 
 yourself? " 
 
 "In various ways, sir," said I, with a shrug of the 
 shoulders, to imply that the answer might be too tedious to 
 
"THE NIGHT OF THE NINTH THERMIDOR." 53 
 
 listen to. "I have studied to be a priest, and I have sei'ved 
 as a ' rat ' in the Prison du Temple." 
 
 "You have certainly tried the extremes of life," said he, 
 laughing; "and now you wish, probably to hit the Juste 
 milieu, by becoming a soldier?" 
 
 " Even so, sir," said I, easily. " It was a mere accident 
 that mounted me upon this caisson ; but I am quite ready 
 to believe that Fortune intended me kindly when she did 
 so." 
 
 " These gredins fancy that they are all born to be 
 generals of France," said the old man, laughing; "but, 
 after all, it is a harmless delusion, and easily curable by a 
 campaign or two. Come, sirrah, I'll find out a place for 
 you, where, if you cannot serve the Republic better, you 
 will at least do her less injury than as a driver in her artil- 
 lery. Bertholet, let him be enrolled in your detachment of 
 the gendarme, and give him my address : I wish to speak to 
 him to-morrow." 
 
 "At what hour, general?" said I, promptly. 
 
 " At eight, or half-past, — after breakfast," replied he. 
 
 " It may easily be before mine," muttered I to myself. 
 
 "What says he?" cried the general, sharply. 
 
 The aide-de-camp whispered a few words in answer, at 
 which the other smiled, and said, " Let him come somewhat 
 earlier, — say eight o'clock." 
 
 "You hear that, boy?" said the aide-de-camp, to me; 
 while with a slight gesture he intimated that I might retire. 
 Then, as if suddenly remembering that he had not given me 
 the address of the general, he took a scrap of crumpled 
 paper from his pocket-book, and wrote a few words hastily 
 on it with his pencil. "There," cried he, throwing it 
 towards me, "there is your billet for this day, at least." I 
 caught the scrap of paper, and after deciphering the words, 
 perceived that they were written on the back of an assignat 
 for forty sous. 
 
 It was a large sum to one who had not wherewithal to 
 buy a morsel of bread ; and as I looked at it over and over, 
 I fancied there would be no end to the pleasures such wealth 
 could purchase. I can breakfast on the Quai Voltaire, 
 thought I, — ay, and sumptuously too, with coffee and chest- 
 
54 MAUEICE TIEENAY. 
 
 nuts, and a slice of melon and another of cheese, and a 
 l^etite goutte to finish, — for five sous. The panther, at the 
 corner of the Pont Xeuf , costs but a sou ; and for three one 
 can see the brown bear of America, the hyaena, and another 
 beast whose name I forget, but whose image, as he is repre- 
 sented outside, canning off a man in his teeth, I shall retain 
 to my last hour. Then there is the panorama of Dunku'k at 
 the Rue Chopart, with the Duke of York begging his life 
 from a terrible-looking soldier in a red cap and a tri-colored 
 scarf. After that, there 's the jDarade at the Carrousel ; and 
 mayhaps something more solemn still at the Greve. But 
 there was no limit to the throng of enjoyments which came 
 rushing to my imagination, and it was in a kind of ecstasy 
 of delight I set forth on my voyage of pleasure. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CHOICE OF A LIFE. 
 
 In looking back, after a long lapse of years, I cannot refrain 
 from a feeling of astonishment to think how little remem- 
 brance I possess of the occurrences of that day, one of the 
 most memorable that ever dawned for France, — the event- 
 ful 29th of July, that closed the reign of terror by- the death 
 of the tyrant ! It is true that all Paris was astir at daybreak ; 
 that a sense of national vengeance seemed to pervade the 
 vast masses that filled the streets, which now were scenes 
 of the most exciting emotion. I can only account for the 
 strange indifference that I felt about these stirring themes 
 by the frequency with which similar, or what to me at 
 least appeared similar, scenes had already passed before my 
 eyes. 
 
 One of the most remarkable phases of the Revolution was 
 the change it produced in all the social relations by substi- 
 tuting an assumed nationality for the closer and dearer ties 
 of kindred and affection. France was everything, the family 
 nothing ; every generous wish, every proud thought, every 
 high ambition or noble endeavor, belonged to the country. 
 In this way, whatever patriotism may have gained, cer- 
 tainly all the home affections were utterly wrecked; the 
 humble and unobtrusive virtues of domestic life seemed mean 
 and insignificant beside the grand displays of patriotic 
 devotion which each day exhibited. 
 
 Hence grew the taste for that "life of the streets," then 
 so popular ; everything should be en evidence. All the 
 emotions which delicacy would render sacred to the seclusion 
 of home were now to be paraded to the noon-day. Fathers 
 were reconciled to rebellious children before the eyes of 
 multitudes ; wives received forgiveness from their husbands 
 
56 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 in the midst of approving crowds ; leave-takings the most 
 affecting, partings for those never to meet again, the last 
 utterings of the death-bed, the faint whispers of expu-ing 
 affection, the imprecations of undying hate, — all, all were 
 exhibited in public, and the gaze of the low, the vulgar, and 
 the debauched associated with the most agonizing gi-iefs 
 that ever the heart endured. The scenes, which now are 
 shrouded in all the secrecy of domestic privacy, were then 
 the daily life of Paris ; and to this cause alone can I attribute 
 the hardened indifference with which events the most terrible 
 and heart-rending were witnessed. Bred up amidst such 
 examples, I saw little matter for emotion in scenes of har- 
 rowing interest. An air of mockery was on everything, and 
 a bastard classicality destroyed every semblance of truth in 
 whatever would have been touching and affecting. 
 
 The commotion of Paris on that memorable morning was, 
 then, to my thinking, little more than usual. If the crowds 
 who pressed theii' way to the Place de la Revolution were 
 greater, if the cries of vengeance were in louder utterance, 
 if the imprecations were deeper and more terrible, — the 
 ready answer that satisfied all curiosity was, it was Robes- 
 pierre who was on his way to be executed. Little knew I 
 what hung upon that life, and how the fate of millions 
 depended upon the blood that morning was to shed I Too 
 full of m^^self and my own projects, I disengaged myself 
 from the crowds that pressed eagerly towards the Tuileries, 
 and took my way by less-frequented streets in the direction 
 of the Boulevard Mont Parnasse. 
 
 I wished, if possible, to see the Pere once more, to take a 
 last farewell of him, and ask his blessing, too ; for still a 
 lingering faith in the lessons he had taught me continued to 
 haunt my mind amidst all the evil influences with which my 
 wayw3,rd life surrounded me. The farther I went from the 
 quarter of the Tuileries, the more deserted and solitary grew 
 the streets. Not a carriage or horseman was to be seen, 
 scarcely a foot-passenger. All Paris had, apparently, as- 
 sembled on the Place de la Revolution ; and the very beggars 
 had quitted their accustomed haunts to repair thither. 
 Even the distant hum of the vast multitude faded away, and 
 it was only as the wind bore them that I could catch the 
 
THE CHOICE OF A LIEE. 57 
 
 sounds of the hoarse cries that bespoke a people's ven- 
 geance ; and now I found myself in the little silent street 
 which once had been my home. I stood opposite the house 
 where we used to live, afraid to enter it lest I might com- 
 promise the safety of her I wished to save ; and yet longing 
 once more to see the little chamber where we once sat 
 together, — the chimney-corner where, in the dark nights of 
 winter, I nestled, with my hymn-book, and tried to learn the 
 rhymes that every plash of the falling hail against the win- 
 dows routed, — to lie down once more in the little bed where 
 so often I had passed whole nights of happy imaginings, 
 bright thoughts of a peaceful future that were never to be 
 realized ! 
 
 Half choking with my emotion, I passed on, and soon saw 
 the green fields and the windmill-covered hill of Montmartre 
 rising above the embankment of the Boulevards ; and now 
 the ivy-clothed wall of the garden, within which stood the 
 Chapel of St. Blois. The gate lay ajar as of old, and, push- 
 ing it open, I entered. Everything was exactly as I had left 
 it, — the same desolation and desertion everywhere, — so 
 much so, that I almost fancied no human foot had crossed 
 its dreary precincts since last I was there. On drawing nigh 
 to the chapel, I found the door fast barred and barricaded as 
 before ; but a window lay open, and on examining it closer 
 I discovered the marks of a recent foot-track on the ground 
 and the window-sill. Could the P^re Michel have been 
 there, was the question that at once occurred to my mind. 
 Had the poor priest come to take a last look and a farewell 
 of a spot so dear to him ? It could scarcely have been any 
 other. There was nothing to tempt cupidity in that humble 
 little church ; an image of the Vii'gin and Child in wax was 
 the only ornament of the altar. No, no ! pillage had never 
 been the motive of him who entered here. 
 
 Thus reasoning, I climbed up to the window and entered 
 the chapel. As my footsteps echoed through the silent 
 building I felt that sense of awe and reverence so inseparably 
 connected with a place of worship, and which is ever more 
 impressive still as we stand in it alone. The present, how- 
 ever, was less before me than the past, of which everything 
 reminded me. There was the seat the Marquise used to sit 
 
58 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 ill ; there the footstool I had so often placed at her feet. 
 How different was the last service I had rendered her! 
 There the pillar beside which I have stood spell-bound, 
 gazing at that fair face whose beauty arrested the thoughts 
 that should have wended heavenward, and made my muttered 
 prayers like offerings to herself. The very bouquet of 
 flowers some pious hand had placed beneath the shrine, 
 withered and faded, was there still. But where were they 
 whose beating hearts had throbbed with deep devotion? 
 How many had died upon the scaffold ! how many were still 
 lingering in imprisonment, some in exile, some in conceal- 
 ment, dragging out lives of misery and anxiety ! What was 
 the sustaining spirit of such martyrdom, I asked myself 
 again and again. Was it the zeal of true religion, or was it 
 the energy of loyalty that bore them up against every danger, 
 and enabled them to brave death itself with firmness ? And 
 if this faith of theirs was thus ennobling, why could not 
 France be of one mind and heart? There came no answer 
 to these doubts of mine, and I slowly advanced towards the 
 altar, still deeply buried in thought. What was my surprise 
 to see that two candles stood there, which bore signs of hav- 
 ing been recently lighted. At once the whole truth flashed 
 across me, — the Pere had been there ; he had come to cele- 
 brate amass, — the last, perhaps, he was ever to offer up at 
 that altar. I knew with what warm affection he loved every 
 object and every spot endeared to him by long time, and I 
 fancied to myself the overflowing of his heart as he entered 
 once more, and for the last time, the little temple associated 
 with all the joys and sorrows of his existence. Doubtless, 
 too, he had waited anxiously for my coming ; mayhap, in the 
 prayers he offered I was not forgotten. I thought of him 
 kneeling there in the silence of the night, alone as he was, 
 his gentle voice the only sound in the stillness of the hour ; 
 his pure heart throbbing with gratitude for his deliverance, 
 and prayerful hopes for those who had been his persecutors. 
 I thought over all this, and in a torrent of emotions I knelt 
 down before the altar to pray. I know not what words I 
 uttered, but his name must somehow have escaped my lips ; 
 for suddenly a door opened beside the altar, and the Pere 
 Michel, dressed in his full vestments, stood before me. His 
 
THE CHOICE OF A LIFE. 59 
 
 features, wan and wasted as they were, had regained their 
 wonted expression of calm dignity ; and by his look I saw 
 that he would not suffer the sacred spot to be profaned by 
 any outburst of feeling on either side. 
 
 " Those dreadful shouts tell of another massacre," said he, 
 solemnly, as the wind bore towards us the deafening cries of 
 the angry multitude. " Let us pray for the soul's rest of the 
 departed." 
 
 " Then will your prayers be offered for Robespierre, for 
 Couthon, and St. Just," said I, boldly. 
 
 ' ' And who are they who need more the saints' inter- 
 cession, who have ever been called to judgment with such 
 crimes to expiate, who have ever so widowed France and so 
 desecrated her altars? Happily, a few yet remain where 
 piety may kneel to implore pardon for then- iniquity. Let us 
 recite the Litany for the Dead," said he, solemnly, and at 
 once began the impressive service. 
 
 As I knelt beside the rails of the altar, and heard the 
 prayers which with deep devotion he uttered, I could not 
 help feeling the contrast between that touching evidence of 
 Christian charity and the tumultuous joy of the populace, 
 whose frantic bursts of triumph were borne on the air. 
 
 ," And now come with me, Maurice," said he, as the mass 
 was concluded. "Here, in this little sacristy, we are safe 
 from all molestation ; none will think of us on such a day 
 as this." 
 
 And as he spoke he drew his arm around me, and led me 
 into the little chamber where once the precious vessels and 
 the decorations of the church were kept. 
 
 " Here we are safe," said he, as he drew me to his side on 
 the oaken bench, which formed all the furniture of the room. 
 "To-morrow, Maurice, we must leave this, and seek an 
 asylum in another land ; but we are not friendless, my child, 
 — the brothers of the ' Sacred Heart' will receive us. Their 
 convent is in the wilds of the Ardennes, beyond the frontiers 
 of France, and there, beloved by the faithful peasantry, they 
 live in security and peace. We need not take the vows of 
 their order, which is one of the strictest of all religious 
 houses ; but we may claim then* hospitality and protection, 
 and neither will be denied us. Think what a blessed exis- 
 
60 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 teuce will that be, Maurice, my son, to dwell under the same 
 roof with these holy men, and to imbibe from them the peace 
 of mind that holiness alone bestows ; to awake at the solemn 
 notes of the pealing organ, and to sink to rest with the 
 glorious liturgies still chanting around you ; to feel an atmos- 
 phere of devotion on every side, and to see the sacred relics 
 whose mh-acles have attested the true faith in ages long past ! 
 Does it not stir th}^ heart, my child, to know that such 
 blessed privileges may be thine ? " 
 
 I hung my head in silence, for in truth I felt nothing of 
 the enthusiasm with which he sought to inspke me. The 
 P^re quickly saw what passed in my mind, and endeavored 
 to depict the life of the monastery as a delicious existence, 
 embellished by all the graces of literature and adorned by 
 the pleasures of intellectual converse. Poetrj^, romance, 
 scenery, all were pressed into the service of his persuasions ; 
 but how weak were such arguments to one like me, — the boy 
 whose only education had been what the streets of Paris 
 afforded, whose notions of eloquence were formed on the 
 insane ravings of The Mountain, and whose idea of great- 
 ness was centred in mere notoriety ! 
 
 My dreamy look of inattention showed him again that he 
 had failed ; and I could see, in the increased pallor of his 
 face, the quivering motion of his lip, the agitation the defeat 
 was costing him. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " cried he, passionately, " the work of ruin 
 is perfect ; the mind of youth is corrupted, and the fountain 
 of \ii-tue defiled at the very source. Oh, Maurice, I had 
 never thought this possible of thee, the child of my heart ! " 
 
 A burst of grief here overcame him ; for some minutes he 
 could not speak. At last he arose from his seat, and wiping 
 off the tears that covered his cheeks with his robe, spoke, but 
 in a voice whose full round tones contrasted strongly with 
 his former weak accents : — 
 
 ' ' The life I have pictured seems to thee ignoble and un- 
 worthy, boy. So did it not appear to Chrysostom, to Origen, 
 and to Augustin ; to the blessed saints of our Church, the 
 eldest-born of Christianity. Be it so. Thine, mayhap, is 
 not the age, nor this the era, in which to hope for better 
 things. Thy heart yearns for heroic actions, thy spirit is 
 
THE CHOICE OF A LIFE. 61 
 
 set upon high ambitions ; be it so. I say, never was the 
 time more fitting for thee. The enemy is up ; his armies are 
 in the field ; thousands and tens of thousands swell the ranks, 
 already flushed with victory. Be a soldier, then. Ay, 
 Maurice, buckle on the sword, — the battle-field is before thee. 
 Thou hast made choice to seek the enemy in the far-away 
 countries of heathen darkness, or here in our own native 
 France, where his camp is already spread. If danger be the 
 lure that tempts thee, if to confront peril be thy wish, — 
 there is enough of it. Be a soldier, then, and gird thee for 
 the great battle that is at hand. Ay, boy, if thou feelest 
 within thee the proud darings that foreshadow success, speak 
 the word, and thou shalt be a standard-bearer in the very 
 van." 
 
 I waited not for more ; but springing up, I clasped my 
 arms around his neck, and cried, in ecstasy, " Yes, Pere 
 Michel, you have guessed aright ; my heart's ambition is to 
 be a soldier, and I want but your blessing to be a brave 
 one ! " 
 
 ' ' And thou shalt have it. A thousand blessings follow 
 those who go forth to the good fight. But thou art yet 
 young, Maurice, — too young for this. Thou needest time, 
 and much teaching too. He who would brave the enemy 
 before us must be skilful as well as courageous. Thou art as 
 yet but a child." 
 
 " The general said he liked boy-soldiers," said I, promptly ; 
 " he told me so himself." 
 
 " What general — who told thee ? " cried the Pere, in trem- 
 bling eagerness. 
 
 " General Lacoste, the Chef d'Etat major, of the army of 
 the Rhine ; the same who gave me a rendezvous for to-mor- 
 row at his quarters." 
 
 It was not till I had repeated my explanation again and 
 again, nor, indeed, until I had recounted all the circum- 
 stances of my last night's adventure, that the poor Pere 
 could be brought to see his way thi-ough a mystery that had 
 almost become equally embarrassing to myself. When he 
 did, however, detect the clew, and when he had perceived the 
 different tracks on which our minds were travelling, his grief 
 burst all bounds. He inveighed against the armies of the 
 
62 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 Republic as hordes of pillagers and bandits, the sworn 
 enemies of the Church, the desecrators of her altars. Their 
 patriotism he called a mere pretence to shroud then- infidelity ; 
 then- heroism was the blood-thirstiness of democratic cruelty. 
 Seeing me still unmoved by all this passionate declamation, 
 he adopted another tactic, and suddenly asked me if it were 
 for such a cause as this my father had been a soldier? 
 
 '' No ! " replied I, firmly ; " for when my father was alive, 
 the soil of France had not been desecrated by the foot of the 
 invader. The Austrian, the Prussian, the Englishman, had 
 not yet dared to dictate the laws under which we were to 
 live." 
 
 He appeared thunderstruck at my reply, revealing, as it 
 seemed to him, the extent of those teachings whose corrup- 
 tions he trembled at. 
 
 " I knew it, I knew it," cried he, bitterly, as he wrung his 
 hands. "The seed of the iniquity is sown, — the harvest- 
 time will not be long in coming ! And so, boy, thou hast 
 spoken with one of these men, — these generals, as they call 
 themselves, of that republican horde?" 
 
 "The officer who commands the artillery of the army of 
 the Rhine may write himself general with little presumption," 
 said I, almost angrily. 
 
 ' ' They who once led our armies to battle were the nobles 
 of France, — men whose proud station was the pledge for 
 their chivalrous devotion. But why do I discuss the question 
 with thee? He who deserts his faith may well forget that 
 his birth was noble. Go, boy, join those with whom your 
 heart is already linked. Your lesson will be an easy one, — 
 you have nothing to unlearn. The songs of the Girondins 
 are already more grateful to your ear than our sacred canti- 
 cles. Go, I say, since between us henceforth there can be 
 no companionship ! " 
 
 "Will you not bless me, Pere," said I, approaching him 
 in deep humility; "will you not let me carry with me thy 
 benediction ? " 
 
 " How shall I bless the arm that is lifted to wound the 
 Holy Church, how shall I pray for one whose place is in 
 the ranks of the infidel? Hadst thou faith in my blessing, 
 boy, thou hadst never implored it in such a cause. Renounce 
 
THE CHOICE OF A LIFE. 63 
 
 thy treason, and not alone my blessing, but thou shalt have 
 a 'Novena' to celebrate thy fidelity. Be of us, Maurice, 
 and thy name shall be honored where honor is immortality ! " 
 
 The look of beaming affection with which he uttered this, 
 more than the words themselves, now shook my courage, and 
 in a conflict of doubt and indecision I held down my head 
 without speaking. What might have been my ultimate 
 resolve, if left completely to myself, I know not ; but at that 
 very moment a detachment of soldiers marched past in the 
 street without. They were setting off to join the army of 
 the Rhine, and were singing in joyous chorus the celebrated 
 song of the day, Le chant du depart. The tramp of their 
 feet, the clank of their weapons, their mellow voices, but 
 more than all, the associations that thronged to my mind, 
 routed every other thought, and I darted from the spot, and 
 never stopped till I reached the street. 
 
 A great crowd followed the detachment, composed partly 
 of friends of the soldiers, partly of the idle loungers of the 
 capital. Mixing with these, I moved onward, and speedily 
 passed the outer boulevard and gained the open country. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "the army sixty years since." 
 
 I FOLLOWED the soldiers as they marched beyond the outer 
 boulevard, and gained the open country. Many of the idlers 
 dropped off here, others accompanied us a little farther ; but 
 at length, when the drums ceased to beat, and were slung 
 in marching order on the backs of the drummers, when the 
 men broke into the open order that French soldiers instinc- 
 tively assume on a march, the curiosity of the gazers appeared 
 to have nothing more to feed upon, and one by one they 
 returned to the capital, leaving me the only lingerer. 
 
 To any one accustomed to military display, there was little 
 to attract notice in the column, which consisted of detach- 
 ments from various corps, horse, foot, and artillery ; some 
 were returning to their regiments after a furlough ; some had 
 just issued from the hospitals, and were seated in charettes, 
 or country cars ; and others, again, were peasant boys only 
 a few days before drawn in the conscription. There was 
 every variety of uniform, and, I may add, of raggedness, 
 too, — a coarse blouse and a pair of worn shoes, with a red 
 or blue handkerchief on the head, being the dress of many 
 among them. The Republic was not rich in those days, and 
 cared little for the costume in which her victories were won. 
 The artillery alone seemed to preserve anything like uni- 
 formity in dress. They wore a plain uniform of blue, with 
 long white gaiters coming half way up the thigh; a low 
 cocked hat, without feather, but with the tricolored cockade 
 in front. They were mostly men middle-aged or past the 
 prime of life, bronzed, weather-beaten, hardy-looking fellows, 
 whose white mustaches contrasted well with then* sun-burned 
 faces. All their weapons and equipments were of a superior 
 kind, and showed the care bestowed upon an arm whose eflEi- 
 
"THE AEMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 65 
 
 ciency was the first discovery of the republican generals. 
 The greater number of these were Bretons, and several of 
 them had served in the fleet, still bearing in their looks and 
 carriage something of that air which seems inherent in the 
 seaman. They were grave, serious, and almost stern in 
 manner, and very unlike the young cavahy soldiers, who, 
 mostly recruited from the south of France, many of them 
 Gascons, had all the high-hearted gayety and reckless levity 
 of theii" own peculiar laud. A campaign to these fellows 
 seemed a pleasant excui-sion ; they made a jest of everything, 
 from the wan faces of the invalids to the black bread of the 
 Commissary; they quizzed the new " Toui'lerous," as the 
 recruits were styled, and the old " Grumblers," as it was the 
 fashion to call the veterans of the army ; they passed thek 
 jokes on the Republic, and even their own officers came in 
 for a share of their ridicule. The grenadiers, however, were 
 those who especially were made the subject of theii* sarcasm. 
 They were generally from the north of France and the fron- 
 tier country towards Flanders, whence they probably imbibed 
 a portion of that phlegm and moroseness so very unlike the 
 general gayety of French nature, and when assailed by such 
 adversaries were perfectly incapable of reply or retaliation. 
 
 They all belonged to the army of the " Sambre et Meuse," 
 which, although at the beginning of the campaign highly 
 distinguished for its successes, had been latterly eclipsed by 
 the extraordinary victories on the Upper Rhine and in AVest- 
 ern Germany ; and it was curious to hear with what intelli- 
 gence and interest the greatest questions of strategy were 
 discussed by those who carried theii* packs as common 
 soldiers in the ranks. Movements and manoeuvres were 
 criticised, attacked, defended, ridiculed, and condemned, 
 with a degree of acuteness and knowledge that showed the 
 enormous progress the nation had made in military science, 
 and with what ease the Republic could recruit her officers 
 from the ranks of her soldiers. 
 
 At noon the column halted in the wood of Belleville ; and 
 while the men were resting, an express arrived announcing 
 that a fresh body of troops would soon arrive, and ordering 
 the others to delay their march till they came up. The 
 orderly who brought the tidings could only say that he 
 
 6 
 
66 MAUEICE TIEKNAY. 
 
 believed s(»me hiirried news had come from Germany, for 
 before he left Paris the rappel was beating in different 
 quarters, and the rumor ran that reinforcements were to set 
 out for Strasbourg with the utmost dispatch. 
 
 "And what troops are coming to join us?" said an old 
 artillery sergeant, in evident disbelief of the tidings. 
 
 ' ' Two batteries of artillery and the voltigeurs of the 
 Fourth, I know for certain are coming," said the orderly, 
 "and they spoke of a battalion of grenadiers." 
 
 ' ' What ! do these Germans need another lesson ? " said 
 the canuonier. " I thought Fleurus had taught them what 
 our troops were made of." 
 
 " How you talk of Fleurus ! " interrupted a young hussar of 
 the south; "I have just come from the army of Italy, and, 
 ma foil we should never have mentioned such a battle as 
 Fleurus in a despatch, — campaigning amongst dykes and 
 hedges, fighting with a river on one flank and a fortress on 
 t'other, parade manoeuvi'es, where at the first check the 
 enemy retreats, and leaves you free for the whole afternoon 
 to write off your successes to the Directory. Had you seen 
 our fellows scaling the Alps, with avalanches of snow des- 
 cending at every fire of the great guns, forcing pass after 
 pass against an enemy posted on every cliff and crag above 
 us, cutting our way to victor}^ by roads the hardiest hunter 
 had seldom trod, — I call that war ! " 
 
 "And I call it the skirmish of an outpost! " said the gruff 
 veteran, as he smoked awa}^ in thorough contempt for the 
 enthusiasm of the other. ' ' I have served under Kleber, 
 Hoche, and Moreau, and I believe they are the first generals 
 of France." 
 
 " There is a name greater than them all," cried the hussar, 
 with eagerness. 
 
 " Let us hear it, then, — you mean Pichegru, perhaps, or 
 Masseha? " 
 
 " No, I mean Bonaparte ! " said the hussar, triumphantly. 
 
 "A good officer, and one of us," said the artilleryman, 
 touching his belt to intimate the arm of the semce the 
 general belonged to. "He commanded the siege train at 
 Toulon." 
 
 " He belongs to all," said the other. " He is a dragoon, a 
 
"THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 67 
 
 voltigeur, an artillerist, a pontonier, — what you will ; he 
 knows everything, as I know my horse's saddle and cloak-bag." 
 
 Both parties now grew warm ; and as each was not only 
 an eager partisan, but well acquainted with the leading 
 events of the two campaigns they undertook to defend, the 
 dispute attracted a large circle of listeners, who, either 
 seated on the green sward or lying at full length, formed a 
 picturesque group under the shadow of the spreading oak- 
 trees. Meanwhile, the cooking went speedily forward, and 
 the camp-kettles smoked with a steam whose savory odor 
 was not a little tantalizing to one who, like myself, felt that 
 he did not belong to the company. 
 
 "What's thy mess, boy?" said an old grenadier to me, 
 as I sat at a little distance off, and affecting — but I fear very 
 ill — a total indifference to what went forward. 
 
 " He is asking to what corps thou belong'st? " said another, 
 seeing that the question puzzled me. 
 
 "Unfortunately I have none," said I. "I merely followed 
 the march for curiosity." 
 
 " And thy father and mother, child, — what will they say 
 to thee on thy return home ? " 
 
 "I have neither father, mother, nor home," said I, 
 promptly. 
 
 "Just like myself," said an old red- whiskered sapeur; 
 "or if I ever had parents they never had the grace to own 
 me. Come over here, child, and take share of my dinner." 
 
 " No, imrhleul I '11 have him for my comrade," cried the 
 young hussar. " I was made a corporal yesterday, and have 
 a larger ration. Sit here, my boy, and tell us how thou art 
 called." 
 
 " Maurice Tiernay." 
 
 ' ' Maurice will do ; few of us care for more than one 
 name, — except in the dead muster they like to have it in 
 full. Help thyself, my lad, and here 's the wine-flask beside 
 thee." 
 
 " How comes it thou hast this old uniform, boy? " said he, 
 pointing to my sleeve. 
 
 "It was one they gave me in the Temple," said I. "I 
 was a rat clu prison for some time." 
 
 "Thunder of war!" exclaimed the cannonier, "I had 
 
68 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 rather stand a whole platoon fire than see what thou must 
 have seen, child." 
 
 " And hast heart to go back there, boy," said the corporal, 
 " and live the same life again? " 
 
 " No, I '11 never go back," said I. " I '11 be a soldier." 
 
 "Well said, mo7i hrave! thou 'It be a hussar, I know." 
 
 ' ' If Nature has given thee a good head and a quick eye, 
 my bo}^, thou might even do better; and in time, perhaps, 
 wear a coat like mine," said the cannonier. 
 
 ^^ Sacre bleu/" cried a little fellow, whose age might 
 have been anything from boyhood to manhood, for while 
 small of stature, he was shrivelled and wrinkled like 
 a mummy, — "why not be satisfied with the coat he 
 wears ? " 
 
 " And be a drummer, like thee? " said the cannonier. 
 
 "Just so, like me, and like Massena; he was a drammer, 
 too." 
 
 "No, no!" cried a dozen voices together, "that's not 
 true." 
 
 "He's' right; Massena was a drummer in the Eighth," 
 said the cannonier ; "I remember him when he was like that 
 boy yonder." 
 
 " To be sure," said the little fellow, who, I now perceived, 
 wore the dress of a tcunhour ; "and is it a disgrace to be 
 the first to face the enemy?" 
 
 "And the first to turn his back to him, comrade," cried 
 another. 
 
 "Not always, not always," said the little fellow, regard- 
 less of the laugh against him. " Had it been so, I had not 
 gained the battle of Grandrengs on the Sambre." 
 
 "Thou gain a battle ! " shouted half-a-dozen, in derisive 
 laughter. 
 
 "What, Petit PieiTe gained the day at Grandrengs!" 
 said the cannonier; "why, I was there myself, and never 
 heard of that till now." 
 
 "lean believe it well," replied Pierre; "many a man's 
 merits go unacknowledged, and Kleber got all the credit 
 that belonged to Pierre Canot." 
 
 " Let us hear about it, Pierre, for even thy \nctory is un- 
 known by name to us poor devils of the army of Italy. How 
 call'st thou the place ? " 
 
*'THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 69 
 
 " Granclreugs," said Pierre, proudly. '' Its name will live 
 as long, perhaps, as many of those high-sounding ones 
 you have favored us with. Mayhap thou hast heard of 
 Cambray ? " 
 
 " Never ! " said the hussar, shaking his head. 
 
 "Nor of Mons, either, I'll be sworn?" continued 
 Pierre. 
 
 " Quite true, I never heard of it before." 
 
 ''^Voila/" exclaimed Pierre, in contemptuous triumph; 
 " and these are the fellows that pretend to feel their 
 country's glory, and take pride in her conquests ! Where 
 hast thou been, lad, not to hear of places that every child 
 syllables now-a-days ? " 
 
 "I will tell you where I've been," said the hussar, 
 haughtily, and dropping at the same time the familiar 
 "thee" and "thou" of soldier intercourse; "I've been at 
 Montenotte, at Millesimo, at Mondove — " 
 
 ^^ Allons done with your disputes!" broke in an old 
 grenadier; "as if France was not victorious whether the 
 enemies were English or German. Let us hear how Pierre 
 won his battle at — at — " 
 
 " At Grandrengs," said Pierre. " They call it in the des- 
 patch the ' action of the Sambre,' because Kleber came up 
 there ; and Kleber being a great man, and Pierre Canot a 
 little one, you understand, the glory attaches to the place 
 where the bullion epaulettes are found, — just as the old 
 King of Prussia used to say, ' Le bon Dieu est toujours a 
 cote de gros bataillons.' " 
 
 " I see we'll never come to this same victory of Grand- 
 rengs, with all these turnings and twistings," muttered the 
 artillery sergeant. 
 
 "Thou art very near it now, comrade, if thou 'It listen," 
 said Pierre, as he wiped his mouth after a long draught of 
 the wine-flask. "I'll not weary the honorable company 
 with any description of the battle generally, but just confine 
 myself to that part of it in which I was myself in action. 
 It is well known, that, though we claimed the victory of 
 the 10th May, we did little more than keep our own, and 
 were obliged to cross the Sambre, and be satisfied with such 
 a position as enabled us to hold the two bridges over the 
 
70 MAURICE TEERNAY. 
 
 river; and there we remained for four days, — some said 
 preparing for a fresli attack upon Kaunitz, who commanded 
 the allies ; some, and I believe they were right, alleging that 
 our generals were squabbling all day, and all night too, 
 with two Commissaries that the Government had sent down 
 to teach us how to win battles. Mafoi! we had had some 
 experience in that way ourselves, without learning the 
 art from two citizens with tricolored scarfs round their 
 waists and yellow tops to their boots ! However that 
 might be, early on the morning of the 20th we received 
 orders to cross the river in two strong columns, and form 
 on the opposite side ; at the same time that a division 
 was to pass the stream by boat two miles higher up, and, 
 concealing themselves in a pine wood, be ready to take the 
 enemy in flank when they believed that all the force was in 
 the front." 
 
 " Sacre tonnerre ! I believe that our armies of the Sambre 
 and the Rhine never have any other notion of battles than 
 that eternal flank movement ! " cried a young sergeant of 
 the voltigeurs, who had just come up from the army of 
 Italy. " Our general used to split the enemy by the centre, 
 cut him piecemeal by attack in columns, and then mow him 
 down with artillerj^ at short range, not leaving him time for 
 a retreat in heavy masses — " 
 
 "Silence, silence! and let us hear Petit Pierre," shouted 
 a dozen voices, who cared far more for an incident than a 
 scientific discussion about manoeuvres. 
 
 "The plan I speak of was General Moreau's," continued 
 Pierre ; " and I fancy that your Bonaparte has something to 
 learn ere he be his equal ! " 
 
 This rebuke seeming to have engaged the suffrages of the 
 company, he went on: "The boat division consisted of 
 four battalions of infantry, two batteries of light artillery, 
 and a voltigeur company of the Regiment de Marboeuf, to 
 which I was then, for the time, attached as tamhour en chef. 
 AVhat fellows they were, — the greatest devils in the whole 
 army ! They came from the Faubourg St. Antoine, and 
 were as reckless and undisciplined as when they strutted the 
 streets of Paris. When they were thrown out to skirmish, 
 they used to play as many tricks as school-boys ; sometimes 
 
"THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 71 
 
 they 'd run up to the roof of a cabin or a hut — and they 
 could climb like cats — and, sitting down on the chimney, 
 begin firing away at the enemy as coolly as if from a battery ; 
 sometimes they 'd capture half-a-dozen asses, and ride for- 
 ward as if to charge, and then, affecting to tumble off, the 
 fellows would pick down any of the enemy's officers that 
 were fools enough to come near, — scampering back to the 
 cover of the line, laughing and joking as if the whole were 
 sport. I saw one when his wrist was shattered by a shot, 
 and he could n't fire, take a comrade on his back and caper 
 away like a horse, just to tempt the Germans to come out of 
 then' lines. It was with these blessed youths I was now to 
 serve, for the tambour of the Marboeuf was drowned in 
 crossing the Sambre a few days before. Well, we passed 
 the river safely, and uuperceived by the enemy gained the 
 pine wood, where we formed in two columns, — one of 
 attack, and the other of support, the voltigeurs about five 
 hundred paces in advance of the leading files. The morning 
 was dull and hazy, for a heavy rain had fallen during the 
 night ; and the country is flat, and so much intersected with 
 drains and dykes and ditches that after rain the vapor is 
 too thick to see twenty yards on any side. Our business 
 was to make a counter-march to the right, and, guided by 
 the noise of the cannonade, to come down upon the enemy's 
 flank in the thickest of the engagement. As we advanced, 
 we found ourselves in a kind of marshy plain, planted with 
 willows, and so thick that it was often difficult for three men 
 to march abreast. This extended for a considerable dis- 
 tance ; and on escaping from it we saw that we were not 
 above a mile from the enemy's left, which rested on a little 
 village." 
 
 "I know it well," broke in the cannonier; "it's called 
 Hujmingen." 
 
 "Just so. There was a formidable battery in position 
 there ; and part of the place was stockaded, as if they 
 expected an attack. Still, there were no vedettes, nor any 
 look-out party, so far as we could see ; and our commanding 
 officer did n't well know what to make of it, — whether it was 
 a point of concealed strength, or a position they were about 
 to withdraw from. At all events, it required caution ; and 
 
72 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 although the battle had already begun on the right, — as a 
 loud cannonade and a heavy smoke told us, — he halted the 
 brigade in the wood, and held a council of his officers to see 
 what was to be done. The resolution come to was, that the 
 voltigeurs should advance alone to explore the way, the rest 
 of the force remaining in ambush. We were to go out in 
 sections of companies, and spreading over a wide surface see 
 what we could of the place. 
 
 ' ' Scarcely was the order given, when away we went, — 
 and it was now a race who should be earliest up and 
 exchange the first shot with the enemy. Some dashed for- 
 ward over the open field in front ; others skulked along by 
 dykes and ditches ; some, again, dodged here and there, as 
 cover offered its shelter ; but about a dozen, of whom I was 
 one, kept the track of a little cart-road, which, half-con- 
 cealed by high banks and furze, ran in a zig-zag line towards 
 the village. I was always smart of foot ; and now, having 
 newly joined the voltigeurs, was naturally eager to show my- 
 self not unworthy of my new associates. I went on at my 
 best pace, and being lightly equipped, — neither musket nor 
 ball cartridge to carry, — I soon outstripped them all, and, 
 after about twenty minutes' brisk running, saw in front of 
 me a long, low farm-house, the walls all pierced for mus- 
 ketry, and two small eight-pounders in battery at the gate. 
 I looked back for my companions, but they were not up, — 
 not a man of them to be seen. ' No matter,' thought I, 
 ' they '11 be here soon ; meanwhile I '11 make for that little 
 copse of brushwood ; ' for a small clump of low furze and 
 broom was standing at a little distance in front of the farm. 
 All this time, I ought to say, not a man of the enemy was 
 to be seen, although I, from where I stood, could see the 
 crenelated walls and the guns, as they were pointed ; at a 
 distance all would seem like an ordinary peasant house. 
 
 "As I crossed the open space to gain the copse, piff! 
 came a bullet, whizzing past me ; and just as I r.eached the 
 cover, piff ! came another. I ducked my head and made for 
 the thicket ; but just as I did so, my foot caught in a branch. 
 I stumbled and pitched forward ; and trying to save myself, 
 I grasped a bough above me ; it smashed suddenly, and 
 down I went. Ay ! down sui'e enough, for I went right 
 
"THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 73 
 
 through the furze and into a well, — one of those old walled 
 wells they have in these countries, with a huge bucket that 
 fills up the whole space, and is worked by a chain. Luckily, 
 the bucket was linked up near the top, and caught me, or 
 I should have gone where there would have been no more 
 heard of Pierre Canot ; as it was, I was sorely bruised by 
 the fall, and did n't recover myself for full ten minutes after. 
 Then I discovered that I was sitting in a large wooden 
 trough, hooped with ii'on, and supported by two heavy chains 
 that passed over a windlass, about ten feet above my head. 
 
 ' ' I was safe enough for the matter of that ; at least none 
 were likely to discover me, as I could easily see, by the rust 
 of the chain and the grass-grown edges, that the well had 
 been long disused. Now, the position was far from being 
 pleasant. There stood the farm-house full of soldiers, the 
 muskets ranging over every approach to where I lay. Of 
 my comrades there was nothing to be seen, they had either 
 missed the way or retreated ; and so time crept on, and I 
 pondered on what might be going forward elsewhere, and 
 whether it would ever be my own fortune to see my comrades 
 again. 
 
 " It might be an hour — it seemed three or four to me — 
 after this, as I looked over the plain, I saw the caps of our 
 infantry just issuing over the brushwood, and a glancing 
 lustre of their bayonets as the sun tipped them. They were 
 advancing, but, as it seemed, slowly, — halting at times, and 
 then mo\ing forward again, just like a force waiting for 
 others to come up. At last they debouched into the plain ; 
 but, to my surprise, they wheeled about to the right, leaving 
 the farm-house on their flank, as if to march beyond it. 
 This was to lose their way totally ; nothing would be easier 
 than to carry the position of the farm, for the Germans were 
 e\idently few, had no vedettes, and thought themselves in 
 perfect security. I crept out from my ambush, and holding 
 my cap on a stick tried to attract notice from our fellows, 
 but none saw me. I ventured at last to shout aloud, but 
 with no better success ; so that, driven to the end of my 
 resources, I set to and beat a roulade on the drum, thunder- 
 ing away with all my might, and not caring what might come 
 of it, for I was half mad with vexation as well as despair*. They 
 
74 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 heard me now. I saw a staff officer gallop up to the head 
 of the leading division and halt them ; a volley came pepper- 
 ing from behind me, but without doing me any injury, for T 
 was safe once more in my bucket. Then came another 
 pause, and again I repeated my manoeuvre, and to my delight 
 perceived that our fellows were advancing at quick march. 
 I beat harder, and the drums of the grenadiers answered me. 
 All right now, thought I, as, springing forward, I called out, 
 ' This way boys, the wall of the orchard has scarcely a man 
 to defend it ! ' and I rattled out the pas-de-diarge with all 
 my force. One crashing fire of guns and small arms 
 answered me from the farm-house, and then away went the 
 Germans as hard as they could ; such running never was 
 seen ! One of the guns they carried off with them, the 
 tackle of the other broke, and the drivers, jumping oft" then- 
 saddles, took to their legs at once. Our lads were over the 
 walls, through the windows, between the stockades, every- 
 where in fact in a minute, and once inside they carried all 
 before them. The village was taken at the point of the 
 bayonet, and in less than an hour the whole force of the 
 brigade was advancing in full march on the enemy's flank. 
 There was little resistance made after that, and Kaunitz 
 only saved his artillery by leaving his rearguard to be cut to 
 pieces." 
 
 The cannonier nodded, as if in full assent, and Pierre 
 looked around him with the air of a man who has vindicated 
 his claim to greatness. 
 
 "Of course," said he, "the despatch said little about 
 Pierre Canot, but a great deal about Moreau and Kleber, 
 and the rest of them." 
 
 While some were well satisfied that Pierre had well estab- 
 lished his merits as the conqueror of Grandrengs, others 
 quizzed, him about the heroism of lying hid in a well, and 
 owing all his glory to a skin of parchment. 
 
 " An' thou wert with the army of Italy, Pierre," said the 
 hussar, ' ' thou 'd have seen men march boldly to victory, 
 and not skulk underground like a mole." 
 
 "I am tired of 3^our song about this army of Italy," 
 broke in the cannonier ; "we who have served in La Vendee 
 and the North know what fighting means as well, mayhap, as 
 
"THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 75 
 
 men whose boldest feats are scaling rocks and clambering up 
 precipices. Your Bonaparte is more like one of those 
 Guerilla chiefs they have in the Basque, than the general of 
 a French army." 
 
 ' ' The man who insults the army of Italy, or its chief, 
 insults me ! " said the corporal, springing up, and casting a 
 sort of haughty defiance around him. 
 
 "And then?" asked the other. 
 
 ''And then — if he be a French soldier, he knows what 
 should follow." 
 
 ^' Parbleu!" said the cannonier, coolly, "there would be 
 little glory in cutting you down, and even less in being 
 wounded by you ; but if you will have it so, it 's not an old 
 soldier of the artillery will balk your humor." 
 
 As he spoke, he slowly arose from the ground, and tight- 
 ening his waist-belt seemed prepared to follow the other. 
 The rest sprang to theii- feet at the same time, but not, as I 
 anticipated, to offer a friendly mediation between the angry 
 parties, but in full approval of their readiness to decide by 
 the sword a matter too trivial to be called a quarrel. 
 
 In the midst of the whispering conferences as to place and 
 weapons — for the short straight sword of the artillery was 
 very unlike the curved sabre of the hussar — the quick tramp 
 of horses was heard, and suddenly the head of a squadron 
 was seen, as, with glancing helmets and glittering equip- 
 ments, they turned off the high-road and entered the wood. 
 
 "Here they come! — here come the troops!" was now 
 heard on every side, and all question of the duel was for- 
 gotten in the greater interest inspired by the arrival of the 
 others. The sight was strikingly picturesque; for as they 
 rode up the order to dismount was given, and in an instant 
 the whole squadron was at work picqueting and unsaddling 
 their horses ; forage was shaken out before the weary and 
 hungry beasts, kits were unpacked, cooking utensils produced, 
 and every one busy in preparing for the bivouac. An infan- 
 try column followed close upon the others, which was again 
 succeeded by two batteries of field-artillery and some squad- 
 rons of heavy dragoons ; and now the whole wood, far and 
 near, was crammed with soldiers, wagons, caissons, and 
 camp equipage. 
 
76 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 To me the interest of the scene was never-ending, — life, 
 bustle, and gayety on every side. The reckless pleasantry 
 of the camp, too, seemed elevated by the warlike accompani- 
 ments of the picture, — the caparisoned horses, the brass 
 guns, blackened on many a battle-field, the weather-seamed 
 faces of the hardy soldiers themselves, all conspiring to excite 
 a high enthusiasm for the career. 
 
 Most of the equipments were new and strange to my eyes. 
 I had never before seen the grenadiers of the Republican 
 Guard, with their enormous shakos, and then- long-flapped 
 vests, descending to the middle of the thigh ; neither had I 
 seen the Hussars de la mort, in their richly-braided uniform 
 of black, and their long hair curled in ringlets at either side 
 of the face. The cuirassiers, too, with their low cocked hats, 
 and straight black feathers, as well as the Fortes Drapeaux, 
 whose brilliant uniforms, all slashed with gold, seemed 
 scarcely in keeping with yellow-topped boots, — all were 
 now seen by me for the first time. But of all the figui'es 
 which amused me most by its singularity was that of a 
 woman, who, in a short frock-coat and a low-crowned hat, 
 carried a little barrel at her side, and led an ass loaded with 
 two similar but rather larger casks. Her air and gait were 
 perfectly soldier-lilve ; and as she passed the different posts 
 and sentries, she saluted them in true military fashion. I 
 was not long to remain in ignorance of her vocation nor her 
 name, for scarcely did she pass a group without stopping to 
 dispense a wonderful cordial that she carried ; and then I 
 heard the familiar title of La Mere Madou, uttered in every 
 form of panegyric. 
 
 She was a short, stoutlj^-built figure, somewhat past the 
 middle of life, but without any impairment of activity in her 
 movements. A pleasing countenance, with good teeth and 
 black. eyes, a merry voice and a ready tongue, were qualities 
 more than sufficient to make her a favorite with the sol- 
 diers, whom I found she had followed to more than one 
 battle-field. 
 
 "Pes^e/" cried an old grenadier, as he spat out the 
 liquor on the ground. " This is one of those sweet things 
 they make in Holland; it smacks of treacle and bad 
 lemons." 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 ^liforn:^ 
 
'^/^yy^!;k::^9<i^^^.y>^^^ 
 
"THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 77 
 
 "Ah, Grognard ! " said she laughing, "thou art more 
 used to com-braudy, with a clove of garlic in't than to 
 good curayoa." 
 
 "What, curaQoa ! Mere Madou, hast got curaqoa there?" 
 cried a gray- whiskered captain, as he turned on his saddle at 
 the word. 
 
 "Yes, mon capitaine^ and such as no burgomaster ever 
 drank better ; " and she filled out a little "glass and presented 
 it gracefully to him. 
 
 " Encore ! ma honneMere" said he, as he wiped his thick 
 mustache ; " that liquor is another reason for extending the 
 blessings of liberty to the brave Dutch." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you so?" said she, refilling the glass; 
 " but, holloa, there goes Gregoire at full speed. Ah, scoun- 
 di'els that ye are, I see what ye 've done ! " And so was it ; 
 some of the wild young voltigeur fellows had fastened a 
 lighted furze-bush to the beast's tail, and had set him at a 
 gallop through the very middle of the encampment, upsetting 
 tents, scattering cooking-pans, and tumbling the groups, as 
 they sat, in every dii'ection. 
 
 The confusion was tremendous ; for the picqueted horses 
 jumped about, and some breaking loose, galloped here and 
 there, w^hile others set off with half -unpacked wagons, scat- 
 tering their loading as they went. 
 
 It was only when the blazing furze had dropped off that 
 the cause of the whole mischance would suffer himself to be 
 captured and led quietly back to his mistress. Half crying 
 with joy, and still wild with anger, she kissed the beast and 
 abused her tormentors by turns. 
 
 " Cannoniers that ye are," she cried, '-'"ma foi ! you'll 
 have little taste for fire when the day comes that ye should 
 face it ! Pauvre Gregoire, they 've left thee a tail like a 
 tu'ailleur's feather ! Plagues light on the thieves that did it ! 
 Come here, boy," said she, addressing me, " hold the bridle ; 
 what 's thy corps, lad ? " 
 
 ' ' I have none now ; I only followed the soldiers from 
 Paris." 
 
 " Away with thee, street runner! away with thee, then ! " 
 said she, contemptuously; "there are no pockets to pick 
 here ; and if there were, thou 'd lose thy ears for the doing 
 
78 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 it. Be off, then, back with thee to Paris and all its villanies ! 
 There are twenty thousand of thy trade there, but there 's 
 work for ye ail." 
 
 " Xay, Mere, don't be harsh with the boy," said a soldier; 
 " you can see by his coat that his heart is with us." 
 
 "And he stole that, I'll be sworn," said she, pulling me 
 round by the arm, full in front of her. "Answer me, 
 gamin, where did'st find that old tawdry jacket?" 
 
 " I got it in a place where, if they had hold of thee and 
 thy bad tongue, it would fare worse with thee than thou 
 thinkest," said I, maddened by the imputed theft and inso- 
 lence together. 
 
 "And where may that be, young slip of the galleys?" 
 cried she, angrily. 
 
 " In the Prison du Temple." 
 
 " Is thattheii' livery, then? " said she, laughing and point- 
 ing at me with ridicule, "or is it a family dress made after 
 thy father's?" 
 
 "My father wore a soldier's coat, and bravely, too," said 
 I, with difficulty restraining the tears that rose to my eyes. 
 
 ' ' In what regiment, boy ? " asked the soldier who spoke 
 before. 
 
 "In one that exists no longer," said I, sadly, and not 
 wishing to allude to a service that would find but slight 
 favor in republican ears. 
 
 ' ' That must be the Twenty- fourth of the Line ; they were 
 cut to pieces at Tongres." 
 
 "No, no, he's thinking of the Ninth, that got so roughly 
 handled at Fontenoy," said another. 
 
 " Of neither," said I ; " I am speaking of those who have 
 left nothing but a name behind them, the Garde du Corps 
 of the king." 
 
 " VoilcW cried Madou, clapping her hands in astonish- 
 ment at my impertinence; "there's an aristocrat for you! 
 Look at him, mes braves ! it 's not every day we have the 
 grand seigneurs condescending to come amongst us ! You 
 can learn something of courtly manners from the polished 
 descendant of our nobility. Say, boy, art a count or a baron, 
 or perhaps a duke ? " 
 
 "Make way there — out of the road, M^re Madou," cried 
 
"THE ARMY SIXTY YEARS SINCE." 79 
 
 a dragoon, curveting his horse in such a fashion as almost to 
 upset ass and cantiniere together, " the staff is coming." 
 
 The mere mention of the word sent numbers off in full 
 speed to theii' quarters ; and now all was haste and bustle to 
 prepare for the coming inspection. The Mere's endeavors 
 to drag her beast along were not very successful ; for, with 
 the peculiar instinct of his species, the more necessity there 
 was of speed the lazier he became ; and as every one had his 
 own concerns to look after, she was left to her own unaided 
 efforts to drive him forward. 
 
 " Thou 'It have a day in prison if thou 'rt found here, 
 M^re Madou," said a dragoon, as he struck the ass with the 
 flat of his sabre. 
 
 ''I know it well," cried she, passionately; "but I have 
 none to help me. Come here, lad ; be good-natured, and 
 forget what passed. Take his bridle while I whip him 
 on." 
 
 I was at first disposed to refuse, but her pitiful face and 
 sad plight made me think better of it ; and I seized the bridle 
 at once ; but just as I had done so, the escort galloped for- 
 ward, and the dragoons coming on the flank of the miserable 
 beast, over he went, barrels and all, crushing me beneath 
 him as he fell. 
 
 "Is the boy hurt?" were the last words I heard, as I 
 fainted ; but a few minutes after I found myself seated on 
 the grass, while a soldier was stanching the blood that ran 
 freely from a cut in my forehead. 
 
 "It is a trifle. General, — a mere scratch," said a young 
 officer to an old man on horseback beside him, ' ' and the leg 
 is not broken." 
 
 "Glad of it," said the old officer; "casualties are in- 
 sufferable, except before an enemy. Send the lad to his 
 regiment." 
 
 "He's only a camp follower, General. He does not 
 belong to us." 
 
 " There, my lad^ take this, then, and make thy way back 
 to Paris," said the old general, as he threw me a small piece 
 of money. 
 
 I looked up, and, straight before me, saw the same officer 
 who had given me the assignat the night before. 
 
80 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 ' ' General Lacoste ! " cried I, in delight, for I thought him 
 already a friend. 
 
 " How is this — have I an acquaintance here?" said he, 
 smiling ; " on my life it 's the young rogue I met this morn- 
 ing. Eh ! art not thou the artillery driver I spoke to at the 
 barrack ? " 
 
 "Yes, General, the same." 
 
 " Diantre! It seems fated, then, that we are not to part 
 company so easily ; for hadst thou remained in Paris, lad, 
 we had most probably never met again." 
 
 ^^ Ainsi, je suis bien tomhe^ General," said I, punning 
 upon my accident. 
 
 He laughed heartily, less I suppose at the jest, which was 
 a poor one, than at the cool impudence with which I uttered 
 it ; and then turning to one of the staff, said, — 
 
 "I spoke to Bertholet about this boy already; see that 
 they take him in the Ninth. I say, my lad, what's thy 
 name ? " 
 
 " Tiernay, sir." 
 
 "Ay, to be sure, Tiernay. Well, Tiernay, thou shalt be 
 a hussar, my man. See that I get no disgrace by the 
 appointment." 
 
 I kissed his hand fervently, and the staff rode foi^ard, 
 leaving me the happiest heart that beat in all that crowded 
 host. 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 CHAPTER \^I. 
 
 A PASSING ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 If the guide who is to lead us on a long and devious track 
 stops at every by-way, following out each path that seems 
 to invite a ramble or suggest a halt, we natui-ally might feel 
 distrustful of his safe conduct, and uneasy at the prospect of 
 the road before us. In the same way may the reader be dis- 
 posed to fear that he who descends to slight and trivial cir- 
 cumstances will scarcely have time for events which ought 
 to occupy a wider space in his reminiscences ; and for this 
 reason I am bound to apologize for the seeming transgres- 
 sion of my last chapter. Most true it is that were I to relate 
 the entu'e of my life with a similar diffuseness, my memoir 
 would extend to a length far beyond what I intend it to 
 occupy. Such, however, is very remote from my thoughts. 
 I have dwelt, with perhaps something of prolixity, upon the 
 soldier-life and characteristics of a past day, because I shall 
 yet have to speak of changes, without which the contrast 
 would be inappreciable ; but I have also laid stress upon an 
 incident trivial in itself, because it formed an event in 
 my own fortunes. It was thus, in fact, that I became a 
 soldier. 
 
 Now, the man who carries a musket in the ranks may very 
 reasonably be deemed but a small ingredient of the mass 
 that forms an army ; and in our day his thoughts, hopes, 
 fears, and ambitions are probably as unknown and uncared 
 for as the precise spot of earth that yielded the ore from 
 which his own weapon was smelted. This is not only rea- 
 sonable, but it is right. In the time of which I am now 
 speaking it was far otherwise. The Republic in extinguish- 
 ing a class had elevated the individual; and now each, in 
 whatever station he occupied, felt himself qualified to enter- 
 
82 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 tain opinions and express sentiments which, because they 
 were his own, he presumed to be national. The idlers of the 
 streets discussed the deepest questions of politics ; the sol- 
 diers talked of war with all the presumption of consummate 
 generalship. The great operations of a campaign, and the 
 various qualities of different commanders, were the daily 
 subjects of dispute in the camp. Upon one topic only were 
 all agreed; and there, indeed, our unanimity repaid all 
 previous discordance. We deemed France the only civilized 
 nation of the globe, and reckoned that people thrice happy 
 who, by any contingency of fortune, engaged our sympathy, 
 or procured the distinction of our presence in arms. We 
 were the heaven-born disseminators of freedom throughout 
 Europe ; the sworn enemies of kingly domination ; and the 
 missionaries of a political creed which was not alone to 
 ennoble mankind, but to render its condition eminently 
 happy and prosperous. 
 
 There could not be an easier lesson to learn than this, and 
 particularly when dinned into your ears all day, and from 
 every rank and grade around you. It was the programme 
 of every message from the Directory ; it was the opening of 
 every general order from the general ; it was the table-talk 
 at your mess. The burthen of every song, the title of every 
 military march performed by the regimental band, recalled 
 it ; even the riding-master, as he followed the recruit around 
 the weary circle, whip in hand, mingled the orders he uttered 
 with apposite axioms upon republican grandeur. How I 
 think I hear it still ! as the grim old quartermaster-sergeant, 
 with his Alsatian accent and deep- toned voice, would call 
 out, — 
 
 " Elbows back ! wrist lower and free from the side, — free, 
 I say, as every citizen of a great Republic ! head erect, as 
 a Frenchman has a right to carry it ! chest full out, like one 
 who can breathe the air of heaven, and ask no leave from 
 king or despot ! down with your heel, sir, — think that you 
 crush a tyrant beneath it ! " 
 
 Such and such like were the running commentaries on 
 equitation, till often I forgot whether the lesson had more 
 concern with a seat on horseback or the great cause of mon- 
 archy throughout Europe. I suppose, to use a popular phrase 
 
A PASSING ACQUAmXANCE. 83 
 
 of our own day, ' ' the sj'stem worked well ; " certainly the 
 si^ii-it of the army was unquestionable. From the grim old 
 veteran, with snow-white mustache, to the beardless boy, 
 there was but one hope and wish, — the glory of France. 
 How they understood that glory, or in what it essentially 
 consisted, is another and very different question. 
 
 Enrolled as a soldier in the ninth regiment of Hussars, I 
 accompanied that corps to Nancy, where at that time a large 
 cavalry school was formed, and where the recruits from the 
 different regiments were trained and managed before being 
 sent forward to their destination. 
 
 A taste for equitation, and a certain aptitude for catching 
 up the peculiar character of the different horses, at once dis- 
 tinguished me in the riding- school, and I was at last adopted 
 by the riding-master of the regiment as a kind of aide to him 
 in his walk. When I thus became a bold and skilful horse- 
 man, my proficiency interfered with my promotion, for 
 instead of accompanying my regiment I was detained at 
 Nancy, and attached to the permanent staff of the cavalry 
 school there. 
 
 At first I asked for nothing better. It was a life of con- 
 tinued pleasure and excitement ; and while I daily acquired 
 knowledge of a subject which interested me deeply, I grew 
 tall and strong of limb, and with that readiness in danger, 
 and that cool collectedness in moments of difficulty, that are 
 so admirably taught by the accidents and mischances of a 
 cavalry riding-school. 
 
 The most vicious and unmanageable beasts from the 
 Limousin were often sent to us, and when any of these was 
 deemed peculiarly untractable, " Give him to Tiernay," was 
 the last appeal, before abandoning him as hopeless. I 'm 
 certain I owe much of the formation of my character to my 
 life at this period, and that my love of adventure, my taste 
 for excitement, my obstinate resolution to conquer a diffi- 
 culty, my inflexible perseverance when thwarted, and my 
 eager anxiety for praise were all picked up amid the saw- 
 dust and tan of the riding-school. How long I might have 
 continued satisfied with such triumphs, and content to be the 
 wonder of the freshly-joined conscripts, I know not, when 
 accident, or something very like it, decided the question. 
 
84 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 It was a calm, delicious evening in April, in the year after 
 I had entered the school, that I was strolling alone on the 
 old fortified wall, which, once a strong redoubt, was the 
 favorite walk of the good citizens of Nancy. I was some- 
 what tu'ed with the fatigues of the day, and sat down to rest 
 under one of the acacia-trees, whose delicious blossom was 
 already scenting the air. The night was still and noiseless ; 
 not a man moved along the wall ; the hum of the city was 
 gradually subsiding, and the lights in the cottages over the 
 plain told that the laborer was turning homeward from his 
 toil. It was an hour to invite calm thoughts, and so I fell 
 a-dreaming over the tranquil pleasures of a peasant's life, 
 and the unruffled peace of an existence passed amid scenes 
 that were endeared by years of intimacy. " How happily," 
 thought I, "time must steal on in these quiet spots, where 
 the strife and struggle of war are unknown, and even the 
 sounds of conflict never reach ! " Suddenly my musings 
 were broken in upon by hearing the measured tramp of 
 cavaby, as at a walk ; a long column wound their way along 
 the zig-zag approaches, which by many a redoubt and fosse, 
 over many a draw-bridge, and beneath many a strong arch 
 led to the gates of Nancy. The loud, sharp call of a ti-um- 
 pet was soon heard, and, after a brief parley, the massive 
 gates of the fortress were opened for the troops to enter. 
 From the position I occupied exactly over the gate, I could 
 not only see the long, dark line of armed men as they 
 passed, but also hear the colloquy which took place as they 
 entered. 
 
 " What regiment? " 
 
 ' ' Detachments of the Twelfth Dragoons and the Twenty- 
 second Chasseurs-a-Cheval. " 
 
 "Where from?" 
 
 " Valence." 
 
 "Where to?" 
 
 " The army of the Rhine." 
 
 " Pass on I " 
 
 And with the words the ringing sound of the iron-shod 
 horses was heard beneath the vaulted entrance. As they 
 issued from beneath the long deep arch, the men were formed 
 in line along two sides of a wide Place inside the walls. 
 
A PASSING ACQUAINTANCE. 85 
 
 where, with that despatch that habit teaches, the billets were 
 speedily distributed, and the parties "told off" in squads 
 for different parts of the city. The force seemed a con- 
 siderable one, and with all the celerity they could employ 
 the billeting occupied a long time. As I watched the groups 
 moving off, I heard the direction given to one party, 
 "Cavalry School — Rue de Lorraine." The young officer 
 who commanded the group took a direction exactly the 
 reverse of the right one ; and hastening down from the ram- 
 part, I at once overtook them, and explained the mistake. I 
 offered them my guidance to the place, which being willingly 
 accepted, I walked along at their side. 
 
 Chatting as we went, I heard that the dragoons were 
 hastily withdrawn from La Vendee to form part of the force 
 under General Hoche. The young sous-lieutenant, a mere 
 boy of my own age, had already served in two campaigns, 
 in Holland and the south of France ; had been wounded in 
 the Loire, and received his grade of officer at the hands of 
 Hoche himself on the field of battle. 
 
 He could speak of no other name, — Hoche was the hero 
 of all his thoughts ; his gallantry, his daring, his military 
 knowledge, his coolness in danger, his impetuosity in attack, 
 his personal amiabilit}^, the mild gentleness of his manner, 
 were themes the young soldier loved to dwell on ; and how- 
 ever pressed by me to talk of war and its chances, he in- 
 evitably came back to the one loved theme, — his general. 
 
 When the men were safely housed for the night, I invited 
 my new friend to my own quarters, where, having provided 
 the best entertainment I could afford, we passed more than 
 half the night in chatting. There was nothing above me- 
 diocrity in the look or manner of the youth ; his descriptions 
 of what he had seen were unmarked by anything glowing or 
 picturesque ; his observations did not evince either a quick 
 or a reflective mind, — and yet over this mass of common- 
 place enthusiasm for his leader had shed a rich glow, like a 
 gorgeous sunlight on a landscape, that made all beneath it 
 seem brilliant and splendid. 
 
 " And now," said he, after an account of the last action 
 he had seen, "and now, enough of myself; let's talk of 
 thee. Where hast thou been ? " 
 
86 MAURICE TIEEXAY. 
 
 a 
 
 Here ! " said I, with a sigh, and in a voice that shame 
 had almost made inaudible. '^Here, here, at Nancy." 
 
 " Not always here? " 
 
 " Just so. Always here." 
 
 "And what doing, ??i07i cher? Thou art not one of the 
 Municipal Guard, sui'ely ? " 
 
 "No," said I, smiling sadly, "I belong to the ' Ecole 
 d'Equitation.'" 
 
 "Ah, that's it," said he, in somewhat of confusion; "I 
 always thought they selected old Serjeants en retraite^ worn 
 out veterans, and wounded fellows for riding-school duty." 
 
 " Most of oui'S are such," said I, my shame increasing at 
 every word ; ' ' but somehow they chose me also, and 1 had 
 no will in the matter — " 
 
 "No will in the matter, pa?'5?e?t .^ and why not? Every 
 man in France has a right to meet the enemy in the field. 
 Thou art a soldier, a hussar of the Ninth, a brave and gal- 
 lant corps ; and art to be told that thy comrades have the 
 road to fame and honor open to them, whilst thou art to 
 mope away life like an invalided drummer? It is too gross 
 an indignity, my boy, and must not be borne. Away with 
 you to-morrow at daybreak to the Etat Major ; ask to see 
 the Commandant. You're in luck, too, for our colonel is 
 with him now, and he is sure to back your request. Say 
 that you sei-^'ed in the school to oblige your superiors, but 
 that you cannot see all chances of distinction lost to you 
 forever by remaining there. They 've given you no grade 
 yet, I see," continued he, looking at my arm. 
 
 " None ; I am still a private." 
 
 " And I a sous-lieutenant, just because I have been where 
 powder was flashing ! You can ride well, of course ? " 
 
 "I defy the wildest Limousin to shake me in my saddle." 
 
 " And, as a swordsman, what are you? " 
 
 " Gros Jean calls me his best pupil." 
 
 "Ah, true! you have Gros Jean here, the best sabreur 
 in France ! And here you are, — a horseman, and one of 
 Gros Jean's eUves^ rotting away life in Nancy ! Have you 
 any friends in the service ? " 
 
 " Not one." 
 
 " Not one ! Nor relations, nor connections? " 
 
A PASSING ACQUAINTANCE. 87 
 
 "None. I am Irish by descent. My family are only 
 French by one generation." 
 
 "Irish! Ah! that's lucky too," said he. "Our colonel 
 is an Irishman. His name is Mahon. You 're certain of 
 getting your leave now. I '11 present you to him to-mon'ow. 
 We are to halt two days here, and before that is over I hope 
 you'll have made youi' last caracole in the riding-school of 
 Nancy." 
 
 "But, remember," cried I, "that although Irish by 
 family, I have never been there. I know nothing of either 
 the people or the language, and do not present me to the 
 general as his countryman." 
 
 "I'll call you by your name, as a soldier of the Ninth 
 Hussars, and leave you to make out your claim as country- 
 men, if you please, together." 
 
 This com-se was now agreed upon, and after some further 
 talking, my friend, refusing all my offers of a bed, coolly 
 wrapped his cloak about him, and, with his head on the 
 table, feU fast asleep long before I had ceased thinking over 
 his stories and his adventures in camp and battle-field. 
 
CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 " TRONCHON." 
 
 My duties in the riding-school were always over before mid- 
 day ; and as noon was the hour appointed by the young 
 lieutenant to present me to his colonel, I was ready by that 
 time, and anxiously awaiting his arrival. I had done my 
 best to smarten up my uniform, and make all my accoutre- 
 ments bright and glistening. My scabbard was polished 
 like silver, the steel front of my shako shone like a mirror, 
 and the tinsel lace of my jacket had undergone a process of 
 scrubbing and cleaning that threatened its very existence. 
 My smooth chin and beardless upper lip, however, gave me 
 a degree of distress that all other deficiencies failed to inflict. 
 I can dare to say that no mediaeval gentleman's bald spot 
 ever cost him one-half the misery as did my lack of 
 mustache occasion me. "A hussar without beard, — as 
 well without spurs or sabretasche ; " a tambour major with- 
 out his staff, a cavalry charger without a tail, could n't be 
 more ridiculous ; and there was that old sergeant of the rid- 
 ing-school, Tronchon, with a beard that might have made a 
 mattress ! How the goods of this world are unequally 
 distributed, thought I! still, why might he not spare me a 
 little — a very little would suffice — just enough to give the 
 " air hussar " to my countenance. He's an excellent crea- 
 ture, the kindest old fellow in the world ; I 'm certain he 'd 
 not refuse me. To be sure, the beard is a red one, and 
 pretty much like bell-wire in consistence ; no matter, better 
 that than this girlish smooth chin I now wear. 
 
 Tronchon was spelling out the "Moniteur's" account of 
 the Italian campaign as I entered his room, and found it ex- 
 cessively diflUcult to get back from the Alps and Appenines 
 to the humble request I preferred. 
 
" TRONCHON." 89 
 
 "Poor fellows!" muttered he, "four battles in seven 
 days, without stores of any kind or rations — almost without 
 bread ; and here comest thou, whining because thou has n't 
 a beard ! " 
 
 " If I were not a hussar — " 
 
 "Bah!" said he, interrupting, "what of that? Where 
 should' st thou have had thy baptism of blood, boy ? Art a 
 child, nothing more." 
 
 ' ' I shared my quarters last night with one not older, 
 Tronchon; and he was an officer, and had seen many a 
 battle-field." 
 
 " I know that, too," said the veteran, with an expression 
 of impatience ; ' ' and that General Bonaparte will give every 
 boy his epaulettes before an old and tried soldier." 
 
 " It was not Bonaparte. It was — " 
 
 " I care not who promoted the lad ; the system is just the 
 same with them all. It is no longer, ' Where have you 
 served, what have you seen ? ' but, ' Can you read glibly, 
 can you write faster than speak, have you learned to take 
 towns upon paper, and attack a breastwork with a rule and 
 a pair of compasses?' This is what they called la genie! 
 La genie ^ — ha ! ha ! ha ! " cried he, laughing heartily ; 
 ' ' that 's the name old women used to give the devil when I 
 was a boy." 
 
 It was with the greatest difficulty I could get him back 
 from these disagreeable reminiscences to the object of my 
 visit, and even then I could hardly persuade him that I was 
 serious in asking the loan of a beard. The prayer of my 
 petition being once understood, he discussed the project 
 gravely enough ; but to my surprise he was far more struck 
 by the absurd figure he should cut with his diminished mane 
 than 1 with my mock mustache. 
 
 " There 's not a child in Nancy won't laugh at me ; they '11 
 cry, 'There goes old Tronchon! he's like Kleber's charger, 
 which the German cut the tail off to make a shako 
 plume.' " 
 
 I assured him that he might as well pretend to miss one 
 tree in the forest of Fontainebleau ; that after furnishing a 
 squadron like myself, his would be still the first beard in the 
 Republic ; and at last he yielded, and gave in. 
 
90 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 Never did a little damsel of the nursery array her doll with 
 niore delighted looks, and gaze upon her handiwork with 
 more self-satisfaction, than did old Tronchon survey me, as 
 with the aid of a little gum he decorated ni}^ lip with a stiff 
 line of his iron-red beard. 
 
 " Diantre ! " cried he, in ecstasy, " if thou be n't something 
 like a man after all! Who would have thought it would 
 have made such a change? Thou might pass for one that 
 saw real smoke and real fire, any da}^ lad. Ay ! thou hast 
 another look in thine eye, and another way to carry thy head, 
 now ! Trust me, thou 'It look a different fellow on the left of 
 the squadron." 
 
 I began to think so too, as I looked at myself in the small 
 triangle of a looking-glass which decorated Tronchon's wall, 
 under a picture of Kellerman, his first captain. I fancied 
 that the improvement was most decided. I thought that, 
 bating a little over-ferocity, a something verging upon the 
 cruel, I was about as perfect a type of the hussar as need be. 
 My jacket seemed to fit tighter, my pelisse hung more jaun- 
 tily, my shako sat more saucily on one side of my head, my 
 sabre banged more proudly against my boot, my very spurs 
 jangled with a pleasanter music, — and all because a little 
 hair bristled over my lip, and curled in two spii-al flourishes 
 across my cheek ! I longed to see the effect of my changed 
 appearance, as I walked down the Place Carri^re, or saun- 
 tered into the cafe where my comrades used to assemble. 
 What will Mademoiselle Josephine say, thought I, as I ask 
 for my petite vhn-e^ caressing my mustache thus ! Not a 
 doubt of it, what a fan is to a woman a beard is to a soldier, 
 — a something to fill up the pauses in conversation, by 
 blandly smoothing with the finger or fiercely curling at the 
 point. 
 
 " And so thou art going to ask for thy grade, Maurice? " 
 broke in Tronchon, after a long silence. 
 
 " Not at all. I am about to petition for employment upon 
 active service. I don't seek promotion till I have deserved 
 it." 
 
 "Better still, lad. I was eight years myself in the ranks 
 before they gave me the stripe on my arm. Parhleu! the 
 Germans had given me some three or four with the sabre 
 before that time." 
 
" TRONCHON." 91 
 
 " Do you think they '11 refuse me, Tronchon? " 
 
 "Not if thou go the right way about it, lad. Thou 
 mustn't fancy it's like asking leave from the captain to 
 spend the evening in a guijiguette, or to go to the play with 
 thy sweetheart. No, no, boy. It must be done en r^gle. 
 Thou 'It have to wait on the general at his quarters at four 
 o'clock, when he ' receives,' as they call it. Thou 'It be 
 there, mayhap, an hour, — ay, two or three belike, — and 
 after all, perhaps, won't see him that day at all ! I was a 
 week trying to catch Kellerman, and at last he only spoke to 
 me going down staii's with his staff, — 
 
 "'Eh, Tronchon, another bullet in thy old carcass? 
 Want a furlough to get strong again, eh?' 
 
 " ' No, colonel; all sound this time. I want to be a ser- 
 geant ; I 'm twelve years and four months corporal.' 
 
 " ' Slow work, too,' said he, laughing, ' ain't it, Charles? ' 
 and he pinched one of his young officers by the cheek. 
 ' Let old Tronchon have his grade ; and I say, my good 
 fellow,' said he to me, ' don't come plaguing me any more 
 about promotion till I 'm General of Division. You hear 
 that?' 
 
 "Well, he's got his step since; but I never teased him 
 after." 
 
 " And why so, Tronchon? " said I. 
 
 " I'll tell thee, lad," whispered he, in a low confidential 
 tone, as if imparting a secret well worth the hearing. 
 " They can find fellows every day fit for lieutenants and 
 chefs cVescadron. Parhleu! they meet with them in every 
 cafe^ in every ' billiard ' you enter ; but a sergeant ! Mam^ice, 
 one that drills his men on parade, can dress them like a 
 wall, see that every kit is well packed and every cartouche 
 well filled, who knows every soul in his company as he 
 knows the buckles of his own sword-belt, — that 's what one 
 should not chance upon in haste. It 's easy enough to 
 manoeuvre the men, Maurice ; but to make them, boy, to 
 fashion the fellows so that they be like the pieces of a great 
 machine, — that's the real labor, that's soldiering indeed." 
 
 "And you say I must write a petition, Tronchon?" said 
 I, more anxious to bring him back to my own affairs than 
 listen to these speculations of his. " How shall I do it? " 
 
92 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " Sit down there, lad, and I'll tell thee. I've done the 
 thing some scores of times, and know the words as well as I 
 once knew my 'Pater.' Parbleu! I often wish I could 
 remember that now, just to keep me from gloomy thoughts 
 when I sit alone of an evening." 
 
 It was not a little to his astonishment, but still more to 
 his delight, that I told the poor fellow I could help to refresh 
 his memory, knowing, as I did, every word of the litanies by 
 heart; and, accordingly, it was agreed on that I should 
 impart religious instruction in exchange for the secular know- 
 ledge he was conferring upon me. 
 
 "As for the petition," said Tronchon, seating himself 
 opposite to me at the table, " it is soon done ; for mark me, 
 lad, these things must always be short ; if thou be long- 
 winded, they put thee away, and tell some of the clerks to 
 look after thee, and there 's an end of it. Be brief, there- 
 fore ; and next, be legible, — write in a good, large round 
 hand, just as if thou wert speaking, thou wouldst talk with 
 a fine, clear, distinct voice. Well, then, begin thus : 
 ' Republic of I^rance, one and invincible ! ' Make a flourish 
 round that, lad, as if it came freely from the pen. When a 
 man writes ' France ! ' he should do it as he whirls his sabre 
 round his head in a charge ! Ay, just so." 
 
 "I'm ready, Tronchon, go on." 
 
 ''^ '- Mon General!^ ^^y? nay, General mustn't be as 
 large as France, — yes, that 's better. ' The undersigned, 
 whose certificates of senice and conduct are herewith 
 enclosed.' " 
 
 ' ' Stay, stop a moment, Tronchon ; don't forget that I 
 have got neither one nor t' other." 
 
 "No matter; I'll make thee out both. Where was I? 
 Ay, ' herewith enclosed ; and whose wounds, as the accom- 
 panying report will show — ' " 
 
 " Wounds ! I never received one." 
 
 "No matter, I'll — eh! what? Feu cVenfer! how stupid 
 I am ! What have I been thinking of? Why, boy, it was a 
 sick-furlough I was about to ask for, — the only kind of 
 petition I have ever had to write in a life long." 
 
 " And I am asking for active service." 
 Ha ! That came without asking for in my case." 
 
 (( 
 
" TRONCHON." 93 
 
 "Then what's to be done, Tronchon? Clearl}-, this 
 won't do." 
 
 He nodded sententiously an assent, and, after a moment's 
 rumination, said, — 
 
 " It strikes me, lad, there can be no need of begging for 
 that which usually comes unlooked for; but if thou don't 
 choose to wait for thy billet for t' other world, but must go 
 and seek it, the best way will be to up and tell the general as 
 much." 
 
 " That was exactly my intention." 
 
 "If he asks thee 'Canst ride?' just say, 'Old Tronchon 
 taught me ; ' he '11 be one of the young hands, indeed, if he 
 don't know that name ! And mind, lad, have no whims or 
 caprices about whatever service he names thee for, even 
 wer't the infantry itself ! It 's a hard word, that, I know it 
 well ! but a man must make up his mind for anything and 
 everything. Wear any coat, go anjnvhere, face any enemy 
 thou 'rt ordered, and have none of those new-fangled notions 
 about this general or that army. Be a good soldier and a 
 good comrade. Share thy kit and thy purse to the last sous, 
 for it will not only be generous in thee, but that so long as 
 thou hoardest not thou 'It never be over eager for pillage. 
 Mind these things, and with a stout heart and a sharp sabre, 
 Maurice ' tu ira loin.' Yes, I tell thee again, lad, ' tu ira 
 loin.' " 
 
 I give these three words as he said them, for they have 
 rung in my ears thi'oughout all my life long. In moments 
 of gratified ambition, in the glorious triumph of success, 
 they have sounded to me like the confirmed predictions of 
 one who foresaw my elevation in less prosperous hours. 
 When fortune has looked dark and lowering, they have been 
 my comforter and support, telling me not to be downcast or 
 depressed, that the season of sadness would soon pass away, 
 and the road to fame and honor again open before me. 
 
 " You really think so, Tronchon? You think that I shall 
 be something yet? " 
 
 " ' Tu u^a loin,' I say," repeated he emphatically, and with 
 the air of an oracle who would not suffer further interroga- 
 tion. I therefore shook his hand cordially, and set out to 
 pay my visit to the general. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 When I reached the quarters of the Etat Major, I found the 
 great courtyard of the hotel crowded with soldiers of 
 every rank and arm of the service. Some were newly- 
 joined recruits waiting for the orders to be forwarded to 
 their respective regiments, some were invalids just issued 
 from the hospital, some were sick and wounded on their way 
 homeward. There were sergeants with billet rolls and 
 returns and court-martial sentences, adjutants with regi- 
 mental documents hastening hither and thither; mounted 
 orderlies, too, continually came and went; all was bustle, 
 movement, and confusion. Officers in staff uniforms called 
 out the orders from the different windows, and despatches 
 were sent off' here and there with hot haste. The building 
 was the ancient palace of the Dukes of Lorraine, and a 
 splendid fountain of white marble in the centre of the 
 Com* still showed the proud armorial bearings of that 
 princely house. Around the sculptured base of this now 
 were seated groups of soldiers, their war-worn looks and 
 piled arms contrasting strangely enough with the great 
 porcelain vases of flowering' plants that still decorated the 
 rich plateau. Shakos, helmets, and great-coats were hung 
 upon the orange-trees. The heavy boots of the cuirassier, 
 the white leather apron of the sapeur, were drying along 
 the marble benches of the terrace. The richly-traceried 
 veining of gilt iron-work which separated the court from 
 the garden was actually covered with belts, swords, 
 bayonets, and horse-gear, in every stage and process of 
 cleaning. Within the garden itself, however, all was silent 
 and still, — two sentries, who paced backwards and for- 
 wards beneath the grille, showing that the spot was to be 
 
A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 95 
 
 respected by those whose careless gestui-es and reckless air 
 betrayed how little influence the mere '' genius of the place " 
 would exercise over them. 
 
 To me the interest of everything was increasing ; and 
 whether I lingered to listen to the raw remarks of the new 
 recruit, in wonder at all he saw, or stopped to hear the 
 campaigning stories of the old soldiers of the army, I never 
 wearied. Few, if any, knew whither they were going, — 
 perhaps to the north to join the army of the Sambre, 
 perhaps to the east to the force upon the Rhine ; it might 
 be that they were destined for Italy, — none cared ! Mean- 
 while, at every moment, detachments moved off, and their 
 places were filled by fresh arrivals, all dusty and way-worn 
 from the march. Some had scarcely time to eat a hurried 
 morsel when they were called on to " fall in," and again the 
 word "forward" was given. Such of the infantry as 
 appeared too weary for the march were sent on in great 
 charrettes di*awn by six or eight horses, and capable of 
 carrying forty men in each ; and of these there seemed to 
 be no end. No sooner was one detachment away than 
 another succeeded. Whatever their destination, one thing 
 seemed evident, — the urgency that called them was beyond 
 the common. For a while I forgot all about myself in the 
 greater interest of the scene ; but then came the thought that 
 I too should have my share in this onward movement, and 
 now I set out to seek for my young friend the " Sous- 
 Lieutenant." I had not asked his name, but his regiment I 
 knew to be the Twenty-second Chasseurs-a-Cheval. The 
 uniform was light green, and easily enough to be recognized ; 
 yet nowhere was it to be seen. There were cuu-assiers and 
 hussars, heavy dragoons and carabiniers, in abundance, — 
 everything, in short, but what I sought. 
 
 At last I asked of an old quartermaster where the Twenty- 
 second were quartered, and heard to my utter dismay that 
 they had marched that morning at eight o' clock. There 
 were two more squadrons expected to arrive at noon, but the 
 orders were that they were to proceed without further halt. 
 
 " And whither to? " asked I. 
 
 " To Treves, on the Moselle," said he, and turned away as 
 if he would not be questioned further. It was trae that my 
 
96 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 young friend could not have been much of a patron, yet the 
 loss of him was deeply felt by me. He was to have intro- 
 duced me to his colonel, who probably might have obtained 
 the leave I desired at once ; and now I knew no one, not one 
 even to advise me how to act. I sat down upon a bench to 
 think, but could resolve on nothing ; the very sight of that 
 busy scene had now become a reproach to me. There were 
 the veterans of a hundred battles hastening foi*ward again 
 to the field ; there were the young soldiers just flushed with 
 recent victory ; even the peasant boys were ' ' eager for the 
 fray ; " but I alone was to have no part in the coming glory. 
 The enthusiasm of all around only served to increase and 
 deepen my depression. There was not one there, from the 
 old and war-worn veteran of the ranks to the merest boy, 
 with whom I would not gladly have exchanged fortunes. 
 Some hours passed over in these gloomy reveries, and when 
 I looked up from the stupor my own thoughts had thrown 
 over me, the Com- was almost empty. A few sick sol- 
 diers waiting for their billets of leave, a few recruits not 
 yet named to any corps, and a stray orderly or two standing 
 beside his horse were all that remained. 
 
 I arose to go away, but in my pre-occupatioii of mind, 
 instead of turning toward the street, I passed beneath a large 
 archway into another court of the building, somewhat 
 smaller, but much richer in decoration and ornament than 
 the outer one. After spending some time admiring the 
 quaint devices and grim heads which peeped out from all 
 the architraves and friezes, my eye was caught by a low, 
 arched doorway, in the middle of which was a small railed 
 window, like the grille of a convent. I approached, and 
 perceived that it led into a garden by a long, narrow walk 
 of clipped yew, dense and upright as a wall. The trimly- 
 raked gravel and the smooth surface of the hedge showed 
 the care bestowed on the grounds to be a wide contrast to 
 the neglect exhibited in the mansion itself ; a narrow border of 
 hyacinths and carnations ran along either side of the walk, 
 the gorgeous blossoms appearing in strong relief against the 
 background of dark foliage. 
 
 The door, as I leaned against it, gently yielded to the 
 pressure of my ai-m, and almost without knowing it I found 
 
A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 97 
 
 myself standing within the precincts of the garden. My 
 first impulse, of course, was to retu'e and close the door 
 again ; but somehow, I never knew exactly why, I could not 
 resist the desire to see a little more of a scene so tempting. 
 There was no mark of footsteps on the gravel, and I thought 
 it likely the garden was empty. On I w^ent, therefore, at 
 first with cautious and uncertain steps, at last with more 
 confidence, for as I issued from the hedge-waUv and reached 
 an open space beyond, the solitude seemed unbroken. Fruit- 
 trees, loaded with their produce, stood in a closely-shaven 
 lawn, through which a small stream meandered, its banks 
 planted with daffodils and water-lilies. Some pheasants 
 moved about through the grass, but without alarm at my 
 presence ; while a young fawn boldly came over to me, and 
 although in seeming disappointment at not finding an old 
 friend, continued to walk beside me as I went. 
 
 The grounds appeared of great extent; paths led off in 
 every direction ; and while in some places I could perceive 
 the glittering roof and sides of a conservatory, in others 
 the humble culture of a vegetable garden was to be seen. 
 There was a wondrous fascination in the calm and tranquil 
 solitude around ; and coming, as it did, so immediately after 
 the busy bustle of the " soldiering," I soon not only forgot 
 that I was an intruder there, but suffered myself to wander 
 " fancy free," following out the thoughts each object sug- 
 gested. I believe at that moment, if the choice were given 
 me, I would rather have been the "Adam of that Eden" 
 than the proudest of those generals that ever led a column 
 to victory ! Fortunately, or unfortunately — it would not be 
 easy to decide which — the alternative was not open to me. 
 It was while I was still musing, that I found m3'self at the 
 foot of a little eminence, on which stood a tower whose 
 height and position showed it had been built for the view it 
 afforded over a vast tract of country. Even from where I 
 stood, at its base, I could see over miles and miles of a great 
 plain, with the main roads leading towards the north and 
 eastward. This spot was also the boundary of the grounds, 
 and a portion of the old boulevard of the town formed the 
 defence against the open country beyond. It was a deep 
 ditch, with sides of sloping sward cropped neatly and kept 
 
 7 
 
98 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 in trimmest order, but from its depth and width forming 
 a fence of a formidable kind. I was peering cautiously 
 down into the abyss, when I heard a voice so close to my 
 ear that I started with surprise. I listened, and perceived 
 that the speaker was dh-ectly above me ; and leaning over 
 the battlements at the top of the tower. 
 
 " You're quite right," cried he, as he adjusted a telescope 
 to his eye, and directed his view towards the plain. "He 
 has gone wrong ! He has taken the Strasbourg road instead 
 of the northern one." 
 
 An exclamation of anger followed these words ; and now 
 I saw the telescope passed to another hand, and to my 
 astonishment that of a lady. 
 
 ' ' Was there ever stupidity like that ? He saw the map 
 like the others, and yet — Parhleu ! it 's too bad ! " 
 
 I could perceive that a female voice made some rejoinder, 
 but not distinguish the words ; when the man again spoke, — 
 
 "No, no! it's all a blimder of that old major; and here 
 am I without an orderly to send after him. Diahle! it is 
 provoking." 
 
 ' ' Is n't that one of your people at the foot of the tower ? " 
 said the lady, as she pointed to where I stood, praying for 
 the earth to open and close over me ; for as he moved his 
 head to look down, I saw the epaulettes of a staff officer. 
 
 " Holloa ! " cried he, " are you on duty ? " 
 
 " Xo, sii'; I was — " 
 
 Not waiting for me to finish an explanation, he went on, — 
 
 "Follow that division of cavalry that has taken the 
 Strasbourg road, and tell Major Roquelard that he has gone 
 wrong ; he should have turned off to the left at the suburbs. 
 Lose no time, but away at once. Y^ou are mounted, of 
 com-se ? " 
 
 "No, sir, my horse is at quarters ; but I can — " 
 
 " No, no ! it will be too late," he broke in again. " Take 
 my troop horse, and be off. You '11 find him in the stable to 
 your left." 
 
 Then tm-ning to the lady I heard him say, — 
 
 " It may save Roquelard from an arrest." 
 
 I did not wait for more, but hm-ried off in the direction 
 he had pointed. A short gravel walk brought me in front 
 
A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 99 
 
 of a low building, in the cottage style, but which, decorated 
 with emblems of the chase, I guessed to be the stable. Not 
 a groom was to be seen ; but the door being unlatched I 
 entered freely. Four large and handsome horses were 
 feeding at the racks, their glossy coats and long silken 
 manes showing the care bestowed upon them. Which is 
 the trooper, thought I, as I surveyed them all with keen 
 and scrutinizing eye. All my skill in such matters was 
 unable to decide the point ; they seemed all alike valuable 
 and handsome, in equally high condition, and exhibiting 
 equal marks of careful treatment. Two were stamped on 
 the haunches with the letters " R. F. ; " and these, of 
 course, were cavalry horses. One was a powerful black 
 horse, whose strong quarters and deep chest bespoke great 
 action, while the backward glances of his eye indicated the 
 temper of a "tartar." Making choice of him without an 
 instant's hesitation, I threw on the saddle, adjusted the 
 stuTups to my own length, buckled the bridle, and led him 
 forth. In all my " school experience" I had never seen an 
 animal that pleased me so much ; his well-arched neck and 
 slightly-dipped back showed that an Arab cross had mingled 
 with the stronger qualities of the Norman horse. I sprung 
 to my saddle with delight ; to be astride such a beast was 
 to kindle up all the enthusiasm of my nature, and as I 
 grasped the reins, and urged him foi-ward, I was half wild 
 with excitement. 
 
 Apparently the animal was accustomed to more gentle 
 treatment, for he gave a loud snort, such as a surprised or 
 frightened horse will give, and then bounded foi*ward once 
 or twice, as if to dismount me. This failing, he reared up 
 perfectly straight, pawing madly, and threatening even to 
 fall backwards. I saw that I had, indeed, selected a wicked 
 one; for in every bound and spring, in every curvet and 
 leap, the object was clearly to unseat the rider. At one 
 instant he would crouch, as if to lie down, and then bound 
 up several feet in the air, with a toss up of his haunches 
 that almost sent me over his head. At another he would 
 spring froni side to side, writhing and twisting like a fish, 
 till the saddle seemed actually slipping away from his lithe 
 body. Not only did I resist all these attacks, but vigorously 
 
100 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 continued to punish with whip and spur the entire time. — a 
 proceeding, I could easily see, he was not prepared for. At 
 last, actually maddened with his inability to throw me, and 
 enraged by my continuing to spur him. he broke away, and 
 dashing headlong forward, rushed into the very thickest of 
 the grove. Fortunately for me, the trees were either shrubs 
 or of stunted growth, so that I had only to keep my saddle 
 to escape danger; but suddenly emerging from this, he 
 gained the open sward, and as if his passion became more 
 furious as he indulged in it, he thi-ew up his head, and 
 struck out in full gallop. I had but time to see that he was 
 heading for the great fosse of the boulevard, when we were 
 already on its brink. A shout and a cry, of I know not 
 what, came from the tower ; but I heard nothing more. 
 Mad as the maddened animal himself, perhaps at that 
 moment just as indifferent to life, I dashed the spurs into 
 his flanks, and over we went, lighting on the green sward 
 as easily as a seagull on a wave. To all seeming, the 
 terrible leap had somewhat sobered him ; Init on me it had 
 produced the very opposite eft'ect. I felt that I had gained 
 the mastery, and resolved to use it. With um'elentiug 
 punishment, then, I rode him foi^ward, taking the country 
 as it lay straight before me. The few fences which divided 
 the great fields were too insignificant to be called leaps, and 
 he took them in the "sling"' of his stretching gallop. He 
 was now subdued, yielding to every tiu-n of my wiist, and 
 obeying every motive of my will like an instinct. It may 
 read like a petty victory ; but he who has ever experienced 
 the ti-iumph over an enraged and powerful horse, well knows 
 that few sensations are more pleasm-ably exciting. High 
 as is the excitement of being borne along in full speed, 
 leaving village and spu'e, glen and river, bridge and mill 
 behind you, — now careering up the mountain side with the 
 fresh breeze upon your brow, now diving into the dark 
 forest, startling the hare from her cover and sending the 
 wild deer scampering before you, — it is still increased by 
 the sense of a victory, by feeling that the mastery is with 
 you, and that each bound of the noble beast beneath you has 
 its impulse in your own heart. 
 
 Although the cavalry squadrons I was despatched to over- 
 
A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 101 
 
 take had quitted Nancy four hours before, I came up with 
 them in less than an hour, and inquii'ing for the officer in 
 command, rode up to the head of the division. He was a 
 thin, gaunt-looking, stern-featured man, who listened to my 
 message without changing a muscle. 
 
 " Who sent you with this order? " said he. 
 
 "A general officer, sir, whose name I don't know; but 
 who told me to take his own horse and follow you." 
 
 "Did he tell you to kill the animal, sir?" said he, point- 
 ing to the heaving flanks and shaking tail of the exhausted 
 beast. 
 
 " He bolted with me at first, major, and having cleared 
 the ditch of the boulevard, rode away with me." 
 
 "Why, it's Colonel Mahon's Arab ' Aleppo,' " said an- 
 other officer; "what could have persuaded him to mount 
 an orderly on a beast worth ten thousand francs ? " 
 
 I thought I 'd have fainted as I heard these words ; the 
 whole consequences of my act revealed themselves before 
 me, and I saw arrest, trial, sentence, imprisonment, and 
 Heaven knew what afterwards, like a panorama rolling out 
 to my view. 
 
 " Tell the colonel, sir," said the major, " that I have taken 
 the north road, intending to cross over at Beaumont; that 
 the artillery trains have cut up the Metz road so deeply 
 cavah-y cannot travel; tell him I thank him much for his 
 politeness in foi-warding this despatch to me ; and tell him 
 that I regret the rules of active service should prevent my 
 sending back an escort to place yourself under arrest for the 
 manner in which you have ridden, — you hear, sir? " 
 
 I touched my cap in salute. 
 
 "Are you certain, sk, that you have my answer cor- 
 rectly?" 
 
 "I am, sir." 
 
 " Repeat it, then." 
 
 I repeated the reply, word for word, as he spoke it. 
 
 " No, sir," said he, as I concluded ; " I said f or unsoldier- 
 like and cruel treatment to your horse." 
 
 One of his officers whispered something in his ear, and he 
 quietly added, — 
 
 " I find that I had not used these words, but I ought to 
 
102 MAUKICE TIERNAY. 
 
 have done so ; give the message, therefore, as you heard it 
 at first." 
 
 " Mahon will shoot him, to a certainty," muttered one of 
 the captains. 
 
 " I 'd not blame him," joined another ; " that horse saved 
 his life at Quiberon, when he fell in with a patrol, — and 
 look at him now ! " 
 
 The major made a sign for me to retire, and I turned and 
 set out towards Nancy, with the feelings of a convict on the 
 way to his fate. 
 
 If I ^did not feel that these brief records of an humble 
 career were "upon honor," and that the onl}^ useful lesson 
 a life so unimportant can teach is the conflict between 
 opposing influences, I might possibly be disposed to blink 
 the avowal that as I rode along towards Nancy a very great 
 doubt occurred to me as to whether I ought not to desert ! 
 It is a very ignoble expression ; but it must out. There 
 were not in the French service any of those ignominious 
 punishments which, once undergone, a man is dishonored 
 forever, and no more admissible to rank with men of char- 
 acter than if convicted of actual crime ; but there were 
 marks of degradation almost as severe then in vogue, and 
 which men dreaded with a fear nearly as acute, — such, for 
 instance, as being ordered for service at the Bagne de Brest 
 in Toulon, the arduous duty of guarding the galley-slaves, 
 and which was scarcely a degree above the condition of the 
 condemned themselves. Than such a fate as this, I would 
 willingly have preferred death. It was, then, this thought 
 that suggested desertion ; but I soon rejected the unworthy 
 temptation, and held on my way towards Nancy. 
 
 Aleppo, if at first wearied by the severe burst, soon rallied, 
 while he showed no traces of his fiery temper, and exhibited 
 few of fatigue ; and as I walked along at his side, washing 
 his mouth and nostrils at each fountain I passed, and slack- 
 ening his saddle-girths to give him freedom, long before we 
 arrived at the suburbs he had regained all his looks and 
 much of his spirit. 
 
 At last we entered Nancy about nightfall, and, with a 
 failing heart, I found myself at the gate of the Ducal palace. 
 The sentries suffered me to pass unmolested, and entering I 
 
A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 103 
 
 took my way through the courtyard towards the small gate 
 of the garden, which, as I had left it, was unlatched. 
 
 It was strange enough, the nearer I drew towards the 
 eventful moment of my fate the more resolute and composed 
 my heart became. It is possible, thought I, that in a fit of 
 passion he will send a ball through me, as the officer said. 
 Be it so, — the matter is the sooner ended. If, however, he 
 will condescend to listen to my explanation, I may be able 
 to assert my innocence, at least so far as intention went. 
 With this comforting conclusion, I descended at the stable 
 door. Two dragoons in undress were smoking, as they lay 
 at full length upon a bench, and speedily arose as I came 
 up. 
 
 " Tell the colonel he's come, Jacques," said one, in a loud 
 voice, and the other retired ; while the speaker, turning 
 towards me, took the bridle from my hand, and led the 
 animal in, without vouchsafing a word to me. 
 
 "An active beast that," said I, affecting the easiest and 
 coolest indifference. The soldier gave me a look of undis- 
 guised amazement, and I continued, — 
 
 "He has had a bad hand on him, I should say, — some 
 one too flurried and too fidgetty to give confidence to a hot- 
 tempered horse." 
 
 Another stare was all the reply. 
 
 " In a little time, and with a little patience, I 'd make him 
 as gentle as a lamb." 
 
 " I 'm afraid you '11 not have the oppoi-tunity," replied he, 
 significantly; "but the colonel, I see, is waiting for you, 
 and you can discuss the matter together." 
 
 The other dragoon had just then returned, and made me a 
 sign to follow him. A few paces brought us to the door of 
 a small pavilion, at which a sentry stood, and having mo- 
 tioned to me to pass in, my guide left me. An orderly ser- 
 geant at the same instant appeared, and beckoning to me to 
 advance, he drew aside a curtain, and pushing me foi^ard, 
 let the heavy folds close behind me ; and now I found myself 
 in a richly-furnished chamber, at the farther end of which an 
 officer was at 'supper with a young and handsome woman. 
 The profusion of waxlights on the table, the glitter of plate 
 and glass and porcelain, the richness of the lady's dress, 
 
104 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 which seemed like the costume of a ball, were all objects 
 distracting enough, but they could not turn me from the 
 thought of my own condition ; and I stood still and motion- 
 less, while the officer, a man of about fifty, with dark and 
 stern features, deliberately scanned me from head to foot. 
 Not a word did he speak, not a gesture did he make, but sat, 
 with his black eyes actually piercing me. I would have 
 given anj^thing for some outbreak of auger, some burst of 
 passion, that would have put an end to this horrible sus- 
 pense, but none came ; and there he remained several 
 minutes, as if contemplating something too new and strange 
 for utterance. "This must have an end," thought I, — 
 " here goes ; " and so, with my hand in salute, I drew my- 
 self full up, and said, — 
 
 "I carried your orders, sii', and received for answer that 
 Major .Roquelard had taken the north road advisedly, as 
 that by Beaumont was cut up by the artillery trains ; that he 
 would cross over to the Metz Chaussee as soon as possible ; 
 that he thanked you for the kindness of youi' warning, and 
 regretted that the rules of active senice precluded his des- 
 patching an escort of arrest along with me, for the mannef 
 in which I had ridden with the order." 
 
 "Anything more?" asked the colonel, in a voice that 
 sounded thick and guttural with passion. 
 
 " Nothing more, sir." 
 
 " No further remark or observation? " 
 
 " None, su', — at least from the major." 
 
 " What, then, — from any other? " 
 
 " A captain, sir, whose name I do not know, did saj^ 
 something." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " I forget the precise words, sir, but their puiport was 
 that Colonel Mahon would certainly shoot me when I got 
 back." 
 
 ' ' And you replied ? " 
 
 " I don't believe I made any reply at the time, sir." 
 
 " But you thought, sir, — what were your thoughts ? " 
 
 " I thought it very like what I'd have done mj^self in a 
 like case, although certain to be sorry for it afterwards." 
 
 Whether the emotion had been one for some time previous 
 
A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 105 
 
 restrained, or that my last words had provoked it suddenly, 
 I cannot tell, but the lady here burst out into a fit of laugh- 
 ter, which was as suddenly checked by some sharp obsei'\"a- 
 tion of the colonel, whose stern features grew sterner and 
 darker every moment. 
 
 ''There we differ, sir," said he, "for I should not." At 
 the same instant he pushed his plate away, to make room 
 on the table for a small portfolio, opening which, he pre- 
 pared to write. 
 
 "You will bring this paper," continued he, "to the 
 'Prev6t Marshal.' To-morrow morning you shall be tried 
 by a regimental court-martial, and as your sentence may 
 probably be the galleys and hard labor — " 
 
 " I '11 save them the trouble," said I, quietly drawing my 
 sword ; but scarcely was it clear of the scabbard when a 
 shriek broke from the lady, who possibly knew not the 
 object of my act ; at the same instant the colonel bounded 
 across the chamber, and striking me a severe blow upon the 
 arm dashed the weapon from my hand to the ground. 
 
 " You want the fusillade^ — is that what you want? " cried 
 he, as in a towering fit of passion he dragged me forward 
 to the light. I was now standing close to the table ; the 
 lady raised her eyes towards me, and at once broke out into 
 a burst of laughter, — such hearty, merry laughter, that, 
 even with the fear of death before me, I could almost have 
 joined in it. 
 
 "What is it, — what do you mean, Laure?" cried the 
 colonel, angrily. 
 
 " Don't you see it? " said she, still holding her kerchief to 
 her face, — " can't you perceive it yourself? He has only 
 one mustache ! " 
 
 I turned hastily towards the mirror beside me, and there 
 was the fatal fact revealed, — one gallant curl disported 
 proudly over the left cheek, while the other was left bare. 
 
 " Is the fellow mad, — a mountebank? " said the colonel, 
 whose anger was now at its white heat. 
 
 "Neither, sir," said I, tearing off my remaining mustache, 
 in shame and passion together. " Among my other misfor- 
 tunes I have that of being young ; and what 's worse, I was 
 ashamed of it ; but I begin to see my error, and know that 
 
106 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 a man may be old without gaining either in dignity or 
 temper." 
 
 With a stroke of his closed fist upon the table, the colonel 
 made every glass and decanter spring from theii' places, 
 while he uttered an oath that was only current in the days 
 of that army. " This is beyond belief," cried he. " Come, 
 gredin, you have at least had one piece of good fortune, — 
 you've fallen precisely into the hands of one who can deal 
 with you. Your regiment?" 
 
 " The Ninth Hussars." 
 
 ' ' Your name ? " 
 
 "Tiernay." 
 
 ' ' Tiernay ! that 's not a French name ? " 
 
 " Not originally ; we were Irish once." 
 
 "Irish," said he, in a different tone from what he had 
 hitherto used. " Any relative of a certain Comte Maurice 
 de Tierna}^, who once served in the Royal Guard? " 
 
 " His son, sir." 
 
 " What ! his son ! Art certain of this, lad? You remem- 
 ber your mother's name then : what was it? " 
 
 " I never knew which was my mother," said I, — " Made- 
 moiselle de la Lasterie or — " 
 
 He did not suffer me to finish, but throwing his arms 
 around my neck, pressed me to his bosom. 
 
 "You are little Maurice, then," said he, " the son of my 
 old and valued comrade ! Only think of it, Laure, — I was 
 that boy's godfather ! " 
 
 Here was a sudden change in my fortunes ! nor was it 
 without a great effort that I could credit the reality of it, as 
 I saw mj^self seated between the colonel and his fair com- 
 panion, both of whom overwhelmed me with attention. It 
 turned out that Colonel Mahon had been a fellow-guards- 
 man with my father, for whom he had ever preserved the 
 warmest attachment. One of the few sui-vivors of the 
 Garde du Corps, he had taken sei'^ice with the Republic, and 
 was already reputed as one of the most distinguished cavalry 
 oflScers. 
 
 " Strange enough, Maurice," said he to me, " there was 
 something in your look and manner, as you spoke to me 
 there, that recalled your poor father to my memory ; and 
 
A SCRAPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 107 
 
 without knowing or suspecting why, I suffered you to bandy 
 words with me, while at another moment I would have 
 ordered you to be ironed and sent to prison." 
 
 Of my mother, of whom I wished much to learn something, 
 he would not speak, but adroitly changed the conversation to 
 the subject of my own adventures, and these he made me 
 recount from the beginning. If the lady enjoyed all the 
 absurdities of my checkered fortune with a keen sense of the 
 ridiculous, the colonel apparently could trace in them but so 
 many resemblances to my father's character, and constantly 
 broke out into exclamations of, " How like him!" "Just 
 what he would have done himself ! " " His own very words ! " 
 and so on. 
 
 It was only in a pause of the conversation, as the clock on 
 the mantelpiece struck eleven, that I was aware of the late- 
 ness of the hour, and remembered that I should be on the 
 punishment-roll the next morning for absence from quarters. 
 
 " Never fret about that, Maurice, I '11 return your name as 
 on a special service ; and to have the benefit of truth on our 
 side, you shall be named one of my orderlies, with the grade 
 of corporal." 
 
 " Wh}" not make him a sous-lieutenant? " said the lady, in 
 a half-whisper. " I 'm sure he is better worth his epaulettes 
 than any I have seen on your staff." 
 
 "Nay, nay," muttered the colonel, " the rules of the ser- 
 vice forbid it. He'll win his spurs time enough, or I'm 
 much mistaken." 
 
 While I thanked my new and kind patron for his good- 
 ness, I could not help saying that my heart was eagerly set 
 upon the prospect of actual service ; and that proud as I 
 should be of his protection, I would rather merit it by my 
 conduct than owe my advancement to favor. 
 
 ' ' Which simply means that you are tired of Nancy, and 
 riding drill, and want to see how men comport themselves 
 where the manoeuvres are not arranged beforehand. Well, 
 so far you are right, boy. I shall, in all likelihood, be 
 stationed here for three or four months, during which you 
 might have advanced a stage or so towards those epaulettes 
 my fair friend desires to see upon your shoulders. You shall, 
 therefore, be sent forward to your own corps. I '11 write to 
 
108 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 the colonel to confirm the rank of corporal ; the regiment is 
 at present on the Moselle ; and, if I mistake not, will soon 
 be actively employed. Come to me to-morrow before noon, 
 and be prepared to march with the first detachments that are 
 sent foi*ward." 
 
 A cordial shake of the hand followed these words ; and 
 the lady having also vouchsafed me an equal token of her 
 good-will, I took my leave, the happiest fellow that ever 
 betook himself to quarters after houi'S, and as indifferent to 
 the penalties annexed to the breach of discipline as if the 
 whole code of martial law were a mere fable. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 AN AKISTOCRATIC REPUBLICAN. 
 
 If the worthy reader would wish to fancy the happiest of all 
 youthful beings, let him imagine what I must have been, as, 
 mounted upon Aleppo, a present from my godfather, with a 
 purse of six shining louis in my pocket and a letter to my 
 colonel, I set forth for Metz. I had breakfasted with 
 Colonel Mahon, who, amid much good advice for my future 
 guidance, gave me, half slyly, to understand that the days of 
 Jacobinism had almost run theii' coui'se, and that a re- 
 actionary movement had already set in. The Republic, he 
 added, was as strong, perhaps stronger, than ever, but that 
 men had grown weary of mob tyranny, and were day by day 
 reverting to the old loyalty, — in respect for whatever pre- 
 tended to culture, good breeding, and superior intelligence. 
 *' As, in a shipwreck, the crew instinctively turn for counsel 
 and du-ection to the officers, you will see that France will, 
 notwithstanding all the libertinism of our age, place her con- 
 fidence in the men who have been the tried and worthy ser- 
 vants of former governments. So far then from suffering on 
 account of your gentle blood, Maurice, the time is not distant 
 when it will do you good service ; and when every associa- 
 tion that links you with family and fortune will be deemed an 
 additional guarantee of your good conduct. I mention these 
 things," continued he, " because your colonel is what they 
 call a ' Grosbleu,' — that is, a coarse-minded, inveterate 
 republican, detesting aristocracy and all that belongs to it. 
 Take care, therefore, to give him no just cause for discon- 
 tent, but be just as steady in maintaining your position as 
 the descendant of a noble house, who has not forgotten what 
 were once the privileges of his rank. Write to me frequently 
 and freely, and I '11 take care that you want for nothing, so 
 far as my small means go, to sustain whatever grade you 
 occupy. Your own conduct shall decide whether I ever 
 
110 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 desii'e to have any other inheritor than the son of my oldest 
 friend in the world." 
 
 Such were his last words to me, as I set forth in company 
 with a large party, consisting, for the most part, of under 
 officers and employes attached to the medical staff of the 
 army. It was a very joyous and merry fraternity, and, con- 
 sisting of ingredients drawn from different pursuits and arms 
 of the service, infinitely amusing from contrast of character 
 and habits. My chief associate amongst them was a young 
 sous-lieutenant of dragoons, whose age, scarcely much above 
 my own, joined to a joyous, reckless temperament, soon 
 pointed him out as the character to suit me. His name was 
 Eugene Santron. In appearance he was slightly formed, 
 and somewhat under-sized, but with handsome features, their 
 animation rendered sparkling by two of the wickedest black 
 eyes that ever glistened and glittered in a human head. I 
 soon saw that under the mask of affected fraternity and 
 equality he nourished the most profound contempt for the 
 greater number of his associates, who, in truth, were, how- 
 ever braves gens, the very roughest and least-polished speci- 
 mens of the polite nation. In all his intercourse with them, 
 Eugene affected the easiest tone of camaraderie and equality, 
 never assuming in the slightest, nor making any pretensions 
 to the least superiority on the score of position or acquke- 
 ments, but on the whole consoling himself, as it were, by 
 " pla^'ing them off" in then- several eccentricities, and ren- 
 dering every trait of their vulgarity and ignorance tributary 
 to his own amusement. Partly from seeing that he made me 
 an exception to this practice, and partly from his perceiving the 
 amusement it afforded me, we drew closer towards each other, 
 and before many days elapsed had become sworn friends. 
 
 There is probably no feature of character so very attrac- 
 tive to a young man as frankness. The most artful of all 
 flatteri^es is that which addresses itself by candor, and seems 
 at once to select, as it were by intuition, the object most 
 suited for a confidence. Santron carried me by a coi/p cle 
 main of this kind, as taking my arm one evening, as I was 
 strolling along the banks of the Moselle, he said, — 
 
 "My dear Maurice, it's very easy to see that the society 
 of our excellent friends yonder is just as distasteful to you 
 as to me. One cannot always be satisfied laughing at their 
 
AN ARISTOCRATIC REPUBLICAN. HI 
 
 solecisms in breeding and propriety. One grows weary at 
 last of ridiculing theii' thousand absurdities ; and then there 
 comes the terrible retribution in the reflection of w^hat the 
 devil brought me into such company, — a question that, 
 however easily answered, grows more and more intolerable 
 the oftener it is asked. To be sure, in my case there was 
 little choice in the matter, for I was not in any way the 
 arbiter of my own fortune. I saw myself converted from a 
 royal page to a printer's devil by a kind old fellow, who 
 saved my life by smearing my face with ink, and covering 
 my scarlet uniform with a filthy blouse ; and since that da}^ 
 I have taken the hint, and often found the lesson a good 
 one, — the du-tier the safer ! 
 
 ' ' We were of the old nobility of France ; but as the name 
 of our family was the cause of its extinction, I took care to 
 change it. I see you don't clearly comprehend me, and so 
 I'll explain myself better. My father lived unmolested 
 dui'ing the earlier days of the Revolution, and might so have 
 continued to the end if a detachment of the Garde Republi- 
 caine had not been despatched to our neighborhood of Sarre 
 Louis, where it was supposed some lurking regard for royalty 
 yet lingered. These fellows neither knew nor cared for the 
 ancient noblesse of the country, and one evening a patrol of 
 them stopped my father as he was taking his evening walk 
 along the ramparts. He would scarcely deign to notice the 
 insolent ' Qui va la ? ' of the sentry, a summons he at least 
 thought superfluous in a town which had known his ancestry 
 for eight or nine generations. At the repetition of the cry, 
 accompanied by something that sounded ominous, in the 
 sharp click of a gun-lock, he replied haughtily, — 
 
 " ' Je suis le Marquis de Saint-Trone.' 
 
 "'There are no more Marquises in France!' was the 
 savage answer. 
 
 " My father smiled contemptuously, and briefly said 
 ' Saint-Trone.' 
 
 " ' We have no Saints either,' cried another. 
 
 "'Be it so, my friend,' said he, with mingled pity and 
 disgust. ' I suppose some designation may at least be left 
 to me, and that I may call myself Trone.' 
 
 " ' We are done with thrones long ago,' shouted they in 
 chorus, ' and we'll finish you also.' 
 
112 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 " Ay, and they kept their word, too. They shot hhn that 
 same evening, on very little other charge than his own 
 name ! If I have retained the old sound of my name I have 
 given it a more plebeian spelling, which is, perhaps, just as 
 much of an alteration as any man need submit to for a 
 period that will pass away so soon." 
 
 "How so, Eugene? You fancy the Republic will not 
 endure in France? What, then, can replace it?" 
 
 " Anything, everything ; for the future all is possible. We 
 have annihilated legitimacy, it is true, just as the Indians 
 destroy a forest, by burning the trees ; but the roots remain, 
 and if the soil is incapable of sending up the giant stems as 
 before, it is equally unable to furnish a new and different 
 culture. Monarchy is just as firmly rooted in a Frenchman's 
 heart; but he will have neither patience for its tedious 
 growth, nor can he submit to restore what has cost him so 
 dearly to destroy. The consequences will therefore be a 
 long and continued struggle between parties, each imposing 
 upon the nation the form of government that pleases it in 
 turn. Meanwhile you and I, and others like us, must serxe 
 whatever is uppermost : the cleverest fellow he who sees the 
 coming change, and prepares to take advantage of it." 
 
 " Then are you a Royalist? " asked I. 
 
 ' ' A Royalist ! What ! stand by a monarch who deserted 
 his aristocracy and forgot his own order ; defend a throne 
 that he had reduced to the condition of a fauteuil de 
 Bourgeois? " 
 
 " You are then for the Republic? " 
 
 " For what robbed me of my inheritance, what degraded 
 me from my rank, and reduced me to a state below that of 
 my own vassals, — is this a cause to uphold? " 
 
 "You are satisfied with military glory, perhaps," said I, 
 scarcely knowing what form of faith to attribute to him. 
 
 "In an army where my superiors are the very dregs of the 
 people ! where the canaille have the command, and the chiv- 
 alry of France is represented by a sans-culotte ! " 
 
 " The cause of the Church — " 
 
 A burst of ribald laughter cut me. short, and laying his 
 hand on my shoulder he looked me full in the face, while 
 with a struggle to recover his gravity he said, — 
 
AN ARISTOCRATIC REPUBLICAN. 113 
 
 " I hope, my dear Maurice, you are not serious, and tiiat 
 you do not mean this for earnest! Why, my dear boy, 
 don't you talk of the Eleusinian Mysteries, the Delphic 
 Oracle, of Alchemy, Astrology, — of anything, in short, of 
 which the world, having amused itself, has at length gi'own 
 weary? Can't you see that the Chui-ch has passed away, 
 and these good priests have gone the same road as their 
 predecessors ? Is any acuteness wanting to show that there 
 is an end of this superstition that has enthi^alled men's minds 
 for a couple of thousand years? No, no ! their game is up, 
 and forever. These pious men, who despised this world, 
 and yet had no other hold upon the minds of others than by 
 the very craft and subtlety that world taught them ; these 
 heavenly souls, whose whole machinations revolved about 
 earthy objects and the successes of this grovelling planet, — 
 fight for them ! No, parfjleit ! we owe them but little love or 
 affection. Their whole aim in life has been to disgust one 
 with whatever is enjoyable ; and the best boon they have 
 conferred upon humanity is the bright thought of locking up 
 the softest eyes and fairest cheeks of France in cloisters and 
 nunneries ! I can forgive our glorious Revolution much of 
 its wrong when I think of the Pretre, — not but that they 
 could have knocked down the church without suffering the 
 ruins to crush the chMeau ! " 
 
 Such, in brief, were the opinions my companion held, and 
 of which I was accustomed to hear specimens every day, — 
 at first, with displeasure and repugnance ; later on, with more 
 of toleration ; and at last, with a sense of amusement at 
 the singularity of his notions or the dexterity with which 
 he defended them. The poison of his doctrines was the 
 more insidious, because mingled with a certain dash of good 
 nature and a reckless, careless easiness of disposition always 
 attractive to very young men. His reputation for courage, 
 of which he had given signal proofs, elevated him in my 
 esteem ; and, ere long, all my misgivings about him, in regard 
 of certain blemishes, gave way before my admiration of his 
 heroic bearing and a readiness to confront peril, wherever 
 to be found. 
 
 I had made him the confidant of my own history, of which 
 I told him everything, save the passages which related to the 
 
114 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 P^re Michel. These I either entirely glossed over, or touched 
 so lightly as to render unimportant, — a dread of ridicule 
 restraining me from any mention of those earlier scenes of 
 my life, which were alone of all those I should have avowed 
 with -pride. Perhaps it was from mere accident, perhaps 
 some secret shame to conceal my forlorn and destitute con- 
 dition may have had its share in the motive ; but, for some 
 cause or other, I gave him to understand that my acquaint- 
 ance with Colonel Mahon had dated back to a much earlier 
 period than a few days before, and, the impression once 
 made, a sense of false shame led me to support it. 
 
 " Mahon can be a good friend to you," said Eugene ; "he 
 stands well with all parties. The Convention trust him, the 
 sans-culottes are afraid of him, and the few men of family 
 whom the guillotine has left look up to him as one of their 
 stanchest adherents. Depend upon it, therefore, youi* pro- 
 motion is safe enough, even if there were not a field open for 
 every man who seeks the path to eminence. The great 
 point, however, is to get service with the army of Italy. 
 These campaigns here are as barren and profitless as the soil 
 they are fought over ; but in the south, Maurice, in the land 
 of dark eyes and tresses, under the blue skies, or beneath the 
 trellised vines, there are rewards of victory more glorious 
 than a grateful counti-y, as they call it, ever bestowed. 
 Never forget, my boy, that you or I have no cause ! It is 
 to us a matter of indifference what party triumphs, or who 
 is uppermost. The government may change to-morrow, and 
 the day after, and so on for a month long, and yet we re- 
 main just as we were. Monarchy, Commonwealth, Democ- 
 racy — what you will — may rule the hour, but the sous- 
 lieutenant is but the ser^^aut who changes his master. Now, 
 in revenge for all this, we have one compensation, which is 
 to ' live for the day,' — to make the most of that brief 
 hour of sunshine granted us, and to taste of every pleas- 
 ure, to mingle in every dissipation, and enjoy every excite- 
 ment that we can. This is my philosophy, Maurice, and 
 just try it." 
 
 Such was the companion with whom chance threw me in 
 contact, and I grieve to think how rapidly his influence 
 gained the mastery over me. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ''the passage of the RHINE." 
 
 I PARTED from my friend Eugene at Treves, where he re- 
 mained in garrison, while I was sent forward to Coblentz 
 to join my regiment, at that time forming part of Ney's 
 division. 
 
 Were I to adhere in my narrative to the broad current of 
 great events, I should here have to speak of that grand scheme 
 of tactics by which Kleber, advancing from the Lower Rhine, 
 engaged the attention of the Austrian Grand Duke, in order 
 to give time and opportunity for Hoche's passage of the river 
 at Strasbourg, and the commencement of that campaign which 
 had for its object the subjugation of Germany. I have not, 
 however, the pretension to chronicle those passages which 
 history has forever made memorable, even were my own 
 share in them of a more distinguished character. The insig- 
 nificance of my station must, therefore, be my apology if I 
 turn from the description of great and eventful incidents to 
 the humble narrative of my own career. 
 
 Whatever the contents of Colonel Mahon's letter, they did 
 not plead very favorably for me with Colonel Hacque, my 
 new commanding officer ; neither, to all seeming, did my own 
 appearance weigh anything in my favor. Raising his eyes at 
 intervals from the letter to stare at me, he uttered some bro- 
 ken phrases of discontent and displeasure ; at last he said, — 
 
 "What's the object of this letter, sir; to what end have 
 you presented it to me ? " 
 
 " As I am ignorant of its contents, mon Colonel^" said I, 
 calmly, " I can scarcely answer the question." 
 
 " Well, sir, it informs me that you are the son of a certain 
 Count Tiernay, who has long since paid the price of his 
 nobility ; and that being an especial prote'ge of the writer, 
 
116 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 he takes occasion to present you to me ; now I ask again, 
 with what object?" 
 
 " I presume, su", to obtain for me the honor which I now 
 enjoy, --to become personally known to you." 
 
 " I know every soldier under my command, sii'," said he, 
 rebukingly ; "as you will soon learn if you remain in my 
 regiment. I have no need of recommendatory letters on that 
 score. As to your grade of corporal, it is not confirmed ; 
 time enough when youY sendees shall have shown that you 
 deserve promotion. Parhleu ! sii', you '11 have to show other 
 claims than your ci-devant countship." 
 
 "Colonel Mahon gave me a horse, sir; may I be per- 
 mitted to retain him as a regimental mount?" asked I, 
 timidly. 
 
 " We want horses — what is he like ? " 
 
 " Thi'ee-quarters Arab, and splendid in action, su\" 
 
 " Then, of course, unfit for senice and field manoeuvres. 
 Send him to the Etat Major. The Republic will find a fitting 
 mount for you ; you may retire." 
 
 And I did retire, with a heart almost bursting between 
 anger and disappointment. What a future did this opening 
 present to me ! What a realization this of all my flattering 
 hopes ! 
 
 This sudden reverse of fortune, for it was nothing less, did 
 not render me more disposed to make the best of m}- new 
 condition, nor see in the most pleasing light the rough and 
 rude fraternity among which I was thrown. The Ninth 
 Hussars were reputed to be an excellent service-corps, but, 
 off duty, contained some of the worst ingredients of the 
 army. Play, and its consequence duelling, filled up every 
 hour not devoted to regimental dut}^ ; and low as the tone of 
 manners and morals stood in the sei'vice generally, " Hacque's 
 Tapageurs," as they were called, enjoj^ed the unflattering 
 distinction of being the leaders. Self-respect was a quality 
 utterly unknown amongst them, — none felt ashamed at the 
 disgrace of punishment ; and as all knew that at the approach 
 of the enemy prison-doors would open and handcuffs fall off, 
 they affected to think the Salle de Police was a pleasant 
 alternative to the fatigue and worry of duty. These habits 
 not only stripped soldiering of all its chivalry, but robbed 
 
UNIVERSITY j 
 
 *^^£4ki^§^^^THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE." 117 
 
 freedom itself of all its nobility. These men saw nothing but 
 licentiousness in their newly-won liberty. Their " Equality '* 
 was the permission to bring everything down to a base and 
 unworthy standard; their "Fraternity," the appropriation 
 of what belonged to one richer than themselves. 
 
 It would give me little pleasure to recount, and the reader 
 in all likelihood as little to hear, the details of my life among 
 such associates. They are the passages of my history most 
 painful to recall, and least worthy of being remembered ; 
 nor can I even yet write without shame the confession how 
 rapidly their habits became my own. Eugene's teachings 
 had prepared me, in a manner, for their lessons. His scep- 
 ticism, extending to everything and every one, had made me 
 distrustful of all friendship, and suspicious of whatever 
 appeared a kindness. Vulgar association and daily inti- 
 macy with coarsely-minded men soon finished what he had 
 begun ; and in less time than it took me to break my troop- 
 horse to regimental drill, I had been myself " broke in" to 
 every vice and abandoned habit of my companions. 
 
 It was not in my nature to do things by halves ; and thus 
 I became, and in a brief space too, the most inveterate 
 Tapageur of the whole regiment. There was not a wild 
 prank or plot in which I was not foremost, not a breach 
 of discipline unaccompanied by my name or presence ; and 
 more than half the time of our march to meet the enemy, 
 I passed in double irons under the guard of the Provost- 
 marshal. 
 
 It was at this pleasant stage of my education that our 
 brigade arrived at Strasbourg, as part of the corj)s cVarmee 
 under the command of General Moreau. 
 
 He had just succeeded to the command on the dismissal of 
 Pichegru, and found the army not only dispirited by the 
 defeats of the past campaign, but in a state of rudest indis- 
 cipline and disorganization. If left to himself, he would have 
 trusted much to time and circumstances for the reform of 
 abuses that had been the growth of many months long. But 
 Regnier, the second in command, was made of " different 
 stuff ; " he was a harsh and stern disciplinarian, who rarely 
 forgave a first and never a second offence, and who, deem- 
 ing the Salle de Police as an incumbrance to an army on 
 
118 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 service, which besides requii-ed a guard of picked men that 
 might be better employed elsewhere, usually gave the prefer- 
 ence to the shorter sentence of " foui^ paces and a fusillade." 
 Nor was he i^articular in the classification of those crimes he 
 thus expiated : from the most trivial excess to the wildest 
 scheme of insubordination, all came under the one category. 
 More than once, as we drew near to Strasbourg, I heard the 
 project of a mutiny discussed, day after day. Some one or 
 other would denounce the " sce7eVa? Regnier," and proclaim 
 his readiness to be the executioner ; but the closer we di'ew 
 to head-quarters the more hushed and subdued became these 
 mutterings, till at last they ceased altogether, and a dark 
 and foreboding dread succeeded to all oui' late boastings and 
 denunciations. 
 
 This at first surprised and then utterly disgusted me with 
 my companions. Brave as they were before the enemy, had 
 they no courage for their own countrymen? Was all their 
 valor the offspring of security, or could they only be 
 rebellious when the penalty had no terrors for them ? Alas ! 
 I was very young, and did not then know that men are never 
 strong against the right, and that a bad cause is always a 
 weak one. 
 
 It was about the middle of June when we reached Stras- 
 bourg, where now about fort}' thousand troops were assembled. 
 I shall not readily forget the mingled astonishment and disap- 
 pointment our appearance excited as the regiment entered the 
 town. The Tapageurs, so celebrated for all theii" terrible ex- 
 cesses and insubordination, were seen to be a fine corps of 
 soldier-like fellows, their horses in high condition, their equip- 
 ments and arms in the very best order. Neither did our con- 
 duct at all tally with the reputation that preceded us. All 
 was orderly and regular in the several billets ; the parade was 
 particularly observed ; not a man late at the night muster. 
 What was the cause of this sudden and remarkable change ? 
 Some said that we were marching against the enemy ; but the 
 real explanation lay in the few words of a general order read 
 to us by our colonel the day before we entered the city : — 
 
 The Ninth Hussars have obtained the unworthy reputation 
 of being an ill-disciplined and ill-conducted regiment, relying 
 upon their soldier-like qualities in face of the enemy to 
 
"THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE." 119 
 
 cover the disgrace of their misconduct in quarters. This is 
 a mistake that must be corrected. All Frenchmen are brave : 
 none can arrogate to themselves any prerogative of valor. If 
 any wish to establish such a belief, a campaign can always attest 
 it. If any profess to think so without such proof, and, acting in 
 conformity with this impression, disobey their orders or infrmge 
 regimental discipline, I will have them shot. 
 
 Regnier, 
 Adjutant-General. 
 
 This was, at least, a very straightfoi-ward and intelligible 
 announcement, and as such my comrades generally ac- 
 knowledged it. I, however, regarded it as a piece of 
 monstrous and intolerable tyranny, and sought to make 
 converts to my opinion by declaiming about the rights of 
 Frenchmen, the liberty of free discussion, the glorious 
 privilege of equality, and so on; but these arguments 
 sounded faint in presence of the drum-head, and while 
 some slunk away from the cii'cle around me, others signifi- 
 cantly hinted that they would accept no part of the danger 
 my doctrines might originate. 
 
 However I might have respected my comrades had they 
 been always the well-disciplined body I now saw them, I 
 confess that this sudden conversion from fear was in nowise 
 to my taste, and rashly confounded then* dread of punish- 
 ment with abase and ignoble fear of death. "And these 
 are the men," thought I, " who talk of their charging home 
 through the dense squares of Austria ! who have hunted the 
 leopard into the sea ! and have carried the flag of France 
 over the high Alps ! " 
 
 A bold rebel, whatever may be the cause against which he 
 revolts, will always be sui'e of a certain ascendancy. Men 
 are prone to attribute power to pretension, and he who stands 
 foremost in the breach will at least win the suffrages of those 
 whose cause he assumes to defend. In this way it happened 
 that exactly as my comrades fell in my esteem, I was 
 elevated in theirs ; and while I took a very depreciating 
 estimate of their courage, they conceived a very exalted 
 opinion of mine. 
 
 It was altogether inexplicable to see these men — many 
 of them the bronzed veterans of a dozen campaigns, the 
 
120 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 "wounded and distinguished soldiers in many a hard-fought 
 field — yielding up theii' opinions and sacrificing their con- 
 yictions to a raw and untiied stripling who had neyer yet 
 seen an enemy. 
 
 With a certain fluency of speech I possessed also a readi- 
 ness at picking up information, and arraying the scattered 
 fragments of news into a certain consistence, which greatly 
 imposed upon my comi'ades. A quick eye for mancpuyi'es, 
 and a shi'ewd habit of combining in my own mind the 
 yarious facts that came before me, made me appear to them 
 a perfect authority on military matters, of which I talked, 
 I shame to say, with all the confidence and presumption of 
 an accomplished general. A few lucky guesses, and a few 
 half hints accidentally confirmed, completed all that was 
 wanting, — and what says " Le Jeune Maurice," was the 
 ineyitable question that followed each piece of flying gossip, 
 or eyery rumor that rose of a projected moyement. 
 
 I haye seen a good deal of the world since that time, and 
 I am bound to confess that not a few of the great reputa- 
 tions I haye witnessed haye stood upon grounds yery similar 
 and not a whit more stable than my own. A bold face, a 
 ready tongue, a promptness to support with my right hand 
 whateyer my lips were pledged to, and aboye all good luck 
 made me the king of my company ; and although that 
 soyereignty only extended to half a squadron of hussars, it 
 was a whole uniyerse to me. 
 
 So stood matters when, on the 23d of June, orders came 
 for the whole corj:)s cVarmee to hold itself in readiness for a 
 forward moyement. Eations for two days were distributed, 
 and ammunition giyen out as if for an attack of some 
 duration. Meanwhile, to obyiate an}' suspicion of our in- 
 tentions, the gates of Strasbourg on the eastern side were 
 closed, all egress in that dkection forbidden, and couriers 
 and estafettes sent off towards the north, as if to proyide 
 for the march of our force in that du'ection. The arriyal of 
 yarious orderly dragoons during the preyious night, and on 
 that morning early, told of a gi'eat attack in force on 
 Manheim. about sixty miles lower down the Rhine, and the 
 cannonade of which some ayowed that they could hear at 
 that distance. The rumor therefore seemed confirmed 
 
"THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE." 121 
 
 that we were ordered to move to the north, to support this 
 assault. 
 
 The secret despatch of a few dismounted dragoons and 
 some riflemen to the banks of the Rhine, however, did not 
 strike me as according with this view, and particularly as 
 I saw that, although all were equipped and in readiness to 
 move, the order to march was not given, — a delay very 
 unlikely to be incurred if we were destined to act as the 
 reserve of the force already engaged. 
 
 Directly opposite to us, on the right bank of the river, and 
 separated from it by a low flat of about two miles in extent, 
 stood the fortress of Kehl, at that time garrisoned by a 
 strong Austrian force ; the banks of the river, and the wooded 
 islands in the stream, which communicated with the right by 
 bridges or fordable passes, being also held by the enemy in 
 force. 
 
 These we had often seen, by the aid of telescopes, from 
 the towers and spires of Strasbourg; and now I remarked 
 that the general and his staff seemed more than usually intent 
 on observing their movements. This fact, coupled with the 
 not less significant one that no preparations for a defence of 
 Strasbourg were in progress, convinced me that instead of 
 moving down the Rhine to the attack on Manheim, the plan 
 of our general was to cross the river where we were and 
 make a dash at the fortress of Kehl. I was soon to receive 
 the confirmation of my suspicion, as the orders came for two 
 squadrons of the Ninth to proceed, dismounted, to the bank 
 of the Rhine, and, under shelter of the willows, to conceal 
 themselves there. Taking possession of the various skiffs 
 and fishing-boats along the bank, we were distributed in 
 small parties, to one of which, consisting of eight men under 
 the orders of a corporal, I belonged. 
 
 About an hour's march brought us to the river side, in a 
 little clump of alder willows, where, moored to a stake, lay 
 a fishing-boat with two short oars in her. Lying down 
 beneath the shade, for the afternoon was hot and sultry, 
 some of us smoked, some chatted, and a few dozed away 
 the hours that somehow seemed unusually slow in passing. 
 
 There was a certain dogged sullenness about my com- 
 panions, which proceeded from their belief that we and all 
 
122 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 who remained at Strasbourg were merely left to occupy the 
 enemy's attention, while greater operations were to be 
 carried on elsewhere. 
 
 " You see what it is to be a condemned corps," muttered 
 one; "it's little matter what befalls the old Ninth, even 
 should they be cut to pieces." 
 
 " They did n't think so at Enghien," said another, " when 
 we rode down the Austrian cuirassiers." 
 
 "Plain enough," cried a thu'd, "we are to have skii'- 
 mishers' duty here, without skirmishers' fortune in having a 
 force to fall back upon." 
 
 "Eh! Maurice, is not this very like what you predicted 
 for us ? " broke in a fourth, ii-onically. 
 
 "I'm of the same mind still," rejoined I, coolly: "the 
 general is not thinking of a retreat ; he has no intention ol 
 deserting a well-garrisoned, well-provisioned fortress. Let 
 the attack on Manheim have what success it may, Strasbourg 
 will be held still. I overheard Colonel Guyon remark that 
 the waters of the Rhine have fallen three feet since the 
 drought set in, and Regnier replied ' that we must lose no 
 time, for there will come rain and floods ere long.' Now, 
 what could that mean but the intention to cross over 
 yonder?" 
 
 " Cross the Rhine in face of the fort of Kehl ! " broke in 
 the corporal. 
 
 " The French army have done bolder things before now," 
 was my reply ; and, whatever the opinion of my comrades, 
 the flattery ranged them on my side. Perhaps the corporal 
 felt it beneath his dignity to discuss tactics with an inferior, 
 or perhaps he felt unable to refute the specious pretensions 
 I advanced ; in any case he turned away, and either slept, 
 or affected sleep, while I strenuously labored to convince my 
 companions that my surmise was correct. 
 
 I repeated all my former arguments about the decrease in 
 the Rhine, showing that the river was scarcely two thii'ds 
 of its habitual breadth, that the nights were now dark and 
 well suited for a surprise, that the columns which issued from 
 the town took their departui'e with a pomp and parade far 
 more likely to attract the enemy's attention than escape his 
 notice, and were therefore the more likely to be destined for 
 
"THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE." 123 
 
 some secret expedition of which all this display was but the 
 blind. These, and similar facts, I grouped together with a 
 certain ingenuity, which, if it failed to convince, at least 
 silenced my opponents. And now the brief twilight, if so 
 short a struggle between day and darkness deserved the 
 name, passed off, and night suddenly closed around us, — a 
 night black and starless, for a heavy mass of lowering cloud 
 seemed to unite with the dense vapor that arose from the 
 river and the low-lying grounds along side of it. The air 
 was hot and sultry, too, like the precursor of a thunder- 
 storm, and the rush of the stream as it washed among the 
 willows sounded preternaturally loud in the stillness. 
 
 A hazy, indistinct flame, the watch-fire of the enemy on 
 the island of Eslar, was the only object visible in the murky 
 darkness. After a while, however, we could detect another 
 fire on a smaller island, a short distance higher up the 
 stream. This, at first dim and uncertain, blazed up after a 
 while, and at length we descried the dark shadows of men as 
 they stood around it. 
 
 It was but the day before that I had been looking on a 
 map of the Rhine, and remarked to myself that this small 
 island, little more than a mere rock in the stream, was so 
 situated as to command the bridge between Eslar and the 
 German bank, and I could not help wondering that the 
 Austrians had never taken the precaution to strengthen it, or 
 at least place a gun there to enfilade the bridge. Now, 
 to my extreme astonishment, I saw it occupied by the 
 soldiery, who doubtless were artillery, as in such a position 
 small arms would prove of slight efficiency. As I reflected 
 over this, wondering within myself if any intimation of our 
 movements could have reached the enemy, I heard along the 
 ground on which I was lying the peculiar tremulous, dull 
 sound communicated by a large body of men marching. 
 The measured tramp could not be mistaken, and as I listened 
 I could perceive that a force was moving towards the river 
 from different quarters. The rumbling roll of heavy guns 
 and the clattering noise of cavalry were also easily distin- 
 guished, and awaking one of my comrades I called his atten- 
 tion to the sounds. 
 
 ^^ Parbleuf said he, "thou'rt right; they're going to 
 
124 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 make a dash at the fortress, and there will be hot work ere 
 morning. AVhat say you now, corporal, has ^lam-ice hit it 
 off this time ? " 
 
 " That 's as it may be," growled the other, sulkily ; " guess- 
 ing is easy work ever for such as thee ! but if he be so 
 clever, let him tell us why are we stationed along the river's 
 bank in small detachments. We have had no orders to 
 obsel'^^e the enemy, nor to report upon anything that might 
 go forward ; nor do I see with what object we were to secure 
 the fishing-boats, — troops could never be conveyed across 
 the Rhine in skiffs lilve these ! " 
 
 " I think that this order was given to prevent any of the 
 fishermen gi^^ng information to the enemy in case of a 
 sudden attack," replied I. 
 
 " Mayhap thou wert at the council of war when the plan 
 was decided on," said he, contemptuously. 'Tor a fellow 
 that never saw the smoke of an enemy's gun, thou hast a 
 rare audacity in talking of war ! " 
 
 " Yonder is the best answer to your taunt," said I, as in a 
 little bend of the stream beside us two boats were seen to 
 pull under the shelter of the tall alders, from which the clank 
 of arms could be plainly heard ; and now another larger 
 launch swept past, the dark shadows of a dense crowd of 
 men showing above the gunwale. 
 
 "They are embarking, they are certainly embarking," 
 now ran from mouth to mouth. As the troops arrived at 
 the river's bank they were speedily "told off" in separate 
 divisions, of which some were to lead the attack, others to 
 follow, and a third portion to remain as a resen^e in the 
 event of a repulse. 
 
 The leading boat was manned entu-ely by volunteers, and 
 I could hear from where 1 lay the names called aloud as 
 the men stepped out from the ranks. I could hear that the 
 first point of attack was the island of Eslar. So far there 
 was a confirmation of my own guessing, and I did not hesi- 
 tate to assume the full credit of my skill from my comrades. 
 In truth, they willingly conceded all or even more than I 
 asked for. Not a stir was heard, not a sight seen, not a 
 movement made of which I was not expected to tell the 
 cause and the import ; and knowing that to sustain my in- 
 
"THE PASSAGE OF THE RHIXE." 125 
 
 fluence there was nothing for it but to affect a thorough 
 acquaintance with everything, I answered all then* questions 
 boldly and unhesitatingly. I need scarcely obsel•^'e that the 
 corporal in comparison sunk into downright insignificance. 
 He had already shown himself a false guide, and none asked 
 his opinion further, and I became the ruling genius of the 
 hour. The embarkation now went briskly forward ; several 
 light field-guns were placed in the boats, and two or three 
 large rafts, capable of containing two companies each, were 
 prepared to be towed across by boats. 
 
 Exactly as the heavy hammer of the cathedral sti'uck one, 
 the first boat emerged from the willows, and darting rapidly 
 forward headed for the middle of the stream ; another and 
 another in quick succession followed, and speedily were lost 
 to us in the gloom ; and now two four-oared skiff's stood out 
 together, having a raft with two guns in tow ; by some mis- 
 chance, however, they got entangled in a side cuiTent, and 
 the raft swerving to one side swept past the boats, can-ying 
 them down the stream along with it. Our attention was not 
 suffered to dwell on this mishap, for at the same moment the 
 flash and rattle of firearms told us the battle had begun. 
 Two or three isolated shots were first heard, and then a sharp 
 platoon fii'e, accompanied by a wild cheer that we well knew 
 came from our own fellows. One deep mellow boom of a 
 large gun resounded amidst the crash, and a slight streak of 
 flame, higher up the stream, showed that the shot came from 
 the small island I have already spoken of. 
 
 " Listen lads," said I; '' that came from the ' Fels Insel.' 
 If they are fii'ing grape yonder, our poor fellows in the 
 boats will suffer sorely from it. B}' Jove, there is a crash I " 
 
 As I was speaking, a rattling noise like the sound of clat- 
 tering timber was heard, and with it a sharp, shrill cry of 
 agony, and all was hushed. 
 
 ''Let's at them, boys! they can't be much above our 
 own number. The island is a mere rock," cried I to my 
 comrades. 
 
 '' TVho commands this party," said the corporal, '' you 
 or I?" 
 
 "You. if you lead us against the enemy," said I; "but 
 I'll take it if my comrades will follow me. There goes 
 another shot ! lads — yes or no — now is the time to speak." 
 
126 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "We're ready," cried three, springing forward with one 
 impulse. 
 
 At the instant I jumped into the skiff, the others took their 
 places, and then came a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and a seventh, 
 leaving the corporal alone on the bank. 
 
 "Come along, corporal," cried I, "we'll win your epau- 
 lettes for you ; " but he turned away without a word, and 
 not waiting further, I pushed out the skiff and sent her 
 skimming down the stream. 
 
 " Pull steady, boys, and silently," said I ; "we must gain 
 the middle of the current, and then drop down the river 
 without the least noise. Once beneath the trees, we '11 give 
 them a volley, and then the bayonet. Remember, lads, no 
 flinching ! it 's as well to die here as be shot by old Regnier 
 to-morrow." 
 
 The conflict on the Eslar island was now, to all seeming, 
 at its height. The roll of musketry was incessant, and sheets 
 of flame from time to time streaked the darkness above the 
 river. 
 
 " Stronger and together, boys! once more — there it is — 
 we are in the current now ; in with you, men, and look to 
 your carbines ; see that the priming is safe ; every shot soon 
 will be worth a fusillade. Lie still now, and wait for the 
 word to fire." 
 
 The spreading foliage of the nut-trees was rustling over 
 our heads as I spoke, and the sharp skiff, borne on the cur- 
 rent, glided smoothly on till her bow struck the rock. With 
 high-beating hearts we clambered up the little cliff', and as 
 we reached the top beheld uumediately beneath us, in a 
 slight dip of the ground, several figures around a gun, which 
 they were busy in adjusting. I looked right and left to see 
 that my little party were all assembled, and without waiting 
 for more, gave the order — fire ! 
 
 We were within pistol range, and the discharge was a 
 deadly one. The terror, however, was not less complete; 
 for all who escaped death fled from the spot, and dashing 
 through the brushwood, made for the shallow part of the 
 stream, between the island and the right bank. 
 
 Our prize was a brass eight-pounder, and an ample supply 
 of ammunition. The gun was pointed towards the middle 
 
« THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE." 127 
 
 of the stream, where the current being strongest, the boats 
 would necessarily be delayed ; and in all likelihood some of 
 our gallant comrades had already experienced its fatal fire. 
 To wheel it right about, and point it on the Eslar bridge, was 
 the work of a couple of minutes ; and while three of our 
 little party kept up a steady fire on the retreating enemy, 
 the others loaded the gun and prepared to fire. 
 
 Our distance from the Eslar island and bridge, as well 
 as I could judge from the darkness, might be about two 
 hundred and fifty yards ; and as we had the advantage of a 
 slight elevation of ground, our position was admirable. 
 
 " Wait patiently, lads," said I, restraining, with difficulty, 
 the burning ardor of my men, — "wait patiently till the 
 retreat has commenced over the bridge. The work is too hot 
 to last much longer on the island ; to fire upon them there 
 would be to risk our own men as much as the enemy. See 
 what long flashes of flame break forth among the brushwood ; 
 and listen to the cheering now ! That was a French cheer ! 
 and there goes another. Look ! look ! the bridge is dark- 
 ening already ! That was a bugle-call, and they are in full 
 retreat. Now lads — now ! " 
 
 As I spoke, the gun was discharged, and the instant after 
 we heard the crashing rattle of the timber, as the shot struck 
 the bridge and splintered the wood- work in all dkections. 
 
 "The range is perfect, lads," cried I. "Load and fire 
 with all speed." 
 
 Another shot, followed by a terrific scream from the bridge, 
 told how the work was doing. Oh the savage exultation, 
 the fiendish joy of my heart, as I drank in that cry of agony, 
 and called upon my men to load faster ! 
 
 Six shots were poured in with tremendous precision and 
 effe-ct, and the seventh tore away one of the main supports 
 of the bridge, and down went the densely crowded column 
 into the Rhine ; at the same instant the guns of our launches 
 opened a destructive fire upon the banks, which soon were 
 swept clean of the enemy. 
 
 High up on the stream, and for nearly a mile below also, 
 we could see the boats of our army pulling in for shore ; the 
 crossing of the Rhine had been effected, and we now pre- 
 pared to follow. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "A GLANCE AT STAFF-DUTY." 
 
 Although the passage of the Rhine was but the prelude to 
 the attack on the fortress, that exploit being accomplished, 
 Kehl was earned at the point of the bayonet, the French 
 troops entering the outworks pell-mell with the retreating 
 enemy ; and in less than two hours after the landing of oui' 
 first detachments, the tricolor waved over the walls of the 
 fortress. 
 
 Lost amid the greater and more important successes 
 which since that time have immortalized the glory of the 
 French arms, it is almost impossible to credit the celebrity 
 attached at that time to this brilliant achievement, whose 
 highest merits probablj" were rapidity and resolution. 
 Moreau had long been jealous of the fame of his great rival 
 Bonaparte, whose tactics, rejecting the colder dictates of 
 prudent strategy and the slow progress of scientific manoeu- 
 \Tes, seemed to place all his confidence in the sudden inspii*- 
 ations of his genius and the indomitable bravery of his 
 troops. It was necessary, then, to raise the morale of the 
 army of the Rhine, to accomplish some great feat similar in 
 boldness and heroism to the wonderful achievements of the 
 Italian army. Such was the passage of the Rhine at Stras- 
 bourg, effected in the face of a great enemy advantageously 
 posted, and supported by one of the strongest of all the 
 frontier fortresses. 
 
 The morning broke upon us in all the exultation of our 
 triumph, and as our cheers rose high over the field of the 
 late struggle, each heart beat proudly with the thought of 
 how that news would be received in Paris. 
 
 " You'll see how the bulletin will spoil all," said a young 
 officer of the army of Italy, as he was getting his wound 
 
"A GLANCE AT STAFF-DUTY." 129 
 
 dressed on the field. "There will be such a long narrative 
 of irrelevant matter — such details of this, that, and t' other 
 — that the public will scarce know whether the placard 
 announces a defeat or a victory." 
 
 '-^ Parhleu!'' replied an old veteran of the Rhine army, 
 "what would you have? You'd not desire to omit the 
 military facts of such an exploit ? " 
 
 "To be sure I would," rejoined the other. " Give me 
 one of our young general's bulletins, short, stirring, and 
 effective : ' Soldiers ! you have crossed the Rhine against an 
 army double your own in numbers and munitions of war. 
 You have carried a fortress, believed impregnable, at the 
 bayonet. Ah-eady the great flag of our nation waves over 
 the citadel you have won. Forward, then, and cease not 
 till it floats over the cities of conquered Germany, and let 
 the name of France be that of Empire over the continent of 
 Eui'ope.' " 
 
 "Ha! I like that," cried I, enthusiastically; " that's the 
 bulletin to my fancy. Repeat it once more, nion lieutenant, 
 that I may write it in my note-book." 
 
 "What! hast thou a note-book?" cried an old staff- 
 oflacer, who was preparing to mount his horse; "let's see 
 it, lad." 
 
 With a burning cheek and trembling hand, I drew my 
 little joui'nal from the breast of my jacket, and gave it to 
 him. 
 
 " /S'acre hleuf exclaimed he, in a burst of laughter, 
 "what have we here? Why, this is a portrait of old 
 General Moricier, and, although a caricature, a perfect like- 
 ness. And here comes a plan for manoeuvring a squadron 
 by threes from the left. This is better, — it is a receipt for 
 an ' Omelette a la Hussard ; ' and here we have a love-song, 
 and a mustache-paste, with some hints about devotion, and 
 diseased frog in horses. Most versatile genius, certainly ! " 
 and so he went on, occasionally laughing at my rude 
 sketches and ruder remarks, till he came to a page headed 
 " Equitation, as practised by Officers of the Staff," and 
 followed by a series of caricatures of bad riding, in all its 
 moods and tenses. The flush of anger which instantly 
 colored his face soon attracted the notice of those about 
 
130 MAURICE TIEENAY. 
 
 him, and one of the bystanders quickly snatched the book 
 from his fingers, and, in the midst of a group all convulsed 
 with laughter, proceeded to expatiate upon my illustrations. 
 To be sure, they were absurd enough. Some were repre- 
 sented sketching on horseback, under shelter of an umbrella ; 
 others were ' ' taking the depth of a stream " by a " header " 
 from their own saddles ; some again were ' ' exploring ground 
 for an attack in line," by a measm-ement of the rider's own 
 length over the head of his horse. Then there were ridicu- 
 lous situations, such as " sitting down before a fortress," 
 "taking an angle of incidence," and so on. Sorry jests all 
 of them, but sufficient to amuse those with whose daily 
 associations they chimed in, and to whom certain traits of 
 portraiture gave all the zest of a personality. 
 
 My shame at the exposure, and my terror for its conse- 
 quences, gradually yielded to a feeling of flattered vanity at 
 the success of my lucubrations ; and I never remarked that 
 the staff-officer had ridden away from the group till I saw him 
 galloping back at the top of his speed. 
 
 " Is your name Tiernay, my good fellow? " cried he, riding 
 close up to my side, and with an expression on his featui'es 
 I did not half like. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied I. 
 
 "Hussar of the Ninth, I believe?" repeated he, reading 
 from a paper in his hand. 
 
 " The same, sir." 
 
 " Well, youi' talents as a draughtsman have procured you 
 promotion, my friend ; I have obtained your discharge from 
 your regiment, and you are now my orderly, — orderly on 
 the staff, do you mind; so mount, sir, and follow me." 
 
 I saluted him respectfully, and prepared to obey his orders. 
 Ah-eady I foresaw the downfall of all the hopes I had been 
 cherishing, and anticipated the life of tyranny and oppres- 
 sion that lay before me. It was clear to me that my dis- 
 charge had been obtained solely as a means of punishing me, 
 and that Captain Discau, as the officer was called, had des- 
 tined me to a pleasant expiation of my note-book. The 
 savage exultation with which he watched me, as I made up 
 my kit and saddled my horse, the cool malice with which he 
 handed me back the accursed journal the cause of all my 
 
"A GLANCE AT STArF-DUTY." 131 
 
 disasters, gave me a dark foreboding of what was to follow ; 
 and as I mouuted my saddle, m.y woeful face aud miserable 
 look brought forth a perfect shout of laughter from the 
 bystanders. 
 
 Captain Discau's duty was to visit the banks of the Rhine 
 aud the Eslar island, to take certain measurements of dis- 
 tances, and obtain accurate information on various minute 
 points respecting the late engagement, — for, while a brief 
 announcement of the victory would suffice for the bulletin, a 
 detailed narrative of the event in all its bearings must be 
 drawn up for the minister of war, and for this latter purpose 
 various staff-officers were then employed in different parts of 
 the field. 
 
 As we issued from the fortress and took om- way over the 
 plain, we struck out into a sharp gallop ; but as we drew 
 near the river, our passage became so obstructed by lines of 
 basjofasre wasjons, tumbrils, and ammunition carts that we 
 were obliged to dismount and proceed on foot ; and now I 
 was to see for the first time that dreadful picture which on 
 the day after a battle forms the reverse of the great medal 
 of glory. Huge litters of wounded men, on theii' way back 
 to Strasbourg, were drawn by six or eight horses, theii' jolt- 
 ing motion increasing the agony of sufferings that found 
 their vent in teiTific cries and screams ; oaths, yells, and 
 blasphemies, the ravings of madness, and the wild shouts of 
 infui'iated suffering filled the aii' on every side. As if to 
 give the force of contrast to this uproar of misery, two regi- 
 ments of Swabian infantry marched past as prisoners. 
 Silent, crest-fallen, and wretched-looking, they never raised 
 their eyes from the ground, but moved or halted, wheeled or 
 stood at ease, as though by some impulse of mechanism ; a 
 cord coupled the wrists of the outer files one with another, 
 which struck me less as a measure of security against 
 escape than as a mark of indignity. 
 
 Carts and charettes with wounded officers, in which often- 
 times the unifonn of the enemy appeared side by side with 
 our own, followed in long procession ; and thus were these 
 two great euri'ents — the one hurrying foi^ward, ardent, high- 
 hearted, and enthusiastic; the other returning maimed, 
 shattered, and dying ! 
 
132 AIAUEICE TIERXAY. 
 
 It was an affecting scene to see the hurried gestures and 
 hear the few words of adieu as they passed each other. Old 
 comrades who were never to meet again parted with a little 
 motion of the hand ; sometimes a mere look was all their 
 leave-taking, — save when, now and then, a halt would for a 
 few seconds bring the lines together, and then many a 
 bronzed and rugged cheek was pressed upon the faces of the 
 dying, and many a tear fell from eyes bloodshot with the 
 fury of the battle. Wending our way on foot slowly along, 
 we at last reached the river side, and having secured a small 
 skiff made for the Eslar island ; our first business being to 
 ascertain some details respecting the intrenchments there, 
 and the depth and strength of the stream between it and the 
 left bank. Discau, who was a distinguished officer, rapidly 
 possessed himself of the principal facts he wanted, and then, 
 having given me his portfolio, he seated himself under the 
 shelter of a broken wagon, and opening a napkin, began 
 his breakfast off a portion of a chicken and some bread, — 
 viands which, I own, more than once made my lips water as 
 I watched him. 
 
 "You've eaten nothing to-day, Tiernay?" asked he, as 
 he wiped his lips with the air of a man that feels satisfied. 
 
 "Nothing, mon capltaine^'' replied I. 
 
 "That's bad," said he, shaking his head; "a soldier 
 cannot do his duty if his rations be neglected. I have always 
 maintained the principle, look to the men's necessaries ; take 
 care of their food and clothing. Is there anything on that 
 bone there ? " 
 
 " Nothing, mon capitaineJ' 
 
 " I 'm sorry for it ; I meant it for you. Put up that bread, 
 and the remainder of that flask of wine, — Bourdeaux is 
 not to be had every day; we shall want it for supper, 
 Tiernay." 
 
 I did as I was bid, wondering not a little why he said " we," 
 seeing how little a share I occupied in the copartnery. 
 
 " Always be careful of the morrow on a campaign, Tier- 
 nay. No squandering, no waste, — that's one of my prin- 
 ciples," said he, gravely, as he watched me while I tied up 
 the bread and wine in a napkin. "You'll soon see the 
 advantage of serving under an old soldier." 
 
"A GLANCE AT STAFF-DUTY." 133 
 
 I confess the great benefit bad not ab'eady struck me, but 
 I held my peace and waited ; meanwhile he continued, — 
 
 " I have studied my profession from my boyhood, and one 
 thing I have acquu'ed that all experience has confirmed, — 
 the knowledge that men must neither be taxed beyond their 
 ability nor their endurance ; a French soldier, after all, is 
 human, — eh, is 't not so ? " 
 
 '' I feel it most profoundly, mon capitaine^'" replied I, with 
 my hand on my empty stomach. 
 
 " Just so," rejoined he ; " every man of sense and discre- 
 tion must confess it. Happily for you, too, I know it; ay, 
 Tiernay, I know it and practise it. When a young fellow 
 has acquitted himself to my satisfaction during the day, — 
 not that I mean to say that the performance has not its fair 
 share of activity and zeal, — when evening comes and stable 
 duty finished, arms burnished, and accoutrements cleaned, 
 what do you think I say to him? Eh, Tiernay, just guess 
 now ! " 
 
 " Probably, sir, you tell him he is free to spend an hour 
 at the canteen, or take his sweetheart to the theatre." 
 
 "What! more fatigue! more exhaustion to an ab'eady 
 tired and worn-out natm'e ! " 
 
 "I ask pardon, sir-, I see I was wrong; but I had for- 
 gotten how thoroughly the poor fellow was done up. I now 
 see that you told him to go to bed." 
 
 ' ' To bed ! to bed ! Is it that he might writhe in the 
 nightmare, or suffer agony from cramps? To bed after 
 fatigue like this ! No, no, Tiernay ; that was not the school 
 in which I was brought up. We were taught to think of the 
 men under our command ; to remember that they had wants, 
 sympathies, hopes, fears, and emotions like our own. I tell 
 him to seat himself at the table, and with pen, ink, and paper 
 before him to write up the blanks. I see you don't quite 
 understand me, Tiernay, as to the meaning of the phrase, 
 but I '11 let you into the secret. You have been kind enough 
 to give me a peep at your note-book, and you shall in return 
 have a look at mine. Open that volume, and tell me what 
 you find in it." 
 
 I obeyed the direction, and read at the top of a page the 
 words, "Skeleton, Fifth Prairial," in large characters, fol- 
 
134 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 lowed by several isolated words, denoting the strength of a 
 brigade, the number of guns in a battery, the depth of a fosse, 
 the height of a parapet, and such like. These were usually 
 followed by a flouiish of the pen, or sometimes by the word 
 " Bom.," which singular monosyllable always occm-red at the 
 foot of the pages. 
 
 " Well, have you caught the key to the cipher? " said he, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " Not quite, sir," said I, pondering ; "I can perceive that 
 the chief facts stand prominently forward, in a fail' round 
 hand ; I can also guess that the flourishes may be spaces 
 left for detail ; but this word ' Bom.' puzzles me completel3\" 
 
 " Quite correct, as to the first part," said he, approvingly; 
 " and as to the mysterious monosyllable, it is nothing more 
 than an abbreviation for ' Bombaste,' which is always to be 
 done to the taste of each particular commanding officer." 
 
 "I perceive, sk," said I, quickly, — "like the wadding 
 of a gun, which may increase the loudness, but never affect 
 the strength of the shot." 
 
 "Precisely, Tiernay ; you have hit it exactly. Now, I 
 hope that with a little practice you may be able to acquit 
 yourself respectably in this walk; and now to begin our 
 skeleton. Turn over to a fresh page, and write as I dictate 
 to 3^ou." 
 
 So saying, he filled his pipe and lighted it, and disposing 
 his limbs in an attitude of perfect ease, he began : — 
 
 " 8th Thermidor, midnight. Twelve battalions and two 
 batteries of field ; boats and rafts ; Eslar Island ; stockades ; 
 eight guns ; Swabian infantry ; sharp firing, and a flourish ; 
 strong current — flourish ; detachment of the Twenty-eighth 
 carried down — Bom. Let me see it now, — all right ; noth- 
 ing could be better ; proceed. The Tenth, Forty-fifth, and 
 Forty-eighth landing together ; more firing — flourish ; first 
 gun captured — Bom. ; bayonet charges — Bom. Bom. ; thi-ee 
 guns taken — Bom. Bom. Bom.; Swabs in retreat — fiour- 
 ish ; the bridge eighty toises in length ; flanking fire ; heavy 
 loss — flourish." 
 
 "You go a little too fast, mon capitaine^'^ said I, for a 
 sudden bright thought just flashed across me. 
 
 "Very well," said he, shaking the ashes of his pipe out 
 
"A GLANCE AT STAFF-DUTY." 135 
 
 upon the rock, "I'll take my doze, and you may awaken me 
 when you 've filled in those details, — it will be a very fair 
 exercise for you ; " and with this he threw his handkerchief 
 over his face, and without any other preparation was soon 
 fast asleep. 
 
 I own that if I had not been a spectator of the action it 
 would have been very difficult, if not impossible, for me to 
 draw up anything like a narrative of it from the meagre 
 details of the captain's note-book. My personal observa- 
 tions, however, assisted by an easy imagination, suggested 
 quite enough to make at least a plausible story, and I wrote 
 away without impediment and halt till I came to that part 
 of the action in which the retreat over the bridge commenced. 
 There I stopped. Was I to remain satisfied with such a 
 crude and one-sided explanation as the note-book afforded, 
 and merely say that the retreating forces were harassed by 
 a strong flank fire from our batteries ? Was I to omit the 
 whole of the great incident, the occupation of the Fels Insel, 
 and the damaging discharges of grape and round shot which 
 plunged through the crowded ranks, and ultimately destroyed 
 the bridge ? Could I, to use the phrase so popular, — could 
 I, in the "interests of truth," forget the brilliant achieve- 
 ment of a gallant band of heroes, who, led on by a young 
 hussar of the Ninth, threw themselves into the Fels Insel, 
 routed the garrison, captured the artillery, and directing its 
 fire upon the retiring enemy, contributed most essentially to 
 the \ictory. Ought I, in a word, to suffer a name so asso- 
 ciated with a glorious action to sink into oblivion? Should 
 Maurice Tiernay be lost to fame out of any neglect or false 
 shame on my part? Forbid it all truth and justice ! cried I, 
 as I set myself down to relate the whole adventure most 
 cii-cumstantially. Looking up from time to time at my offi- 
 cer, who slept soundly, I suffered myself to dilate upon a 
 theme in which somehow I felt a more than ordinary degree 
 of interest. The more I dwelt upon the incident, the more 
 brilliant and striking did it seem. Like the appetite, which 
 the proverb tells us comes by eating, my enthusiasm grew 
 under indulgence, — so that, had a little more time been 
 granted me, I verily believe I should have forgotten Moreau 
 altogether, and coupled only Maurice Tiernay with the pas- 
 
136 IMAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 sage of the Rhine and the capture of the fortress of Kehl. 
 Fortunately, Captain Discau awoke and cut short my historic 
 recollections by asking me how much I had done, and telling 
 me to read it aloud to him. 
 
 I accordingly began to read my narrative slowly and 
 deliberately, thereby giving myself time to think what I 
 should best do when I came to that part which became purely 
 personal. To omit it altogether would have been dangerous, 
 as the slightest glance at the mass of writing would have 
 shown the deception. There was, then, nothing left but to 
 invent at the moment another version, in which Maurice 
 Tiernay never occurred, and the incident of the Fels Insel 
 should figure as unobtrusively as possible. I was always a 
 better improvisatore than amanuensis ; so that without a 
 moment's loss of time I fashioned a new and very different 
 narrative, and detailed the battle tolerably accurately, minus 
 the share my own heroism had taken in it. The captain 
 made a few, a very few corrections of my style, in which 
 the "flourish" and "bom" figured perhaps too conspicu- 
 ously ; and then told me frankly that once upon a time he 
 had been fool enough to give himself great trouble in fram- 
 ing this kind of report, but that having served for a short 
 period in the bureau of the minister of war, he had learned 
 better. " In fact," said he, "a district report is never read. 
 Some hundreds of them reach the office of the minister every 
 day, and are safely deposited in the archives of the depart- 
 ment. They have all, besides, such a family resemblance, 
 that with a few changes in the name of the commanding offi- 
 cer, any battle in the Netherlands would do equally well 
 for one fought beyond the Alps. Since I became acquainted 
 with this fact, Tiernay, I have bestowed less pains upon 
 the matter, and usually deputed the task to some smart 
 orderly of the staff." 
 
 So, thought I, I have been writing history for nothing ; 
 and Maurice Tiernay, the real hero of the passage of the 
 Rhine, will be unrecorded and unremembered, just for want 
 of one honest and impartial scribe to transmit his name to 
 posterity. The reflection was not a very encouraging one ; 
 nor did it serve to lighten the toil in which I passed many 
 weary hours, copying out my own precious manuscript. 
 
"A GLANCE AT STAEF-DUTY." 137 
 
 Again and again during that night did I wonder at my own 
 diffuseness ; again and again did I curse the prolix accuracy 
 of a description that cost such labor to reiterate. It was 
 like a species of poetical justice on me for my own ampli- 
 fications ; and when the day broke, and I still sat at my 
 table writing on, at the thkd copy of this precious docu- 
 ment, I vowed a vow of brevity, should I ever survive to 
 indite similar compositions. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A FAREWELL LETTER. 
 
 It was in something less than a week after I entered upon 
 my new career as orderly in the staff, that I began to 
 believe myself the most miserable of all human beings. 
 On the saddle at sunrise, I never dismounted, except to 
 carry a measui'ing chain, " to step distances," mark out 
 entrenchments, and then write awa}^, for hom-s, long enor- 
 mous reports, that were to be models of caligraphy, neatness, 
 and elegance — and never to be read ! Nothing could be less 
 like soldiering than the life I led ; and were it not for the 
 clanking sabre I wore at my side, and the jingling spurs 
 that decorated my heels, I might have fancied myself a 
 notary's clerk. It was part of General Moreau's plan to 
 strengthen the defences of Kehl before he advanced farther 
 into Germany ; and to this end repairs were begun upon a 
 line of earthworks, about two leagues to the northward of 
 the fortress, at a small village called Ekheim. In this 
 miserable little hole, one of the dreariest spots imaginable, 
 we were quartered, with two companies of sapeurs and 
 some of the wagon-train, trenching, digging, carting earth, 
 sinking wells, and in fact engaged in every kind of labor 
 save that which seemed to be characteristic of a soldier. 
 
 I used to think that Nancy and the riding-school were the 
 most dreary and tiresome of all destinies, but they were 
 enjoyment and delight compared with this. Now, it very 
 often happens in life that when a man grows discontented 
 and dissatisfied with mere monotony, when he chafes at the 
 sameness of a tiresome and unexciting existence, he is 
 rapidly approaching to some critical or eventful point, where 
 actual peril and real danger assail him, and from which he 
 Tvould willingly buy his escape by falling back upon that 
 
A FAREWELL LETTER. 139 
 
 wearisome and plodding life he had so often deplored before. 
 This case was my own. Just as I had convinced myself 
 that I was exceedingly wretched and miserable, I was to 
 know there are worse things in this world than a life of 
 mere uniform stupidity. I was waiting outside my captain's 
 door for orders one morning, when at the tinkle of his little 
 hand-bell I entered the room where he sat at breakfast, with 
 an open despatch before him. 
 
 " Tiernay," said he, in his usual quiet tone, "here is an 
 order from the adjutant-general to send you back under 
 an escort to head-quarters. Are you aware of any reason 
 for it, or is there any charge against you which warrants 
 this?" 
 
 " Xot to my knowledge, mon capitaine^'" said I, trembling 
 with fright, for I well knew with what severity discipline 
 was exercised in that army, and how any, even the slightest, 
 infractions met the heaviest penalties. 
 
 " I have never known you to pillage," continued he, " have 
 never seen you drink, nor have you been disobedient while 
 under m}^ command ; yet this order could not be issued on 
 light grounds. There must be some grave accusation against 
 you, and in any case you must go ; therefore arrange all my 
 papers, put everything to rights, and be ready to return with 
 the orderly." 
 
 " You'll give me a good character, mon ccqntaine,'' said I, 
 trembling more than ever, — ' ' you '11 say what you can for 
 me, I 'm sure ? " 
 
 " Willingly, if the general or chief were here," replied he ; 
 " but that 's not so. General Moreau is at Strasbourg. It 
 is General Regnier that is in command of the army, and 
 unless specially applied to, I could not venture upon the 
 liberty of obtruding my opinion upon him." 
 
 "Is he so severe, sir? " asked I, timidly. 
 
 " The general is a good disciplinarian," said he, cautiously, 
 while he motioned with his hand towards the door; and 
 accepting the hint, I retu-ed. 
 
 It was evening when I re-entered Kehl, under an escort 
 of two of my own regiment, and was conducted to the 
 Salle de Police. At the door stood my old corporal, whose 
 malicious grin, as I alighted, revealed the whole story of 
 
140 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 my arrest ; and I now knew the charge that would be pre- 
 ferred against me — a heavier there could not be made — was 
 " disobedience in the field." I slept very little that night, 
 and when I did close my eyes it was to awake with a sudden 
 start, and believe myself in presence of the com't-martial, 
 or listening to my sentence as read out by the president. 
 Towards day, however, I sunk into a heavy, deep slumber, 
 from which I was aroused by the reveillee of the barracks. 
 
 I had barel}" time to dress when I was summoned before the 
 Tribunale Militake, — a sort of permanent court-martial, 
 whose sittings were held in one of the churches of the town. 
 Not even all the terror of my own precarious position could 
 overcome the effect of old prejudices in my mind, as I saw 
 myself led up the dim aisle of the church towards the altar 
 rails, within which, around a large table, were seated a 
 number of officers, whose manner and bearing evinced but 
 little reverence for the sacred character of the spot. 
 
 Stationed in a group of poor wretches whose wan looks 
 and anxious glances told that they were prisoners like my- 
 self, I had time to see what was going forward around me. 
 The President, who alone wore his hat, read from a sort of 
 list before him the name of a prisoner and that of the 
 witnesses in the cause. In an instant the}^ were all drawn 
 up and sworn. A few questions followed, rapidly put, and 
 almost as rapidly replied to. The prisoner was called on 
 then for his defence : if this occupied many minutes, he was 
 sure to be interrupted by an order to be brief. Then came 
 the command to "stand by;" and after a few seconds' 
 consultation together, in which many times a burst of laugh- 
 ter might be heard, the court agreed upon the sentence, 
 recorded and signed it, and then proceeded with the next 
 case. 
 
 If nothing in the procedure imposed reverence or respect, 
 there was that in the dispatch which suggested terror, for it 
 was plain to see that the Court thought more of the cost of 
 their own precious minutes than of the years of those on 
 whose fate they were deciding. I was sufficiently near to 
 hear the charges of those who were arraigned, and, for the 
 greater number, they were all alike. Pillage, in one form or 
 another, was the universal offending ; and from the burning 
 
A FAKEWELL LETTER. 141 
 
 of a peasant's cottage to the theft of his dog or his pou- 
 let^ all came under this head. At last came No. 82, — 
 ''Maurice Tiernay, hussar of the Ninth." I stepped 
 forward to the rails. 
 
 ''Maurice Tiernay," read the President, hurriedly, 
 " accused by Louis Gaussin, corporal of the same regiment, 
 ' of wilfully deserting his post while on duty in the field, and 
 in the face of direct orders to the contrary ; inducing others 
 to a similar breach of discipline.' Make the charge, Gaussin." 
 
 The corporal stepped forward, and began : — 
 
 "We were stationed in detachment on the bank of the 
 Rhine, on the evening of the 23d — " 
 
 "The Court has too many duties to lose its time for 
 nothing," interrupted I. "It is all true. I did desert my 
 post, I did disobey orders ; and seeing a weak point in the 
 enemy's line, attacked and carried it with success. The 
 charge is, therefore, admitted by me, and it only remains for 
 the Court to decide how far a soldier's zeal for his country 
 may be deserving of punishment. Whatever the result, one 
 thing is perfectly clear, — Corporal Gaussin will never be 
 indicted for a similar misdemeanor." 
 
 A murmur of voices and suppressed laughter followed this 
 impertinent and not over-discreet sally of mine, and the 
 President, calling out "Proven by acknowledgment," told 
 me to " stand by." I now fell back to my former place, to 
 be interrogated by my comrades on the result of my exami- 
 nation, and hear their exclamations of surprise and terror at 
 the rashness of my conduct. A little reflection over the 
 cii'cumstances would probably have brought me over to their 
 opinion, and shown me that I had gratuitously thrown away 
 an opportunity of self-defence; but my temper could not 
 brook the indignity of listening to the tiresome accusation 
 and the stupid malevolence of the corporal, whose hatred was 
 excited by the influence I wielded over my comrades. 
 
 It was long past noon ere the proceedings terminated, for 
 the list was a fulf one ; and at length the Court rose, appar- 
 ently not sorry to exchange their tiresome duties for the 
 pleasant offices of the dinner-table. No sentences had been 
 pronounced, but one very striking incident seemed to 
 shadow forth a gloomy future. Three, of whom I was one. 
 
142 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 were marched off, doubly guarded, before the rest, and con- 
 fined in separate cells of the Salle, where every precaution 
 against escape too plainly showed the importance attached 
 to our safe keeping. 
 
 At about eight o'clock, as I was sitting on my bed, — if 
 that inclined plane of wood, worn by the form of many a 
 former prisoner, could deserve the name, — a sergeant 
 entered with the prison allowance of bread and water. He 
 placed it beside me without speaking, and stood for a few 
 seconds gazing at me. 
 
 "What age art thou, lad?" said he, in a voice of com- 
 passionate interest. 
 
 " Something over fifteen, I believe," replied I. 
 
 " Hast father and mother? " 
 
 " Both are dead." 
 
 " Uncles or aunts living? " 
 
 "Neither." 
 
 ' ' Hast any friends who could help thee ? " 
 
 ' ' That might depend on what the occasion for help should 
 prove, for I have one friend in the world." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " Colonel Mahon, of the Cuirassiers." 
 
 " I never heard of him ; is he here? " 
 
 " No, I left him at Nancy ; but I could write to him." 
 
 " It would be too late, much too late." 
 
 " How do you mean — too late? " asked I, tremblingly. 
 
 " Because it is fixed for to-morrow evening," replied he, in 
 a low, hesitating voice. 
 
 "What? the — the — "I could not say the word, but 
 merely imitated the motion of presenting and firing. He 
 nodded gravely in acquiescence. 
 
 " What hour is it to take place? " asked I. 
 
 " After evening parade. The sentence must be signed by 
 General Berthier, and he will not be here before that time." 
 
 "It would be too late then, sergeant," said I, musing, 
 "far too late. Still, I should like to write the letter; I 
 should like to thank him for his kindness in the past, and 
 show him, too, that I have not been either unworthy or un- 
 grateful. Could you let me have paper and pen, sergeant? " 
 
 ' ' I can venture so far, lad ; but I cannot let thee have a 
 
A FAREWELL LETTER. 143 
 
 light, it is against orders ; and during the day thou 'It be too 
 strictly watched." 
 
 " Xo matter ; let me have the paper and I '11 try to scratch 
 a few lines in the dark ; and thou 'It post it for me, sergeant? 
 I ask thee as a last favor to do this." 
 
 "I promise it," said he, laying his hand on my shoulder. 
 After standing for a few minutes thus in silence, he started 
 suddenly and left the cell. 
 
 I now tried to eat my supper, but although resolved on 
 behaving with a stout and unflinching courage throughout 
 the whole sad event, I could not swallow a mouthful. A 
 sense of choking stopped me at every attempt, and even the 
 water I could only get down by gulps. The efforts I made 
 to bear up seemed to have caused a species of hysterical 
 excitement that actually rose to the height of intoxication, 
 for I talked away loudly to myself, laughed, and sung. I 
 even jested and mocked myself on this sudden termination of 
 a career that I used to anticipate as stored with future fame 
 and rewards. At intervals I have no doubt that my mind 
 wandered far beyond the control of reason, but as constantly 
 came back again to a full consciousness of my melancholy 
 position and the fate that awaited me. The noise of the 
 key in the door silenced my ravings, and I sat still and 
 motionless as the sergeant entered with the pen, ink, and 
 paper, which he laid down upon the bed, and then as silently 
 withdrew. 
 
 A long interval of stupor, a state of dreary half conscious- 
 ness, now came over me, from which I aroused myself with 
 great difficulty to write the few lines I destined for Colonel 
 Mahon. I remember even now, long as has been the space 
 of years since that event, full as it has been of stirring and 
 strange incidents, — I remember perfectly the thought which 
 flashed across me as I sat, pen in hand, before the paper. It 
 was the notion of a certain resemblance between our actions 
 in this world with the characters I was about to inscribe 
 upon that paper. Written in darkness and in doubt, thought 
 I, how shall they appear when brought to the light ? Per- 
 haps those I have deemed the best and fairest shall seem but 
 to be the weakest or the worst ! What need of kindness to 
 forgive the errors, and of patience to endure the ignorance ! 
 At last I began. 
 
144 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 " MoN Colonel, — Forgive, I pray you, the errors of these lines, 
 penned in the darkness of my cell, and the night before my death. 
 They are written to thank you ere I go hence, and to tell you that 
 the poor heart whose beating will soon be still, throbbed gratefully 
 towards you to the last ! I have been sentenced to death for a 
 breach of discipline of which I was g"uilty. Had I failed in the 
 achievement of my enterprise by the bullet of an enemy, they 
 would have named me with honor ; but I have had the misfortune 
 of success, and to-morrow am I to pay its penalty. I have the 
 satisfaction, however, of knowing that my share in that great day 
 can neither be denied nor evaded ; it is already on record, and the 
 time may yet come when my memory will be vindicated. I know 
 not if these lines be legible, nor if I have crossed or recrossed 
 them. If they are blotted, they are not my tears have done it, for 
 I have a firm heart and a good courage ; and when the moment 
 comes — " 
 
 Here my hand trembled so much, and my brain grew so 
 dizzy, that I lost the thread of my meaning, and merely 
 jotted down at random a few words, vague, unconnected, 
 and unintelligible ; after which, and by an effort that cost all 
 my strength, I wrote " Maurice Tiernay, late hussar of the 
 Ninth Regiment." 
 
 A hearty bui'st of tears followed the conclusion of this 
 letter; all the pent-up emotion with which my heart was 
 charged broke out at last, and I cried bitterly. Intense 
 passions are, happily, never of long duration, and, better 
 still, they are always the precui'sors of calm. Thus tranquil, 
 the dawn of morn broke upon me, when the sergeant came 
 to take my letter, and apprise me that the adjutant would 
 appear in a few moments to read my sentence, and inform 
 me when it was to be executed. 
 
 " Thou 'It bear up well, lad ; I know thou wilt," said the 
 poor fellow, with tears in his eyes. " Thou hast no mother, 
 and thou 'It not have to grieve for her." 
 
 "Don't be afraid, sergeant; I'll not disgrace the old 
 Ninth. Tell my comrades I said so." 
 
 " I will. I will tell them all ! Is this thy jacket, lad? " 
 
 " Yes ; what do you want it for? " 
 
 " I must take it away with me. Thou art not to wear it 
 more." 
 
 " Not wear it, nor die in it ! and why not? " 
 
A FAREWELL LETTER. 145 
 
 "That is the sentence, lad; I cannot help it. It 's very 
 hard, very cruel; but so it is." 
 
 ' ' Then I am to die dishonored, sergeant ! is that the 
 sentence ? " 
 
 He dropped his head, and I could see that he moved his 
 sleeve across his eyes ; and then, taking up my jacket, he 
 came towards me. 
 
 "Remember, lad! a stout heart; no flinching. Adieu! 
 God bless thee." He kissed me on either cheek, and went 
 out. 
 
 He had not been gone many minutes when the tramp of 
 marching outside apprised me of the coming of the adjutant, 
 and the door of my cell being thrown open I was ordered to 
 walk forth into the court of the prison. Two squadrons of 
 my own regiment, all who were not on duty, were drawn up, 
 dismounted, and without arms ; beside them stood a com- 
 pany of grenadiers and a half battalion of the line, the corps 
 to which the other two prisoners belonged, and who now 
 came forward, in shirt-sleeves like myself, into the middle of 
 the court. 
 
 One of my fellow-sufferers was a very old soldier, whose 
 hair and beard were white as snow ; the other was a middle- 
 aged man, of a dark and forbidding aspect, who scowled at 
 me angrily as I came up to his side, and seemed as if he 
 scorned the companionship. I returned a glance, haughty 
 and as full of defiance as his own, and never noticed him 
 after. 
 
 The drum beat a roll, and the word was given for silence 
 in the ranks, — an order so strictly obeyed that even the 
 clash of a weapon was unheard, — and stepping in front of 
 the line, the Auditeur Militaire read out the sentences. As 
 for me, I heard but the words " Peine afflictive et infamante ; " 
 all the rest became confusion, shame, and terror commingled ; 
 nor did I know that the ceremonial was over when the troops 
 began to defile, and we were marched back again to our 
 prison quarters. 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A SURPRISE AND AN ESCAPE. 
 
 It is a very common subject of remark in newspapers, and as 
 invariably repeated with astonishment by the readers, how 
 well and soundly such a criminal slept on the night before his 
 execution. It reads like a wonderful evidence of composure, 
 or some not less surprising proof of apathy or indifference. 
 I really believe it has as little relation to one feeling as to 
 the other, and is simply the natural consequence of faculties 
 over-strained, and a brain surcharged with blood, — sleep 
 being induced by causes pui-ely physical in their nature. 
 For myself, I can say that I was by no means indifferent to 
 life, nor had I any contempt for the form of death that 
 awaited me. As localities which have failed to inspire a 
 strong attachment become endowed with a certain degree 
 of interest when we are about to part from them forever, 
 I never held life so desirable as now that I was going to 
 leave it ; and yet, with all this, I fell into a sleep so heavy 
 and profound that I never awoke till late in the evening. 
 Twice was I shaken by the shoulder ere I could throw off 
 the heavy weight of slumber ; and even when I looked up, 
 and saw the armed figures around me, I could have lain down 
 once more and composed myself to another sleep. 
 
 The first thing which thoroughly aroused me, and at once 
 brightened up my slumbering senses, was missing my jacket, 
 for which I searched every corner of my cell, — forgetting 
 that it had been taken away, as the nature of my sentence 
 was declared iiifamante. The next shock was still greater, 
 when two sapeurs came foi*ward to tie my wrists together 
 behind my back ; I neither spoke nor resisted, but in silent 
 submission complied with each order given me. 
 
 All preliminaries being completed, I was led forward, pre- 
 ceded by a pioneer and guarded on either side by two sapeurs 
 
A SURPRISE AND AN ESCAPE. 147 
 
 of the guard, a muffled drum, ten paces in advance, keep- 
 ino- up a low monotonous rumble as we went. 
 
 Our way led along the ramparts, beside which ran a row 
 of little gardens, in which the children of the officers were at 
 play. They ceased then- childish gambols as we drew near, 
 and came closer up to watch us. I could mark the terror and 
 pity in their little faces as they gazed at me ; I could see the 
 traits of compassion with which they pointed me out to each 
 other, and my heart swelled with gratitude for even so slight 
 a sympathy. It was with difficulty I could restrain the emo- 
 tion of that moment ; but with a great effort I did subdue it, 
 and marched on, to all seeming, unmoved. A little farther 
 on, as we turned the angle of the wall, I looked back to catch 
 one last look at them. Would that I had never done so ! 
 They had quitted the railings, and were now standing in a 
 group, in the act of performing a mimic execution. One, 
 without his jacket, was kneeling on the grass. But I could 
 not bear the sight, and in scornful anger I closed my ej^es, 
 and saw no more. 
 
 A low whispering conversation was kept up by the soldiers 
 around me. They were grumbling at the long distance they 
 had to march, as the " affak" might just as well have taken 
 place on the glacis as two miles away. How different were 
 my feelings ! how dear to me was now every minute, every 
 second of existence ! how my heart leaped at each turn of 
 the way, as I still saw a space to traverse and some little 
 interval longer to live ! 
 
 "And mayhap after all," muttered one dark-faced fellow, 
 "we shall have come all this way for nothing. There can 
 be no ' fusillade ' without the general's signature, so I heard 
 the adjutant say ; and who 's to promise that he '11 be at his 
 quarters ? " 
 
 " Very true," said another ; " he may be absent, or at table." 
 
 " At table ! " cried two or three together ; " and what if he 
 were ? " 
 
 " If he be," rejoined the former speaker, " we may go back 
 again for our pains ! I ought to know him well ; I was his 
 orderly for eight months, when I sel'^'ed in the ' Legers,' and 
 can tell you, my lads, I would n't be the officer who would 
 bring him a report or a return to sign when once he had 
 
148 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 opened out his napkin on his knee ; and it 's not very far 
 from his dinner-hour now." 
 
 What a sudden thrill of hope ran through me ! Perhaps 
 I should be spared for another day. 
 
 " No, no, we 're all in time," exclaimed the sergeant ; "I 
 can see the general's tent from this; and there he stands 
 with all his staff around him." 
 
 "Yes; and there go the other escorts, — they will be up 
 before us if we don't make haste ; quick-time, lads ! Come 
 along, mon cher^'" said he, addressing me; "thou'rt not 
 tired, I hope?" 
 
 "Not tired!" replied I; "but remember, sergeant, what 
 a long journey I have before me." 
 
 "Pa?T?/e/ I don't believe all that rhodomontade about 
 another world," said he, gruffly; "the Republic settled that 
 question." 
 
 I made no reply, for such words at such a moment were 
 the most terrible of tortures to me. And now we moved on 
 at a brisker pace, and crossing a little wooden bridge entered 
 a kind of esplanade of closely-shaven turf, at one corner of 
 which stood the capacious tent of the commander-in-chief, for 
 such in Moreau's absence was General Berthier. Numbers 
 of staff-officers were riding about on duty, and a large travel- 
 ling-carriage, from which the horses seemed recently detached, 
 stood before the tent. 
 
 We halted as we crossed the bridge, while the adjutant 
 advanced to obtain the signature to the sentence. My eyes 
 followed him till they swam with rising tears, and I could 
 not wipe them away, as my hands were fettered. How 
 rapidly did my thoughts travel during those few moments ! 
 The good old Pere Michel came back to me in memory, 
 and I tried to think of the consolation his presence would 
 have afforded me ; but I could do no more than think of 
 them. 
 
 ' ' Which is the prisoner Tiernay ? " cried a young aide-de- 
 camp, cantering up to where I was standing. 
 
 "Here, sir," replied the sergeant, pushing me forward. 
 
 "So," rejoined the officer, angrily, "this fellow has been 
 writing letters, it would seem, reflecting upon the justice of 
 his sentence, and arraigning the conduct of his judges. Your 
 
A SUEPRISE AND AN ESCAPE. 149 
 
 epistolary tastes are like to cost you dearly, my lad ; it had 
 been better for you if writing had been omitted in your 
 education. Reconduct the others, sergeant, — they are 
 respited; this fellow alone is to undergo his sentence." 
 
 The other two prisoners gave a short and simultaneous 
 cry of joy as they fell back, and I stood alone in front of the 
 escort. 
 
 ^^ Parhleu! he has forgotten the' signature," said the ad- 
 jutant, casting his ej^e over the paper ; "he was chattering 
 and laughing all the time, with the pen in his hand, and I 
 suppose fancied that he had signed it." 
 
 "Nathalie was there, perhaps," said the aide-de-camp, 
 significantly. 
 
 " She was, and I never saw her looking better. It 's some- 
 thing like eight years since I saw her last ; and I vow she 
 seems not only handsomer but fresher and more youthful 
 to-day than then." 
 
 " Where is she going, — have you heard? " 
 
 " Who can tell? Her passport is like a firman, — she may 
 travel where she pleases. The rumor of the day says 
 Italy." 
 
 " I thought she looked provoked at Moreau's absence ; it 
 seemed like want of attention on his part, a lack of courtesy 
 she 's not used to." 
 
 ' ' Very true ; and her reception of Berthier was anything 
 but gracious, although he certainly displayed all his civilities 
 in her behalf." 
 
 "Strange days we live in!" sighed the other, "when 
 a man's promotion hangs upon the favorable word of 
 a—" 
 
 "Hush! take care! be cautious!" whispered the other. 
 " Let us not forget this poor fellow's business. How are you 
 to settle it? Is the signature of any consequence? The 
 whole sentence is all right and regular." 
 
 " I should n't like to omit the signature," said the other, 
 cautiously ; "it looks like carelessness, and might involve us 
 in trouble hereafter." 
 
 " Then we must wait some time, for I see they are gone to 
 dinner." 
 
 " So I perceive," replied the former, as he lighted his 
 
150 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 cigar, and seated himself on a bank. ' ' You may let the 
 prisoner sit down, sergeant, and leave his hands free : he 
 looks wearied and exhausted." 
 
 I was too weak to speak, but I looked my gratitude ; 
 and sitting down upon the grass, covered my face and wept 
 heartily. 
 
 Although quite close to where the officers sat together 
 chatting and jesting, I heard little or nothing of what they 
 said. Already the things of life had ceased to have any hold 
 upon me ; and I could have heard of the greatest victory, or 
 listened to a story of the most fatal defeat, without the 
 slightest interest or emotion. An occasional word or a name 
 would strike upon my ear, but leave no impression nor any 
 memory behind it. 
 
 The military band was performing various marches and 
 opera airs before the tent where the general dined; and in 
 the melod}', softened by distance, I felt a kind of calm and 
 sleepy repose that lulled me into a species of ecstasy. 
 
 At last the music ceased to play, and the adjutant, starting 
 hurried W up, called on the sergeant to move forward. 
 
 "By Jove!" cried he, "they seem preparing for a pro- 
 menade, and we shall get into a scrape if Berthier sees us 
 here. Keep your party yonder, sergeant, out of sight, till I 
 obtain the signature." 
 
 And so saying, away he went towards the tent at a sharp 
 gallop. 
 
 A few seconds, and I watched him crossing the esplanade ; 
 he dismounted and disappeared. A terrible choking sen- 
 sation was over me, and I scarcely was conscious that they 
 were again tying my hands. The adjutant came out again, 
 and made a sign with his sword. 
 
 "We are to move on?" said the sergeant, half in doubt. 
 
 " Not at all," broke in the aide-de-camp ; " he is making a 
 sign for you to bring up the prisoner. There, he is repeating 
 the signal, — lead him forward." 
 
 I knew very little of how, less still of why ; but we moved 
 on in the direction of the tent, and in a few minutes stood 
 before it. The sounds of revelry and laughter, the crash of 
 voices and the clink of glasses, together with the hoarseness 
 of the brass band, which again struck up, — all were com- 
 
A SURPRISE AND AN ESCAPE. 151 
 
 mingled in my brain, as taking me by tlie arm I was led for- 
 ward within the tent, and found myself at the foot of a table 
 covered with all the gorgeousness of silver plate, and glow- 
 ing with bouquets of flowers and fruits. In the one hasty 
 glance I gave, before my lids fell over my swimming eyes, I 
 could see the splendid uniforms of the guests as they sat 
 around the board, and the magnificent costume of a lady in 
 the place of honor next the head. 
 
 Several of those who sat at the lower end of the table 
 drew back their seats as I came foi'ward, and seemed as if 
 desirous to give the general a better view of me. 
 
 Overwhelmed by the misery of my fate, as I stood awaiting 
 my death, I felt as though a mere word, a look, would have 
 crushed me but one moment back ; but now, as I stood there 
 before that group of gazers, whose eyes scanned me with looks 
 of insolent disdain or still more insulting curiosity, a sense 
 of proud defiance seized me to confront and dare them with 
 glances haughty and scornful as their own. It seemed to me 
 so base and unworthy a part to summon a poor wretch 
 before them, as if to whet their new appetite for enjoyment 
 by the aspect of his misery, that an indignant anger took 
 possession of me, and I drew myself up to my full height, 
 and stared at them calm and steadily. 
 
 " So, then," cried a deep soldier-like voice from the far 
 end of the table, which I at once recognized as the general- 
 in-chiefs, — "so, then, gentlemen, we have now the honor 
 of seeing amongst us the hero of the Rhine ! This is the 
 distinguished individual by whose prowess the passage of the 
 river was effected, and the Swabian infantry cut off in their 
 retreat! Is it not true, sir?" said he, addressing me with a 
 savage scowl. 
 
 " I have had my share in the achievement," said I with 
 the cool air of defiance. 
 
 " Parhleu! you are modest, sir. So had every drummer- 
 boy that beat his tattoo ! But yours was the part of a great 
 leader, if I err not? " 
 
 I made no answer, but stood firm and unmoved. 
 
 " How do you call the island which you have immortalized 
 by your valor ? " 
 
 "The Fels Insel, sir." 
 
152 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Gentlemen, let us drink to the hero of the Fels Insel," 
 said he, holding up his glass for the servant to fill it. "A 
 bumper, — a full, a flowing bumper! And let him also 
 pledge a toast in which his interest must be so brief. Give 
 him a glass, Contard." 
 
 The order was obeyed in a second ; and I, summoning up 
 all my courage to seem as easy and indifferent as they were, 
 lifted the glass to my lips, and drained it off. 
 
 " Another glass now to the health of this fail- lady, through 
 whose intercession we owe the pleasure of your company," 
 said the general. 
 
 " Willingly," said I; " and may one so beautiful seldom 
 find herself in a society so unworthy of her ! " 
 
 A perfect roar of laughter succeeded the insolence of this 
 speech ; amid which I was half pushed, half dragged, up to 
 the end of the table, where the general sat. 
 
 "How so, coquin! do you dare to insult a French gen- 
 eral, at the head of his own staff ! " 
 
 " If I did sir, it were quite as brave as to mock a poor 
 criminal on the way to his execution ! " 
 
 ' ' That is the boy ! I know him now, — the very same 
 lad ! " cried the lady, as, stooping behind Berthier's chair, 
 she stretched out her hand towards me. "Come here; are 
 you not Colonel Mahon's godson ? " 
 
 I looked her full in the face ; and whether her own thoughts 
 gave the impulse, or that something in my stare suggested it, 
 she blushed till her cheek grew crimson. 
 
 ' ' Poor Charles was so fond of him ! " whispered she in 
 Berthier's ear ; and as she spoke, the expression of her 
 face at once recalled where I had seen her, and I now per- 
 ceived that she was the same person I had seen at table with 
 Colonel Mahon, and whom I believed to be his wife. 
 
 A low whispering conversation now ensued between the 
 general and her, at the close of which he turned to me and 
 said, — 
 
 "Madame Merlancourt has deigned to take an interest in 
 you ; you are pardoned. Remember, sir, to whom you owe 
 your life, and be grateful to her for it." 
 
 I took the hand she extended towards me, and pressed it 
 to my lips. 
 
A SURPKISE AND AN ESCAPE. 153 
 
 " Madame," said I, " there is but one favor more I would 
 ask in this world, and with it I could think myself happy." 
 
 " But can I grant it, moncher? " said she, smiling. 
 
 " If I am to judge from the influence I have seen you 
 wield, madame, here and elsewhere, this petition will easily 
 be accorded." 
 
 A slight flush colored the lady's cheek, while that of 
 the general became dyed red with anger. I saw that I had 
 committed some terrible blunder, but how or in what I knew 
 not. 
 
 "Well, sir," said Madame Merlancourt, addressing me 
 with a stately coldness of manner, very different from her 
 former tone, " let us hear w^hat you ask, for we are already 
 taking up a vast deal of time that our host would prefer 
 devoting to his friends : what is it you wish ? " 
 
 "My discharge from a service, madame, where zeal and 
 enthusiasm are rewarded with infamy and disgrace ; my 
 freedom to be anything but a French soldier." 
 
 " You are resolved, sir, that I am not to be proud of my 
 protege," said she, haughtily ; " what words are these to speak 
 in presence of a general and his officers ? " 
 
 " I am bold, madame, as you say, but I am wronged." 
 
 "How so, sir? In what have you been injured?" cried 
 the general, hastily, ' ' except in the excessive condescension 
 which has stimulated your presumption. But we are really 
 too indulgent in this long parley. Madame, permit me to 
 offer you some coffee under the trees. Contardo, tell the 
 band to follow us. Gentlemen, we expect the pleasure of 
 your society." 
 
 And so saying, Berthier presented his arm to the lady, who 
 swept proudly past without deigning to notice me. In a 
 few minutes the tent was cleared of all except the servants 
 occupied in removing the remains of the dessert ; and I fell 
 back, unremarked and unobserved, to take my way home- 
 ward to the ban'acks, more indifferent to life than ever I had 
 been afraid of death. 
 
 As I am not likely to recur at any length to the somewhat 
 famous person to whom I owed my life, I may as well state 
 that her name has since occupied no inconsiderable share 
 of attention in France, and her history, under the title of 
 
154 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Memoires cl'une Contemporaine," excited a degree of 
 interest and anxiety in quarters which one might have 
 fancied far above the reach of her revelations. At the time 
 I speak of, I little knew the character of the age in which 
 such influences were all powerful, nor how destinies very 
 different from mine hung upon the favoritism of "La belle 
 Nathalie." Had I known these things, and, still more, had 
 I known the sad fate to which she brought my poor friend 
 Colonel Mahon, I might have scrupled to accept my life at 
 such hands, or involved myself in a debt of gratitude to one 
 for whom I was subsequently to feel nothing but hatred and 
 aversion. It was indeed a terrible period, and in nothing 
 more so than the fact that acts of benevolence and charity 
 were blended with features of falsehood, treachery, and 
 baseness, which made one despair of humanity, and think 
 the very worst of their species. 
 
CHAPTER Xy. 
 
 SCRAPS OF HISTORY. 
 
 Nothing displays more powerfully the force of egotism than 
 the simple truth that when any man sits himself down to 
 write the events of his life, the really momentous occurrences 
 in which he may have borne a part occupy a conspicuously 
 small place, when each petty incident of a merely personal 
 natui'e is dilated and extended beyond all bounds. In one 
 sense the reader benefits by this, since there are few imper- 
 tinences less for^vable than the obtrusion of some insisf- 
 nificant name into the narrative of facts that are meet for 
 history. I have made these remarks in a spmt of apology 
 to my reader, — not alone for the accui-acy of my late detail, 
 but also if I should seem in future to dwell but passingly on 
 the truly important facts of a great campaign, in which my 
 own part was so humble. 
 
 I was a soldier in that glorious army which Moreau led 
 into the heart of Germany, and whose victorious career 
 would only have ceased when they entered the capital of the 
 Empire, had it not been for the unhappy mistakes of Jour- 
 dan, who commanded the auxiliary forces in the north. For 
 nigh three months we advanced steadily and successfully, 
 superior in every engagement; we only waited for the 
 moment of junction with Jourdan's army, to declare the 
 Empire our own; when at last came the terrible tidings that 
 he had been beaten, and that Latour was advancing from 
 Ulm to turn our left flank, and cut off our communications 
 with France. 
 
 Two hundred miles from our own frontiers ; separated 
 from the Rhine by that terrible Black Forest whose defiles 
 are mere gorges between vast mountains ; with an army fifty 
 thousand strong on one flank, and the Archduke Charles 
 
156 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 commanding a force of nigh thirty thousand on the other, ^— 
 such were the dreadful combinations which now threatened 
 us with a defeat not less signal than Jourdan's own. Our 
 strength, however, lay in a superb army of seventy thousand 
 unbeaten men, led on by one whose name alone was victory. 
 
 On the 24th of September the order for retreat was given ; 
 the army began to retire by slow marches, prepared to con- 
 test every inch of ground, and make ever}^ available spot a 
 battle-field. The baggage and ammunition were sent on in 
 front, and two days' march in advance. Behind, a formid- 
 able rear-guard was ready to repulse every attack of the 
 enemy. Before, however, entering those close defiles by 
 which his retreat lay, Moreau determined to give one terrible 
 lesson to his enemy. Like the hunted tiger turning upon his 
 pursuers, he suddenly halted at Biberach, and ere Latour, 
 who commanded the Austrians, was aware of his purpose, 
 assailed the Imperial forces with an attack on right, centre, 
 and left together. Four thousand prisoners and eighteen 
 pieces of cannon were the trophies of the victory. 
 
 The day after this decisive battle our march was resumed, 
 and the advanced-guard entered that narrow and dismal 
 defile which goes by the name of the " Valley of Hell," when 
 our left and right flanks, stationed at the entrance of the 
 pass, effectually secured the retreat against molestation. 
 The voltigeurs of St. Cyr, crowning the heights as we went, 
 swept away the light troops which were scattered along the 
 rocky eminences, and in less than a fortnight our army 
 debouched by Fribourg and Oppenheim into the valley of the 
 Rhine, not a gun having been lost, not a caisson deserted, 
 during that perilous movement. 
 
 The Archduke, however, having ascertained the direction 
 of Moreau's retreat, advanced by a parallel pass through the 
 Kinzigthal, and attacked St. Cyr at Nauendorf , and defeated 
 him. Our right flank, severely handled at Emmendingen, 
 the whole force was obliged to retreat on Huningen ; and 
 once more we found ourselves upon the banks of the Rhine, 
 no longer an advancing army, high in hope, and flushed with 
 victory, but beaten, harassed, and retreating ! 
 
 The last few days of that retreat presented a scene of 
 disaster such as I can never forget. To avoid the furious 
 
SCRAPS OF HISTORY. 157 
 
 charges of the Austrian cavahy, against which our own could 
 no longer make resistance, we had fallen back upon a line of 
 country cut up into rocky cliffs and precipices, and covered 
 by a dense pine forest. Here, necessarily broken up into 
 small parties, we were assailed by the light troops of the 
 enemy, led on through the various passes by the peasantry, 
 whose animosity our own severity had excited. It was there- 
 fore a continual hand-to-hand struggle, in which, opposed as 
 we were to over numbers well acquainted with every advan- 
 tage of the ground, our loss was terrific. It is said that nigh 
 seven thousand men fell, — an immense number, when no 
 general action had occurred. Whatever the actual loss, such 
 were the circumstances of our army that Moreau hastened to 
 propose an armistice, on the condition of the Rhine being 
 the boundary between the two armies, while Kehl was still to 
 be held by the French. 
 
 The proposal was rejected by the Austrians, who at once 
 commenced preparations for a siege of the fortress with 
 forty thousand troops under Latour's command. The earlier 
 months of winter now^ passed in the labors of the siege, and 
 on the morning of New Year's Day the first attack was 
 made ; the second line was carried a few days after, and, 
 after a glorious defence by Desaix, the garrison capitulated, 
 and evacuated the fortress on the 9th of the month. Thus, 
 in the space of six short months had we advanced with a 
 conquering army into the very heart of the Empke, and now 
 we were back again within our own frontier, — not one single 
 trophy of all our victories remaining, two thirds of our 
 army dead or wounded ; more than all, the prestige of our 
 superiority fatally injured, and that of the enemy's valor and 
 prowess as signally elevated. 
 
 The short annals of a successful soldier are often com- 
 prised in the few words which state how he was made lieu- 
 tenant at such a date, promoted to his company here, 
 obtained his majority there, succeeded to the command of 
 his regiment at such a place, and so on. Now, my exploits 
 may even be more briefly written as regards this campaign ; 
 for whether at Kehl, at Nauendorf, on the Etz, or at Hunin- 
 gen, I ended as I began, — a simple soldier of the ranks. A 
 few slight wounds, a few still more insignificant words of 
 
158 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 praise, were all that I brought back with me. But if my 
 trophies were small, I had gained considerably both in habits 
 of discipline and obedience. I had learned to endure, ably 
 and without complaining, the inevitable hardships of a cam- 
 paign, and, better still, to see that the irrepressible impulses 
 of the soldier, however prompted by zeal or heroism, may 
 oftener mar than promote the more mature plans of his 
 general. Scarcely had my feet once more touched French 
 ground than I was seized with the ague, then raging as an 
 epidemic among the troops, and sent forward with a large 
 detachment of sick to the Military Hospital of Strasbourg. 
 
 Here I bethought me of my patron. Colonel Mahon, and 
 determined to write to him. For this purpose I addressed a 
 question to the Adjutant-General's office to ascertain the 
 colonel's address. The reply was a brief and stunning one, 
 — he had been dismissed the service. No personal calamity 
 could have thrown me into deeper affliction ; nor had I even 
 the sad consolation of learning any of the circumstances of 
 this misfortune. His death, even though thereby I should 
 have lost my only friend, would have been a lighter evil than 
 this disgrace, and coming as did the tidings when I was 
 already broken by sickness and defeat, more than ever dis- 
 gusted me with a soldier's life. It was then with a feeling of 
 total indifference that I heard a rumor which at another 
 moment would have filled me with enthusiasm, — the order 
 for all invalids sufficiently well to be removed, to be drafted 
 into regiments sendng in Italy. The fame of Bonaparte, 
 who commanded that army, had now sm'passed that of all 
 the other generals ; his victories paled the glory of their 
 successes, and it was already a mark of distinction to have 
 served under his command. 
 
 The walls of the hospital were scrawled over with the 
 names of his victories ; rude sketches of Alpine passes, 
 terrible ravines, or snow-clad peaks, met the eye everywhere ; 
 and the one magical name "Bonaparte," written beneath, 
 seemed the key to all their meaning. With him war seemed 
 to assume all the charms of romance. Each action was 
 illustrated by feats of valor or heroism, and a halo of glory 
 seemed to shine over all the achievements of his genius. 
 
 It was a clear, bright morning of March, when a light 
 
SCRAPS OF HISTORY. 159 
 
 frost sharpened the air, and a fair, blue sky overhead showed 
 a cloudless elastic atmosphere, that the " invalides," as we 
 were all called, were drawn up in the great square of the 
 hospital for inspection. Two superior officers of the staff, 
 attended by several surgeons and an adjutant, sat at a table 
 in front of us, on which lay the regimental books and con- 
 duct-rolls of the different corps. Such of the sick as had 
 received severe wounds, incapacitating them for further ser- 
 vice, were presented with some slight reward, — a few francs 
 in money, a greatcoat, or a pair of shoes, and obtained their 
 freedom. Others, whose injuries were less important, re- 
 ceived their promotion, or some slight increase of pay, — 
 these favors being all measm*ed by the character the indi- 
 vidual bore in his regiment, and the opinion certified of him 
 by his commanding officer. When my turn came and I stood 
 forward, I felt a kind of shame to think how little claim I 
 could prefer either to honor or advancement. 
 
 "Maurice Tiernay, slightly wounded by a sabre at Nauen- 
 dorf ; flesh-wound at Biberach ; enterprising and active, but 
 presumptuous and overbearing with his comrades," read out 
 the adjutant, while he added a few words I could not hear, 
 but at which the superior laughed heartily. 
 
 " What says the doctor? " asked he, after a pause. 
 
 "This has been a bad case of ague, and I doubt if the 
 young fellow will ever be fit for active ser\ace, — certainly 
 not at present." 
 
 " Is there a vacancy at Saumur? " asked the general. " I 
 see he has been employed in the school at Nancy." 
 
 " Yes, sir; for the third class there is one." 
 
 "Let him have it, then. Tiernay, you are appointed as 
 aspu-ant of the third class at the College of Saumur. Take 
 care that the report of your conduct be more creditable than 
 what is written here. Your opportunities will now be con- 
 siderable, and if well employed, may lead to further honor 
 and distinction; if neglected or abused, your chances are 
 forfeited forever." 
 
 I bowed and retired, as little satisfied with the admonition 
 as elated with a prospect which converted me from a soldier 
 into a scholar, and in the first verge of manhood thi-ew me 
 back once more into the condition of a mere boy. 
 
160 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 Eighteen months of my life — not the least happy, per- 
 haps, since in the peaceful portion I can trace so little to be 
 sorry for — glided over beside the banks of the beautiful 
 Loire, the intervals in the hours of study being spent either 
 in the riding-school or the river, where, in addition to 
 swimming and diving, we were instructed in pontooning and 
 rafting, the modes of transporting ammunition and artillery, 
 and the attacks of infantry by cavalry pickets. 
 
 I also learned to speak and write English and German 
 with great ease and fluency, besides acquiring some skill in 
 military drawing and engineering. 
 
 It is true that the imprisonment chafed sorely against us, 
 as we read of the great achievements of our armies in various 
 parts of the world ; of the great battles of Cairo and the 
 Pyramids, of Acre and Mount Thabor, — and of which a 
 holiday and a fete were to be our only share. 
 
 The terrible storms which shook Europe from end to end 
 only reached us in the bulletins of new victories ; and we 
 panted for the time when we too should be actors in the 
 glorious exploits of France. 
 
 It is already known to the reader that of the country from 
 which my family came I myself knew nothing. The very 
 little I had ever learned of it from my father was also a 
 mere tradition ; still was I known among my comrades only 
 as " the Irishman," and by that name was I recognized even 
 in the record of the school, where I was inscribed thus : 
 "Maurice Tiernay, dit ITrlandais." It was on this very 
 simple and seemingly unimportant fact that my whole fate 
 in life was to turn ; and in this wise — But the explanation 
 deserves a chapter of its own, and shall have it. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "an old general of the IRISH BRIGADE." 
 
 In obedience to an order which arrived at Saumur one morn- 
 ing in the July of 1798, I was summoned before the com- 
 mandant of the school, when the following brief colloquy 
 ensued : — 
 
 "Maurice Tiernay," said he, reading from the record of 
 the school, " why are you called I'lrlandais? " 
 
 " I am Ii'ish by descent, sir." 
 
 "Ha! by descent. Your father was, then, an Emigre?" 
 
 " Xo, sir, — my great-grandfather." 
 
 ^^Parhleu! that is going very far back. Are you aware 
 of the causes which induced him to leave his native 
 country ? " 
 
 " They were connected with political troubles, I 've heard, 
 sir. He took part against the English, my father told me, 
 and was obliged to make his escape to save his life." 
 
 "You, then, hate the English, Maurice?" 
 
 " My grandfather certainly did not love them, sii\" 
 
 ' ' Nor can you, boy, ever forgive their having exiled your 
 family from country and home ; every man of honor retains 
 the memory of such injuries." 
 
 " I can scarcely deem that an injury, sir, which has made 
 me a French citizen," said I, proudly. 
 
 "True, boy, — you say what is perfectly true and just; 
 any sacrifice of fortune or patrimony is cheap at such a 
 price. Still, you have suffered a wrong, — a deep and irre- 
 parable wrong, — and as a Frenchman you are ready to 
 avenge it." 
 
 Although I had no very precise notion either as to the 
 extent of the hardships done me, nor in what way I was 
 to demand the reparation, I gave the assent he seemed to 
 expect. 
 
 11 
 
162 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " You are well acquainted with the language, I believe? " 
 continued he. 
 
 " I can read and speak English tolerably well, sir." 
 
 ' ' But I speak of Irish, boy, — of the language which is 
 spoken by your fellow-countrymen," said he, rebukingly. 
 
 " I have always heard, su", that this has fallen into disuse, 
 and is little known save among the peasantry in a few 
 secluded districts." 
 
 He seemed impatient as I said this, and referred once 
 more to the paper before him, from whose minutes he 
 appeared to have been speaking. 
 
 "You must be in error, boy. I find here that the nation 
 is devotedly attached to its traditions and its literature, and 
 feels no injury deeper than the insulting substitution of a 
 foreign tongue for their own noble language." 
 
 ' ' Of myself I know nothing, sir ; the little I have learned 
 was acquired when a mere child." 
 
 " Ah, then you probably forget, or may never have heard 
 the fact ; but it is as I tell you. This, which I hold here, is 
 the report of a highly-distinguished and most influential 
 personage, who lays great stress upon the circumstance. I 
 am sorry, Tiernay, very sorry, that you are unacquainted 
 with the language." 
 
 He continued for some minutes to brood over this disap- 
 pointment, and at last returned to the paper before him. 
 
 " The geography of the country, — what knowledge have 
 you on that subject ? " 
 
 "No more, sir, than I may possess of other countries, 
 and merely learned from maps." 
 
 "Bad again," muttered he to himself. " Madgett calls 
 these ' essentials ; ' but we shall see." Then addressing me, 
 he said : " Tiernay, the object of my present interrogatory is 
 to inform you that the Director}^ is about to send an expedi- 
 tion to Ireland to assist in the liberation of that enslaved 
 people. It has been suggested that young officers and 
 soldiers of Irish descent might render peculiar service to the 
 cause, and I have selected you for an opportunity which will 
 convert those worsted epaulettes into bullion." 
 
 This at least was intelligible news, and now I began to 
 listen with more attention. 
 
"AN OLD GENEEAL OF THE IRISH BRIGADE." 163 
 
 "There is a report," said he, laying down before me a 
 very capacious manuscript, " which you will carefully peruse. 
 Here are the latest pamphlets setting forth the state of public 
 opinion in Ireland ; and here are various maps of the coast, 
 the harbors, and the strongholds of that country, with all 
 of which you may employ yourself advantageously ; and if, 
 on considering the subject, you feel disposed to volunteer, — 
 for as a volunteer only could your sei-vices be accepted, — 
 I will willingly support your request by all the influence in 
 my power." 
 
 " I am ready to do so at once, sir," said I, eagerly; " I 
 have no need to know any more than you have told me." 
 
 " Well said, boy ! I like your ardor. Write your petition 
 and it shall be foi-warded to-day. I will also try and obtain 
 for you the same regimental rank you hold in the school," — 
 I was a sergeant ; "it will depend upon yourself afterwards 
 to secure a further advancement. You are now free from 
 duty; lose no time, therefore, in storing your mind with 
 every possible information, and be ready to set out at a 
 moment's notice." 
 
 "Is the expedition so nearly ready, sir?" asked I, 
 eagerly. 
 
 He nodded, and with a significant admonition as to secrecy, 
 dismissed me, bursting with anxiety to examine the stores of 
 knowledge before me, and prepare myself with all the details 
 of a plan in which already I took the liveliest interest. 
 Before the week expired, I received an answer from the 
 minister, accepting the offer of my services. The reply 
 found me deep in those studies, which I scarcel}^ could bear 
 to quit even at meal times. Never did I experience such 
 an all-devouring passion for a theme as on that occasion. 
 ' ' Ireland " never left my thoughts ; her wrongs and suffer- 
 ings were everlastingly before me ; all the cruelties of cen- 
 turies, all the hard tyranny of the penal laws, the dire 
 injustice of caste oppression, filled me with indignation and 
 anger; while, on the other hand, I conceived the highest 
 admiration of a people who, undeterred by the might and 
 power of England, resolved to strike a great blow for 
 liberty. 
 
 The enthusiasm of the people, the ardent darings of a 
 
164 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 valor whose impetuosity was its greatest difficulty, their 
 high romantic temperament, then- devotion, their gratitude, 
 the childlike trustfulness of their natures, were all traits 
 scattered through the various narratives which invariably 
 attracted me, and drew me more strongly to their cause, — 
 more from affection than reason. 
 
 Madgett's memoir was filled with these, and he, I con- 
 cluded, must know them well, being, as it was asserted, one 
 of the ancient nobility of the land, and who now desu-ed 
 nothing better than to throw rank, privilege, and title into 
 the scale, and do battle for the liberty and equality of his 
 countrymen. How I longed to see this great man, whom 
 my fancy arrayed in all the attributes he so lavished upon 
 his countrymen, — for they were not only, in his description, 
 the boldest and the bravest, but the handsomest people of 
 Europe. 
 
 As to the success of the enterprise, whatever doubts I 
 had at first conceived, from an estimate of the immense 
 resources of England, were speedil}' solved as I read of the 
 enormous preparations the Ii'ish had made for the struggle. 
 The Roman Catholics, Madgett said, were three millions, the 
 Dissenters another million, — all eager for freedom and 
 French alliance, wanting nothing but the appearance of a 
 small armed force to give them the necessary organization 
 and discipline. They were somewhat deficient, he acknow- 
 ledged, in firearms, — cannon they had none whatever ; but 
 the character of the country, which consisted of mountains, 
 valleys, ravines, and gorges, reduced war to the mere chival- 
 rous features of personal encounter. "What interminable 
 descriptions did I wade through of clubs and associations, 
 the very names of which were a puzzle to me, — the great 
 union of all appearing to be a society called "Defenders," 
 whose oath bound them to "fidelity to the united nations of 
 France and Ireland ! " 
 
 So much for the one side. For the other, it was asserted 
 that the English forces then in garrison in Ireland were 
 below contempt; the militia, being principally Irish, might 
 be relied on for taking the popular side ; and as to the 
 Regulars, they were either "old men or boys," incapable 
 of active service, and several of the regiments being Scotch, 
 
"AN OLD GENERAL OF THE IRISH BRIGADE." 165 
 
 greatly disaffected to the Government. Then, again, as to 
 the navy, — the sailors in the English fleet were more than 
 two-thii'ds Irishmen, all Catholics, and all disaffected. 
 
 That the enterprise contained every element of success, 
 then, who could doubt? The nation, in the proportion of 
 ten to one, were for the movement. On their side lay not 
 alone the wrongs to avenge, but the courage, the energy, 
 and the daring. Their oppressors were as weak as tyranni- 
 cal, theii* cause was a bad one, and theii- support of it a 
 hollow semblance of superiority. 
 
 If I read these statements with ardor and avidit}', one 
 lurking sense of doubt alone obtruded itself on my reason- 
 ings. Why, with all these guarantees of victory, with every- 
 thing that can hallow a cause, and give it stability and 
 strength, — why did the Irish ask for aid? If they were, as 
 they alleged, an immense majority ; if theu's was all the 
 heroism and the daring ; if the struggle was to be maintained 
 against a miserably inferior force, weakened by age,. incapa- 
 city, and disaffection, — what need had they of Frenchmen 
 on their side ? The answer to all such doubts, however, was 
 " the Irish were deficient in organization." 
 
 Not only was the explanation a very sufficient one, but it 
 served in a high degree to flatter our vanity. We were, then, 
 to be organizers of Ireland ; from us were they to take the 
 lessons of ci\'ilization, which should prepare them for free- 
 dom ; ours was the task to discipline their valor, and train 
 then- untaught intelligence. Once landed in the country, it 
 was to our standard they were to rally ; from us were to go 
 forth the orders of every movement and measure ; to us 
 this new land was to be an Eldorado. Madgett significantly 
 hinted everywhere at the unbounded gratitude of Irishmen, 
 and more than hinted at the future fate of certain confiscated 
 estates. One phrase, ostentatiously set forth in capitals, 
 asserted that the best general of the French Republic could 
 not be anywhere employed with so much reputation and 
 profit. There was, then, everything to stimulate the soldier 
 in such an enterprise ; honor, fame, glory, and rich rewards 
 were all among the prizes. 
 
 It was when deep in the midst of these studies, poring 
 over maps and reports, taxing my memory with hard names, 
 
166 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 aud getting off by heart dates, distances, and numbers, that 
 the order came for me to repair at once to Paris, where the 
 volunteers of the expedition were to assemble. My rank of 
 sergeant had been confirmed, and in this capacity, as sous- 
 officier, I was ordered to report myself to General Kilmaine, 
 the adjutant-general of the expedition, then living in the 
 Rue Chantereine. I was also given the address of a certain 
 Lestaing (Rue Tarbout) a tailor, from whom, on producing 
 a certificate, I was to obtain my new uniform. 
 
 Full as I was of the whole theme, thinking of the expedi- 
 tion by day aud dreaming of it by night, I was still little 
 prepared for the enthusiasm it was at that very moment ex- 
 citing in every society of the capital. For some time previous 
 a great number of Irish emigrants had made Paris theu- 
 residence ; some were men of good position and ample for- 
 tune ; some were individuals of considerable ability and 
 intelligence ; all were enthusiastic and ardent in tempera- 
 ment, devotedly attached to then- country, hearty haters of 
 England, and proportionally attached to all that was French. 
 These sentiments, coupled with a certain ease of manner, 
 and a faculty of adaptation so peculiarly Irish, made them 
 general favorites in society ; and long before the Irish 
 question had found any favor with the public, its national 
 supporters had won over the hearts and good wishes of all 
 Paris to the cause. 
 
 Well pleased, theu, as I was with mj^ handsome uniform 
 of green aud gold, my small chapeau, with its plume of cock's 
 feathers, aud the embroidered shamrock on my collar, I was 
 not a little struck by the excitement my first appearance in 
 the street created. Accustomed to see a hundred strange 
 military costumes, — the greater number, I own, more singu- 
 lar than tasteful, — the Parisians, I concluded, would scarcely 
 notice mine in the crowd. Not so, however ; the print-shops 
 had already given the impulse to the admu-ation, and the 
 "Irish Volunteer of the Guard" was to be seen in every 
 window, in all the " glory of his bravery." The heroic 
 character of the expedition, too, was typified by a great 
 variety of scenes, in which the artist's imagination had all 
 the credit. In one picture the " jeune Irlandais " was plant- 
 ing a national flag of very capacious dimensions on the sum- 
 
"AN OLD GENERAL OF THE IRISH BRIGADE." 167 
 
 mit of his native mountaius ; here he was storming ' ' Le 
 Chateau de Dublin," a most formidable fortress, perched on 
 a rock above the sea ; here he was crowning the heights of 
 "La Citadelle de Cork," a very Gibraltar in strength; or 
 he was haranguing the native chieftains, a highly picturesque 
 group, — a cross between a knight crusader and a South-sea 
 islander. 
 
 My appearance, therefore, in the streets was the signal for 
 general notice and admiration, and more than one compli- 
 ment was uttered, purposely loud enough to reach me, on 
 the elegance and style of my equipment. In the pleasant 
 flurry of spirits excited by this flattery, I arrived at the 
 general's quarters in the Rue Chantereine. It was consider- 
 ably before the time of his usual receptions, but the glitter 
 of my epaulettes and the air of assurance I had assumed so 
 far imposed upon the old servant who acted as valet that he 
 at once introduced me into a small saloon, and after a brief 
 pause presented me to the general, who was reclining on a 
 sofa at his breakfast. Although far advanced in years, and 
 evidently broken by bad health, General Kilmaine stiU pre- 
 served traces of great personal advantages, while his manner 
 exhibited all that polished ease and courtesy which was said 
 to be peculiar to the Irish gentleman of the French court. 
 Addressing me in English, he invited me to join his meal ; 
 and on my declining, as having already breakfasted, he said, 
 ' ' I perceive from your name we are countrymen, and as your 
 uniform tells me the service in which you are engaged, we 
 may speak with entire confidence. Tell me then, frankly, 
 all that you know of the actual condition of Ireland." 
 
 Conceiving that this question applied to the result of my 
 late studies, and was meant to elicit the amount of my in- 
 formation, I at once began a recital of what I had learned 
 from the books and reports I had been reading. My statis- 
 tics were perfect, — they had been gotten off by heart ; my 
 sympathies were, for the same reason, most eloquent ; my 
 indignation was boundless on the wrongs I deplored, and in 
 fact in the fifteen minutes during which he permitted me to 
 declaim without interruption I had gone through the whole 
 '' cause of Ireland," from Henry II. to George III. 
 
 "You have been reading Mr. Madgett, I perceive," said 
 
168 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 he, with a smile; "but I would rather hear something of 
 your own actual experience. Tell me, therefore, in what 
 condition are the people at this moment, as regards 
 poverty ? " 
 
 " I have never been in Ireland, general," said I, not with- 
 out some shame at the avowal coming so soon after my 
 eloquent exhortation. 
 
 "Ah, I perceive," said he, blandly, " of Irish origin, and 
 a relative probably of that very distinguished soldier. Count 
 Maurice de Tiernay, who served in the Garde-du-Corps." 
 
 "His only son, general," said I, blushing with eagerness 
 and pleasure at the praise of my father. 
 
 "Indeed!" said he, smiling courteously, and seeming to 
 meditate on my words. " There was not a better nor a braver 
 sabre in the corps than your father ; a very few more of such 
 men might have saved the monarchy ; as it was, they digni- 
 fied its fall. And to whose guidance and care did you owe 
 your early training, for I see you have not been neglected ? " 
 
 A few words told him the principal events of m}^ early 
 years, to which he listened with deep attention. At length 
 he said, "And now you are about to devote youi* acquu-e- 
 ments and energy to this new expedition ? " 
 
 "All, general! Everything that I have is too little for 
 such a cause." 
 
 "You say truly, boy," said he, warmly; "would that so 
 good a cause had better leaders ! I mean," added he, hurriedly, 
 ' ' wiser ones, — men more conversant with the actual state of 
 events, more fit to cope with the great difficulties before 
 them, more ready to take advantage of circumstances whose 
 outward meaning will often prove deceptive ; in fact. Irish- 
 men of character and capacity, tried soldiers and good 
 patriots. Well, well, let us hope the best. In whose division 
 are you ? " 
 
 " I have not yet heard, sir. I have presented myself here 
 to-day to receive your orders." 
 
 "There again is another instance of their incapacity," 
 cried he, passionately. "Why, boy, I have no command, 
 nor any function. I did accept office under General Hoche, 
 but he is not to lead the present expedition." 
 
 "And who is, sir?" 
 
"AN OLD GENERAL OF THE IRISH BRIGADE." 169 
 
 " I cauuot tell you. A week ago they talked of Grouchy, 
 then of Hardy ; yesterday it was Humbert ; to-day it may 
 be Bouaparte, and to-morrow yourself! Ay, Tiernay, this 
 great and good cause has its national fatality attached to it, 
 and is so wrapped up in low intrigue and falsehood that every 
 minister becomes in turn disgusted with the treachery and 
 mendacity he meets with, and bequeaths the question to 
 some official underling, meet partisan for the mock patriot 
 he treats with." 
 
 "But the expedition will sail, general?" asked I, sadly 
 discomfited by this tone of despondency. 
 
 He made me no answer, but sat for some time absorbed 
 in his own thoughts. At last he looked up, and said, " You 
 ought to be in the army of Italy, boy ; the great teacher of 
 war is there." 
 
 " I know it, sir, but my whole heart is in this struggle. I 
 feel that Ireland has a claim on all who derived even a name 
 from her soil. Do you not believe that the expedition will 
 sail? " 
 
 Again he was silent and thoughtful. 
 
 '• Mr. Madgett would say yes," said he scornfully, " though, 
 certes, he would not volunteer to bear it company." 
 
 "Colonel Cherin, general!" said the valet, as he flung 
 open the door for a young officer in a staff uniform. I arose 
 at once to withdraw, but the general motioned to me to wait 
 in an adjoining room, as he desired to speak with me again. 
 
 Scarcely five minutes had elapsed when I was summoned 
 once more before him. 
 
 " You have come at a most opportune moment, Tiernay," 
 said he; "Colonel Cherin informs me that an expedition is 
 ready to sail from Rochelle at the first favorable wind. Gen- 
 eral Humbert has the command ; and if you are disposed to 
 join him I will give you a letter of presentation." 
 
 Of course I did not hesitate in accepting the offer; and 
 while the general drew over his desk to write the letter, I 
 withdrew towards the window to converse with Colonel 
 Cherin. 
 
 " You might have waited long enough," said he, laughing, 
 " if the affair had been in other hands than Humbert's. The 
 delays and discussions of the official people, the difficulty of 
 
170 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 anything like agreement, the want of money, and fifty other 
 causes would have detained the fleet till the English got 
 scent of the whole. But Humbert has taken the short road 
 in the matter. He only arrived at La Rochelle five days 
 ago, and now he is ready to weigh anchor." 
 
 ' ' And in what way has he accomplished this ? " asked I, 
 in some curiosity. 
 
 " By a method," replied he, laughing again, "which is 
 usually reserved for an enemy's country. Growing weary of 
 a correspondence with the minister, which seemed to make 
 little progress, and urged on by the enthusiastic stories of 
 the Irish refugees, he resolved to wait no longer ; and so he 
 has called on the merchants and magistrates to advance him 
 a sum on military requisition, together with such stores and 
 necessaries as he stands in need of." 
 
 " And they have complied? " asked I. 
 
 " Parhleu ! that have they. In the first place, they had no 
 other choice ; and in the second, they are but too happy to 
 get rid of him and his ' Legion Noir,' as they are called, so 
 cheaply. A thousand louis and a thousand muskets would 
 not pay for the damage of these vagabonds each night they 
 spent in the town." 
 
 I confess that this description did not tend to exalt the 
 enthusiasm I had conceived for the expedition ; but it was 
 too late for hesitation, too late for even a doubt. Go for- 
 ward I should, whatever might come of it. And now the 
 general had finished his letter, which, having sealed and 
 addressed, he gave into my hand, saying: " This will very 
 probably obtain you promotion, if not at once, at least on 
 the first vacancy. Good-by, my lad ; there may be hard 
 knocks going where you will be, but I 'm certain you '11 not 
 disgrace the good name you bear, nor the true cause for which 
 you are fighting. I would that I had youth and strength to 
 stand beside you in the struggle ! Good-by." 
 
 He shook me affectionately by both hands ; the colonel, 
 too, bade me adieu not less cordially ; and I took my leave 
 with a heart overflowing with gratitude and delight. 
 
CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 LA ROCHELLE. 
 
 La Rochelle is a quiet little town at the bottom of a small 
 bay, the mouth of which is almost closed up by two islands. 
 There is a sleepy, peaceful air about the place ; a sort of 
 drowsy languor pervades everything and everybody about it, 
 that tells of a town whose days of busy prosperity have long 
 since passed by, and which is dragging out life like some 
 retired tradesman, — too poor for splendor, but rich enough 
 to be idle. A long avenue of lime-trees incloses the harbor ; 
 and here the merchants conduct their bargains, while their 
 wives, seated beneath the shade, discuss the gossip of the 
 place over their work. All is patriarchal and primitive as 
 Holland itself, the very courtesies of life exhibiting that 
 ponderous stateliness which insensibly reminds one of the 
 land of dykes and broad breeches. It is the least " French " 
 of any town I have ever seen in France ; none of that light 
 merriment, that gay volatility of voice and air, which form 
 the usual atmosphere of a French town. All is still, orderly, 
 and sombre ; and yet on the night in which — something 
 more than fifty years back — I first entered it, a ver}^ differ- 
 ent scene was presented to my eyes. 
 
 It was about ten o'clock, and by a moon nearly full, that 
 the diligence rattled along the covered ways of the old for- 
 tress, and crossing many a moat and drawbridge, the scenes 
 of a once glorious struggle, entered the narrow streets, trav- 
 ersed a wide place, and drew up within the ample portals of 
 La Poste. 
 
 Before I could remove the wide capote which I wore, the 
 waiter ushered me into a large salon where a party of about 
 forty persons were seated at supper. With a few exceptions 
 
172 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 they were all military officers, and sous-officiers of the expe- 
 dition, whose noisy gayety and boisterous mirth sufficiently 
 attested that the entertainment had begun a considerable 
 time before. 
 
 A profusion of bottles, some empty, others in the way to 
 become so, covered the table, amidst which lay the fragments 
 of a common table-d'hote supper, — large dishes of cigars 
 and basins of tobacco figuring beside the omelettes and the 
 salad. 
 
 The noise, the crash, the heat, the smoke, and the con- 
 fusion — the clinking of glasses, the singing, and the speech- 
 making — made a scene of such turmoil and uproar that I 
 would gladly have retired to some quieter atmosphere, when 
 suddenly an accidental glimpse of my uniform caught some 
 eyes among the revellers, and a shout was raised of " Halloa, 
 comrades ! here 's one of the ' Guides ' among us ! " and at 
 once the whole assembly rose up to greet me. For full 
 ten minutes I had to submit to a series of salutations, which 
 led to every form, from hand-shaking and embracing to 
 kissing ; while, perfectly unconscious of any cause for my 
 popularity, I went through the ceremonies like one in a 
 dream. 
 
 ' ' AVhere 's Kilmaine ? " " What of Hardy ? " "Is Grouchy 
 coming? " " Can the Brest fleet sail? " " How many line-of- 
 battle ships have they ? " " What 's the artillery force ? " 
 "Have you brought any money?" This last question, the 
 most frequent of all, was suddenly poured in upon me, and 
 with so fortunate a degree of rapidity that I had no time for a 
 reply, had I even the means of making one. 
 
 " Let the lad have a seat and a glass of wine before he sub- 
 mits to this interrogatory," said a fine, jolly-looking old 
 chef-d'escadron at the head of the table, while he made a place 
 for me at his side. " Now tell us, boy, what number of the 
 'Guides' are to be of our party?" 
 
 I looked a little blank at the question, for in truth I had 
 not heard of the corps before, nor was I aware that it was 
 their uniform I was then wearing. 
 
 " Come, come, be frank with us, lad," said he ; "we are all 
 comrades here. Confound secrecy, say I ! " 
 
 " Ay, ay," cried the whole assembly together, "confound 
 
LA ROCHELLE. 173 
 
 secrecy ! We are not bandits nor highwaymen ; we have no 
 need of concealment." 
 
 "I'll be as frank as you can wish, comrades," said I; 
 " and if I lose some importance in your eyes by owning that 
 I am not the master of a single state secret, I prefer to tell 
 you so, to attempting any unworthy disguise. I come here, 
 by orders from General Kilmaine, to join your expedition ; 
 and except this letter for General Humbert, I have no 
 claim to any consideration whatever." 
 
 The old chef took the letter from my hands and ex- 
 amined the seal and superscription carefully, and then 
 passed the document down the table for the satisfaction of 
 the rest. 
 
 While I continued to watch with anxious eyes the letter 
 on which so much of my own fate depended, a low whisper- 
 ing conversation went on at my side, at the end of which the 
 chef said, — 
 
 "It's more than likely, lad, that your regiment is not 
 coming ; but our general is not to be balked for that. Go 
 he will ; and let the Government look to themselves if he is 
 not supported ! At all events you had" better see General 
 Hum.bert at once ; there 's no saying what that despatch may 
 contain. Santerre, conduct him upstairs." 
 
 A smart young fellow arose at the bidding, and beckoned 
 me to follow him. 
 
 It was not without difficulty that we forced our way up- 
 stairs, down which porters and sailors and soldiers were 
 now carrying a number of heavy trunks and packing-cases. 
 At last we gained an anteroom, where confusion seemed at 
 its highest, crowded as it was by soldiers, the greater 
 number of them intoxicated, and all in a state of riotous 
 and insolent insubordination. Amongst these were a 
 number of the townspeople, eager to prefer complaints for 
 outrage and robbery, but whose subdued voices were drowned 
 amid the clamor of their oppressors. Meanwhile, clerks 
 were writing away receipts for stolen and pillaged articles, 
 and which, signed with the name of the general, were 
 grasped at with eager avidity. Even personal injuries 
 were requited in the same cheap fashion, orders on the 
 national treasury being freely issued for damaged noses 
 
174 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 and smashed heads, and gratefully received by the confiding 
 populace. 
 
 ' ' If the wind draws a little more to the southward before 
 morning, we '11 pay our debts with the top-sail sheet ; and it 
 will be somewhat shorter, and to the full as honest," said a 
 man in a naval uniform. 
 
 "Where's the officer of the ' Regiment des Guides'?" 
 cried a soldier from the door at the farther end of the 
 room ; and before I had time to think over the designation 
 of rank given me, I was hurried into the general's 
 presence. 
 
 General Humbert, whose age might have been thirty-eight 
 or forty, was a tall, well-built, but somewhat over-corpulent 
 man ; his features frank and manly, but with a dash of 
 coarseness in their expression, particularly about the mouth ; 
 a sabre-cut, which had divided the upper lip, and whose 
 cicatrix was then seen through his mustache, heightening 
 the effect of his sinister look. His carriage was singularly 
 erect and soldier-like, but all his gestures betrayed the habits 
 of one who had risen from the ranks, and was not unwilling 
 to revive the recollection. 
 
 He was parading the room from end to end when I en- 
 tered, stopping occasionally to look out from an open window 
 upon the baj^, where by the clear moonlight might be seen 
 the ships of the fleet at anchor. Two officers of his staff 
 were writing busily at a table, whence the materials of a 
 supper had not yet been removed. They did not look up as 
 I came forward, nor did he notice me in any way for several 
 minutes. Suddenly he turned towards me, and snatching 
 the letter I held in my hand, proceeded to read it. A 
 burst of coarse laughter broke from him as he perused the 
 lines ; and then throwing down the paper on the table, he 
 cried out, — 
 
 " So^ much for Kilmaine's contingent ! I asked for a com- 
 pany of engineers and a squadron of ' Guides,' and they 
 send me a boy from the cavalry-school of Saumur. I tell them 
 that I want some fellows conversant with the language and 
 the people, able to treat with the peasantry, and acquainted 
 with their habits, and here I have got a raw youth whose 
 highest acquirements in all likelihood is to daub a map 
 
LA ROCHELLE. 175 
 
 with water-colors, or take fortifications with a pair of com- 
 passes ! I wish I had some of these learned gentlemen in the 
 trenches for a few hours. Parhleu! I think I could teach 
 them something they don't learn from Citizen Carnot. 
 Well, sir," said he, turning abruptly towards me, "how 
 many squadrons of the ' Guides ' are completed ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell, General," was my timid answer. 
 
 " Where are they stationed? " 
 
 " Of that also I am ignorant, sir." 
 
 ''^ Peste!" cried he, stamping his foot, passionately; then 
 suddenly checking his anger, he asked, " How many are 
 coming to join this expedition? Is there a regiment, a 
 division, a troop? Can you tell me with certainty that a 
 sergeant's-guard is on the way hither ? " 
 
 " I cannot, sii*; I know nothing whatever about the regi- 
 ment in question." 
 
 " You have never seen it? " cried he, vehemently. 
 
 " Never, sir." 
 
 " This exceeds all belief," exclaimed he, with a crash of his 
 closed fist upon the table. "Three weeks' letter-writing! 
 Estafettes, orderlies, and special couriers to no end ! And 
 here we have an unfledged cur from a cavalry institute, when 
 I asked for a strong reinforcement. Then what brought you 
 here, boy?" 
 
 " To join your expedition, General." 
 
 "Have they told you it was a holiday-party that we 
 had planned? Did they say it was a junketting we were 
 bent upon ? " 
 
 " If they had, sir, I would not have come." 
 
 "The greater fool j^ou, then, that's all," cried he, laugh- 
 ing; "when I was your age I'd not have hesitated twice 
 between a merry-making and a bayonet-charge." 
 
 While he was thus speaking, he never ceased to sign his 
 name to every paper placed before him by one or other of 
 the secretaries. 
 
 "No, parhleu!" he went on, " Xa maitresse before the 
 mitraiUe any day for me. But what's all this, Girard? 
 Here I'm issuing orders upon the national treasury for 
 hundreds of thousands without let or compunction." 
 
 The aide-de-camp whispered a word or two in a low tone. 
 
176 MAURICE TTERXAY. 
 
 " I know it, lad ; I know it well," said the general, laugh- 
 ing heartily ; "I only pray that all our requisitions may be 
 as easily obtained in future. TTell, Monsieur le Guide, what 
 are we to do with you?" 
 
 "Not refuse me, I hope, General," said I, diffidently. 
 
 ' ' Not refuse you, certainly ; but in what capacity to take 
 you. lad, that's the question. If you had served — if you 
 had even walked a campaign — " 
 
 " So I have, General, — this will show you where I have 
 been ; " and I handed him the livret which every soldier 
 caiTies of his conduct and career. 
 
 He took the book, and casting his eyes hastily over it, 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ' ' Why, what 's this, lad ? You 've been at Kehl. at Emmen- 
 dingen, at Rorsbach. at Huyningen, through all that Black 
 Forest affair with Moreau! You have seen smoke, then. 
 Ay ! I see honorable mention of you besides, for readiness 
 in the field and zeal during action. What ! more brandy, 
 Girard? Why our Irish friends must have been exceedingly 
 thirsty. I 've given them credit for something like ten thou- 
 sand ' velts ' already ! No matter, the poor fellows may have 
 to put up with short rations for all this yet, and there goes 
 my signature once more. What does that blue light mean, 
 Girard?" said he, pointing to a bright blue star that shone 
 from a mast of one of the ships of war. 
 
 " That is the signal. General, that the embarkation of the 
 artillery is complete." 
 
 ^'' Parbleuf" said he with a laugh, "it need not have 
 taken long; they've given in two batteries of eights, and 
 one of them has not a gun fit for service. There goes a 
 rocket, now. Isn't that the signal to heave short on the 
 anchors? Y^es, to be sure; and now it is answered by the 
 other ! Ha ! lads, this does look like business at last ! " 
 
 The door opened as he spoke, and a naval oflJcer entered. 
 
 "The wind is drawing round to the south. General; we 
 can weigh with the ebb if you wish it." 
 
 "Wish it! if I wish it! Y^s, with my whole heart and 
 soul I do ! I am just as sick of La Rochelle as is La Rochelle 
 of me. The salute that announces our departure will be a 
 feu-de-joie to both of us ! Ay, sir, tell your captain that I 
 
LA ROCHELLE. 177 
 
 need no further notice than that he is ready. Girard, see to 
 it that the marauders are sent on board in irons. The 
 fellows must learn at once that discipline begins when we 
 trip our anchors. As for you," said he, turning to me, " you 
 shall act upon my staff with provisional rank as sous-lieu- 
 tenant: time will show if the grade should be confirmed. 
 And now hasten down to the quay, and put yourself under 
 Colonel Serasin's orders." 
 
 Colonel Serasin, the second in command, was, in many 
 respects, the very opposite of Humbert. Sharp, petulant, 
 and irascible, he seemed quite to overlook the fact that in an 
 expedition which was little better than a foray there must 
 necessarily be a great relaxation of the rules of discipline, 
 and many irregularities at least winked at which in stricter 
 seasons would call for punishment. The consequence was 
 that a large proportion of our force went on board under 
 arrest, and many actually in irons. The Irish were, without 
 a single exception, all drunk ; and the English soldiers, 
 who had procured their liberation from imprisonment on 
 condition of joining the expedition, had made sufficiently 
 free with the brandy-bottle to forget their new alliance, and 
 vent then- hatred of France and Frenchmen in expres- 
 sions whose only alleviation was that they were nearly 
 unintelligible. 
 
 Such a scene of uproar, discord, and insubordination never 
 was seen ! The relative conditions of guard and prisoner 
 elicited national animosities that were scarcely even dormant, 
 and many a bloody encounter took place between those whose 
 instinct was too powerful to feel themselves anything but 
 enemies. A cry, too, was raised that it was meant to betray 
 the whole expedition to the English, whose fleet, it was as- 
 serted, had been seen off Oleron that morning ; and although 
 there was not even the shadow of a foundation for the belief, 
 it served to increase the alarm and confusion. Whether 
 originating or not with the Irish, I cannot say, but certainly 
 they took advantage of it to avoid embarking ; and now 
 began a schism which threatened to wreck the whole expedi- 
 tion, even in the harbor. 
 
 The Irish, as indifferent to the call of discipline as they 
 were ignorant of French, refused to obey orders save from 
 
 12 
 
178 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 officers of their own country ; and although Serasin ordered 
 two companies to "load with ball and fire low," the similar 
 note for preparation from the insurgents induced him to 
 rescind the command and try a compromise. In this crisis 
 I was sent by Serasin to fetch what was called the ' ' Com- 
 mittee," the three Irish deputies who accompanied the force. 
 They had already gone aboard of the " Dedalus," little fore- 
 seeing the difficulties that were to arise on shore. 
 
 Seated in a small cabin next the wardroom I found these 
 three gentlemen, whose names were Tone, Teeling, and 
 Sullivan. Their attitudes were gloomy and despondent, and 
 their looks anything but encouraging as I entered. A paper 
 on which a few words had been scrawled, and signed with 
 their three names underneath, lay before them, and on this 
 their eyes were bent with a sad and deep meaning. I knew 
 not then what it meant ; but I af tei-wards learned that it was 
 a compact formerly entered into and drawn up, that if by the 
 chance of war they should fall into the enemy's hands, they 
 would anticipate their fate by suicide, but leave to the Eng- 
 lish government all the ignominy and disgrace of their death. 
 
 They seemed scarcely to notice me as I came forward, and 
 even when I delivered my message they heard it with a half 
 indifference. 
 
 "What do you want us to do, sir?" said Teeling, the 
 eldest of the party. " We hold no command in the service. 
 It was against our advice and counsel that you accepted 
 these volunteers at all. We have no influence over them." 
 
 " Not the slightest," broke in Tone. " These fellows are 
 bad soldiers and worse Irishmen. The expedition will do 
 better without them." 
 
 "And they better without the expedition," muttered 
 Sullivan, dryly. 
 
 " But you will come, gentlemen, and speak to them," said 
 I. ' ' You can at least assure them that their suspicions are 
 unfounded." 
 
 "Very true, sir," replied Sullivan, "we can do so; but 
 with what success? No, no! If you can't maintain dis- 
 cipline here on your own soil, you'll make a bad hand of 
 doing it when you have your foot on Irish ground. And, 
 after all, I for one am not surprised at the report gaining 
 credence." 
 
LA ROCHELLE. 179 
 
 "How so, sir?" asked I, indignantly. 
 
 " Simply that when a promise of fifteen thousand men 
 dwindles down to a force of eight hundred ; when a hundred 
 thousand stand of arms come to be represented by a couple 
 of thousand ; when an expedition, pledged by a government, 
 has fallen down to a marauding party ; when Hoche or 
 Kleber — But never mind ; I always swore that if you sent 
 but a corporal's guard that I'd go with them." 
 
 A musket shot here was heard, followed by a sharp volley 
 and a cheer, and in an agony of anxiety I rushed to the 
 deck. Although above half a mile from the shore, we could 
 see the movement of troops hither and thither, and hear the 
 loud words of command. Whatever the struggle, it was 
 over in a moment, and now we saw the troops descending 
 the steps to the boats. With an inconceivable speed the 
 men fell into their places, and, urged on by the long sweeps, 
 the heavy launches swept across the calm water of the bay. 
 
 If a cautious reserve prevented any open questioning as 
 to the late affray, the second boat which came alongside 
 revealed some of its terrible consequences. Seven wounded 
 soldiers were assisted up the side by their comrades, and in 
 total silence conveyed to then- station between decks. 
 
 " A bad augury this ! " muttered Sullivan, as his eye fol- 
 lowed them. "They might as well have left that work for 
 the English ! " 
 
 A swift six-oar boat, with the tricolor flag floating from a 
 flag-staff at her stern, now skimmed along toward us ; and 
 as she came nearer we could recognize the uniforms of the 
 officers of Humbert's staff, while the burly figure of the gen- 
 eral himself was soon distinguishable in the midst of them. 
 
 As he stepped up the ladder, not a trace of displeasure 
 could be seen on his broad bold features. Greeting the 
 assembled officers with a smile, he asked how the wind was. 
 
 "All fair, and freshening at every moment," was the 
 answer. 
 
 "May it continue!" cried he, fervently. "Welcome a 
 huiTicane, if it only waft us westward ! " 
 
 The foresail filled out as he spoke, the heavy ship heaved 
 over to the wind, and we began our voyage. 
 
CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 *' THE BAY OF RATHFRAN." 
 
 Our voyage was very uneventful, but not without anxiety ; 
 since, to avoid the English cruisers and the Channel fleet, 
 we were obliged to hold a southerly course for several days, 
 making a great cii'cuit before we could venture to bear up 
 for the place of our destination. The weather alternated 
 between light winds and a dead calm, which usually came 
 on every day at noon, and lasted till about sunset. As to 
 me, there was an unceasing novelty in everything about a 
 ship ; her mechanism, her discipline, her progress, furnished 
 abundant occupation for all my thoughts, and I never 
 wearied of acquiring knowledge of a theme so deeply inter- 
 esting. My intercourse with the naval officers, too, im- 
 pressed me strongly in their favor in comparison with their 
 comrades of the land service. In the former case, all was 
 zeal, acti\dty, and watchfulness. The look-out never slum- 
 bered at his post ; and an unceasing anxiety to promote the 
 success of the expedition manifested itself in all their words 
 and actions. This, of course, was all to be expected in the 
 discharge of the duties peculiarly their own ; but I also 
 looked for something which should denote preparation and 
 forethought in the others, yet nothing of the kind was to be 
 seen. The expedition was never discussed even as table- 
 talk ; and for anything that fell from the party in conversa- 
 tion, it would have been impossible to say if our destination 
 were China or Ireland. Not a book nor a map, not a pam- 
 phlet nor a paper that bore upon the country whose destinies 
 were about to be committed to us, ever appeared on the 
 tables. A vague and listless doubt how long the voyage 
 might last was the extent of interest any one condescended 
 to exhibit; but as to what was to follow after, what new 
 
"THE BAY OF RATHFRAN." 181 
 
 chapter of events should open when this first had closed, 
 none vouchsafed to inquire. 
 
 Even to this horn* I am puzzled whether to attribute this 
 strange conduct to the careless levity of national character, 
 or to a studied and well "got up" affectation. In all 
 probability both influences were at work ; while a thkd not 
 less powerful, assisted them : this was the gross ignorance 
 and shameless falsehood of some of the Irish leaders of the 
 expedition, whose boastful and absurd histories ended by 
 disgusting every one. Among the projects discussed at the 
 time, I well remember one which was often gravely talked 
 over, and the utter absurdity of which certainly struck none 
 amongst us. This was no less than the intention of demand- 
 ing the West India Islands from England as an indemnity 
 for the past woes and bygone misgovernment of Ireland. 
 If this seem barely credible now, I can only repeat my faith- 
 ful assurance of the fact; and I believe that some of the 
 memoirs of the time will confirm my assertion. 
 
 The French officers listened to these and similar specula- 
 tions with utter indifference ; probably to many of them the 
 geographical question was a difficulty that stopped any 
 further inquiry, while others felt no further interest than 
 what a campaign promised. All the enthusiastic narratives, 
 then, of high rewards and splendid trophies that awaited us 
 fell upon inattentive ears, and at last the word Ireland 
 ceased to be heard amongst us. Play of various kinds 
 occupied us when not engaged on duty. There was little 
 discipline maintained on board, and none of that strictness 
 which is the habitual rule of a ship-of-war. The lights were 
 suffered to burn during the greater part of the night in the 
 cabins ; gambling went on usually till daybreak ; and the 
 quarter-deck, that most reverential of spots to every sailor- 
 mind, was often covered by lounging groups, who smoked, 
 chatted, or played at chess, in all the cool apathy of men 
 indifferent to its claim for respect. 
 
 Now and then, the appearance of a strange sail afar off, 
 or some dim object in the horizon, would create a momen- 
 tary degree of excitement and anxiety ; but when the " look- 
 out" from the mast-head had proclaimed her a "schooner 
 from Brest" or a "Spanish fruit- vessel," the sense of 
 
182 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 danger passed away at once, and none ever reverted to the 
 subject. 
 
 With General Humbert I usually j^assed the greater part 
 of each forenoon, — a distinction, I must confess, I owed to 
 my skill as a chess-player, a game of which he was par- 
 ticularly fond, and in which I had attained no small pro- 
 ficiency. I was too young and too unpractised in the world 
 to make my skill subordinate to my chief's, and beat him at 
 every game with as little compunction as though he were 
 only my equal ; till at last, vexed at his want of success, and 
 tired of a contest that offered no vicissitude of fortune, he 
 would frequently cease playing to chat over the events of 
 the time and the chances of the expedition. 
 
 It was with no slight mixtui'e of surprise and dismay 
 that I now detected his utter despair of all success, and 
 that he regarded the whole as a complete forlorn-hope. He 
 had merely taken the command to involve the French 
 government in the cause, and so far compromise the national 
 character that all retreat would be impossible. " We shall 
 be all cut to pieces or taken prisoners the day after we 
 land," was his constant exclamation; "and then, but not 
 till then, will they think seriously in France of a suitable 
 expedition." There was no heroism, still less was there any 
 affectation of recklessness, in this avowal. By natm-e he 
 was a rough, easy, good-tempered fellow, who liked his 
 profession less for its rewards than for its changeful scenes 
 and mo\ing incidents, — his one predominating feeling being 
 that France should give rule to the whole world, and the 
 principles of her Revolution be everj^'here pre-eminent. To 
 promote this consummation the loss of an army was of little 
 moment. Let the cause but triumph in the end, and the 
 cost was not worth fretting about. 
 
 Next to this sentiment was his hatred of England and all 
 that was English. Treachery, falsehood, pride, avarice, 
 grasping covetousness, and unscrupulous aggression were 
 the characteristics by which he described the nation ; and he 
 made the little knowledge he had gleaned from newspapers 
 and intercourse so subsei-vient to this theory, that I was an 
 easy convert to his opinion ; so that, ere long, my compas- 
 sion for the wrongs of Ireland was associated with the most 
 profound hatred of her oppressors. 
 
"THE BAY OF RATHFRAN." 183 
 
 To be sure, I should have liked the notiou that we our- 
 selves were to have some more active share iu the liberation 
 of Ii'ishmen than the mere act of heralding another and 
 more successful expedition ; but even in this thought there 
 was romantic self-devotion, not unpleasing to the mind of 
 a boy ; but, strange enough, I was the only one who felt 
 it. 
 
 The first sight of land to one on sea is always an event of 
 uncommon interest ; but how greatly increased is the feeling 
 when that land is to be the scene of a perilous exploit, — the 
 cradle of his ambition, or perhaps his grave ! All my 
 speculations about the expedition, all my day-dreams of 
 success or my anxious hours of dark forebodings, never 
 brought the matter so palpably before me as the dim outline 
 of a distant headland, which, I was told, was part of the 
 Irish coast. 
 
 This was on the 8th of August, but on the following day 
 we stood farther out to sea again, and saw no more of it. 
 The tkree succeeding ones we continued to beat up slowly 
 to the northward against a head wind and a heavy sea ; but 
 on the evening of the 21st the sun went down in mel- 
 low splendor, and a light air from the south springing 
 up, the sailors pronounced a most favorable change of 
 weather, — a prophecy that a starry night and a calm sea 
 soon confirmed. 
 
 The morning of the 22d broke splendidly ; a gentle breeze 
 from the southwest slightly curled the blue waves, and filled 
 the canvas of the three frigates, as in close order they sailed 
 along under the tall cliffs of Ireland. We were about three 
 miles from the shore, on which now every telescope and glass 
 was eagerl}^ directed. As the light and fleeting clouds of 
 early morning passed away we could descry the outlines of 
 the bold coast, indented with many a bay and creek, while 
 rocky promontories and grassy slopes succeeded each other 
 in endless variety of contrast. Towns, or even \illages, we 
 could see none ; a few small wretched-looking hovels were 
 dotted over the hills, and here and there a thin wreath of 
 blue smoke bespoke habitation, but save these signs there 
 was an air of loneliness and solitude which increased the 
 solemn feelings of the scene. 
 
184 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 All these objects of interest, however, soon gave way 
 before another, to the contemplation of which every eye was 
 turned. This was a small fishing-boat, which, with a low 
 mast and ragged piece of canvas, was seen standing boldly 
 out for us ; a red handkerchief was fastened to a stick in the 
 stern, as if for a signal ; and on our shortening sail, to admit 
 of her overtaking us, the ensign was lowered as though in 
 acknowledgment of our meaning. 
 
 The boat was soon alongside ; and we now perceived that 
 her crew consisted of a man and a boy, the former of whom, 
 a powerfully-built, loose fellow of about five and forty, 
 dressed in a light-blue frieze jacket and trousers, adroitly 
 caught at the cast of rope thrown out to him, and having 
 made fast his skiff, clambered up the ship's side at once, 
 gayly, as though he were an old friend coming to welcome us. 
 
 " Is he a pilot ? " asked the oflScer of the watch, address- 
 ing one of the Irish officers. 
 
 " No ; he 's only a fisherman, but he knows the coast per- 
 fectly, and says there is deep water within twenty fathoms 
 of the shore." 
 
 An animated conversation in Irish now ensued between 
 the peasant and Captain Madgett, during which a wondering 
 and somewhat impatient group stood around, speedily in- 
 creased by the presence of General Humbert himself and his 
 staff. 
 
 " He tells me. General," said Madgett, " that we are in 
 the Bay of Killala, — a good and safe anchorage, and, during 
 the southerly winds, the best on all the coast." 
 
 "What news has he from the shore?" asked Humbert, 
 sharply, as if the care of the ship was a very secondary 
 consideration. 
 
 "They have been expecting us with the greatest impa- 
 tience. General ; he says the most intense anxiety for our 
 coming is abroad." 
 
 " What of the people themselves? Where are the national 
 forces? Have they any headquarters near this? Eh, what 
 says he? What is that? Why does he laugh?" asked 
 Humbert, in impatient rapidity, as he watched the changes 
 in the peasant's face. 
 
 " He was laughing at the strange sound of a foreign Ian- 
 
"THE BAY OF RATKFRAN." 185 
 
 guage, so odd and singular to his ears," said Madgett; but 
 for all his readiness, a slight flushing of the cheek showed 
 that he was ill at ease. 
 
 " Well, but what of the Irish forces? Where are they? " 
 
 For some minutes the dialogue continued in an animated 
 strain between the two, — the vehement tone and gestures of 
 each bespeaking what sounded at least like altercation ; and 
 Madgett at last turned half angrily away, saying, "The 
 fellow is too ignorant ; he actually knows nothing of what is 
 passing before his eyes." 
 
 " Is there no one else on board can speak this baragouin- 
 age ? " cried Humbert, in auger. 
 
 " Yes, General, I can Interrogate him," cried a young lad 
 named Conolly, who had only joined us on the day before we 
 sailed. 
 
 And now as the youth addressed the fisherman in a few 
 rapid sentences, the other answered as quickly, making a 
 gesture with his hands that implied grief or even despair. 
 
 " We can interpret that for ourselves," broke in Humbert; 
 " he is telling you that the game is up." 
 
 "Exactly so. General; he says that the insurrection has 
 been completely put down, that the Irish forces are scattered 
 or disbanded, and all the leaders taken." 
 
 ."The fellow is just as likely to be an English spy," said 
 Madgett, in a whisper ; but Humbert's gesture of impatience 
 showed how little trust he reposed in the allegation. 
 
 "Ask him what English troops are quartered in this part 
 of the country," said the general. 
 
 " A few militia, and two squadrons of dragoons," was the 
 prompt reply. 
 
 ' ' No artillery ? " 
 
 "None." 
 
 "Is there any rumor of our coming abroad, or have the 
 frigates been seen?" asked Humbert. 
 
 " They were seen last night from the church steeple of 
 Killala, General," said Conolly, translating, " but believed 
 to be English." 
 
 " Come, that is the best news he has brought us yet," 
 said Humbert, laughing; "we shall at least surprise them a 
 little. Ask him what men of rank or consequence live 
 
186 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 in the neighborhood, and how are they affected towards the 
 expedition ? " 
 
 A few words and a low dry laugh made all the peasant's 
 reply. 
 
 " Eh, what says he? " asked Humbert. 
 
 "He says, su', that, except a Protestant bishop, there's 
 nothing of the rank of gentry here." 
 
 "I suppose we need scarcely expect his blessing on our 
 efforts," said Humbert, with a hearty laugh. "What is he 
 saying now, — what is he looking at? " 
 
 "He says that we are now in the very best anchorage of 
 the bay," said Conolly, " and that on the whole coast there 's 
 not a safer spot." 
 
 A brief consultation now took place between the general 
 and naval officers, and in a few seconds the word was given 
 to take in all sail and anchor. 
 
 " I wish I could speak to that honest fellow myself," said 
 Humbert, as he stood watching the fisherman, who with a 
 peasant curiosity had now approached the mast, and was 
 passing his fingers across the blades of the cutlasses as they 
 stood in the sword-rack. 
 
 ' ' Sharp enough for the English, eh ? " cried Humbert, in 
 French, but with a gesture that seemed at once intelligible. 
 A dry nod of the head gave assent to the remark. 
 
 "If I understand him aright," said Humbert, in a half 
 whisper to Conolty, ' ' we are as little expected by our friends 
 as by our enemies ; and that there is little or no force in arms 
 among the Irish." 
 
 "There are j^lenty ready to fight, he says, sir, but none 
 accustomed to discipline." 
 
 A gesture, half contemptuous, was all Humbert's reply, 
 and he now turned away and walked the deck alone and in 
 silence. Meanwhile the bustle and movements of the crew 
 continued, and soon the great ships, then- sails all coiled, lay 
 tranquilly at anchor in a sea without a ripple. 
 
 " A boat is coming out from the shore. General," whispered 
 the lieutenant on duty. 
 
 " Ask the fisherman if he knows it." 
 
 Conolly drew the peasant's attention to the object, and the 
 man after looking steadily for a few seconds became terribly 
 agitated. 
 
"THE BAY OF RATHERAN." 187 
 
 ""What is it man, — can't you tell who it is?" asked 
 Conolly. 
 
 But although so composed before, so ready with all his 
 replies, he seemed now totally unmanned, his frank and 
 easy features being struck with the signs of palpable teiTor. 
 At last, and with an effort that bespoke all his fears, he 
 muttered, — 
 
 "'Tis the king's boat is coming, and 'tis the Collector's 
 on board of her ! " 
 
 "Is that all?" cried Conolly, laughing, as he translated 
 the reply to the general. 
 
 "Won't you say that I'm a prisoner, sir; won't you tell 
 them that you ' took ' me ? " said the fisherman, in an accent 
 of fervent entreaty, for already his mind anticipated the 
 casualty of a failure, and what might betide him afterwards. 
 But no one now had any care for him or his fortunes ; all 
 was in preparation to conceal the national character of the 
 ships. The marines were ordered below, and all others 
 whose uniforms might betray their country, while the English 
 colors floated from every mast-head. 
 
 General Humbert, with Serasin and two others, remained 
 on the poop-deck, where they continued to walk, appar- 
 ently devoid of any peculiar interest or anxiety in the 
 scene. Madgett alone betrayed agitation at this moment; 
 his pale face was paler than ever, and there seemed to me a 
 kind of studious care in the way he covered himself up with 
 his cloak, so that not a vestige of his uniform could be 
 seen. 
 
 The boat now came close under our lee, and Conolly being 
 ordered to challenge her in English, the Collector, standing 
 up in the stern, touched his hat, and announced his rank. 
 The gangway-ladder was immediately lowered, and three 
 gentlemen ascended the ship's side and walked aft to the 
 poop. I was standing near the bulwark at the time, watch- 
 ing the scene with intense interest. As General Humbert 
 stood a little in advance of the rest, the Collector, probably 
 taking him for the captain, addressed him with some cour- 
 teous expressions of welcome, and was proceeding to speak 
 of the weather, when the general gently stopped him by 
 asking if he spoke French. 
 
188 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 I shall never forget the teiTor of face that question evoked. 
 At first, looking at his two companions, the Collector turned 
 his eyes to the gaff, where the English flag was fly- 
 ing ; but still unable to utter a word, he stood like one 
 entranced. 
 
 " You have been asked if you can speak French, sir," said 
 Conolly, at a sign from the general. 
 
 ' ' No — very little — very badly — not at all ; but is n't this 
 — am I not on board of — " 
 
 "Can none of them speak French?" said Humbert, 
 shortly. 
 
 " Y"es, sir," said a young man on the Collector's right ; " I 
 can make myself intelligible in that language, although no 
 great proficient." 
 
 "Who are you, monsieur, — are you a civilian?" asked 
 Humbert. 
 
 " Y^es, sir. I am the son of the Bishop of Killala, and this 
 young gentleman is my brother." 
 
 " What is the amount of the force in this neighborhood? " 
 
 "You will pardon me, sir," said the youth, "if Task, 
 first, who it is puts this question, and under what ckcum- 
 stances lam expected to answer it?" 
 
 "All frank and open, sir," said Humbert, good-humor- 
 edly. "I'm the General Humbert, commanding the army 
 for the liberation of Ireland, — so much for your first ques- 
 tion. As to your second one, I believe that if you have 
 any concern for yourself or those belonging to j^ou, you will 
 find that nothing will serve your interest so much as truth 
 and plain dealing." 
 
 " Fortunately, then, for me," said the youth, laughing, " I 
 cannot betray m}^ king's cause ; for I know nothing, nothing 
 whatever, about the movement of troops. I seldom go ten 
 miles from home, and have not been even at Ballina since 
 last winter." 
 
 " Why so cautious about your information, then, sii'," 
 broke in Serasin, roughly, " since you have none to give?" 
 
 "Because I had some to receive, sir, and was curious to 
 know where I was standing," said the young man, boldly. 
 
 While these few sentences were being interchanged, 
 Madgett had learned from the Collector, that, except a 
 
"THE BAY OF EATHFRAN." 189 
 
 few companies of militia and fencibles, tlie country was 
 totally unprovided with troops ; but lie also picked up that 
 the people were so crest-fallen and subdued in coui-age from 
 the late failure of the rebellion, that it was very doubtful 
 whether our coming would arouse them to another effort. 
 This information, particularly the latter part of it, Madgett 
 imparted to Plumbert at once ; and I thought by his manner, 
 and the eagerness with which he spoke, that he seemed to use 
 all his powers to dissuade the general from a landing ; at 
 least I overheard him more than once say, — 
 
 ' ' Had we been further north, sir — " 
 
 Hmnbert quickly stopped him by the words, '' And what 
 prevents us when we have landed, sir, in extending our line 
 uorth'ard? The winds cannot surely master us, when we 
 have our feet on the sward. Enough of all this ; let these 
 gentlemen be placed in security, and none have access to 
 them without my orders. Make signal for the commanding 
 officers to come on board here. We 've had too much of 
 speculation; a little action now will be more profitable." 
 
 " So, we are prisoners, it seems ! " said the young man who 
 spoke French, as he moved away with the others, who, far 
 more depressed in spu-it, hung their heads in silence, as they 
 descended between decks. 
 
 Scarcely was the signal for a council of war seen from 
 the mast-head, when the different boats might be descried 
 stretching across the bay with speed ; and now all were 
 assembled in General Humbert's cabin whose rank and 
 station in the service entitled them to the honor of being 
 consulted. 
 
 To such of us as held inferior "grade" the time passed 
 tediously enough as we paced the deck, now turning from 
 the aspect of the silent and seemingly uninhabited cliffs along 
 shore to listen if no sign betokened the breaking up of the 
 council ; nor were we without serious fears that the expedi- 
 tion would be abandoned altogether. This suspicion origi- 
 nated with some of the Irish themselves, who, however 
 confident of success and boastful of their country's resources 
 before we sailed, now made no scruple of averring that every- 
 thing was the exact reverse of what they had stated ; for that 
 the people were dispirited, the national forces disbanded, 
 
190 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 neither arms, money, nor organization anywhere, — in fact, 
 that a more hopeless scheme could not be thought of than the 
 attempt, and that its result could not fail to be defeat and 
 ruin to all concerned. 
 
 Shall I own that the bleak and lonely aspect of the hills 
 along shore, the dreary character of the landscape, the almost 
 death-like stillness of the scene, aided these gloomy impres- 
 sions, and made it seem as if we were about to try our 
 fortune on some desolate spot, without one look of encour- 
 agement or one word of welcome to greet us ? The sight of 
 even an enemy's force would have been a relief to this soli- 
 tude, the stir and movement of a rival army would have 
 given spirit to our daring and nerved our courage ; but 
 there was something inexpressibly sad in this unbroken 
 monotony. 
 
 A few tried to jest upon the idea of liberating a land that 
 had no inhabitants, the emancipation of a country without 
 people ; but even French flippancy failed to be witty on a 
 theme so linked with all our hopes and fears, and at last a 
 dreary silence fell upon all, and we walked the deck without 
 speaking, waiting and watching for the result of that delib- 
 eration which already had lasted above four mortal hours. 
 
 Twice was the young man who spoke French summoned to 
 the cabin, but, from the briefness of his stay, apparentl}^ with 
 little profit ; and now the day began to wane, and the tall 
 cliffs thi'ew their lengthened shadows over the still waters of 
 the bay, and yet nothing was resolved on. To the quiet and 
 respectful silence of expectation now succeeded a low and 
 half-subdued muttering of discontent ; groups of five or six 
 together were seen along the deck, talking with eagerness 
 and animation, and it was easy to see that whatever prudential 
 or cautious reasons dictated to the leaders, their arguments 
 found little sympathy with the soldiers of the expedition. I 
 almost began to fear that if a determination to abandon the 
 exploit were come to, a mutiny might break out, when my 
 attention was drawn off by an order to accompany Colonel 
 Charost on shore to " reconnoitre." This at least looked like 
 business, and I jumped into the small boat with alacrity. 
 
 With the speed of four oars stoutly plied, we skimmed 
 alons; the calm surface, and soon saw ourselves close in to 
 
"THE BAY OF RATKFRAN." 191 
 
 the shore. Some little time was spent in looking for a good 
 place to land, for although not the slightest air of wind was 
 blowing, the long swell of the Atlantic broke upon the rocks 
 with a noise like thunder. At last we shot into a little creek 
 with a shelving gravelly beach, and completely concealed by 
 the tall rocks on every side ; and now we sprang out, and 
 stood upon Irish ground ! 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A "reconnaissance." 
 
 From the little creek where we landed, a small zig-zag path 
 led up the sides of the cliff, the track b}^ which the peasants 
 carried the sea-weed which the}^ gathered for manure ; and 
 up this we now slowly wended our way, — stopping for some 
 time to gaze at the ample bay beneath us, the tall-masted 
 frigates floating so majestically^ on its glassy surface. It was 
 a scene of tranquil and picturesque beauty, with which it 
 would have been almost impossible to associate the idea of 
 war and invasion. In the lazy bunting that hung listlessly 
 from peak and mast-head, in the cheerful voices of the 
 sailors heard afar off in the stillness, in the measured plash 
 of the sea itself, and the fearless daring of the sea-gulls as 
 they soared slowly above our heads, there seemed something 
 so suggestive of peace and tranquillity that it struck us as 
 profanation to disturb it. 
 
 As we gained the top alid looked around us, our astonish- 
 ment became even greater. A long succession of low hills, 
 covered with tall ferns or heath, stretched away on every 
 side, — not a house, nor a hovel, nor a living thing to be 
 seen. Had the country been one uninhabited since the 
 Creation, it could not have presented an aspect of more 
 thorough desolation. No road-track, not even a foot-path, 
 led through the dreary waste before us, on which, to all seem- 
 ing, the foot of man had never fallen ; and as we stood for 
 some moments, uncertain which way to turn, a sense of the 
 ridiculous suddenly burst upon the party, and we all broke 
 into a hearty roar of laughter. 
 
 ''I little thought," cried Charost, "that I should ever 
 emulate La Perouse ; but it strikes me that I am destined 
 to become a sfreat discoverer." 
 
A "RECONNAISSANCE." 193 
 
 *'How so, Colonel?" asked his aide-de-camp. 
 
 *'AYhy, it is quite clear that this same island is unin- 
 habited ; and if it be all like this, I own I 'm scarcely sur- 
 prised at it." 
 
 " Still, there must be a town not far off, and the residence 
 of that bishop we heard of this morning." 
 
 A half incredulous shrug of the shoulders was all his 
 reply, as he sauntered along with his hands behind his back, 
 apparently lost in thought; while we, as if instinctively 
 partaking of his gloom, followed him in total silence. 
 
 ''Do you know, gentlem.en, what I'm thinking of?" said 
 he, stopping suddenly and facing about. "My notion is, 
 that the best thing to do here would be to plant our tricolor, 
 proclaim the land a colony of France, and take to our boats 
 again." 
 
 This speech, delivered with an air of great gra\ity, imposed 
 upon us for an instant ; but the moment after, the speaker 
 breaking into a hearty laugh, we all joined him, as much 
 amused by the strangeness of our situation as by anything 
 in his remark. 
 
 " We never could bring our guns through a soil like this, 
 Colonel," said the aide-de-camp, as he struck his heel into 
 the soft and clayey surface. 
 
 "If we could ever land them at all! " muttered he, half 
 aloud; then added, "But for what object should we? 
 Believe me, gentlemen, if we are to have a campaign here, 
 bows and arrows are the true weapons." 
 
 ' ' Ah, what do I see yonder ? " cried the aide-de-camp ; 
 " are not those sheep feeding in that little glen? " 
 
 " Yes," cried I, " and a man herding them, too. See, the 
 fellow has caught sight of us, and he 's off as fast as his legs 
 can carry him." And so was it: the man had no sooner 
 seen us than he sprung to his feet and hurried down the 
 mountain at full speed. 
 
 Our first impulse was to follow and give him chase, and 
 even without a word we all started off in pursuit ; but we 
 soon saw how fruitless would be the attempt, for, even 
 independent of the start he had got of us, the peasant's 
 speed was more than the double of our own. 
 
 " No matter," said the colonel ; " if we have lost the shep- 
 
 13 
 
194 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 herd we have at least gained the sheep, and so I recommend 
 you to secure mutton for dinner to-morrow." 
 
 With this piece of advice, down the hill he darted as hard 
 as he could, Briolle, the aide-de-camp, and myself following 
 at our best pace. We were reckoning without our host, how- 
 ever ; for the animals, after one stupid stare at us, set off in 
 a scamper that soon showed their mountain breeding, keep- 
 ing all together like a pack of hounds, and really not very 
 Inferior in the speed they displayed. 
 
 A little gorge led between the hills, and through this they 
 rushed madly, and with a clatter like a charge of cavalry. 
 Excited by the chase, and emulous each to outrun the other, 
 the colonel threw off his shako, and Briolle his sword, in the 
 ardor of pursuit. We now gained on them rapidly, and 
 though, from a winding in the glen, they had momentarily 
 got out of sight, we knew that we were close upon them. I 
 was about thu-ty paces in advance of my comrades, when, on 
 turning an angle of the gorge, I found myself directly in 
 front of a group of mud hovels, near which were standing 
 about a dozen ragged, miserable-looking men, armed with 
 pitchforks and scythes, while in the rear stood the sheep, 
 blowing and panting from the chase. 
 
 I came to a dead stop ; and although I would have given 
 worlds to have had my comrades at my side, I never once 
 looked back to see if they were coming, but, putting a bold 
 face on the matter, called out the only few words I knew of 
 Irish, " Go de-mat ha tu." 
 
 The peasants looked at each other ; and whether it was my 
 accent, my impudence, or my strange dress and appearance, 
 or altogether, I cannot say, but after a few seconds' pause 
 they burst out into a roar of laughter, in the midst of which 
 my two comrades came up. 
 
 "We saw the sheep feeding on the hills yonder," said I, 
 recovering self-possession, " and guessed that by giving them 
 chase they 'd lead us to some inhabited spot. What is this 
 place called?" 
 
 " Shindrennin," said a man who seemed to be the chief of 
 the party; "and, if I might make so bould, who are you 
 yourselves ? " 
 
 " French officers ; this is my colonel," said I, pointing to 
 
A "RECONNAISSANCE." 195 
 
 Charost, who was wiping his forehead and face after his late 
 exertion. 
 
 The information, far from producing the electric effect of 
 pleasure I had anticipated, was received with a coldness 
 almost amounting to fear, and they spoke eagerly together 
 for some minutes in Irish. 
 
 " Our allies evidently don't like the look of us," said 
 Charost, laughing; "and if the truth must be told, I own 
 the disappointment is mutual." 
 
 "'Tis too late you come, sir," said the peasant, address- 
 ing the colonel, while he removed his hat, and assumed an 
 air of respectful deference. " 'T is all over with poor Ireland, 
 this time." 
 
 "Tell him," said Charost, to whom I translated the speech, 
 "that it's never too late to assert a good cause; that we 
 have got arms for twenty thousand, if they have but hands 
 and hearts to use them. Tell him that a French army is now 
 lying in that bay yonder, ready and able to accomplish the 
 independence of Ireland." 
 
 I delivered my speech as pompously as it was briefed to 
 me ; and although I was listened to in silence and respect- 
 fully, it was plain my words carried little or no conviction 
 with them. Not caring to waste more of our time in such 
 discourse, I now inquired about the country, — in what 
 directions lay the high-roads, and the relative situations of 
 the towns of Killala, Castlebar, and Ballina, the only places 
 of comparative importance in the neighborhood. I next 
 asked about the landing-places, and learned that a small 
 fishing-harbor existed not more than half a mile from the 
 spot where we had landed, from which a little country road 
 lay to the village of Palmerstown. As to the means of trans- 
 porting baggage, guns, and ammunition, there were few horses 
 to be had ; but with money we might get all we wanted, — 
 indeed, the peasants constantly referred to this means of 
 success, even to asking "What the French would give a 
 man that was to join them?" If I did not translate the 
 demand with fidelity to my colonel, it was really that a sense 
 of shame prevented me. My whole heart was in the cause ; 
 and I could not endure the thought of its being degraded in 
 this way. It was growing duskish, and the colonel proposed 
 
196 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 that the peasant should show us the way to the fishing-har- 
 bor he spoke of, while some other of the party might go 
 round to our boat, and direct them to follow us thither. 
 The arrangement was soon made, and we all sauntered down 
 towards the shore, chatting over the state of the country 
 and the chances of a successful rising. From the speci- 
 men before me, I was not disposed to be over sanguine 
 about the peasantry. The man was evidently disaffected 
 towards England, — he bore her neither good-will nor love; 
 but his fears were greater than all else. He had never heard 
 of anything but failure in all attempts against her; and 
 he could not believe in any other result. Even the aid and 
 alliance of France inspired no other feeling than distrust; 
 for he said more than once, "Sure, what can harm yez? 
 Have n't ye yer ships beyant, to take yez away if things 
 goes bad ? " 
 
 I was heartily glad that Colonel Charost knew so little 
 English, that the greater part of the peasant's conversation 
 was unintelligible to him, since from the first he had always 
 spoken of the expedition in terms of disparagement; and 
 certainly what we were now to hear was not of a nature to 
 controvert the prediction. 
 
 In our ignorance as to the habits and modes of thought 
 of the people, we were much surprised at the greater interest 
 the peasant betrayed when asking us about France and her 
 prospects than when the conversation concerned his own 
 countr3\ It appeared as though in the one case distance 
 gave grandeur and dimensions to all his conceptions, while 
 familiarity with home scenes and native politics had robbed 
 them of all their illusions. He knew well that there were 
 plenty of hardships, abundance of evils, to deplore in Ire- 
 land : rents were high, taxes and tithes oppressive, agents 
 were severe, bailiffs were cruel. Social wrongs he could 
 discuss for hours ; but of political woes, the only ones we 
 could be expected to relieve or care for, he really knew noth- 
 ing. " 'Tis true," he repeated, " that what my honor said 
 was all right, Ireland was badly treated," and so on; "lib- 
 erty was an elegant thing if a body had it," and such like; 
 but there ended his patriotism. 
 
 Accustomed for many a day to the habits of a people 
 
 I 
 
A "RECONNAISSANCE." 197 
 
 where all were politicians, where the rights of man and the 
 grand principles of equality and self-government were ever- 
 lastingly under discussion, I was, I confess it, sorely disap- 
 pointed at this worse than apathy. 
 
 " Will they fight? Ask him that," said Charost, to whom 
 I had been conveying a rather rose-colored version of my 
 friend's talk. 
 
 " Oh, be gorra ! we '11 fight sure enough ! " said he, with a 
 half -dogged scowl beneath his brows. 
 
 * ' What number of them may we reckon on in the neigh- 
 borhood?" repeated the colonel. 
 
 ' ' 'T is mighty har to say ; many of the boys were gone 
 over to England for the harvest; some were away to the 
 counties inland ; others were working on the roads, — but if 
 they knew, sure they'd be soon back again." 
 
 "Might they calculate on a thousand stout, effective 
 men?" asked Charost. 
 
 "Ay, twenty, if they were at home," said the peasant, 
 less a liar by intention than from the vague and careless dis- 
 regard of truth so common in all their own intercourse with 
 each other. 
 
 I must own that the degree of credit we reposed in the 
 worthy man's information was considerably influenced by the 
 state of facts before us, inasmuch as the " elegant, fine har- 
 bor " he had so gloriously described, " the beautiful road," 
 " the neat little quay " to land upon, and the other advan- 
 tages of the spot, all turned out to be most grievous disap- 
 pointments. That the people were not of our own mind on 
 these matters was plain enough from the looks of astonish- 
 ment our discontent provoked ; and now a lively discussion 
 ensued on the relative merits of various bays, creeks, and 
 inlets along the coast, each of which, with some unpro- 
 nounceable name or other, was seen to have a special ad- 
 vocate in its favor, till at last the colonel lost all patience, 
 and jumping into the boat, ordered the men to push off for 
 the frigate. 
 
 Evidently out of temper at the non-success of his ' ' recon- 
 naissance," and as little pleased with the country as the 
 people, Charost did not speak a word as we rowed back to 
 the ship. Our failure, as it happened, was of little moment; 
 
198 MAUKICE TIERNAY. 
 
 for another party, under the guidance of Madgett, had 
 akeady discovered a good landing-place at the bottom of 
 the Ba}" of Rathfran, and arrangements were already m 
 progress to disembark the troops at daybreak. We also 
 found that dm*ing our absence some of the "chiefs" had 
 come off from shore, one of whom, named Neal Kerrigan, 
 was destined to attain considerable celebrity in the rebel 
 army. He was a talkative, vulgar, presumptuous fellow, 
 who, without any knowledge or experience whatever, took 
 upon him to discuss military measures and strategy with all 
 the assurance of an old commander. 
 
 Singularly enough, Humbert suffered this man to influence 
 him in a great degree, and yielded opinion to him on points 
 even where his own judgment was du*ectly opposed to the 
 advice he gave. 
 
 If Kerrigan's language and bearing were directly the 
 reverse of soldier-like, his tawdry uniform of green and gold, 
 with massive epaulettes and a profusion of lace, were no less 
 absurd in om- eyes, accustomed as we were to the almost 
 pmitan plainness of military costume. His rank, too, seemed 
 as undefined as his information ; for while he called himself 
 "general," his companions as often addressed him by the 
 title of " captain." Upon some points his counsels, indeed, 
 alarmed and astonished us. 
 
 "It was of no use whatever," he said, "to attempt to 
 discipline the peasantry, or reduce them to anything like 
 habits of military obedience. Were the effort to be made, it 
 would prove a total f ailm-e ; for they would either grow dis- 
 gusted with the restraint, and desert altogether, or so infect 
 the other troops with their own habits of disorder that the 
 whole force would become a mere rabble. Arm them well, 
 let them have plenty of ammunition, and free liberty to use 
 it in then* own way and their own time, and we should soon 
 see that they would prove a greater terror to the English than 
 double the number of trained and disciplined troops." 
 
 In some respects this view was a correct one ; but whether 
 it was a wise counsel to have followed, subsequent events 
 gave us ample cause to doubt. 
 
 Kerrigan, however, had a specious, reckless, go-a-head 
 way with him that suited well the tone and temper of Hum- 
 
A "RECONNAISSANCE." 199 
 
 bert's mind. He never looked too far into conseqnonces, but 
 trusted that the eventualities of the morrow would always 
 suggest the best course for the day after ; and this alone was 
 so akin to our own general's mode of proceeding that he 
 speedily won his confidence. 
 
 The last evening on board was spent merrily on all sides. 
 In the general cabin, where the staff and all the chefs cle 
 brigade were assembled, gay songs and toasts and speeches 
 succeeded each other till nigh morning. The printed pro- 
 clamations, meant for circulation among the people, were 
 read out with droll commentaries ; and all imaginable quiz- 
 zing and jesting went on about the new government to be 
 established in Ireland, and the various offices to be bestowed 
 upon each. Had the whole expedition been a joke, the tone 
 of levity could not have been greater. Not a thought was 
 bestowed, not a word wasted, upon any of the graver inci- 
 dents that might ensue. All were, if not hopeful and san- 
 guine, utterly reckless, and thoroughly indifferent to the 
 future. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 KILLALA, 
 
 I WILL not weary my reader with an account of our debarka- 
 tion, less remarkable as it was for the ' ' pomp and cu'cum- 
 stance of war" than for incidents and accidents the most 
 absurd and ridiculous, — the miserable boats of the peasantry, 
 the still more wretched cattle employed to drag our artillery 
 and train wagons, involving us in innumerable misfortunes 
 and mischances. Never were the heroic illusions of war 
 more thoroughly dissipated than by the scenes which accom- 
 panied our lauding, — boats and baggage-wagons upset ; 
 here, a wild, half savage-looking fellow swimming after a 
 cocked hat ; there, a group of ragged wretches scraping sea- 
 weed from a dripping officer of the staff ; noise, uproar, and 
 confusion everywhere ; smart aides-de-camp mounted on 
 donkeys ; trim field-pieces ' ' horsed " by a promiscuous 
 assemblage of men, women, cows, ponies, and asses. Crowds 
 of idle country people thronged the little quay, and, obstruct- 
 ing the passages, gazed upon the whole with eyes of wonder- 
 ment and surprise, but evidently enjoying all the drollery of 
 the scene with higher relish than they felt interest in its 
 object or success. This trait in them soon attracted all our 
 notice, for they laughed at everything ; not a caisson tum- 
 bled into the sea, not a donkey brought his rider to the 
 ground, but one general shout shook the entire assemblage. 
 
 If want and privation had impressed themselves by every 
 external sign on this singular people, they seemed to possess 
 inexhaustible resources of good humor and good spmts 
 within. No impatience or rudeness on our part could irritate 
 them; and even to the wildest and least civilized-looking 
 fellow around, there was a kind of native courtes}'- and kindli- 
 ness that could not fail to strike us. 
 
KILLALA. 201 
 
 A vague notion prevailed that we were their " friends ; " 
 and although many of them did not clearly comprehend why 
 we had come, or what was the origin of the warm attach- 
 ment between us, they were too lazy and too indififerent to 
 trouble their heads about the matter. They were satisfied 
 that there would be a "shindy" somewhere, and some- 
 body's bones would get broken, — and even that much was 
 a pleasant and reassuring consideration; while others of 
 keener mould revelled in plans of private vengeance against 
 this landlord or that agent, small debts of hatred to be paid 
 off in the day of general reckoning. 
 
 From the first moment nothing could exceed the tone of 
 fraternal feeling between our soldiers and the people. With- 
 out any means of communicating their thoughts by speech, 
 they seemed to acquire an instinctive knowledge of each 
 other in an instant. If the peasant was poor, there was no 
 limit to his liberality in the little he had. He dug up his 
 half -ripe potatoes, he unroofed his cabin to furnish straw for 
 litter, he gave up his only beast, and was ready to kill his 
 cow, if asked, to welcome us. Much of this was from the 
 native, warm, and impulsive generosity of their nature ; and 
 much, doubtless, had its origin in the bright hopes of future 
 recompense inspu-ed by the eloquent appeals of Neal Kerri- 
 gan, who, mounted on an old gray mare, rode about on 
 every side, addressing the people in Irish, and calling 
 upon them to give all aid and assistance to " the expedition." 
 
 The difficulty of the landing was much increased by the 
 small space of level ground which intervened between the 
 cliffs and the sea, and of which now the thickening crowd 
 filled every spot. This and the miserable means of convey- 
 ance for our baggage delayed us greatly ; so that, with a com- 
 paratively small force, it was late in the afternoon before we 
 had all reached the shore. 
 
 We had none of us eaten since morning, and were not 
 sorry, as we crowned the heights, to hear the drums beat for 
 "cooking." In an inconceivably short time fires blazed 
 along the hills, around which in motley groups stood 
 soldiers and peasantry mingled together, while the work of 
 cooking and eating went briskly on, amid hearty laughter 
 and all the merriment that mutual mistakes and misconcep- 
 
202 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 tions occasioned. It was a new thing for French soldiers to 
 bivouac in a friendly country, and find themselves the wel- 
 come guests of a foreign people ; and certainly the honors 
 of hospitality, however limited the means, could not have 
 been performed with more of courtesy or good-will. Paddy 
 gave his " all," with a generosity that might have shamed 
 many a richer donor. 
 
 While the events I have mentioned were going forward, 
 and a considerable crowd of fishermen and peasants had 
 gathered about us, still it was remarkable that, except imme- 
 diately on the coast itself, no suspicion of our arrival had 
 gained currency, and even the country people who lived a 
 mile from the shore were ignorant of who we were. The 
 few who from distant heights and headlands had seen the 
 ships mistook them for English ; and as all those who were 
 out with fish or vegetables to sell were detained by the frig- 
 ates, any direct information about us was impossible. So far, 
 therefore, all might be said to have gone most favorably 
 with us. We had safely escaped the often-menaced dangers 
 of the channel fleet ; we had gained a secure and well shel- 
 tered harbor ; and we had landed our force not only with- 
 out opposition, but in perfect secrecy. There were, I will 
 not deny, certain little counterbalancing circumstances on 
 the other side of the account not exactty so satisfactory. 
 The patriot forces upon which we had calculated had no 
 existence. There were neither money, nor stores, nor means 
 of conveyance to be had ; even accurate information as to 
 the strength and position of the English was unattainable ; 
 and as to generals and leaders, the effective staff had but a 
 most sorry representative in the person of Neal Kerrigan. 
 This man's influence over our general increased with every 
 hour, and one of the first orders issued after our landing 
 contained his appointment as an extra aide-de-camp on 
 General Humbert's staff. 
 
 In one capacity Neal was most useful. All the available 
 sources of pillage for a wide circuit of country he knew by 
 heart ; and it was plain, from the accurate character of his 
 information, varying, as it did, from the chattels of the rich 
 landed proprietor to the cocks and hens of the cottier, that 
 he had taken great pains to master his subject. At his 
 
KILLALA. 203 
 
 suggestion it was decided that we should march that evening 
 on Killala, where little or more liliely no resistance would be 
 met with, and General Humbert should take up his quarters 
 in the "Castle," as the palace of the bishop was styled. 
 There, he said, we should not only find ample accommodation 
 for the staff, but good stabling, well filled, and plenty of 
 forage, while the bishop himself might be a most useful 
 hostage to have in our keeping. From thence, too, as a 
 place of some note, general orders and proclamations would 
 issue, with a kind of notoriety and importance necessary at 
 the outset of an undertaking like ours ; and truly never was 
 an expedition more loaded with this species of missive than 
 ours, — whole cart-loads of printed papers, decrees, placards, 
 and such like, followed us. If our object had been to drive 
 out the English by big type and a flaming letter-press, we 
 could not have gone more vigorously to work. Fifty thou- 
 sand broad-sheet announcements of Irish independence were 
 backed by as many proud declarations of victor}^ some dated 
 from Limerick, Cashel, or Dublin itself. 
 
 Here, a great placard gave the details of the new Pro- 
 vincial Government of Western Ireland, with the name of 
 the Prefect a blank ; there was another containing the police 
 regulations for the arrondissements of Connaught, et ses 
 de]}endances. Every imaginable step of conquest and occu- 
 pation was anticipated and provided for in these wise and 
 considerate protocols, from the " enthusiastic welcome of the 
 French on the western coast," to the hour of "General 
 Humbert's triumphal entry into Dublin ! " Nor was it prose 
 alone, but even poetry did service in our cause. Songs, not, 
 I own, conspicuous for any great metrical beauty, commem- 
 orated our battles and our bravery ; so that we entered upon 
 the campaign as deeply pledged to victory as any force I 
 ever heard or read of in history. 
 
 Neal, who was, I believe, originally a schoolmaster, had 
 great confidence in this arsenal of "black and white," and 
 soon persuaded General Humbert that a bold face and a 
 loud tongue would do more in Ireland than in any country 
 under heaven ; and indeed, if his own career might be called 
 a success, the theory deserved some consideration. A great 
 part of our afternoon was then spent in distributing these 
 
204 ' MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 documents to the people, — not one in a hundred of whom 
 could read, but who treasured the placards with a reverence 
 nothing diminished by then- ignorance. Emissaries, too, 
 were appointed to post them up in conspicuous places 
 through the country, on the doors of the chapels, at the 
 smiths' forges, at cross-roads, everywhere, in short, where 
 they might attract notice. Th& most important and 
 business-like of all these, however, was one headed "Arms! 
 Arms ! " and which went on to say that no man who wished 
 to lift his hand for old Ireland need do so without a weapon ; 
 and that a general distribution of guns, swords, and bayo- 
 nets would take place at noon the following day at the 
 Palace of Killala. 
 
 Serasiu, and, I believe, Madgett, were strongly opposed 
 to this indiscriminate arming of the people ; but Neal's 
 counsels were now in the ascendant, and Humbert gave an 
 implicit confidence to all he suggested. 
 
 It was four o'clock in the evening when the word to march 
 was given, and our gallant little force began its advance 
 movement. Still attached to Colonel Charost's staff, and 
 being, as chasseurs, in the advance, I had a good opportu- 
 nity of seeing the line of march from an eminence about half 
 a mile in front. Grander and more imposing displays I 
 have indeed often witnessed. As a great military spectacle 
 it could not, of course, be compared with those mighty 
 armies I had seen deploying through the defiles of the Black 
 Forest, or spreading like a sea over the wide plain of Ger- 
 many ; but in purely picturesque effect, this scene surpassed 
 all I had ever beheld at the time, nor do I think that in 
 after-life I can recall one more striking. 
 
 The winding road which led over hill and valley, now dis- 
 appearing, now emerging, with the undulations of the soil, 
 was covered by troops marching in a firm, compact order, — 
 the grenadiers in front, after which came the artillery, and 
 then the regiments of the line. Watching the dark column, 
 occasionally saluting it as it went with a cheer, stood thou- 
 sands of country people on every hill-top and eminence, while 
 far away in the distance the frigates lay at anchor in the bay, 
 the guns at inter^^als thundering out a solemn boom of 
 welcome and encourasiement to their comrades. 
 
KILLALA. 205 
 
 There was something so heroic in the notion of that little 
 baud of warriors throwing themselves fearlessly into a 
 strange land, to contest its claim for liberty with one of the 
 most powerful nations of the world ; there was a character 
 of daring intrepidity in this bold advance, they knew not 
 whither, nor against what force, — that gave the whole an 
 air of glorious chivalry. 
 
 I must own that distance lent its wonted illusion to the 
 scene, and proximity, like its twin-brother familiarity, de- 
 stroyed much of the prestige my fancy had conjured up. 
 The line of march, so imposing when seen from afar, was 
 neither regular nor well kept. The peasantry were permitted 
 to mingle with the troops ; ponies, mules, and asses, loaded 
 with camp-kettles and cooking-vessels, were to be met with 
 everywhere. The baggage-wagons were crowded with offi- 
 cers and sous-officiers^ who, disappointed in obtaining horses, 
 were too indolent to walk. Even the gun-carriages, and the 
 guns themselves, were similarly loaded ; while at the head of 
 the infantry column, in an old rickety gig, the ancient mail 
 conveyance between Ballina and the coast, came General 
 Humbert, — Neal Kerrigan capering at his side on the old 
 gray, whose flanks were now tastefully covered by the tricolor 
 ensign of one of the boats as a saddle-cloth. 
 
 This nearer and less enchanting prospect of my gallant 
 comrades I was enabled to obtain on being despatched to 
 the rear by Colonel Charost, to say that we were now 
 within less than a mile of the town of Killala, its venerable 
 steeple and the tall chimneys of the palace being easily seen 
 above the low hills in front. Neal Kerrigan passed me as I 
 rode back with my message, galloping to the front with all 
 the speed he could muster ; but while I was talking to the 
 general he came back to say that the beating of drums could 
 be heard from the town, and that by the rapid movements 
 here and there of people it was evident the defence was be- 
 ing prepared. There was a look-out, too, from the steeple, 
 that showed our approach was already known. The general 
 was not slow in adopting his measures, and the word was 
 given for quick march, the artillery to deploy right and left 
 of the road, two companies of grenadiers forming on the 
 flanks. " As for you, sir," said Humbert to me, ^' take that 
 
206 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 horse," pointing to a mountain pony, fastened behind the 
 gig, " ride forward to the town, and make a reconnaissance. 
 You are to report to me," cried he, as I rode away, and was 
 soon out of hearing. 
 
 Quitting the road, I took a foot-track across the fields, 
 which the pony seemed to know well, and after a sharp 
 canter reached a small, poor suburb of the town, if a few 
 straggling wretched cabins can deserve the name. A group 
 of countrymen stood in the middle of the road, about fifty 
 yards in front of me ; and while I was deliberating whether 
 to advance or reth'e, a joyous cry of "Hurra for the 
 French ! " decided me, and I touched my cap in salute and 
 rode forward. 
 
 Other groups saluted me with a similar cheer as I went 
 on ; and now windows were flung open, and glad cries and 
 shouts of welcome rang out from every side. These signs 
 were too encouraging to turn my back upon, so I dashed 
 forward through a narrow street in front, and soon found 
 myself in a kind of square or Place, the doors and windows 
 of which were all closed, and not a human being to be seen 
 anywhere. As I hesitated what next to do, I saw a soldier 
 in a red coat rapidly turn the corner. ' ' What do you want 
 here, j'ou spy?" he cried out in a loud voice, and at the 
 same instant his bullet rang past my ear with a whistle. I 
 drove in the spurs at once, and just as he had gained a 
 doorway, I clove his head open with my sabre ; he fell dead 
 on the spot before me. Wheeling my horse round, I now 
 rode back as I had come, at full speed, the same welcome 
 cries accompanying me as before. 
 
 Short as had been my absence, it was suflScient to have 
 brought the advanced guard close up with the town ; and 
 just as I emerged from the little suburb, a quick, sharp 
 firing drew my attention towards the left of the wall, and 
 there I saw om- fellows advancing at a trot, while about 
 twenty red-coats were in full flight before them, the wild 
 cries of the country people following them as they went. 
 
 I had but time to see thus much, and to remark that two 
 or three English prisoners were taken, when the general 
 came up. He had now abandoned the gig, and was mounted 
 on a large, powerful black horse, which I afterwards learned 
 
KILLALA. 207 
 
 was one of the bishop's. My tidings were soon told, and, 
 indeed, but indifferently attended to, for it was evident 
 enough that the place was our own. 
 
 " This way, General — follow me ! " cried Kerrigan. " If 
 the light companies will take the road down to the Acres, 
 they '11 catch the yeomen as they retreat by that way, and we 
 have the town our own." 
 
 The counsel was speedily adopted ; and although a drop- 
 ping fire here and there showed that some slight resistance 
 was still being made, it was plain enough that all real 
 opposition was impossible. 
 
 ' ' Forward ! " was now the word ; and the chasseurs with 
 their muskets "in sling" advanced at a trot up the main 
 street. At a little distance the grenadiers followed, and 
 debouching into the square, were received by an ill-directed 
 volley from a few of the militia, who took to their heels after 
 they fired. Three or four red-coats were killed ; but the 
 remainder made their escape through the churchyard, and 
 gaining the open country, scattered and fled as best they 
 could. 
 
 Humbert, who had seen war on a very different scale, 
 could not help laughing at the absurdity of the skirmish, and 
 was greatly amused with the want of all discipline and 
 "accord" exhibited by the English troops. 
 
 " I foresee, gentlemen," said he, jocularly, " that we may 
 have abundance of success, but gain very little glory, in the 
 same campaign. Now for a blessing upon our labors ; 
 where shall we find our friend the bishop?" 
 
 " This way. General," cried Neal, leading down a narrow 
 street, at the end of which stood a high wall, with an iron 
 gate. This was locked, and some efforts at barricading it 
 showed the intention of a defence ; but a few strokes of a 
 pioneer's hammer smashed the lock, and we entered a kind 
 of pleasure-ground, neatly and trimly kept. We had not 
 advanced many paces when the bishop, followed by a great 
 number of his clergy, — for it happened to be the period of 
 his annual visitation, — came forward to meet us. 
 
 Humbert dismounted, and removing his chapeau, saluted 
 the dignitary with a most finished courtesy. I could see, 
 too, by his gesture, that he presented General Serasin, the 
 
208 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 second in command ; and, in fact, all his motions were those 
 of a well-bred guest at the moment of being received by his 
 host. Nor was the bishop, on his side, wanting either iu 
 ease or dignity ; his manner, not without the appearance of 
 deep sorrow, was yet that of a polished gentleman doing the 
 honors of his house to a number of strangers. 
 
 As I drew nearer, I could hear that the bishop spoke 
 French fluently, but with a strong foreign accent. This 
 facility however enabled him to converse with ease on every 
 subject, and to hold intercourse directly with our general, a 
 matter of no small moment to either party. It is probable 
 that the other clergy did not possess this gift, for assuredly 
 their manner towards us inferiors of the staff was neither 
 gracious nor conciliating ; and as for myself, the few efforts 
 I made to express in English my admiration for the coast 
 scenery, or the picturesque beauty of the neighborhood, were 
 met in any rather than a spirit of politeness. 
 
 The generals accompanied the bishop into the castle, leav- 
 ing myself and three or four others on the outside. Colonel 
 Charost soon made his appearance, and a guard was 
 stationed at the entrance gate, with a strong picket in the 
 garden. Two sentries were placed at the hall-door, and the 
 words " Quartier-General" written up over the portico. A 
 small garden pavilion was appropriated to the colonel's use, 
 and made the office of the adjutant-general ; and in less than 
 half an hour after our arrival, eight sous-officiers were hard 
 at work under the trees, writing away at billets, contribution 
 orders, and forage rations, — while I, from my supposed 
 fluency in English, was engaged in carrying messages to and 
 from the staff to the various shopkeepers and tradesmen of 
 the town, numbers of whom now flocked around us with 
 expressions of welcome and rejoicing. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 OUR ALLIES. 
 
 I HAVE spent pleasanter, but I greatly doubt if I ever knew 
 busier, days than those I passed at the Bishop's Palace at 
 Killala ; and now, as I look back upon the event, I cannot 
 help wondering that we could seriously have played out a 
 farce so full of absurdity and nonsense. There was a gross 
 mockery of all the usages of war, which, had it not been for 
 the serious interests at stake, would have been highly laugh- 
 able and amusing. 
 
 Whether it was the important functions of civil govern- 
 ment, the details of police regulation, the imposition of con- 
 tributions, the appointment of officers, or the arming of the 
 volunteers, — all was done with a pretentious affectation of 
 order that was extremely ludicrous. The very institutions 
 which were laughingly agreed at over-night, as the wine went 
 briskly round, were solemnly ratified in the morning, and, 
 still more strange, apparently believed in by those whose 
 ingenuity devised them; and thus the "Irish Directory," as 
 we styled the imaginary government, the National Treasury, 
 the Pension fund, were talked of with all the seriousness of 
 facts. As to the Commissariat, to which I was for the time 
 attached, we never ceased writing receipts and acknowledg- 
 ments for stores and munitions of war, all of which were to 
 be honorably acquitted by the Treasury of the Irish Republic. 
 
 No people could have better fallen in with the humor 
 of this delusion than the Irish. They seemed to believe 
 everything ; and yet there was a reckless, headlong indiffer- 
 ence about them which appeared to say that they were 
 equally prepared for any turn fortune might take, and if the 
 worst should happen they would never reproach us for having 
 misled them. The real truth was — but we only learned it 
 
 14 
 
210 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 too late — all those who joined us were utterly indifferent to 
 the great cause of Irish independence ; their thoughts never 
 rose above a row and a pillage. It was to be a season of 
 sack, plunder, and outrage, but nothing more. That such 
 were the general sentiments of the volunteers I believe 
 none will dispute. We however, in our ignorance of the 
 people and their language, interpreted all the harum-scarum 
 wildness Ave saw as the buoyant temperament of a high- 
 spirited nation, who, after centuries of degradation and ill- 
 usage, saw the dawning of liberty at last. 
 
 Had we possessed any real knowledge of the country, we 
 should at once have seen that of those who joined us none 
 were men of any influence or station. If now and then a 
 man of any name strayed into the camp, he was sure to be 
 one whose misconduct or bad character had driven him from 
 associating with his equals ; and, even of the peasantry, our 
 followers were of the very lowest order. Whether General 
 Humbert was the first to notice the fact I know not ; but 
 Charost, I am certain, remarked it, and even thus early 
 predicted the utter failure of the expedition. 
 
 I must confess the "Volunteers" were the least impos- 
 ing of allies. I think I have the whole scene before my 
 eyes this moment, as I saw it each morning in the Palace 
 garden. 
 
 The enclosure, which, more orchard than garden, occupied 
 a space of a couple of acres, was the headquarters of Colonel 
 Charost ; and here, in a pavilion formerly dedicated to hoes, 
 rakes, rolling-stones, and garden-tools, we were now estab- 
 lished to the number of fourteen. As the space beneath the 
 roof was barely sufficient for the colonel's personal use, the 
 officers of his staff occupied convenient spots in the vicinity. 
 My station was under a large damson- tree, the fruit of which 
 afforded me more than once the only meal I tasted from early 
 morning till late at night, — not, I must say, from any lack 
 of provisions, for the Palace abounded with every requisite 
 of the table, but that, such was the pressure of business, we 
 were not able to leave off work even for half an hour during 
 the day. 
 
 A subaltern's guard of grenadiers, divided into small 
 parties, did duty in the garden ; and it was striking to mark 
 
OUR ALLIES. 211 
 
 the contrast between these bronzed and war-worn figures and 
 the reckless tatterdemalion host around us. Never was seen 
 such a scare-crow set, — wild-looking, ragged wretches, 
 their long, lank hair hanging down their necks and shoulders, 
 usually bare-footed, and with every sign of stan'ation in 
 their features. They stood in groups and knots, gesticulat- 
 ing, screaming, hurraing, and singing in all the exuberance 
 of a joy that caught some, at least, of its inspiration from 
 whiskey. 
 
 It was utterly vain to attempt to keep order amongst 
 them ; even the effort to make them defile singly through the 
 gate into the garden was soon found impracticable, without 
 the employment of a degree of force that our adviser, 
 Kerrigan, pronounced would be injudicious. Not only the 
 men made thek way in, but great numbers of women, and 
 even children also ; and there they were, seated around fires, 
 roasting their potatoes in this bivouac fashion, as though 
 they had deserted hearth and home to follow us. 
 
 Such was the avidity to get arms — of which the distribu- 
 tion was announced to take place here — that several had 
 scaled the wall in their impatience ; and as they were more 
 or less in drink, some disastrous accidents were momen- 
 tarily occurring, adding the cries and exclamations of suffer- 
 ing to the ruder chorus of joy and revelry that went on 
 unceasingly. 
 
 The impression, — we soon saw how absurd it was, — the 
 impression that we should do nothing that might hurt the 
 national sensibilities, but concede all to the exuberant ardor 
 of a bold people eager to be led against their enemies, 
 induced us to submit to every imaginable breach of order and 
 discipline. 
 
 " In a day or two they'll be like your own men; you'll 
 not know them from a battalion of the line. Those fellows 
 will be like a wall under fire." 
 
 Such and such like were the assurances we were listening 
 to all day, and it would have been like treason to the cause 
 to have refused them credence. 
 
 Perhaps I might have been longer a believer in this 
 theory, had I not perceived signs of a deceptive character 
 in these our worthy allies ; many who to our faces wore 
 nothing but looks of gratitude and delight, no sooner mixed 
 
212 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 with their fellows than their downcast faces and dogged 
 expression betraj'ed some inward sense of disappointment. 
 
 One very general source' of dissatisfaction arose from the 
 discovery that we were not prepared to pay our allies ! We 
 had simply come to arm and lead them, to shed our own 
 blood, and pledge our fortunes in their cause ; but we cer- 
 tainly had brought no military chest to bribe their patriotism, 
 nor stimulate their nationality, — and this I soon saw was a 
 grievous disappointment. 
 
 In vii'tue of this shameful omission on our part, they deemed 
 the only resource was to be made officers ; and thus crowds 
 of uneducated, semi-civilized vagabonds were every hour 
 assailing us with their claims to the epaulette. Of the whole 
 number of these, I remember but three who had ever serv^ed 
 at all ; two were notorious drunkards, and the third a con- 
 firmed madman, from a scalp wound he had received when 
 fighting against the Turks. Many, however, boasted high- 
 sounding names, and were, at least so Kerrigan said, men of 
 the first families in the land. 
 
 Our geueral-in-chief saw little of them while at Killala, 
 his principal intercourse being with the bishop and his family ; 
 but Colonel Charost soon learned to read their true character, 
 and from that moment conceived the most disastrous issue 
 to our plans. The most trustworthy of them was a certain 
 O'Donnell, who, although not a soldier, was remarked to 
 possess a greater influence over the rabble volunteers than 
 any of the others. He was a young man of the half-squire 
 class, an ardent and sincere patriot after his fashion ; but 
 that fashion, it must be owned, rather partook of the charac- 
 ter of class-hatred and religious animosit}" than the features 
 of a great struggle for national independence. He took a 
 very low estimate of the fighting qualities of his countrymen, 
 and made no secret of declaring it. 
 
 " You would be better without them altogether," said he 
 one day to Charost; "but if you must have allies, draw 
 them up in line, select one third of the best, and arm them." 
 
 " And the rest? " asked Charost. 
 
 " Shoot them," was the answer. 
 
 This conversation is on record, — indeed, I believe there 
 is yet one witness living to corroborate it. 
 
 I have said that we were verv hard worked ; but I must 
 
OUR ALLIES. 213 
 
 fain acknowledge that the real amount of business done was 
 very insignificant, so many were the mistakes, misconceptions, 
 and interruptions, not to speak of the time lost by that 
 system of conciliation of which I have already made mention. 
 In our distribution of arms there was as little selection prac- 
 tised as possible. The process was a brief one, but it might 
 have been briefer. 
 
 Thomas Colooney, of Banmayroo, was called, and not 
 usually being present, the name would be passed on from 
 post to post, till it swelled into a general shout of Colooney. 
 
 " Tom Colooney, you 're wanted ! Tom, run for it, man, 
 there 's a price bid for you ! Here 's Mickey, his brother ; 
 maybe he '11 do as well." 
 
 And so on, — all this accompanied by shouts of laughter, 
 and a running fire of jokes, which, being in the vernacular, 
 was lost to us. 
 
 At last the real Colooney was found, maybe eating his 
 dinner of potatoes, maybe discussing his poteen with a friend ; 
 sometimes engaged in the domestic duties of washing his 
 shirt or his small-clothes, fitting a new crown to his hat, or 
 a sole to his brogues. Whatever his occupation, he was urged 
 forward by his friends and the public with many a push, 
 drive, and even a kick, into our presence, where, from the 
 turmoil, uproar, and confusion, he appeared to have fought 
 his way by main force, — and very often, indeed, this was 
 literally the fact, as his bleeding nose, torn coat, and bare 
 head attested. 
 
 '' Thomas Colooney, are you the man? " asked one of our 
 Irish officers of the staff. 
 
 " Yis, yer honor, I 'm that same ! " 
 
 " You've come here, Colooney, to offer yourself as a vol- 
 unteer in the cause of your country ? " 
 
 Here a yell of " Ireland forever! " was always raised by 
 the bystanders, which drowned the reply in its enthusiasm, 
 and the examination went on : — 
 
 "You'll be true and faithful to that cause till you secure 
 for your country the freedom of America and the happiness 
 of France ? Kiss the cross. Are you used to firearms ? " 
 
 " Is n't he? Maybe not ! I '11 be bound he knows a mus- 
 ket from a mealy pratie ! " 
 
 Such and such like were the comments that rang on all 
 
214 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 sides, so that the modest " Yis, sir," of the patriot was 
 completely lost. 
 
 " Load that gun, Tom," said the officer. 
 
 Here Colooney, deeming that so simple a request must 
 necessarily be only a cover for something underhand, — a 
 little clever surprise or so, — takes up the piece in a very 
 gingerly manner, and examines it all round, noticing that 
 there is nothing, so far as he can discover, unusual or un- 
 common about it. 
 
 " Load that gun, I say ! " 
 
 Sharper and more angrily is the command given this time. 
 
 "Yis, sii', immadiately." 
 
 And now Tom tries the barrel with the ramrod, lest there 
 should be already a charge there, — a piece of forethought 
 that is sure to be loudly applauded by the public, not the less 
 so because the impatience of the French officers is making 
 itself manifest in various ways. 
 
 At length he rams down the cartridge, and returns the 
 rami'od ; which piece of adroitness, if done with a certain 
 ail' of display and flourish, is unfailingly saluted by another 
 cheer. He now primes and cocks the piece, and assumes a 
 look of what he believes to be most soldier-like severity. 
 
 As he stands thus for scrutiny, a rather lively debate gets 
 up as to whether or not Tom bit off the end of the cartridge 
 before he rammed it down. The biters and anti-biters being 
 equally divided, the discussion waxes strong. The French 
 officers, eagerly asking what may be the disputed point, 
 laugh very heartily on hearing it. 
 
 " I'll lay ye a pint of sperits she won't go off," cries one. 
 
 "Done! for two naggins, if he pulls strong," rejoins 
 another. 
 
 ".Devil fear the same gun," cries a third; " she shot Mr. 
 Sloan, at fifty paces, and killed him dead." 
 
 " 'T is n't the same gun ; that 's a Frinch one, — a bran new 
 
 one 
 
 " She isn't." 
 
 " She is." 
 
 "No, she isn't." 
 
 " Yes, but she is." 
 
 "What is't you say?" 
 
 " Hould your prate ! " 
 
OUR ALLIES. 215 
 
 " Arrah, teach your mother to feed ducks ! " 
 
 " Silence iu the ranks! Keep silence there! Attention, 
 Colooney ! " 
 
 " Yis, su\" 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 " What at, sir? " asks Tom, taking an amateur glance of 
 the company, who look not over satisfied at his scrutiny. 
 
 " Fire in the aii'! " 
 
 Bang goes the piece, and a yell follows the explosion, while 
 cries of "Well done, Tom!" " Begorra, if a Protestant 
 got that ! " and so on, greet the performance. 
 
 "Stand by, Colooney! " and the volunteer falls back to 
 make way for another and similar exhibition, occasionally 
 varied by the humor or the blunders of the new candidate. 
 
 As to the Treasury orders, as we somewhat ludicrously 
 styled the cheques upon our imaginary bank, the scenes 
 they led to were still more absurd and complicated. We 
 paid liberally, that is to say in promises, for everything ; 
 and oiu' generosity saved us a good deal of time, for it was 
 astonishing how little the owners disputed our solvency when 
 the price was left to themselves. But the rations were in- 
 deed the most difficult matter of all, — it being impossible to 
 convince our allies of the fact that the compact was one of 
 trust, and the ration was not his own to dispose of in any 
 manner that might seem fit. 
 
 " Sure, if I don't like to ate it, if I have n't an appetite 
 for it, if I 'd rather have a pint of sperits or a flannel waist- 
 coat or a pair of stockings than a piece of mate, what harm 
 is that to any one ? " 
 
 This process of reasoning was much harder of answer than 
 is usually supposed ; and even when replied to, another diffi- 
 culty arose in its place. Unaccustomed to flesli diet, when 
 they tasted they could not refrain from it ; and the whole 
 week's rations of beef, amounting to eight pounds, were 
 frequently consumed in the first twenty-four hours. 
 
 Such instances of gormandizing were by no means unfre- 
 quent, and, stranger still, in no one case, so far as I knew, 
 followed by any ill consequences. 
 
 The leaders were still more difficult to manage than the 
 people. Without military knowledge or experience of any 
 kind, they presumed to dictate the plan of a campaign to old 
 
216 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 and distinguished officers like Humbert and Serasin, and when 
 overruled by argument or ridicule, invariably fell back upon 
 their superior knowledge of Ireland and her people, — a 
 defence for which, of course, we were quite unprepared and 
 unable to oppose anything. 
 
 From these and similar causes it may well be believed 
 that our labors were not light, and yet somehow, with all 
 the vexations and difficulties around us, there was a con- 
 genial tone of levity, an easy recklessness, and a careless 
 freedom in the Irish character that suited us well. There 
 was but one single point whereupon we were not thoroughly 
 together, and this was religion. They were a nation of most 
 zealous Catholics ; and as for us, the revolution had not left 
 the vestige of a belief amongst us. 
 
 A reconnaissance in Ballina, meant rather to discover the 
 strength of the garrison than of the place itself, having shown 
 that the royal forces were inconsiderable in number and 
 mostly militia. General Humbert moved forward, on Sunday 
 morning the 26th, with nine hundred men of our own force, 
 and about three thousand "volunteers," — leaving Colonel 
 Charost and his staff, with two companies of foot, at Killala, 
 to protect the town, and organize the new levies as they were 
 formed. 
 
 We saw our companions defile from the town with heavy 
 hearts. The small body of real soldiers seemed even smaller 
 still from being enveloped by that mass of peasants who 
 accompanied them, and who marched on the flanks or in the 
 rear promiscuously, without discipline or order, — a noisy, 
 half-drunken rabble, firing off their muskets at random, and 
 yelling as they went, in savage glee and exultation. Our 
 sole comfort was in the belief that when the hour of combat 
 did arrive, they would fight to the very last. Such were the 
 assurances of their own officers, and made so seriously and 
 confidently that we never thought of mistrusting them. 
 
 " If they be but steady under fire," said Charost, " a month 
 will make them good soldiers. Ours is an easy drill, and 
 soon learned ; but I own," he added, " they do not give me 
 this impression." 
 
 Such was the reflection of one who watched them as they 
 went past, and with sorrow we saw ourselves concurring in 
 the sentiment. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE DAY OF " CASTLEBAR. 
 
 We were all occupied with our drill at daybreak on the 
 morning of the 27th of August, when a mounted orderly 
 arrived at full gallop, with news that our troops were in 
 motion for Castlebar, and orders for us immediately to march 
 to their support, leaving only one subaltern and twenty men 
 in the Castle. 
 
 The worthy bishop was thunderstruck at the tidings. It 
 is more than probable that he never entertained any grave 
 fears of our ultimate success ; still he saw that in the 
 struggle, brief as it might be, rapine, murder, and pillage 
 would spread over the country, and that crime of every 
 sort would be certain to prevail during the short interval of 
 anarchy. 
 
 As our drums were beating the "rally," he entered the 
 garden, and with hurried steps came forward to where 
 Colonel Charost was standing delivering his orders. 
 
 " Good day, Mgr. I'Eveque," said the colonel, removing 
 his hat, and bowing low. "You see us in a moment of 
 haste. The campaign has opened, and we are about to 
 march." 
 
 "Have you made any provision for the garrison of this 
 town, colonel? " said the bishop, in terror. " Your presence 
 alone here restrained the population hitherto. If you leave 
 us — " 
 
 "We shall leave you a strong force of our faithful allies, 
 sir," said Charost; "Irishmen could scarcely desire better 
 defenders than their countrymen." 
 
 "You forget, colonel, that some of us here are averse to 
 this cause, but as non-combatants lay claim to protection." 
 
 "You shall have it, too, Mgr. I'Eveque; we leave an 
 officer and twenty men." 
 
218 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 "An officer and twenty men!" echoed the bishop in 
 dismay. 
 
 "Quite sufficient, I assure you," said Charost, coldly; 
 "and if a hair of one of their heads be injured by the 
 populace, trust me, sir, that we shall take a terrible 
 vengeance." 
 
 " You do not know these people sir, as I know them," said 
 the bishop, eagerly. "The same hour that you march out, 
 will the town of Killala be given up to pillage. As for your 
 retributive justice, I may be pardoned for not feeling any 
 consolation in the pledge, for certes neither I nor mine will 
 live to witness it." 
 
 As the bishop was speaking, a crowd of volunteers, some in 
 uniform and all armed, drew nearer and nearer to the place of 
 colloquy ; and although understanding nothing of what went 
 forward in the foreign language, seemed to watch the expres- 
 sions of the speakers' faces with a most keen interest. To 
 look at the countenances of these fellows, truly one would 
 not have called the bishop's fears exaggerated ; their expres- 
 sion was that of demoniac passion and hatred. 
 
 " Look, sir," said the bishop, turning round, and facing 
 the mob, " look at the men to whose safeguard you propose 
 to leave us ! " 
 
 Charost made no reply ; but making a sign for the bishop 
 to remain where he was, re-entered the pavilion hastily. I 
 could see through the window that he was reading his 
 despatches over again, and evidently taking counsel with 
 himself how to act. The determination was quickly come 
 to. 
 
 " Mgr. I'Eveque," said he, laying his hand on the bishop's 
 arm, " I find that my orders admit of a choice on my part. 
 I will therefore remain with you myself, and keep a suffi- 
 cient fprce of my own men. It is not impossible, however, 
 that in taking this step I may be perilling my own safety. 
 You will, therefore, consent that one of your sons shall 
 accompany the force now about to march, as a hostage. 
 This is not an unreasonable request on my part." 
 
 " Very well, sir," said the bishop, sadly. " When do they 
 leave?" 
 
 " Within half an hour," said Charost. 
 
THE DAY OF "CASTLEBAR." 219 
 
 The bishop, bowing, retraced his steps through the garden 
 back to the house. Oiu* preparations for the road were by 
 this time far advanced. The command said, *' Light march- 
 ing order, and no rations ; " so that we foresaw that there 
 was sharp work before us. Our men — part of the twelfth 
 demi-brigade, and a half company of grenadiers — were, 
 indeed, ready on the instant ; but the Irish were not so 
 easily equipped. Many had stra^'ed into the town ; some, 
 early as it was, were dead drunk ; and not a few had mislaid 
 their arms or then* ammunition, secretly preferring the 
 chance of a foray of their own to the prospect of a regular 
 engagement with the Royalist troops. 
 
 Our force was still a considerable one, numbering at least 
 fifteen hundred volunteers, besides about eighty of our men. 
 By seven o'clock we were under march, and with drums 
 beating defiled from the narrow sti'eets of Killala into the 
 mountain road that leads to Cloonagh, it being our object 
 to form a junction with the main body at the foot of the 
 mountain. 
 
 Two roads led from Ballina to Castlebar, — one to the east- 
 ward, the other to the west of Lough Con. The former was 
 a level road, easily passable by wheel carriages, and without 
 any obstacle or difficulty whatever ; the other took a straight 
 direction over lofty mountains, and in one spot — the Pass of 
 Barnageeragh — traversed a narrow detile shut in between 
 steep cliffs, where a small force, assisted by artillery, could 
 have arrested the advance of a great army. The road itself 
 too was in disrepair; the rains of autumn had torn and 
 fissured it, while heavy sandslips and fallen rocks in many 
 places rendered it almost impassable. 
 
 The Royalist generals had reconnoitred it two days before, 
 and were so convinced that all approach in this direction was 
 out of the question that a small picket of obsers^ation, posted 
 near the Pass of Barnageeragh, was withdrawn as useless, 
 and the few stockades they had fixed were still standing as 
 we marched through. 
 
 General Humbert had acquired all the details of these 
 separate lines of attack, and at once decided for the moun- 
 tain road, which besides the advantage of a surprise was in 
 reality four miles shorter. 
 
220 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 The only difficulty was the transport of our artillery ; but 
 as we merely carried those light field-pieces called '• curricle 
 guns," and had no want of numbers to draw them, this was 
 not an obstacle of much moment. "With fifty, sometimes 
 sixty, peasants to a gun, they advanced at a run up places 
 where our infantry found the ascent sufficiently toilsome. 
 Here, indeed, oui' allies showed in the most favorable 
 colors we had yet seen them. The prospect of a fight 
 seemed to excite their spirits almost to madness ; every 
 height they surmounted they would break into a wild cheer, 
 and the vigor with which they tugged the heavy ammuni- 
 tion-carts through the deep and spongy soil never interfered 
 with the joyous shouts they gave and the merry songs they 
 chanted in rude chorus. 
 
 " Tra, la, la ! the French is comin', 
 What '11 now the red coats do 1 
 Maybe they won't get a drubbin' ! 
 Sure we '11 lick them black and blue ! 
 
 " Ye little knew the day was near ye, 
 
 Ye little thought they 'd come so far ; 
 But here 's the boys that never fear ye, — 
 Run, yer sowls, for Castlebar ! " 
 
 To this measure they stepped in time ; and although the 
 poetry was lost upon our ignorance, the rattling joyousness 
 of the air sounded pleasantly, and our men, soon catching 
 up the tune, joined heartily in the chorus. 
 
 Another very popular melody ran somewhat thus : — 
 
 " Our day is now begun, 
 
 Says the Shan van voght. 
 Our day is now begun, 
 
 Says the Shan van voght. 
 Our day is now begun. 
 And ours is all the fun ! 
 Be my sowl ye 'd better run ! 
 
 Says the Shan van voght ! " 
 
 There were something like a hundred verses to this famous 
 air, but it is more than likely, from the specimen given above, 
 that my reader will forgive the want of memory that leave«s 
 me unable to quote the remaining ninety-nine ; nor is it 
 
THE DAY OF " CASTLEBAR." 221 
 
 necessary that I should add that the merit of these canticles 
 lay in the hoarse accord of a thousand rude voices, heard in 
 the stillness of a wild mountain region, and at a time when 
 an eventful struggle was before us. Such were the circum- 
 stances which possibly made these savage rhymes assume 
 something of terrible meaning. 
 
 "We had just arrived at the entrance of Barnageeragh, 
 when one of our mounted scouts rode up to say that a 
 peasant, who tended cattle on the mountains, had evidently 
 observed our approach, and hastened into Castlebar with 
 the tidings. 
 
 It was difficult to make General Humbert understand this 
 fact. 
 
 ' ' Is this the patriotism we have heard so much of ? Are 
 these the people who would welcome us as deliverers ? Par- 
 hleu! I've seen nothing but lukewarmness or downright 
 opposition since I landed ! In that same town we have 
 just quitted — a miserable hole, too, was it — what was the 
 first sight that greeted us? A fellow in our uniform hang- 
 ing from the stanchion of a window, with an inscription 
 round his neck to the purport that he was a traitor ! This 
 is the fraternity which our Irish friends never wearied to 
 speak of ! " 
 
 Oiu' march was now hastened, and in less than an hour we 
 debouched from the narrow gorge into the open plain before 
 the town of Castlebar. A few shots in our front told us that 
 the advanced picket had fallen in with the enemy, but a 
 French cheer also proclaimed that the Royalists had fallen 
 back, and our march continued unmolested. The road, 
 which was wide and level here, traversed a flat country 
 without hedgerow or cover, so that we were able to advance 
 in close column, without any precaution for our flanks ; but 
 before us there was a considerable ascent, which shut out all 
 \iew of the track beyond it. Up this our advanced guard 
 was toiling, somewhat wearied with a seven hours' march 
 and the heat of a warm morning, when scarcely had the 
 leading files topped the ridge than plump went a round-shot 
 over their heads, which, after describing a fine curv^e, plunged 
 into the soft surface of a newly-ploughed field. The troops 
 were instantly retired behind the crest of the hill, and an 
 
222 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 orderly despatched to inform the general that we were in 
 face of the enemy. He had already seen the shot and 
 marked its dkection. The main body was accordingly halted, 
 and, defiling from the centre, the troops extended on either 
 side into the fields. While this movement was being effected 
 Humbert rode forward, and, crossing the ridge, reconnoitred 
 the enemy. 
 
 It was, as he afterwards obsen^ed, a stronger force than 
 he had anticipated, consisting of between three and four 
 thousand bayonets, with four squadrons of horse, and two 
 batteries of eight guns, the whole admirably posted on a 
 range of heights in front of the town, and completely 
 covering it. 
 
 The ridge was scarcely eight hundred yards' distance, and 
 so distinctly was every object seen that Humbert and his 
 two aides-de-camp were at once marked and fired at, even in 
 the few minutes during which the reconnaissance lasted. 
 
 As the general retu'ed the firing ceased ; and now all our 
 arrangements were made without molestation of any kind. 
 They were, indeed, of the simplest and speediest. Two com- 
 panies of our grenadiers were marched to the front, and in 
 advance of them, about twenty paces, were posted a body 
 of Irish in French uniforms, — this place being assigned 
 them, it was said, as a mark of honor, but in reality for no 
 other purpose than to draw on them the Royalist artillery, 
 and thus screen the grenadiers. 
 
 Under cover of this force came two light six-pounder 
 guns, loaded with grape, and intended to be discharged at 
 point-blank distance. The infantry brought up the rear 
 in three compact columns, ready to deploy into line at a 
 moment. 
 
 In these very simple tactics no notice whatever was taken 
 of the great rabble of Irish who hung upon our flanks and 
 rear in disorderly masses, cursing, swearing, and vocifera- 
 ting in all the license of insubordination ; and O'Donnell, 
 whose showy uniform contrasted strikingly with the dark- 
 blue coat and low glazed cocked hat of Humbert, was now 
 appealed to by his countrymen as to the reason of this pal- 
 pable slight. 
 
 " What does he want, what does the fellow say?" asked 
 
THE DAY OF " CASTLEBAR." 223 
 
 Humbert, as he noticed his excited gestures and passionate 
 manner. 
 
 '"He is remonstrating, sir, " replied I, "on the neglect 
 of his countrymen ; he sa^^s that they do not seem treated 
 like soldiers ; no post has been assigned nor any order given 
 them." 
 
 "Tell him, sir," said Humbert, with a savage grin, "that 
 the discipline we have tried in vain to teach them hitherto 
 we '11 not venture to rehearse under an enemy's fire ; and tell 
 him also that he and his ragged followers are free to leave 
 us, or, if they like better, to turn against us, at a moment's 
 warning." 
 
 I was saved the unpleasant task of interpreting this civil 
 message by Couolly, who, taking O'Dounell aside, ai)peared 
 endeavoring to reason with him, and reduce him to something 
 like moderation. 
 
 " There, look at them, they 're mnning like sheep ! " cried 
 Humbert, laughing, as he pointed to an indiscriminate rabble, 
 some hundred yards off in a meadow, and who had taken to 
 theu' heels on seeing a round-shot plunge into the earth near 
 them. "Come along, sir; come with me, and when you 
 have seen what fire is, you may go back and tell your country- 
 men! Serasin, is all ready? Well then, foi-ward, march! " 
 
 " March ! " was now re-echoed along the line, and steadily, 
 as on a parade, our hardy infantry stepped out, while 
 the drums kept up a continued roll as we mounted the 
 hill. 
 
 The first to cross the crest of the ascent were the "Le- 
 gion," as the Irish were called, who, dressed like French 
 soldiers, were selected for some slight superiority in discipline 
 and bearing. They had but gained the ridge, however, 
 when a well-directed shot from a six-pounder smashed in 
 amongst them, killing two, and wounding six or seven others. 
 The whole mass immediately fell back on our grenadiers. 
 The confusion compelled the supporting column to lialt, and 
 once more the troops were retired behind the hill. 
 
 " Forward, men, foi-ward ! " cried Humbert, riding up to 
 the front, and in evident impatience at these repeated 
 checks ; and now the grenadiers passed to the front, and, 
 mounting the height, passed over, while a shower of balls 
 
224 IVIAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 flew over and around them. A small slated house stood half 
 way down the hill, and for this the leading files made a dash 
 and gained it, just as the main body were, for the third 
 time, driven back to re-form. 
 
 It was now evident that an attack in column could not 
 succeed against a fire so admirably directed, and Humbert 
 quickly deployed into line, and prepared to storm the enemy's 
 position. 
 
 Up to this the conduct of the Royalists had been marked 
 by the greatest steadiness and determination. Every shot 
 from their batteries had told, and all promised an easy and 
 complete success to theii' arms. No sooner, however, had 
 our infantry extended into line, than the militia, unaccus- 
 tomed to see an enemy before them, and unable to calculate 
 distance, opened a useless, dropping fire at a range where 
 not a bullet could reach ! 
 
 The ignorance of this movement and the irregularity of 
 the discharge were not lost upon our fellows, most of whom 
 were veterans of the army of the Rhine, and with a loud 
 cheer of derision our troops advanced to meet them, while a 
 cloud of sku-mishers dashed forward and secui-ed themselves 
 under cover of a hedge. 
 
 Even yet, however, no important advantage had been 
 gained by us, and if the Royalists had kept their ground in 
 support of their artillery we must have been driven back 
 with loss ; but, fortunately for us, a movement we made to 
 keep open order was mistaken by some of the militia officers 
 for the preparation to outflank them ; a panic seized the 
 whole line, and they fell back, leaving their guns totally 
 exposed and unprotected. 
 
 ' ' They 're running ! they 're running ! " was the cry along 
 our line ; and now a race was seen, which should be first up 
 with the artillery. The cheers at this moment were tremen- 
 dous ; for our " allies," who had kept wide aloof hitherto, 
 were now up with us, and, more lightly equipped than we 
 were, soon took the lead. The temerity, however, was 
 costly, for three several times did the Royalist artillery load 
 and fire ; and each discharge, scarcely at half -musket range, 
 was terribly effective. 
 
 We were by no means prepared for either so sudden or 
 
THE DAY OF "CASTLEBAR." 225 
 
 complete a success ; and the scene was exciting in the high- 
 est degree, as the whole line mounted the hill, cheering 
 madly. From the crest of this rising ground we could now 
 see the town of Castlebar beneath us, into which the Royal- 
 ists were scampering at full speed. A preparation for 
 defending the bridge into the town did not escape the watch- 
 ful eyes of our general, who again gave the word " For- 
 ward ! " not by the road alone, but also by the fields at 
 either side, so as to occupy the houses that should command 
 the bridge, and which, by a palpable neglect, the others had 
 forgotten to do. 
 
 Our small body of horse, about twenty hussars, were 
 ordered to charge the bridge, and had they been even moder- 
 ately well mounted must have captured the one gun of the 
 enemy at once ; but the miserable cattle, unable to strike a 
 canter, only exposed them to a sharp musketry, and when 
 they did reach the bridge five of their number had fallen. 
 The six-pounder was, however, soon taken, and the gunners 
 sabred at theii* posts, while our advanced guard coming up, 
 completed the ^ictory; and nothing now remained but a 
 headlong flight. 
 
 Had we possessed a single squadron of dragoons, few 
 could have escaped us, for not a vestige of discipline re- 
 mained. All was wild confusion and panic. Such of the 
 oflScers as had ever seen sei-vice were already killed or badly 
 wounded ; and the younger ones were perfectly unequal to 
 the difficult task of rallying or restoring order to a routed 
 force. 
 
 The scene in the market-square, as we rode in, is not 
 easily to be forgotten ; about two hundred prisoners were 
 standing in a group, disarmed, it is true, but quite unguarded, 
 and without any preparation or precaution against escape. 
 
 Six or seven English officers, amongst whom were two 
 majors, were gathered around General Humbert, who was 
 conversing with them in tones of easy and jocular famil- 
 iarity. The captured guns of the enemy (fourteen in all) 
 were being ranged on one side of the square, while behind 
 them were drawn up a strange-looking line of men, with 
 theii' coats turned. These were part of the Kilkenny militia, 
 who had deserted to our ranks after the retreat began. 
 
 15 
 
226 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 Such was the "fight " of Castlebar, — it would be absurd to 
 call it a '^ battle," — a day too inglorious for the Royalists to 
 reflect any credit upon us ; but, such as it was, it raised the 
 spirits of our Irish followers to a pitch of madness, and out 
 of our own ranks none now doubted the certainty of Irish 
 independence. 
 
 Our occupation of the town lasted only a week ; but brief 
 as the time was, it was sufficient to widen the breach between 
 ourselves and our allies into an open and undisguised hatred. 
 There were, unquestionably, wrongs on both sides. As for 
 us, we were thoroughly, bitterly disappointed in the 
 character of those we had come to liberate ; and making 
 the egregious mistake of confounding these semi-civilized 
 peasants with the Irish people, we deeply regretted that ever 
 the French army should have been sent on so worthless a 
 mission. As for them, they felt insulted and degraded by 
 the offensive tone we assumed towards them. Not alone 
 were they never regarded as comrades, but a taunting inso- 
 lence of manner was assumed in all our dealings with them, 
 very strikingly in contrast to that with which we conducted 
 ourselves towards all the other inhabitants of the island, 
 even those who were avowedly inimical to our object and our 
 cause. 
 
 These things, with native quickness, they soon remarked. 
 They saw the consideration and politeness with which the 
 bishop and his family were treated ; they saw several 
 Protestant gentlemen suffered to return to their homes ' ' on 
 parole." They saw too — worst grievance of all — how all 
 attempts at pillage were restrained, or severely punished ; 
 and they asked themselves, " To what end a revolt, if neither 
 massacre nor robbery were to follow? If they wanted 
 masters and rulers, sure they had the English that they were 
 used to, and could at least understand." 
 
 Such were the causes and such the reasonings which 
 gradually eat deeper and deeper into their minds, rendering 
 them at first sullen, gloomy, and suspicious, and at last 
 insubordinate and openly insulting to us. 
 
 Their leaders were the first to exhibit this state of feeling. 
 Affecting a haughty disdain for us, they went about with dis- 
 paraging stories of the French soldiery ; and at last went 
 even so far as to impugn their courage. 
 
THE DAY OF "CASTLEBAR." 227 
 
 In one of the versions of the affah' of Castlebar, it was 
 roundly asserted that but for the Irish threatening to fire on 
 them the French would have turned and lied ; while in 
 another the tactics of that day were all ascribed to the mili- 
 tary genius of Neal Kerrigan, who, by the bye, was never 
 seen from early morning until late the same afternoon, when 
 he rode into Castlebar on a fine bay horse that belonged to 
 Captain Shortall of the Royal Artillery. 
 
 If the feeling between us and our allies was something 
 less than cordial, nothing could be more friendly than that 
 which subsisted between us and such of the Royalists as we 
 came in contact with. The officers who became our prisoners 
 were treated with every deference and respect. Two field- 
 officers and a captain of carbineers dined daily with the 
 general, and Serasin entertained several others. We liked 
 them greatly ; and I believe I am not flattering, if I say that 
 they were equally satisfied with us. " Nos amis I'ennemis," 
 was the constant expression used in talking of them ; and 
 every day drew closer the ties of this comrade regard and 
 esteem. 
 
 Such was the cordial tone of intimac}" maintained between 
 us that I remember well, one evening at Humbert's table, an 
 animated discussion being carried on between the general 
 and an English staff-officer on the campaign itself, — the 
 Royalist averring that in marching southward at all a gross 
 and m-eparable mistake had been made, and that if the 
 French had occupied Sligo, and extended their wings 
 towards the north, they would have secured a position of 
 infinitely greater strength, and also become the centre for 
 rallying round them a population of a very different order 
 from the half -starved tribes of Ma^^o. 
 
 Humbert affected to say that the reason for his actual plan 
 was that twenty thousand French were daily expected to 
 land in Lough Swilly, and that the western attack was 
 merely to occupy time and attention while the more formid- 
 able movement went on elsewhere. 
 
 I know not if the English believed this ; I rather suspect 
 not. Certes, they were too polite to express any semblance 
 of distrust of what was told them with all the air of truth. 
 
 It was amusing, too, to see the candor with which each 
 
228 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 party discussed the other to his face, — the French general 
 criticising all the fault}' tactics and defective manoeuvres of 
 the Roj^alists ; while the English never hesitated to aver that 
 whatever momentary success might wait upon the French 
 arms, they were just as certain to be obliged to capitulate in 
 the end. 
 
 " You know it better than I do, General," said the major 
 of dragoons. " It may be a day or two earlier or later, but 
 the issue will and must be — a suiTender." 
 
 "I don't agree with you," said Humbert, laughing; "I 
 think there will be more than one ' Castlebar.' But let the 
 worst happen, — and you must own that your haughty coun- 
 try has received a heavy insult, — your great England has 
 got a sovfflH in the face of all Europe ! " 
 
 This, which our general regarded as a great compensation, 
 — the greatest, perhaps, he could receive for all defeat, — 
 did not seem to affect the English with proportionate dismay, 
 nor even to ruffle the equanimity of their calm tempers. 
 
 Upon one subject both sides were quite agreed, — that the 
 peasantry never could aid, but very possibly would always 
 shipwreck, every attempt to win national independence. 
 
 " I should have one army to fight the English, and two to 
 keep down the Irish ! " was Humbert's expression ; and very 
 little experience served to show that there was not much 
 exaggeration in the sentiment. 
 
 Our we-ek at Castlebar taught us a good lesson in this 
 respect. The troops, wearied with a march that had begun 
 on the midnight of the day before, and with an engagement 
 that lasted from eight till two in the afternoon, were obliged 
 to be under arms for several hours to repress pillage and 
 massacre. Our allies now filled the town, to the number of 
 five thousand, openly demanding that it should be given up 
 to them, — parading the streets in riotous bands, and dis- 
 playing banners with long lists of names doomed for imme- 
 diate destruction. 
 
 The steadiness and temper of our soldiery were severely 
 tried by these factious and insubordinate spirits ; but dis- 
 cipline prevailed at last, and before the first evening closed 
 in the town was quiet, and for the tipie at least danger 
 over. 
 
CHAPTER XXni. 
 
 " THE T0WN-3IAJ0R OF CASTLEBAR." 
 
 I AM at a loss to know whether or not I owe an apology to 
 my reader for turning away from the more immediate object 
 of this memou* of a life, to speak of events which have 
 assumed an historical reputation. It may be thought ill- 
 becoming in one who occupied the subordinate station that 
 I did, to express himself on subjects so very far above both 
 his experience and acquaintance ; but I would premise that 
 in the opinions I may have formed, and the words of praise 
 or censure dropped, I have been but retailing the sentiments 
 of those older and wiser than myself, and by whose guidance 
 I was mainly led to entertain not only the convictions but 
 the prejudices of my early years. 
 
 Let the reader bear in mind, too, that I was very early in 
 life thrown into the society of men, — left self-dependent, in 
 a great measure, and obliged to decide for myself on subjects 
 which usually are determined by older and more mature 
 heads. So much of excuse, then, if I seem presumptuous 
 in saying that I began to conceive a very low opinion 
 generally of popular attempts at independence, and a very 
 high one of the powers of military skill and discipline. A 
 mob, in my estimation, was the ver}' lowest, and an army 
 about the very highest, object I could well conceive. My 
 short residence at Castlebar did not tend to controvert these 
 impressions. The safety of the town and its inhabitants 
 was entirely owing to the handful of French who held it, 
 and who, wearied with guards, pickets, and outpost duty, 
 were a mere fraction of the small force that had landed a few 
 days before, 
 
 Our "allies" were now our most difficult charge. Aban- 
 doning the hopeless task of drilling and disciplining them, 
 we confined ourselves to the more practical office of re- 
 
230 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 straining pillage and repressing violence, — a measui'e, be it 
 said, that was not without peril, and of a very serious kind. 
 I remember one incident, which, if not followed by grave 
 consequences, yet appeared at the tune of a very serious 
 character. 
 
 B}^ the accidental misspelling of a name, a man named 
 Dowall, a notorious ruffian and demagogue, was appointed 
 '• Commandant de Place," or town-major, instead of a most 
 respectable shopkeeper named Downes, and who, although 
 soon made aware of the mistake, from natural timidity took 
 no steps to undeceive the general. Dowall was haranguing 
 a mob of half-drunken vagabonds when his commission was 
 put into his hands, and accepting the post as an evidence of 
 the fears the French entertained of his personal influence, 
 became more overbearing and insolent than ever. We had 
 a very gallant officer, the second major of the twelfth 
 Eegiment of the Line, killed in the attack on Castlebar, and 
 this Dowall at once took possession of poor Delaitre's horse, 
 arms, and equipment. His coat and shako, his very boots 
 and gloves, the scoundrel appropriated, and as if in 
 mockery of us and our poor friend, assumed a habit that 
 he had, when riding fast, to place his sabre between his leg 
 and the saddle to prevent its striking the horse on the 
 flanks. 
 
 I need scarcely say that thoroughly disgusted by the 
 unsightly exhibition, oui' incessant cares and the endless 
 round of duty we were engaged in, as well as the critical 
 position we occupied, left us no time to notice the fellow's 
 conduct by any other than a passing sign of anger or con- 
 tempt, — provocations that he certainly gave us back as inso- 
 lently as we offered them. I do not believe that the general 
 ever saw him, but I know that incessant complaints were 
 daily made to him about the man's rapacity and tyranny, and 
 scarcely a morning passed without a dozen remonstrances 
 being preferred against his overbearing conduct. 
 
 Determined to have his own countrymen on his side, he 
 issued the most absurd orders for the billeting of the rabble, 
 the rations and allowances of all kinds. He seized upon one 
 of the best houses for his own quarters and three fine 
 saddle-horses for his personal use, besides a number of 
 Inferior ones for the ruffian following: he called his staff. 
 
"THE TOWN-MAJOR OF CASTLEBAR." 231 
 
 It was, indeed, enough to excite laughter, had not indig- 
 nation been the more powerful emotion, to see this fellow ride 
 forth of a morning, — a tawdry scarf of green, with deep gold 
 fringe, thrown over his shoulder, and a saddle-cloth of tlie 
 same color, profusely studded with gold shamrocks, on his 
 horse ; a drawn sword in his hand, and his head erect, 
 followed by an indiscriminate rabble on foot or horseback, 
 some with muskets, some pikes, some with sword-blades, 
 bayonets, or even knives fastened on sticks, but all alike 
 ferocious-looking and savage. 
 
 They affected to march in order, and with a rude imita- 
 tion of soldiery carried something like a knapsack on their 
 shoulders, sui'mounted by a kettle, or tin cup, or sometimes 
 an ii'on pot, — a grotesque parody on the trim cooking equip- 
 ment of the French soldier. It was evident, from their step 
 and bearing, that they thought themselves in the very height 
 of discipline ; and this very assumption was far more insult- 
 ing to the real soldier than all the licentious irregularity of 
 the marauder. If to us they were objects of ridicule and 
 derision, to the townspeople they were images of terror and 
 dismay. The miserable shopkeeper who housed one of them 
 lived in continual fear; he knew nothing to be his own, and 
 felt that his property and family were every moment at the 
 dictate of a ruffian gang, who acknowledged no law, nor any 
 rule save theii* own will and convenience. Dowall's squad 
 were indeed as great a terror in that little town as I had 
 seen the great name of Robespierre in the proud city of 
 Paris. 
 
 In my temporary position on General vSerasin's staff, I 
 came to hear much of this fellow's conduct. The most 
 grievous stories were told me every day of his rapacity and 
 cruelty; but harassed and overworked as the general was 
 with duties that would have been over-much for three or four 
 men, I forbore to trouble him with recitals which could only 
 fret and distress him without affording the slightest chance 
 of relief to others. Perhaps this impunity had rendered 
 him more daring, or, perhaps the immense number of armed 
 Irish, in comparison with the small force of disciplined sol- 
 diers, emboldened the fellow ; but certainly lie grew day by 
 day more presumptuous and insolent, and at last so far forgot 
 
232 MAUKICE TIERNAY. 
 
 himself as to countermand one of General Serasin's orders, 
 by which a guard was stationed at the Protestant church to 
 prevent its being molested or injured by the populace. 
 
 General Humbert had already refused the Roman Catholic 
 priest his permission to celebrate mass in that building ; but 
 Dowr.ll had determined otherwise, and that, too, by a written 
 order under his own hand. The French sergeant who com- 
 manded the guard of course paid little attention to this war- 
 rant ; and when Father Hennisy wanted to carry the matter 
 with a high hand, he coolly tore up the paper and threw the 
 fragments at him. Dowall was soon informed of the slight 
 offered to his mandate. He was at supper at the time, enter- 
 taining a party of his friends, who all heard the priest's story, 
 and of course loudly sympathized with his sorrows, and 
 invoked the powerful leader's aid and protection. Affecting 
 to believe that the sergeant had merely acted in ignorance, 
 and from not being able to read English, Dowall despatched a 
 fellow, whom he called his aide-de-camp, — a schoolmaster 
 named Lowrie, and who spoke a little bad French, — to inter- 
 pret his command, and to desire the sergeant to withdraw his 
 men and give up the guard to a party of " the squad." 
 
 Great was the surprise of the supper party, when, after 
 the lapse of half-an-hour, a country fellow came in to say 
 that he had seen Lowrie led off to prison between two 
 French soldiers. By this time Dowall had drunk himself 
 into a state of utter recklessness ; while encouraged by his 
 friend's praises, and the arguments of his own passions, he 
 fancied that he might dispute ascendancy with General 
 Humbert himself. He at once ordered out his horse, and 
 gave a command to assemble " the squad." As they were 
 all billeted in his immediate vicinity, this was speedily 
 effected, and their numbers swelled by a vast mass of idle 
 and curious, who were eager to see how the matter would 
 end; the whole street was crowded, and when Dowall 
 mounted, his followers amounted to above a thousand 
 people. 
 
 If our sergeant, an old soldier of the " Sambre et Meuse," 
 had not already enjoyed some experience of our allies, it is 
 more than likely that, seeing theii* hostile advance, he would 
 have fallen back upon the main guard, then stationed in the 
 
"THE TOWN-MAJOR OF CASTLEBAR." 233 
 
 market-square. As it was, he simply retired his party 
 within the church, the door of which had ah'eady been 
 pierced for the use of musketry. This done, and one of his 
 men being despatched to headquarters for advice and orders, 
 he waited patiently for the attack. 
 
 I happened that night to make one of General Serasin's 
 dinner party, and we were sitting over our wine, when the 
 otiicer of the guard entered hastily with the tidings of what 
 was going on in the town. 
 
 *' Is it the Commandant de Place himself is at the head?" 
 exclaimed Serasin, in amazement, such a thouo;ht bein"; a 
 direct shock to all his ideas of military discipline. 
 
 " Yes, sii'," said the officer, " the soldier knows his appear- 
 ance well, and can vouch for its being him." 
 
 " As I know something of him. General," said I, " I may 
 as well mention that nothing is more likely." 
 
 " Who is he — what is he? " asked Serasin, hastily. 
 
 A very brief account (I need not say not a flattering one) 
 told all that 1 knew or had ever heard of our worthy 
 Town Major, — many of the officers around corroborating, 
 as I went on, all that 1 said, and interpolating little details 
 of theii' own about his robberies and exactions. 
 
 " And yet I have heard nothing of all this before," said 
 the general, looking sternly around him on every side. 
 
 None ventured on a reply, and what might have followed 
 there is no guessing, when the sharp rattle of musketry cut 
 short all discussion. 
 
 " That fire was not given by soldiers," said Serasin. " Go, 
 Tiernay, and bring this fellow before me at once." 
 
 I bowed, and was leaving the room, when an officer, hav- 
 ing whispered a few words in Serasin's ear, the general 
 called me back, saying, — 
 
 "You are not to incur any risk, Tiernay; I want no 
 struggle, still less a rescue. You understand me?" 
 
 "Perfectly, General; the matter will, I trust, be easy 
 enough." 
 
 And so I left the room, my heart — shall I avow it ? — 
 bumping and throbbing in a fashion that gave a very poor 
 corroboration to my words. There were alwa^'s three or four 
 horses ready saddled for duty at each general's quarters, and 
 
234 IMAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 taking one of them, I ordered a corporal of dragoons to 
 follow me, and set out. It was a fine night of autumn ; the 
 last faint sunlight was yet struggling with the coming dark- 
 ness, as I rode at a brisk trot down the main street towards 
 the scene of action. 
 
 I had not proceeded far when the crowds compelled me to 
 slacken my pace to a walk, and finding that the people 
 pressed in upon me in such a way as to prevent anything like 
 a defence if attacked, still more any chance of an escape by 
 flight, I sent the corporal foi-ward to clear a passage, and 
 announce my coming to the redoubted Commandant. It 
 was curious to see how the old dragoon's tactic effected his 
 object, and with what speed the crowd opened and fell back, 
 as with a flank movement of his horse he " passaged " up 
 the street, prancing, bounding, and back-leaping, yet all the 
 while perfectly obedient to the hand, and never deviating 
 from the straight line in the very middle of the thoroughfare. 
 
 I could catch from the voices around me that the mob had 
 fired a volley at the church-door, but that our men had never 
 returned the fire ; and now a great commotion of the crowd, 
 and that swaj^ng, surging motion of the mass which is so 
 peculiarly indicative of a coming event, told that something 
 more was in preparation. And such was it ; for already 
 numbers were hurrying foi-ward with straw-fagots, broken 
 furniture, and other combustible material, which, in the 
 midst of the wildest cries and shouts of triumph, were now 
 being heaped up against the door. Another moment, and I 
 should have been too late ; as it was, my loud summons to 
 " halt," and a bold command for the mob to fall back, only 
 came at the very last minute. 
 
 " Where 's the commandant? " said I, in an imperious tone. 
 
 "Who wants him? " responded a deep husky voice, which 
 I well knew to be Dowall's. 
 
 " The general in command of the town," said I firmly, — 
 " General Serasin." 
 
 "Maybe I'm as good a general as himself," was the 
 answer. "I never called him my superior yet, — did I, 
 boys?" 
 
 " Never — devil a bit — why would you? " and such like, 
 were shouted by the mob around us, in every accent of 
 drunken defiance. 
 
"THE TOWN-MAJOR OF CASTLEBAR." 235 
 
 " You '11 not refuse General Serasiu's invitation to confer 
 with you, Commandant, I hope ? " said I, affecting a tone of 
 respectful civility, while I gradually drew nearer and nearer 
 to him, contriving, at the same time, by a dexterous 
 plunging of my horse, to force back the bystanders, and 
 thus isolate my friend Dowall. 
 
 "Tell him I've work to do here," said he, "and can't 
 come ; but if he 's fond of a bonfire he may as well step down 
 this far and see one." 
 
 By this time, at a gestm^e of command from me, the 
 corporal had placed himself on the opposite side of Dowall's 
 horse, and by a movement similar to my own, completely 
 drove back the dense mob, so that we had him completely 
 in our power, and could have sabred or shot him at any 
 moment. 
 
 " General Serasin only wishes to see you on duty. Com- 
 mandant," said I, speaking in a voice that could be heard 
 over the entire assemblage ; and then dropping it to a 
 whisper, only audible to himself, I added, " Come along 
 quietly, sir, and without a word. If you speak, if you 
 mutter, or if you lift a finger, I'll run my sabre through 
 your body." 
 
 "Forward! way, there!" shouted I aloud, and the cor- 
 poral, holding Dowall's bridle, pricked the horse with the 
 point of his sword, and right through the crowd we went 
 at a pace that defied following, had any the daring to think 
 of it. 
 
 So sudden was the act and so imminent the peril, for I 
 held the point of my weapon within a few inches of his 
 back and would have kept my word most assuredly too, that 
 the fellow never spoke a syllable as we went, nor ventured 
 on even a word of remonstrance till we descended at the 
 general's door. Then, with a voice tremulous with restrained 
 passion, he said, — 
 
 " If ye think I'll forgive ye this thrick, my fine boy, may 
 the flames and fire be my portion ! and if I have n't my 
 revenge on ye yet, my name is n't Mick Dowall." 
 
 With a dogged, sulky resolution he mounted the stairs ; 
 but as he neared the room where the general was, and from 
 which his voice could even now be heard, his courage 
 seemed to fail him, and he looked back as though to see if 
 
236 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 no chance of escape remained. The attempt would have 
 been hopeless, and he saw it. 
 
 " This is the man, General," said I, half pushing him 
 forward into the middle of the room, where he stood with 
 his hat on, and in an attitude of mingled defiance and terror. 
 
 "Tell him to uncover," said Serasin; but one of the 
 aides-de-camp, more zealous than courteous, stepped forward 
 and knocked the hat off with his hand. Dowall never 
 budged an inch nor moved a muscle at this insult ; to look 
 at him, you could not have said that he was conscious 
 of it. 
 
 " Ask him if it was by his orders that the guard was as- 
 sailed," said the general. 
 
 I put the question in about as many words, but he made 
 no reply. 
 
 ' ' Does the man know where he is ? Does he know who I 
 am?" repeated Serasin, passionately. 
 
 '' He knows both well enough, sir," said I; " this silence 
 is a mere defiance of us." 
 
 ''' Parbleul '' cried an officer, "that is the coquin took 
 poor Delaitre's equipments ; the very uniform he has on was 
 his." 
 
 " The fellow was never a soldier," said another. 
 
 " I know him well," interposed a thuxl, — "he is the very 
 terror of the townsfolk." 
 
 " Who gave him his commission — who appointed him?" 
 asked Serasin. 
 
 Apparently the fellow could follow some words of French, 
 for as the general asked this he drew from his pocket a 
 crumpled and soiled paper, which he threw heedlessly upon 
 the table before us. 
 
 "Why, this is not his name, sir," said I; " this appoint- 
 ment is made out in the name of Nicholas Downes, and our 
 friend here is called Dowall." 
 
 "Who knows him — who can identify him?" asked 
 Serasin. 
 
 " I can say that his name is Dowall, and that he worked as 
 a porter on the quay in this town when I was a boy," said a 
 young Irishman who was copying letters and papers at a side 
 table. " Yes, Dowall," said the youth, confronting the look 
 which the other gave him, ' ' I am neither afraid nor 
 
"THE TOWN-MAJOR OF CASTLEBAR." 237 
 
 ashamed to tell you to 3'our face that I know you well, and 
 who you are, and what you are." 
 
 " I 'm an otiicer in the Irish Independent Army now," said 
 Dowall, resolutely. ''To the divil I fling the French com- 
 mission and all that belongs to it. 'T is n't troops that run 
 and guns that burst we want. Let them go back again the 
 way they came ; we 're able for the work ourselves." 
 
 Before I could translate this rude speech an otiicer broke 
 into the room, with tidings that the streets had been cleared 
 and the rioters dispersed ; a few prisoners, too, were taken, 
 whose muskets bore trace of being recently discharged. 
 
 " They fired upon our pickets. General," said the officer, 
 whose excited look and voice betrayed how deeply he felt 
 the outrage. 
 
 The men were introduced ; three ragged, ill-looking 
 wretches, apparently only roused from intoxication by the 
 terror of then- situation, for each was guarded by a soldier 
 with a drawn bayonet in his hand. 
 
 " We only obeyed ordhers, my lord ; we only did what the 
 Captain tould us," cried they, in a miserable, whining tone, 
 for the sight of theii* leader in captivity had sapped all their 
 courage. 
 
 " What am I here for? Who has any business with me? " 
 said Dowall, assuming before his followers an attempt at his 
 former tone of bully. 
 
 " Tell him," said Serasin, " that wherever a French gene- 
 ral stands in full command he will neither brook insolence 
 nor insubordination. Let those fellows be turned out of the 
 town, and warned never to approach the quarters of the 
 army under any pretence whatever. As for this scoundrel, 
 we '11 make an example of him. Order a peloton into the 
 yard, and shoot him." 
 
 I rendered this speech into English as the general spoke it, 
 and never shall I forget the wild scream of the wretch as he 
 heard the sentence. 
 
 "I'm an officer in the army of Ireland. I don't belong 
 to ye at all. You 've no power over me. Oh, Captain, darlin', 
 oh, gentlemen, speak for me! General, dear; General, 
 honey, don't sintince me ! don't for the love of God ! " and in 
 grovelling terror the miserable creature threw himself on his 
 knees to beg for merer. 
 
238 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Tear off his epaulettes," cried Serasin ; "never let a 
 French uniform be so disgraced." 
 
 The soldiers wrenched off the epaulettes at the command ; 
 and not satisfied with this, they even tore away the lace 
 from the cuffs of the uniform, which now hung in ragged 
 fragments over his trembling hands. 
 
 '• Oh, sir! oh, General I oh, gentlemen, have marcy ! " 
 
 "Away with him," said Serasin, contemptuously; " it is 
 only the cruel can be such cowards. Give the fellow his 
 fusillade with blank cartridge, and the chances are fear will 
 kill him outright." 
 
 The scene that ensued is too shocking, too full of abase- 
 ment to record ; there was nothing that fear of death, 
 nothing that abject terror could suggest, that this miserable 
 wretch did not attempt to save his life ; he wept, he begged 
 in accents that were unworthy of all manhood, he kissed 
 the very ground at the general's feet in his abject sorrow ; 
 and when at last he was dragged from the room his screams 
 were the most terrific and piercing. 
 
 Although all my compassion was changed into contempt, I 
 felt that I could never have given the word to- fire upon him 
 had such been my orders ; his fears had placed him below all 
 manhood, but they still formed a barrier of defence around 
 him. I accordingly whispered a few words to the sergeant, 
 as we passed down the stairs, and then affecting to have for- 
 gotten something, I stepped back towards the room where 
 the general and his staff were sitting. The scuffling sound of 
 feet, mingled with the crash of firearms, almost drowned the 
 cries of the still struggling wretch ; his voice, however, burst 
 forth into a wild cry, and then there came a pause, — a pause 
 that at last became insupportable to my anxiety, and I was 
 about to rush downstairs when a loud yell, a savage howl of 
 derision and hate, burst forth from the street ; and on looking 
 out I saw a vast crowd before the door, who were shouting 
 after a man whose speed soon carried him out of reach. 
 This was Dowall, who, thus suffered to escape, was told to 
 fly from the town and never to return to it. 
 
 "Thank Heaven," muttered I, "we've seen the last of 
 him ! " 
 
 The rejoicing was, however, premature. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "the mission to the noutii." 
 
 I HAVE never yet been able to discover whether General 
 Humbert really did feel the confidence that he assumed at 
 this period, or that he merely affected it the better to sustain 
 the spirits of those around liim. If our success at Castlebar 
 was undeniable, our loss was also great, and far more than 
 proportionate to all the advantages we had acquired. Six 
 officers and two hundred and forty men were either killed or 
 badly wounded ; and as our small force had really accpiired no 
 reinforcement worth the name, it was evident that another 
 such costly victory would be our ruin. 
 
 Not one gentleman of rank or influence had yet joined us, 
 few of the priesthood ; and even among the farmers and 
 peasantry it was easy to see that our recruits comprised 
 those whose accession could never have conferred honor or 
 profit on any cause. 
 
 Our situation was anything l)ut promising. The rumors 
 that reached us (and we had no other or more accurate 
 information than rumors) told that an army of thirty thou- 
 sand men, under the command of Lord Cornwallis, was in 
 march against us ; that all the insurrectionary movements of 
 the south were completely repressed ; that the spirit of the 
 rebels was crushed and their confidence broken, either by 
 defeat or internal treachery, — in a word, that the expedition 
 had already failed, and tlie sooner we had the means of leav- 
 ing the land of our disasters the better. 
 
 Such were the universal feelings of all my comrades ; but 
 Humbert, who had often told us that we were only here to 
 eclairer la route for another and more formidable mission, 
 now pretended to think that we were progressing most 
 favorably towards a perfect success. Perhaps he firmly 
 
240 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 believed all this, or perhaps he thought that the pretence 
 would give more dignity to the finale of an exploit which he 
 already saw was nearly played out. I know not which is 
 the true explanation, and am half disposed to think that he 
 was actuated as much by one impulse as the other. 
 
 The "Army of the North" was the talisman, which we 
 now heard of for the first time, to repaii' all our disasters 
 and ensure complete victory. The " Army of the North," 
 whose strength varied from twenty to twenty-five, and some- 
 times reached even thirty thousand, men, and was commanded 
 by a distinguished Irish general, was now the centre to which 
 all our hopes turned. Whether it had already landed and 
 where, of what it consisted and how officered, not one of us 
 knew anything ; but by dint of daily repetition and discus- 
 sion we had come to believe in its existence as certainly as 
 though we had seen it under arms. 
 
 The credulous lent their convictions without any trouble 
 to themselves whatever ; the more sceptical studied the map, 
 and fancied twenty different places in which they might have 
 disembarked ; and thus the " Army of the North " grew to be 
 a substance and reality as undoubted as the scenes before 
 our eyes. 
 
 Never was such a ready solution of all difficulties dis- 
 covered as this same " Army of the North." Were we to be 
 beaten by Cornwallis, it was only a momentary check, for 
 the " Army of the North " would come up within a few days 
 and turn the whole tide of war. If our Irish allies grew 
 insubordinate or disorderly, a little patience and the " Army 
 of the North " would settle all that. Every movement pro- 
 jected was fancied to be in concert with this redoubted corps ; 
 and at last every trooper that rode in from Killala or Ballina 
 was questioned as to whether his despatches did not come 
 from the "Army of the North." 
 
 Frenchmen will believe anything you like for twenty-four 
 hours. They can be flattered into a credulity of two days, 
 and by dint of great artifice and much persuasion will occa- 
 sionally reach a third ; but there, faith has its limit ; and if 
 nothing palpable, tangible, and real intervene, scepticism 
 ensues ; and what with native sarcasm, ridicule, and irony, 
 thev will demolish the card edifice of credit far more rapidly 
 
"THE MISSION TO THE NORTH." 241 
 
 than ever they raised it. For two whole days the " Army of 
 the North " occupied every man amongst us. We toasted it 
 over our wine ; we discussed it at our quarters ; we debated 
 upon its whereabouts, its strength, and its probable destina- 
 tion ; but on the third morning a terrible shock was given 
 to our feelings by a volatile young lieutenant of hussars 
 exclaiming, — 
 
 " 3/a foi! I wish I could see this same 'Army of the 
 North ' ! '" 
 
 Now, although nothing w^as more reasonable than this 
 wish, nor was there any one of us who had not felt a similar 
 desire, this sudden expression of it struck us all most forcibly ; 
 and a shrinking sense of doubt spread over every face, and 
 men looked at each other as though to say, "Is the fellow 
 capable of supposing that such an army does not exist?" 
 It was a very dreadful moment, — a terrible interval of 
 struggle between the broad daylight of belief and the black 
 darkness of incredulity ; and we turned glances of actual 
 dislike at the man who had so unwarrantably shaken our 
 settled convictions. 
 
 " I only said I should like to see them under arms," stam- 
 mered he, in the confusion of one who saw himself exposed 
 to public obloquy. 
 
 This half apology came too late, — the mischief was done ; 
 and we shunned each other like men who were afraid to read 
 the accusation of even a shrewd glance. As for myself, I 
 can compare my feelings only to those of the worthy alder- 
 man who broke out into a paroxysm of grief on hearing 
 that "Robinson Crusoe" was a fiction. I believe, on that 
 sudden revulsion of feeling, I could have discredited any and 
 everything. If there was no " Army of the North," was I 
 quite sure that there was any expedition at all? "Were the 
 generals mere freebooters, the chiefs of a marauding venture ? 
 Were the patriots anything but a disorderly rabble eager for 
 robbery and bloodshed? Was Irish independence a mere 
 phantom? Such were among the shocking terrors that came 
 across my mind as I sat in my quarters, far too dispirited and 
 depressed to mix among my comrades. 
 
 It had been a day of fatiguing duty ; and I was not sorry, 
 as night fell, that I might betake myself to bed, to forget, if 
 
 16 
 
242 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 it might be, the torturiug doubts that troubled me. Sud- 
 denly I heard a heavy foot upon the stak, and an orderly 
 entered with a command for me to repair' to the headquarters 
 of the general at once. Never did the call of duty summon 
 me less willing, never found me so totally disinclined to obey. 
 I was weary and fatigued ; but worse than this, I was out of 
 temper with myself, the service, and the whole world. Had 
 I heard that the Royal forces were approaching, I was ex- 
 actly in the humor to have dashed into the thick of them, and 
 sold my life as dearly as I could, out of desperation. 
 
 Discipline is a powerful antagonist to a man's caprices ; 
 for with all my irritability and discontent I arose, and re- 
 suming my uniform set out for General Humbert's quarters. 
 I followed " the orderly," as he led the way through many a 
 dark street and crooked alley till we reached the square. 
 There, too, all was in darkness, save at the mainguard, where 
 as usual the five windows of the first story were a blaze of 
 light, and the sounds of mirth and revelry, the nightl}^ orgies 
 of our officers, were ringing out in the stillness of the quiet 
 hour. The wild chorus of a soldier-song, with its " rantan- 
 plan" accompaniment of knuckles on the table, echoed 
 through the square, and smote upon my ear with anything 
 but a congenial sense of pleasure. 
 
 In my heart I thought them a senseless, soulless crew, 
 that could give themselves to dissipation and excess on 
 the very eve, as it were, of om- defeat; and with hasty 
 steps I turned away into the side street, where a large lamp, 
 the only light to be seen, proclaimed General Humbert's 
 quarters. 
 
 A bustle and stir, very unusual at this late hour, pervaded 
 the passages and stairs, and it was some time before I could 
 find one of the staff to announce my arrival, — which at last 
 was done somewhat unceremoniously, as an officer hurried 
 me through a large chamber crowded with the staff into an 
 inner room, where on a small field-bed la}^ General Humbert, 
 without coat or boots, a much-worn scarlet cloak thrown half 
 over him, and a black handkerchief tied round his head. 1 
 had scarcely seen him since our landing, and I could with 
 difficulty recognize the burly, high-complexioned soldier of 
 a few days back in the worn and haggard features of the 
 
"THE MISSION TO THE NORTH." 243 
 
 sick man before me. An attack of ague, which he had 
 originally contracted in Holland, had relapsed upon him, 
 and he was now suffering all the lassitude and sickness of 
 that most depressing of all maladies. 
 
 Maps, books, plans, and sketches of various kinds scat- 
 tered the bed, the table, and even the floor around him ; but 
 his attitude as I entered betrayed the exhaustion of one who 
 could labor no longer, and whose worn-out faculties demanded 
 rest. He lay flat on his back, his arms straight down beside 
 him, and, with half -closed eyes, seemed as though falling off 
 to sleep. 
 
 His first aide-de-camp, Merochamp, was standing with his 
 back to a small turf fii-e, and made a sign to us to be still, 
 and make no noise as we came in. 
 
 "He's sleeping," said he; "it's the first time he has 
 closed his eyes for ten days." 
 
 We stood for a moment uncertain, and were about to 
 retrace our steps, when Humbert said, in a low, weak 
 voice, — 
 
 " No, I 'm not asleep ; come in." 
 
 The officer who presented me now retired, and I advanced 
 towards the bedside. 
 
 "This is Tiernay, General," said Merochamp, stooping 
 down and speaking low ; " you wished to see him." 
 
 " Yes, I wanted him. Ha! Tiernay, you see me a good 
 deal altered since we parted last; however, I shall be all 
 right in a day or two ; it 's a mere attack of ague, and will 
 leave when the good weather comes. I wished to ask you 
 about your family, Tiernay ; was not your father Irish? " 
 
 " Xo, sir; we were Irish two or three generations back, 
 but since that we have belonged either to Austria or to 
 France." 
 
 " Then where were you born? " 
 
 "In Paris, sir, I believe, but certainly in France." 
 
 " There I said so, Merochamp; I knew that the boy was 
 French." 
 
 " Still, I don't think the precaution worthless," replied 
 Merochamp; " Teeling and the others advise it." 
 
 "I know they do," said Humbert, peevishly, "and for 
 themselves it may be needful ; but this lad's case will be 
 
244 ^L\URICE TIERNAY. 
 
 injured, not bettered by it. He is not an Irishman ; he never 
 was at any time a British subject. Have you any certificate 
 of birth or baptism, Tiernay?" 
 
 "None, sir; but I have my livret for the School of 
 Saumur, which sets forth my being a Frenchman by birth." 
 
 " Quite sufficient, boy, let me have it." 
 
 It was a document which I always carried about with me 
 since I landed, to enable me at any moment, if made pris- 
 oner, to prove myself an alien, and thus escape the inculpa- 
 tion of fighting against the flag of my country. Perhaps 
 there was something of reluctance in my manner as I relin- 
 quished it, for the general said, " I'll take good care of it, 
 Tiernay, you shaU not fare the worse because it is in my 
 keeping. I may as well tell you that some of our Irish offi- 
 cers have received threatening letters, — it is needless to say 
 they are without name, — stating that if matters go unfortu- 
 nately with us in this campaign, they will meet the fate of 
 men taken in open treason ; and that their condition of offi- 
 cers in our sersdce will avail them nothing. I do not believe 
 this. I cannot believe that they will be treated in any 
 respect differently from the rest of us. However, it is only 
 just that I should tell you that yom- name figures amongst 
 those so denounced ; for this reason I have sent for you now. 
 You, at least, have nothing to apprehend on this score. You 
 are as much a Frenchman as myself. I know Merochamp 
 thinks differently from me, and that your Irish descent and 
 name will be quite enough to involve 3'ou in the fate of 
 others." 
 
 A gesture, half of assent but half of impatience, from the 
 aide-de-camp here arrested the speaker. 
 
 " Why not tell him frankly how he stands? " said Humbert, 
 eagerly ; "I see no advantage in any concealment." 
 
 Then addressing me, he went on. "I purpose, Tiernay, 
 to give you the same option I gave the others, but which 
 they have declined to accept. It is this : we are daily ex- 
 pecting to hear of the amval of a force in the north under 
 the command of Generals Tandy and Rey." 
 
 " The ' Army of the North' ? " asked I. in some anxiety. 
 
 "Precisely; the Army of the North. Now, I desire to 
 open a communication with them, and at the same time to 
 
"THE ^nSSION TO THE NORTH." 245 
 
 do SO through the means of such officers as, in the event of 
 any disaster here, may have the escape to France open to 
 them which this army will have, and which, I need not say, 
 we have no longer. Our Irish friends have declined this 
 mission as being more likely to compromise them if taken, 
 and also as diminishing and not increasing their chance of 
 escape. In my belief that you were placed similarly I have 
 sent for you here this evening, and at the same time desire 
 to impress upon you that your acceptance or refusal is purely 
 a matter at your own volition." 
 
 " Am I to regard the matter simply as one of dut3% sir, or 
 as an opportunity of consulting my personal safety? " 
 
 " What shall I say to this, Merochamp? " asked Humbert, 
 bluntly. 
 
 ' ' That you are running to the full as many risks of being 
 hanged for going as by staying; such is my opinion," said 
 the aide-de-camp. " Here as a rebel, there as a spy." 
 
 "I confess, then," said I, smiling at the cool brevity of 
 the speech, " the choice is somewhat embarrassing ! May I 
 ask what you advise me to do, General? " 
 
 " I should say go, Tiernay." 
 
 " Go, by all means, lad," broke in the aide-de-camp, who 
 throughout assumed a tone of dictation and familiarity most 
 remarkable. " If a stand is to be made in this miserable 
 country it will be with Key's force ; here the game will not 
 last much longer. There lies the only man capable of con- 
 ducting such an expedition, and his health cannot stand up 
 against its trials ! " 
 
 "Not so, Merochamp; I'll be on horseback to-morrow, 
 or the day after at furthest ; and if I never were to take the 
 field again, there are others, yourself amongst the number, 
 well able to supply my place. But to Tiernay — what s&js 
 he?" 
 
 " Make it duty, sir, and I shall go, or remain here with an 
 easy conscience," said I. 
 
 " Then duty be it, boy," said he ; " and Merochamp will 
 tell you everything, for all this discussion has wearied me 
 much, and I cannot endure more talking." 
 
 " Sit down here," said the aide-de-camp, pointing to a 
 seat at his side, " and five minutes will suffice." 
 
246 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 He opened a large map of Ireland before us on the table, 
 and running his finger along the coast-line of the western 
 side, stopped abruptly at the bay of Lough Swilly. 
 
 " There," said he, " that is the spot. There, too, should 
 have been our own landing. The whole population of the 
 North will be with them, — not such allies as these fellows, 
 but men accustomed to the use of arms, able and willing to 
 take the field. They say that five thousand men could hold 
 the passes of those mountains against thirty." 
 
 "Who says this?" said I, for I own that I had grown 
 marvellously sceptical as to testimony. 
 
 " Xapper Tandy, who is a general of division, and one of 
 the leaders of this force ; " and he went on : " The utmost 
 we can do will be to hold these towns to the westward till 
 they join us. We may stretch away thus far," and he moved 
 his finger towards the du'ection of Leitrim, " but no farther. 
 You will have to communicate with them ; to explain what 
 we have done, where we are, and how we are. Conceal 
 nothing ; let them hear f auiy that this patriot force is worth 
 nothing, and that even to garrison the towns we take they 
 are useless. Tell them, too, the sad mistake we made by 
 attempting to organize what never can be disciplined, and 
 let them not arm a population, as we have done, to commit 
 rapine and plunder." 
 
 Two letters were already written, — one addressed to Rey, 
 the other to Napper Tandy. These I was ordered to destroy 
 if I should happen to become a prisoner ; and with the map 
 of Ireland, pen-marked in various directions by which I 
 might trace my route, and a few lines to Colonel Charost, 
 whom I was to see on passing at Killala, I was dismissed. 
 When I approached the bed-side to take leave of the general 
 he was sound asleep. The excitement of talking having 
 passed away, he was pale as death, and his lips totally 
 colorless. Poor fellow ! he was exhausted-looking and 
 weary ; and I could not help thinking, as I looked on 
 him, that he was no bad emblem of the cause he had 
 embarked in. 
 
 I was to take my troop-horse as far as Killala, after which 
 I was to proceed either on foot, or by such modes of con- 
 veyance as I could find, keeping as nigh the coast as pos- 
 
"THE MISSION TO THE NORTH." 247 
 
 sible, and acquaiuting myself, so far as I might do, with the 
 temper and disposition of the people as 1 went. It was a 
 great aid to my sinking courage to know that there really 
 was an "Army of the North," and to feel myself accredited 
 to hold intercourse with the generals commanding it. 
 
 Such was my exultation at this happy discovery that I 
 was dying to burst in amongst my comrades with the tidings, 
 and proclaim at the same time my own high mission. Mero- 
 champ had strictly enjoined my speedy departui*e without the 
 slightest intimation to any whither I was going, or with what 
 object. 
 
 A very small cloak-bag held all my effects, and with^ this 
 slung at my saddle I rode out of the town just as the church 
 clock was striking twelve. It was a calm, starlight night, 
 and once a short distance from the town, as noiseless and 
 still as possible ; a gossoon, one of the numerous scouts we 
 employed in conveying letters or bringing intelligence, 
 trotted along on foot beside me to show the way, for there 
 was a rumor that some of the Royalist cavalry still loitered 
 about the passes to capture our despatch bearers, or make 
 prisoners of any stragglers from the army. 
 
 These gossoons, picked up by chance, and selected for no 
 other qualification than because they were keen-eyed and 
 swift of foot, were the most faithful and most worthy 
 creatures we met with. In no instance were they ever 
 known to desert to the enemy, and, stranger still, they were 
 never seen to mix in the debauchery and excesses so common 
 to all the volunteers of the rebel camp. Their intelligence 
 was considerable, and to such a pitch had emulation stimu- 
 lated them in the senice, that there was no danger they 
 would not incur in their peculiar duties. 
 
 My companion on the present occasion was a little fellow 
 of about thirteen years of age, and small and slight even for 
 that ; we knew him as Peter, but whether he had any other 
 name, or what, I was ignorant. He was wounded by a 
 sabre-cut across the hand, which nearly severed the fingers 
 from it, at the bridge of Castlebar, but with a strip of linen 
 bound round it now he trotted along as happy and careless 
 as if nothing ailed him. 
 
 I questioned him as we went, and learned that his father 
 had been a herd in the service of a certain Sk Roger Palmer, 
 
248 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 and bis mother a claiiymaid in the same house ; but as the 
 patriots had sacked and burned the Castle, of course they 
 were now upon the world. He was a good deal shocked at 
 my asking what part his father took on the occasion of the 
 attack, but for a very different reason than that which I 
 suspected. 
 
 "For the cause, of course!" replied he, almost indig- 
 nantly ; ' ' why would n't he stand up for ould Ireland ! " 
 
 " And your mother — what did she do? " 
 
 He hung down his head, and made no answer till I 
 repeated the question. 
 
 "Faix," said he, slowly and sadly, " she went and towld 
 the young ladies what was goin' to be done ; and if it had n't 
 been that the boys caught Tim Hynes, the groom, going off 
 to Foxford with a letter, we 'd have had the dragoons down 
 upon us in no time ! They hanged Tim, but they let the 
 young ladies away, and my mother with them, and off they 
 all went to Dublin." 
 
 " And where 's your father now? " I asked. 
 
 "He was drowned in the bay of Killala four days ago. 
 He went with a party of others to take oatmeal from a 
 sloop that was wrecked in the bay, and an English cruiser 
 came in at the time and fired on them ; at the second 
 discharge the wreck and all upon it went down ! " 
 
 He told all these things without any touch of sorrow in 
 voice or manner. They seemed "to be the ordinary chances 
 of war, and so he took them. He had three brothers and 
 a sister ; of the former two were missing, the third was a 
 scout ; and the girl — she was but nine years old — was wait- 
 ing on a canteen, and mighty handy, he said, for she knew 
 a little French already, and understood the soldiers when 
 they asked for a goutte^ or wanted clu feu for their pipes. 
 
 Such, then, was the credit side of the account with For- 
 tune, and, strange enough, the boy seemed satisfied with 
 it ; and although a few days had made him an orphan and 
 houseless, he appeared to feel that the great things in store 
 for his country were an ample recompense for all. Was 
 this, then, patriotism? Was it possible that one, untaught 
 and unlettered as he was, could think national freedom cheap 
 at such a cost? If I thought so for n moment, a very little 
 further inquiry undeceived me. Religious rancor, party 
 
"THE MISSION TO THE NORTH." 249 
 
 feuds, the hate of the Saxon, — a blind ill-directed, unthink- 
 ing hate, — were the motives which actuated him. A terrible 
 retribution for something upon somebody, an awful wiping 
 out of old scores, a reversal of the lot of rich and poor, were 
 the main incentives to his actions ; and he was satisfied to 
 stand by at the drawing of this great lottery, even without 
 holding a ticket in it ! 
 
 It was almost the first moment of calm reflective thought 
 I had enjoyed, as I rode along thus in the quiet stillness of 
 the night, and I own that my heart began to misgive me as 
 to the 'great benefits of our expedition. I will not conceal 
 the fact that I had been disappointed in every expectation I 
 had formed of Ireland. 
 
 The bleak and barren hills of Mayo, the dreary tracts of 
 mountain and morass, were about as unworthy representa- 
 tives of the boasted beauty and fertility of Ireland, as were 
 the half-clad wretches who flocked around us of that warlike 
 people of whom we had heard so much. Where were the 
 chivalrous chieftains with their clans behind them? Where 
 the thousands gathering around a national standard? Where 
 that high-souled patriotism, content to risk fortune, station, 
 — all, in the conflict for national independence ? A rabble 
 led on by a few reckless debauchees, and two or three disre- 
 putable or degraded priests, were our only allies ; and even 
 these refused to be guided by our counsels or swayed by our 
 authority. I half suspected Serasin was right when he said, 
 " Let the Directory send thirty thousand men and make it a 
 French province ; but let us not fight an enemy to give the 
 victory to the sans culottes." 
 
 As we neared the pass of Barnageeragh, I turned one last 
 look on the town of Castlebar, around which, at little inter- 
 vals of space, the watch-fires of our pickets were blazing ; 
 all the rest of the place was in darkness. 
 
 It was a strange and a thrilling thought to think that 
 there, hundreds of miles from their home, without one link 
 that could connect them to it, lay a little army in the midst 
 of an enemy's country, calm, self-possessed, and determined. 
 How many, thought I, are destined to leave it? How many 
 will bring back to our dear France the memory of this 
 unhappy struggle? 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A PASSING VISIT TO KILLALA. 
 
 I FOUND a very pleasant party assembled around the bishop's 
 breakfast-table at Klllala. The bishop and his family were 
 all there, with Charost and his staff, and some three or four 
 other officers from Ballina. Nothing could be less con- 
 strained, more easy, or more agreeable than the tone of inti- 
 macy which in a few days had grown up between them. A 
 cordial good feeling seemed to prevail on every subject, and 
 even the resen^e which might be thought natural on the 
 momentous events then happening was exchanged for a most 
 candid and frank discussion of all that was going forward, 
 which, I must own, astonished as much as it gratified me. 
 
 The march on Castlebar, the choice of the mountain-road 
 which led past the position occupied by the Royalists, the 
 attack and capture of the artillery, had all to be related by 
 me for the edification of such as were not conversant with 
 French ; and I could observe that however discomfited by 
 the conduct of the militia, they fully relied on the regiments 
 of the line and the artillery. It was amusing, too, to see 
 with what pleasure they listened to all our disparagement of 
 the Irish volunteers. 
 
 Every instance we gave of insubordination or disobedience 
 delighted them ; while our own blundering attempts to man- 
 age the people, the absurd mistakes we fell into, and the 
 endless misconceptions of their character and habits actually 
 convulsed them with laughter. 
 
 " Of course," said the bishop to us, " you are prepared to 
 hear that there is no love lost between you, and that they are 
 to the full as dissatisfied with you as you are dissatisfied 
 with them?" 
 
A PASSING VISIT TO KILLALA. 251 
 
 "TTbj^ what can they complain of?" asked Charost, 
 smiling ; "we gave them the place of honor in the very last 
 engagement ! " 
 
 " VeiT true, you did so, and they reaped all the profit of 
 the situation. Monsieur Tiernay has just told the havoc 
 that grape and round-shot scattered amongst the poor crea- 
 tures. However, it is not of this they complain ; it is their 
 miserable fare, the raw potatoes, their beds in open fields 
 and highwaj^s, while the French, they say, eat of the best 
 and sleep in blankets. They do not understand this inequal- 
 ity, and perhaps it is somewhat hard to comprehend." 
 
 "Patriotism ought to be proud of such little sacrifices," 
 said Charost, with an easy laugh; "besides, it is only a 
 passing endurance : a month hence — less, perhaps — will 
 see ns dividing the spoils, and revelling in the conquest of 
 Ii'ish independence." 
 
 "You think so, colonel?" asked the bishop, half slyly. 
 
 " Parhleu! to be sure I do — and you? " 
 
 "I am just as sanguine," said the bishop, "and fancy 
 that about a month hence we shall be talking of all these 
 things as matters of history, and while sorrowing over some 
 of the unavoidable calamities of the event, presenting a 
 grateful memory of some who came as enemies but left us 
 warm friends." 
 
 " If such is to be the turn of fortune," said Charost, with 
 more seriousness than before, " I can only say that the 
 kindly feelings will not be one-sided." 
 
 And now the conversation became an animated discussion 
 on the chances of success or failure. Each party supported 
 his opinion, ably and eagerly, and with a degree of freedom 
 that was not a little singular to the bystanders. At last, 
 when Charost was fairly answered by the bishop on every 
 point, he asked, — 
 
 " But what say you to the Army of the North? " 
 
 " Simply, that I do not believe in such a force," rejoined 
 the bishop. 
 
 "Not believe it! not believe on what General Humbert 
 relies at this moment, and to which that officer yonder is an 
 accredited messenger ! When I tell you that a most distin- 
 guished Irishman, Napper Tandy — " 
 
252 MAURICE TIEHNAY. 
 
 " Napper Tandy!" repeated the bishop, with a good- 
 humored smile, " the name is quite enough to relieve one 
 of any fears, if they ever felt them. I am not sufficiently 
 acquainted with your language to give him the epithet he 
 deserves, but if you can conceive an empty, conceited man, 
 as ignorant of war as of politics, rushing into a revolution 
 for the sake of a green uniform, and ready to convulse a 
 kingdom that he may be called a major-general, only enthu- 
 siastic in his personal vanity, and wanting even in that 
 heroic daring which occasionally dignifies weak capacities, — 
 such is Napper Tandy." 
 
 " What in soldier-phrase we call a ' Blague,' " said Charost, 
 laughing ; '-'I 'm sorry for it." 
 
 What turn the conversation was about to take I cannot 
 guess, when it was suddenly inteiTupted by one of the 
 bishop's sen^ants rushing into the room, with a face blood- 
 less from terror. He made his way up to where the bishop 
 sat, and whispered a few words in his ear. 
 
 "And how is the wind blowing, Andrew?" asked the 
 bishop, in a voice that all his self-command could not com- 
 pletely steady. 
 
 "From the north, or the northwest, and mighty strong, 
 too, my lord," said the man, who trembled in every limb. 
 
 The affrighted aspect of the messenger, the excited expres- 
 sion of the bishop's face, and the question as to the 
 "wind" at once suggested to me the idea that a French 
 fleet had arrived in the bay, and that the awful tidings 
 were neither more nor less than the announcement of our 
 reinforcement. 
 
 " From the northwest," repeated the bishop ; " then, with 
 God's blessing, we may be spared." And so saying, he 
 arose from the table, and with an effort that showed that the 
 strength to do so had only just returned to him. " Colonel 
 Charost, a word with you! " said he, leading the way into an 
 adjoining room. 
 
 ' ' What is it ? — what has happened ? — what can it be ? " 
 was asked by each in tm-n. And now groups gathered at 
 the windows, which all looked into the court of the building, 
 now crowded with people, soldiers, servants, and country- 
 folk, gazing earnestly towards the roof of the castle. 
 
A PASSING VISIT TO KILLALA. 253 
 
 "What's the matter, Terry?" asked oue of the bishop's 
 sons, as he threw open the window. 
 
 " 'T is the chimbley on fire, Master Robert," said the man ; 
 " the kitchen chimbley, wid those divils of Frinch ! " 
 
 I cannot describe the burst of laughter that followed the 
 explanation ! 
 
 So much terror for so small a catastrophe was inconceiv- 
 able ; and whether we thought of Andrew's horrified face, or 
 the worthy bishop's pious thanksgiving as to the direction of 
 the wind, we could scarcel}^ refrain from another outbreak of 
 mh'th. Colonel Charost made his appearance at the instant, 
 and although his step was hurried and his look severe, there 
 was nothing of agitation or alarm on his features. 
 
 '' Turn out the guard, Truchet, without arms," said he. 
 " Come with me, Tiernay, — an awkward business enough," 
 whispered he, as he led me along. " These fellows have set 
 fire to the kitchen chimney, and we have three hundred 
 barrels of gunpowder in the cave ! " 
 
 Nothing could be more easy and unaffected than the way 
 he spoke this ; and I actually stared at him, to see if his 
 coolness was a mere pretence ; but far from it, — every 
 gesture and every word showed the most perfect self- 
 possession, with a prompt readiness for action. 
 
 When we reached the court the bustle and confusion had 
 reached its highest ; for, as the wind lulled, large masses of 
 ink}" smoke hung lilve a canopy over head, through which a 
 forked flame darted at inten'als, with that peculiar furnace- 
 like roar that accompanies a jet of fire in confined places. 
 At times, too, as the soot ignited, great showers of bright 
 sparks floated upwards, and afterwards fell like a fiery rain 
 on every side. The country people, who had flocked in from 
 the neighborhood, were entkely occupied with these signs, 
 and only intent upon saving the remainder of the house, 
 which they believed in great peril, totally unaware of the 
 greater and more imminent danger close beside them. 
 
 Already they had placed ladders against the walls, and 
 with ropes and buckets were preparing to ascend, when 
 Truchet marched in with his company, in fatigue-jackets, 
 twenty sappers with shovels accompanying them. 
 
 "Clear the court-j^ard, now," said Charost, "and leave 
 this matter to us." 
 
254 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 The order was obeyed somewhat reluctantly, it is true, 
 and at last we stood the sole occupants of the spot, — the 
 bishop being the only civilian present, he having refused to 
 quit the spot, unless compelled by force. 
 
 The powder was stored in a long shed adjoining the 
 stables, and originally used as a shelter for farming tools and 
 utensils. A few tarpaulins we had carried with us from the 
 ships were spread over the barrels, and on this now some 
 sparks of fire had fallen, as the burning soot had been carried 
 in by an eddy of wind. 
 
 The first order was to deluge the tarpaulins with water ; 
 and while this was being done, the sappers were ordered to 
 dig trenches in the garden, to receive the barrels. Every 
 man knew the terrible peril so near him, each felt that at 
 any instant a frightful death might overtake him, and yet 
 every detail of the duty was carried on with the coolest 
 unconcern ; and when at last the time came to carry away 
 the barrels, on a species of handbarrow, the fellows stepped 
 in time, as if on the march, and moved in measure, — a 
 degree of indifference which, to judge from the good bishop's 
 countenance, evidently inspired as many anxieties for their 
 spiritual welfare as it suggested astonishment and admira- 
 tion for their courage. He himself, it must be owned, dis- 
 played no sign of trepidation, and in a few words he spoke, 
 or the hints he dropped, exhibited every quality of a brave 
 man. 
 
 At moments the peril seemed very imminent indeed. 
 Some timber having caught fire, slender fragments of burn- 
 ing wood fell in masses, covering the men as they went, and 
 falling on the barrels, whence the soldiers brushed them off 
 with cool indifference. The dense, thick smoke, too, obscur- 
 ing every object a few paces distant, added to the confusion ; 
 and occasionally bringing the going and returning parties 
 into collision, a loud shout, or cry, would ensue ; and it is 
 difficult to conceive how such a sound thrilled through the 
 heart at such a time. I own that more than once I felt a 
 choking fulness in the throat as I heard a sudden 3'ell, it 
 seemed so like a signal for destruction. In removing one of 
 the last barrels from the hand-barrow it slipped, and falling 
 to the ground the hoops gave way ; it burst open, and the 
 
A PASSING VISIT TO KILLALA. 255 
 
 powder fell out on every side. The moment was critical, for 
 the wind was battling, — now wafting the sparks clear awa}^ 
 now whMing them in eddies around us. It was then that an 
 old sergeant of grenadiers threw off his upper coat and 
 spread it over the broken cask, while, with all the composure 
 of a man about to rest himself, he lay down on it, while his 
 conu-ades went to fetch water. Of course his peril was no 
 greater than that of every one around him ; but there was an 
 au- of quick determination in his act which showed the train- 
 ing of an old soldier. 
 
 At length the labor was ended, the last barrel was com- 
 mitted to the earth, and the men, formed into line, were 
 ordered to wheel and march. Never shall I forget the 
 bishop's face as they moved past. The undersized and 
 youthful look of our soldiers had acquired for them a kind of 
 depreciating estimate in comparison with the more mature 
 and manly stature of the British soldier, to whom, indeed, 
 they offered a strong contrast on parade ; but now, as they 
 were seen in a moment of arduous duty, surrounded by 
 danger, the steadiness and courage, the prompt obedience to 
 every command, the alacrity of their movements, and the 
 fearless intrepidity with which they performed every act 
 impressed the worthy bishop so forcibly, that he muttered 
 half aloud, "Thank Heaven there are but few of them!" 
 
 Colonel Charost resisted steadily the bishop's proffer to 
 afford the men some refreshment ; he would not even admit 
 of an extra allowance of brandy to their messes. "If we 
 become too liberal for slight sendees, we shall never be able 
 to reward real ones," was his answer; and the bishop was 
 reduced to the expedient of commemorating what he could 
 not reward. This, indeed, he did with the most unqualified 
 praise, — relating in the drawing-room all that he had wit- 
 nessed, and lauding French valor and heroism to the very 
 highest. 
 
 The better to conceal my route, and to avoid the chances 
 of being tracked, I sailed that evening in a fishing-boat for 
 Killybegs, a small harbor on the coast of Donegal, having 
 pre\iously exchanged my uniform for the dress of a sailor, 
 so that if apprehended I should pretend to be an Ostend or 
 
256 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 Antwerp seaman, washed overboard in a gale at sea. Fortu- 
 nately for me, I was not called on to perform this part, for as 
 my nautical experiences were of the very slightest, I should 
 have made a deplorable attempt at the impersonation. 
 Assuredly the fishermen of the smack would not have been 
 among the number of the "imposed upon," for a more 
 seasick wretch never masqueraded in a blue- jacket than 
 I was. 
 
 My only clew when I touched land was a certain Father 
 Doogan, who lived at the foot of the Bluerock Mountains, 
 about fifteen miles from the coast, and to whom I brought a 
 few lines from one of the Irish officers, a certain Bourke of 
 Ballina. The road led in this direction, and so little inter- 
 course had the shore folk with the interior that it was with 
 difficulty any one could be found to act as a guide thither. 
 At last an old fellow was discovered, who used to travel 
 these mountains formerly with smuggled tobacco and tea; 
 and although, from the discontinuance of the smuggling 
 trade and increased age, he had for some years abandoned 
 the line of business, a liberal offer of payment induced him 
 to accompany me as guide. 
 
 It was not without great misgivings that I looked at the 
 very old and almost decrepit creature who was to be my 
 companion through a solitary mountain region. 
 
 The few stairs he had to mount in the little inn where I 
 put up seemed a sore trial to his strength and chest ; but he 
 assured me that once out of the smoke of the town, and 
 with his foot on the " short grass of the sheep-patch," he'd 
 be like a four-year-old ; and his neighbor having corroborated 
 the assertion, I was fain to believe him. 
 
 Determined, however, to make his excursion subsen^ient 
 to profit in his old vocation, he provided himself with some 
 pounds of tobacco and a little parcel of silk handkerchiefs, 
 to dispose of amongst the country-people, — with which, and 
 a little bag of meal slung at his back, and a walking-stick in 
 his hand, he presented himself at my door just as day was 
 breaking. 
 
 " AVe '11 have a wet day I fear, Jerry," said I, looking 
 out. 
 
 "Not a bit of it," replied he. " 'T is the spring-tides 
 
A PASSING VISIT TO KILLALA. 257 
 
 makes it cloudy there beyant ; but wheu the sun gets up it 
 will be a fine mornin'. But I'm thiukiu' ye'r strange in 
 them parts ; " and this he said with a keen, sharp glance under 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Donegal is new to me, I confess," said I, guardedly. 
 
 '' Yes, and the rest of Ireland, too," said he, with a roguish 
 leer. " But come along, we 've a good step before us ; " and 
 with these words he led the way down the stairs, holding the 
 balustrade as he went, and exhibiting every sign of age and 
 weakness. Once in the street, however, he stepped out more 
 freely, and before we got clear of the town, walked at a fair 
 pace, and, to all seeming, with perfect ease. 
 
 17 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A REMNANT OF " FONTENOY." 
 
 There was no resisting the inquisitive curiosity of my com- 
 panion. The short dry cough, the little husky "ay," that 
 sounded like anything rather than assent, which followed on 
 my replies to his questions, and more than all the keen, 
 oblique glances of his shrewd gray eyes told me that I had 
 utterly failed in all my attempts at mystification, and that he 
 read me through and through. 
 
 "And so," said he, at last, after a somewhat lengthy 
 narrative of my shipwreck, " and so the Flemish sailors wear 
 spm-s? " 
 
 "Spurs! of course not; why should they?" asked I in 
 some astonishment. 
 
 " Well, but don't they? " asked he again. 
 
 " No such thing ; it would be absurd to suppose it." 
 
 " So I thought," rejoined he ; " and when I looked at yer 
 honor's boots [it was the first time he had addressed 
 me by this title of deference], and saw the marks on the 
 heels for spurs, I soon knew how much of a sailor you 
 were." 
 
 "And if not a sailor, what am I, then? " asked I; for in 
 the loneliness of the mountain region where we walked, I 
 could afford to throw off my disguise without risk. 
 
 " Ye 'r a French officer of dragoons, and God bless ye ! but 
 ye 'r young to be at the trade. Ar' n't I right, now? " 
 
 " Not very far from it, certainly, for I am a lieutenant of 
 hussars," said I, with a little of that pride which we of the 
 loose pelisse always feel on the mention of our corps. 
 
 " I knew it well all along," said he, coolly ; " the way you 
 stood in the room, your step as you walked, and, above all, 
 how ye believed me when I spoke of the spring-tides, and 
 the moon only in her second quarter, I saw you never was a 
 
A REMNANT OF "FONTENOY." 259 
 
 sailor, anyhow. And so I set a thinking what you were. 
 You were too silent for a pedler, and your hands were too 
 white to be in the smuggling trade ; but when I saw your 
 boots, I had the secret at once, and knew ye were one of the 
 French army that landed the other day at Killala." 
 
 '' It was stupid enough of me not to have remembered the 
 boots ! " said I, laughing. 
 
 " Arrah, what use would it be? " replied he ; " sure ye 'r 
 too straight in the back, and your walk is too reg'lar, and 
 your toes turns in too much, for a sailor ; the very way you 
 hould a switch in your hand would betray you ! " 
 
 "So it seems, then, I must try some other disguise," 
 said I, "if I 'm to keep company with people as shrewd as 
 you are." 
 
 " Y^'ou needn't," said he, shaking his head doubtfully; 
 " any that wants to betray ye would n't find it hard." 
 
 I was not much flattered by the depreciating tone in which 
 he dismissed my efforts at personation, and walked on for 
 some time without speaking. 
 
 " l^ez came too late, four months too late," said he, with 
 a sorrowful gesture of the hands. " When the AVexford 
 boys was up, and the Kildare chaps, and plenty more ready 
 to come in from the North, then, indeed, a few thousand 
 French down here in the West would have made a differ ; 
 but what 's the good in it now ? The best men we had are 
 hanged or in jail ; some are frightened ; more are traitors. 
 'T is too late, too late ! " 
 
 " But not too late for a large force landing in the North, 
 to rouse the island to another effort for liberty." 
 
 " Who would be the gin'ral? " asked he, suddenly. 
 
 " Napper Tandy, j^our own countryman," replied I, 
 proudly. 
 
 "I wish ye luck of him! " said he, with a bitter laugh; 
 "'tis more like mocking us than anything else the French 
 does be, with the chaps they send here to be gin'rals. Sure 
 it is n't Napper Tandy, nor a set of young lawyers like Tone 
 and the rest of them we wanted. It was men that knew 
 how to drill and manage troops, — fellows that was used to 
 fightin' ; so that when they said a thing, we might believe 
 that thev understhood it at laste. I 'm ould enough to 
 
260 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 remimber the ' Wild Geese,' as they used to call them, — the 
 fellows that ran away from this to take sarvice in France ; 
 and I remimber, too, the sort of men the French were that 
 came over to inspect them, — soldiers, real soldiers, every 
 inch of them. And a tine sarvice it was. Volte-face I " 
 cried he, holding himself erect, and shouldering his stick 
 like a musket, ^'' marche ! Ha, ha! ye didn't think that 
 was in me ; but I was at the thrade long before you were 
 born." 
 
 '' How is this? " said I, in amazement ; " you were not in 
 the French army? " 
 
 "Wasn't I, though? Maybe I didn't get that stick 
 there ! " And he bared his breast as he spoke, to show the 
 cicatrix of an old flesh-wound from a Highlander's bayonet. 
 " I was at Fontenoy ! " 
 
 The last few words he uttered with a triumphant pride 
 that I shall never forget. As for me, the mere name was 
 magical. "Fontenoy" was like one of those great words 
 which light up a whole page of history ; and it almost seemed 
 impossible that I should see before me a soldier of that 
 glorious battle. 
 
 "Ay, faith!" he added, "'tis more than fifty, 'tis nigh 
 sixty years now since that, and I remember it as if it w^as 
 yesterday. I was in the regiment Tourville ; I was recruited 
 for the Dillon, but they scattered us about among the other 
 corps afterwards, because we used now and then to be fight- 
 ing and quarrellin' among one another. Well, it was the 
 Dillons that gained the battle ; for after the English was in 
 the village of Fontenoy, and the French was falling back 
 upon the heights near the wood — arrah, what 's the name of 
 the wood? Sure, I'll forget my own name next. Ay, to 
 be sure, Verzon, — the Wood of Yerzon. Major Jodillon — 
 that's what the French called him, but his name was Joe 
 Dillon — turned an eight-pounder short round into a little 
 yard of a farm-house, and making a breach for the gun he 
 opened a dreadful fire on the English column. It was loaded 
 with grape, and at half-musket range; so you may think 
 what a peppering they got. At last the column halted and 
 lay down, and Joe seen an officer ride off to the rear to 
 bring up artillery to silence our guns. A few minutes more 
 
A REMNANT OF "FONTENOY." 261 
 
 and it would be all over with us. So Joe shouts out as loud 
 as he could, ' Cavalry, there ! tell off by threes, and prepare 
 to charge ! ' I need n't tell you that the divil a horse nor a 
 rider was within a mile of us at the time ; but the English 
 did n't know that ; and, hearin' the order, up they jumps, and 
 we heerd the word passin', ' Prepare to receive cavalry ! ' 
 They formed square at once, and the same minute we plumped 
 into them with such a charge as tore a lane right through 
 the middle of them. Before the}' could recover, we opened 
 a platoon fire on their flank ; they staggered, broke, and at 
 last fell back in disorder upon Aeth, with the whole of the 
 French army after them. Such firin' — grape, round-shot, 
 and musketry — I never seed afore, and we all shouting like 
 divils, for it was more like a hunt nor anything else ; for ye 
 see the Dutch never came up, but left the English to do all 
 the work themselves, and that 's the reason they could n't 
 form, for they had no supportin' colum'. 
 
 ' ' It was then I got that stick of the bayonet, for there 
 was such runnin' that we only thought of pelting after them 
 as hard as we could ; but ye see, there 's nothin' so treacherous 
 as a Highlander. I was just behind one, and had my sword- 
 point between his bladebones ready to run him through, when 
 he turned short about, and run his bayonet into me under the 
 short ribs ; and that was all I saw of the battle, for I bled till 
 I fainted, and never knew more of what happened. 'T is n't 
 by way of making little of Frenchmen I say it, for I sanded 
 too long wid them for that ; but sorra taste of that victory 
 ever they'd see if it wasn't for the Dillons, and Major Joe 
 that commanded them ! The English knows it well, too ! 
 Maybe they don't do us many a spite for it to this very 
 day ! " 
 
 " And what became of you after that? '' 
 
 "That same summer I came over to Scotland with the 
 young Prince Charles, and was at the battle of Prestonpans 
 afterwards ; and, what's worse, I was at Culloden ! Oh, that 
 was the terrible day ! We were dead bate before we began 
 the battle. We were on the march from one o'clock the 
 night before, under the most dreadful rain ever ye seen! 
 We lost our way twice, and after four hours of hard march- 
 ing we found ourselves opposite a mill-dam we crossed early 
 
262 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 that same morning ; for the guides led us all astray ! Then 
 came ordhers to wheel about face and go back again ; and 
 back we went, cursing the blaguards that deceaved us, and 
 almost faiutin' with hunger. Some of us had nothing to eat 
 for two days, and the Prince, I seen myself, had only a brown 
 bannock to a wooden measure of whisky for his own break- 
 fast. Well, it 's no use talking ; we were bate, and we 
 retreated to Inverness that night, and next morning we sur- 
 rendered and laid down our arms, — that is the Regiment 
 du Tournay and the Voltigeurs de Metz, the corps I was 
 in myself." 
 
 ' ' And did you return to France ? " 
 
 " No ; I made my way back to Ii'eland, and after loiterin' 
 about home some time, and not liking the ways of turning to 
 work again, I took sarvice with one Mister Brooke, of Castle 
 Brooke, in Fermanagh, — a young man that was just come 
 of age, and as great a divil, God forgive me, as ever was 
 spawned. He was a Protestant, but he didn't care much 
 about one side or the other, but only wanted divarsion and 
 his own fun out of the world ; and faix he took it, too ! He 
 had plenty of money, was a fine man to look at, and had 
 courage to face a lion ! 
 
 " The first place we went to was Aix-la-Chapelle, for Mr. 
 Brooke was named something — I forget what — to Lord 
 Sandwich, that was going there as an ambassador. It was 
 a grand life there while it lasted. Such liveries, such 
 coaches, such elegant dinners every day, I never saw even 
 in Paris. But my master was soon sent away for a piece of 
 wildness he did. There was an ould Austrian there, a 
 Count Riedensegg was his name ; and he was always plottin' 
 and schamin' with this, that, and the other, buyin' up the 
 sacrets of others, and gettin' at their private papers one way 
 or the other. And at last he begins to thry the same game 
 with us ; and as he saw that Mr. Brooke was very fond of 
 high play, and would bet anything one offered him, the ould 
 count sends for a great gambler from Vienna, the greatest 
 \illain, they say, that ever touched a card. Ye may have 
 heerd of him, tho' 'twas long ago that he lived, for he was 
 well known in them times. He was the Baron von Brecken- 
 dorf , and a great friend aftei-wards of the Prince Ragint and 
 all the other blasruards in London. 
 
A REMNANT OF "FONTENOY." 263 
 
 " Well, sii', the baron arrives in great state, with despatches, 
 they said ; but sorrow other despatch he carried nor some 
 packs of marked cards, and a dice-box that could throw sixes 
 whenever ye wanted ; and he puts up at the Grand Hotel, 
 with all his sel•^^ants in fine liveries and as much state as a 
 prince. That very day Mr. Brooke dined with the count, 
 and in the evening himself and the baron sits down to the 
 cards ; and, pretending to be only playin' for silver, they 
 were bettin' a hundred guineas on every game. 
 
 ' ' I always heerd that my master was 'cute with the cards, 
 and that few was equal to him in any game with pasteboard 
 or ivory ; but, be my conscience, he met his match now, for 
 if it was ould Nick was playin' he couldn't do the thrick 
 nater nor the baron. He made everything come up just like 
 magic; if he wanted a seven of diamonds or an ace of 
 spades or the knave of clubs, there it was for you. 
 
 " Most gentlemen would have lost temper at seein' the 
 luck so dead agin' them, and everything goin' so bad ; but 
 my master only smiled, and kept muttering to himself, 
 ' Faix, it 's beautiful ! by my conscience, it 's elegant ! I 
 never saw anybody could do it like that.' At last the baron 
 stops and asks, ' What is it he *s saying to himself? ' ' I '11 
 tell you by and by,' says my master, ' when we 're done play- 
 ing ; ' and so on they went, betting higher and higher, till at 
 last the stakes was n't very far from a thousand pounds on a 
 single card. At the end, Mr. Brooke lost everything ; and 
 in the last game, by way of generosity, the baron says to 
 him, 'Double or quit? ' and he tuk it. 
 
 " This time luck stood to my master, and he turned the 
 queen of hearts ; and as there was only one card could beat 
 him, the game was all as one as his own. The baron takes 
 up the pack, and begins to deal. ' Wait,' says my master, 
 leaning over the table, and talking in a whisper ; ' wait,' says 
 he ; ' what are ye doin' there wid your thumb ? ' for sure 
 enough he had his thumb dug hard into the middle of the 
 pack. 
 
 " ' Do you mane to insult me?' says the baron, getting 
 mighty red, and throwing down the cards on the table. ' Is 
 that what you 're at ? ' 
 
 " 'Go on with the deal,' says Mr. Brooke, quietly; ' but 
 
264 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 listen to me,' and here he dropped his voice to a whisper, ' as 
 sure as you turn the king of hearts I '11 send a bullet through 
 your skull ! Go on, now, and don't rise from that seat till 
 you've finished the game.' Faix, he just did as he was bid ; 
 he turned a little two or three of diamonds, and gettin' up 
 from the table he left the room, and the next morning there 
 was no more seen of him in Aix-la-Chapelle. But that 
 was n't the end of it ; for scarce was the baron two posts 
 on his journey when my master sends in his name, and says 
 he wants to speak to Count Riedensegg. There was a long 
 time and a great debatin', I believe, whether they'd let him 
 in or not, for the count could n't make if it was mischief he 
 was after ; but at last he was ushered into the bedroom where 
 the other was in bed. 
 
 " ' Count,' says he, after he fastened the door, and saw that 
 they was alone, ' Count, you tried a dirty thrick with that 
 duty spalpeen of a baron, — an ould blaguard that's as well 
 known as Freeny the robber, — but I forgive you for it all, 
 for you did it in the way of business. I know well what you 
 was afther ; you wanted a peep at our despatches. There, 
 ye need n't look cross and angry ! Why would n't ye do it, 
 just as the baron always took a sly glance at my cards before 
 he played his own? Well, now, I'm just in the humor to 
 sai-ve you. They 're not trating me as they ought here, and 
 I 'm going away ; and if you '11 give me a few letthers to 
 some of the pretty women in Vienna, — Katinka Batthyani 
 and Amalia Gradoffsky, and one or two men in the best set, 
 — I '11 send you in return something will surprise you.' 
 
 " It was after a long time and great batin' about the bush, 
 that the ould count came in ; but the sight of a sacret cypher 
 did the business, and he consented. 
 
 " ' There it is,' says Mr. Brooke, ' there's the whole key 
 to our coiTespondence ; study it well, and I '11 bring you a 
 sacret despatch in the evening, — something that will surprise 
 you.' 
 
 " ' Ye will, will ye? ' says the count. 
 
 " ' On the honor of an Irish gentleman, I will,' says Mr. 
 Brooke. 
 
 '' The count sits down on the spot and writes the letters 
 to all the prencesses and countesses in Vienna, saying that 
 
A REMNANT OF "FONTENOY." 265 
 
 Mr. Brooke was the elegantest and politest and most trusty 
 young gentleman ever he met ; and telling them to treat him 
 with every consideration. 
 
 " ' There will be another account of me,' says the master 
 to me, ' by the post ; but I '11 travel faster, and give me a 
 fair start, and I ask no more.' 
 
 " And he was as good as his word, for he started that 
 evening for Vienna without lave or license ; and that 's the 
 way he got dismissed from his situation." 
 
 ' ' And did he break his promise to the count, or did he 
 really send him any intelligence ? " 
 
 '' He kept his word, like a gentleman. He promised him 
 something that would surprise him, and so he did. He sent 
 him the weddin' of Ballyporeen in cypher. It took a week 
 to make out, and I suppose they 've never got to the right 
 understandin' it yet." 
 
 "I'm curious to hear how he was received in Vienna, 
 after this," said I. "I suppose you accompanied him to 
 that city ? " 
 
 " Troth I did, and a short life we led there. But here we 
 are now, at the end of our journey. That 's Father Doogan's 
 down there, — that small, low, thatched house in the 
 hollow." 
 
 " A lonely spot, too. I don't see another near it for miles 
 on any side." 
 
 "Nor is there. His chapel is at Murrah, about three 
 miles off. My eyes is n't over good ; but I don't think 
 there 's any smoke coming out of the chimley." 
 
 " You are right ; there is not." 
 
 " He 's not at home, then, and that 's a bad job for us ; for 
 there 's not another place to stop the night in." 
 
 " But there will be surely some one in the house." 
 
 " Most likely not; 'tis a brat of a boy from Murrah does 
 be with him when he 's at home, and I 'm sure he 's not there 
 now." 
 
 This reply was not very cheering, nor was the prospect 
 itself much brighter. The solitary cabin, to which we were 
 approaching, stood in a rugged glen, the sides of which were 
 covered with a low furze, intermixed here and there with 
 the scrub of what once had been an oak forest. A brown. 
 
266 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 mournful tint was over ever3^thing, sky and landscape alike ; 
 and even the little stream of clear water that wound its twin- 
 ing course along took the same color from the gravelly bed it 
 flowed over. Not a cow nor sheep was to be seen, nor even 
 a bird ; all was silent and still. 
 
 "There's few would like to pass theii' lives down there, 
 then ! " said my companion, as if speaking to himself. 
 
 " I suppose the priest, like a soldier, has no choice in these 
 matters." 
 
 " Sometimes he has, though. Father Doogan might have 
 had the pick of the county, they say ; but he chose this little 
 quiet spot here. He 's a friar of some ordher abroad, and 
 when he came over, two or three years ago, he could only 
 spake a little Irish, and, I believe, less English; but there 
 wasn't his equal for other tongues in all Europe. They 
 wanted him to stop and be the head of a college somewhere 
 in Spain, but he would n't. ' There was work to do in Ii'e- 
 land,' he said, and there he 'd go, and to the wildest and 
 laste civilized bit of it besides ; and ye see that he was not 
 far out in his choice when he took Murrah." 
 
 "Is he miuch liked here by the people ? " 
 
 " They 'd worship him if he 'd let them, that 's what it is ; 
 for if he has more larnin' and knowledge in his head than 
 ever a bishop in Ireland, there 's not a child in the barony 
 his equal for simplicity. He that knows the names of the 
 stars and what they do be doing, and where the world's 
 going and what 's comin' afther her, has n't a thought for the 
 wickedness of this life no more than a sucking infant ! He 
 could tell you every crop to put in your ground from this to 
 the day of judgment, and I don't think he 'd know which end 
 of the spade goes into the ground." 
 
 While we were thus talking, we reached the door, which, as 
 well as the windows, was closely barred and fastened. The 
 great padlock however on the former, with characteristic 
 acuteness, was locked without being hasped ; so that in a few 
 seconds my old guide had undone all the fastenings, and we 
 found ourselves under shelter. 
 
 A roomy kitchen, with a few cooking utensils, formed the 
 entrance hall ; and as a small supply of turf stood in one 
 corner, my companion at once proceeded to make a fire, con- 
 
A REMNANT OF ''FONTENOY." 267 
 
 gratulating me as he went on with the fact of our being 
 housed, for a long- threatening thunderstorm had already 
 burst, and the rain was now swooping along in torrents. 
 
 While he was thus busied, I took a ramble through the 
 little cabin, curious to see something of the "interior" of 
 one whose life had akeady interested me. There were but 
 two small chambers, one at either side of the kitchen. The 
 first I entered was a bedroom, — the only furniture being a 
 common bed, or a tressel like that of a hospital, a little 
 colored print of St. Michael adorning the wall overhead. 
 The bed-covering was cleanly, but patched in many places 
 and bespeaking much poverty, and the black soutane of silk 
 that hung against the wall seemed to show long years of 
 service. The few articles of any pretensions to comfort were 
 found in the sitting-room, where a small book-shelf with 
 some well-thumbed volumes, and a writing table covered 
 with papers, maps, and a few pencil-drawings, appeared. 
 All seemed as if he had just quitted the spot a few minutes 
 before i the pencil lay across a half-finished sketch ; two or 
 three wild plants were laid within the leaves of a little book 
 on botany ; and a chess problem, with an open book beside 
 it, still waited for solution on a little board, whose workman- 
 ship clearly enough betrayed it to be by his own hands. 
 
 I inspected everything with an interest inspu'ed by all I 
 had been hearing of the poor priest, and turned over the 
 little volumes of his humble library to trace, if I might, some 
 clew to his habits in his readings. They were all, however, 
 of one cast and character, — religious tracts and offices, 
 covered with annotations and remarks, and showing by many 
 signs the most careful and frequent perusal. It was easy to 
 see that his taste for drawing or for chess was the only 
 dissipation he permitted himself to indulge. What a strange 
 life of privation, thought I, alone and companionless as he 
 must be ! and while speculating on the sense of duty which 
 impelled such a man to accept a post so humble and unprom- 
 ising, I perceived that on the wall right opposite to me 
 there hung a picture, covered by a little curtain of green 
 silk. 
 
 Curious to behold the saintly effigy so carefully enshrined, 
 I drew aside the curtain ; and what was my astonishment to 
 
268 ' MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 find a little colored sketch of a boy about twelve years old, 
 dressed in the tawdry and much-worn uniform of a drummer ! 
 I started. Something flashed suddenly across my mind that 
 the features, the dress, the aii-, were not unknown to me. 
 Was I awake, or were my senses misleading me? I took it 
 down and held it to the light, and as well as my trembling 
 hands permitted I spelled out, at the foot of the drawing, the 
 words, " Le Petit Maurice, as I saw him last." Yes ! it was my 
 own portrait, and the words were in the writing of my dearest 
 friend in the world, the Pere Michel ! Scarce knowing what 
 I did, I ransacked books and papers on every side to confirm 
 my suspicions ; and although his name was nowhere to be 
 found, I had no difficulty in recognizing his hand, now so 
 forcibly recalled to my memory. 
 
 Hastening into the kitchen, I told my guide that I must 
 set out to Murrah at once ; that it was above all important 
 that I should see the priest immediately. It was in vain that 
 he told me he was unequal to the fatigue of going farther, 
 that the storm was increasing, the mountain torrents were 
 swelling to a formidable size, that the path could not be dis- 
 covered after dark ; I could not brook the thought of delay, 
 and would not listen to the detail of difficulties. "I must 
 see him and I will," were my answers to ever}^ obstacle. If 
 I were resolved on one side he was no less obstinate on the 
 other ; and after explaining with patience all the dangers and 
 hazards of the attempt, and still finding me unconvinced, he 
 boldly declared that I might go alone if I would, but that 
 he would not leave the shelter of a roof such a night for any 
 one. 
 
 There was nothing in the shape of an argument I did not 
 essay. I tried bribery, I tried menace, flattery, intimidation, 
 all, — and all with the like result. " Wherever he is to-night, 
 he '11 not leave it, that 's certain," was the only satisfaction he 
 would vouchsafe ; and I retired beaten from the contest, and 
 disheartened. Twice I left the cottage, resolved to go alone 
 and unaccompanied ; but the utter darkness of the night, the 
 torrents of rain that beat against my face, soon showed me 
 the impracticability of the attempt, and I retraced my steps 
 crest-fallen and discomfited. The most intense curiosity to 
 know how and by what chances the Pere had come to Ireland 
 
A REIMNANT OF "FONTENOY." 269 
 
 mingled with my ardent desire to meet him. What stores 
 of reminiscence had we to interchange ! Nor was it without 
 pride that I bethought me of the position I then held, — an 
 officer of a hussar regiment, a soldier of more than one 
 campaign, and high on the list for promotion. If I hoped, 
 too, that many of the good father's prejudices against the 
 career I followed would give way to the records of my own 
 past life, I also felt how, in various respects, I had myself 
 conformed to many of his notions. We should be dearer, 
 closer friends than ever. This I knew and was sure of. 
 
 I never slept the whole night through ; tired and weary as 
 the day's journey had left me, excitement was still too strong 
 for repose, and I walked up and down, lay for half an hour on 
 my bed, rose to look out, and peer for coming dawn. Never 
 did houi'S lag so lazily. The darkness seemed to last for an 
 eternity, and when at last day did break, it was through the 
 lowering gloom of skies still charged with rain and an 
 atmosphere loaded with vapor. 
 
 " This is a day for the chimney corner, and thankful to have 
 it we ought to be," said my old guide, as he replenished the 
 turf fire, at which he was preparing our breakfast. " Father 
 Doogan will be home here afore night, I 'm sure ; and as we 
 have nothing better to do, I '11 tell you some of our old adven- 
 tures when I lived with Mr. Brooke. 'Twill sarve to pass 
 the time, any way." 
 
 " I'm off to Murrah, as soon as I have eaten something," 
 replied I. 
 
 " 'T is little you know what a road it is," said he, smiling 
 dubiously. " 'T is four mountain rivers you 'd have to cross, 
 two of them, at least, deeper than ^^our head ; and there's the 
 pass of Barnascorney, where you 'd have to turn the side of a 
 mountain, with a precipice hundreds of feet below you, and a 
 wind blowing that would wreck a seventy-f om- ! There 's 
 never a man in the barony would venture over the same path, 
 with a storm ragin' from the nor' west." 
 
 " I never heard of a man being blown away off a mountain," 
 said I, laughing contemptuously. 
 
 " Arrah, didn't ye, then? Then maybe ye never lived in 
 parts where the heaviest ploughs and harrows that can be 
 laid in the thatch of a cabin are flung here and there like 
 
270 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 straws, and the strongest timbers torn out of the walls, and 
 scattered for miles along the coast like the spars of a 
 shipwreck." 
 
 " But so long as a man has hands to grip with — " 
 
 ' ' How ye talk ! sure when the wind can tear the strongest 
 trees up by the roots ; when it rolls big rocks fifty and a 
 hundred feet out of then- place ; when the very shingle on the 
 mountain-side is flyin' about like dust and sand, — where 
 would your grip be ? It is not only on the mountains either, 
 but down in the plains, ay, even in the narrowest glens, that 
 the cattle lies down under shelter of the rocks ; and many 's 
 the tune a sheep, or even a heifer, is swept away off the cliffs 
 into the sea." 
 
 With many an anecdote of storm and hurricane he sea- 
 soned our little meal of potatoes. Some curious enough, as 
 illustrating the precautionary habits of a peasantry, who 
 on land experience many of the vicissitudes supposed 
 peculiar to the sea ; others too miraculous for easy credence, 
 but yet vouched for by him with every affirmative of truth. 
 He displayed all his powers of agreeability and amusement ; 
 but his tales fell on unwilling ears, and when our meal was 
 over I started up and began to prepare for the road. 
 
 " So you will go, will you? " said he, peevishly. " ' T is in 
 your country to be obstinate, so I '11 say nothing more ; but 
 maybe 't is only into throubles you 'd be running, after all ! " 
 
 " I'm determined on it," said I, " and I only ask you to 
 tell me what road to take." 
 
 "There is only one, so there is no mistakin' it; keep to 
 the sheep path, and never leave it except at the torrents, — 
 you must pass them how ye can ; and when ye come to f our 
 big rocks in the plain, leave them to your left, and keep the 
 side of the mountain for two miles, till ye see the smoke 
 of the village underneath you. MuiTah is a small place, 
 and ye '11 have to look out sharp, or maybe ye '11 miss it." 
 
 " That's enough," said I, putting some silver in his hand 
 as I pressed it. ' ' We '11 probably meet no more ; good-by, 
 and many thanks for your pleasant company." 
 
 " No, we're not like to meet again," said he, thoughtfully, 
 " and that's the reason I'd like to give you a bit of advice. 
 Hear me, now," said he, drawing closer and talking in a 
 
A REMNANT OF "FONTENOY." 271 
 
 whisper ; ' ' you can't go far in this country without being 
 known : 't is n't your looks alone, but your voice and your 
 tongue will show what ye are. Get away out of it as fast 
 as you can ! there 's thraitors in every cause, and there 's chaps 
 in Ireland would rather make money as informers than earn 
 it by honest industry ! Get over to the Scotch islands ; get 
 to Isla or Barra ; get anywhere out of this for the time." 
 
 " Thanks for the counsel," said I, somewhat coldly, "I'll 
 have time to think over it as I go along ; " and with these 
 words I set forth on my journey. 
 
CHAPTER XXVn. 
 
 THE CRANAGH. 
 
 I WILL not weary my reader with a narrative of my mountain 
 walk, nor the dangers and difficulties which beset me on that 
 day of storm and hurricane. Few as were the miles^ to 
 travel, what with accidents, mistakes of the path, and the 
 halts to take shelter, I only reached Murrah as the day was 
 declining. 
 
 The little village, which consisted of some twenty cabins, 
 occupied a narrow gorge between two mountains, and pre- 
 sented an aspect of greater misery than I had ever witnessed 
 before, not affording even the humblest specimen of a house 
 of entertainment. From some peasants that were lounging 
 in the street I learned that Father Doogan had passed 
 through two days before in company with a naval officer, 
 whom they believed to be French. At least " he came from 
 one of the ships in the Lough, and could speak no English." 
 Since that the priest had not returned, and many thought 
 that he had gone away forever. This story, varied in a few 
 unimportant particulars, I heard from several, and also 
 learned that a squadron of several sail had for three or four 
 days been lying at the entrance of Lough Swilly, with, it 
 was said, large reinforcements for the "army of independ- 
 ence." There was then no time to be lost; here was the 
 very force which I had been sent to communicate with ; there 
 were the troops that should at that moment be disembarking. 
 The success of my mission might all depend now on a little 
 extra exertion, and so I at once engaged a guide to conduct 
 me to the coast, and having fortified myself with a glass of 
 mountain whiskey I felt ready for the road. 
 
 My guide could only speak a very little English, so that 
 our way was passed in almost unbroken silence ; and as, for 
 
"THE CRANAGH." 273 
 
 security, he followed the least frequented paths, we scarcely 
 met a living creature as we went. It was with a strange 
 sense of half pride, half despondency, that I bethought me 
 of my own position there, — a Frenchman alone, and sepa- 
 rated from his countrymen, in a wild mountain region of Ire- 
 land, carrying about him documents that, if detected, might 
 peril his life ; involved in a cause that had for its object the 
 independence of a nation, and that against the power of the 
 mightiest kingdom in Europe. An hour earlier or later, an 
 accident by the way, a swollen torrent, a chance impediment 
 of any kind that should delay me, — and what a change 
 might that produce in the whole destiny of the world! 
 
 The despatches I carried conveyed instructions the most 
 precise and accurate ; the places for combined action of the 
 two armies, information as to the actual state of parties, and 
 the condition of the native forces w^as contained in them. 
 All that could instruct the newly-come generals or encoui-age 
 them to decisive measures was there ; and yet on what narrow 
 contingencies did their safe arrival depend ! It was thus in 
 exaggerating to myself the part I played, in elevating my 
 humble position into all the importance of a high trust, that 
 I sustained my drooping spirits and acquu-ed energy to carry 
 me through fatigue and exhaustion. 
 
 During that night and the greater part of the following 
 day we walked on almost without halt, scarcely eating, and, 
 except by an occasional glass of whiskey, totally un- 
 f reshed ; and I am free to own that my poor guide — a bare- 
 legged youth of about seventeen, without any of those high 
 sustaining illusions which stirred within my heart — suffered 
 far less either from hunger or weariness than I did. So 
 much for motives. A shilling or two were sufficient to 
 equalize the balance against all the weight of my heroism 
 and patriotic ardor together. 
 
 A bright sun and a sharp wind from the north had suc- 
 ceeded to the lowering sky and heavy atmosphere of the 
 morning, and we travelled along with light hearts and brisk 
 steps, breasting the side of a steep ascent, from the simimit 
 of which, my guide told me, I should behold the sea, — the 
 sea ! not only the great plain on which I expected to see our 
 armament, but the link which bound me to my country ! 
 
 18 
 
274 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 Suddenly, just as I turned the angle of a cliff, it burst upon 
 my sight, — one vast mirror of golden splendor, appearing 
 almost at my feet ! In the yellow gleams of a setting sun, 
 long columns of azure-colored light streaked its calm sur- 
 face, and tinged the atmosphere with a warm and rosy hue. 
 While I was lost in admiration of the pictm'e, I heard the 
 sound of voices close beneath me, and, on looking down, 
 saw two figures, who, with telescope in hand, were steadily 
 gazing on a little bay that extended towards the west. 
 
 At first, my attention was more occupied by the strangers 
 than by the object of their curiosity ; and I remarked that 
 they were dressed and equipped like sportsmen, their guns 
 and game-bags lying against the rock behind them. 
 
 ' ' Do you still think that they are hovering about the 
 coast, Tom?" said the elder of the two, "or are you not 
 convinced, at last, that I am right?" 
 
 " I believe you are," replied the other; " but it certainly 
 did not look like it yesterday evening, with their boats row- 
 ing ashore every half hour, signals flying, and blue lights 
 burning ; all seemed to threaten a landing." 
 
 ' ' If they ever thought of it they soon changed their 
 minds," said the former. " The defeat of their comrades in 
 the west and the apathy of the peasantry here would have 
 cooled down warmer ardor than theirs. There they go, 
 Tom. I only hope that they 11 fall in with Wan-en's squad- 
 ron, and French insolence receive at sea the lesson we failed 
 to give them on land." 
 
 " Not so," rejoined the younger ; " Humbert's capitulation 
 and the total break up of the expedition ought to satisfy 
 even your patriotism." 
 
 "It fell far short of it then!" cried the other. "I'd 
 never have treated those fellows other than as bandits and 
 freebooters. I 'd have hanged them as highwaymen. Theirs 
 was less war than rapine ; but what could you expect ? I 
 have been assured that Humbert's force consisted of little 
 other than liberated felons and galley-slaves, — the refuse of 
 the worst population of Europe ! " 
 
 Distracted with the terrible tidings I had overheard, over- 
 whelmed with the sight of the ships now glistening like bright 
 specks on the verge of the horizon, I forgot my own position, 
 
"THE CRANAGH." 275 
 
 my safety, everything but the insult thus cast upon my 
 gallant comrades. 
 
 "Whoever said so was a liar, and a base coward to 
 boot ! " cried I, springing down from the height and con- 
 fronting them both where they stood. They started back, 
 and seizing their guns assumed an attitude of defence ; and 
 then quickly perceiving that I was alone, — for the boy had 
 taken to flight as fast as he could, — they stood regarding 
 me with faces of intense astonishment. 
 
 "Yes," said I, still boiling with passion, "you are two 
 to one, on youi' own soil besides, the odds you are best used 
 to ; and yet I repeat it that he who asperses the character of 
 General Humbert's force is a liar." 
 
 "He's French." 
 
 " No, he's Irish," muttered the elder. 
 
 "What signifies my country, su-s," cried I, passionately, 
 " if I demand retraction for a falsehood? " 
 
 "It signifies more than you think of, young man," said 
 the elder, calmly, and without evincing even the slightest 
 irritation in his manner. " If you be a Frenchman born, the 
 lenity of our government accords you the privilege of a 
 prisoner of war. If you be only French by adoption, and a 
 uniform, a harsher destiny awaits you." 
 
 "And who says I am a prisoner yet?" asked I, drawing 
 myself up, and staring them steadily in the face. 
 
 "We should be worse men and poorer patriots than you 
 give us credit for, or we should be able to make you so," 
 said he, quietly ; " but this is no time for ill-temper on either 
 side. The expedition has failed. Well, if you will not 
 believe me, read that. There, in that paper you will see the 
 official account of General Humbert's surrender at Boyle. 
 The news is already over the length and breadth of the 
 island ; even if you only landed last night, I cannot conceive 
 how you should be ignorant of it ! " I covered my face with 
 my hands to hide my emotion ; and he went on : "If you be 
 French, you have only to claim and prove your nationality, 
 and you partake the fortunes of your countrymen." 
 
 " And if he be not," whispered the other, in a voice 
 which, although low, I could still detect, "why should we 
 give him up?" 
 
276 MAURICE TIERiSAY. 
 
 " Hush, Tom, be quiet," replied the elder, " let him plead 
 for himself." 
 
 " Let me see the newspaper," said I, endeavoring to seem 
 calm and collected ; and taking it at the place he pointed 
 out, I read the heading in capitals, " Capitulation of Gen- 
 eral Humbert and his whole Force." I could see no 
 more. I could not trace the details of so horrible a disaster, 
 nor did I ask to know by what means it occm-red. My 
 attitude and air of apparent occupation, however, deceived 
 the other ; and the elder, supposing that I was engaged in 
 considering the paragraph, said, "You'll see the govern- 
 ment proclamation on the other side, — a general amnesty to 
 all under the rank of officers in the rebel army, who give up 
 then- arms within six days. The French to be treated as 
 prisoners of war." 
 
 "Is he too late to regain the fleet?" whispered the 
 younger. 
 
 " Of course he is. They are already hull down ; besides, 
 who's to assist his escape, Tom? Y"ou forget the position 
 he stands in." 
 
 " But I do not forget it," answered I, " and you need not 
 be afraid that I will seek to compromise you, gentlemen. 
 Tell me where to find the nearest justice of the peace, and I 
 will go and surrender myself." 
 
 "It is your wisest and best policy," said the elder; "I 
 am not in the commission, but a neighbor of mine is, and 
 lives a few miles off, and if you like we '11 accompany you to 
 his house." 
 
 I accepted the offer, and soon found myself descending 
 the steep path of the mountain in perfect good fellowship 
 with the two strangers. It is likely enough if they had 
 taken any peculiar pains to obliterate the memory of our 
 first meeting, or if they had displayed any extraordinary 
 efforts of conciliation, that I should have been on my guard 
 against them ; but their manners, on the contrary, were 
 easy and unaffected in every respect. They spoke of the 
 expedition sensibly and dispassionately ; and while acknow- 
 ledging that there were many things they would like to 
 see altered in the English rule of Ireland, they were very 
 averse from the desire of a foreign intervention to rectify 
 them. 
 
"THE CRANAGH." 277 
 
 I avowed to them that we had been grossly deceived; 
 that all the representations made to us depicted Ireland as 
 a nation of soldiers, wanting only arms and military stores 
 to rise as a vast army ; that the peasantry were animated 
 by one spirit, and the majority of the gentry willing to 
 hazard everything on the issue of a struggle. Our Killala 
 experiences, of which I detailed some, heartily amused them, 
 and it was in a merry interchange of opinions that we now 
 walked along together. 
 
 A cluster of houses, too small to be called a village and 
 known as the " Cranagh," stood in a little nook of the bay; 
 and here they lived. They were brothers ; and the elder 
 held some small appointment in the revenue, which main- 
 tained them as bachelors in this cheap country. In a low 
 conversation that passed between them it was agreed that 
 they would detain me as their guest for that evening, and on 
 the morrow accompany me to the magistrate's house, about 
 five miles distant. I was not sorry to accept their hospitable 
 offer ; I longed for ^ few hours of rest and respite before 
 embarking on another sea of troubles. The failure of the 
 expedition and the departure of the fleet had overwhelmed 
 me with grief, and I was in no mood to confront new 
 perils- 
 
 If my new acquaintances could have read my inmost 
 thoughts, their manner towards me could not have displayed 
 more kindness or good-breeding. Not pressing me with 
 questions on subjects where the greatest curiosity would have 
 been permissible, they suffered me to tell only so much as I 
 wished of our late plans, and as if purposely to withdraw 
 my thoughts from the unhappy theme of our defeat led me to 
 talk of France, and her career in Europe. 
 
 It was not without surprise that I saw how conversant the 
 newspapers had made them with European politics, nor how 
 widely different did events appear when viewed from afar off 
 and by the lights of another and different nationality. Thus 
 all that we were doing on the Continent to propagate liberal 
 notions, and promote the spread of freedom, seemed to their 
 eyes but the efforts of an ambitious power to crush abroad 
 what they had annihilated at home, and extend their own 
 influence in disseminating doctrines, all to revert, one day or 
 
278 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 other, to some grand despotism, whenever the man arose 
 capable to exercise it. The elder would not even concede to 
 us that we were fit for freedom. 
 
 "You are glorious fellows at destroying an old edifice," 
 said he, "but sorry architects when comes the question of 
 rebuilding ; and as to liberty, your highest notion of it is an 
 occasional anarchy. Like schoolboys, you will bear any 
 tyranny for ten years, to have ten days of a ' barring out ' 
 afterward." 
 
 I was not much flattered by these opinions ; and, what was 
 worse, I could not get them out of my head all night after- 
 wards. Many things I had never doubted about now kept 
 puzzling and confounding me, and I began for the first time 
 to know the misery of the struggle between implicit obedience 
 and conviction. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 I WENT to bed at night in all apparent health : save from the 
 flurry and excitement of an anxious mind, I was in no respect 
 different from my usual mood ; and yet when I awoke next 
 morning, my head was distracted with a racking pain, cramps 
 were in all my limbs, and I could not turn or even move 
 without intense suffering. The long exposure to rain, while 
 my mind was in a condition of extreme excitement, had 
 brought on an attack of fever, and before evening set in I 
 was raving in wild delirium. Every scene I had passed 
 through, each eventful incident of my life, came flashing in 
 disjointed portions through my poor brain ; and I raved away 
 of France, of Germany, of the dreadful days of Terror, and 
 the fearful orgies of the Revolution. Scenes of strife and 
 struggle, the terrible conflicts of the streets, all rose before 
 me ; and the names of every bloodstained hero of France now 
 mingled with the obscure titles of Irish insurrection. 
 
 What narratives of my early life I may have given, what 
 stories I may have revealed of my strange career, I cannot 
 tell ; but the interest my kind hosts took in me grew stronger 
 every day. There was no care or kindness they did not 
 lavish on me. Taking alternate nights to sit up with me, 
 they watched beside my bed like brothers. All that affection 
 could give they rendered me ; and even from their narrow 
 fortunes they paid a physician, who came from a distant town 
 to visit me. When I was sufficiently recovered to leave my 
 bed and sit at the window, or stroll slowly in the garden, I 
 became aware of the full extent to which their kindness had 
 carried them, and in the precautions for secrecy I saw the 
 peril to which my presence exposed them. From an excess 
 of delicacy towards me they did not allude to the subject. 
 
280 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 nor show the slightest uneasiness about the matter ; but day 
 by day some little cu"cumstauce would occur, some slight and 
 trivial fact reveal tlie state of anxiety they lived in. 
 
 They were averse, too, from all discussion of late events, 
 and either answered my questions vaguely or with a certain 
 reserve ; and when I hinted at my hope of being soon able to 
 appear before a magistrate and establish my claim as a 
 French citizen, they replied that the moment was an 
 unfavorable one; that the lenity of the government had 
 latterly been abused, their gracious intentions misstated and 
 perverted ; that, in fact, a reaction towards severity had 
 occurred, and military law and courts-martial were summarily 
 disposing of cases that a short time back would have 
 received the mildest sentences of civil tribunals. It was 
 clear, from all they said, that if the rebellion was suppressed, 
 the Insurrectionary feeling was not extinguished, and that 
 England was the very reverse of tranquil on the subject of 
 Ireland. 
 
 It was to no purpose that I repeated my personal indiffer- 
 ence to all these measures of severity ; that in my capacity 
 as a Frenchman and an officer I stood exempt from all the 
 consequences they alluded to. Their reply was that in times 
 of trouble and alarm things were done which quieter periods 
 would never have sanctioned, and that indiscreet and over- 
 zealous men would venture on acts that neither law nor 
 justice could substantiate. In fact, they gave me to believe 
 that such was the excitement of the moment, such the 
 embittered vengeance of those whose families or fortunes had 
 suffered by the rebellion, that no reprisals would be thought 
 too heavy, nor any harshness too great, for those who aided 
 the movement. 
 
 AVhatever I might have said against the injustice of this 
 proceeding, in my secret heart I had to confess that it was 
 only what might have been expected; and coming from a 
 country where it was enough to call a man an aristocrat, 
 and then cry a la lanterne^ I saw nothing unreasonable in 
 it all. 
 
 My friends advised me, therefore, instead of preferring any 
 formal claim to immunity, to take the first occasion of 
 escaping to America, whence I could not fail, later on, of 
 
SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 281 
 
 returning to France. At first, the counsel only irritated me, 
 but by degrees, as I came to think more calmly and seriously 
 of the difficulties, I began to regard it in a different light ; 
 and at last I fulh^ concurred in the wisdom of the advice, and 
 resolved on adopting it. 
 
 To sit on the cliffs and watch the ocean for hours became 
 now the practice of my life, — to gaze from daybreak almost 
 to the falling of night over the wide expanse of sea, straining 
 my eyes at each sail, and conjecturing to what distant shore 
 they were tending. The hopes which at first sustained at 
 last deserted me, as week after week passed over, and no 
 prospect of escape appeared. The life of inactivity gradually 
 depressed my spirits, and I fell into a low and moping con- 
 dition, in which my hours rolled over without thought or 
 notice. Still, I returned each day to my accustomed spot, — 
 a lofty peak of rock that stood over the sea, and from which 
 the view extended for miles on every side. There, half hid 
 in the wild heath, I used to lie for houi's long, my eyes bent 
 upon the sea, but my thoughts wandering away to a past 
 that never was to be renewed, and a future I was never 
 destined to experience. 
 
 Although late in the autumn, the season was mild and 
 genial, and the sea calm and waveless save along the shore, 
 where, even in the stillest weather, the great breakers came 
 tumbling in with a force independent of storm ; and listen- 
 ing to their booming thunder, I have dreamed away hour 
 after hour unconsciously. 
 
 It was one day, as I lay thus, that my attention was caught 
 by the sight of three large vessels on the very verge of the 
 horizon. Habit had now given me a certain acuteness, and I 
 could perceive from their height and size that they were ships 
 of war. For a while they seemed as if steering for the 
 entrance of the "lough," but afterwards they changed their 
 course, and headed towards the west. At length they sepa- 
 rated, and one of smaller size, and probably a frigate from 
 her speed, shot forward beyond the rest, and in less than half 
 an hour disappeared from view. The other two gradually sunk 
 beneath the horizon, and not a sail was to be seen over the 
 wide expanse. While speculating on what errand the squad- 
 ron might be employed, I thought I could hear the deep and 
 
282 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 rolling sound of distant cannonading. My ear was too 
 practised in the thundering crash of the breakers along shore 
 to confound the noises ; and as I listened I fancied that I 
 could distinguish the sound of single guns from the louder 
 roar of a whole broadside. This could not mean salut- 
 ing, nor was it likely to be a mere exercise of the fleet. They 
 were not times when much powder was expended unprofit- 
 ably. Was it then an engagement? But with what or 
 whom? Tandy's expedition, as it was called, had long since 
 sailed, and must ere this have been captured or safe in 
 France. I tried a hundred conjectures to explain the 
 mystery, which now, from the long continuance of the 
 sounds, seemed to denote a desperately contested engage- 
 ment. It was not till after three hours that the cannonad- 
 ing ceased, and then I could descry a thick dark canopy of 
 smoke that hung hazily over one spot in the horizon, as if 
 marking out the scene of the struggle. With what aching, 
 torturing anxiety I burned to know what had happened, and 
 with which side rested the victory ! 
 
 Well habituated to hear of the English as victors in every 
 naval engagement, I yet went on hoping against hope itself, 
 that Fortune might for once have favored us ; nor was it 
 till the falling night prevented my being able to trace out 
 distant objects, that I could leave the spot and turn home- 
 wards. With wishes so directly opposed to theirs, I did not 
 ventui'e to tell my two friends what I had witnessed, nor 
 trust myself to speak on a subject where my feelings might 
 have betrayed me into unseemly expressions of my hopes. I 
 was glad to find that they knew nothing of the matter, and 
 talked away indifferently of other subjects. By daybreak the 
 next morning I was at my post, a sharp nor'wester blowing, 
 and a heavy sea rolling in from the Atlantic. Instinctively 
 carrying my eyes to the spot where I had heard the cannon- 
 ade, I could distinctly see the tops of spars, as if the upper 
 rigging of some vessels, beyond the horizon. Gradually they 
 rose higher and higher, till I could detect the yard-arms and 
 cross-trees, and finally the great hulls of five vessels that 
 were bearing towards me. 
 
 For above an hour I could see their every movement, as 
 with all canvas spread they held on majestically towards the 
 
SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 283 
 
 land, when at length a lofty promontory of the bay intervened, 
 and they were lost to my view. I jumped to my legs at once, 
 and set off down the cliff to reach the headland, from whence 
 an uninterrupted prospect extended. The distance was greater 
 than I had supposed, and in my eagerness to take a direct line 
 to it I got entangled in difficult gorges among the hills, and 
 was impeded by mountain torrents which often compelled me 
 to go back a considerable distance ; it was already late in the 
 afternoon as I gained the crest of a ridge over the Bay of 
 Lough Swilly. Beneath me lay the calm surface of the lough, 
 landlocked and still ; but further out seaward there was a 
 sight that made my very limbs tremble, and sickened my 
 heart as I beheld it. There was a large frigate, that, with 
 studding-sails set, stood boldly up the bay, followed by a 
 dismasted three-decker, at whose mizzen floated the ensign of 
 England over the French tricolor. Several other vessels were 
 grouped about the offing, all of them displaying English colors. 
 
 The dreadful secret was out. There had been a tremend- 
 ous sea-fight, and the " Hoche," of seventy-four guns, was the 
 sad spectacle which, with shattered sides and ragged rigging, 
 I now beheld entering the bay. Oh the humiliation of that 
 sight ! I can never forget it. And although on all the sur- 
 rounding hills scarcely fifty country-people were assembled, I 
 felt as if the whole of Europe were spectators of our defeat. 
 The flag I had always believed triumphant now hung igno- 
 miniously beneath the ensign of the enemy, and the decks of 
 our noble ship were crowded with the uniforms of English 
 sailors and marines. 
 
 The blue water surged and spouted from the shot-holes as 
 the great hull loomed heavily from side to side, and broken 
 spars and ropes still hung over the side as she went, a 
 perfect picture of defeat. Never was disaster more legibly 
 written. I watched her till the anchor dropped, and then in 
 a burst of emotion I turned away, unable to endure more. 
 As I hastened homeward I met the elder of my two hosts 
 coming to meet me, in considerable anxiety. He had heard 
 of the capture of the "Hoche," but his mind was far more 
 intent on another and less important event. Two men had 
 just been at his cottage with a warrant for my arrest. The 
 document bore my name and rank, as well as a description 
 
284 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 of my appearance, and significantly alleged, that, although 
 Irish by birth, I affected a foreign accent for the sake of 
 concealment. 
 
 "There is no chance of escape, now," said my friend; 
 "we are surrounded with spies on every hand. My advice 
 Is, therefore, to hasten to Lord Cavan's quarters — he is now 
 at Letterkenny — and give yourself up as a prisoner. There 
 is at least the chance of your being treated like the rest of 
 your countrymen. I have already provided you with a horse 
 and a guide, for I must not accompany you myself. Go, 
 then, Maurice. We shall never see each other again ; but 
 we '11 not forget you, nor do we fear that you will forget us. 
 My brother could not trust himself to take leave of you, but 
 his best wishes and prayers go with you." 
 
 Such were the last words my kind-hearted friend spoke 
 to me ; nor do I know what reply I made, as overcome by 
 emotion, my voice became thick and broken. I wanted to 
 tell all my gratitude, and yet could say nothing. To this 
 hour I know not with what impression of me he went away. 
 I can only assert, that, in all the long career of vicissitudes 
 of a troubled and adventurous life, these brothers have 
 occupied the chosen spot of my affection for everything that 
 was disinterested in kindness and generous in good feeling. 
 They have done more ; for they have often reconciled me to 
 a world of harsh injustice and illiberality, by remembering 
 that two such exceptions existed, and that others may have 
 experienced what fell to my lot. 
 
 For a mile or two my way lay through the mountains, but 
 after reaching the high road I had not proceeded far when I 
 was overtaken by a jaunting-car, on which a gentleman was 
 seated, with his leg supported by a cushion and bearing all 
 the signs of a severe injury. 
 
 " Keep the near side of the way, sir, I beg of 3"0u," cried 
 he ; "I have a broken leg, and am excessively uneasy when 
 a horse passes close to me." 
 
 I touched my cap in salute, and immediately turned my 
 horse's head to comply with his request. 
 
 "Did you see that, George?" cried another gentleman, 
 who sat on the opposite side of the vehicle ; " did you remark 
 that fellow's salute? My life on 't, he 's a French soldier." 
 
SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 285 
 
 "Nonsense, man; he's the steward of a Clyde smack, or 
 a clerk in a counting-house," said the first, in a voice which, 
 though purposely low, my quick hearing could catch 
 perfectly. 
 
 " Are we far from Letterkeuny just now, sir?" said the 
 other, addressing me. 
 
 "I believe about five miles," said I, with a prodigious 
 effort to make my pronunciation pass muster. 
 
 "You're a stranger in these parts, I see, sir," rejoined 
 he, with a cunning glance at his friend, while he added, 
 lower, "Was I right, Hill?" 
 
 Although seeing that all concealment was now hopeless, 
 I was in nowise disposed to plead guilty at once, and there- 
 fore, with a cut of my switch, pushed my beast into a sharp 
 canter to get foi-w^ard. 
 
 My friends, however, gave chase, and now the jaunting- 
 car, notwithstanding the sufferings of the invalid, was clat- 
 tering after me at about nine miles an hour. At first I 
 rather enjoyed the malice of the penalty their curiosity was 
 costing ; but as I remembered that the invalid was not the 
 chief offender, I began to feel compunction at the severity 
 of the lesson, and drew up to a walk. 
 
 The}^ at once shortened their pace, and came up beside 
 me. 
 
 "A clever hack you're riding, sir," said the inquisitive 
 man. 
 
 " Not so bad for an animal of this country," said I, super- 
 ciliously. 
 
 " Oh, then, what kind of a horse are you accustomed to?" 
 asked he, half insolently. 
 
 "The Limousin," said I, coolly, "what we alwaj^s mount 
 in our hussar regiments in France." 
 
 " And you are a French soldier, then?" cried he, in evident 
 astonishment at my frankness. 
 
 " At 3'our service, sir," said I, saluting ; "a lieutenant of 
 hussars ; and if you are tormented by any further curiosity 
 concerning me, I may as well relieve you by stating that I 
 am proceeding to Lord Cavan's headquarters to surrender as 
 a prisoner." 
 
 " Frank enough, that! " said he of the broken lea^, lau^h- 
 
286 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 ing heartily as he spoke. " Well, sir," said the other, ''you 
 are, as your countrynien would call it, bien venu^ for we are 
 bound in that du'ection ourselves, and will be happy to have 
 your company." 
 
 One piece of tact my worldly experience had profoundly 
 impressed upon me, and that was the necessit}^ of always 
 assuming an air of easy unconcern in every circumstance of 
 doubtful issue. There was quite enough of difficult}^ in the 
 present case to excite my anxiety, but I rode along beside 
 the jaunting-car, chatting familiarly with my new acquaint- 
 ances, and, I believe, without exhibiting the slightest degree 
 of uneasiness regarding my own position. 
 
 From them I learned so much as they had heard of the 
 late naval engagement. The report was that Bompard's fleet 
 had fallen in with Sir John Warren's squadron ; and having 
 given orders for his fastest sailers to make the best of their 
 way to France, had, with the " Hoche," the " Loire," and the 
 " Resolve," given battle to the enemy. These had all been 
 captured, as well as four others which fled, two alone of the 
 whole succeeding in their escape. I think now that, grievous 
 as these tidings were, there was nothing of either boastful- 
 ness or insolence in the tone in which they were communi- 
 cated to me. Every praise was accorded to Bompard for 
 skill and bravery, and the defence was spoken of in terms of 
 generous eulogy. The only trait of acrimony that showed 
 itself in the recital was a regret that a number of Irish rebels 
 should have escaped in the "Biche," one of the smaller 
 frigates, and several emissaries of the people, who had been 
 deputed to the adnikal, were also alleged to have been on 
 board of that vessel. 
 
 ' ' You are sorry to have missed your friend the priest of 
 Murrah ? " said Hill, jocularly. 
 
 "Y"es, by George, that fellow should have graced a gal- 
 lows if I had been lucky enough to have taken him." 
 
 "What was his crime, sir?" asked I, with seeming 
 unconcern. 
 
 "Nothing more than exciting to rebellion a people with 
 whom he had no tie of blood or kindred ! He was a French- 
 man, and devoted himself to the cause of Ireland, as they 
 call it, from pure sympathy — " 
 
SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 287 
 
 " And a dash of Popery," broke in Hill. 
 
 "It's hard to say even that; my own opinion is that 
 French Jacobinism cares very little for the Pope. Am I 
 right, young gentleman — you don't go very often to 
 confession ? " 
 
 " I should do so less frequently if I were to be subjected 
 to such a system of interrogatory as yours," said I, tartly. 
 
 They both took my impertinent speech in good part, and 
 laughed heartily at it ; and thus, half amicably, half in ear- 
 nest, we entered the little town of Letterkenny, just as night 
 was falling. 
 
 ''If you'll be our guest for this evening, sir," said Hill, 
 "we shall be happy to have your company." 
 
 I accepted the invitation, and followed them into the inn. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " THE BREAKFAST AT LETTERKENNY." 
 
 Early the next morning, a messenger arrived from the 
 Cranagh with a small packet of my clothes and effects, and 
 a farewell letter from the two brothers. I had but time to 
 glance over its contents when the tramp of feet and the buzz 
 of voices in the street attracted me to the window, and on 
 looking out I saw a long line of men, two abreast, who were 
 marching along as prisoners, a party of dismounted dragoons 
 keeping guard over them on either side, followed by a strong 
 detachment of marines. The poor fellows looked sad and 
 crestfallen enough. Many of them wore bandages on their 
 heads and limbs, the tokens of the late struggle. Imme- 
 diately in front of the inn door stood a group of about thirty 
 persons ; they were the staff of the English force and the 
 officers of our fleet, all mingled together, and talking away 
 with the greatest air of unconcern. I was struck by remark- 
 ing that all our seamen, though prisoners, saluted the officers 
 as they passed, and in the glances interchanged I thought I 
 could read a world of sympathy and encouragement. As for 
 the officers, like true Frenchmen, they bore themselves as 
 though it were one of the inevitable chances of war, and, 
 however vexatious for the moment, not to be thought of as 
 an event of much importance. The greater number of them 
 belonged to the army, and I could see the uniforms of the 
 staff, artillery and dragoons, as well as the less distinguished 
 costume of the line. 
 
 Perhaps they carried the affectation of indifference a little 
 too far, and in the lounging ease of their attitude and the 
 cool unconcern with which they puffed theii' cigars displayed 
 an over-anxiety to seem unconcerned. That the English 
 were piqued at their bearing was still more plain to see ; and, 
 
"THE BREAKFAST AT LETTERKEXXY." 289 
 
 indeed, in tlie sullen looks of the one, and the careless gayet}^ 
 of the other party, a stranger might readily have mistaken 
 the captor for the captive. 
 
 My two friends of the evening before were in the midst of 
 the group. He Avho had questioned me so sharply now wore 
 a general officer's uniform, and seemed to be the chief in 
 command. As I watched him I heard him addressed by an 
 officer, and now saw that he was no other than Lord Cavan 
 himself, while the other was a well-known magistrate and 
 country gentleman, Su- George Hill. 
 
 The sad procession took almost half an hour to defile ; and 
 then came a long string of countr}^ cars and carts, with sea- 
 chests and other stores belonging to our officers, and, last of 
 all, some eight or ten ammunition wagons and gun-carriages, 
 over which an English union-jack now floated in token of 
 conquest. 
 
 There was nothing like exultation or triumph exhibited by 
 the peasantry as this pageant passed. They gazed in silent 
 wonderment at the scene, and looked like men who scarcely 
 knew whether the result boded more of good or evil to their 
 own fortunes. While keenly scrutinizing the looks and 
 bearing of the bystanders, I received a summons to meet the 
 general and his party at breakfast. 
 
 Although the occurrence was one of the most pleasurable 
 incidents of my life which brought me once more into inter- 
 course with my comrades and my countrymen, I should 
 perhaps pass it over with slight mention were it not that it 
 made me witness to a scene which has since been recorded 
 in various different ways, but of whose exact details I profess 
 to be an accurate narrator. 
 
 After making a tour of the room, saluting my comrades, 
 answering questions here, putting others there, I took my 
 place at the long table, which, running the whole length of 
 the apartment, was indiscriminately occupied by French and 
 English, and found myself with my back to the fireplace, 
 and having directly in front of me a man of about thirty- 
 three or thirty-four years of age, dressed in the uniform of 
 a chef de hrlgacle. Light-haired and blue-eyed, he bore no 
 resemblance whatever to those around him, whose dark faces 
 and black beards proclaimed them of a foreign origin. 
 
 19 
 
290 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 There was an air of mildness in his manner, mingled with a 
 certain impetuosity that betrayed itself in the rapid glances 
 of his eye ; and I could plainly mark that while the rest were 
 perfectly at their ease, he was constrained, restless, watch- 
 ing eagerly ever^'thing that went forward about him, and 
 showing unmistakably a certain anxiety and distrust, widely 
 differing from the gay and careless indifference of his com- 
 rades. I was curious to hear his name, and on asking, 
 learned that he was the chef de brigade Smith, an Irish- 
 man by bu'th, but holding a command in the French 
 service. 
 
 I had but asked the question, when pushing back his chair 
 from the table he arose suddenly, and stood stiff and erect, 
 like a soldier on parade. 
 
 ' ' Well, sir, I hope you are satisfied with your inspection 
 of me," cried he, and sternly addressing himself to some one 
 behind my back. I turned and perceived it was Sir George 
 Hill, who stood in front of the fire leaning on his stick. 
 Whether he replied or not to this rude speech I am unable 
 to say, but the other walked leisurely round the table and 
 came directly in front of him. "You know me now, sir, I 
 presume," said he, in the same imperious voice, " or else 
 this uniform has made a greater change in my appearance 
 than I knew of." 
 
 " Mr. Tone ! " said Sir George, in a voice, scarcely above 
 a whisper. 
 
 "Ay, sir, Wolfe Tone; there is no need of secrecy here, 
 — Wolfe Tone, your old college acquaintance iu former 
 times, but now chef de brigade in the service of France." 
 
 "This is a very unexpected, a very unhapp3% meeting, 
 Mr. Tone," said Hill, feelingly; "I sincerel}" wish you had 
 not recalled the memory of our past acquaintance. My duty 
 gives me no alternative." 
 
 "Your duty, or I mistake much, can have no concern with 
 me, sir," cried Tone, in a more excited voice. 
 
 " I ask for nothing better than to be sure of this, Mr. 
 Tone," said Sir George, moving slowly towards the door. 
 
 " You would treat me like an emigre ventre^'' cried Tone, 
 passionately, "but I am a French subject and a French 
 oflacer!" 
 
"THE BREAKFAST AT LETTERKEXNY." 291 
 
 '' I shall be well satisfied if others take the same view of 
 your case, I assure you," said Hill, as he gained the door. 
 
 "You'll not find me unprepared for either event, sir," 
 rejoined Tone, following him out of the room, and banging 
 the door angrily behind him. 
 
 For a moment or two the noise of voices was heard from 
 without, and several of the guests, English and French, 
 rose from the table, eagerly inquiring what had occurred, 
 and asking for an explanation of the scene, when suddenly 
 the door was flung wide open, and Tone appeared between 
 two policemen, his coat off, and his wrists enclosed in 
 handcuffs. 
 
 "Look here, comrades," he cried in French; "this is 
 another specimen of English politeness and hospitality. 
 After all," added he, with a bitter laugh, "they have no 
 designation in all their heraldry as honorable as these fetters, 
 when worn for the cause of freedom ! Good-by,"* com- 
 rades ; we may never meet again, but don't forget how we 
 parted ! " 
 
 These were the last words he uttered, when the door was 
 closed and he was led forward under charge of a strong 
 force of police and military. A postchaise was soon seen to 
 pass the windows at speed, escorted by dragoons, and we 
 saw no more of our comrade. 
 
 The incident passed even more rapidly than I write it. 
 The few words spoken, the hurried gestures, the passionate 
 exclamations, are yet all deeply graven on my memory ; and 
 I can recall every little incident of the scene, and every fea- 
 ture of the locality wherein it occurred. With true French 
 levity many reseated themselves at the breakfast-table ; 
 whilst others, with perhaps as little feeling, but more of 
 curiosity, discussed the event, and sought for an explana- 
 tion of its meaning. 
 
 "Then what's to become of Tiernay," cried one, "if it 
 be so hard to throw off this ' coil of Englishmen ' ? His 
 position may be just as precarious." 
 
 " That is exactly what has occurred," said Lord Cavan, 
 " a warrant for his apprehension has just been put into my 
 hands, and I deeply regret that the dut}^ should violate that 
 of hospitality, and make my guest my prisoner." 
 
292 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " May I see this waiTant, my lord?" asked I. 
 
 "Certainly, sir. Here it is; and here is the informa- 
 tion on oath thi'ough which it was issued, sworn to before 
 three justices of the peace by a certain Joseph Dowall, 
 late an officer in the rebel forces, but now a pardoned 
 approver of the Crown ; do you remember such a man, 
 sir?" 
 
 I bowed, and he went on. 
 
 "He would seem a precious rascal; but such characters 
 become indispensable in times like these. After all, M. 
 Tiernay, my orders are only to transmit you to Dublin 
 under safe escort, and there is nothing either in my duty or 
 in your position to occasion any feeling of unpleasantness 
 between us. Let us have a glass of wine together." 
 
 I responded to this civil proposition with politeness ; and 
 after a slight interchange of leave-takings with some of my 
 newly-found comi^ades, I set out for Derry on a jaunting- 
 car accompanied by an officer and two policemen, affecting 
 to think very little of a cu'cumstance which in reality, the 
 more I reflected over it, the more serious I deemed it. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 SCENE IN THE ROYAL BARRACKS. 
 
 It would afford me little pleasure to write, and doubtless my 
 readers less to read, my lucubrations as I journeyed along 
 towards Dublin. My thoughts seldom turned from myself 
 and my own fortunes, nor were they cheered by the scene 
 through which I travelled. The season was a backward 
 and wet one, and the fields, partly from this cause and partly 
 from the people being engaged in the late struggle, lay un- 
 tilled and neglected. Groups of idle, lounging peasants 
 stood in the villages, or loitered on the high-roads as we 
 passed, sad, ragged-looking, and wretched. They seemed 
 as if they had no heart to resume their wonted life of labor, 
 but were waiting for some calamity to close their miserable 
 existence. Strongly in contrast with this were the aii' and 
 bearing of the yeomanry and militia detachments with whom 
 we occasionally came up. Quite forgetting how little credit- 
 able to some of them, at least, were the events of the late 
 campaign, they gave themselves the most intolerable airs 
 of heroism, and in their drunken jollity and reckless aban- 
 donment threatened, I know not what, — utter ruin to 
 France and all Frenchmen. Bonaparte was the great mark 
 of all their sarcasms, and, from some cause or other, seemed 
 to enjoy a most disproportioned share of their dislike and 
 derision. 
 
 At first it required some effort of constraint on my part to 
 listen to this ribaldry in silence ; but prudence and a little 
 sense taught me the safer lesson of " never minding," and 
 so I affected to understand nothing that was said in a spirit 
 of insult or offence. 
 
 On the night of the 7th of November we drew nigh to 
 Dublin ; but instead of entering the capital, we halted at a 
 
294 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 small village outside of it called Chapelizod. Here a house 
 had been fitted up for the reception of French prisoners, and 
 I found myself, if not in company, at least under the same 
 roof, with my countrymen. 
 
 Nearer intercoui'se than this, however, I was not destined 
 to enjoy ; for early on the following morning I was ordered 
 to set out for the Eoyal Barracks, to be tried before a court- 
 martial. It was on a cold, raw morning, with a thin, drizzly 
 rain falling, that we drove into the barrack-yard, and drew 
 up at the mess-room, then used for the purposes of a court. 
 As yet none of the members had assembled, and two or three 
 mess-waiters were engaged in removing the signs of last 
 night's debauch, and restoring a semblance of decorum to a 
 very rackety-looking apartment. The walls were scrawled 
 over with absurd caricatures, in charcoal or ink, of notorious 
 characters of the capital, and a very striking " battle-piece " 
 commemorated the '' Races of Castlebar," as that memorable 
 action was called, in a spirit, I am bound to say, of little 
 flattery to the British arms. There were, to be sure, little 
 compensatory illustrations here and there of French cav- 
 alry in Egypt, mounted on donkeys, or revolutionary troops 
 on parade, ragged as scarecrows and ill-looking as highway- 
 men ; but a most liberal justice characterized all these fres- 
 cos, and they treated both Trojan and Tyrian alike. 
 
 I had abundant time given me to admire them ; for although 
 summoned for seven o'clock, it was nine before the first offi- 
 cer of the court-martial made his appearance, and he having 
 popped in his head, and perceiving the room empty, saun- 
 tered out again and disappeared. At last a very noisy 
 jaunting-car rattled into the square, and a short, red-faced 
 man was assisted down from it, and entered the mess-room. 
 This was Mr. Peters, the Deputy Judge Advocate, whose 
 presence was the immediate signal for the others, who now 
 came dropping in from every side, — the President, a Colonel 
 Daly, arriving the last. 
 
 A few tradespeople, loungers it seemed to me of the bar- 
 racks, and some half-dozen non-commissioned officers off 
 duty made up the public ; and I could not but feel a sense 
 of my insignificance in the utter absence of interest my fate 
 excited. The listless indolence and informality, too, offended 
 
SCENE IN THE ROYAL BARRACKS. 295 
 
 and insulted me ; and when the President politely told me to 
 be seated, for they were obliged to wait for some books or 
 papers left behind at his quarters, I actually was indignant 
 at his coolness. 
 
 As we thus waited, the officers gathered round the fire- 
 place, chatting and laughing pleasantly together, discussing 
 the social events of the capital and the gossip of the day, — 
 everything, in fact, but the case of the individual on whose 
 future fate they were about to decide. 
 
 At length the long-expected books made their appearance, 
 and a few well-thumbed volumes were spread over the table, 
 behind which the court took then' places. Colonel Daly in 
 the centre, with the judge upon his left. 
 
 The members being sworn, the Judge Advocate arose, and 
 in a hurried, humdrum kind of voice read out what pur- 
 ported to be the commission under which I was to be tried, — 
 the charge being, whether I had or had not acted treache- 
 rously and hostilely to his Majesty, whose natural-born 
 subject I was, being born in that kingdom, and consequently 
 owing to him all allegiance and fidelity. 
 
 " Guilty or not guilty, sir? " 
 
 "The charge is a falsehood; I am a Frenchman," was 
 my answer. 
 
 " Have respect for the Court, sir," said Peters ; " you mean 
 that you are a French officer, but by birth an Irishman." 
 
 ' ' I mean no such thing ; that I am French by birth as I 
 am in feeling ; that I never saw Ireland till within a few 
 months back, and heartily wish I had never seen it." 
 
 "'So would General Humbert, too, perhaps," said Daly, 
 (aughing ; and the court seemed to relish the jest. 
 
 " Where were you born, then, Tiernay ? " 
 
 " In Paris, I believe." 
 
 " And your mother's name, what was it? " 
 
 " I never knew; I was left an orphan when a mere infant, 
 and can tell little of my family." 
 
 " Your father was Irish, then? " 
 
 •' Only by descent. I have heard that we came from a 
 family who bore the title of 'Timmahoo,' — Lord Tiernay 
 of Timmahoo." 
 
 " There was such a title," interposed Peters ; "it was one 
 
296 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 of King James's last creations after bis flight from the Boyne. 
 Some, indeed, assert that it was conferred before the battle. 
 What a strange coincidence, to find the descendant, if he be 
 such, laboring in something like the same cause as his 
 ancestor ! " 
 
 "What's your rank, sir?" asked a sharp, severe-looking 
 man, called Major Flood. 
 
 " Fu-st Lieutenant of Hussars." 
 
 " And is it usual for a boy of 3'our years to hold that rank, 
 or was there anything peculiar in your case that obtained 
 the promotion ? " 
 
 "I served in two campaigns, and gained m}^ grade 
 regularl}^" 
 
 "Your Irish blood, then, had no share in j^our advance- 
 ment?" asked he again. 
 
 " I am a Frenchman, as I said before," was my answer. 
 
 "A Frenchman, who lays claim to an Irish estate and 
 an Irish title," replied Flood. " Let us hear Dowall's 
 statement." 
 
 And now, to my utter confusion, a man made his way to 
 the table, and, taking the book from the Judge Advocate, 
 kissed it in token of an oath. 
 
 " Inform the court of anything j^ou know in connection 
 with the prisoner," said the judge. 
 
 And the fellow, not daring even to look towards me, began 
 a long, rambling, unconnected narrative of his first meeting 
 with me at Killala, affecting that a close intimacy had sub- 
 sisted between us, and that in the faith of a confidence I had 
 told him how, being an Irishman by birth, I had joined the 
 expedition in the hope that with the expulsion of the Eng- 
 lish I should be able to re-establish my claim tQ my family 
 rank and fortune. There was little coherence in his story, 
 and more than one discrepant statement occurred in it ; but 
 the fellow's natural stupidity imparted a wonderful air of 
 truth to the narrative, and I was surprised how naturally it 
 sounded even to my own ears, little circumstances of truth 
 being interspersed through the recital, as though to season 
 the falsehood into a semblance of fact. 
 
 "What have you to reply to this, Tiernay?" asked the 
 colonel. 
 
SCENE IN THE ROYAL BARRACKS. 297 
 
 " Simply, sir, that such a witness, were his assertions even 
 more consistent and probable, is utterly unworthy of credit. 
 This fellow was one of the greatest marauders of the rebel 
 army ; and the last exercise of authority I ever witnessed by 
 General Humbert was an order to drive him out of the town 
 of Castlebar." 
 
 ''Is this the notorious Town Major Dowall?" asked an 
 officer of artillery. 
 
 " The same, sir." 
 
 "I can answer, then, for his being one of the greatest 
 rascals unhanged," rejoined he. 
 
 " This is all very irregular, gentlemen," interposed the 
 Judge Advocate; "the character of a witness cannot be 
 impugned by what is mere desultory conversation. Let 
 Dowall withdraw." 
 
 The man retired, and now a whispered conversation was 
 kept up at the table for about a quarter of an hour, in which 
 I could distinctly separate those who befriended from those 
 who opposed me, — the major being the chief of the latter 
 party. One speech of his which I overheard made a slight 
 impression on me, and for the first time suggested uneasiness 
 regarding the event. 
 
 " Whatever you do with this lad must have an immense 
 influence on Tone's trial. Don't forget that if you acquit 
 him, you'll be sorely puzzled to con\ict the other." 
 
 The colonel promptly overruled this unjust suggestion, and 
 maintained that in my accent, manner, and appearance there 
 was every evidence of my French origin. 
 
 "LetAYolfe Tone stand upon his own merits," said he, 
 "but let us not mix this case with his." 
 
 "I'd have treated every man who landed to a rope," 
 exclaimed the major, " Humbert himself among the rest. 
 It was pure ' brigandage,' and nothing less." 
 
 " I hope if I escape, sir, that it will never be my fortune 
 to see you a prisoner of France," said I, forgetting all in my 
 indignation. 
 
 " If my voice have any influence, young man, that oppor- 
 tunity is not likely to occur to you," was the reply. 
 
 This ungenerous speech found no sympathy with the rest, 
 and I soon saw that the major represented a small minority 
 in the court. 
 
298 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 The want of my commission, or of any document suitable 
 to my rank or position in the service, was a great drawback ; 
 for I had given all my papers to Humbert, and had nothing 
 to substantiate my account of myself. I saw how unfavor- 
 ably this acknowledgment was taken by the court ; and 
 when I was ordered to withdraw that they might deliberate, 
 I own that I felt great misgivings as to the result. 
 
 The deliberation was a long, and, as I could overhear, a 
 strongly disputed one. Dowall was twice called in for 
 examination, and when he retired on the last occasion the 
 discussion grew almost stormy. 
 
 As I stood thus awaiting my fate, the public, now removed 
 from the court, pressed eagerly to look at me ; and while 
 some thronged the doorway, and even pressed against the 
 sentry, others crowded at the window to peep in. Among 
 these faces, over which my eye ranged in half vacancy, one 
 face struck me for the expression of sincere sympathy and 
 interest it bore. It was that of a middle-aged man of an 
 humble walk in life, whose dress bespoke him from the coun- 
 try. There was nothing in his appearance to have called 
 for attention or notice, and at any other time I should have 
 passed him over without remark ; but now, as his features 
 betokened a feeling almost verging on anxiety, I could not 
 regard him without interest. 
 
 Whichever way my eyes turned, however my thoughts 
 might take me off, whenever I looked towards him I was 
 sure to find his gaze steadily bent upon me, and with an 
 expression quite distinct from mere curiosity. At last came 
 the summons for me to re-appear before the court, and the 
 crowd opened to let me pass in. 
 
 The noise, the anxiety of the moment, and the move- 
 ment of the people confused me at first ; and when I re- 
 covered self-possession, I found that the Judge Advocate 
 was reciting the charge under which I was tried. There 
 were three distinct counts, on each of which the court pro- 
 nounced me "Not Guilty," but at the same time qualifying 
 the finding by the additional words, " by a majority of two," 
 thus showing me that my escape had been a narrow one. 
 
 '' As a prisoner of war," said the President, " you will now 
 receive the same treatment as your comrades of the same 
 
SCENE IN THE ROYAL BARRACKS. 299 
 
 rank. Some have been already exchanged, and some have 
 given bail for their appearance to answer any future charges 
 against them." 
 
 " I am quite ready, sir, to accept my freedom on parole," 
 said I ; "of course, in a country where I am an utter stranger 
 bail is out of the question." 
 
 " I 'm willing to bail him, your worship ; I '11 take it on me 
 to be surety for him," cried a coarse, husky voice from the 
 body of the court ; and at the same time a man dressed in a 
 great coat of dark frieze pressed through the crowd and 
 approached the table. 
 
 "And who are you, my good fellow, so ready to impose 
 yourself on the court?" asked Peters. 
 
 "I 'ma farmer of eighty acres of land, from the Black 
 Pits, near Baldoyle ; and the adjutant there, Mr. Moore, 
 knows me well." 
 
 " Yes," said the adjutant, " I have known you some years 
 as supplying forage to the cavalry, and always heard you 
 spoken of as honest and trustworthy." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Moore ; that's as much as I want." 
 
 " Yes, but it's not as much as we want, my worthy man," 
 said Peters ; "we require to know that you are a solvent and 
 respectable person." 
 
 " Come out and see my place, then ; ride over the land and 
 look at my stock ; ask my neighbors my character ; find out 
 if there 's anything against me." 
 
 "We prefer to leave all that trouble on your shoulders," 
 said Peters ; " show us that we may accept your surety, and 
 we'll entertain the question at once." 
 
 " How much is it?" asked he, eagerly. 
 
 " We demanded five hundred pounds for a major on the 
 staff; suppose we say two, colonel, is that sufficient?" asked 
 Peters of the President. 
 
 " I should say quite enough," was the reply. 
 
 " There 's eightj^of it, anyway," said the farmer, producing 
 a dirty roll of bank notes, and throwing them on the table ; 
 " I got them from Mr. Murphy in Smithfield this morning, 
 and I '11 get twice as much more from him for asking ; so if 
 your honors will wait till I come back, I'll not be twenty 
 minutes away." 
 
300 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " But we can't take your money, my man; we have no 
 right to touch it." 
 
 ''Then what are ye talking about two hundred pounds 
 for?" asked he, sternly. 
 
 "We want your promise to pay in the event of this bail 
 being broken." 
 
 " Oh, I see, it's all the same thing in the end ; I '11 do it 
 either way." 
 
 " We '11 accept Mr. Murphy's guarantee for your solvency," 
 said Peters ; ' ' obtain that, and you can sign the bond at 
 once." 
 
 "Faith, I'll get it, sure enough, and be here before 
 you 've the writing drawn out," said he, buttoning up his 
 coat. 
 
 " What name are we to insert in the bond? " 
 
 "Tiernay, sir." 
 
 " That's the prisoner's name, but we want yours." 
 
 "Mine's Tieruay, too, sir; Pat Tiernay of the Black 
 Pits." 
 
 Before I could recover from my surprise at this announce- 
 ment he had left the court, which in a few minutes afterwards 
 broke up, a clerk alone remaining to fill up the necessary 
 documents and complete the bail-bond. 
 
 The colonel, as well as two others of his officers, pressed 
 me to join them at breakfast ; but I declined, resolving to 
 wait for my namesake's return, and partake of no other 
 hospitality than his. 
 
 It was near one o'clock when he returned, almost worn 
 out with fatigue, since he had been in pursuit of Mr. 
 Murphy for several hours, and only came upon him by 
 chance at last. His business, however, he had fully accom- 
 plished ; the bail-bond was duly drawn out and signed, and 
 I left the barrack in a state of happiness very different from 
 the feeling with which I had entered it that day. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 
 
 My new acquaintance never ceased to congratulate himself 
 on what he called the lucky accident that had led him to the 
 barracks that morning, and thus brought about our meeting. 
 " Little as j^ou think of me, my dear," said he, "I 'm one of 
 the Tiernays of Timmahoo myself ; faix, until I saw you, I 
 thought I was the last of them ! There are eight generations 
 of us in the churchyard at Kells, and I was looking to the 
 time when they 'd lay my bones there as the last of the race ; 
 but I see there's better fortune before us." 
 
 ' ' But you have a family, I hope ? " 
 
 "Sorrow one belonging to me. I might have married 
 when I was young ; but there was a pride in me to look for 
 something higher than I had any right, except from blood I 
 mean, for a better stock than our own is n't to be found ; 
 and that 's the way years went over and I lost the oppor- 
 tunity, and here I am now an old bachelor, without one to 
 stand to me, barrin' it be yourself." 
 
 The' last words were uttered with a tremulous emotion, 
 and on turning towards him I saw his eyes swimming with 
 tears, and perceived that some strong feeling was working 
 within him. 
 
 "You can't suppose I can ever forget what I owe you, 
 Mr. Tiernay!" 
 
 " Call me Pat, Pat Tiernay," interi-upted he, roughly. 
 
 "I'll call you what you please," said I, "if you let me 
 add friend to it." 
 
 "That's enough; we understand one another now, no 
 more need be said ; you '11 come home and live with me. 
 It 's not long, maybe, you '11 have to do that same, but when 
 I go you '11 be heu' to what I have ; 't is more, perhaps, than 
 
302 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 many supposes, looking at the coat and the gaiters I am 
 wearin'. Mind, Maurice, I don't want you nor I don't 
 expect you to turn farmer like myself. You need never turn 
 a hand to anything. You '11 have your horse to ride, — two, 
 if you like it. Your time will be all your own, so that you 
 spend a little of it now and then with me, and as much 
 divarsion as ever you care for." 
 
 I have condensed into a few words the substance of a 
 conversation which lasted till we reached Baldoyle, and 
 passing through that not over-imposing village, gained the 
 neighborhood of the sea-shore, along which stretched the 
 farm of the Black Pits, — a name derived, I was told, from 
 certain black holes that were dug in the sands by fishermen 
 in former times, when the salt tide washed over the pleasant 
 fields where corn was now growingo A long, low, thatched 
 cabin, with far more indications of room and comfort than 
 pretension to the picturesque, stood facing the sea. There 
 were neither trees nor shrubs around it, and the aspect of 
 the spot was bleak and cheerless enough, a coloring a dark 
 November day did nothing to dispel. 
 
 It possessed one charm, however; and had it been a 
 hundred times inferior to what it was, that one would have 
 compensated for all else : a hearty welcome met me at the 
 door, and the words, "This is your home, Maurice," filled 
 my heart with happiness. 
 
 "Were I to suffer myself to dwell even in thought on this 
 period of my life, I feel how insensibly I should be led away 
 into an inexcusable prolixit}^ The little meaningless inci- 
 dents of my daily life, all so engraven on my memory still, 
 occupied me pleasantly from day till night. Not only the 
 master of myself and my own time, I was master of every- 
 thing around me. Uncle Pat, as he loved to call himself, 
 treated me with a degree of respect that was almost painful 
 to me, and only when we were alone together did he relapse 
 into the intimacy of equality. Two first-rate hunters stood 
 in my stable; a stout-built half -deck boat lay at my com- 
 mand beside the quay ; I had my gun and my grayhounds ; 
 books, journals ; everj^thing, in short, that a liberal purse 
 and a kind spirit could confer, — all but acquaintance. Of 
 these I possessed absolutely none. Too proud to descend to 
 
A BEIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 303 
 
 intimacy with the farmers and small shopkeepers of the 
 neighborhood, my position excluded me from acquaintance 
 with the gentry ; and thus I stood between both, unknown 
 to either. 
 
 For a while my new career was too absorbing to suffer me 
 to dwell on this circumstance. The excitement of field 
 sports sufficed me when abroad, and I came home usually so 
 tired at night that I could barely keep awake to amuse Uncle 
 Pat with those narratives of war and campaigning he was so 
 fond of hearing. To the hunting-field succeeded the Bay of 
 Dublin, and I passed days, even weeks, exploring every 
 creek and inlet of the coast, — now cruising under the dark 
 cliffs of the Welsh shore, or, while my boat lay at anchor, 
 wandering among the solitary valleys of Lambay, my life 
 like a dream full of its own imaginings, and unbroken by the 
 thoughts or feelings of others. I will not go the length of 
 saying that I was self-free from all reproach on the inglorious 
 indolence in which my days were passed, or that my thoughts 
 never strayed away to that land where my first dreams of 
 ambition were felt ; but a strange, fatuous kind of languor 
 had grown upon me, and the more I retired within myself 
 the less did I wish for a return to that struggle with the 
 world which every active life engenders. Perhaps, — I can- 
 not now say if it were so, — perhaps I resented the disdain- 
 ful distance with which the gentry treated me, as we met in 
 the hunting-field or the coursing-ground. Some of the isola- 
 tion I preferred may have had this origin, but choice had the 
 greater share in it ; until at last my greatest pleasure was to 
 absent myself for weeks on a cruise, fancying that I was 
 exploring tracts never visited by man, and landing on spots 
 where no human foot had ever been known to tread. 
 
 If Uncle Pat would occasionally remonstrate on the score 
 of these long absences, he never ceased to supply means for 
 them, and my sea store and a well-filled purse were never 
 wantinor, when the blue Peter floated from "La Hoche," as 
 in my ardor I had named my cutter. Perhaps at heart he 
 was not sorry to see me avoid the capital and its society. 
 The bitterness which had succeeded the struggle for inde- 
 pendence was now at its highest point, and there was what, 
 to my thinking at least, appeared something like the cruelty 
 
304 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 of revenge in the sentences which followed the state trials. 
 I will not suffer myself to stray into the debatable ground of 
 politics, nor dare I give an opinion on matters where, with 
 all the experience of fifty years superadded, the wisest heads 
 are puzzled how to decide ; but my impression at the time 
 was that lenity would have been a safer and a better policy 
 than severity, and that in the momentary prostration of the 
 country lay the precise conjuncture for those measures of 
 grace and favor which were afterwards rather wrung from 
 than conceded by the English Government. Be this as it 
 may, Dublin offered a strange spectacle at that period, — the 
 triumphant joy of one party, the discomfiture and depression 
 of the other; all the exuberant delight of success here, all 
 the bitterness of failure there ; on one side festivities, rejoic- 
 ings, and public demonstrations ; on the other, confinement, 
 banishment, or the scaffold. 
 
 The excitement was almost madness. The passion for 
 pleasure, restrained by the terrible contingencies of the time, 
 now broke forth with redoubled force, and the capital was 
 thronged with all its rank, riches, and fashion when its jails 
 were crowded, and the heaviest sentences of the law were 
 in daily execution. The state trials were crowded by all 
 the fashion of the metropolis ; and the heart-moving elo- 
 quence of Curran was succeeded by the strains of a merry 
 concert. It was just then, too, that the great lyric poet of 
 Ireland began to appear in society ; and those songs which 
 were to be known afterwards as " The Melodies," par 
 excellence^ were first heard in all the witching enchantment 
 which his own taste and voice could lend them. To such as 
 were indifferent to or could forget the past, it was a brilliant 
 period. It was the last flickering blaze of Irish nationality, 
 before the lamp was extinguished forever. 
 
 Of this society I myself saw nothing. But even into the 
 retirement of my humble life the sounds of its mirth and 
 pleasure penetrated, and I often wished to witness the scenes 
 which even in vague description were fascinating. It was 
 then, in a kind of discontent at my exclusion, that I grew 
 from day to day more disposed to solitude, and fonder of 
 those excursions which led me out of all reach of companion- 
 ship or acquaintance. In this spirit I planned a long cruise 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 305 
 
 down channel, resolving to visit the island of Valentia, or, 
 if the wind and weather favored, to creep around the south- 
 west coast as far as Bantry or Kenmare. A man and his 
 son, a boy of about sixteen, formed all my crew, and were 
 quite sufficient for the light tackle and easy rig of my craft. 
 Uncle Pat was already mounted on his pony, and ready to 
 set out for market, as we prepared to start. It was a bright 
 spring morning, — such a one as now and then the changeful 
 climate of Ireland brings forth in a brilliancy of color and 
 softness of atmosphere that are rare in even more favored 
 lands. 
 
 "You have a fine day of it, Maurice, and just enough 
 wind," said he, looking at the point from whence it came. 
 "I almost wish I was going with you." 
 
 "And why not come, then?" asked I. "You never will 
 give yourself a holiday. Do so for once, now." 
 
 "Not to-day, anyhow," said he, half sighing at his self- 
 denial. "I have a great deal of business on my hands to- 
 day ; but the next time, the very next you 're up to a long 
 cruise, I '11 go with you." 
 
 " That 's a bargain^ then? " 
 
 " A bargain. Here 's my hand on it." 
 
 We shook hands cordially on the compact. Little knew 
 I it was to be for the last time, and that we were never to 
 meet again ! 
 
 I was soon aboard, and with a free mainsail skimming 
 rapidly over the bright waters of the bay. The wind 
 freshened as the day wore on, and we quickly passed the 
 Kish light-ship, and held our course boldly down channel. 
 The height of my enjoyment in these excursions consisted 
 in the unbroken quietude of mdnd I felt when removed 
 from all chance interruption, and left free to follow out my 
 own fancies and indulge my dreamy conceptions to my 
 heart's content. It was then I used to revel in imaginings 
 which sometimes soared into the boldest realms of ambi- 
 tion, and at others strayed contemplatively in the humblest 
 walks of obscure fortune. My crew never broke in upon 
 these musings ; indeed, old Tom Finerty's low crooning song 
 rather aided than interrupted them. He was not much 
 given to talking, and a chance allusion to some vessel afar 
 
 20 
 
306 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 off, or some headland we were passing, were about the extent 
 of his communicativeness, and even these often fell on my 
 ear unnoticed. 
 
 It was thus, at night, we made the Hook Tower, and on 
 the next day passed, in a spanking breeze, under the bold 
 cliffs of Tramore, just catching, as the sun was sinking, the 
 sight of Youghal Bay and the tall headlands beyond it. 
 
 " The wind is drawing more to the nor'ard," said old Tom, 
 as night closed in, " and the clouds look dirty." 
 
 " Bear her up a point or two," said I, " and let us stand in 
 for Cork Harbor, if it comes on to blow." 
 
 He muttered something in reply, but I did not catch the 
 words ; nor, indeed, cared I to hear them, for I had just 
 wrapped myself in my boat-cloak, and, stretched at full 
 length on the shingle ballast of the yawl, was gazing in 
 rapture at the brilliancy of the starry sky above me. Light 
 skiffs of feathery cloud would now and then flit past, and a 
 peculiar hissing sound of the sea told, at the same time, that 
 the breeze was freshening. But old Tom had done his duty 
 in mentioning this once, and thus having disburthened his 
 conscience he closehauled his mainsail, shifted the ballast a 
 little to midships, and putting up the collar of his pilot-coat 
 screwed himself tighter into the corner beside the tiller, and 
 chewed his quid in quietness. The boy slept soundly in the 
 bow, and I, lulled by the motion and the plashing waves, 
 fell into a dreamy stupor, like a pleasant sleep. The pitch- 
 ing of the boat continued to increase, and twice or thrice 
 struck by a heav}^ sea she lay over till the white waves came 
 tumbling in over her gunwale. I heard Tom call to his boy, 
 something about the head-sail ; but for the life of me I could 
 not or would not arouse myself from a train of thought that 
 I was following. 
 
 "She's a stout boat to stand this," said Tom, as 
 he rounded her off, at a coming wave, which, even thus es- 
 caped, splashed over us like a cataract. " I know many 
 a bigger craft would n't hold up her canvas under such a 
 gale." 
 
 " Here it comes, father ! Here 's a squall ! " cried the boy ; 
 and with a crash like thunder, the wind struck the sail and 
 laid the boat half-under. 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OE LIFE AND COUNTRY. 307 
 
 " She 'd float if she was full of water," said the old man, as 
 the craft righted. 
 
 "But maybe the spars wouldn't stand," said the boy, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " 'T is what I 'm thinking," rejoined the father. " There 's 
 a shake in the mast, below the caps." 
 
 "Tell him it's better to bear up, and go before it," whis- 
 pered the lad, with a gesture towards where I was lying. 
 
 " Troth, it's little he 'd care," said the other ; " besides, he 's 
 never plazed to be woke up." 
 
 " Here it comes again," cried the boy. But this time the 
 squall swept past ahead of us, and the craft only reeled to 
 the swollen waves, as they tore by. 
 
 " We 'd better go about, sir," said Tom to me ; " there 's a 
 heavy sea outside, and it's blowing hard now." 
 
 " And there 's a split in the mast as long as my arm," cried 
 the boy. 
 
 "I thought she'd live through any sea, Tom! " said I, 
 laughing ; for it was his constant boast that no weather could 
 harm her. 
 
 "There goes the spar!" shouted he, while with a loud 
 snap the mast gave way, and fell with a crash over the side. 
 The boat immediately came head to wind, and sea after sea 
 broke upon her bow, and fell in great floods over us. 
 
 " Cut away the stays ! clear the wreck," cried Tom, " be- 
 fore the squall catches her ! " 
 
 And although we now labored like men whose lives de- 
 pended on the exertion, the trailing sail and heavy rigging, 
 shifting the ballast as they fell, laid her completely over ; and 
 when the first sea struck her, over she went. The violence of 
 the gale sent me a considerable distance out, and for several 
 seconds I felt as though I should never reach the surface 
 again. Wave after wave rolled over me, and seemed bearing 
 me downwards with their weight. At last I grasped some- 
 thing ; it was a rope, a broken halyard ; but by its means I 
 gained the mast, which floated alongside of the yawl as she 
 now lay keel uppermost. With what energy did I struggle 
 to reach her ! The space was scarcely a dozen feet, and yet 
 it cost me what seemed an age to traverse. Through all the 
 roaring of the breakers and the crashing sounds of storm 
 
308 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 I thought I could hear my comrades' voices shouting and 
 screaming ; but this was in all likelihood a mere deception, for 
 I never saw them more ! 
 
 Grasping with a death-grip the slippery keel, I hung on 
 the boat through all the night. The gale continued to increase, 
 and by daybreak it blew a perfect hurricane. With an aching 
 anxiety I watched for light to see if I were near the land, or 
 if any ship were in sight; but when the sun rose, nothing 
 met my eyes but a vast expanse of waves tumbling and toss- 
 ing in mad confusion, while overhead some streaked and 
 mottled clouds were hurried along with the wind. Happily 
 for me, I have no correct memory of that long day of suffer- 
 ing. The continual noise, but more still the incessant motion 
 of sea and sky around, brought on a vertigo that seemed 
 lilve madness ; and although the instinct of self-preservation 
 remained, the wildest and most incoherent fancies filled my 
 brain. Some of these were powerful enough to impress 
 themselves upon my memory for years after, and one I have 
 never yet been able to dispel. It clings to me in every season 
 of unusual depression or dejection ; it recurs in the half night- 
 mare sleep of over-fatigue, and even invades me when, restless 
 and feverish, I lie for hours incapable of repose. This is the 
 notion that my state was one of after-life punishment ; that I 
 had died, and was now expiating a sinful life by the everlast- 
 ing misery of a castaway. The fever brought on by thirst 
 and exhaustion, and the burning sun which -beamed down 
 upon my uncovered head, soon completed the measure of this 
 infatuation, and all sense and guidance left me. 
 
 By what instinctive impulse I still held on my grasp I 
 cannot explain ; but there I clung during the whole of that 
 long dreadful day and the still more dreadful night, when 
 the piercing cold cramped my limbs and seemed as if freez- 
 ing the very blood within me. It was no wish for life, it 
 was no anxiety to save myself, that now filled me. It 
 seemed like a vague impulse of necessity that compelled me 
 to hang on. It was, as it were, part of that terrible sentence 
 which made this my doom forever I 
 
 An utter unconsciousness must have followed this state ; 
 and a dreary blank, with flitting shapes of suffering, is all 
 that remains to my recollection. 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AXD COUNTRY. 309 
 
 Probably within the whole range of human sensations, 
 there is not one so perfect in its calm and soothing influence 
 as the first burst of gratitude we feel when recovering from 
 a long and severe illness. There is not an object, however 
 humble and insignificant, that is not for the time invested 
 with a new interest. The air is balmier, flowers are sweeter, 
 the voices of friends, the smiles and kind looks, are dearer 
 and fonder than we have ever known them. The whole 
 world has put on a new aspect for us, and we have not a 
 thought that is not teeming with forgiveness and affection. 
 Such, in all then- completeness, were my feelings as I lay on 
 the poop-deck of a large three-masted ship, which, with stud- 
 ding and top-gallant sails all set, proudly held her course up 
 the Gulf of St. Lawrence. 
 
 She was a Dantzig barque, the " Hoffnung," bound for 
 Quebec, — her only passengers being a Moravian minister 
 and his wife, on their way to join a small German colony 
 established near Lake Champlain. To Gottfried Kroller and 
 his dear little wife I owe not life alone, but nearly all that 
 has made it valuable. With means barely removed from 
 absolute poverty, I found that they had spared nothing to 
 assist in my recovery ; for, when discovered, emaciation and 
 wasting had so far reduced me that nothing but the most 
 unremitting care and kindness could have succeeded in 
 restoring me. To this end they bestowed not only their 
 whole time and attention, but every little delicacy of their 
 humble sea-store. All the little cordials and restoratives 
 meant for a season of sickness or debility were lavished 
 unsparingly on me, and every instinct of national thrift and 
 carefulness gave way before the more powerful influence of 
 Christian benevolence. 
 
 I can think of nothing but that bright morning, as I lay 
 on a mattress on the deck, with the Pfarrer on one side of 
 me, and his good little wife Lyschen on the other, — he with 
 his volume of Wieland, and she working away with her long 
 knitting-needles, and never raising her head save to bestow 
 a glance at the poor sick boy, whose bloodless lips were try- 
 ing to mutter her name in thankfulness. It is like the most 
 delicious dream as I think over those hours, when, rocked by 
 the surging motion of the large ship, hearing in half distinct- 
 
310 MAURICE TIERNAT. 
 
 ness the words of the Pfarrer's reading, I followed out little 
 fancies, — now self-originating, now rising from the theme 
 of the poet 's musings. 
 
 How softly the cloud- shadows moved over the white sails 
 and swept along the bright deck I How pleasantly the 
 water rippled against the vessel's side ! With what a glad 
 sound the great ensign flapped and fluttered in the breeze ! 
 There was light and life and motion on eveiy side, and I felt 
 all the intoxication of enjoyment. 
 
 And like a dream was the portion of my life which fol- 
 lowed. I accompanied the Pfarrer to a small settlement 
 near Crown Point, where he was to take up his residence as 
 minister. Here we lived amid a population of about four or 
 five hundred Germans, principally from Pomerania on the 
 shores of the Baltic, — a peaceful, thrifty, quiet set of beings, 
 who, content with the little interests revolving around them- 
 selves, never troubled their heads about the great events of 
 war or politics ; and here in all likelihood should I have been 
 content to pass m}^ days, when an accidental journey I made 
 to Albany, to receive some letters for the Pfarrer, once more 
 turned the fortune of my life. 
 
 It was a great incident in the quiet monotony of my life 
 when I set out one morning, arrayed in a full suit of coarse, 
 glossy black, with buttons like small saucers, and a hat 
 whose brim almost protected my shoulders. I was, indeed, 
 an object of very considerable envy to some, and, I hope 
 also, not denied the admiring approval of some others. Had 
 the respectable city I was about to visit been the chief 
 metropolis of a certain destination which I must not name, 
 the warnings I received about its dangers, dissipations, and 
 seductions could scarcely have been more earnest or impres- 
 sive. I was neither to speak with, nor even to look at, 
 those J. met in the streets. I was carefully to avoid taking 
 my meals at any of the public eating-houses, rigidly guard- 
 ing myself from the contamination of even a chance ac- 
 quaintance. It was deemed as needless to caution me 
 against theatres or places of amusement, as to hint to me 
 that I should not commit a highway robbery or a murder ; 
 and so, in sooth, I should myself have felt it. The patri- 
 archal simplicity in which I had lived for above a year had 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 311 
 
 not been without its effect in subduing exaggerated feeling, 
 or controlling that passion for excitement so common to 
 youth. I felt a kind of drowsy, dreamy languor over me, 
 which I sincerely believed represented a pious and well-regu- 
 lated temperament. Perhaps in time it might have become 
 such. Perhaps with others, more happily constituted, the 
 impression would have been confirmed and fixed ; but in my 
 case it was a mere lacquer, that the first rubbing in the world 
 was sure to brush off. 
 
 I arrived safely at Albany, and having presented myself 
 at the bank of Gabriel Shultze, was desired to call the fol- 
 lowing morning, when all the letters and papers of Gottfried 
 Kroller should be delivered to me. A very cold invitation 
 to supper was the only hospitality extended to me. This I 
 declined on pretext of weariness, and set out to explore the 
 town, to which my long residence in rural life imparted a 
 high degree of interest. 
 
 I don't know what it may now be, — doubtless a great 
 capital like one of the European cities ; but at that time I 
 speak of Albany was a strange, incongruous assemblage of 
 stores and wooden houses, great buildings like granaries, 
 with whole streets of low sheds around them, where, open 
 to the passer-by, men worked at various trades, and people 
 followed out the various duties of domestic life in sight of 
 the public. Daughters knitted and sewed ; mothers cooked, 
 and nursed their children ; men ate and worked and smoked 
 and sang, as if in all the privacy of closed dwellings, while 
 a thick current of population poured by, apparently too 
 much immersed in their own cares or too much accustomed 
 to the scene to give it more than passing notice. 
 
 It was curious how one bred and born in the great city of 
 Paris, with all its sights and sounds and scenes of excite- 
 ment and display, could have been so rusticated by time as 
 to feel a lively interest in surveying the motley aspect of 
 this quaint town. There were, it is true, features in the 
 picture very unlike the figures in Old World landscape. A 
 group of red men, seated around a fire in the open street, or 
 a squaw carrying on her back a baby firmly tied to a piece 
 of curs^ed bark ; a southern stater, with a spanking wagon- 
 team, and two grinning negroes behind, — were new and 
 
312 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 strange elements in the life of a city. Still, the mere move- 
 ment, the actual bus}^ stir and occupation of the inhabitants, 
 attracted me as much as anything else ; and the shops and 
 stalls, where trades were carried on, were a seduction I could 
 not resist. 
 
 The strict puritanism in which I had lately lived taught 
 me to regard all these things with a certain degree of dis- 
 trust. They were the impulses of that gold-seeking passion 
 of which Gottfried had spoken so frequently ; they were the 
 great vice of that civilization whose luxurious tendency he 
 often deplored. And here, now, more than one half around 
 me, were arts that only ministered to voluptuous tastes. 
 Brilliant articles of jewelry, gay cloaks worked with wampam 
 in Indian taste, ornamental turning and costly weapons inlaid 
 with gold and silver, succeeded each other, street after 
 street ; and the very sight of them, however pleasurable to 
 the eye, set me a-moralizing in a strain that would have 
 done credit to a son of Geneva. It might have been that in 
 my enthusiasm I uttered half aloud what I intended for 
 soliloquy ; or perhaps some gesture, or peculiarity of manner, 
 had the effect ; but so it was : I found m3^self an object of 
 notice ; and my queer-cut coat and wide hat, contrasting so 
 strangely with my youthful appearance and slender make, 
 drew many a criticism on me. 
 
 " He ain't a Quaker, that's a fact," cried one ; " for they 
 don't wear black." 
 
 "He's a down-easter, — a horse- jockey chap, I'll be 
 bound," cried another. "They put on all manner of dis- 
 guises and masqueroonings. I know 'em ! " 
 
 " He 's a calf preacher, — a young bottle-nosed Gospeller," 
 broke in a thick, short fellow, like the skipper of a merchant 
 ship. " Let's have him out for a preachment." 
 
 "Ay, you're right," chimed in another. "I'll get you a 
 sugar hogshead in no time ; " and away he ran on the 
 mission. 
 
 Between twenty and thirty persons had now collected ; 
 and I saw myself, to my unspeakable shame and mortifica- 
 tion, the centre of all their looks and speculations. A little 
 more aplovih or knowledge of life would have taught me 
 coolness enough in a few words to undeceive them ; but such 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 313 
 
 a task was far above me now, and I saw nothing for it but 
 flight. Could I only have known which way to take, I need 
 not have feared any pursuer, — for I was a capital runner, 
 and in high condition ; but of the locality I was utterly igno- 
 rant, and should only surrender myself to mere chance. 
 With a bold rush, then, I dashed right through the crowd, 
 and set off down the street, the whole crew after me. The 
 dusk of the closing evening was in my favor ; and although 
 volunteers were enlisted in the chase at every corner and 
 turning, I distanced them, and held on my way in advance. 
 My great object being not to turn on my course, lest I 
 should come back to my starting point, I directed my steps 
 nearly straight onward, clearing apple-stalls and fruit-tables 
 at a bound, and more than once taking a flying leap over an 
 Indian's fire, when the mad shout of the red man would 
 swell the chorus that followed me. At last I reached a net- 
 work of narrow lanes and alleys, by turning and wending 
 through which I speedily found myself in a quiet secluded 
 spot, with here and there a flickering candle-light from the 
 windows, but no other sign of habitation. I looked anx- 
 iously about for an open door ; but they were all safe barred 
 and fastened, and it was only on turning a corner I spied 
 what seemed to me a little shop, with a solitary lamp over 
 the entrance. A narrow canal, crossed by a rickety old 
 bridge, led to this ; and the moment I had crossed over, I 
 seized the single plank which formed the footway, and 
 shoved it into the stream. My retreat being thus secured, I 
 opened the door, and entered. It was a barber's shop, — at 
 least, so a great chair before a cracked old looking-glass, 
 with some well-worn combs and brushes, bespoke it ; but the 
 place seemed untenanted, and although I called aloud several 
 times, none came or responded to my summons. 
 
 I now took a sui'\^ey of the spot, which seemed of the 
 poorest imaginable. A few empty pomatum pots, a case 
 of razors that might have defied the most determined suicide, 
 and a half-finished wig on a block painted like a red man 
 were the entire stock-in-trade. On the walls, however, were 
 some colored prints of the battles of the French army in 
 Germany and Italy. Execrably done things they were, but 
 full of meaning and interest to my eyes in spite of that. 
 
314 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 With all the faults of drawing and all the travesties of cos- 
 tume, I could recognize different corps of the service ; and 
 my heart bounded as I gazed on the tall shakos swarming to 
 a breach, or the loose jacket as it floated from the hussar in 
 a charge. All the wild pleasures of soldiering rose once 
 more to my miyd, and I thought over old comrades who 
 doubtless were now earning the high rewards of thek bravery 
 in the great career of glory. And as I did so, my own 
 image confronted me in the glass, as with long, lank hair, 
 and a great bolster of a white cravat, I stood before it. 
 What a contrast ! how unlike the smart hussar, with curling 
 locks and fierce mustache ! Was I as much changed in heart 
 as in looks? Had my spirit died out within me? Would 
 the proud notes of the bugle or the trumpet fall meaningless 
 on my ears, or the hoarse cry of " Charge ! " send no burst- 
 ing fulness to my temples ? Ay, even these coarse repre- 
 sentations stirred the blood in my veins, and my step grew 
 firmer as I walked the room. 
 
 In a passionate bui'st of enthusiasm, I tore off my slouched 
 hat and hurled it from me. It felt lilve the badge of some 
 ignoble slavery, and I determined to endui-e it no longer. 
 The noise of the act called up a voice from the inner room, 
 and a man, to all appearance suddenly roused from sleep, 
 stood at the door. He was evidently young ; but poverty, 
 dissipation, and raggedness made the question of his age a 
 difficult one to solve. A light-colored mustache and beard 
 covered all the lower part of his face, and his long blonde 
 hair fell heavily over his shoulders. 
 
 " Well," cried he, half angrily, " what 's the matter? Are 
 you so impatient that you must smash the furniture ? " 
 
 Although the words were spoken as correctly as I have 
 written them, they were uttered with a foreign accent ; and 
 hazarding the stroke, I answered him in French by apolo- 
 gizing for the noise. 
 
 " What ! a Frenchman," exclaimed he, " and in that dress ! 
 What can that mean ? " 
 
 " If you'll shut your door, and cut off pursuit of me, I '11 
 tell you everything," said I, " f or I hear the voices of people 
 coming down that street in front." 
 
 " I '11 do better," said he, quickly ; " I '11 upset the bridge, 
 and they cannot come over." 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 315 
 
 "That's clone already," replied I; "I shoved it into the 
 stream as I passed." 
 
 He looked at me steadily for a moment without speaking, 
 and then approaching close to me said, ^^ Parbleu ! the 
 act was very unlike your costume ! " At the same time he 
 shut the door, and drew a strong bar across it. This done, 
 he turned to me once more, — " Now for it! who are you, 
 and what has happened to you? " 
 
 "As to what I am," replied I, imitating his own abrupt- 
 ness, " my dress would almost save the trouble of explaining ; 
 these Albany folk, however, would make a field-preacher of 
 me, and to escape them I took to flight." 
 
 "Well, if a fellow will wear his hair that fashion, he 
 must take the consequence," said he, drawing out my long 
 lank locks as they hung over my shoulders. " And so you 
 would n't hold forth for them, — not even give them a stave 
 of a conventicle chant ? " He kept his eyes riveted on me 
 as he spoke, and then seizing two pieces of stick from the 
 firewood, he beat on the table the rantan-plan of the French 
 drum. " That's the music you know best, lad, eh? That's 
 the air, which, if it has not led heavenward, has conducted 
 many a brave fellow out of this world at least: do you 
 forget it ? " 
 
 "Forget it! no," cried I; "but who are you; and how 
 comes it that — that — " I stopped in confusion at the 
 rudeness of the question I had begun. 
 
 " That I stand here, half -fed, and all but naked ; a barber 
 in a land where men don't shave once a month? Parbleu! 
 they 'd come even seldomer to my shop if they knew how 
 tempted I feel to draw the razor sharp and quick across the 
 gullet of a fellow with a well-stocked pouch." 
 
 As he continued to speak, his voice assumed a tone and 
 cadence that sounded familiar to my ears as I stared at him 
 in amazement. 
 
 " Not know me yet ! " exclaimed he, laughing ; " and yet 
 all this poverty and squalor is n't as great a disguise as your 
 own, Tiernay. Come, lad, rub your eyes a bit, and try if 
 you can't recognize an old comrade." 
 
 "I know you, yet cannot remember how or where we 
 met," said I, in bewilderment. 
 
316 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "I'll refresh your meniory," said he, crossing his arms, 
 and drawing himself proudly up. "If you can trace back 
 in your mind to a certain hot and dusty day, on the Metz 
 road, when you, a private in the Seventh Hussars, were 
 eating an onion and a slice of black bread for 3^our dinner, 
 a young officer, well looking and well mounted, cantered up 
 and threw 3^ou his brandy flask. Your acknowledgment of 
 the civility showed you to be a gentleman ; and the acquaint- 
 ance thus opened soon ripened into intimacy." 
 
 "But he was the young Marquis de Saint Trone," said I, 
 perfectly remembering the incident. 
 
 "Or Eugene Santron, of the republican army, or the 
 barber at Albany, without any name at all," said he, laugh- 
 ing. " What, Maurice, don't you know me yet? " 
 
 "What, the lieutenant of my regiment? The dashing 
 officer of hussars ? " 
 
 "Just so, and as ready to resume the old skin as ever," 
 cried he, "and brandish a weapon somewhat longer and 
 perhaps somewhat sharper, too, than a razor." 
 
 We shook hands with all the cordiality of old comrades, 
 meeting far away from home and in a land of strangers ; 
 and although each was full of curiosity to learn the other's 
 history, a kind of reserve held back the inquir}^, till Santron 
 said : — 
 
 " My confession is soon made, Maurice ; I left the sei-^^ice 
 in the Meuse, to escape being shot. One day, on returning 
 from a field manoeuvre, I discovered that ni}^ portmanteau 
 had been opened, and a number of letters and papers taken 
 out. They were part of a correspondence I held with old 
 General Lamarre, about the restoration of the Bourbons, — 
 a subject, I 'm certain, that half the officers in the army 
 were interested in, and, even to Bonaparte himself, deeply 
 implicated in, too. No matter ; my treason, as they called 
 it, was too flagrant, and I had just twenty minutes' start 
 of the order which was issued for my arrest to make my 
 escape into Holland. There I managed to pass several 
 months in various disguises, part of the time being emploj-ed 
 as a Dutch spy, and actuall}'^ charged with an order to 
 discover tidings of myself, until I finally got away in an 
 Antwerp schooner to New York. From that time my life 
 has been nothing but a struggle, — a hard one, too, with 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 317 
 
 actual want ; for in this land of enterprise and activit}', mere 
 intelligence, without some craft or calling, will do nothing. 
 
 "I tried fifty things: to teach riding, — and when I 
 mounted into the saddle, I forgot everything but my own 
 enjoyment, and caracoled and plunged and passaged, till 
 the poor beast had n't a leg to stand on ; fencing, — and I 
 got into a duel with a rival teacher, and ran him through the 
 neck, and was obliged to fly from New York ; French, — I 
 made love to my pupil, a pretty looking Dutch girl, whose 
 father did n't smile on our affection ; and so on. I descended 
 from a dancing-master to a waiter, a lacquais de j)lo.ce^ and 
 at last settled down as a barber, which brilliant speculation 
 I had just determined to abandon this very night ; for to- 
 morrow morning, Maurice, I start for New York and France 
 again. Ay, boy, and you '11 go with me. This is no land 
 for either of us." 
 
 " But I have found happiness, at least contentment, here," 
 said I, gravely. 
 
 ' ' What ! play the hypocrite with an old comrade ! Shame 
 on you, Maurice ! " cried he. " It is these confounded locks 
 have perverted the boy," added he, jumping up ; and before 
 I knew what he was about, he had shorn my hair, in two 
 quick cuts of the scissors, close to the head. " There," said 
 he, throwing the cut-off haii* towards me, "there lies all 
 3^our saintship ; depend upon it, boy, they 'd hunt you out of 
 the settlement if you came back to them cropped in this 
 fashion." 
 
 " But you return to certain death, Santron," said I ; " 3'our 
 crime is too recent to be forgiven or forgotten." 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! Fouche, Cassaubon, and a dozen others, 
 now in office, were deeper than I was. There 's not a public 
 man in France could stand an exposure, or hazard recrimin- 
 ation. It 's a thieves' amnesty at this moment, and I must 
 not lose the opportunity. I '11 show you letters that will 
 prove it, Maurice ; for, poor and ill-fed as I am, I like life 
 just as well as ever I did. I mean to be a general of division 
 one of these days ; and so will you too, lad, if there 's any 
 spirit left in you." 
 
 Thus did Santron rattle on, — sometimes of himself and 
 his own future, sometimes discussing mine ; for, while talk- 
 ing, he had contrived to learn all the chief particulars of my 
 
318 MAURICE TIERNAT. 
 
 history, from the time of my sailing from La Rochelle for 
 Ireland. 
 
 The unlucky expedition afforded him great amusement, 
 and he was never weary of laughing at all our adventures 
 and mischances in Ireland. Of Humbert he spoke as a 
 fourth or fifth-rate man, and actually shocked me by all 
 the heresies he uttered against our generals and the plan 
 of campaign ; but perhaps I could have borne even these 
 better than the sarcasms and sneers at the little life of 
 *'the settlement." He treated all my efforts at defence as 
 mere hypocris}^, and affected to regard me as a mere knave, 
 that had traded on the confiding kindness of these simple 
 villagers. I could not undeceive him on this head, nor, 
 what was more, could I satisfy my own conscience that he 
 was altogether in the wrong ; for, with a diabolical inge- 
 nuit}^, he had contrived to hit on some of the most vexatious 
 doubts which disturbed my mind, and instinctively to detect 
 the secret cares and difficulties that beset me. The lesson 
 should never be lost on us, that the devil was depicted as a 
 sneerer ! I verily believe the powers of temptation have no 
 such advocacy as sarcasm. Many can resist the softest 
 seductions of vice ; many are proof against all the blandish- 
 ments of mere enjoyment, come in what shape it will, — but 
 how few can stand firm against the assaults of clever irony, 
 or hold fast to their convictions when assailed by the sharp 
 shafts of witty depreciation ! 
 
 I am ashamed to own how little I could oppose to all his 
 impertinences about our village and its habits, — or how im- 
 possible I found it not to laugh at his absurd descriptions 
 of a life which, without having ever witnessed, he depicted 
 with a rare accuracy. He was shrewd enough not to push 
 this ridicule offensivel}^ ; and long before I knew it, I found 
 myself regarding with his eyes a picture in which but a few 
 months back I stood as a foreground figure. I ought to 
 confess that no artificial aid was derived from either good 
 cheer or the graces of hospitality ; we sat by a miserable 
 lamp, in a wretchedly cold chamber, our sole solace some 
 bad cigars and a can of flat stale cider. 
 
 ' ' I have not a morsel to offer you to eat, Maurice ; but to- 
 morrow we '11 breakfast on mj' razors, dine on that old look- 
 ing-glass, and sup on two hard brushes and the wig ! " 
 
A BRIEF CHANGE OF LIFE AND COUNTRY. 319 
 
 Such were the brilliant pledges, and we closed a talk which 
 the flickering lamp at last put an end to. 
 
 A broken, unconnected conversation followed for a little 
 time ; but at length, worn out and wearied, each dropped off 
 to sleep, — Eugene on the straw settle, and I in the old 
 chair, — never to awake till the bright sun was streaming in 
 between the shutters, and dancing merrily on the tiled floor. 
 
 An hour before I awoke, he had completed the sale of all 
 his little stock-in-trade, and, with a last look round the spot 
 where he had passed some months of struggling poverty, out 
 we sallied into the town. 
 
 "We'll breakfast at Jonathan Hone's," said Santron ; 
 "it's the first place here. I'll treat you to rump-steaks, 
 pumpkin pie, and a gin twister that will astonish you. Then, 
 while I 'm arranging for our passage down the Hudson, 
 you '11 see the hospitable banker, and tell him how to forward 
 all his papers and so forth to the settlement, with your 
 respectful compliments and regrets, and the rest of it." 
 
 ' ' But am I to take leave of them in this fashion ? " 
 asked I. 
 
 "Without you want me to accompany you there, I think 
 it's by far the best way," said he, laughingly. " If, how- 
 ever, you think that my presence and companionship will 
 add any lustre to your position, say the word, and I 'm ready. 
 I know enough of the barber's craft now to make up a head 
 en Puritan; and, if you wish, I'll pledge myself to impose 
 upon the whole colony." 
 
 Here was a threat there was no mistaking ; and any impu- 
 tation of ingratitude on my part were far preferable to the 
 thought of such an indignity. He saw his advantage at 
 once, and boldly declared that nothing should separate us. 
 
 " The greatest favor, my dear Maurice, you can ever expect 
 at my hands is, never to speak of this freak of yours ; or, if 
 I do, to say that you performed the part to perfection." 
 
 My mind was in one of those moods of change when the 
 slightest impulse is enough to sway it, and more from this 
 cause than all his persuasion I yielded ; and the same even- 
 ing saw me gliding down the Hudson, and admiring the bold 
 Kaatskills, on our way to New York. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE ATHOL TENDER. 
 
 As I cast my eyes over these pages, and see how small a por- 
 tion of my life they embrace, I feel like one who, having a 
 long journey before him, perceives that some more speedy 
 means of travel must be adopted if he ever hope to reach 
 his destination. With the instinctive prosiness of age I have 
 lingered over the scenes of boyhood, — a period which, strange 
 to say, is fresher in my memory than many of the events of 
 few years back, — and were I to continue my narrative as 
 I have begun it, it would take more time on my part and 
 more patience on that of my readers than are likely to be 
 conceded to either of us. Were I to apologize to my readers 
 for any abruptness in my transitions, or any want of con- 
 tinuity in my story, I should perhaps inadvertently seem 
 to imply a degree of interest in my fate which they have 
 never felt ; and, on the other hand, I would not for a moment 
 be thought to treat slightingly the very smallest degree of 
 favor they may feel disposed to show me. With these diffi- 
 culties on either hand, I see nothing for it but to limit myself 
 for the future to such incidents and passages of my career as 
 most impressed themselves on myself, and to confine my 
 record to the events in which I personally took a share. 
 
 Santron and I sailed from New York on the 9th of 
 February, and arrived in Liverpool on the 14th of March. 
 We landed in as humble a guise as need be. One small box 
 contained all our effects, and a little leathern purse, with 
 something less than three dollars, all our available wealth. 
 The immense movement and stir of the busy town, the crash 
 and bustle of trade, the roll of wagons, the cranking clatter 
 of cranes and windlasses, the incessant flux and reflux of 
 population all eager and intent on business, were strange 
 spectacles to our eyes as we loitered houseless and friendless 
 
"THE ATHOL TENDER." 321 
 
 through the streets, staring in wonderment at the wealth and 
 prosperity of that laud we were taught to believe was totter- 
 ing to baukruptC3\ 
 
 Santrou affected to be pleased with all, talked of the heau 
 pillage it would afford one day or other ; but in reality this 
 appearance of riches and prosperity seemed to depress and 
 discourage him. Both French and American writers had 
 agreed in depicting the pauperism and discontent of England, 
 and yet where were the signs of it? Not a house was 
 untenanted, every street was thronged, every market filled ; 
 the equipages of the wealthy vied with the loaded wagons 
 in number ; and if there were not the external evidences of 
 happiness and enjoyment the gayer population of other coun- 
 tries display, there was an air of well-being and comfort such 
 as no other land could exhibit. 
 
 Another very singular trait made a deep impression on us. 
 Here were these islanders, with a narrow strait only sepa- 
 rating them from a land bristling with bayonets ; the very 
 roar of the artillery at exercise might be almost heard across 
 the gulf, — and yet not a soldier was to be seen about ! 
 There were neither forts nor bastions. The harbor, so 
 replete with wealth, lay open and unprotected, not even a 
 gun-boat or a guard-ship to defend it ! There was an inso- 
 lence in this security that Santron could not get over, and he 
 muttered a prayer that the day might not be distant that 
 should make them repent it. 
 
 He was piqued with everything. While on board ship we 
 had agreed together to pass ourselves for Canadians, to avoid 
 all inquiries of the authorities. Heaven help us ! the au- 
 thorities never thought of us. We were free to go or stay 
 as we pleased. Neither police nor passport officers ques- 
 tioned us ; we might have been Hoche and Massena for 
 aught they either knew or cared. Not a monchard tracked 
 us ; none even looked after us as we went. To me this was 
 all very agreeable and reassuring ; to my companion it was 
 contumely and insult. All the ingenious fiction he had 
 devised of our birth, parentage, and pursuits was a fine 
 romance inedited, and he was left to sneer at the self-suffi- 
 ciency that would not take alarm at the advent of two ragged 
 youths on the quay of Liverpool. 
 
 21 
 
322 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " If they but knew who we were, Maurice," he kept con- 
 tinually muttering as we went along, — "if these fellows only 
 knew whom they had in their town, what a rumpus it would 
 create ! How the shops would close ! What barricading of 
 doors and windows we should see, what bursts of terror 
 and patriotism ! Par St. Denis^ I have a mind to throw up 
 my cap in the air and cry ' Vive la Republique ! ' just to 
 witness the scene that would follow." 
 
 With all these boastings, it was not very difficult to 
 restrain my friend's ardor, and to induce him to defer his 
 invasion of England to a more fitting occasion ; so that at 
 last he was fain to content himself with a sneering commen- 
 tary on all around him, and in this amiable spirit we descended 
 into a very dirty cellar to eat our first dinner on shore. 
 
 The place was filled with sailors, who, far from indulging 
 in the well-known careless gayety of their class, seemed 
 morose and sulk}^ talking together in low murmurs, and 
 showing unmistakable signs of discontent and dissatisfac- 
 tion. The reason was soon apparent ; the press-gangs were 
 out to take men off to reinforce the blockading force before 
 Genoa, a service of all others the most distasteful to a sea- 
 man. If Santron at first was ready to flatter himself into 
 the notion that very little persuasion would make these 
 fellows take part against England, as he listened longer he 
 saw the grievous error of the opinion, — no epithet of insult 
 or contempt being spared by them when talking of France and 
 Frenchmen. Whatever national animosity prevailed at that 
 period sailors enjoj^ed a high pre-eminence in feeling. I 
 have heard that the spirit was encouraged by those in com- 
 mand, and that narratives of French perfid3% treachery, and 
 even cowardice were the popular traditions of the sea 
 service. We certainly could not controvert the old adage as 
 to "listeners," for every observation and every anecdote 
 conveyed a sneer or an insult on our country. There could 
 be no reproach in listening to these unresented ; but Santron 
 assumed a most indignant air, and more than once affected 
 to be overcome by a spirit of recrimination. What turn his 
 actions might have taken in this wise I cannot even guess, 
 for suddenly a rush of fellows took place up the ladder ; and 
 in less than a minute the whole cellar was cleared, leaving 
 
"THE ATHOL TENDER." 323 
 
 none but the hostess and an old lame waiter along with our- 
 selves in the place. 
 
 " You 've got a protection, I suppose, sirs," said the woman, 
 approaching us ; " but still I '11 advise you not to trust to it 
 over-much. They 're in great want of men just now ; and 
 they care little for law or justice when once they have them 
 on the high seas." 
 
 "We have no protection," said I; "we are strangers 
 here, and know no one." 
 
 "There they come, sir; that's the tramp," cried the 
 woman ; " there 's nothing for it now but to stay quiet and 
 hope you'll not be noticed. Take those knives up, will ye," 
 said she, flinging a napkin towards me, and speaking in an 
 altered voice, for already two figures were darkening the 
 entrance, and peering down into the depth below, while turn- 
 ing to Santron she motioned to him to remove the dishes from 
 the table, — a sei'\^ice in which, to do him justice, he exhibited 
 a zeal more flattering to his tact than his spirit of resistance. 
 
 " Tripped their anchors already, Mother Martin?" said a 
 large-whiskered man, with a black belt round his waist ; 
 while, passing round the tables, he cramm.ed into his mouth 
 several fragments of the late feast. 
 
 "You wouldn't have 'em wait for you. Captain John?" 
 said she, laughing. 
 
 " It 's just what I would, then," replied he. " The Admi- 
 ralty has put thirty shillings more on the bounty, and where 
 will these fellows get the like of that ? It is n't a AYest India 
 sel'^'ice, neither, nor a coastin' cruise off Newfoundland, but 
 all as one as a pleasure-trip up the IMediterranean, and 
 nothing to fight but Frenchmen. Eh, younker, that tickles 
 your fancy," cried he to Santron, who, in spite of himself, 
 made some gesture of impatience. "Handy chaps, those, 
 Mother Martin; where did you chance on 'em?" 
 
 " They're sons of a Canada skipper in the river yonder," 
 said she, calmly. 
 
 "They ar'n't over like to be brothers," said he, with the 
 grin of one too well accustomed to knavery to trust anything 
 opposed to his own observ^ation. " I suppose them 's things 
 happens in Canada as elsewhere," said he, laughing, and 
 hoping the jest might turn her flank. Meanwhile the press- 
 
324 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 leader never took his eyes off me, as I arranged plates and 
 folded napkins with all the skill which my early education in 
 Boivin's restaurant had taught me. 
 
 "He is a smart one," said he, half-musingl3^ "I say, 
 boy, would you like to go as cook's aid on board a king's 
 ship? I know of one as would just suit you." 
 
 " I 'd rather not, sir ; I 'd not like to leave my father," said 
 I, backing up Mrs. Martin's narrative. 
 
 " Nor that brother there, — would n't he like it? " 
 
 I shook my head negatively. 
 
 " Suppose I have a talk with the skipper about it," said he, 
 looking at me steadily for some seconds. " Suppose I was 
 to tell hun what a good berth you'd have, eh?" 
 
 ''Oh, if he wished it, I'd make no objection," said I, 
 assuming all the calmness I could. 
 
 " That chap ain't your brother, an^ he 's no sailor neither. 
 Show me your hands, youngster," cried he to Sautrou, who 
 at once complied with the order, and the press captain bent 
 over and scanned them naiTOwly. 
 
 As he thus stood with his back to me, the woman shook 
 her head significantly, and pointed to the ladder. If ever a 
 glance conveyed a whole story of ten-or hers did. I looked 
 at my companion as though to say, "Can I desert him?" 
 and the expression of her features seemed to imply utter 
 despair. This pantomime did not occup}" half a minute ; and 
 now, with noiseless step, I gained the ladder, and crept 
 cautiously up it. My fears were how to escape those who 
 waited outside ; but as I ascended I could see that they were 
 loitering about in groups, inattentive to all that was going 
 on below. The shame at deserting my comrade so nearly 
 overcame me, that, when almost at the top, I was about to 
 turn back again. I even looked round to see him ; but, as I 
 did so, I saw the ^ress leader draw a pair of handcuffs from 
 his pocket, and throw them on the table. The instincts of 
 safety were too strong, and with a spring I gained the street, 
 and, slipping noiselessly along the wall, escaped the " look- 
 out." Without a thought of where I was going to, or what 
 to do, I ran at the very top of my speed directly onwards, 
 my only impulse being to get away from the spot. Could I 
 reach the open country I thought it would be my best chance. 
 
"THE ATHOL TENDER." 325 
 
 As I fled, however, no signs of a suburb appeared ; the 
 streets, on the contrary, grew narrower and more intricate ; 
 huge warehouses, seven or eight stories high, loomed at 
 either side of me ; and at last, on turning an angle, a fresh 
 sea-breeze met me, and showed that I was near the harbor. 
 I avow that the sight of shipping, the tall and taper spars 
 that streaked the sky of night, the clank of chain cables and 
 the heavy surging sound of the looming hulls were anything 
 but encouraging, longing as I did for the rustling leaves of 
 some green lane ; but still all was quiet and tranquil ; a few 
 flickering lights twinkled here and there from a cabin window, 
 but everything seemed sunk in repose. 
 
 The quay was thickly studded with hogsheads and bales 
 of merchandise, so that I could easily have found a safe 
 resting-place for the night ; but a sense of danger banished 
 all wish for sleep, and I wandered out, restless and uncertain, 
 framing a hundred plans, and abandoning them when formed. 
 
 So long as I kept company with Santron, I never thought 
 of returning to Uncle Pat; my reckless spendthrift com- 
 panion had too often avowed the pleasure he would feel in 
 quartering himself on my kind friend, dissipating his hard- 
 earned gains, and squandering the fruits of all his toil. 
 Deterred by such a prospect, I resolved rather never to re- 
 visit him than in such company. Now, however, I was 
 again alone, and all my hopes and wishes turned towards 
 him. A few hours' sail might again bring me beneath his 
 roof, and once more should I find my self at home. The 
 thought was calming to all my excitement ; I forgot every 
 danger I had passed through; I lost all memory of every 
 vicissitude I had escaped, and had only the little low parlor 
 in the Black Pits before my mind's eye, the wild, unweeded 
 garden, and the sandy, sunny beach before the door. It was 
 as though all that nigh a year had compassed had never 
 occurred, and that my life at Crown Point and my return to 
 England were only a dream. Sleep overcame me as I thus 
 lay pondering, and when I awoke the sun was glittering in 
 the bright waves of the Mersey, a fresh breeze was flaunting 
 and fluttering the half-loosened sails, and the joyous sounds 
 of seamen's voices were mingling with the clank of capstans 
 and the measured stroke of oars. 
 
826 MAUKICE TIERNAY. 
 
 It was full ten minutes after I awoke before I could re- 
 member how I came there, and what had befallen me. Poor 
 Santron! where is he now? was my first thought, and it 
 came with all the bitterness of self-reproach. 
 
 Could I have parted company with him under other cir- 
 cumstances, it would not have grieved me deeply. His 
 mocking, sarcastic spu'it, the tone of depreciation which he 
 used towards everything and everybody, had gone far to 
 sour me with the world, and day by day I felt within me the 
 evil influences of his teachings. How different were they 
 from poor Gottfried's lessons, and the humble habits of 
 those who lived beneath them ! Yet I was sorry, deeply 
 sorry, that our separation should have been thus, and almost 
 wished I had stayed to share his fate, whatever it might be. 
 
 While thus swayed by different impulses, now thinking of 
 my old home at Crown Point, now of Uncle Pat's thatched 
 cabin, and again of Santi'on, I strolled down to the wharf, 
 and found myself in a considerable crowd of people, who 
 were all eagerly pressing forward to witness the embarka- 
 tion of several boatfulls of pressed seamen, who, strongly 
 guarded and u'oned, were being conve^^ed to the "'Athol" 
 tender, a large three-master, about a mile off, down the 
 river. To judge from the cut faces and bandaged heads and 
 arms, the capture had not been effected without resistance. 
 Many of the poor fellows appeared rather suited to a hospital 
 than the duties of active sel'^ice ; and several lay with blood- 
 less faces and white lips, the handcuffed wrists seeming a 
 very mockery of a condition so destitute of all chance of 
 resistance. 
 
 The sympathies of the bystanders were very varied re- 
 garding them. Some were full of tender pity and compas- 
 sion ; some denounced the system as a cruel and oppressive 
 tyranny ; others deplored it as an unhappy necessity ; and a 
 few well-to-do-looking old citizens, in drab shorts and wide- 
 brimmed hats, grew mai-vellously indignant at the recreant 
 poltroonery of the " scoundrels who were not proud to fight 
 then- country's battles." 
 
 As I was wondering within myself how it happened that 
 men thus coerced could ever be depended on in moments of 
 peril and difficulty, and by what magic the mere exercise of 
 
"THE ATHOL TENDER." 327 
 
 discipline was able to merge the feelings of the man in the 
 sailor, the crowd was rudely driven back by policemen, and 
 a cry of "make wa}^," "fall back there," given. In the 
 sudden retiring of the mass I found myself standing on the 
 very edge of the line along which a new body of impressed 
 men were about to pass. Guarded front, flank, and rear, by 
 a strong party of marines, the poor fellows came along 
 slowly enough. Many were badly wounded, and walked 
 lamely ; some were bleeding profusely from cuts on the face 
 and temples, and one, at the very tail of the procession, was 
 actually carried in a blanket by four sailors. A low murmur 
 ran through the crowd at the spectacle, which gradually 
 swelled louder and fuller till it burst forth into a deep groan 
 of indignation, and a cry of " Shame ! shame ! " Too much 
 used to such ebullitions of public feeling, or too proud to 
 care for them, the officer in command of the party never 
 seemed to hear the angry cries and shouts around him ; and 
 I was even more struck by his cool self-possession than by 
 their enthusiasm. For a moment or two I was convinced 
 that a rescue would be attempted. I had no conception that 
 so much excitement could evaporate innocuously, and was 
 preparing myself to take part in the struggle, when the line 
 halted as the leading files gained the stairs, and to my won- 
 derment, the crowd became hushed and still. Then, one 
 burst of excited pity over, not a thought occurred to any to 
 offer resistance to the law, or dare to oppose the constituted 
 authorities. " How unlike Frenchmen ! " thought I ; nor am 
 I certain whether I deemed the disparity to their credit ! 
 
 " Give him a glass of water ! " I heard the officer say, as 
 he leaned over the litter, and the crowd at once opened to 
 permit some one to fetch it. Before I believed it were pos- 
 sible to have procured it, a tumbler of water was passed from 
 hand to hand till it reached mine, and, stepping forwards, I 
 bent down to give it to the sick man. The end of a coarse 
 sheet was thrown over his face, and as it was removed I 
 almost fell over him, for it was Santron. His face was 
 covered with a cold sweat, which lay in great drops all over 
 it, and his lips were slightly frothed. As he looked up I 
 could see that he was just rallying from a fainting fit, and 
 could mark in the change that came over his glassy eye that 
 
328 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 he had recoguized me. He made a famt effort at a smile, 
 and, in a voice barely a whisper, said, '* I knew thou 'd not 
 leave me, Maurice." 
 
 "You are his countrj^man ? " said the officer, addressing 
 me in French. 
 
 "Yes, sir," was my reply. 
 
 "You are both Canadians, then?" 
 
 "Frenchmen, sir, and officers in the service. We only 
 landed from an American ship yesterday, and were trying to 
 make our way to France." 
 
 " I 'm sorry for you," said he, compassionately ; " nor do 
 I know how to help you. Come on board the tender, hov>^- 
 ever, and we '11 see if they '11 not give you a passage with 
 your friend to the Nore. I'll speak to my commanding- 
 officer for 3'ou." 
 
 This scene all passed in a very few minutes, and before I 
 well knew how or why, I found myself on board of a ship's 
 long-boat, sweeping along over the Merse}^ with Santron's 
 head in m}^ lap, and his cold, clammy fingers grasped in 
 mine. He was either unaware of my presence or too weak 
 to recognize me ; for he gave no sign of knowing me, and 
 during our brief passage down the river, and when lifted up 
 the ship's side, seemed totally insensible to everything. 
 
 The scene of uproar, noise, and confusion on board the 
 " Athol " is far above my ability to convey. A shipwreck, a 
 fire, and mutin^^, all combined, could scarcely have collected 
 greater elements of discord. Two large detachments of 
 marines, man}' of whom, fresh from furlough, were too drunk 
 for duty, and were either lying asleep along the deck or 
 riotously interfering with everybody ; a company of Sappers 
 671 route to Woolwich, who would obey none but their own 
 oflScer, and he was still ashore ; detachments of able-bodied 
 seamen from the " Jupiter," full of grog and prize-money; 
 four hundred and seventy impressed men, cursing, blasphem- 
 ing, and imprecating ever}' species of calamity on then' 
 captors ; added to which, a crowd of Jews, bumboat women, 
 and slop-sellers of all kinds, with the crews of two ballast- 
 lighters, fighting for additional pay, — all being the chief 
 actors in a scene whose discord I never saw equalled. 
 Drunkenness, suffering, hopeless misery, and even insub- 
 
"THE ATHOL TENDER." 329 
 
 ordination lent their voices to a tumult amid which the words 
 of command seemed lost, and all effort at discipline vain. 
 
 How we were ever to go to sea in this state I could not 
 even imagine ; the ship's crew seemed inextricably mingled 
 with the rioters, many of whom were just sufficiently sober 
 to be eternally meddling with the ship's tackle, — belaying 
 what ought to be "free," and loosening what should have 
 been "fast;" getting their fingers jammed in blocks, and 
 their limbs crushed by spars, till the cries of agony rose high 
 above every other confusion. Turning with disgust from a 
 spectacle so discordant and disgraceful, I descended the 
 ladders which led by many a successive flight into the dark, 
 low-ceilinged chamber called the " sick bay," and where poor 
 Santron was lying in (what I almost envied) insensibility to 
 the scene around him. A severe blow from the hilt of a 
 cutlass had caused a concussion of the brain, and, save in 
 the momentary excitement which a sudden question might 
 cause, left him totally unconscious. His head had been 
 already shaved before I descended ; and I found the assistant- 
 surgeon, an Irishman, Mr. Peter Colhayne, experimenting a 
 new mode of cupping as I entered. By some mischance of 
 the machinery, the lancets of the cupping instrument had 
 remained permanently fixed, refusing to obey the spring, and 
 standing all straight outside the surface. In this dilemma, 
 Peter's ingenuity saw nothing for it but to press them down 
 vigorously into the scalp, and then saw them backwards the 
 whole length of the head, — a performance the originality of 
 which, in all probability, was derived from the operation of 
 a harrow in agriculture. He had just completed a third 
 track when I came in, and, by great remonstrance and no 
 small flattery, induced him to desist. "We have glasses," 
 said he, "but they were all broke in the cockpit; but a tin 
 porringer is just as good." And so saying, he lighted a 
 little pledget of tow, previously steeped in turpentine, and, 
 popping it into the tin vessel, clapped it on the head. This 
 was meant to exhaust the air within, and thus draw the 
 blood to the surface, — a scientific process he was good 
 enough to explain most minutely for my benefit, and the 
 good results of which he most confidently vouched for. 
 
 "They've a hundred new conthrivances," said Mr. 
 
330 MAURICE TIEENAY. 
 
 Colhayne, " for doing that simple thing ye see there. They 've 
 pumps and screws and hydraulic devilments as much com- 
 plicated as a watch that 's always getting out of order and 
 going wrong ; but with that ye '11 see what good 't will do 
 him; he'll be as lively as a lark in ten minutes." 
 
 The prophecy was destined to a perfect fulfilment ; for poor 
 Santron, who lay motionless and unconscious up to that 
 moment, suddenly gave signs of life by moving his features, 
 and jerking his limbs to this side and that. The doctor's 
 self-satisfaction took the very proudest form. He expatiated 
 on the grandeur of medical science, the wonderful advance- 
 ment it was making, and the astonishing progress the cura- 
 tive art had made even within his own time. I must own 
 that I should have lent a more implicit credence to this paean 
 if I had not waited for the removal of the cupping-vessel, 
 which, instead of blood, contained merely the charred ashes 
 of the burnt tow, while the scalp beneath it presented a 
 l5lackened, seared aspect like burned leather. Such was 
 literally the effect of the operation ; but as from that period 
 the patient began steadily to improve, I must leave to more 
 scientific inquirers the task of explaining through what 
 agency and on what principles. 
 
 Santron's condition, although no longer dangerous, pre- 
 sented little hope of speedy recovery. His faculties were 
 clouded and obscured, and the mere effort at recognition 
 seemed to occasion him great subsequent disturbance. 
 Colhayne, who, w^hatever may have been his scientific defi- 
 ciencies, was good-nature and kindness itself, saw nothing 
 for him but removal to Haslar ; and we now only waited for 
 the ship's arrival at the Nore to obtain the order for his 
 transmission. 
 
 If the '' Athol" was a scene of the wildest confusion and 
 uproar when we tripped our anchor, we had not been six 
 hours at sea when all was a picture of order and propriety. 
 The decks were cleared of every one not actually engaged 
 in the ship's working or specially permitted to remain ; ropes 
 were coiled, boats hauled up, sails trimmed, hatches 
 down, sentinels paced the deck in appointed places, and all 
 was discipline and regularity. From the decorous silence 
 that prevailed, none could have supposed so many hundred 
 
 I 
 
"THE ATHOL TENDER." 331 
 
 living beings were aboard, still less that they were the same 
 disorderly mob who sailed from the Mersey a few short hours 
 before. From the surprise which all this caused me I was 
 speedily aroused by an order more immediately interesting, 
 being summoned on the poop-deck to attend the general 
 muster. Up they came from holes and hatchways, a vast 
 host, no longer brawling and insubordinate, but quiet, sub- 
 missive, and civil. Such as were wounded had been placed 
 under the doctor's care, and all those now present were 
 orderly and service-like. With a very few exceptions they 
 were all sailors, a few having already served in a king's 
 ship. The first lieutenant, who inspected us, was a grim, 
 gray-headed man past the prime of life, with features 
 hardened by disappointment and long service, but who still 
 retained an expression of kindliness and good-nature. His 
 duty he despatched with all the speed of long habit ; read 
 the name, looked at the bearer of it, asked a few routine 
 questions, and then cried " Stand by," even ere the answers 
 were finished. When he came to me he said, — 
 
 " Abraham Hackett. Is that your name, lad? " 
 
 " No, sir. I 'm called Maurice Tiernay." 
 
 " Tiernay, Tiernay," said he a couple of times over. " No 
 such name here. Where 's Tiernay's name, Cottle ? " asked he 
 of a subordinate behind him. 
 
 The fellow looked down the list, then at me, then at the 
 list again, and then back to me, puzzled excessively by the 
 difficulty, but not seeing how to explain it. 
 
 " Perhaps I can set the matter right, sir," said I. "I 
 came aboard along with a wounded countryman of mine, — 
 the young Frenchman who is now in the sick bay." 
 
 " Ay, to be sure ; I remember all about it now," said the 
 lieutenant. " You call yourselves French officers?" 
 
 " And such are we, sir." 
 
 "Then how the devil came ye here? Mother Martin's 
 cellar is, to say the least of it, an unlikely spot to select as a 
 restaurant." 
 
 " The story is a somewhat long one, sir." 
 
 " Then I have n't time for it, lad," he broke in. " We 've 
 rather too much on hand just now for that. If you 've got 
 your papers, or anything to prove what you assert, I '11 land 
 
332 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 you when I come into the Downs, and you '11 of course be 
 treated as your rank in the service requires. If you have 
 not, I must only take the responsibility on myself to regard 
 you as an impressed man. Very hard, I know, but can't help 
 it. Stand by." 
 
 These few words were uttered with a most impetuous 
 speed ; and as all reply to them was impossible, I saw my case 
 decided and my fate decreed, even before I knew they were 
 under litigation. 
 
 As we were marched forwards to go below, I overheard an 
 officer say to another, — 
 
 " Ha}^ will get into a scrape about those French fellows ; 
 they may turn out to be officers, after all." 
 
 '' What matter? " cried the other. " One is dying; and 
 the other Hay means to draft on board the ' Temeraire.' 
 Depend upon it, we'll never hear more of either of them." 
 
 This was far from pleasant tidings ; and yet I knew not 
 any remedy for the mishap. I had never seen the officer who 
 spoke to me ashore since we came on board. I knew of none 
 to intercede for me ; and as I sat down on the bench beside 
 poor Santron's cot, I felt my heart lower than it had ever 
 been before. I was never enamoured of the sea service, and 
 certainly the way to overcome my dislike was not by engag- 
 ing against my own country ; and j^et this, in all likelihood, 
 was now to be my fate. These were my last waking thoughts 
 the first night I passed on board the " Athol." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A BOLD STROKE FOR FAME AND FORTUNE. 
 
 To be awakened suddenly from a sound sleep, hurried half- 
 dressed up a gangway, and ere your faculties have acquired 
 free play be passed over a ship's side on a dark and stormy 
 night into a boat wildly tossed here and there, with spray 
 showering over you and a chorus of loud voices about you, 
 is an event not easily forgotten. Such a scene still dwells in 
 my memory, every incident of it as clear and distinct as though 
 it had occurred only yesterday. In this way was I passed, 
 with twelve others, on board his Majesty's frigate " Teme- 
 raire," a vessel which in the sea service represented what a 
 well-known regiment did on shore, and bore the reputation of 
 being a " condemned ship, " — this depreciating epithet hav- 
 ing no relation to the qualities of the vessel herself, which 
 was a singularly beautiful French model, but only to that of 
 the crew and officers ; it being the policy of the day to iso- 
 late the blackguards of both sei*vices, confining them to 
 particular crafts and corps, making, as it were, a kind of 
 '' index expurgatorius," where all the rascality was avail- 
 able at a moment's notice. 
 
 It would be neither agreeable to my reader nor myself if 
 I should dwell on this theme, nor linger on a description 
 where cruelty, crime, heartless tyranny, and reckless insub- 
 ordination made up all the elements. A vessel that floated 
 the seas only as a vast penitentiary — the " cats," the " yard- 
 arm," and the "gangway," comprising its scheme of dis- 
 cipline — would scarcely be an agreeable subject; and in 
 reality my memory retains of the life aboard little else than 
 scenes of suffering and sorrow. Captain Gesbrook had the 
 name of being able to reduce any, the most insubordinate, to 
 discipline. The veriest rascals of the fleet, the consummate 
 
334 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 scoundrels, one of whom was deemed pollution to an ordinary 
 crew, were said to come from his hands models of seamanship 
 and good conduct ; and it must be owned that if the char- 
 acter was deserved, it was not obtained without some sacri- 
 fice. Many died under punishment ; many carried away with 
 them diseases under which they lingered on to death ; and not 
 a few preferred suicide to the terrible existence on board. 
 And although a " Temeraire " — as a man who had served in 
 her was always afterwards called — was now and then shown 
 as an example of sailor-like smartness and activity, very 
 few knew how dearly that one success had been purchased, 
 nor by what terrible examples of agony and woe that solitary 
 conversion was obtained. 
 
 To me the short time I spent on board of her is a dreadful 
 dream. We were bound for the Mediterranean, to touch at 
 Malta and Gibraltar, and then join the blockading squadron 
 before Genoa. What might have been my fate, to what 
 excess passionate indignation might have carried me, revolted 
 as I was by tyranny and injustice, I know not, when an 
 accident, happily for me, rescued me from all temptation. 
 We lost our mizzenmast in a storm in the Bay of Biscay, 
 and a dreadful blow on the head from the sj^anker-boom 
 felled me to the deck, with a fracture of the skull. 
 
 From that moment I know of nothing till the time when I 
 lay in my cot, beside a port-hole of the main-deck, gazing at 
 the bright blue waters that flashed and rippled beside me, or 
 straining my strength to rest on my elbow, when I caught 
 sight of the glorious city of Genoa, with its grand mountain 
 background, about three miles from where I lay. Whether 
 from a due deference to the imposing strength of the vast 
 fortress, or that the line of duty prescribed our action, I 
 cannot say, but the British squadron almost exclusively con- 
 fined its operations to the act of blockade. Extending far 
 across the bay, the English ensign was seen floating from 
 many a taper mast ; while boats of every shape and size plied 
 incessantly from ship to ship, their course marked out at 
 night by the meteor-like light that glittered in them, — not, 
 indeed, that the eye often turned in that direction, all the 
 absorbing interest of the scene lying in-shore. Genoa was 
 at that time surrounded by an immense Austrian force, under 
 
A BOLD STROKE FOR FAME A^T> FORTUNE. 335 
 
 the commaud of General Melas, 'vvhich, occupying all the 
 valleys and deep passes of the Apennines, were impercep- 
 tible during the day ; but no sooner had night closed in, than 
 a tremendous cannonade began, the balls describing great 
 semicu'cles in the an- ere they fell to scatter death and ruin on 
 the devoted city. The spectacle was grand beyond descrip- 
 tion, for while the distance at which we lay dulled and sub- 
 dued the sound of the artillery to a hollow booming, like 
 far-off thunder, the whole sky was streaked by the course of 
 the shot, and at intervals lighted up by the splendor of a 
 great fire as the red shot fell into and ignited some large 
 building or other. 
 
 As night after night the cannonade increased in power 
 and intensity, and the terrible effects showed themselves in 
 flames which burst out from different quarters of the city, I 
 used to long for morning to see if the tricolor still floated on 
 the walls ; and when my eye caught the well-known ensign, 
 I could have wept with joy as I beheld it. 
 
 High up, too, on the cliffs of the rugged Apennines, from 
 many a craggy eminence, where perhaps a solitary gun was 
 stationed, I could see the glorious flag of France, the emblem 
 of liberty and glorj^ too. 
 
 In the day the scene was one of calm and tranquil beaut}" ; 
 it would have seemed impossible to connect it with war and 
 battle. The glorious city, rising in terraces of palaces, lay 
 reflected in the mirror-like waters of the bay, blue as the deep 
 sky above them. The orange-trees, loaded with golden fruit, 
 shed their perfume over marble fountains, amid gardens of 
 every varied hue ; bands of military music were heard from 
 the public promenades, — all the signs of joy and festivity 
 which betokened a happy and pleasure-seeking population. 
 But at night the " red artillery" again flashed forth, and the 
 wild cries of strife and battle rose through the beleaguered 
 city. The English spies reported that a famine and a dread- 
 ful fever were raging within the walls, and that all Massena's 
 efforts were needed to repress an open mutiny of the garri- 
 son; but the mere aspect of the proud city seemed to 
 refute the assertion. The gay carolling of church bells vied 
 with the lively strains of martial music, and the imposing 
 pomp of military array, which could be seen from the walls, 
 
336 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 bespoke a joyous confidence, the very reverse of this 
 depression. 
 
 From the "tops," and high up in the rigging, the move- 
 ments in-shore could be descried ; and frequently, when an 
 officer came down to visit a comrade, I could hear of the pro- 
 gress of the siege, and learn, I need not say with what 
 delight, that the Austrians had made little or no way in the 
 reduction of the place, and that every stronghold and bas- 
 tion was still held by Frenchmen. 
 
 At first, as I listened, the names of new places and new 
 generals confused me ; but by daily familiarity with the topic, 
 I began to perceive that the Austrians had interposed a por- 
 tion of their force between Massena's division and that of 
 Suchet, cutting off the latter from Genoa, and compelling him 
 to fall back towards Chiavari and Borghetto, along the coast 
 to the Gulf. This was the first success of any importance 
 obtained ; and it was soon followed by others of equal signi- 
 ficance, Soult being driven from ridge to ridge of the Apen- 
 nines, till he was forced back within the second line of 
 defences. 
 
 The English oflficers were loud in condemning Austrian 
 slowness, the inaptitude they exhibited to profit by a success, 
 and the over-caution which made them, even in victory, so 
 careful of their own safety. From what I overheard, it 
 seemed plain that Genoa was untenable by any troops but 
 French, or opposed to any other adversaries than their pre- 
 sent ones. 
 
 The bad tidings — such I deemed them — came quicker and 
 heavier. Now, Soult was driven from Monte Notte. Now, 
 the great advance post of Monte Faccio was stormed and 
 carried. Now, the double eagle was floating from San Tecla, 
 a fort within cannon-shot of Genoa. A vast semicircle of 
 bivouac fires stretched from the Apennines to the sea, and 
 theu' reflected glare from the sky lit up the battlements and 
 ramparts of the city. 
 
 " Even yet, if Massena would make a dash at them," said a 
 young English lieutenant, " the white-coats would fall back." 
 
 " My life on 't he 'd cut his way through, if he knew they 
 were only two to one ! " 
 
 And this sentiment met no dissentient. All a2;reed that 
 
A BOLD STROKE FOR FAME AND FORTUNE. 337 
 
 French heroism was still equal to the overthrow of a force 
 double its own. 
 
 It was evident that all hope of reinforcement from France 
 was vain. Before they could have begun their march south- 
 ward, the question must be decided one way or other. 
 
 "There's little doing to-night," said an officer, as he de- 
 scended the ladder to the sick bay. " Melas is waiting for 
 some heavy mortars that are coming up ; and then there will 
 be a long code of instructions from the Aulic Council, and a 
 whole treatise on gunnery to be read, before he can use them. 
 Trust me, if Massena knew his man, he 'd be up and at him." 
 
 Much discussion followed this speech, but all more or less 
 agreed in its sentiment. Weak as were the French, lowered 
 by fever and by famine, they were still an overmatch for 
 their adversaries. What a glorious avowal from the lips of 
 an enemy was this ! The words did more for my recovery 
 than all the care and skill of physic. Oh if my countrymen 
 but knew ! if Massena could but hear it ! was my next 
 thought ; and I turned my eyes to the ramparts, whose line 
 was marked out by the bivouac fires through the darkness. 
 How short the distance seemed ! and yet it was a whole 
 world of separation. Had it been a great plain in a moun- 
 tain tract, the attempt might almost have appeared practi- 
 cable ; at least, I had often seen fellows who would have tried 
 it. Such were the ready roads, the royal paths to promotion ; 
 and he who trod them saved miles of weary journey. I fell 
 asleep, still thinking on these things ; but they haunted my 
 dreams. A voice seemed ever to whisper in my ear, " If 
 Massena but knew, he would attack them ! One bold dash, 
 and the Austrians would fall back." At one instant, I thought 
 myself brought before a court-martial of English officers for 
 attempting to carry these tidings ; and proudly avowing the 
 endeavor, I fancied I was braving the accusation. At 
 another, I was wandering through the streets of Genoa, 
 gazing on the terrible scenes of famine I had heard of. And, 
 lastly, I was marching with a night party to attack the 
 enemy ; the stealthy footfall of the column appeared sud- 
 denly to cease, — we were discovered, the Austrian cavalry 
 were upon us ! I started and awoke, and found m3^self in 
 the dim, half -lighted chamber, with pain and suffering 
 
 22 
 
338 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 around me, and where, even in this midnight hour, the rest- 
 less tortures of disease were yet wakeful. 
 
 "The silence is more oppressive to me than the roll of 
 artillery," said one, a sick midshipman, to his comrade. '' I 
 grew accustomed to the clatter of the guns, and slept all the 
 better for it." 
 
 "You'll scarcely hear much more of that music," replied 
 his friend. " The French must capitulate to-morrow or next 
 day." 
 
 " Not if Massena would make a dash at them," thought I ; 
 and with difficulty could I refrain from uttering the words 
 aloud. 
 
 They continued to talk to each other in low whispers, and 
 lulled by the drowsy tones I fell asleep once more, again to 
 dream of my comrades and their fortunes. A heavy bang 
 like a cannon-shot awoke me ; but whether this were real or 
 not I never knew, — most probably, however, it was the mere 
 creation of my brain, for all were now in deep slumber 
 around me, and even the marine on duty had seated himself 
 on the ladder, and with his musket between his legs seemed 
 dozing away peacefully. I looked out through the little 
 window beside my berth. A light breeze was faintly rip- 
 pling the dark water beneath me. It was the beginning of 
 a Levanter, and scarcely ruffled the surface as it swept 
 along. 
 
 "Oh if it would but bear the tidings I am full of!" 
 thought I. " But why not dare the attempt myself? " 
 
 While in America I had learned to become a good swim- 
 mer. Under Indian teaching, I had often passed hours in 
 the water ; and though now debilitated by long sickness, I 
 felt that the cause would supply me with the strength I 
 needed. From the instant that I conceived the thought till 
 I found myself descending the ship's side, was scarcely a 
 minute. Stripping off my woollen shirt, and with nothing 
 but my loose trousers, I crept through the little window, and 
 lowerirg myself gently by the rattlin of my hammock, 
 descended slowly and noiselessly into the sea. I hung on 
 thus for a couple of seconds, half fearing the attempt, and 
 irresolute of purpose. Should strength fail, or even a cramp 
 seize me, I must be lost, and none would ever know in what 
 an enterprise I had perished ; it would be set down as a 
 
A BOLD STROKE FOR FAME AND FORTUNE. 339 
 
 mere attempt at escape. This notion almost staggered my 
 resolution, but only for a second or so ; and, with a short 
 prayer, I slowly let slip the rope, and struck out to swim. 
 
 The immense efforts requked to get clear of the ship's side 
 discouraged me dreadfully, nor probably without the aid of 
 the Levanter should I have succeeded in doing so, the 
 suction of the water along the sides was so powerful. At 
 last, however, I gained the open space, and found myself 
 stretching away towards shore rapidly. The night was so 
 dark that I had nothing to guide me save the lights on the 
 ramparts ; but in this lay my safety. Swimming is, after 
 all, but a slow means of progression. After what I judged 
 to be an hour in the water, as I turned my head to look back, 
 I almost fancied that the great bowsprit of the " Temeraire" 
 was over me, and that the figure who leaned over the taffrail 
 was steadily gazing on me. How little way had I made, and 
 what a vast reach of water lay between me and the shore ! 
 I tried to animate my courage by thinking of the cause, how 
 my comrades would greet me, the honor in which they would 
 hold me for the exploit, and such like ; but the terror of 
 failure damped this ardor, and hope sank every moment 
 lower and lower. 
 
 For some time I resolved within myself not to look back, 
 the discouragement was too great ; but the impulse to do so 
 became all the greater, and the only means of resisting was 
 by counting the strokes, and determining not to turn my 
 head before I had made a thousand. The monotony of this 
 last, and the ceaseless effort to advance, threw me into a kind 
 of dreamy state, wherein mere mechanical effort remained. 
 A few vague impressions are all that remain to me of what 
 followed. I remember the sound of the morning guns from 
 the fleet ; I remember, too, the hoisting of the French stan- 
 dard at daybreak on the fort of the mole ; I have some recol- 
 lection of a bastion crowded with people, and hearing shouts 
 and cheers like voices of welcome and encouragement ; and 
 then a whole fleet of small boats issuing from the harbor, 
 as if by one imf)ulse ; and then there comes a bright blaze of 
 light over one incident, for I saw myself, dripping and almost 
 dead, lifted on the shoulders of strong men, and carried 
 along a wide street filled with people. I was in Genoa. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 "GENOA IN THE SIEGE." 
 
 Up a straight street, so steep and so narrow that it seemed a 
 stair, with hundreds of men crowding around me, I was 
 borne along. Now they were sailors who carried me ; now, 
 white-bearded grenadiers, with then- bronzed, bold faces; 
 now they were the wild-looking Faquini of the Mole, with 
 long-tasselled red caps, and gaudy sashes around their waists. 
 Windows were opened on either side as we went, and eager 
 faces protruded to stare at me ; and then there were shouts 
 and cries of triumphant joy bursting forth at every moment, 
 amidst which I could hear the ever-recurring words, " Escaped 
 from the English fleet." 
 
 By what means or when I had exchanged my dripping 
 trousers of coarse sail-cloth for the striped gear of our re- 
 publican mode, — how one had given me his jacket, another 
 a cap, and a third a shirt, — I knew not; but there I was, 
 carried along in triumph, half fainting from exhaustion, and 
 almost maddened by excitement. That I must have told 
 something of my history — Heaven knows how incoherently 
 and unconnectedly — is plain enough, for I could hear them 
 repeating one to the other, ' ' Had sei'\' ed with Moreau's 
 corps in the Black Forest;" "A hussar of the Ninth;" 
 " One of Humbert's fellows ; " and so on. 
 
 As we turned into a species of Place, a discussion arose 
 as to whither they should convey me. Some were for the 
 Cavalry Barracks, that I might be once more with those 
 who resembled my old comrades. Others, more considerate, 
 were for the hospital ; but a staff-officer decided the question 
 by stating that the general was at that very moment receiv- 
 ing the report in the church of the Annunziata, and that he 
 ought to see me at once. 
 
"GENOA IN THE SIEGE." 341 
 
 "Let the poor fellow have some refreshment," cried one. 
 "Here, take this, it's coffee." " No, no, the petit goutte is 
 better; try that flask." "He shall have my chocolate," 
 said an old major, from the door of a cafe. And thus they 
 pressed and solicited me with a generosity that I had yet to 
 learn how dear it cost. 
 
 " He ought to be dressed ; " " He should be in uniform ; " 
 " Is better as he is ; " " The general will not speak to him 
 thus ; " " He will ; " " He must." 
 
 Such, and such like, kept buzzing around me, as with 
 reeling brain and confused vision they bore me up the great 
 steps and carried me into a gorgeous church, the most 
 splendidly ornamented building I had ever beheld. Except, 
 however, in the decorations of the ceiling and the images of 
 saints which figured in niches high up, every trace of a 
 religious edifice had disappeared. The pulpit had gone ; the 
 chairs and seats for the choir, the confessionals, the shrines, 
 altars, all had been uprooted; and a large table, at which 
 some twenty oflScers were seated writing, now occupied the 
 elevated platform of the high altar, while here and there 
 stood groups of officers, with their reports from their various 
 corps or parties in out-stations. Many of these drew near to 
 me as I entered, and now the buzz of voices in question and 
 rejoinder swelled into a loud noise; and while some were 
 recounting my feat with all the seeming accuracy of eye- 
 witnesses, others were as resolutely protesting it all to be 
 impossible. Suddenly the tumult was hushed, the crowd 
 fell back, and as the clanking muskets proclaimed a 
 " salute," a whispered murmur announced " the General." 
 
 I could just see the waving plumes of his staff as they 
 passed up; and then, as they were disappearing in the 
 distance, they stopped, and one hastily returned to the 
 entrance of the church. 
 
 "Where is this fellow? Let me see him," cried he, hur- 
 riedly, brushing his way through the crowd. " Let him 
 stand down; set him on his legs." 
 
 " He is too weak, Capltaine.,'' said a soldier. 
 
 "Place him in a chair, then," said the aide-de-camp, for 
 such he was. " You have made your escape from the English 
 fleet, my man? " continued he, addressing me. 
 
342 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " I am an officer, and your comrade," replied I, proudly; 
 for with all my debility, the tone of his address stung me to 
 the quick. 
 
 " In what service, pray?" asked he, with a sneering look 
 at my motley costume. 
 
 " Your general shall hear where I have sei-ved, and how, 
 whenever he is pleased to ask me," was my answer. 
 
 "Ay, jiarhleu!^^ cried three or four sous-officiers in a 
 breath, " the general shall see him himself." 
 
 And with a jerk they hoisted me once more on their 
 shoulders, and with a run — the regular storming tramp of 
 the line — they advanced up the aisle of the church, and 
 never halted till within a few feet of where the staff were 
 gathered around the general. A few words — they sounded 
 like a reprimand — followed ; a severe voice bade the soldiers 
 "fall back," and I found myself standing alone before a 
 tall and very strongl3'-built man, with a large, red-brown 
 beard ; he wore a gray upper coat over his uniform, and 
 carried a riding-whip in his hand. 
 
 " Get him a seat. Let him have a glass of wine," cried 
 he, quickly, as he saw the tottering efforts I was making to 
 keep my legs. " Are you better now?" asked he, in a voice 
 which, rough as it was, sounded kindly. 
 
 Seeing me so far restored, he desired me to recount my 
 late adventure, which I did in the fewest words and the most 
 concise fashion I could. Although never interrupting, I 
 could mark that particular portions of my naiTative made 
 much impression on him, and he could not repress a gesture 
 of impatience when I told him that I was impressed as a 
 seaman to fight against the flag of my own country. 
 
 "Of course, then," cried he, "you were driven to the 
 alternative of this attempt." 
 
 "Not so. General," said I, interrupting; "I had grown 
 to be very indifferent about my own fortunes. I had become 
 half fatalist as to myself. It was on very different grounds, 
 indeed, that I dared this danger. It was to tell you — for if 
 I mistake not I am addressing General Massena — tidings 
 of deep importance." 
 
 I said these words slowly and deliberatel}^ and giving 
 them all the impressiveness I was able. 
 
 " Come this way, friend," said he, and, assisting me to 
 
/y/y^y/z'/y/W^r'^' ,^^^/^/^y . y^y/y7y/y/y/:^yfy . ^"7^^/:^^^.^'^^^/^/ ^/-V 
 
"GENOA IN THE SIEGE." 343 
 
 arise, he led me a short distance off, and desired me to sit 
 down on the steps in front of the altar railing. " Now you 
 may speak freely. I am the General Massena, and I have 
 only to say that if you really have intelligence of any value 
 for me you shall be liberally rewarded ; but if you have 
 not, and if the pretence be merely an effort to impose on 
 one whose cares and anxieties are already hard to bear, it 
 would be better that you had perished on sea than tried to 
 attempt it." 
 
 There was a stern severity in the way he said this, which 
 for a moment or two actually overpowered me. It was quite 
 clear that he looked for some positive fact, some direct piece 
 of information on which he might implicitly rely ; and here 
 was I now with nothing save the gossip of some English 
 lieutenants, the idle talk of inexperienced young officers. I 
 was silent. From the bottom of my heart I wished that I 
 had never reached the shore, to stand in a position of such 
 humiliation as this. 
 
 " So, then, my caution was not unneeded," said the gen- 
 eral, as he bent his heavy brows upon me. " Now, sir, there 
 is but one amende jow can make for this : tell me frankly, 
 have others sent you on this errand, or is the scheme entirely' 
 of your own devising ? Is this an English plot, or is there a 
 Bourbon element in it? " 
 
 "Neither one nor the other," said I, boldly, for indigna- 
 tion at last gave me courage. "I hazarded my life to tell 
 3'ou what I overheard among the officers of the fleet yonder. 
 You may hold their judgment cheap ; you may not think 
 their counsels worth the pains of listening to ; but I could 
 form no opinion of this, and only thought if these tidings 
 could reach you, you might profit by them." 
 
 " And what are they? " asked he, bluntly. 
 
 " They said that your force was wasting away by famine 
 and disease ; that your supplies could not hold out above a 
 fortnight ; that your granaries were empty, and your hospi- 
 tals filled." 
 
 "They scarcely wanted the gift of second sight to see 
 this," said he, bitterly. " A garrison in close siege for four 
 months may be suspected of as much." 
 
 " Yes; but they said that as Soult's force fell back upon 
 the city, your position would be rendered worse." 
 
344 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 " Fell back from where? " asked he, with a searching look 
 at me. 
 
 " As I understood, from the Apennines," replied I, grow- 
 ing more confident as I saw that he became more attentive. 
 " If I understood them aright, Soult held a position called 
 the Monte Faccio. Is there such a name? " 
 
 "Go on," said he, with a nod of assent. 
 
 " That this could not long be tenable without gaining the 
 highest fortified point of the mountain. The Monte Creto 
 they named it." 
 
 " The attempt on which has failed ! " said Massena, as if 
 carried away by the subject; " and Soult himself is a pris- 
 oner! Go on." 
 
 ' ' They added that now but one hope remained for this 
 army." 
 
 "And what was that, sir?" said he, fiercely. "What 
 suggestion of cunning strategy did these sea-wolves inti- 
 mate ? " 
 
 " To cut 3^our way through the blockade, and join Suchet's 
 corps, attacking the Austrians at the Monte Ratte, and by 
 the sea-road gaining the heights of Bochetta." 
 
 ' ' Do these heroic spirits know the strength of that same 
 Austrian corps ? Did they tell you that it numbered fifty- 
 four thousand ba^^onets ? " 
 
 "They called them below forty thousand ; and that now 
 that Bonaparte was on his way through the Alps, perhaps by 
 this time over the Mount Cenis — " 
 
 "What! did they say this? Is Bonaparte so near us?" 
 cried he, placing a hand on either shoulder, as he stared me 
 in the face. 
 
 "Yes; there is no doubt of that. The despatch to Lord 
 Keith brought the news a week ago, and there is no secret 
 made about it in the fleet." 
 
 " Over Mount Cenis ! " repeated he to himself. " Already 
 in Italy ! " 
 
 "Holding straight for Milan, Lord Keith thinks," 
 added I. 
 
 "No, sir, — straight for the Tuileries," cried Massena, 
 sternly ; and then correcting himself suddenly, he burst into 
 a forced laugh. 
 
 I must confess that the speech puzzled me sorely at the 
 
"GENOA IN THE SIEGE." 345 
 
 time, but I lived to learn its meaning; and many a time 
 have I wondered at the shrewd foresight which even then 
 read the ambitious character of the future emperor. 
 
 " Of this fact, then, you are quite certain. Bonaparte is 
 on his march hither?" 
 
 " I have heard it spoken of every day for the last week," 
 replied I ; " and it was in consequence of this that the Eng- 
 lish officers used to remark, ' If Massena but knew it, 
 he 'd make a dash at them, and clear his way through at 
 once.' " 
 
 " They said this, did they? " said he, in a low voice, and 
 as if pondering over it. 
 
 '' Yes; one and all agreed in thinking there could not be 
 a doubt of the result." 
 
 " AYhere have you sei'\^ed, sir?" asked he, suddenly turn- 
 ing on me, and with a look that showed he was resolved to 
 test the character of the witness. 
 
 " With Moreau, sir, on the Rhine and the Schwartz Wald ; 
 in Ireland with Humbert." 
 
 " Your regiment? " 
 
 "The Ninth Hussars." 
 
 "The Tapageurs," said he, laughing. "I know them, 
 and glad I am not to have their company here at this mo- 
 ment ; you were a lieutenant ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, supposing that on the faith of what you have told 
 me I was to follow the wise counsel of these gentlemen, 
 would you like the alternative of gaining your promotion in 
 the event of success, or being shot by a peleton if we fail? " 
 
 "They seem sharp terms, sir," said I, smiling, "when it 
 is remembered that no individual efforts of mine can either 
 promote one result or the other." 
 
 " Ay, but they can sir," cried he, quickly. " If you should 
 turn out to be an Austro-English spy ; if these tidings be of 
 a character to lead my troops into danger ; if, in reliance on 
 you, I should be led to compromise the honor and safety of 
 a French army, — your life, were it worth ten thousand times 
 over your own value of it, would be a sorry recompense. Is 
 this intelligible ? " 
 
 " Far more intelligible than flattering," said I, laughing; 
 for I saw that the best mode to treat him was by an imita- 
 
346 MAUKICE TIERNAY. 
 
 tion of his own frank and careless humor. " I have already 
 risked that life you hold so cheaply, to convey this informa- 
 tion ; but I am still ready to accept the conditions you offer 
 me if, in the event of success, my name appear in the 
 despatch." 
 
 He again stared at me with his dark and piercing eyes ; 
 but I stood the glance with a calm conscience, and he seemed 
 so to read it, for he said, — 
 
 "Be it so. I will, meanwhile, test your prudence. Let 
 nothing of this interview transpire ; not a word of it among 
 the officers and comrades you shall make acquaintance with. 
 You shall sei'\'e on my own staff ; go, now, and recruit your 
 strength for a couple of days, and then report yourself at 
 headquarters when ready for duty. Latrobe, look to the 
 Lieutenant Tiernay ; see that he wants for nothing, and let 
 him have a horse and a uniform as soon as may be." 
 
 Captain Latrobe, the future general of division, was then 
 a young, gay officer of about five-and-twenty, very good-look- 
 ing, and full of life and spirits, a buoyancy which the terrible 
 uncertainties of the siege could not repress. 
 
 "Our general talks nobly, Tiernay," said he, as he gave 
 me his arm to assist me ; ' ' but you '11 stare when I tell you 
 that ' wanting for nothing ' means having four ounces of 
 black bread and ditto of blue cheese per diem ; and as to a 
 horse, if I possessed such an animal, I 'd have given a dinner 
 party yesterday and eaten him. You look surprised, but 
 when you see a little more of us here, you '11 begin to think 
 that prison rations in the fleet yonder were luxuries compared 
 to what we have. No matter, you shall take share of my 
 superabundance ; and if I have little else to offer, I '11 show 
 you a view from my window finer than anything you ever 
 looked on in your life, and with a sea breeze that would be 
 glorious if it didn't make one hungry." 
 
 While he thus rattled on we reached the street, and there 
 calling a couple of soldiers forward, he directed them to 
 carry me along to his quarters, which lay in the upper town, 
 on an elevated plateau that overlooked the city and the bay 
 together. 
 
 From the narrow lanes flanked with tall, gloomy houses, 
 and steep, ill-paved streets exhibiting poverty and privation 
 of every kind, we suddenly emerged into an open space of 
 
"GENOxV IN THE SIEGE." 347 
 
 grass, at one side of which a handsome iron railing stood, 
 with a richly-ornamented gate gorgeously gilded. Within 
 this was a garden and a fish-pond surrounded with statues, 
 and further on a long, low villa, whose windows reached to 
 the ground, and were shaded by a deep awning of striped 
 blue and white canvas. Camellias, orange-trees, cactuses, 
 and magnolias abounded everywhere ; tulips and hyacinths 
 seemed to grow wild ; and there was in the half-neglected 
 look of the spot something of savage luxuriance that height- 
 ened the effect immensely. 
 
 " This is my Paradise, Tiernay, only wanting an Eve to be 
 perfect," said Latrobe, as he set me down beneath a spread- 
 ing lime-tree. "Yonder are your English friends; there 
 they stretch away for miles beyond that point. That 's the 
 Monte Creto you may have heard of ; and there 's the Bo- 
 chetta. In that valle}^, to the left, the Austrian outposts are 
 stationed ; and from those two heights closer to the shore 
 they are gracious enough to salute us every evening after 
 sunset, and even prolong the attention sometimes the whole 
 night thi'ough. Turn your eyes in this du-ection, and you '11 
 see the cornice road, that leads to la belle France, but of 
 which we see as much from this spot as we are ever like to do. 
 So much for the geography of our position ; and now to look 
 after your breakfast. You have, of course, heard that we 
 do not revel in superfluities. Never was the boasted excel- 
 lence of our national cookery more severely tested, for we 
 have successively descended from cows and sheep to goats, 
 horses, donkeys, dogs, occasionally experimenting on hides 
 and shoe-leather, till we ended by regarding a rat as a rarity, 
 and deeming a mouse a delicacy of the season. As for vege- 
 tables, there would not have been a flowering plant in all 
 Genoa if tulip and ranunculous roots had not been bitter as 
 aloes. These seem very inhospitable confessions, but I 
 make them the more freely since I am about to treat you en 
 gourmet. Come in now, and acknowledge that juniper bark 
 isn't bad coffee, and that commissary bread is not to be 
 thought of 'lightly.'" 
 
 In this fashion did my comrade invite me to a meal, which, 
 even with this preface, was far more miserable and scanty 
 than I looked for. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A NOVEL COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 I HAD scarcely finished my breakfast when a group of officers 
 rode up to our quarters to visit me. My arrival had already 
 created an immense sensation in the city, and all kinds of 
 rumors were afloat as to the tidings I had brought. The 
 meagreness of the information would, indeed, have seemed in 
 strong contrast to the enterprise and hazard of the escape, 
 had I not the craft to eke it out by that process of suggestion 
 and speculation in which I was rather an adept. 
 
 Little in substance as my information was, all the younger 
 officers were in favor of acting upon it. " The English are 
 no bad judges of our position and chances," was the constant 
 argument. "They see exactly how we stand; they know 
 the relative forces of our army and the enemy's ; " and if the 
 "cautious islanders" — such was the phrase — advised a 
 coup de main^ it surely must have much in its favor. I lay 
 stress upon the remark, trifling as it may seem ; but it is 
 curious to know that with all the immense successes of Eng- 
 land on sea, her reputation at that time among Frenchmen 
 was rather for prudent and well-matured undertakings, than 
 for those daring enterprises which are as much the character 
 of her courage. 
 
 My visitors continued to pour in during the morning, 
 officers of every arm and rank, — some from mere idle curi- 
 osity, some to question and interrogate, and not a few to 
 solve doubts in then* mind as to my being really French and 
 a soldier, and not an agent of that ' ' perfide Albion " whose 
 treachery was become a proverb amongst us. Many were 
 disappointed at my knowing so little. I neither could tell 
 the date of Napoleon's passing St. Gothard, nor the amount 
 of his force ; neither knew I whether he meant to turn east- 
 
A NOVEL COUNCIL OF WAR. 349 
 
 ward towards the plains of Lombardy, or march direct to the 
 relief of Genoa. Of Moreau's successes in Germany, too, 
 I had only heard vaguely, and of course could recount 
 nothing. I could overhear, occasionally, around and about 
 me, the murmurs of dissatisfaction my ignorance called forth, 
 and was not a little grateful to an old artillery captain for 
 saying, "That's the very best thing about the lad; a spy 
 would have had his whole lesson by heart." 
 
 " You are right, su'," cried I, catching at the words. " I 
 may know but little, and that little, perhaps, valueless and 
 insignificant ; but my truth no man shall gainsay." 
 
 The boldness of this speech from one wasted and miserable 
 as I was, with tattered shoes and ragged clothes, caused a 
 hearty laugh, in which, as much from policy as feeling, I 
 joined myself. 
 
 "Come here, mon clier^'' said an infantry colonel, as, 
 walking to the door of the room, he drew his telescope from 
 his pocket ; ' ' you tell us of a coup de main — on the Monte 
 Faccio, is it not? " 
 
 " Yes," replied I, promptly, " so I understand the name." 
 
 " Well, have you ever seen the place? " 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Well, there it is yonder; " and he handed me his glass 
 as he spoke; "you see that large beetling cliff, with the 
 olives at the foot. There, on the summit, stands the Monte 
 Faccio. The road — the pathway rather, and a steep one it 
 is — leads up where you see those goats feeding, and crosses 
 in front of the crag, directly beneath the fire of the batteries. 
 There 's not a spot on the whole ascent where three men 
 could march abreast ; and wherever there is any shelter from 
 fire, the guns of the Sprona, that small fort to the right, take 
 the whole position. What do you think of your counsel 
 now?" 
 
 " You forget, sir, it is not my counsel. I merely repeat 
 what I overheard." 
 
 "And do you mean to say that the men who gave that 
 advice were serious, or capable of adopting it themselves?" 
 
 " Most assuredly ; they would never recommend to others 
 what they felt unequal to themselves. I know these English 
 well, and so much will I say of them." 
 
350 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Bah!" cried he, with an insolent gesture of his hand, 
 and turned away ; and I could plainly see that my praises of 
 the enemy were very ill taken. In fact, my unlucky burst 
 of generosity had done more to damage my credit than all 
 the dangerous or impracticable features of my scheme. 
 Every eye was turned to the bold precipice and the stern 
 fortress that crowned it, and all agreed that an attack must 
 be hopeless. 
 
 I saw, too late, the great fault I had committed, and that 
 nothing could be more wanting in tact than to suggest to 
 Frenchmen an enterprise which Englishmen deemed practi- 
 cable, and which yet to the former seemed beyond all reach 
 of success. The insult was too palpable and too du'ect ; but 
 to retract was impossible, and I had now to sustain a 
 proposition which gave offence on every side. 
 
 It was very mortifying to me to see how soon all my 
 personal credit was merged in this unhappy theory. No 
 one thought more of my hazardous escape, the perils I 
 encountered, or the sufferings I had undergone. All that 
 was remembered of me was the affront I had offered to the 
 national courage, and the preference I had implied to 
 English bravery. 
 
 Never did I pass a more tormenting day. New arrivals 
 continually refreshed the discussion, and always with the 
 same results ; and although some were satisfied to convey 
 theii' opinions by a shake of the head or a dubious smile, 
 others, more candid than civil, plainly intimated that if I 
 had nothing of more consequence to tell, I might as well 
 have stayed where I was, and not added one more to a 
 garrison so closely pressed by hunger. Very little more of 
 such reasoning would have persuaded myself of its truth, 
 and I almost began to wish that I was once more back in the 
 sick bay of the frigate. 
 
 Towards evening I was left alone ; my host went down to 
 the town on duty ; and after the visit of a tailor, who came 
 to trj^ on me a staff uniform, — a distinction, I afterwards 
 learned, owing to the abundance of this class of costume, and 
 not to any claims I could prefer to the rank, — I was per- 
 fectly free to stroll about where I pleased unmolested, and, 
 no small blessing, unquestioned. 
 
A NOVEL COUNCIL OF WAR. 351 
 
 On following along the walls for some distance, I came to 
 a part where a succession of deep ravines opened at the foot 
 of the bastions, conducting by many a tortuous and rocky 
 glen to the Apennines. The sides of these gorges were 
 dotted here and there with wild hollies and fig-trees, stunted 
 and ill- thriven, as the nature of the soil might imply. 
 Still, for the sake of the few berries or the sapless fruit 
 they bore, the soldiers of the garrison were accustomed to 
 creep out from the embrasures and descend the steep cliffs, — 
 a peril great enough in itself, but terribly increased by the 
 risk of exposure to the enemy's Tirailleurs, as well as the 
 consequences such indiscipline would bring down on them. 
 
 So frequent, however, had been these infractions that 
 little footpaths were worn bare along the face of the cliff, 
 traversing in many a zigzag a surface that seemed like a 
 wall. It was almost incredible that men would brave such 
 ■peril for so little, but famine had rendered them indifferent 
 to death ; and although debility exhibited itself in every 
 motion and gesture, the men would stand unshrinking and 
 undismayed beneath the fire of a battery. At one spot 
 near the angle of a bastion, and where some shelter from 
 the north winds protected the place, a little clump of orange- 
 trees stood, and towards these, though fully a mile off, many 
 a foot- track led, showing how strong had been the temptation 
 in that quarter. To reach it, the precipice should be 
 traversed, the gorge beneath and a considerable ascent of 
 the opposite mountain accomplished ; and yet all these 
 dangers had been successfully encountered, merely instigated 
 by hunger ! 
 
 High above this very spot, at a distance of perhaps eight 
 hundred feet, stood the Monte Faccio, — the large black and 
 yellow banner of Austria floating from its walls, as if amid 
 the clouds. I could see the muzzles of the great guns 
 protruding from the embrasures ; and I could even catch 
 glances of a tall bearskin, as some soldier passed or repassed 
 behind the parapet, and I thought how terrible would be the 
 attempt to storm such a position. It was, indeed, true that 
 if I had the least conception of the strength of the fort, I 
 never should have dared to talk of a cojip de viain. Still, I 
 was in a manner pledged to the suggestion. I had perilled 
 
352 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 my life for it, and few men do as much for an opinion ; for 
 this reason I resolved, come what would, to maintain my 
 ground and hold fast to my conviction. I never could be 
 called upon to plan the expedition, nor could it by any 
 possibility be confided to my guidance ; responsibility could 
 not, therefore, attach to me. All these were strong argu- 
 ments, at least quite strong enough to decide a wavering 
 judgment. 
 
 Meditating on these things, I strolled back to my quarters. 
 As I entered the garden I found that several officers were 
 assembled, among whom was Colonel de Barre, the brother 
 of the general of that name who afterwards fell at the 
 Borodino. He was chef cVetat major to Massena, and a 
 most distinguished and brave soldier. Unlike the fashion of 
 the day, which made the military man affect the rough 
 coarseness of a savage, seasoning his talk with oaths and 
 curses and low expressions, De Barre had something of the 
 petit maitre in his address, which nothing short of his well- 
 proved courage would have saved from ridicule. His voice 
 was low and soft, his smile perpetual ; and although well- 
 bred enough to have been dignified and easy, a certain 
 fidgety impulse to be pleasing made him always appear 
 affected and unnatural. Never was there such a contrast to 
 his chief ; but indeed it was said that to this very disparity 
 of temperament he owed all the influence he possessed over 
 Massena's mind. 
 
 I might have been a general of division at the very least, 
 to judge from the courteous deference of the salute with 
 which he approached me, — a politeness the more striking, as 
 all the others immediatel}' fell back, to leave us to converse 
 together. I was actualh^ overcome with the flattering terms 
 in which he addressed me on the subject of my escape. 
 
 " I could scarcely at first credit the story," said he, " but 
 when they told me that you were a ' Ninth man,' one of the 
 old Tapageurs, I never doubted it more. You see what a 
 bad character is. Monsieur de Tiernay ! " It was the first 
 time I had ever heard the prefix to my name, and I own the 
 sound was pleasurable. " I served a few months with your 
 corps myself, but I soon saw there was no chance of pro- 
 motion among fellows all more eager than myself for dis- 
 
A NOVEL COUNCIL OF WAR. 353 
 
 tinction. Well, sir, it is precisely to this reputation I have 
 yielded my credit, and to which General Massena is kind 
 enough to concede his own confidence. Your advice is about 
 to be acted on. Monsieur de Tiernay." 
 " The CO 1(2? de main — " 
 
 "A little lower, if you please, my dear sir. The 
 expedition is to be conducted with every secrecy, even 
 from the officers of every rank below a command. Have 
 the goodness to walk along with me this way. If I 
 understand General Massena aright, your information con- 
 ve3^s no details, nor any particular suggestions as to the 
 attack." 
 
 ''None whatever, sir. It was the mere talk of a 
 gun-room, — the popular opinion among a set of young 
 officers." 
 
 ''I understand," said he, with a bow and a smile; "the 
 suggestion of a number of high-minded and daring soldiers 
 as to what they deemed practicable." 
 " Precisely, sir." 
 
 " Neither could you collect from their conversation any- 
 thing which bore upon the number of the Austrian advance 
 guard, or their state of preparation?" 
 
 " Nothing, sir. The opinion of the English was, I suspect, 
 mainly founded on the great superiority of our forces to the 
 enemy's in all attacks of this kind." 
 
 "Our 'esprit Tapageur,' eh?" said he, laughing, and 
 pinching my arm familiarly, and I joined in the laugh with 
 pleasure. "Well, Monsieur de Tiernay, let us endeavor to 
 sustain this good impression. The attempt is to be made 
 to-night." 
 
 "To-night!" exclaimed I, in amazement; for everything 
 within the city seemed tranquil and still. 
 
 "To-night, sir; and, by the kind favor of General 
 Massena, lam to lead the attack ; the reserve, if we are ever 
 to want it, being under his own command. It is to be at 
 your own option on which staff you will serve." 
 
 " On yours, of course, sir," cried I, hastily. " A man who 
 stands unknown and unvouched for among his comrades, as 
 I do, has but one way to vindicate his claim to credit, by 
 partaking the peril he counsels." 
 
 23 
 
354 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 ' ' There could be no doubt either of your judgment or 
 the sound reasons for it," replied the colonel; "the only 
 question was, whether you might be unequal to the 
 fatigue." 
 
 "Trust me, sk, you'll not have to send me to the rear," 
 said I, laughing. 
 
 " Then you are extra on my staff. Monsieur de Tiernay." 
 
 As we walked along, he proceeded to give me the details of 
 our expedition, which was to be on a far stronger scale than 
 I anticipated. Three battalions of infantry, with four light 
 batteries and as many squadrons of dragoons, were to form 
 the advance. 
 
 ' ' We shall neither want the artillery nor cavalry, except 
 to cover a retreat," said he. "I trust, if it come to that, 
 there will not be many of us to protect; but such are the 
 general's orders, and we have but to obey them." 
 
 With the great events of that night on my memory, it is 
 strange that I should retain so accurately in my mind the 
 trivial and slight circumstances, which are as fresh before me 
 as if they had occurred but yesterday. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock, of a dark but starry night, 
 not a breath of wind blowing, that, passing through a 
 number of gloomy, narrow streets, I suddenly found myself 
 in the courtyard of the Balbe Palace. A large marble 
 fountain was playing in the centre, around which several 
 lamps were lighted ; by these I could see that the place was 
 crowded with officers, some seated at tables drinking, some 
 smoking, and others lounging up and down in conversation. 
 Huge loaves of black bread and wicker-covered flasks of 
 country wine formed the entertainment ; but even these, to 
 judge from the zest of the guests, were no common delicacies. 
 At the foot of a little marble group, and before a small table 
 with a map on it, sat General Massena himself, in his gray 
 over-coat, cutting his bread with a case knife, while he talked 
 away to his staff. 
 
 " These maps are good for nothing, Bressi," cried he. " To 
 look at them, you 'd say that every road was practicable for 
 artillery, and every river passable ; and you find afterwards 
 that all these fine chaussees are bypaths, and the rivulets 
 downright torrents. Who knows the Chiavari road ? " 
 
A NOVEL COUNCIL OF WAR. 355 
 
 "Giorgio knows it well, sir," said the oflScer addressed, 
 and who was a young Piedmontese from Massena's own 
 village. 
 
 " Ah, Birbaute ! " cried the general, " are you here again? " 
 and he turned laughingly towards a little bandy-legged mon- 
 ster, of less than three feet high, who, with a cap stuck 
 jauntily on one side of his head, and a wooden sword at 
 his side, stepped foi-ward with all the confidence of an 
 equal. 
 
 "Ay, here I am," said he, raising his hand to his cap, 
 soldier fashion ; ' ' there was nothing else for it but this 
 trade," and he placed his hand on the hilt of his wooden 
 weapon. " You cut down all the mulberries, and left us no 
 silkworms ; you burned all the olives, and left us no oil ; you 
 trampled down our maize crops and oui' ^ines. Fer Baccho ! 
 the only thing left was to turn brigand like yourself, and see 
 what would come of it." 
 
 "Is he not cool to talk thus to a general at the head of his 
 staff?" said Massena, with an assumed gi'a\ity. 
 
 " I knew you when you wore a different looking epaulette 
 than that there," said Giorgio, " and when you carried one 
 of your father's meal sacks on your shoulder, instead of all 
 that bravery." 
 
 " Parhleu ! so he did," cried Massena, laughing heartily. 
 "That scoundrel was always about our mill, and, I believe, 
 lived by thie\ang ! " added he, pointing to the dwarf. 
 
 " Every one did a little that way in our village," said the 
 dwarf ; ' ' but none ever profited by his education like your- 
 self." 
 
 If the general and some of the younger officers seemed 
 highly amused at the fellow's impudence and effrontery, some 
 of the others looked angry and indignant. A few were really 
 wellborn, and could afford to smile at these recognitions ; 
 but many who sprung from an origin even more humble than 
 the general's could not conceal their angry indignation at 
 the scene. 
 
 "I see that these gentlemen are impatient of our vulgar 
 recollections," said Massena, with a sardonic grin; " so now 
 to business, Giorgio. You know the Chiavari road — what 
 is 't like?" 
 
356 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " Good enough to look at, but mined in four places." 
 
 The general gave a significant glance at the staff, and bade 
 him go on. 
 
 "The white coats are strong in that quarter, and have 
 eight guns to bear upon the road where it passes beneath 
 Monte Ratte." 
 
 ' ' Why, I was told that the pass was undefended ! " cried 
 Massena, angrily; "that a few skirmishers were all that 
 could be seen near it." 
 
 ' ' All that could be seen ! — so they are ; but there are 
 eight twelve-pounder guns in the brushwood, with shot and 
 shell enough to be seen and felt too." 
 
 Massena now turned to the officers near him, and conversed 
 with them eagerly for some time. The debated point I sub- 
 sequently heard was how to make a feint attack on the 
 Chiavari road, to mask the coui^ de main intended for the 
 Monte Faccio. To give the false attack any color of reality 
 required a larger force and greater preparation than they 
 could afford, and this was now the great difliculty. At last 
 it was resolved that this should be a mere demonstration, not 
 to push far beyond the walls, but, by all the semblance of a 
 serious advance, to attract as much attention as possible 
 from the enemy. 
 
 Another and a greater embarrassment lay in the fact that 
 the troops intended for the cowp de m.aln had no other exit 
 than the gate which led to Chiavari ; so that the two lines of 
 march would intersect and interfere with each other. Could 
 we even have passed out our Tirailleurs in advance, the sup- 
 port could easily follow ; but the enemy would, of course, 
 notice the direction our advance would take, and our object 
 be immediately detected. 
 
 " Why not pass the skirmishers out by the embrasures, to 
 the left yonder," said I; "I see many a track where men 
 have gone already." 
 
 " It is steep as a wall," cried one. 
 
 " And there 's a breast of rock in front that no foot could 
 scale." 
 
 " You have at least a thousand feet of precipice above you, 
 when you reach the glen, if ever you do reach it alive." 
 
 ' ' And this to be done in the darkness of a night ! " 
 
A NOVEL COUNCIL OF WAR. 357 
 
 Such were the discouraging comments which rattled, quick 
 as musketry, around me. 
 
 "The lieutenant's right, nevertheless," said Giorgio. 
 "Half the voltigeurs of the garrison know the path well 
 already ; and as to darkness — if there were a moon you 
 dared not attempt it." 
 
 " There 's some truth in that," observed an old major. 
 
 "Could you promise to guide them, Giorgio?" said 
 Massena. 
 
 " Yes, every step of the way ; up to the very walls of the 
 fort." 
 
 "There, then," cried the general, "one great difficulty is 
 got over already." 
 
 "Not so fast, Generale mio," said the dwarf; "I said I 
 could, but I never said that I would." 
 
 "Not for a liberal present, Giorgio; not if I filled that 
 leather pouch of yours with five-franc pieces, man?" 
 
 " I might not live to spend it, and I care little for my next 
 of kin," said the dwarf, dryly. 
 
 " I don't think that we need his services, General," said I; 
 "I saw the place this evening, and however steep it seems 
 from the walls, the descent is practicable enough, — at least 
 I am certain that our Tirailleurs, in the Black Forest, would 
 never have hesitated about it." 
 
 I little knew that when I uttered this speech I had sent a 
 shot into the very heart of the magazine, the ruling passion of 
 Massena's mind being an almost insane jealousy of Moreau's 
 militar}'^ fame, — his famous campaign of Southern German}', 
 and his wonderful retreat upon the Rhine, being regarded as 
 achievements of the highest order. 
 
 ' ' I 've got some of those regiments you speak of in my 
 brigade here, sir," said he, addressing himself directly to me, 
 " and I must own that their discipline reflects but little credit 
 on the skill of so great an officer as General Moreau ; and as 
 to light troops, I fancy Colonel de Vallence yonder would 
 scarcely feel it a flattery were you to tell him to take a lesson 
 from them." 
 
 " I have just been speaking to Colonel de Vallence, 
 General," said Colonel de Barre. " He confirms everything 
 Monsieur de Tiernay tells us of the practicable nature of 
 
358 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 these paths ; his fellows have tracked them at all hours, and 
 neither want guidance nor direction to go." 
 
 " In that case I may as well offer my sendees," said 
 Giorgio, tightening his belt; " but I must tell you that it is 
 too late to begin to-night, — we must start immediately after 
 nightfall. It will take from forty to fifty minutes to descend 
 the cliff, a good two houi'S to climb the ascent, so that you '11 
 not have much time to spare before daybreak." 
 
 Giorgio's opinion was backed by several others, and it was 
 finally resolved upon that the attempt should be made on the 
 following evening. Meanwhile the dwarf was committed to 
 the safe custody of a sergeant, affectedly to look to his 
 proper care and treatment, but really to guard against any 
 imprudent revelations that he might make respecting the 
 intended attack. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 GENOA DURING THE SIEGE. 
 
 If the natural perils of the expedition were sufficient to 
 suggest grave thoughts, the sight of the troops that were to 
 form it was even a stronger incentive to fear. I could not 
 believe my eyes, as I watched the battalions which now 
 deployed before me. Always accustomed, whatever the 
 hardships they were opposed to, to see French soldiers light- 
 hearted, gay, and agile, performing their duties in a spirit 
 of sportive pleasure, as if soldiering were but fun, — what 
 was the shock I received at sight of these care-worn, down- 
 cast, hollow-cheeked fellows, dragging their legs wearily 
 along, and scarcely seeming to hear the words of command. 
 Then- clothes patched and mended, sometimes too big, some- 
 times too little, showing that they had changed wearers 
 without being altered ; their tattered shoes, tied on with 
 strings round the ankles ; their very weapons dirty and un- 
 cared for, — they resembled rather a horde of bandits than 
 the troops of the first army of Europe. There was, besides, 
 an expression of stealthy, treacherous ferocity in their faces 
 such as I never saw before. To this pitiable condition had 
 they been brought by stai'\^ation. Not alone the horses had 
 been eaten, but dogs and cats ; even the vermin of the cellars 
 and sewers was consumed as food. Leather and skins were 
 all eagerly devoured ; and there is but too terrible reason to 
 believe that human flesh itself was used to prolong for a few 
 hours this existence of misery. 
 
 As they defiled into the Piazza, there seemed a kind of 
 effort to assume the port and bearing of their craft; and 
 although many stumbled and some actually fell from weak- 
 ness, there was an evident attempt to put on a military 
 appearance. The manner of the adjutant, as he passed down 
 
360 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 the line, revealed at once the exact position of affaii's. No 
 longer inspecting every little detail of equipment, criticising 
 this or remarking on that, his whole attention was given to 
 the condition of the musket, whose lock he closely scruti- 
 nized, and then turned to the cartouch-box. The ragged 
 uniforms, the uncouth shakos, the belts dirty and awry, never 
 called forth a word of rebuke. Too glad, as it seemed, to 
 recoo'nize even the remnants of discipline, he came back 
 from his inspection apparently well satisfied and content. 
 
 "These fellows turn out well," said Colonel de Barre, as 
 he looked along the line ; and I started to see if the speech 
 were an unfeeling jest. Far from it ; he spoke in all serious- 
 ness ! The terrible scenes he had for months been witness- 
 ing — the men dropping from hunger at their posts ; the 
 sentries fainting as they carried arms, and borne away to 
 the hospital to die ; the bursts of madness that would now 
 and then break forth from men whose agony became un- 
 endurable — had so steeled him to horrors, that even this 
 poor shadow of military display seemed orderly and 
 imposing. 
 
 "They are the Twenty-second, Colonel," replied the 
 adjutant, proudly, " a corps that always have maintained 
 their character, whether on parade or under fire ! " 
 
 "Ah! the Twenty-second, are they? They have come up 
 from Ronco, then ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; they were all that General Soult could spare 
 us." 
 
 "Fine-looking fellows they are," said De BaiTe, scanning 
 them through his glass. "The third company is a little, a 
 very little, to the rear — don't you perceive it? — and the 
 flank is a thought or so restless and unsteady." 
 
 " A sergeant has just been carried to the rear ill, sir," said 
 a young officer, in a low voice. 
 
 "The heat, I have no doubt; a colpo dl sole^ as they tell 
 us everything is," said De Barre. " By the way, is not this 
 the regiment that boasts the pretty vivandiere ? AVhat 's this 
 her name is ? " 
 
 " Lela, sir." 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, Lela. I 'm sure I 've heard her toasted 
 often enousfh at cafes and restaurants." 
 
GENOA DURING THE SIEGE. 361 
 
 "There she is, sir, yonder, sitting on the steps of the 
 fountain ; " and the officer made a sign with his sword for 
 the gill to come over. She made an effort to arise at the 
 order, but tottered back, and would have fallen if a soldier 
 had not caught her. Then suddenly collecting her strength, 
 she arranged the folds of her short scarlet jupe, and smooth- 
 ing down the braids of her fail" hair, came forward, at that 
 sliding, half-skipping pace that is the wont of her craft. 
 
 The exertion, and possibly the excitement, had flushed her 
 cheek, so that as she came forward her look was brilliantly 
 handsome ; but as the color died away, and a livid pallor 
 spread over her jaws, lank and drawn in by famine, her 
 expression was dreadful. The large eyes, lustrous and 
 wild-looking, gleamed with the fire of fever, while her thin 
 nostrils quivered at each respiration. 
 
 Poor gii"l I even then, with famine and fever eating within 
 her, the traits of womanly vanity still survived, and as she 
 carried her hand to her cap in salute, she made a faint at- 
 tempt at a smile ! . 
 
 '' The Twenty-second may indeed be proud of their 
 vivandiere," said De Barre, gallantly. "What hast in the 
 tonneletj Lela? " continued he, tapping the little silver-hooped 
 baiTel she carried at her back. 
 
 " Ah, que voulez vous?'' cried she, laughing, with a low, 
 husky sound, — the laugh of famine. 
 
 " I must have a glass of it to your health, ma belle Lela, 
 if it cost me a crown piece ; " and he drew forth the coin as 
 he spoke. 
 
 " For such a toast the liquor is quite good enough," said 
 Lela, drawing back at the offer of money ; while slinging the 
 little cask in front, she unhooked a small silver cup, and 
 filled it with water. 
 
 " No brandy, Lela? " 
 
 "None, colonel," said she, shaking her head; "and if I 
 had, those poor fellows yonder would not like it so well." 
 
 " I understand," said he, significantly ; " theirs is the thirst 
 of fever." 
 
 A short, dry cough, and a barely perceptible nod of the 
 head, was all her reply ; but their eyes met, and any so sad 
 an expression as they interchanged I never beheld ! It 
 
362 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 was a confession in full of all each had seen of sorrow, of 
 suffering, and of death, — the terrible events three months 
 of famine had revealed, and all the agonies of pestilence 
 and madness. 
 
 " That is delicious water, Tiernay," said the colonel, as he 
 passed me the cup, and thus trying to get away from the sad 
 theme of his thoughts. 
 
 " I fetch it from a well outside the walls every morning," 
 said Lela; " ay, and within gun-shot of the Austrian sen- 
 tries, too." 
 
 "There's coolness for you, Tiernay," said the colonel; 
 ' ' think what the Twenty-second are made of when their 
 vivandiere dares to do this ! " 
 
 "They'll not astonish him," said Lela, looking steadily 
 at me. 
 
 " And why not, ma belle?'' cried De Barre. 
 
 "He was a Tapageur, one of the 'Naughty Ninth,' as 
 they called them." 
 
 "How do you know that, Lela? Have we ever met be- 
 fore?" cried I, eagerly. 
 
 "I've seen you, sir," said she, slyly. "They used to 
 call you the corporal that won the battle of Kehl. I know 
 my father always said so." 
 
 I would have given worlds to have interrogated her fur- 
 ther ; so fascinating is selfishness, that already at least a hun- 
 dred questions were presenting themselves to my mind. Who 
 could Lela be, and who was her father, and what were these 
 reports about me ? Had I really won fame without knowing 
 it, and did my comrades indeed speak of me with honor? 
 All these, and many more inquiries, were pressing for 
 utterance, as General Massena walked up with his staff. 
 The general fully corroborated De Barrels opinion of the 
 Twenty-second. They were, as he expressed it, a "magni- 
 ficent body." " It was a perfect pleasure to see such troops 
 under arms." " Those fellows certainly exhibited few traces 
 of a stai*\^ed-out garrison." 
 
 Such and such like were the jesting observations ban- 
 died from one to the other, in all the earnest seriousness of 
 truth ! What more terrible evidence of the scenes they had 
 passed through than these convictions ! What more stun- 
 
GENOA DURING THE SIEGE. 363 
 
 ning proof of the condition to which long suffering had re- 
 duced them ! 
 
 "Where is our pleasant friend, who talked to us of the 
 Black Forest last night ? Ah, there he is ; well. Monsieur 
 Tiernay, do you think General Moreau's people turned out 
 better than that after the retreat from Donaueschingen ? " 
 
 There was no need for any reply, since the scornful burst 
 of laughter of the staff already gave the answer he wanted ; 
 and now he walked forward to the centre of the Piazza, 
 while the troops proceeded to march past. 
 
 The band, a miserable group, reduced from fifty to thir- 
 teen in number, struck up a quick step, and the troops, 
 animated by the sounds, and more still perhaps by Mas- 
 sena's presence, made an effort to step out in quick time ; 
 but the rocking, wavering motion, the clinking muskets anti 
 uncertain gait, were indescribably painful to a soldier's eye. 
 Their colonel, De Vallence, however, evidently did not regard 
 them thus ; for as he joined the staff, he received the gene- 
 ral's compliments with all the good faith and composure in 
 the world. 
 
 The battalions were marched off to barracks, and the group 
 of officers broke up to repau- to their several quarters. It 
 was the hour of dinner, but it had been many a day since 
 that meal had been heard of amongst them. A stray cafe 
 here and there was open in the city ; but a cup of coffee with- 
 out milk, and a small roll of black bread, a horrid compound 
 of rye and cocoa, was all the refreshment obtainable, and 
 yet I am bold to say that a murmur or a complaint was 
 unheard against the general or the government. The heaviest 
 reverses, the gloomiest hours of ill fortune, never extinguished 
 the hope that Genoa was to be relieved at last, and that all 
 we had to do was to hold out for the arrival of Bonaparte. 
 To the extent of this conviction is to be attributed the wide 
 disparity between the feeling displayed by the military and 
 the townsfolk. 
 
 The latter, unsustained by hope, without one spark of 
 speculation to cheer their gloomy destiny, starved and 
 sickened and died in masses. The very requirements of 
 discipline were useful in averting the despondent vacuity 
 which comes of hunojer. Of the san.sfuiue confidence of the 
 
364 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 soldiery in the coming of their comrades, I was to witness a 
 strong illustration on the very day of which I have been 
 speaking. 
 
 It was about four o'clock in the afternoon ; the weather had 
 been heavy and overcast and the heat excessive, so that all 
 who were free from duty had either lain down to sleep or 
 were quietly resting within doors, when a certain stir and 
 movement in the streets, a rare event during the hours of the 
 siesta, drew many a head to the windows. The report ran, 
 and like wildfire it spread through the city, that the advanced 
 guard of Bonaparte had reached Ronco that morning, and 
 were already in march on Genoa ! Although nobody could 
 trace this story to any dkect source, each believed and 
 repeated it, the tale growing more consistent and fuller at 
 every repetition. I need not weary my reader with all the 
 additions and corrections the narrative received, nor recount 
 how now it was Moreau with the right wing of the army of 
 the Rhine, now it was Kellermann's brigade, now it was 
 Macdonald, who had passed the Ticino ; and last of all, 
 Bonaparte. The controversy was often even an angry one, 
 when, finally, all speculation was met by the official report 
 that all that was known lay in the simple fact that heavy 
 guns had been heard that morning near Ronco ; and as the 
 Austrians held no position with artillery there, the firing 
 must needs be French. 
 
 This very bare announcement was, of course, a great " come 
 down" for all the circumstantial detail with which we had 
 been amusing ourselves and each other ; but yet it nourished 
 hope, and the hope that was nearest to all our hearts, too. 
 The streets were soon filled ; officers and soldiers hastily 
 dressed, and with many a fault of costume were all com- 
 mingled, exchanging opinions, resolving doubts, and even 
 bandying congratulations. The starved and hungry faces 
 were lighted up with an expression of savage glee. It was 
 like the last flickering gleam of passion in men, whose whole 
 vitality was the energy of fever. The heavy debt the}^ owed 
 their enemy was at last to be paid, and all the insulting injury 
 of a besieged and famine-stricken garrison to be avenged. A 
 surging movement in the crowd told that some event had 
 occurred : it was Massena and his staff, who were proceeding 
 
GENOA DURING THE SIEGE. 365 
 
 to a watch-tower iu the bastion, from whence a wide range 
 of country could be seen. This was reassuring. The general 
 himself entertained the story, and here was proof that there 
 was " something in it." All the population now made for the 
 walls ; every spot from which the view towards Ronco could 
 be obtained was speedily crowded, every window filled, and 
 all the housetops crammed. A dark mass of inky cloud 
 covered the tops of the Apennines, and even descended to 
 some distance down the sides. With what shapes and forms 
 of military splendor did our imaginations people the space 
 behind that sombre curtain ! What columns of stern warriors, 
 what prancing squadrons, what earth-shaking masses of heavy 
 artillery ! How longingly each eye grew weary watching, — 
 waiting for the veil to be rent, and the glancing steel to be 
 seen glistening bright in the sun-rays ! 
 
 As if to torture our anxieties, the lowering mass grew 
 darker and heavier, and rolling lazily adown the mountain, it 
 filled up the valley, wrapping earth and sky in one murky 
 mantle. 
 
 "There! did you hear that?" cried one; "that was 
 artillery." 
 
 A pause followed, each ear was bent to listen, and not a 
 word was uttered for full a minute or more ; the immense 
 host, as if swayed by the one impulse, strained to catch the 
 sounds, when suddenly, from the direction of the mountain 
 top, there came a rattling, crashing noise, followed by the 
 dull, deep booming that every soldier's heart responds to. 
 What a cheer then burst forth ! Never did I hear — never 
 may I hear — such a cry as that was ; it was like the wild yell 
 of a shipwrecked crew, as some distant sail hove in sight ; and 
 yet, through its cadence, there rang the mad lust for ven- 
 geance ! Yes, in all the agonies of sinking strength, with fever 
 in their hearts, and the death sweat on their cheeks, their cry 
 was Blood ! The puny shout, for such it seemed now, was 
 drowned in the deafening crash that now was heard ; peal 
 after peal shook the air, the same rattling, peppering noise of 
 musketry continuing through all. 
 
 That the French were in strong force, as well as the enemy, 
 there could now be no doubt. Nothing but a serious affair 
 and a stubborn resistance could warrant such a fire. It had 
 
366 MAURICE TEERNAY. 
 
 every semblance of an attack with all arms. The roar of the 
 heavy guns made the ah* vibrate, and the clatter of small 
 arms was incessant. How each of us filled up the picture 
 from the impulses of his own fancy ! Some said that the 
 French were still behind the mountain, and storming the 
 heights of the Borghetto ; others thought that they had 
 gained the summit, but not en force, and were only contesting 
 their position there ; and a few, more sanguine, of whom I 
 was one myself, imagined that they were driving the Austri- 
 ans down the Apennines, cleaving then- ranks, as they went, 
 with their artillery. 
 
 Each new crash, every momentary change of dkection of 
 the sounds, favored this opinion or that, and the excitement 
 of partisanship rose to an immense height. What added 
 indescribably to the interest of the scene was a group of 
 Austrian officers on horseback, who in their eagerness to 
 obtain tidings had ridden beyond their lines, and were now 
 standing almost within musket range of us. We could see 
 that then- telescopes were turned to the eventful spot, and we 
 gloried to think of the effect the scene must have been pro- 
 ducing on them. 
 
 " They 've seen enough ! " cried one of our fellows, laugh- 
 ing, while he pointed to the horsemen, who, suddenty wheel- 
 ing about, galloped back to their camp at full speed. 
 
 ' ' You '11 have the drums beat to arms now ; there 's little 
 time to lose. Om' cuirassiers will soon be upon them," cried 
 another in ecstasy. 
 
 " No, but the rain will, and upon us, too," said Giorgio, 
 who had now come up. " Don't you see that it 's not a battle 
 yonder, it's a borasco. There it comes." And as if the out- 
 stretched finger of the dwarf had been the wand of a magi- 
 cian, the great cloud was suddenly torn open with a crash, 
 and the rain descended like a deluge, swept along b}^ a hurri- 
 cane wind, coming in vast sheets of water, while high over 
 our heads, and moving onward towards the sea, growled the 
 distant thunder. The great mountain was now visible from 
 base to summit, but not a soldier, not a gun, to be seen ! 
 Swollen and yellow, the gushing torrents leaped madly from 
 crag to crag, and crashing trees and falling rocks added their 
 wild sounds to the tumult. 
 
GENOA DURING THE SIEGE. 367 
 
 There we stood, mute and sorrow-struck, regardless of the 
 seething rain, unconscious of anything save oui* disappoint- 
 ment. The hope we built upon had left us, and the dreary 
 scene of storm around seemed but a type of oui' own future ! 
 And yet we could not tui-n away, but with eyes strained and 
 aching, gazed at the spot from where our succor should have 
 come. 
 
 I looked up at the watch-tower, and there was Massena 
 still, his arms folded on a battlement ; he seemed to be deep 
 in thought. At last he arose, and drawing his cloak across 
 his face, descended the winding-stair outside the tower. His 
 step was slow, and more than once he halted as if to think. 
 When he reached the walls, he walked rapidly on, his suite 
 following him. 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur Tiernay," said he, as he passed me, " you 
 know what an Apennine storm is now ; but it will cool the 
 air, and give us delicious weather ; " and so he passed on with 
 an easy smile. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 MONTE DI FACCIO. 
 
 The disappointment we had suffered was not the only cir- 
 cumstance adverse to our expedition. The rain had now 
 swollen the smallest rivulets to the size of toiTents ; in many 
 places the paths would be torn away and obliterated, and 
 everywhere the difficulty of a night march enormously in- 
 creased. Giorgio, however, who was perhaps afraid of for- 
 feiting his reward, assured the general that these mountain 
 streams subside even more rapidly than they rise ; that such 
 was the dryness of the soil no trace of rain would be seen by 
 sunset, and that we should have a calm, staiTy night, — the 
 very thing we wanted for our enterprise. 
 
 We did not need persuasion to believe all he said ; the 
 opinion chimed in with our own wishes, and, better still, was 
 verified to the very letter by a glorious afternoon. Land- 
 ward, the spectacle was perfectly enchanting ; the varied 
 foliage of the Apennines, refreshed by the rain, glittered and 
 shone in the sun's ra3^s, while in the bay the fleet, with sails 
 hung out to dry, presented a grand and an imposing sight. 
 Better than all, Monte Faccio now appeared quite near us ; 
 we could even with the naked eye perceive all the defences, 
 and were able to detect a party of soldiers at work outside 
 the walls, clearing, as it seemed, some watercourse that had 
 been impeded by the storm. Unimportant as the labor was, 
 we watched it anxiously, for we thought that perhaps before 
 anotl^er sunset many a brave fellow's blood might dye that 
 earth. During the whole of that day, from some cause or 
 other, not a shot had been fired either from the land-batteries 
 or the fleet ; and as though a truce had been agreed to, we 
 sat watching each other's movements peacefully and calmly. 
 
 " The Austrians would seem to have been as much deceived 
 as ourselves, sir," said an old artillery sergeant to me, as I 
 strolled along the walls at nightfall. " The pickets last night 
 
MONTE DI FACCIO. 369 
 
 were close to the glacis ; but see, now they have fallen back 
 a gun-shot or more." 
 
 '" But they have had thne enough since to resume their old 
 position," said I, half doubting the accuracy of the surmise. 
 
 "Time enough, parbleu! I should think so too! but 
 when the white-coats mananivre, they write to Vienna to ask, 
 ' What 's to be done next? ' " 
 
 This passing remark, in which with all its exaggeration 
 there lay a germ of truth, was the universal judgment of our 
 soldiers on those of the imperial army ; and to the prevalence 
 of the notion may be ascribed much of that fearless indiffer- 
 ence with which small divisions of ours attacked whole army 
 corps of the enem}^ Bonaparte was the first to point out 
 this slowness, and to turn it to the best advantage. 
 
 " If our general ever intended a sortie, this would be the 
 night for it, sir," resumed he ; " the noise of those mountain 
 streams would mask the sounds of a march, and even cavalry, 
 if led with caution, might be in upon them before they were 
 aware." 
 
 This speech pleased me, not only for the judgment it con- 
 veyed, but as an assurance that our expedition was still a 
 secret in the garrison. 
 
 On questioning the sergeant further, I was struck to find 
 that he had abandoned utterly all hope of ever seeing France 
 again ; such he told me was the universal feeling of the 
 soldiery. " We know well, su', that Massena is not the man 
 to capitulate, and we cannot expect to be relieved." And 
 yet with this stern, comfortless conviction on their minds, 
 with hunger and famine and pestilence on every side, they 
 never uttered one word of complaint, not even a murmur of 
 remonstrance. What would Moreau's fellows say of us? 
 What would the army of the Meuse think ? These were the 
 ever-present arguments against surrender ; and the judgment 
 of their comrades was far more terrible to them than the 
 grape-shot of the enemy. 
 
 " But do you not think, when Bonaparte crosses the Alps, 
 he will hasten to our relief?" 
 
 " Not he, sir ! I know him well. I was in the same troop 
 with him, a bombardier at the same gun. Bonaparte will 
 never go after small game where there 's a nobler prey before 
 him. If he does cross the Alps, he '11 be for a great battle 
 
 24 
 
370 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 under Milan ; or, mayhap, 'march on Venice. He 's not 
 thinking of our starved battalions here ; he 's planning some 
 great campaign, depend on it. He never faced the Alps to 
 succor Genoa." 
 
 How true was this appreciation of the great general's 
 ambition I need scarcely repeat ; but so it was at the time. 
 Many were able to guess the bold aspirings of one who, to 
 the nation, seemed merely one among the numerous candi- 
 dates for fame and honors. 
 
 It was about an hour after my conversation with the ser- 
 geant that an orderly came to summon me to Colonel de 
 Barre's quarters ; and with all my haste to obey, I only 
 arrived as the column was formed. The plan of attack was 
 simple enough. Three Voltigeur companies were to attempt 
 the assault of the Monte Faccio, under De Barre ; while, to 
 engage attention and draw off the enemy's force, a strong 
 body of infantry and cavalry was to debouch on the Chiavari 
 road, as though to force a passage in that direction. In all 
 that regarded secrecy and despatch our expedition was per- 
 fect ; and as we moved silently through the streets, the sleep- 
 ing citizens never knew of our march. Arrived at the gate, 
 the column halted to give us time to pass along the walls 
 and descend the glen, — an operation which, it was estimated, 
 would take forty-five minutes ; at the expiration of this they 
 were to issue forth to the feint attack. 
 
 At a quick step we now pressed forward towards the angle 
 of the bastion, whence many a path led down the cliff in all 
 directions. Half a dozen of our men, well acquainted with 
 the spot, volunteered as guides ; and the muskets being slung 
 on the back, the word was given to " move on," the rallying- 
 place being the plateau of the orange-trees I have already 
 mentioned. 
 
 " Steep enough this," said De Barre to me, as, holding on 
 by briars and brambles, we slowly descended the gorge ; 
 "but few of us will ever climb it again." 
 
 " You think so? " asked I, in some surprise. 
 
 " Of course, I know it," said he. " Vallence, who com- 
 mands the battalions below, always condemned the scheme ; 
 rely on it, he 's not the man to make himself out a false 
 prophet. I don't pretend to tell you that in our days of 
 monarchy there were neither jealousies nor party grudges, 
 
MONTE DI FACCIO. 371 
 
 and that men were above all small and ungenerous rivalry ; 
 but, assui-edly, we had less of them than now. If the field 
 of competition is more open to every one, so are the arts by 
 which success is won ; a pre-eminence in a republic means 
 always the ruin of a rival. If we fail, as fail we must, he '11 
 be a general." 
 
 " But why must we fail? " 
 
 ''For every reason: we are not in force; we know noth- 
 ing of what we are about to attack ; and, if repulsed, have 
 no retreat behind us." 
 
 "Then why — " 
 
 I stopped, for already I saw the impropriety of my 
 question. 
 
 " Why did I ad\ise the attack?" said he, mildly, taking 
 up my half -uttered question. " Simply because death out- 
 side these walls is quicker and more glorious than within 
 them. There 's scarcely a man who follows us has not the 
 same sentiment in his heart. The terrible scenes of the 
 last five weeks have driven our fellows to all but mutiny. 
 Nothing, indeed, maintained discipline but a kind of tigerish 
 thirst for vengeance, — a hope that the day of reckoning 
 would come round, and one fearful lesson teach these same 
 white-coats how dangerous it is to drive a brave enemy to 
 despair." 
 
 De Barre continued to talk in this strain as we descended, 
 every remark he made being uttered with all the coolness 
 of one who talked of a matter indifferent to him. At length 
 the way became too steep for much converse, and slipping 
 and scrambling, we now only interchanged a chance word as 
 we went. Although two hundred and fifty men were around 
 and about us, not a voice was heard ; and except the occa- 
 sional breaking of a branch, or the occasional fall of some 
 heavy stone into the valley, not a sound was heard. At 
 length a long shrill whistle announced that the first man had 
 reached the bottom, which, to judge from the faintness of 
 the sound, appeared yet a considerable distance off. The 
 excessive darkness increased the difficulty of the way, and 
 De Barre continued to repeat ' ' that we had certainly been 
 misinformed, and that even in daylight the descent would 
 take an hour." 
 
 It was full half an hour after this when we came to a small 
 
372 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 rivulet, the little boundary line between the two steep cliffs. 
 Here our men were all assembled, refreshing themselves with 
 the water, still muddy from recent rain, and endeavoring to 
 arrange equipments and arms, damaged and misplaced by 
 many a fall. 
 
 "We've taken an hour and twenty-eight minutes," said 
 De Barre, as he placed a fire-fly on the glass of his watch, to 
 see the hour. "Now, men, let us make up for lost time. 
 En avant!'' 
 
 '^ En avantf was quickly passed from mouth to mouth, 
 and never was a word more spirit-stuTing to Frenchmen ! 
 With all the alacrity of men fresh and " eager for the fray," 
 they began the ascent, and such was the emulous ardor to be 
 first that it assumed all the features of a race. 
 
 A close pine-wood greatly aided us now, and in less time 
 than we could believe it possible we reached the plateau 
 appointed for our rendezvous. This being the last spot of 
 meeting before our attack on the fort, the final dispositions 
 were here settled on, and the orders for the assault arranged. 
 With da^^light, the view from this terrace, for such it was in 
 reality, would have been magnificent ; for even now, in the 
 darkness, we could track out the great thoroughfares of 
 the city, follow the windings of the bay and harbor, and, by 
 the lights on board, detect the fleet as it lay at anchor. To 
 the left, and for many a mile as it seemed, were seen twink- 
 ling the bivouac fires of the Austrian army ; while directly 
 above our heads, glittering like a red star, shone the solitary 
 gleam that marked out the Monte Faccio. 
 
 I was standing silently at De Barre's side, looking on this 
 sombre scene so full of terrible interest, when he clutched 
 my arm violently, and whispered, — 
 
 " Look yonder ! see, the attack has begun ! " 
 
 The fire of the artillery had flashed as he spoke, and now. 
 with his very words, the deafening roar of the guns was 
 heard from below. 
 
 " I told you he 'd not wait for us, Tiernay ! I told you how 
 it would happen ! " cried he ; then suddenly recovering his 
 habitual composure of voice and manner, he said, " Now for 
 our part, men ; foi-wards ! " 
 
 And away went the brave fellows, tearing up the steep 
 mountain side like an assault party at a breach. Though 
 
MONTE DI FACCIO. 373 
 
 hidden from our view by the darkness and the dense wood, 
 we could hear the incessant din of large and small arms ; the 
 roll of the drums summoning men to their quarters, and what 
 we thought were the cheers of charging squadrons. 
 
 Such was the mad feeling of excitement these sounds pro- 
 duced that I cannot guess what time elapsed before we found 
 ourselves on the crest of the mountain, and not above three 
 hundred paces from the outworks of the fort. The trees had 
 been cut away on either side so as to offer a species of glacis^ 
 and this must be crossed under the fire of the batteries 
 before an attack could be commenced. Fortunately for us, 
 however, the garrison was too confident of its security to 
 dread a coup de main from the side of the town, and had 
 placed all their guns along the bastion towards Borghetto ; 
 and this De Barre immediately detected. A certain '' alert" 
 on the walls, however, and a quick movement of lights here 
 and there, showed that they had become aware of the sortie 
 from the town, and gradually we could see figure after figure 
 ascending the walls as if to peer down into the valley 
 beneath. 
 
 " You see what Vallence has done for us," said De Barre, 
 bitterly; "but for him we should have taken these fellows 
 en flagrant del'it^ and carried their walls before they could 
 turn out a captain's guard." 
 
 As he spoke, a heavy crashing sound was heard and a wild 
 cheer. Already our pioneers had gained the gate, and were 
 battering away at it ; another party had reached the walls 
 and thrown up thek rope-ladders, and the attack was opened ! 
 In fact, Giorgio had led one division by a path somewhat 
 shorter than ours, and they had begun the assault before we 
 issued from the pine- wood. 
 
 We now came up at a run, but under a smart fire from the 
 walls, already fast crowding with men. Defiling close 
 beneath the wall, we gained the gate just as it had fallen 
 beneath the assaults of our men ; a steep covered way led up 
 from it, and along this our fellows rushed madly ; but sud- 
 denly from the gloom a red glare flashed out, and a terrible 
 discharge of grape swept all before it. " Lie down! " was 
 now shouted from front to rear ; but even before the order 
 could be obeyed another and more fatal volley followed. 
 
 Twice we attempted to storm the ascent ; but wearied by 
 
374 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 the labor of the mountain pass, worn out by fatigue, and, 
 worse still, weak from actual starvation, our men faltered ! 
 It was not fear, nor was there anything akin to it ; for even 
 as they fell under the thick fire their shrill cheers breathed 
 stern defiance. They were utterly exhausted, and failing 
 strength could do no more ! De BaiTe took the lead, sword 
 in hand, and with one of those wild appeals that soldiers 
 never hear in vain, addressed them ; but the next moment 
 his shattered corpse was carried to the rear. The scaling 
 party, alike repulsed, had now defiled to our support; but 
 the death-dealing artillery swept through us without ceasing. 
 Never was there a spectacle so terrible as to see men ani- 
 mated by courageous devotion, bui'ning with glorious zeal, 
 and yet powerless from very debility, actually dropping from 
 the weakness of famine, — the staggering step, the faint shout, 
 the powerless charge, all showing the ravages of pestilence 
 and want ! 
 
 Some sentiment of compassion must have engaged our 
 enemies' sympathy, for twice they relaxed then- fire, and only 
 resumed it as we returned to the attack. One fearful dis- 
 charge of grape, at pistol range, now seemed to have closed 
 the struggle ; and as the smoke cleared away, the earth was 
 seen crowded with dead and dying. The broken ranks no 
 longer showed discipline ; men gathered in groups around 
 their wounded comrades, and, to all seeming, were indiffer- 
 ent to the death that menaced them. Scarcely an officer 
 sur^dved ; and among the dead beside me I recognized 
 Giorgio, who still knelt in the attitude in which he had 
 received his death-wound. 
 
 I was like one in some terrible dream, powerless and 
 terror-stricken, as I stood thus amid the slaughtered and the 
 wounded. 
 
 " You are my prisoner," said a gruff-looking old Croat 
 grenadier, as he snatched my sword from my hand by a 
 smart blow on the wrist ; and I yielded without a word. 
 
 " Is it over? " said I ; " is it over? " 
 
 "Yes, parhleu! I think it is," said a comrade, whose 
 cheek was hanging down from a bayonet wound. "There 
 are not twenty of us remaining, and they will do very little 
 for the service of the ' Great Republic' " 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 A ROYALIST " DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE." 
 
 On a hot and sultry day of June I found myself seated in a 
 country cart, and under the guard of two mounted dragoons 
 wending my way towards Kuff stein, a Tyrol fortress, to 
 which I was sentenced as a prisoner. A weary journey was 
 it ; for, in addition to my now sad thoughts, I had to contend 
 against an attack of ague, which I had just caught, and 
 which was then raging like a plague in the Austrian camp. 
 One solitary reminiscence, and that far from a pleasant one, 
 clings to this period. We had halted on the outskii'ts of a 
 little village, called Broletto, for the siesta ; and there, in 
 a clump of olives, were quietly dozing away the sultry hours 
 when the clatter of horsemen awoke us, and on looking up 
 we saw a cavalry escort sweep past at a gallop. The cor- 
 poral who commanded our party hurried into the vilUige to 
 learn the news, and soon returned with the tidings that " a 
 great victory had been gained over the French, commanded 
 by Bonaparte in person ; that the army was in full retreat ; 
 and this was the despatch an officer of Melas' staff was now 
 hastening to lay at the feet of the emperor." 
 
 " I thought several times this morning," said the corporal, 
 '' that I heard artillery ; and so it seems I might, for we are 
 not above twenty miles from where the battle was fought." 
 
 " And how is the place called? " asked I, in a tone sceptical 
 enough to be offensive. 
 
 "Marengo," replied he; "mayhap the name will not 
 escape your memory." 
 
 How true was the surmise, but in how different a sense 
 from what he uttered it ! But so it was ; even as late as four 
 o'clock the victory was with the Austrians. Three separate 
 envoys had left the field with tidings of success ; and it was 
 only late at night that the general, exhausted by a disastrous 
 
376 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 day and almost broken-hearted, could write to tell his master 
 that "Italy was lost." 
 
 I have many a temptation here to diverge from a line that 
 I set down for myself in these memoirs, and from which as 
 yet I have not wandered, — I mean, not to dwell upon events 
 wherein I was not myself an actor; but I am determined 
 still to adhere to my rule, and leaving that glorious event 
 behind me, plod wearily along my now sad journey. 
 
 Day after day we journeyed through a country teeming 
 with abundance, — vast plains of corn and maize, olives and 
 vines, everywhere, on the mountains, the crags, the rocks, 
 festooned over cliffs, and spreading then' tangled networks 
 over cottages ; and yet everj^where poverty, misery, and 
 debasement, ruined villages, and a half -naked, starving 
 populace met the eye at every turn. There was the stamp 
 of slavery on all, and still more palpably was there the stamp 
 of despotism in the aii' of their rulers. 
 
 I say this in a sad spii'it ; for within a year from the day 
 in which I wi'ite these lines I have travelled the selfsame 
 road, and with precisely the selfsame objects before me, — 
 changed in nothing, save what time changes, in ruin and 
 decay ! There was the dreary ^illage as of yore ; the un- 
 glazed windows closed with some rotten boarding, or occu- 
 pied with a face gaunt with famine. The listless, unoccupied 
 group still sat or lay on the steps before the church ; a knot 
 of nearly naked creatures sat card-placing beside a fountain, 
 their unsheathed knives alongside of them ; and lastly, on 
 the wall of the one habitation which had the semblance of 
 decency about it, there stared out the " double-headed eagle," 
 the symbol of their shame and their slavery ! It never can 
 be the policy of a government to retard the progress and 
 depress the energies of a people beneath its rule. Why, then, 
 do we find a whole nation, gifted and capable as this, so 
 backward in civilization? Is the fault with the rulers; or 
 are there, indeed, people whose very development is the 
 obstacle to theii' improvement, whose impulses of right and 
 wrong will submit to no discipline, and who are incapable 
 of appreciating true liberty ? This would be a gloomy theory ; 
 and the very thought of it suggests darker fears for a land to 
 which my sympathies attach me more closely ! 
 
A ROYALIST "DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE." 377 
 
 If any spot can impress the notion of impregnability it is 
 Kuffstein. Situated on an eminence of rock over the Inn, 
 three sides of the base are washed by that rapid river ; a 
 little village occupies the fourth, and from this the supplies 
 are hoisted up to the garrison above by cranes and pulleys, 
 the only approach being by a path wide enough for a single 
 man, and far too steep and difficult of access to admit of his 
 carrying any burthen however light. All that science and 
 skill could do is added to the natural strength of the position, 
 and from every surface of the vast rock itself the projecting 
 mouths of guns and mortars show resources of defence it 
 would seem madness to attack. 
 
 Three thousand men, under the command of General 
 Urleben, held this fortress at the time I speak of, and by 
 their habits of discipline and vigilance showed that no over- 
 security would make them neglect the charge of so impor- 
 tant a trust. I was the first French prisoner that had ever 
 been confined within the walls, and to the accident of my 
 uniform was I indebted for this distinction. I have men- 
 tioned that in Genoa the}'^ gave me a staff officer's dress and 
 appointments ; and from this casual circumstance it was sup- 
 posed that I should know a great deal of Massena's move- 
 ments and intentions, and that by judicious management I 
 might be induced to reveal it. 
 
 General Urleben, who had been brought up in France, 
 was admirably, calculated to have promoted such an object 
 were it practicable. He possessed the most winning address 
 as well as great personal advantages, and although now past 
 the middle of life was reputed one of the handsomest men 
 in Austria. He at once invited me to Ms table ; and having 
 provided me with a delightful little chamber, whence the 
 view extended for miles along the Inn, he sent me stores of 
 books, journals, and newspapers, — French, English, and 
 German, — showing by the very candor of their tidings a 
 most flattering degree of confidence and trust. 
 
 If imprisonment could ever be endurable with resigna- 
 tion, mine ought to have been so. My mornings were passed 
 in weeding or gardening a little plot of ground outside my 
 window, giving me ample occupation in that way, and ren- 
 dering carnations and roses dearer to me through all my 
 
378 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 after-life than without such associations they would ever 
 have been. Then I used to sketch for hours, from the walls, 
 bird's-eye views, prisoner's glimpses, of the glorious Tyrol 
 scenery below us. Early in the afternoon came dinner; and 
 then, with the general's pleasant converse, a cigar, and a 
 chess-board, the time wore smoothly on till nightfall. 
 
 An occasional thunder-storm, grander and more sublime 
 than anything I have ever seen elsewhere, would now and 
 then vary a life of calm but not unpleasant monotony ; and 
 occasionally, too, some passing escort, on the way to or from 
 Vienna, would give tidings of the war. But, except in these, 
 each day was precisely like the other; so that when the 
 almanac told me it was autumn, I could scarcely believe a 
 single month had glided over. I will not attempt to conceal 
 the fact that the inglorious idleness of my life, this term of 
 inactivity at an age when hope and vigor and energy were 
 highest within me, was a grievous privation ; but, except in 
 these regrets, I could almost call this time a happy one. 
 The unfortunate position in which I started in life gave me 
 little opportunity, or even inclination, for learning. Except 
 the little Pere Michel had taught me, I knew nothing. I 
 need not say that this was but a sorry stock of education even 
 at that period, when, I must say, the sabre was more in vogue 
 than the grammar. 
 
 I now set steadily about repairing this deficiency. General 
 Urleben lent me all his aid, directing my studies, supplying 
 me with books, and at times affording me the still greater 
 assistance of his counsel and advice. To history generally, 
 but particularly that of France, he made me pay the deepest 
 attention, and seemed never to weary while impressing upon 
 me the grandeur of our former monarchies and the happiness 
 of France when ruled b}^ her legitimate sovereigns. 
 
 I had told him all that I knew myself of my birth and 
 family, and frequently would he allude to the subject of my 
 reading by saying, " the son of an old Garde du Corps 
 needs no commentary when perusing such details as these. 
 Your own instincts tell you how nobly these servants of a 
 monarchy bore themselves, what chivalry lived at that time 
 in men's hearts, and how generous and self-denying was 
 their loyalty." 
 
A KOYALIST " DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE." 379 
 
 Such and such like were the expressions which dropped 
 from him from time to time ; nor was their impression the 
 less deep when supported by the testimony of the memoii's 
 with which he supplied me. Even in deeds of military glory 
 the Monarchy could compete with the Republic ; and Urlebeu 
 took care to insist upon a fact I was never unwilling to con- 
 cede, — that the well-born were ever foremost in danger, no 
 matter whether the banner was a white one or a tricolor. 
 
 " Le bon sang ne pent pas mentir" was an adage I never 
 disputed, although certainly I never expected to hear it 
 employed to the disparagement of those to whom it did not 
 apply. 
 
 As the winter set in I saw less of the general. He was 
 usually much occupied in the mornings ; and at evenings he 
 was accustomed to go down to the village, where of late 
 some French emigre families had settled, — unhappy exiles, 
 who had both peril and poverty to contend against ! Many 
 such were scattered through the Tyrol at that period, both 
 for the security and the cheapness it afforded. Of these 
 Urleben rarely spoke, — some chance allusion, when boiTow- 
 ing a book or taking away a newspaper, being the extent to 
 which he ever referred to them. 
 
 One morning, as I sat sketching on the walls, he came up 
 to me and said, " Strange enough, Tiernay, last night I was 
 looking at a view of this very scene, only taken from another 
 point of sight ; both were correct, accurate in every detail, 
 and yet most dissimilar, — what a singular illustration of 
 many of our prejudices and opinions ! The sketch I speak 
 of was made by a young countrywoman of yours, — a highly- 
 gifted lady, who little thought that the accomplishments of 
 her education were one day to be the resources of her liveli- 
 hood. Even so," said he, sighing, " a marquise of the best 
 blood of France is reduced to sell her drawings ! " 
 
 As I expressed a wish to see the sketches in question, he 
 volunteered to make the request if I would send some of 
 mine in return ; and thus accidentally grew up a sort of inter- 
 course between myself and the strangers, which gradually 
 extended to books and music, and lastly to civil messages 
 and inquu'ies, of which the general was ever the bearer. 
 
 What a boon was all this to me ! What a sun-ray through 
 
380 " MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 the bars of a prisoner's cell was this gleam of kindness and 
 sympathy ! The very similarity of our pursuits, too, had 
 something inexpressibly pleasing in it ; and I bestowed ten 
 times as much pains upon each sketch, now that I knew to 
 whose eyes it would be submitted. 
 
 " Do you know, Tiernay," said the general tome, one day, 
 " I am about to incur a very heavy penalty in your behalf : 
 I am going to contravene the strict orders of the War Office, 
 and take you along with me this evening down to the 
 village." 
 
 I started with surprise and delight together, and could not 
 utter a word. 
 
 " I know perfectly well," continued he, " that you will not 
 abuse my confidence. I ask, then, for nothing beyond your 
 word that you will not make any attempt at escape ; for 
 this visit may lead to others, and I desire, so far as possible, 
 that you should feel as little constraint as a prisoner well 
 may." 
 
 I readily gave the pledge required, and he went on, — 
 
 "I have no cautions to give you, nor any counsels. 
 Madame d'Aigreville is a Royalist." 
 
 "She is madame, then!" said I, in a voice of some 
 disappointment. 
 
 "Yes, she is a widow; but her niece is unmarried," said 
 he, smiling at my eagerness. I affected to hear the tidings 
 with unconcern, but a burning flush covered my cheek, and 
 I felt as uncomfortable as possible. 
 
 I dined that day as usual with the general, adjourning 
 after dinner to the little drawing-room, where we played our 
 chess. Never did he appear to me so tedious in his stories, 
 so intolerably tiresome in his digressions, as that evening. 
 He halted at every move ; he had some narrative to recount, 
 or some obsei-vation to make, that delayed our game to an 
 enormous time ; and at last, on looking out of the window, 
 he fancied there was a thunder-storm brewing, and that we 
 should do well to put off our visit to a more favorable 
 opportunity. 
 
 "It is little short of half a league," said he, " to the vil- 
 lage, and in bad weather is worse than double the distance." 
 
 I did not dare to controvert his opinion, but fortunately 
 
A ROYALIST " DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE." 381 
 
 a gleam of suushiue shot the same moment through the 
 window, and prochiimed a fair evening. 
 
 Heaven knows I had suffered little of a prisoner's durance, 
 — my life had been one of comparative freedom and ease ; 
 and yet I cannot tell the swelling emotion of my heart with 
 which I emerged from the deep archway of the fortress, and 
 heard the bang of the heavy gate as it closed behind me ! 
 Steep as was the path, I felt as if I could have bounded down 
 it without a fear ! The sudden sense of liberty was madden- 
 ing in its excitement ; and I half suspect that had I been on 
 horseback in that moment of wild delight, I should have for- 
 gotten all my plighted word and parole, though I sincerely 
 trust that the madness would not have endured beyond a 
 few minutes. If there be among my readers one who has 
 known imprisonment, he will forgive this confession of a 
 weakness which to others of less experience will seem 
 unworthy, perhaps dishonorable. 
 
 Dorf Kuftstein was a fair specimen of the picturesque 
 simplicity of a Tyrol village. There were the usual number 
 of houses, with carved galleries and quaint images in wood, 
 the shrines and altars, the little Platz for Sunday recreation, 
 and the shady alley for rifle practice. 
 
 There were also the trellised walks of vines, and the 
 orchards, in the midst of one of which we now approached 
 a long, low farmhouse, whose galleries projected over the 
 river. This was the abode of Madame d'Aigreville. 
 
 A peasant was cleaning a little mountain pony, from which 
 a side-saddle had just been removed as we came up ; and he, 
 leaving his work, proceeded to ask us into the house, inform- 
 ing us, as he went, that the ladies had just returned from 
 a long ramble, and would be with us presently. 
 
 The drawing-room into which we were shown was a perfect 
 picture of cottage elegance ; all the furniture was of polished 
 walnut-wood, and kept in the very best condition. It opened 
 by three spacious windows upon the terrace above the river, 
 and afforded a view of mountain and valley for miles on 
 every side. An easel was placed in this gallery, and a small 
 sketch in oils of Kuffstein was already nigh completed on it. 
 There were books, too, in different languages, and, to my 
 inexpressible delight, a piano! 
 
382 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 The reader will smile, perhaps, at the degree of pleasure 
 objects so familiar and every-day called forth ; but let him 
 remember how removed were all the passages of my life from 
 such civiliziug influences, how little of the world had I seen 
 beyond camps and barrack-rooms, and how ignorant I was 
 of the charm which a female presence can diffuse over even 
 the very humblest abode. 
 
 Before I had well ceased to wonder, and to admu-e these 
 objects, the marquise entered. 
 
 A tall and stately old lady, with an air at once haughty 
 and gracious, received me with a profound courtesy, while 
 she extended her hand to the salute of the general. She was 
 dressed in deep mourning, and wore her white hair in two 
 braids along her face. The sound of my native language, 
 with its native accent, made me forget the almost profound 
 reserve of her manner, and I was fast recovering from the 
 constraint her coldness imposed when her niece entered the 
 room. Mademoiselle, who was at that time about seven- 
 teen, but looked older by a year or two, was the very ideal 
 of brunette beauty ; she was dark-eyed and black-haired, 
 with a mouth the most beautifully formed ; her figure was 
 light, and her foot a model of shape and symmetry. All 
 this I saw in an instant, as she came, half -sliding, half- 
 bounding to meet the general, and then turning to me, 
 welcomed me with a cordial warmth very different from the 
 reception of Madame la Marquise. 
 
 Whether it was the influence of her presence, whether it 
 was a partial concession of the old lady's own, or whether 
 my own awkwardness was wearing off by time, I cannot 
 say, but gradually the stiffness of the interview began to 
 diminish. From the scenery around us we grew to talk of 
 the Tyrol generally, then of Switzerland, and lastly of 
 France. The marquise came from Auvergne, and was 
 justly proud of the lovely scenery of her birthplace. 
 
 Calmly and tranquilly as the conversation had been carried 
 on up to this period, the mention of France seemed to break 
 down the barrier of resei'\^e within the old lady's mind, and' 
 she burst out in a wild flood of reminiscences of the last 
 time she had seen her native village. "The Blues," as the 
 Revolutionary soldiers were called, had come down upon the 
 
A ROYALIST " DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE." 383 
 
 quiet valley, carrying fire and carnage into a once peaceful 
 district. The chateau of her family was razed to the ground ; 
 her husband was shot upon his own terrace ; the whole village 
 was put to the sword ; her own escape was owing to the 
 compassion of the gardener's wife, who dressed her like a 
 peasant boy, and employed her in a menial station, — a con- 
 dition she was forced to continue so long as the troops 
 remained in the neighborhood. " Yes," said she, drawing 
 off her silk mittens, " these hands still witness the hardships 
 I speak of. These are the marks of my servitude." 
 
 It was in vain the general tried at first to sympathize with 
 her, and then withdraw her from the theme ; in vain her 
 niece endeavored to suggest another topic, or convey a hint 
 that the subject might be unpleasing to me. It was the 
 old lady's one absorbing idea, and she could not relinquish 
 it. Whole volumes of the atrocities perpetrated by the 
 Revolutionary soldiery came to her recollection ; each moment, 
 as she talked, memory would recall this fact or the other; 
 and so she continued rattling on with the fervor of a 
 heated imagination and the wild impetuosity of a half- 
 crazed intellect. As for myself, I suffered far more from 
 witnessing the pain others felt for me than from any offence 
 the topic occasioned me directly. These events were all 
 "before my time." I was neither a Blue by birth nor by 
 adoption ; a child during the period of revolution, I had 
 only taken a man's part when the country, emerging from 
 its term of anarchy and blood, stood at bay against the 
 whole of Europe. These consolations were, however, not 
 known to the others ; and it was at last, in a moment of 
 unendurable agony, that mademoiselle rose and left the room. 
 
 The general's eyes followed her as she went, and then 
 sought mine with an expression full of deep meaning. If I" 
 read his look aright, it spoke patience and submission ; and 
 the lesson was an easier one than he thought. 
 
 " They talk of heroism," cried she, frantically, — "it was 
 massacre ! And when they speak of chivalry, they mean 
 the slaughter of women and children ! " She looked round, 
 seeing that her niece had left the room, suddenly dropped 
 her voice to a whisper, and said, " Think of her mother's 
 fate, — dragged from her home, her widowed, desolate home, 
 
384 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 and thi'own into the Temple ; outraged and insulted, con- 
 demned on a mock trial, and then carried away to the 
 guillotine ! Ay, and even then, on that spot which coming 
 death might have sanctified ; in that moment when even 
 fiendish vengeance can turn away and leave its victim at 
 liberty to utter a last prayer in peace, — even then these 
 wretches devised an anguish greater than all death could 
 compass. You will scarcely believe me," said she, drawing 
 in her breath, and talking with an almost convulsive effort, — 
 ' ' you will scarcely believe me in what I am now about to 
 tell you ; but it is the truth, the simple but horrible truth. 
 When my sister mounted the scaffold there was no priest to 
 administer the last rites. It was a time, indeed, when few 
 were left; their hallowed heads had fallen in thousands 
 before that. She waited for a few minutes, hoping that 
 one would appear ; and when the mob learned the meaning 
 of her delay, they set up a cry of fiendish laughter ; and with 
 a blasphemy that makes one shudder to think of, they pushed 
 foi^ard a boy, one of those blood-stained gamins of the 
 streets, and made him gabble a mock litany ! Yes, it is 
 true, — a horrible mockery of our service, in the ears and 
 before the e^^es of that dying saint." 
 
 "When, in what year, in what place was that?" cried 
 I, in an agony of eagerness. 
 
 " I can give you both time and place, sir," said the mar- 
 quise, drawing herself proudly up, for she constraed my 
 question into a doubt of her veracity. " It was in the year 
 1793, in the month of August; and as for the place, it 
 was one well seasoned to blood, — the Place de Greve at 
 Paris." 
 
 A fainting sickness came over me as I heard these words ; 
 the dreadful truth flashed across me that the victim was the 
 Marquise D'Estelles, and the boy, on whose infamy she 
 dwelt so strongl}^, no other than mj^self . For the moment, 
 it was nothing to me that she had not identified me with 
 this atrocity ; I felt no consolation in the thought that I 
 was unknown and unsuspected. The heavy weight of the 
 indignant accusation almost crushed me. Its falsehood I 
 knew, and yet could I dare to disprove it? Could I hazard 
 the consequences of an avowal, which all m}^ subsequent 
 
A ROYALIST " DE LA YIEILLE ROCHE." 385 
 
 pleadings could never obliterate? Even were my innocence 
 established in one point, what a position did it reduce me to 
 in every other ! 
 
 These struggles must have manifested themselves strongly 
 in my looks, for the marquise, with all her self -occupation, 
 remarked how ill I seemed. ''I see, sir," cried she, "that 
 all the ravages of war have not steeled your heart against 
 true piety ; my tale has moved you strongly." I muttered 
 something in concurrence, and she went on. " Happily for 
 you, you were but a child when such scenes were happen- 
 ing ! Not, indeed, that childhood was always unstained in 
 those days of blood ; but you were, as X understand, the son 
 of a Garde du Corps, one of those loyal men who sealed 
 theii' devotion with theii* life. Were you in Paris then? " 
 
 "Yes, Madame," said I, briefly. 
 
 " With youi' mother, perhaps? " 
 
 " I was quite alone, Madame ; an orphan on both sides." 
 
 " What was youi' mother's family name? " 
 
 Here was a puzzle ; but at a hazard I resolved to claim her 
 who should sound best to the ears of La Marquise. "La 
 Lasterie, Madame," said I. 
 
 "La Lasterie de la Vignoble, — a most distinguished 
 house, sir. Provencal, and of the purest blood. Auguste 
 de la Lasterie mamed the daughter of the Due de Mu'ian- 
 court, a cousin of my husband's ; and there was another of 
 them who went as ambassador to Madrid." 
 
 I knew none of them, and I suppose I looked as much. 
 
 "Your mother was, probably, of the elder branch, sir?" 
 asked she. 
 
 I had to stammer out a most lamentable confession of my 
 ignorance. 
 
 " Xot know your own kinsfolk, sir! not your nearest of 
 blood!" cried she, in amazement. "General, have you 
 heard this strange avowal, or is it possible that my ears have 
 deceived me ? " 
 
 "Please to remember, INIadame," said I, submissive!}', 
 "the circumstances in which I passed my infancy. My 
 father fell by the guillotine." 
 
 " And his son wears the uniform of those who slew 
 him ! " 
 
 25 
 
386 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " Of a French soldier, Madame, proud of the sei-vice he 
 belongs to ; glorying to be one of the first army in Europe." 
 
 "An army without a cause is a banditti, sir. Your 
 soldiers, without loyalty, are without a banner." 
 
 " We have a country, Madame." 
 
 " I must protest against this discussion going further," 
 said the general, blandly, while in a lower tone he whispered 
 something in her ear. 
 
 "Very true, very true," said she; "I had forgotten all 
 that. Monsieur de Tiernay, you will forgive me this warmth. 
 An old woman, who has lost nearly everything in the world, 
 may have the privilege of bad temper accorded her. We 
 are friends now, I hope," added she, extending her hand, 
 and, with a smile of most gracious meaning, beckoning to 
 me to sit beside her on the sofa. 
 
 Once away from the terrible theme of the Revolution, she 
 conversed with much agreeability ; and her niece having 
 reappeared, the conversation became animated and pleasing. 
 Need I sa}^ with what interest I now regarded mademoiselle, 
 
 — the object of all my boyish devotion ; the same whose pale 
 features I had watched for many an hour in the dim half 
 light of the little chapel ; her whose image was never ab- 
 sent from my thoughts, waking or sleeping, and now 
 again appearing before me in all the grace of coming 
 womanhood ! 
 
 Perhaps to obliterate any impression of her aunt's severity, 
 
 — perhaps it was mere manner, — but I thought there was a 
 degree of anxiety to please in her bearing towards me. She 
 spoke, too, as though our acquaintance was to be continued 
 by frequent meetings, and dropped hints of plans that 
 implied constant intercourse. Even excursions into the 
 neighborhood she spoke of ; when, suddenly stopping, she 
 said, " But these are for the season of spring, and before 
 that time Monsieur de Tiernay will be far away." 
 
 " Who can tell that? " said I. "I would seem to be for- 
 gotten by my comrades." 
 
 " Then you must take care to do that which may refresh 
 their memory," said she, pointedly ; and before I could 
 question her more closely as to her meaning, the general 
 had risen to take his leave. 
 
 
A ROYALIST "DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE." 387 
 
 " Madame la Marquise was somewhat more tart than 
 usual," said he to me, as we asceuded the cliff; " but you 
 have passed the ordeal now, and the chances are she will 
 never offend you in the same way again. Great allowances 
 must be made for those who have suffered as she has. 
 Family, fortune, station, even country, all lost to her ; and 
 even hope now dashed by many a disappointment." 
 
 Though puzzled by the last few words, I made no remark 
 on them, and he resumed, — 
 
 " She has invited you to come and see her as often as you 
 are at liberty ; and, for my part, you shall not be restricted 
 in that way. Go and come as you please, only do not 
 infringe the hours of the fortress ; and if you can concede 
 a little now and then to the prejudices of the old lady, 
 your intercourse will be all the more agreeable to both 
 parties." 
 
 "I believe. General, that I have little of the Jacobin to 
 recant," said I, laughing. 
 
 " I should go further, my dear friend, and say, none," 
 added he. " Yom- uniform is the only tint of ' blue ' about 
 you." And thus chatting, we reached the fortress, and said 
 good-night. 
 
 I have been particular, perhaps tiresomely so, in retailing 
 these broken phrases and snatches of conversation ; but they 
 were the first matches applied to a train that was long and 
 artfully laid. 
 
CHAPTER XXXrX. 
 
 "a sorrowful parting." 
 
 The general was as good as his word, and I now enjoyed the 
 most unrestricted liberty ; in fact, the officers of the garrison 
 said truly that they were far more like prisoners than I was. 
 As regularly as evening came, I descended the path to the 
 village, and as the bell tolled out the vespers I was crossing 
 the little grass-plot to the cottage. So regularly was I 
 looked for, that the pursuits of each evening were resumed as 
 though only accidentally interrupted. The unfinished game 
 of chess, the half-read volume, the newly-begun drawing, 
 were taken up where we had left them, and life seemed to 
 have centi'ed itself in those delightful hours between sunset 
 and midnight. 
 
 I suppose there are few young men who have not, at some 
 time or other of their lives, enjoyed similar pri^ileges, and 
 known the fascination of intimacy in some household where 
 the affections became engaged as the intellect expanded, 
 and, while winning another's heart, have elevated their own. 
 But to know the full charm of such intercourse, one must 
 have been as I was a prisoner, an orphan, almost friendless 
 in the world, a very " waif" upon the shore of destiny. I 
 cannot express the intense pleasure these evenings afforded 
 me. The cottage was my home, and more than my home ; 
 it was a shrine at which my heart worshipped, for I was in 
 love ! Easy as the confession is to make now, tortures 
 would not have wrung it from me then ! 
 
 In good truth, it was long before I knew it; nor can I 
 guess how much longer the ignorance might have lasted, 
 when General Urleben suddenly dispelled the clouds by 
 informing me that he had just received from the minister- 
 of-war at Vienna a demand for the name, rank, and regi- 
 
"A SORROWFUL PARTING." 389 
 
 ment of his prisoner, previous to tlie negotiation for bis 
 exchange. 
 
 " You will fill up these blanks, Tiernay," said he, "and 
 within a month, or less, you will be once more free, and say 
 adieu to Kuff stein." 
 
 Had the paper contained my dismissal from the senice, 
 I shame to own it would have been more welcome ! The last 
 few months had changed all the character of my life, sug- 
 gested new hopes and new ambitions. The career I used to 
 glory in had grown distasteful ; the comrades I once longed 
 to rejoin were now become almost repulsive to ni}' imagi- 
 nation. The marquise had spoken much of emigrating to 
 some part of the new world beyond seas, and thither my 
 fancy alike pointed. Perhaps m}^ dreams of a future were 
 not the less rose-colored that they received no shadow from 
 anything like a '' fact." The old ladj^'s geographical knowl- 
 edge was neither accurate nor extensive, and she contrived 
 to invest this land of promise with old associations of what 
 she once heard of Pondicherry, with certain features belong- 
 ing to the United States. A glorious country it would 
 indeed have been, which within a month's voyage realized 
 all the delights of the tropics, with the healthful vigor of 
 the temporate zone, and where, without an effort beyond the 
 mere will, men amassed enormous fortunes in a year or two. 
 In a calmer mood I might, indeed must, have been struck 
 with the wild inconsistency of the old lady's imaginings, 
 and looked with somewhat of scepticism on the map for that 
 spot of earth so richly endowed ; but now I believed every- 
 thing, provided it only ministered to my new hopes. Laura 
 evidently, too, believed in the " Canaan " of which at last 
 we used to discourse as freely as though we had been there. 
 Little discussions would, however, now and then vary the 
 uniformity of this creed, and I remember once feeling almost 
 hurt at Laura's not agreeing with me about zebras, which 
 I assured her were just as trainable as horses, but which 
 the marquise flatly refused ever to use in any of her carriages. 
 These were mere passing clouds ; the regular atmosphere of 
 our wishes was bright and transparent. 
 
 In the midst of these delicious daydreams, there came one 
 day a number of letters to the marquise by the hands of a 
 
390 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 courier on his way to Naples. What theu' contents were 
 I never knew, but the tidings seemed most joyful ; for the 
 old lady invited the general and myself to dinner, when the 
 table was decked out with white lilies on all sides, she 
 herself, and Laui-a also, wearing them in bouquets on theii- 
 dresses. 
 
 The occasion had, I could see, something of a celebration 
 about it. M^^sterious hints to cu'cumstances I knew nothing 
 of were constantly interchanged, the whole ending with a 
 solemn toast to the memory of the " Saint and Martyr ; " but 
 who he was, or when he lived, I knew not one single fact 
 about. 
 
 That evening — I cannot readily forget it — was the first 
 I had ever an opportunity of being alone with Laura. 
 Hitherto the marquise had always been beside us ; now she 
 had all this correspondence to read over with the general, and 
 they both retired into a little boudoir for the purpose, while 
 Laura and myself wandered out upon the terrace, as awk- 
 ward and constrained as though our situation had been the 
 most provoking thing possible. It was on that same morn- 
 ing I had received the general's message regarding my 
 situation, and I was burning with anxiety to tell it, and yet 
 knew not exactly how. Laura, too, seemed full of her own 
 thoughts, and leaned pensively over the balustrade and gazed 
 on the stream. 
 
 "What are you thinking of so seriously?" asked I, after 
 a long pause. 
 
 "Of long, long ago," said she, sighing, "when I was a 
 little child. I remember a little chapel like that yonder, only 
 that it was not on a rock over a river, but stood in a small 
 garden ; and though in a great city, it was as lonely and 
 solitary as might be, — the Chapelle de St. Blois." 
 
 "St. Blois, Laura ! " cried I ; "oh, tell ine about that ! " 
 
 " Why, you surely never heard of it before," said she, 
 smiling. "It was in a remote quarter of Paris, nigh the 
 outer Boulevard, and known to but a very few. It had once 
 belonged to our family; for' in olden times there were 
 chateaux and country houses within that space, which then 
 was part of Paris, and one of our ancestors was buried 
 there. How well I remember it all ! The dim little aisle. 
 
"A SORROWFUL PARTING." 391 
 
 supported on wooden pillars ; the simple altar, with the 
 oakeu crucifix, aud the calm, geutle features of the poor 
 cure.'' 
 
 " Can you remember all this so well?" asked I, eagerly, 
 for the theme was stirring my very heart of hearts. 
 
 ^'All, everything, — the straggling, weed-grown garden, 
 through which we passed to our daily devotions, the congrega- 
 tion standing respectfully to let us walk by ; for my mother 
 was still the great Marquise D'Estelles, although my father 
 had been executed, and our estates confiscated. They who had 
 known us in our prosperity were as respectful and devoted 
 as ever ; and poor old Richard, the lame sacristan, that used 
 to take my mother's bouquet from her and lay it on the 
 altar, — how everything stands out clear and distinct before 
 my memory ! Nay, Maurice, but I can tell you more ; for, 
 strangely enough, certain things merely trifles in themselves 
 make impressions that even great events fail to do. There 
 was a little boy, a child somewhat older than myself, that 
 used to serve the mass with the Fere, and he always came 
 to place a footstool or a cushion for my mother. Poor little 
 fellow, bashful and diffident he was, changing color at every 
 minute, and trembling in every limb ; and when he had done 
 his duty, and made his little reverence, with his hands 
 crossed on his bosom, he used to fall back into some gloomy 
 corner of the church, and stand watching us with an expres- 
 sion of intense wonder and pleasure. Yes, I think I see his 
 dark eyes, glistening through the gloom, ever fixed on me ! 
 I am sure, Maurice, that little fellow fancied he was in love 
 with me." 
 
 "And why not, Laura? Was the thing so very impos- 
 sible, was it even so unlikely?" 
 
 " Not that," said she, archlv ; " but think of a mere child, 
 — we were both mere children, — and fancy him, the poor 
 little boy, of some humble house, perliaps (of course he must 
 have been that), raising his eyes to the daughter of the great 
 ' Marquise ' ! What energy of character there must have 
 been to have suggested the feeling! how daring he was, 
 with all his baslif ulness ! " 
 
 " You never saw him afterwards? " 
 
 "Never!" 
 
392 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " Xever thought of him, perhaps? " 
 
 "I'll not say that," said she, smiling. "I have often 
 wondered to m3'self if that hardihood I speak of had borne 
 good or evil fruit. Had he been daring or enterprising in 
 the right, or had he, as the sad times favored, been only 
 bold and impetuous for the wrong ? " 
 
 "And how have you pictured him to j^our imagination?" 
 said I, as if merely following out a fanciful vein of thought. 
 
 " My fancy would like to have conceived him a chivalrous 
 adherent to our ancient royalty, striving nobly in exile to 
 aid the. fortunes of some honored house, or daring, as many 
 brave men have dared, the heroic part of La Vendee. My 
 reason, however, tells me that he was far more likely to have 
 taken the other part." 
 
 " To which you will concede no favor, Laura, — not even 
 the love of glory ? " 
 
 " Glory, like honor, should have its fountain in a 
 monarchy," cried she, proudly. " The rude- voices of a 
 multitude can confer no meed of praise ; their judgments 
 are the impulses of the moment. But why do we speak of 
 these things, Maurice? Nor have I, who can but breathe my 
 hopes for a cause, the just pretension to contend with j^ou 
 who shed your blood for its opposite." 
 
 As she spoke, she hurried from the balcony and quitted 
 the room. It was the first time, as I have said, that we had 
 ever been alone together, and it was also the first time she 
 had ever expressed herself strongly on the subject of party. 
 What a moment to have declared her opinions, and when 
 her reminiscences, too, had recalled our infancy ! How often 
 was I tempted to interrupt that confession by declaring 
 myself, and how strongly was I repelled by the thought that 
 the avowal might sever us forever! While I was thus 
 deliberating, the marquise, with the general, entered the 
 room, and Laura followed in a few moments. 
 
 The supper that night was a pleasant one to all save me. 
 The rest were gay and high-spirited. Allusions, understood 
 by them but not by me, were caught up readily, and as 
 quickly responded to. Toasts were uttered, and wishes 
 breathed in concert; but all was like a dream to me. In- 
 deed, my heart grew heavier at every moment. My coming 
 
"A SORROWFUL PARTING." 393 
 
 departui-e, of which I had not yet spoken, lay drearily on 
 my mind, while the bold decision with which Laura declared 
 her faith showed that our destinies were separated by an 
 impassable barrier. 
 
 It may be supposed that my depression was not relieved 
 by discovering that the general had already announced my 
 approaching departure ; and the news, far from being re- 
 ceived with anything like regret, was made the theme of 
 pleasant allusion and even congratulation. The marquise 
 repeatedly assured me of the delight the tidings gave her, 
 and Laura smiled happil}^ towards me, as if echoing the 
 sentiment. 
 
 Was this the feeling I had counted on? Were these the 
 evidences of an affection for which I had given my whole 
 heart? Oh, how bitterly I reviled the frivolous ingratitude 
 of woman ! how heavily I condemned their heartless, unfeel- 
 ing natures ! In a few days, a few hours, perhaps, I shall 
 be as totally forgotten here as though I had never been ; and 
 yet these are the people who parade their devotion to a fallen 
 monarchy, and their affection for an exiled house ! I tried 
 to arm myself with every prejudice against royalism. I 
 thought of Sautron and his selfish, sarcastic spirit. I thought 
 of all the stories I used to hear of cowardly ingratitude and 
 noble infamy, and tried to persuade myself that the blan- 
 dishments of the well-born were but the gloss that covered 
 cruel and unfeeling natures. 
 
 For very pride sake, I tried to assume a manner cool and 
 unconcerned as their own. I affected to talk of my depar- 
 ture as a pleasant event, and even hinted at the career that 
 Fortune might hereafter open to me. In this they seemed to 
 take a deeper interest than I anticipated, and I could per- 
 ceive that more than once the general exchanged looks with 
 the ladies most significantly. I fear I grew very impatient 
 at last. I grieve to think that I fancied a lunidred annoy- 
 ances that were never intended for me ; and when we arose 
 to take leave, I made my adieux with a cold and stately re- 
 serv^e, intended to be strongly impressive and to cut them to 
 the quick. 
 
 I heard very little of what the general said as we ascended 
 the cliff. I was out of temper with him and myself and all 
 
394 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 the world, and it was only when he recalled my attention to 
 the fact, for the third or fourth time, that I learned how very 
 kindly he meant by me in the matter of my liberation ; for 
 while he had forwarded all my papers to Vienna, he was 
 quite willing to set me at liberty on the following da}-, in the 
 perfect assm-ance that my exchange would be confirmed. 
 
 ' ' You will thus have a full fortnight at your own disposal, 
 Tiernay," said he, " since the official answer cannot arrive 
 from Vienna before that time, and you need not report j^our- 
 self in Paris for eight or ten days after." 
 
 Here was a boon now thrown away ! For my part, I 
 would a thousand times rather have lingered on at Kuffstein 
 than have been free to travel Europe from one end to the 
 other. My outraged pride, however, put this out of the 
 question. La Marquise and her niece had both assumed a 
 manner of sincere gratification, and I was resolved not to be 
 behindhand in my show of jo3^ I ought to have known it, 
 said I again and again, — I ought to have known it. These 
 antiquated notions of birth and blood can never co-exist 
 with any generous sentiment ; these remnants of a worn-out 
 monarchy can never forgive the vigorous energy that has 
 dethroned then- decrepitude I I did not dare to speculate on 
 what a girl Laura might have been under other auspices ; 
 how nobly her ambition would have soared, what high-souled 
 patriotism she could have felt, how gloriously she would 
 have adorned the societ}^ of a regenerated nation. I thought 
 of her as she was, and could have hated myself for the 
 devotion with which my heart regarded her ! 
 
 I never closed my eyes the entire night. I lay down and 
 walked about alternately, my mind in a perfect fever of con- 
 flict. Pride, a false pride, but not the less strong for that, 
 alone sustained me. The general had announced to me that 
 I was free. Be it so ; I will no longer be a burden on his 
 hospitality. La Marquise hears the tidings with pleasm-e. 
 Agreed, then, — we part without regret. Very valorous 
 resolutions they were, but come to. I must own, with a ver}^ 
 sinking heart and a very craven spirit. 
 
 Instead of mj^ full uniform, that morning I put on half 
 dress, showing that I was ready for the road, — a sign. I 
 had hoped, would have spoken unutterable things to La 
 Marquise and Laura. 
 
"A SORROWFUL PARTING." 395 
 
 Immediately after breakfast I set out for the cottage. 
 All the way, as I went, I was drilling myself for the inter- 
 view by assuming a tone of the coolest and easiest indiffer- 
 ence. They shall have no triumph over me in this respect, 
 muttered I. Let us see if I cannot be as unconcerned as 
 they are ! To such a pitch had I carried my zeal for flip- 
 pancy, that I resolved to ask them whether they had any 
 commission I could execute for them in Paris or elsewhere. 
 The idea sti'uck me as excellent, so indicative of perfect self- 
 possession and command. I am sure I must have rehearsed 
 our interview at least a dozen times, supplying all the stately 
 grandeur of the old lady and all the quiet placitude of Laura. 
 
 By the time I reached the village I was quite strong in my 
 part, and as I crossed the Platz I was eager to begin it. 
 This energetic spirit, however, began to waver a little as I 
 entered the lawn before the cottage, and a most uncomfort- 
 able throbbing at my side made me stand for a moment in 
 the porch before I entered. I used always to make my 
 appearance unannounced, but now I felt that it would be 
 more dignified and distant were I to summon a servant ; and 
 yet I could find none. The household was on a very simple 
 scale, and in all likelihood the labors of the field or the gar- 
 den were now employing them. I hesitated what to do ; 
 and after looking in vain around the ' ' cour " and the stable- 
 yard, I turned into the garden to seek for some one. 
 
 I had not proceeded many paces along a little alley, 
 flanked by two close hedges of yew, when I heard voices, 
 and at the same instant my own name uttered. 
 
 " You told him to use caution, Laura ; that we know little 
 of this Tiernay beyond his own narrative — " 
 
 "I told him the very reverse, aunt. I said that he was 
 the son of a loyal Garde du Corps, left an orphan in infancy, 
 and thrown by force of events into the sennce of the Repub- 
 lic ; but that every sentiment he expressed, every ambition 
 he cherished, and every feeling he displayed, was that of a 
 gentleman ; nay, further — " 
 
 But I did not wait for more, for, striking my sabre heavily 
 on the ground to announce my coming, I walked hurriedly 
 forward towards a small arbor where the ladies were seated 
 at breakfast. 
 
396 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 I need not stop to say how completely all my resolves were 
 routed by the few words I had overheard from Laura, nor 
 how thoroughly I recanted all my expressions concerning 
 her. So full was I of joy and gratitude, that I hastened to 
 salute her before ever noticing the marquise or being con- 
 scious of her presence. 
 
 The old lad}^, usually the most exacting of all beings, took 
 my omission in good part, and most politely made room for 
 me between herself and Laura at the breakfast-table. 
 
 "You have come most opportunely. Monsieur de Tier- 
 na}'," said she ; " for not only were we just speaking of you, 
 but discussing whether or not we might ask of you a favor." 
 
 "Does the question admit of a discussion, Madame?" 
 said I, bowing. 
 
 "Perhaps not, — in ordinary circumstances, perhaps not; 
 but — " she hesitated, seemed confused, and looked at 
 Laura, who went on, — 
 
 " My aunt would say, sir, that we may be possibly asking 
 too much, that we may presume too far." 
 
 " Not on my will to sen^e you," I broke in, for her looks 
 said much more than her words. 
 
 " The matter is this, sir," said the aunt : "we have a very 
 valued relative — " 
 
 " Friend," interposed Laura, — " friend, aunt." 
 
 "We will say friend, then," resumed she. "A friend in 
 whose welfare we are deeply interested, and whose regard 
 for us is not less powerful, has been for some years back 
 separated from us by the force of those unhappy circum- 
 stances which have made so many of us exiles. No means 
 have existed of communicating with each other, nor of in- 
 terchanging those hopes or fears for our country's welfare 
 which are so near to every French heart, — he in Germany, 
 we in the wild Tyrol, one-half the world apart, and dare not 
 trust to a correspondence the utterance of those sympathies 
 which have brought so many to the scaffold ! " 
 
 " We would ask of you to see him. Monsieur de Tiernay, 
 to know him," burst out Laura; " to tell him all that you 
 can of France, — above all, of the sentiments of the army ; 
 he is a soldier himself, and will hear you with pleasure." 
 
 " You may speak freely and frankly," continued the 
 
"A SORROWFUL PARTING." 397 
 
 marquise; " the count is man of thie world enough to hear 
 the truth even when it gives pain. Your own career will 
 interest him deeply ; heroism has always had a charm for all 
 his house. This letter will introduce you ; and as the general 
 informs us you have some days at your own disposal, pray 
 give them to our sersdce in this cause." 
 
 "Willingly, Madame," replied I ; " only let me understand 
 a little better — " 
 
 "There is no need to know more," interrupted Laura; 
 " the Count de Marsanne will himself suggest everything of 
 which you will talk. He will speak of us, perhaps, — of the 
 Tyrol, of Kuffstein ; then he will lead the conversation to 
 France ; in fact, once acquainted, you will follow the dictates 
 of your own fancy." 
 
 " Just so. Monsieur de Tiernay ; it will be a visit with as 
 little of ceremony as possible — " 
 
 "Aunt!" interrupted Laura, as if recalling the marquise 
 to caution ; and the old lady at once acknowledged the hint 
 by a significant look. 
 
 I see it all, thought I. De Marsanne is Laura's accepted 
 lover, and I am the person to be employed as go-between. 
 This was intolerable, and when the thought first struck me, 
 I was out of myself with passion. 
 
 ' ' Are we asking too great a favor. Monsieur de Tiernay ? " 
 said the marquise, whose eyes were fixed upon me during 
 this conflict. 
 
 " Of course not, Madame," said I, in an accent of almost 
 sarcastic tone. " If I am not wrong in my impressions, the 
 cause might claim a deeper devotion ; but this is a theme I 
 would not wish to enter upon." 
 
 "We are aware of that," said Laura, quickly; "we are 
 quite prepared for your reserv^e, which is perfectly proper 
 and becoming." 
 
 " Your position being one of unusual delicacy," chimed in 
 the marquise. 
 
 I bowed haughtily and coldly, while the marquise uttered 
 a thousand expressions of gratitude and regard to me. 
 
 " We had hoped to have seen you here a few days longer. 
 Monsieur," said she, " but perhaps, under the circumstances, 
 it is better as it is." 
 
398 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 "Under the circumstances, Madame," repeated I, " I am 
 bound to agree with you ; " and I turned to say farewell. 
 
 "Rather, mi revoir^ Monsieur de Tiernay," said the mar- 
 quise; " friendship, such as ours, should at least be hopeful; 
 say then au revolr." • 
 
 " Perhaps Monsieur de Tiernay's hopes run not in the 
 same channel as our own, aunt," said Laura; " and perhaps 
 the days of happiness that we look forward to would bring 
 far different feelings to his heart." 
 
 This was too pointed, this was insupportably offensive ; 
 and I was only able to mutter, " You are right. Mademoi- 
 selle ; " and then, addressing myself- to the marquise, I made 
 some blundering apologies about haste and so forth, 
 while I promised to fulfil her commission faithfully and 
 promptly. 
 
 " Shall we not hear from you?" said the old lady, as she 
 gave me her hand. I was about to say, " Under the cu'cum- 
 stances, better not ; " but I hesitated, and Laura, seeing my 
 confusion, said, — 
 
 " It might be unfair, aunt, to expect it; remember how he 
 is placed." 
 
 " Mademoiselle is a miracle of forethought and candor 
 too," said I. "Adieu! adieu forever!" The last word I 
 uttered in a low whisper. 
 
 " Adieu, Maurice," she said, equally low, and then turned 
 away towards the window. 
 
 From that moment until the instant when, out of breath 
 and exhausted, I halted for a few seconds on the crag below 
 the fortress, I knew nothing ; my brain was in a whui 
 of mad, conflicting thought. Every passion was working 
 within me ; and rage, jealousy, love, and revenge were alter- 
 nately swaying and controlling me. Then, however, as I 
 looked down for the last time on the village and the cottage 
 beside the river, my heart softened, and I burst into a torrent 
 of tears. " There," said I, as I arose to resume my way, 
 " there ! one illusion is dissipated ; let me take care that life 
 never shall renew the affliction! Henceforth I will be a 
 soldier, and only a soldier." 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 " THE CHATEAU OF ETTENHEIM." 
 
 I NOW come to an incident in my life which, however briefly I 
 may speak, has left the deepest impression on my memory. 
 I have told the reader how I left Kuffstein fully satisfied that 
 the Count de Marsanne was Laura's lover ; and that in keep- 
 ing my promise to see and speak with him, I was about to 
 furnish an instance of self-denial and fidelity that nothing in 
 ancient or modern days could compete with. 
 
 The letter was addressed, " The Count Louis de Marsanne, 
 Chateau d'Ettenheim, a Bade," and thither I accordingly 
 repaired, travelling over the Arlberg to Bregenz, and across 
 the Lake of Constance to Freyburg, — my passport contain- 
 ing a very few words in cypher, which always suflflced to 
 afford me free transit and every attention from the authori- 
 ties. I had left the southern Tyrol in the outburst of a 
 glorious spring, but as I journeyed northward I found the 
 rivers frozen, the roads encumbered with snow, and the fields 
 untilled and dreary-looking. Like all countries which derive 
 their charms from the elements of rural beauty, foliage, and 
 verdure, G-ermany offers a sad-colored picture to the traveller 
 in winter or wintry weather. 
 
 It was thus, then, that the Grand Duchy, so celebrated for 
 its picturesque beauty, strack me as a scene of dreary and 
 desolate wildness, an impression which continued to increase 
 with every mile I travelled from the high road. A long 
 unbroken flat, intersected here and there by stunted willows, 
 traversed by a narrow earth road, lay between the Rhine 
 and the Taunus Mountains, in the midst of which stood the 
 village of Ettenheim. Outside the village, about half a 
 mile off, and on the border of a vast pine-forest, stood the 
 Chateau. 
 
400 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 It was originally a hunting-seat of the Dukes of Baden, 
 but from neglect and disuse gradually fell into ruin, from 
 which it was reclaimed, imperfectly enough, a year before, 
 and now exhibited some remnants of its former taste along 
 with the evidences of a far less decorative spirit, — the lower 
 rooms being arranged as a stable, while the stair and entrance 
 to the first story opened from a roomy coach-house. Here 
 some four or five conveyances of rude construction were 
 gathered together, splashed and unwashed, as if from recent 
 use ; and at a small stove in a corner was seated a peasant 
 in a blue frock, smoking as he affected to clean a bridle which 
 he held before him. 
 
 Without rising from his seat he saluted me, with true 
 German phlegm, and gave me the " Guten Tag," with all 
 the grave unconcern of a Badener. I asked if the Count 
 de Marsanne lived there. He said yes, but the " graf " 
 was out hunting. When would he be back? By nightfall. 
 Could I remain there till his return was my next ques- 
 tion ; and he stared at me as I put it, with some surprise. 
 " Warum nicht?" ("Why not?") was at last his senten- 
 tious answer, as he made way for me beside the stove. I saw 
 at once that my appearance had evidently not entitled me to 
 any peculiar degree of deference or respect, and that the man 
 regarded me as his equal. It was true I had come some 
 miles on foot, and with a knapsack on my shoulder, so that 
 the peasant was fully warranted in his reception of me. I 
 accordingly seated mj^self at his side, and lighting my pipe 
 from his, proceeded to derive all the profit I could from 
 drawing him into conversation. I might have spared myself 
 the trouble. Whether the source lay in stupidity or sharp- 
 ness, he evaded me on every point. Xot a single particle of 
 information could I obtain about the count, his habits, or his 
 history. He would not even tell me how long he had resided 
 there, nor whence he had come. He liked hunting, and so 
 did the other " herren." There was the whole I could scan ; 
 and to the simple fact that there were others with him, did I 
 find myself limited. 
 
 Curious to see something of the count's " interior," I 
 hinted to my companion that I had come on purpose to visit 
 his master, and suggested the propriety of my awaiting his 
 
"THE CHATEAU OF ETTENHEIM." 401 
 
 arrival in a more suitable place ; but be turned a deaf ear to 
 the bint, and dr^'ly remarked that tbe " graf would not be 
 long a-coming now." This prediction was, however, not to 
 be verified ; the dreary hours of the dull day stole heavily 
 on, and although I tried to beguile the time by lounging 
 about the place, the cold ungenial weather drove me back to 
 the stove, or to the dark precincts of the stable, tenanted by 
 three coarse ponies of the mountain breed. 
 
 One of these was the graf's favorite, the peasant told 
 me ; and indeed here he showed some disposition to become 
 communicative, narrating various gifts and qualities of the 
 unseemly looking animal, which in his eyes was a paragon 
 of horseflesh. '' He could travel from here to Kehl and 
 back in a day, and has often done it," was one meed of 
 praise that he bestowed, — a fact which impressed me more 
 as regarded the rider than the beast, and set my curiosity at 
 work to think why any man should undertake a journey of 
 nigh seventy miles between two such places and with such 
 speed. The problem served to occupy me till dark, and I 
 know not how long after. A stormy night of rain and wind 
 set in ; and the peasant, having bedded and foraged his cattle, 
 lighted a rickety old lantern and began to prepare for bed, 
 for such I at last saw was the meaning of a long crib, like a 
 coffin, half filled with straw and sheepskins. A coarse loaf 
 of black bread, some black forest cheese, and a flask of 
 Kleinthaler, a most candid imitation of vinegar, made their 
 appearance from a cupboard, and I did not disdain to partake 
 of these delicacies. 
 
 My host showed no disposition to become more communi- 
 cative over his wine, and indeed the liquor might have 
 excused any degree of resei've ; and no sooner was our meal 
 over than, drawing a great woollen cap half over his face, he 
 rolled himself up in his sheepskins, and betook himself to 
 gleep^ — if not with a good conscience, at least with a sturdy 
 volition that served just as well. 
 
 Occasionally snatching a short slumber, or walking to and 
 fro in the roomy chamber, I passed several hours, when the 
 splashing sound of horses' feet, advancing up the miry road, 
 attracted me. Several times before that I had been deceived 
 by noises which turned out to be the effects of storm ; but 
 
 20 
 
402 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 now, as I listened, I thought I could hear voices. I opened 
 the door, but all was dark outside; it was the inky hour 
 before daybreak, when all is wrapped in deepest gloom. The 
 rain, too, was sweeping along the ground in torrents. The 
 sounds came nearer every instant, and at last a deep voice 
 shouted out, ' ' Jacob ! " Before I could awaken the sleeping 
 peasant, to whom I judged this summons was addressed, a 
 horseman dashed up to the door and rode in; another as 
 quickly followed him, and closed the door. 
 
 '''• Parhlea^ D'Egville," said the first who entered, "we 
 have got a rare peppering ! " 
 
 " Even so," said the other, as he shook his hat, and threw 
 off a cloak perfectly soaked with rain ; ^^ ala guerre comme a 
 la guerre." 
 
 This was said in French, when, turning towards me, the 
 former said in German, "Be active, Master Jacob; these 
 nags have had a smart ride of it.'' Then suddenly, as the 
 light flashed full on my features, he started back, and said, 
 " How is this — who are you? " 
 
 A very brief explanation answered this somewhat uncour- 
 teous question, and at the same time I placed the marquise's 
 letter in his hand, saying, "The Count de Marsanne, I 
 presume." 
 
 He took it hastily, and drew nigh to the lantern to peruse 
 it. I had now full time to observe him, and saw that he was 
 a tall and well-built man, of about seven or eight-and-twent}^ 
 His features were remarkably handsome, and, although 
 slightly flushed by his late exertion, were as calm and com- 
 posed as might be ; a short black mustache gave his upper 
 lip a slight character of scorn, but the brow, open, frank, 
 and good-tempered in its expression, redeemed this amply. 
 He had not read many lines when, turning about, he apolo- 
 gized in the most courteous terms for the manner of my 
 reception. He had been on a shooting excursion for a few 
 days back, and taken all his people with him, save the 
 peasant who looked after the cattle. Then, introducing me 
 to his friend, whom he called Count d'Egville, he led the way 
 upstairs. 
 
 It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast to the 
 dark and dreary coach-house than the comfortable suite of 
 
"THE CHATEAU OE ETTENHEIM." 403 
 
 apartments which we now traversed on our wa}^ to a large, 
 well-furnished room, where a table was laid for supper, and 
 a huge wood-fire blazed brightly on the hearth. A valet, of 
 most respectful manner, received the count's orders to pre- 
 pare a room for me, after which my host and his friend 
 retired to change their clothes. 
 
 Although D'Egville was many years older, and of a graver, 
 sterner fashion than the other, I could detect a degree of 
 deference and respect in his manner towards him, which De 
 Marsanne accepted like one well accustomed to receive it. 
 It was a time, however, when in the wreck of fortune so 
 many men lived in a position of mere dependence that I 
 thought nothing of this, nor had I even the time, as Count 
 de Marsanne entered. From my own preconceived notions 
 as to his being Laura's lover, I was quite prepared to answer 
 a hundred impatient inquiries about the marquise and her 
 niece ; and as we were now alone, I judged that he would 
 deem the time a favorable one to talk of them. What was 
 my surprise, however, when he turned the conversation 
 exclusively to the topic of my own journey, — the route I 
 had travelled. He knew the country perfectly, and spoke of 
 the various towns and their inhabitants with acuteness and 
 tact. 
 
 His Royalist leanings did not, like those of the marquise, 
 debar him from feeling a strong interest respecting the 
 success of the Republican troops, with whose leaders he was 
 thoroughly acquainted, knowing all theu' peculiar excellences 
 and defaults as though he had lived in intimacy with them. 
 Of Bonaparte's genius he was the most enraptured admirer, 
 and would not hear of any comparison between him and the 
 other great captains of the day. D'Egville at last made his 
 appearance, and we sat down to an excellent supper, enli- 
 vened by the conversation of our host, who, whatever the 
 theme, talked well and pleasingly. 
 
 I was in a mood to look for flaws in his character, — my 
 jealousy was still urging me to seek for whatever I could 
 find fault with, — and yet all my critical shrewdness could 
 only detect a slight degree of pride in his manner, not dis- 
 playing itself by any presumption, but by a certain urbanity 
 that smacked of condescension ; but even this at last went 
 
404 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 off, and before I wished him good-night, I felt that I had 
 never met any one so gifted with agreeable qualities nor pos- 
 sessed of such captivating manners as himself. Even his 
 Royalism had its fascinations, for it was eminently national, 
 and showed at every moment that he was far more of a 
 Frenchman than a monarchist. We parted without one word 
 of allusion to the marquise or to Laura ! Had this singular 
 fact an}' influence upon the favorable impression I had con- 
 ceived of him, or was I unconsciously grateful for the relief 
 thus given to all my jealous tormentings? Certain is it that 
 I felt infinitely happier than I ever fancied I should be under 
 his roof, and as I lay down in my bed thanked my stars that 
 he was not my rival. 
 
 When I awoke the next morning I was some minutes 
 before I could remember where I was, and as I still lay, 
 gradually recalling myself to memory, the valet entered to 
 announce the count. 
 
 " I have come to say adieu for a few hours," said he ; "a 
 very pressing appointment requires me to be at Pfortzheim 
 to-day, and I have to ask that you will excuse my absence. 
 I know that I may take this liberty without any appearance 
 of rudeness, for the marquise has told me all about you. 
 Pray, then, try and amuse youi'self till evening, and we shall 
 meet at supper." 
 
 I was not sorry that D'Egville was to accompany him, and, 
 turning on my side, dozed off to sleep away some of the 
 gloomy hours of a winter's day. 
 
 In this manner several days were passed, the count 
 absenting himself each morning, and returning at nightfall, 
 — sometimes accompanied by D'Egville, sometimes alone. 
 It was evident enough from the appearance of his horses at 
 his return, as well as from his own jaded looks, that he had 
 ridden hard and far; but, except a chance allusion to the 
 state of the roads or the weather, it was a topic to which he 
 never referred, nor, of course, did I ever advert. Meanwhile 
 our intimacy grew closer and franker. The theme of politics, 
 a forbidden subject between men so separated, was con- 
 stantly discussed between us ; and I could not help feeling 
 flattered at the deference with which he listened to opinions 
 from one so much his junior, and so inferior in knowledge, 
 
"THE CHATEAU OF ETTEXHEIM." 405 
 
 as myself. Nothing could be more moderate than his views 
 of government, only provided that it was administered by 
 the rightful sovereign. The claim of a king to his throne he 
 declared to be the foundation of all the rights of property, 
 and which, if once shaken or disputed, would inevitably lead 
 to the wildest theories of democratic equality. "I don't 
 want to convert you," he would say, laughingly; "the son 
 of an old Garde du Corps, the born gentleman, has but to 
 live to learn. It may come a little later or a little earlier, 
 but you'll end as a good monarchist." 
 
 One evening he was unusually late in returning, and when 
 he came was accompanied by seven or eight companions, — 
 some younger, some older, than himself, but all men whose 
 air and bearing bespoke their rank in life, while their names 
 recalled the thoughts of old French chivalry. I remember 
 among them was a Coigny, a Grammont, and a Rochefou- 
 cauld, — the last as lively a specimen of Parisian wit and 
 brilliancy as ever fluttered along the sunny Boulevards. 
 
 De Marsanne, while endeavoring to enjoy himself and 
 entertain his guests, was, to my thinking, more serious than 
 usual, and seemed impatient at D'Egville's absence, for 
 whose coming we now waited supper. 
 
 " I should not wonder if he was lost in the deep mud of 
 those cross-roads," said Coigny. 
 
 "Or perhaps he has fallen into the Republic," said 
 Rochefoucauld; "it's the only thing dirtier that I know 
 of." 
 
 " Monsieur forgets that I wear its cloth," said I, in a low 
 whisper to him ; and low as it was, De Marsanne overheard 
 it. 
 
 "Yes, Charles," cried he, "you must apologize, and on 
 the spot, for the rudeness." 
 
 Rochefoucauld reddened and hesitated. 
 
 " I insist, sir," cried De Marsanne, with a tone of supe- 
 riority I had never seen him assume before. 
 
 "Perhaps," said he, with a half-sneer, "Monsieur de 
 Tiemay might refuse to accept my excuses." 
 
 " In that case, sir," interposed De Marsanne, " the quarrel 
 will become mine ; for he is my guest, and lives here under 
 the safeguard of my honor." 
 
406 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 Rochefoucauld bowed submissively, and with the air of a 
 man severely but justly rebuked ; and then advancing to me 
 said, "I beg to tender you my apology. Monsieur, for an 
 expression which should never have been uttered by me in 
 your presence." 
 
 "Quite sufficient, sir," said I, bowing, and anxious to 
 conclude a scene which for the first time had disturbed the 
 harmony of our meetings. Slight as was the incident, its 
 effects were yet visible in the disconcerted looks of the 
 party ; and I could see that more than one glance was 
 directed towards me with an expression of coldness and 
 distrust. 
 
 " Here comes D'Egville at last," said one, throwing open 
 the window to listen ; the night was starlit, but dark, and 
 the air calm and motionless. " I certainly heard a horse's 
 tread on the causeway." 
 
 "I hear distinctly the sound of several," cried Coigny; 
 " and, if I mistake not much, so does Monsieur de Tiernay." 
 
 This sudden allusion turned every eye towards me, as I 
 stood still suffering from the confusion of the late scene. 
 " Yes ; I hear the tramp of horses, and cavalry too, I should 
 say, by their measured tread." 
 
 " There was a trumpet-call ! " cried Coigny ; " what does 
 that mean?" 
 
 "It is the signal to take open order," said I, answering as 
 if the question were addressed to myself. "It is a picket 
 taking a ' reconnaissance.' " 
 
 " How do you know that, sir? " said Grammont, sternly. 
 
 "Ay! how does he know that?" cried several, passion- 
 ately, as they closed around me. 
 
 " You must ask in another tone, messieurs," said I, calmly, 
 " if you expect to be answered." 
 
 "They mean to say, how do you happen to know the 
 German trumpet-calls, Tiernay?" said De Marsanne, mildly, 
 as he laid his hand on my arm. 
 
 " It 's a French signal," said I ; " I ought to know it well." 
 
 Before my words were well uttered the door was thrown 
 open, and D'Egville burst into the room, pale as death, his 
 clothes all mud-stained and disordered. Making his way 
 through the others, he whispered a few words in De Mar- 
 sanne's ear. 
 
"THE CHATEAU OF ETTENHEIM." 407 
 
 " Impossible ! " cried the other ; " we are here iu the terri- 
 tory of the margrave." 
 
 " It is as I say," replied D'Egville ; " there 's not a second 
 to lose ; it may be too late even now. By Heavens it is ! 
 they 've drawn a cordon round the Chateau." 
 
 "What's to be done, gentlemen?" said De Marsanne, 
 seating himself calmly, and crossing his arms on his breast. 
 
 "What do you say, sir?" cried Grammont, advancing to 
 me with an air of insolent menace ; " you, at least, ought to 
 know the way out of this difficulty." 
 
 " Or, by Heaven, his own road shall be one of the shortest, 
 considering the length of the journey," muttered another; 
 and I could hear the sharp click of a pistol-cock as he spoke 
 the words. 
 
 "This is unworthy of you, gentlemen, and of me," said 
 De Marsanne, haughtily ; and he gazed around him with a 
 look that seemed to abash them; " nor is it a time to hold 
 such disputation. There is another and a very difficult call 
 to answer. Are we agreed ? " Before he could finish the 
 sentence the door was burst open, and several dragoons in 
 French uniforms entered and ranged themselves across the 
 entrance, while a colonel, with his sabre drawn, advanced in 
 front of them. 
 
 "This is brigandage," cried De Marsanne, passionately, 
 as he drew his sword, and seemed meditating a spring 
 through them; but he was immediately surrounded by his 
 friends and disarmed. Indeed nothing could be more hope- 
 less than resistance ; more than double our number were 
 already in the room, while the hoarse murmur of voices 
 without and the tramp of heavy feet announced a strong 
 party. 
 
 At a signal from their officer, the dragoons unslung their 
 carbines, and held them at the cock, when the colonel called 
 out, " Which of you, messieurs, is the Due d'Enghien?" 
 
 " If you come to arrest him," replied De Marsanne, " you 
 ought to have his description in your warrant." 
 
 "Is the descendant of a Conde ashamed to own his 
 name? " asked the colonel, with a sneer. " But we '11 make 
 short work of it, sirs ; I arrest you all. My orders are per- 
 emptory, messieurs. If you resist, or attempt to escape — " 
 and he made a significant sign with his hand to finish. 
 
408 ^lAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 The due, for I need no longer call him De Marsanne, never 
 spoke a word, but with folded arms calmly walked forward, 
 followed by his little household. As we descended the stairs, 
 we found ourselves in the midst of about thirty dismounted 
 dragoons, all on the alert, and prepared for any resistance ; 
 the remxainder of a squadron were on horseback without. 
 With a file of soldiers on either hand, we marched for about 
 a quarter of a mile across the fields to a small mill, where a 
 general oflScer and his staff seemed awaiting our arrival. 
 Here, too, a picket of gens-d'armes was stationed ; a char- 
 acter of force significant enough of the meaning of the enter- 
 prise. We were hurriedly marched into the court of the mill, 
 the owner of which stood between two soldiers, trembling 
 from head to foot with terror. 
 
 " Which is the Due d'Enghien? " asked the colonel of the 
 miller. 
 
 " That is he with the scarlet vest ; " and the prince nodded 
 an assent. 
 
 " Your age, Monsieur? " asked the colonel of the prince. 
 
 " Thirtj^-two, — that is, I should have been so much in 
 August, were it not for this visit," said he, smiling. 
 
 The colonel wrote on rapidly for a few minutes, and then 
 showed the paper to the general, who briefly said, "Yes, 
 yes ; this does not concern you nor me." 
 
 "I wish to ask, sir," said the prince, addressing the gen- 
 eral, "do you make this arrest with the consent of the 
 authorities of this countr}^ or do 3'ou do so in defiance of 
 them?" 
 
 "You must reserve questions like that for the court who 
 will judge you, Monsieur de Cond^," said the officer, roughly. 
 " If you wish for any articles of dress from your quarters, 
 you had better think of them. My orders are to convey you 
 to Strasbourg. Is there anything so singular in the fact, su', 
 that you should look so much astonished ? " 
 
 "There is, indeed," said the prince, sorrowfull}". "I 
 shall be the first of my house who ever crossed that frontier 
 a prisoner." 
 
 " But not the first who carried arms against his country," 
 rejoined the other, — a taunt the due only replied to by a 
 look of infinite scorn and contempt. 
 
"THE CHATEAU OF ETTENHEIM." 409 
 
 With a speed that told plainly the character of the expe- 
 dition, we were now placed, two together, on country cars, 
 and driven at a rapid pace towards Strasbourg. Relays of 
 cattle awaited us on the road, and we never halted but for a 
 few minutes during the entire journey. My companion on 
 this dreary day was the Baron de St. Jacques, the aide-de- 
 camp to the due ; but he never spoke once ; indeed, he 
 scarcely lifted his head during the whole road. 
 
 Heaven knows it was a melancholy journey, and neither 
 the country nor the season were such as to lift the mind from 
 sorrow ; and yet, strange enough, the miles glided over 
 rapidly, and to this hour I cannot remember by what magic 
 the way seemed so short. The thought that for several days 
 back I had been living in closest intimacy with a distin- 
 guished prince of the Bourbon family ; that we had spent 
 hours together discussing themes and questions which were 
 those of his own house, canvassing the chances and weigh- 
 ing the claims of which he was himself the asserter, — was a 
 most exciting feeling. How I recalled now all the modest 
 deference of his manner, his patient endurance of my crude 
 opinions, his generous admissions regarding his adversaries, 
 and above all his ardent devotion to France, whatever the 
 hand that swayed her destinies ; and then the chivalrous 
 boldness of his character, blended with an almost gu'lish 
 gentleness, — how princely were such traits ! 
 
 From these thoughts I wandered on to others about his 
 arrest and capture, from which, however, I could not believe 
 any serious issue was to come. Bonaparte is too noble- 
 minded not to feel the value of such a life as this. Men 
 like the prince can be more heavily fettered by generous 
 treatment than b}^ all the chains that ever bound a felon. 
 But what will be done with him, what with his followers ; and 
 lastly, not at all the pleasantest consideration, what is to 
 come of Maurice Tiemay, who, to say the least, has been 
 found in very suspicious company, and without a shadow of 
 an explanation to account for it? This last thought just 
 occurred to me as we crossed over the long bridge of boats, 
 and entered Strasbourg. 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 AN "ordinary" acquaintance. 
 
 The Due d'Enghien and his aide-de-camp were forwarded 
 with the utmost speed to Paris ; the remainder of us were 
 imprisoned at Strasbourg. What became of my companions 
 I know not; but I was sent on, along with a number of 
 others, about a month later, to Nancy, to be tried by a 
 military commission. I may mention it here as a singular 
 fact illustrating the secrecy of the period, that it was not 
 till long after this time I learned the terrible fate of the poor 
 Prince de Conde. Had I known it, it is more than probable 
 that I should have utterly despaired of my own safety. The 
 dreadful story of Vincennes, the mock trial, and the mid- 
 night execution are all too well known to my readers ; nor is 
 it necessary I should refer to an event on which I myself can 
 throw no new light. That the sentence was determined on 
 before his arrest, and that the grave was dug while the 
 victim was still sleeping the last slumber before ' ' the sleep 
 that knows not waking," the evidences are strong and unde- 
 niable. But an anecdote which circulated at the time, and 
 which so far as I know has never appeared in print, would 
 seem to show that there was complicity at least in the crime, 
 and that the secret was not confined to the First Consul's 
 breast. 
 
 On that fatal night of the 20th March, Talleyrand was 
 seated at a card-table at Caulaincourt's house at Paris. 
 The party was about to rise from play, when suddenly the 
 pendule on the chimney-piece struck two. It was in one 
 of those accidental pauses in the conversation when any 
 sound is heard with unusual distinctness. Talleyrand started 
 as he heard it, and then turning to Caulaincourt, whis- 
 pered, "Yes; 'tis all over now!" words which, acciden- 
 
AN "ORDINARY" ACQUAINTANCE. 411 
 
 tally overheard, without significance, were yet to convey a 
 terrible meaning when the dreadful secret of that night was 
 disclosed. 
 
 If the whole of Europe was convulsed by the enormity of 
 this crime, the foulest that stains the name of Bonaparte, 
 the Parisians soon forgot it in the deeper interest of the great 
 event that was now approaching, — the assumption of the 
 imperial title by Napoleon. 
 
 The excitement on this theme was so great and absorbing 
 that nothing else was spoken or thought of. Private sorrows 
 and afflictions were disregarded and despised, and to obtrude 
 one's hardships on the notice of others seemed, at this 
 juncture, a most ineffable selfishness. That I, a prisoner, 
 friendless and unknown as I was, found none to sympathize 
 with me or take interest in my fate, is therefore nothing 
 extraordinary. In fact, I appeared to have been entirely for- 
 gotten ; and though still in durance, nothing was said either 
 of the charge to be preferred against me, nor the time w^hen 
 I should be brought to trial. 
 
 Giacourt, an old lieutenant of the marines, and at that 
 time deputy-governor of the Temple, was kind and good- 
 natured towards me, occasionally telling of the events which 
 were happening without, and giving me the hope that some 
 general amnesty would, in all likelihood, liberate all those 
 whose crimes were not beyond the reach of mercy. The 
 little cell I occupied (and to Giacourt's kindness I owed the 
 sole possession of it) looked out upon the tall battlements 
 of the outer walls, which excluded all view beyond, and thus 
 drove me within myself for occupation and employment. In 
 this emergency I set about to write some notices of my life, 
 some brief memoirs of those changeful fortunes which had 
 accompanied me from boyhood. Many of those incidents 
 which I relate now, and many of those traits of mind or 
 temper that I recall, were then for the first time noted down, 
 and thus graven on my memory. 
 
 My early boyhood, my first experience as a soldier, the 
 campaign of the Schwartz Wald, Ireland, and Genoa, all 
 were mentioned ; and writing as I did solely for myself and 
 my own eyes, I set down many criticisms on the generals and 
 their plans of campaign, which, if intended for the inspection 
 
412 MAURICE TIERXAF. 
 
 of others, would have been the greatest presumption and 
 impertinence, — and in this way Moreau, Hoehe, Massena, 
 and even Bonaparte came in for a most candid and impartial 
 criticism. 
 
 How Germany might have been conquered, how Ireland 
 ought to have been invaded, in what way Italy should have 
 been treated, and lastly the grand political error of the 
 seizure of the Due d'Enghien, were subjects that I discussed 
 and determined with consummate boldness and self-satis- 
 faction. I am almost overwhelmed with shame, even now, as 
 I think of that absurd chronicle, with its rash judgments, 
 its crude opinions, and its pretentious decisions. 
 
 So fascinated had I become with my task that I rose early 
 to resume it each morning, and used to fall asleep cogitating 
 on the themes for the next day, and revolving within myself 
 all the passages of interest I should commemorate. A man 
 must have known imprisonment to feel all the value that can 
 be attached to any object, no matter how mean or insignificant, 
 that can employ the thoughts, amuse the fancy, or engage 
 the affections. The narrow cell expands under such magic; 
 the barred casement is a free portal to the glorious sun 
 and the free air ; the captive himself is but the student bending 
 over his allotted task:. To this happy frame of mind had I 
 come, without a thought or a wish be3^ond the narrow walls at 
 either side of me, when a sad disaster befell me. On awak- 
 ing one morning, as usual, to resume my labor, my manu- 
 script was gone ; the table and writing materials, all had 
 disappeared ; and, to increase my discomfiture, the tui-nkey 
 informed me that Lieutenant Giacourt had been removed 
 from his post, and sent off to some inferior station in the 
 provinces. 
 
 I will not advert to the dreary time which followed this 
 misfoj^-tune, a time in which the hours passed on unmeasured 
 and almost unfelt. Without speculation, without a wish, I 
 passed my days in a stupid indolence akin to torpor. Had 
 the prison-doors been open, I doubt if I should have had the 
 energy to make my escape. Life itself ceased to have any 
 value for me ; but somehow I did not desire death. I was in 
 this miserable mood when the tui'nkey awoke me one day as 
 I was dozing on my bed. 
 
AN "ORDINARY" ACQUAINTANCE. 413 
 
 '' Get up, aud prepare yourself to receive a visitor," said 
 he. " There 's an othcer of the staff without, come to see 
 you ; " and as he spoke, a young, slightly-formed man 
 entered, in the uniform of a captain, who, making a sign for 
 the turnkey to withdraw, took his seat at my bedside. 
 
 ''Don't get up. Monsieur; you look ill and weak, so 
 pray let me not disturb you," said he, in a voice of kindly 
 meaning. 
 
 ''I'm not ill," said I, with an effort, — but my hollow 
 utterance and my sunken cheeks contradicted my words, — 
 " but I have been sleeping ; I usually doze at this hour." 
 
 " The best thing a man can do in prison, I suppose," snid 
 he, smiling good-naturedly. 
 
 " No, not the best," said I, catching up his words too 
 literally. "I used to write the whole day long, till they 
 carried away my paper and my pens." 
 
 " It is just of that very thing I have come to speak, sir," 
 resumed he. " You intended that memoir for publication? " 
 
 "No; never!" 
 
 " Then for private perusal among a circle of friends? " 
 
 " Just as little. I scarcely know three people in the world 
 who would acknowledge that title." 
 
 " You had an object, however, in composing it? " 
 
 "Yes; to occupy thought ; to save me from — from — " 
 I hesitated, for I was ashamed of the confession that nearly 
 burst from me, and, after a pause, I said, '' from being such 
 as I now am ! " 
 
 " You wrote it for yourself alone, then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Unprompted, without any suggestion from another?" 
 
 " Is it here," said I, looking around my cell, — " is it here 
 that I should be likely to find a fellow-laborer?" 
 
 " No; but I mean to ask, were the sentiments your own, 
 without any external influence or any persuasions from 
 others ? " 
 
 " Quite my own." 
 
 " And the narrative is true? " 
 
 "Strictly so, I believe." 
 
 " Even to your meeting with the Due d'Enghien, — it was 
 purely accidental?" 
 
414 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " That is, I never knew him to be the due till the moment 
 of his arrest?" 
 
 "Just so; you thought he was merely a Royalist noble. 
 Then, why did you not address a memoir to that effect to the 
 minister ? " 
 
 " I thought it would be useless ; when they made so little 
 of a Conde, what right had I to suppose they would think 
 much about me?" 
 
 "If he could have proved his innocence — " he stopped, 
 and then in an altered voice said : ' ' But as to this memoir ; 
 you assume considerable airs of military knowledge in it, and 
 many of the opinions smack of heads older than yours." 
 
 "They are, I repeat, my own altogether; as to their pre- 
 sumption, I have already told you they were intended solely 
 for my own eye." 
 
 " So that you are not a Royalist? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Never were one? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 ' ' In what way would you employ yourself, if set at liberty 
 to-day?" 
 
 I stared, and felt confused ; for however easy I found it to 
 refer to the past, and reason on it, any speculation as to the 
 future was a considerable difficulty. 
 
 "You hesitate; you have not yet made up your mind, 
 apparently." 
 
 "It is not that ; I am trying to think of liberty, trying to 
 fancy myself free, but I cannot ! " said I, with a weary sigh ; 
 " the air of this cell has sapped my courage and my energy ; 
 a little more will finish the ruin ! " 
 
 ' ' And yet you are not much above four or five-and-twenty 
 years of age? " 
 
 " Not yet twenty ! " said I. 
 
 "Come, come, Tiernay, this is too early to be sick of 
 life ! " said he, and the kind tone touched me so that I burst 
 into tears. The}^ were bitter tears, too ; for, while my heart 
 was relieved by this gush of feeling, I was ashamed at ni}^ 
 own weakness. " Come, I say," continued he, " this memoir 
 of yours might have done you much mischief ; happily it has 
 not done so. Give me the permission to throw it in the fire, 
 
AN "ORDINARY" ACQUAINTANCE. 415 
 
 and, instead of it, address a respectful petition to the head 
 of the State, setting forth your services, and stating the 
 casualty by which you were implicated in Royalism. I will 
 take care that it meets his eye, and, if possible, will support 
 its prayer ; above all, ask for re-instalment in your grade and 
 a return to the service. It may be, perhaps, that you can 
 mention some superior officer who would vouch for your 
 future conduct." 
 
 " Except Colonel Mahon — " 
 
 ' • Xot the Colonel Mahon who commanded the Thirteenth 
 Cuirassiers ? " 
 
 "The same!" 
 
 " That name would little serve you," said he, coldly ; "he 
 has been placed en retralte some time back ; and if your 
 character can call no other witness than him, your case is not 
 too favorable." He saw that the speech had disconcerted 
 me, and soon added, "Never mind, keep to the memoir; 
 state your case and your apology, and leave the rest to For- 
 tune. When can you let me have it? " 
 
 " By to-morrow — to-night, if necessary." 
 
 " To-morrow will do well, and so good-by. I will order 
 them to supply 3'ou with writing materials ; " and slapping 
 me good-naturedly on the shoulder, he cried, " Courage, my 
 lad ! " and departed. 
 
 Before I lay down to sleep that night I completed my 
 " memoir," the great difficulty of which I found to consist in 
 giving it that dry brevity which I knew Bonaparte would 
 require. In this, however, I believe I succeeded at last, 
 making the entire document not to occupy one sheet of paper. 
 The officer had left his card of address, which I found was 
 inscribed Monsieur Bourrienne, Rue Lafitte, — a name that 
 subsequently was to be well known to the world. 
 
 I directed my manuscript to his care, and lay down with a 
 lighter heart than I had known for many a day. I will not 
 weary my reader with the tormenting vacillations of hope and 
 fear which followed. Day after day went over, and no 
 answer came to me. I addressed two notes, respectful but 
 urgent, begging for some information as to my demand ; 
 none came. A month passed thus, when one morning the 
 governor of the Temple entered my room with an open letter 
 in his hand. 
 
416 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "This is an order for your liberation, Monsieur cle 
 Tiernay," said he; " you are free." 
 
 " Am I reinstated in my grade? " asked I, eagerly. 
 
 He shook his head, and said nothing. 
 
 " Is there no mention of my restoration to the service? " 
 
 " None, sir." 
 
 "Then what is to become of me, — to what end am I 
 liberated ? " cried I, passionately. 
 
 " Paris is a great city, there is a wide world beyond it ; and 
 a man so young as you are must have few^ resources, or he 
 will carve out a good career for himself." 
 
 " Say, rather, he must have few resentments, sir," cried I, 
 bitterly, " or he will easily hit upon a bad one ; " and with 
 this, I packed up the few articles I possessed, and prepared 
 to depart. 
 
 I remember it well. It was between two and three o'clock 
 of the afternoon, on a bright day in spring, that I stood on 
 the Quai Voltaire, a very small packet of clothes in a bundle 
 in one hand, and a cane in the other, something short of three 
 louis in my purse, and as much depression in my heart as 
 ever settled down in that of a youth not full nineteen. 
 Liberty is a glorious thing, and mine had been perilled often 
 enough to give me a hearty appreciation of its blessing ; but 
 at that moment, as I stood friendless and companionless in a 
 great thoroughfare of a great city, I almost wished myself 
 back again within the dreary walls of the Temple, for some- 
 how it felt like home ! It is true, one must have had a lonely 
 lot in life before he could surround the cell of a prison with 
 such attributes as these. Perhaps I have more of the cat- 
 like affection for a particular spot than most men ; but I 
 do find that I attach myself to walls with a tenacity that 
 strengthens as I grow older, and, like my brother parasite the 
 ivy, my grasp becomes more rigid the longer I cling. 
 
 If I know of few merely sensual gratifications higher than 
 a lounge through Paris at the flood-tide of its population, 
 watching the varied hues and complexions of its strange 
 inhabitants, displaying as they do in feature, air, and gesture 
 so much more of character and purpose than other people, — 
 so also do I feel that there is something indescribably miser- 
 able in being alone, unknown, and unnoticed in that vast 
 
AN "ORDINARY" ACQUAINTANCE. 417 
 
 throng, destitute of means for the present and devoid of hope 
 for the future. 
 
 Some were bent on business, some on pleasure ; some were 
 evidently bent on killing time till the hour of more agreeable 
 occupation should arrive ; some were loitering along, gazing 
 at the prints in shop-windows, or half listlessly stopping to 
 read at book-stalls. There was not only every condition of 
 mankind, from wealth to mendicancy, but every frame of 
 mind, from enjoyment to utter ennui ; and yet I thought I 
 could not hit upon any one individual who looked as forlorn 
 and cast-away as myself. However, there were many who 
 passed me that day who would gladly have changed fortune 
 with me ; but it would have been difficult to persuade me of 
 the fact in the mood I then was. 
 
 At the time I speak of, there was a species of cheap ordi- 
 nary held in the open air on the quay, where people of the 
 humblest condition used to dine. I need scarcely describe 
 the fare, — the reader may conceive what it was, which, wine 
 included, cost only four sous ; a rude table without a cloth, 
 some wooden platters, and an iron rail to which the knives 
 and forks were chained, formed the " equipage," the cookery 
 bearing a due relation to the elegance of these accessories. 
 As for the company, if not polite it was certainly picturesque, 
 consisting of laborers of the lowest class, the sweepers of 
 crossings, hackney cabmen out of employ, that poorest of the 
 poor who try to earn a livelihood bj^ dragging the Seine for 
 lost articles ; and, finally, the motley race of idlers who 
 vacillate between beggary and ballad-singing, with now and 
 then a dash at highway robbery for a distraction, — a class, 
 be it said without paradox, which in Paris includes a consid- 
 erable number of tolerably honest folk. 
 
 The moment was the eventful one in which France was 
 about once more to become a monarchy ; and, as may be in- 
 ferred from the character of the people, it was a time of high 
 excitement and enthusiasm. The nation, even in its humblest 
 citizen, seemed to feel some of the reflected glory that glanced 
 from the great achievements of Bonaparte, and his elevation 
 was little other than a grand manifestation of national self- 
 esteem. That he knew how to profit by this sentiment, and 
 incorporate his own with the country's glory so that they 
 
 27 
 
418 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 seemed to be inseparable, is not among the lowest nor the 
 least of the efforts of his genius. 
 
 The paroxysm of national vanity, for it was indeed no less, 
 imparted a peculiar character to the period. A vainglorious, 
 boastful spirit was abroad ; men met each other with high- 
 sounding gratulations about French greatness and splendor, 
 the sway we wielded over the rest of Europe, and the influ- 
 ence with which we impressed our views over the entire 
 globe. Since the fall of the monarchy there had been half 
 a dozen national fevers. There was the great Fraternal 
 and Equality one ; there was the era of classical associations, 
 with all their train of trumpery affectation in dress and 
 manner ; then came the conquering spirit, with the flattering 
 spectacle of great armies ; and now, as if to complete the 
 cycle, there grew up that exaggerated conception of " France 
 and her mission " — an unlucky phrase that has since done 
 plenty of mischief — which seemed to carry the nation into 
 the seventh heaven of overweening self-love. 
 
 If I advert to this here, it is but passingly, neither stop- 
 ping to examine its causes nor seeking to inquire the conse- 
 quences that ensued from it, but, as it were, chronicling the 
 fact as it impressed me as I stood that day on the Quai 
 Voltaire, perhaps the only unimpassioned lounger along its 
 crowded thoroughfare. 
 
 Not even the ordinary a quatre sous claimed exemption 
 from this sentiment. It might be supposed that meagre diet 
 and sour wine were but sorry provocatives to national enthu- 
 siasm ; but even they could minister to the epidemic ardor, 
 and the humble dishes of that frugal board masqueraded 
 under titles that served to feed popular vanity. Of this I 
 was made suddenly aware as I stood looking over the parapet 
 into the river, and heard the rude voices of the laborers as 
 they called for cutlets a la Caire^ potatoes en Mamelouques, 
 or roast beef a la Monte Notte^ while every goblet of their 
 wine was tossed off to some proud sentiment of national 
 supremacy. 
 
 Amused by the scene, so novel in all its bearings, I took 
 my place at the table, not sorry for the excuse to myself for 
 partaking so humble a repast. 
 
 '•'-Sacre bleu 1 " cried a rough-looking fellow with a red night- 
 
AX "ORDINARY" ACQUAINTANCE. 419 
 
 cap set on one side of the head, " make room there ! we have 
 the aristocrates coming down among us." 
 
 "Monsieur is heartily welcome," said another, making 
 room for me ; "we are only flattered by such proofs of con- 
 fidence and esteem." 
 
 " Ay,j9arZ//e?i/ " cried a third; "the Empire is coming, 
 and we shall be well-bred and well-mannered. I intend to 
 give up the river, and take to some more gentlemanlike trade 
 than dredging for dead men." 
 
 "And I, I'll never sharpen anything under a rapier or a 
 dress sword for the court," said a knife-grinder; " we have 
 been living like canaille hitherto — nothing better." 
 
 '''- A V Empire^ a V Empire!''' shouted half a dozen voices 
 in concert ; and the glasses were drained to the toast with a 
 loud cheer. 
 
 Directly opposite to me sat a thin, pale, mild-looking man 
 of about fifty, in a kind of stuff robe like the dress of a village 
 curate. His appearance, though palpably poor, was vener- 
 able and imposing, — not the less so, perhaps, from its con- 
 trast with the faces and gestures at either side of him. Once 
 or twice, while these ebullitions of enthusiasm burst forth, 
 his eyes met mine ; and I read, or fancied that I read, a look 
 of kindred appreciation in their mild and gentle glance. 
 The expression was less reproachful than compassionate, as 
 though in pity for the ignorance rather than in reprobation 
 for the folly. Now, strangely enough, this was precisely the 
 very sentiment of my own heart at that moment. I remem- 
 bered a somewhat similar enthusiasm for republican liberty 
 by men just as unfitted to enjoy it ; and I thought to myself, 
 the Empire, like the Convention or the Director}'-, is a mere 
 fabulous conception to these poor fellows, who, whatever may 
 be the regime^ will still be hewers of wood and drawers of 
 water to the end of all time. 
 
 As I was pondering over this, I felt something touch my 
 arm, and on turning perceived that my opposite neighbor 
 had now seated himself at my side, and in a low, soft voice 
 was bidding me " Good-day." After one or two common- 
 place remarks upon the weather and the scene, he seemed to 
 feel that some apology for his presence in such a place was 
 needful, for he said, — 
 
420 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 "You are here, Mousieur, from a feeling of curiosity, — 
 that I see well enough; but I come for a very different 
 reason. I am the pastor of a mountain village of the 
 Ardeche, and have come to Paris in search of a young girl, the 
 daughter of one of my flock, who, it is feared, has been car- 
 ried off by some evil influence from her home and her friends, 
 to seek fortune and fame in this rich capital ; for she is sin- 
 gularly beautiful, and gifted too; sings divinely, and im- 
 provises poetry with a genius that seems inspiration." 
 
 There was a degree of enthusiasm, blended with simplicity, 
 in the poor cure's admiration of his "lost sheep" that 
 touched me deeply. He had been now three weeks in vain 
 pursuit, and was at last about to turn homeward, discomfited 
 and unsuccessful. Lisette was the very soul of the little 
 hamlet, and he knew not how life was to be carried on there 
 without her. The old loved her as a daughter ; the young 
 were rivals for her regard. 
 
 " And to me," said the p^?'e, " whom, in all the solitude of 
 my lonely lot, literature, and especially poetry, consoles 
 many an hour of sadness or melancholy, — to me, she was 
 like a good angel, her presence diffusing light as she crossed 
 my humble threshold, and elevating my thoughts above the 
 little crosses and accidents of dail}^ life." 
 
 So interested had I become in this tale that I listened 
 while he told every circumstance of the little locality ; and 
 walking along at his side, I wandered out of the city, still 
 hearing of La Marche, as the village was called, till I knew 
 the ford where the blacksmith lived, and the miller with the 
 cross wife, and the lame schoolmaster, and Pierre the post- 
 master, who read out the "Moniteur" each evening under 
 the elms, — even to Jacques Fulgeron the tapageur, who had 
 served at Jemappes, and, with his wounded hand and his 
 waxed mustache, was the terror of all peaceable folk. 
 
 " Y^ou should come and see us, my dear monsieur," said 
 he to me, as I showed some more than common interest in 
 the narrative. " Y"ou, who seem to study character, would 
 find something better worth the notice than these hardened 
 natures of city life. Come, and spend a week or two with 
 me ; and if you do not like our people and their ways, I am 
 but a sorry physiognomist." 
 
AN "ORDINARY" ACQUAINTANCE. 421 
 
 It is needless to say that I was much flattered b}- this 
 kind proof of confidence and good-will; and finally it was 
 agreed upon between us that I should aid him in his search 
 for three days, after which, if still unsuccessful, we should 
 set out together for La Marche. It was easy to see that the 
 poor cure was pleased at my partnership in the task, for there 
 were several public places of resort — theatres, " spectacles," 
 and the like — to which he scrupled to resort ; and these he 
 now willingly conceded to my inspection, having previously 
 given me so accurate a description of La Lisette that I 
 fancied I should recognize her amongst a thousand. If her 
 long black eyelashes did not betray her, her beautiful teeth 
 were sure to do so ; or, if I heard her voice, there could be 
 no doubt then ; and, lastly, her foot would as infallibly 
 identify her as did Cinderella's. 
 
 For want of better, it was agreed upon that we should 
 make the Restaurant a Quatre Sous our rendezvous each day, 
 to exchange our confidences and report progress. It will 
 scarcely be believed how even this much of a pui'suit diverted 
 my mind from its own dark dreamings, and how eagerly my 
 thoughts pursued the new track that was opened to them. 
 It was the utter listlessness, the nothingness of my life, that 
 was weighing me down ; and already I saw an escape from 
 this in the pursuit of a good object. I could wager that the 
 pastor of La Marche never thought so intensely, so uninter- 
 ruptedly, of Lisette as did I for the four-and-twenty hours 
 that followed. It was not only that I had created her image 
 to suit my fancy, but I had invented a whole narrative of her 
 life and adventures since her arrival in Paris. 
 
 My firm conviction being that it was lost time to seek for 
 her in obscure and out-of-the-way quarters of the city, I 
 thought it best to pursue the search in the thronged and 
 fashionable resorts of the gay world, — the assemblies and 
 theatres. Strong in this conviction, I changed one of my 
 three gold pieces to purchase a ticket for the opera. The 
 reader may smile at the sacrifice ; but when he who thinks 
 four sous enough for a dinner pays twelve francs for the 
 liberty to be crushed in the crowded parterre of a play-house, 
 he is indeed buying pleasure at a costly price. It was some- 
 thing more than a fifth of all I possessed in the world ; but, 
 
422 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 after all, my chief regret arose from thinking that it left me 
 so few remaining " throws of the dice" for fortune. 
 
 I have often reflected since that day by what a mere acci- 
 dent I was present, and yet the spectacle was one that I have 
 never forgotten. It was the last time the First Consul 
 appeared in public before his assumption of the imperial 
 title ; and at no period through all his great career was the 
 enthusiasm more impassioned regarding him. He sat in the 
 box adjoining the stage, — Cambaceres and Lebrun, with a 
 crowd of others, standing, and not sitting, around and 
 behind his chaii*. When he appeared, the whole theatre rose 
 to greet him ; and three several times was he obliged to rise 
 and acknowledge the salutations. And with what a stately 
 condescension did he make these slight acknowledgments ! 
 what haughtiness was there in the glance he threw around 
 him ! I have often heard it said, and I have seen it also 
 written, that previous to his assumption of the crown Bona- 
 parte's manner exhibited the mean arts and subtle devices of 
 a candidate on the hustings, dispensing all the flatteries and 
 scattering all the promises that such occasions are so prolific 
 of. I cannot, of course, pretend to contradict this statement 
 positively ; but I can record the impression which that scene 
 made upon me as decidedly the opposite of this assumption. 
 I have repeatedly seen him since that event, but never do I 
 remember his calm, cold features more impassively stern, 
 more proudly collected, than on that night. 
 
 Every allusion of the piece that could apply to him was 
 eagerly caught up. Not a phrase nor a chance word that 
 could compliment was passed over in silence ; and if great- 
 ness and glory were accorded, as if by an instinctive rever- 
 ence the vast assemblage turned towards him to lay their 
 homage at his feet. I watched him narrowly, and could see 
 that he received them all as his rightful tribute, the earnest 
 of the debt the nation owed him. Among the incidents of 
 that night, I remember one which actual^ for the moment 
 convulsed the house with its enthusiasm. One of the officers 
 of his suite had somehow stumbled against Bonaparte's hat, 
 which, on entering, he had thrown carelessly beside his chair. 
 Stooping down and lifting it up, he perceived to whom it 
 belonged ; and then remarking the mark of a bullet on the 
 
AN "ORDINARY" ACQUAINTANCE. 423 
 
 edge, he showed it significantly to a general near him. 
 Slight and trivial as was the incident, it was instantly caught 
 up by the parterre. A low murmur ran quickly around ; and 
 then a sudden cheer burst forth, for some one remembered 
 it was the anniversary of Marengo ! And now the excite- 
 ment became madness, and reiterated shouts proclaimed that 
 the glory of that day was among the proudest memories of 
 France. For once, and once only, did any trait of feeling 
 show itself on that impassive face. I thought I could mark 
 even a faint tinge of color in that sallow cheek, as in recog- 
 nition he bowed a dignified salute to the waving and agitated 
 assembly. 
 
 I saw that proud face at moments when human ambition 
 might have seemed to have reached its limit, and yet never 
 with a haughtier look than on that night I speak of. His 
 foot was already on the first step of the throne, and his 
 spu'it seemed to swell with the conscious force of coming 
 greatness. 
 
 And Lisette, all this time? Alas, I had totally forgotten 
 her ! As the enthusiasm around me began to subside, I had 
 time to recover myself, and look about me. There was much 
 beauty and splendor to admire. Madame Junot was there, 
 and jMademoiselle de Bessieres, with a crowd of others less 
 known and scarcely less lovely. Not one, however, could I 
 see that corresponded with my mind-draw^n portrait of the 
 peasant beauty ; and I scanned each face closely and criti- 
 cally. There was female loveliness of every type, from the 
 dark-eyed beauty of Spanish race to the almost divine regular- 
 ity of a Raphaelite picture ; there was the brilliant aspect of 
 fashion, too, — but nowhere could I see what I sought for, 
 nowhere detect that image which imagination had stamped as 
 that of the beauty of La Marche. 
 
 If disappointed in my great object, I left the theatre witli 
 my mind full of all I had witnessed. The dreadful event of 
 Ettenheim had terribly shaken Bonaparte in my esteem, yet 
 how resist the contagious devotion of a whole nation, how 
 remain cold in the midst of the burning zeal of all France? 
 These thoughts brought me to the consideration of myself. 
 Was I, or was I not, any longer a soldier of his army ; oi- 
 was I disqualified for joining in that burst of national enthu- 
 
424 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 siasm which proclaimed that all France was ready to march 
 under his banner? To-morrow I '11 wait upon the minister of 
 war, thought I, or I '11 seek out the commanding officer of 
 some regiment that I know, or at least a comrade ; and so I 
 went on, endeavoring to frame a plan for my guidance as I 
 strolled along the streets, which were now almost deserted. 
 The shops were all closed ; of the hotels, such as were j^et 
 open were far too costly for means like mine ; and so, as the 
 night was calm and balmy with the fresh air of spring, I 
 resolved to pass it out of doors. I loitered then along the 
 Champs Elysees, and at length stretching myself on the grass 
 beneath the trees, lay down to sleep. "An odd bedroom 
 enough," thought I, " for one who has passed the evening at 
 the opera, and who has feasted his ears at the expense of his 
 stomach." I remembered, too, another night when the sky 
 had been my canopy in Paris, when I slept beneath the 
 shadow of the guillotine and the Place de Greve. "Well," 
 thought I, ' ' times are at least changed for the better since 
 that day; and my own fortunes are certainly not lower." 
 
 This comforting reflection closed my waking memories, 
 and I slept soundly till morning. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE '* COUNT DE MAUREPAS, ALIAS 
 
 There is a wide gulf between him who opens his waking 
 eyes in a splendid chamber, and with half -drowsy thoughts 
 speculates on the pleasures of the coming day, and him who 
 rising from the dew-moistened earth stretches his aching 
 limbs for a second or so, and then hurries away to make his 
 toilette at the nearest fountain. 
 
 I have known both conditions, and yet, without being 
 thought paradoxical, I would wish to say that there are some 
 sensations attendant on the latter and the humbler lot which 
 I would not exchange for all the voluptuous ease of the 
 former. Let there be but youth, and there is something of 
 heroism, something adventurous, in the notion of thus alone 
 and unaided breasting the wide ocean of life, and like a 
 hardy swimmer daring to stem the roughest breakers with- 
 out one to succor him, that is worth all the security that 
 even wealth can impart, all the conscious ease that luxury 
 and affluence can supply. In a world and an age like ours, 
 thought I, there must surely be some course for one 3'oung, 
 active, and daring as I am. Even if France reject me, there 
 are countries beyond the seas where energy and determina- 
 tion will open a path. "Courage, Maurice!" said I, as I 
 dashed the sparkling water over my head ; ' ' the past has not 
 been all inglorious, and the future may prove even better." 
 
 A roll and a glass of iced water furnished my breakfast, 
 after which I set forth in good earnest on my search. There 
 was a sort of self-flattery in the thought that one so destitute 
 as I was could devote his thoughts and energies to the ser- 
 vice of another that pleased me greatly. It was so "un- 
 selfish," — at least I thought so. Alas and alas ! how 
 egotistical are we when we fancy ourselves least so ! That 
 
426 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 clay I visited St. Roch and Notre Dame at early mass, and 
 by noon reached the Louvre, the gallery of which occupied 
 me till the houi' of meeting the cure drew nigh. 
 
 Punctual to his appointment, I found him waiting for me 
 at the corner of the quay ; and although disappointed at the 
 failure of all his efforts, he talked away with all the energy 
 of one who would not suffer himself to be cast down by 
 adverse fortune. "I feel," said he, ''a kind of instinctive 
 conviction that we shall find her yet. There is something 
 tells me that all our pains shall not go unrewarded. Have 
 you never experienced a sensation of this kind, — a species 
 of inward prompting to pursue a road, to penetrate into a 
 pass, or to explore a way, without exactly knowing why or 
 wherefore? " 
 
 This question, vague enough as it seemed, led me to talk 
 about myself and my own position, — a theme which, how- 
 ever much I might have shrunk from introducing, when once 
 opened, I spoke of iu all the freedom of old friendship. 
 
 Nothing could be more delicate than the priest's manner 
 during all this time ; nor even when his curiosity was 
 highest did he permit himself to ask a question or an expla- 
 nation of any difficulty that occurred ; and while he followed 
 my recital with a degree of interest that was most flattering, 
 he never veutui'ed on a word or dropped a remark that might 
 seem to urge me to greater frankness. 
 
 "Do you know," said he, at last, "why your story has 
 taken such an uncommon hold upon my attention? It is not 
 from its adventurous character, nor from the stirring and 
 strange scenes you have passed through. It is because your 
 old pastor and guide, the Pere Delannois, was ni}^ own dear- 
 est friend, my school companion and playfellow from in- 
 fancy. We were both students at Louvain together, both 
 called to the priesthood on the same day. Think, then, of 
 my intense delight at hearing his dear name once more, — 
 ay, and permit me to say it, hearing from the lips of another 
 the very precepts and maxims that I can recognize as his 
 own! Ah, yes! 77io?i cher Maurice," cried he, grasping my 
 hand in a burst of enthusiasm, " disguise it how you ma}^, 
 cover it up under the uniform of a ' Bleu,' bury it beneath 
 the shako of the soldier of the Republic, but the head and the 
 
THE "COUNT DE MAUREPAS," .VLIAS . 427 
 
 heart will turn to the ancient altars of the Church and the 
 Monarchy. It is not alone that your good blood suggests 
 this, but all your experience of life goes to prove it. Think 
 of poor Michel, self-devoted, generous, and noble-hearted ; 
 think of that dear cottage at Kuft'stein, where even in 
 poverty the dignity of birth and blood thi-ew a grace and 
 an elegance over daily life ; think of Ettenheini and the 
 glorious prince — the last Conde — who now sleeps in his 
 narrow bed in the fosse of Vincennes ! " 
 
 '' How do you mean? " said I, eagerly ; for up to this time 
 I knew nothing of his fate. 
 
 "• Come along with me, and you shall know it all," said he ; 
 and, rising, he took my arm, and we sauntered along out of 
 the crowded street till we reached the Boulevards. He then 
 narrated to me every incident of the midnight trial, the 
 sentence, and the execution. From the death-warrant that 
 came down ready filled from Paris to the grave dug while the 
 \actim was yet sleeping, — he forgot nothing ; and I own that 
 my very blood ran cold at the terrible atrocity of that dark 
 murder. It was already growing dusk when he had finished, 
 and we parted hurriedly, as he was obliged to be at a distant 
 quarter of Paris by eight o'clock, again agreeing to meet, as 
 before, on the Quai Voltaire. 
 
 From that moment till we met the following day, the Due 
 d'Enghien was never out of my thoughts ; and I was impa- 
 tient for the priest's presence, that I might tell him every 
 little incident of our daily life at Ettenheim, the topics we 
 used to discuss, and the opinions he expressed on various 
 subjects. The eagerness of the cure to listen stimulated me 
 to talk on, and I not only narrated all that 1 was myself 
 a witness of, but various other circumstances which were told 
 to me by the prince himself, — in particular, an incident he 
 mentioned to me one day of being visited by a stranger, who 
 came introduced by a letter from a very valued friend, his 
 business being to propose to the due a scheme for the 
 assassination of Bonaparte. At first the prince suspected 
 the whole as a plot against himself ; but on further question- 
 ing, he discovered that the man's intentions were really such 
 as he professed them, and offered his services in the convic- 
 tion that no price could be deemed too high to reward him. 
 
428 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 It is needless to say that the offer was rejected with indigna- 
 tion, and the prince dismissed the fellow with the threat of 
 delivering him up to the government of the French Consul. 
 The pastor heard this anecdote with deep attention, and for 
 the first time diverging from his line of cautious reserve, he 
 asked me various questions as to when the occurrence had 
 taken place, and where ; if the prince had communicated 
 the circumstance to any other than myself, and whether he 
 had made it the subject of any correspondence. I knew 
 little more than I had already told him ; that the offer was 
 made while residing at Ettenheim, and during the preceding- 
 year, were facts, however, that I could remember. 
 
 " You are surprised, perhaps," said he, " at the interest I 
 feel in all this ; but, strangely enough, there is here in Paris 
 at this moment one of the great seigneurs of the Ardeche ; 
 he has come up to the capital for medical advice, and he 
 was a great, perhaps the greatest, friend of the poor due. 
 What if you were to come and pay him a visit with me ; 
 there is not probably one favor the whole world could 
 bestow he would value so highly. You must often have 
 heard his name from the prince ; has he not frequently 
 spoken of the Count de Maurepas ? " I could not remember 
 having ever heard the name. "It is historical, however," 
 said the cure^ " and even in our own days has not derogated 
 from its ancient chivalry. Have you not heard how a noble 
 of the Court rode postilion to the king's carriage on the 
 celebrated escape from Varennes? Well, even for curiosity 
 sake he is worth a visit ; for this is the very Count Henri de 
 Maurepas, now on the verge of the grave ! " 
 
 If the good cure had known me all my life, he could not 
 more successfully have baited a trap for my curiosity. To 
 see and know remarkable people, men who had done some- 
 thing, out of the ordinary route of every-day life, had been a 
 passion with me from boyhood. Hero-worship was, indeed, 
 a great feature in my character, and has more or less influ- 
 enced all my career ; nor was I insensible to the pleasure of 
 doing a kind action. It was rare, indeed, that one so hum- 
 bly placed could ever confer a favor, and I grasped with 
 eagerness the occasion to do so. We agreed, then, on the 
 next afternoon, towards nightfall, to meet at the quay, and 
 
THE "COUNT DE MAUREPAS," ALIAS . 429 
 
 proceed together to the count's residence. I have often 
 reflected, since that day, that Lisette's name was scarcely 
 ever mentioned by either of us during this inten-iew ; and 
 yet at the time, so pre-occupied were my thoughts, I never 
 noticed the omission. The Chateau of Ettenheim, and its 
 tragic stoiT, filled my mind to the exclusion of all else. 
 
 I pass over the long and dreary hours that inten'ened, and 
 come at once to the time, a little after sunset, when we met 
 at our accustomed rendezvous. 
 
 The cure had provided a Jiacre for the occasion, as the 
 count's residence was about two leagues from the city, on 
 the way to Belleville. As we trotted along, he gave me a 
 most interesting account of the old noble, whose life had 
 been one continued act of devotion to the monarchy. 
 
 "It will be difficult," said he, "for you to connect the 
 poor, worn-out, shattered wreck before you with all that was 
 daring in deed and chivalrous in sentiment ; but the Maure- 
 pas were well upheld in all their glorious renown by him who 
 is now to be the last of the race. You will see him reduced 
 by suffering and sickness, scarcely able to speak ; but be 
 assured that you will have his gratitude for this act of true 
 benevolence." 
 
 Thus chatting, we rattled along over the paved highway, 
 and at length entered upon a deep clay road which conducted 
 us to a spacious park, with a long, straight avenue of trees, 
 at the end of which stood what, even in the uncertain light, 
 appeared a spacious chateau. The door lay open, and, as we 
 descended, a servant in plain clothes received us ; and, after 
 a whispered word or two from the cure^ ushered us along 
 through a suite of rooms into a large chamber furnished like 
 a study. There were book-shelves well filled, and a writing- 
 table covered with papers and letters, and the whole floor was 
 littered with newspapers and journals. 
 
 A lamp, shaded by a deep gauze cover, threw a half-light 
 over everything ; nor was it until we had been nearly a couple 
 of minutes in the room that we became aware of the presence 
 of the count, who lay upon a sofa, covered up in a fur 
 pelisse, although the season was far advanced in spring. 
 
 His gentle " Good evening, messieurs," was the first 
 warning we had of his presence ; and the cure, advancing 
 
430 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 respectfully, presented me as bis youug friend, Monsieur de 
 Tiernay. 
 
 " It is not for the first time that I hear that name," said 
 the sick man, with a voice of singular sweetness. "It is 
 chronicled in the annals of our monarchy. Ay, sir, I knew 
 that faithful servant of his king who followed his master to 
 the scaffold." 
 
 "My father," cried I, eagerly. 
 
 "I knew him well," continued he; "I may say, without 
 vaunting, that I had it in my power to befriend him, too. 
 He made an imprudent marriage ; he was unfortunate in the 
 society his second wife's family threw him amongst. They 
 were not his equals in birth, and far beneath him in senti- 
 ment and principle. AVell, well," sighed he, "this is not a 
 theme for me to speak of, nor for you to hear ; tell me of 
 yourself. The cure says that you have had more than your 
 share of worldly vicissitudes. There, sit down, and let me 
 hear your story from your own lips." 
 
 He pointed to a seat at his side, and I obeyed him at once ; 
 for, somehow, there was an air of command even in the 
 gentlest tones of his voice, and I felt that his age and his 
 sufferings were not the only claims he possessed to influence 
 those around him. 
 
 With all the brevity in my power, m}^ stor}" lasted till 
 above an hour, during which time the count onl}^ interrupted 
 me once or twice by asking to which Colonel Mahon I 
 referred, as there were two of the name ; and again by 
 inquiring in what cii'cumstances the emifjre family were 
 living as to means, and whether they appeared to derive an}^ 
 of their resources from France. These were points I could 
 give no information upon ; and I plainly perceived that the 
 count had no patience for a conjecture, and that, where 
 positive knowledge failed, he instantly passed on to some- 
 thing else. When I came to speak of Ettenheim his atten- 
 tion became fixed, not suffering the minutest circumstance to 
 escape him, and even asking for the exact description of the 
 locality, and its distance from the towns in the neighborhood. 
 
 The daily journeys of the prince, too, interested him 
 much, and once or twice he made me repeat what the 
 l^easant had said of the horse being able to travel from 
 
THE "COUNT DE MAUREPAS," ALIAS . 431 
 
 Strasbourg without a halt. I vow it puzzled me wh}^ he 
 should dwell ou these poiuts iu preference to others of far 
 more interest ; but I set them down to the caprices of illness, 
 and thought no more of them. His daily life, his conversa- 
 tion, the opinions he expressed about France, the questions 
 he used to ask, were all matters he inquired into ; till, finall}^, 
 we came to the anecdote of the meditated assassination of 
 Bonaparte. This he made me tell him twice over, each time 
 asking me eagerly whether, by an effort of memory, I could 
 not recall the name of the man who had offered his services 
 for the deed. This I could not ; indeed, I knew not if I had 
 ever heard it. 
 
 "But the prince rejected the proposal?" said he, peering 
 at me beneath the dark shadow of his heavy brow; "he 
 would not hear of it ? " 
 
 "Of course not," cried I; "he even threatened to 
 denounce the man to the Government." 
 
 ' ' And do you think that he would have gone thus far, 
 sir?" asked he, slowly. 
 
 " I am certain of it. The horror and disgust he expressed 
 when reciting the story were a guarantee for what he would 
 have done." 
 
 ' ' But yet Bonaparte has been a dreadful enemy to his 
 race," said the count. 
 
 " It is not a Conde can right himself by a murder," said 
 I, as calmly. 
 
 "How I like that burst of generous Royalism, young 
 man ! " said he, grasping my hand and shaking it warmly. 
 " That steadfast faith in the honor of a Bourbon is the very 
 heart and soul of loyalty ! " 
 
 Now, although I was not, so far as I knew of, anything of 
 a Royalist (the cause had neither my sympathy nor my 
 wishes), I did not choose to disturb the equanimity of a poor 
 sick man by a needless disclaimer, nor induce a discussion 
 which must be both unprofitable and painful. 
 
 " How did the fellow propose the act? Had he any 
 accomplices, or was he alone?" 
 
 " I believe quite alone." 
 
 " Of course suborned by England? Of that there can be 
 no doubt." 
 
432 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " The prince never said so." 
 
 ' ' Well, but it is clear enough the man must have had 
 means ; he travelled by a very circuitous route ; he had come 
 from Hamburg probably ? " , 
 
 "I never heard." 
 
 " He must have done so. The ports of Holland, as those 
 of France, would have been too dangerous for him. Italy is 
 out of the question." 
 
 I owned that I had not speculated so deeply in the matter. 
 
 " It was strange," said he, after a pause, " that the duke 
 never mentioned who had introduced the man to him." 
 
 *' He merely called him a valued friend." 
 
 "In other words, the Count d'Artois," said the count; 
 "did it not strike you so?" 
 
 I had to confess it had not occurred to me to think so. 
 
 " But reflect a little," said he. " Is there any other man 
 living who could have dared to make such a proposal but the 
 count? Who but the head of his house could have pre- 
 sumed on such a step? No inferior could have had the 
 audacity. It must have come from one so highly placed 
 that crime paled itself down to a mere measure of expedi- 
 ency under the loftiness of the sanction. What think you? " 
 
 " I cannot, I will not think so," was my answer. " The very 
 indignation of the prince's rejection refutes the supposition." 
 
 " AYhat a glorious gift is unsuspectfulness," said he, feel- 
 ingly. " I am a rich man, and you I believe are not so ; and 
 yet I 'd give all my wealth — ay, ten times told — not for your 
 vigor of health, not for the lightness of your heart nor the 
 elasticity of your spirits, but for that one small quality, 
 defect though it be, that makes j^ou trustful and credulous." 
 
 I believe I would just as soon that the old gentleman had 
 thought fit to compliment me upon any other quality. Of 
 all my acquisitions there was not one I was so vain of as my 
 knowledge of life and character. I had seen, as I thought, 
 so much of life ! I had peeped at all ranks and conditions 
 of men, and it was rather hard to find an old country gentle- 
 man, a Seigneur de Village, calling me credulous and 
 unsuspecting ! 
 
 I was much more pleased when he told the cure that a 
 supper was ready for us in the adjoining room, at which he 
 
THE "COUNT DE MAUREPAS," ALIAS . 433 
 
 begged we would excuse his absence ; and truly a most 
 admirable little meal it was, and served with great elegance. 
 
 ''The count expects you to stop here; there is a chamber 
 prepared for you," said the cure as we took our seats at 
 table. " He has evidently taken a fancy to you. I thought, 
 indeed I was quite certain, he would. Who can tell what 
 good fortune this chance meeting may lead to, Monsieur 
 Maurice ! A voire sante, mon cher/ " cried he, as he clinked 
 his champagne glass against mine, and I at last began to 
 think that destiny was about to smile on me. 
 
 "You should see his chateau in the Ardeche ; this is 
 nothing to it ! There is a forest, too, of native oak, and a 
 chasse such as royalty never owned ! " 
 
 Mine were delightful dreams that night ; but I was sorely 
 disappointed on waking to find that Laura was not riding at 
 my side through a forest-alley, while a crowd of piqneurs 
 and huntsmen galloped to and fro, making the air vibrate 
 with their joyous bugles. Still, I opened my eyes in a richly- 
 furnished chamber, while a lacquais handed me my coffee on 
 a silver stand and in a cup of costliest Sevres. 
 
 28 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 A FOREST RIDE. 
 
 While I was dressing, a note was handed to me from the 
 cwre, apologizing for his departure without seeing me, and 
 begging as a great favor that I would not leave the 
 chateau till his return. He said that the count's spirits had 
 benefited greatly by our agreeable converse, and that he 
 requested me to be his guest for some time to come. The 
 postscript added a suggestion that I should write down some 
 of the particulars of my visit to Ettenheim, but particularly 
 of that conversation alluding to the meditated assassination of 
 Bonaparte. 
 
 There were many points in the arrangement which I did 
 not like. To begin, I had no fancy whatever for the condi- 
 tion of a dependant, and such my poverty would at once 
 stamp me ; secondly, I was averse to this frequent inter- 
 course with men of the Royalist party, whose restless 
 character and unceasing schemes were opposed to all the 
 principles of those I had served under ; and, finally, I was 
 growing impatient under the listless vacuity of a life that 
 gave no occupation nor opened any view for the future. I 
 sat down to breakfast in a mood very little in unison with 
 the material enjoyments around me. The meal was all tho,t 
 could tempt appetite ; and the view from the open window 
 displayed a beautiful flower-garden, imperceptibly fading 
 away into a maze of ornamental planting, which was backed 
 again by a deep forest, the well-known wood of Belleville. 
 Still I ate on sullenly, sccirce noticing any of the objects 
 around me. " I will see the count and take leave of him," 
 thought I, suddenly; " I cannot be his guest without sacri- 
 ficing feeling in a dozen ways." 
 
 "At what hour does Monsieur rise?" asked I of the 
 obsequious valet who waited behind my chaii*. 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 435 
 
 " UsiialW at three or four in the afternoon, sir ; but to-day 
 he has desired nie to make his excuses to you. There will 
 be a consultation of doctors here ; and the likelihood is that 
 he may not leave his chamber." 
 
 "Will you convey my respectful compliments, then, to 
 him, and my regrets that I had not seen him before leaving 
 the chateau ? " 
 
 " The count charged me, sir, to entreat your remaining 
 here till he had seen you. He said you had done him infinite 
 service abread}^, and indeed it is long since he has passed a 
 night in such tranquillity." 
 
 There are few slight circumstances which impress a 
 stranger more favorably than any semblance of devotion 
 on the part of a servant to his master. The friendship of 
 those above one in life is easier to acquire than the attach- 
 ment of those beneath. Love is a plant whose tendrils 
 strive ever upwards. I could not help feeling struck at the 
 man's manner as he spoke these few words ; and insensibly my 
 mind reverted to the master who had inspired such sentiments. 
 
 "My master gave orders, sir," continued he, "that we 
 should do everything possible to contribute to your wishes ; 
 that the carriage, or, if you prefer them, saddle-horses, should 
 be ready at any hour you ordered. The wood h?ls a variety 
 of beautiful excursions ; there is a lake, too, about two 
 leagues away, and the ruins of Monterraye are also wortii 
 seeing." 
 
 " If I had not engagements in Paris," muttered I, while I 
 affected to mumble over the conclusion of the sentence to 
 myself. 
 
 "Monsieur has seldom done a greater kindness than this 
 will be," added he, respectfully; 'M)ut if Monsieur's 
 business could be deferred for a day or two, without 
 inconvenience — " 
 
 " Perhaps that might be managed," said T, starting up, 
 and walking to the window, when, for the first time, the 
 glorious prospect revealed itself before me. How delicious, 
 after all, would be a few hours of such a retreat I a 
 morning loitered away in that beautiful garden, and then 
 along ramble through the dark wood till sunset! Oh if 
 Laura were but here ! if she could be my companion along 
 
436 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 those leafy alleys I If not with, I can at least think of 
 her, thought I ; seek out spots she would love to linger in, 
 and points of view she would enjoy with all a painter's 
 zest. And this poor count, with all his riches, could not 
 derive in a whole lifetime the enjo^^ment that a few brief 
 hours would yield to us ! So is it almost ever in this 
 world, — to one man the appliances, to another the faculties, 
 for enjo3'ment. 
 
 "I am so glad Monsieur has consented," said the valet, 
 joyously. 
 
 " Did I say so? I don't know that I said anything." 
 
 "The count will be so gratified," added he; and hurried 
 away to convey the tidings. 
 
 Well, be it so. Heaven knows my business in Paris will 
 scarcely suffer by my absence, ni}^ chief occupation there 
 being to cheat away the hours till meal-time ; it is an occu- 
 pation I can easily resume a few days hence. I took a book, 
 and strolled out into the garden ; but I could not read. 
 There is a gush of pleasure felt at times from the most 
 familiar objects which the most complicated machinery of 
 enjo^mient often fails to equal ; and now the odor of moss- 
 roses and geraniums, the rich perfume of orange-flowers, the 
 plash of fountains, and the hum of the 'summer insects 
 steeped my mind in delight, and I lay there in a dream of 
 bliss that was like enchantment. I suppose I must have 
 fallen asleep, for my thoughts took every form of wildness 
 and incoherency. Ireland, the campaign, the bay of Genoa, 
 the rugged height of Kuff stein, all passed before my mind 
 peopled with images foreign to all theii' incidents. It was 
 late in the afternoon that I aroused myself, and remem- 
 bered where I was ; the shadows of the dark forest were 
 stretching over the plain, and I determined on a ride beneath 
 their mellow shade. As if in anticipation of my wishes, the 
 horses were already saddled, and a groom stood awaiting my 
 orders. "Oh what a glorious thing it is to be rich!" 
 thought I, 'as I mounted; "from what an eminence does 
 the wealthy man view life ! No petty cares nor calculations 
 mar the conceptions of his fanc}^ His will, like his imagi- 
 nation, wanders free and unfettered." And so thinking, I 
 dashed spurs into my horse and plunged into the dense 
 wood. 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 437 
 
 Perhaps I was better mounted than the groom, or perhaps 
 the man was scarcely accustomed to such impetuosity^ 
 Whatever the reason, I was soon out of sight of liim. 
 The trackless grass of the alley and its noiseless turf made 
 pursuit ditticult in a spot where the paths crossed and re- 
 crossed in a hundred different directions ; and so I rode on 
 for miles and miles without seeing more of my follower. 
 
 Forest riding is particularly seductive ; you are insensibl}^ 
 led on to see where this alley will open, or how that patli 
 will terminate. Some of the spirit of discovery seems to seal 
 its attractions to the wild and devious track, untrodden as it 
 looks ; and you feel all the charm of adventure as you 
 advance. The silence, too, is most striking; the noiseless 
 footfall of the horse and the unbroken stillness add inde- 
 scribable charm to the scene, and the least imaginative 
 cannot fail to weave fancies and fictions as he goes. 
 
 Near as it was to a great city, not a single rider crossed 
 my path ; not even a peasant did I meet. A stray bundle of 
 fagots, bound and ready to be carried away, showed that 
 the axe of the woodman had been heard within the solitude ; 
 but not another trace told that human footstep had ever 
 pressed the sward. 
 
 Although still a couple of hours from sunset, the shade of 
 the wood was dense enough to make the path appear uncer- 
 tain, and I was obliged to ride more cautiously than before. 
 I had thought that by steadily pursuing one straight track I 
 should at last gain the open country, and easily find some 
 road that would reconduct me to the chAteau ; but now I saw 
 no signs of this. The alley was, to all appearance, exactly 
 as I found it, — miles before. A long aisle of beech-trees 
 stretched away in front and behind me ; a short, grassy 
 turf was beneath my feet, — and not an object to tell me how 
 far I had come, or whither I was tending. If now and then 
 another road crossed the path, it was in all respects like this 
 one. This was puzzling; and to add to my difficulty, I 
 suddenly remembered that I had never thought of learning 
 the name of the chiiteau, and well knew that to ask for it 
 as the residence of the Count de Maurepas would be a per- 
 fect absurdity. There was sometliing so ludicrous in the 
 situation that I could not refrain from laughing at first; 
 
438 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 but a moment's reconsideration made me regard the incident 
 more gravely. In what a position should I stand, if unable 
 to discover the chateau ! The cure might have left Paris 
 before I could reach it ; all clew to the count might thus be 
 lost ; and although these were but improbable circumstances, 
 they came now very forcibly before me, and gave me serious 
 uneasiness. 
 
 "I have been so often in false positions in life, so fre- 
 quentl}^ implicated where no real blame could attach to me, 
 that 1 shall not be in the least surprised if I be arrested as 
 a horse-stealer ! " 
 
 The night now began to fall rapidly, so that I was obliged 
 to proceed at a slow pace ; and at length, as the wood 
 seemed to thicken, I was forced to get off, and walk beside 
 m}^ horse. I have often found myself in situations of real 
 peril, with far less anxiety than I now felt; my position 
 seemed at the time inexplicable and absurd. " I suppose," 
 thought I, "that no man was ever lost in the wood of 
 Belleville ; he must find his way out of it sooner or later ; 
 and then there can be no great difficulty in returning to 
 Paris." This was about the extent of the comfort I could 
 afford myself; for, once back in the capital, I could not 
 speculate on a single step further. 
 
 I was at last so weary with the slow and cautious pro- 
 gress I was condemned to that I half determined to picket 
 m}^ horse to a tree and lie down to sleep till daylight. While 
 I sought out a convenient spot for my bivouac, a bright 
 twinkling light, like a small star, caught my eye. Twice it 
 appeared and vanished again, so that I was well assured of 
 its being real, and no phantom of my now over-excited brain. 
 It appeared to proceed from the very densest part of the 
 wood, and whither, so far as I could see, no path conducted. 
 As I listened to catch any sounds I again caught sight of the 
 faint star, which now seemed at a short distance from the 
 road where I stood. Fastening my horse to a branch, I 
 advanced directly through the brushwood for about a hun- 
 dred yards, when I came to a small open space, in which 
 stood one of those modest cottages, of rough timber, wherein 
 at certain seasons the gamekeepers take refuge. A low, 
 square, log hut, with a single door and an unglazed window, 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 439 
 
 comprised the whole edifice, being one of the humblest even 
 of its humble kind I had ever seen. Stealing cautiously to 
 the window, I peeped in. On a stone, in the middle of the 
 earthen floor, a small iron lamp stood, which threw a faint 
 and fickle light around. There was no furniture of any kind, 
 nothing that bespoke the place as inhabited ; and it was only 
 as I continued to gaze that I detected the figure of a man, 
 who seemed to be sleeping on a heap of dried leaves in one 
 corner of the hovel. I own that, with all my anxiet}^ to find 
 a guide, I began to feel some scruples about obtruding on 
 the sleeper's privacy. He was evidently no garde de chasse, 
 who are a well-to-do sort of folk, being usually retired sous- 
 officiers of the army. He might be a poacher, a robber, or 
 perhaps a dash of both together, — a trade I had often heard 
 of as being resorted to by the most reckless and abandoned 
 of the population of Paris, when their crimes and their 
 haunts became too well known in the capital. 
 
 I peered eagerly through the chamber to see if he were 
 armed ; but not a weapon of any kind was to be seen. I 
 next sought to discover if he were quite alone ; and although 
 one side of the hovel was hidden from my view, I was well 
 assured that he had no comrade. " Come," said I to myself, 
 " man to man, if it should come to a struggle, is fair enough ; 
 and the chances are, I shall be able to defend myself." 
 
 His sleep was sound and heavy, like that after fatigue ; 
 so that I thought it would be easy for me to enter the hovel 
 and secure his arms, if he had such, before he should awake. 
 r may seem to my reader, all this time, to have been inspired 
 with an undue amount of caution and prudence, considering 
 how evenly we were matched ; but I would remind him that 
 it was a period w^hen the most dreadful crimes were of daily 
 occurrence. Xot a night went over without some terrible 
 assassination ; and a number of escaped galley-slaves were 
 known to be at large in the suburbs and outskirts of the 
 capital. These men, under the slightest provocation, never 
 hesitated at murder; for their lives were already forfeited, 
 and they scrupled at nothing w^hich offered a chance of 
 escape. To add to the terror their atrocities excited, there 
 was a rumor current at the time that the Government itself 
 made use of these wretches for its own secret acts of van- 
 
440 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 geance ; and many implicitly believed that the dark assassi- 
 nations of the Temple had no other agency. I do not mean 
 to say that these fears were well founded, or that I myself 
 partook of them ; but such were the reports commonly cir- 
 culated, and the impunity of crime certainly favored the 
 impression. 
 
 I know not if this will serve as an apology for the circum- 
 spection of my proceeding, as cautiously pushing the door, 
 inch by inch, I at length threw it wide open. Not the 
 slightest sound escaped as I did so ; and yet, certainly before 
 my hand quitted the latch, the sleeper had sprung to his 
 knees, and with his dark eyes glaring wildly at me crouched 
 like a beast about to rush upon an enemy. His attitude and 
 his whole appearance at that moment are j^et before me. 
 Long black hair fell in heavy masses at either side of his 
 head; his face was pale, haggard, and hunger-stricken; a 
 deep, drooping mustache descended from below his chin, 
 and almost touched his collar-bones, which were starting 
 from beneath the skin ; a ragged cloak, that covered him as 
 he lay, had fallen off, and showed that a worn shirt and a 
 pair of coarse linen trousers were all his clothing. Such a 
 picture of privation and misery I never looked upon before 
 nor since. 
 
 " Qui va la? " cried he, sternly, and with the voice of one 
 not unused to command ; and although the summons showed 
 his soldier training, his condition of wretchedness suggested 
 deep misgivings. 
 
 " Qui va la?" shouted he, again, louder and more deter- 
 minedly. 
 
 "A friend — perhaps a comrade," said I, boldly. 
 
 "Advance, comrade, and give the countersign," replied 
 he, rapidly, and like one repeating a phrase of routine ; and 
 then, ^ as if suddenly remembering himself, he added, with a 
 low sigh, "There is none! " His arms dropped heavily as 
 he spoke, and he fell back against the wall, with his head 
 drooping on his chest. 
 
 There was something so unutterably forlorn in his look, 
 as he sat thus, that all apprehension of personal danger 
 from him left me at the moment, and advancing frankly I 
 told him how I had lost my way in the wood, and by a mere 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 441 
 
 accident chanced to descry his light as I wandered along in 
 the gloom. 
 
 I do not know if he understood me at first, for he gazed 
 half vacantly at my ^face while I was speaking, and often 
 stealthily peered around to see if others were coming ; so 
 that I had to repeat more than once that I was perfectly 
 alone. That the poor fellow was insane seemed but too 
 probable ; the restless activity of his wild eye, the suspicious 
 watchfulness of his glances, all looked like madness ; and I 
 thought that he had probably made his escape from some 
 military hospital, and concealed himself within the recesses 
 of the forest. But even these signs of overwrought excite- 
 ment began to subside soon ; and, as though the momentary 
 effort at vigilance had been too much for his strength, he 
 now drew his cloak about him, and lay down once more. 
 
 I handed him my brandy-flask, which still contained a 
 little, and he raised it to his lips with a slight nod of recog- 
 nition. Invigorated by the stimulant, he sipped again and 
 again, but always cautiously, and with prudent reserve. 
 
 " You have been a soldier?" said I, taking my seat at his 
 side. 
 
 " I am a soldier," said he, with a strong emphasis on the 
 verb. 
 
 " I too have served," said I ; " although, probably, neither 
 as long nor as creditably as you have." 
 
 He looked at me fixedly for a second or two, and then 
 dropped his eyes without a reply. 
 
 " You were probably with the Army of the Meuse? " said 
 I, hazarding the guess, from remembering how many of that 
 army had been invalided by the terrible attacks of ague con- 
 tracted in North Holland. 
 
 "I served on the Rhine," said he, briefly; "but I made 
 the campaign of Jemappes, too. I sei'\^ed the king also, — 
 King Louis," cried he, sternly. " Is that avowal candid 
 enough, or do you want more?" 
 
 Another Royalist, thought I, with a sigh. Whichever way 
 I turn they meet me ; the very ground seems to give them 
 up. 
 
 " And could you find no better trade than that of a 
 mouchard ? " asked he, sneeringly. 
 
4J:2 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 " I am not a mouchard ; I never was one. I am a soldier 
 like yourself, and mayhap, if all were to be told, scarcely a 
 more fortunate one." 
 
 "Dismissed the service — and for what?" asked he, 
 bluntly. 
 
 " If not broke, at least not employed," said I, bitterly. 
 
 "A Royalist?" 
 
 " Not the least of one, but suspected." 
 
 "Just so. Your letters, your private papers, ransacked 
 and brought in evidence against you. Your conversations 
 with your intimates noted down and attested; every word 
 you dropped in a moment of disappointment or anger, 
 every chance phrase you uttered when provoked, all quoted ; 
 was n't that it ? " 
 
 As he spoke this, with a rapid and almost impetuous 
 utterance, I for the first time noticed that both the ex- 
 pressions and the accent implied breeding and education. 
 Not all his vehemence could hide the evidences of former 
 cultivation. 
 
 " How comes it," asked I, eagerly, " that such a man as 
 you are is to be found thus ? You certainly did not always 
 serve in the ranks ? " 
 
 " I had my grade," was his short, dry reply. 
 
 " You were a quarter-master, perhaps a sous-lieutenant? " 
 said I, hoping by the flattery of the surmise to lead him to 
 talk further. 
 
 " I was the colonel of a dragoon regiment," said he, 
 sternly ; ' ' and that neither the least brave nor the least dis- 
 tinguished in the French army." 
 
 Ah, thought I, my good fellow, you have shot your bolt 
 too high this time ; and in a careless, easy way I asked, 
 ' ' What might have been the number of your corps ? " 
 
 " How can it concern you? " said he, with a savage vehe- 
 mence. "You say that you are not a spy. To what end 
 these questions ? As it is, you have made this hovel, which 
 has been my shelter for some weeks back, no longer of any 
 service to me. I will not be tracked. I will not suffer espi- 
 onage, by Heaven I " cried he, as he dashed his clenched fist 
 against the ground beside him. His eyes, as he spoke, 
 glared with all the wildness of insanity, and great drops of 
 sweat hung upon his damp forehead. 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 443 
 
 " Is it too much," continued he, with all the vehemence of 
 passion, — 'Ms it too much that I was master here? Are 
 these walls too luxurious? Is there the sign of foreign gold 
 in this tasteful furniture and the splendor of these hangings? 
 Or is this," and he stretched out his lean and naked arms 
 as he spoke, — "is this the garb, is this the garb of a man 
 who can draw at will on the coffers of royalty? Ay," cried 
 he, with a wild laugh, " if this is the price of my treachery, 
 the treason might well be pardoned." 
 
 I did all I could to assuage the violence of his manner. 
 I talked to him calmly and soberly of myself and of him, 
 repeating over and over the assurance that I had neither the 
 will nor the way to injure him. " You may be poor," said I, 
 '' and yet scarcely poorer than I am, — friendless, and have 
 as many to care for you as I have. Believe me, comrade, 
 save in the matter of a few years the less on one side, and 
 some services the more on the other, there is little to choose 
 between us." 
 
 These few words, wrung from me in sorrowful sincerity, 
 seemed to do more than all I had said previously, and he 
 moved the lamp a little to one side that he might have a 
 better view of me as I sat ; and thus we remained for several 
 minutes staring steadfastly at each other, without a word 
 spoken on either side. It was in vain that I sought in that 
 face livid and shrunk by famine, in that straggling matted 
 hair, and that figure enveloped in rags for any traces of 
 former condition. Whatever might once have been his place 
 in society, now he seemed the very lowest of that miserable 
 tribe whose lives are at once the miracle and shame of our 
 century. 
 
 " Except that my senses are always playing me false," 
 said he, as he passed his hand across his eyes, " I could say 
 that I have seen your face before. AVhat was 3'our corps ? " 
 
 "The Ninth Hussars, — 'the Tapageurs,' as they called 
 them " 
 
 " "^"hen did you join, and where? " said he, with an eager- 
 ness that surprised me. 
 
 "At Nancy," said I, calmly. 
 
 "You were there with the advanced guard of Moreau 's 
 corps," said he, hastily; " you followed the regiment to the 
 Moselle?" 
 
444 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 " How do you know all this? " asked I, in amazement. 
 
 "Now for your name, — tell me your name," cried he, 
 grasping my hand in both of his. ''And I charge you by 
 all you care for here or hereafter, no deception with me ! 
 It is not a head that has been tried like mine can bear a 
 cheat." 
 
 " I have no object in deceiving you; nor am I ashamed 
 to say who I am," replied I. "My name is Tiernay, — 
 Maurice Tierna3^" 
 
 The word was but out when the poor fellow threw him- 
 self forward, and grasping my hands fell upon and kissed 
 them. 
 
 " So, then," cried he, passionately, " I am not friendless; 
 I am not utterly deserted in life, — you are yet left to me, 
 my dear boy ! " 
 
 This burst of feeling convinced me that he was deranged ; 
 and I was speculating in my mind how best to make my 
 escape from him, when he pushed back the long and tangled 
 hair from his face, and staring wildly at me, said, — 
 
 " You know me now, don't you? Oh, look again, Maurice, 
 and do not let me think that I am forgotten by all the 
 world ! " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried I, "it is Colonel Mahon ! " 
 
 "Ay, ' Le Beau Mahon,'" said he, with a burst of wild 
 laughter, — " Le Beau Mahon, as the}" used to call me long 
 ago. Is this a reverse of fortune, I ask you?" and he held 
 out the ragged remnants of his miserable clothes. " I have 
 not worn shoes for nigh a month. I have tasted food but 
 once in the last thu'ty hours. I, that have led French sol- 
 diers to the charge full fifty times, up to the very batteries 
 of the enemy, am reduced to hide and skulk from place to 
 place like a felon, trembling at the clank of a gendarme's 
 boot as never the thunder of an enemy's squadron made me. 
 Think of the persecution that has brought me to this, and 
 made me a beggar and a coward together I " 
 
 A gush of tears burst from him at these words, and he 
 sobbed for several minutes like a child. 
 
 Whatever might have been the original source of his mis- 
 fortunes, I had very little doubt that now his mind had been 
 shaken by their influence, and that calamity had deranged 
 
 ^ 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 445 
 
 him. The flighty uncertainty of his manner, the incoherent 
 rapidity with which he passed from one toi)ic to another, 
 increased with his excitement, and he passed alternately from 
 the wildest expressions of delight at our meeting to the most 
 heart-rending descriptions of his own sufferings. By great 
 patience and some ingenuity, I learned that he had taken 
 refuge in the wood of Belleville, where the kindness of an 
 old soldier of his own brigade — now a garde de chasse — 
 had saved him from starvation. Jacques Caillon was con- 
 tinually alluded to in his narrative. It was Jacques sheltered 
 him when he came first to Belleville. Jacques had afforded 
 him a refuge in the different huts of the forest, supplying 
 him with food, — acts not alone of benevolence, but of 
 daring courage, as Mahon continually asserted. "If it were 
 but known, they 'd give him a peloton and eight paces." 
 The theme of Jacques' heroism was so engrossing that he 
 could not turn from it ; every little incident of his kindness, 
 every stratagem of his inventive good nature, he dwelt upon 
 with eager delight, and seemed half to forget his own sor- 
 rows in recounting the services of his benefactor. I saw 
 that it would be fruitless to ask for any account of his past 
 calamity, or by what series of mischances he had fallen so 
 low. I saw — I will own with some chagrin — that with 
 the mere selfishness of misfortune, he could not speak of 
 anything save what bore upon his own daily life, and totally 
 forgot me and all about me. 
 
 The most relentless persecution seemed to follow him from 
 place to place. Wherever he went, fresh spies started on his 
 track, and the history of his escapes was unending. The 
 very fagot-cutters of the forest were in league against him, 
 and the high price offered for his capture had drawn many 
 into the pursuit. It was curious to mark the degree of self- 
 importance all these recitals imparted, and how the poor 
 fellow, starving and almost naked as he was, rose into all the 
 imagined dignity of martyrdom as he told of his sorrows. 
 If he ever asked a question about Paris, it was to know what 
 people said of himself and of his fortunes. He was thoroughly 
 convinced that Bonaparte's thoughts were far more occupied 
 about him than on tliat emi)ire now so nearly in his grasp ; 
 and he continued to repeat with a proud delight, " He has 
 
446 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 caught them all but me ! I am the only one who has escaped 
 him ! " These few words suggested to me the impression that 
 Mahon had been engaged in some plot or conspiracy ; but of 
 what nature, how composed, or how discovered, it was im- 
 possible to arrive at. 
 
 " There ! " said he, at last, " there is the dawn breaking ! 
 I must be off. I must now make for the thickest part of the 
 wood till nightfall. There are hiding-places there known 
 to none save myself. The bloodhounds cannot track me 
 where I go." 
 
 His impatience became now extreme ; every instant seemed 
 full of peril to him now, every rustling leaf and every wav- 
 ing branch a warning. I was unable to satisfy myself how 
 far this might be well-founded terror, or a vague and cause- 
 less fear. At one moment I inclined to this, at another to 
 the opposite, impression. Assuredly nothing could be more 
 complete than the precautions he took against discovery. 
 His lamp was concealed in the hollow of a tree ; the leaves 
 that formed his bed he scattered and strewed carelessly on 
 every side ; he erased even the foot tracks on the clay ; and 
 then gathering up his tattered cloak, prepared to set out. 
 
 " When are we to meet again, and where? " said I, grasp- 
 ing his hand. 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and passed his hand over his brow, 
 as if reflecting. "You must see Caillon ; .Jacques will tell 
 you all," said he, solemnly. " Good-by. Do not follow me ; 
 I will not be tracked ; " and with a proud gesture of his hand 
 he motioned me back. 
 
 Poor fellow ! I saw that any attempt to reason with him 
 would be in vain at such a moment; and determining to 
 seek out the garde de chasse, I turned away slowly and 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 " What have been my vicissitudes of fortune compared to 
 his? " thought I. " The proud colonel of a cavalry regiment, 
 a beggar and an outcast ! " The great puzzle to me was 
 whether insanity had been the cause or the consequence of 
 his misfortunes. Caillon will, perhaps, be able to tell his 
 story, said I to myself ; and thus ruminating, I returned 
 to where I had picketed my horse three hours before. 
 My old dragoon experiences had taught me how to ' ' hobble " 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 447 
 
 a horse, as it is called, by passing the bridle beneath the 
 counter before tying it, and so I found him just as 1 had 
 left him. 
 
 The sun was now up, and I could see that a wide track led 
 off through the forest straight before me. I accordingly 
 mounted, and struck into a sharp canter. About an h(jur's 
 riding brought me to a small clearing, in the midst of which 
 stood a neat and picturesque cottage, over the door of which 
 was painted the words '' Station de Chasse — No. 4." In a 
 little garden in front a man was working in his shirt sleeves, 
 but his military trousers at once proclaimed him the garde. 
 He stopped as I came up, and eyed me sharply. 
 
 " Is this the road to Belleville? " said I. 
 
 "You can go this way; but it takes you two miles of a 
 round," replied he, coming closer, and scanning me keenly. 
 
 " You can tell me, perhaps, where Jacques Caillon, garde 
 de chasse, is to be found? " 
 
 "I am Jacques Caillon, sir," was the answer, as he 
 saluted in soldier fashion, while a look of anxiety stole over 
 his face. 
 
 " I have something to speak to you about," said I, dis- 
 mounting, and giving him the bridle of ni}^ horse. " Throw 
 him some corn, if you have got it, and then let us talk 
 together ; " and with this I walked into the garden, and 
 seated myself on a bench. 
 
 If Jacques be an old soldier, thought I, the only way is to 
 come the ofHcer over liim ; discipline and obedience are never 
 forgotten, and whatever chances I may have of his confidence 
 will depend on how much I seem his superior. It appeared 
 as if this conjecture was well founded ; for as Jacques came 
 back, his manner betrayed every sign of respect and defer- 
 ence. There was an expression of almost fear in his face as, 
 with his hand to his cap, he asked what were my orders. 
 
 The very deference of his au' w^as disconcerting, and so, 
 assuming a look of easy cordiality, I said, — 
 
 " First, I will ask you to give me something to eat ; and, 
 secondly, to give me your company for half-an-hour." 
 
 Jacques promised both, and learning that I preferred my 
 breakfast in the open air, proceeded to arrange the table 
 under a blossoming chestnut-tree. 
 
448 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Are you quite alone here?" asked I, as he passed back 
 and forward. 
 
 "Quite alone, sir; and, except a stray fagot-cutter or a 
 chance traveller who may have lost his way, I never see a 
 human face from year's end to year's end. It 's a lonely 
 thing for an old soldier, too," said he with a sigh. 
 
 " I know more than one who would envy you, Jacques," 
 said I ; and the words made him almost start as I spoke 
 them. The coffee was now ready, and I proceeded to make 
 my breakfast with all the appetite of a long fast. 
 
 There w^as indeed but little to inspire awe or even defer- 
 ence in my personal appearance ; a threadbare undress frock 
 and a worn-out old foraging cap were all the marks of my 
 soldierlike estate, — and yet from Jacques's manner one 
 might have guessed me to be a general at the least. He 
 attended me with the stiff propriety of the parade ; and 
 when at last induced to take a seat, he did so full two yards 
 off from the table, and arose almost every time he was spoken 
 to. Now, it was quite clear that the honest soldier did not 
 know me either as the hero of Kehl, of Ireland, or of Genoa. 
 Great achievements as they were, they were wonderfully 
 little noised about the world, and a man might frequent 
 mixed companies every day of the week and never hear of 
 one of them. So far, then, was certain, — it could not be 
 my fame had imposed on him ; and, as I have already hinted, 
 it could scarcely be my general appearance. Who knows, 
 thought I, but I owe all this obsequious deference to my 
 horse? If Jacques be an old cavalry-man, he will have re- 
 marked that the beast is of great value, and doubtless argue 
 to the worth of the rider from the merits of his "mount." 
 If this explanation was not the most flattering, it was at all 
 events the best I could hit on ; and with a natural reference 
 to what was passing in my own mind, I asked him if he had 
 looked to my horse. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir," said he, reddening suddenly; "I have 
 taken off the saddle, and thrown him his corn." 
 
 What the deuce does his confusion mean, thought I ; the 
 fellow looks as if he had half a mind to run away, merely 
 because I asked him a simple question. 
 
 " I 've had a sharp ride," said I, rather by way of saying 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 449 
 
 something, " and I should n't wonder if he was a little 
 fatigued." 
 
 '' Scarcely so, sir," said he, with a faint smile ; '' he 's old, 
 now, but it's not a little will tire him." 
 
 '' You know him, then? " said I, quickly. 
 
 "Ay, sir, and have known him for eighteen years. He 
 was in the second squadron of our regiment ; the major rode 
 him two entire campaigns." 
 
 The reader may guess that his history was interesting to 
 me from perceiving the impression the reminiscence made on 
 the relator, and I inquired what became of him after that. 
 
 "He was wounded by a shot at Neuwied, and sold into 
 the train, where they could n't manage him ; and after three 
 years, when horses grew scarce, he came back into the cavalry. 
 A sergeant-major of lancers was killed on him at Zweibrlicken. 
 That was the fourth rider he brought mishap to, not to say 
 a farrier whom he dashed to pieces in his stable." 
 
 Ah, Jack, thought I, I have it ; it is a piece of old-soldier 
 superstition about this mischievous horse has inspired all the 
 man's respect and reverence ; and if a little disappointed in the 
 mystery, I was so far pleased at having discovered the clew. 
 
 "But I have found him quiet enough," said I; " I never 
 backed him till yesterday, and he has carried me well and 
 peaceably." 
 
 "Ah, that he will now, I warrant him; since the day a 
 shell burst under him at Waitzen he itever showed any vice. 
 The wound nearly left the ribs bare, and he was for months 
 and months invalided ; after that he was sold out of the 
 cavalry, I don't know where or to whom. The next I saw of 
 him was in his present service." 
 
 " Then you are acquainted with the present owner? " asked 
 I, eagerly. 
 
 " As every Frenchman is ! " was the curt rejoinder. 
 
 '-^Parhleu! it will seem a droll confession, then, when I 
 tell you that I myself do not even know his name." 
 
 The look of contempt these words brought to my com- 
 panion's face could not, it seemed, be either repressed or 
 concealed ; and although my conscience acquitted me of 
 deserving such a glance, I own that I felt insulted by it. 
 
 " You are pleased to disbelieve me, Master Caillon," said 
 
 29 
 
450 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 I, sternly, " which makes me suppose that you are neither so 
 old nor so good a soldier as I fancied ; at least in the corps 
 I had the honor to serve with, the word of an officer was 
 respected like an ' order of the day.' " 
 
 He stood erect, as if on parade, under this rebuke, but 
 made no answer. 
 
 "Had you simply expressed surprise at what I said, I 
 would have given you the explanation frankly and freely ; as 
 it is, I shall content myself with repeating what I said, — I 
 do not even know his name." 
 
 The same imperturbable look and the same silence met me 
 as before. 
 
 " Now, sir, I ask you how this gentleman is called, whom 
 I, alone of all France, am ignorant of ? " 
 
 "Monsieur Fouche," said he, calmly. 
 
 "What! Fouche, the Minister of Police?" 
 
 This time, at least, my agitated looks seemed to move him, 
 for he replied, quietly, — 
 
 "The same, sir. The horse has the brand of the ' minis- 
 t^re' on his haunch." 
 
 " And where is the minist^re? " cried I, eagerly. 
 
 " In the Rue des Victoires, Monsieur." 
 
 "But he lives in the country, in a chiUeau near this very 
 forest." 
 
 "Where does he not live. Monsieur? At Versailles, at 
 St. Germain, in the Luxembourg, in the Marais, at Neuilly, 
 the Battignolles. I have carried despatches to him in every 
 quarter of Paris. Ah, Monsieur, what secret are you in 
 possession of, that it was worth while to lay so subtle a trap 
 to catch you?" 
 
 This question, put in all the frank abruptness of a sudden 
 thought, immediately revealed everything before me. 
 
 "Is it not as I have said?" resumed he, still looking at 
 my agitated face, — "is it not as I have said, — Monsieur is 
 in the web of the mouchards ? " 
 
 " Good heavens I is such baseness possible? " was all that 
 I could utter. 
 
 " I '11 wager a piece of five francs I can read the mystery," 
 said Jacques. "You served on Moreau's staff, or with 
 Pichegru in Holland ; you either have some of the general's 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 451 
 
 letters, or j'ou can be supposed to have them at all events ; 
 you remember many private conversations held with him on 
 polities ; you can charge your memory with a number of 
 strong facts ; and you can, if needed, draw up a memoir of 
 all your intercourse. I know the system well, for I was a 
 mouchard myself." 
 
 "You a police spy, Jacques?" 
 
 " Ay, sir; I was appointed without knowing what services 
 were expected from me, or the duties of my station. Two 
 months' trial, however, showed that I was ' incapable,' and 
 proved that a smart sous-officier is not necessarily a scoun- 
 drel. They dismissed me as impracticable, and made me 
 garde de chasse ; and they were right, too. Whether I was 
 dressed up in a snuff-brown suit, like a bourgeois of the Rue 
 St. Denis ; whether they attired me as a farmer from the 
 provinces, a retired mmtre-de-post, an old officer, or the con- 
 ducteur of a diligence, — I was always Jacques Caillon. 
 Through everything, wigs and beards, lace or rags, jackboots 
 or sabots, it was all alike ; and while others could pass 
 weeks in the Pays Latin as students, country doctors, or 
 notaires de village^ I was certain to be detected by every brat 
 that walked the streets." 
 
 ' ' What a system ! And so these fellows assume every 
 disguise?" asked I, my mind full of my late rencontre. 
 
 "That they do. Monsieur. There is one fellow, a Pro- 
 vencal by birth, has played more characters than ever did 
 Brunet himself. I have known him as a lacquais de place, a 
 cook to an English nobleman, a letter-carrier, a flower-girl, a 
 cornet-a-piston in the opera, and a owe from the Ardeche." 
 
 " A cure from the Ardeche ! " exclaimed I. " Then I am 
 a ruined man." 
 
 "What! has Monsieur fallen in with Paul?" cried he, 
 laughing. " Was he begging for a small contribution to repair 
 the roof of his little chapel, or was it a fire that had devas- 
 tated his poor village? Did the altar want a new covering, 
 or the cure a vestment? Was it a canopy for the Fete of the 
 Virgin, or a few sous towards the Orphelines de St. Jude ? " 
 
 "None of these," said I, half angrily, for the theme was 
 no jesting one to me. "It was a poor girl that had been 
 carried away." 
 
452 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " Lisette, the miller's daughter, or the schoolmaster's 
 niece? " broke he in, laughing. " He must have known you 
 were new to Paris, Monsieur, that he took so little trouble 
 about a deception. And you met him at the Charette 
 rouge in the Marais?" 
 
 " No; at a little ordinary in the Quai Voltaire." 
 
 "Better again. Why, half the company there are 
 mouchards. It is one of their rallying-points, where they 
 exchange tokens and information. The laborers, the beg- 
 gars, the fishermen of the Seine, the hawkers of old books, 
 the vendors of gilt ornaments, are all spies ; the most miser- 
 able creature that implored charity behind your chair as you 
 sat at dinner has, perhaps, his ten francs a day on the roll of 
 the Prefecture ! Ah, Monsieur ! if I had not been a poor 
 pupil of that school, I 'd have at once seen that you were a 
 victim and not a follower ; but I soon detected my error, — 
 my education taught me at least so much I " 
 
 I had no relish for the self-gratulation of honest Jacques, 
 uttered, as it was, at my own expense. Indeed, I had no 
 thought for anything but the entanglement into which I had 
 so stupidly involved myself ; and I could not endure the 
 recollection of my foolish credulity, now that all the paltry 
 machinery of the deceit was brought before me. All my 
 regard, dashed as it was with pity for the poor cure ; all my 
 compassionate interest for the dear Lisette ; all my benevo- 
 lent solicitude for the sick count, who was neither more nor 
 less than M. Fouche himself, — were anything but pleasant 
 reminiscences now, and I cursed my own stupidity with an 
 honest sincerity that greatly amused my companion. 
 
 "And is France come to this?" cried I, passionately, 
 and trying to console myself by inveighing against the 
 Government. 
 
 "Even so, sir," said Jacques. "I heard Monsieur de 
 Talleyrand say as much the other day, as I waited behind his 
 chair. ' It is only dans les bonnes maisons^' said he, ' that 
 sei*\'ants ever listen at the doors ; ' depend upon it, then, that 
 a secret police is a strong symptom that we are returning to 
 a monarchy." 
 
 it was plain that even in his short career in the police ser- 
 vice Caillon had acquired certain shrewd habits of thought 
 
A FOREST RIDE. 453 
 
 and some power of judgment ; and so I freely communicated 
 to him the whole of my late adventure from the moment of my 
 leaving the Temple to the time of my setting out for the Chateau. 
 
 " You have told me everything but one, Monsieur," said 
 he, as I finished. '' How came you ever to have heard the 
 name of so humble a person as Jacques Calllon, for you 
 remember you asked for me as you rode up ? " 
 
 " I was just coming to that point, Jacques; and, as you 
 will see, it was not an omission in my narrative, only that I 
 had not reached so far." 
 
 I then proceeded to recount my night in the forest, and 
 my singular meeting with poor Mahon, which he listened to 
 with great attention and some anxiety. 
 
 '' The poor colonel ! " said he, breaking in, " I suppose he 
 is a hopeless case ; his mind can never come right again." 
 
 ''But if the persecution were to cease; if he were at 
 liberty to appear once more in the world — " 
 
 "What if there was no persecution, sir?" broke in 
 Jacques. " What if the whole were a mere dream, or 
 fancy? He is neither tracked nor followed. It is not such 
 harmless game the bloodhounds of the Rue des Victoires 
 scent out." 
 
 ''AVas it, then, some mere delusion drove him from the 
 sen'ice?" said I, surprised. 
 
 " I never said so much as that," replied Jacques ; " Colo- 
 nel Mahon has foul injury to complain of; but his present 
 sufferings are the inflictions of his own terror. He fancies 
 that the whole power of France is at war with him, that 
 every engine of the Government is directed against him ; 
 with a restless fear he flies from village to village, fancying 
 pursuit everywhere ; even kindness now he is distrustful of, 
 and the chances are, that he will quit the forest this very day 
 merely because he met you there." 
 
 From being of all men the most opened-hearted and frank, 
 he had become the most suspicious ; he trusted nothing nor 
 any one ; and if for a moment a burst of his old generous 
 nature would return, it was sure to be followed by some 
 excess of distrust that made him miserable almost to despair. 
 Jacques was obliged to fall in with this humor, and only 
 assist him by stealth and by stratagem ; he was even com- 
 
454 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 pelled to chime in with all his notions about pursuit and 
 danger, to suggest frequent change of place and endless 
 precautions against discovery. 
 
 "Were I for once to treat him frankly, and ask him to 
 share my home with me," said Jacques, " I should never see 
 him more." 
 
 "What could have poisoned so noble a nature?" cried 
 I ; " when I saw him last he was the very type of generous 
 confidence." 
 
 " Where was that, and when? " asked Jacques. 
 
 " It was at Nancy, on the march for the Rhine." 
 
 " His calamities had not fallen on him then. He was a 
 proud man in those days, but it was a pride that well became 
 him ; he was the colonel of a great regiment, and for bravery 
 had a reputation second to none." 
 
 " He was married, I think? " 
 
 " No, sir ; he was never married." 
 
 As Jacques said this, he arose and moved slowly away, as 
 though he would not be questioned further. His mind, too, 
 seemed full of its own crowding memories, for he looked 
 completely absorbed in thought, and never noticed my pre- 
 sence for a considerable time. At last he appeared to have 
 decided some doubtful issue within himself, and said, — 
 
 " Come, sir, let us stroll into the shade of the wood, and 
 I '11 tell you in a few words the cause of the poor colonel's 
 ruin, — for ruin it is. Even were all the injustice to be 
 revoked to-morrow, the wreck of his heart could never be 
 repaired." 
 
 We walked along, side by side, for some time, before 
 Jacques spoke again, when he gave me, in brief and simple 
 words, the following sorrowful story. It was such a type of 
 the age, so pregnant with the terrible lessons of the time, 
 that although not without some misgivings I repeat it here 
 as it was told to myself, premising that however scant may 
 be the reader's faith in many of the incidents of my own nar- 
 rative, — and I neither beg for his trust in me nor seek to 
 entrap it, — I implore him to believe that what I am now 
 about to tell was a plain matter of fact, and, save in the 
 change of one name, not a single circumstance is owing to 
 imagination. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 AN EPISODE OF '94. 
 
 When the French army fell back across the Sambre after 
 the battle of Mods, a considerable portion of the rear who 
 covered the retreat were cut off by the enemy, for it became 
 their onerous duty to keep the allied forces in check, while 
 the Republicans took measures to secure and hold fast the 
 three bridges over the river. In this service many distin- 
 guished French officers fell, and many more were left badly 
 wounded on the field ; among the latter was a young captain 
 of dragoons, who, with his hand nearly severed by a sabre 
 cut, yet found strength enough to crawl under cover of a 
 hedge, and there lie down in the fierce resolve to die where 
 he was rather than surrender himself as a prisoner. 
 
 Although the allied forces had gained the battle, they 
 quickly foresaw that the ground they had won was unten- 
 able ; and scarcely had night closed in when they began 
 their preparations to fall back. With strong pickets of 
 observation to watch the bridges, they slowly withdrew 
 their columns towards Mons, posting the artillery on the 
 heights around Grandrengs. From these movements, the 
 ground of the late struggle became comparatively deserted, 
 and before day began to dawn not a sound was heard over 
 its wide expanse save the faint moan of a dying soldier, or 
 the low rumble of a cart as some spoiler of the dead stole 
 stealthily along. Among the demoralizing effects of war, 
 none was more striking than the number of the peasantry 
 who betook themselves to this infamous trade ; and who, 
 neglecting all thoughts of honest industry, devoted them- 
 selves to robbery and plunder. The lust of gain did not 
 stop with the spoil of the dead, but the wounded were often 
 
456 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 found stripped of everything ; and in some cases the traces 
 of fierce struggle, and the wounds of knives and hatchets, 
 showed that murder had consummated the iniquity of these 
 wretches. 
 
 In part from motives of pure humauit3\ in part from feel- 
 ings of a more interested nature, — for the terror to what this 
 demoralization would tend was now great and wide-spread, 
 — the nobles and gentry of the land instituted a species of 
 society to reward those who might succor the wounded, and 
 who displayed any remarkable zeal in their care for the 
 sufferers after a battle. This generous philanthropy was 
 irrespective of country, and extended its benevolence to the 
 soldiers of either army ; of course, personal feeling enjoyed 
 all its liberty of preference, but it is fair to say that the 
 cases were few where the wounded man could detect the 
 political leanings of his benefactor. 
 
 The immense granaries so universal in the Low Countries 
 were usually fitted up as hospitals, and many rooms of the 
 chateau itself were often devoted to the same purpose, — the 
 various individuals of the household, from the seigneur to 
 the lowest menial, assuming some office in the great work of 
 charity ; and it was a curious thing to see how the luxurious 
 indolence of chateau life became converted into the zealous 
 activity of useful benevolence, — and not less curious to the 
 moralist to observe how the emergent pressure of great 
 crime so instinctively, as it were, suggested this display of 
 virtuous humanit3^ 
 
 It was a little before daybreak that a small cart drawn by 
 a mule drew up beside the spot where the wounded dragoon 
 sat, with his shattered arm bound up in his sash, calmly 
 waiting for the death that his sinking strength told could not 
 be far distant. As the peasant approached him, he grasped 
 his sabre in the left hand, resolved on making a last and bold 
 resistance ; but the courteous salutation and the kindly look 
 of the honest countryman soon showed that he was come on 
 no errand of plunder, while, in the few words of bad French 
 he could muster, he explained his purpose. 
 
 "No, no, my kind friend," said the officer, "your labor 
 would only be lost on me. It is nearly all over already ! 
 A little further on in the field, yonder, where that copse 
 
AN EPISODE OF '94. 457 
 
 stands, you '11 find some poor fellow or other better worlli 
 your care, and more like to benefit by it. Adieu ! " 
 
 But neither the farewell nor the abrupt gesture that 
 accompanied it could turn the honest peasant from his pur- 
 pose. There was something that interested him in this very 
 disregard of life, as well as in the personal appearance of the 
 sufferer; and, without further colloquy, he lifted the half- 
 fainting form into the cart, and disposing the straw comfort- 
 ably on either side of him, set out homeward. The wounded 
 man was almost indifferent to what happened, and never 
 spoke a word nor raised his head as they went along. About 
 three hours' journey brought them to a large, old-fashioned 
 chateau beside the Sambre, — an immense straggling edifice 
 which, with a facade of nearly a hundred windows, looked 
 out upon the river. Although now in disrepair and neglect, 
 with ill-trimmed alleys and grass-grown terraces, it had been 
 once a place of great pretensions, and associated with some 
 of the palmiest days of Flemish hospitality. The Chuteau 
 d'Overbecque was the property of a certain rich merchant of 
 Antwerp named D'Aerschot, one of the oldest families of 
 the land, and was, at the time we speak of, the temporary 
 abode of his only son, who had gone there to pass the honey- 
 moon. Except that they were both young, neither of them 
 yet twenty, two people could not easily be found so discre- 
 pant in every circumstance and every quality, — he the true 
 descendant of a Flemish house, plodding, commonplace, and 
 methodical, hating show and detesting expense ; she a lively, 
 volatile girl, bursting with desire to see and be seen, fresh 
 from the restraint of a convent at Bruges, and anxious to 
 mix in all the pleasures and dissipations of the world. Like 
 all marriages in their condition, it had been arranged without 
 their knowledge or consent ; circumstances of fortune made 
 the alliance suitable, — so many hundred thousand florins on 
 one side were wedded to an equivalent on the other, and the 
 young people were married to facilitate the " transaction." 
 
 That he was not a little shocked at the gay frivolity of his 
 beautiful bride, and she as much disai)pointed at the staid 
 demureness of her stolid-looking husband, is not to be 
 wondered at; but their friends knew well that time would 
 smooth down greater discrepancies than even these; and if 
 
458 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 ever there was a country the monotony of whose life could 
 subdue aU to its own leaden tone it was HoUand in old days. 
 Whether engaged in the active pursuit of gain in the great 
 cities or enjoying the luxurious repose of chateau life, a dull, 
 dreary uniformity pen'aded everything ; the same topics, the 
 same people, the same landscape, recurred day after day, and 
 save what the season induced there was nothing of change 
 in the whole round of their existence. And what a dull honey- 
 moon was it for that young bride at the old Chateau d'Over- 
 becque ! To toil along the deep sandy roads in a lumbering 
 old coach with two long-tailed black horses ; to halt at some 
 little eminence, and strain the eyes over a long unbroken flat, 
 where a windmill, miles off, was an object of interest; to 
 loiter beside the bank of a sluggish canal, and gaze on some 
 tasteless excrescence of a summer-house whose owner could 
 not be distinguished from the wooden effigy that sat, pipe in 
 mouth, beside him ; to dine in the unbroken silence of a 
 funeral feast, and doze away the afternoon over the " Handels- 
 blatt," while her husband smoked himself into the seventh 
 heaven of a Dutch EKsium, — poor Caroline ! this was a sorry 
 realization of all her bright dreamiugs ! It ought to be borne 
 in mind that many descendants of high French families, 
 who were either too proud or too poor to emigrate to Eng- 
 land or America, had sought refuge from the Revolution in 
 the convents of the Low Countries, where, without entering 
 an order, they lived in all the discipline of a religious com- 
 munity. These ladies, many of whom had themselves mixed 
 in all the elegant dissipations of the com't, earned with them 
 the most fascinating reminiscences of a life of pleasure, and 
 could not readily forget the voluptuous enjoyments of Ver- 
 sailles, and the graceful caprices of Le Petit Trianon. From 
 such sources as these the young pupils drew all their ideas of 
 the world, and assuredly it could have scarcely worn colors 
 more likely to fascinate such imaginations. 
 
 What a shortcoming was the wearisome routine of Over- 
 becque to a mind full of all the refined follies of Marie 
 Antoinette's court! Even war and its chances offered a 
 pleasurable contrast to such dull monotony, and the young 
 bride hailed with eagerness the excitement and bustle of the 
 moving armies, — the long columns which poured along the. 
 
AN EPISODE OF '94. 459 
 
 high road, and the clanking artillery heard for miles off. 
 Mousieui' d'Aerschot, like all his countrymen who held 
 property near the frontier, was too prudent to have any 
 political bias. Madame was, however, violently French. 
 The people who had such admirable taste in toilette could 
 scarcely be wrong in the theories of government; and a 
 nation so invariably correct in dress could liardly be astray 
 in morals. Besides this, all their notions of morality were 
 as pliant and as easy to wear as their own well-fitting gar- 
 ments. Nothing was wrong but what looked ungraceful ; 
 everything was right that sat becomingly on her who did 
 it, — a short code, and wonderfully easy to learn. 
 
 If I have dealt somewhat tediously on these tendencies of 
 the time, it is that I may pass the more glibly over the 
 consequences, and not pause upon the details by which the 
 3^oung French captain's residence at Overbecque gradually 
 grew, from the intercourse of kindness and good offices, to 
 be a close friendship with his host, and as much of regard 
 and respectful devotion as consisted with the position of his 
 young and charming hostess. He thought her, as she cer- 
 tainly was, very beautiful ; she rode to perfection, she sang 
 delightfully ; she had all the volatile gayety of a happy child, 
 with the graceful ease of coming womanhood. Her very 
 passion for excitement gave a kind of life and energy to the 
 dull old chateau, and made her momentary absence felt as a 
 dreary blank. 
 
 It is not my wish to speak of the feelings suggested by 
 the contrast between her husband and the gay and chival- 
 rous young soldier, nor how little such comparisons tended 
 to allay the repinings at her lot. Then* first effect was, how- 
 ever, to estrange her more and more from D'Aerschot, a 
 change which he accepted with the most Dutch indifference. 
 Possibly piqued by this, or desirous of awakening his 
 jealousy, she made more advances towards the other, select- 
 ing him as the companion of her walks, and passing the 
 greater portion of each day in his society. Nothing could 
 be more honorable than tlie young soldier's conduct in this 
 trying position. The qualities of agreeability, which he had 
 previously displayed to requite in some sort tiie hospitality 
 of his hosts, he now gradually restrained, avoiding, as far as 
 
460 MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 he could without remark, the society of the young Countess, 
 and even feigning indisposition to escape from the peril of 
 her intimacy. 
 
 He did more, — he exerted himself to draw D'Aerschot more 
 out, to make him exhibit the shrewd intelligence which lay 
 buried beneath his native apathy, and display powers of 
 thought and reflection of no mean order. Alas ! these very 
 efforts on his part only increased the mischief, by adding 
 generosit}" to his other vu'tues I He now saw all the danger 
 in which he was standing, and, although still weak and suffer- 
 ing, resolved to take his departure. There was none of the 
 concealed vanity of a coxcomb' in this knowledge. He 
 heartily deplored the injury he had unwittingly done, 
 and the sorry return he had made for all their generous 
 hospitality. 
 
 There was not a moment to be lost ; but the very evening 
 before, as they walked together in the garden, she had con- 
 fessed to him the misery in which she lived by recounting 
 the story of her ill-sorted marriage. What it cost him to 
 listen to that sad tale with seeming coldness ! to hear her 
 afflictions without offering one word of kindness ! nay, to 
 proffer merely some dry, harsh counsels of patience and sub- 
 mission, while he added something very like rebuke for her 
 want of that assiduous affection which should have been 
 given to her husband ! 
 
 Unaccustomed to even the slightest censure, she could 
 scarcely trust her ears as she heard him. Had she humiliated 
 herself by such a confession, to be met by advice like this ? 
 And was it he that should reproach her for the very faults 
 his own intimacy had engendered? She could not endure 
 the thought, and she felt that she could hate just at the very 
 moment when she knew she loved him ! 
 
 They parted in anger, — reproaches, the most cutting and 
 bitter, on her part ; coldness, far more wounding, on his ! 
 sarcastic compliments upon his generosit}^, replied to by as 
 sincere expressions of respectful friendship I What hypocrisy 
 and self-deceit together ! And -^^et deep beneath all lay the 
 firm resolve for future victory. Her wounded self-love was 
 irritated, and she was not one to turn from an unfinished 
 purpose. As for him, he waited till all was still and silent 
 
AN EPISODE OF '94. 461 
 
 in the house, and then seeking out D'Aerschot's chamber, 
 thanked him most sincerely for all his kindness, and affecting 
 a hurried order to join his service, departed. While in her 
 morning dreams she was fanc^^ing conquest, he was already 
 miles away on the road to France. 
 
 It was about three years after this that a number of 
 French officers were seated one evening in front of a little 
 cafe in Freyburg. The town was then crammed with troops 
 moving down to occupy the passes of the Rhine, near the 
 Lake of Constance, and every hour saw fresh arrivals pour- 
 ing in, dusty and wayworn from the march. The necessity 
 for a sudden massing of the troops in a particular spot com- 
 pelled the generals to employ every possible means of con- 
 veyance to forward the men to their destination ; and from 
 the lumbering old diligence with ten horses to the light cha- 
 rette with one, all were engaged in this pressing service. 
 When men were weary, and unable to march forward, they 
 were taken up for twelve or fourteen miles, after which they 
 proceeded on their way, making room for others ; and thus 
 forty and even fifty miles were frequently accomplished in 
 the same day. 
 
 The group before the cafe were amusing themselves criti- 
 cising the strange appearance of the new arrivals, many of 
 whom certainly made their entry in the least military fashion 
 possible. Here came a great country wagon, with forty 
 infantry soldiers all sleeping on the straw ; here followed a 
 staff-officer trying to look quite at his ease in a donkey-cart ; 
 unwieldy old bullock-carts were filled with men, and a half- 
 starved mule tottered along with a drummer-boy in one 
 pannier and camp-kettles in the other. 
 
 He who was fortunate enough to secure a horse for him- 
 self was obliged to carry the swords and weapons of his 
 companions, whicli were all hung around and about him on 
 every side, together with helmets and shakos of all shapes 
 and sizes, whose owners were fain to cover their head with 
 the less soldier-like appendages of a nightcap or a handker- 
 chief. Nearly all who marched carried their caps on their 
 muskets, for in such times as these all discipline is relaxed, 
 save such as is indispensable to the maintenance of order; 
 
462 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 and so far was freedom conceded that some were to be seen 
 walking barefoot in the ranks, while their shoes were sus- 
 pended by a string on theii* backs. The rule seemed to be 
 " Get forward, it matters not how, — onl}^ get forward ! " 
 
 And with French troops such relaxation of strict discipline 
 is alwaj^s practicable ; the instincts of obedience return at 
 the first call of the bugle or the first roll of the drum ; and 
 at the word to "fall in!" every symptom of disorder 
 vanishes, and the mass of seeming confusion becomes the 
 steady and silent phalanx. 
 
 Many were the strange sights that passed before the eyes 
 of the party at the ca/e, who, having arrived early in the 
 day, gave themselves all the airs of ease and indolence 
 before their way-worn comrades. Now laughing heartily at 
 the absurdity of this one, now exchanging some good- 
 humored jest with that, they were in the very full current of 
 their criticism, when the sharp shrill crack of a postilion's 
 whip informed them that a traveller of some note was 
 approaching. A mounted courier, all slashed with gold lace, 
 came riding up the street at the same moment, and a short 
 distance behind followed a handsome equipage drawn by six 
 horses, after which came a heavy " fourgon" with four. 
 
 One glance showed that the whole equipage betokened a 
 wealthy owner. There was all that cumbrous machinery of 
 comfort about it that tells of people who will not trust to 
 the chances of the road for their daily wants. Every appli- 
 ance of ease was there, and even in the self-satisfied air of 
 the servants who lounged in the rumble might be read habits 
 of affluent prosperity. A few short years back, and none 
 would have dared to use such an equipage, — the sight of so 
 much indulgence would have awakened the fiercest rage of 
 popular fury ; but already the high fever of democracy" was 
 gradually subsiding, and, bit by bit, men were found revert- 
 ing to old habits and old usages. Still, each new indication 
 of these tastes met a certain amount of reprobation. Some 
 blamed openly, some condemned in secret ; but all felt that 
 there was at least impolicy in a display which would serve as 
 pretext to the terrible excesses that were committed under 
 the banner of "Equality." 
 
 "If we lived in the da^'s of princes," said one of the 
 
AN EPISODE OF '94. 463 
 
 officers, " I should say there goes one now. Just look at all 
 the dust they are kicking up yonder ; while, as if to point a 
 moral upon greatness, they are actually stuck fast in the 
 narrow street, and unable, from their own unwieldiness, to 
 get farther." 
 
 "Just so," cried another; "they want to turn down 
 towards the Swan, and there is n't space enough to wheel 
 the leaders." 
 
 " Who or what are they? " asked a third. 
 
 " Some commissary-general, I'll be sworn," said the first. 
 "They are the most shameless thieves going; for they are 
 never satisfied with robbery if they do not exhibit the spoils 
 in public." 
 
 " I see a bonnet and a lace veil," said another, rising sud- 
 denly, and pushing through the crowd. "I'll wager it's a 
 danseuse of the Grand Opera." 
 
 "Look at Merode ! " remarked the former, as he pointed 
 to the last speaker. ' ' See how he thrusts himself forward 
 there. Watch, and you '11 see him bow and smile to her, as 
 if they had been old acquaintances." 
 
 The guess was so far unlucky that Merode had no sooner 
 come within sight of the carriage-window than he was seen 
 to bring his hand to the salute, and remain in an attitude of 
 respectful attention till the equipage moved on. 
 
 " Well, Merode, who is it — who are they? " cried several 
 together, as he fell back among his comrades. 
 
 "It's our new adjutant-general. Parhlen!'' said he, 
 " and he caught me staring in at his pretty wife," 
 
 " Colonel Mahon ! " said another, laughing. " I wish you 
 joy of your gallantry, Merode." 
 
 "And, worse still," broke in a third, "she is not his 
 wife. She never could obtain the divorce to allow her to 
 marry again. Some said it was the husband — a Dutchman, 
 I believe — refused it; but the simple truth is she never 
 wished it herself." 
 
 " How not wish it? " remarked three or four in a breath. 
 
 "Why should she? Has she not every advantage the 
 position could give her, and her liberty into the bargain? 
 If we were back again in the old days of the monarchy, I 
 agree with you she could not go to court ; she would receive 
 
464 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 no invitations to the petits soupers of the Trianon, nor be 
 asked to join the discreet hunting-parties at Fontainebleau ; 
 but we live in less polished days, and if we have little 
 virtue we have less hypocrisy." 
 
 " Vollaf" cried another, "only I, for one, would never 
 believe that we are a jot more wicked or more dissolute than 
 those powdered and perfumed scoundrels that played courtier 
 in the king's bedchamber." 
 
 ' ' There, they are getting out, at the Tour d' Argent ! " 
 cried another. " She is a splendid figure, and what mag- 
 nificence in her dress ! " 
 
 " Mahon waits on her like a lacquais," muttered a grim 
 old lieutenant of infantry. 
 
 " Rather like a well-born cavalier, I should say," inter- 
 posed a young hussar. " His manner is all that it ought to 
 be, — full of devotion and respect." 
 
 " Bah ! " said the former ; "a soldier's wife, or a soldier's 
 mistress (for it 's all one) , should know how to climb up to 
 her place on the baggage-wagon without three lazy rascals 
 to catch her sleeve or her petticoats for her." 
 
 " Mahon is as gallant a soldier as any in this army," said 
 the hussar ; ' ' and I 'd not be in the man's coat who dis- 
 paraged him in anything." 
 
 " By St. Denis ! " broke in another, " he 's not more brave 
 than he is fortunate. Let me tell you, it 's no slight luck to 
 chance upon so lovely a woman as that, with such an immense 
 fortune too." 
 
 " Is she rich? " 
 
 " Enormously rich. He has nothing. An emigre of good 
 family, I believe, but without a sous ; and see how he travels 
 yonder ! " 
 
 While this conversation was going forward, the new 
 arrivals had alighted at the chief inn of the town and were 
 being installed in the principal suite of rooms, which opened 
 on a balcony over the Place. The active preparations of 
 the host to receive such distinguished guests — the hurrying 
 of servants here and there, the blaze of wax-lights that 
 shone half-way across the street beneath, and lastly the 
 appearance of a regimental band to play under the windows 
 — were all circumstances well calculated to sustain and 
 
AN EPISODE OF '94. 465 
 
 stimulate that spirit of sharp criticism which the group 
 around the cafe were engaged in. 
 
 The discussion was, however, suddenly interrupted by the 
 entrance of an officer, at whose appearance every one arose 
 and stood in attitudes of respectful attention. Scarcely 
 above the middle size, and more remarkable for the calm and 
 intellectual cast of his features than for that air of military 
 pride then so much in vogue amongst the French troops, he 
 took his place at a small table near the door and called for 
 his coffee. It was only when he was seated, and that by a 
 slight gesture he intimated his wishes to that effect, that the 
 others resumed their places and continued the conversation, 
 but in a lower, more subdued tone. 
 
 " What distinguished company have we got yonder? " 
 said he, after about half an hour's quiet contemplation of 
 the crowd before the inn and the glaring illumination from 
 the windows. 
 
 " Colonel Mahon, of the Fifth Cuirassiers, General," 
 replied an officer. 
 
 "Our Republican simplicity is not so self-denying a 
 system, after all, gentlemen," said the general, smiling half 
 sarcastically. " Is he very rich?" 
 
 " His mistress is. General," was the prompt reply. 
 
 "Bah!" said the general, as he threw liis cigar away, 
 and with a contemptuous expression of look arose and 
 walked away. 
 
 '''' Farhleu! he's going to the inn," cried an oflieer, who 
 peered out after him ; " I '11 be sworn Mahon will get a heavy 
 reprimand for all this display and ostentation." 
 
 "And why not?" said another. "Is it when men are 
 arriving half dead with fatigue, without rations, without 
 l)illets, glad to snatch a few hours' rest on the stones of the 
 Place, that the colonel of a regiment should travel with all 
 the state of an eastern despot?" 
 
 " We might as well have the monarchy back again," said 
 an old weather-beaten captain; " I say far better, for their 
 vices sat gracefully and becomingly on those essenced 
 scoundrels, whereas they but disfigure the plainness of our 
 daily habits." 
 
 "All this is sheer envy, comrades," broke in a young 
 
 30 
 
466 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 major of hussars, — " sheer envy ; or, what is worse, down- 
 right hypocrisy. Not one of us is a whit better or more 
 moral than if he wore the livery of a king, and carried a 
 crown on his shako instead of that naked damsel that 
 represents French liberty. Mahon is the luckiest fellow 
 going, and, I heartily believe, the most deserving of his 
 fortune ! And see if General Moreau be not of my opinion. 
 There he is on the balcony, and she is leaning on his arm." 
 
 '•'' ParUeu! the major is right! " said another; " but, for 
 certain, it was not in that humor he left us just now ; his 
 lips were closely puckered up, and his fingers were twisted 
 into his sword-knot, — two signs of anger and displeasure 
 there 's no mistaking." 
 
 " If he 'b in a better temper, then," said another, " it was 
 never the smiles of a pretty woman worked the change. 
 There's not a man in France so thoroughly indifferent to 
 such blandishments." 
 
 "Tant pis pour lui," said the major; "but they're 
 closing the window-shutters, and we may as well go 
 home." 
 
CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE CABINET OF A CIIEF-DE-POLICE. 
 
 Whatever opinion may be formed of the character of the 
 celebrated conspiracy of Georges and Pichegru, the mode of 
 its discovery and the secret rules by which its plans were 
 detected are among the great triumphs of police skill. From 
 the hour when the conspirators first met together in London 
 to that last fatal moment when they expired in the Temple, 
 the agents of Fouche never ceased to track them. 
 
 Their individual tastes and ambitions were studied, their 
 habits carefully investigated, everything that could give a 
 clew to their turn of thought or mind well weighed ; so that 
 the Consular Government was not only in possession of all 
 their names and rank, but knew thoroughly the exact amount 
 of complicity attaching to each, and could distinguish be- 
 tween the reckless violence of Georges and the more tempered 
 but higher ambition of Moreau. It was a long while doubt- 
 ful whether the great general would be implicated in the 
 scheme. His habitual reserve — a habit less of caution than 
 of constitutional delicacy — had led him to few intimacies, 
 and nothing like even one close friendship ; he moved little 
 in society ; he corresponded with none, save on the duties of 
 the senice. Fouche's well-known boast of, " Give me two 
 words of a man's writing, and I '11 hang him," were then 
 scarcely applicable here. 
 
 To attack such a man unsuccessfully, to arraign liim on a 
 weak indictment, would have been ruin ; and yet IJonaparte's 
 jealousy of his great rival pushed him even to tliis peril, 
 rather than risk the growing popularity of his name with the 
 army. 
 
 Fouche, and, it is said also, Talleyrand, did all they could 
 to dissuade the First Consul from this attempt ; but he was 
 
468 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 fixed and immutable in his resolve, and the Police Minister 
 at once addressed himself to his task with all his accustomed 
 cleverness. 
 
 High play was one of the great vices of the day. It was 
 a time of wild and varied excitement, and men sought even 
 in their dissipations the whirlwind passions that stirred them 
 in active life. Moreau, however, was no gambler ; it was 
 said that he never could succeed in learning a game. He 
 whose mind could comprehend the most complicated question 
 of strategy was obliged to confess himself conquered by 
 ecarte ! So much for the vaunted intellectuality of the play 
 table ! Neither was he addicted to wine. All his habits 
 were temperate, even to the extent of unsociality. 
 
 A man who spoke little and wrote less, who indulged in no 
 dissipations nor seemed to have taste for any, was a difficult 
 subject to treat ; and so Fouche found, as day after day his 
 spies reported to him the utter failure of all their schemes to 
 entrap him. Lajolais, the friend of Pichegru and the man 
 who betrayed him, was the chief instrument the Police Min- 
 ister used to obtain secret information. Being well born, 
 and possessed of singularly pleasing manners, he had the 
 entree of the best society of Paris, where his gay, easy 
 humor made him a great favorite. Lajolais, however, could 
 never penetrate into the quiet domesticity of Moreau's life, 
 nor make any greater inroad on his intimacy than a courteous 
 salutation as they passed each other in the garden of the 
 Luxembourg. At the humble restaurant where he dined 
 each day for two francs, the " General," as he was distinc- 
 tively called, never spoke to any one. Unobtrusive and 
 quiet, he occupied a little table in a recess of the window, 
 and arose the moment he finished his humble meal. After 
 this he was to be seen in the garden of the Luxembourg, 
 with, a cigar and a book, or sometimes without either, seated 
 pensively under a tree for hours together. 
 
 If he had been conscious of the espionage, established 
 over all his actions, he could scarcely have adopted a more 
 guarded or more tantalizing policy. To the verbal communi- 
 cations of Pichegru and Armand Polignac, he returned vague 
 replies ; their letters he never answered at all ; and Lajolais 
 had to confess that after two months of close pursuit the 
 game was as far from him as ever ! 
 
THE CABINET OF A CIIEF-DK-P(^LICE. 469 
 
 ''You have come to repeat the old song tome, Monsieur 
 Lajolais," said Fouehe one evening, as his wily subordinate 
 entered the room; "' you have nothing to tell me, eh? " 
 
 " Very little, Monsieur le Ministre, but still something. 
 I have at last found out where Moreau spends all his even- 
 ings. I told you that about half-past nine o'clock eveiy 
 night all lights were extinguished in his quarters, and, from 
 the unbroken stillness, it was conjectured that he had retired 
 to bed. Now, it seems that about an hour later he is accus- 
 tomed to leave his house, and crossing the Place de I'Odeon, 
 to enter the little sti-eet called the AUee de Caire, where, in a 
 small house next but one to the corner, resides a certain offi- 
 cer, en retndte^ — a Colonel Mahon of the Cuu-assiers." 
 
 "A Royalist?" 
 
 '' This is suspected, but not known. His politics, how- 
 ever, are not in question here ; the attraction is of a different 
 order." 
 
 '' Ha ! I perceive ; he has a wife or a daughter." 
 
 " Better still, a mistress. You may have heard of the 
 famous Caroline de Stassart, that married a Dutchman 
 named D'Aerschot." 
 
 " Madame Laure, as they called her," said Fouehe, 
 laughing. 
 
 '' The same. She has lived as Mahon's wife for some 
 years, and was as such introduced into society; in fact, 
 th^e is no reason, seeing what society is in these days, that 
 she should not participate in all its pleasures." 
 
 '' No matter for that," broke in Fouehe ; '' Bonaparte will 
 not have it so. He wishes that matters should go back to 
 the old footing, and wisely remarks that it is only in savage 
 life that people or vices go without clothing." 
 
 "Be it so. Monsieur. In the present case no such step is 
 necessary. I know her maid, and from her I have heard that 
 her mistress is heartily tired of her protector. It was origi- 
 nally a sudden fancy, taken when she knew nothing of life, 
 — had neither seen anything, nor been herself seen. By the 
 most wasteful habits she has dissipated all, or nearly all, her 
 own large fortune, and involved Mahon heavily in debt ; and 
 they are thus reduced to a life of obscurity and poverty, — • 
 the very things the least endurable to all her notions." 
 
470 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Well, does she care for Moreau?" asked Fouche, 
 quickly ; for all stories to his ear only resolved themselves 
 into some question of utility or gain. 
 
 "No, but he does for her. About a year back she did 
 take a liking to him. He was retui-ning from his great Ger- 
 man campaign, covered with honors and rich in fame ; but 
 as her imagination is captivated by splendor, while her heart 
 remains perfectly cold and intact, Moreau's simple, unpre- 
 tending habits quickly effaced the memory of his hard-won 
 glory, and now she is quite indifferent to him." 
 
 ' ' And who is her idol now, — for of course she has one ? " 
 asked Fouche. 
 
 " You would scarcely guess," said Lajolais. 
 
 '^ Parbleu! I hope it is not myself," said Fouche, 
 laughing. 
 
 " No, Monsieur le Ministre, her admiration is not so well 
 placed. The man who has captivated her present fancy is 
 neither good-looking nor well-mannered ; he is short and 
 abrupt of speech, careless in dress, utterly indifferent to 
 woman's society, and almost rude to them." 
 
 " You have drawn the very picture of a man to be adored 
 b}^ them," said Fouche, with a dry laugh. 
 
 " I suppose so," said the other with a sigh; " or General 
 Ney would not have made this conquest." 
 
 " Ah ! it is Ne}^ then. And he, what of him? " 
 
 " It is hard to say. As long as she lived in a grand house 
 of the Rue St. Georges, where he could dine fom* days a 
 week, and in his dii'ty boots and unbrushed frock mix with 
 all the fashion and elegance of the capital ; while he could 
 stretch full length on a Persian Ottoman, and brush the 
 cinders from his cigar against a statuette by Canova or a 
 gold embroidered hanging ; while in the midst of the most 
 voluptuous decorations he alone could be dirty and uncared 
 for, — I really believe that he did care for her, at least, so 
 far as ministering to his own* enjoyments ; but in a miserable 
 lodging of the AUee de Caire, without equipage, lackeys, 
 liveried footmen — " 
 
 "To be sure," interrupted Fouche, " one might as well 
 pretend to be fascinated by the beauty of a landscape the 
 day after it has been desolated by an earthquake. Ney is 
 
THE CABINET OF A CHEF-DE-POLICE. 471 
 
 right ! Well, now, Mousieur Lajolais, where does all this 
 bring us to ? " 
 
 " Very near to the end of our journey, Monsieur le ]\Ii- 
 nistre. Madame, or Mademoiselle, is most anxious to regain 
 her former position ; she longs for all the luxurious splendor 
 she used to live in. Let us but show her this rich reward, 
 and she will be our own ! " 
 
 "In my trade. Monsieur Lajolais, generalities are worth 
 nothing. Give me details ; let me know how you would 
 proceed." 
 
 " Easily enough, sir ; Mahon must first of all be disposed 
 of, and perhaps the best way will be to have him arrested 
 for debt. This will not be difficult, for his bills are every- 
 where. Once in the Temple, she will never think more of 
 him. It must then be her task to obtain the most complete 
 influence over Moreau. vShe must affect the deepest interest 
 in the Royalist cause : I '11 furnish her with all the watch- 
 words of the party ; and Moreau, who never trusts a man, 
 will open all his confidence to a woman." 
 
 " Very good, go on ! " cried Fouche, gathering fresh inter- 
 est as the plot began to reveal itself before him. 
 
 "He hates writing; she will be his secretary, embodying 
 all his thoughts and suggestions, and now and then, for her 
 own guidance, obtaining little scraps in his hand. If he be 
 too cautious here, I will advise her to remove to Geneva for 
 change of air: he likes Switzerland, and will follow her 
 immediately." 
 
 " This will do ; at least it looks practicable," said Fouche, 
 thoughtfully ; "is she equal to the part you would assign 
 her?" 
 
 " Ay, sir, and to a higher one, too ! She has considerable 
 ability, and great ambition. Her present narrow fortune has 
 irritated and disgusted her; the moment is most favorable 
 for us." 
 
 " If she should play us false," said Fouche, half aloud. 
 
 " From all I can learn, there is no risk of this. There 
 is a headlong determination in her, when once she has con- 
 ceived a plan, from which nothing turns her; overlooking 
 all but her object, she will brave anything, do anything, to 
 attain it." 
 
472 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " Bonaparte was right in what he said of Necker's daugh- 
 ter," said Fouche, musingly, " and there is no doubt it adds 
 wonderfully to a woman's head that she has no heart. And 
 now, the price, Master Lajolais ! remember that our treasury 
 received some deadly wounds lately — what is to be the 
 price ? " 
 
 " It may be a smart one ; she is not likely to be a cheap 
 purchase." 
 
 "In the event of success, I mean of such proof as may 
 enable us to arrest Moreau and commit him to prison — " 
 He stopped as he got thus far, and paused for some seconds. 
 " Bethink you, then, Lajolais," said he, " what a grand step 
 this would be, and how terrible the consequences if under- 
 taken on rash or insufficient grounds. Moreau's popularity 
 with the army is only second to one man's ! His unambitious 
 character has made him many friends ; he has few, very few, 
 enemies." 
 
 "But you need not push matters to the last: an implied 
 but not a proven guilt, would be enough ; and you can par- 
 don him ! " 
 
 " Ay, Lajolais, but who would pardon us? " cried Fouche, 
 carried beyond all the bounds of his prudence by the thought 
 of a danger so imminent. " Well, well, let us come back; 
 the price — will that do? " And taking up a pen he scratched 
 some figures on a piece of paper. 
 
 Lajolais smiled dubiously, and added a unit to the left of 
 the sum. 
 
 "What! a hundred and fifty thousand francs!" cried 
 Fouche. 
 
 "And a cheap bargain, too," said the other; " for after 
 all it is only the price of a ticket in the lotter}^ of which the 
 great prize is General Ney ! " 
 
 " You say truly," said the minister ; " be it so." 
 
 "Write your name there, then," said Lajolais, "beneath 
 those figures ; that will be warranty sufficient for my nego- 
 tiation, and leave the rest to me." 
 
 "Nature evidently meant you for a Chef-de-Police, 
 Master Lajolais." 
 
 "Or a Cardinal, Monsieur le Ministre," said the other, as 
 he folded up the paper, a little insignificant slip, scrawled over 
 
THE CABINET OF A CIIEF-DE-POLICE. 473 
 
 with a few figures and an almost illegible word, and yet 
 pregnant with infamy to one, banishment to another, ruin 
 and insanity to a third. 
 
 This sad record need not be carried further. It is far 
 from a pleasant task to tell of baseness unredeemed by one 
 trait of virtue, of treachery unrepented even by regret. 
 History records Moreau's unhappy destiny ; the pages of 
 private memoir tell of Ney's disastrous connection ; our own 
 humble reminiscences speak of poor Mahon's fate, — the 
 least known of all, but the most sorrowful victim of a 
 woman's treachery. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 A GLANCE AT THE "PREFECTURE DE POLICE." 
 
 Poor Mahon's melancholy story made a deep impression 
 upon me, and I returned to Paris execrating the whole race 
 of spies and mouchards, and despising with a most hearty 
 contempt a Government compelled to use such agencies for 
 its existence. It seemed to me so utterly impossible to 
 escape the snares of a system so artfully interwoven, and so 
 vain to rely on innocence as a protection, that I felt a kind 
 of reckless hardihood as to whatever might betide me, and 
 rode into the Cour of the Prefecture with a bold indifference 
 as to my fate I have often wondered at since. 
 
 The horse on which I was mounted was immediately recog- 
 nized as I entered, and the obsequious salutations that met 
 me showed that I was regarded as one of the trusty followers 
 of the minister ; and in this capacity was I ushered into a 
 large waiting-room, where a considerable number of persons 
 were assembled whose air and appearance, now that neces- 
 sity for disguise was over, unmistakably pronounced them to 
 be spies of the police. Some, indeed, were occupied in 
 taking off their false whiskers and mustaches ; others were 
 removing shades from their eyes ; and one was carefully 
 opening what had been the hump on his back in search of a 
 paper he was anxious to discover. 
 
 I had very little difficulty in ascertaining that these were 
 all the very lowest order of mouchards, whose sphere of duty 
 rarely led beyond the Fauxbourg or the Battignolles, and 
 indeed soon saw that my own appearance amongst them led 
 to no little surprise and astonishment. 
 
 "You are looking for Nicquard, Monsieur?" said one, 
 "but he has not come yet." 
 
 " No; Monsieur wants to see Boule-de-Fer," said another. 
 
A GLANCE AT THE " PREFECTURE DE POLICE." 475 
 
 " Here 's Jose can fetch him," cried a third. 
 
 "He'll have to carry him, then," growled out another, 
 " for I saw him in the Morgue this morning I " 
 
 " What ! dead? " exclaimed several together. 
 
 "As dead as four stabs in the heart and lungs can make 
 a man! He must have been meddling where he had no 
 business, for there was a piece of a lace rufHe found in his 
 fingers." 
 
 "^it/i, voila!'' cried another, "that comes of mixing in 
 high society." 
 
 I did not wait for the discussion that followed, but stole 
 quietly away as the disputants were waxing warm. Instead 
 of turning into the Cour again, however, I passed out into a 
 corridor, at the end of which was a door of green cloth. 
 Pushing open this, I found myself in a chamber, where a 
 single clerk was writing at a table. 
 
 " You 're late to-day, and he 's not in a good humor," said 
 he, scarcely looking up from his paper, " go in ! " 
 
 Resolving to see my adventure to the end, I asked no 
 further questions, but passed on to the room beyond. A 
 person who stood within the doorway withdrew as I entered, 
 and I found myself standing face to face with the Marquis 
 de Maurepas, or, to speak more properly, the Minister 
 Fouche. He was standing at the fireplace as I came in, read- 
 ing a newspaper, but no sooner had he caught sight of me 
 then he laid it down, and, with his hands crossed behind his 
 back, continued steadily staring at me. 
 
 " BiahUr' exclaimed he, at last, " how came j'ou here? " 
 
 " Nothing more naturally, su', than from the wish to re- 
 store what you were so good as to lend me, and express my 
 sincere gratitude for a most hospitable reception." 
 
 " And who admitted you?" 
 
 " I fancy your saddle-cloth was my introduction, sir, for 
 it was speedily recognized. Gesler's cap was never held in 
 greater honor." 
 
 " You are a very courageous young gentleman, I must say 
 — very courageous, indeed," said he, with a sardonic grin 
 that was anything but encouraging. 
 
 " The better chance that I may find favor with Monsieur 
 de Fouche," replied I. 
 
476 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " That remains to be seen, sir," said he, seating himself 
 in his chair, and motioning me to a spot in front of it. " Who 
 are you? " 
 
 " A lieutenant of the Xinth Hussars, sir; by name Mau- 
 rice Tiernay." 
 
 " I don't care for that," said he, impatiently ; " what 's your 
 occupation — how do you live — with whom do you associate ? " 
 
 " I have neither means nor associates. I have been 
 liberated from the Temple but a few days back ; and what 
 is to be my future and where are facts of which I know 
 as little as does Monsieui- de Fouche of my past history." 
 
 " It would seem that every adventurer, every fellow desti- 
 tute of home, family, fortune, and position, thinks that his 
 natural refuge lies in this Ministry, and that I must be his 
 guardian." 
 
 " I never thought so, sir." 
 
 "Then why are you here? What other than personal 
 reasons procures me the honor of this visit?" 
 
 " As Monsieur de Fouche will not believe in m}^ sense of 
 gratitude, perhaps he may put some faith in my curiosity, 
 and excuse the natural anxiety I feel to know if Monsieur 
 de Maurepas has really benefited by the pleasui-e of my 
 society." 
 
 "Hardi, Monsieur, bien hardi," said the Minister, with a 
 peculiar expression of irony about the mouth that made me 
 almost shudder. He rang a little hand-bell as he spoke, and 
 a sei'vant made his appearance. 
 
 " You have forgotten to leave me my snuff-box, Geoffroy," 
 said he mildly to the valet, who at once left the room and 
 speedily retm'ned with a magnificently-chased gold box, 
 on which the initials of the First Consul were embossed in 
 diamonds. 
 
 "Ai'i'9'^g6 those papers, and place those books on the 
 shelves," said the Minister; and then turning to me, as if 
 resuming a previous conversation, went on, — 
 
 "As to that memoir of which we were speaking t'other 
 night, Monsieur, it would be exceedingly interesting just 
 now ; and I have no doubt that you will see the propriet}^ of 
 confiding to me what you already promised to Monsieur de 
 Maurepas. That will do, Geoffroy ; leave us." 
 
A GLANCE AT THE " PREFECTUKE DE POLICE." 477 
 
 The sen^ant retii-ed, and we were once more alone. 
 
 " I possess no secrets, sir, worthy the notice of the 
 Minister of Police," said I, boldly. 
 
 " Of that I may presume to be the better judge," said 
 Fouche, calml}^ '' But waiving this question, there is 
 another of some importance. You have, partly by accident, 
 partly by a boldness not devoid of peril, obtained some little 
 insight into the habits and details of this Ministry ; at least, 
 you have seen enough to suspect more, and misrepresent 
 what you cannot comprehend. Now, sir, there is an almost 
 universal custom in all secret societies of making those who 
 intrude surreptitiously within their limits to take every oath 
 and pledge of that society, and to assume every responsibility 
 that attaches to its voluntary members — " 
 
 " Excuse my interrupting you, sir; but my intrusion was 
 purely involuntary ; I was made the dupe of a police spy." 
 
 "Having ascertained which," resumed he, coldly, ''your 
 wisest policy would have been to have kept the whole inci- 
 dent for yourself alone, and neither have uttered one syllable 
 about it, nor ventured to come here, as you have done, to 
 display what you fancy to be your power over the Minister 
 of Police. You are a very young man, and the lesson may 
 possibly be of service to you; and never forget that to 
 attempt a contest of address with those whose habits have 
 taught them every wile and subtlety of their fellow-men will 
 always be a failure. This Ministry would be a sorry engine 
 of government if men of your stamp could outwit it." 
 
 I stood abashed and confused under a rebuke which at the 
 same time I felt to be but half desel•^'ed. 
 
 '' Do you understand Spanish? " asked he, suddenly. 
 
 " No, sir, not a word." 
 
 "I'm sorry for it; you should learn that language without 
 loss of time. Leave your address with my secretary, and 
 call here by Monday or Tuesday next." 
 
 " If I may presume so far, sir," said I, with a great effort 
 to seem collected, " I would infer that your intention is to 
 employ me in some capacity or other. It is, therefore, 
 better I should say at once I have neither the ability nor the 
 desire for such occupation. I have always been a soldier. 
 Whatever reverses of fortune I may meet with, I would wish 
 
478 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 still to continue in the same career. At all events, I could 
 never become a — a — " 
 
 " Spy. Say the word out; its meaning conveys nothing 
 offensive to my ears, young man. I may grieve over the 
 coiTuption that requires such a system; but I do not 
 confound the remedy with the disease." 
 
 ''My sentiments are different, sir," said I resolutely, as I 
 moved towards the door. ' ' I have the honor to wish you a 
 good morning." 
 
 "Stay a moment, Tiernay," said he, looking for some- 
 thing amongst his papers; "there are, probably, situations 
 wher.e all your scruples could find accommodation, and even 
 be serviceable, too." 
 
 " I would rather not place them in peril, Monsieur Le 
 Ministre." 
 
 "There are people in this city of Paris who would not 
 despise my i^rotection, young man, some of them to the full 
 as well supplied with the gifts of fortune as Monsieur 
 Tiernay." 
 
 "And, doubtless, more fitted to deserve it!" said I, 
 sarcastically; for every moment now rendered me more 
 courageous. 
 
 "And, doubtless, more fitted to deserve it/' repeated he 
 after me, with a wave of the hand in token of adieu. 
 
 I bowed respectfully, and was retiring, when he called out 
 in a low and gentle voice, — 
 
 "Before you go. Monsieur de Tiernay, I will thank you to 
 restore my snuff-box." 
 
 " Your snuff-box, sir? " cried I, indignantly, " what do I 
 know of it?" 
 
 " In a moment of inadvertence, j^ou may probably have 
 placed it in your pocket," said he, smiling; "do me the 
 favor to search there." 
 
 "This is unnecessary insult, sir," said I fiercely; "and 
 you forget that I am a French oflScer ! " 
 
 " It is of more consequence that you should remember it," 
 said he, calmly ; " and now, sir, do as I have told 3"0U." 
 
 "It is well, sir, that this scene has no witness," said I, 
 boiling over with passion, "or, by Heaven, all the dignity 
 of your station should not save you." 
 
A GLANCE AT THE "PREFECTURE DE POLICE." 479 
 
 "Your observation is most just," said he, "with the same 
 coolness. ''It is as well that we are quite alone; and for 
 this reason I beg to repeat my request. If you persist in a 
 refusal, and force me to ring that bell — " 
 
 '^ You would not dare to offer me such an indignity," said 
 I, trembling with rage. 
 
 " You leave me no alternative, sir," said he, rising, and 
 taking the bell in his hand. " My honor is also engaged in 
 this question. I have preferred a charge — " 
 
 "You have," cried I, interrupting, "and for whose false- 
 hood I am resolved to hold you responsible." 
 
 " To prove which you must show your innocence." 
 
 " There, then, — there are my pockets; here are the few 
 things I possess. This is my pocket-book, my purse. Oh, 
 heavens, what is this?" cried I, as I drew forth the gold 
 box, along with the other contents of my pocket ; and then 
 staggering back, I fell, overwhelmed with shame and sick- 
 ness, against the wall. For some seconds I neither saw nor 
 heard anything ; a vague sense of ineffable disgrace, of some 
 ignominy that made life a misery, was over me, and I closed 
 my eyes with the wish never to open them more. 
 
 " The box has a peculiar value in my eyes, sir," said he ; 
 " it was a present from the First Consul, otherwise I might 
 have hesitated — " 
 
 " Oh, su', you cannot, you dare not, suppose me guilty of 
 a theft ! You seem bent on being my ruin ; but, for mercy's 
 sake, let your hatred of me take some other shape than this. 
 Involve me in what snares, what conspiracies you will, give 
 me what share you please in any guilt, but spare me the 
 degradation of such a shame ! " 
 
 He seemed to enjoy the torments I was suffering, and 
 actually to revel in the contemplation of my misery ; for he 
 never spoke a word, but continued steadily to stare me in 
 the face. 
 
 " Sit down here, Monsieur," said he, at length, while he 
 pointed to a chair near him ; "I wish to say a few words to 
 you, in all seriousness, and in good faith also." 
 
 I seated myself, and he went on. 
 
 "The events of the last two days must have made sucli 
 an impression on your mind that even the most remarkable 
 
480 MAUKICE TIERNAY. 
 
 incidents of your life could not compete with. You fancied 
 yourself a great discoverer, and that by the happy conjunc- 
 ture of intelligence and accident you had actually fathomed 
 the depths of that wonderful system of police, which, more 
 powerful than armies or councils, is the real government of 
 France. I will not stop now to convince you that you have 
 not wandered out of the very shallowest channels of this 
 system. It is enough that you have been admitted to an 
 audience with me to suggest an opposite conviction, and give 
 to your recital, when you repeat the tale, a species of impor- 
 tance. Now, sir, my counsel to you is, never to repeat it, 
 and for this reason, — nobody possessed of common powers 
 of judgment will ever believe you ! not one, sir ! No one 
 would ever believe that Monsieur Fouche had made so grave 
 a mistake, no more than he would believe that a man of good 
 name or birth, a French officer, could have stolen a snuff-box. 
 You see, Monsieur de Tiernay, that I acquit you of this 
 shameful act. Imitate my generosity, sir, and forget all 
 that you have witnessed since Tuesday last. I have given 
 you good advice, sir ; if I find that you profit by it we may 
 see more of each other." 
 
 Scarcely appreciating the force of his parable and think- 
 ing of nothing save the vindication of my honor, I muttered 
 a few unmeaning words and withdrew, glad to escape a pres- 
 ence which had assumed to my terrified senses all the diaboli- 
 cal subtlety of Satanic influence. Trusting that no future 
 accident of my life should ever bring me within such pre- 
 cincts, I hurried from the place as though it were contaminated 
 and plague-stricken. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 *' THE VILLAGE OF SCIIWARTZ-ACH." 
 
 I WAS destitute enough when I quitted the Temple, a few 
 days back ; but my condition now was sadder still, for in 
 addition to my poverty and friendlessness I had imbibed a 
 degree of distrust and suspicion that made me shun my 
 fellow-men, and actually shrink from the contact of a 
 stranger. The commonest show of courtesy, the most 
 ordinary exercise of politeness, struck me as the secret wiles 
 of that police whose machinations, I fancied, were still 
 spread around me. I had conceived a most intense hatred 
 of civilization, or at least of what I rashly supposed to be 
 the inherent \ices of civilized life. I longed for what I 
 deemed must be the glorious independence of a savage. If 
 I could but discover this Paradise beyond seas, of which the 
 marquise raved so much ; if I only could find out that 
 glorious land which neither knew secret intrigues nor con- 
 spiracies, — I should leave France forever, taking any con- 
 dition, or braving any mischances fate might have in store 
 for me. 
 
 There was something peculiarly offensive in the treatment 
 I had met with. Imprisoned on suspicion, I was liberated 
 without any amende, — neither punished like a guilty man, 
 nor absolved as an innocent one. I was sent out upon the 
 world as though the State would not own nor acknowledge 
 me, — a dangerous practice, as I often thought, if only 
 adopted on a large scale. It was some days before I could 
 summon resolution to ascertain exactly my position ; at last 
 I did muster up courage, and under pretence of wishing to 
 address a letter to myself, I applied at the Ministry of War 
 for the address of Lieutenant Tiernay of the Ninth Hussars. 
 I was one of a large crowd similarly engaged, — some in- 
 quiring for sons that had fallen in battle, or husbands or 
 
 31 
 
482 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 fathers in far-away countries. The office was only open 
 each morning for two hours, and consequently as the expu-a- 
 tion of the time drew nigh the eagerness of the inquirers 
 became far greater, and the contrast with the cold apathy of 
 the clerks the more strongly marked. I had given way to 
 many who were weaker than myself, and less able to buffet 
 with the crowd about them ; and at last, when, wearied by 
 waiting, I was drawing nigh the table, my attention was 
 struck by an old, a very old man, who with a beard white as 
 snow, and long mustaches of the same color, was making 
 great efforts to gain the front rank. I stretched out my 
 hand and caught his, and by considerable exertion at last 
 succeeded in placing him in front of me. 
 
 He thanked me fervently, in a strange kind of German, 
 2^ patois I had never heard before, and kissed my hand three 
 or four times over in his gratitude ; indeed, so absorbed was 
 he for the time in his desire to thank me that I had to recall 
 him to the more pressing reason of his presence, and warn 
 him that but a few minutes more of the hour remained 
 free. 
 
 "Speak up," cried the clerk, as the old man muttered 
 something in a low and very indistinct voice ; ' ' speak up ! 
 and remember, my friend, that we do not profess to give 
 information further back than the times of Louis Quatorze." 
 
 This allusion to the years of the old man was loudly 
 applauded by his colleagues, who drew nigh to stare at the 
 cause of it. 
 
 " Sacre hleu ! he is talking Hebrew," said another, " and 
 asking for a friend who fell at Ramoth Gilead." 
 
 "He is speaking German," said I, peremptorily, "and 
 asking for a relative whom he believes to have embarked 
 with the expedition to Egypt." 
 
 "Are you a sworn interpreter, young man?" asked an 
 older and more consequential-looking personage. 
 
 I was about to return a hasty reply to this impertinence ; 
 but I thought of the old man, and the few seconds that still 
 remained for his inquiry, and I smothered my anger, and 
 was silent. 
 
 "What rank did he hold?" inquired one of the clerks, 
 who had listened with rather more patience to the old man. 
 
"THE VILLAGE OF SCHWARTZ-ACH." 483 
 
 I translated the question for the peasant, who in reply con- 
 fessed that he could not tell. The youth was his only son, 
 and had left home many years before, and never written. 
 A neighbor however, who had travelled in foreign parts, had 
 brought tidings that he had gone with the expedition to 
 Egypt, and was already high in the French army. 
 
 "You are not quite certain that he did not command the 
 army of P^gypt? " said one of the clerks, in mockery of the 
 old man's story. 
 
 ''It is not unlikely," said the peasant, gravely; " he was 
 a brave and a bold youth, and could have lifted two such as 
 you with one hand, and hurled you out of that window." 
 
 "Let us hear his name once more," said the elder clerk; 
 " it is worth remembering." 
 
 " I have told you already. It was Karl Kleber." 
 
 " The General — General Kleber! " cried three or four in 
 a breath. 
 
 " Mayhap," was all the reply. 
 
 " And are you the father of the great general of Egypt? " 
 asked the elder with an air of deep respect. 
 
 "Kleber is my son; and so that he is alive and well, I 
 care little if a general or simple soldier." 
 
 Not a word was said in answer to this speech, and each 
 seemed to feel reluctant to tell the sad tidings. At last the 
 elder clerk said, " You have lost a good son, and France one 
 of her greatest captains. The General Kleber is dead." 
 
 " Dead ! " said the old man, slowly. 
 
 " In the very moment of his greatest glory, too, when he 
 had won the country of the Pyramids, and made Egypt a 
 colony of France." 
 
 " AVhen did he die? " said the peasant. 
 
 " The last accounts from the East brought the news; and 
 this very day the Council of State has accorded a pension to 
 his family of ten thousand livres." 
 
 " They may keep their money. I am all that remains, 
 and have no want of it ; and I should be poorer still before 
 I 'd take it." 
 
 These words he uttered in a low, harsh tone, and pushed 
 his way back through the crowd. 
 
 One moment more was enough for my inquiry. 
 
484 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "Maurice Tiernay, of the Ninth? — destitue," was the 
 short and stunuiDg answer I received. 
 
 "Is there any reason alleged, — is there any charge 
 imputed to him?" asked I, timidly. 
 
 ' ' 3fa foi / you must go to the Minister of War with that 
 question. Perhaps he was paymaster, and embezzled the 
 funds of the regiment ; perhaps he liked Royalist gold better 
 than Republican silver ; or perhaps he preferred the company 
 of the baggage-train and the ambulances when he should 
 have been at the head of his squadron." 
 
 I did not care to listen longer to this impertinence, and 
 making my way out I gained the street. The old peasant 
 was still standing there, like one stunned and overwhelmed 
 by some great shock, and neither heeding the crowd that 
 passed nor the groups that halted occasionally to stare at 
 him. 
 
 "Come along with me," said I, taking his hand in mine. 
 "Your calamity is a heavy one, but mine is harder to bear 
 up against." 
 
 He suffered himself to be led away like a child, and never 
 spoke a word as we walked along towards the harriere^ 
 beyond which, at a short distance, was a little ordinary, 
 where I used to dine. There we had our dinner together ; 
 and as the evening wore on, the old man rallied enough to 
 tell me of his son's early life and his departure for the army. 
 Of his great career I could speak freely, for Kleber's name 
 was, in soldier esteem, scarcely second to that of Bonaparte 
 himself. Not all the praises I could bestow, however, were 
 sufficient to turn the old man from his stern conviction that 
 a peasant in the Lech Thai was a more noble and indepen- 
 dent man than the greatest general that ever marched to 
 victory. 
 
 "We have been some centuries there," said he, "and 
 none of our name has incurred a shadow of disgrace. Why 
 should not Karl have lived like his ancestors ? " 
 
 It was useless to appeal to the glory his son had gained, 
 the noble reputation he had left behind him. The peasant 
 saw in the soldier but one who hired out his courage and his 
 blood, and deemed the calling a low and unworthy one. I 
 suppose I was not the first who in the effort to convince 
 
THE VILLAGE OF SCHWARTZ- AC H." 485 
 
 another found himself shaken in his own convictions ; for I 
 own before I hiy down that night many of the old man's 
 arguments assumed a force and power that I could not resist, 
 and held possession of my mind even after I fell asleep. In 
 my dreams I was once more beside the American lake, and 
 that little colony of simple people where I had seen all that 
 was best of my life, and learned the few lessons I had ever 
 received of charity and good nature. 
 
 From what the peasant said, the primitive habits of the 
 Lech Thai must be almost like those of that little colony; 
 and I willingly assented to his offer to accompany him in his 
 journey homeward. He seemed to feel a kind of satisfaction 
 in turning my thoughts away from a career that he held so 
 cheaply, and talked enthusiastically of the tranquil life of the 
 Bregenzer-wald. 
 
 We left Paris the following morning, and partly by dili- 
 gence, partly on foot, reached Strasbourg in a few days; 
 thence we proceeded by Kehl to Freyburg, and crossing the 
 Lake of Constance at Rorsbach, we entered the Bregenzer- 
 wald on the twelfth morning of our journey. 
 
 I suppose that most men preserve fresher memory of the 
 stiiTing and turbulent scenes of their lives than of the more 
 peaceful and tranquil ones, and I shall not be deemed singu- 
 lar when I say that some years passed over me in this quiet 
 spot, and seemed as but a few weeks. The old peasant was 
 the Vorsteher, or ruler of the village, by whom all disputes 
 were settled, and all litigation of an humble kind decided, — 
 a species of voluntary jurisdiction maintained to this very 
 day in that primitive region. My occupation there was as a 
 species of secretary to the court, — an office quite new to the 
 villagers, but which served to impress them more reverentially 
 than ever in favor of this rude justice. My legal duties over, 
 I became a vine-dresser, a wood-cutter, or a deer-stalker, as 
 season and weather dictated, — my evenings being always 
 devoted to the task of a schoolmaster. A curious seminary 
 was it, too, embracing every class from childhood to advanced 
 age, all eager for knowledge, and all submitting to the most 
 patient discipline to attain it. There was much to make me 
 happy in that humble lot. I had the love and esteem of all 
 around me ; there was neither a harassing doubt for the 
 
486 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 future, nor the rich man's contumely to oppress me ; my life 
 was made up of occupations which alternately engaged mind 
 and body ; and, above all and worth all besides, I had a 
 sense of duty, a feeling that I was doing that which was 
 useful to my fellow-men ; and however great may be a 
 man's station in life, if it want this element, the humblest 
 peasant that rises to his daily toil has a nobler and a better 
 part. 
 
 As I trace these lines, how many memories of the spot are 
 rising before me, — scenes I had long forgotten, faces I had 
 ceased to remember ! And now I see the little wooden 
 bridge, — a giant tree, guarded by a single rail, that crossed 
 the torrent in front of our cottage ; and I behold once more 
 the little waxen image of the Virgin over the door, in whose 
 glass shrine at nightfall a candle ever burned ; and I hear 
 the low hum of the villager's prayer as the Angelus is ring- 
 ing, and see on every crag or cliff the homebound hunter 
 kneeling in his deep devotion ! 
 
 Happy people, and not less good than happy ! Your bold 
 and barren mountains have been the safeguard of your 
 virtue and your innocence. Long may they prove so, and 
 long may the waves of the world's ambition be stayed at 
 their rocky feet! 
 
 I was beginning to forget all that I had seen of life, or, if 
 not forget, at least to regard it as a wild and troubled dream, 
 when an accident — one of those things we always regard as 
 the merest chances — once more opened the flood-gates of 
 memory, and sent the whole past in a strong current through 
 my brain. 
 
 In this mountain region the transition from winter to sum- 
 mer is effected in a few days. Some hours of a scorching 
 sun and south wind swell the torrents with melted snow ; the 
 icebergs fall thundering from cliff and crag, and the sporting 
 waterfall once more dashes over the precipice. The trees 
 burst into leaf, and the grass springs up green and fresh 
 from its wintry covering ; and from the dreary aspect of 
 snow-capped hills and leaden clouds. Nature changes to 
 fertile plains and hills, and a sky of almost unbroken blue. 
 
 It was of a glorious evening in April, when all these 
 changes were passing, that I was descending the mountain 
 
"THE VILLAGE OF SCHWARTZ-ACH." 487 
 
 above our village after a hard day's chamois hunting. Anx- 
 ious to reach the plain before nightfall, I could not, how- 
 ever, help stopping from time to time to watch the golden 
 and ruby tints of the sun upon the snow, or see the turquoise 
 blue which occasionally marked the course of a rivulet 
 through the glaciers. The Alp-horn was sounding from 
 every cliff and height, and the lowing of the cattle swelled 
 into a rich and mellow chorus. It was a beautiful picture, 
 realizing in ever}^ tint and hue, in every sound and cadence, 
 all that one can fancy of romantic simplicity ; and I sun^ej^ed 
 it with a swelling and a grateful heart. 
 
 As I turned to resume my way, I was struck by the sound 
 of voices speaking, as I fancied, in French ; and before I 
 could settle the doubt with myself, I saw in front of me a 
 party of some six or seven soldiers, who, with their muskets 
 slung behind them, were descending the steep path by the 
 aid of sticks. 
 
 Weary-looking and foot-sore as they were, their dress, 
 their bearing, and their soldierlike air struck me forcibly, 
 and sent into my heart a thrill I had not known for many a 
 day before. I came up quickly behind them, and could 
 overhear their complaints at having mistaken the road, and 
 their maledictions, uttered in no gentle spirit, on the stupid 
 mountaineers who could not understand French. 
 
 " Here comes another fellow, let us try him," said one, as 
 he turned and saw me near. " Schwartz- Ach, Schwartz- 
 Ach," added he, addressing me, and reading the name from 
 a slip of paper in his hand. 
 
 " I am going to the village," said I in French, " and will 
 show the way with pleasure." 
 
 "How! what! are you a Frenchman, then?" cried the 
 corporal, in amazement. 
 
 " Even so," said I. 
 
 "Then by what chance are you living in this wild spot? 
 How, in the name of wonder, can you exist here ? " 
 
 "With venison like this," said I, pointing to a chamois 
 buck on my shoulder, " and the red wine of the Lech Thai, 
 a man may manage to forget Veray's and the Dragon Vert, 
 particularly as they are not associated with a bill and a 
 waiter." 
 
488 JVIAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 "And perhaps you are a Royalist," cried another, " and 
 don't like how matters are going on at home ? *' 
 
 " I have not that excuse for my exile," said I, coldly. 
 
 " Have you served then? " 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "Ah, I see," said the corporal, "you grew weary of 
 parade and guard mounting." 
 
 "If you mean that I deserted," said I, "you are wrong 
 there also ; and now let it be my turn to ask a few questions. 
 What is France about? Is the Republic still as great and 
 victorious as ever?" 
 
 " Sacre bleu, man, what are you thinking of? We are an 
 Empire some years back, and Napoleon has made as many 
 kings as he has got brothers and cousins to crown." 
 
 " And the army, where is it? " 
 
 " Ask for some half-dozen armies, and you '11 still be short 
 of the mark. We have one in Hamburg, and another in the 
 far North, holding the Russians in check ; we have garrisons 
 in every fortress of Prussia and the Rhine-land ; we have 
 some eighty thousand fellows in Poland and Galicia, double 
 as many more in Spain ; Italy is our own, and so will be 
 Austria ere many days go over." 
 
 Boastfully as all this was spoken, I found it to be not far 
 from truth, and learned, as we walked along, that the 
 Emperor was at that very moment on the march to meet 
 the Archduke Charles, who with a numerous army was 
 advancing on Ratisbon, the little party of soldiers being 
 portion of a force despatched to explore the passes of the 
 Vorarlberg, and report on how far they might be prac- 
 ticable for the transmission of troops to act on the left flank 
 and rear of the Austrian army. Their success had up to 
 this time been very slight, and the corporal was making for 
 Schwartz -Ach, as a spot where he hoped to rendezvous with 
 some of his comrades. They were much disappointed on 
 my telling them that I had quitted the village that morning, 
 and that not a soldier had been seen there. There was, 
 however, no other spot to pass the night in, and they will- 
 ingly accepted the offer I made them of a shelter and a 
 supper in our cottage. 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 "a village syndicus." 
 
 I SAT up all night listening- to the soldiers' stories of war and 
 campaigning. Some had sel•^'ed with Soult's army in the 
 Asturias ; some made part of Davoust's corps in the north of 
 Europe ; one had just returned from Friedland, and amused 
 us with describing the celebrated conference at Tilsit, where 
 he had been a sentinel on the river side, and presented arms 
 to the two emperors as they passed. It will seem strange, 
 but it is a fact that this slight incident attracted towards him 
 a greater share of his comrades' admiration than was accorded 
 to those who had seen half the battle-fields of modern war. 
 He described the dress, the aii-, the general bearing of the 
 emperors, — remarking that although Alexander was taller 
 and handsomer, and even more soldier-like than our own 
 emperor, there was a something of calm dignit}' and conscious 
 majesty in Xapoleon that made him appear immeasurably 
 the superior. Alexander wore the uniform of the Russian 
 guard, one of the most splendid it is possible to conceive. 
 The only thing simple about him was his sword, which was a 
 plain sabre with a tarnished gilt scabbard and a very dirty 
 sword-knot ; and yet every moment he used to look down at 
 it and handle it with great apparent admiration. " And well 
 might he," added the soldier, — " Napoleon had given it to 
 him but the day before." 
 
 To listen even to such meagre details as these was to light 
 up again in my heart the fire that was only smouldering, 
 and that no life of peasant labor or obscurity could ever 
 extinguish. My companions quickl}- saw the interest I took 
 in their narratives, and certainly did their utmost to feed 
 the passion, — now with some sketch of a Spanish marauding 
 
490 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 party, as full of adventure as a romance ; now with a de- 
 scription of northern warfare, where artillery thundered on 
 the ice, and men fought behind intrenchments of deep 
 snow. 
 
 From the North Sea to the Adriatic, all Europe was now 
 in arms. Great armies were marching in ever}^ direction, — 
 some along the deep valley of the Danube, others from the 
 rich plains of Poland and Silesia ; some were passing the 
 Alps into Italy, and some again were poui'ing down for 
 the Tyrol Jochs, to defend the rocky passes of their native 
 land against the invader. Patriotism and glory, the spirit of 
 chivalry and conquest, all were abroad, and his must indeed 
 have been a cold heart which could find within it no response 
 to the stirring sounds around. To the intense feeling of 
 shame which I at first felt at my own life of obscure inactiv- 
 ity, there now succeeded a feverish desii*e to be somewhere 
 and do something to dispel this worse than letharg3^ I had 
 not resolution to tell my comrades that I had served ; I felt 
 reluctant to speak of a career so abortive and unsuccessful ; 
 and yet I blushed at the half-pitying expressions they be- 
 stowed upon my life of inglorious adventure. 
 
 " You risk life and limb here in these pine-forests, and 
 hazard existence for a bear or a chamois goat," cried one ; 
 " and half the peril in real war would perhaps make you a 
 chef cVescadron or even a general." 
 
 " Ay," said another, "we serve in an army where crowns 
 are military distinctions, and the epaulette is only the first 
 step to a kingdom." 
 
 "True," broke in a third, "Napoleon has changed the 
 whole world, and made soldiering the only trade worth 
 following. Massena was a drummer-boy within my own 
 memory, and see him now! Ney was not born to great 
 wealth and honors. Junot never could learn his trade as 
 a cobbler, and for want of better has become a general of 
 division." 
 
 "Yes; and," said I, following out the theme, "under 
 that wooden roof yonder, through that little diamond-paned 
 window the vine is trained across, a greater than any of the 
 last three first saw the light. It was there Kleber, the con- 
 queror of Egypt, was born." 
 
"A VILLAGE SYNDICUS." 491 
 
 " Honor to the brave dead ! " said the soldiers from their 
 places around the fire, and carrying their hands to the 
 salute. 
 
 " ^Ye '11 fire a salvo to him to-morrow before we set out ! " 
 said the corporal. " And so Kleber was born there ! " said 
 he, resuming his place, and staring with admiring interest at 
 the dark outline of the old house, as it stood out against the 
 starry and cloudless sky. 
 
 It was somewhat of a delicate task for me to prevent my 
 companions offering their tribute of respect, but which the 
 old peasant would have received with little gratitude, seeing 
 that he had never yet forgiven the country nor the service 
 for the loss of his son. AVith some management I accom- 
 plished this duty, however, promising my services at the 
 same time to be their guide through the Bregenzer-wald, 
 and not to part with them till I had seen them safely into 
 Bavaria. 
 
 Had it not been for my thorough acquaintance with the 
 Tyroler dialect and all the usages of Tyrol life, their march 
 would have been one of great peril; for already the old 
 hatred against their Bavarian oppressors was beginning to 
 stir the land, and Austrian agents were traversing the moun- 
 tain districts in every direction to call forth that patriotic 
 ardor which, ill-requited as it has been, has more than once 
 come to the rescue of Austria. 
 
 So sudden had been the outbreak of this war, and so little 
 aware were the peasantry of the frontier of either its object 
 or aim, that we frequently passed recruits for both armies on 
 their way to headquarters on the same day, — honest Bava- 
 rians, who were trudging along the road with pack on their 
 shoulders, and not knowing, nor indeed much caring, on 
 which side they were to combat. My French comrades 
 scorned to report themselves to any German otrieer, and 
 pushed on vigorously in the hope of meeting with a French 
 regiment. I had now conducted my little party to Im- 
 menstadt, at the foot of the Bavarian Alps; and, having 
 completed my compact, was about to bid them good-by. 
 
 "We were seated around our bivouac fire for the last time, 
 as we deemed it, and pledging each other in a parting glass, 
 
492 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 when suddenly our attention was attracted to a bright red 
 tongue of flame that suddenly darted up from one of the 
 Alpine summits above our head. Another and another 
 followed, till at length every mountain peak for miles and 
 miles away displayed a great signal fire ! Little knew we 
 that behind that giant range of mountains, from the icy crags 
 of the Glockner and from the snowy summit of the Ortelsr 
 itself, similar fires were summoning all Tyrol to the combat ; 
 while every valley resounded w4th the war-cry of " God and 
 the Emperor ! " We were still in busy conjecture what all 
 this might portend, when a small party of mounted men rode 
 past us at a trot. They carried carbines slung over their 
 peasant frocks, and showed unmistakably enough that they 
 were some newly-raised and scarcely-disciplined force. After 
 proceeding about a hundred yards beyond us, they halted, 
 and drew up across the road, unslinging theu* pieces as if to 
 prepare for action. 
 
 " Look at those fellows, yonder," said the old corporal, as 
 he puffed his pipe calmly and deliberately ; ' ' they mean mis- 
 chief, or I 'm much mistaken. Speak to them, Tierna}^ ; you 
 know their jargon." 
 
 I accordingly arose and advanced towards them, touching 
 my hat in salute as I went forward. They did not give me 
 much time, however, to open negotiations, for scarcely had I 
 uttered a word when bang went a shot close beside me ; 
 another followed, and then a whole volley was discharged, 
 but with such haste and ill direction that not a ball struck 
 me. Before I could take advantage of this piece of good 
 fortune to renew my advances, a bullet whizzed by my head, 
 and down went the left-hand horse of the file, — at first on 
 his knees, and then, with a wild plunge into the air, he threw 
 himself stone dead on the road, the rider beneath him. As 
 for the rest, throwing off carbines and cartouche-boxes, they 
 sprung from their horses, and took to the mountains with a 
 speed that showed how far more they were at home amidst 
 rocks and heather than when seated on the saddle. My 
 comrades lost no time in coming up ; but while three of them 
 kept the fugitives in sight, covering them all the time with 
 their muskets, the others secured the cattle, as in amazement 
 and terror they stood around the dead horse. 
 
"A VILLAGE SYNDICUS." 493 
 
 Although the peasant had received no other injuries than 
 a heavy fall and his own fears inflicted, he was overcome 
 with terror, and so certain of death that he would do nothing 
 but mumble his prayers, totally deaf to all the efforts I made 
 to restore his courage. 
 
 " That comes of putting a man out of his natural bent," 
 said the old corporal. ''On his native mountains, and with 
 his rifle, that fellow would be brave enough ; but making a 
 dragoon of him is like turning a Cossack into a foot soldier. 
 One thing is clear enough, — we 've no time to throw away 
 here ; these peasants will soon alarm the village in our rear, 
 so that we had better mount and press forward." 
 
 '^ But in what direction? " cried another; " who knows if 
 we shall not be rushing into worse danger? " 
 
 " Tiernay must look to that," interposed a third. "It's 
 clear he can't leave us now ; his retreat is cut off, at all 
 events." 
 
 "That's the very point I was thinking of, lads," said I. 
 " The beacon fires show that the ' Tyrol is up,' and safely as 
 I have joui-neyed hither I know well I dare not venture to 
 retrace my road ; I 'd be shot in the first Dorf I entered. 
 On one condition, then, I '11 jom you ; and short of that, 
 however, I'll take my own path, come what may of it." 
 
 "What's the condition, then?" cried three or four 
 together. 
 
 " That you give me the full and absolute command of this 
 party, and pledge your honor, as French soldiers, to obey 
 me in everything, till the day we arrive at the headquarters 
 of a French corps." 
 
 " What, obey a Pekin ! take the mot d'ordre from a civilian 
 that never handled a firelock ! " shouted three or four, in 
 derision. 
 
 " I have serv'ed, and with distinction, too, my lads," said 
 I, calmly ; " and if I have not handled a firelock, it is because 
 I wielded a sabre as an officer of Hussars. It is not here nor 
 now that I am going to tell why I wear the epaulette no 
 longer. I'll render account of that to my superiors and 
 yours. If you reject my offer (and I don't press you to ac- 
 cept it) , let us at least part good friends. As for me, I can 
 take care of myself." As I said this, I slung over my 
 
I 
 494 MAUKICE TIERNAY. 
 
 shoulder the cross-belt and carbine of one of the fugitives, 
 and selecting a strongly built, short-legged black horse as 
 my mount, I adjusted the saddle, and sprung on his back. 
 
 "That was done like an old hussar, anyhow," said a 
 soldier, who had been a cavalry man, " and I'll follow you, 
 whatever the rest may do." He mounted as he spoke, and 
 saluted as if on duty. 
 
 Slight as the incident was, its effect was magical. Old 
 habits of discipline revived at the first signal of obedience, 
 and the corporal having made his men fall in, came up to my 
 side for orders. 
 
 "Select the best of these horses," said I, "and let us 
 press forward at once. We are about eighteen miles from 
 the village of Wangheim ; by halting a short distance outside 
 of it, I can enter alone, and learn something about the state 
 of the country and the nearest French post. The cattle are 
 all fresh, and we can easily reach the village before day- 
 break." 
 
 Three of my little " command" were tolerable horsemen, 
 two of them having served in the artillery train, and the 
 thu'd being the dragoon I have alluded to. I accordingly 
 thi-ew out a couple of these as an advanced picket, keeping 
 the last as my aide-de-camp at my side. The remainder 
 formed the rear, — with orders, if attacked, to dismount at 
 once, and fire over the saddle, leaving myself and the others 
 to manoeuvre as cavalry. This was the only way to give 
 confidence to those soldiers who in the ranks would have 
 marched up to a battery, but on horseback were totally de- 
 void of self-reliance. Meanwhile I imparted such instruc- 
 tions in equitation as I could, my own old experience as a 
 riding-master well enabling me to select the most necessary 
 and least difficult of a horseman's duties. Except the old 
 corporal, all were very creditable pupils ; but he, possibly 
 deeming it a point of honor not to discredit his old career, 
 rejected everything like teaching, and openly protested that, 
 save to run away from a victorious enemy or follow a beaten 
 one, he saw no use in cavalry. 
 
 Nothing could be in better temper, however, nor more 
 amicable than our discourses on this head ; and as I let drop, 
 from time to time, little hints of my services on the Rhine 
 
"A VILLAGE SYNDICUS." 495 
 
 and in Italy, I gradually perceived that I grew higher in the 
 esteem of my companions, so that ere we rode a dozen miles 
 together their confidence in me became complete. 
 
 In return for all their anecdotes of " blood and field," I 
 told them several stories of my own life, and at least con- 
 vinced them that if they had not chanced upon the very 
 luckiest of mankind, they had at least fallen upon one who 
 had seen enough of casualties not to be easily baffled, and 
 who felt in every ditflculty a self-confidence that no amount 
 of discomfiture could ever entirely obliterate. No soldier can 
 vie with a Frenchman in tempering respect with familiarity ; 
 so that while preserving towards me all the freedom of the 
 comrade, they recognized in every detail of duty the neces- 
 sity of prompt obedience, and followed every command I 
 gave with implicit submission. 
 
 It was thus we rode along, till in the distance I saw the 
 spire of a village church, and recognized what I knew to be 
 Dorf "Wangheim. It was yet an hour before sunrise, and all 
 was tranquil around. I gave the word to trot, and after 
 about forty minutes' sharp riding we gained a small pine- 
 wood which skirted the village. Here I dismounted my 
 party, and prepared to make my entree alone into the Dorf, 
 carefully arranging my costume for that purpose, sticking a 
 large bouquet of wild-flowers in my hat, and assuming as 
 much as I could of the Tyrol look and lounge in my gait. I 
 shortened my stirrups, also, to a most awkward and incon- 
 venient length, and gripped my reins into a heap in my hand. 
 
 It was thus I rode into Wangheim, saluting the people as 
 I passed up the street, and with the short dry greeting of 
 "Tag," and a nod as brief, playing Tyroler to the top of 
 my bent. The Syndicus, or the ruler of the viUage, lived in 
 a good-sized house in the Platz, which, being market-day, 
 was crowded with people, although the articles for sale 
 appeared to include little variety, — almost every one leading 
 a calf by a straw rope, the rest of the population contenting 
 themselves with a wild turkey, or sometimes two, which, 
 held under the arms, added the most singular element to the 
 general concert of human voices around. Little stalls for 
 rustic jewellery and artificial flowers, the latter in great 
 request, ran along the sides of the square, with here and 
 
496 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 there a booth where skins and furs were displayed, more, 
 however, as it appeared, to give pleasure to a group of sturdy 
 jagers, who stood around recognizing the track of their own 
 bullets, than from any hope of sale. In fact, the business 
 of the day was dull, and an experienced eye would have 
 seen at a glance that turkeys were "heavy," and calves 
 "looking down." No wonder that it should be so, — the 
 interest of the scene being concentrated on a little knot of 
 some twenty youths, who, with tickets containing a number 
 in their hats, stood before the Syndic's door. They were 
 fine-looking, stalwart, straight fellows, and became admir- 
 ably the manly costume of their native mountains ; but their 
 countenances were not without an expression of sadness, the 
 reflection, as I soon saw, of the sadder faces around them. 
 For so they stood, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts, their 
 tearful eyes turned on the little band. 
 
 It puzzled me not a little at first to see these evidences of 
 a conscription in a land where hitherto the population had 
 answered the call to arms by a levy en masse, while the air 
 of depression and sadness seemed also strange in tl^ose who 
 gloried in the excitement of war. The first few sentences I 
 overheard revealed the mystery. Wangheim was Bavarian ; 
 although strictly a Tyrol village, and Austrian Tyrol too, it 
 had been included within the Bavarian frontier, and the 
 orders had arrived from Munich at the Syndicate to furnish 
 a certain number of men by a certain day. This was terrible 
 tidings ; for although they did not as yet know that the war 
 was against Austria, they had heard that the troops were 
 for foreign service, and not for the defence of home and 
 countrj^, the only cause which a Tyroler deems worthy of 
 battle. As I listened, I gathered that the most complete 
 ignorance prevailed as to the service or the destination to 
 which they were intended. The Bavarians had merely issued 
 their mandates to the various villages of the border, and 
 neither sent emissaries nor officers to carry them out. Hav- 
 ing seen how the " land lay," I pushed my way through the 
 crowd into the hall of the Syndicate, and by dint of a strong 
 will and stout shoulder at length gained the audience 
 chamber, where, seated behind an elevated bench, the great 
 man was dispensing justice. I advanced boldly and de- 
 
"A VILLAGE SYNDICUS." 497 
 
 manded an immediate audience in piivate, stating tliat my 
 business was most pressing and not admitting of delay. The 
 Syndic consulted for a second or two with his clerk, and 
 retired, beckoning me to follow. 
 
 "You're not a Tyroler," said he to me, the moment we 
 were alone. 
 
 " That is easy to see, Herr Syndicus," replied I. "I'm 
 an officer of the staff in disguise, sent to make a hasty in- 
 spection of the frontier villages and report upon the state of 
 feeling that prevails amongst them, and how they stand 
 affected towards the cause of Bavaria." 
 
 "And what have you found, sii-?" said he, with native 
 caution ; for a Bavarian T3'roler has the quality' in a per- 
 fection that neither a Scotchman nor a Russian can pretend 
 to. 
 
 "That you are all Austrian at heart," said I, determined 
 to dash at him with a frankness that I knew he could not 
 resist. "There's not a Bavarian amongst you. I have 
 made the whole tour of the Vorarlberg, through the Bregen- 
 zer-wald down the valley of the Lech, by Immenstadt, and 
 Wangheim ; and it 's all the same. I have heard nothing but 
 the old cry of ' Gott und der Kaiser ! ' " 
 
 "Indeed!" said he, with an accent beautifully balanced 
 between sorrow and astonishment. 
 
 "Even the men in authority, the Syndics like yourself, 
 have frankly told me how difficult it is to preserve allegiance 
 to a government by whom they have been so harshly treated. 
 I 'm sure I have the ' grain question,' as they call it, and the 
 ' Frei wechsel' with South Tyrol, off by heart," said I, 
 laughing. "However, my business lies in another quarter. 
 I have seen enough to show me that, save the outcasts from 
 home and family, that class so rare in the Tyrol, that men 
 call adventurers, we need look for no willing recruits here ; 
 and you '11 stare when I say that I 'm glad of it, heartily glad 
 of it." 
 
 The Syndic did indeed stare, but he never ventured a 
 word in reply. 
 
 "I'll tell you why, then, Herr Syndicus. "VYith a man 
 like yourself one can afford to be open-hearted. AVangheim, 
 Luttrich, Kempenfeld, and all the other villages at the foot 
 
 32 
 
498 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 of these mountains were never other than Austrian. Diplo- 
 matists and map-makers colored them pale blue, but they 
 were black and yellow underneath ; and what 's more to the 
 purpose, Austrian they must become again. When the real 
 object of this war is known, all Tyrol will declare for the 
 House of Hapsburg. We begin to perceive this ourselves, 
 and to dread the misfortunes and calamities that must fall 
 upon you and the other frontier towns by this divided allegi- 
 ance ; for when you have sent off your available youth to the 
 Bavarians, down will come Austria to revenge itself upon 
 your undefended towns and villages." 
 
 The Syndic apparently had thought of all these things 
 exactly with the same conclusions, for he shook his head 
 gravely, and uttered a low, faint sigh. 
 
 " I'm so convinced of what I tell you," said I, " that no 
 sooner have I conducted to headquarters the force I have 
 under my command — " 
 
 "You have a force, then, actually under your orders?" 
 cried he, starting. 
 
 " The advanced guard is picketed in yonder pine-wood, if 
 you have any curiosity to inspect them ; you '11 find them a 
 little disorderly, perhaps, like all newly-raised levies, but I 
 hope not discreditable allies for the great army." 
 
 The Syndic protested his sense of the favor, but begged to 
 take all their good qualities on trust. 
 
 I then went on to assure him that I should recommend the 
 Government to permit the range of frontier towns to pre- 
 serve a complete neutrality ; by scarcely any possibility could 
 the war come to their doors ; and that there was neither 
 sound policy nor humanity in sending them to seek it else- 
 where. I will not stop to recount all the arguments I em- 
 ployed to enforce my opinions, nor how learnedly I discussed 
 every question of European politics. The Sjmdic was 
 amazed at the vast range of my acquirements, and could not 
 help confessing it. 
 
 My interview ended by persuading him not to send on his 
 levies of men till he had received further instructions from 
 Munich ; to supply my advanced guards with the rations and 
 allowances intended for the others ; and lastly, to advance 
 me the sum of one hundred and seventy crown thalers, on 
 
"A VILLAGE SYNDICUS." 499 
 
 the express pledge that the main body of my " marauders," 
 as I took opportunity to style them, should take the road by 
 Kempeu and Durcheim, and not to touch on the village of 
 Waugheim at all. 
 
 AVhen discussing the last point, I declared to the Syndic 
 that he was depriving himself of a very imposing sight; 
 that the men, whatever might be said of them in point of 
 character, were a fine-looking, daring set of rascals, neither 
 respecting laws nor fearing punishment, and that our band, 
 for a newly-formed one, was by no means contemptible. He 
 resisted all these seducing prospects, and counted down his 
 dollars with the air of a man who felt he had made a good 
 bargain. I gave him a receipt in all form, and signed 
 Maurice Tiernay at the foot of it as stoutly as though I had 
 the Grand Livre de France at my back. 
 
 Let not the reader rashly condemn me for this fault, nor 
 still more rashly conclude that I acted with a heartless and 
 unprincipled spirit in this transaction. I own that a species 
 of Jesuitry suggested the scheme, and that while providing 
 for the exigencies of my own comrades I satisfied my con- 
 science by rendering a good service in return. The course of 
 war, as I suspected it would, did sweep past this portion of 
 the Bavarian Tyrol without inflicting any heavy loss. Such 
 of the peasantry as joined the army fought under Austrian 
 banners, and Wangheim and the other border villages had 
 not to pay the bloody penalty of a divided allegiance. I 
 may add, too, for conscience' sake, that while travelling this 
 way many years after, I stopped a day at Wangheim to point 
 out its picturesque scenery to a fair friend who accompanied 
 me. The village inn was kept by an old, venerable-looking 
 man, who also discharged the functions of Vorsteher, — the 
 title Syndicus was abolished. He was, although a little cold 
 and resented at first, very communicative after a while, and 
 full of stories of the old campaigns of France and Austria, — 
 amongst which he related one of a certain set of French free- 
 booters that once passed through AVangheim, the Captain 
 having actually breakfasted with himself, and persuaded him 
 to advance a loan of nigh two hundred thalers on the faith 
 of the Bavarian Government. 
 
 " He was a good-looking, dashing sort of fellow," said he. 
 
500 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " that could sing French love-songs to the piano, and jodle 
 ' Tyroler Lieder ' for the women. My daughter took a great 
 fancy to him, and wore his sword-knot for many a day after, 
 till we found that he had cheated and betrayed us. Even 
 then, however, I don't think she gave him up, though she did 
 not speak of him as before. This is the fellow's writing," 
 added he, producing a much- worn and much-crumpled scrap 
 of paper from his old pocket-book, " and there's his name. 
 I have never been able to make out clearly whether it was 
 Thierray or Lierray." 
 
 " I know something about him," said I, ''and with your 
 permission will keep the document and pay the debt. Your 
 daughter is alive still ? " 
 
 " Ay, and married, too, at Bruck, ten miles from this." 
 
 " Well, if she has thrown away the old sword-knot, tell 
 her to accept this one in memory of the French Captain, who 
 was not at least an ungrateful rogue ; " and I detached from 
 my sabre the rich gold tassel and cord which I wore as a 
 general officer. 
 
 This little incident I may be pardoned for interpolating 
 from a portion of my life, of which I do not intend to speak 
 further, as with the career of the Soldier of Fortune I mean 
 to close these memoirs of Maurice Tiernay. 
 
CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 •A LUCKY MEETING. 
 
 The reader will probably not complain if, passing over the 
 manifold adventures and hair-breadth 'scapes of my little 
 party, I come to our arrival at Ingoldstadt, where the head- 
 quarters of General Vandamme were stationed. It was just 
 as the recall was beating that we rode into the town, where, 
 although nearly eight thousand men were assembled, our 
 somewhat singular cavalcade attracted no small share of 
 notice. Fresh rations for "man and beast" slung around 
 our very ragged clothing, and four Austrian grenadiers tied 
 by a cord, wrist to wrist, as prisoners behind us, we pre- 
 sented, it must be owned, a far more picturesque than 
 soldier-like party. 
 
 Accepting all the attentions bestowed upon us in the most 
 flattering sense, and affecting not to perceive the ridicule we 
 were exciting on every hand, I rode up to the Etat Major 
 and dismounted. I had obtained from my prisoners what 
 I deemed a very important secret, and was resolved to make 
 the most of it by asking for an immediate audience of the 
 general. 
 
 "I am the Officier d'Ordonnance," said a young lieutenant 
 of dragoons, stepping forward; "any communications you 
 have to make must be addressed to me." 
 
 " I have taken four prisoners. Monsieur le Lieutenant," 
 said I, "and would wish to inform General Vandamme on 
 certain matters they have revealed to me." 
 
 " Are you in the service?" asked he, with a glance at my 
 incongruous equipment. 
 
 " I have sers'ed, sir," was my reply. 
 
 " In what army of brigands was it, then?" said he, laugh- 
 ing, " for, assuredly, you do not recall to my recollection 
 any European force that I know of." 
 
502 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " I may find leisure and inclination to give you the fullest 
 information on this point at another moment, sir; for the 
 present, my business is more pressing. Can I see General 
 Vandamme ? " 
 
 "Of course you cannot, my worthy fellow! If you had 
 served, as you say you have, you could scarcely have made 
 so absurd a request. A French general of division does not 
 give audience to every tatterdemalion who picks up a prisoner 
 on the high road." 
 
 " It is exactly because I have sensed that I do make the 
 request," said I, stoutly. 
 
 " How so, pray? " asked he, staring at me. 
 
 "Because I knew well how often young staff-officers, in 
 their self-sufficiency, overlook the most important points, and 
 from the humble character of their informants frequently 
 despise what their superiors, had they known it, would have 
 largely profited by. And even if I did not know this fact, 
 I have the memory of another one scarcely less striking, 
 which was that General Massena himself admitted me to an 
 audience when my appearance was not a whit more imposing 
 than at present." 
 
 ' ' You knew General Massena, then ? Where was it, may 
 I ask?" 
 
 " In Genoa, during the siege." 
 
 " And what regiment have you served in? " 
 
 "The Ninth Hussars." 
 
 " Quite enough, my good fellow. The Ninth were on the 
 Sambre while that siege was going on," said he, laughing 
 sarcastically. 
 
 ' ' I never said that my regiment was at Genoa. I only 
 asserted that I was," was my calm reply ; for I was anxious 
 to prolong the conversation, seeing that directly over our 
 heads, on a balcony, a number of officers had just come out 
 to smoke their cigars after dinner, amongst whom I recog- 
 nized two or three in the uniform of generals. 
 
 "And now for your name; let us have that," said he, 
 seating himself, as if for a lengthy cross-examination. 
 
 I stole a quick glance overhead, and seeing that two of 
 the officers were eagerly listening to our colloquy, said 
 aloud, — 
 
"A LUCKY MEETING." 503 
 
 *' 1 11 tell you no more, sir. You have already heard quitu 
 enough to kuow what my business is. I did u't come here to 
 relate my life and adventures." 
 
 "• I say, Lestocque," cried a large, burly man from above, 
 " have you picked up Robinson Crusoe, there? " 
 
 ^' He's far more like the man Friday, mon General^" said 
 the young lieutenant, laughing, " although even a savage 
 might have more deference for his superiors." 
 
 "What does he want, then?" asked the other. 
 
 " An audience of yourself, ynou General, — nothing less." 
 
 "Have you told him how I am accustomed to reward 
 people who occupy my time on false pretences, Lestocque?" 
 said the General, with a grin. "Does he know that the 
 Salle de Police first, and the Prevot afterwards, comprise my 
 gratitude ? " 
 
 "He presumes to say, sir, that he knows General Mas- 
 sena," said the lieutenant. 
 
 ^''Diable! He knows me, does he say — he knows me? 
 Who is he — what is he?" said a voice I well remembered, 
 and at the same instant the brown, dark visage of General 
 Massena peered over the balcony. 
 
 " He 's a countryman of yours, Massena," said Vandamme, 
 laughing. " £h, are you not a Piedmontais? " 
 
 Up to this moment I had stood silently listening to the 
 dialogue around me, without the slightest apparent sign of 
 noticing it. Now, however, as I was directly addressed, I 
 drew myself up to a soldier-like attitude, and replied, — 
 
 "No, sir. I am more a Frenchman than General Van- 
 damme, at least." 
 
 "Send that fellow here; send him up, Lestocque, and 
 have a corporal's party ready for duty," cried the general, 
 as he threw the end of his cigar into the street, and walked 
 hastily away. 
 
 It was not the first time in my life that my tongue had 
 brought peril on my head ; but I ascended the stairs with a 
 firm step, and if not with a light, at least with a resolute, 
 heart, seeing how wonderfully little I had to lose, and that 
 few men had a smaller stake in existence than myself. 
 
 The voices were loud, and in tones of anger, as I stepped 
 out upon the terrace. 
 
504 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 " So we are acquaintances, it would appear, my friend?" 
 said Massena, as he stared fixedly at me. 
 
 " If General Massena cannot recall the occasion of our 
 meeting," said I, proudly, "I'll scarcely remind him of 
 it." 
 
 " Come, come," said Vandamme, angrily, " I must deal 
 with this gaillard myself. Are you a French soldier?" 
 
 " I was, sir; an officer of cavalry." 
 
 " And were you broke, did you desert, or what was it?" 
 cried he, impatiently. 
 
 " I kept better company than I believe is considered safe 
 in these days, and was accidentally admitted to the acquain- 
 tance of the Prince de Conde — " 
 
 "That's it!" said Yandamme, with a long whistle; 
 "that's the mischief, then. You are a Yendean?" 
 
 "No, sir; I was never a Royalist, although, as I have 
 said, exposed to the very society whose fascinations might 
 have made me one." 
 
 " Your name is Tiernay, Monsieur, or I mistake much? " 
 said a smart-looking young man in civilian dress. 
 
 I bowed an assent, without expressing any sentiment of 
 either fear or anxiety. 
 
 "I can vouch for the perfect accuracy of that gentle- 
 man's narrative," said Monsieur de Bourrienne, for I 
 now saw it was himself. "You may possibly remember 
 a \dsitor — " 
 
 "At the Temple," said I, interrupting him. " I recollect 
 you perfectly, sir, and thank you for this recognition." 
 
 Monsieur de Bourrienne, however, did not pay much 
 attention to my gratitude, but proceeded, in a few hurried 
 words, to give some account of me to the bystanders. 
 
 " Well, it must be owned that he looks devilish unlike an 
 officer of hussars," said Massena, as he laughed, and made 
 others laugh, at my strange equipment. 
 
 " And yet you saw me in a worse plight. General," said I, 
 coolly. 
 
 " How so — where was that? " cried he. 
 
 "It will be a sore wound to my pride, General," said I, 
 slowly, " if I must refresh your memory." 
 
 " You were not at Yalenciennes," said he, musing. " No, 
 
"A LUCKY MEETING." 505 
 
 no ; that was before your day. Were you on the Meiise, 
 then? No. Nor in Spain? I 've always had hussars in my 
 division; but I confess I do not remember all the olllcers." 
 
 "Will Genoa not give the clew, sir?" said I, glancing at 
 him a keen look. 
 
 '' Least of all," cried he. " The cavalry were with Soult. 
 I had nothing beyond an escort in the town." 
 
 ''So there's no help for it," said I, with a sigh. "Do 
 you remember a half-drowned wretch that was laid down at 
 your feet in the Annunziata Church one morning during the 
 siege?" 
 
 "A fellow who had made his escape from the English 
 fleet, and swam ashore ? What ! are you — By Jove ! so it 
 is, the very same. Give me your hand, my brave fellow ! 
 I 've often thought of you, and wondered what had befallen 
 you. You joined that unlucky attack on Monte Faccio ; and 
 we had warm work ourselves on hand the day after. I say, 
 Vandamme, the first news I had of our columns crossing the 
 Alps were from this officer, — for officer he was, and shall 
 be again, if I live to command a French division." 
 
 Massena embraced me affectionately, as he said this ; and 
 then turning to the others, said, — 
 
 " Gentlemen, you see before you the man you have often 
 heard me speak of, — a young officer of hussars, who in the 
 hope of rescuing a division of the French army, at that time 
 shut up in a besieged city, performed one of the most gallant 
 exploits on record. Within a week after, he led a storming 
 party against a mountain fortress ; and I don't care if he 
 lived in the intimacy of every Bourbon prince, from the 
 Count d'Artois downwards, he 's a good Frenchman and a 
 brave soldier. Bourrienne, you 're starting for headquarters? 
 Well, it is not at such a moment as this you can bear these 
 matters in mind, but don't forget my friend Tiernay ; de- 
 pend upon it he '11 do you no discredit. The Emperor knows 
 well both how to employ and how to reward such men as 
 he is." 
 
 I heard these flattering speeches like one in a delicious 
 dream. To stand in the midst of a distinguislied group 
 while Massena thus spoke of me seemed too much for 
 reality, for praise had indeed become a rare accident to me ; 
 
506 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 but from such a quarter it was less eulogy than fame. How 
 hard was it to persuade myself that I was awake, as I found 
 myself seated at the table with a crowd of officers, pledging 
 the toasts they gave, and drinking bumpers in friendly 
 recognition with all around me. 
 
 Such was the curiosity to hear my story that numbers of 
 others crowded into the room, which gradually assumed the 
 appearance of a theatre. There was scarcely an incident to 
 which I referred that some one or other of those present 
 could not vouch for ; and whether I alluded to my earlier 
 adventures in the Black Forest, or the expedition of Hum- 
 bert, or to the later scenes of my life, I met corroboration 
 from one quarter or another. Away as I w^as from Paris 
 and its influences, in the midst of my comrades I never 
 hesitated to relate the whole of my acquaintance with 
 Fouche, — a part of my narrative which, I must own, 
 amused them more than all the rest. 
 
 In the midst of all these intoxicating praises, and of a 
 degree of wonder that might have turned wiser heads, I 
 never forgot that I was in possession of what seemed to my- 
 self at least a very important military fact, — no less than 
 the mistaken movement of an Austrian general, who had 
 marched his division so far to the southward as to leave an 
 interval of several miles between himself and the main body 
 of the imperial forces. This fact I had obtained from the 
 grenadiers I had made prisoners, and who were stragglers 
 from the corps I alluded to. The movement in question 
 was doubtless intended to menace the right flank of our 
 army ; but every soldier of Napoleon well knew that so long 
 as he could pierce the enemy's centre such flank attacks were 
 ineffectual, the question being ali'eady decided before they 
 could be undertaken. 
 
 My intelligence, important as it appeared to myself, struck 
 the two generals as of even greater moment; and Massena, 
 who had arrived only a few hours before from his own divi- 
 sion to confer with Vandamme, resolved to take me with him 
 at once to headquarters. 
 
 "You are quite certain of what you assert, Tiernay?" 
 said he ; " doubtful information, or a mere surmise, will not 
 do with him before whom you will be summoned. You must 
 
"A LUCKY MEETING." 507 
 
 be clear on every point, and brief, — remember that; not a 
 word more than is absohitely necessary." 
 
 I repeated that I had taken the utmost precautions to 
 assure myself of the truth of the men's statement, and had 
 ridden several leagues between the Austrian left and the left 
 centre. The prisoners themselves could prove that they had 
 marched from early morning till late in the afternoon with- 
 out coming up with a single Austrian post. 
 
 The next question was to equip me with a uniform ; but 
 what should it be? I was not attached to any corps, nor 
 had I an}^ real rank in the arm3^ Massena hesitated about 
 appointing me on his own staff without authority, nor could 
 he advise me to assume the dress of my old regiment. Time 
 was pressing, and it was decided — I own to my great dis- 
 comfiture — that I should continue to wear my Tyroler 
 costume till my restoration to my former rank was fully 
 established. 
 
 I was well tired, having already ridden thirteen leagues 
 of a bad road, when I was obliged to mount once more and 
 accompany General Massena in his return to headquarters. 
 A good supper and some excellent Bordeaux, and, better 
 than either, a light heart, gave me abundant energy ; and 
 after the first three or four miles of the way, I felt as if I 
 was equal to any fatigue. 
 
 As we rode along, the general repeated all his cautions to 
 me in the event of my being summoned to give information 
 at headquarters, — the importance of all my replies being 
 short, accurate, and to the purpose ; and, above all, the 
 avoidance of anything like an opinion or expression of my 
 own judgment on passing events. I promised faithfully to 
 obsel'^'e all his counsels, and not bring discredit on bis 
 patronage. 
 
CHAPTER L. 
 
 THE MARCH OX VIENNA. 
 
 All General Massena's wise counsels and my own steady 
 resolves to profit by them were so far thrown away, that, on 
 our arrival at Abensberg, we found that the Emperor had left 
 it four hours before and pushed on to Ebersfield, a village 
 about five leagues to the eastward. A despatch, however, 
 awaited Massena, telling him to push forward with Oudinot's 
 corps to Newstadt, and with his own division, which com- 
 prised the w^hole French right, to manoeuvre so as to menace 
 the Archduke's base upon the Iser. 
 
 Let my reader not fear that I am about to inflict on him a 
 story of the great campaign itself, nor oompel him to seek 
 refuge in a map from the terrible array of hard names of 
 towns and villages for which that district is famous. It is 
 enough for my purpose that I recall to his memory the strik- 
 ing fact that when the French sought victory by turning and 
 defeating the Austrian left, the Austrians were exactly in 
 march to execute a similar movement on the French left wing. 
 Napoleon, however, gave the first " check," and " mated " his 
 adversary ere he could open his game. By the almost light- 
 ning speed of his manoeuvres, he moved foi-^N^ard from Rat- 
 isbon with the great bulk of his army ; and at the very time 
 that the Archduke believed him to be awaiting battle around 
 that city, he was far on his march to Landshut. 
 
 General Massena was taking a hurried cup of coffee, and 
 dictating a few lines to his secretary, when a dragoon officer 
 galloped into the town with a second despatch, which, what- 
 ever its contents, must needs have been momentous ; for in 
 a few minutes the drums were beating and trumpets sound- 
 ing, and all the stirring signs of an immediate movement 
 visible. It was yet an hour before daybreak, and dark as 
 
THE MARCH ON VIENNA. 509 
 
 midnight ; torches, however, blazed everywhere, and b\' 
 theii- flaring light the artillery trains and wagons drove 
 thi'ough the narrow street of the village, shaking the frail 
 old houses with their rude trot. Even in a retreating army, 
 I have scarcel}^ witnessed such a spectacle of uproar, con- 
 fusion, and chaos ; but still, in less than an hour the troops 
 had all defiled from the town, the advanced guard was 
 akeady some miles on its way, and except a small escort 
 of lancers before the little inn where the general still re- 
 mained, there was not a soldier to be seen. 
 
 It may seem absurd to say it, but I must confess that 
 my eagerness to know what was " going on" in front was 
 divided by a feeling of painful uneasiness at my ridiculous 
 dress, and the shame I experienced at the glances bestowed 
 on me by the soldiers of the escort. It was no time, however, 
 to speak of myself or attend to my own fortunes, and I loi- 
 tered about the court of the inn wondering if in the midst of 
 such stirring events the general would chance to remember 
 me. If I had but a frock and a shako, thought I, I could 
 make my way. It is this confounded velvet jacket and this 
 absurd and tapering hat will be my ruin. If I were to charge 
 a battery, I 'd only look like a merry-andrew after all ; men 
 will not respect what is only laughable. Perhaps after all, 
 thought I, it matters little ; doubtless Massena has forgotten 
 me, and I shall be left behind like a broken limber. At 
 one time I blamed myself for not pushing on with some 
 detachment ; at another I half resolved to put a bold face on 
 it, and present myself before the general ; and between 
 regrets for the past and doubts for the future, I at last 
 worked myself up to a state of anxiety little short of 
 fever. 
 
 While I walked to and fro in this distracted mood I per- 
 ceived, by the bustle within doors, that the general was 
 about to depart; at the same time several dismounted 
 dragoons appeared leading saddle-horses, tightening girths, 
 and adjusting curb-chains, all tokens of a start. W'iiile I 
 looked on these preparations, I heard the clatter of a horse's 
 hoofs close behind and the spluttering noise of a struggle. 
 I turned and saw it was the general himself, who had just 
 mounted his charger; but before catching his right stirrup 
 
510 I^IAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 the horse had plunged, and was dragging the orderly across 
 the com-t by the bridle. Seeing, in an instant, that the sol- 
 dier's effort to hold on was only depri\ing General Massena 
 of all command of the horse, who must probably have fallen 
 on his flank, I jumped forward, caught the stirrup and 
 slipped it over the general's foot, and then with a sharp blow 
 on the soldier's wrist compelled him to relax his grasp. 
 So suddenly were the two movements effected, that in less time 
 than I take to relate it all was over, and the general, who for 
 a heavy man was a good rider, was fast seated in his saddle. 
 I had now no time, however, to bestow on him ; for the 
 dragoon, stung by the insult of a blow, and from a peasant 
 as he deemed it, rushed at me with his sabre. 
 
 '''' Halte la!" cried Massena, in a voice of thunder; "it 
 was that country fellow saved me from a broken bone,* which 
 your infernal awkwardness might have given me. Throw 
 him a couple of florins for me," cried he to his aide-de-camp, 
 who just rode in ; " and do you, sir, join your ranks ; I must 
 look for another orderly." 
 
 " I am right glad to have been in the way. General," said 
 I, springing forward and touching my hat. 
 
 " What, Tiernay ! — this you? " cried he. " How is this? 
 Have I forgotten you all this time? What's to be done 
 now ? You ought to have gone on with the rest. Monsieur. 
 You should have volunteered with some corps, eh? " 
 
 " I hoped to have been attached to yourself. General. I 
 thought I could, perhaps, have made myself useful." 
 
 "Yes, yes, very true; so you might, I've no doubt; but 
 my staff is full, I've no vacancy. What 's to be done now? 
 Lestocque, have we any spare cattle?" 
 
 " Yes, General; we've your own eight horses, and two of 
 Cambronne's." 
 
 "Ah, poor fellow, he'll not want them more. I suppose 
 Tiernay may as well take one of them, at least." 
 
 " There 's an undress uniform, too, of Cambronne's would 
 fit Monsieur de Tiernay," said the officer, who I saw had no 
 fancy for my motley costume alongside of him. 
 
 " Oh, Tiernay does n't care for that ; he 's too old a soldier 
 to bestow a thought upon the color of his jacket," said 
 Massena. 
 
THE MAKCH ON VIENNA. 511 
 
 " Pardon me, General, but it is exactly one of my weak- 
 nesses ; and I feel that until I get rid of these trappings I 
 shall never feel myself a soldier." 
 
 " I thought you had been made of other stuff," muttered 
 the general, " and particularly since there 's like to be little 
 love-making in the present campaign." And with that he 
 rode forward, leaving me to follow when I could. 
 
 "These are Cambronne's keys," said Lestocque, "and 
 you '11 find enough for your present wants in the saddle-bags. 
 Take the gray, he 's the better horse, and come up with us as 
 fast as you can." 
 
 I saw that I had forfeited something of General Mas- 
 sena's good opinion by my dandyism ; but I was consoled in 
 a measure for the loss, as I saw the price at which I bought 
 the forfeiture. The young officer who had fallen three days 
 before, and was a nephew of the General Cambronne, was a 
 lieutenant in Murat's celebrated corps, the Lancers of Berg, 
 whose uniform was the handsomest in the French army. 
 Even the undress scarlet frock and small silver helmet were 
 more splendid than many full parade uniforms; and as I 
 attired myself in these brilliant trappings, I secretly vowed 
 that the Austrians should see them in some conspicuous 
 position ere a month was over. If I had but one sigh for 
 the poor fellow to whose galanterie I succeeded, I had 
 many a smile for myself as I passed and repassed before the 
 glass, adjusting a belt or training an aigrette to fall more 
 gracefully. While thus occupied, I felt something heavy 
 click against my leg, and opening the sabretasch discovered 
 a purse containing upwards of forty golden Napoleons and 
 some silver. It was a singular way to succeed to a heri- 
 tage, I thought ; but, with the firm resolve to make honest 
 restitution, I replaced the money where I found it, and 
 descended the stairs, my sabre jingling and my spurs clank- 
 ing, to the infinite admiration of the hostess and her hand- 
 maiden, who looked on my transformation as a veritable 
 piece of magic. 
 
 I 'm sure Napoleon himself had not framed one-half as 
 many plans for that campaign as I did while I rode along. 
 By a close study of the map and the aid of all the oral 
 information in my power, I had at length obtained a tolerably 
 
512 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 accurate notion of the country ; and I saw, or I thought I 
 saw, at least half a dozen distinct ways of annihilating the 
 Austrians. I have often since felt sliame, even to myself, at 
 the effrontery with which I discussed the great manoeuvres 
 going forward, and the unblushing coolness with which I 
 proffered my opinions and my criticisms ; and I really 
 believe that General Massena tolerated my boldness rather 
 for the amusement it afforded him than from any other cause. 
 
 " Well, Tiernay," said he, as a fresh order reached him, 
 with the most pressing injunction to hurry forward, " we are 
 to move at once on Moosburg ; what does that portend ? " 
 
 "Sharp work. General," replied I, not noticing the sly 
 malice of the question; " the Austrians are there in force." 
 
 " Do your grenadiers say so? " asked he, sarcastically. 
 
 "No, General; but as the base of the operations is the 
 Iser, they must needs guard all the bridges over the river, as 
 well as protect the high-road to Vienna by Landshut." 
 
 ' ' But you forget that Landshut is a good eight leagues 
 from that," said he, with a laugh. 
 
 "They'll have to fall back there, nevertheless," said I, 
 coolly, "or they suffer themselves to be cutoff from their 
 own centre." 
 
 " Would you believe it?" whispered Massena to a colonel 
 at his side, "the fellow has just guessed our intended 
 movement." 
 
 Low as he spoke, my quick ears caught the words, and my 
 heart thumped with delight as I heard them. This was the 
 Emperor's strategy : Massena was to fall impetuously on the 
 enemy's left at Moosburg, and drive them to a retreat on 
 Landshut; when, at the moment of the confusion and dis- 
 order, they were to be attacked by Napoleon himself, with a 
 vastly superior force. 
 
 The game opened even sooner than expected, and a few 
 minutes after the conversation I have reported our Tirailleurs 
 were exchanging shots with the enemy. These sounds, how- 
 ever, were soon drowned in the louder din of artillery, which 
 thundered away at both sides till nightfall. It was a strange 
 species of engagement, for we continued to march on the 
 entire time, the enemy as steadily retiring before us, while 
 the incessant cannonade never ceased. 
 
THE MARCH ON VIENNA. 513 
 
 Although frequently sent to the front with orders, I saw- 
 nothing of the Austrians ; a low line of bluish smoke towards 
 the horizon, now and then Hashing into llanie, denoted their 
 position, — and as we were about as invisible to them, a less 
 exciting kind of warfare would be dilhcult to conceive. 
 Neither was the destruction important; many of the Aus- 
 trian shot were buried in the deep clay in our front, and 
 considering the time and the number of pieces in action our 
 loss was msigniticant. Soldiers, if they be not the trained 
 veterans of a hundred battles, grow very impatient in this 
 kind of operation ; they cannot conceive why they are not 
 led forward, and wonder at the -over caution of the general. 
 Ours were mostly young levies, and were consequently very 
 profuse of their comments and complaints. 
 
 "Have patience, my brave boys ! " said an old sergeant 
 to some of the grumblers. " I've seen some service, and I 
 never saw a battle open this way that there was n't plenty of 
 fighting ere it was over." 
 
 A long low range of hills bounds the plain to the west of 
 Moosburg ; and on these, as night closed, our bivouac fires 
 were lighted, some of them extending to nearly half a mile 
 to the left of our real position, and giving the Austrians the 
 impression that our force was stationed in that direction. A 
 thin, drizzly rain, cold enough to be sleet, was falling ; and 
 as the ground had been greatly cut up by the passage of 
 artillery and cavalry, a less comfortable spot to bivouac in 
 could not be imagined. It was difficult, too, to obtain wood 
 for our fires, and our prospects for the dark hours were 
 scarcely brilliant. The soldiers grumbled loudly at being 
 obliged to sit and cook their messes at the murky flame of 
 damp straw, while the fires at our left blazed away gayly 
 without one to profit by them. Frenchmen, however, are 
 rarely ill-humored in face of the enemy, and their complaints 
 assumed all the sarcastic drollery which they so well under- 
 stand; and even over their half-dressed supper they were 
 beginning to grow merry, when staff officers were seen trav- 
 ersmg the lines at full speed in all directions. 
 
 "We are attacked! the Austrians are upon us !" cried 
 two or three soldiers, snatching up their muskets. 
 
 " No, no, friend," replied a veteran, " it 's the other way; 
 we are going at them." 
 
 33 
 
514 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 This was the true reading of the problem ; orders were 
 sent to every brigade to form in close column of attack, 
 artillery and cavalry to advance under their cover and readv 
 to deploy at a moment's notice. 
 
 Moosburg lay something short of two miles from us, hav- 
 ing the Iser in front, over which was a wooden bridge pro- 
 tected by a strong flanking battery. The river was not 
 passable, nor had we any means of transporting artillery 
 across it ; so that to this spot our main attack was at once 
 dn-ected. Had the Austrian General Heller, who was second 
 in command to the Archduke Louis, either cut off the bridge 
 or taken effectual measures to oppose its passage, the great 
 events of the campaign might have assumed a very different 
 feature. It is said, however, that an enth'e Austrian brigade 
 was encamped near Freising, and that the communication 
 was left open to save them. Still, it must be owned that the 
 imperialists took few precautions for their safety; for, de- 
 ceived by our line of watch-fires, the pickets extended but a 
 short distance into the plain, and when attacked by our light 
 cavalry many of them were cut off at once, and of those who 
 fell back several traversed the bridge with their pursuers at 
 their heels. 
 
 Such was the impetuosit}^ of the French attack, that al- 
 though the most positive orders had been given by Massena 
 that not more than three guns and their caissons should 
 traverse the bridge together, and even these at a walk, seven 
 or eight were seen passing at the same instant and all at a 
 gallop, making the old framework so rock and tremble that 
 it seemed ready to come to pieces. As often happens, the 
 hardihood proved our safety. The Austrians, counting upon 
 our slow transit, only opened a heavy fire after several of our 
 pieces had crossed and were alread}^ in a position to reply to 
 them. Their defence, if somewhat late, was a most gallant 
 one, and the gunners continued to fire on our advancing 
 columns till we captured the block-house and sabred the men 
 at their guns. Meanwhile the Imperial Cuirassiers, twelve 
 hundred strong, made a succession of furious charges upon 
 us, driving our light cavalry, away before them, and for a 
 brief space making the fortune of the day almost doubtful. 
 It soon appeared, however, that these brave fellows were 
 
THE MARCH ON VIENNA. 515 
 
 merely covering the retreat of the main body, who in all 
 haste were falling back on the villages of Furth and Arth. 
 Some squadrons of Kellerman's heavy cavalry gave time for 
 our light artillery to open their fire, and the Austrian ranks 
 were rent open with terrific loss. 
 
 Day was now dawning, and showed us the Austrian army 
 in retreat by the two great roads towards Landsbut. Ever^^ 
 rising spot of ground was occupied by artillery, and in some 
 places defended by stockades, — showing plainly enough 
 that all hope of saving the guns was abandoned, and that 
 they only thought of protecting their flying columns from our 
 attack. These dispositions cost us heavily ; for as we were 
 obliged to carry each of these places before we could advance, 
 the loss in this hand-to-hand encounter was very considerable. 
 At length, however, the roads became so blocked up by ar- 
 tillery that the infantry were driven to defile into the swampy 
 fields at the road-side, and here our cavalry cut them down 
 unmercifully, while grape tore through the dense masses at 
 half musket-range. 
 
 Had discipline or command been possible, our condition 
 might have been made perilous enough; since, in the 
 impetuosity of attack, large masses of our cavalry got 
 separated from their support, and were frequently seen 
 struggling to cut their way out of the closing columns of the 
 enemy. Twice or thrice it actually happened that officers 
 surrendered the whole squadron as prisoners, and were 
 rescued by their own comrades afterwards. The whole was 
 a scene of pell-mell confusion and disorder, — some, aban- 
 doning positions when successful defence was possible ; 
 others, obstinately holding their ground when destruction 
 was inevitable. Few prisoners were taken ; indeed, I be- 
 lieve quarter was little thought of by either side. The terri- 
 ble excitement had raised men's passions to the pitch of 
 madness, and each fought with all the animosity of hate. 
 
 Massena was always in the front, and, as was his custom, 
 comporting himself with a calm steadiness that he rarely 
 displayed in the common occurrences of e very-day life. Like 
 the English Picton, the crash and thunder of conflict seemed 
 to soothe and assuage the asperities of an irritable temper, 
 and his mind appeared to find a congenial sphere in the tur- 
 
516 ]MAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 moil and din of battle. The awkward attempt of a French 
 squadron to gallop in a deep marsh, where men and horses 
 were rolling indiscriminately together, actually gave him a 
 hearty fit of laughter, and he issued his orders for their 
 recall as though the occurrence were a good joke. It was 
 while obsei'\"ing this incident that an orderly delivered into 
 his hands some maps and papers that had just been captured 
 from the fourgon of a staff-officer. Turning them rapidly 
 over, Massena chanced upon the plan of a bridge, with marks 
 indicative of points of defence at either side of it, and the 
 arrangements for mining it if necessary. It was too long to 
 represent the bridge of Moosburg, and must probably 
 mean that of Landshut; and so thinking, and deeming 
 that its possession might be important to the Emperor, 
 he ordered me to take a fresh horse and hasten with it 
 to the headquarters. The orders I received were vague 
 enough. 
 
 "You'll come up with the advance guard some eight or 
 nine miles to the northward ; you '11 chance upon some of the 
 columns near Fleisheim." 
 
 Such were the hurried directions I obtained, in the midst 
 of the smoke and din of a battle ; but it was no time to ask 
 for more precise instructions, and away I went. 
 
 In less than twenty minutes' sharp riding I found myself 
 in a little valley, enclosed by low hills and watered by a 
 small tributary of the Danube, along whose banks cottages 
 were studded in the midst of what seemed one great orchard, 
 since for miles the white and pink blossoms of finiit-trees 
 were to be seen extending. The peasants were at work in 
 the fields, and the oxen were toiling along with the heavy 
 wagons or the scarcely less cumbersome plough, as peace- 
 fully as though bloodshed and carnage were not within a 
 thousand miles of them. No high-road penetrated this 
 secluded spot, and hence it lay secure, while ruin and devas- 
 tation raged at either side of it. As the wind was from the 
 west, nothing could be heard of the cannonade towards 
 Moosburg, and the low hills completely shut out all signs of 
 the conflict. I halted at a little waj'side forge to have a 
 loose shoe fastened ; and in the crowd of gazers who stood 
 around me, wondering at my gay trappings and gaudy 
 
THE MARCH ON VIENNA. 517 
 
 uniform, not one had the slightest suspicion that I was other 
 than Austrian. One old man asked me if it were not true 
 that the " French were coming; " and another laughed, and 
 said, '' They had better not," — and there was all they knew 
 of that terrible struggle, the shock that was to rend in twain 
 a great empii-e. 
 
 Full of varied thought on this theme I mounted and rode 
 forward. At first, the narrow roads were so deep and heavy 
 that I made little progress ; occasionally, too, I came to little 
 streams traversed by a bridge of a single plank, and was 
 either compelled to swim my horse across or wander long 
 distances in search of a ford. These • obstructions made me 
 impatient, and my impatience but sensed to delay me more, 
 and all my efforts to push directly forwards only tended to 
 embarrass me. I could not ask for guidance, since I knew 
 not the name of a single village or town, and to have 
 inquu'ed for the direction in which the troops were stationed 
 might very possibly have brought me into danger. 
 
 At last, and after some hours of toilsome wandering, I 
 reached a small wayside inn ; and resolving to obtain some 
 information of my whereabouts, I asked whither the road 
 led that passed through a long, low, swampy plain, and dis- 
 appeared in a pine- wood. 
 
 '' To Landshut," was the answer. 
 
 " And the distance? " 
 
 "Three German miles," said the host; "but they are 
 worse than five, for since the new line has been opened this 
 road has fallen into neglect. Two of the bridges are broken, 
 and a landslip has completely blocked up the passage at 
 another place." 
 
 " Then how am I to gain the new road? 
 
 Alas ! there was nothing for it but going back to the 
 forge where I had stopped three hours and a half before, and 
 whence I could take a narrow bridle-path to Fleisheim that 
 would bring me out on the great road. The very thought of 
 retracing my way was intolerable. ]\Iany of the places I 
 had leaped my horse over would have been impossible to 
 cross from the opposite side ; once I narrowly escaped being 
 carried down by a mill-race ; and, in fact, no dangers nor 
 inconveniences of the road in front of me could equal those 
 
518 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 of the course I had just come. Besides all this, to return 
 to Fleisheim would probably bring me far in the rear of the 
 advancing columns, while if I pushed on towards Landshut 
 I might catch sight of them from some rising spot of 
 ground. 
 
 " You will go, I see," cried the host, as he saw me set 
 out. "Perhaps you're right; the old adage says, 'It's 
 often the roughest road leads to the smoothest fortune.' " 
 
 Even that much encouragement was not without its value. 
 I spurred into a canter with fresh spirits. The host of the 
 little inn had not exaggerated, — the road was execrable. 
 Heavy rocks and mounds of earth had slipped down with 
 the rains of winter, and remained in the middle of the way ; 
 the fallen masonry of the bridges had driven the streams 
 into new channels with deep pools among them ; broken 
 wagons and ruined carts marked the misfortunes of some 
 who had ventured on the track; and except for a well- 
 mounted and resolute horseman the way was impracticable. 
 
 I was well-nigh overcome by fatigue and exhaustion, as 
 clambering up a steep hill, with the bridle on my arm, I 
 gained the crest of the ridge and suddenly saw Landshut — 
 for it could be no other — before me. I have looked at 
 many new pictures and scenes, but I own I never beheld 
 one that gave me half the pleasure. The ancient town, with 
 its gaunt old belfries and still more ancient castle, stood on 
 a bend of the Inn, which was here crossed by a long wooden 
 bridge supported on boats, a wide track of shingle and 
 gravel on either side showing the course into which the melt- 
 ing snows often swelled the stream. From the point where 
 I stood I could see into the town. The Platz, the old gar- 
 dens of the nunnery, the terrace of the castle, all were 
 spread out before me ; and to my utter surprise there seemed 
 little. or no movement going forward. There were two guns 
 in position at the bridge ; some masons were at work on the 
 houses beside the river piercing the walls for the use of mus- 
 ketry, and an infantry battalion was under arms in the mar- 
 ket-place. These were all the preparations I could discover 
 against the advance of a great army. But so it was ; the 
 Austrian spies had totally misled them, and while they be- 
 lieved that the great bulk of the French lay around Ratisbon, 
 
THE MARCH ON VIENNA. 519 
 
 the centre of the army, sixty-five thousaud strong and led 
 by Napoleon hhnself , was in march to the southward. 
 
 That the attack on Moosburg was still unknown at Land- 
 shut seemed certain ; and I now perceived that, notwithstand- 
 ing all the delays I had met with, I had really come by the 
 most direct line, — whereas, on account of the bend of the 
 river no Austrian courier could have brought tidings of the 
 engagement up to that time. My attention was next turned 
 towards the dii'ection whence our advance might be expected ; 
 but although I could see nearly four* miles of the road, not a 
 man was to be descried along it. 
 
 I slowly descended the ridge, and passing through a 
 meadow was approaching the high-road, when suddenly I 
 heard the clattering of a horse at full gallop coming along 
 the causeway. I mounted at once, and pushed forward to 
 an angle of the road by which I was concealed from all view. 
 The next instant, a Hungarian hussar turned the corner at 
 top speed. 
 
 " AVhat news? " cried I, in German ; " are they coming? " 
 
 " Ay, in force ! " shouted he, without stopping. 
 
 I at once drew my pistol, and levelled at him. The man's 
 back was towards me, and my bullet would have pierced his 
 skull. It was my duty, too, to have shot him, for moments 
 were then worth days or even weeks. I could n't pull the 
 trigger, however, and I replaced my weapon in the holster. 
 Another horseman now swept past without perceiving me, 
 and quickly behind him came a half squadron of hussars, 
 all riding in mad haste and confusion. The horses, though 
 " blown," were not sweated, so that I conjectured they had 
 ridden fast though not far. -Such was the eagerness to 
 press on, and so intent were they on the thought of their 
 own tidings, that none saw me, and the whole body swept 
 ])y and disappeared. I waited a few minutes to listen ; and 
 as the clattering towards Landshut died away, all was 
 silent. 
 
 Trusting to my knowledge of German to save me even if 
 I fell in with the enemy, I now rode forward at speed in the 
 direction of our advance. The road was straight as an 
 arrow for miles, and a single object coming towards me was 
 all I could detect. This proved to be a hussar of the 
 
520 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 squadron, whose horse, being dead lame, could not keep up 
 with the rest ; and now the poor fellow was making the best 
 of his way back as well as he was able. Of what use, 
 thought I, to make him my prisoner, — one more or less at 
 such a time can be of slight avail ; so I merely halted him to 
 ask how near the French were. The man could only speak 
 Hungarian, but made signs that the lancers were close upon 
 us, and counselled me to make my escape into the town with 
 all speed. I intimated by a gesture that I could trust to my 
 horse, and we parted. He was scarcely out of sight when 
 the bright gleam of brass helmets came into view towards 
 the west, and then I could make out the shining cuirasses of 
 the Corps de Guides, as, mounted on their powerful horses, 
 they came galloping along. 
 
 " I thought I was foremost," said a young officer to me as 
 he rode up. " How came you in advance? " 
 
 "•Where's the Etat-major?" cried I, in haste, and not 
 heeding his question. " I have a despatch for the Emperor." 
 
 "Follow the road," said he, "and you'll come up with 
 them in half an hour." 
 
 And with these hurried words we passed each other. A 
 sharp pistol report a moment after told me what had befallen 
 the poor Hungarian; but I had little time to think of his 
 fate. Our squadrons were coming on at a sharp pace, while 
 in their rear the jingling crash of horse-artillery resounded. 
 From a gentle rise of the road I could see a vast distance of 
 country, and perceive that the French columns extended for 
 miles away, — the great chaussee being reserved for the heavy 
 artillery, while every bj^-road and lane were filled with troops 
 of all arms hurrying onwards It was one of those precipi- 
 tous movements by which Napoleon so often paralyzed an 
 enemy at once, and finished a campaign by one daring 
 exploit. 
 
 At such a time it was in vain for me to ask in what direc- 
 tion the staff might be found ; all were eager and intent on 
 theii' own projects, and as squadron after squadron passed 
 I saw it was a moment for action rather than for thought. 
 Still, I did not like to abandon all hope of succeeding after 
 so much of peril and fatigue ; and seeing that it was impos- 
 sible to advance as-ainst the flood of horse and artillerv that 
 
THE MARCH ON VIENNA. 521 
 
 formed along the roatl, I jumped my horse into a field at the 
 side and pushed forward. Even here however the passage 
 was not quite clear, since manj^ in their eagerness to get for- 
 ward had taken to the same line, and with cheering cries and 
 wild shouts of joy were galloping on. My showy uniform 
 drew many an eye towards me ; and at last a staff-odicor 
 cried out to me to stop, pointing with his sabre as he spoke 
 to a hill a short distance off where a group of officers were 
 standing. 
 
 This was General Moulon and his staff, under whose order 
 the advanced guard was placed. 
 
 "A despatch, ^ whence from?" cried he hastily, as I 
 rode up. 
 
 "No, sir; a plan of the bridge of Landshut, taken from 
 the enemy this morning at IMoosburg." 
 
 ' ' Are they still there ? " asked he. 
 
 " By this time they must be close upon Landshut; they 
 were in full retreat when I left them at daybreak." 
 
 " We'll be able to speak of the bridge without this," said 
 he, laughing, and turning towards his staff, while he handed 
 the sketch carelessly to some one beside him ; " and you '11 
 serve the Emperor quite as well, sir, by coming with us as 
 hastening to the rear." 
 
 I professed myself ready and willing to follow his orders, 
 and away I went with the staff, well pleased to be once more 
 on active service. 
 
 Two cannon shots and a rattling crash of small arms told 
 us that the combat had begun ; and as we rose the hill, the 
 bridge of Landshut was seen on fire in three places. Either 
 from some mistake of his orders or not daring to assume a 
 responsibility for what was beyond the strict line of duty, 
 the French commander of the artillery placed his guns in 
 position along the river's bank, and prepared to reply to the 
 fire now opening from the town instead of at once dashing 
 onward within the gates. INIoulon hastened to repair tlie 
 ' error ; but by the delay in pushing through the dense masses 
 of horse, foot, and artillery that crowded the passage, it was 
 full twenty minutes ere he came up. With a storm of oaths 
 on the stupidity of the artillery colonel, he ordered the firing 
 to cease, commanding both the cavalry and the train wagons 
 
522 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 to move right and left, and give place for a grenadier batta- 
 lion who were coming briskly on with then* muskets at the 
 sling. 
 
 The scene was now a madly exciting one. The chevaux- 
 de-frise at one end of the bridge was blazing ; but be^^ond it, 
 on the bridge, the Austrian engineer and his men were scat- 
 tering combustible material, and with hempen torches touch- 
 ing the new-pitched timbers. An incessant roll of musketry 
 issued from the houses on the river-side, with now and then 
 the deeper boom of a large gun, while the roar of voices and 
 the crashing noise of artillery passing through the streets 
 swelled into a fearful chorus. The French sappers quickly 
 removed the burning chevaux-de-frise, and hurled the flaming 
 timbers into the stream ; and scarcely was this done when 
 Moulon, dismounting, advanced, cheering, at the head of his 
 grenadiers. Charging over the burning bridge, they rushed 
 forward ; but then- way was arrested by the strong timbers 
 of a massive portcullis, which closed the passage. This had 
 been concealed from our view by the smoke and flame ; and 
 now, as the press of men from behind grew each instant 
 more powerful, a scene of terrible suffering ensued. The 
 enemy too poured down a deadly discharge, and grape-shot 
 tore through us at pistol-range. The onward rush of the 
 columns to the rear defied retreat, and in the mad confusion 
 all orders and commands were unheard or unheeded. 
 
 Not knowing what delayed our advance, I was busily 
 engaged in suppressing a fire at one of the middle buttresses, 
 when, mounting the parapet, I saw the cause of our halt. I 
 happened to have caught up one of the pitched torches at 
 the instant, and the thought at once struck me how to employ 
 it. To reach the portcullis, no other road lay open than the 
 parapet itself, — a wooden railing, wide enough for a foot- 
 ing, but exposed to the whole fire of the houses. There was 
 little time for the choice of alternatives, even had our fate 
 offered any ; so I dashed on, and, as the balls whizzed and 
 whistled around me, reached the front. It was a terrible 
 thing to touch the timbers against which our men were 
 actually flattened, and to set fire to the bars around which 
 their hands were clasped ; but I saw that the Austrian 
 musketry had abeady done its work on the leading files, 
 
THE INIAECH ON VIENNA. 523 
 
 and that not one man was living amongst them. By a 
 blunder of one of the sappers, the portcullis had been 
 smeared with pitch like the bridge ; and as I applied the 
 torch, the blaze sprung up, and encouraged by the rush of 
 an- bet^Yeen the beams spread in a second over the whole 
 structui-e. Expecting my death- wound at every instant, I 
 never ceased my task even when it had become no longer 
 necessary, impelled by a kind of insane persistence to destroy 
 the barrier. The wind carrying the flame inward, however, 
 had compelled the Austrians to fall back, and ])efore they 
 could again open a collected fire on us the way was open, 
 and the grenadiers like enraged tigers rushed wildly in. 
 
 I remember that my coat was twice on fire, as, carried on 
 my comrades' shoulders, I was borne along into the town. 
 I recollect too the fearful scene of suffering that ensued, the 
 mad butchery at each doorway as we passed, the piercing 
 cries for mercy and the groan of dying agony. AYar has no 
 such terrible spectacle as a town taken by infuriated sol- 
 diery, and even amongst the best of natures a relentless 
 cruelty usurps the place of every chivalrous feeling. 
 
 When or how I was wounded I never could ascertain ; but 
 a round shot had penetrated my thigh, tearing the muscles 
 into shreds, and giving to the surgeon who saw me the 
 simple task of saying, " Enlevez-le, — point d'espoir." I 
 heard thus much, and I have some recollection of a com- 
 rade having kissed my forehead, and there ended my reminis- 
 cences of Laudshut. Nay, I am wrong ; I cherish another 
 and a more glorious one. 
 
 It was about four daj's after this occurrence that the sur- 
 geon in charge of the military hospital was obliged to secure 
 by ligature a branch of the femoral artery which had been 
 traversed by the ball through my thigh. The operation was 
 a tedious and difficult one, for round shot, it would seem, 
 have little respect for anatomy, and occasionally displace 
 muscles in a sad fashion. I was very weak after it was 
 over, and orders were left to give a spoonful of Bordeaux 
 and water from time to time during the evening, — a du-ec- 
 tion which I listened to attentively, and never permitted my 
 orderly to neglect. In fact, like a genuine sick man's fancy, 
 it caught possession of my mind that this wine and water 
 
524 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 was to save me ; and in the momentary rally of excitement 
 it gave, I thought I tasted health once more. In this impres- 
 sion I never awoke from a short doze without a request for 
 my cordial, and half mechanically would make signs to wet 
 my lips as I slept. 
 
 It was near sunset, and I was lying with unclosed eyes, 
 not asleep, but in that semi-conscious state that great bodily 
 depression and loss of blood induce. The ward was unusu- 
 ally quiet, the little buzz of voices that generally mingled 
 through the accents of suffering were hushed, and I could 
 hear the surgeon's well-known voice as he spoke to some 
 persons at the farther end of the chamber. 
 
 By their stopping from time to time, I could remark that 
 they were inspecting the different beds, but their voices were 
 low and their steps cautious and noiseless. 
 
 " Tiernay — this is Tiernay," said some one, reading my 
 name from the paper over my head. Some low words which 
 I could not catch followed, and then the surgeon replied, — 
 
 " There is a chance for him yet, though the debility is 
 greatly to be feared." 
 
 I made a sign at once to my mouth, and after a second's 
 delay the spoon touched my lips, but so awkwardly was it 
 applied that the fluid ran down my chin; with a sickly 
 impatience I turned away, but a mild low voice, soft as a 
 woman's, said, — 
 
 '^ Allans! let me try once more;" and now the spoon 
 met m}^ lips with due dexterity. 
 
 " Thanks," said I, faintly, and I opened my eyes. 
 
 "You'll soon be about again, Tiernay," said the same 
 voice ; as for the person, I could distinguish nothing, for 
 there were six or seven around me ; ' ' and if I know any- 
 thing of a soldier's heart, this will do just as much as the 
 doctor." 
 
 As he spoke he detached from his coat a small enamel 
 cross and placed it in my hand, with a gentle squeeze of the 
 fingers, and then saying, Au revoir^ moved on. 
 
 "Who's that?" cried I, suddenly, while a strange thrill 
 ran through me. 
 
 " Hush ! " whispered the surgeon, cautiously, — " hush ! 
 it is the Emperor." 
 
«^' :'^ •■^'i'lHir^tlWife.- ^i^ 
 
 /a / y^yy.'/^^>/^y .-yyf:-^4<it'/^i^^'zy'y<:i!^2</y^,^ ' l/y^^y^/-^ /vv v / 
 
-T5-4.R ^- 
 
 /' 
 
 M 
 
CHAPTER LI. 
 
 "schonbrunn" in 1809. 
 
 About two mouths afterwards, on a warm evening of sum- 
 mer, I entered Vienna in a litter, along with some twelve 
 hundred other wounded men, escorted by a regiment of 
 cuirassiers. I was weak and unable to walk ; the fever of 
 m}" wound had reduced me to a skeleton ; but I was consoled 
 for everything by knowing that I was a captain on the 
 Emperor's own staff, and decorated by himself with the 
 Cross of the Legion. Xor were these my only distinctions ; 
 for my name had been included among the lists of the 
 Officiers d' Elite, — a new institution of the Emperor, enjoy- 
 ing considerable privileges and increase of pay. 
 
 To this latter elevation, too, I owed my handsome quar- 
 ters in the Raab Palace at Vienna, and the sentry at my 
 door, like that of a field-officer. Fortune, indeed, began to 
 smile upon me ; and never are her flatteries more welcome 
 than in the first hours of returning health, after a long sick- 
 ness. I was visited by the first men of the army ; marshals 
 and generals figured among the names of my intimates, and 
 invitations flowed in upon me from all that were distin- 
 guished by rank and station. 
 
 Vienna at that period presented few features of a city 
 occupied by an enemy. The guards, it is true, on all 
 arsenals and forts were French, and tlie gates were held by 
 them ; but there was no interruption U) the ccnirse of trade 
 and commerce. The theatres were open every night, and 
 balls and receptions went on with only redoubled frequency. 
 Unlike his policy towards Prussia, Napoleon abstained from 
 all that might humiliate the Austrians. Every possible con- 
 cession was made to their natural tastes and feelings, and 
 oflScers of all ranks in the French army were strictly enjoined 
 
526 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 to observe a conduct of conciliation and civility on every 
 occasion of intercourse with the citizens. Few general 
 orders could be more palatable to Frenchmen, and they set 
 about the task of cultivating the good esteem of the Vien- 
 nese with a most honest desire for success. Accident, too, 
 aided their efforts not a little ; for it chanced that a short 
 time before the battle of Aspern the city had been garrisoned 
 by Croat and Wallachian regiments, whose officers, scarcely 
 half civilized, and with all the brutal ferocity of barbarian 
 tribes, were most favorably supplanted by Frenchmen in 
 the best of possible tempers with themselves and the world. 
 
 It might be argued, that the Austrians would have shown 
 more patriotism in holding themselves aloof, and avoiding 
 all interchange of civilities with their conquerors. Perhaps, 
 too, this line of conduct would have prevailed to a greater 
 extent had not those in high places set an opposite example. 
 But so it was ; and in the hope of obtaining more favorable 
 treatment in their last extremity, the princes of the Imperial 
 House, and the highest nobles of the land, freely accepted 
 the invitations of our marshals, and as freely received them 
 at then- own tables. 
 
 There was something of pride, too, in the way these great 
 families continued to keep up the splendor of their house- 
 holds, large retinues of servants and gorgeous equipages, 
 when the very empire itself was crumbling to pieces ; and 
 to the costly expenditure of that fevered interval may be 
 dated the ruin of some of the richest of the Austrian nobil- 
 ity. To maintain a corresponding style, and to receive the 
 proud guests with suitable magnificence, enormous "allow- 
 ances " were made to the French generals ; while in striking 
 contrast to all the splendor, the Emperor Napoleon lived at 
 Schonbrunn with a most simple household and restricted 
 retinue. 
 
 Berthier's Palace, in the Graben, was by its superior mag- 
 nificence the recognized centre of French society ; and thither 
 flocked every evening all that was most distinguished in rank 
 of both nations. Motives of policy, or at least the terrible 
 pressure of necessity, filled these salons with the highest 
 personages of the empire ; while, as if accepting as inevita- 
 ble the glorious ascendancy of Xapoleou, many of the French 
 
"SCHONBRUNN" IN 1809. 527 
 
 emigre families emerged from their retirement to pay their 
 court to the favored lieutenants of Napoleon. Marmont, 
 who was highly connected with the French aristocracy, gave 
 no slight aid to this movement, and, it was currently believed 
 at the time, was secretly intrusted by the Emperor with the 
 task of accomplishing what in modern phrase is styled a 
 " fusion." 
 
 The real source of all these flattering attentions on the 
 Austrian side, however, was the well-founded dread of the 
 partition of the empire, — a plan over which Napoleon was 
 then hourly in deliberation, and to the non-accomplishment 
 of which he ascribed, in the days of his last exile, all the 
 calamities of his fall. Be this as it may, few thoughts of 
 the graver interests at stake disturbed the pleasure we felt 
 in the luxurious life of that delightful city ; nor can I, 
 through the whole of a long and varied career, call to mind 
 any period of more unmixed enjoyment. 
 
 Fortune stood by me in everything. Marshal Marmont 
 required as the head of his Etat-major an officer who could 
 speak and write German, and, if possible, who understood 
 the Tyrol dialect. I was selected for the appointment ; but 
 then there arose a difficulty. The etiquette of the service 
 demanded that the chef d'etat-major should be at least a 
 lieutenant-colonel, and I was but a captain. 
 
 "No matter," said he; "you are officier d'elite^ which 
 always gives brevet rank, and so one step more will place 
 you where we want you. Come with me to Schonbrunn 
 to-night, and I'll try and arrange it." 
 
 I was still very weak and unable for any fatigue as I 
 accompanied the marshal to the quaint old palace which, at 
 about a league from the capital, formed the headquarters of 
 the Emperor. Up to this time I had never been presented 
 to Napoleon, and had formed to myself the most gorgeous 
 notions of the state and splendor that should surround such 
 majesty. Guess then my astonishment, and, need I own, 
 disappointment, as we drove up a straight avenue very spar- 
 ingly lighted, and descended at a large door, where a lieu- 
 tenant's guard was stationed. It was customary for the 
 marshals and generals of division to present themselves each 
 evening at Schonbrunn from six to nine o'clock, and we 
 
528 ]\IAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 found that eight or ten carriages were already in waiting 
 when we arrived. An officer of the household recognized the 
 marshal as he alighted, and as we mounted the staii's whis- 
 pered a few words hurriedly in his ear, of which I only 
 caugh one, " Komorn," — the name of the Hungarian fortress 
 on the Danube where the imperial family of Vienna and the 
 cabinet had sought refuge. 
 
 " Diantre! " exclaimed Marmont, " bad news ! My dear 
 Tiernay, we have fallen on an unlucky moment to ask a 
 favor. The despatches from Komorn are, it would seem, 
 unsatisfactory. The Tyrol is far from quiet. Kuffstein — 
 I think that 's the name, or some such place — is attacked 
 by a large force, and likely to fall into their hands from 
 assault." 
 
 "That can scarcely be, sir," said I, interrupting; "I 
 know Kuffstein well. I was two years a prisoner there ; 
 and, except by famine, the fortress is inaccessible." 
 
 "What! are you certain of this?" cried he, eagerly; 
 "is there not one side on w^hich escalade is possible?" 
 
 " Quite impracticable on every quarter, believe me, sii'. 
 A hundred men of the line and twenty gunners might hold 
 Kuffstein against the world." 
 
 "You hear what he says, Lefebre?" said Marmont to 
 the officer. " I think I might venture to bring him up." 
 The other shook his head doubtfully, and said nothing. 
 "Well, announce me then," said the marshal; "and. Tier- 
 nay, do you throw yourself on one of those sofas there, and 
 wait for me." 
 
 I did as I was bade, and partly from the unusual fatigue 
 and in part from the warmth of a summer evening soon fell 
 off into a heavy sleep. I was suddenly awoke by a voice 
 saying, "Come along. Captain, be quick! your name has 
 been called twice ! " I sprung up and looked about me, 
 without the very vaguest notion of where I was. "Where 
 to? Where am I going?" asked I, in my confusion. 
 "Follow that gentleman," was the brief reply; and so I 
 did in the same dreamy state that a sleep-walker might have 
 done. 
 
 Some confused impression that I was in attendance on 
 General Marmont was all that I could collect, when I found 
 
"SCHONBRUNN" IN 1809. 529 
 
 myself standing in a great room densely crowded with offi- 
 cers of rank. Though gathered in groups and knots chat- 
 ting, there was from time to time a sort of movement in the 
 mass that seemed communicated by some single impulse ; 
 and then all would remain watchful and attentive for some 
 seconds, their eyes tui-ned in the direction of a large door at 
 the end of the apartment. At last this was thi'own suddenly 
 open, and a number of persons entered, at w^hose appear- 
 ance every tongue Avas hushed and the very slightest gesture 
 subdued. The crowd meanwhile fell back, forming a species 
 of circle round the room, in front of which this newly- 
 entered group walked. I cannot now remember what strug- 
 gling efforts I made to collect my faculties, and think where 
 I was then standing ; but if a thunderbolt had struck the 
 ground before me, it could not have given me a more terrific 
 shock than that I felt on seeing the Emperor himself address 
 the general officer beside me. 
 
 I cannot pretend to have enjoyed many opportunities of 
 royal notice ; at the time I speak of, such distinction was 
 altogether unknown to me. But even when most highly 
 favored in that respect, I have never been able to divest 
 myself of a most crushing feeling of my inferiority, — a 
 sense at once so humiliating and painful that I longed to be 
 away and out of a presence where I might dare to look at 
 him who addressed me, and venture on something beyond 
 mere replies to interrogatories. This situation, good reader, 
 with all your courtly breeding and aplomb to boot, is never 
 totally free of constraint ; but imagine what it can be when, 
 instead of standing in the faint sunshine of a royal smile, 
 you find yourself cowering under the stern and relentless 
 look of anger, and that anger an Emperor's ! 
 
 This was precisely my predicament ; for in my confusion 
 I had not noticed how, as the Emperor drew near to any 
 Individual to converse, the others at either side immediately 
 retired out of hearing, preserving an air of obedient atten- 
 tion, but without in any way obtruding themselves on the 
 royal notice. The consequence was, that, as his Majesty 
 stood to talk with Marshal Oudinot, I maintained my place, 
 never perceiving my awkwardness till I saw that I made one 
 of three figures isolated in the floor of the chamber. To say 
 
 34 
 
530 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 that I had rather have stood in face of an enemy's battery 
 is no exaggeration; I'd have walked up to a gun with a 
 stouter heart than I felt at this terrible moment, — and yet 
 there was something in that sidelong glance of angry mean- 
 ing that actually nailed me to the spot, and I could not have 
 fallen back to save my life. There were, I afterwards 
 learned, no end of signals and telegraphic notices to me 
 from the officers in waiting; gestures and indications for 
 m}^ guidance abounded, — but I saw none of them. I had 
 drawn myself up in an attitude of parade stiffness, neither 
 looked right nor left, and waited as a criminal might have 
 waited for the fall of the axe that was to end his suft'eriugs 
 forever. 
 
 That the Emperor remained something like two hours and 
 a half in conversation with the marshal I should have been 
 quite ready to verify on oath ; but the simple fact was that 
 the interview occupied under four minutes ; and then Gene- 
 ral Oudinot backed out of the presence, leaving me alone in 
 front of his Majesty. 
 
 The silence of the chamber was quite dreadful, as, with his 
 hands clasped behind his back and his head slightly thrown 
 forward, the Emperor stared steadily at me. I am more 
 than half ashamed of the confession ; but what between the 
 effect of long illness and suffering, the length of time I had 
 been standing, and the emotion I experienced, I felt myself 
 growing dizzy, and a sickly faintness began to creep over 
 me, and but for the support of my sabre I should actually 
 have fallen. 
 
 "You seem weak; you had better sit down," said the 
 Emperor, in a soft and mild voice. 
 
 " Yes, Sire, I have not quite recovered yet," muttered I, in- 
 distinctly ; but before I could well finish the sentence Mar- 
 montwas beside the Emperor, and speaking rapidly to him. 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " cried Napoleon, tapping his snuff-box and 
 smiling. " This is Tiernay, then. Parhleu ! we have heard 
 something of yow before." 
 
 Marmont still continued to talk on ; and I heard the 
 words "Rhine," "Genoa," and "Kuffstein" distinctly fall 
 from him. The Emperor smiled twice, and nodded his head 
 slowly, as if assenting to what was said. 
 
"SCHONBRUXN" IN 1809. 531 
 
 "But his wound? " said Napoleon, doubtingly. 
 
 '' He says that your Majesty cured him when the doctor 
 despaired," said Marmont. "I'm sure, Sire, he has equal 
 faith in what you still could do for him." 
 
 "Well, sir," said the Emperor, addressing me, " if all I 
 hear of you be correct, you carry a stouter heart before the 
 enemy than you seem to wear here. Your name is high in 
 Marshal Massena's list; and General Marmont desires to 
 have your services on his staff. I make no objection ; you 
 shall have your grade." 
 
 I bowed without speaking; indeed, I could not have 
 uttered a word even if it had been my duty. 
 
 "They have extracted the ball, I hope?" said the Em- 
 peror to me, and pointing to my thigh. 
 
 " It never lodged. Sire ; it was a round shot," said I. 
 
 '■'• Dlahle! a round shot! You're a lucky fellow. Colonel 
 Tiernay," said he, laying a stress on the title, " a very lucky 
 fellow." 
 
 "I shall ever think so, Sire, since your Majesty has said 
 it," was my answer. 
 
 " I was not a lieutenant-colonel at your age," resumed 
 Napoleon; "nor were you either, Marmont. You see, sir, 
 that we live in better times ; at least, in times when merit is 
 better rewarded." 
 
 And with this he passed on ; and Marmont, slipping my 
 arm within his own, led me away, down the great stair, 
 through crowds of attendant orderlies and groups of servants. 
 At last we reached our carriage, and in half an hour re- 
 entered Vienna, my heart wild with excitement, and burning 
 with zealous ardor to do something for the service of the 
 Emperor. 
 
 The next morning I removed to General Marmont's quar- 
 ters, and for the first time put on the golden aigrette of chef 
 d'etat-major, not a little to the astonishment of all who saw 
 the "boy colonel," as, half in sarcasm half in praise, they 
 styled me. From an early hour of the morning till the time 
 of a late dinner, I was incessantly occupied. The staff 
 duties were excessively severe, and the number of letters to 
 be read and replied to almost beyond belief. The war had 
 again assumed something of importance in the Tyrol. Hofer 
 
532 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 and Spechbacher were at the head of considerable forces, 
 which in the fastnesses of their native mountains were more 
 than a match for any regular soldiery. The news from 
 Spain was gloomy : England was already threatening her 
 long-planned attack on the Scheldt. Whatever real impor- 
 tance might attach to these movements, the Austrian cabinet 
 made them the pretext for demanding more favorable con- 
 ditions ; and Metternich was emboldened to go so far as to 
 ask for the restoration of the empire in all its former 
 integrity. 
 
 These negotiations between the two cabinets at the time 
 assumed the most singular form which probably was ever 
 adopted in such intercourse, — all the disagreeable intelli- 
 gences and disastrous tidings being communicated from one 
 side to the other, with the mock politeness of friendly rela- 
 tions. As, for instance, the Austrian cabinet would forward 
 an extract from one of Hofer's descriptions of a victory ; to 
 which the French would reply by a bulletin of Eugene 
 Beauharnois, or, as Napoleon on one occasion did, by a 
 copy of a letter from the Emperor Alexander, filled with 
 expressions of friendship and professing the most perfect 
 confidence in his " brother of France." So far was this 
 petty and most contemptible warfare carried, that every 
 little gossip and every passing story was pressed into the 
 sei'^'ice, and if not directly addressed to the cabinet, at least 
 conveyed to its knowledge by some indirect channel. 
 
 It is probable I should have forgotten this curious feature 
 of the time, if not impressed on my memory by personal 
 circumstances too important to be easily obliterated from 
 memory. An Austrian officer arrived one morning from 
 Komorn, with an account of the defeat of Lefebre's force 
 before Schenatz, and of a great victory gained by Hofer and 
 Spechbacher over the French and Bavarians. Two thousand 
 prisoners were said to have been taken, and the French 
 driven across the Inn and in full retreat on Kuffstein. Now, 
 as I had been confined at Kuffstein, and could speak of its 
 impregnable character from actual observation, I was imme- 
 diately sent off with despatches about some indifferent 
 matter to the cabinet, with injunctions to speak freel}^ about 
 the fortress, and declare that we were perfectly confident of 
 
"SCHONBRUXN" IX 1809. 533 
 
 its security. I may mention incidentally, and as showing 
 the real character of my mission, that a secret despatch from 
 Lefebre had already reached Vienna, in which he declared 
 that he should be compelled to evacuate the Tyrol and fall 
 back into Bavaria. 
 
 "I have provided you with introductions that will secure 
 your friendly reception," said Marmont to me. "The 
 replies to these despatches will require some da^^s, durini^ 
 which you will have time to make many acquaintances 
 about the court, and if practicable to effect a very delicate 
 object." 
 
 This, after considerable injunctions as to secrecy and so 
 forth, was no less than to obtain a miniature, or a copy of 
 a miniature, of the j'Ouug archduchess, who had been so 
 dangerously ill during the siege of Vienna, and whom report 
 represented as exceedingly handsome, A good-looking 
 young fellow, a colonel of two or three and twenty, with 
 unlimited bribery, if needed, at command, should find little 
 difficulty in the mission, — at least, so Marmont assured me ; 
 and from his enthusiasm on the subject I saw, or fancied I 
 saw, that he would have had no objection to be employed in 
 the service himself. For while professing how absurd it was 
 to offer any advice or suggestion on such a subject to one 
 like myself, he entered into details, and sketched out a plan 
 of campaign that might well have made a chapter of " Gil 
 Bias." It would possibly happen, he reminded me, that the 
 Austrian court would grow suspectf ul of me, and not exactly 
 feel at ease were my stay prolonged beyond a day or two, 
 — in which case it was left entirely to my ingenuity to 
 devise reasons for my remaining ; and I was at liberty to 
 despatch couriers for instructions, and await replies, to any 
 extent I thought requisite. In fact, I had a species of 
 general commission to press into the senice whatever re- 
 sources could forward the object of my mission, success 
 being the only point not to be dispensed with. 
 
 ''Take a week, if you like, — a month, if you must, 
 Tiernay," said he to me at parting; "but, above all, no 
 failure ! mind that — no failure ! " 
 
CHAPTER LII. 
 
 " KOMORN FORTY YEARS AGO." 
 
 I DOUBT if our great Emperor dated his first despatch from 
 Sehonbrunn with a prouder sense of elevation than did I 
 write "Komorn" at the top of my first letter to Marshal 
 Marmont, detailing, as I had been directed, every incident 
 of my reception. I will not pretend to say that my com- 
 munication might be regarded as a model for diplomatic 
 correspondence ; but having since that period seen some- 
 thing of the lucubrations of great envoys and plenipos, I am 
 only astonished at my unconscious imitation of their style, 
 — blending, as I did, the objects of my mission with every 
 little personal incident, and making each trivial circumstance 
 bear upon the fortune of my embassy. 
 
 I narrated my morning interview with Prince Metternich, 
 whose courteous but haughty politeness was not a whit 
 shaken by the calamitous position of his country, and who 
 wished to treat the great events of the campaign as among 
 the transient reverses which war deals out, — on this side to- 
 day, on that to-morrow. I told that my confidence in the 
 impregnable character of Kuff stein only raised a smile, for it 
 had already been surrendered to the Tyrolese ; and I summed 
 up my political conjectui-es by suggesting that there was 
 enough of calm confidence in the minister's manner to induce 
 me to suspect that they were calculating on the support of 
 the northern powers, and had not given up the cause for lost. 
 I knew for certain that a Russian courier had arrived and 
 departed since my own coming ; and although the greatest 
 secrecy had attended the event, I ascertained the fact that 
 he had come from St. Petersburg and was returning to 
 Moscow, where the Emperor Alexander then was. Perhaps 
 I was a little piqued, I am afraid I was, at the indifference 
 
"KOMORN FORTY YEARS AGO." 535 
 
 manifested at my own presence, and the little, or indeed no, 
 importance attached to my prolonged stay ; for when I in- 
 formed Count Stadion that I should await some tidings from 
 Vienna before returning thither, he very politely expressed 
 his pleasure at the prospect of my company, and proposed 
 that we should have some partridge shooting, for which the 
 country along the Danube is famous. The younger brother 
 of this minister, Count Ernest Stadion, and a young Hunga- 
 rian magnate, Palakzi, were my constant companions. They 
 were both about my own age, but had only joined the army 
 that same spring, and were most devoted admirers of one 
 who had already won his epaulettes as a colonel in the 
 French service. They showed me every object of interest 
 and curiosity in the neighborhood, arranged parties for 
 riding and shooting, and in fact treated me in all respects 
 like a much valued guest, — well repaid, as it seemed, by 
 those stories of war and battle-fields which my own life and 
 memory supplied. 
 
 My improved health was already noticed by all, when 
 Metternich sent me a most polite message, stating that if 
 my services at Vienna could be dispensed with for a while 
 longer, it was hoped I would continue to reside where I had 
 derived such benefit, and breathe the cheering breezes of 
 Hungary for the remainder of the autumn. 
 
 It was full eight-and-twenty years later that I accidentally 
 learned to what curious circumstance I owed this invitation. 
 It chanced that the young archduchess, who was ill during 
 the siege, was lingering in a slow convalescence ; and to 
 amuse the tedious hours of her sick couch, Madame Palakzi, 
 the mother of my young friend, was accustomed to recount 
 some of the stories which I, in the course of the morning, 
 happened to relate to her son. So guardedly was all this 
 contrived and carried on that it was not, as I have said, for 
 nearly thirty years after that I knew of it; and then the 
 secret was told me by the chief personage herself, the Grand 
 Duchess of Parma. 
 
 Though nothing could better have chimed in with my plans 
 than this request, yet in reality the secret object of my 
 mission appeared just as remote as on the first day of my 
 arrival. My acquaintances were limited to some half-dozen 
 
536 :\rAURiCE tierxay. 
 
 gentlemen in waiting, and about an equal number of young 
 officers of the staff, with whom I dined, rode, hunted, and 
 shot, — never seeing a single member of the imperial f amil}^ 
 nor, stranger still, one lady of the household. In what 
 Turkish seclusion they lived ! when they ventui'ed out for air 
 and exercise, and where, were questions that never ceased to 
 torture me. It was true that all my own excm-sious had 
 been on the left bank of the river, towards which side the 
 apartment I occupied looked ; but I could scarcely suppose 
 that the right presented much attraction, since it appeared 
 to be an impenetrable forest of oak, besides that the bridge 
 which formerly connected it with the island of Komoru had 
 been cut off during the war. Of course, this was a theme 
 on which I could not dare to touch ; and as the reserve of 
 my companions was never broken regarding it, I was obliged 
 to be satisfied with my own guesses on the subject. 
 
 I had been about two months at Komorn when I was in- 
 vited to join a shooting party on the north bank of the river 
 at a place called Ercacs, — or, as the Hungarians pronounce 
 it, Ercacsh, — celebrated for the black cock, or the auerhahn, 
 one of the finest birds of the east of Europe. AU my com- 
 panions had been promising me great things when the season 
 for the sport should begin, and I was equally anxious to dis- 
 play my skill as a marksman. The scenery, too, was repre- 
 sented as surpassingly fine, and I looked foi-ward to the 
 expedition, which was to occupy a week, with much interest. 
 
 One circumstance alone damped the ardor of my enjoy- 
 ment : for some time back exercise on horseback had become 
 painful to me, and some of those evil consequences which my 
 doctor had speculated on, such as exfoliation of the bone, 
 seemed now thi-eatening me. Up to this the inconvenience 
 had gone no further than an occasional sharp pang after a 
 hard day's ride, or a dull uneasy feeling which prevented my 
 sleeping soundly at night. I hoped, however, by time, that 
 these would subside, and the natural strength of my consti- 
 tution carry me safely over every mischance. I was ashamed 
 to speak of these sj^mptoms to my companions, lest they 
 should imagine that I was onh' screening myself from the 
 fatigues of which they so freely partook ; and so I continued, 
 day after day, the same habit of severe exercise, while 
 
"KOMORN FORTY YEARS AGO." 537 
 
 feverish nights and a failing appetite made nie hourly weaker. 
 My spirits never flagged, and perhaps in this way damaged 
 me seriously, supplying a false energy long after real strength 
 had begun to give way. The w^orld, indeed, " went so well " 
 with me in all other respects that I felt it would have been the 
 blackest ingratitude against Fortune to have given way to 
 anything like discontent or repining. It was true I was far 
 from being a solitary instance of a colonel at my age, — 
 there were several such in the army, and one or two even 
 younger ; but they were unexceptionally men of family influ- 
 ence, descendants of the ancient nobility of France, for 
 whose chivalric names and titles the Emperor had conceived 
 the greatest respect ; and never in all the pomp of Louis the 
 Fomteenth's court were a Gramont, a Guise, a Rochefoucauld, 
 or a Tavanne more certain of his favorable notice. Now, I 
 was utterly devoid of all such pretensions ; my claims to 
 gentle blood, such as they were, derived from another land, 
 and I might even regard myself as the maker of my own 
 fortune. 
 
 How little thought did I bestow on my wound, as I 
 mounted my horse on that mellow day of autumn ! How in- 
 different was I to the pang that shot through me as I touched 
 the flank with my leg ! Our road led through a thick forest, 
 but over a surface of level sward, along which we galloped 
 in all the buoyancy of youth and high spirits. An occasional 
 trunk lay across our way, and these we cleared at a leap, — 
 a feat which I well saw my Hungarian friends were some- 
 what surprised to perceive gave me no trouble whatever. 
 My old habits of the riding-school had made me a perfect 
 horseman ; and, rather vain of my accomplishment, I rode 
 at the highest fences I could find. In one of these exploits 
 an acute pang shot through me, and I felt as if something 
 had given way in my leg. The pain for some minutes was 
 so intense that I could with difficulty keep the saddle, and 
 even when it had partially subsided the suffering was very 
 great. 
 
 To continue my journey in this agony was impossible; 
 and yet I was reluctant to confess that I was overcome by 
 pain. Such an acknowledgment seemed unsoldierlike and 
 unworthy, and I determined not to give way. It was no 
 use, the suffering brought on a sickly faintness that com- 
 
538 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 pletely overcame me. I had nothing for it but to turn back ; 
 60, suddenly affecting to recollect a despatch that I ought to 
 have sent off before I left, I hastily apologized to my com- 
 panions, and with many promises to overtake them by even- 
 ing I returned to Komorn. 
 
 A Magyar groom accompanied me to act as my guide ; 
 and attended b}^ this man, I slowl}^ retraced my steps towards 
 the fortress, — so slowly, indeed, that it was within an hour 
 of sunset as we gained the crest of the little ridge, from 
 which Komorn might be seen, and the course of the Danube 
 as it wound for miles through the plain. 
 
 It is always a grand and imposing scene, one of those vast 
 Hungarian plains, with waving woods and golden cornfields, 
 bounded by the horizon on every side, and marked by those 
 immense villages of twelve or even twenty thousand inhabi- 
 tants. Trees, rivers, plains, even the dwellings of the 
 people, are on a scale with which nothing in the Old AYorld 
 can vie. But even with this great landscape before me, I 
 was more struck by a small object which caught my eye as I 
 looked towards the fortress. It was a little boat, covered 
 with an awning and anchored in the middle of the stream, 
 and from which I could hear the sound of a voice singing to 
 the accompaniment of a guitar. There was a stern and 
 solemn quietude in the scene ; the dark fortress, the darker 
 river, the deep woods casting their shadows on the water, all 
 presented a strange contrast to that girlish voice and tinkling 
 melody, so light-hearted and so free. 
 
 The Magyar seemed to read what was passing in my mind, 
 for he nodded significantly, and, touching his cap in token 
 of respect, said it was the young Archduchess Maria Louisa, 
 who with one or two of her ladies enjoyed the cool of the 
 evening on the river. This was the very same princess for 
 whose likeness I was so eager, and of whom I never could 
 obtain the slightest tidings. With what an interest that bark 
 became invested from that moment ! I had more than sus- 
 pected, I had divined, the reasons of General Marmont's 
 commission to me, and could picture to myself the great 
 destiny that in all likelihood awaited her who now in sickly 
 dalliance moved her hand in the stream, and scattered tlie 
 sparkling drops in merry mood over her companions. Twice 
 or thrice a head of light-brown hair peeped from beneath 
 
"KOMORN FORTY YEARS AGO." 539 
 
 the folds of the awning, and I wondered within mj^self if it 
 were on that same brow that the greatest diadem of Europe 
 was to sit. 
 
 So intent was I on these fancies, so full of the thousand 
 speculations that grew out of them, that I paid no attention 
 to what was passing, and never noticed an object on which 
 the Hungarian's eyes were bent in earnest contemplation. A 
 quick gesture and a sudden exclamation from the man soon 
 attracted me, and I beheld, about a quarter of a mile off, an 
 enormous timber-raft descending the stream at headlong 
 speed. That the great mass had become unmanageable, and 
 was carried along • by the impetuosity of the current, was 
 plain enough, not only from the zig-zag course it took, but 
 from the wild cries and frantic gestures of the men on board. 
 Though visible to us from the eminence on which we stood, 
 a bend of the stream still concealed it from those in the boat. 
 To apprise them of their danger, we shouted with all our 
 might, gesticulating at the same time, and motioning to them 
 to put in to shore. It was all in vain ; the roar of the river, 
 which here is almost a torrent, drowned our voices, and the 
 little boat still held her place in the middle of the stream. 
 Already the huge mass was to be seen emerging from behind 
 a wooded promontory of the river side, and now then- de- 
 struction seemed inevitable. 
 
 Without waiting to reach the path, I spurred my horse 
 down the steep descent, and half falling and half plunging 
 gained the bank. To all seeming now they heard me, for 
 I saw the curtain of the awning suddenly move, and a boat- 
 man's red cap peer from beneath it. I screamed and shouted 
 with all my might, and called out, "The raft! the raft!" 
 till my throat felt bursting. For some seconds the progress 
 of the great mass seemed delaj^ed, probably by having 
 become entangled with the trees along the shore ; but now, 
 borne along by its immense weight, it swung round the 
 angle of the bank, and came majestically on, — a long, 
 white wave marking its course as it breasted the water. 
 
 They see it ! they see it ! Oh, good heavens ! are they 
 paralyzed with terror, for the boatman never moves ! A 
 wild shriek rises above the roar of the current, and yet they 
 do nothing. AThat prayers and cries of entreaty, what wild 
 imprecations I uttered, I know not ; but I am sure that 
 
540 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 reason had already left me, and nothing remained in its 
 place except the mad impulse to save them, or perish. 
 There was then so much of calculation in my mind that I 
 could balance the chances of breasting the stream on horse- 
 back or alone, — and this done, I spurred my animal over 
 the bank into the Danube. A horse is a noble swimmer 
 when he has courage, and a Hungarian horse rarely fails in 
 this quality. Heading towards the opposite shore, the gal- 
 lant beast cleared his track through the strong ciuTent, 
 snorting madly, and seeming to plunge at times against the 
 rushing waters. 
 
 I never turned my eyes from the skiff all this time, and 
 now could see the reason of what had seemed their apathy. 
 The anchor had become entangled, fouled among some 
 rocks or weeds of the river, and the boatman's efforts to lift 
 it were all in vain. I screamed and yelled to the man to 
 cut the rope ; but my cries were unheard, for he bent over 
 the gunwale, and tugged and tore with all his might. I was 
 more than fifty yards higher up the stream, and rapidly 
 gaining the calmer water under shore, when I tried to turn 
 my horse's head down the current ; but the instinct of safety 
 rebelled against all control, and the animal made straight for 
 the bank. There was then but one chance left, and taking 
 my sabre in my mouth I sprang from his back into the 
 stream. In all the terrible excitement of that dreadful 
 moment I clung to one firm purpose. The current would 
 surely carry the boat into safety if once free : I had no room 
 for any thought but this. The great trees along shore, the 
 great fortress, the very clouds overhead, seemed to fly past 
 me as I was swept along ; but I never lost sight of my pur- 
 pose ; and now, almost within my grasp, I see the boat and 
 the three figures, who are bending down over one that seems 
 to have fainted. With my last effort, I cry again to cut the 
 rope ; but his knife has broken at the handle ! I touch the 
 side of the skiff, I grasp the gunwale with one hand, and 
 seizing my sabre in the other I make one desperate cut. 
 The boat swings round to the current, the boatman's oars 
 are out, — they are saved ! My " Thank God " is like the 
 cry of a drowning man, — for I know no more. 
 
CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 A LOSS AND A GAIN. 
 
 To apologize to my reader for not strictly tracing out each 
 day of my history would be in all likelihood as great an 
 impertinence as that of the tu'esome guest, who, having kept 
 you two houi-s from your bed by his uninteresting twaddle, 
 asks you to forgive him at last for an abrupt departure. I 
 am akeady too full of gratitude for the patience that has been 
 conceded to me so far, to desire to trifle with it during the 
 brief space that is now to link us together. And believe me, 
 kind reader, there is more in that same tie than perhaps you 
 think, especially where the intercourse has been carried on, 
 and as it were fed, from month to month. In such cases 
 the relationship between him who writes and him who reads 
 assumes something like acquaintanceship, heightened by a 
 greater desire on one side to please than is usually felt in 
 the routine business of every-day life. Nor is it a light 
 reward if one can think that he has relieved a passing hour 
 of solitude or discomfort, shortened a long wintry night, or 
 made a rainy day more endurable. I speak not here of the 
 greater happiness in knowing that our inmost thoughts have 
 found their echo in far-away hearts, kindling noble emotions 
 and warming generous aspirations, teaching courage and 
 hope by the very commonest of lessons, and showing that 
 in the moral as in the vegetable world the bane and antidote 
 grow side by side ; and, as the Eastern poet has it, " He who 
 shakes the tree of sorrow is often sowing the seeds of joy." 
 Such are the triumphs of very different efforts from mine, 
 however, and I come back to the humble theme from which 
 I started. 
 
 If I do not chronicle the incidents which succeeded to the 
 events of my last chapter, it is, in the first place, because 
 
542 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 they are most imperfectly impressed upon my own memory ; 
 and, in the second, they are of a nature which, whether in the 
 hearing or the telling, can afford little pleasure. For what if 
 I should enlarge upon a text which runs but on suffering and 
 sickness, nights of feverish agony, days of anguish, terrible 
 alternations of hope and fear, ending at last in the sad, sad 
 certainty that skill has found its limit? The art of the sur- 
 geon can do more, and Maurice Tiernay must consent to 
 lose his leg ! Such was the cruel news I was compelled to 
 listen to as I awoke one morning dreaming, and for the first 
 time since my accident, of my life in Kuff stein. The injuries 
 I had received before being rescued from the Danube had 
 completed the mischief already begun, and all chance of 
 saving my limb had now fled. I am not sure if I could not 
 have heard a sentence of death with more equanimity than 
 the terrible announcement that I was to drag out existence 
 maimed and crippled, — to endure the helplessness of age 
 with the warm blood and daring passions of j^outh, and, 
 worse than all, to forego a career that was already opening 
 with such glorious prospects of distinction. 
 
 Nothing could be more kindly considerate than the mode 
 of communicating this sad announcement; nor was there 
 omitted anything which could alleviate the bitterness of the 
 tidings. The undying gratitude of the imperial family, 
 their heartfelt sorrow for my suffering, the pains they had 
 taken to communicate the whole story of my adventure to 
 the Emperor Napoleon himself, were all insisted on ; while 
 the personal visits of the archdukes, and even the Emperor 
 himself, at my sick bed were told to me with every flattery 
 such acts of condescension could convey. Let me not be 
 thought ungrateful if all these seemed but a sorry pa^mient 
 for the terrible sacrifice I was to suffer, and that the glitter- 
 ing crosses which were already sent to me in recognition, 
 and which now sparkled on my bed, appeared a poor price 
 for my shattered and wasted limb ; and I vowed to myself 
 that to be once more strong and in health I 'd change for- 
 tunes with the humblest soldier in the grand army. 
 
 After all, it is the doubtful alone can break down the mind 
 and waste the courage ; to the brave man, the inevitable is 
 always the endurable. Some hours of solitude and reflection 
 
A LOSS AND A GAIN. 543 
 
 brought this conviction to my heart, and I recalled the rash 
 refusal I had akeady given to submit to the amputation, and 
 sent word to the doctors that I was ready. My mind once 
 made up, a thousand ingenious suggestions poured in their 
 consolations. Instead of incui'ring my misfortune as I had 
 done, my mischance might have originated in some common- 
 place or inglorious accident. In lieu of the proud recogni- 
 tions I had earned I might have now the mere sympathy of 
 some fellow- sufferer in an hospital ; and instead of the Cross 
 of St. Stephen and the "valor medal" of Austria, my re- 
 ward might have been the few sous per day allotted to an 
 invalided soldier. 
 
 As it was, each post from Vienna brought me nothing but 
 flattering recognitions ; and one morning a large sealed let- 
 ter from Dm'oc conveyed the Emperor's own approval of 
 my conduct, with the cross of commander of the Legion of 
 Honor. A whole life of arduous services might have failed 
 to win such prizes, and so I struck the balance of good and 
 evil fortune, and found I was the gainer ! 
 
 Among the presents which I received from the imperial 
 family was a miniature of the young archduchess whose life 
 I saved, and which I at once despatched by a safe messen- 
 ger to Marshal Marmont, engaging him to have a copy of it 
 made and the original returned to me. I concluded that cir- 
 cumstances must have rendered this impossible, for I never 
 beheld the portrait again, although I heard of it among the 
 articles bequeathed to the Due de Reichstadt at St. Helena. 
 Maria Louisa was at that time very handsome. The upper 
 lip and mouth were, it is true, faulty, and the Austrian 
 heaviness marred the expression of these features ; but her 
 brow and eyes were singularly fine, and her hair of a 
 luxuriant richness rarely to be seen. 
 
 Count Palakzi, my young Hungarian friend, and who had 
 scarcely ever quitted my bedside during my illness, used to 
 jest with me on my admiration of the young archduchess, 
 and jokingly compassionate me on the altered age we lived 
 in, in contrast to those good old times when a bold feat or a 
 heroic action was sure to win the hand of a fair princess. I 
 half suspect that he believed me actually in love with her, 
 and deemed that this was the best way to treat such an 
 
544 IVIAURICE TIERXAY. 
 
 absurd and outrageous ambition. To amuse myself with his 
 earnestness, for such had it become, on the subject, I 
 affected not to be indifferent to his allusions, and assumed 
 all the delicate reserve of devoted admiration. Many an 
 hour have I lightened by watching the fidgety uneasiness the 
 young count felt at my folly ; for now instead of jesting, as 
 before, he tried to reason me out of this insane ambition, and 
 convince me that such pretensions were utter madness. 
 
 I was slowty convalescing, about five weeks after the 
 amputation of my leg, when Palakzi entered my room one 
 morning with an open letter in his hand. His cheek was 
 flushed, and his air and manner greatly excited. 
 
 " Would you believe it, Tiernay," said he, " Stadion writes 
 me word from Vienna that Napoleon has asked for the hand 
 of the young archduchess in marriage, and that the Emperor 
 has consented." 
 
 "And am I not considered in this negotiation?" asked I, 
 scarcely suppressing a laugh. 
 
 " This is no time nor theme for jest," said he, passionately ; 
 '• nor is it easy to keep one's temper at such a moment. A 
 Hapsburgher princess married to a low Corsican adventurer ! 
 to the — " 
 
 "Come, Palakzi," cried I, "these are not words for me 
 to listen to ; and having heard them, I may be tempted to 
 say that the honor comes all of the other side, and that he 
 who holds all Europe at his feet ennobles the dynasty from 
 which he selects his empress." 
 
 " I deny it, — fairly and fully deny it ! " cried the passion- 
 ate 3'outh. " And every noble of this land would rather see 
 the provinces of the empire torn from us than a princess of 
 the Imperial House degraded to such an alliance ! " 
 
 " Is the throne of France, then, so low? " said I, calmly. 
 
 "Not when the rightful sovereign is seated on it," said 
 he. " But are we, the subjects of a legitunate monarchy, to 
 accept as equals the lucky accidents of your Revolution? 
 By what claim is a soldier of fortune the peer of king or 
 kaiser ? I for one will never more serve a cause so degraded ; 
 and the day on which such humiliation is our lot shall be 
 the last of my soldiering ; " and so saying, he rushed 
 passionately from the room and disappeared. 
 
A LOSS AND A GAIN. 545 
 
 I mention this little incident here, not as in any way con- 
 necting itself with my own fortunes, but as illustrating what 
 I afterwards discovered to be the universal feeling enter- 
 tained towards this alliance. Low as Austria then was, — 
 beaten in every battle, her vast treasury confiscated, her 
 capital in the hands of an enemy, her very existence as an 
 empire threatened, — the thought of this insult, for such 
 they deemed it, to the Imperial House seemed to make the 
 burden unendurable ; and many who would have sacrificed 
 territory and power for a peace would have scorned to accept 
 it at such a price as this. 
 
 I suppose the secret history of the transaction will never 
 be disclosed ; but living as I did, at the time, under the same 
 roof with the royal family, I inclined to think that their 
 counsels were of a divided natm^e ; that while the emperor 
 and the younger archdukes gave a favorable ear to the 
 project, the empress and the Archduke Charles as steadily 
 opposed it. The gossip of the day spoke of dreadful scenes 
 between the members of the Imperial House, and some have 
 since asserted that the breaches of affection that were then 
 made never were reconciled in after life. 
 
 With these events of state or private history I have no 
 concern. My position and my nationality of course excluded 
 me from confidential intercourse with those capable of giving 
 correct information ; nor can I record anything beyond the 
 mere current rumors of the time. This much, however, I 
 could remark, — that all whom conviction, policy, or perhaps 
 bribery inclined to the alliance were taken into court favor, 
 and replaced in the offices of the household those whose 
 opinions were adverse. A total change, in fact, took place 
 in the persons of the royal suite ; and the Hungarian nobles, 
 many of whom filled the " hautes charges," as they are 
 called, now made way for Bohemian grandees, who were 
 understood to entertain more favorable sentiments towards 
 France. Whether in utter despair of the cause for which 
 they had suffered so long and so much, or that they were 
 willing to accept this alliance with the oldest dynasty in 
 Europe as a compromise, I am unable to say ; but so was it. 
 Many of the emigre nobility of France, the unflinching, im- 
 placable enemies of Bonaparte, consented to bury their 
 
 35 
 
54:6 MAUEICE TIERNAY. 
 
 ancieut grudges, and were now seen accepting place and 
 office in the Austrian household. This was a most artful 
 flattery of the Austrians, and was peculiarly agreeable to 
 Napoleon, who longed to legalize his position by a recon- 
 ciliation with the old followers of the Boui'bons, and who 
 dreaded their schemes and plots far more than he feared all 
 the turbulent violence of the Faubourg. In one day no 
 fewer than three French nobles were appointed to places of 
 trust in the household, and a special courier was sent off to 
 Gratz to convey the appointment of maid of honor to a 
 young French lady who lived there in exile. 
 
 Each of my countrymen on arriving came to visit me. 
 They had all known my father by name, if not personally, 
 and most graciously acknowledged nie as one of themselves, 
 — a flattery they sincerely believed above all price. 
 
 I had heard much of the overweening vanity and conceit 
 of the Legitimists, but the reality far exceeded all my 
 notions of them. There was no pretence, no affectation 
 whatever about them ; they implicitly believed that in ' ' ac- 
 cepting the Corsican," as the phrase w^ent, they were dis- 
 playing a condescension and self-negation unparalleled in 
 history. The tone of superiority thus assumed of course 
 made them seem supremely ridiculous to my e3^es, — I, who 
 had sacrificed heavily enough for the empire, and yet felt 
 myself amply rewarded. But apart from these exaggerated 
 ideas of themselves, they were most amiable, gentle-man- 
 nered, and agreeable. 
 
 The ladies and gentlemen of what was called the " ser- 
 vice " associated all together, dining at the same table, and 
 spending each evening in a handsome suite appropriated to 
 themselves. Hither some one or other of the imperial family 
 occasionally came to play his whist, or chat away an hour in 
 pleasant gossip, — these distinguished visitors never disturb- 
 ing in the slightest degree the easy tone of the society, nor 
 exacting any extraordinary marks of notice or attention. 
 
 The most frequent guest was the Archduke Louis, whose 
 gayety of temperament and easy humor induced him to pass 
 nearly every evening with us. He was fond of cards, but 
 liked to talk away over his game, and make play merely 
 subsidiary to the pleasure of conversation. As I was but 
 
A LOSS AND A GAIN. 547 
 
 an indifferent "wbister," but a most admirable auditor, I 
 was always selected to make one of his party. 
 
 It was on one of the evenings when we were so engaged., 
 and the archduke had been displaying a more than ordinary 
 flow of good spii-its and merriment, that a sudden lull in the 
 approving laughter and a general subsidence of every mur- 
 mur attracted my attention. I turned my head to see what 
 had occurred, and perceived that all the company had risen, 
 and were standing with eyes dii'ected to the open door. 
 
 " The Archduchess, your Imperial Highness! " whispered 
 an aide-de-camp to the prince, and he immediately rose 
 from the table, an example speedily followed by the others. 
 I grasped my chaii' with one hand, and with my sword in 
 the other tried to stand up, an effort which hitherto I had 
 never accomplished without aid. It was all in vain, — my 
 debility utterly denied the attempt. I tried again, but over- 
 come by pain and weakness I was compelled to abandon the 
 effort and sink down on my seat, faint and trembling. By 
 this time the company had formed into a circle, leaving the 
 Archduke Louis alone in the middle of the room, — I, to my 
 increasing shame and confusion, being seated exactly be- 
 hind where the prince stood. 
 
 There was a hope for me still, — the archduchess might 
 pass on through the rooms without my being noticed ; and 
 this seemed likely enough, since she was merely proceeding 
 to the apartments of the empress, and not to delay with us. 
 This expectation was soon destined to be extinguished ; for, 
 leaning on the arm of one of her ladies, the young princess 
 came straight over to where Prince Louis stood. She said 
 something in a low voice, and he turned immediately to offer 
 her a chair ; and there was I seated, very pale, and very 
 much shocked at my apparent rudeness. Although I had 
 been presented before to the young archduchess, she had 
 not seen me in the uniform of the Corps de Guides (in which 
 I now served as colonel), and never recognized me. She 
 therefore stared steadily at me, and turned towards her 
 brother as if for explanation. 
 
 "Don't you know him?" said the archduke, laughing; 
 "it's Colonel de Tiernay ; and if he cannot stand up, you 
 certainly should be the last to find fault with him. Pray 
 
548 MAURICE TIERNAY. 
 
 sit quiet, Tiernay," added he, pressing me down on my seat; 
 " and if you won't look so terrified, my sister will remember 
 you." 
 
 "We must both be more altered than I ever expect if I 
 cease to remember Monsieur de Tiernay," said the arch- 
 duchess, with a most courteous smile. Then leaning on the 
 back of a chair, she bent forward and inquired after my 
 health. 
 
 There was something so strange in the situation, — a 
 young, handsome girl condescending to a tone of freedom 
 and intimacy with one she had seen but a couple of times, 
 and from whom the difference of condition separated her by 
 a gulf wide as the great ocean, — that I felt a nervous tremor 
 I could not account for. Perhaps, with the tact that Roy- 
 alty possesses as its own prerogative, or perhaps with mere 
 womanly intuition, she saw how the interview agitated me, 
 and, to change the topic, she suddenly said, — 
 
 "I must present 3'ou to one of my ladies. Colonel de 
 Tiernay, a countrywoman of your own. She already has 
 heard from me the story of your noble devotion, and now 
 only has to learn your name. Remember you are to sit 
 still." 
 
 As she said this, she turned, and drawing her arm within 
 that of a young lady behind her led her forward. 
 
 "It is to this gentleman I owe my life. Mademoiselle 
 d'Estelles." 
 
 I heard no more, nor did she either; for, faltering, she 
 uttered a low, faint sigh, and fell into the arms of those 
 behind her. 
 
 "What's this Tiernay? How is all this?" whispered 
 Prince Louis ; " are you acquainted with Mademoiselle? " 
 
 But I forgot everything — the presence in which I stood, 
 the agony of a wounded leg and all, — and with a violent 
 effort sptung from my seat. Before I could approach her, 
 however, she had risen from the chair, and, in a voice broken 
 and interrupted, said, — 
 
 "You are so changed. Monsieur de Tiernay — so much 
 changed — that the shock overpowered me. We became 
 acquainted in the Tyrol, Madame," said she to the princess, 
 '* where Monsieur was a prisoner." 
 
A LOSS AND A GAIN. 549 
 
 What observation the princess made in reply I could not 
 hear, but I saw that Laura blushed deeply. To hide her 
 awkwardness perhaps it was that she hurriedly entered into 
 some account of our former intercourse, and I could observe 
 that some allusion to the Prince de Conde dropped from 
 her. 
 
 "How strange, how wonderful, is all that you tell me! " 
 said the princess, who bent forward and whispered some 
 words to Prince Louis ; and then taking Laura's arm she 
 moved on, saying in a low voice, " Au revoir, Monsieur," as 
 she passed. 
 
 "You are to come and drink tea in the archduchess's 
 apartments, Tiernay," said Prince Louis; "you'll meet 
 your old friend Mademoiselle d'Estelles, and of course you 
 have a hundred recollections to exchange with each other." 
 
 The prince insisted on my accepting his arm, and, as he 
 assisted me along, informed me that old Madame d'Aigreville 
 had been dead about a year, leaving her niece an immense 
 fortune, — at least a claim to one, — only wanting the sanc- 
 tion of the Emperor Napoleon to become valid ; for it was 
 one of the estreated but not confiscated estates of La Vendee. 
 Every word that dropped from the prince extinguished some 
 hope within me. More beautiful than ever, her rank recog- 
 nized, and in possession of a vast fortune, what chance had 
 I, a poor soldier of fortune, of success? 
 
 "Don't sigh, Tiernay," said the prince, laughing ; "you 've 
 lost a leg for us, and we must lend you a hand in return ; " 
 and with this we entered the salon of the archduchess. 
 
CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 MAURICE TIERNAY's "LAST WORD AND CONFESSION." 
 
 I HAVE been very frank with my readers in these memoirs of 
 my life. If I have dwelt somewhat vain-gloriously on pass- 
 ing moments of success, it must be owned that I have not 
 spared my vanity and self-conceit when either betrayed me 
 into any excess of folly. I have neither blinked my humble 
 beginnings, nor have I sought to attribute to my own merits 
 those happy accidents which made me what I am. I claim 
 nothing but the humble character, — a Soldier of Fortune. 
 It was my intention to have told the reader somewhat more 
 than these twenty odd years of my life embrace. Probably, 
 too, my subsequent career, if less marked by adventure, was 
 more pregnant with true views of the world and sounder 
 lessons of conduct. But I have discovered to my surprise 
 that these revelations have extended over a wider surface 
 than I ever destined them to occupy, and already I tremble 
 for the loss of that gracious attention that has been vouch- 
 safed me hitherto. I will not trust myself to say how much 
 regret this abstinence has cost me ; enough if I avow that 
 in jotting down the past I have lived my youth over again, 
 and in tracing old memories, old scenes, and old impressions, 
 the smouldering fire of my heart has shot up a transient 
 flame so bright as to throw a glow even over the chill of my 
 old age. 
 
 It is, after all, no small privilege to have lived and borne 
 one's part in stirring times ; to have breasted the ocean of 
 life when the winds were up and the waves ran high ; to 
 have mingled, however humbh^, in eventful scenes, and had 
 one's share in the mighty deeds that were to become history 
 afterwards. It is assuredly in such trials that humanity 
 comes out best, and that the character of man displays all 
 its worthiest and noblest attributes. Amid such scenes I 
 began my life, and in the midst of similar ones, if my pro- 
 phetic foresight deceive me not, I am like to end it. 
 
"LAST WORD AND CONFESSION." 551 
 
 Having said this much of and for m^'self, I am sure the 
 reader will pardon me if I am not equally communicative 
 with respect to another, and if I pass over the remainder of 
 that interval which I spent at Komorn. Even were love- 
 making — w^hich assuredly it is not — as interesting to the 
 spectator as to those engaged, I should scruple to recount 
 events which delicacy should throw a veil over ; nor am I 
 induced, even by the example of the wittiest periodical 
 writer of the age, to make a feuiUefon of my own marriage. 
 Enough that I say, despite ni}^ shattered form, my want of 
 fortune, my unattested pretension to rank or station. Made- 
 moiselle d'Estelles accepted me, and the Emperor most 
 gTaciously confirmed her claims to wealth, — thus making 
 me one of the richest and the very happiest among the 
 Soldiers of Fortune. 
 
 The Pere Delannois, now superior of a convent at Pisa, 
 came to Komorn to perform the ceremony ; and if he could 
 not altogether pardon those who had uprooted the ancient 
 monarchy of France, yet he did not conceal his gratitude to 
 him who had restored the church and rebuilt the altar. 
 
 There may be some who may deem this closing abrupt, 
 and who would wish for even a word about the bride, her 
 bouquet, and her blushes. I cannot afford to gratify so 
 laudable a curiosity ; at the same time a lurking Vanity in- 
 duces me to say that any one wishing to know more about 
 the personnel of my wife or myself has but to look at David's 
 picture, or the engraving made from it, of the Emperor's 
 marriage. There they will find, in the left hand corner, 
 partly concealed behind the Grand Duke de Berg, an officer 
 of the Guides, supporting on his arm a young and very 
 beautiful girl, herself a bride. If the young lady's looks 
 are turned with more interest on her companion than upon 
 the gorgeous spectacle, remember that she is but a few weeks 
 married. If the soldier carry himself with less of martial 
 vigor or grace, pray bear in mind that cork legs had not 
 attained the perfection to which later skill has brought them. 
 
 I have the scene stronger before me than painting can 
 depict, and my eyes fill as I now behold it in my memory. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 CALIFOR]^ 
 
7^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 BERKELEY jjS^ 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 r^'^ 
 
 9!raf■50R^'i 
 
 StP9 
 
 -t" 
 
 DEC 2 6 1968 2 
 
 ^M 
 
 9JcC^ 
 
 vo 
 
 iVJfi^^^^ 
 
 s^^^^ 
 
 16 
 
 uoAt4 oe»^ 
 
 LD 21-100to-H,'49(B7146s16)476 
 
 FEB18 19T^9 7 
 
'XLV /uM/ 
 
Illlli