Lever_Tom_Burke_of_Ours.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']

CHAPTER I.

MYSELF.

It was at the close of a cold, raw day in January ^no matter for the
year ^that the Galway mail was seen to wind its slow course through
that long and dull plain that skirts the Shannon, as you approach
the " sweet town of Athlone." The reeking box-coats and dripping
umbrellas that hung down on every side bespoke a day of heavy rain,
while the splashed and mud-stained panels of the coach bore token of
cut-up roads, which the jaded and toil-worn horses amply confirmed*
If the outsides, with hats pressed firmly down, and heads bent against
the cutting wind, presented an aspect far from comfortable, those
within, who peeped with difficulty through the dim glass, had little to
charm the eye; their flannel nightcaps and red comforters were only
to be seen at rare intervals, as they gazed on the dreary prospect, and
then sunk back into the coach, to con over their moody thoughts, or if
fortunate, perhaps to doze.

In the rumble, with the guard, rode one, whose burly figure and
rosy cheeks seemed to feel no touch of the inclement wind that made
his companions crouch. An oiled-silk foraging-cap, fastened beneath
the chin, and a large mantle of blue cloth bespoke him a soldier, if
even the assured tone of his voice, and a certain easy carriage of his
head, had not conveyed to the acute observer the same information.

Unsubdued in spirit, undepressed in mind either by the long day of
pouring rain, or the melancholy outline of country on every side, his
dark eye flashed as brightly from beneath the brim of his cap, and his
ruddy face beamed as cheerily, as though nature had put forth her
every charm of weather and scenery to greet and delight him.

Now inquiring of the guard of the various persons whose property
lay on either side the name of some poor hamlet, or some hunible
village, now humming to himself some stray verse of an old cam^
paigning song, he passed his time, diversifying these amusements by a
courteous salute to a gaping country girl, as with unmeaning look she

6 OUR ME88.

Stared at the passing coach. But his principal occupation seemed to
consist in retaining one ^ing of his wide cloak around the figure of a
little boy, who lay asleep beside him, and whose head jogged heavily
against his arm with every motion of the coach.

'* And so that's Athlone, yonder, you tell me," said the captain, for
such he was. " The sweet town of Athlone, ochone I Well, it might
be worse. Tve passed ten years in Africa on the burning coiist,
as thf^y call it : you never light a fire to cook your victuals, but
only lay them before the sun for ten minutes, game something less,
and the joint's done ; all true, by Jove I Lie still, my young friend,
or youll heave us both over! And whereabouts does he live,
guard ?"

" Something like a mile and a half from here," replied the gruff guard.

" Poor little fellow, he's sleeping it out well. They certainly don't
take over much care of him, or they'd never have sent him on the top
of a coach, in weather like this, without even a great coat to cover hira.
I say, Tom, my lad, wake up, you're not far from home now. Are
you dreaming of the plumb-pudding, and the pony, and the big
spaniel eh ?"

Whisht r said the guard, in a low whisper. ** The chap's father
is dying, and they've sent for him from school to see him."

A loud blast of the horn now awoke me thoroughly from the half-
dreamy slumber in which I had listened to the previous dialogue, and
I sat up and looked about me. Yes, reader, my unworthy self it was,
who was then indulging in as pleasant a dream of home and holidays as
ever blessed even a schoolbo3''s vigils. Though my eyes were open, it was
some minutes before 1 could rally myself to understand where 1 was,
and with what object. My senses were blunted by cold, and my
drenched limbs were cramped and stiffened ; for the worthy captain,
to whose humanity I owed the share of his cloak, had only joined ihe
coach late in the day, and during the whole morning I had been
exposed to the most pitiless downpoiu* of rain and sleef.

" Here you are I" said the rough guard, as the coach drew up to let
me down. '^ No need of blowing the horn here, I suppose."

This was said in allusion to the miserable appearance of the ruined
cabin that figured as my father's gate lodge, where some naked chil-
dren were seen standing before the door, looking with astouishiiient at
the coach and passengers.

' Well, good-by, my little man. I hope you'll find the governor
better. Give him my respects ; and, hark ye, if ever you come over
to Athlone don't forget to come and see me Captain Bubbleton
George Frederic Augustus Bubbleton, 45th regiment, or when at home.
Little Bubbleton, Herts and Bungalow Hut, in the Caruatic ; that's
the mark ; so good-by good-by."

I waved my hand to him in adieu, and then turned to enter the gate.

" Well, Freney," said I to a half-dressed, wild-looking figure tliat
rushed out to lift the gate open, for the hinges had been long broken,
and it was attached to the pier by some yards of strong rope, ** how is
my father?**

TOM BtmaS 0 "OUKS* 7

A gloomy nod and a discouraging sign with his open hanu, was the
only reply.

" Is there any hope ?" said I faintly.

" Sorrow one of me knows. I darn't go near the house. I was
sarved with notice to quit a month ago, and they tell him I'm gone.
Oh, vo vo I what's to become of us all V

1 threw the bag, which contained my humble wardrobe, on my shoul-
der, and, without waiting for further questioning, walked forward.
Night was falling fast, and nothing short of my intimacy with the
place from infancy could have enabled me to nnd my way. The
avenue, from long neglect and disuse, was completely obliterated ; the
fences were broken up to burn ; the young trees had mostly shared the
same fate ; the cattle strayed at will through the plantations, and all
bespoke utter ruin and destruction.

If the scene around me was sad, it only the better suited my own
heart. I was returning to a home where I had never heard the voice
of kindness or affection ; where one fond word, one look of welcome
had never met me. I was returning, not to receive the last blessing of
a loving parent, but merely sent for, as a necessary ceremony on the
occasion. And perhaps there was a mock propriety in inviting me
once more to the house which I was never to revisit. My father, a
widower for many years, had bestowed all his affection on my elder
brother, to whom so much of his property as had escaped the geTieral
wreck was to descend. He had been sent to Eton under the guidance of
a private tutor, while an obscure Dublin school was deemed good enough
for me. For him every nerve was strained to supply all his boyish
extravagance, and enable him to compete with the sons of men of high
rank and fortune, whose names, mentioned in his letters home, were an
ample recompense for all the lavish expenditure their intimacy entailed.
My letters were few and brief; their unvaried theme, the delay in the
last quarter's payment, or the unfurnished condition of my little trunk,
which more than once exposed me to the taunts of my schoolfellows.

He wiis a fair and delicate boy, timid in manner, and retiring in
disposition ; I a browned-faced varlet, who knew every one from the
herd to the high-sheriff. To "him the servants were directed to look
up as the head of the house, while I was consigned either to total
neglect, or the attentions of those who only figured ^ supernumeraries
in our army list

Yet, with all these sources of jealousy between us, we loved each
other tenderly. George pitied " poor 1 ommy," as he called me, and
for that very pity my heart clung to him. He would often undertake
to plead my cause for those bolder infractions his gentle nature never
ventured on ; and it was only when from long association with boys of
superior rank, whose habits and opinions he believed to be s andards
for his imitation, that at length a feeling of estrangement grew up
between us, and we learned to look somewhat coldly on each otht-r.

From these brief details it will not be wondered at if 1 turiied home-
ward with a heavy heart. From the hour I received the letter of my
recall which was written by my father's attorney in most concise and

8 OUR MS8C.

legal phrase I had scarcely ceased to shed tears ; for so it is, there is
something in the very thought of being left an orphan, friendless and
unprotected, quite distinct from the loss of affection and kindness,
which overwhelms the young heart with a very flood of wretchedness $
besides, a stray word or two of kindness had now and then escaped
my father towards me, and I treasured these up as my richest pos-
session. I thought of them over and over; many a lonely night,
when my heart has been low and sinking, I repeated them to my-
self, like talismans against grief, and when I slept my dreams would
dwell on them, and make my waking happy.

As I issued from a dark copse of beech trees the indistinct outline
of the old house met my eye. I could trace the high-pitched roof, the
tall and pointed gables, against the sky ; and with a strange sense of
undefinable fear beheld a solitary light that twinkled from the window
of an upper room, where my father lay ; the remainder of the building
was in deep shadow.

I mounted the long flight of stone steps that led to what once had
been a terrace, but the ballustrades were broken many a year ago, and
even the heavy granite stone had been smashed in several places. The
hall-door lay wide open, and the hall itself had no other light save
such as the flickering of a wood Are afforded, as its uncertain flashes
fell upon the dark wainscot and the floor.

I had just recognised the grim, old-fashioned portraits that covered
the walls, when my eye was attracted by a figure near the fire. I
approached, and beheld an old man doubled with age, his bleared eyes
were bent upon the wood embers, which he was trying to rake together
with a stick. His clothes bespoke the most miserable poverty, and
afforded no protection against the cold and cutting blast He was
croning some old song to himself as I drew near, and paid no attention
to me. I moved round so as to let the light fall on his face, and then
perceived it was old Lanty, as he was called. Poor fellow! age and
neglect had changed him sadly since I had seen him last. He had
been the huntsman of the family for two generations, but having some-
how displeased my father one day at the cover, he rode at him and
struck him on the head with his loaded whip. The man fell senseless
from his horse, and was carried home. A few days, however, enabled
him to rally and be about again, but his senses had left him for ever.
All recollection of the unlucky circumstance had faded from his mind,
and his rambling thoughts dwelt on his old pursuits, so that he passed*
his days about the stables, looking after the horses, and giving direc-
tions about them. Latterly he had become too infirm for this, and
never left his own cabin ; but now, from some strange cause, he had
come up to " the house," and was sitting by the fire as I found him.

They who know Ireland will acknowledge the strange impulse which
at the approach of death seems to excite the people to congregate
about the house of mourning. The passion for deep and powerful
excitement, the most remarkable feature in their complex nature, seems
to revel in the details of sorrow and suffering. Not content even with
the tragedy before them, they call in the aid of superstition to heighten

TOM BDRKE OF " OURS." 9

the awfulness of the scene, and every story of ghost and banshee is
conned over in tones that need not the occasion to make them thrill
upon the heart. At such a time the deepest workings of their wild
spirits ar^revealed. Their grief is low and sorrow-struck, or it is loud
and passionate : now breaking into some plaintive wail over the virtues
of the departed ; now bursting into a frenzied appeal to the Father of
Mercies, as to the justice of recalling those from earth who were its
blessing ; while, stranger than all, a dash of reckless merriment will
break in upon the gloom, but it is like the red lightning through the
storm, that as it rends the cloud, only displays the havoc and desolation
around, and at its parting leaves even a blacker darkness behind it.

From my infancy I had been familiar with scenes of this kind ; ana
my habit of stealing away unobserved from home to witness a country
wake had endeared me much to the country people, who felt this no
small kindness from ^' the master's son." Somehow the ready welcome
and attention I always met with, had worked on my young heart, and I
learned to feel all the interest of these scenes fully as much as those about
me. It was then with a sense of desolation that I looked upon the one
solitary mourner, who now sat at the hearth ^that poor old idiot man
who gazed on vacancy, or muttered with parched lip some few words
to himself ; that he alone should be found to join his sorrows to ours,
seemed to me like utter destitution, and as I leaned against the chimney
I burst into tears.

" Don't cry, alannah, don't cry," said the old man : " it's the worst
way at all.' Get up again and ride liim at it bould. Oh, vo, look at
where the thief is taking now along the stone wall there.*' Here he
broke out into a low wailing dittty

" And the fox set him down and looked about,
And many were feared to follow.
* Maybe I'm wrong,' says he, * but I doubt
That you'll be as gay to-morrow.
[For loud as you cry, and high as you ride.

And little you feel my sorrow,
111 be free on the mountain -side,
While you'll lie low to-morrow.*

Oh, Moddideroo, aroo, aroo.

Ay, just so ^they'll run to earth in the could churchyard Whisht

hark there soho, soho that's Badger I hear "

I turned away with a bursting heart, and felt my way up the broad
oak stair, which was left in complete darkness. As I reached the
corridor, off which the bed-rooms lay, I heard voices talking together
in a low tone they came from my father's room, the door of which
lay ajar. I approached- noiselessly and peeped in. By the fire, which
was the only light now in the apartment, sat ewo persons at a small table,
one of whom I at once recognised as the tall solemn-looking figure of
Doctor Finnerty ; the other I detected by the sharp tones of his voice
to be Mr. Anthony Basset, my father's confidential attorney.

On the table before them lay a mass of papers, parchments, leases,
deeds, together with glasses and a black bottle, whose accompaniments

10 oun MESS.

of hot water and sugar, left no doubt as to its contents. The chimney-
piece was crowded with a range of vials and medicine bottles, some of
them empty, some of them half finished. From the bed in the corner
of the room came the heavy sounds of snoring respiration, which either
betokened deep sleep or insensibility* If 1 enjoyed but little favour
in my father's house, I owed much of the coldness shown to me to the
evi[ influence of the very two persons who sat before me in conclave.
Of the precise source of the doctor's dislike 1 was not quite clear,
except perhaps that 1 recovered from the measles when he predicted
my certain death ; the attorney's was, however, no mystery. About
three years before he had stopped to breakfast at our house on his way
to Ballinasloe fair. As his pony was led round to the stable it caught
my eye. It was a most tempting bit of horseflesh, full of spirit and in
top condition, for he was going to sell it. I followed him round, and
appeared just as the servant was about to unsaddle him. The attorney
was no favourite in the house, and I had little difficulty in persuading
the man, instead of taking off the saddle, merely to shorten the stirrups
to the utmost limit. The next minute I was on his back flying over
the lawn at a stretching gallop. Fences abounded on all sides, and I
rushed him at double ditches, stone walls, and bog-wood rails, with a
mad delight that at every leap rose higher. After about three quarters
of an hour thus passed, his blood, as well as my own, being by this
time thoroughly roused, I determined to try him at the wall of an old
pound, which stood some few hundred yards from the front of the
house. Its exposure to the window, at any other time, would have
deterred me from even the thought of such an exploit, now I was quite
beyond the pale of such cold calculations, besides that I was accom-
panied by a select party of all the labourers, with their wives and
children, whose praises of my horsemanship would have made me take
the lock of a canal if befort me. A fine gallop of grass sward led to
the pound, and over this I went, cheered with as merry a cry as ever
stirred a light heart. One glance I threw at the house as I drew near
the leap; the window of the breakfast parlour was open, my father
and Mr. Basset were both at it ; 1 saw their fares red with passion, I
heard their loud shout ; my very spirit sickened within me I saw no
more ; I felt the pony rush at the wall the quick stroke of his feet
the rise the plunge and then a crash and I was sent spinning
over his head some half dozen yards, ploughing up the ground on face
and hands. I was carried home with a broken head ; the pony's
knees were in the same condition. My father said that he ought to
be shot for humanity's sake ; Tony suggested the same treatment for
me, on similar grounds. The upshot, however, was, I secured an enemy
for life, and worse still, one whose power to injure was equalled by his
inclination.

Into the company of these two worthies I newfound myself thus
accidentally thrown, and would gladly have retreated at once, but
that some indescribable impulse to be near my fathers sick bed was
on me, and so I crept stealthily in and sat down in a large chair
at the foot of the bed, where unnoticed I lisleued tc the long*

^J2^a^c^ a.9z^\~yAyzMos ^pz me- ^-^-tz^ppi/^ z r/ 1 ^ -v-v/^ .

i

^

TOM BI7BKE OF " OURS." 11

drawn hearings of his chest, and in silence wept over my own desolate
condition.

For a long time the absorbing nature of my own grief prevented me
hearing the muttered conversation near the fire; but at length, as the
night wore on, and my sorrow had found vent in tears, I began to listen
to the dialogue beside me.

" He'll have five hundred pounds under his grandfather's will in
spite of us ; but what's that?" said the attorney.

"Til take him as an apprentice for it, 1 know," said the doctor,
with a grin that made me shudder.

" That's settled already," replied Mr. Basset " He's to be articled
to me for five years ; but I think it's likely he'll go to sea before the
time expires. ^How heavily the old man is sleeping I Now, is that
natural sleep ?"

**No; that's always a bad sign: that puffing with the lips is ge-
nerally among the last symptoms. Well, he'll be a loss anyhow^ when
he's gone. There's an eight-ounce mixture he never tasted yet infu-
sion of gentian, with soda. Put your lips to that."

" Devil a one o' me will ever sup the like," said the attorney, finiishing
his tumbler of punch as he spoke. " Pheugh I how can you drink them
things that way ?"

*' Sure it's ttie compound infusion made with orange peel and carda-
mom seeds. There isn't one of them didn't cost two-and-ninepence.
He'll be eight weeks in bed come Tuesday next."

" Well, well ! If he lived till the next assizes, it would be telling
me four hundred pounds, not to speak of the costs of two ejectments
I have in hand against Mullins and his father-in-law*"

"It's a wcnder," said the doctor, after a pause^ *'that Tom didn't
eome by the coach. It's no matter now, at any rate ; for since the
eldest son's away, there's no one here to interfere with us."

" It was a masterly stroke of yours, doctt)r, to tell the old man the
weatlier was too severe to bring George over from Eton. As sure as
he came, he'd make up matters wiih Tom ; and the end of it would be,
I'd lose the agency, and ) ou wouldn't have those pleasant Lttle bills for
the tenantry eh, Fin ?"

**Whislit ! he's waking now Well, sir well, Mr. Biuke, how do

you feel, now ? He's off again."

" The funeral ought to be on a Sunday," said Basset in a whis| er.
*' There 'ill be no getting the people to come any other day. lie'^
saying something, 1 think."

*' hni," said uiy taiher, in a faint hoarse voice,^ " Fin, give me a
drink It's not warm."

" Yis, sir : 1 had it on the fire."

"Well, ilitn, it's myself I hat's growing cold. How's the pulse now,
Fai ? is the Dublin doctor come yet r"

' No, sir ; we're expecting ii ui every minute ; but .ure, ycu know,
we're doing every thing."

"Oh I 1 know it. Yes, to be sure. Fin; but they've many a new
thing up in Dublin, there, we don't hear of. Whisht ! what's that ?"

12 OUR MESS.

"It'll Tony, sir Tony Basset: he's sitting up with me.**

* Come over here, Tony. Tony, I'm going fast I feel it, and ray
heart is low. Could we withdraw the proceedings about Freney ?"

" He's the biggest blackguard ""

" Ah ! no matter now ^I'm going to a place where we'll all need
mercy. What was it that Canealy said he'd give for the land ?"

Two pound ten an acre and Freney never paid thirty shillings
out of it."

" It's mighty odd George didn't come over."

** Sure I told you there was two feet of snow on the ground."

^ Lord be about us I what a severe season ! But why isn't Tom
here ?" I started at the words, and was about to rush forward, when
he added " I don't want him, though."

"X)f course you don't," said the attorney. " It's little comfort he
ever gave you. Are you in pain there ?"

* Ay, great pain over my heart Well, well ! don't be hard to him
when I'm gone."

Don't let him talk so much," said Basset in a whisper to the
doctor.

" You must compose yourself, Mr. Burke," said the doctor. " Try
and take a sleep. The night isn't half through yet."

The sick man obeyed without a word, and soon after the heavy
respiration betokened the same lethargic slumber once more.

The voices of the speakers gradually fell into a low monotonous
sound the long-drawn breathings from the sick-bed mingled with them:
the fire only sent forth an occasional gleam, as some piece of falling turf
seemed to revive its wasting life, and shot up a myriad of bright sparks ;
and the chirping of the cricket in the chimney corner sounded to my
mournful heart like the tick of the death-watch.

As I listened, my tears fell fast ; and a gulping fulness in my throat
made me feel like one in suffocation. But deep sorrow, somehow, tends
to sleep. The weariness of the long day and dreary night, exhaustion,
the dull hum of the subdued voices, and the faint Hght all combined
to make me drowsy, and I fell into a heavy slumber. i

I am writing now of the far-off past of the long years agd, of my
youth since which my seared heart has had many a sore and scalding j

lesson ; yet I cannot think of that night, fixed and graven as it lies in
my memory, without a touch of boyish softness. I remember every
waking thought that crossed my mind ^my very dream is still before me.
It was of my mother. I thought of her, as she lay on a sofa in the old
drawing-room, the window open, and the blinds drawn the gentle
breeze of a June morning flapping them lazily to and fro, as I knelt
beside her to repeat my little hymn, the first I ever learned ; and
how at each moment my eyes would turn and my thoughts stray to
that open casement, through which the odoiur of flowers and the sweet
song of birds were pouring ; and my little heart was panting for
liberty, while her gentle smile and faint words bade me remember where
1 was. And then I was straying away through the old garden, where
the very sun-light fell scantily through the thick-woven branches.

TOM BUAKfi OF CUBS.*' 13

loaded with perfumed blossom: the blackbirds hopped fearlessly from
twig to twig, mingling their clear notes with the breezy murmur of the
leaves, and the deep hum of summer bees. How happy was I then !
and why cannot such happiness be lasting ? Why can we not shelter
ourselves from the base contamination of worldly cares, and live on
amid pleasures pure as these, with hearts as holy and desires as simple
as in childhood?

Suddenly a change came over my dream, and the dark clouds began
to gather from all quarters, and a low, creeping wind moaned heavily
along. I thought I heard my name called. I started and awoke. For
a second or two the delusion was so strong that I could not remember
where I was ; bat as the grey light of a breaking morning fell through
the half-open shutters, I beheld the two figures near the fire. They
were both sound asleep, the deep-drawn breathing and nodding heads
attesting the heaviness of their slumber.

I felt cold and cramped, but still afraid to stir, although a longing
to approach the bed-side was still upon me. A faint sigh and some
muttered words here came to my ear, and I listened. It was my father;
but so indistinct the sounds, they seemed more like the ramblings of a
dream. I crept noiselessly on tiptoe to the bed, and, drawing the cur-
tain gently over, gazed within. He was lying on his back, his hands
and arms outside the clothes. His beard had grown so much, and he
had wasted so far, that I could scarcely have known him. His eyes
were wide open, but fixed on the top of the bed ; his lips moved rapidly,
and, by his hands, as they were closely clasped, I thought it was in
prayer. I leaned over him, and placed my hand in his. For some
time he did not seem to notice it, but at last he pressed it softly, and,
rubbing the fingers to and fro, he said in a low, faint voice

" Is this your hand, my boy ?"

I thought my heart had split, as, in a gush of tears, I bent down and
kissed him.

** I can't see well, my dear ^there's something between me and the
light, and a weight is on me ^here ^here **

A heavy sigh, and a shudder that shook his whole frame, followed
these words.

They told me I wasn't to see you once again," said he, as a sickly
smile played over his mouth " but I knew you'd come to sit by me.
It's a lonely thing not to have one's own at such an hour as this. Don't
weep, my dear ^my own heart's failing me fast."

A broken, muttering sound followed, and then he said, in a loud
voice

I never did it! It was Tony Basset. He told me, he persuaded
me ah ! that was a sore day when I listened to him. Who's to tell
me I'm not to be master of my own estate ? Turn them adrift, ay,
every man of them. I'll weed the ground of such wretches eh, Tony?
Did any one say Freney's mother was dead ? They may wake her at the
cross roads, if they like. Poor old Molly ! I'm sorry for her, too. Sha
nursed me and my sister that's gone ; and maybe her death-bed, poor sa
she was, was easier than mine will be ^without kith or kin, child or

14 OUR MESS.

friend. Oh, George ! and I that doated on you with aH my heart 1
Whose hand's this ? Ah, I forgot, my darling boy ^it's you. Come to
me here, my child. Wasn't it for you that 1 toiled ana scraped this
many a year ? wasn't it for you that I did all this, and O God forgive
me ! maybe it's my soul that I've perilled to leave you a rich man*
Where's Tom ? where's that fellow now ?

" Here, sir," said I, squeezing his hand, and pressing it to my lips.

He sprang up at the words, and sat up in his bed, his eyes dilated t6
their widest, and his pale lips parted asunder.

" Where ?" cried he, as he felt me over ^vith his thin fingers, and dre^r
me towards him.

" Here, father, here.**

** And is this Tom ?'* said he. as his voice fell into a low, hollow
sound, and then added " Where's George ? Answer me at once.
Oh, I see it. He isn't here ; he wouldn't come over to see his old father.
Tony ! Tony Basset, I say !" shouted the sicit man in a voice that
roused the sleepers, and brought them to his bedside " open that
window there. Let me look out do it as I bid you open it wide.
Turn in all the cattle you can find on the road. Do you hear me,
Tony? Drive them in from every side. Finnerty, I say, mind my

words, for " liere he uttered a most awful and terrific oath " as

I linger on this side of the grave, I'll not leave him a blade of grass
I can take from him."

His chest heaved with a convulsive spasm, his face became pale aft
death, his eyes fixed, he clutched eagerly at tlie bed-clothes, and then,
with a horrible cry, he fell back upon the pillow, as a faint stream of
red blood trickled from his nostril, and ran down his cliin.

" It's all over now,'* whispered the doctor.

** Is he dead ?" said Basset.

The other made no reply ; but drawing the curtains close, be turned
away ; and they both moved noiselessly from the room.

L

TOM BUKIUS OF ' OCAS.' 15

CHAPTER II.

1ARBY THE "BLAST.'*

If there are dreams which by their vividness and accaraey of detail
seem altogether like reality, so are there certain actual passages in our
lives which, in their indistinctness while occurring, and in the faint ini*
pression they leave behind them, seem only as mere dreams. Most of
our early sorrows are of this kind. The warm current of our young
hearts would appear to repel the cold touch of affliction ; nor can grief
at this period do more than breathe an icy chill upon the surface of our
affections, where all is glowing and fervid beneath. The struggle,
then, between the bounding heart and the depressing care^ renders our
impressions of grief vague and ill-defined.

A stunning sense of some great calamity, some sorrow without hope,
mingled in my waking thoughts with a childish notion of freedom.
Unloved, uncared for, my early years presented but few pleasures.
My boyhood had been a long struggle to win some mark of affection
from one who eared not for me, and to whom still my heart had clung,
as does the drowning man to the last plank of all the wreck. The tie
that bound me to him was now severed, and I was without one in the
wide world to look up to or to love.

I looked out from my window upon the bleak country. A heavy
snow-storm had fallen during the night. A lowering sky of leaden hue
stretched above the dreary landscape, across which no living thing was
seen to move. Within doors all was silent. The doctor and the
attorney had both taken their departure. The deep wheel- track in
the snow marked the road they had followed. The servants, seated
around the kitchen fire, conversed in low and broken whispers. The
only sound that broke the stillness was the ticking of the clock upon
the stair. There was something that smote heavily on my heart in the
monotonous ticking of that clock, that told of time passing beside him
who had gone ^that seemed to speak of minutes close to one whose
minutes were eternity. I crept into the room where the dead body lay,
and as my tears ran fast. I bent over it. I thought sometimes the
expression of those cold features changed now frowning heavily, now
smiling blandly on me. I watched them till in my eager gaze the lips
seemed to move, and the cheek to flush. How hard is it to believe
in death I how difficult to think that " there is a sleep that knows no|
waking." I knelt down beside the bed and prayed. I prayed that now,
AS all of earth was nought to him who was departed, he would give m^
the affection he had not bestowed in life. I besought him not to chill
the heart that In its lonely desolation Lad neither home nor friend*
My throat sobbed to bursting as in my words I seemed to realize the

I

16 oua MESS. ^

fulness' of my affliction. The door opened behind me, as with bent
down head I knelt. A heavy footstep slowly moved along the floor,
and the next moment the tottering figure of old Lanty stood beside
me, gazing on the dead man. There was that look of vacancy in his
filmy eye that showed he knew nothing of what had happened.

"Is he asleep, Master Tommy?" said the old man in a faint ;

whisper. i

My lips trembled, but I could not speak the word. f

"I thought he wanted the 'dogs' up at Meelif ; but I'm strained
here about the loins, and can't go out myself. Tell hmx that, when he

wakes " 1

He'll never wake now, Lanty he's dead," said I, as a rush of
tears iialf choked my utterance.

** Dead l" said he, repeating the word two or three times. " Dead !
Well, well, I wonder will Master George keep the dogs now. There
seldom comes a better ; and 'twas himself that liked the cry o' them." ,

He tottered from the room as he spoke, and I could hear him mut-
tering the same words over and over as he crept slowly down the |
stair.

I have said that this painful stroke of fortune was as a dream to me,
and so for three days I felt it. The altered circumstances of every
thing about me were inexplicable to my puzzled brain. The very
kindness of the servants so unusual to me struck me forcibly. They
felt that the time was past when any sympathy for me had been the
passport to disfavour, and they pitied me.

The funeral took place on the third morning. Mr. Basset having
acquainted my brother that there was no necessity for his presence,
even that consolation was denied me, to meet him who alone remained
of all my name and house belonging to me. How I remember every
detail of that morning. The silence of the long night broken in
upon by heavy footsteps ascending the stairs strange voices, not sub-
dued like those of all in our little household, but loud and coarse
even laughter I could hear the noise increasing at each moment.
Then the muffled sound of wheels upon the snow, and the cries of the
drivers as they urged their horses forward. Then a long interval, in
which nought was heard save the happy whistle of some poor postillion,
who, careless of his errand, whiled away the tedious time with a lively
tune. And, lastly, there came the dull noise of feet moving step by
step down the stair, the muttered words, the shuffling sound of feet as
they descended, and the clank of the coffin as it strucj^ against the wall.

The long low parlour was filled with people, few of whom I had
ever seen before. They were broken up into little knots, chatting cheer-
fully together, while they made a hurried breakfast. The table and
sideboard were covered with a profusion I had never witnessed pre-
viously. Decanters of wine passed freely from hand to hand ; and
although the voices fell somewhat as I appeared amidst them, I looked
in vain for one touch of sorrow for the dead, or even respect for his
memory.

As I took my place in the carriage beside the attorney, a kind of

TOM BURiOE OP ' OtJBS.*' /7

dreamy apathy settled down on me, and I scarcely knew what was
passing. I only remember the horrible shrinking sense of dread with
which I recoiled from his one attempt at consolation, and the abrupt
way in which he desisted, and tm*ned to converse with the doctor.
How my heart sickened as we drew near the churchyard, and I beheld
the open gate that stood wide awaiting us. The dusky figures, with
their mournful black cloaks, moved slowly across the snow, like spirits
of some gloomy world ; while the death-bell echoed in my ears, and
sent a shuddering through my frame. * * *

* HtJlejifjie

"What is to become of the second boy ?" said the plergyman in a
low whisper, but which by some strange fatality struck forcibly on my
ear.

" It's not much matter," replied Basset still lower ; " for the pre-
sent, he goes home with me. Tom, I say, you come back with me
to-day."

" No," said I boldly, Til go home again."

" Home !" repeated he with a scornful laugh " Home ! And where
may that be, youngster ?"

"For shame, Basset," said the clergyman, "don't speak that way
to him. My little man, you can't go home to-day. Mr. Basset will
take you with him for a few days, until your late father's will is knovn,
and his wishes respecting you."

" I'll go home, sir," said I, but in a fainter tone, and with tears in
iny eyes.

" Well, well, let him do so for to-day, it may relieve his poor heart.
Come, 'basset, I'll take him back myself."

I clasped his hand as he spoke, and kissed it over and over.

" With all my heart," cried Basset. ** I'll come over and fetch
him to-morrow ;" and then he added in a lower tone, " and before
that you'll have found out quite enough to be heartily sick of your
charge."

All the worthy vicar's efforts to rouse me from my stupor or interest
me, failed. He brought me to his house, where, amid his own happy chil-
dren, he deemed my heart would have yielded to the sympathy of my own
age ; but I pined to get back ^I longed, why I knew not, to be in my
own little chamber, alone with my grief. In vain he tried every conso-
lation his kind heart and his Ufe's experience had taught him. The
very happiness I witnessed, but reminded me of my own state, and I
pressed the more eagerly to return.

It was late when he drew up to the door of the house, to which
already the closed window-shutters had given a look of gloom and
desertion. We knocked several times before any one came, and at
length two or three heads appeared at an upper window, in half terror
at the unlooked-for summons for admission.

" Good-by, my dear boy," said the vicar, as he kissed me ; " don*t
forget what I have been telling you. It will make you bear your pre
sent sorrow better, and teach you to be happier when it is over."

MSS| wo. XIV- ^VOL. II. C

18 OUR MESS.

Come down to tbe kitchen, alannal^ " said the old cook, as the hall*
door closed ; '* come down and sit with us there : sure it's no wonder
your heart 'ud be low.**

** Yes, Master Tommy, and Darby ' the blast* is there, and a tune
an the pipes will raise you.**

I suffered myself to be led along listlessly between them to the
kitchen, where, around a huge fire of red turf, the servants of the
house were all assembled, together with some neighbouring cottagers ;
Darby ** the blast" occupying a prominent place in the party, his pipes
laid across his knees, as he employed himself in concocting a smoking
tumbler of punch

" Your most obadient,** said Darby, with a profound reverence^ as I
entered. ^ May I make so bowld as to surmise that my presence isn't
unsaysonable to your feelins; for I wotddn't be contumacious
enough to adjudicate without your honour's permission ?"

What I muttered in reply I know not ; but the whole party ware
speedily reseated, every eye turned admiringly on Darby for the very
neat and appropriate expression of his apology.

Young as I was, and slight as had been the consideration heretofore
accorded me, there was that in the lonely desolation of my condition
which awakened all their sympathies, and directed all their interests
towards me: and in no country are the differences of rank such slight
barriers in excluding the feeling of one portion of the community from
the sorrows of the others. Thd Irish peasant, however humble, seems
to possess an intuitive tact on this subject, and to minister all the
consolations in his power with a gentle delicacy that cannot bo
surpassed.

The silence caused by my appearing among them was unbroken for
some time after I took my seat by the fire ; and the only sounds were
the clinking of a spoon against the glass, or the deeprdrawn sigh of
some compassionate soul, as she wiped a stray tear from the corner of
her eye with her apron.

Darby alone manifested a little impatience at the sudden change in a
party where his powers of agreeability had so lately been successful,
and fidgeted on his chair, unscrewed his pipes, blew into them, screwed
them on again, and then slily nodded over to the housemaid, as he
raised his glass to his lips.

' Never mind me," said I to the old cook, who, between grief and
the glare of a turf fire had her face swelled out to twice its natural
size. " Never mind me, Molly, or I'll go away.**

"And why would you, darlin*? Troth, not sure there's nobody
feels for you like them that was always about you. Take a cup of tay,
alannah ^it *ill do you good."

". Yes, Master Tom,' said the butler; "you never tasted any thing
since Tuesday night."

" Do, sir, av ye plaze ?" said the pretty housemaid as she stood
before me, cup in hand.

" Arrah I what's tay ?" said Darby) in a contemptuous tone of voie?:
a few dirty laves, with a drop of water on top of thenii that has.

TOM BURKB OP " OURS." 19

neither beatification not invigoration* Here*s the ^fons anitniP " said
he, patting the whiskey-bottle affectionately. " Did ye ever hear of the
ancients indulging in tay ! D'ye think Polyphamus and Jupither took
tay !"

The cook looked down abashed and ashamed.

" Tay's good enough for women ^no offence, Mrs. Cook ! ^but you
might boil down Paykin and it'd never be potteen. Ex quo vis ligno
non Jk Mercuriu^ ' You can't make a silk pursv out of a sow's ear.*
That's the meaning of it^^/t^no's a sow."

Heaven knows I was in no mirthful mood at that moment, but I
burst into a fit of laughing at this, In which, from a sense of politeness,
the party all joined.

^' That's it, acushla !" said the old cook, as her eyes sparkled with
delight ; sure it makes my heart light to see you smilin' again.
Maybe Darby would raise a tune now, and there's nothing equal to it
for the spirits."

" Yes, Mister M*Keown," said the housemaid, **play *Kiss me twicc^'
Master Tom likes it."

Devil a doubt he does/' replied Darby so maliciously as to make
poor Kitty blush a deep soariet, " and no shame to him I But you see
my fingers is cut, Master Tom, and I can't perform the reduplicating
intonations with proper effect."

"How did that happen, Darby?" said the butler.

* Faix, easy enough. Tim Daly and myself was hunting a cat the
other evening, and she was under the dhresser, and we wor poking her
with a burnt stick and a rayping-hook ; and she somehow always
escaped us, and except about an inch of her tail that we cut off, there
was no getting at her ; and at last I hated a toasting-fork and put it in,
whin out she flew, teeth and claws at me. Look, there's where she
stuck her thieving nails into ray thumb, and took the piece clean out."^ ,'

" Arrah !" said the old cook, with a most reflective gravity, " there's
nothing so treacherous as a cat !* A moral to the story which I found
met general assent among the whole company.

" Nevertheless," observed Darby, with an air of ill-dissembled con-
descension, " if it isn't umbrageous to your honour, I'll intonate some-
thing in the way of an ode, or a canticle."

* One of your own, Darby," said the butler, interrupting*

" Well, I've no objection," replied Darby, with an affected modesty \
^ for you see, master, like Homer, I aoeompany myself on the pipes,
though 'glory be to God l^^ I'm not blind. The little thing I'll give
you is imitated from the ancients ^like TibuUus or Euthropeud ^in the
natural key."

Mister M'Keown, after this announcement, pushed his empty tumbler
towards the batlcfr with a sigtliflcant glance, gave a few preparatory
grunts with the pipes, followed by a long dolorous quaver, and then a
still more melancholy cadence, like the expiring bray of an asthmatic
jack-ass all of which sounds seeming to be the essential prelimi-'
naries to luly |)e^formano6 &n the bagpipei, were listened to with
g^Hat attention by the eompany. At length, having assumed an im-

J

20 OtJR MK68.

posing attitude, he liflted up both elbows, tilted his little finger affectedly
up, dilated his cheeks, and began the foUowing to the well-known
air of Una-"

n s X 0.

Of all the arts and sciencM,

'Tib Music surely takes the sway ;
It has its own appliances
To melt the heart, or make it gay.

To raise us.

Or plaze us.
There's nothing with it can compare ;

To make us bowld.

Or hot or cowld.
Just as suits the kind of aur.

There's not a woman, man, or child.
That hasn't felt'its power too :

Don't deny it 1 when you smiled
Tour eyes confess'd ^that so did you.

The rery winds that sigh or roar

The leaves that rustle, dry and sear
The wares that beat upon the shore
They all are music to your ear :

It was of use

To Orpheiia
He charmed the fishes in the say ;

So every thing

Alive can sing
The kettle even sings for tay t

There's not a woman, man, nor child ,
That hasn't felt its power too ;

Don't deny it ! ^when you smiled
Tour eyes confess'd ^that so did you*

I have certainly, since this period, listened to more brilliant musical
performances, but for the extent of the audience, I do not think it was
possible to reap a more overwhelming harvest of applause. Indeed the
old cook kept repeating stray fragments of the words to every air that
crossed her memory for the rest of the evening ; and as for Kitty, I
intercepted more than one soft glance intended for Mister M^Keown as
a reward for his minstrelsy.

Darby, to do him justice, seemed fully sensible of his triumph, and
sat back in his chair, and imbibed his liquor, like a man who had won
his laurels, and needed no further efforts to maintain his eminent
position in life.

As the wintry wind moaned dismally without, and the "Mfless trees
shook and tremblecl with the cold bla8t the par^ drew in closer to the

TOM BURKE OP f* OURS." 21

clieerful turf fire, with that sense of selfisli delight that seems to revel
in the contrast of in-door comfort, with the bleakness and drejuriness
without.

" Well, Darby," said the butler ; * you weren't far wrong when you
took my advice to stay here for the night ; listen to how it's blowing."

" That's hail," said the old cook, as the big drops came pattering
down the chimney, and hissed on the red embers as they fell. " It's a
cruel night, glory be to God." Here the old lady blessed herself-a
ceremony which the others followed.

" For all that," said Darby, " I ought to be up at Crocknavorrigha
this blessed evening. Joe Neale was to be married to-day."

*' Joe ! is it Joe ?" said the butler.

" I wish her luck of him, whoever she is," added the cook.

" Faix, and he's a smart boy," chimed in the housemaid, with 8ome
thing not far from a blush as she spoke.

" He was a raal devil for coortin', any how," said the butler.
} " It's just for peace he's marrying now, then," said Darby ; " the

women never gave him any quietness r just so, Kitty, you needn't be
looking cross that way ^it's truth I'm telling you ; they were always
coming about him, and teazing him, and the like, and he couldn't bear
it any longer."

" Arrah, howld your prate," interrupted the old cook, whose indigna-
tion for the honour of the sex could not endure more ; he's the biggest
liar from this to himself and that same's not a small word, Darby
M'Keown."

There was a pointedness in the latter part of this speech which
'^ might have led to angry consequences, had I not interposed, by asking

Mr. M*Keown himsehT, if he ever was in love.

" Arrah, it's wishing it I am, the same love. Sure my^back and sides
is sore with it my misfortunes would fill a book. Didn't I bind
myself apprentice to a carpenter, for love of Molly Scraw, a niece he
had, jusjt to be near her, and be looking at her ; and that's the way I
shaved off the top of my thumb with the plane. By the mortial, it was
near killing me ; I usedn't to eat or drink ; and though I was three
years at the thrade, faix at the end of it, I couldn't tell you the gimlet
from the handsaw."

" And you wor never married. Mister M*Keown ?" said Kitty,
* ** Never, my darling, but often mighty near it. Many's the quare

thing hdppened to me," said Darby, meditatingly ; " and sure if it
wasn't my guardian angel, or something of the kind prevented it, Fd
maybe have more wives this day than the Emperor of Roossia himself."
* Arrah, don't be talking," grunted out the old cook, whose passion
could scarcely be restrained at the boastful tone Mister M^Keowa
assumed, in descanting on his successes.
^.^ There was Biddy Finn," continued Darby, without paying any

^^ attention to the cook's interruption ; * she might be Mrs. M'Keown this

' day, av it wasn't for a remarkable thing that happened."

" What was that ?" said Kitty, with eager curiosity.

Tell us about it, Mister M*Keown," said the butler. j

22 OVE MESB.

** The devil a word of truth he'll tell you,'' grumbled the cook, aB
she raked the ashes with a stick.

" There's thim here does not care for agreeable intercoorse," said
Darby, assuming a grand air.

" Come, Darby, I'd like to hear the story," said L

After a few preparatory scruples, in which modesty, offended dignity,
and conscious merit struggled, Mr. M^Keown began by informing us
that he had once a most ardent attachment to a certain Biddy Finn,
of Ballyclough, a lady of considerable personal attractions, to whom,
for a long time, he had been constant, and at last, through the inter-
vention of Father Curtain, agreed to marry. Darby's consent to the
arrangements was not altogether the result of his reverence's elo-
quence, nor indeed the justice of the case ^nor was it quite owing to
Biddy's black eyes and pretty lips ^but rather to the soul-persuading
powers of some fourteen tumblers of strong punch, which he swallowed
at a seance in Biddy's father's house, one cold evening in November ;

after which he betook himself to the road homewards, where but

we must give his story in his own words :

* Whether it was the prospect of happiness before me, or the
potteen," quoth Darby, ' but so it waS) I never felt a step of the road
home that night, though it was every foot of five mile. When I came
to a stile, I used to give a whoop, and over it ; then I'd run for a hun-
dred yards or two, flourish my stick, cry out, * who'll say a word against
Biddy Finn P and then over another fence, flying. Well, I reached
home at last, and wet enough I was, but I didn't care for that. I
opened the door and struck a light there was the least taste of
kindling on the hearth, and I put some dry sticks into it, and some
turf, and knelt down and began blowing it up.

" Troth,' says I to myself, * if I wor married, it isn't this way I'd
be on my knees like a nagur ; but when I'd come home there 'ud be
a fine fire blazin' fornint me, and a clean table out before it, and a
beautiful cup of tay waiting for me and somebody I won't mintion,
ntting there, looking at me, smilin'.

** Don't be making a fool of yourself, Darby M^Keown,' said a
grufl* voice near the chimley.

" I jumped at him, and cried out, * Who's that ?' but there was no
answer ; and at last, after going round the kitchen, I began to think
that it was only my own voice I heard, so I knelt down again, and set
to blowing away at the fire.

" * And it's yerself, Biddy,' says I, * that would be an ornament to a
dacent cabin ; and a purtier leg and foot *

Be the light that shines, you're making me sick, Darby M'Keown,
said the voice again.

" * The heavens be about us,' says I, * what's that, and who ire you
at all ?' for someways I thought I knew the voice.

" * I'm your father,' says the voice.

* * My father l' says I. * Holy Joseph, is it truth vou're telling me ?'

" * The divil a word o' lie in it,' says the voice. * Take me down
and give me an air o' the fire, for the night's cowld.'

TOM BURKE OF *' OURS.'* 23

* * And where are you, father,' says I, ^ av it's plasing to ye Y

" ' Fm on the dhresser,' says he. * Don't you see me r

" * Sorra bit o' me. Where now ?'

" Arrah, on the second shelf, next the rowling-pin. Don't you see
the green jug ? ^that's me.'

* Oh, the saints in heaven be about us !' says I ; * and are you a
green jug ?'

reen ju

says he; *and sure I might be worse. Tim Heale/s
mother is only a cullender, and she died two years before me.'

" * Oh, father darlin*,' says I, * I hoped you wor in glory, and you
only a jug all this time!'

" Never fret about it,' says my fether ; *ifs the transmogrification
of sowls, and we'll all be right by-and-by. Take me down, I say,
and put me near the fire.'
" So I up and took him down, and wiped him with a clean doth, and

put him on the hearth before the blaze.

" * Darby,' says he, * I'm famished with the druth. Since you took
to coortin' there's nothing ever goes into my mouth ^haven't you a
taste of something in the house ?'

*' I wasn't long till I hated some wather, and took down the bottle of
whiskey and some sugar, and made a rousing jug full, as strong as
need be.

*^ ' Are you satisfied, fipither ? says I*

" * I am,' says he, * you're a dutiful child ; and here's your health,
and don't be thinking of Biddy Finn.'

" With that my father began to explain how there was n^v^r any
rest nor quietness for a man after he m^urried ^more b^ token, if hif
wife was fond of talking ; and that he never could take his dhrop of
^ drink in comfort afterwards.

1^ "* May I never,' says he, ^but I'd rather be a green jug, as I am

^ now, than alive again wid your mother. Sure it's not liere you'd b^

sitting to-night,' says he, * discoorsing with me, av you wor married,
devil a bit. Fill me/ says my father, * and I'll tell you more.*

* And sure enough I did, and we talked away tiU near day]|ght ; anft
then the first thing I did was to take the ould mare out of the stably
and set off to Father Curtain, and towld him all about it, and how m^
father wouldn't give his consent by no means.

" We'll not mind the marriage,' says his rivirence ; ' but go back

^ and bring me your father the jug, I mean and well try and get him

. . out of trouble ^for it's trouble he's in, pr he wouldn't be that way.

Give me the two-pound-ten,' says the priest : * you had it for the wed-

ding, and it will be better spent getting your father out of purgatory,

than sending you into it.' "

"Arrah, aren't you ashamed of yourself?" cried the cook^ witji %
look of ineffable scorn, as he concluded.

" Look now," said Darby, " see this ^if it isn't thnith ^"

" And what became of your father ?" interrupted the butler.

" And Biddy Finn, what did she do ?" s^id the housemaid.

Darby, however, vouchsafed no reply, but sat back jn his chair wHk
an offended look, and sipped his liquor in silence.

i

J

24 ova MS88*

A fresh brew of punch under the butler'i auspices speedily, however,
dispelled the cloud that hovered over the conviviality of the party ; and
even the cook vouchsafed to assist in the preparation of some rashers,
which Darby suggested '* were beautiful things for the thirst at this
hour of the night" but whether in allaying or exciting it, he didn't
exactly lay down. The conversation now became general ; and as they
seemed resolved to continue their festivities to a late hour, I took the
first opportunity I could, when unobserved, to steal away and return to
my own room.

No sooner alone again than all the sorrow of my lonely state came
back upon me ; and as I laid my head on my pillow, the full measure
of my misery flowed in upon my heart, and I sobbed myself to sleep.

CHAPTER III.

THE BEPARTUBE.

The violent beating of the rain against the glass, and the loud crash
of the storm as it shook the window frames, or snapped the sturdy
branches of the old trees, awoke me. I got up, and, opening the
shutters, endeavoured to look out ; but the darkness was impenetrable,
and I could see nothing but the gnarled and grotesque forms of the
leafless trees dimly marked against the sky, as they moved to and fro
like the arms of some mighty giant masses of heavy snow melted by
the rain fell at intervals from the steep roof, and struck the ground
beneath with a low sumph like thunder a greyish, leaden tinge that
marked the horizon showed it was near daybreak ; but there was nought
of promise in this harbinger of morning. Like my own career, it
opened gloomily, and in sc^dness: so felt I at least; and as I sat beside
the window, and strained my eyes to pierce the darkening storm, I
thought that even watching the wild hurricane without was better
than brooding over the sorrows within my own bosom.

How long I remained thus I know not ; but already the faint streak
that announces sunrise marked the dull-coloured sky, when the cheer-
ful sounds of a voice singing in the room underneath attracted me.
I listened, and in a moment recognised the piper. Darby M*Keown.
He moved quickly about, and by his motions I could collect that he
was making preparations for his journey.

If I could venture to pronounce, from the merry tones of his voice,
and the light elastic step with which he trod the floor, I certainly
would not suppose that the dreary weather had any terror for him.
He spoke so loud that I could catch a great deal of the dlalogi^e

TOM BURKE OF " OURS.'* 25

he maintained with himself, and some odd verses of the song with
which from time to time he garnished his reflections.

" Marry, indeed I catch me at it nabocklish with the country
side before me, and the hoith of good eating and drinking for a blast of
the chauntre. Well, well, women's quare craytures anyway.

Ko, ho ! Mister Barney,

No more of your blarney,
I'd have you not make so free ;

You may go where you plaze.

And make love at your ease.
But the devil may have you for me.

Very well, ma'am Mister M'Keown is your most obadient ^ever
say it twice, honey and isn't there as good fish-*^h, whoop I

Oh 1 my heart is unazy,

My brain is run crazy.
Sure it *8 often I wish I was dead ;

'Tis your smile now so sweet

Now your ancles and feet,
That's walked into my heart, Molly Spread.

Tol de rol, de rol, oh I

Whew! that's rain, anyhow. I wouldn't mind it, bad as it is, if I
hadn't the side of a mountain before me ; but sure it comes to the
same in the ind. Catty Delany is a good warrant for a pleasant
evening, and please God I'll be playing Baltiorum beside the fire
there before this time to-night.

6he*d a pig and boneens.

And a bed and a dresser.

And a nate little room

For the father confessor, .
With a capboard and curtains, and something, I*m towld.
That his rev ranee liked, when the weather was cowld.

And its hurroo, hurroo ! Biddy O'Aafferty*

After all, faix, the priest bates us out. There's eight o'clock now,
and I'm not off devil a one's stirring in the house either. Well, I
believe I may take my leave of it ^sorrow many tunes of the pipes
it's likely to hear, with Tony Basset over it ; and my heart's low when
I think of that child there. Poor Tom ! and it was you liked fun
when you could have it."

I wanted but the compassionate tone in wnieh these few words were
spoken to decide me in a resolution that I had been for some time
pondering over. I knew that ere many hours Basset would come
in search of me I felt that, once in his power, I had nothing to
expect but the long-promised payment of his old debt of hatred to
me. In a few seconds I ran over with myself the prospect of misery
before me, and determined at once, at every hazard, to make my
escape. Darby seemed to afford me the best possible opportunity
for this purpose^ and I dressed myself, therefore, in the greatest

26 'OUR MESS.

haste, and, throwing whatever I could find of my wardrobe into my
carpet-bag, I pocketed my little purse, with all my worldly wealth
some twelve or thirteen shillings and noiselessly slipped down stairs
to the room beneath. I reached the door at the very moment Darby
opened it to issue forth. He started back with fear, and crossed
himself twice.

** Don't be afraid. Darby," said I, uneasy lest he should make any
noise that would alarm the others. ^ I want to know which road you
are travelling this morning."

*' The saints be about us^ but you frightened me, Master Tommy
though, intermediately, I may obsanre, Tm no ways timorous. Vm
going within two miles of Athlone."

" That's exactly where I want to go. Darby ^will you take me with
you ?" for at the instant Captain Bubbleton's address flashed on my
mind, and I resolved to seek him out and ask his advice in my
difficulties.

** I see it all," replied Darby, as he placed the tip of his finger on
his nose. " I conceive your embarrassments ^you're afraid of Basset,
and small blame to you ; but don't do it, Master Tommy, don't do it,
alannah : that's the hardest life at all."

What ?" said I, in amazement.

'* To list : sure I know what yo'ure after ; faix, it would sarve you
better to lam the pipes."

I hastened to assure Darby of his error, and in a few words informed
him of what I had overheard of Basset's intentions respecting me.

Make you an attorney !" said Darby, interrupting me abruptly--*
'an attorney! ^there's nothing so mean as an attorney: the p6lic8
is gentlemen compared to them they fight it out fair like men;
but the other chaps sit in a house planning and contriving mischief
all day long, inventing every kind of wickedness, and then getting
people to do it. See, now, I believe in my conscience the devil was
the first attorney, and it was just to sarve his own ends that he bred
a ruction between Adam and Eve-iv'but whisht I there's somebody
stirring. Are you for the road P*

" Yes, Darby ; my mind's made up."

Indeed his own eloquent eulogium on legal pursuits assisted my
resolution, and filled my heart with renewed disgust at the thought of
such a guardian as Tony Basset.

We walked stealthily along the gloomy passages, traversea the old
hall, and noiselessly withdrew the heavy bolts and the great chain that
fastened the door. The rain was sweeping along the ground in
torrents, and the wind dashed it against the window-panes in fitful
gusts : it needed all our strength to close the door after us against the
storm, and it was only after several trials that we succeeded in doing
so. The hollow sound of the oak door smote upon my heart as it
closed behind me: in an instant the sense of banishment of utter
destitution, was present to my mind. I turned my eyes to gaze upon
the old house ^to take my last farewell of it for ever. Gloomy as my
prospect was, my sorrow was less for the sad future than for the misery
of the moment.

TOM BURKE OP * OURS." 27

* No, Master Tom, no, you must go back," said Darby, who watched
with a tender interest the sickly paleness of my cheek, and the tottering
uncertainty of my walk.

No, Darby," said I, with an effort at firmness. **ril not look round
any more ;" and bending my head against the storm, I stepped out
boldly beside my companion. We walked on without speaking, and
soon left the neglected avenue and ruined gate-lodge behind us, as we
reached the high road that led to Athlone.

Darby, who only waited to let my first burst of sorrow find its
natural vent, no sooner perceived from my step, and the renewed colour
of my dieek, that I had rallied my courage once more, than he opened
all his stores of agreeability, which to my inexperience in such matters
were by no means inconsiderable. Abandoning at once all high-fiown
phraseology,* which Mister M*Keown, I afterwards remarked, only
retained as a kind of gala suit for great occasions he spoke freely and
naturally ; lightening the way with many a story now grave, now gay
^he seemed to care little for the inclemency of the weather, and
looked pleasantly forward to a happy evening as an ample reward for
the present hardship.

* And the captain. Master Tom, you say he's an agreeable man,''
said Darby, alluding to my late companion on the coach, whose merits
I was never tired of recapitulating.

^ Oh, delightful I he has travelled everywhere, and seems to know
verybody and every thing : he's very rich, too I forget how many
horses he has in England, and elephants without number in India."
" Faix ! you were in luck to fall in with him," observed Barney.
Yes, that I was ! I'm sure he'll do something for me ; and for you
too. Darby, when he knows you have been so kind to me."

' Me I What did I do, darling ? and what could I do, a poor piper
like me ? Wouldn't it be honour enough for me, if a gentleman's son
would travel the road with me? Darby M'Keown's a proud man
this day to have you beside him."

A ruined cabin in the road, whose blackened walls and charred
timbers denoted its fate, here attracted my companion's attention : he
stopped for a second or two to look on it, and then kneeling down, he
mutt^ed a short prayer for the eternal rest of some one departed, and
taking up a stone, he threw it on a heap of similar ones which lay near
the door side.

What happened there, Darby?" said I, as he resumed his way.
" They wor out in the thrubles," was his only reply, as he cast a
glance behind, to perceive if any one had remarked him.

Though he made no further allusion to the fate of those who once
inhabited the cabin, he spoke freely of his own share in the eventful
year of Ninety-eight ; justifying, as it then seemed to me, every step
of the patriotic party, and explaining the causes of their unsuccess so
naturally and so clearly, that I could not help following with interest
every detail of his narrative, and joining in his regrets for the unex-
pected and adverse strokes fortune dealt upon them. As he warmed
with his subject, he spoke of France with an enthusiasm that I scon
found contagious ; he told me of the glorious career of the French

J

*2S OUR MESS.

armies in Italy and Austria, and of that wonderful man of whom I
then heard for the first time, as spreading a halo of victory over his
nation ; contrasting, as he went on, the rewards which awaited heroism
and bravery in that service, with the purchased promotion in ours,
artfully illustrating his position by a reference to myself, and what my
fortunes would have been, if born under that happier sky. " No elder
brother there," said he, " to live in affluence, while the younger ones
are turned out to wander on the "wide world, houseless and pennyless ;
and all these things we might have won, had we been but true to
ourselves !"

I drank in all he said with avidity ; the bearing of his arguments oa
my own fortunes gave them an interest and an apparent truth my
young mind eagerly devoured; and when he ceased to speak, I
pondered over all he told me in a spirit that left its impress on my
whole future life.

It was a new notion to me to connect my own fortunes with any
thing in the political condition of the country, and while it gave my
young heart a kind of martyred courage, it set my brain a-thinking
on a class of subjects which never b^ore possessed any interest for
me; there was a flattery, too, in the thought that I owed my straitened
circumstances less to any demerits of my own, than to political dis-
abilities. The time was well chosen by my companion to instil his
doctrines into my hearts I was young, ardent, enthusiastic ^my own
wrongs had taught me to hate injustice and oppression my condition
had made me feel, and feel bitterly, the humiliation of dependance ;
and if I listened with eager curiosity to every story and every incident
of the by-gone rebellion, it was because the contest was represented' to
me as one between tyranny on one side and struggling liberty on the
other. I heard the names of those who sided with the insurgent party
extolled .as the great and good men of their country their ancient
families and hereditary claims furnishing a contrast to many of the
opposite party, whose recent settlement in the island and new-born
aristocracy were held up in scoff and derision. In a word, I learned
to believe that the one side was characterised by cruelty, oppression,
and injustice the other conspicuous only for endurance, courage,
patriotism, and truth. What a picture was this to a mind like mine!
and at a moment, too, when I seemed to realize in my own desolation,
an example of the very sufferings I heard of.

If the portrait M*Keown drew of Ireland was sad and gloomy, he
painted France in colours the brightest and most seductive. Dwelling
less on the political advantages which the revolution had won for the
popular party, he directed my entire attention to the brilliant career of
glory the French army had followed ^the triumphant success of the
Italian campaign the war in Germany, and the splendour of Paris,
which he represented as a very paradise on earth ; but, above all, he
dwelt on the character and achievements of the first consul, recounting
many anecdotes of his early life, from the period when he was a
schoolboy at Brienne to the hour when he dictated the conditions of
peace to the oldest monarchies of Europe, and proclaimed war with the
voice of one who came as an avenger.

TOM BURKE OP "OtJRS.'^ 29

I drank in every word he spoke with avidity the very f-nthusiasm
of his manner was contagious J felt my heart bound with rapturous
delight at some hardy deed of soldierlike daring, and conceived a kind
of wild idolatry for the man who seemed to have infused his own
glorious temperament into the mighty thousands around him, and con-
verted a whole nation into heroes.

Darby's information on all these matters ^wnich seemed to me
something miraculous had been obtained at different periods from
French emissaries who were scattered through Ireland, many of them
old soldiers, who had served in the campaigns of Egypt and Italy.

* But sure, if you'd come with me, Master Tom, I could bring you
where you'll see them yourself, and you could talk to them of the
battles and skirmishes, for I suppose you spake French.^

" Very little, Darby. How sorry I am now that I don't know it well."

*^ No matter, they'll soon teach you, and many a thing beside. There's
a captain I know of 'not far from where we are this minute could learn
you the small sword ^in style he could. I wish you saw him in his
green uniform with white facings, and three elegant crosses upon it that
General Buonaparte gave him with his own hands ; he had them on
one Sunday, and I never see'd any thing equal to it."

** And are there many French officers hereabouts ?"

'* Not now ; no, they're almost all gone. After the rising they went
back to France, except a few. Well, there 'ill be call for them again,
please God."

" Will there be another rebellion, then, Darby ?"

As I put this question fearlessly, and in a voice loud enough to be
heard at some distance, a horseman, wrapped up in a loose cloth cloak,
was passing ; he suddenly pulled up short, and turning his horse round,
stood exactly opposite to the piper. Darby saluted the stranger
respectfully, and seemed desirous to pass on, but the other, turning
round in his saddle, fixed a stern look on him, and he cried out

What ! at the old trade, M^Keown. Is there no curing you, eh P'

*^ Just so, major," said Darby, assuming a tone of voice he had not
made use of the entire morning ; ' I'm conveying a little instrumental
recreation."

** None of your d d gibberish with me. Who's that with you ?"

He's a son of a neighbour of mine, your honour," said Darby,
with an imploring look at me not to betray him. His father's a
schoolmaster a philomath, as one might say."

I was about to contradict this statement bluntly, when the stranger
called out to me

"Mark me, young sir, you're not in the best of company this
morning, and I recommend you to part with your friend as soon as
maybe. And you," said he, turning to Darby, " let me see you in
Athlone at ten o'clock to-morrow. D'ye hear me ?"

The piper grew pale as death as he heard this conunand, to which
he only responded by touching his hat in silence ; while the horseman,
drawing his cloak around, dashed his spurs into his beast's flanks, and
was soon out of sight. Darby stood for a moment or two, looking
down the road where the stranger bad disappeared; a livid hue

30 omt Mi9

coloured his cheek, and a tremulous quiveriog of his under lip gave
him the appearance of one in ague.

ril be even with ye, yet," muttered he between his denohed
teeth ; " and when the hour comes *'

Here he repeated some words in Irish, with a vehemence of man*
ner that actually made my blood tingle; then suddenly recovering
himself, he assumed a kind of sickly smile* ^^ That's a hard man, the
miyor."

I'm thinking," said Darby, after a pause of some minutes Tm
thinkiag it's better for you not to go into Athlone with me ; for if
Basset wishes to track you out, that 'ill be the first place he'll try ;
besides, now that the miyor has seen you, he'll never forget you."

Having pledged myself to adopt any course my companion recom-*
mended, he resumed-

Ay, that's the best way. I'll lave you^ at Ned Malone's, in the
Glen ; and when I've done with the major in the morning, 1*11 look
after your friend the captain, and teU him where you are."

I readily assented to this arrangement, and only asked what distance
it might yet be to Ned Malone's, for already I bc^an to feel fatigue*

A good ten miles," said Darby, ' no less ; but we'll stop hero
above, and get something to eat, and then we^ll take a rest for an hour
or two, and you'll think nothing of the road after."

I stepped out with increased energy at the cheering prospect ; and
although the violence of the weather was nothing abated, I consoled
myself with the thought of the rest atid refreshment before me, and
resolved not to bestow a thought upon the present. Darby, on the
other hand, seemed more depressed than before, and betrayed in many
ways a state of doubt and uncertainty as to his movements sometimes
pushing on rapidly for half a mile or so, then relapsing into a slow and
plodding pace, often looking back too, and more than once coming to a
perfect stand-still, talking the whole time to himself in a low muttering
voice.

In this way we proceeded for above two miles, when at last I
descried through the beating rain the dusky gable of a small cabin in
the distance, and eagerly asked if that were to be our halting-plaoe

^ Yes," said Darby, ' that's Peg's cabin ; and though it's not very
remarkable in the way of cookery or the like, it's the only house within
seven miles of us."

As we came nearer, the aspect of the bmlding became even less
enticing. It was a low mud hovel, with a miserable roof of sods or
scraws, as they are technically called ; a wretched attempt at a chim*
ney occupying the gable, and the front to the road containing a small
square aperture, with a single pane of glass as a window, and a wicker
contrivance in the shape of a door, which, notwithstanding the severity
of the day, lay wide open to permit the exit of the smoke, which rolled
more freely through this than through the chimney. A filthy pool of
stagnant, green-covered water stood before the door, through which a
little causeway of earth led. Upon this a thin, lank-sided sow was
standing to be rained on, htr long, pointed Sfkout tunied meditatively
towards the luscious mud beside her. Displaeing this inftportant mem*

TOM BURKS OF " OURS.'\ 31

ber of the family with an unceremonious kick, Darby stooped to enter
the low door way, uttering as lie did so the customarv ^^ God save all
here." As I followed him in, I did not catch the usual response to the
greeting, apd from the thick smoke which filled the cabin, could set
nothing whatever around me.

" Well, Peg," said Darby, " how is it with you the day.'*

A low grunting noise issued from the foot of a little mud wall betide
the fire-place. I turned and beheld the figure of a woman of some
seventy years of age seated beside the tur embers ; her dark eyes,
bleared with smoke and dimmed with age, were still sharp and pierc-
ing, and her nose, thin and aquiline, indicated a class of features by
no means common among the people. Her dress was the blue frize
coat of a labouring man, over the woollen gown usually worn by women.
Her feet and legs were bare, and her head was covered with an old
straw bonnet, whose faded ribbon and tarnished finery betokened its
having once belonged to some richer owner. There was no vestige of
any furniture ^neither. table, nor chair, nor dresser, nor even a bedt
unless some straw laid against the wall in one corner could be thus
ealled ; a pot suspended over the wet and sodden turf by a pieee of
hay rope, and an earthen pipkin with water stood beside her. The
floor of the hovel, lower in many places than the road without, was
cut up into sloppy mud by the tread of the sow, who ranged at will
through the premises. In a word, more dire and wretched poverty it
was impossible to conceive.

Darby's first movement was, to take off the lid and peer into the pot^
when the bubbling sound of the boiling potatoes assured him that we
should have at least something to eat ; his next was, to turn a little
basket upside down for a seat, to which he motioned me with his hafid ;
then, approaching the old woman, he placed his hand to his mouth and
shouted in her ear

* What's the major after this morning. Peg ?"

She shook her head gloomily a couple of times, but gave no
answer.

I'm thinking there's bad work going on at the town there^" cried
he, in the same loud tone as before.

Peg muttered something in Irish, but far too low to be audible.

' Is she mad, poor thing?" said I, in a whisper.

The words were not well uttered, when she darted on me h&t blade
and piercing eyes, with a look so steadfast as to make me quail
beneath them.

Who's that there?" said the hag, in a croaking harsh voice. ^

" He's a young boy from beyond Loughrea."

" No," shouted she, in a tone of passionate energy, *^ don't tell me
a lie. I'd know his brows among a thousand: he's a son of Mat
Burke's, of Cronmore."

"Begorra, she is a witch devil a doubt of it," muttered Darby
between his teeth. " You're right, Peg," continued he, after a moment.
His faUier's dead, and the poor child's left nothing in the world."

^ And so ould Mat's dead," interrupted she. ** When did be die?**

32 OVn ME88.

" On Tuesday morning, before day."

^ I was dhraming of him that morning, and I thought be kem up
here to the cabin door on his knees and said, * Peggy, Peggy M'Casky,
I*m come to ax your pardon for all I done to you,' and I sat up in my
bed, and cried out, * Who's that?' and he said, *'Ti8 me 'tis Mister
Burke I'm come to give you back your lease.' * I'll tell you what,
you'll give me back,' says I, *give me the man whose heart you bruck
with bad treatment give me the two fine boys you transported for
life give me back twenty years of my own, that I spent in 8orro\r
and misery.* "

^ Peg, acushla ! don't speak of it any more* The poor child here,
that's fasting from daybreak, he isn't to blame for what his father did.
I think the praties is done by this time."

So saying, he lifted the pot from the fire, and carried it to the door
to strain off the water. The action seemed to rouse the old woman,
who rose rapidly to her legs, and, hastening to the door, snatched the
pot from his hand and pushed him to one side.

" 'Tis two days since I tasted bit or sup. 'Tis God himself knows
when and where I may have it again; but if I never broke my fast
I'll not do it with the son of him that left me a lone woman this day,
that brought the man that loved me to the grave, and my children to
shame for ever."

As she spoke, she dashed the pot into the road with such force as to
break it into fifty pieces ; and then, sitting down on the outside of the
cabin, she wrung her hands and moaneJ piteously, in the very excess
of her sorrow.

** Let us be going," said Darby, in a whisper. " There's no spaking
to her when she's one of them fits on her."

We moved silently from the hovel, and gained the road. My heart
was full to bursting shame and abasement overwhelmed me, and I
dared not look up.

" Good-by, Peg : I hope well be better friends when we meet again,"
said Darby, as he passed out.

^ She made no reply, but entered the cabin, from which, in an instant
after, she emerged, carrying a lighted sod of turf in a rude wooden
tongs%

"Come along quick," said Darby, with a look of terror, "she's going
to Curse you."

I turned round, transfixed and motionless. If my Ufe depended on
it, I could not have stirred a limb. The old woman by this time had
knelt dow^n on the road, and was muttering rapidly to herself

" Come along, I say," said Darby, pulling me by the arm.

" And now," cried the hag aloud, " may bad luck be your f^adow
wherever you walk, with sorrow behind and bad hopes before you
may you never taste happiness nor ease, and, like this turf, may your
heart be always burning here, and "

I heard no more, for Darby, tearing me away by main force, dragged
me along the road, just as the hissing turf embers had fallen at my
feet, where the hag bad thrown them.

c_ - ^Ae ii^^u tJ^y.

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41

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7/ / / 4 /^./

TOM BURKE OF 4 OURS." .^3

CHAPTER IV.

MY WANDERIKGS.

I CANNOT deny it, the horrible imprecation I had heard uttered against
me, seemed to fill up the cup of my misery. An outcast, without
home, without a friend, this alone was wanting to overwhelm me with
very wretchedness; and as I covered my face with both hands, I thought
my heart would break.

" Come, come, Master Tom," said Darby, " don't be afeard, it 'ill
never do you harm, all she said. I made the sign of the cross on
the road between you and her with the end of my stick, and you're
safe enough this time. Faix, she's a quare divil when she's roused ^to
destroy an illigint pot of praties that way ; but sure she had hard
provocation well, well, you warn't to blame any how : Tony Basset
will have a sore reckoning some day for all this."

The mention of that name recalled me in a moment to the conside-
ration of my own danger if he were to succeed in overtaking me, and
I eagerly communicated my fear to Darbyl

" That's thrue," said he ; " we must leave the high road, fo^ Basset
will be up at the house by this, and will lose no time in following you
out. If you had a bit of something to eat."

" As to that Darby," said I, with a sickly effort to smile, " Peg's
curse took away my appetite, full as well as her potatoes would have
done."

"'Tis a bad way to breakfast after all," said Darby, "Do you
ever take a shaugh of the pipe. Master Tom ?"

" No," said I laughing, " I never learned to smoke yet,"

** Well," replied he, a little piqued by the tone of my answer, "'tis
worse you might be doin' than that same. Tobacco's a fine thing for
the heart !' Man/s the time when I*m alone, if I hadn't the pipe,
I'd be low and sorrowful ^thinking over the hard times, and the like ;
but when I've filled my dudeen, and do be watching the smoke curling
up, I begin dhraming about sitting around the fire with pleasant
companions, chatting away, and discoorsing, and telling stories ; and
then I hivint the stories to myself, about quare devils of pipers
travelling over the country, making love here and there, and playing
dhroll tunes out of their own heads ; and then I make the tunes to
them ; and after that, maybe, I make words, and sometimes lay down
the pipe and begin singing to myself; and often I take up the bagpipes
and play away with all my might, 'till I think I see the darlingest
little fairies ever you seen dancing before me, setting to one another,
and turning round, and capering away down the middle and up again :
small chaps with three-cornered hats, and wigs, and little red coats,

MESS, NO. XV. VOL. U J

84 ovn MB8.

all slashed with goold ; and beautiful little cray tures houlding their
petticoats this way to show a nate leg and foot ; and I do be calling
out to them * hands round ' * that's your sowl * look at the green
fellow ^'tis himself can do it ' * rbe the jig, hoo !' and faix *tis sorry
enough Fm when they go, and lave me all alone by myself."

" And how does all that come into your head, Darby ?"

" Troth, 'tis hard to tell," said Darby, with a sigh ; " but my notion
is, that the poor man that has neither fine houses, nor fine clothes, nor
horses, nor sarvants to amuse him, that Providence is kind to him in
another way, and fills his mind with all manner of dhroll thoughts, and
quare stories, and bits of songs, and the like ; and lets him into many a
aaoret about fairies, and the good people, that the rich has no time for :
Mad sure you must have often remarked it, that the quality has never a
bit of fim in them at all, but does be always coming to us for
something to make them laugh. Did you never lave the parlour, when
the company was sitting with lashings of wine and fruit, and every
convaniencyy and go down stairs to the kitchin, where maybe there
was nothing but a salt herrin' and a jug of punch, and if you did,
where was the most fun I wondher ? Arrahi when they bid me play
jt tune for them, and I look at their sorrowful, pale faces, and their
dim eyes, and the stiff way they sit upon their chairs, I never put heart
in it ; but when I rise, * Dirty James,' Qr The Little Bould Fox,'
0r Kiss my Lady,' for the boys and girls, sure 'tis my whole aowl
does be in the bag, and ( squeesse the notes out of it with all my
might"

In this way did Darby converse until we reached a cross road,
when, coming to a halt, he pointed with his finger to the distance and
said

^' Athlone is down beyant that low mountain* Now Ned Malone's is
only six short miles from this. You keep this by-road till you reach
.the smith's forge, then turn off to the lift^ across the fidds, till you
come to an ould ruin, lave that to your right hand, and follow the
boreen straight, 'twill bring you to Ned's doore."

" But I don't know him," said L ,

^' What signifies that sure 'tis no need you have tell him you'll stop
there till Darby the Blast comes for you| and see now/ here's tdl
you have to do ^put your right thumb m the palm of your lift hand
this way, and then kiss the other thumbt then you have it; but
mind don't do that till you're alone with hinw-'tis a token between
ourselves." - " ,

' I wish you were coming with me. Darby I'd rather not leave
your . '

'Tis myself mislikes it too," said Darby with a sigh ; ' but I darn*t
miss going to Athlone, the mtyor would soon ferret me out^^and it's
worse it would be for me.**

*^ And what am I to do if Mr. Basset comes after me 7^

" If he hasn't a throop of horse at his back, you may laugh at him
in Ned Malone's ; and now good-by, acushlai and don't let your heart
(be low- you'll be a m^n soon you know"

TOM B^RKS OP VOUBS.'* "35

' The' words of encouragement coiild not haVe be6n' more' liappily
chosen to raise my drooping spirits : the sense of opening manhood
was already stirring within me, and waited but for some direct occasion
to elicit it in full vigour.

I shook Darby's hand with a firm grasp and, asuming the easiest
smile I could accomplish, set out on the path before me, with all the
alacity in my power.

The first thought that shot across my mind when J parted with my
companion, was the utter loneliness of my condition ; the next, and it
followed imediately on the other, was tlie bold consciousness of
pcorsonal freedom* I enjoyed at the moment the untrammelled liberty
to wander, without let or control ; all memory of Tony Basset was
forgotten, and I only remembered the restraint of school and the
ijranny of my master* My plan- and already I had formed a plan ^was,
to become a farmer's servant to work as a daily labourer. Ned
Malone would probably accept of me, young as I was, in this capacity;
and I had no other ambition than such as secured my independence.

As I travelled along, I wove within my mind a whole web of
imaginary circumstances, of days of peaceful toil bf nights of happy and
contented rest of friendship formed with thoseof my own age and condi-
tion of the long summer evenings, when I should ramble alone to
commune with myself on my humble but happy lot on the red hearth
in winter, around which the merry faces of the cottagers were beaming,
as some pleasant tale was told; and as I asked myself, would I
exchange a life like this^ for all the advantages of fortune my brother's
position afibrded him, my heart replied-^no. Even then the words of
the piper had worked upon me, and already had I connected the
possession of wealth with oppression and tyranny, and the lowly /

fortunes of the poor man, as alone securing high-souled liberty of
thought, and freedom of speech and action.

I trudged along through the storm, turning from time to time
to see that I was not pursued ; for as the day waned my fear of
being overtaken increased, and in every moaning of the wind, tind
-every rustle of the branches, I thought I heard Tony Basset summoning
me to stop and surr^der myself his prisoner. This dread gradually
gave way, as the loneliness of the road was unbroken by a singfe
travellez' the wild half-tilled fields presented no living object far or
neap^the Uiick rain swooped along the swampy earth, and, in its misty
darkness, shut out all distant prospect, and a sadder picture eye never
rested on*

At length I reached the ruined church Darby spoke of, and following
the track he indicated, soon came out upon- the boreen, where for the
first time some little shelter existed.

' It was only at night-fall, when fatigue and hunger had nearly
obtained the victory over me, that I saw at some short distance in
front, the long roof of a well-thatched cabin ; as I came nearer, I could
perceive that it contained several windows, and that the door was
sheltered by a smidl porch marks of comfort by no means common j

among the neighbouring farmers- lights moved here and there through A

S6 OUR MESS.

the cabin, and Che Toioet of people driving in the cow^ and the bar^g
of dogSy were welcome sounds to my ear. A half-clad urchin, of some
seven years old, armed with a huge bramble, was driving a flock of
turkeys before him as I approached ; but instead of replying to my
question, If this were Ned Malone's?** the little fellow threw down
his weapon, and ran for his life* Before I could recover from my
surprise at his strange conduct, the door opened, and a lai^ powerful-
looking man, in a long, blue coat, appeared* He carried a musket
in his hand, which, as soon as he perceived the figure before him*
he laid down within the porch, calling out to some one inside

'Go back, Maurice ^it's nothing* Well, sir," continued he ad*
dressing me, " do you want anybody hereabouts ?^

' Is this Ned Malone's, may I ask ?" said I*

** It is," answered he, " and I am Ned Malone^ at your service, and
what then P*

There was something in the cold, forbidding tone in which he spok^
as well as in the hard severity of his look, that froze all my resolutioa
to ask a favour, and I would gladly have sought elsewhere for shelter
for the night, had I known where to look*

The delay this indecision on my part created caused him to repeat
his question, while he fixed his eyes on me with a dark and piercing
expression.

^ Darby the Blast told me," said I, with a great effort to seem at
ease, " that you would give me shelter to-night. To-morrow morning
he's to come here for me."

" And who are you," said he, harshly, " that Fm to take into my
house ? In these troublesome times, a man may ask the name of his
lodger?"

*^ My name is Burke. My father was Burke of Cremore, but he's
dead now."

"'Tis you that Basset is after all day is it?"

" I can't tell, but I fear it may be."

^ Well, some one told him that you took the Dublin road, and
another sent him up here^ and the boys here sent him to Durragh*
And what are you after, young gentleman ? do you dislike Tony Basset ?
Is that it ?"

"Yes," said I, " Fm resolved never to go home and live with him.
He made my father hate me, and through him I have been left a
beggar."

" There's more than you has a score to settle with Tony. Come

into the house and get your clothes dried But stop, I have a bit

of a caution to give you* If you see any thing or any body while

you're under my roof that you didn't expect "

^ " Trust me there," interrupted I, eagerly, and making the sign the
piper had taught me*

^ What I" cried Malone, in astonishment, " are you one of us ? Is
a son of Matt Burke's going to redress the wrongs his father and
grandfather before him inflicted ? Give roe your hand, my brave boy }
ihere's nothing in this house isn't yoiur own from this minit."

TOM BURKE OF ^^OVRSJ* 37.

I grasped bis strong hand in mine, and with a proud and swelling
heart followed him into the cabin.

A whisper crept round the various persons that sat and stood about
the kitchen fire as I appeared among them ; and the next moment one
after another pressed anxiously forward to shake hands with me.

Help him off with his wet clothes, Maurice/' said Malone, to a
young man of some twenty years; and in a few seconds my wet
garments were hung on chairs before the blaze, and I myself, accom
modated with a frize coat that would make a waistcoat for an elephant,
sat basking before the cheerful turf fire. The savoury steam of a great
mess of meat and potatoes induced me to peep into the large pot over
the fire a hearty burst of laughing from the whole party acknow*
ledged their detection of my ravenous hunger, and the supper was
smoking on the board in a few minutes after. Unhappily, a good
number of years have rolled over my head since that night; but I
still hesitate to decide whether to my appetite or to Mrs. Malone's
cookeiy I should attribute it, but certainly my performance on that
occasion called forth unqualified admiration.

I observed, during the supper, that one of the girls carried a plateful
of the savoury dish into a small room at the end of the kitchen, care-
fully closing the door after her as she entered, and when she came out
exchanging with Malone a few hurried words, to which the attention of
the others was evidently directed. The caution I had already re-
ceived, and my own sense of propriety, prevented my paying any
attention to this, and I conversed with those about me, freely narrating
the whole circumstances of my departure from home, my fear of Basset,
and my firm resolve, come what might, never to become an inmate of
his house and family. Not all the interest they took in my fortunes,
nor even their warm praises of what they csdled my courage and
manliness, could ward off the tendency to sleep ; and my eyes actually
closed as I lay down in my bed, and, notwithstanding the noise of
voices and the sounds of laughter so near me, sank Into the heaviest
slumber.

S6 ' OtJR MESS*

CHAPTER V.

TH CABIN*

BsroBB day broke, the itir and bustle of the household awoke me ;
and had it not been for the half-open door whidi permitted a Tiew of
the proceedings in the kitehen, I should have been sadly puzzled to
remember where I was. The cheerful turf fire the happy faces, and
the pleasant voices, all reminded me of the preceding night, and I lay
pondering over my fortunes, and revolving within myself many a plaa
for the future.

In all the day-dreams of ambition in which youth indulges, there ia
this advantage over the projects of maturer yeara^the past never
tningles with the future. In after life our bygone existence is ever
tinging the time to come : the expectations friends have formed of uj;,^
the promises we have made to our own hearts, the hopes we have
created---seem to pledge us to something, which, if unattained, somids
like failure; but in earlier years, the budding consciousness of our
ability to reach the goal does but stimulate us, and never ehiiia
our dforts by the dread of disappointment. We have, as it were^
only bound ourselves in recognizances with our own hearts the world
has not gone bail for us, and our falling short involves not the rata
of others, nor the loss of that self respect which is but the reflex of
the opinion of society. I felt this strongly ; and the more I ruminated
on it, the more resolutely bent was I to adopt some bold career some
enterprising path, where ambition should supply to me the pleasures
ioid excitements that others found among friends and home.

I now perceived how unsuitable would be to me the quiet monotony
of a peasant's life how irksome the recurrence of the same daily
occupations, the routine of ceaseless labour, the intercourse with those
whose views and hopes strayed not beyond their own hedge-rows. A
soldier's life appeared to realize all that I looked for ; but then, the
conversation of the piper recurred to me, and I remembered how he
painted these men to me as mere hireling bravos, to whom glory or
fame were nothing, merely actuated by the basest passions, tlie slaves
of tyranny. All the atrocities he mentioned of the military in the
past year came up before me, and with them the brave resistance of
the people in their struggle for independence. How my heart glowed
with enthusiasm as I thought over the bold stand they had made, and
how I panted to be a man, and linked in such a cause. Every gloomy
circumstance in my own fate seemed as the result of that grinding
oppression under which my country suffered, even to the curse vented
on me by one whose ruin and desolation lay at my own father's door.
Jdy temples throbbed, and my heart beat painfully against my side, as

TOM BVJIKK 09 'f^OURs/' ^,

I revolved these thoughts within me; and when I rose from my bed
that morning I was a rebel with all my soul.

The day, like the preceding one^ was stormy and inclement. The
rain poured down without ceasingi and the dark, louring sky gave
no promise of better thmgs. The household of the cottage remained
all at home^ and betook tbemselyea to such occupations as indoor
permitted. The women aat down to then* spinning-wheels some of
the n^en employed themselves ip repairing their tools, and others in
making nets for fishing } but all were engaged. Meanwhile, amid the
sounds of labour were misled the busy hum of merxy voices, as they
chatted away pleasantly, with many a story and many a song l^^htening
the long hours of the dark day* As for me, I longed impatiently for
Darby's return ^a thousand half-formed plans were flitting through
my mind, and I burned to hear whether Basset was still in pursuit of
me-^what course he was adopting to regain me within his control if
Darby had seen my friend Bubbleton, and whether he showed any dis*
position to befriend and protect me* These and such like thoughts
kept passing through my mind; and as the storm would shake the rude
door, I would stand up with eagerness, hoping every moment to see
iiim enter. But the day moved on, and the dusky half-light of a wintry
afternoon was falling, and Darby made not his appearance* When X
spoke of him to the others, they expressed no surprise at his absence^
merely remarking that he was always uncertain ^no one knew when
to expect him^*-tbat he rarely came when they looked for him, and
constantly dropped in when no one anticipated it.

There he is now, then," said one of the young men, springing up
and opening the door-^ I hear his voice in tiiie glen.*^

" Do you see him, Maurice ?" cried Malone. " Is it him?"
. . The young man stepped back, his face pale as death, and his mouth
partly open. He whispered a word in the old man's ear^ to which the
other responded-

, "Where?" The youth pointed with his finger* "How many are
they ?'* was his next question, while his dark eye glanced towards the
old musket that hung on the wall above the fire.

" Too many, too many for us," said Maurice, bitterly.

The womei^ who had gathered around the speaker, looked at each other
with an expression of utter wretchedness, when one of them, breaking
from the others, rushed into the little inner room off the kitchen, and
'slammed the door violently behind her. The next instant the sound
pf voices was heard from the room, as if in altercation. Malone turned
round at once, and, throwing the door wide open, called out.^

" Be quiet, I say. There s not a moment to be lost Maurice, put
that gun away Shamus, take up your net agmn sit down, girls."
, At the same instant he drew from his bosom a long horse pistol, and,
having examined the loading and priming, replaced it within his waistcoat,
and sat down on a chair beside the fire, his strongly-marked countenance
fixed on the red blaze, while his lips muttered rapidly soine words to himself.

"Are ye ready Uxere?" he cried, as bis eyes were turned towards
the small door*

40 otjft

*' In a min-t," said the woman from within.

At the same instant the sounds of voices and the regular tramp of
men marching were heard without.

^ Halt ! stand at ease," called out a deep voice, and the clank of
the muskets as they fell to the ground was heard through the cabin.
Meanwhile, every one within had resumed his previous place and
occupation, and the buz of voices resounded through the kitchen, as
though no interruption whatever had taken place. The latch was now
Med, and a sergeant, stooping to permit his tall feather to pass in,
entered, followed by a man in plain clothes.

The latter was a short, powerfully-built man, of about fifty ; his
hair of a grizzly grey, contrasted with the deep purple of his counte-
nance, which was swollen and bloated the mouth, its most remarkable
feature, was large and thick-lipped ^the under lip projecting con-
siderably forward, and having a strange, convulsive motion when he
Was not speaking.

** It's a hard day. Mister Barton,** said Malone, rising from his seat,
and stroking down his hair with one hand. ^' Won*t ye come over and
take an air of the fire?"

I will, indeed, Ned,** said he, taking the proifered seat, and
stretching out his legs to the blaze. *' It's a severe season we have.
I don't know how the poor are to get in the turf; the bogs are very
wet entirely."

* They are, indeed, sir ; and the harvest 'ill be very late getting in
now," . said one of the young men, with a most obsequious voice.
* Won't ye sit down, sir ?" said he to the sergeant.

A nod from Mister Barton in acquiescence decided the matter, and
the sergeant was seated.

What's here, Mary?" said Barton, striking the large pot that hung
dver the fire with his foot.

" It's the boys' dinner, sir," said the girl.

* I think it wouldn't be a bad job if we joined them," replied he,
iughingly eh, sergeant ?"

" There'ill be enough for us all," said Malone and I'm Bure yeVe
frelcome to it."

The table was quickly spread, the places next the fire being reserved
for the strangers ; while Malone, unlocking a cupboard, took down a
6ottle of whiskey, which he placed before them, remarking, as he did so

" Don't be afeard, gentlemen ^"tis parliament."

** That's right, Malone. I like a man to be loyal in these bad times ;
there's nothing like it. Faith, Mary, you're a' good cook that's as
savoury a stew as ever I tasted. Where's Patsey now ? I haven't
seen him for some time.'*

The girl's face grew dark-red, and then became suddenly as pale ;
when, staggering back, she lifted her apron to her face, and leaned
against the dresser.

" He's transported for life," said Malone, in a deep sepulchral voice,
while all his efforts to conceal agitation were fruitless.

Oht I remember," said Barton, carelessly he ^as in the dock

TOM BUftKE or " OUBS." 41

with the Hogans I'll take another bone from yon Ned ^Sergejlnt

that^s a real Irish dish, and no bad one either."

What's doing at the town to-day ?** said Malone^ affecting an air
of easy indifference. '

Nothing remarkable I believe ; they have taken up that rascal,
Darby the Blast, as they call him. The major had him under
examination this morning for two hours ; and they say, he'll give

evidence against the Dillons a little more fat if ye please money,

you know, Ned, will do any thing these times.''

^ You ought to know that, sir," said Maurice, with such an air of
assumed innocence, as actually made Barton look ashamed. In an
instant, however, he recovered himself, and pretended to laugh at the
remark. *^ Your health, sergeant Ned Malone, your health ladies,
yours, and boys the same." A shower of ' thank ye, sir^s," followed this
piece of unlooked-for courtesy. ** Who's that boy there, Ned ?" said he
pointing to me, as I sat with my eyes rivetted upon him.

He's from this side of Banagher, sir," said Malone, evading the
question.'*

" Come over here, younker. What's his name ?"

Tom," sir.

'^ Come over, Tom, till I teach you a toast. Here's a glass, my lad-
hold it steady, till I fill you a bumper. Did you ever hear tell of the
croppies P'

" No, never."

" Never heard of the croppies ! well you're not long in Ned Malone*s
company anyhow eh? ha! ha! ha! Well, ray man, the croppies is
another name for the rebels, and the toast I'm going to give you is
about them. So mind you finish it at one pull here now, are you
ready?"

Yes, quite ready,'* said I, as I held the brimming glass straight
before me.

** Here's it then:

* May every croppy taste the rope,
And find some man to bang them ;
May Bagnal Harvey and the pope
Have Heppenstal to hang them.' "

I knew enough of the meaning of his words to catch the
allusion, and dashing the glass with all my force against the wall,
I smashed it in a hundred pieces. Barton sprang from his chair,
his face dark with passion, clutching me by the collar with both hands he
cried out, * Holloa there ^vithout, bring in the handcuffs here. As sure
as my name's Sandy Barton, well teach you that toast practically,
and that ere long."

' Take care what you do there," said Malone fiercely ; ^ that young
gentleman is a son of Matthew Burke of Cremore ; bis relatives are
not the kind of people figure in your riding-house."

" Are you a son of Matthew Burke ?*

aam;*

J

43 Ot}R MMi.

Wbftt brings you here then ? vrhy are you not at home ?*

' By what right do you dare to ask me ? I have yet to learn how
far I am responsible for where I go to a thiefK^teher."

* You hear that, sergeant, you heard him use a word to bring me
rato contempt b^re the people, and eiocite them to use acts of
violence towards me."

*^ No such thing, Mister Barton," said Malone cooUy ; ^ nobody here
has any thought of molesting you. I told you that young gentleman's
name and condition, to prevent you making auy mistake conoerniug
him ; for his friends are not the people to trifle with.**

This artfully-put menace had its effect} Barton sat down again,
and appeared to reflect for a few minutes, then taking a roll of paper
from his pocket, he began leisurely to peruse it tl^ silence, at this
moment was something horribly oppressive.

This is a search-warrant, Mr. Malone," said Barton, laying down
the paper on the table ^ empowering me to seek for the body of a cer-
tain French officer, said to be concealed in these parts. Informations
on oath state that he passed, at least, one night under your roof. As
he has not accepted the amnesty grants ^o the other officers in the late
famous attempt against the peace of this country, the la^ will deal with
bim as strict justice may demand $ at the same time, it is right you
should know that harbouring qr sheltering him, undr these circum-^
stances, involves the person or persons so doing in his guilt. Mr.
Malone*s well-known and tried loyalty," continued Barton, with a half
grin of most malicious meaning, *^ would certainly exculpate him from
any suspicion of this nature ; but sworn informations are stubborn
things, and it is possible that, in ignorance of the danger such a pro-
ceeding would involve J

' I thought the thrubbles was over, sir," interrupted Malone, wiping
his forehead with the back of his hand, ' and that an honest, industri-
ous man, that minded his own business, had notHifig to fear from any
one."

And you thought right," said Barton, slowly and deliberately, while
he scanned the other's features with a searching look ; " and that is the
very fact I'm come to ascertain ; and now, with your leave, we'll first
search the house and offices ; and then Til put a little interrogatory to
such persons as I think fit, touching this affair." '

You're welcome to go over the cabin whenever you likcr" said
Malone, rising, and evidently labouring to repress his passionate indig-
nation at Barton's coolness.

Barton stood up at the same moment, and giving a wink at the ser*
geant to follow, walked towards the small door I've already mentioned.
Malone's wife at this started forward, and, catching Barton's arm, whis-
pered a few words in his ear.

' She must be a very old woman by this time," said Barton, fixing
his sharp eyes on the speaker,

" Upwards of ninety, sir, and bed-ridden for twelve years," said the
woman, wiping a tear away with her apron.

And how comes it she's so afraid of the buldiers, if she^s.doiiting?''

*.

TOM BURKS OF ** OXJPS.** 43

^' Afrah) they used to frighten her so much, coining in at night, nnd
firing shots at the doore, and drinking, and flinging songs, that she never
got over ity and thaf s the rayson* FU b^ of your honour not to
bring in the sergeant, and to disturb her only as little as you can, for
it sets her raving about battles and murders, and itV maybe ten days
before we'll get her mind at ease again."

' Well, well, I'll not trouble far/' said he quickly. ^ Sergeant,
step back for a moment."

With this he entered the room, followed by the woman, whose
uncertain step and quiet gesture seemed to suggest caution.

^[ She's asleep, sir," said she, approaching the bed. *^ It's many a day
since she had as fine a sleep as that 'Tis good luck you brought us
this morning, Mist^ Barton."

^ Draw aside the curtain a little," said Barton in a low voic^, as if
fearing to awake the sleeper.

. ^'Tis rousing her up, you'll be, Mister Barton. She feels the
light at wanst*"

*^ She breathes very long for so old a woman," said he somewhal
louder, and has a good broad shoulder too. I'd like if it was only
for curiosity just to see her face a little closer. I thought so.' -
Ckme, captain, it's no use "

A scream from the woman drowned the remainder of the speech,
while at the same instant one of the young men shut to the outside
door, and barred it The sergeant was immediately pinioned with
his hands behind his back, and Malone drew his horse pistol from his
bosom, and holding up his hand, called out*-.

** Not a word ^not a word. If ye spake^ it will be the last time
ever you'll do so," said he to the sergeant

At the same moment the noise of a scuffle was heard in the inner
room, and the door burst suddenly open, and Barton issued forth,
draggingi^in his strong hands the figure of a young, slightly-formed
man. His coat was off, but his trowsers were braided with gold, in
military fashion ; and his black moustache denoted the officer. The
struggle of the youth to get free was utterly fruitless Barton's grasp
was on his collar, and he held him as though he were a child.

Malone stooped down towards the fire, and opening the pan of his
pistol, examined the priming; then slapping it down again he stood
rect.

Barton," said he, in a tone of firm determination I heard him use
for the first time ^ Barton, it's bad to provoke a man with the halter
round his neck. I know what's before me well enough now. But
see, let him escape^ give him two hours to get away--^nd here I'll
surrender myself your prisoner, and follow you where you like."

" Break in the door there, blast ye," was the reply to this offer, as
Barton shouted to the soldieiy at the top of his voice. Two of the
young men darted forward as he spoke and threw themselves against it
* Fire through it," cried Barton, stamping with passidn. .

You will have it, will you then," said Malone, iis he ground hh
ieeth in anger; then raising his pistol he aprang forward, ^ and hold*

J

44 OUR UE88.

ing it "within a yard of Barton's face^ shouted out, * there." The
powder flashed in the lock, and quick as its own report, Barton hurled
the Frenchman round to protect him from the ball, but only in time to
receive the shot in his right arm as he held it uplifted. The arm
fell powerless to his side, while Malone springing on him like a tiger,
grasped him in his powerful grip, and they both rolled upon the ground
In terrible conflict. The Frenchman stood for an instant l&e one
transfixed, then bursting from the spot dashed through the kitchen to
the small room I had slept in. One of the young men followed him.
The crash of glass, and the sounds of breaking wood- work were heard
among the other noises, and at the same moment the door gave way in
front, and the soldiers with fixed bayonets entered at a charge.

" Fire on them ! fire on them !" shouted Barton, as he lay struggling
on the. ground ; and a random volley rang through the cabin, fiUmg it
with smoke. A yell of anguish burst forth at the moment, and one of
the women lay stretched upon the hearth, her bosom bathed in blood.
The scene was now a terrible one ; for although overpowered by
numbers, the young men rushed on the soldiers, and, regardless of
wounds, endeavoured to vrrest their arms from them. The bayonets
glanced through the blue smoke, and shouts of rage and defiance rose
up amid frightful screams of sufiering and woe. A bayonet stab in the
side, received I know not how, sent me half fainting into the little room,
through which the Frenchman had escaped. The open window being
before me, I did not deliberate a second, but, mounting the table, crept
through it, and fell heavily on the turf outside. In a moment after I
rallied, and staggering onwards, reached a potato*field, where, over-
come by pain and weakness, I sank into one of the furrows, scarcely
conscious of what had occurred.

Weak and exhausted as I was, I could still hear the sounds of the
conflict that raged within the cabin. Gradually, however, they grew
fainter and fainter, and at last subsided altogether. Yet I feared to
stir ; and although night was now falling, and the silence continued un-
broken, I lay still, hoping to hear some well-known voice, or even tl e
footstep of some one belonging to the house ; but all was calm, and
nothing stirred. The very air, too, was hushed : not a leaf moved in
the thin frosty atmosphere. The dread of finding the soldiers in pos-
session of the cabin made me fearful of quitting my hiding-place, and I
did not move. Some hours had passed over, ere I gained courage
enough to raise my head, and look about me.

My first glance was directed towards the distant high-road, where I
expected to have seen some of the party who attacked the cabin ; but
far as my eye could reach, no living thing was to be seen ; my next
was towards the cabin, which, to my horror and amazement, I soon
perceived was enveloped in a thick, dark smoke, that rolled lazily from
the windows and doorway, and even issued -from the thatched roof.
As I looked, I could hear the crackling of timber and the sound of
wood burning. These continued to increase ; and then a red forked
flanie shot tlurough one of the casements, and, turning upwards, caught
4he thatcbi where, passing rapidly across the entire roof, it burst into a

TOM BUKSK OP ^'OUBS.** 45

broad sheet of fire, which died out again as rapidly, and left the gloomy
smoke triumphant.

Meanwhile a roaring sound, like that of a fumace, was heard from
within ; and at last, with an explosion like a mortar, the roof burst open
and the bright blaze sprung forth ; the rafters were soon enveloped in
lire, and the heated straw rose into the air, and floated in thin streaks
of flame through the black sky. The door-cases and the window-
frames were all burnings and marked their outlines against the
dark walls ; and as the thatch was consumed, the red rafters were
seen like the ribs of a skeleton, but they fell in one by one, sending up
in their descent millions of red sparks into the dark air. The back
wall of the cabin had given way to the heat, and through its wide
fissure I could see the interior, now one mass of undistinguishable
ruin ; nothing remained, save the charred and blackened walls.

I sat gazing at this sad sight like one entranced : sometimes it
seemed to me as a terrible dream ; and then the truth would break
upon me with fearful force, and my heart felt as though it would burst
far beyond my bosom. The last flickering flame died away; the
hissing sounds of the fire were stilled ; and the dark walls stood out
against the bleak back-ground in all their horrible deformity, as I rose
and entered the cabin. I stood within the little room where I had
slept the night before, and looked out into the kitchen, around whose
happy hearth the merry voices were so lately heard. I brought them
up before me, in imagination, as they sat there. One by one I marked
their places in my mind, and thought of the kindness of their welcome
to me, and the words of comfort and encouragement they spoke. The
hearth was now cold and black ; the pale stars looked down between
the walls, and a chill moonlight flickered through the gloomy ruin.
My heart had no room for sorrow, but another feeling found a place
within it a savage thirst for vengeance ^vengeance upon those who
had desecrated a peaceful home, and brought blood and death among
its inmates I Here Was the very realization before my eyes of what
M'Keown had been telling me ; here the horrible picture he had
drawn of tyranny and outrage. In these humble cottagers I saw but
simple-minded peasants, who had opened their doors to some poor
unfriended outcast one who, like myself, had neither house nor home t
I saw them offering their hospitality to him who sought it, freely and
openly ; and at last, adventuring all they possessed in the world, rather
thsm betray him-^and their .reward was this. Oh how my heart
revolted at such oppression ; how my spirit fired at such indignity ; I
thought a life passed in opposition to such tyranny were too short a
vengeance, and I knelt me down beside that blackened hearth, and swore
myself its enemy to the death.

49 OUR MKS

CHAPTER VI.

MT XDUCATIOH.

As I thought over the various incidcutB the last few days of my life had
presented, 1 began to wonder with myself whether the world always
went on thus ; and if the same scenes of misery and woe I had wit-
nessed were in the ordinary course of nature. The work of years
seemed to me to have been accomplished in a few brief hours. Here,
where I stood, but yestarday^ a happy family were met together ; and
now, death and misfortune had laid waste the spot ; and, save the cold
walls nothing marked it as a human habitation. What had become of
them? Where had they gone to? Had they fled from the blood-
stained hands of the cruel soldiery, or were they led away to prison ?
These were the questions constantly recurring to my mind : and the
French officer, toor~what of him ? I felt the . deepest interest in his
fate. Poor fellow t he looked so pale and sickly ; and yet there was
something both bold and manly in his flashing eye and compressed lip.
He was doubtless one of those Darby alluded to* What a lot was his ;
and how little did my own sorrows seem, as I compared them with his
houseless, friendless condition ! - As my thoughts thus wandered on, a
'dark shadow fell across the gleam of moonlight that lit up the ruined
cabin. I turned suddenly, and saw the figure of a man leaning against
the door-^post For a second or two fear was uppermost in my mind^
but rallying soon, I called out Who's there ?"

" 'Tis me, Darby M*Keown," said a well-known voice, but in a tone
of deepest sorrow t ** I came over to have a look at the ould walls once
more."

You heard it all, then, Darby ?*

Yes : they wor bringing the prisoners mto Athlone as I left the
town ; and I thought to myself you'd maybe be liiding somewhere here-
abouts. Is the captain away is he safe ?"

*The French officei^^yes-'^e escaped early in the business. I
know he must be far off by this time. Heaven knows which way
though."

Maybe I could guess,'^ said Darby^ quietly. ^Well, well, it*s
kard to know what- s best* Somedm^ H ulrould seem the will of God
that we aren't to succeed ; and, if we ha4ti't right on our side, it would
not be easy to bear up against such misfortunes as these."

There was a silence on both sides after these words, during which I
pondered them well in my mind.

^'Come, Master Tom," said Darby, suddenly; 'tis time we were
moving. You're not safe here no more nor others. Basset is looking
for you everywhere^ and youll have to leave the neighbourhood for a

TOM Bimn Off ^'^ouBs.'* 4|

while, At least. Your feiendy the captain, too, is *goiie; his regiment
marched yesterday ; so now make up your mind what to do"

" That's easily done, Darby," said I, attempting to seem at ease ;
^ whichever is your road shall be rnine^ if you let me*" *

'' Let yoU'-^yes, with a hearty wdoome^ too^ my darling ; but the
iirst thing is to get you some clothes that won't discover on you
Kerens a hat I squeezed into my own that 'ill just fit you, and I've a
coat here that's about your size-^^that's enough for the present, and
as we go along I'll teach you your part, how you are to behave, and
he'll be no fool that 'ill find you out after ten days or a fortnight."

My change of costume was soon efiected, and my wound, which
turned out to be a trifling one, looked after $ I took a farewell look
at the old walls, and stepped after my companion down the boreen.

" If we make haste," said Darby, * we'll be beyond Shannon harbour
before day ; and then, when we're on the canal, we'll easy get a lift in
4ome of the boats going to Dublin."

** And are you for Dublin ?" inquired I, eag^ly.

^ Yes : I'm to be there on the twenty-fourth of this month, please
'God. There's a meeting of the friends of Ireland to be then, and
some resolutions will be taken about what's to be done. There's bad
work going on in the parliament."

^ Indeed^ Darby 1 what is it P'

** Oh 1 you couldn't understand it well : but it's just as if we warn't
to have any thing to say to governinff ourselves, only be made slaves
of, and sent abroad to fight for the Englisby that always hate us and
abuse us."

' And are we going to bear with this ?" cried I, passionately.

'* No," said Darby, laying his hand on my shoulder ^* no, not at
least if we.had twenty thousand like you, my brave boy. But you'll
hear every thing yourself soon ; and now, let me attend to your educa*
tion a bit, forw^'re not out of the enemy's country."

Darby now commenced his code of instruction to me^ by which I
learned that I was to perform a species of second to him in all
minstrelsy not exactly on the truest principles of harmony, but
merely alternating with him in the verses of his songs. These, which
were entirely of his own composition, were all to.be learned, and orally,
too, for Mister M^Keown was too jealous of his copyright ever to
commit them to writing, and especially charged me never to repeat
any lyric in the sama neighbourhood.

*Mt's not only the robbery I care for," quoth Darby, "but the
varmint destroys my poethry completely sometimes ^changing the
words, injuring the sentiments, and even altering the tune. Now, it's
only last Tuesday I heerd ' Bdiave politel/ to the tune of Look how
he sarved me.' "

- Besides the musical portion of my education, there was another scarcely
Jess difficult to be attended to : this was, the skilful adaptation of our
^melodies aot only to the prevailing tastes of the company, but to
tlieir politiq^ and party bearings^ Darby supplying me with various

48 OUR MS88*

hints hovr I was to discover at a moment the peetiliar bias of any
stranger's politics.

** The boys,'* said Darby, thereby meaning his own party, " does be
alwaye^sly and careful, and begin by asking, mayb^ for Do you
incline ? or * Crows in the barley,' or the like. Then they'll say,

Have you any thing new, Mister M^Keown, from up the counthry ?'

* Something sweet, is it ?' says L * Ay, or sour, av ye have it,' they'll
say. * Maybe ye'd like Vinegar-hill, then/ says I. Arrah, you'd see
their faces redden up with delight, and how they'll beat time to every
stroke of the tune ^it's a pleasure to play for them. But the yeos
(meaning the yeomen) will call out mightily * Piper ^holloa there,
piper, I say rise the Boyne Water, or Croppies lie down.' "

" And, of course, you refuse. Darby ?"

" Refuse ^refuse, is it and get a bayonet in me? Devil a bit, my
dear. Ill play it up with all the spirit I can; and nod my head to the
tune, and beat the time with my heel and toe ; and, maybe, if I see
need of it, I fasten this to the end of the chaunter, and that does the
business entirely."

Here Darby took from the lining of his hat a bunch of orange
ribbon, whose faded glories showed it had done long and active service
in the cause of loyalty.

I confess Darby's influence over me did not gain any accession of
power by this honest avowal of his political expediency ; and the bold
assertion of a nation's wrongs, by which, at first, he won over my en-
thusiasm, seemed sadly at variance with this truckling policy. He was
quick-sighted enough to perceive what was passing in my mind, and at
once remarked

" 'Tis a hard part we're obliged to play. Master Tom, but one com-
fort we have it's only a short time we'll need it. You know the
song."

Here he broke into the popular tune of the day :

" And tbe French will come agrain,

Says the Shan van vaugh,
And thej*ll bring ten thousand men.

Says the Shan van vaugh,
And, with powder and with ball,
For onr rights we'll loudly call ;
Don't you think they'll hear us then ?

Says the Shan van vaugh.

' Ye must larn that air. Master Tom ; and see, now, the yeos is as
fond of it as the boys, only remember to put their own words -to it ;
and devil a harm in that same, when one's not in earnest. See, now, I
believe it's a natural pleasure for an Irishman to be humbugging 8ome
body ; and, faix, when there's nobody by, he'd rather be taking a rise
out of himself than doing nothing. It's the way that's in us, God
help us ! Sure it's that same makes us sich favourites with the ladies,
and gives us a kind of native ganius for coortin' *

TOJd BDBKK OF " OUB8.** 4^

' ' ' 'Tiathelookof hiseyo ' ' ' '

And a way he can sig^h
Makes Paddy a darlin' wherever he goes;

With a sugary brogue, '

Ye'd hear the rogue
Cheat the girls before their nose.

"And why not? Don't they like to be chated^ when they're sure to
win after all ? ^to win a warm heart and a atout arm to fight for
them/*

This species of logic I give, as a specimen of Mister M'Keown's
power of ^if not explaining away a difficulty at least, getting out
of all reach of it an attribute almost, as Irish as the cause it was
employed to defend.

As we journeyed along, Darby maintained a strict reserve as to the
event which had required his presence in Athlone, nor did he allude to
the major but passingly, observing that

'^ He didn't know how it happened that a Dublin magistrate should
have come up to these parts, though, to be sure, he's a great friend of
the Right Honourable."

" And who is he ?*' asked I.

The Right Honourable ! Don't you know, then ? Why, I didn't
think there was a child in the county couldn't tell that Sure, it's
Denis Browne himself."

The name seemed at once to suggest a whole flood of recollections,
and Darby expatiated for hours long on the terrible power of a man,
in whose hands life and death were distributed, without any aid firom
judge or jury ^thus opening to me another chapter of the lawless
tyranny to which he was directing my attention, and by which hQ
already saw my mind was greatly influenced.

About an hour after daybreak we arrived at a small cabin, whidi
served as a lock-house on the canal side. It needed not the cold, murky
sky, nor the ceaseless pattering of the rain, to make this place look
more comfortless and miserable than any thing I had ever beheld.
Aromid, for miles in extent, the country was one unbroken fiat, without
any trace of wood, or even a single thorn hedge, to relieve the eye. Low,
marshy meadows, where the rank flaggers and reedy grass grew tall
and luxuriant, with here and there some stray patches of tillage, were
girt round by vast plains of bog, cut up into every variety of trench
and pit. The cabin itself, though slated and built of stoqe, was in bad
repair, the roof broken in many places, and the window m.ended with
pieces of board, and even straw. As we came close. Darby ^'emarked
that there was no smoke from the chimney, and that the door was
fastened on the outside.

** That looks bad," said he, as he stopped short about a dozen paceft
from the hovel, and looked steadily at it ; they've taken him too.'*

Who is it. Darby ?" said I. What did he do ?'

M*Keown paid no attention to my question, but unfastening the hasp
which attached the door, without any padlock, entered* The fire was
yet alive on the hearth, and a smdl stool, drawn close to it, showed

MESS, so. XV. VOL. H. B

4% OUII MBS*

where some one had been sitting : there nms nothing unusual in the
appearance of the cabin; the same humble furniture and cooking
utensils lying abomtf 8 were seen In any other. - Darby, however,
scrutinized every thing most \careful1y ; looking everywhere, and into
every thing, till, at last, reaching his hand above the door, he pulled
out, from the straw of the' thatch, a small piece of dirty and crumpled
paper, which be opened with the ^eatest care and uttention ; and
then flattening it out with his hand, began to read it jyar to himsell^
his* eye flashing, and his cheek growing redder, as he pored over it*
Ai last he broke stleQce with -

*^^Tl\b myself never doubted ve, Tim, my boy. Look at that.
Master Tom but sure you wouldn't understand it, ufter alL Th#,
yeos took him up last night. 'Tis something about cutting the caual|
and attacking the boat, that's again him ; and he left that there that
bit of paper, to give the boys courage that he wouldn't betray th^n,
l^hat's the way the cause will prosper- if we'll only stick by each
other For many a time;, when they take a man up, they spread it
about that he*s turned informer against the rest, and then the others
gets careless, find don't mind whether they're taken or not."

Darby replaced the piece di paper carefully, and then, listening
or a moment^ exclaimed^-^
^ ^ I heat the boat coming ; let's wait for it outside.*'

While he employed himself in getting his pipes into readiness, I
could not help ruminating on the strength of loyalty to each other the
poor people observed amid every temptation and every seduction
how, in the midst of such misery as theirs, neither threats nor bribery
seemed to influence them, was a strong testimony in favour of their
truth, and to such a reasoner as I was, a no less cogent argument
for the goodness of the cause that elicited such virtues

As the boat came alongside, I remarked that the deck was without a
passenger ; .heaps of trunks and luggage littered it the entire way ;
but the severity of the weather had driven every one under cover,
except the steersman and the captain, who, both of them wrapped up
In thick coals of frize, seemed like huge bears standing on their hind
quarters*

How are you, Darby ?'^ shouted the skipper ; ** call out that lazy
rascal to open the lock."

^^ I donH think he's at homey sir," said Darby, as innocently as though
he knew nothing of the reason for his absence.

^Kot at home]-*-the scoundrel, where can he b^ then? Come^
joungster,^ cried he^ addressii^ me, f^Uk^ the key there^ and open
thelodu'^

tJntii this moment, I forgot the character which my dress and ap^
pearanee assigned to me; but a look from the piper recalled me at
once, to recollection ; and, takiog up the iron key, I proceeded, under
Darby's instructions, to do what I was desired, while Darby and 4;he
eaptain amused thems^ves by woadenng what had become of Tim,
^nd spec'a1nf;d on tjie imtuediate eonsequeqces lus absence would
brjiitg down oii hiu

TOM By#|^ (^ ^"OUBS." M

*' Are yon going with us, Darby ?" said the captain

'^ Faix, I don't know, sir," said he, as if hesitating ; ^' av there was
any gentleman that liked the pipes "

* Yes, yes, come along, man,*' rejoined the skipper : " is the boy with
you ? ^very well come in, youngster."

We were soon under weigh again; and Darby, having arranged his
instrument to his satisfaction, :coiiuneiiced a very spirited voluntary to
announce his arrival. In an'instant IheT cabin-door opened^ and a red-
faced, coarse-looking fellow, in uniform, called out

" Holloa, there is that a piper ?*
2 - **:?,: fiirj" ffaid. Parby, without turning- bis face round, while, at the
S^me tipie he put a questioui in Irish, to the skipper, who answered it
|irit^ a single word. "

; 1 8ay piper, come down here/^ cried the yeoman^ for such he wa^j
^(come 4(wn here^ and let's have a tune.''

^^ I'm coming, sir," cried Darby, standing up ; and holding out his
haiid to me, he called out, ^ Tom, alannah, lead me down stairs."
, I looked up in his face, and to my amazement, perceived that he
bad turned up the white of his eyes, to represent blindness, and was
groping with his hand, like one deprived of sight

Ab any h^itation on my part might have betrayed him at once, t
took hid hand, and led him along, step by step, to the cabin door, t had
(ar^ly time to perceive that all the passengers were habited in uniform^
)vhen one of them called out

. :.*^ We don't want the young fellow; let Turn go back- JHper, sh
down her!fii"

The motion fpr my osclusion was passed without a negfttiv^ and t
closed the door, and sat down hy myself among the trunks on deck. '
. Fot tbe.resnainder of the day I saw nothing of Darby : the should
$f laughter and dapping of hands, below stairs, occasionally informing
iKe how s^u^ce^fi^l were bis efforts to amuse his company ;^ while I hag
jiaui;idant time to thuik over my own plans, and make some resolu-
4ieii3 for the future.

:iaaj

^

'M OCB MESS.

CHAPTER VIL

KETIN-STBEET.

How thifl long, melancholy day wore on I cannot say ; to me it was as
gloomy in reverie as in its own dismal aspect : the very sounds of
mirth Uiat issued from the cabin beneath grated harshly on my ear ;
and the merry strains of Darbv's pipes and the clear notes of his rich
voice seemed like treachery from one, who so lately had spc^en in
terms of heart-breathing emotion of his countrymen and their wrongs.
While therefore my estimation for my companion suffered, my sorrow
for the cause that demanded such sacrifices deepened at every moments
and I panted with eagerness for the moment when I might take my
place among the bold defenders of my country, and openly dare our
oppressors to the battle. All that M'Keown had told me of English
tyranny and oppression was connected in my mind with the dreadful
scene I had so lately been a witness to, and for the cause of which I
looked 90 further than an act of simple hospitality. From this I
wandered on to the thought of those brave allies who had deserted
their career of oontinentiu glory to share our almost hopeless fortunes
here ; and how I burned to know them, and learn from them something
of a soldier's ardour.

t Night had fallen, when the fitful flashing of lamps between the tall
elms that lined the banks announced our approach to the capital. There
is something dreadfully depressing in the aspect of a large city to the
poor unfriended youth, who, without house or home, is starting upon
his life's journey : the stir the movement tlie onward tide of popu-
lation, intent on pleasure or business, are things in which he has no
part. The appearance of wealth humiliates, while the sight of poverty
affrights him ; and while every one is animated by some purpose, he
alone seems like a waif thrown on the shores of life, unclaimed-^
unlooked for. Thus did I feel among that busy crowd who now
pressed to the deck, gathering together their luggage, and preparing
for departure. Some home awaited each of these; some hearth,
some happy faces to greet their coming ; but I had none of these.
This was a sorrowful thought; and as I brooded over it, my head
sank upon my knees, and I saw nothing of what was going forward
about me

" Tom,'* whispered a low voice in my ear " Master Tom, don't delay,
my dear : let us slip out here. The soldiers want me to go with them
to their billets ; and I have promised ^but I mean not to do it."

I looked up. It was Darby, buttoned up in his coat, his pipes
unfastened for the convenience of carriage.

TOM BURKE OV S)TR8/' fif

** Slip out after me at the lock here* It*8 so dark, well nevet be

i

Keeping my eye on him, I elbowed my way throogh the crowded
deck, and sprang out just as the boat began her forward movement.

^ Here we are all safe,** said Darby, patting me on the shoulder ;
** and now that Fve time to ask you, did you get your dinner, my
child?*

^ Oh, yes ; the captain brought me somethmg to eat'*

*^ Come, that's right anyhow I Glcnry be to Godl I ate heartily of
some bacon and greens, though the blackguardis ^bad luck to them for
the same ^made me eat an orange lily whole, afraid the greens^ as they
said, might injure me.**

^'I wonder, Darby," said I, Hhat you haven't more firmness than
io change this way at every moment ?^

* Firmness, is it ? Faith it's firm enough I'd be, and stiff too, if I

didn't sure it's the only way now at aU Wait, my honey, till the

time comes round for ourselves, and faith you'll never accuse me of
coorting their favour; but now at this moment, you perceive ^we
must do it to learn their plans. What do you think I got to-night ? I
learned all the signs the yeos have when they're drinking together,
and what they say at each sign. There's a way they have of gripping
the two little fingers together ^that I'll not forget soon."

For some time we walked on at a rapid pace, without exchanging
more than an occasional word. At last we entered a narrow, ill-
lighted street, which led from the canal harbour to one of the larger
and wider thoroughfares.

I almost forget the way here," said Darby, stopping and looking
about him. At last, unable to solve the diflliculty, he leaned over the
half-door of a shop, and called out to a man within Can you tell
where is Kevin-street Y*

^ No. 39?" says the man, after looking at him steadily for a moment.

Darby stroked down one side of his face with his hand slowly, a
gesture immediately imitated by the other man.

" What do you know ?* said Darby.
^ "I know U,' " replied the man.

" And what more ?"

I know *N."'

" That 'ill do," said Darby, shaking hands with him cordially. ^'Now
tell me the way : for I have no time to spare."

' Begorra, you're in as great haste as if ye were Darby the Blast
himself. Yell come in and take a glass."

Darby only laughed ; and again excusing himself^ he asked the way,
which having learned, he wished his newly -made friend good night, and
we proceeded.

' They know you well hereabouts, by name at least," said I, when
ire had walked on a little.

, That they do," said Darby proudly. " From Wexford to Belfast,
there's few doesn't know me \ and they'll know more of me, av I'm
right, before I die."

14 bl^R AlRSS.

'thh Le spoke with mere of 'd^teirrauiatioti (hair i es^tJuHiird Iteiise

'^Hete^s the street fiowrtfcere't the lamp*i-ibat ope wiUi the
two burners fhare. Fai^ we've made good trak sinoo moraiug^
anyhow/*

As he spoke^ we entered -a tisflrrowpassage, t^ongb whi^'A street*
lamp threw a Rubious half light. This conducted us to a smali pst.V0^
couity cropsii^ which we arrtted at iKe dooar of n }apg^ rb^iis^' which
appeared in tot9,l darkness. Djaorby knocked in a peeulijir fnanner^ and
the door was speedily^ opened by a iiian who whispeped o^aie|htng to
which M'Keown made answer in tlie tame kor tone*

? I'mglad^to see you again/' said the man Iduder^ es |$e{aai^ w$)f
fcr him to pass* ' - . ' . - . ^

.. .1 pushed forward to follow, when ioddealy a strong atm was strelohf^
across my breast, add a gruff^totee asked-*-
; Who are you?* - '

Darby stepped back alid said something in his ear; the oiher replied
sturdily in the negative ; and although Darby, as it appeaped, used every
power of persuasion he possessed, the man was inei^orable. At lasty
when the temper of both appeared nearly giving way, Darby turned
to me, and said

. Weit for me a moment, Tom, where joa are, and I'll come fox
you."

So saying, he disappeared, and the door iilosed at tb^ same tim%
leaving me in darkness on the outside. My patience was not severely
taxed-r-ere five, minutes the door opened, aiid Diirby* followed by
another person, appeared.

. Mr. Burke," said this latter, with the tone of voice tlKit at once
1)espoke a gentleman, "I am proud to know you." He grasped my
fiand warmly as he spoke, and shook it afibctionately. ** I esteeqi
it an honour to be your sponsor here; Can you find your way after
ine? This place is never lighted ^but I trust you'll know, it better
erelong."

Muttering some words of acknowledgment, I followed my unseeii
acquaintance along the dark corridor.

" There's a step here," cried he, " and now mind the stairs."

At Ipng^^d winding flight conducted us to a landing where a candle
*was burtOng in a tin sconce. Here my condiictor turned round.

."Jf oiir Christian name is Thomas, I believe," said he ; at the same
mom^i^ as the^light fell, on me, he started suddenly back with an air
of mingled astonishment and chagrin. ^' Why, M'Keown, you told
^'me-^-^^ .'^ ^fae rest of the sentence was lost in a whi^r.
- ^* It's a disguise I made him wear," said Darby; " he'd no chance of
escaping the country without it."

~" " rm not speaking of Uiat," retorted the othr angrily. "It is his
age, I, mean he's only a boy. How old are you, sir?'* continue4
'he, addressing me, but with far less courtesy than before.

^' Old enough to live fonny country, or die for it eitherrif needis^
said I haughtily. ' _ ' \

TOM UeUUft OF *^ OUR$.'* ^(

^ ''^('Bfav^^, myiiarling/* crknl the piper, slapping me CHi tliftriiimMtr
with enthusiasm*

That's Bot exactly my qnastloii/* said the atnmgery amiiiag good
liaturedly ; " I want to know yoiir age-**
^ ** L was fourteen in Aogust,'' jsaid L

*^ I had rather you couLd say twenty,'^ resppoded he thoughtfully.
* This is a sad mistake of yours, Darby. What dependauce can be
placed on a child like this ? ^he's only a child after all."

^ He's a child I'll go bail for with my head," said Darby.

' Your head has fully as muclb on it, as it is fit to carry,'' said the
other in a tone of rebuke. Have you told him any thing of the
object and intentions of this society ? But of course you have revealed
every thing. Well, I'll not be a party to this business. Young gentle-
man," continued he, in ^a voiee of earnest and impressive accent,
' all I know of you is the few particulars this man has stated respecting
your unfriend^ position, and the cruelty to whieh'you fear to expose
yourself in trpstiug to the guardianship of Mr. Basset. If these reasons
'have induced you, from recklessness and indifference, to risk your
'lif(^ by association with men who are actuated by high and noble
-principles, then I say, you shall not enter here. If however, aware
of the object and intentions of our union, you are desirous to aid us,
young though. you be, I shall not refdse you."

** Thafs it,* interrupted Darby ^if you feel in your heart a friend
to your country"

" Silence," said the other harshly ; ' let him decide for himself."

**1 neither know your intentions, nor even guess at them," said I
frankly. "My d^titution. and the poor prospect before me, make m^
as you suppose, indifferefit to what I embark in, provided that it be
not dishonourable. It is not danger will deter me^ that's all I can
promise you."

"I see,'' said the . stranger, this is but another of your jNranks,
M^Keown. The young gentleman was to be kidnapped amongst us.
One thing,'' said he, turning to me, ** I feel assured of, that any
thing you have witnessed here is safe within your keeping, and now,
we'll not press the matter further ; in a few days you can hear, and
make up your mind on all these things, and as you are not otherwise
provided, let us make you our guest in the meanwhile."

Without giving me time to reply, he led me down stain again,
and, unlocking a door on the second floor, passed through several rooms
until he reached one comfortably fitted up like a study.

" You must be satisfied with a sofa he for to-night, but to-morrow
I will make you more comfortable."

I threw my eyes over the well-filled book-shelf with delight, anid
was preparing to thank him for all his kindness to me, when he
added

* I must leave you now, but weMI meet to-morrow ; so good night.
"Come along, M^Keown, we shall want you presently."

I would gladly have detained Darby to interrogate him about ttfy
tiew abode and its inhabitantsi but he was obliged to obey, and I h^ard

the door Joekcd, a ihey closed it on the outside ; and shortly after th
Munds of their feet died away, and I was left in silence.

Determined to con ovel*, and, if possible^ explain to myself the
mystery of my position, I drew my sofa towards the fire and sat
down, but fatigue, stronger than, all my curiosity, had the mastery, and
I was soon sound asleep. .

CHAPTER VIIL

NO. 39, AND ITS FBEQUENTKK8.

Whe27 my eyes opened the following morning, it was quite pardonable
in me if I believed I was still dreaming. The room, which I had
scarcely time to look at the previous evening, now appeared handsomely,
almost richly fiumished. Books in handsome bindings covered the
shelves, prints in gilded frames occupied the walls^ and a large mirror
filled the space above the chimney. Various little articles of taste, in
bronze and marble, were scattered about ; and a silver tea equipage, of
antique pattern, graced a small table near the fire. A pair of splen-
didly*mounted pistols hung at one side of the chimney-glass, and a
gorgeously-gilt sabre occupied the other.

While I took a patient survey of all these, and was deliberately
examining myself as to how and when I had first made their acquain-
tance, a voice from an adjoining room, the door of which lay open,
exclaimed-

" Sacruti ! quel mauvais temps /" and then broke out into a little
French air, to which, after a minute, the singer appeared to move,
in a kind of dancing measiure. " Oui c^est^chT* exclaimed he in rap-
ture, as he whirled round in a pirouette, overturning a dressing-
table and its contents with a tremendous crash upon the floor.

I started up, and, without thinking of what I was doing, rushed in.

" Ha ! bon^jouvy^ said he gaily, stretching out two fingers of a hand
almost concealed beneath a mass of rings ; and then suddenly changing
to English, which he spoke perfectly, saving with a foreign accent
^ How did you sleep ? I suppose the tintamarre awoke you."

I hastened to apologize for my intrusion, which he stopped at once
by asking if I had passed a comfortable night, and had a great appetite
for breakfast.^

Assuring him of both facts, I retreated into the sitting-room, where
he followed me, laughing heartily at his mishap, which he confessed he
had not patience to remedy ; and what^s worse,'' added he, *' I havp
no servant. But, some tea and coffee ^let us chat while we eat.''

I drew over my chair at his invitatiou, and found myself, before half

TOM BUBKi: OF "OCRS." ol

an boor went by acted on by that strange magnetism wludi eertain in*
dividuals possess, to detail to my new friend the principal events of my
simple story, down to the very moment in which %ye sat opposite to each
other. He listened to me with the greatest attention, occasionally in-
terposing a question, or asking an explanation of something which he
did not perfectly comprehend; and when I concluded^ he paused for
some minutes, and then, with a slight laugh, said

You don't know how you disappointed the people here. Your travel-
ling con^anion had given to understand that you were some other Burke,
whose alliance they have been long desiring* In fact, they were cer-
tain of it ; but," aaid he, starting up hastily, it is far better as it is.
I suspect, my young friend, the way in which you have been entrapped*
Don't fear ; we are perfectly safe here* I know all the hackni^ de-
clamations about wrongs and slavery that are in vogue, and I know,
too how timidly they shrink from every enterprise by which their cause
might be honourably, boldly asserted. I am myself another victim to
the assumed patriotism of this party* I came over here two years since
to take a command* A command I but in what an army 1 An undis-
ciplined rabble without arms, without officers, without even clothes-^
ihent only notion of warfare a midnight murder, or a reckless and in-
discrimate slaughter. The result could not be doubtful ^utter defeat
and discomfiture* My countrymen, disgusted at the scenes they wit-
nessed, and ashamed of such ccnfrtriei accepted the amnesty, and
returned to France* I ^"

Here he hesitated, and blushed slightly ; after which he resumed-

^ I yielded to a credulity for which there was neither reason nor
excuse. I remained : promises were made me oaths were sworn
statements were produced, to show how complete the organization of
the insurgents r^dly was, and to what purpose it might be turned* I
drew up a plan of a campaign corresponded with the difierent
leaders- encouraged the wavering restrained the headstrong con-
firmed the hesitating, and, in fact, for fourteen months, held them
together, not only against theur opponents, but their own more dan-
gerous disunion ; and the end is what think you ? I only learned it
yesterday, on my return from an excursion in the west, which nearly
cost me my life. I was concealed in a cabin in woman's cloth es "

At Malone's, in the Glen ?"

" Yes : how did you know that ?"

" I was there* I saw you captured, and witnessed your escape***

Diantre I How near it was P

He paused for a second, and I took the oi4;)ortunity to recount to
him the dreadful issue of the scene^ with the burning of the cabin*
He grew sickly pale as related the circumstance ; then flushing aa
quicUy, he exclaimed-

' We most look to this ; these people must be taken care of. Ill
apeak to Dalton ^you know him ?"

" No : I know not one here."

^ It was he who met you last night : he is a noble fellow. But stajf
there's a knock at the door."

Sd oil* MBM.

' He approacked the dre*plaoe, and, inking down the pialelawiikk
hung beside it, walked slowly towards the door.

***T\b Darby, Bir-s-Darby the Blast, comiiig to qeak a wNPd to
Mister Burke/* said a voice from without.

The door was opened at once, and Darby entered. Making a deep
reverence to the French oflieer, in whose presenoe he aeened by do
means at his ease. Darby dropped his voice to its most hoanUe cadence^
nnd said

Might I be so bould aa to have a word with ys^ Master Tom?*
' There was something in the way this request was made, thai seemed
to imply a desire for aecrecy so, at least, the Fraoehman pnderstood
it and turning hastily round, he said*

' " Yes, to be sure ; FU go into my dressing-room $ there is Bothing to
prevent you speaking here."

No sooner was the door closed, than Darby drew a ohair close to
me, and, bending down his head^ whispered

" Don't trust him ^not from here to that window : they're going
to do it without him Mahony told me so himself: bat my name
was not drawn, and Pm to be off to Kildare this evening. Thwe's
a meeting of the boys at the Corragh, and i want you to nome
with me.*

' The state of doubt and unoertainty which had harassed my mind
'for the last twenty-four hours was no longer tolerable; so I boldly
ask^d M^Keown for an explanation as to the people in whose honse i
^gg their objects and plans and how far I was myself involved in
Iheir design's.

; In fewer words than I could convey it. Darby informed me that the
house was the meeting-place of the United Irishmen, who still cherished
the hope of reviving the scenes of '98: that conscious the failure
before was attributable to their having taken the field as an army,
'when they should have merely contented themselves with secret and in-
'direct attacks they had resolved to adopt a different tactiqae. It was,
'in fact, determined that every political opponent to their party should
be marked^ ^himself, his family, and his property ; th^ lio opportuni^
was to be lost of injuring him or his ; and, if need be, of taking away
hts'itfe : that various measures were to be propounded to pariiiament
by their friends ; to the maintenance of which threaia were to be freely
use4 to the government members; and, with respect to .the great
measure of the day ^the Union it was decided, on the night of' tlie
division, a certain number of people should occupy the gallery above
YHq ministerial benches, armed with hand grenades, "and cHher destruc-
tive missiles ^that, on a signal given, these were to be thrown amongst
them, scattering death and ruin on all sidcfs*-

" Xt will be seen, then," said Darby, with a fiendish grin, " how the
-^enemies of Ireland pay for their hatred ot her. Maybe they'll vote
away their country filer that !" 5

Whether it was the tone, the look, or the words that suddenly awoke
toe from my dreamy infatuation; 1'khow not ; but coming so soon after
the FreQchman'9 detail of the barbarism Of the part?* a thorough &

TOM BtrHKllfi 4^ '*OURf." SB

giit sei2ed me, ahd the* atrodty 6f this whole^*a1e murder fost uotfemg
of Its blackness froin1)eing linked With the cause of liberty.

With ready quickness, Darby saw what my.impreissibD was, and
hastily remarkei

" W6*fl be all away out of this, Master Tom, you know, before that.
-We'll be up in lOldare, where well see the boys exercising and march-
ing ; that's what 'fjl dp your heait good to look at. But, before we go,
youll have to take the oatb ; for Fm answerable for you all this time
with my bm head': not that I care for that same, but others mfght
'mistrust ye." -

" Holloa !" cri.ed the Frenchman, from within, " I hope you hav
iliiished your' conferi^ce there '^ for you seem to forget there's no fire
m this room."

"Yes, sir; and I beg ft thousand pardons,** said Darby, servilely:
" and Master Tom only wants to bid you good-by before he goes."

**Goes! goes where? are you so soon tired of me?" said he, in an
accent of most winning sweetness.

** He's obliged to be at the Curragh, at the meeting there," said
Darby, answering for tne.

** What meeting? I never hesrrd of it."

** IfVa review, sir, of the throops, that's to be by moonlight.'*

** A review!** said the Frenchman, Hdth a scornful laugh : * and do
you call this midnight assembly of marauding savages a review ?** . -

Darby's face grew dark with rage, and for a second, I thought he
would have sprung on his assailant, but with a fawning, shrewd smile
he lisped out- -

" If what they call it,. captain ; sure the poor boys knows no better."

* And are you going to this review f said the Frenchman, with iaA
ironical pronunciation of the word.

"' ** I " scarce know where to go, or what to do," said I, in a tone of
despairing sadness 5 " any certainty would be preferabte to the doubts
that harass me"

*' Stay with me,'* said the Frenchman, interrupting me, and laying his
liand on my shoulder-i-" we shall be companions to each other; y$ur
friend here knows I can teach you many things that may be useful io you
liereaffcer, and perhaps, with all humility I nmysay, yow stay will be as
j^ofitable as at the camp yonder.**

' *^ I should not like to desert one who has been so kind to me as
f^arbyj and if he wishe* **

Before I could finish my sentence, the dodr was opened by a key
from without, and Daltou, as h6 was called, stood amongst us.
' What! Darby,** said he, in a voice of something like emotion, " not
gone yet: you know I forbid you coming up h^e ; fsuspected what you
would be at. Come lose no more time, we'll take care of Mr. Burke
for you/* " '

Darby hung his head sorrowfully and left the room without speaks
Ing, foUowed by Dalton whose voice I heard in a tone of anger, as he
descended the stairs.

There was a certain openness an easy air of careless freedom in tb

60 oum MSM.

young Frenohnun, which made me feel at home m his company, almost
the very moment of our acquaintance ; and when he asked some ques*
tions about myself and my family, I h^itated not to tdl him my entire
history, with the causes which had first brought me into Darby's
society, and led me to imbibe his doctrines and opinions. He paused
when I finished, and, after reflecting for some minutesy he looked me
gravely in the face, and said

** But you are aware of the place you are now in ?**

No," said I ; *^ farther than the fact of my having enjoyed a
capital night's rest and eaten an excellent breakfast, I know nothing
about it."

A hearty burst of laughter from my companion followed this very
candid acknowledgment on my part.

** Then, may I ask, what are your intentions for the future ? ^have
you any ?"

* At least one hundred,** said I, smihng ; ** but every one of them has
about as many objections against it. I should like much, for instance to
be a soldier ^not in the English service though. I should like to belong
to an army, where neither birth nor fortune can make or mar a man's
career. 1 should like, too, to be engaged in some great war of liberty,
where with each vietory we gained, the voices of a liberated people
would fall in blessings upon us ; and then I should like to raise myself
to high command by some great achievement."

" And then," said the Frenchman, interrupting, ^' to come back to
Ireland, and cut off the head of this terrible Monsieur Basset. N^eti
eepasy Tom."

I could not help joining in his laugh against myself, although in good
truth I had felt better pleased if he had taken up my enthusiasm in a
different mood.

** So much for mere dreaming," said T, with half a sigh, as our
laughter subsided.

" Not so," said be, quickly, ^ not so ; all you said is far more attain*
able than you suspect. I have been in such a service myself I won
my * grade' as officer, at the point of my sword, when scarcely your
age; and before I was fifteen received this."

He took down the sword that hung over the chimney as he sard these
words, and drawing it from the scabbard, pointed to the inscription
which, in letters of gold, adorned the blade " Rivoli," Areola ;" then
turning the reverse, I read ^ k Lieutenant Charles Gustavo de
Meudon, 3me Cuirassiers."

This, then, is your name r" said I, repeating it half aloud.

" Yes," replied, he, as he drew himself up, and seemed strug*
gling to repress a feeling of pride that sent the blood rushing to his
cheek and brow.

'^ How I should like to be you," was the wish that burst from me at
that moment, and which I could not help uttering in words.

' Helas I nan P* said the Frenchman sorrowfully, and turning away
to conceal his agitation. ^' I have broken with fortune many a day
fince."

TOM BITKKE Of " OURS.** ' 61

The tone of bitter disappointment in which these words were
spoken, left no rocnn for reply, and we were both silent.

Charles for so I must now call him to my reader, as he compelled me
to do so with himself- Charles was the first to speak.

^ Not many months ago my thoughts were very like your own ; but
since then how many disaj^intmentft -how many reverses V*

He walked hurriedly up and down the room as he said this ; then
stopping suddenly before me, laid his hand on my shoulder, and, with
a voice of impressive earnestness, saidp-

^ Be advised by me join not with these people; do not embark
with them in their enterprise. Their enterprise V repeated he scorn-
fully *^ihej have none. The only men of action here are they with
whom no man of honour, no soldier could associate ^their only daring
some deed of rapine and murder. No : liberty is not to be achieved
by such hands as these ; and the other ^the men of political wisdom,
who prate about reform and the people's rights, who would gladly see
such as me adventure in the cause they do not dare themselves to
advocate^ they are all false alike. Give me,'' cried he with energy,
and stamping his foot upon the ground ''give me a demi-brigade d
ours, some squadrons of Milhaud*s cavalry, and * trots bouches afevij
to open the way before us ; but why do I speak of this ? some mid*
night burning, some savage murder, some cowardly attack on unarmed
and defenceless people ^these are our campaigns here \ and shall I stain
this blade in such a conflict ?*

But you will go back to France r^ said I, endeavouring to say some-^
thinff that might rally him from his gloom.

Never," replied he firmly "never. I alone of all my country-
men maintained, that to leave the people here at such a crisis was un
fair and unmanly. I alone believed in the representations that were
made of extended organization. Of high hopes, and ardent expectations,
I accepted the command of their'army their army I what a mockery t
When others accepted the amnesty, I refused, and uvedin concealment,
my life hanging upon the chance of being captured : for fourteen months
I have wandered from county to county, endeavouring to rally the spirit I
had been taught to think only needed restraint to holdback its impetuous
daring. I have spent money largely, for it was largely placed at my
disposal I have distributed places and promises I have accepted
every post where danger ofiered, and in return, I hoped that the hour
was approaching when we should test the courage of our enemies, by
such an outbreak as would astonish Europe and what think you
has all ended in ? ^but my cheek bums at the very thought ^an
intended attack on the government members of parliament an act of
base assassination a cowardly murder ; and for what, too ? to pre-
vent a political union with England ! Have they forgotten that our
cause was total rupture ! independence ! open enmity with England !
But, cestfinU I have given them my last resolve. Yesterday evening
I told the delegates the only chance that, in my opinion, existed of their
successfully asserting their own independence. I gave them the letters
of French officers, high in command and station, concurring with my

6)J ^ * OU|^ M8f*

u wn views i^ and X b&ve pledged myself to wait one moath longets if thqr
^eem my plans worlLy of acceptauce, to * consider all the details,^
and arrange the mode of proceeding. If they refuse^ then I, leave
Ireland for ever within a week. In America the cause I glory in is
fUH triumphant; and there, no prestige of failure shall follow me
to damp my dwn eSoria, nor discourage the high hop^ of such a^
trust mes But you, my^poor boy^and how hdve 1 fbrffotten you
|n all this sad hiiBtory-^^Iymnot suneryou to b6 misled by raise repre
sentaiions and datteting ofTers., It jnay be the only oonsoIatioQ I shall
rry with me firoor this-land of anaccliy and misfortune-*4)ut even that
is something ^if I rescuB one untried and uflcorrupted heart from th^
misery of such aaiSOGiates. Vou shall be a sOldieri^be my oompaiuon
here wliile I stay ; 1*11 arrange every thing for your comfort ; we! 11 read
and talk* together ; and I will endeavour to repay the debt I owe to
prance, by sending back there one Wtter than myself to guard her

The tears ran fast down my cheek as I heard thes^ words^ but not
pne syllable coidd I u^ter.

" You do not like my plan ; well'*

Before he could conclude, I seized his hand with rapture idthin both
of mine, and pressed it to my Ups.

^ It is a bargftini then," said he, gaily ; ^and now let lis lose' no more
Jime i let us remove this breakfast-table, and begin at once."

Another table was soon drawn over to the fire, upon which a mass
of books, maps, and plates, was hei^ped by my companion, who seemed
to act In the whole affair with all the delight of a schootboy in'some
exploit of amusement. ; \ . '

. *^ You are aware, Tom, that this place is a prison to me, and there
fore I am not altogether disinterested in this proposa.1. You, however^
oan go out when you please ; but until you understand the precautfous
necessary to prevent you from being traced here, it is better not to
venture into the city."

: '^ I have no wish whatever to leave this," said I, quickly, while I
ranged my eye with delight over the pile of books before me, and tbougU
of all the pleasure I was to draw from their perusal.

'' You must tell me so three weeks hence, if you wish to flatter me,^
Replied Charles, as he drew over his chair, and pointed with his hand
to another.

It needed not the pleasing and attractive power of my teacher to
make my study the most captivating of all amusements. Military
science, even in its gravest forms, had an interest for me such ais no
other pursuit coidd equal. In its vast range of collateral subjects, it
opened an inexhaustible mine to stimulate industry and encourage re*
seafoh. The great wars of the world Were the great episodes in his-
tory, wherein monarchs and princes were noting, if not generals.
With what delight, then, did i hang over the pages of Camot and
jo^^ni ; with what an anxious heart would I read the narrative of a
if^ly where, against every disadvantage of nmnbers and munitions a
wift PfW6 Jew resisted all the attacks of the adverse forces, with imi

TOM BURISIK i^F " OURS.** Q3

otbtv-. |Mkteotioii save tiiat of oonsummate ^kllL With what ^thosiasm
did I h^ar of Charles XII. of Wallenstem, of the Prmce Eugene;
aod jiow ofteutimea did I ask myself hi secret^ why had the world,
none melk as these to hoast of now ? till lU last the name of Buonaparte
bwst from vxy companion's lips^ as with a torrent of long-restrained
devotion^ h0 h^oke fQrth into an eloquent aad impassioned account of
t jiegreat general of his age. .

. 11^ pame onee heard, I eould not bear to think or sptak of any.
OHther t how I followed hiin from the siege of Toulon, as he knelt down
i^i^sid^ thei gun wMoh he pointed with his own hand, to the glorious
tekttle-^elds of Italy^ and heard from one who listened to his shout of
^\^ivez j$(^^ on .the^ bridge of Lodi, the ^orious h^oism of that tlay^
I tracked him across the pathless deserts of the East^ beneath tha
a}iado!V^.t)f.th6 pyramids,: Whose fame seems, somehow, to have revived
i^ th^ history of that great man $ and then I listened to the stories-^and
hQ^ numerous were they--^f his personal daring ^t^e devotion andlv
ip&Sk bore.bii% ijie magio influence of his presence, the command of
his look, the \exy .$hort and. broken sentences he addressed to his
^{i^r^li), w^j^ ti'easured up in. my mind, and. r^eated over and ovei^ to
my^fi. Ch^lfi pdsiiBfia^ed aminiaturepfthe fi^ consul, which he assured
me was strikmgly like him ; and for hours long t could sit and gaze upon
that cold unimpassioned brow, where greatness seemed to sit enthroned.
How I longed to look upon the broad and massive forehead the deep-
set, searching eye the mouth, where sweetness and severity seemed
tempered and that finely rounded chin, that gave his head so much
the character of antique beauty. His image filled every avenue of my
brain : his eye seemed on me in my waking moments, and I thought
I heard his voice in my dream. Never did lover dwell more rapturously
on the memory of his mistress, than did my boyish thoughts on Buona-
parte. What would I not have done to serve him ? What would I
not have dared, to win one word, one look of his, in praise ? All other
names faded away before his ; the halo around him paled every other
star ; the victories I had thought of before with admiration, I now only
regarded as trifling successes, compared with the overwhelming torrent
of his conquests. Charles saw my enthusiasm^ and ministered to it
with eager delight. Every trait in his beloved leader that could stimu-
late admiration, or excite afiection, he dwelt on with all the fondness
of a Frenchman for his idol, till at last the world seemed to my eyes but
the theatre for his greatness, and men the mere instruments of that com-
manding intellect that ruled the destinies, and disposed of the fortunes
of nations.

In this way days, and weeks, and even months rolled on ; for Charles's
interest in my studies had induced him to abandon his former intention of
departure, and he now scarcely took any part in the proceedings of the
delegates, and devoted himself almost exclusively to me. During the
daytime we never left the house ; but when night fell we used to
walk forth ^not into the city, but by some country road, often along
the canal side our conversation on the only topic wherein we felt
interested: and these rambles still live within my memory with all

04 OUN MSSS.

the vivid friishness of yesterday ; and while my iieart saddens orer tho
influence they shed ujxjn my after life, I cannot help the train of plea*
sure with which, even yet, I dwell upon their recollection. How
guarded should he be who converses with a boy, forgetting with what
influence each word is fraught, by the mere force of years : how
the flattery of equality destroys judgment, and saps all power of
discrimination ; and more than all, how dangerous it is to graft upon
the tender sapling the ripe fruits of experience, not knowing how, in
such they may grow to very rankness. Few are there who cannot look
back to their childhood for the origin of opinions, tliat have had
tb^ influence over all their latter years; and when these have owed
their birth to those we loved, is it wonderful that we should cling to
faults which seemed hallowed by friendship ?

Meanwhile, I was becoming a man, if not in years, at least in sjMrit
and ambition. The pursuits natural to my age were 4)assed over for
the studies of more advanced years. Military history had imparted to
me a soldier's valour, and I could take no pleasure in any thing save
as it bore upon the one engrossing topic of my mind*

Charks, too, seemed to feel all his own ambition revived in mine, and
watched with pride the progress I ^jras making imder his goiduice*

TOM BUKKE OF OCRS.'* 65

CHAPTER IX

THE frenchman's STORY. '

While my life slipped thus pleasantly along, the hopes of the in-
surgent party fell daily and hourly lower : disunion and distrust per-
vaded all their councils, jealousies and suspicions grew up among their
leaders. Many of those whose credit stood highest in their party be-
came informers to the government, whose persevering activity increased
with every emergency ; and finally, they who would have adventured
every thing but some few months before, grew lukewarm and indifferent.
A dogged carelessness seemed to have succeeded to their outbreak of
enthusiasm, and they looked on at the execution of their companions,
and the wreck of their party, with a stupid and stolid indifference.

For some time previous, the delegates met at rare and irregular
intervals, and finally ceased to assemble altogether. The bolder por-
tion of the body disgusted with the weak and temporizing views of the
others, withdrew first ; and the less determined formed themselves into
a new society, whose object was merely to get up petitions and ad-
dresses unfavourable to the great project of the government, a legbla-
tive union with England.

From the turn events had taken, my companion, as it may be
supposed, took no interest in their proceedings : affecting to think that
all was not lost while in his heart he felt bitterly the disappointment of
his hopes a settled melancholy, unrelieved even by those flashes of
buoyancy which a Frenchman rarely loses in any misfortunes, now grew
upon him. His cheek grew paler, and his frame seemed wasting away, while
his impaired strength and tottering step betrayed that something more
than sorrow was at work within him. Still he persevered in our course
of study, and notwithstanding all my efforts to induce him to relax in
his labours, his desire to teach me grew with every day. For some
time a short, hacking cough, with pain in his chest, had seized on him,
and although it yielded to slight remedies, it returned again and again.
Our night walks were, therefore, obliged to be discontinued, and the
confinement to the house preyed upon his spirits, and shook his nerves*
Boy as I was, I could not look upon his altered face and attenuated
figure, without a thrilling fear at my heart, lest he might be seriously
ilL He perceived my anxiety quickly, and endeavoured, with many
a cheering speech, to assure me that these were attacks to which he had
been long accustomed, and which never were either lasting or dangerous ;
but the very hollow accents in which he spoke, robbed these words of
all their comfort to me.

The winter, which had been mmsually long and severe, at length
passed away, and the spring, milder anci more f enial than is customary

MESS, KO. XVI. VOL. II. F

69 OUB M8S

in our climate, succeeded ; the sunlight came slanting down through
the narrow court, and fell in one rich yellow patch upon our floor.
Charles started, his dark eyes, hollow and sunk, glowed \ith unwonted
brightness, and his haggard and hollow cheek suddenly flushed with a
crimson glow.

" Mon cheVy* said he, in a voice tremulous with emotion, " I tliink
if I were to leave this I might recover."

The very possibility of his death, until tliat monient,'had never even
crossed my mind, and in the misery of the thought I burst into tears.
From that hour the impression never left my mind, and every accent of
h]0 low, soft voice, every glance of his mild, dark eye, sank into my
heart, as though I heard and saw them for the last time. There waa
nothing to fear now, so far as political causes were concerned, in our
removing from our present abode, and it was arranged between us that
we should leave town, and take up our residence in the county of
Vicklow. There was a small cottage at the opening of Glenmalure
which my companion constantly spoke of : he had passed two nights
there already, and left it with many a resolve to return and enjoy the
delightful scenery of the neighbourhood.

The month of April was drawing to a close, when one morning, soon
after sunrise, we left Dublin. A heavy mist, such as often in northern
climates ushers in a day of unusual brightness, shrouded every object
from our view for several miles of the way* Charles scarcely spoke i
the increased exertion seemed to have fatigued and exhausted him, and he
lay back in the carriage, his handkerchief pressed to his moutbi and his
eyes half closed.

We had passed the little town of Bray, efnd entered upon that long road
which traverses the valley between the two Sugar Loaves, when suddenly
the sun burst forth ; the lazy mists rolled heavily up the valley and
along the mountain sides, disclosing as they went patches of fertile rich-*
ness, or dark masses of frowning rock. Above this again, the purple heath
appeared glowing, like a gorgeous amethyst, as the red simlight played
upon it, or sparkled on the shining granite that rose through the luxuriant
herbage. Gradually the ravinfe grew narrower ; the mountains seemed
like one vast chain, severed by some great convulsion ; their rugged
aides aj[)t)eared to mark the very junction; trunks of aged and mighty
trees hung threateningly above the pass ; and a hollow echoing sound
arose, as the horses trod along the causeway : it was a spot of wild
and gloomy grandeur ; and as I gazed on it intently, suddenly I felt a
hand upon my shoulder, I turned round ^it was Charles, his eyes
rivetted on the scene, his lips parted with eagerness; he Spoke at
length, but at first his voice was hoarse and low, by degreea it grew
fuller and richer, and at last rolled on^ in all its wonted strength and
roundness.

' See there ^look T' cried he, as his thin attenuated finger pointed to
the pass. " What a ravine to defend I The column, with two pieces of
artillery in the road ; the cavalry to form behind, where you see that
bpen space, and advance between the open files of the infantry ;
the tir$illlem:S Scattered along that ridge where the fiirze is thickest^ or

'

TOM BUltlCE 6f "OUBS." 6^

down there among those masses of rock. Sacristi !- what a volume 6f
fire they'd pour down. See how the blue smoke and the ring oi thte
musket would mark them out as they dotted the mountain side, find
yet were unapproachable to the enemy ; and think tkfen of the rblling
thunder of the eighteen pounders shaking these old taOUntdiiidj aftdihfe
long, clattering crash of the platoon following after, and th6 ddi*k
shakos towering above the smoke : and then the loud * Vtia I' I think
1 hear it."

His cheek became jim-ple as he spoke, His veins Swollen alid dis-
tended ; his voice, though loud, lost nothing of its ittiisieal cadfehcfe ;
and his whole look betokened excitement, almost bordering on mad-
ness. Suddenly his chest heaved ; a tremendous fit of coughing Sded
him, and he fell forward upon my shoulder. I lifted him Up, and wb&t
ti^as mv horror to perceive that all his vest and cravat \tere bftthed Itt
florid blood, which issued from his mouth. He had burijt ft blbOd-
vessel in his wild transport of enthusiasm, and now lay pale, cbldj Aiid
enseless in my arms.

It was a long time before we could proceed with bur journey, fbf^
although fortunately the bleeding did not continue, fainting foUotrfea
fainting for hours after. At length we were enabled td set out iigaiii^
but only at a walking pace. For the rem^iinder Of the day his hsM
rested on my shoulder, and his cold hand in mine, as t^e slcftrly tru-
Versed the long weary miles towards GlenmaluTe.

The night was falling as we arrived ai our journey's end here,
however, every kindness and attention awaited lis ; and I dOon hdd the
happiness of seeing my poor friend in his bed, and slee|)ing with all th^
ease and tranquillity of a child.

From that hour every other thought was merged in my fearS fbt
him. I watched, with an agonizing intensity, every change Of his tna-
lady I scanned, with an aching heart, every symptom day by dAy.
How many times has the false bloom of hectic shed happiness over fllef.
How often, in my secret walks, have I offered up my prayfet Of thftfik-
fulness, as the deceitful glow of fever coloured his w?in cheek, Alid l^ttt
a more than natural brilliancy to his sunk dnd filmy eye. The tt'Orld
to me was all nothing, save as it infltteiifced hito. Every cldud thAt
moved above, each breeze that rustled, I thought of for him j and wh^ii
I slept, his image was still before me, and his voice seemed t6 cftll
me oftentimes in the silence of the night, and When I awoke and Saw
him sleeping, I knew not which was the reality.

His debility increased rapidly ; and although the mild fthr of SUlli*
iner, and the shelter of the deep valley seemed to have relieved his
cough, his weakness grew daily more and ftiore. His character, ioo,
S6emed to hdve undergone a change as great and as striking a^ that
in his health. The high and chivalrous ambition, the soldi^r-lik^
heroism, the ardent spirit of patriotism that at first marked him, had
given way to a low and tender melancholy an almost Womilnish
tenderness that made him love to havi the little children of the cabla
near him, to hear their innocent pl-attle, arid watch their infftttt gam-
bols. His talked td6 6f homei of the eld cMmn id Pfdv6ttCi

68 OUB MESS.

where he was born ; and described to me its antiquated terraces aiid
quaint old-fashioned alleys, where as a boy he wandered with his
sister.

**Rauvre Marie P* said he, as a deep blush covered his pale cheek,
** how have I deserted you !" The thought seemed full of anguish foi
him, and for the remainder of the day he scarcely spoke.

Some days after his first mention of his sister, we were sitting to-
gether in front of the cabin, enjoying the shade of a large chesnut tree,
which alreadly had put forth its early leaves, and tempered, if it did not
exclude, the rays of the sun.

** You heard me speak of my sister," said he, in a low and broken
voice. "She is all that I have on earth near to me. We were
brought up together as children ; learned the same plays ; had the
same masters ; spent not one hour in the long day asunder, and at
night we pressed each other's hands, as we sunk to sleep. She was to
me all that I ever dreamed of girlish loveliness, of woman's happiest
nature ; and I was her ideal of boyish daring, of youthful boldness,
and manly enterprise. We loved each other like those who felt they
had no need of other affection, save such as sprang from our cradles,
and tracked us on through life. Hers was a heart that seemed made
for all that human nature can taste of happiness ; her eye, her lip, her
blooming cheek knew no other expression than a smile ; her very step
was buoyancy ; her laugh rang through your heart as joy-bells fill
the air : and yet ! and yet ! I brought that heart to sorrow, and that
cheek I made pale, and hollow, and sunken as you see my own. My
cursed ambition, that rested not content with my own path in life,
threw its baleful shadow across hers. The story is a short one, and I
may tell it to you.

" When I left Provence, to join the army of the south, I was
obliged to leave Marie under the care of an old and distant rela-
tive, who resided some two leagues from us on the Loire. The
chevalier was a widower, with one son about my own age, of whom I
knew nothing, save that he had never left his father's house ^had been
educated completely at home and had obtained the reputation of
being a sombre, retired bookworm, who avoided the world, and pre-
ferred the lonely solitude of a provincial chateau to the gay dissipations
of Paris.

" My only fear in entrusting my poor sister in such hands was the
dire stupidity of the sejour but as I bid her good-by, I said laugh-
ingly * Prenez-gardCf Marie, don't fall in love with Claude de Lauzan.'

" * Poor Claude !' said she, bursting into a fit of laughter ; * what a
sad affair that would be for him I' So saying we parted.

" I made the campaign of Italy, where, as I have perhaps too often
told you, I had some opportunities of distinguishing myself, and was
promoted to a squadron on the field of Areola. Great as my boyish
exultation was at my success, I believe its highest pleasure arose from
the anticipation of Marie's delight when she received my letter with
the news. I wrote to her nearly every week, and heard from her as
frequently ; at the time I did not mark, as I have since done, the altered

TOM BURKK OF " OUttS." 69

tone of her letters to me. How gradually the high ambitious daring
that animated her early answers, became tamed down into half regret-
ful fears of a soldier's career; her sorrows for those whose con-
quered countries were laid waste by fire and sword ; her implied cen-
sure of a war, whose injustice she more than hinted at, and lastly, her
avowed preference for those peaceful paths in life that were devoted to
the happiness of one's fellows, and the worship of Him who deserved
all our affection. I did not mark, I say, this change : the bustle of the
camp, the din of arms, the crash of mounted squadrons, are poor
aids to reflection ; and I thought of Marie but as I left her.

" It was after a few months of absence I returned to Provence, the
croix d^honneur on my bosom, the sabre I won at Lodi by my side.
I rushed into the room bursting with impatience to clasp my sister in
my arms, and burning to tell her all my deeds and all my dangers ;
she met me with her old affection, but how altered in its form!
her gay and girlish lightness, the very soul of buoyant pleasure, was
gone ; and in its place, a mild, sad smile played upon her lip, and a
deep thoughtful look was in her dark brown eye ; she looked not less
beautiful ; no, far from it, her loveliness was increased ten-fold ; but
the disappointment smote heavily on my heart. I looked about me
like one seeking for some explanation, and there stood Claude pale,
still, and motionless before me : the very look she wore, reflected in his
calm features, her very smile was on his lips. In an instant the whole
truth flashed across me ; she loved him. There are thoughts which
rend us, as lightning does the rock, opening new surfaces that lay hid
since the creation, and tearing our fast-knit sympathies asunder like
the rent granite mine was such. From that hour I hated him ; the
very virtues that had, under happier circumstances made us like
brothers, but added fuel to the flame. My rival, he had robbed me of
my sister ^he had left me without that one great prize I owned on
earth ; and all that I had dared and won, seemed poor, and barren, and
worthless, since she no longer valued it.

" That very night I wrote a letter to the first consul, I knew the
ardent desire he possessed to attach to Josephine's suite, such members
of the old aristocracy as could be induced to do so. He had more than
once hinted to me that the fame of my sister's beauty had reached the
Tuilleries; that with such pretensions as hers, the seclusion of a
chateau in Provence was ill suited to her. I stated at once my wish
that she might be received as one of the ladies of the court, avowing my
intention to afford her any sum that might be deemed suitable to main-
tain her in so exalted a sphere. This, you are not aware, is the mode
by which the members of a family express to the consul, that they
surrender all right and guardianship in the individual given tender-
ing to him full power to dispose of her in marriage, exactly as though
he were her own father.

" Before day broke my letter was on its way to Paris ; in less than a
week came the answer accepting my proposal in the most flattering
terms, and commanding me to repair to the Tuilleries with my sister,
and take command of a regiment d^elite then preparing for service.

" I may not dwell on the scene that followed. The very memory

7Q OtJR ME8S.

of it 18 too much for my weak and failing spirits. Claude dung himself
at rny fe^t and confessed his love ; he declared bis M'illingnesa to sub-
mit to any or every thing I should dictate : he would join the army ;
he would volunteer for Egypt* Poor fellow ! his trembling accents and
bloodless lip comported ill with the heroism of his words. Only pro-
mise that in the end Marie should be his and there was no danger ha
WQuld QOt dare ; no course in life, however unsuited to him, he would
not follQW at my bidding. I know not whether my heart could hav
withstood such an appeal as this, had I been free to act, but now tha
die was cast. I handed him the first consuFs letter; he opened it with
a hapd trembling like palsy, and read it over ; he leaned his head against
th^ chimney vhen he finished, and gave me back the letter without a
^f'ord* I could not bear to look on him and left the room.

^ When I returned he was gone. We leflt the chateau the sama
evening fur Paris. Marie scarcely spoke one word during the journey
a fatuous stupid indifference to ev^y thing and every one had seized
her, and ihe seemed perfectly careless whither we went. This gradually
yieldjed to a settled melancholy, which never left her. On our arrival
in P^^ri^, I did not dare to present myself with her at the Tuilleries ;
so feigning her ill health as an excuse, I remained some weeks at Ver-
sailles, to endeavour by affection and care to overcome this sad feature
ol' her malady- It was about six weeks after this that I read in the Journal
de DehaU an announcement that * Claude de Lauzan had accepted
holy orders, 'and was appointed eurS of La Fleche in Bretagny. At
first the news came on me like a thunder clap, but after a while's reflec-
tion I began to believe it were, perhaps, the very best thing could
bave happened ; and under this view of the matter I left the paper in
Male's way.

' I uras right. She did not appear the next morning at breakfast, nor
tb^ entire day after. The following day the same; but in the evening
came a few lines written with a pencil, sayinff she wished to see me.
I went ^but I cannot tell you. My very heart Is bursting as I think of
her, as she sat up in her bed her long dark hair falling in heavy masses
over h^r shoulders, and her darker eyes flashing with a brightness thai
seamed like wandering intellect. She fell upon my neck and cried }
her tears ran down my cheek, and her sobs shook me. I know nol
what I said, but I remember that she agreed to every thing I had
pranged for her ; she even smiled a sickly smile, as I spoke of what
nn ornament she would be to the * belle cour^ and we parted.

' That was the last good night I ever wished her. The next day
she was received at court, and I was ordered to Normandy, thence %
M^fis sent to Boulogne, and soon after to Ireland."

^ But you have written to her ^you have heard from her ?"

Alas 1 no* I have written again and again, but either she has nevef
received my letters, or she will not answer them."

ThQ tone of sorrow he concluded in, left no room for any effort at
OQnsQlation, and we were silent ; at last he took my hand in his, and a*
bis feverish fingers pressed it, he said

" *Tis a sad thing whpn we work the misery of those for whoe^
hiippinfiss we would have shed our heart's blood."

TOM BUKKC OF ' OCHs/* ?I

CHAPTER X.

THE CnUBCHYABD.

The excitement caused by the mere narration of his sister's sufiering
weighed heavily on De Meudon's weak and exhausted frame ^ his
thoughts would flow in no other channel ; his reveries were of home and
long past years ; and a depression far greater than I had yet witnessed,
settled down upon his jaded spirits.

" Is not my present condition like a just retribution on my
ambitious folly?" was his continued reflection, and so he felt it. With
a Frenchman's belief in destiny he regarded the failure of all his hopes,
and the ruin of the cause he had embarked in, as the natural and inevitable
consequences of his own ungenerous conduct ; and even reproached
himself for carrying his evil fortune into an enterprise which, without
him, might have been successful. These gloomy forebodings, against
wliich reason was of no avail, grew hourly upon him, and visibly
influenced his chances of recovery.

It was a sad spectacle to look on one who possessed so much of
good so many 'fair and attractive qualities thus wasting away without
a single consolation he could lay to his bruised and wounded spirit.
The very successes he once gloried to remember now only added bitter-
ness to his fallen state ; to think of what he had been, and look on what
he was, was his heaviest affliction, and he fell into a deep brooding
melancholy, in which he scarcely spoke, but sat looking at vacancy,
waiting as it were for death.

I remember it well. I had been sitting silently by his bedside ; for
hours he had not spoken, but an occasional deep-drawn sigh showed he
was not sleeping. It was night, and all in the little household were at
rest ; a slight rustling of the curtain attracted me, and I felt his hand
steal from the clothes and grasp my own.

** I have been thinking of you, my dear boy," said he, " and what
is to become of you when I'm gone. There, do not sob, the time is short
now, and I begin to feel it so ; for somehow as we approach the confines
of eternity, our mental vision grows clearer and more distinct doubts
that have long puzzled us, seem doubts no longer. Many of our highest
hopes and aspirations ^the day-dreams that made life glorious pass
before our eyes, and become the poor and empty pageants gf the hour.
like the traveller who, as he journeys along, sees little of the way, but
at the last sits down upon some grassy bank, and gazes over the long
line of road ; so as the close of life draws near, we throw a backward
glance upon the past ; but how diflerently does all seem to our eyes ^
how many of those we envied once, do we pity now ; how many whp
9.ppared low and humble, whose thoughts seemed bowed to earth, do wo

1

72 OUR MESS.

now recognise as soaring aloft, high above their fellow-tnen, like crea-
tures of some other sphere T He paused ^then in a tone of greater
earnestness added * You must not join these people, Tom. The
day is gone by when any thing great or good could have been accom-
plished. The horrors of civil war will ever prevent good men from
uniting themselves to a cause, which has no other road save through
bloodshed ; and many wise ones, who weigh well the dangers, see it
hopeless. France is your country there, liberty has been won ; there,
lives one great man, whose notice, were it but passingly bestowed, is
fame. If life were spared me, I could have served you there as it is I
can do something.**

He paused for a while, and then drawing the curtain gently to one
aide, said

** Can it be moonlight, it is so very bright?*

Yes," said I. The moon is at the fuU."

He sat up as I spolie, and looked eagerly out through the litile
window.

" I have got a fancy, how strange too, it is one I have often smiled
at in others, but I feel it strongly now ^it is to choose some spot where
I shall be laid when I am dead. There is a little ruin at the bottom of
this glen, you must remember it well. If I mistake not, there is a well
close beside it I remember resting there one hot and sultry day in
July. It was an eventful day too we beat the king's troops, and took
seventy prisoners ; and I rode from Arklow down here to bring up
some ammunition, that we had secreted in one of the lead mines. Well
I recollect falling asleep beside that well, and having such a delightful
dream of home, when I was a child, and of a pony which Marie used
to ride behind me, and I thought we were galloping through the vine-
yard, she grasping me round the waist, half laughing, half in fear ; and
when I awoke I could not remember where I was. I should like torjee
that old spot again, and I feel strong enough now to try it."

I endeavoured, with all my power of persuasion, to prevent his
attempting to walk such a distance, and in the night air too ; but the
more I reasoned against, the more bent was he on the project, and at
last I was obliged to yield a reluctant consent, and assist him to rise
and dress.

The energy which animated him at first soon sank under the effort,
and before we had gone a quarter of a mile he grew faint and weary,
still he persevered, and, leaning heavily on my arm, tottered along.

" If I make no better progress," said he, smiling sadly, " there will
be need to assist me coming back."

At last we reached the ruin, which, like many of the old churches in
Ireland, was a mere gable, overgrown with ivy, and pierced with a
single window, whose rudely-formed arch betokened great antiquity.
Vestiges of the side walls remained in part, but the inside of the
building was filled with tomb-stones and grave-mounds, selected by the
people as being a place of more than ordinary sanctity ; among these
the rank dock weed^ and nettles grew luxuriantly, and the tall grass
}ay heavy and matted. We sat for some time looking on this sad spot ;

TOM BUaKE OP "OURS." 73

a few garlands were Mothering on some rude crosses of stick, to mark
the latest of those who sought their rest there, and upon these my com-
panion's eyes were bent with a melancholy meaning.

How long we sat there in silence I know not, but a rustling of the
ivy behind me was the first thing to attract my attention, I turned
quickly round, and in the window of the ruin beheld the head of a man
bent eagerly in the direction we were in, the moonlight fell upon him
at the moment, and I saw that the face was blackened.

Who's that ?" I called aloud, as with my finger I directed De
Meudon to the spot. No answer was returned, and I repeated my
question still louder, but still no reply, while I could mark that the
head was turned slightly round, as if to speak with some one without.
The noise of feet, and the low murmur of several voices, now came from
the side of the ruin, and at the same instant some dozen men, their
faces blackened, and wearing a white badge on their hats, stood up as
if out of the very ground around us.

" What are you doing here at this time of night ?'* said a hard voice,
in tones that boded but little kindliness.

* We are as free to walk the country, when we like it, as you are, I
hope," was my answer.

*^ I know his voice well," said another of the crowd : '' I told you it
was them."

" Is it you that stop at Wild's in the glen?" said the first speaker.

"Yes," replied I.

" And is it to get share of what's going, that yeVe come to join us
DOW ?" repeated he, in a tone of mockery.

" Be easy, Lanty ^'tis the French officer that behaved so stout up
at Ross : it's little he cares for money, as myself knows. I saw him
throw a handful of goold among the boys when they stopped to pillage,
and bid them do their work first, and that he'd give them plenty
after."

" Maybe he'd do the same now," said a voice from the crowd, in a
tone of irony ; and the words were received by the rest with a roar of
laughter.

" Stop laughing," said the first speaker in a voice of command ; "we've
small time for joking :" as he spoke he threw himself heavily on the
bank beside De Meudon, and, placing his hand familiarly on his arm,
said in a low but clear voice " The boys is come up here to-night to
draw lots for three men to settle Barton, that's come down here yester-
day, and stopping at the barrack there. We knew you warn't well
lately, and we didn't trouble you ; but now that you're come up of
yourself among us, it's only fair and reasonable you'd take your
chance with the rest, and draw your lot with the others."

" Arrah he's too weak the man is dying," said a voice near..

" And if he is," said the other, " who wants his help, sure isn't it to
keep him quiet, and not bethray us."

" The devil a fear of that," said the former speaker 5 " he's thrue to
the back bone ; I know them that knows him well."

By this time De Meudon had risen to his feet, and stood leaning

74 OUB ME89.

upon a tall headstone beside him; his foraging cap fell oflp in his eifort
to stand) and his long thin hair floated in masses down his pale cheeks
and on his shoulders ; the moon was full upon him, and what a con-
trast did his noble features present to the rufiian band that sat and
stood around him.

And is it a scheme of murder of cold cowardly assassination you
have dared to propose to me?" said he, darting a look of fiery indignation
on him who seemed the leader. * Is it thus you understand my presence
in your country, and in your cause ? think ye, it was for this that I left
the glorious army of France that I quitted the field of honourable
war to mix with such as you ? Ay ! if it were the last word I were
to speak on earth I'd denounce you, wretches that stain with blood and
massacre the sacred cause the best and boldest bleed for."

The click of a trigger sounded harshly on my ear, and my blood
ran cold with horror ; De Meudon heard it too, and continued

" You do but cheat me of an hour or two, and I am ready."

He paused as if waiting for the shot, a deadly silence followed, it
lasted for some minutes when again he spoke

" I came here to-night not knowing of your intentions, nor expect-
ing you ; I came here to choose a grave, where, before another week
pass over, I hoped to rest ; if you will it sooner, I shall not gainsay you."

Low murmurs ran through the crowd, and something like a tone of
pity could be heard mingling through the voices.

" Let him go home then in God's name," said one of the number ;
that's the best way."

" Ay, take him home," said another, addressing me. " Dan Kelly's
fk hard man M'hen he's roused."

The words were repeated on every side, and I led De Meudon forth
leaning on my arm, for already the excitement over, a stupid indifie*
rence crept over him, and he walked on by my side without speaking.

I confess it was not without trepidation, and many a backward
glance towards the old ruin, that I turned homeward to our cabin :
Uiere was that in their looks at which I trembled for my companion^
nor do I yet know why they spared him at that moment.

TOM BUSKE OF " CUBS.** 75

CHAPTER XI.

TOO LATE.

The day which followed the events I have mentioned was a sad en** to
me. The fatigue and the excitement together brought on fever with
De Meudon. His head became attacked, and before evening his
faculties began to wander. All the strange events of his chequered
life were mixed up in his disturbed intellect, and he talked on for hours
about Italy and Egypt, the Tuilleries, La Vendee, and Ireland, without
ceasing. The entire of the night he never slept, and thenext day the symp-
toms appeared still more aggravated. The features of his insanity were
wilder and less controllable. He lost all memory of me, and some-*
times the sight of me at his bedside threw him into most terriiio
paroxysms of passion ; while, at others, he would hold my hand for
hours together, and seem to feel my presence as something soothing. His
frequent recurrence to the scene in the churchyard showed the deep
impression it had made upon his niind, and how fatally it had influ-
enced the worst symptoms of his malady.

Thus passed two days and nights. On the third morning exhaustion
seemed to have worn him into a false calm. His wild, staring eye had
become heavier ; its movements less rapid ; the spot of colour had left
his cheek ; the mouth was pinched up and rigid ; and a flatness of the
muscles of the face betokened complete depression. He spoke seldom,
and with a voice hoarse and cavernous, but no longer in the tone of
wild excitement as before. I sat by his bedside still and in silence^
my own sad thoughts my only company. As it grew later, the sleep-
less days and nights I had passed, and the stillness of the sick room
overcame me, and I slept.

I awoke with a start : some dreamy consciousness of neglect had
flashed across me, and I sat up. I peeped into the bed, and started
back again with amazement. I looked again, and there lay De Meudon
on the outside of the clothes, dressed in his full uniform ^the green
coat and white facing, the large gold epaulettes, the brilliant crosses
on the breast ; his plumed chapeau lay at one side of him, and his
sabre at the other. He lay still and motionless. I held the candle
near his face, and could mark a sL'ght smile that curled his cold lip,
and gave to his wan and wasted features something of their former
expression.

** Puiy man chery*' said he, in a weak whisper, as he took my hand
and kissed it, ' fese lien mof and then added, it was another of my
strange fancies to put on these once more before I died ; and when I
found you sleeping, I arose and did so. I have changed something
mnce 1 wore this last ; it was at a ball at Cambaceres."

76 OUR MESS.

My joy at hearing him speak once more, with full possession of his
reason, wtxs damped by the great change a few hours had worked in his
appearance. His skin was cold and clammy ; a gluey moisture rested
on his cheek, and his teeth were dark and discoloured. A slimy froth,
too, w aa ever rising to his lips as he spoke, while at every respiration
his chest heaved and waved like a stormy sea.

" You are thirsty, Charles," said I, stooping over him to wet his
lips.

" No," said he, calmly, "I have but one thing which wants relief;
it is here."

He pressed his hand to his heart as he spoke, while such a look of
misery as crossed his features I never beheld.

Your heart "

" Is broken," said he, with a sigh.

For some minutes he said nothing, then whispered

" Take my pocket-book from beneath my pillow yes, that's it.
There is a letter you'll give my sister you'll promise me that ; well,
the other is for Lecharlier, the chef of the Polytecnique at Paris
that is for you you must be un eleve there. There are some five or
six thousand francs it's all I have now they are yours. Marie is

already provided for tell her ^but no, she has forgiven me long

since I feel it You'll one day win your grade high up ; yes, you
must do so. Perhaps it may be your fortune to speak with General
Buonaparte ; if so, I beg you say to him that, when Charles de Meudon
was dying in exile, with but one friend left of all the world, he held
this portrait to his lips, and, with his last breath, he kissed it."

The fervour of the action drew the blood to his face and temples,
which as suddenly became pale again ; a shivering ran through his
limbs; a quick heaving of lus bosom; a sigh, and all was still. He
was dead.

The stunning sense of deep affliction is a mercy from on high.
Weak human faculties, long strained by daily communing with grief,
would fall into idiotcy, were their acuteness not blunted and theh* per-
ception rendered dull. It is for memory to trace back through the
mazes of misery the object of our sorrow, as the widow searches for
the corpse of him she loved amid the slain upon the battle-field.

I sat benumbed with sorrow ; a vague desire for the breaking day
my only thought. Already the indistinct glimmerings of morning
were visible, when I heard the sounds of men marching along the road
towards the house. I could mark, by the clank of their firelocks and
their regular step, that they were soldiers. They halted at the door of
the cabin, whence a loud knocking now proceeded.

** Holloa, there," said a voice, whose tones seemed to sink into my
very heart " holloa, Peter, get up and open the door."

" What's the matter ?" cried the old man, starting up, and groping
his way towards the door.

The sound of several voices and the noise of approaching footsteps
drowned the reply ; and the same instant the door of the little room
in which I sat opened, and a sergeant entered.

TOM BURKE OF * OURS."* 71

"Sorry to disturb ye, sir," said he, civilly, "but duty can't bo
avoided. I have a warrant to arrest Captain de Meudon, a FreLch
officer, that is concealed here. May I ask where is he ?"

I pointed to the bed.

The sergeant approached, and by the half light could just perceive
the glitter of the uniform, as the body lay shaded by the curtain.

" I arrest you, sir, in the king's name," said he. " Holloa, Kelly^
this is your prisoner, isn't he ?"

A head appeared at the door as he spoke, and, as the eyes wandered
stealthily round the chamber, I recognised, despite the change of
colour, the \^Tetch who led the party at the churchyard.

" Come in, d ye," said the sergeant impatiently ; "what are you

afraid for ? Is this your man ? Holloa, sir," said he, shaking the
corpse by the shoulder.

" You must call even louder yet," said I, while something like the
fury of a fiend was working within me.

" What !" said the sergeant, snatching up the light, and holding it
within the bed. He started back in horror as he did so, and called out
"he is dead."

Kelly sprang forward at the word, and seizing the candle, held it
down to the face of the corpse ; but the flame rose as steadily before
those cold lips as though the breath of life had never warmed them.

" rU get the reward, anyhow, sergeant, won't I ?*' said the ruffian,'
while the thirst for gain added fresh expression to his savage fea-^
tures.

A look of disgust was the only reply he met with, as the sergeant
walked into the outer room, and whispered something to the man of the
house. At the same instant the galloping of a horse was heard on the'
causeway ; it came nearer and nearer, and ceased suddenly at the door,
as a deep voice shouted out

" Well, all right, I hope, sergeant ^is he safe ?"

A whispered reply, and a low, muttering sound of two or three
voices followed, and Barton the same man I had seen at the fray in
Malone's cabin entered the room. He approached the bed, and,
drawing back the curtains rudely, gazed on the dead man, while over
his shoulder peered the demoniac countenance of the informer, Kelly,
his savage features working in anxiety, lest his gains should have
escaped him.

Barton's eye ranged the little chamber till it fell on me, as I sat still
and motionless against the wall. He started slightly, and then advanc-_
ing close, fixed his piercing glance upon me. #

" Ha!" cried he, "yoM here? ^Well, that is more than I looked for
this morning. 1 have a short score to settle with you. Sergeant, here's
one prisoner for you, at any rate."

" Yes," said Kelly, springing forward, " he was at the churchyard
with the other ; I'll swear to that."

" I think we can do without your valuable aid in this business," eaid
Barton, smiling maliciously. " Come along, young gentleman, we'll try
and finish the education that has begun so prosperously."

u

OUa ME88.

My eyes involuntarily turned to the table nthcre De Meudon*8 pistols
were lying. Tiie utter hopelessness of such a contest deterred me not.
I sprang towards them : but as I did so, the strong hand of Barton vrtM
on my collar, and, with a hoarse laugh, he threw me back against the
iirall as he called out

" Folly, boy ^mere folly ; you are quite sure of the rope without
that Here, take him off.

As he spoke, two soldiers seized me on either side, and, before a
minute dapsed, pinioned my arms behind my back. In another
moment the men fell in, the order was given to march. And I was led
away between the files, Kelly following at the rear, wJiile Barton's voice
inight be heard issuing from the cabin, as he gave his orders for the
burial of the body, and the removal of all the effects and papers to the
barrack at Glencree.

We might have been about an hour on the road, when Barton over-
took us. He rode to the head of the party, and, handing a paper to
the sergeant, muttered some words, among which I could only gather
the phrase "committed to Newgate;" then turning round in his
saddle, he fixed his eyes on Kelly, who, like a beast of prey, continued
to hang upon the track of his victim.

" Well, Dan," cried he, " you rafty go home again now : I am afraid
you've gained nothing this time but character."

* Home !" uttered the vretch, in a voice of agony ;' ** is it face home
after this morning's work."

" And why not, man ? Take my word for it, the neighbours will be
too much afraid to meddle with you now."

** Oh I Mister Barton oh, darling ! don't send me bsck there, for the
love of heaven ! Take me with you,' cried the miserable wretch, in tones
of heart-movmg misery. " Oh I young gentleman," said he, turning
towards me, and catching me by the sleeve, ^ spake a word for me this
day."

" Don t you think he has enough of troubles of his own to think of,
Dan?" said Barton, with a tone of seeming kindliness. *^Go back, man,
go back ; there's plenty of work before you in this very county. Don^t
lay your hand on me, you scoundrel; your touch would pollute a
hangman."

The man fell back, as if stunned at the sound of these words ; his
face became livid, and his lips white as snow. He staggered a pace or
two, like a drunken man, and then stood stock-still, his ey^ fixed upon
the road.

" Quick march," said the sergeant.

The soldiers stepped out again, and, as we turned the angle of
the road, about a mile further, I beheld Kelly still standing
in the self-same attitude we leflt him. Barton, afler some order to .
the sergeant, soon left us, and we continued our march till near nine
o'qlock, when the party halted to breakfast. They pressed me to eat
with every kind entreaty, but I could taste nothing, and we resumed
oiir road after half an hour ; but the day becoming oppressively hot,
it was deemed better to defer our march till near sunset. We stopped,

rOM BUE&E OF " OURS.'* 79

then, during the noon, in a shady thicket near the road-side, where the
men, unbuckling their knapsacks and loosening their stocks, lay down
in the deep grass, either chatting together or smoking. The sergeant
made many attempts to draw me into conversation, but my heart was
too full of its own sensations either to speak or listen ; so he abandoned
the pursuit with a good grace, and betook himself to lib pipe at the
foot of a tree, where, after its last whiff escaped, he sank into a heavy
sleep.

Such of the party as were not disposed for sleep gathered together
in a little knot on a small patch of green grass, iu the middle of a
beech clump ; where, having arranged themselves with as much com-
fort as the place permitted, began chatting away over their life and
its adventures pleasantly and freely. I was glad to seek any distrac-
tion from my own gloomy thoughts in listening to them, as I lay
only a few yards off; but though 1 endeavoured with all my might to
attend to, and take interest in their converse, my thoughts always
turned to him I had lost for ever the first, the only friend 1 had ever
known.

All care for myself and what fortune awaited me, was merged in
my sorrow for him. If not indifferent to my fate I was at least unmind-
ful of it, and although the words of those near me fell upon my ear,
I neither heard nor marked them. From this dreamy lethargy I was
at last suddenly arroused by the hearty bursts of laughter that broke
from the party, and a loud clapping of hands that denoted their ap-
plause of something, or somebody then before them.
\r "I say, George," said one of the soldiers, *' he's a queer un too,

that piper."

Yes ^he's a droll chap," responded the other solemnly, as he rolled
forth a long curl of smoke from the angle of his mouth.

" Can you play * Rule Britannia,' then ?" asked another of the men.

" No, sir," said a voice, I at once knew to be no other than my
friend Darby's. " No, sir 5 but av the * Fox*s Lament,* or * Mary's
Dream,' wasn't imcongenial to your sentiments, it would be a felicity
to me to expatiate upon the same before yez."

" Eh, Bell," cried a rough voice, " does that beat you now ?"

" No," said another, *' not a bit ; he means he'll give us something
Irish instead ; he don't know * Rule Britannia.' "

" Not know * Rule Britannia l' why where the devil were you ever
bred or born, man eh ?"

^* Kerry, sir, the kingdom of Kerry^ was the nativity of my father.
My maternal progenitrix emanated from Clare. Maybe, you've heard
the adage

' From Kerry his father, from Clare came his mother.
He's more rogue nor fool on ono side lind the other.'

Not but that, in my humble individuality, I am an exeeptious illustra
cion of the proverbial catastrophe."
Another shout of rude laughter from his audience foUowid thii

r

9i OUB MESS.

on the contrary, his apologies were couched in very different gube^
being rather excuses for his mishap in having started a disagreeable
topic, than any regret for the mode in which he treated it.

" And sure, sir," continued he, addressing the corporal, " twasn't
my fault av they tuck to their heels, wouldn't any one run for his life
av he had the opportunity."

He raised his voice once more at these words with such significance^
that I resolved to profit by the counsel if the lucky moment should
offer. I had not long to wait ^the insulting manner of Darby, still
more than his words, had provoked them beyond endurance, and one of
the soldiers drawing his bayonet, drove it through the leather bag of
his pipes ; a shout of rage from the piper, and a knock-down blow
that levelled the offender, replied to the insult. In an instant the whole
party were upon him ^their very numbers, however, defeated tlieir ven
geance ; as I could hear from the tone of Darby's voice, who, far fronoi
declining the combat, continued to throw in every possible incentive
to battle, as he struck right and left of him. ** Ah ! you got that ^
well done 'tis brave you are ten against one devil fear you."

The scufHe by this time had brought the sergeant to the spot, who
in vmn endeavoured to ascertain the cause of the tumult, as they
rolled over one another on the ground, wiiile caps, belts, and frag-
ments of bagpipes, were scattered about on every side. The np
roar had now reached its height, and Darby's yells and invectives were
poured forth with true native fluency. The moment seemed propitious
to me. I was free no one near ; the hint about Bubbleton was evi-
dently intended for my guidance. I crept stealthily a few yards beneath
the brushwood, and emerged safely upon the road. The sounds of the
conflict, amid which Darby's own voice rose pre-eminent, told me
that all were too busily engaged to waste a thought on me. I pressed
forward at my best pace and soon reached the crest of a hill, from
which the view extended for miles on every side ; my eyes, however
were bent in but one direction they turned westwards, where a vast
plain stretched away towards the horizon, its varied surface presenting
all the rich and cultivated beauty of a garden, villas and mansions
surrounded with large parks, waving com flelds and orchards, in all the
luxuriance of blossom. Towards the east lay the sea, the coast line
broken. into jutting promontories and little bays, dotted with white
cottages, with here and there some whitesailed skiff scarce moving in
the calm air. But amid all this outspread loveliness of view, my at-
tention was fixed upon a dense and heavy doud that seemed balanced
in the bright atmosphere far away in the distance ; thither my eyes
turned, and on that spot was my gaze rivetted, for I knew that beneath
that canopy of dull smoke, lay Dublin. The distant murmur of the
angry voices still reached me as I stood. I turned one backward look,
the road was lonely, not a shadow moved upon it ; before me the moun-
tain road descended in a zigzag course till it reached the valley ; I
sprang over the Iom wall that skfrted the wayside, and with my eyes
till fixed upon the dark cloud, I hurried on ^my heart grew lighter
with every ste{i and when at length I reached the shelter of a piiM

TOM BCRUC OP "ODRS.** B3

inrood, and perceived no sign of being pursued, my spirits rose to such
a pitch of excitement that I shouted for very joy.

For above an hour my path continued within the shelter of the
*wood, and when at last I emerged, it was not without a sense of sudden
fear that I looked back upon the mountains which frowned above me,
and seemed still so near. I thought, too, I could mark figures od the
road, and imagined I could see them moving backwards and forwards, like
persons seeking for something, and then I shuddered to think that they
too might be at that very moment looking at me ; the thought added
fresh speed to my flight, and for some miles I pressed forward without
ven turning once.

It was late in the evening as I drew near the city; hungry and tired
as I was, the fear of being overtaken was uppermost in my thoughts,
and as I mingled in the crowds that strolled sdong the roads enjoying
the delicious calmness of a summer's eve, I shrank from every eye like
'Something guilty, and feared that every glance that fell on me, was
detection itself.

It was not until I entered the city, and found myself traversing
the crowded and naiTow streets that formed the outskirts that I felt
at ease, and inquiring my way to George*s-street barracks, I hurried on
regardless of the strange sights and sounds about. At that hour, the
-humbler portion of the population was all astir ; their daily work ended,
'they were either strolling along with their families for an evening walk,
or standing in groups around the numerous ballad singers, who de-
lighted their audience with diatribes against "the union," and ridiculous
attacks on the ministry of the day. These however, were not always
unmolested, for, as I passed on, I saw more than one errant minstrel
seized on by the soldiery, and hurried oiF to the guard-house to explain
some uncivil or equivocal allusion to Lord Castlereagh or Mr. Cook.
Such evidences of arbitrary power being sure to elicit a hearty groan
or shout of derision from the mob, which in turn, was replied to by
the soldiers ^these scolding matches giving an appearance of tumult
to the town, which on some occasions did not stop short at mere war
of words.

* In the larger and better streets such scenes were unfrequent-*but
iiere patrols of mounted dragoons or police passed from time to time,
exchanging as they went, certain signals as to the state of the city ;
while crowds of people thronged the pathways, and conversed in a
Jow tone, which broke forth now and then into a savage yell as often
as some interference on the part of the military seemed to excite their
angry passions. At the Castle ^ates the crowd was inore dense, and
'apparently more daring, requiring all the efforts of the dragoons to
keep them from pressing against the railings and leave a space for the
exit of carriages, which from time to time issued from the Castle yard.
Few of these indeed went forth unnoticed : some watchful eye would
detect the occupant as he lay back to escape observation ^his name
would be shouted aloud, as an inevitable volley of hisses and Exe-
crations show^ed upon him ; and in thi* way were received the
pames of Mr. Bingham, Colonal LoftuB, The Righ* Hon. Denis Browne,

84 ' ouB

Isaac Corry, and several others who happened that day to be dining
with the lord lieutenant, and were now on their way to the House of
Commons.

Nothing struck me so much in the scene, as the real or apparent kno w
ledge possessed by the mob of all the circumstances of each individuaVs
personal and political career ; and thus the price for which they liad
been purchased-^either in rank, place, or pounds sterling, was cried aloud
amid shouts of derision and laughter, or the more vindictive yells of
an infuriated populace.

Ha! Ben, what are you to get for Baltinglass? Boroughs is up
in the market Well, Dick, you won't take the place ^nothing but
liard cash. Don't be liiding. Jemmy. Look at the Prince of Orange,
boys. A groan for the Prince of Orange ;" here a fearful groan from
the mob echoed through the streets. " There's Luke Fox ha 1 stole
away ;" here followed another yell.

With difficulty I elbowed my way through the densely-packea crowd,
and at last reached the comer of George's-street, where a strong police
force was stationed, not permitting the passage of any one either up
or down that great thoroughfare. Finding it impossible to penetrate
by this way, I continued along Dame-street, where I found the crowd
to thicken as I advanced. Not only were the pathways, but the entire
streets filled with people through whom the dragoons could with
difiiculty force a passage for the carriages, which continued at intervals,
to pass down. Around the statue of King William the mob was in its
greatest force: not merely the railings around the statue, but the
figure itself was surmounted by persons, who, taking advantage of
their elevated and secure position, hurled their abuse upon the police
and military with double bitterness ; these sallies of invective were
always accompanied by some humorous allusion, which created a
laugh among the crowd beneath, to which, as the objects of tho ridicule
were by no means insensible, the usual reply was by charging on the
people, and a demand to keep back a difficult precept when pressed
forward by some hundreds behind them. As I made my way slowly
through the moving mass, I could see that a powerful body of horse
patroUed between the mob and the front of the College ; the space be-
fore which and the iron railings being crammed with students of thib
University, for so their caps and gowns bespoke them. Between this
party and the others, a constant exchange of abuse and insult was
maintained, which even occasionally came to blows whenever any
chance opportunity of coming in contact, unobserved by the soldiery,
presented itself.

In the interval between these rival parties, each member^s carriage
was obliged to pass, and here each candidate, for the honours of one
and the execrations of the other, met his bane and -antidote.

''Hal broken beak, there you go! bad luck to you. Ha! old
vulture, Flood."

'' Three cheers for Flood, lads," shouted a voice from the College,
and in the loud cry the yells of their opponents were silenced, but
only to break forth the next moment into further licence*

TOM BITRKE OF ^ OURS.** 85

** Here he comes, here he comes," said the mob ; " make way there
or he'll take you flying. It's himself can do it. God bless your honour,
and may you never want a good baste under ye.**

Tills civil speech was directed to a smart, handsome-looking man of
about five and forty, who came dashing along on a roan thoroughbred,
perfectly careless of the crowd, through which he rode with a smiling
face and a merry look. His leathers and tops were all in perfect jockey
style, and even to his long-lashed whip he was in every thing a sports-
manlike figure.

*' That's George Ponsonby," said a man beside me, in answer to my
question ; " and I suppose you know who that is ?"

A perfect yell from the crowd drowned my reply, and amid the
mingled curses and execrations of the mass, a dark-coloured carriage
moved slowly on ; the coachman evidently fearful at every step lest his
horses should strike against some of the crowd, and thus license the
outbreak that seemed only waiting an opportunity to burst forth.

"Ha! Bladderchops, Bloody Jack, are you there?" shouted the
savage ring-leaders as they pressed up to the very glasses of the
carriage, and stared at the occupant.

" Who is it ?" said I, again.

" John Toler, the attorney-general.'*

Amid deafening cries of vengeance against him, the carriage
moved on, and then rose the wild cheers of the college men to wel-
come their partizan. A hurrah from the distant end of Dame-street
now broke on the ear, which, taken up by those nearer, swelled into a
regular thunder, and at the same moment the dragoons cried out to
keep back, a lane was formed in a second, and down it came, six
smoking thoroughbreds ; the postillions in white and silver, cutting and
spurring with all their might. Never did I hear such a cheer as now
burst forth ; a yellow chariot, its panels covered with emblazonry,
^ame flying past ; a hand waved in return from the window to the
salutation of the crowd, and the name of Tom Conolly of Castletown
rent the very air ; two outriders in their rich liveries followed, unable
to keep their place through the thick mass that wedged in after the
retiring equipage.

Scarcely had the last echo of the voices subsided when a cheer burst
^m the opposite side, and a waving of caps and handkerchiefs pro-
claimed that some redoubted champion of Protestant ascendancy was
approaching. The crowd rocked to and fro as question after question
poured in.

" Who is it? who is coming," but none could tell, for as yet the car-
riage, whose horses were heard at a smart trot, had not turned the
comer of Grafton-street ; in a few moments the doubt seemed re-
solved, for scarcely did the horses appear in sight when a perfect yell
rose from the crowd and drowned the cheers of their opponents. I can-
not convey any thing like tire outbreak of vindictive passion that seemed
to convulse the mob, as a splendidly-appointed carriage drove rapidly
past and made towards the colonnade of the parliament-house. A ruKh
of tho people ivas made at the mom^t, in which, as in a wave, I was

8$ OUR MESS*

borne along in spite of me. The dragoons with drawn sabres pressed
down upon the crowd, and a scene of frightful confusion followed ;
many were sorely wounded by the soldiers, some were trampled under
foot, and one poor wretch in an effort to recover himself from
stumbling, was supposed to be stooping for a stone, and cut through
the skull without mercy. He lay there insensible for some time, but
at last a party of the crowd braving every thing, rushed forward and
carried him away to an hospital ; during this, I had established myself
on the top of a lamp-post, which gave me a full view, not only of all
the proceedings of the mob, but of the different arrivals as they drew
up at the door of the house. The carriage whose approach had been
signalized by all these disasters, had now reached the colonnade. The
steps were lowered, and a young man of the very handsomest and most
elegant appearance, descended slowly from the chariot ; his dress was
in the height of the reigning fashion, but withal, had a certain negli-
gence that bespoke one who paid less attention to toilette than that
his costume was a thing of course, which could not but be, like all about
him, in the most perfect taste. In his hand he held a white handker*
chief, which as he carelessly shook, the perfume floated over the savage-
looking-half-naked crowd around ; he turned to give some directions to
his coachman, and at the same moment a dead cat was hurled by some one
in the crowd and struck him on the breast, a cry of exultation rending the
very air in welcome of this ruffian act : as for him, he slowly moved his
face round towards the mob, and as he brushed the dirt from his coat
with his kerchief he bestowed on them one look, so full of immeasurable
heartfelt contempt, that they actually quailed beneath it ; the cry grew
fainter and fainter, and it was only as he turned to enter the house
that they recovered self-possession enough to renew their insulting
shout. I did not need to ask the name, for the yell of bloody Castle-
reagh shook the very air.

" Make way there make way, boys !" shouted a rough voice from
the crowd, and a roar of laughter, that seemed to burst from the entire
street, answered the command, and the same instant a large burly figure
advanced through a lane made for him in the crowd, mopping his great
bullet-head with a bright scarlet handkerchief.

*^ Long life to you, Mr. gan V* shouted one.

Three cheers for Bully gan, boys ?* cried another, and the appeal
was responded to at once.

" Make way, you blackguards, make way I say," said Egan, affecting
to be displeased at this display of his popularity " don't you see who's
coming ?" Every eye was turned at once towards Daly's club-house,
in which direction he pointed ; but it was some minutes before the dense
crowd would permit any thing to be seen. Suddenly, however, a cheer
arose wilder and louder than any I had yet heard ; from the street to
the very housetops the cry was caught up and repeated, while a tumul-
tuous joy seemed to rock the crowd as they moved to and fro.

At this moment the excitement was almost maddening; every neck was
strained in one direction, every eye pointed thither, while the prolonged
cheering was sustained with a roar as deafening as the sea in a storm

TOM BURKS OP " OURS." ^7

At last the crowd were foiSrced back, and I saw three gentlemen advancing
abreast : the two outaide ones were holding between them the weak
and trembling figure of an old and broken man, whose emaciated form
and withered face presented the very extreme of lassitude and weakness ;.
his loose coat hung awkwardly on his spare and shrunken form, and he
moved along in a shuffling slip-shod fasliion. As they mounted the steps
of the parliament-house, the cheering grew wilder and more enthusiastic,
and I wondered how he who was evidently the object, could seem so
indifferent to the welcome thus given him, as with bent-down head he
pressed on, neither turning right nor left. With seeming difficulty he
was assisted up the steps, when he slowly turned round, and, removing
his hat, saluted the crowd. The motion was a simple one, but in its
very simplicity was its power. The broad white forehead across which
some scanty hair floated 5 the eye that now beamed proudly forth, was
turned upon them, and never was the magic of a look more striking ;
for a second all was hushed, and then a very thunder of applause rolled
out, and the name of Henry Grattan burst from every tongue. Just
then one of the mob, exasperated by a stroke from tlie flat of a
dragoon's sabre, had caught the soldier by the foot and flung him from
his saddle to the ground ; his comrades flew to his rescue at once, and
charged the crowd, which fell back before tliem. The college men
taking advantage of this, sprang forward on the mob armed with their
favourite weapons, their hurdles of strong oak ; the street was imme-
diately torn up behind, and a shower of paving stones poured in upon
the luckless military, now completely hemmed in between both parties.
Yells of rage and defiance rose on either side, and the cheers of the
victors and cries of the wounded, were mixed in mad confusion. My
lamp-post was no longer an enviable position, and I slipped gently down
towards the ground ; in doing to, however, I unfortunately kicked off a
soldier's cap The man turned on me at once and collared me, and
notwithstanding all my excuses insisted on carrying me olf to the guard-
house. The danger of such a thing at once struck me, and I resisted
manfully. The mob cheered me, at whieh the soldier only became more
angry ; and ashamed, too, at being opposed by a mere boy, he seized me
rudely by the throat. My blood rose at this, and I struck boldly at
him, my fist met him in the face, and before he could recover himself
the crowd were upon him. Down he went, while a rush of the mob,
escaping from the dragoons, flowed over his body ; at the same moment-
the shout ^ guard, turn out " was heard from the angle of the bank, and
the clattering of arms and the roll of a drum followed. A cheer from
the mob seemed to accept the challenge, and every hand was employed
tearing up the pavement and preparing for the fray. Whether by my
own self-appointment, or by common consent, I cannot say, but I at on;p
took the leadership, and having formed the crowd into two parties,
directed them, if hard pressed, to retreat either by College-street or West-
moreland-street. Thus one party could assist the other by enfilading the
attacking force, unless they were in sufficient strength to pursue both
together. We had not long to wait the order of battle. The soldiers
were formed in a second; and the word was given to advance at a (diarge

.88 oum ME8.

The same instant t stepped forward and cried, Fire !'* Never was
an order so obeyed a hundred paving stones showered down on the
wretched soldiers, who fell here and there in the ranks, Again !" I
shouted to my second battalion, that stood waiting for the word, and
down came another hail-storm, that rattled upon their caps andmuskets,
and sent many a stout fellow to the rear. A wild cheer from the mob
proclaimed the victory, but at the same instant a rattling of ramrods,
and a clank of firelocks, was heard in front ; and from the rear of the
soldiers a company marched out in echelon^ and drew up as if on
parade. AH was stilled, not a man moved in the crowd, indeed #ur
tactics seemed now at an end, when suddenly the word, *^ make ready
Hre," was called out, and the same instant a ringing discharge of
musketry tore through the crowd. Never did I witness such a scene
as followed. All attempts to retreat were blocked up by the pressure
from behind ; and the sight of the wounded, who fell by the discharge
of the soldiers, seemed to paralyze every effort of the mob. One
terrified cry rose from the mass, as they shrank from the muskets.
Again' the ramrods were heard clinking in the barrels. I saw there
was but one moment, and cried out, *' courage, lads, and down upon
them !" and with that I dashed madly forward, followed by the mob
that, like a mighty mass, now rolled heavily after me. The soldiers fell
back as we came on ; their bayonets were brought to the charge, the
word ''fire low^ was passed along the line, and a bright sheet of flame
flashed forth, and was answered by a scream of anguish that drowned
the crash of the fire. In the rush backwards I was thrown on the
ground, and at first believed I had been shot, but I soon perceived I
was safe and sprang to my legs ; but the same moment a blow on the
head from the butt-end of a musket, smote me to the earth, and I neither
saw nor heard of any thing very clearly aflerwards. I had, indeed, a
faint dreamy recollection of being danced upon and trampled by some
hundred heavy feet, and then experiencing a kind of swinging, rocking
motion, as if carried on something ; but these sensations are far too
vague to reason upon, much less to chronicle.

TOM BCBKE OF ** OUllS." 89

CHAPTER XII.

A CHARACTUt.

Thsbe must have been a very considerable interval from the moment
I have last recorded to that in which I next became a responsible indi-
vidual ; but in what manner, in what place, or in what company it was
passed^ the reader must excuse my divulging for many important
reasons, one of which is, I never clearly knew any thing of the matter*

To date my recollections from my first consciousness, I may state
that I found myself on my back in a very narrow bed, a table beside
me covered with phials and small flasks, with paper cravats, some of
which hung down, queue fashion, to an absurd extent, A few rush-
backed and bottomed ohairs lay along the walls, which were coarsely
whitewashed. A window, of very unclean and unprepossessing aspect,
was partly shaded by a faded scarlet curtain, while the floor was equally
sparingly decked with a small and ragged carpet. Where was I, was
the frequent but unsatisfactory query I ever put to myself could this
be a prison had I been captured on that riotous evening, and carried
off to a gaol or was I in Darby M*Keown's territory ; for, somehow, a
very general impression was on my mind that Darby's gifts of ubiquity
were somewhat remarkable ; or, lastly, (and the thought was not a
pleasant one,) was this the domicile of Anthony Basset, Esq., attorney-
at-law ? To have resolved any or all of these doubts, by rising and
taking a personal survey of the premises, would have been my first
thought ; but, unluckily, I found one of my arms bandaged, and en-
closed in a brace of wooden splints ; a very considerable general
impression pervaded me of bruises and injuries all over my body ; and,
worse still, a kind of megrim accompanied every attempt to lift my head
from the pillow, that made me heartily glad to lie down again, and be
at rest.

That I had not fallen into unfriendly hands was about the extent to
which my deductions led me, and with this consolatory fact, and a
steady resolve to remain awake three days if necessary, so as to inters
rogate the first visitor who should approach me, I mustered all my
patience, and waited quietly. What hour of the day it was when first
I awoke to even thus much of consciousness I cannot say ; but I well
remember watching what appeared to me twelve mortal hours in my
anxious expectation ; at last a key turned in an outer lock, a door
opened, and I heard a heavy foot enter. This was shortly followed by
another step, whose less imposing tread was, I suspected, a woman's.

" Where, in the devil's name, is the candle?" said a gruff voice, that
actually seemed to me not unknown. ^ I left it on the table when I
wenf out. Oh I my shin's broke that infernal table T

^ I

90 OUS MlSfl.

" Oh, Lord ! oh, Lord !'* screamed the female voice.

** Ah ! you ve caught it too,'* cried the other, in glee ; " did you tliiiik
you saw a little blue flame before you, when your shin was
barked?*'

" You're a monster,* said the lady, in a tone of passionate
indignation.

" Here it is I have it," replied the other, not paying the slightest

attention to the endearing epithet last bestowed ; "and d me, if it's

liot burned down to the socket. Holloa there, Peter Dodd you
scoundrel, where are you ?**

" Call him Saladin," said the lady, with a sneer, and perhaps he'll
answer."

" Imp of darkness, where are you gone to ? Peter Dodd Dodd
Peter 1 Ah! you young blackguard, where were you all this
time ?"

" Asleep, sir ; sure you know well, sir, it's little rest I get," said a
thin, childish voice, in answer. " Wasn't it five o'clock this morning
when I diviiled the two kidneys ye had for suppet for the four officers,
nnil had to * borrey' the Kian pepper over the way V

" ril bore a gimlet hole through your pineal gland, and stuff it wth
brass-headed nails, if you reply to me. Anna Maria, that wa a fine
thought eh ? glorious, by Jove ! There, put the candle there ; hand
your mistress a chair ; give me my robe de ehambre. Confound me, if
It's not getting very like the kingdom of Prussia on the map, full of very
straggling dependencies. Supper, Saladin."

** The sorrow taste ^"

" What, thou piece of human ebony what do you say ?*

" Me hab no & ting in de larder," cried the child, in a broken
voice.

** Isn't there a back of a duck and two slices of cold bacon?" asked
the lady, in the tone of a cross-examining barrister.

'* I poisoned the bacon for the rats, miss ; and for the duck "

** Let me strangle him with my own hands," shouted the man ; *' let
me tear him up into merry thoughts. Look here, sirrali," said be, in a
voice like John Kemble, " there may be nothing which man eats witliin
these walls j thfere may not be wherewithal to regale a sickly fl}^ no,
not enough for one poor spider to lunch upon ; but if you ever dare to
reply to me, save in Oriental phrase, I'll throw you in a sack, call my
mutes, and hurl you into the Bosphorus."

Where, sir ?"

* The Dodder, you son of a burnt father. My hookah.**

** My slippers," repeated the lady.

* My lute and the sherbet," added the gentleman.

By the stir in the chamber these arrangements, or something eqdva*
lent to them, seemed to have taken place, when again I heard

Dance a lively measure, Saladin ; my soul is heavy."

Here a most vile tinkling of a guitar was heard, to which, by the
Aotittds of the feet, I could perceive Saladin was moving in a species of
4aiice

e- 'z/a^6'

r^ (7^ ^zr^y'/? a- // i"^^ i/ ^?zc-z*

tout BUBKS OlP ^ ours/' 9i

Let the child go to bed, and doa*t be making a fool of yoanelf/'
said the lady, in a voice of bursting passion.

" Thank heaven/' said I, half aloud, * sh isn't mad."

^^ Tink, tink, a-tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink-a-dido," thrummed out her
companion. ** I say, Saladiui heat me a little porter, with an egg and
some sugar."

' The door closed as the imp made his exit, and there was silence for
some seconds, during which my uppermost thought was, what infernal
mischance has thrown me into a lunatic asylum* At length the man
spoke.

* I say, Anna Maria, Cradock has tliis run of luck a long time.''

" He plays better than you," responded the lady, sharply.

" I deny it," rejoined he, angrily ; '* I play whist better than any man
that ever lived, except the Begum of Soutancantantarabad, who beat
my father. They played for lacs of rupees on the points, and a terri*
tory on the rub ; five to two, first game against the loser, in white
elephants."

" How you do talk," said Anna Maria ; * do you forget that all this
rubbish doesn't go down with me ?"

Well, I mean old Hickory, that had the snuif-shop in Bath, used
only to give me one point in the rub, and we played for sixpence
damme. 111 not forget it ; he cleaned me out in no time. Tink, tink,
a-tiuk-a-tink, tink-a-tink-a-dido. Here, Saladiui bear me the spicy
cup, ambrosial boy V*

* Ahem 1" said the lady, in a tone that didn't sound exactly liko
concurrence.

'^ Eat a few dates, and then to repose^" said the deep voice.

" I wish I had them, av they wor eatable," said Saladin, as he turned
away.

' Wretch ! you have forgotten to salaam ; exit slowly. Tink, tink,
a-tink-a-tiuk. Anna Maria, he's devilish good now for black parts.
I think I'll make Jones bring him out. W^ouldu't it be original to make
Othello talk broken English ? Farewell de camp ! Eh ! by Jove,
that's a fine thought. * The spirit-stir a drum, de piercy pipe ;' by
Jove, I like that notion."

Here the gentleman rose in a glorious burst of enthusiasm, and
began repeating snatches from Shakspeare, in the pleasant travesty he
had hit upon.

** Cradock revoked, and you never saw him," said the lady, drily,
interrupting the monologue.

*' I did see it clearly enough ; but I had done so twice the same
game," said he gaily ; '^ and if the grave were to give up its dead, I
too should be a murderer. Fine thought that I isn't it ?"

* He won seventeen-and-sixpence from you," rgoined she, pettishly.

*' Two bad half-crowns i dowlas, filthy dowlas," was the answer.

^ And the hopeful young gentleman in the next room, what profitable
intentions, may I ask you, have you with respect to him r"

* Burke ! Tom Burke I Bless your heart, he's only son and heir to
Burke of Mount Blazes, in the county Galwuy. His father keep#

02 OUE MCSS.

three packs of harriers, one of fox and another of stag hounds a kind
of brindled devils, three feet eight in height: he won't take them under.
His father and mine were schoolfellows at Dundunderamud, in the
Hamalaya, and he ^that is, old Burke saved my father's life in a
tiger-hunt ; and am I to forget the heritage of gratitude my father
left me?"

*^ You ought not, perhaps, since it was the only one he bequeathed,**
quoth the lady,

. ' What ! Is the territory of Shamdoonah and Bunfunterabad no-
thing ? Are the great suits of red emeralds and blue opal, that were
once the crown-jewels of Saidh Sing Doolah, nothing ? Is the scimitar
of Hafiz, with verses of the Koran in letters of pure brillianbii
nothing ?**

* You'll drive me distracted with your insane folly," rejoined the
lady, rising and pushing back her chair with violence. " To talk this
way when you know you haven't got a iive-pound note in the world."

Ha, ha, ha !" laughed out the jolly voice of the other ; **, that's
good, faith. If I only consented to dip my Irish property, I could raise
fourteen hundred and seventy thousand pounds ; so Mahony tells me.
But V\l never give up the royalties never. There you have my last
word on the matter ^rather than surrender my tin-mine, I'd consent to
starve on twelve thousand a-year, and resign my claim to the title,
which, I believe, the next session will give me; and when yon are Lady
Machinery something or other maybe they won't bite, eh ? Ramskins
versu* wrinkles.'*

A violent bang of the door announced at this moment the exit of the
lady in a rage, to which her companion paid no attention, as he continued
to mumble to himself

" Surrender the royalties ^never ! Oh, she's gone Well, she's

not far wrong after all. I dare not draw a check on my own exchequer
at this moment, for a larger sum than let me see ^twenty-four,
twenty-five, twenty-eight and tenpence : with twenty-nine shillings, the
grand firm of Bubbleton & Co. must shut up and suspend their pay-
ments." So saying, he walked from the room in stately fashion, and closed
the door after him.

My first thought, as I listened to this speech, was one of gratefulness
that I had fallen into the friendly hands of my old coach companion,
whose kindness still lived fresh in my memory; my next was, what
peculiar form of madness could account for the strange outpouring
I had just overheard, in which my own name was so absurdly intro-
duced, coupled with family circumstances I knew never had occurred.
Sleep was now out of the question with me ; for whole hours long I
could do nothing but resolve in my mind all the extraordinary odds and
ends of my friend Bubbleton's conversation, which I remembered to
have been so struck by at my first meeting with him. The miraculous
adventures of his career, his hair-breadth 'scapes, his enormous wealth,
the voluptuous ease of his daily life, and his habits of luxury and ex-
penditure with which he then astounded me, had now received some
8tIotion^vbile) at the same time, there was something In his own

'jgr

lyo/^/yAece^yz^tif} /z^ ^/'y^i'/??.^y '?.''/:.^yo?y.

L

f

TOM BUBKK OF " OURS.'* 5|

eommon-sense observations to himself, that puzded me much, and gav
a great difficulty to all my calculations concerning him.

To all these conflicting doubts and difficulties sleep at last succeeded:
but better far for me it had not ; for with it came dreams such as sick
men only experience ; all the distorted images that rose before my
wandering faculties, mingling with the strange fragments ofBubbleton'g
conversation, made a phantasmagoria the most perplexing and incom-
prehensible; and which, even on waking, I could not banish so
completely had Saladin and liis pcLs sent, the guitar, the hookah, and
the suit of red emeralds, taken hold of my erring intellect
I Candid, though not fair reader, have you ever been tipsy?

Have you ever gone so far over the boundary line that separates the
land of mere sobriety from its neighboiudng territory, the country of
irresponsible impulses, that you actually doubted which was the way backf
that you thought you saw as much good sense and good judgment on
the one side of the frontier as the other, with only a strong balance of

food fellowship to induce a preference ? If you know this state, if yoii
ave taken the precise quantum of champagne, or moselle mousseux,
that induces it, and yet goes no farther, then do you perfectly under-
stand all the trials and difficulties of my waking moments, and you can
appreciate the arduous task I undertook in my effort to separate the
real from the imaginary, the true, types from their counterfeits; in a
word, the wanderings of my own brain from those of Captain
Bubbleton's.

In this agreeable and profitable occupation was I engaged, when the
same imposing tread and heavy footstep I had heard the previous
f' evening, entered the adjoining room and approached my door. The.

lock turned, and the illustrious captain himself appeared, and here let;
me observe, that if grave censure be occasionally bestowed on per-
sons who by the assumption of voice, look, or costume, seek to terrorize,
over infant minds, a no less heavy sentence should be bestowed on all
Who lord it over the frail faculties of sickness by any absurdity in
their personal appearance^ and that I may not seem captious let me
describe my friend. The captain who was somewhere about the for-,
ties, was a full-faced, chubby, good-looking fellow, of some five feet
ten or eleven inches in height ; his countenance had been intended by
nature for the expressions of such emotions as arise from the enjoyment
^ of turtle, milk-punch, trufHed-turkey s, mulled port, mulligatawney, stilton,

) stout, and pickled oysters ; a rich mellow-looking pair of dark brown

eyes, with large bushy eyebrows, meeting above the nose, which latter,
feature was a little ''on the snub, and off the Roman;" his mouth was
thick lipped, and had that peculiar mobility which seems inseparable,
\vherever eloquence or imagination predominate; in colour, his face was
of that uniform hue painters denominate as " warm," in fact, a rich sunset
Claude Lorrainish tint, that seemed a compound, the result of high-sea-
' soned meats, plethora, punch, and the tropics ; in figure^ he was like a

huge pudding-bag, supported on two short little dumpy pillars, that from
a sense of the superincumbent weight had wisely spread themselves out
below, giving to his lower man the appearance of a stunted letter A ; his

4 OUR MES8.

%rms were most preposterously short, and for the convenience of locomo-
tion he used them somewhat after tlie fashion of fins ; as to his costume
on the morning in question, it was a aingularly dirty and patched dressing?
^own of antique silk, fastened about the waste by a girdle, from which
depended a scimitar on one side, and a meershaum on the other ; a well-
born and not over clean-looking shawl was fastened wi fashion of
a turban round his head ; a pair of yellow buskins with faded gold
tassels decorated legs, which occasionally peeped from the folds of
the robe de chamhrey without any other covering.

Such was the outward man of him, who suddenly stopped short at
the doorway, while he held the latch in his hand, and called out :

" Burke ! Tom Burke, don't be violent ; don't be outrageous, you see
I'm armed ; I'd cut you down without mercy if you attempt to lift a
finger ; promise me this do you hear me ?"

That any one even unarmed could have conceived fear from such a
poor, weak object as I was, seemed so utterly absurd, that I laughed
outright ; an emotion on my part that seemingly imparted but little confit
dence to my friend the captain, who retreated still closer to the door,
and seemed ready for flight. The first use I could make of speech, how-
ever, was, to assure him that I was not only perfectly calm and sensible,
but deeply grateful for kindness for which I knew not how, nor to whonl
I became indebted.

" Don't roll your eyes there ; don't look so d d treacherous,"

eaid he ; " keep down your hands ; keep them under the bed-clothes.
I'd put a bullet through your skull if you stirred."

I again protested that any manifestation of quietness he asked for I
would immediately comply with, and begged him to sit down beside
me and tell me where I was, and how I had come hither. Having
established an outwork of a table and two chairs between us, an3
cautiously having left the door a-jar, to secure his retreat, he drew the
scimitar and placed it before him, his eyes being fixed on me the entire
time.

" Well," said he, as he assumed a seat, and leaned his arm on the
table, " so you are quiet at last. Lord ! what a frightful lunatic you
were. Nobody would approach your bed but me. The stoutest keeper
of Swift's hospital fled from the spot, while I said, leave him to me.
The human eye is your true agent to humble the pride of maniacal
frenzy."

With these words he fixed on me a look such as the chief murderer in
a melo- drama assumes, at the moment he proceeds to immolate a whole
family.

" It'ou infernal young villain, how I subdued you how you quailed
before me."

There was something so ludicrous in the contrast of this bravery
with his actual terror, that again I burst out a laughing, upon w hich he
sprang up, and brandishing his sabre, vowed vengeance on me if I
stirred. After a considerable time spent thus, I at last succeeded in
impressing him with the fact, that if I had all the will in the world to
teai: him in pieces, my strength wotdA not Suffice to Oftrry me* to the door,

I

\

*0M BURKE 6F *^OtmS* 95

An assutanoe which, however sorrowfully made by me, I perceived to
afford him the most mimixed satisfaction.

" That's right, quite right," said he, " and mad should he be indeed
who would measure strength with me. The red men of Tuscarora
always called me the great buffalo. I used to carry a bark canoe
with my squaw and nine little black devils under one arm, so as to
leave the other free for my tomahawk. * He, how, he,* that's the war
stop.*'

Here he stooped down to his knees, and then sprang up again, with
a yell that actually made me start, and brought a new actor on the
acene in the person of Anna Maria, whose name I had so frequently
heard the night before.

* What is the matter ?" said the lady, a short squab-like woman, of
nearly the captain's age, but none of his personal attractions. * We
can*t have him screaming all day in that fashion.*'

" It isn't him, it was I was performing the war dance. Come now let
down your hair and be a squaw do. What trouble is it? and
bring in Saladin ; we'll get up a combat scene ; devilish fine thought
thatr

The indignant look of the lady in reply to this modest proposal again
overpowered me, and I sank back in my bed exhausted with laughter.
An emotion which I was forced to subdue as well as I might on beholding
the angry countenance with which the lady regarded me.

" 1 say, Burke," cried the captain, " let me present you to my sisteri
Miss Anna Maria Bubbleton.**

A very dry recognition on Miss Anna Maria's part replied to the
effort I made to salute her, and as she turned on her heel, she said to
her brother, " Breakfast's ready," and left the room.

Bubbleton jumped up at this, rubbed his mouth pleasantly with his
hand, smacked his lips, and then dropping his voice to a whisper,
muttered

" Excuse me, Tom, but if I have a weakness it is for yarmouib
bloaters, and anchovy toast, milk chocolate, marmalade, hot rolls,
and reindeer tongue, with a very small glass of pure white brandy,
as a qualifier." So saying, he whisked about and made his exit.

While my host was thus occupied I was visited by the regimental'
surgeon, who informed me that my illness had now been of some weeks'
duration : severe brain fever, with various attending evils, and a broken
arm, being the happy results of my evening's adventure at the parliament-
house ?

" Bubbletou's an old friend of yours,'* continued the doctor ; and then,
without giving me time to reply, added, " capital fellow, no better ; a*
little given to the miraculous eh ! but nothing worse.'*

" Why he does indeed seem to have a strong vein for fiction," said I,
half timidly.

" Bless your heart, he never ceases ; his world is an ideal thing, full
of impossible people and events, where he has lived at least some
centuries, enjoying the intimacies of princes, statesmen, poets, and
warriors ; he has, in his own estimation, unlimited wealth and unbounded^

96 ' OUE MESS. ;

resource the want of which he is never convinced of till pressed f6r
five shillings to bay his dinner."

And his sister," said I, " what of her ?'*

Just as strange a character in the opposite direction. She b as
matter-of-fact as he is imaginative. To all his flights she as resolutely
enters a dissentient; and he never inflates his balloon of miracles
without her stepping forward to punch a hole in it. But here they
come."

" I say, Pepper, how goes your patient? Spare no pains, old fellow
^no expense ; only get him round. I've left a check for you for five
hundred in the next room. This is no regimental case come, come^
it's my way, and I insist upon it."

Pepper bowed with an air of the deepest gratitude, and actually looked
so overpowered by the liberality, that I began to suspect there miglit
be less truth in his account of Bubbleton than I thought a few minutes
before.

^ All insanity has left him ^that's pleasant. I say, Tom, you must
have had glorious thoughts, eh I When you were mad, did you ever
think you were an anaconda bolting a goat, or the Eddystoue light-
bouse when the foundation began to shift ?"

** No, never."

'* How odd ! I remember being once thrown on my head off a drag.
I was breaking in a pair of young unicorns for the queen of "

" No," said Anna Maria, in a voice of thunder, holding up her
finger, at the same moment, in token of reproof.

The captain became mute on the instant, and the very word ke was
about to utter stuck in his throat, and he stood with his mouth open,
like one in enchantment.

' You said a little weak tea, I think," said Miss Bubbleton, turning
towards the doctor.

' Yes, and some dry toast, if he liked it : and, in a day or t^ro, a half
glass of wine and water."

" Some of that tokay old Pepi Esterhazy sent us ^"

No," said the lady again, in the same tone of ^menace.

" And, perhaps, after a week, the open air and a little exercise in a
carriage."

^ The barouche and the four ponies," interrupted Bubbleton.

' No," repeated Miss Anna Maria, but in such a voice of imperious
ipeaning, that the poor captain actually fell back, and only muttered to
himself

What was the use of wealth, if one couldn't contribute to the
enjoyment of their friends ?"

" There's the drum for parade," cried the doctor ; youll be late,
and so shall I."

They both bustled out of the room together, while Miss Anna'
Maria, taking her work out of a small bag she carried on Iter arm,
drew a chair to the window, and sat down, having quietly intimated to
me that, as conversation was deemed injurious to me, I must not speak .
one syllable*

TOM BUll& OF " OCR8." 97

CHAPTER XIII.

AN UNLOOKSD-FOR VISITOR.

AiiL my endeavours to ascertain the steps by which I came to occupy
my present abode were fruitless, inasmuch as Captain Bubbleton con-
trived to surround his explanation with such a mist of doubtful, if not
impossible circumstances, that I gave up the effort in despair, and was
obliged to sit down satisfied with the naked fact, that it was by some
soldiers of his company I was captured, and by them brought to
the guard-house. Strangely enough, too, I found that in his self-
mystification, the worthy captain had invested me with all the honours
of a staunch loyalist who had earned his cracked skull in defence of
the soldiery against the mob ; and this prevailing impression gave such
a tone to his narrative, that he not only set to work to trace back a
whole generation of Burkes famed for their attachment to the House of
Hanover, but also took a peep into the probable future, where he saw
me covered with rewards for my heroism and gallantry.

Young as I was, I hesitated long how far I dare trust him with
the real state of the case. I felt that in so doing I should either ex-
pose him to the self-reproach of having harboured one he would deem
a rebel- or, by withdrawing from me his protection, give him, perhaps,
greater pain by compelling him to such an ungracious act. Yet, how
could I receive attention and kindness under these false colours ? This
was a puzzling and difiicult thing to resolve ; and a hundred times a
day I wished I had never been rescued by him, but taken my chance of
the worst fortune had in store for me.

While, therefore, my strength grew with every day, these thoughts
harassed and depressed me. The continual conflict in my mind de-
prived me of all ease ; and scarcely a morning broke, in which I had
not decided on avowing my real position and my true sentiments ; and
still, when the moment came, the flighty uncertainty of Bubbleton's
manner ^his caprice and indiscretion all frightened me, and I was
silent. I hoped, too, that some questioning on his part might give
me a fitting opportunity for such a disclosure ; but here again I was
deceived. The jolly captain was far too busy inventing his own history
of me, to think of asking for mine ; and I found out from the surgeon
of the regiment, that according to the statement made at the mess
table, I was an only son, possessed of immense estates somewhat en-
cumbered, to be sure, (among other debts, a large jointure to my
mother) that I had come up to town to consult the attorney-general
about the succession to a title long in abeyance in my family, and was
' going down to the house in Lord Castlereagh*s carriage, when, fired by

MESS, no. XVII. ^VOL. II. H

98 OUS MKS&

the tuffianism of tKe mob, I sprang out, and struck one of the ring*
leaders, &c. &c.

How this visionary history had its origin, or whether it had any,
save in the wandering fancies of his brain, I knew not ; but either
by frequent repetition of it, or by the strong hold a favourite no-
tion sometimes will tak^ of a i^eak intellect, he so far believed it
true, that he wrote more than one letter to Lord Castlereagh, to assure
him that I was rapidly recovering, and would be delighted to receive
him ^which, whether from a knowledge of the captain's character, or
his indifference as to my fate the secretary certainly never took any
jhotice of whatever.

Bubbleton had too much experience of similar instances of negleiet
to be either afflicted or offended at this silence i on the contrary^ he
satisfied his mind by an excuse of his own inventing, and went about
saying ^' I think we'll have Castlereagh down to-day to see Borke^'*
until it became a cant on parade, and a jest at mess.

Meanwhile* his active mind was not lying dormant. Indignant that
no inquiries had been made after me and astonished that no aide-de*
camp not evea a literied menial of the viceroy's household ^had come
down to receivd the daily bulletin of my health ; and somewhat piqued^
perhapS) that his own important setvices regarding me remained unac-
knowledged, he set about springing a mine for himself which very nearly
became my ruin.

After about ten days sp^nt by me in this state of painful vacillation,
my mind vibrating between twd opposite courses, and seeing arguments
for either, both in the matter-of-fact shortness of Miss Biibbleton's not
over-courteous manner, and the splendidly-liberal and vait eoneeptions
of her brother) 1 went to my bed one night, resolved that on the very
next morning I would hesitiite no longer ; and as my strength would
now permit of Hiy being able to walk Unassisted^ I would explain freely
to Bubbleton every circumstance of my life^ and take my leave of hiiiH
to wander, 'I knew not where. This decision at length being Cbme to
I slept more Soundly than I had done for many nights, nor awoke until
the loud step and the louder voice of the captain aroused me from m!
slumbers.

^h, Tom a good night, my lad ? How souncUy yon sleep t Jiist
like the Lachigong Indians : they go to bed after the hunting seai^on^
and nev^ wake till the bears come in next fall. I had the kncusk my-
self once, but then I always took six or seven docen of strong Ba^oH
ale fitrst and that, they said, wasn't quite fair ; but for a white man,
I'd back myself for a thousand td-morrow. But whatfs this I have to
tell you ? Something or othfer was in my hiead for you. Oh, I have
it ! I say, Tom old fellow, I think I have touched them up to som^
purpose. They didn't expect it no^ hang it I they little knew what
was in store for them. They weren't quite p^pared f^ it By Jdve^
that they weren't !"

' Who cu*e they ?" siid I, sitting up in my bed, md soMwfcal dttttotti
to hear som^thi^ of tfaes^ astonished individuate* J

TOM BURKB OF ^OURS." |l^

:.:*l'he gevfenttrient, i6j lad ^iiie castle ^th4^^ private d^.-^tfie majofr
**i4lid^ treasuty the board of green cloth the what d*yfe oall tfaem?'
Mlie privy council.'^ - ...:.: ^

Why, what has happened thfem?**

^ril{8hJw you whafs happened. Lie doAvn again and compose ydutself.
Hfe won't be here before twelve o'clock ; though, by-the-by, I ptoftiii^d
oii Itiy honour not to sat a wbrd about his coming. But it's dtet
lidw.'^

Who U it ?" said I, eagerly.

Ohj I can*t tell now. You'll see him very soon, and ^ight glad
he'll be to see you so lie says. But here they are ^here's the whole
afifeir.** Sb sayingj he covered the bed with a mass of newspapers, and
blotted, ill-written manuscripts, among which he commenced a vigorous
search at dnce.

" Here it is. I've found it out. Listen to this : * The Press^ Friday,
August 10. The magnificent ourang-outang that Captain Bubbleton

is about to present to the lady lieutenant * No ; that isn't it. It

must be in Faulkner. Ay, here we have it : * In Captain Bubbleton's
forthcoming volume, withi which we have been favoured with a private^
perusal, a very singular account is given of the gigantic mouse found'

in Candia, which grows to the size of a common mastiff * No ;

that's not it. You've heard of that, Toiii, though; havfen't you ?"

" Never," aid I, trying to repress a smile.

"I'm amazed at that, ^ever heard of my curious speculations
about the Candiati moilse I The fellow has a voice like a humah being
you'd hear him crying in the woods, and you'd swear it was a child. I've
a notion that the Greeks took their word * mousikos' from tliis fellow ;
but that's nbt what I'm looking for. No, but here it is. This is squib
No. 1 : * Tuesday morning. We are at length enabled to state that
the young gentleman who took stch a prominent part in defending the
military against the savage and murderous attack of the mob in the
late riot ifl College-green, is now out of danger ; being removed to
Captain Bubbleton's quarters, in George'fe-street barracks, he was
immediately trepanned * Eh ? trepanned ! No ; you weren't tre-
panned ; but Pepper said you might have been though, and he'd just

ite soon do it, as not ; so I put iti trepanned * "fiie pia-mater was

fortunately not cut throi^^h.' That you don't understand ; but no

matter hem, hem * Congestion of * hem, hfem * In our

next, we hope to give a still fnore favourable report.* Then here's the
next : * To the aide-de-camp sent to inquire after the " hero of College.
Green," the answer this morning was "Better able to sit up." * Well,
here we go. No. 3 :^-*His excellency mentioned this morning at
the privy council the satisfaction he felt at being able to announce
that Mr. * * * * (from motives of delicacy we omit the name)
is now permitted to take some barley-gruel, with a spoonful of old
Madeira. The Bishop of Ferns and Sir Boyle Roach both left their
cards yesterday at the barracks.' I waited a day or two after this ;
iat would you belike it? no notice was taken not even the oppo-
dtion papers said a word, excep t some insolent rased in 771^ PreiS

100 OtB

-^ Can yoa ted your readers are we to have any thing more front
Captain Bubbleton?* So then I resolved to come out in force, and here you
see the resolt ' Friday 20th-It is now our gratifying task to annoonoe
thecomplete restoration of the young gentleman whose case has, for some
weeks past, been the ensrossing topic of conversation of all ranks and
classes, from the table of the viceroy to the humble denizen of Mud
Ifland. Mr. Burke is only son and heir to the late Matthew Burke, of
(emore, county of Galway. His family have been long distinguished
for their steady uncompromising loyalty ; nor is the hereditary gloryci
their house likely to suffer in the person of the iUustrious you^ who
we learn is now to be raised to the baronetcy, under the title of Sir
Thomas Bubbleton Burke, the second name assumed to commemorate
the services of Captain Bubbleton, whose * Of course I dilated a
little here to round the paragraph* Well, this did it Here was the shell
that exploded the magazine ; for early this morning I received a polite
note from the Castle ; I won't tell you the writer though I like a good
bit of surprise; and, egad, now I think on't, I won't say any thing more
about the letter either, only that ^e're in luck, my lad, as you'll soon
acknowledge. What's the hour now ? Ah ! a quarter to twelve ; but
wait, I think I hear him in the next room ; jump up, and dress as fast
as you can, while I do the honours."

With this the captain bustled out of the room, and although he banged
the door after him, I could hear his voice in the act cf welcoming
some new arrivaL

In spite of the sea of nonsense and absurdity through which I bad
waded in the last half hour, the communication he had made me excited
my curiosity to the utmost, and in some respect rendered me uneasy.
It was no part whatever of my object to afford any clue to Basset by
which he might trace me, and although much of the fear I had formerly
entertained of that dreaded personage had evaporated with increased
knowledge of the world, yet old instincts preserved their influence over
me, and I felt as though Tony Basset would be a name of terror to me
for my life long. It was quite dear, however, that the application
from the Castle to which he alluded, could have no reference to the
honest attorney ; and with this comforting reflection, which I confess
came somewhat late, I finished my dressing, and prepared to leave
my room.

*^ Oh ! here he comes," cried Bubbleton, as he flung open my door,
and announced my approach. " Come along, Tom, and let us see if
your face will let you be recognised."

I scarcely had crossed the tb'eshold when I started back with affiight,
and, had it not been for the wall against which 1 leaned, must have
fallen. The stranger whose visit was to afford me so much of pleasure
was no other than Major Barton : there he stood, his arm leaning on the
chimney-piece^ the same cool malidous smile playing about the angles
of his mouth, which I noticed the first day I saw him in the glen. His
sharp eyes shot on me one quick searching glance, and then turned to
the door, from which again they were directed to me, as if some passing
thought bad moved them*

l?oM BtmkK OF "oims, 101

Bubbleton was the first to^speak, for not noticing either the agitatioxi
i was under, or the stern expression of Barton's features, he ran on .

' h, major ! that's your friend ^isn't it ? changed a bit I suppose
a little blanched, but in a good cause you know, that's the thing. Com^
Tom, you don't forget your old friend. Major what's the name?"

" Barton," repeated the other drily.
: ^' Yes, Major Barton ; he's come from his excellency. I knew that
last paragraph would do it eh, major ?"

^* You were quite right, sir," said Barton slowly and distinctly, ^' that
paragraph did do it ; and very fortunate you may esteem yourself, if it
will not do you also."

" Eh ! what ! how me f what d'you mean ?"

* How long, may I beg to ask," continued Barton in the same quiet
tone of voice, ^' have you known this young gentleman ?"

Burke ! Tom Burke ! bless your heart, since the height of that
fender. His father and mine were school-fellows. I'm not sure he
wasn't my godfather, or at least one of them I had four." Here the
captain began counting on his fingers. " There was the Moulah, one ;
the Cham, two **

^ I beg your pardon for the interruption," said Barton, with affected
politeness : *' how long has he occupied these quarters ? that fact may
possibly not be too antiquated for your memory."

" How long ?"said Bubbleton reflectingly. " Let me see ^here we are,
in August ^" .

" Three weeks, on Tuesday last," said I, interfering to prevent any
further drain on so lavish an imagination.

Then you came here on the day of the riots ?" said Barton.

" On that evening," was my reply.

" On that evening just so : before or afler, may I ask ?"

" I shall answer no farther questions," said I resolutely : " if you
have any charge against me, it is for you to prove it."

Charge against you I" said Bubbleton laughing. '^ Bless your heart,
boy, don't mistake him : they've sent him down to compliment you.

Lord Castlereagh mentions in his note where the devil did I throv

that note ?"

' It's of no consequence, captain," said Barton drily: ' his lordship
usually entrusts the management of these matters to me. May I leani
is this young gentleman known in your regiment ? has he been at your
mess?"

Tom Burke known among us ! Why, man, he's called nothing but
* Burke of ours' ^he's one of ourselves ^not gazetted you know, but all
the same in fact. We couldn't get on without him ; he's like the mess-
plate, or the orderly-book, or the regimental snuff-box."

" I'm sincerely sorry, sir," rejoined Barton slowly, " to rob you and the
gallant forty-fifth of one upon whom you place such just value. But
^ Burke of ours' must consent to be Burke of mine at present."

" To be sure, my dear major of course, any thing convivial ^nothing
like good fellowship ; we'll lend him to you for to-day one day, mark
me, we can't spare him longer and now I think of it, don't press him
with his wine, he's been poorly of late."

lO'i OCR MESS.

** Have no fears on that score/' said Barton, laughing outright :
" our habits of life, in his circumstances, are rigidly teraperate." Then
turning to me, he continued in an altered voice " 1 need scarcely explain
to i/ou, sir, the reason of my visit : when last wq parted I did not
anticipate that our next meeting would have been in a royal barrack ;
but you may thank your friend here for my knowledge of your
^bode '*

Bubbleton attempted to interpose here a panegyric on himself, but
Barton went on

'Here is an order of the privy council for your apprehension, and

here *'

" Apprehension !" echoed the captain, in a voice of wonderment and
terror.

" Here, sir, is your committal to Newgate. I suppose youll not givQ
me the trouble of using force ; I have a carriage in waiting below, aJid
request that we may lose no more time."

** Fm ready, sir," said I, as stoutly as I was able.

" To Newgate !" repeated Bubbleton, as overcome with fright he sank
back in a chair, and crossed his arms on his breast. " Poor fdlow! poor
fellow ! perhaps they'll bring it in manslaughter h? or was it a bank
robbery ?"

Not even the misery before me could prevent my smiling at the
worthy captain's rapidly-conceived narrattive of me. I was in no merry
mood, however, and turning to him grasped his hand.

" It may happen," said I, " that we never meet again. I know not,
indeed I hardly care, what is before me ; but with sdl my heart I thank
you for your kindness ^farewell.'*

" Farewell," said he, half mechanically, as be grasped my band in
both of his, and the large tears rolled down his cheeks. " Poor fellow !
all my fault see it now."

I hurried after Barton down stairs, a nervous choking in my throat
nearly suffocating. me. Just as I reached the door the carriage drew
up, and a policeman let down the steps. Already my foot was on
them, when Bubbleton was beside me -

" ril go with him, major, you'll permit me, won't you ?"

^^ Not at present, captain," said Barton significantly; it may happen
that we shall want you one of these days good-by."

He pushed me forward as hje spoke, and entered the carriage after
me. I felt the pressure of poor Bubbleton's hand as he pressed mine
for the last time, and discovered he had slipped something into my palm
at parting. I opened and fojuid two guineas in gold, which tho
]^d-hearted fellow had givei^ m& ^perhaps they were his only ones in
the world.

TOM BP#]^ pv ** OURS,* 103

Frqie the pipqieat the pd]rriage-4Qf)|! clof^d upoi^ |{g, S^vt^H) i^llYer
addressed one word tQ me, but l^i^Blng bfickf seepffd on}y anxiQus
tQ esc^pp being recognised by th($ people^ ifrh(se attepti^^ wf^s drawn
io the vehic^ by seeing two mounted poUcpi^^i^ fide at either
pide of it. We drove along the quays, and, orQssJpg ^n o}i 4i)&pidated
bridge, traversed several obscure and mpan-lpolqng ^tre^ts, through
whicl^ nurnbers of persons were hurrying in thf^ sam^ direction w^ were
going* At length we arrived at a largp (pen ^pace, thronged with
people, whose oress and appearance bespoke the^ f^qni ih^ country.
Thiey were all conversing in a low niurmuring tone, and looking up
from time to time towards a massive l^uiifding pf 4af k granite, which
J had only tp glance at to gues$ y{SiS Newgate. Our P^e^ 8laek^ned
to a walk as we entered the crowd ; and w}|il.e w^ i^pved slowly ftlQUg,
I was struck by the eager and excited faces I saw on every ^Id^* It
coiild be no common occasion whio^ impre^^ed that vast multitude
with the on.e character of painful an^ety I beheld. Aa they ^tood
gazing with upturned faces at the fyt^w^^S portals of the gaol, the deep
solemn tolling of a be|l rung put at the mon^ept ; gpd as Ob sad notes
yibrated through the air, it seemed to strike with a mpurnful power on
every heart in the crowd. In ap instant, top, the windows of all the
jbouses were thronged with eager faces ; eyen the parapets wer# crowded*
and whil every soiuid was hushed, each eye was turned in one direcr
tion. I followed with my own whither the others w^e bi^t, and
beheld above my head the ^9rk fr^g^^-work of the ^^ drop,' - oovere4
with black pigth, above which a piece of rope swung, swayed back*
wards and forwards with the wind- Thp narrow dpor behind was dosed,
l)ut it was cle^ th^t each epon4 t^t stq}^ by, was bringing some
wretched criminal closer to his ^w^ul 4.opni.

As we neared the entrai^oe, the niassive doors were opened on a
fignal frpnji a policeman on the box pf the earriage and we drove inside
the gloomy vestihu^e. Jt wa o^ly then, as the lieavy dgot banged
behind me, that my hpar^ sank. Up tp that moment a mingled sense
of wrong, and a feeling of de9pr^e courage had nerved me ; but
suddenly a cold chill ran through my veins, my knifes smote each other,
and fear, 3uch ^ till then I never kupw, crept over nae. The carriage-
dopr was now opened, the steps lowered, and Barton descending
first, addresse4 a few words to a person near him, whom he called
Mr. Gregg.

It was one of tho^e mpments in life in which every passing look,
^ypn ^^^9^ wordy every stir, every gesture, are treasured up, and

104 omr jttm.

remembered ever after : and I recollect now, how, as I stepped from
the carriage, a feeling of shame passed across me lest the by-standers
should mark my fear, and what a relief I experienced on finding that
my presence was unnoticed ; and then the instant after that very same
neglect, that cold, cold indifference to me, smote as heavily on my
spirits, and I looked on myself as one whose fate had no interest for
any in whose fortune none sympathized.

Drive on," cried a rough voice to the coachman, and the carriage
moved through the narrow passage, in which some dozen of persons
were now standing. The next moment a murmur of "they are coming,**
was heard, and the solemn tones of ti man's voice chanting the last
offices of the Romish church reached us, with the measured foot-
fall of persons crossing the flagged court-yard. In the backward
movement now made by those around me I was brought close to a
small arched doorway, within which a flight of stone steps ascended
in a spiral direction, and towards this point I remarked that the per-
sons who approached were tending. My eyes scarcely glanced on those
who came first, but they rested with a fearful interest on the bare-
headed priest, who, in all the trappings of his oflice, walked, book in
hand, repeating with mournful impressiveness the litany for the dead.
As he came nearer I could see that his eyes were dimmed with tears,
and his pale lips quivered with emotion, while his very cheek trembled
with a convulsive agony. Not so he who followed. He was a young
man, scarce four and twenty, dressed in loose white trowsers and
shirt, but without coat, vest, or cravat ; his head bare, and displaying
a broad forehead, across which some straggling hairs of light brown were
blown by the wind. His eye was bright and flashing, and in the centre
of his pale cheek a small crimson spot glowed with a hectic colouring.
His step was firm, and as he planted it upon the ground, a kind of elasti-
city seemed to mark his foot-fall. He endeavoured to repeat after the
priest the words as they fell from him : but as he looked wildly around,
it was clear his mind was straying from the subject which his lips ex-
pressed, and that thoughts far different were passing within him. Sud-
denly his 'eyes fell upon the nmjor, who stood close to where I was.
The man started back, and for a second even that small spot of crimson
left his cheek, which became nearly livid in its palor. A ghastly
smile, that showed his white teeth from side to side, crossed his features,
and with a voice of terrible earnestness, he said

"'Tis easy for you to look calm, sir, at your momin's work, and I
hope you're plazed at it." Then frowning fearfully as his face grew

purple, he added, But by the eternal you'd not look that way av

we two stood by ourselves on the side of Slieb-mish, and nothing but
our own four arms between us."

The horrible expression of vengeance that lit up his savage face at
these words, seemed to awe even the callous and stem nature of Barton,
himself. All his efforts to seem calm and at ease were for the moment
unavailing, and he shrunk from the proud and flashing eye of the felon,
as though he were the guilty one in the presence of his accuser.

Another stroke of the heavy bell rung out ; the prisoner started, and.

105

turning round his bead, seemed to peer anxiously through the crowd
behind him, when his eyes fell upon the figure of a man apparently a
year or two younger than himself, and whose features, even in their
livid colouring, bore a striking resemblance to his own.

" Gome, Fatsy," cried he, " come along with us." Then turning to
the gaoler, while his fade assumed a smile, and his voice, a tone of
winning softness, he added " It is my brother, sir, he is codlc up
nigh eighty miles to see me, and I hope you'll let him come upon the
drop."

There was something in the quiet earnestness of his manner in such
a moment, that thrilled upon the heart more painfully than even the
violent outbreak of his passion ; and when I saw the two brothers hand
in hand, march step by step along, and then disappear in the winding
of the dark stair, a sick, cold filing came over me, and even the
loud shout that rent the air from the assembled thousands without,
scarce roused me from my stupor.

** Come, sir," cried a man, who in the dress of an official had been
for some minutes carefully reading over the document of my committal
" after me, if you please."

I followed him across the court-yard in the direction of a small
building which stood Isolated and apart from the rest, when suddenly
he stopped, and carefully examining the paper in his hand, he said

" Wait a moment, Fll join you presently."

With these words he hurried back towards the gate, where Barton
still stood with two or three others. What passed between them I
could not hear, but I could distmctly mark that Barton's manner was
more abrupt and imperious than ever ; and that while the gaoler ^for
such he was expressed his scruples of one kind or another, the
major would not hear him with patience, but turning his back upon
him, called out loud enough to be heard even where I stood-r

" I tell you, I don't care ^regular or irregular ^if you refuse to
take him in charge, on your own head be it. We have come to a
pretty pass. Pollock," said he, turning to a person beside him, * when
there is more sympathy for a rebel in his majesty's gaol, than respect
for a government officer."

" I^ do it, sir I'll do it," cried the gaoler ; saying which he mo-
tioned me to follow, while he muttered between his teeth " there must
come an end to this, one day or other."

With that he unlocked a strongly barred gate, and led me along a
narrow passage, at the extremity of wliich he opened a door into a
small and rather comfortably furnished room*

" Here, sir," said he^ " you'll be better than where I have my orders
to put you, and, in any case, I trust that our acquaintance wiU be but a
short one."

These were the first words of kindness I had heard for some time
past. I turned to thank the speaker, but already the door had closed,
and he was gone.

The quickly succeeding incidents of my life ^the dark destiny that
seemed to track me had given a reflective character to my mind while

106 OUB lOBftk

I was yet a boy The troubles and cares of life^ taat in manhaod
serve only to mould and fashion character^ to call forth efforts of
endurance, of courage, or ability, come upon lis in early years with far
different effect and far different teaching. Every lesson qf deceit and
duplicity is a direct shock to some preconceived notion of faitb and
honour ; every punishment, whose severity in after years we had for-
gotten in its justice, has, tp the eyes of youth, a character of vindictive
cruelty. lAoking only to effects, and never to causes, our views of
life are one-sided and imperfect : the better parts of our nature will as
often mislead us by false i^ympathy, as will the worse ones ]jy their per-
nicious tendency.

From the hour I quitted pay fEUher's house to the present, I had seen
nothing but what to me appeared the sufferings of a poor, defenceless
people, at the hands of wanton tyranny and outrage. I had seen the
peasant's cabin burned, because it had been a shelter to an outcast. I
had heard the loud and drunken denunciations of a ruffian soldiery
against those who professed no other object, who acknowledged no
other wish than liberty and equality ; and in my heart I vowed a rooted
hate to the enemies of my country a vow that lost nothing of its
bitterness, because it was made within the walls of a prison.

In reflections like these my evening passed on, and with it the greater
part of the night also. My mind wai; top much excited to permit me to
sleep, and I longed for day- break with that craving impatience which
sick men feel, who count the long hours of darkness, and think the
morning must bring relief. It came at last, and the heavy, elanking
sounds of massive doors opening and shutting ^the mournful echoes
that told of captivity and durance sighed along the corridors, and th^
all was still.

There is a time in reverie wh^ silence seems not to enoourage
thought, but rather like some lowering doud to hang over and spread
a gloomy insensibility around us. Long watching and much thinking
had brought me now to this, and I sat looking upon the faint streak ^
sunlight that streamed through the barred window, and speculating
within myself when it would fall upon the hearth. Suddenly I heard
the sound of footsteps in the corridor, my door was opened^ a^d the
gaoler entered, followe4 by a man carrying my breakfast.

Coine, sir," said the for^ier, " I hope you have got an appetite for
our prison fare. Lose no time, for there is a earriage in waiting to
bring yoii to the Castle, and the m^or himself is without."

* I am r^ady thjp mpment" said I, starting up, and taking my
hat, and notwithstanding ^yery entreaty tp eat, oaade with kindness and
good-nature^ I refue4 eyery thing, and followed him out into the
court-yard, wherp BartP^ )va9 paping up and down^ impadentiy await-
ing our coming.

TOK BUBUB OF pUSS." )07

CHAPTER Xy,

THE CASTJJB*

Scarcely had the carriage driven from the gloomy portals of the gaoV
and entered one of the long, straggling streets tnat l^d towards the
river, when I noticed a singular-looking figure who ran alongside, and
kept up with us as we went. A true type of the raggedness of old
Dublin, his clothes fluttered behind him like ribbops ; even from his
hat, his long red hair straggled and streamed, while his nether garments
displayed a patchwork no tartan could vie with ; his legs were bare,
save where a single top-boot defended one of them, the other was
naked to the foot, clacj in an old morocco slipper, which he kicked up
and caught again as he went with surprising dexterity, accompanying
the feat with a wild yell which might have shamed a war-whoop ; he
carried a bundle of printed papers over one arm, and flourished one of
them in his right hand, vociferating something all the while with
uncommon energy. Scarcely had the carriage drawn up at the door of
an old-fashioned brick building when he was beside it.

" How are ye, major ? How is every bit of you, sir ? Are ye taking
them this mornin' ? 'tis yourself knows how I Buy a ha'porth, sir.*'

" What have you got to-day, Toby ?" said the major, with a greater
degree of complacency in his manner than I had ever noticed before.

" An illigant new song about Buck Whaley ; or maybe you'd like
Beresford's jig, or the humours of Malbro' Green."

" Why, man, they're old these three weeks."

" Thrue for ye, major : begorra, there's no chating you at all, at all.
"Well, maybe you'll have this Here's tlie bloody and cruel .outrage
com-initted by the y.eomen on the body of a dacent and respectable
young man, by the name of Darby M^Keown, with the ftdi and true
account of how he was inhumanly stabbed and murdered on the 8th
day of July ''

Ay, give me that ; I hope they Ve done for tl^^t scoundri^ ; I have
been on his track three years."

The fellow drew near, and^ as he handed ike paper to the major^
contrived to approach dose to where I stood. ' B^y one piaster," said
h/^, and as he fpoke he turned co^ipjetely round, so as only to be
observed by myself, and as suddenly ihe ^rholie expression of his vacant
features changed like magic, and I saw before me the well-known
face of Darby himself.

" Did you get an answer to that for ipe, Toby ?" fsaid the m^or.

" Yes, sir J here it is," and with that he pulled off his tattered hat,
and withdrew a letter which lay concealed ^yitbin the lining. ^^'Tis
sixpence you ought to be afther givin' me this mQmin\ major," conti
uued he, ia an insinuating tone of volpe ; '^ tha devil a has than twenty-

108 dUA MSBg.

one mile it is out of this, not to spake of the danger I ran, and the
boys out on every side o' me."

'' And what's the news up the country, Toby T* asked the major, as
he broke the seal of the letter*

^ 'Tis talking of a risin' they do be still, sir av the praties was

in, glory be to God, they say it 'ill be a great sayson."

* For which, Toby ^the cups or the croppies?"

** Yes, sir," replied Toby, with a most provoking look of idiotcy.
' And you won't buy Darby, sir ?" rejoined he, flourishing the printed
placard. *^ No matter ; here's the whole, full, thrue, and particular
account," and so he turned the angle of the building, and I could hear
his voice mingling with the street noises as he wended his way down
Dame-street The major looked after him, and smiled, and brief as
was that smile, I saw in it how thoroughly he was duped.

Come, sir, follow me, if you please," said he, addressing me.

I mounted a flight of old and neglected stairs, and entered an ante-
room, where, having waited for a few seconds, the major whispered an
order to the porter, and passed on to the inner room, leaving me behind.

As Major Barton passed out by one door, the porter turned the key
in the other, and, placing it in his pocket, drew his chair to the window
and resumed the newspaper he was reading when we entered. How
long I waited I cannot say. My thoughts, though sad ones, chased each
other rapidly, and I felt not the time as it passed. Suddenly the door
opened, and I heard my name called. I drew a deep breath, like one
who felt his fate was in the balance, and entered.

The room, which was plainly furnished, seemed to serve as an office.
The green-covered table that stood in the middle was littered with
letters and papers, among which a large heavy-browed, dark-featured
man was searching busily as I came in. Behind, and partly beside him,
stood Barton, in an attitude of respectful attention, while, with his hand
to the fire was a third person, whose age might have been from thirty-five
to forty. His dress was in the perfection of the modcy his top-boots
reaching down to the middle of his leg ^his blue coat, of the lightest
shade of sky blue, was lined with white sUk, and two watch chains hung
down beneath his buff waistcoat, in the acme of the then fashion. His
features were frank and handsome, and, saving a dash of puppyism that
gave a character of weakness to the expression, I should deem him a
manly, fine-looking fellow.

" So this is your * Robespierrel' major is it ?" cried he, bursting into
a laugh, as I appeared.

Barton approached nearer to him, and muttered something in a
low, mumbling tone, to which the other seemed to pay little, if any,
attention.

You are here, sir," said the dark-featured man at the taUe^ hcddkig
in his hand a paper as he spoke "you are here, under a warrant of
the privy council, charging you with holding intercourse with that rebel-
lious and ill-fated faction, who seek to disturb the peace and welfare of
this country disseminating dangerous and wicked doctrines, and being
in alliance with France with France what's that word, Barton

TOM BUEKE OF OURS.** 109

** In two words, young gentleman/' said the young msun at th# fire
** you are charged with keeping very bad company Gleaming exceedingly
unprofitable notions, and incurring very considerable present risk. Now,
I am not disposed to think that, at your age, and with your respectable
connections, either the cause or its associates, can have taken a very strong
hold of your mind. I am sure that you must have received your im-
pressions, such as they are, from artful and designing persons, who had
only their own ends in view when involving you in their plots* If I
am justified in this opinion, and if you will pledge me your honour ^

" I say, Cooke, you can't do this. The warrant sets forth ^

Well, weU, we'll admit him to bail."

^ It is not bailable, right honourable," said Barton, addressing the
large man at the table.

" Phelan," said the younger man, turning away in pique, " we really
have matters (^ more importance than this boy's case to look after."

" Boy as he is, sir," said Barton, obsequiously, " he was in the full
confidence of that notorious French captain for whose capture you
offered a reward of one thousand pounds."

You like to run your fox to earth, Barton," replied the under-
secretary calmly, for it was he who spoke.

** An alliance with France^" continued the dark man, reading from
the paper, over which he continued to pore ever since, ^ for the propaga-
tion ay, that's it ^the propagation of democratic ^

** Come, come, Browne, never mind the warrant ; if he can find
bail say five hundred pounds ^for his future appearance, we shall be
satisfied."

Browne, who never took his eyes from the paper, and seemed totally
insensible to every thing but the current of his own thoughts, now
looked up, and, fixing his dark and beetling look upon me, uttered in
a deep, low tone

^' You see, sir, the imminent danger of your present position, and at
the same time the merciful leniency which has always characterized
his majesty's government ahem ! If, therefore, you will plead guilty
to any transportable felony, the grand jury will find true bills "

*' You mistake, Browne," said Cooke, endeavouring with his hand-
kerchief to repress a burst of laughter, we are going to take his
baiL"

Bail !" said the other, in a voice, and with a look of amazement,
absolutely comic

Up to this moment I had not broken silence, but I was unable to
main longer so.

** I am quite ready, sir," said I, resolutely, " to stand my trial for
any thing, laid to my charge. I am neither ashamed of the opinions I
profess, nor afraid of the dangers they involve."

"You hear him, sir, you hear him," said Barton, triumphantly,
turning toward the secretary, who bit his lip in disappointment, and
frowned on me with a mingled expression of anger and warning-
Let him wily proceed, and you'll be quite satisfied, on his own
abowiog, that he cannot be admitted to bail."

110 ouii MUdSf.

.** Bail," echoed the tight honourable, ivhode faculties se^hieflWhaT^
stock fast hi 'th mud of thought, and were totally linable to eftrit^tiie
themselves.-

At the same moment, a gentle tap was heatff at the ddor, aiid the
porter entfercd with a card, which he delivered to the secretary,
, ** Let him wait," was the brief reply, as he tlirew his eyes over it,
^Chptain Bubbleton,** muttered he, between his teeth. "Dott'tknow
him."

I started at the name, and felt mv cheek flush ; he saw it at ohfce/

" You know this gentleman, then f* said he mildly.

" Yes ; to his humanity I am indebtfed for niv life.'*

"I thiiik 1 shdli be able to shotv, sir," ss&d Barton, intei*posing^
" that through this Burke's instrumentality a very deep scheme of dis-
affection is at this moment in operation among the troops in garrison*
It was in the barrack at George's-stteet where I appi'ehended him.^*

" You may withdraw, sir," said thfe secretary, turning towards me,
" Let Captain Bubbleton come in."

As I left the room, the burly captaiti entered'; but so flurfied and
excited was he^ that he never perceived me, as we passed each
other.

I had not been many minutes in the outer foom, i^\\m a loud laugh
attracted me. In which I coilld distinctly rfecognise the merry ca-
dence of my friend Bubbleton, and shortly ajfter the door was opened;
and I was dbsited to enter.

^ "You distinctly understand, then, Captain Bubbletoh," ^aid Mr.
Cooke, "that in accepting tlie bail in this case, I am assuming a;
responsibility which may involve me in trouble?*'

**I have no doubt of it," muttei^ed Barton, between his teeth.
' " We shall reqwre two sureties of five hundred pounds eacli.*"

*.* Take the whole myself, by Jove," broke in Bubbleton, with K
flourish of his hand. *^ In for a penny eh, Tom ?"

" You cdn*t do thiit, sir,'* interposed Barton.

The secretary nodded an assent, and for a moment or two, fiubble-
ton looked nonplussed.

." YoU*irof course have little diffieulty as to a co-surety,*^ continued
Barton, \^ith a grin. "Biirke *of oUrs* is stlfiiciently popular in the
forty-fifth to make it an easy matter."

"True,** dried BiAbleton, ** quite true; but in a thing of this kind,
every fellow will be, so deuced anxious to come forward ^a kind of
military feetiig you know."

"I understand it perfectly," said. Coo|^e,, with a polite bow; "al-
though a civilian, I think I can estimate the ^esprit du corps* you
(Speak of/*

. " Nothing like it, nothing like it, by Jove. 1*11 just tell you a story
a little anecdote in point. When we were in the Neelgharries, there
was a tiger devilish fond of one of ours someway or other, Forbes,
that was his name.- -'^

*Thetigert?*

'No! the captcdn's. Forbes had d devilisli insinuating way wilK

TOM BUtlibS or *^ OURS.** IJll

him 'Women always liked Lim and this tiger used to come in after
mess and walk round to where he was sitting, and Forbes used to give
him his dinner, just as you might a dog "

The Castle clock struck three just at this moment ; the secretary
started up

" My dear captain," cried he, putting his hand on Bubbleton's arm,
** I never was so sorry in iny life ; but I must hurry away to the privy
counciL I shall be here, however, at foiu: ; and if you will meet me
at that time with the other secttrity, we can arrange this little matter
at once.'* So saying, he seized his hat, bowed politely round the room,
and left us.

" Come along, Toin," cried Bubbleton, taking mfe by the arm ; *' devilish

?' odd fellow, that ; knew I'd tickle him with the tiger ; nothing to what
could have told him, however, if he had waited."

" I beg your pardon, sir," said Barton, interposing between us and
the door, " Mr. Burke is in custody until the formality at least of a
bail be gone through."

" So he iSj" said Bubbleton, " I forgot all about it. So good-by^
Tom, for half an hbUr 3 I'll not be longer, det)end on it."

With this he shook me warmly by the hand, bustled out of the room,
and hurri.ed down stairs, huniming a tune as he went, apparently iii
capital spirits, while I knew from his manner that the bail he was in
search ^f, had about al^ much existence as the tiger in the Neelgharries^

** Yott can wait in this room, sir," Said Barton, opening the door of
a small apartment which had no other exit save through this ofRce.
I sat down in silence and in sorrow of heart, to speculate on, as well"
AS I wad abl&, the consequences of my misfortune. 1 knew enough o(
Bubbl^oii to be certain that all chance of assistance in that quarter
was Otit Of the question ^the only source he could draw upon being
his inveiltion ^the only wealth he possessed, the riches of his imagina-
tion which had, however, this advantage over any other species of
prdperty I fevei* heatd of the more he squandered it, the nibre
affluent did hfe become. Time wore on; the clock struck four; and
yet no appearance of Bubbleton. Another hour rolled by no one
came htlkt mej kvA at length, from the perfect stillness tvithout, I
belief fed thfey had forgotten Ibe* .

112 OUB MXM.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE BAIL.

Six o'clock, seven, and even eight struck, and yet no one came. The
monotonous tread of the sentry on guard at the Castle-gate, and the
occasional challenge to some passing stranger, were the only sounds I
heard above the distant hum of the city, which grew fainter gradually
as evening fell. At last I heard the sound of a key moving in a lock,
the bang of a door, and then came the noise of many voices, as the
footsteps mounted the stairs, amid which Bubbleton's was pre-eminently
loud. The p^rty entered the room next to where I sat, and from the
tones, I cc^ld collect that Major Barton and Mr. Cooke were of the
number. Another there was, too, whose voice, though not absolutely
new or strange to my ears, I could not possibly charge my memory
where I had heard it before.

While I was thus musing, the door opened noiselessly, and Bub-
bleton entering without a word, closed it behind him, and approached
me on tip-toe.

" All right, my boy ; they're doing the needful outside ; ready in
ten minutes ; never was such a piece of fortune ; found out a glorious
fellow ; heard of him from Hicks, the money-lender ; hell go security
to any amount ; knows your family well ; knew your father, grand-
father I believe ; delighted to meet you ; says he'd rather see you than
fifty pounds l"

* Who is he, for heaven's sake ?" said I impatiently ; for it was a
new thing to me to receive any thing like kindness on the score of my
father's memory.

* h ! who is he ? He's a kind of a bill-broking, mortgaging, bail-
giving, devilish good sort of fellow. I've a notion he'd do a bit of
something at three months.*^

" But his name ; what's he called ?"

" His name is let me see ; his name is ^but who cares for his

name ; he can write it I suppose, and on a stamp, my boy ^that's the
mark. Bless your heart, I only spoil a stamp when I put my auto-
graph across it it would be worth prime cost till then. -What a glo-
rious thing is youth unfledged, unblemished youth to possess a name
new to the Jews a reputation against which no one has * protested.'
Tom Burke, my boy, I envy you. Now, when I write George Frede-
rick Augustus Bubbleton on any bill, warrant, or quittance, straightway
there's a grin around the circle a kind of a d - d impertinent sort
of a half-civil smile, as though to say * nulla bona/ payable nowhere ;
but hold! tbf^t was a tap at the door oh, they want us.'*

TOM BtTRKB OF " OURS." 113

So saying, the captain opened the door and introduced me.

** I say, Tom," cried hci '' come here, and thank our kind friend^
Mr. Mr '^

* Mr. Basset,'' said I, starting back, as my eyes beheld the pale,
sarcastic features of the worthy attorney, who stood at the table, con-
versing in a low tone with the under-secretary.

*h! what's the matter P whispered Bubbleton, as he sawmj
colour come and go, and perceived that I leaned on a chair for support*
" What the devil's wrong now ?"

* You've betrayed me to my greatest enemy,'* said I, in a low, dis
tinct voice.

" Eh I what ! why you seem to have nothing but foes in the world*
Confound it, that's always my luck ^my infernal good-nature is ever-
lastingly making a wrong plunge."

In that case, if I understand the matter aright, the bail is un-
necessary," said Mr. Cooke, addressing Basset, who never turned his head
to the part of the room where we stood.

* No, sir ; it is not necessary. While the law assists me to re-
sume my guardianship of this young gentleman, I am answerable for
his appearance."

** The indentures are quite correct," said Barton, as he laid the
papers on the table, ^* as I believe Mr. Basset's statement to be also."

" No bail necessary," interrupted Bubbleton, rubbing his handa
pleasantly, *so much the better. Wish them good evening, Tom, my
hearty ; we shall be back in time for supper. You wouldn't take an
oyster, Mr. Cooke 7*^

' I thank you very much, but I am unfortunately engaged.**

Not so fast, captain, I beg you," said Basset, with a most servile,
but malignant expression in his features. ' The habits I would incul-
cate to my apprentice are not exactly consistent with mess-parties and
barrack-suppers."

* Apprentice ! apprentice !" said Bubbleton, starting as if stung by a
wasp. " Eh ! you're surely not ^not the ^the ^

' Yes, sir ; there's the indenture, signed and sealed, if you are de-
sirous to satisfy yourself. The young gentleman himself will not deny
his father's instructions concerning him."

I hung down my head abashed and ashamed. The tears started to
my eyes ; I turned away to wipe them, and feared to face the others
again ; I saw that Bubbleton, my only friend, believed I had practised
some deceit on him and how to explain, without disclosing what I
dare not I There waa a bustle in the room a sound of voices ^the
noise of feet descending the stairs ; and when I again looked round,
they were all gone, save Basset, who was leisurely collecting his papers
together, and fastening them with a string. I turned my eyes every-
M'here, to see if Bubbleton had not remained. But no, he had left me
like the rest, and I was alone with the man I most dreaded and dis-
liked of all the world.

" Well, sir," said Basset, as he thrust the papers into the pocket of
his great coat, " I'm ready now."

MSS, NO. XVII^ ^YOL. U. I

114 OUa ME88.

" Where to, Sir?'* replied I, sternly, as he moved to leave the room;
for without thinking of how and why I was to succeed in it, a vague
resolution of defiance flitted through my mind.

To iny house, sir, or to Newgate, if you prefer it Don't mistake,
young gentleman, for a moment the position you occupy you owe
your liberation at this moment not to any merits of your own. Your
connection with the disaffected and rebellious body is well known :
my interest with the government is your only protection. Again, sir,
let me add, that I have no peculiar desire for your company in my
faitiily : lieither Ih^ habits nor the opinions you have acquired will suit
those you'll meet there.**

" Why, then, have you interfered with me ?'* said I passionately. " Why
not have left me to my fate ? Be it what it might, it would have been not
less acceptable, I assure you, than to becoine an inmate of your house.''

" That questioi^ were very easily answered," said he, interrupting me.

" Then why not do so ?"

Come, come, sir, these are not the terms which are to subsist between
UB, nor 18 this the place to discuss our difference* Follow me."

He led the way down stairs as he spoke, and, taking my arm within
his, turned into the street. Without a word on either side we proceeded
dowii Parliament-street^ and crossing Essex-bridge followed the quays
for some time, then turning into ^tano^d-strieet we arrived at a house,
when having taken a latch-key from his pocket, Basset opened the
door and ushered me in, muttering half aloud as he turned the key in the
lock, and fastened the bolt, ." safe at last.** We turned from the narrow
hall into a small parlour, which, from its dingy furniture of writing-desk
and stoob, I guessed to serve as an office. Here my companion lit a
candle from the embers of the fire, and having carefully closed the
door he motioned me to a seat.

" I have already told you, air, that 1 am not in the least covetous of
your company in my house circumstances, which I may or may not
explain hereafiter^ have led me to rescue you from the disgrace you
must eventually have brought upon your family.'*

" Hold, sir^ I have none, save a brother ^'*

** Well, sir, and your brother's feelings are, I trijst, not to be slightingly
treated a young gentleman wh6se position and prospects are of the
very highest order.**

You are his agents I perceive, lilr. Basset," said I, with a significant
ftmile. , .

I am, sur,*' replied he, with a deep flush that mounted even to iiis
forehead.

* Then let me save yu all further trouble on my account,** said I
calmly. " My brother's indi^erence .to me ot my fate has long since
absolved me from any regret I might feel for the consequences which my
actions might induce on his fortunes. His own conduct niUst stamp
him, as mine must me. I choose to judge for myself, and not even Mr.
Basset shall decide for me, although I am well aware his powers of
discrimination have had the double advantage of experience on both
Hides of the question/*

TOM BOEEB Of "OURS.** Il3

As I said this, his fdce became almost livid, and bis white lips quivered
with passion. He knew not before that I was acquainted with ki^
history, nor that I knew of His having sold to the government, information,
which brought his schoolfellow and benefdctor to the scaffold.

" Come, come," continued I, gaining courage, as I saw the effect my
words produced. " It is not your interest to injure me, however it may
be your wish. Is there no arrangement we can come to, mutually
advantageous ? We shall be but sorry companions. I ought to have
some property under my grandfather^ will.'*

" There is, I believe, five hundred pounds," said Basset, with a slow
distinctness, as if not rejecting the turn the conversation had taken.

" Well, then, what will you take and cancel that indenture ? You
don't set a very high value p my services;; I ^suppose."

" You forget, I perceive," said he, " that I am answerable for your
future appearance if called on."

" There was no bail-bond drawn out, no isiim mentioned, if I mistake
not, Mr. Basset."

Vefy true, 6ir, vety tirttej but t jJledged myself lo the law adviser
my character is respbnsibte."

Well, well) let itte have two hundred pounds ^burn that cursed
indeikture '*

" Two hundred pounds ! Do you fdncy then that you are in the
possession of this legacy ? Why, it never may, in all likelihood it neveir
will; be yours ^it's only payable on your attaining your mjgority."

" Give me one hundred pounds, then give me fifty ^let me only be
free; at liberty, and liot absolutely ft beggar On the streets."

Basset le^ed his head on the chimney, and seemed sunk in refiec-
Hon, while I, wound up to the highest pitch of ei^citement, trod up and
down the room pouring forth from time to time short and broken
sentences, declaratory of my desire to surrender all that I might chance
to inherit by every casualty in life to hay last guinea, only let there be
no cohstralnt oii my actions no attempt to control my personal liberty.

"I see," cried I, passionately, /' I see what hampers you you fear I
may compromise tay family! It is my brother's &ir fame you are think-
ing of J but awky with all dread oil that score ^I'll leave Ireland rt
havb long since determined on thftf

* Indeed!" said Basset slowly, as he turned round his head, and looked
me full in the face. " Would you go to America, then ?"

"To America! no ^to France! that shall be the land of my ado|-
tioii, as it is this moment of dl my heart's longings."

His eyes sparkled, and a gleam of pleasure shot across his cbid
featui^s, as if he ciaught a glow of the enthusiasm that lit up ihine.

" Come/' cried he, " I'll think ot this ^give nle till to-morrow, and
if youll pledge yourself to leave Ireland within a week ^"

I'll pledge myself to nothing of the kind," repliied I fiercely. " It is
to be free ^free in thought ad in act; that I would barter all my prospects
with you. There most be but one coihpact between us It must begin
tod end here. Take a night if ^ou will to think it ver 3 and to-
morrow momin]| *^''

118 OUR

** Well then, to-morrow morning be it,** said he, with more of
animation in his tone, ** and now to supper." '

** To bed, rather," said I, ^'if I may speak my mind, for rest is what
I now stand most in need of*

CHAPTER XVIL

MB. basset's DWXLLDfG.

Excepting the two dingy-looldng, dust-covered parlours, which served
as office and dining-room, the only portion of Mr. Basset's dwelling
untenanted by lodgers were the attics. The large brass plate that
adorned the hall-door, setting forth in conspicuous letters, ' Anthony
Basset, attorney," gave indeed a most inadequate notion of the mixed
population within, whose respectability, in the inverse ratio of their
height from the ground, went on growing beautifully less, till it found
its culminating point in the host himself, on whose venerable head the
light streamed from a cobweb-covered pane in the roof. The stairs
were dark and narrow, the walls covered with a dull-coloured old
wainscot, that flapped and banged with every foot that came and went,
while the windows were defended by strong iron railings, as if any
thing inside them could possibly demand such means of protection.

I followed Mr. Basset as he led the way up these apparently inter-
minable stairs, till at length the decreasing head-room betokened that
we were near the slates. Mumbling a half apology for the locale^ he
introduced me into a long, low attic, where a settle-bed of the
humblest pretensions, and a single rush-bottomed chair supporting a
basin, were the only articles of furniture. Something like the drop
curtain of a strolling theatre closed up the distance ; but this I could only
perceive imperfectly by the dim twilight of a dipt candle ; and in my
state of fatigue and weariness, I had little inclination to explore further.
Wishing me a good night, and promising that I should be called
betimes next morning, Mr. Basset took his leave, while I, overcome
by a long day of care and anxiety, threw myself on the bed, and slept
far more soundly than I could have believed it were possible for me to
do under the roof of Anthony Basset

The sun was streaming in a rich flood of yeUow light through a
small sky-light, and playing its merry gambols on the floor when I
awoke. The birds, too, were singing ; and the hum of the street noises,
mellowed by distance, broke not unpleasantly on the ear. It did not
take me long to remember where I was, and why. The conversation of

r

.

^e^/l^O^?^ ^y(79?iy.

?

n7.

the evening before recurred at once to my mind, and hope, stronger
than ever before I felt it, filled my heart. It was clear, Basset could
place little value on such services as mine ; and if I could only con-
trive to tnake it his interest to part with me, he would not hesitate
about it. I resolved that whatever price he put upon my freedom, if
in my power, I should pay it. My next plan was, to find out througli ^
some of the persons in correspondence with France the means of
reaching that country, in whose military service I longed to enrol
myself. Had I but the papers of my poor friend Charles de Meudon,
there had been little difficulty in this ; but, unfortunately, they were
seized by Major Barton on the day of his death, and I had sever seen
them since.

^ While I revolved these thoughts within myself I heard the merry
notes of a girl's voice, singing, apparently, in the very room with me.
I started up and looked about me, and now perceived that what
seemed so like a drop-curtain the night before, was nothing more or
less than a very large patch-work quilt, suspended on a line across the
entire attic, from the other side of which came the sounds in question.
It was clear,' both from the melody and the voice, that she could not
be a servant; and somewhat curious to know more of my fair neigh-
bour, I rose gently, and slipping on my clothes, approached the boundary
of my territory with noiseless step.

A kind of whistling noise interrupted every now and then the lady's
song, and an occasional outbreak of impatience would burst forth in
the middle of the " Arrah, will you marry me, dear Alley Croker," by
some malediction on a '^ black knot" or a broken string. I peeped
over the " drop," and beheld the figure of a young, plump, and pretty
girl, busily engaged in lacing her stays an occupation which accounted
equally for the noise of the rushing stay-lace and the bit of peevisli-
ness I had heard. I quite forsot how inadvisable was the. indulgence
of my curiosity in my admiration of my fair neighbour, whose buxom
figure, not the less attractive for the shortness of her drapery, showed
Itself to peculiar advantage as she bent to one side and the other in
her efforts to fasten the impracticable boddice. A mass of rich brown
hair, on which the sun was playing, fell over her neck and on her
shoulders, and half concealed her round, well-turned arms as they

jplied their busy task.
"Well, ain't I

ain't my heart broke with you entirely P exclaimed she, as
a stubborn knot stopped all further progress. At this moment
the cord, on which through inadvertence I had leaned somewhat too
heavily, gave way, and down came the curtain with a squash to the
floor. She sprang back with a bound, and, while a slight but momen-
tary blush flushed her cheek, stared at me half-angrily, and then cried
out " Well, I hope you like me ?"

"Yes, tliat I do,'* said I, readily "and who wouldn't that saw you?"
Whether it was the naivetd of my confession, or my youth, or both, I
can't well say; but she laughed heartily at my speech, and threw
herself into a chair to indulge her mirth.
" So we M'ere neighbours, it seems," said L

118 otR mM.

And if we were," said she, roguishly, I think it's a very uncere-
monious way you've opened the acquaintance*

" You forget, apparently, I haven't left my own territory.'*

" Well, I'm sure I wish you would, if you're any good at a black
knot : my heart and my nails are both broke with one here."

I didn't wait for any more formal invitation, but stepped at once
over the frontier while she, rising from the chair, turned her back
towards me, as with her finger she directed me to the most chaotic
assemblage of knots, twists, loops, and entanglements, I ever beheld.

" And you're Bmrke, I suppose," cried she, as I commenced my
labours.

Yes, I'm Burke."

** Well, I hope you*re done with wildness by this time. Uncle Tony
tells fine tales of your doings.**

Uncle Tony ! So you're Mr. Basset's niece ^is that so ?"

" You didn't take me for his wife, I hope," said she, again bursting
out into laughter.

" In truth, I never thought so well of him as to suppose it'*

** Well, well, I'm sure it's little I expected you to look so mild and
so quiet ; but you needn't pinch me for all that. Isn't your name
Tom?"

" Yes, I hope you'll always call me so."

" Maybe I will. Isn't that done yet ? jmd there's the milk bell.
Uncle will be in a nice passion if I'm not down soon cut it cut it
at once."

" Now do be patient for a minute or two* ^it's all right if you stay
quiet. I'll try my teeth on it.'*

" Yes, but you needn't try your lips too," said she, tartly.

" Why, it's the only plan to get your fingers out of the way. I'ni
sure I never was so puzzled {n all my life."

"Nothing like practice, my boy, nothing!" cried a merry voice
from the door behind me, half choked with laughing, wliile a
muttered anathema, in a deeper tone, followed. I looked back, and
there stood Bubbleton, his face florid with laughter, endeavouring to
hold back Mr. Basset, whose angry look and flashing eye there was uo
mistaking.

" Mr. Burke Bvprke, I say -Nelly, what does this mean ? How
came this young gentleman **

" As to that," said I, interrupting him, and my olood somewhat
chafed by his manner, " this piece of trumpery tumbled down when
I leaned my arm on it. I had no idea "

" No, no ; to be sure not," broke in Bubbleton, in an ecstacy. " The
thing was delicious ; such a bit of stage effect. She was there, as it
uiight be, combing her hair, and all that sort of thing. Tom was here
raving about absence, and eternal separation. You are an angry father,
or uncle all the same : and I'm Count Neitztachenitz, the old friend
and brother-oflBcer of Tom's father. Now let Miss Nelly but where

is she ? why she's gone 1 Eh, and Basset, Basset why he's gone 1

Come) Tom, don't you go too. I say, my boy, devilish well got up

t OM BUBKX Oir " OUBS.** 1 1 9

that You ought to have had a ivhite satin doublet and hose, slashed
with pale cherry colour ribbons to match, small hat looped, aigrette
and white plume. She was perfect ^her leg and foot were three certain
rounds of applause from the pit and gallery."

" What nonsense," said I angrily ; " we weren't playing a comedy.'*

"Weren't you though? weft I'm deuced sorry for it, that's all;
but it did look confoundedly li^e an undress rehearsal."

" Come, come, no foolery, I beg. I'm here in a very sad plight^
and this piece of nonsepse ifiay not make matters any better. Listen
to me, if you can, patiently for five minutes, and give me your advice."

I took him by the arm as I spoke, and leading him from the room,
where I saw that every thing was only suggesting some piece of scenic
effect, and in as few words as I could command, explained how I was cir-
cumstanced ; omitting of course any detail of my political bias, and only
stated so much of my desires as implied my wish to be free of my contract
with Basset, and at liberty to dispose of myself as I liked in future.

"I see," cried Bubbleton, as I finished; "the old fox has tliis five
hundred pounds of yours."

" No, I didn't say that ; I only mean ^"

" Well, well, it's all the same. l he hasn't, you know, he ought."

^ No ; that's not essential either."

" No matter, he would if he could ; it just cornea to the same
thing : and you only wish to get clear out of his hands at any cost.
Isn't that it?"

" Exactly ; you have it all perfectly."

" Bless your heart, boy, there's nothing easier. If I were in your
place, I should arrange the affair in less than a week. I'd have fits-*
strong fitsi, and burn all the papers in the ofiice during the paroxysm.
I'd make a pile of deeds, leases, bonds, and sett^ments in the
back yard."

" I don't fancy your plan would be so successful as you flatter your-
self," said a dry husky voice behind : " there's rather a stringent law
for refractory apprentices, as Mr. Burke may learn." We turned
round, and there stood Kr. Basset, with a grin of most diabolical
malignity in his by no means pleasant features. " At the same time,"
continued he, "your suggestions are of infinite value, and shall be
duly appreciated in the King's Bench."

"Eh King's Bench 1 Lord bless you, don't speak of it. Mere trifles
I just threw them out as good hinta. I had fifty far better to come.
There's the young lady now ^to be sure^ he has started that notion
himself, so I must not pretend it was mine ; but Miss Nelly* I think
Tom ^"

" Mr. Basset is well aware," interrupted I, ^Uhat I am only desirous to
be free and untrammelled; that whatever little means I may derive from
vny family, I'm willing to surrender all, short of actual beggary, to attain
this object ^that I intend quitting Ireland at once* If &en be consent
to ente? into an arrangement wiUi me, let it be at once, and on the
apot. I have no desire, I have no power to force him by a threat, in
case of refusal; but I Itope he will make so much of amend to one, of
who9e f^es^nt desolation and poverty he is not altogether innooenU^

120 oum MTSS.

** There, there ; that's devilish well said ; the whole thing is all clear
before me. So come along, Basset, you and I will settle all tliis.
Have you got a private room where we can have five minutes' chat
together ? Tom, wait for me here."

Before either of us could consent or oppose his arrangement, he hud
taken Basset's amit and led him down stairs, while I, in a flurry
of opposmg and conflicting resolves, sat down to think over my
fortunes*

Tired at length with waiting, and half suspecting that my volatile
friend had forgotten me and aU my concerns, I descended to the par-
lour in hopes to hear something of the pending negotiation. At
the head of a long narrow table sat my fair acquaintance. Miss Nelly,
her hair braided very modestly at each side of her pretty face, which
had now assumed an almost Quakerish propriety of expression. She
was busily engaged in distributing tea to three pale, red-eyed, emaciated
men, whose 9pougy-looking, thread-bare garments bespoke to be attor-
neys' clerks : a small imp, a kind of embryo practitioner, knelt before
the fire in the act of toasting bread; but followed with his sharp
piercing eyes every stir in the apartment, and seemed to watch with
malicious pleasure the wry faces around, whenever any undue dilution of
the bohea, or any curtailment of the blue milk pressed heavily on the guests. *
These were not exactly the circumstances to renew Qiy acquaintance
with my fair neighbour, had I been so. minded; so having declined her
ofler of breakfast, 1 leaned moodily on the chimney-piece, my anxiety
to know my fate becoming each instant more painful. Mieanwhile, not a
word was spoken a sad moody silence, unbroken save by the sounds of
eating, pervaded all, when suddenly the door of the front parlour was
flung open, and Bubbleton's pleasant voice was heard as he talked away
unceasingly; in an instant he entered followed by Basset, over whose hard
countenance a shade of better nature seemed to pass.

" In that case," cried the captain, "I'm your man, not that I'm
any thing of a performer at breakfast or dinner ; supper's rather my
forte an odour of a broiled bone at three in the morning, a herring
smeared with chetna, and grilled with brandy, two hundred of small
oysters, a few hot ones, to close with, a glass of Seltzer dashed with
Hollands, for health, and then, any number you like of glasses of hot
brandy and water afterwards for pleasure."

While Bubbleton ran on in this fashion, he had broken about half a
dozen eggs into the slop basin, and seasoning the mess with pepper and
vinegar, was busily engaged in illustrating the moderation of his
morning appetite.

** Try a thing like this, Tom," cried he, not defining how it was to
be effected under the circumstances, while he added in a whisper, your ' i

aflair's all right?" ^

These few words brought courage to my heart ; and I ventured to *

begin the breakfast that had lain untasted before me.

' I think, Mr. Burke," said Basset, as soon as he recovered from the
aurprise Bubbleton's mode of breakfasting had excited I think and
trust that all has been arranged to your satisfaction :" then turning to
the clerks, who eat away without eveu lifting their heads, Mr* Mug*

^ - v^f gg

^^rua/y aco^ r;iua.j^^&?zy M^tz^ cmy aA^2^^c/y.

TOM BCEKS OP OUES/* 121

gridge, you ^ill be late at the master's office ; Jones, take that parcel to
Hennett ; Kit, carry my bag up to the courts."

Miss Nelly did not wait for the part destined for her ; but with a
demure face rose from the table and left the room, giving me, how-
ever, one sly glance as she passed my chair, that I remembered for
many a day after.

* You'll excuse me, gentlemen, if I am pressed for time this morning-^
a very particular case comes on in the Common Pleas."

" Never speak of it, my dear fellow," said Bubbleton, who had just
addressed himself to a round of spiced beef, * business has its calls, just
as pleasive has ay, and appetite too.^ ^That would make an excel-
lent bit of supper, with some mulled port, after a few rubbers of shorts."

Basset paid little attention to this speech; but turning to me, continued,

*^ You mentioned your intention of leaving Ireland, I think ; might

I ask where you have decided on from where It is possible

that your brother *'

My brother's anxieties on my account, Mr. Basset, can scarcely be
very poignant, and deserve no particular respect or attention at my
hands. I suppose that this morning has concluded all necessary
intercourse between us ; and if you have satisfied my friend Captain
Bubbleton ^"

** Perfectly, perfectly another cup of tea, if you please yes, no-
thing could be more gratifying than Mr. Basset's conduct you are
merely to sign the receipt for the legacy, and he hands you over one
hundred pounds ; isn't that it r^

" Yes, quite correct ; my bill for one hundred at three months."

" That's what I mean ; but surely you're not done breakfast why,
Tom, you've eaten nothing I have been picking away this half hour,
just to encourage you a bit ^well, well, I lunch in Stephen's-green at
three, so here goes."

Mr. Basset now took from his pocket-book some papers, which, having
glanced his eye over, he handed to me.

*' This is a kind of acknowledgment, Mr. Burke, for the receipt of a
legacy to which you could be only entitled on attaining your majority ;
here are your indentures to me, and this is my acceptance for one
hundred pounds."

* I am content," said I, eagerly, as I seized the pen. The thought of
my liberty alone filled my mind, and I cared little for the conditions,
provided I secured that.

Basset proffered his hand ; I was in no humour to reject any thing that
even simidated cordiality ; I shook it heartily. Bubbleton followed my
example, and, having pledged himself to see more of his pleasant
acquaintance, thrust his arm through mine, and bustled out, adding in
a tone loud enough to be overheard '^ Made a capital fight of it told
him you were a defender, a united Irishman, a peep-o'-day boy, and all
that sort of U^ing devilish glad to get rid of you, even on Miss Nelly's
account," qnd so he rattled away without ceasing, until we found our-
selves at the George's-street barracks, my pre-occupation of mind
jpreventing my even having remarked what way we came.

122 omt

CHAPTER XVIIL

I WAS not BorQT tq find that Afi^s Bubbleton did not respond to the
noisy summon^ of t)ie eiiptain as be flourkhed aboat from one room to
the other, making the quarters echo to the sweet name of ^ Anna Maria."
*^ Saladin," " Grimesy" " Peter," were also shouted out unsuccessfully ; and
with a fierce menace ugainst Yarious grooms of the chambers^ waiting-
menand lackeys* who happily were still unborn, Bubbleton flung himself
into a seat, and began to conjecture what had become of the inhabitants^

She's paying a morning call gone to see the duchess that's it, or
perhaps she's looking over that suit of pearls I bousht yesterday at
Gallon's pretty baubles, but dear at eight hundred pounds ^never
mind, what's money for eh, Topa ?'

As he looked at me for a reply I drew my chair closer towards him,
and assuming as much of importance as my manner could command,
I besought his attention for a Viom^nt Hitherto, partly from my own
indecision, partly from his flighty and volatile bearing, I never had
an opportunity either to explain my real position or my political
sentiments, much less my intentions for the future* The moment had
at length arrived, and I resolved to profit by it ; and, in as few words
as I ^as able, gave a brief narrative pf my life firom the hour of my
father's death to the day \a whic.h I fe.U into his own hands in
Dublin, only omitting such portions as migh^ by the mention of names,
compromise others concerned*

Nothing could possibly be more attentive than he was, during the
entire detail ^he leaned his head on his hand, apd listened with eager
curiosity to all my scrapes and difliculties, Qccasiooally nodding in
assent, and now evincing by his excited air his desire to learn further ;
and when I at last wound up by avowing my long-cherislbed desiro
to enter the French service, he sat perfectly silent and seemed lo
reflect gravely on the whole*

1 say, Tom," said he at length, as he stared me full in the face, an^
laid his hand impressively on my knee, *^ there's good stuff in that
excellent stuff! depend upon itl"

' Good stuff 1 what do you mean?" said I, in amazement

I mean," replied he, there'9 bone in It, sinew in it, substance ifi il
.there are some admirable situations too. How Fulham would come
out in Tony Basset brown shorts, white stockings, high shoes and
buckles his own very costume ; and there's that little thing Miss Booth,
for Nelly, give her acouple of songs, ballad airs tekebest ; Williamssbould
be Barton a devilish fine villain in coarse parts, Williams. I think
I see him stealing along by the 9at4 vitl^ his soldiers to the attack|

tOli BUlfcltC OT ^OURS.** 123

Then the second act should open interior of hut peasants round a
table eating always successful on the stage ^nothing like seeing a
fat fellow bmting hard eggs, and blustering out unpronounceable jokes
over a flagon of coloured water ^you by right should have your own
part splendid thing devilish fin^ your sensations when the cabin was
on fire, and the fellows were prodding about with their bayonets to
discover you."

And who's to perform Captain Bubbleton ?^ asked I, venturing for
once to humour his absurdity.

*' h ? oh, there's nothing for me, no marked feature, nothing strong,
nothing characteristic. That has been through life my greatest, my very
highest ambition ^that no man should ever detect by any thing in my
manner, my dress, or my style of conversation) that I was not John
Nokes, or Peter Styles. You'll meet me at a dinner party, Tom, you'll
converse with me, drink with me, we'll sit the evening together, grow
intimate ^perhaps you'll borrow fifty pounds of me, and yet Pd wager
another, you'd never gtiess that I rode a hippopotamus across the Ganges
after tiffin one day, to pay my respects to the governor-generaL
That, let me tell you, Tom, is the very proudest boast a man can make*
Do you see that scar ? It looks nothing now that was a bite ftom a
ferocious boa ; the villain got into my room before breakfast, he had
eaten my chokadar, a fellow I was very fond of "

I " Ah, I remembet you mentioned that to me. And now to come back

to my dull story, to which I assure you, however dramatic you may deeni
it, I'd prefer adding an act or so before it comes before the world. I
intend to leave this to-morrow."

I " No, no, you mustn't think of it yet awhile ^why, my dear fellow^

' you've a hundred pounds only think of that ; twenty will bring yoii

to Paris, less if you choose. I once travelled from Glugdamuck tci
the Ghauts of Bunderamud for half a rupee put my elephants oa
three biscuits a day -explained to them in Hindostanee, a most expres-*
sive language, that our provisions had fallen short that on our arrival
all arrears of grub should be made up. They tossed up their trunks

L thus in token of assent, and on we marched. Well, wbeti we came ta
Helgie, there was no water **

, " Very true," interrupted I, half in despair at the torrent of story^

telling I had got involved in ; " but you forget I have neither elephant*

nor camels, nor coolies, nor chokadars I'm a mere adventurer with,

^ ^ . except yourself, not a friend in the world."

" Then why not join us ?" cried the ever-ready captain. "We are to
have our orders for foreign service in a few weeks ^you've only to
volunteer ; you've money enough to buy your kit. When you're fairly
in, it's only writing to your brother ; besides, something always turns
up : that's my philosophy. I rarely want any thing I don't find means
to obtain, somehow or other."

" No," said I, resolutely, " I will never join the service of a country
which has inflicted such foul wrong on my native land."

" All stuff and nonsense," cried Bubbleton. "Who cares the deuce of
clubs about politics 5 when you're my age, you'll find that if you'r^

124 OVE ME88.

not making something of politics, theyll make very little of you. Td as
soon sell figs for my grocer, or snuff for my tobacconist, as Td bother
my head governing the kingdom for Billy Pitt ^he's paid for it; that's
liis business, not mine* No, no, my boy, join us ^you shall be * Burke
of ours' ^we'll have a glorious campaign among the Yankees. I'll
teach you the Seneca language and we'll have a ramble through the
Indian settlements. Meanwhile, you dine to-day at the mess ; to-mor

row, we pic*nic at the Dargle ; next day, we what the deuce is next

day to be oh, yes, next day we all dine with you. Nothing stiff

or formal a snug, quiet thing for sixteen I'll manage it all.*^

Here was an argument there was no resisting, so I complied at once,
comforting myself with a silent vow come what might I'd leave Ireland
the day after my dinner-party.

Under whatever guise, with what history of my rank, wealth, and
family influence, Bubbleton thought proper to present me to his brother
ofRcers I cannot say ; but nothing could possibly be more kind, or
even more cordial, than their reception of me ; and although I had
some difficulty in replying to questions put under mistaken notions of
my position ajMl intentions, I readily followed, as far as I was able, the
line suggested by my imaginative friend, whose representations, I
suspected, would be receiv^ with a suitable limitation by his old
associates.

There is, perhaps, no species of society so striking and so captivating
to the young man entering on life, as that of a military mess. The
easy, well-bred intimacy, that never degenerates into undue familiarity*
the good-humoured, playful raillery, that never verges on coarseness
or severity ^the happy blending of old men's wisdom and young men's
buoyancy are all very attractive features of social intercourse, even
independently of the stronger interest that invests the companionship
of men whose career is arms. I felt this ; and enjoyed it too not the
less pleasantly that I discovered no evidence of that violent partizan feel-
ing I had been led to believe was the distinguishing mark of the royalist
soldier. If by chance any allusion was made to the troubles of the period,
it was invariably done rather in a tone of respect for mistaken and ill-
directed political views, than in reprehension of disloyalty and rebellion ;
and when I heard the dispassionate opinions, and listened to the mild
counsels of these men, whom I had always believed to be the veriest
tyrants and oppressors, I could scarcely credit my own senses, so
utterly opposed were my impressions and my experience. One only of
the party evinced an opposite feeling. He was a pale, thin, rather
handsome man, of about five and twenty, who had lately joined them
from a dragoon regiment, and who, by sundry little innuendos, was ever
bringing uppermost the preference he evinced for his former service,
and his ardent jdesire to be 'back again in the cavalry.

Captain Montague Crofts was, indeed, the only exception I witnessed
to the almost brotherly feeling that prevailed in the forty-fifth.
Instead of identifying thimself with the habits and opinions of his
brother officers, he held himself studiously apart. Regarding his stay
in the regiment like a period of probation, he seemed resolved to form

TOM fiURKE OP "OURS.** '125

)ieither intimacies nor friendships, but to wait patiently for the time
of his leaving the corps, to emancipate himself from a society below
his caste

The cold, repulsive, steady stare, the scarcely-bowed head, the im-
passive silence with which he heard the words of Bubbleton's introduc-
tion of me, formed a strong contrast with the warm cordiality of the
others ; and though at the time little disposed to criticise the manner
of any one, and still less to be dissatisfied with any thing, I conceived
from the moment a dislike to Captain Crofts, which I felt to increase
with every minute I spent in his company. The first occasion which
suggested this dislike on my part was, from observing that while
Bubbleton whose historical accuracy, or blind adherence to reality,
no one in the corps thought of requiring ^narrated some of his incre-
dible adventures. Crofts, far from joining in the harmless mirth
which such tales created, invariably took delight in questioning and
cross-questioning the worthy captain, quoting him against himself, and
playing off a hundred tricks which, however smart and witty in a law
courts are downright rudenesses when practised in society. Bubbleton,
it is true, saw nothing in all this save the natural interest of a good .
listener: but the others did; and it was quite clear to me, that while
one was the greatest favourite in the regiment, the other had not a
single friend amongst them. To me. Crofts manifested the most
penect indifierence ^not ever mixing himself in any conversation in
which I bore a part. He rarely turned his head towards the part of the
table at which I sat ; and by an air of haughty superciliousness gave me
plainly to understand that our acquaintance, though confessedly begun,
was to proceed no further. I cannot say how happy I felt to learn,
that one I had so much cause to dislike, was a violent aristocrat, an
ultra- Tory a most uncompromising denouncer of the Irish liberal
party, and an out-and-out advocate of severe and harsh measures
towards the people. He never missed an opportunity for the enun-
ciation of such doctrines, which, whatever might be the opinions of the
listeners, there was, at the time 1 speak of, no small risk in gainsaying;
and this immunity did Crofts enjoy to his heart's content.

Slight as these few reminiscences of the mess are, they are the
called-up memories of days not to be forgotten by me. For now,
what with my habitual indecision on the one hand, and Bubbleton's
solicitations on the other, I continued to linger on in Dublin, leading
the careless, easy life of those about me, joining in all the plots for
amusement which the capital afforded, and mixing in every society to
which my military friends had access. Slender as were my resources,
they sufficed, in the eyes of all who knew not their limit, to appear
abundant. Crofts was the only rich man in the regiment ; and my
willingness to enter into every scheme of pleasure, regardless of cost,
impressed them all with the notion that Bubbleton for once was
right, and that * Burke was a kind of west-country Croesus," invaluable
to the regiment.

Week after week rolled on, and still did I find myself a denizen of
George's-street: the silly routine of the barrack life filled all my

126 Ot7R U1BM8.

thoughts, save when the waning condition of my piirse would mo*
mentarily turn them towards the future; but these moments of reflec*
tion came but seldom, and at last came not at all. It was autumn
the town almost divested of its inhabitants, at least of all who could
leave it ; and along the parched, sun-burnt streets, a stray jingle or a
noddy w^ rarely seen to pass. The squares, so lately crowded with
equipag^ and cavalcades of horsemen, were silent and deserted ; the
closed shutters of every houSe, and the grass-grown steps, vouched for
the absence of the owners. The same dreamy lethargy that seemed to
rest over the deserted city, appeared to pervade every thing; and
save a certain subdued activity among the officials of the CaJBtle a
kind of ground-swiell movement that boded something important ^tfaere
was nothing stirring. The great measure of the " Unj^n,'' which had
been carried on the night of the riots, had however annihilated the
hopes of the Irish liberal party ; and many who once had taken a lead-
ing part in politics had how deserted public life for ev^.

They with whom I associated cared but little for these things. There
were but two or three Irish in the regiment, and th^ had long since
lost all theif nationality in the wear and tear of the service; so that I
heard nothing of what occupied the public mind, and lived on in the
very midst of the threatening hurricane, in a calm as deep as death
itself.

I had ndther seen Barton nor Basset since the day of my leave-
taking ; and, stranger still, never could meet with Darl^, who seemed to
have deserted Dublin. The wreck of the party he belonged to seemed
now effectually accomplished, and the prospect of Irish independence
was lost, as it seemed, for ever.

I was sitting one evening in the window of Bubbleton's quarters,
thinking over these things, not without self-r^roach for the life I was
leading, so utterly adverse to the principles I had laid down for my
guidance. I thought of poor De Meudon, and all his ambitious
dreams for my success, and I felt my cheek flush with shame for my
base desertion of the cause to which, with his dying breath, he devoted
me. I brought up in memory those happy evenings, as we wandered
through the fields talking over the glorious campaigns of Italy, or
speculating on the mighty changes we believed yet before us ; and
then I thought of the reckless orgies in which my present life was
passed. I remembered how his full voice would falter when one great
name fell from his lips ; and with what reverence he touched his
chapeau as the word *^ Buonaparte" escaped from him I and how my
heart thrilled to think of an enthusiasm that could light up the dying
embers of a broken heart, and make it flash out in vivid brilliancy once
more ! and longed to feel as he did.

For the first time for some weeks I found myself alone. Bubbleton
was on guard ; and though I had promised to join him at supper, I
lingered at home, to think and ponder over the past : I scarcely dared
to face the future. It was growing dusky. The rich golden arch of
an autumn moon could be seen through the hazy mist of that half frost
vrhicb is at this season the surd harbinger pf a hot day on the mor-

row. The street noises had gradually died away, and save the distant
sound of a ballad-singer, whose mournful cadence fell sadly on the ear,
I heard nothing.

Without perceiving it, I found myself listening to the doggrel of the
minstrel, who, like most of her fellows of the period, was celebrating the
means that had been used by govemm^t to carty their fiElvourite measure,
the union with England. There wd^, tlideed, very little to charm the ear,
or win the sense, in either the accent or the isentimeht of the melody ;
yet somehow she had contrived to collect a pretty tolerable audience,
who moved slowly along with her down the street, and evinced by
many an outburst of enthusiasm how thoroughly they relished the
pointed allusions qf the verse, and how completely they enjoyed the
dull satire of the song.

As they approached the barradcs^ tiie procession came to a halt;
probably deeming that so valuable It lesson should not be lost to his
majesty's service ;"lind, forming into a circle dronnd the singer, a
silence was commanded when, with that quavering articulation so
characteristic of the tribe, and that strange quality of voice that seems
to alternate between a high treble and a deep bass, the lady b^an

Don't be crowditf aii me that a way. Thare it is now ye're
tearin' the doak off the back o' mb I Divil receave the note I'll singj

if ye don't behave And look at his honour up there, wid a tenpenny

bit in the heel of his fist for me. The Lord teward your pdrty face

'tis yourself has the darlin' blue eyes I Bad scran to yei^ ye

blaggards ^look at my elegabt bontiet the way youVe made it I"

Arrah ! rise the tun^ and doh't be blarneying the young gentle*
man," said a voice from the crowd ; and then added, in ^ lower but
very audible tone" Them chaps hasn't a farthifi' beyond their pay
three and nineience a day, and find themselves in pipeclay !"

A rude laugh followed this insolent speech $ and the balladsinger,
whose delay had onl^ been a ruse to attract a sufficiisnt Huditory, then
began to a very well-known air

Come hither, M.P.'8, and Til tell

My advice, and Tm sure you'll not mock it :
Whoe'er has a country to sell,

Need never want gold in his pocket.
Your brother a bishop shall be-

Yourself- if you only will make a
Voice in our ma-jo-rity

We'll make you chief judge in Jamaica.

Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay !"

The mob-chorus here broke in, and continued with such hearty
enthusiasm, that I lost the entire of the next verse in the tumult.

Your father, thev say, is an ass,

And your mother, not noted for knowledge ;
But he'll do very well at Madras,
And she shall be provost of college*

128 OVR XE88*

Tour aunt, Udr's-maid to the queen ;

And Bill, if be'll give up bis rakin*.
And not drunk in day-time be seen,

I'll make bim a rosy arcbdeacon.

Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay I

A jollier set ne*er w]

Than you'll be, when freed from your callin*.
With an empty house in College*ffreen

What an elegant place to play ball in
Quid Foster stand by with his maoe.

He'll do mighty well for a marker ;
John Toler '^

* Here's the polis I" said a gruff voice from the crowd ; and the
word was repeated from mouth to mouth in every accent of fear and
dread, while in an instant all took to flight, some dashing down
obscure lanes and narrow alleys, others running straight onwards
towards Dame-street but all showing the evident apprehension they
felt at the approach of these dreaded officials. The ballad-singer alone
did not move. Whether too old or too infirm to trust to spe^, or too
much terrified to run, I know not ; but there she stood, the last cadence
of her song still dying on her lips, while the clattering sounds of mea
advancing rapidly were heard in the distant street.

I know not why, some strange momentary impulse, half pity, half
caprice, moved me to her rescue, and 1 called out to the sentry ' Let
that woman pass in!*' She heard the words, and with an activity
greater than I could have expected, sprang into the barrack-yard, while
the police passed eagerly on in vain pursuit of their victims.

I remained motionless in the window-seat, watching the now silent
street, when a gentle tap came to my door. I open^ it, and there
stood the figure of the ballad-singer, her ragged cloak gathered closely
across her face with one hand, whUe with the other she held the bundle
of printed songs, her only stock in trade*

TOM BURKE OP " OURS.** 129

CHAPTER XIX.

THE QUARREL.

While I stood gazing at the uncouth and ragged figure before me, she
pushed rudely past, and, shutting the door behind her, asked in a low
whisper, "are ye alone?" and" then, without waiting for a reply, threw
back the tattered bonnet that covered her head, and, removing a wig of
long black hair, stared steadfastly at me.

" Do you know me now ?" said the hag, in a voice of almost
menacing eagerness.

"What!" cried I, in amazement, "it surely cannot be Darby, is

this really you ?'*

" Ye may well say it," replied he bitterly. " Ye had time enough to
forget me since we met last ; and 'tis thinking twice your grand friends
the officers would be, before they'd put their necks where mine is now
to see you. Read that" as he spoke he threw a ragged and torn piece of
printed paper on the table " read that ; and you'll see there's five hun-
dred pounds of blood-money to the man that takes me. Ay, and here I
stand this minit in the king's barrack, and walked fifty-four miles
this blessed day just to see you and speak to you once more. Well,
well," he turned away his head while he said this, and wiping a starting
tear from his red eye-ball, he added " Master Tom, 'tis myself would
never b'lieve ye done it."

"Did what?" said I, eagerly: "what have I ever done that you
should charge me thus ?"

But Darby heard me not : his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and his
lips moved rapidly as though he were speaking to himself. "Ay,"
said he half aloud, " true enough, 'tis the gentlemen that betrayed us
always never came good of the cause where they took a part. But
you" ^here he turned full round, and grasping my arm, spoke directly to
me "you that I loved better than my own kith and kin, that I thought
would one day be a pride and glory to us all you that I brought
over myself to the cause ''

" And when have I deserted when have I betrayed it ?"

" When did you desert it ?" repeated he, in a tone of mocking irony.
" Tell me the day and the hour ye came here tell me the first time ye
sat down among the red butchers of King George, and I'll answer ye
that. Is it here you ought to be ? Is this the home for him that has
a heart for Ireland ? I never said you betrayed us ; others said it but
I stood to it, ye never did that. But what does it signify? *Tis no
wonder ye left us ; we were poor and humble people, we had nothing
at heart but the good cause *\

MESS, NO. XVIII. VOL. II. ^ K

130 OtJR ME88.

" Stop," cried I, maddened by his taunts " what could I have done?
where was my place ?"

" Don't ask me. If your own heart doesn't teach ye, how can I ?
But it's over now the day is gone, and I must take to the road again.
My heart is lighter since I seen you, and it will be lighter again when
I give you this warnin' God knows if you'll mind it : ^you think
yourself safe now since you joined the sodgers you'd think they trust
you, and that Barton's eye isn't on ye still there isn't a word you say
isn't noted down not a man you spake to, isn't watched ! You don't
know it, but I know it. There's more go to the gallows in Ireland over
their wine, than with the pike in theur hands. Take care of your
friends, I say."

" You wrong them. Darby, and you wrong me. Never have I heard
from one here a single word that could offend the proudest heart
among us."

" Why would they what need of it ; ar'n't we down, down ar'n't
we hunted like wild beasts ; is the roof left to shelter us ; dare we
walk the roads ; dare we say ' God save ye' when we meet, and not be
tried for pass-words ? It's no wonder they pity us the hardest heart
must melt sometimes."

" As to myself," said I, for there was no use in attempting to reason
with him further, " my every wish is with the cause as warmly as on
the day we parted ; but I look to France "

" Ay, and why not ? I remember the[time your eye flashed and your
cheek grew another colour when you spoke of that."

" Yes, Darby," said I, after a pause, " and I had not been here now,
but that the only means I possessed of forwarding myself in the French
service are unfortunately lost to me."

" And what was that ?" interrupted he eagerly.

^ Some letters which the poor Captain de Meudon gave me ," said I,
endeavouring to seem as much at ease as I could. Darby stooped down
as I spoke, and ripping open the lining of his cloak, produced a small
parcel fastened with a cord saying

" Are these what you mean ?"

I opened it with a trembling hand, and, to my inexpressible delight,
discovered Charles's letter to the head of the ecole militaire^ together .
with a letter of credit, and two checks on his banker. The note to
his sister was not, however, among them.

" How came you by these. Darby ?" inquired I, eagerly.

' I found them on the road Barton travelled the same evening you
made your escape from the yeomanry ^you remember that ^they were
soon missed, and an orderly was sent back to search for th^m. Since that
I've kept them by me, and it was only yesterday that I thought of
bringing them to you, thinking you might know something about
them."

There's a mark on this one," said I, still gazing on the paper in my
hand * it looks like blood."

" If it is, it's mine then," said Darby, doggedly, and after a pause
he contittued-*.*^ the soldier galloped up the very minute I was stoop-

h

TOiM BUBKE OF OURS." 131

ing for the papers; he called out to me to give ihem up, but I pretended
not to hear, and took a long look round to see what way I could escf^pe
where bis horse couldn't follow me ; but he saw wb^t I was at, and
the same instant his sabre was in my shoulder, and the blood running
hot down my arm I fell on my knees, but if I did, I took this from
my breast," here he drew forth a long-barrelled rusty pistol, " and shot
him through the neck/'

" Was he killed ?" said I, in horror at the ^wolaess of the recital

" Sorrow one o' me knows. He fell on his horse's mane, and I saw
the beast gallop with him up the road with his arms hanging at each
side of the neck ; and then I heard a crash, and I saw that he was
down, and the horse was dragging him by. the stirrup; but the dust
soon hid him from ndy sight, a^nd indeed I was growing weak too, so
I crept into the bushes until it was dark, and then got down tO
Glencree."

The easy indifference with which he spoke, the tone of coolness in
which he narrated this circudistance, thrilled through me far more
painfully than the most passionate description ; and I stood gazing on
him with a feeling of dread, that unhappily my features but too plainly
indicated. He seemed to know what was passing in my lAind, and, as
if stung by what he deemed^tny ingratittt.de for the service he render^
me, his face grew darkly red, the swollen veins stood out thick and
knotted in his forehead, his livid lips quivered, and he said in a thijel:
guttural voice

" Maybe ye think I murdered him ?" And then as I made no answer,
he resumed in a different tone "And, faix, ye warn't longlarnin' their
lessons. But hear me now ^there never was a traitor to the cause had a
happy life, or an easy death ; there never was one betrayed us, but we
were revenged on him or his. I don't think ye're come to that yet; for

if I did, by the niortial '* As he pronounced the last word, in a

tone of the fiercest menace, the sounds of many viHces ialking without,
and the noise of a key turning in tlie lock, broke in upon our colloquy ;
and Darby had barely time to resume his disguise when Bubbleton
entered, followed by three of his brother officers, idl speaking together,
and in accents that evidently betokened their having drank somewhat
freely.

" I tell you, again and again, the diamond wins it ; but here we
are," cried Bubbleton^ ' and now for a pack of cards, and lef s decide
the thing at once."

" You said you'd bet fifty, I think," drawled out Crofts, who was

unquestionably the most sober of the party " but what have we here ?'*

At this instant his eye fell upon Darby, who had quietly ensconced
himself behind the door, and hoped to escape unseen.' ^ Eh-^idiat's
this, I say?"

" What !" cried Bubbleton, " what do I see ; a nymph with bright
and flowing hair a hag like Hecuba^ by Jove I Tom Burke, my man, ^
how comes the damsel here ?"

" 'Tis Kitty, ould Kitty Cole, your honour. The young gentleman
was buying a ballad from me, the heavens prosper him^" said Darby.

132 OUR MESS.

" Nothing treasonous, I hope no disloyal effusion Tom no
scandal about Queen Elizabeth, my boy eh ?"

Come, old lady/' said Cradock, *^ let's have the latest novelty of
the Liberty."

"Yes," said Babbleton, "strike the harp in praise of confound the

word."

"Hang the old crone," broke in Hilliard: "here are the cards.
The game stands thus : a spade is led you've got none ^hearts are
trumps."

" No, you mistake, the diamond's the trump," said Cradock.

" I cry halt," said Crofts, holding up both his hands ; " the first
thing is, what's the bet?"

" Any thing you like," cried Bubbleion, " fifty a hundred five
hundred."

" Be it then five hundred ; I take you," said Crofts, coolly, taking a
memorandum-book from his pocket.

" No, no," interposed HilUard, " Bubbleton, ycui shan't do any such
thing ; five ^ten twenty, if you wish, but I'll not stand by at such a
wager."

^' Well, then, if twenty be as much as you have got permission to
bet," replied Crofts, insolently, "there's mi/ stake;" so saying, he
threw a note on the table, and looked over at Bubbleton, as if awaiting
hi? doing the same.

I saw my poor friend's embarrassment, and, without stirring from
my place, slipped a note into his hand in silence ; a squeeze of his
fingers replied to me, and the same instant he threw the crumpled
piece of paper down, and cried out, " Now for it decide the point."

Crofts at once drew his chair to the table, and began with the utmost
coolness to arrange the cards ; while the others, deeply interested in
the point at issue, looked on without speaking. I thought this a good
opportunity for Darby to effect his escape, and, rabing my hand
noiselessly, I pointed to the door. Darby, who had been only waiting
for the fortunate moment, stole quietly towards it; but, while his
hand was on the lock^ Crofts lifted his eyes towards me, and then
throwing them half round, intimated at once that he observed the
manoeuvre. The blood suffused my face and temples, and though I
saw the door close behind the piper, I could not recover from my
embarrassment, or the fear that pressed on me, lest Crofts should
have penetrated the secret of Darby's disguise, and augured from the
fact something to my discredit.

" The game is now arranged," said he. " The spade being led here,
the second player follows suit, the third having none ^trump's the
card, and is overtrumped by the last in play; the trick is lost, therefore,
and, with it, the game."

" No, no," interrupted Bubbleton, " you mistake altogether ; the
diamond no, the heart; I mean the the ^what, the deuce is it? I
say, Cradock, I had it all correct a minute ago how is it, old fellow?"

" Why you've lost, that's all," said the other, as he looked intently
on the table, and seemed to consider the point.

TOM BUttKE OF ^* OURS." 133

** Yes, Bubbleton, there's no doubt about it you've lost we forgot
all about the last player," said Hilliard.

A yiolent knocking at the outer door drowned the voices of all within,
while a gruff voice shouted out

"Captain Bubbleton, the grand round is coming up Parliament-
street."

Bubbleton snatched up his sword, and dashing through the room,
was followed by the others in a roar of laughter. Crofts alone re-
maining behind, proceeded leisurely to open the folded piece of bank
paper that lay before him, while I stood opposite unable to take my
eyes from him. . Slowly unfolding the note, he flattened it with his
hand, and then proceeded to read aloud ^^ Payez au porteurla
somme de deux mille livres ^^

"I beg pardon," interrupted I, "there's a mistake there that
belongs to me."

" I thought as niuch," replied Crofts, with a very peculiar smile
" I scarcely supposed my friend Bubbleton had gone so far."

" There's the sum, sir," said I, endeavouring to control my temper,
and only eager to regain possession of what would at once have com-
promised me, if discovered. " This is what Captain Bubbleton lost
twenty pounds if I mistake not."

"I must entreat your pardon, sir," said Crofts, folding up the
French billet de banque, " My wager was not with you, nor can I
permit you to pay it. This is at present my property, and remains
so until Captain BubbliBton demands it of me."

I was struck dumb by the manner in which these words were
spoken. It was clear to me, that not only he suspected the disguise of
the ballad-singer, but that by the discovery of the French note he
connected his presence with its being in my possession. Rousing my-
self for the effort, I said " You force me, sir, to speak of what nothing
short of the circumstance could have induced me to allude to. It was
I gave Captain Bubbleton that note. I gave it in a mistake, for this
one."

" I guessed as muchj^ sir," was the cool answer of Crofts, as he placed
the note in his pocket-book and clasped it ; " but I cannot permit
your candid explanation to alter the determination I have already come
to even had I not the stronger motive, wjiich as an officer in his
majesty's pay I possess, to inform the government on such infallible evi-
dence, how deeply interested our French neighbours are in our welfare
when they supply us with a commodity, which report says is scarce
enough among themselves."

** Do not suppose, sir, that your threat ^for as such I understand it
has any terror for me : there is, it's true, another whose safety might
be compromised by any step you might take in this affair ; but when I
tell you, that it is one who never did, never could have injured you,
and moreover, that nothing treasonous or disloyal lies beneath your
discovery ^"

" You are really taking a vast deal of trouble, Mr. Burke," said he,
stopping me with a cold smile ; " which I am forced to say is unneces-

134 OUft MESS.

sary. Your explanation of how this htlkt de banque came into yoar
possession may be required elsewhere, and wiU, I am certain, meet with,
every respect and attention. As for me, an humble captain, with only
one principle to sustain me, one clue to guide me in what I am disposed
to consider a question of some importance, I shall certainly ask
advice of others better able to direct me."

You refuse, then, si^, to restore me what I have assured you is
mine?"

" And what I have no doubt whatever you are correct in calling so,"
added he, contemptuously.

" And you persist in the refusal ?" said I, in a voice which unhappily
betrayed more temper than I had yet shown.

" Even so, sir," said he, moving towards the door.

In that case," said I, springing before him, and setting my back
against it, " you don't leave this room until, in the presence of a
third party, I care not who he be, I have told you somewhat more I

of my opinion of you than it is necessary I should say now.** The |

insulting expression of Croft's features changed suddenly as I spoke, :

the colour left his cheek, and he became as pale as death ; his eye I

wandered round the room with an uncertain look, and then was fixed '

steadfastly on the door, against which I stood firmly planted. At
length his face recovered its wonted character, and he said in a cool,
distinct minner i

" Your difficulties have made you bold, sir." 1

" Not more bold than you'll find me whenever you think fit to call
on me ; but perhaps I am wrong for suggesting a test, which report at
least says Captain Crofts has little predilection for."

" Inselent cub," said he, half drawing his sword from the scabbard,
and as hastily replacing it when he perceived that I never moved a
muscle in my defence, but stood as if inviting his attack. ^^ Let me i

pass, sir," cried he impetuously " stand by this instant." 1

I made no reply, but crossing my arms on my breast stared at him
firmly as before ; he had now advanced within a foot of me, his face
purple with passion and his hands trembling with rage.

** Let me pass I say," shouted he, in an accent that boded his passion
had completely got the ascendant, at the same instant he seized me by
the collar, and, fixing his grip firmly in my clothes, prepared to hurl
me from the spot. The moment had now come that for some minutes
past I had been expecting, and with my open hand I struck him on
the cheek, but so powerfully, that he reeled back with the stroke. A
yell of rage burst from him, and in an instant his sword leaped from \

the scabbard, and he darted fiercely at me. I sprung to one side, and i

the weapon pierced the door and broke oif short ; still more than half
the blade remained ; and with this he flew towards me. One quick
glance I gave to look for something which might serve to arm me
^^tid the same mom^t the sharp steel pierced my side, and I fell back*
^ ^Wards with the shwi^fearrying my antagonist along with me. The struggle,
was now a dreadful one ; for while he endeavoured to withdraw the
weapon from the wound, my hands were on his throat, and in his

TOM BU&KE OF " OURS." 135

strained eyeballs and livid colour might be seen that a few seconds
more must decide the contest : a sharp pang shot through me, just
then a hot gush of warm blood ran down my side, and I saw above
me the shining steel, which he was* gradually shortening in his hand,
before he ventured to strike a wild cry broke from me, while at the
. instant with a crash, the door of the room fell forward, torn from its
hinges ; a heavy foot approached, and the blow of a strong arm felled
Crofts to the earth, where he lay stunned and senseless. In a second
I was on my feet ; my senses were reeling and uncertain, but I could
see that it was Darby who came to my rescue, and who was now binding
a sash round my wound to staunch the blood.

^' Now for it ^life or death's on it now," said he, in a low, but distinct
whisper ; *^ wipe the blood from your face, and be calm as you can when
you're passing the sentry."

Is he " I dared not speak the word as I looked on the still

motionless body that lay before me. Darby raised one arm, and as
he let it go, it fell heavily on the ground ; he stooped down and, placing
his lips near the mouth, endeavoured to ascertain if he breathed, and
then jumping to his feet he seized my arm, and in a tone I shall never
forget, he said " It's over now."

I tottered back as he spoke ; the horrible thought of murder the
frightful sense of crime ^the heaviest, the blackest that can stain the
heart of man stunned me : my senses reeled, and as I looked on
that corpse stretched at my feet, I would have suffered my every
bone to be broken on the rack, to see one quiver of life animate its
rigid members. Meanwhile, Darby was kneeling down, and seemed
to search for something beside the body.

" All right come now," said he, " we must be far from this before
day-break ; and it's lucky if we've the means to do it." I moved onward
like one walking in a dream, when horrible images surround him, and
dreadful thoughts are ever crowding fast ; but where, amid all, some
glimmering sense of hope sustains him, and he half feels that the
terrors will pass away, and his soul be calm and tranquil once more.
What is it ? What has happened ? was the ever rising question, as I
heard Darby groping his way along the dark gallery, and the darker
stairs.

" Be steady now," said he, in a whisper, " we're at the gate."

' Who comes there ?" cried the sentry.

" A friend," said Darby, in a feigned voice, answering for me, while
he dropped behind me. The heavy bolts were withdrawn, and I felt
the cold air of the streets on my cheek. "Where to, now?" said I,
with a dreamy consciousness that some place of safety must be sought,
without well knowing why or wherefore.

" Lean on me, and don't speak," said Darby. " If you can walk as
far as the end of the Quay we're all safe." I walked on without fur-
ther questioning, and almost without thought ; and though, from time
. to time. Darby spoke to several persons as we pasfi^ I heard not what
they said, nor took any notice of them.

136 OUR MESS.

CHAPTER XX.

THE FLIGHT.

** Are ye getting weak ?" said Darby, as I staggered heavily against
him, and gasped twice or thrice for breath. " Are ye bleeding still?"
was his next question, while he passed his hand gently within the sash,
and felt my wound. I endeavoured to mutter something in reply, to
which he paid no attention but, stooping down, he threw me across
his shoulder, and darting off at a more rapid pace than before, he left
the more frequented thoroughfare, and entered a narrow and gloomy
alley, unlighted by- a single lamp. As he hurried onward he stopped
more than once, as in quest of some particular spot, but which in the
darkness he was unable to detect. "Oh! Holy Mother 1" he mut-
tered, " the blood is soaking through me ! Master Tom, dear Master
Tom, my darlin', speak to me speak to me, acushla !" But though
I heard each word distinctly, I could not utter one a dreamy stupor
was over me, and I only wished to be left quiet. " This must be it
ay, here it is," said Darby, as he laid me gently down on the stone
sill of the door, and knocked loudly with his knuckles. The sum-
mons, though repeated three or four times, was unheeded and
although he knocked loudly enough to have alarmed the neighbour-
hood, and called out at the top of his voice, no one came and the
only sounds we could hear were the distant cadences of a drinking song,
mingled with wild shouts of laughter^ and still wilder cries of agony
and woe.

" Here they are, at last," said Darby, as he almost staved in the
door with a heavy stone.

" Who's there ?" cried a hareh and feeble voice from within.

" 'Tis me, Molly ^'tis Darby M'Keowri* Open quick, for the love
of heaven here's a young gentleman bleedin' to death on the steps."

" Ugh ! there's as good as ever he was, and going as fast too, here
within," said the crone. " Ye must take him away he wouldn't mind
him now for a king's ransom."

" ril break open the door this minit," said Darby, with a horrible
oath, " av ye don't open it."

" Ha 1 ha 1 ha !" laughed the hag. " If ye wor Darby M*Keown
ye'd know well how easy that is try it ^try it, acushla ! oak timber
and nails is able to bear all you'll do 1"

" See, now," said Darby, dropping his voice to a whisper " see,
MoHy, here's five goold guineas for ye, av ye'll let us in ^'tis a
mati'8 life's on it, and one I'd give my own for twice over."
ri Av ye offe#e&^tee forty," replied she, I dam't do it Ye don't
know the sorrow that's here this night. 'Tis Dan Fortescue is going.
I'm conung, I'lh^^SflSiiig," muttered she to some call from within^ and

i

TOM BURK& OF * OURS." 137

then, without waiting to hear more, she shuffled back alon^ the pas-
sage, and left us once more alone.

" There's nothing for it but this now," said Darby, as retiring a few
paces, he dashed his shoulder against the door with all his force ; but,
though a powerful man, and though every window rattled and trembled
with the tremendous shock, the strong panels withstood the stroke, and
never yielded in the least. "'Tis no use, firing through the lock,"
said he, in a tone of despair. " Blessed Joseph, what's to be done ?"

As he spoke, the light tread of a bare-footed child was heard com-
ing up the lane, and the same moment a little girl approached the door,
she carried a, cup in her hand, and held it carefully, as if fearful of
spilling its contents : as &he neared the door, she seemed uncertain how
to proceed, and at last, as if gaining courage, tapped twice at it with
her knuckles.

" Don t ye know me, Nora ?" said Darby ; " don't ye know Darby
the Blast?"

"Ah! Mister M'Keown, is this you? Ah! I'm afeard it's little
use there is in coming here to-night. Mr. Fortescue's dying within,
and Doctor Kenagh can't leave him. I'm bringing him this to take,
but "

" Nora, dear," said Darby, " I've a secret for Mr. Fortescue, and
must see him before he dies. Here's a crown my darlin', and don't tell
any one I gave it to ye." Here he stooped down, and whispered
rapidly some words in her ear.

" Who's there ?" broke in the hag's voice from within.

" *Tis me, Nora," said the child boldly.

*f Are ye alone there do ye see any one about the door ?"

" Sorra one ; can't you let me in out of the cowld."

" Come in quick, then," said the crone, as she opened the door
carefully, and only wide enough to let the child pass but the same
instant Darby dashed forward his foot, and flinging the door full wide,
seized me by the collar and dragged me in, after him, closing the door
at once behind him. The screams of the hag, though loud and vehe-
ment, were as unheeded as were Darby's own efforts to attract notice
half an hour before.

" Be quiet, I say ^hush yer crying, or, be the sowl o' the man that's
dyin', I'll dhrive a ball through ye." The sight of a pistol-barrel
^emed at last to have its effect, and she contented herself with a low
wailing kind of noise, as she tottered after us along the passage.

The cold air of the street, and the rest combined, had given me
strength, and I was able to follow Darby, as he led the way through
many a passage, and up more than one stair.

" Here it is," said the child, in a whisper, as she stopped at the
door of a room which lay half ajar.

We halted in silence, and listened to the breathings of a man, whp^
short, sobbing respiration, broken by hiccup, d^s^e^^jthe near approach
of death. g^^j^it v ri

" Go on," cried a deep low voice in a tone ofi^g^rness ; ye11 not
have the cough now for some time."

138 OUR MES8.

The sick man made no reply, but his hurried breathing seemed to show
that he was making some unwonted effort ; at last he spoke, but in a
voice so faint and husky, we . could not hear the words. The other,
however, appeared to listen, and, by a stray monosyllable dropped at
intervals, to follow the tenor of his speech. At last the sound ceased,
and all was still.

" Go in now," said Darby, in a whisper to the child, " I'll follow
you."

The little girl gently pushed the door and entered, followed by
M*Keown, who, however, only advanced one foot within the room, as
if doubting what reception he should meet with.

By the uncertain light of a wood fire, which threw in fitful flashes
its glare around, I perceived that a sick man lay on a mean-looking
miserable bed in one corner of a dark room ; beside him, seated on a
low stool, sat another^ his head bent down to catch the low breathings
which the dying man gave forth from time to time. The heavy
snoring sound of others asleep directed my eyes to a distant part of
the chamber, where I saw three fellows lying on the floor, partly
covered by a blanket. I had barely time to see this much, when the
figure beside the bed sprang forward, and in a low but menacing tone
addressed M'Keown. The last words only could I catch, as he said

" And if he wakes up he may know you still."

" And if he does," said Darby, doggedly, " who cares. Isn't there
as good blood as his shed for the cause ? Look here."

He dragged me forward as he spoke, and, tearing open my coat,
pointed to the sash that was now saturated with the blood that flowed
at every stir from my wound. The other looked fixedly at me for a
second or two, took my hand within his, and, letting it fall heavily, he
whispered a word to M*Keown, and turned away.

No, no,*' cried Darby, violently : " by the holy ' mass ! ye'U not
trate me that way. Sit down, Master Tom," said he, as he forced me
into an old arm-chair beside the fire. ** Here, take a drink of water.
Come here, doctor ; come here, now, stop the bleeding ; stand by me

this wonst, and by this ** Here he crossed his fingers before him and

looked fervently upwards ; but at this instant the sick man sprang up
in his bed, and looked wildly about him.

" Isn't that Darby isn't that M*Keown there ?" cried he, as he
pointed with his finger. "Darby," he continued, in a low clear
whisper, " Darby, see here, my boy ; you often said I'd do nothing for
the cause. Is this nothing ?" He threw back the bed-clothes as he
spoke, and disclosed a ghastly wound that divided his chest, exposing
the cartilage of the ribs, which stood out amid the welling blood that
oozed forth with every respiration he made. " Is it nothing that I
gave up rank, and place, and fortune, the broad acres that were in my
family for three centuries all ray hopes, all my prospects "

" And if you did," interrupted M'Keown, hastily, " you knew what
for." . rff:.

"I knew what for!" repeated the sick man, as a deadly smile
played upon his livid face and curled his white lip ; " I know it now,

TOM BUKKK OF " OURS." 139

f at least to leave my inheritance to a bastard to brand my name with

^ disgrace and dishonour to go down to the grave a traitor, and worse

still *' He shuddered violently here, and though his mouth moved,

no sound came forth, he sank back, worn out and exhausted.

"Was he ikere,^' said Darby to the doctor, with a significant
emphasis on the word " was he there to-night ?"
' " He was," replied the other. " He thinks, too, he fired the shot
that did it ; but, poor fellow ! he was down before that. The boys

brought him off. That child is going fast," continued he, as his eye

-t fell upon me.

" Look to him, then, and don't be losin' time," said Darby, fiercely;
" look to him," he added more mildly, " and the heavens will bless ye.
Here's twenty goolden guineas ^it's all I saved these eight years
here they're for you, and save his life."

The old man knelt down beside me, and slipping a scissors within

the scarf that lay fastened to my side with clotted blood, he proceeded

to open and expose the situation of my wound. A cold sick feeling-

a kind of half fainting sensation followed this, and I could hear

^ nothing of the dialogue that passed so near me. An occasional sting

of pain shot through me as the dressing proceeded ; but, save this, I had

I ^ little consciousness of any thing. At length, like one awaking from a

heavy slumber, with faculties half clouded by the dreamy past, I

f looked around me all was still and motionless in the room. The

doctor sat beside the sick man's bed, and Darby, his eyes rivetted on

me, knelt close to my chair, and held his hand upon the bandage

over my wound. A gentle tap here came to the door, and the child

I had seen before entered noiselessly; and, approaching the doctor,

said

" The car is come, sir."

The old man nodded in silence, and then turning towards Darby he
I whispered something in his ear. M^Keown sprung to his legs at once,

I , his cheek flushed deeply, and his eyes sparkled with animation.

* "I have it, I have it !" cried he " there never was such luck for us

before."

With that he drew the old man to one side, and speaking to him in a
low, but rapid tone, evinced by the violence of his gesture, and the
tremulous eagerness of his voice, how deeply he was interested.

" True enough ! true enough !" said the old man, after a pause.
" Poor Dan has but one more journey before him."

" Is he able to bear it, doctor ?" said Darby, pointing towards me with
his finger ; " that's all I ask. Has he the strength in him ?"
' " He'll do now," replied the other gruffly : " there's little harm done

i him this time. Let him taste that, whenever you find him growing

weak, and keep his head low, and there's no fear of him." As he spoke,
he took from a cupboard in the wall a small vial, which he handed to
M^Keown, who received the precious elil^ir with a^qbiuch reverence as
though it contained the very well-spring of human existence.

"And now," said Darby, "the less time lok 'the better. It will

140 OUR MESS.

soon be daylight on us. Master Tom, can you rise, acushla ? Are you
able to stand up ? "

I made the effort as well as I could, but my limbs seemed chained
dovn, and even my arm felt like lead beside me.

" Take him on your back," said the old man, hurriedly. " You'll
stay here till sunrise. Take him down stairs on your back, and when
you have him in the open air, turn him towards the wind; and keep his
head low mind that."

I made another attempt to stand up, but before I could effect it,
Darby's strong arms were round my waist, and I felt myself lifted on
his shoulder, and borne from the room ; a muttered good-by passed
between the others, and Darby began to descend the stair cautiously,
while the little child went before with a candle. As the street-door
was opened, I could perceive that a car and horse stood in waiting, ac-
companied by two mop, who the moment they saw me sprang for-
ward to Darby's assistance, and helped to place me on the car.
M^Keown was soon beside me, and supporting my head upon his
shoulder, he contrived to hold me in a leaning position, giving me at
the same time the full benefit of the fresh breeze, which already re-
freshed and restored me. The vehicle now moved on in darkness and
in silence ; at first our pace was slow, but it gradually quickened as we
passed along the quay, for as such I recognised it by the dull sound
of the river hear us. The bright lamps of the greater thoroughfare
soon made their appearance, and as we traversed these, I could mark
that our pace slackened to a walk, and that we kept the very middle
of the wide street as if to avoid observation. Gradually we emerged
from this, and, as I heard by the roll of the wheels, reached the out-
skirts of the town. We had not been many minutes there when the horse
was put to his speed, and the car whirled along at a tremendous rate.
Excepting a sense of weight and stiffness in the side, I had. no pain-
ful feeling fropi my wound, while the rapidity with which we passed
through the air, imparted a sensation of drowsiness, far from unpleasant.
In this state I scarcely was conscious of what passed about me. Now
and then some occasional halt, some chance interruption, would mo-
mentarily arouse me, and I could faintly hear the sound of voices,
but of what they spoke I knew nothing. Darby frequently questioned
me, but my utmost effort at reply was to press his . hand. By times it
would seem to me, as though all I felt were but the fancies of some sick
dream, which the morning should dispel and scatter. Then I thought
that we were flying from an enemy, who pressed hotly on us, and gained
at every stride ; a vague shadowy sense of some horrible event ming-
ling with all, and weighing heavily on my heart.

As the time wore on, my senses became clearer, and I saw that we
were travelling along the sea-side. The faint grey light of breaking
day shed a cold gleam across the green water, which plashed with a
mournful cadence on the low flat shore : I watched the waves as they
beat with a heavy serugh amid the scattered weeds, where the wild cry
of the curlew mingled with the sound as he skimmd along the gloomy

TOM BURKE OP " OURS." 141

j water, and my heart grew heavier. There is something, I know iiot

I what, terribly in unison with our saddest thoughts in the dull plash

! of the sea at night ^the loudest thunders of the storm, when white-

crested waves rise high, and break in ten thousand eddies on the dark
rocks, are not so suggestive of melancholy as the sighing moan of the
midnight tide. Long-buried griefs, long-forgotten sorrows, rise up asr
we listen, and we feel as though that wailing cry were the funeral
chant over cherished hopes and treasured aspirations. From my dark
musings I was roused suddenly by Darby's voice, asking of. the men
-t who sat at the opposite side, '* how the wind was ?"

"Westing by south," replied one, "as fair as need be, if there was
enough of it but who knows, we may have a cap-full yet, when the
sun gets up."

" We'll not have long to wait for that," cried the other "see there."
I lifted my eyes as he spoke, and beheld the pink stain of coming
day rising above the top of a large mountain.

" That's Howth," said Darby, " seizing with eagerness the proof of
my returning senses.

" Come, press on, as fast as you can," said one of the men, " we
must catch the ebb, or we'll never do it.''
j ^ ** Where does she lie ?" said Darby, in a low whisper.

" Under the cliffs, in Bolskaton bay," said the last speaker, whom
r I now perceived by his dress and language to be a sailor.

My curiosity was now excited to the utmost to know whither we
were bound, and with an effort I articulated the one word, " where ?"
Darby's eyes brightened as I spoke, he pressed my hand firmly within
his, but made me no reply. Attributing his silence to caution, I pressed
him no further and, indeed, already my former indifference came
back on me, and I felt listless as before.

" Turn off there to the right," cried the sailor to the driver, and

1 suddenly we left the high-road, and entered a narrow by-way, which

I seemed to lead along the side of the mountain close to the water's

"^ edge before we had proceeded far in this direction, a long low whistle

was heard from a distance.

" Stop there, stop," said the sailor, as he knelt upon the car, and
replied t^^ the signal. ** Ay, all right, there they are," said he, as
pointing to a little creek between the rocks below us, we saw a small
row-boat with six men lying on their oars.

" Can't he walk," said the sailor in a half whisper, as he stood
beside the car. " Well, let's lose no more time, we'll take him dovni
between us."

" No, no," said Darby, "put him on my back, I'll do it myself."
I " The ground's slippier than you take it," said the other, " my way's

the safest."

With that, he lifted me from the car, and placing me between Darby
and himself, they grasped each other's hands beneath me, und soon
began a descent, which I saw would have been perfectly impracticable
for one man to have accomplished with another on his back.

During the time, my desire to know where they were bringing me

142 OVB M8.

j

again grew stronger than ever and as I turned to ask Darby, I
perceived that the tears were coursing each other fast down his weather-
beaten cheeks, while his lips shook and trembled like one in an ague.

'^ Mind your footing there, my man, 1 say/' cried the sailor, ^' or
you'll have us over the diif."

' Round the rock to the left there," cried a voice from below-
that's it, that's it ^now you're all right ; steady there ; give me your
hand." I

As he spoke, two men advanced from the boat, and asnsted us down |

the sloping beach, where the wet sea-weed made every step a matter ^

of difficulty. !

' Lay him in the stern there gently, lads, gently," said the voice
of one who appeared the chief amongst them "that's it, throw |

those jackets under his head. I say, piper, ar'n't you coming with us?"

But Darby could not speak one word. A livid pallor was over his
features, and the tears fell, drop by drop, upon his cheek.

" Master Tom," said he, at length, as his lips almost touched me
" my child, my heart's blood, you won't forget poor Darby. Yell be
a great man yet ^ye'U be all I wish ye : but will ye remember a
poor man like me ?"

"Jump ashore there, my good fellow," cried the cockswain "we'll
have enough to do to round the point before the tide ebbs." ^ |

" One minit more, and God love ye for it," said Darby, in a voice '

of imploring accent "who knows will we ever meet again. 'Tis the
last time, maybe, I'll ever look on him." j

I could but press his hand to my heart ; for my agitation increased I

the debility I felt, and every effort to speak was in vain.

" One half minit more ^if it's only that he'll be able to say, ' God
bless you, Darby,' and I'll be happy."

" Push off, my lads," shouted the sailor, sternly ; and as he spoke (

the oars plashed heavily in the sea, and .the boat rocked over with the !

impulse. Twice the strong stroke of the oars sent the oraft through
the clear water, when the piper clasped his arm wildly around me, and -^^

kissing me on the cheek, he sprang over the side. The waves were
nearly to his shoulders ; but in a few seconds he had buffeted through
them, and stood upon the shore. With a last effort I waved my hand
in adieu ; and as I sank back exhausted, I heard a wild cry burst from
him, half in triumph, half in despair. One glance more I caught of
his figure as we stood out to sea ; he was kneeling on the beach, bare-
headed, and as if in prayer. The tears gushed from my eyes as I
beheld him, and the long pent-up sorrow at last broke forth, and I
sobbed like a child.

" Come, come, my lad, don't feel down-hearted," said the sailor,
laying his hand on my shoulder. " The world can scarce have been
over rough to one so young as you are. Lift up your head and see
what a glorious morning we've got ; and there comes the breeze over
the water. We hadn't such weather the last time we naade this trip, I
assure you."

I locked up suddenly, and truly never did such a scene of loveliness

TOM BuaKE OF "ours/* 143

meet my ejes. The sun had risen in all his glorious brilliancy^ and
poured a flood of golden light across the bay, tipping with a viokt hue
the far-off peaks of the Wicklow mountains, and lighting up the
wooded valleys at their feet. Close above us rose the rugged sides of
Howth in dark shadow, the frowning rocks and gloomy caverns con-
trasting with the glittering tints of the opposite coast, where every
cottage and cliff sparkled in the dancing sunlight. As we rounded
the point, a cheer broke from the men, and was answered at once. 1
turned my head, and saw beneath the tall cliffs the taper spars of a
small vessel, from which the sails hung listlessly, half brailed to the
mast.

" There she lies," said the skipper " that's the ' Saucy Sal,' my
master ; and if you're any judge of a craft, I think you'll like her.
Give way, lads, give way ; when that rock yonder's covered, the tide is
at the flood."

The boat sprang to the strong jerk of their brawny arms, and in a
few minutes glided into the little creek where the " Saucy Sal" lay at
anchor.

Lifting me up, they placed me on board the little vessel, while,
without losing a moment, they proceeded to ship the anchor and shake
out the canvas. In less than five minutes the white sails bent to the
breeze ; the water rustled at the prow, and we stood out to sea.

" Where to ?" said I in a faint whisper to the sailor who held the
tiller beside me.

" Down channel, sir."

" And then ?" asked I once more ; " and then P"

" That must depend on the revenue cruisers, I believe," said he more
gruffly, and evidently indisposed to further questioning.

Alas, I had too little interest in life to care for where, and laying my
head upon my arm fell into a heavy stupor for several hours.

The hot sun, the breeze, the unaccustomed motion, and worse than
all the copious libations of brandy and water I was forced from time to
time to take, gradually brought on fever, and before evening a burning
thirst and throbbing headache seized me, and my senses, that hitherto
had been but lethargic, became painfully acute, and my reason began
to wander. In this state I remained for days, totally unconscious of
the flight of time ; frightful images of the past pursuing each other
through my heated brain, and torturing me with horrors unspeakable.
It was in one of my violent paroxysms I tore the bandage from my side,
and re-opening my half-healed wound became in a moment deluged
with blood. I have no memory of aught that followed ; the debility of
almost death itself succeeded, and I lay without sense or motion. To
this circumstance I owed my life, for when I next rallied, the fever had
left me, my senses were unclouded, my cheek no longer burned^ nor
did my temples throb, and as the sea-breeze played across my face I
drank it in with ecstasy, and felt once more the glorious sensations of
returning health. It was evening, the faint wind that follows sun-set
scarce filled the sails as we glided along through the waveless sea ; I
had been listening to the low monotonous song of one of the sailors as

144 OUR MESd.

he sat mending a sail beside me, 'when suddenly I heard a voice hail us
from the water; the skipper jumped on the half-deck and immediately
replied ^the words I could not hear, but by the stir and movement about
me I saw something unusual had occurred, and by an effort I raised
my head above the bulwark and looked about me. A long low craft lay
close alongside us, filled with men whose blue caps and striped shirts
struck me as strange and uncommon, not less than their black belts and
cutlasses with which every man was armed. After an interchange of
friendly greetings with our crew, for as such they seemed, although I
could not catch the words, sh moved rapidly past us

" There's their flotilla, sir," said the helmsman, as he watched my eye
while it wandered over the water.

I crept up higher, and followed the direction of his finger. Never shall
I forget that moment ; before me, scarce as it seemed a mile distant,
lay a thousand boats at anchor, beneath the shadow of tall sand-hills,
decorated with gay and gaudy pennons, crowded with figures whose
bright colours and glitterhig arms shone gorgeously in the setting sun-
light. The bright waves reflected the myriad tints, while they seemed
to plash in unison with the rich swell of martial music that stole along
the water with every freshening breeze. The shore was covered with
tents, some of them surmounted with large banners that floated out
gaily to the breeze ; and far as the eye could reach were hosts of
armed menT dotted over the wide plain beside the sea. Vast columns
of infantry were there cavalry and artillery too their bright arms
glittering and their gay plumes waving, but all still and motionless, as
if spell-bound. As I looked, I could see horsemen gallop from the
dense squares, and riding hurriedly to and fro. Suddenly, a blue
rocket shot into the calm sky, and broke in a million glittering frag-
ments over the camp ; the deep roar of a cannon boomed out, and
then the music of a thousand bands swelled high and full, and in an
instant the whole plain was in motion, and the turf trembled beneath
the tramp of marching men. Regiment followed regiment, squadron
poured after squadron, as they descended the paths towards the beach, I

while a long dark line wound through the glitterring mass, and marked
tlie train of the artillery, as with caissons and ammunition-wagons
they moved silently over the grassy surface.

AH that I had ever conceived of warlike preparation was as nothing
to the gorgeous spectacle before me. The stillness of the evening
air, made tremulous with the clang of trumpets and the hoarse roar of
drums the mirror-like sea, coloured with the reflection of bright
banners and waving pennants and then, the simultaneous step of the
mighty army, so filled up every sense that I feared lest all might prove
the mere pageant of a dream, and vanish as it came.

" What a glorious sight!'' cried I, at length, half wild with enthu-
siasm. " Where are we ?"

" Where are w !" repeated the skipper, smiling. " Look out, and
you'll soon guess that. Are those very like the uniforms of King
George ? When did you see steel breast-plates and helmets before ?
This is France, my lad."

TOM BUKKlS O^ " OURS.'* 145

* France ! France !'* said I, stupified with the mere thought.

Yes, to be sure. That's the army of England, as they call it, you
see yonder ; they are practising the embarkation. See the red rockets ;
there they go three, four, five, six ^that's the signal : in less than
half an hour thirty thousand men will be ready to embark. Mark how
they press on faster and faster ; and watch the cavalry, as they
dismount and lead their horses down the steep : see how the boats
pull in shore but, holloa there; we shaU get foul of the gun-
boats already we've run in too close. Down helm, my lad ; keep
the head-land yonder on your lee."

As he spoke, the light craft bent over to the breeze, and skipped
freely over the blue water. Each moment wafted us farther away
from the bright scene, and soon a projecting point shut out the whole,
save the swell of the brass bands as it floated on the breeze^ and I
might have believed it a mere delusion.

They practise that manoeuvre often enough to know it well," said the
skipper : " sometimes at day-break ^now at noon-day and again, as
we see, at sunset ; and no one knows at what moment the attack that
seems a feint may not turn out to be real. But here w6 are now along-
side : our voyage is ended."

The anchor plashed from our bow, while a signal was made from
the shore and answered by us ; and in an instant we were surrounded
with boats.

^ Ha, Antoine I" cried a sous officer in a naval uniform, who sat on
the gunwale of a long eight-oar gig, and touched his hat in recognition
of our skipper. "What news ^ outre merf^ what are we doing in
Ireland?"

" My young friend here must tell you that," replied the skipper,
laughingly, as he laid his hand on my shoulder. " Let me present him
to you Mr. Burke, Lieutenant Brevix."

The lieutenant saluted me politely, and then, springing up, he
jumped gaily on board of us, and shook our hands with great appear-
ance of cordiality.

"They'll want to see you ashore, Antoine, as soon as may be : there
are despatches going off to-night for Paris, and they'll be glad to send
the last accounts of the state of the channel."

" Light winds and no cruisers are all I have to tell them, then "
said the skipper.

The lieutenant now took him aside and they conversed for some
time in a low tone, during which I occupied myself by watching the
sentinels who paraded incessantly to and fro along a low wooden pier that
stretched out into the sea, andformed, with apromontory at some distance,
a small harbour. Thdr watch seemed of the mostvieilant, if I might judge
from the low, but continued cry which passed &om mouth to mouth,
of " Seniinelle, prenez garde a vous ;" while from each boat, across
the harbour, a sing-song note chanted in response the monotonous
sounds " hon quart /" as each quarter of an hour stole past. These
precautions against the approach of any strange craft extended, as I
afterwards learned, along the entire coast from Dieppe to Ostende ;

MBSS, NO. XVIII. VOL. II. I*

146 CUB MEM.

yet were they dot suffident to prevent frequent visits firom the fidglish
spies, who penetrated into every quarter of the camp, and even had
the hardihood to visit the theatre of the town, and express loudly*
their disapprobation of the performance.

* You'd better come ashore with me, sir,** said the lieutenant
( Colonel Dorsenne will be glad to ask you some questions. What
papers have you got ?**

* None, save a few private letters," said I, somewhat confused at
the question.

No matter," said he gaily. '^ I hear from Antoine you wish to^
join the searvice her^ That wish is your best reoommendation to the
eolonel ; he'll not trouble you for your reasons, I warrant you. Con-
duct monsieur to the quartier*general," said the lieutentint to a
corporal, who, with his party of four men, stood awaiting at the
landing-place the arrival of any one firom the boats ; and in an ia^
stani, the men falling to cfach side of me, took theur way along the pier.
I could mark as we went that more than 6nc6 dieir looks were bent bit
me with an expression of compassion lind pity, which at the time I
was at a loss to expln. I knew not then that the road we were taking
was that which so often led to death, and that it was only on the -very,
day beforoi two Englishm^ were shot for havihg ventured on hore
Ifithout authority.

The consigne of the corporal passed us through one post after
another, Until we reached the dpen plain, over which now the night t^as
falling fast* A lantern at some distance off marked the quarters df
the omcer on duty $ and thither we directed our steps, and at last
reached a small wooden hut, from within which the sounds of miKh and
revelry pr(cefed6d. The voice of the sentiiiel who diallenged'us
brought an officer to the door, who, th6 momrat hs eyes fell on me^
stepped back, and, passing his hahd hurriedly aordss his forehead, mui^
tered half inai:Ldibly^ '' Another ah^dy r

. While he retired into an inner apartment^ I had time to look at 1^6
singular decorations which adorned the walls of the ante-chamb^ : around
on Irvery'side, and arranged'liketrophi'es^ were grouped the weapons
of different arms of the service^ smrmounted with some device anfale^
matic of their peculiar character, Ixr sometunes the mere record of
Some famous battle jn Ivhich they had pre-eminently distinguished
themselves. Here were the long, straight swords of the cuirassies
crossed' above the ste^l breastpl&te, ahd Surmounted by the heslvy
helmet half hid ih leopard skin, and bearing the almost effaced wmrd^i
^'Arcole," in ^ont; there was the short carbine of the vokigear^
over whidi hung the red cap and its gay gold tassel, with the ^m^
broid^ed motto, " eik avani" in gold letters ; the l6Dg and graceful
weapon of the lancer, the eurved sabre of the chcuseur-d^hemUf eveix
the axe of the pioneer was not wanting, displaying at a glance some
trail of every branch of the mighty force that bo^ the proud desig-i
nation of " La Grande Armie."

I wis busily engaged inspecting these when the door opened^ and
an officer in full uniform appeared; his figure Was above the middle

TOM BUBKB OF " OURS." M7

size, strongly and squarely built, and his br^naefd features and high,

bold forehead' gave- him a soldier-like air.

. ^' Your name sir," said he quickly, as he drw ^mself up before

me and looked sternly in my face.

." Burke^ Thomas Burke."

" Write it down, Auguste," said he, turning to a younger officer;
who stood, pea in hand, behind him.

Your rank or profession ?"
.' ^ Q^ntilhoMfnef* said I^ not knowing that the wotd Expressed
BobaUty.

i ' JM pardieUf' eried he, as he showed his white teeth in a gnn
" Pvodiiee your papers^ if you have any."

' I Jmyenothmg sara those letters," said I, handing him theee of
De Meudon

Scarce had his eye glanced over thein^ wheli I saw his eolour heighten
ftiui Ms eheek tremble* . ^

" What!" cried he, are you the same young Irtshtnan ^ho is
meolioned hdre ; the coostaht eompaniot and frie&d of poor Charles ?
He. was my sdiool-foUow : we were at Brienne togethei*. What a
mistake I was about to fall into. How did you oome^ and when ?*'
Be&re I eould reply to any of his mahy qutstionsy the naval ofteer
I had met at the harbour entered and delivered his report^ .

" Yes, yes ; I know it all," said Dorsenne, hurriedly throwing his
eye over it. " It's all right, perfectly right, Brevix. Let Capitaine
Antoine be examined at the quartier-general. I'll take care of Mon-
sieur here ; and to begin come and join us at supper."

Passing his arm familiarly over my shoulder, he led me into the
adjoining room, where two other officers were seated at a table co-
vered with silver dishes and numerous flasks of wine. A few words
sufficed for my introduction, and a few glasses of champagne placed
me as thoroughly at my ease as though I had passed my life amongst
them, and never heard any other conversation than the last movement
of the French army, and their projects for future campaigns.

" And so," said the colonel, after hearing from me a short account
of the events which had induced me tu turn my eyes to France " and
so you'd be a soldier Eh bten, I see nothing better going myself.
There's Davema9 will tell you the same, though he has lost his arm in
the service."

'^ Out pardieuy" said the officer on my right, " I am not the man to
dissuade him from a career I've ever loved."

- '^ A vous mon amt," said the young officer who first addressed me
on my arrival, as he held out his glass and clinked it against mine.
" I hope we shall have you one of these days as our guide through the
dark streets of London. The time may not be so distant as you think.
Never shake your head at it."

It is not that I would mean," said I eagerly.

What, then ?" said the colonel. '* You don't suppose such an
expedition as ours could fail of success ?"

' Nor that either," replied I. ^ I am not so presumptuous as to
form an opinion on the subject."

148 OVIt MESS.

Diantre then, what is it ?"

** Simply this : that whatever fortune awaits me, I shall never be
found fighting against the country under whose rule I was bom
England may not alas I she has not been just to us : but whatever
resistance I might have offered in the ranks of my countrymen, I shall
never descend to in an invading army. No no ; if France have no
other war than with England ^if she have not the cause of continental
liberty at heart shell have no blood of mine shed in her service.*'

*^ tSacrMtty" said the colonel, sipping his wine coolly, ^ you had
better keep tiiese same opinions of yours to yourself. There's a cer-
tain little general we have at Paris, who rarely permits people to reason
about the cause of the campaign. However, it is growing late now,
and well not discuss the matter at present. Auguste^ will you take
Burke to your quarters ? and to-morrew I'll call on the general about
his brevet for the Polytechnique."

I felt now that I had spoken more warmly than was pleaaing to the
party ; but the sentiments T had announced were only such as in my heart
I had resolved to abide by, and I was pleased that an opportunity so soon
offered to display them. I was glad to find myself at rest at last ; and
although events pressed on me fast and thick enough to have occupied
my mind, no sooner had I laid my head on . my pifiow, than I fell into
a sound sleep.

TOM BURK^ OF "OURS." 1^

CHAPTER XXL

THE "SCOUS MILITAIBE***

Let me now skip over at a bound some twelve months of my life---not
tbattheywere tome without their chances and their changes, but they were
sueh as are incidental to all boyhood ^and present myself to my reader
as the scholar at the ^' Polytechnique.'* What a change had the time,
short as it was, worked in all my opinions ; how completely had I
unlearned all the teaching of my early instructor, poor Darby ; how
had I been taught to think that glory was the real element of war,
and that its cause was of far less moment than its conduct*

The enthusiasm which animated every corps of the French army, and
was felt through every fibre of the nation, had full sway in the little
world of the military schooL There, every battle was known and conned
over ; we called every spot of our play-ground by some name great in
the history of glory ; and among ourselves we assumed the titles of the
heroes who shed such lustre on their country; and thus in all our boyish
sports our talk was of the Bridge of Lodi ^Areola Rlvoli Casti-

liogni ^the Pyramids ^Mount Thabor. While the names of Kleber,

Kellerman, Massena, Dessaix, Murat, were adopted amongst us: but
one name only remained unappropriated, and no one was bold enou^
to assume the title of him, whose victories were the boast of every
tongue. If this enthusiasm was general amongst us, I felt it in all its
fullest force, for it came untingedwith any other thought* To me there
was neither home nor family ^my days passed over in one unbroken
calm ; no thought of pleasure, no hope of hapjpiness when the fke day
came round ; my every sense was wrapped up in the one great desire-
to be a soldier ; to have my name known among those great men whose
fame was over Europe ; to be remembered by him, whose slightest
word of praise was honour itself. When should that day come for me ?
when should I see the career open before me? these were my earliest
wakmg thoughts, my last at nightfaU. . , ^ .

If the intensity of purpose, the strong current of all my hopes, formed
for me an ideal and a happy world within me, yet did it lend a trait of
seriousness to my manner that seemed like melancholy ; and while few
knew less what it was to grieve, a certain sadness in me struck my
companions, on which they often rallied me, but which I sti^ove m vam
to conquer. It was true that at certain times my lon^ness and isola-
tion came coldly on my heart ; when one by one I saw others claimed
by their friends, and hurrying away to some happy home, where some
fond sister threw her arm around a brother's neck, or some doating
mother clasped her son close to her bosom, and kissed his brow, a tear
would find its way down my cheek, and I would hasten to my room,

140 OUR HSStf^

and, locking the door, sit down alone to think, till my sad heart grew
weary, or my sterner nature rose within me, and by an effort over
myself, I turned to my studies and forgot all else. Meanwhile I made
rapid progress ; the unbroken tenor of my thoughts gave me a decided
advantage over the others, and long before the regular period arrived
the day for my final examinadon was. appointed.

What a lasting impression do some passages of early life leave behind
them ! Even yet, and how many yeaxB are past ! how well do I remember
all the hopes and fears that stirred my heart as the day drew near ; how
eaeh mormng at sunrise I rose to pore over some of the bools# wMdi
formed the subjects of examination ; how when the g^y di^wn was only
breaking have I bent over the pages of Vaiiban, and the calcDlations of
Camot, and with what a sinking spirit have I often found that a night
seemed to hi^ve erased all the fruit of a long day^s labour, and that the
gain of my hard- worked intellect had escaped me ; and then again, like
magio, the lost thought would come back, my brain grow cl^ar, apd all
the indistinct and shadowy conceptions assume a firm ajid tangil^lfB
reality, whieh I felt like power. At such times as these my spirit rose,
my heart beat high, a joyous feeling throbbed in eyery pulse, and an
exhilaration almost maddening elevated me, and there was npth^g I
would not have dared-^no danger I would not have confrontecU $uc}i
were the attractions of my boyish days, and such the temperament
they bequeathed to my manhood.

It was on the 16th of June, the anniversary of Mar^igo, when the
drum beak to asms in the court of the Polytechnique, and soon after the
schodafs were seen assembling in haste from various quarters^ anxious
to learn if their {Hrayer had been acceded to, which asked perfoission
tor ^em to visit the ^ Invalides," the usual indulgence on th^ i^mi*
versary of any great victory.

As we fbcked into the court we were struck by seeing an orderly
dragoon standing beside the head^master, who was eagerly perusing a
letter in his hands ;r when he had concluded he fspoke a few words to the
soldier, who at once wheeled round his horse and trotted rapidly frpip
the spot.

Again the drum rolled oat, and the order was given to form in line 5
in an instant the command was obeyed, and we stood in silent expeq^
taUon of the news which we perceived awaited us

*^ Messieurs les ecoliers,*' he .began, when stillness ^as restored,
'^^ this'd|iy being the anriivonary of the glorious battle of Marengo, the
General Buonaparte has decreed that a review should be held of the
entire school. Lieutenuit-general d'Auvergne will arrive here at noon
to inspect you, and on such reports as I shall give of your general con-
duct, zeal, and proficieDcy, will recommendations be forw^ded to
the first consid for your promotion."

A loud cheer followed this speech. ^The announcement f^r surpassed

fxar most ardent hopes, and there was no limit to our enthusiasm ; and

loud vivm in honour of General Buonaparte, d'Auvergn^, and \hi

headi^mastst himself, were heard on all sides*

: Scartdy iraa the 'breakfast.over when our preparations t%^i}* iWbat

TOM TOftKB or " OURS." 1^1

^a ivLBy 6oene ItVaA: here, were some brushing up their unifbrms, po-
'lishing their sword-hilts, and pipeclaying their erosi^-belts $ there, might
be 4een others conning over the directions of field manoeuvres^ and
'refreshing their memory of the words of command ; some, practised
fnarohing in groups along the corridor ; others, too much exdted by the
'prospect before them, jumped madly from place to place, shouting
and singing snatches of soldier-songs ; but all were occupied. As for
;iiie, it was only two days before I had obtained my grade of corporal,
my Qow uniform had only just come home, and I put it on for the first
time with no inconsiderable pride, indeed I could scarce turn my eyes,
as I walked, from the stripes upon my arm thai denoted my rank. Long
before the appointed time we were all assembled, and when the clock
struck twelve and the ^rum beat out, not a boy was absent ; we were
drawn up in three columns according to our standing, spaces being
left between each to permit of our wheeling into line at the word of
eommand. The head-master passed down our ranks, narrowly inspect-
ing our equipments, and scrutinizing every detail of our costume ; but
a stronger impulse than ordinary was now at work, and not the slight-
est ii^regularity was any where detectable. Meanwhile the fime passed
on, and although every eye was directed to the long- avenue^ lime
-trees by which tha general must arrive, nothing moved along it ; and the
bright streaks of sunlight that peeped between the trees were unbroken
by any passing shadow. Whispers passed along the ranks, some fearing
he might have forgotten the whole appointment, others suspecting
that another review elsewhere had engrossed his attention, and at last
ja half murmur of dissatisfaotion crept through the jnass, whid^ only
the presence of the chef restrained within due bovinds. One o'clock
-Struck, and yet no rider appeared ; the alley remained silent and deserted
^as before, the minutes now seemed like hours weariness a^ lassitude
appearedev^ry where. The ranks were broken, and many wandered from
their posts, and forgot all discipline. At last a cloud of dust was seen to
.rise at a distance, and gradually it approached tlie long avenue ; evei^
eye was turned in the direction, and in an instant the stragglers re^
sumed their places, and all was attention and anxiety, while every look
pierced eagerly the dense, cloud, to see wliether it was not the long-
wished-for stafi* which was coming. At length the object burst upon
our sight ; but what was our disappointment to see that it was only a
travelling carriage with four post-horses that approached; no appearance
of a soldier was there, not one solitary dragoon a half-nttered shout
announced our dissatisfaction, for we at once guessed it was merely
some chance visitor, or perhaps the friends of some of the scholars,
who had thus excited our false hopes.

The chef himjpelf participated in oust feeling, and passing down the
lines he announced, that if the general did not arrive wit^n ten mi-
nutes^ he would himself dismiss us, and set us at liberty. A ehee^ of
gratitude received this speech, and we stood patiently awaiting our
liberation, when suddenly from the guard-house at the gate, the dash
of arms was heard, and the roll of drums in salute, and the same in-
stant the carriage jve had ^een-rolled into the couvt-^yard, and took up

152 OUE HE8S.

its station m the middle of the square. The next moment the door
was opened and the steps lowered, and an officer in a splendid rniifiNrm
assisted three ladies to alight. Before we recovered from the surprise
of the proceeding, the master had approached the party, and by hu air
of deference and deep respect, denoted that they were no 'ordinary
visitors ; but our attention was quickly drawn from the group that now
stood talking and laughing together, for already the dank of a cavalry
escort was heard coming up the avenue, and we beheld the waving
plumes and brilliant uniform of a generid officer's staff advancing at a
rapid trot. The drums now rolled out along the lines, we stood to
aims the gallant cortege turned into the court and formed in front of
us. All eyes were fixed on the general himself, the perfect beau idleai
of an old soldier. He sat his horse as firmly and gracefully as the
youngest aid-de-camp of his suite ; his long white hair dressed in queue
behind, was brushed back off his high broad forehead ; his clear blue
eye, niild yet resolute, glanced over our ranks, and as he bowed to the
head-master, his whole gesture and bearing was worthy of the court
of which once he was a brilliant member.

*^ I have kept my young friends waiting for me," said he, in a low
but clear voice, " and it now remains for me ^to make the only amende
in my power a short inspection. Dorsenne, will you take the com*
mand?"

I started at the name, and looked round, and close beside stood the
same officer who had so kindly received me the day I landed in France ;
though he looked at me, however, I saw he did not remember me, and
my spirits sank again, as I thought how utterly friendless and alone I
was.

The general was true to his word, in making the inspection as brief
as possible ; he rode leisurely down the ranks, stopping from time to
time to express his satisfaction, or drop some chsmce word of en-
couragement or advice, which we caught up with eagerness and delight.
Forming us into line, he ordered his aid-de-camp to put us through
some of the ordinary parade manoeuvres, which we knew as thoroughly
as the most disciplined troops. During all this time^ the group of ladies
maintained their position in front, and seemed to watch the review
with every semblance of interest. The general, too, made one of the
party, and appeared from time to time to explain the intended move-
ment, and direct their attention to the scene.

Let them march past in salute," said he, at length, " the poor fel-
lows have had enough of it I must not encroach on the entire holiday."

A unanimous cheer was the reply to this kind speech, and we formed
in sections and marched by him at a quick-step. The chef cT eeole
had now approached the staff, and was making his report on the boys,
when the general again interrupted him by saying

' Madame has expressed a wish to see the boys at their usual exer-
cise of the play-hour. If the request be admissible ^"

' Certainly, mon general^ of course," said he and stepping forward,
he beckoned to one of the drummers to come near, he whispered a
word, and the tattoo beat out, and like magic every one sprang from

TOM BUBKS OF ^* OUBS.** i5S

his rank caps were ftung into the air, and vivas rang out from every
quarter of the court.

The sudden transition from discipline to perfect liberty added to our
excitement, and we became half wild with delight* The first mad
burst of pleasure over, we turned, as if by instinct, to our accustomed
occupations ^here were seen a party collecting for a drill, officers
gathering and arranging their men, and sergeants assisting in the
muster ; there were others, armed with spades and shovels, at work on
an entrenchment, while some were driving down stockades and fixing a
palisade ; another set, nKre peaceful in their pursuits, had retired to
their little gardens, and were busy with watering-pots and trowels :
the section I belonged to, were the seniors of the school, and we had
erected a kind of fort which it was our daily amusement to defend and
attack, the leadership on either side being determined by lots. On this
day the assault had fallen to my command, and 1 hurried hither and
thither collecting my forces, and burning for the attack.

We were not long in assembling, and the garrison having announced
their readiness by the display of a flag from the ramparts, the assault
began. I know not why nor wherefore, but on this day my spirits were
unusually high ; it was one of those chance occasions when my tempe-
rament, heated and glowing, had elevated me in my own esteem, and I
would have given my life for some opportunity of distinguishing myself.
* I led my party on, then with more than common daring, and though
repulsed by the besieged, we fell back only for a moment, and returned
to the assault determined to succeed ; the others, animated by the
same sirit, fought as bravely, and the cheers that rose from one side
was replied to by those as full of defiance from the others. Heated and
exdt^, I turned round to order an attack of my whole force, when, to
my surprise, I beheld that the general and his staff, accompanied by the
ladies, had taken their places a short distance off, and were become
interested spectators of the siege. This alone was wanting to stimulate
my efforts to the utmost, and I now returned to the fight with tenfold
impetuosity. But if this feeling animated me, it also nerved my
antagonists, for their resistance rose with every moment, and as they
drove us back from their walls, cheers of triumph rang out and pro-
dai^ie^ the victory.

Already the battle had lasted nearly an hour, and all that was
obtained was a slight breach in one of the outworks, too small to be
practicable for assault ^in this state were matters when the sound of a
cavalry escort turned every eye towards the entrance to the court-yard,
' where we now beheld a squadron of the landers rouge following a
numerous and brilliant stf^ of general officers. Scarcely had they
entered the gates when a loud cry rent the air, and every voice shouted,
^ C*est ltd, if est lui," and the next moment, ** Vive Buonaparte^ vive le
premier consult* All that I had ever heard from poor De Meudon
came rushing on my mind, and my heart swelled out till it seemed
bursting my very bosom. The next instant my eye turned to the little
f(rt, the moment was propitious, for there every cap was waving, every
look bent towards hinu I seized the opportunity, and pointing silently

]$4 O0]^ MS6

^.tl^brMcbf stole fprwardy in. h Q^soond I wai beoeaik i\^ gjmuj
rampart, in another I reached the breach, the next brought me^ to Umb
4op, whefe, yfitk It shoot of vietory; I ealkd cm my men to folloir me ;
pB ihey fame roshmg, but too late*, already the garrison weris upon mo^
and overeome by numbers 1 fought alone and unsupported ; step by
$Ufp they drove me to the edge of the rampart already my foot was on
'the breach, when with a spring I dashed at the flag-^tafiTand carried it
./with me as I fell headlong into the ditch:; in moment I was on my
.legs, but so stunned and crushed that I fell almost immediately again;
cold perspiration broke over my face wnd fehead, end I should have
fainted butihat they dashed sc^e w^ter over me As I lay sick and
faint I lifted my eyesi find what ims my amasement to see* not the
little companions of the school itbout me, but the gorgeous unifoim of
M9ff officers, and two elegantly dtessed ladies, one of whom held a oii^
.of wjiter in her hand and sprinkled it over my brow. I looked down
upon my torn dress, and the sleeve qf my coat where the marks of my
.tank were alreivdy half e^eed^ and I felt the tears start into my eyes
1^8 the remembrance of my late failure crossed my mind ; at the instant
the crowd op^ied and a pale but handsome face, where command was
tempered by a look of almost womWy softness, smiled upon me.

P^iait bienfait, n^kn enfant^' Seid he, ^^4re9 bitn fcd^ and if you
have lost a coat by the struggle, why I must even see if I ean't give yon
another to replai^O; it. Monsieur. LfegrangfB* wh^t is the character of
this boy in the school ?. {s he diligent, ^alou^, and well conducted?"

''^ All of tb^ tb^^e, genera},". $aid th^ oAe^ bowing bbsequiously,

^ Let him have hiS; brevet ; to dat^ from to?dsy. Who are his
friends?'*

A whispered answer replied to this inquiry.

Indeed !" said the first speaker $ ^^ reason the more we should take
care of him- Mqnsieur,". ^ntinued be, turning towards m^ 'Ho-
morrow you shall have your epauJettes j never forget how you gained
them and remember ever that every grade in the serviee is witlun the
reach of a brave man who does his duty^" So saying he paased on,
while overpome by emotion I could not speak or m^Ve.

V There, be is piuch better nqw,*' said. a. soft voice near me ; "you
see* bis colour is coming back." I looked up and there were two ladiw
standing beside me. :The ^Ider wa tall and elegantly formed ; her
figure, which in itself was most graceful, looked to its full advantage
by the splendour of her dress : there was an air of stateliness in her
manner, which had seemed hatUeuf^ were it not for a look of most
benevolent softness that played abput her mouth whenever she spoke.
The younger, wh,o might in years have seemed her daughter, was in
every respect unlike her : she was slight anddelicately formed, her com-
plexion and her black eyes, shaded by long dark fringe, bespoke the
Provencal, her features were beautifully regular, and wb^i at rest, com-
pletely Qreek in their character, but each moment some chance word,
some passing thought, implanted a new expression, and the ever*varying
look of her flashing eyes, and full round lips, played between a smile
and that srph spirit that essentially belongs .to the fair daughters of the

T^

1^.

f

^.

^"^

i

TOM BUBKK oar fOUR8." 155

-^oath* It wias 'not until my fixed gaze had brought a d^plilush to her
heek, that J lelt how ardently I had been looking at her*

"Yes, yes," said she hurriedly, "he's quite well now," and ai the
same moment she made a gesture of impatienee to pass on. But the
elder held her arm close within her own, as she whispered with somes-
thing of hfdf malice *^ But stay, Marie, I should like to hear bis name.
Ah V* ^ied she, starting in a^cted surprise, " how flushed you are ;
there must be something in the air here, so we had better proneed," and
with ft soft sinile and a courteous motion of her hand, she passed on.

I looked after them aa they went, a strange odd feeling stirred within
my heart a kind of wild joy with a mingled sense of hope too .vague
toeati^at. I watched the drooping feather of her bonnet/ and the
dld of her dress as they fluttered in the wind, and when she disappeared
. from my sight, I could scarce believe that she was not still beside me,
and that her dark eyes did not look into my very soul. But already my
companions crowded about me, and amid a hundred warm congra-
tulatiens and kind wishes 1 took my way back to the college.

Scarcely was breakflast ovr the following morning, when the order
arrived for my removal from the scholar quarter of the Polyteehnique
to thai occupied by the cadets, A small tri-coloured cockade, aflixed
.to my hat, was the only emblem of my new rank ; but simple as
it was, BO decoration ever attracted more envy and admiration from
the beholders, nor gave more^ pride to the wearer, than that knot of
;ribb0n.

" At number thirteen you'll find your quarters, Monsieur le cadet"
said a sergeant, as he presented me with the oflidal order. I remember
at this very hour what a thrill his military salute sent through me. ' It
waa the fiirst acknowledgment of ray grade ^the first reeogaition that
:I waa no longer a mare schoolboy. I had not much time granted me
to indulge such sensations ; for. already my schoolfellows had thronged
oannd me, and overwhelmed me with questions and felicitations* ..

"Ah ! what a fortunate fellow no examination to go through-^f-
has hiB grade given him without toiling for it ^is it the cavalry,
Burke?-! are you d cheval? ^when do you join? where is your
regiment ? sh^l we see you again ? ^won't you write to us all about
the corps when you join them ? who is your comrade ? yes, tell us
that ; who is he ?"

^^Mafoh** said I, " 1 know not more than yourselves. You are all
.aware to what an accident I owe my promotion. Where I am destined
ior, or in what eoo^s, I can't tell ; and as to my comrade ^

" Ah, take care he's no tyrant," said one.

" Yes, yes," criBd another " show him you know what a small
jsword is at once."

" Burke won't be trifled with^" cried a third.

And then followed a very chorus of voices, each detailing some
atrocity committed by the cadets on their newly-joined associates.
One had a ^end wounded in the side the very day he joined ; ancrther
knew some one who was thrown out of a window: here was an
^qcount of a delieate bey^ who passed an entire mght in the snow, and

156 OUB ME6B.

died of ft chest disease three weeks after ; there, a victim to intem-
perance met his fate in the orgie that celebrated his promotion* This
picture^ I confess, did somewhat damp the ardour of my first impres-
sions ; and I took leave of my old friends with not less liBeling of
affection, that I doubted how much kindness and good feding I had to
expect from my new ones. In this mood of mind I shook their hands
for the last time, and followed the soldier who carried my baggage to
the distant quarter of the ieoie As I entered the large court by the
richly ornamented gate, whose bronzed tracery and handsome carving
dated from the time of Louis XIV., my heart swelled with conscious
pride* The fa9ade of the square, unlike the simple front of the
scholar's quarters, was beautifully architectural ; massive consoles sup-
ported the windows, and large armorial insignia, cut on stone, sur-
mounted the different entrances : but what most captivated my spirits
and engaged my attention was a large flag in the centre, from which
waved the broad ensisn of France, beside which a sentinel paced to
and fro. He presented arms as I passed ; and the dick of his musket,
as he stood erect, sent a thrill through me^ and made my very fingers
tingle with delight.

* This is number thirteen, sir,** said the soldier, as we arrived in front
of one of the doorways ; and before I could reply the door opened,
and a young officer, in the uniform of an infantry regiment, appeared*
He was about to pass out, when his eye resting on the baggage the
soldier had just placed beside him, he stopped suddenly, and touching
his cap, asked in a polite tone

''Not Mr. Burke, is it?"

'^ Yes," said I, bowing in return.

** JEhy man cameradef" said he, holding out his hand, ^ delighted to
see you* Have you breakfasted? Well, youll find all ready for you
in the quarters. I shall be back soon. I'm Hdy going to a morning
drill, which won't last half an hour ; so make yourself at home^ and
well meet soon again."

So saying, he once more saluted me, and passed on. Not very like
what I feared, thought I, as I entered the quarters, whose look of neat-
ness and comfort so pleasantly contrasted with my late abode. I had
barely time to look over the prints and maps of militaiy subjects which
ornamented the walls, when my new friend made his appearance.

' No parade to-day, thank heaven," said he, throwing down his cap
and sabre, and lolling at full length on the little camp sofa. ' Now,
m&n cher camerade^ let us make acquaintance at once, for our time is
likely to be of the shortest. My name is Tascher, an humble scus
lieutenant of the twenty-first regiment of foot. As much a stranger in
this land as yourself, I fancy," continued he, after a slight pause, * but
very well contented to be adopted by it.

After this opening he proceeded to inform me that he was the ne-
phew of Madame Buonaparte, her sister's only son, who, at his mother's
death, left Guadaloupe, and came over to France, and became an
eUve of the Polytechnique. There he had remained five years, and
after a severe examination obtained his brevet in an infantry corps

TOM BURKE OF ODBS/' 167

his tmcle Buonaparte having ahown him no other favour nor affection,
than a severe reprimand on one occasion for some boyish freak, when
all the other delinquents escaped scot free.

** I am now under orders for service," said he, " but where for and
when, I can't tell. Bat this I know, that whatever good fortune may
be going a-begging, I, Lieutenant Tascher, am very like to get only
the hem of the garment.''

There was a tone of easy and frank good-nature in all he said, which
at once disposed me to like the young creole^ and we spent the whole
afternoon recounting our various adventures and fortunes, and before
night came on were sworn friends for life.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE "TUILLERIES" IN 1803.

The life of the cadet differed little from that of the sdioolboy. The
same routine of study the same daily round of occupation and duty
were his. Until drafted to the particular corps to which he might hie
appointed, he only could absent himself from the college by special
leave ; and the most rigid of all military discipline prevailed during
the brief interval which was to fit him for the arduous life of a
soldier* The evenings, however, were at our disposal: and what a
pleasure it was, the nitigue of the day over, to wander forth into the
dty ^that brilliant Paris- near which I had lived so long, and yet had
seen so little of.

At first, the splendour of the shops the unceasing flow of popula*
tion 4he might and grandeur of the public buildings ^attracted all
my attention; and when these wore off in novelty, I could still wander
with delight through the gay gardens of the Tuilleries, and watch
the sparling fountains as they splashed in the pale moonlight, and
look upon the happy children who played about them, their merry
laughter ringing through the water's plash. What a fairy scene it
was, to watch the groups as they passed and repassed came, and
went, and ^sappeured amid those dark alleys, where the silent
footstep did not mar the sounds of happy voices : and then, how have
I turned from these, to throw a wistM glance towards the palaoe-
windowstr where some half-dosed curtun from time to time would
show the golden sparkle of a brilliant lustre, or the rich frame of a
mirror- mayhap an open sash would for a moment display some

J

ISB oim

im form ; the ont&ie oidj seen as she leaned on . the htltadyf uid'
drank in the halmy air of the mild eveniBg^ while the-, soft well of
music would float from the gorgeous saloon^ and, falling 4m my ear,:
set me a dreaming of pleasures my life had nerer known. My itter
loneyness pressed denser on me every day | for while eadi of my
opmpanions had friends and relatiTes, among. whom their erenings
were passed, I was friendless and alone. The narrowness of ray
means I had nothing saVe my pay ^pretentcd my frequenting
the theatre, or even accepting suck invitations as the other cadets
pressed upon me$ and thus for hours long have I sat and walefaed the:
windows of the palace, weaving to myself stories ai that ideal world,
from which my humble fortune debarred me.

It had been years since the Tuillerles exhibited any thing resembling
the state that formerly prevailed in that splendid palace ; but at the
period I speak of Buonaparte had just been chosen consul for life, and
already the organization of his household had undergone a most con-
siderable alteration. In the early years of the consulate, a confused
assemblage of aid-de-camps, whose heavy gait and loud speech betokened
less the court than the camp, were the only attendants on his person.
He lived in the centre pavlHon, as if in a tent in the midst of his army ;
but now he inhabited the splendid suite of rooms to the left of the
pavilion de rhorologe, as it is called, and whieh stretch away towards
the river. The whole service of the palace was remodelled ; and without
wounding those prejudices that attached to the times of the deposed
monarehy by ack)pting the titles of chamberlaiii or gentlemian of the
ehamber, he gradually instituted the oeremomal of a com^ by pHh^
ferring to the posts about his person those whose air and -mannertf
savoured most of the higher habitudes dT society^ and whose flauuiUecl
were distinguished among the nohl^se of the kingdom.

Duroe, the chief aid-de-camp of the general, was appointed gotemdr
of the palace^ and it was said that the consul himself studied ll the
ancient ceremonial of the old court, and ordaitied that every etiquette
of royalty should be resumed with the most unerring accuracy* Th^
chamberlains were represented by prefects of the palace^ and Josephiife
had her ladies of fadnour, like any prineesft of the blood royi^.

The consul, still imitating the ancient obs^ranees of the Bourbon^*
had his petits i&v^& and his grand rec^tions $ and ji the new-^
created functionaries possessed little of the courteous ease and high:*
bred habitudes of the old court, there was in theii" hard-won honours
^most Of them promoted on the very field of baltle-^thitt whieh b^ier
suited tibe prejudioes of the period, and sedrc^ less beeame the gStit&i
saloons of the Tuilleries.

like all newly-^otganized societies, the maehitfei^ itotkbA ill it
first : few, if flny Of them, had ever seen a dourf 9 aiKl the ptbHA but
y^t TeSpe^vl obedience which characterized the Frendi gen^^man in
the presence of his sovereign, was converted info an ol^uious and
^ulgdr delerenee towards Buonaparte, equally opposfteto the true types
as it was foreign to the habits of ^e bllml soldier Who proffered if.

TOM BUWCB OEF *OURS." 169

BttI wiiaty after all, signified these bkoakhes ? Thei^ wok beauty
ueyer in tke br^;fater imnaLB of France kad more lavelj women filled thoad
gorgeoBB saloons; there was genius**-4ier(6m ^the highest ehitaby
f the great nation eonld scarce vie. with the proud deecte of those
grouped around -him the mighty one^ on whom each, eye was fixed ^
aod ifi as M. Talleyrand remarked, there were those who knew not
how to walk on the waxed floor of a palace, few could tread mord
finely i&e ifield of battle, and step with firmer f^iot the path that led to
glory* Yet with all the first ^nsuFa pride in those whose elevation f
rank anddigmty was his own work, his predtleetions leaned 4ily more
and moift towards the bigh: and. polished oirdes of the Faubeurg St.
Germain. The courteous and easy politeness of Talleyrand, thtf
ehKvalrou^ and courtly bearing of the Count de Narbcoine^ and thcl
graceful elegance of Segun's manners, fotned too striking a eontrai^t
with the 6fSldierlike rudeness of the newly-promoted generals, net to
make a profound impressicm oh one, who could in the deepest and
weightiest oonoems of life take into eaktdatioB the most mkiut^ and
triml eircumatances*

. This disparity, remarkable as it was among the meki, was still m^re
so in the ladies of the dovatt i few of those newly etevated hatuig ta$
enough either to imitate successfully the polished usages cfi the old
nobiliQr) or resolution sufficient to maintain their original hftbitsl
withoiit blushing at their own want of breedii^^.

If I hare been led somewhat from the curr^t of my own stkry by thid
digressB^n, it is merdy ihaft I may passingTy note dewn- seme of the
features of the period-^-one of l^e most remarkakabl^ in the bfetery
of modem Europe, and oro which^ already^ to the far-seeitig ^ye ^
some, betokened the speedy return to these very institutions of monar-
chy, to uproot which cost the best blood of France, and a revolution
the most terrific the world has ever witnessed.

And now, looking back on the great career of that great man,
no portion of his history can perhaps present any thing to compare
with the splendour of the consulate : a long succession of victories
the spoils of half Europe ^glory to very satiety had intoxicated the
nation a country flouris hing in ev ery el ement of prosperity social
order restored a high position amid surrounding nations and every
thing that could gratify national ambition obtained France stood at
the very ' pinnacle of her greatness. Even the splendour of those
names who represented the various states of Europe at her court seem
to attest her supremacy. The stately and polished Whitworth, con-
spicuous by the elegance of his appearance and the perfection of his
aristocratic bearing; the Russian ambassador, Marcoff; the Chevalier
Azara, the minister of Spain, the courtier of Europe ; Baron de Cetto,
the Envoy of Saxony, one of the most distinguished, both by manners
and ability, in the whole diplomatic curde, were among those who
firequented the first consul's levees, which already, in the splendour
of costume and the) gorgeous display of uniform, rivalled the most
sumptuous days of ^e monarchy.

IGO OUR MESS.

All the long-forgotten ceremonial of a court was restored : dinners,
most splendid in all the array of pomp and grandem*, were given
every week ; f&tes that vied with the Inxnrious era of Louis XIV.
himself, took place frequently; and Paris became the rendezvous
for all Europe, curious to behold the rich trophies of successful
wars, and mix in the delight of a capital, where pleasure reigned
triumphant

The theatre presented an array of genius and talent hitherto
nnequalled. Talma and Mademoiselle Mars were in the very zenith of
their fame, and obtained a large share of Buonaparte's favour, whose
tastes were eminently dramatic In a word, a new era had com
menced, and every class and walk, every condition of man, seemed
resolved to recompense itself by the pursuit of pleasure, for the
long and dark night of trouble through which it had passed.

While, therefore, the court of the first consul partook of such
features as those^ the circle of Josephine possessed attractions totally
different : there^ amid her intimate fHends, all the diarm and fasdna-^
tion of French society held sway ; each evening saw assembled round
her the wittiest and most polished persons of the day ; the gay and
spirited talkers who so pre-eminently gave the tone to Parisian society ;
the handsomest women, and the most distinguished of the literateurs of ^

the period, found ready access to one, whose own powers of pleasing |

have left an undying impression on some, who even still can recall these
delightful moments. Such were, in brief, the leading features of the
court then held in the Tuillmes, and such the germ of that new
order of things which was so soon to burst forth upon astonished
Europe, under the proud title of The Empire.

\

i

1

Tom buhke of our8/' ^ t 101

CHAPTER XXIII.

A SURPBISE.

I I WAS sitting one evening alone in my quarters, an open volume before

me in which I persuaded myself I was reading, while my thoughts

were far otherwise engaged, when my comrade Tascher suddenly

. entered the room, and throwing himself into a chair, exclaimed in a

! tone of passionate impatience

' ^^Pardieu! it is a fine thing to be nephew to the first man in

France r

" What has happened ?" said I, when I perceived that he stopped
short without explaining farther.

' What has happened ! enough to drive one mad. Just hear this.
You know how fond I am of Paris, and how naturally I must wish to
be near the Tuileries, where I have the entrSe to my aunt's soirees.

f Well, there was a vacancy occurred yesterday in the huitihne hussars

a corps always stationed here or at Versailles and as I am longing to
have a cavalry grade, I waited on Madame Bonaparte to solicit her

f interest in my favour. She promised of course. The general was to

breakfast with her, and it was all settled : she was to ask him for the
promotion ; and I had not a doubt of success. In fact, if I must con-
fess, I told two or three of my friends, and actually received their
congratulations. It so fell out, however, that he did not come to
breakfast, nor dinner either there's no knowing that man ; but what
think you, he walked in, this evening, just as we were preparing to act
a proverb Such a scene as it was, to be sure. No one expected him.
Most of us were dressed up in costumes of one kind or other ; and I, Ma
foi ! ridiculous enough, I suppose I was costumed like a galley-slave.
He stood for a second or two at the door with his arms folded, and his
stem eyes wandering over the whole room. There was not one amongst
us woidd not have wished himself mahy a mile away : even my aunt
herself seemed quite confused, and blushed, and grew pale, and blushed
again.

'' ^ Ha !' cried he at last, in his dry, short voice. ' Pardon, ladies
and gentlemen, I have made a mistake I believed I was in the palace
of the Tuileries, and I find this is the Porte St. Martin.'

" * Ft done, Bonaparte,' cried my aunt, blushing, while with one of
her sweetest smiles she endeavoured to bring him back to good humoun
* See how you have frightened Madame de Narbonne she'll never be
able to play the miller's wife ; and Marie here, her tears will wash
away all her rouge.'

" And this amiable gentleman what is to become of him ?' said

MFSS, NO. XIX. VOL. II. M

162 OUR MESS.

he, interrupting her, while he laid his hand on my shoulder, and I
stood trembling like a culprit beside him.

* * Ah, there I ^that's Tascher,' said she laughingly ; and as if happy to
escape from her greater embarrassment by any means, she continued
' Your question comes indeed quite apropos. I have a request to make
in his favour : there's a vacancy in the huitihne^ I think it is eh,
Edward ?' I nodded slightly, for if my life depended on it, I could
not have uttered a word. ' Now, I am sure he's been sous-lieutenant
long enough, and in the infantry too.*

** Can ^ou ride well, sir ?' said he, turning to me with a half frowa
on his pale face.

* Yes, general,' replied I, with my heart almost choking me as t
spoke.

'' * Well, sir, you shall be employed, and in a service worthy your
present tastes, if I may judge from your costume. A detachment of
prisoners is to march to-morrow from this for the bagne de Brest-
hold yourself in readiness to accompany the military escort Go, sir,
and report yourself to your colonel.' He waved his hand when he
had finished, and how I left the room, reached the street, and found
myself here, hang me if I can tell you."

' And is there^ no help for this ? must you really go ?" said I, comi-
passionating the dejected and sorrow-struck expression of the youth.

Must I go I Ma foi ! you know little of this dear uncle of mine^
if you ask such a question. When once his mind's made up, any thing
like an attempt to argue only confirms his resolve. The best thing now
is, to obey and say nothing ; for if ray aunt remonstrates, I may spend
my life in garrison there over the galley-slaves."

A knocking at the outer door interrupted our conversation at this
moment, and a corporal of the staff entered, with a despatch-bag at
his waist.

" Sous-Lieutenant Tascher," said he, touching his cap, and pre*
senting a large official-looking letter to my companion, who threw it
from him on the table, and turned away to hide his confusion. ' Mon-
sieur Burke," said the corporal^ withdrawing another ominous docu-
ment from his leathern pouch.

^^ Diantre r cried Tascher, turning quickly about "have I got
you into a scrape as well as myself. I remember now the general
asked me who was my * comrade.' "

I took the paper with a trembling hand, and tore it open. The fir^t
line was all I could read ; it was a war-office official, appointing me to
the vacant commission in the huitihne hussars.

Tascher's hand shook as he leaned on my shoulder, and I could feel
a convulsive twitching of his fingers as his agitation increased ; but in
a second or two he recovered his self-command, and taking my hand
within both of his, he said, while the large tears were starting from
his eyes

" I'm glad it's you, Burke," and then turned away, unable to say
more.

It was some time before I could bring myself to credit my good

TOM BURKE OP " OURS." 163

fortune. Had I been free to choose, I could have desired nothing
better nor more to my liking ; and when I succeeded at length, then
came my embarrassment at my poor friend's disappointment, which
must have been still more poignant as 'contrasted with my success.
Tascher, however, had all the Creole warmth of temperament. The
first burst over, he really enjoyed the thought of my promotion ; and '.
we sat up the entire night talking over plans for the future, and making
a hundred resolves for contingencies, some of which never arose, and
many, when they came, suggested remedies of their own.

At daybreak my comrade's horses came to the door, and a mounted
orderly attended to accompany him to the prison where the convoy
were assembled. We shook hands again and again. He was leaving
what had been his home for years, Paris the gay and brilliant city,
in whose pleasures he had mixed, and whose fascinations he had tasted.
I was parting from one with whom I had lived in a friendship as
close as can subsist between two natures essentially different we both
were sad.

" Adieu, Burke," said he, as he waved his hand for the last time. " I
hope you II command the huitikme when next we meet."

I hurried into the quarters, which already seemed lonely and
deserted, so soon does desolation throw its darkening shadow before it.
The sword that had hung above the chimney crosswise on my own was
gone ; the chako, too, and the pistols were missing ; the vacant chair
stood opposite to mine ; and the isolation I felt became so painful, that I
wandered out into the open air, glad to escape the sight of objects,
every one of which only suggested how utterly alone 1 stood in the
world, when the departure of one friend had left me companionless.

No one save he who has experienced it can form any just idea of
. the intense hold a career of any kind will take of the mind of him, who,
without the ties of country, of kindred, and of friends, devotes all his
energies in one direction. The affections that might, under other
influences, have grown up ^the hopes that might have flourished in
the happy sphere of a home, become the springs of a more daring
ambition. In proportion as he deserts other roads in life, the path he
has struck out for himself seems wider and grander, and his far-seeing
eye enables him to look into the long distance with a prophetic vision,
where are rewards for his hard- won victories, the recompense of long
years of toil. The pursuit, become a passion, gradually draws all
into its vortex ; and that success which at first he believed only attain-
able by some one mighty effort, seems at last to demand every energy of
his life and every moment of his existence ; and as the miser f^ould
deem his ruin near, should the most trifling opportunity of gain
escape him, so does the ambitious man feel that every incident in life
must be made tributary to the success which is his mammon. It was
thus I thought of the profession of arms ; my whole soul was in it ;
no other wish, no other hope divided my heart ; that passion reigned
there alone. How often do we find it in life, that the means become
the end ^that the effort we employ to reach an object takes hold upon
our fancy ^gains hourly on our affections, and at length usurps the

164. OUR MESS

place of what before had been our idol. As a boy, liberty, the bold
assertion of my country's rights, stirred my heart, and made me wish to
be a soldier. As years rolled on the warlike passion sank deeper and
deeper in my nature ; the thirst for glory grew upon me, and forgetting
all save that, I longed for the time when on the battle-field I should win
my way to fame and honour. In this wise were my musings, as I loitered
homeward and entered my quarters, a sealed packet addressed Sous-
Lieutenant Burke ^how that humble title made my heart beat lay on
my table. Supposing it referred to my new appointment, I sat down
to con it over at my leisure ; but no sooner had I torn open the enve-
lope than a card fell to the ground. I took it up hastily and read :
" lyapres Vordre de Madame Bonaparte fai Vhonneur de vous in-

viter a une soiree ." What ! cried I aloud me ! invite me to

the palace ! There must be some mistake here ; and I turned
again to the envelope, where my name was legibly written, with my
grade, and the number of my new corps There could be no doubt
of it, and yet was it still inexplicable ; I that was so perfectly alone,
a stranger, without a friend, save among the humble ranks of the
school, how came such a distinction as this to be conferred on me.
I thought of Tascher ; but then we had lived months together, and
such a thing had never been even alluded to. The more I reflected
on it, the greater became my difficulty ; and in a maze of confusion
and embarrassment I passed the day in preparation for the evening,
for, as was customary at the period, the invitations for small parties
were issued on the very mornings themselves. My first care was, to
look after the uniform of my new corps, in which I knew I must
appear. My last remaining bank-note, the sole survivor of my
little stock of wealth, was before me, and I sat calculating with my-
self the costly outlay of a hussar dress, the full uniform of which had
not till now entered into my computation. Never was my ingenuity
more sorely tried than in the endeavour to bring the outlay within the
narrow limits of my little purse ; and when, at length, I would think
that all had been remembered, some small but costly item would rise
up against me, and disconcert all my calculations.

At noon I set out to wait on my new colonel, whose quarters were
in the Place Vend6me. The visit was a short and not over pleasant
one ; a crowd of officers filled the rooms, among whom I edged my
way with difficulty towards the place where Colonel Marbois was
standing. He was a short, thick-set, vulgar-looking man of about
fifty ; his moustache and whiskers meeting above the lip, and his bushy,
black beard below, gave him the air of a pioneef, which his harsh
Breton accent did not derogate from.

" Ah c^est vous," said he, as my name was announced : '* you'll have
to learn in future, sir, that officers of your rank are not received at the
levees of their colonel. You hear me ; report yourself to the Chef
d*scadron, however, who will give you your orders 5 and mark me,
sir, let this be the last day you are seen in that uniform."

A short and not very gracious nod concluded the audience, and I
took my leave not the less abashed, that I could mark a kind of half

P KW

1

TOM BURKt OF ** OUttS." 165

smile on most of the faces about me as I withdrew from the crowd.
Scarcely in the street, however, when my heart felt light and my step
elastic I was a ow*-lieutenant of hussars, and if I did my duty what
cared I for the smiles and frowns of my colonel ; and had not the
General Bonaparte himself told me, " that no grade was too high
for the brave man who did so."

I can scarcely avoid a smile even yet as I call to mind the awe I felt
on entering the splendid shop of Monsieur Crillay, the fashionable
tailor of those days, whose plate-glass windows and showy costumes
formed the standing point for many a lounger around the corner of the
Rue de Richelieu and the Boulevard. His saloon, as he somewhat
ostentatiously called it, was a rendezvous for the idlers of a fashionable
world, who spent their mornings canvassing the last gossip of the city,
and devising new extravagancies in dress. The morning papers, cari-
catures, prints of fa^ions, patterns of waistcoats, and new devices
for buttons were scattered over a table, round which, in every attitude
of indolence and ease, were stretched some dozen of the exquisites of
the period, engaged in" that species of hal^-ennuiy half-conversation,
that form a considerable part of the existence of your young men of
fashion of every age and every country. Their frock-coats of light
cloth, high-collared, and covered with buttons ; their bottes-a-revers
reaching only mid leg, and met there by a tight pantalon collant ;
their hair studiously brushed back off their foreheads, and worn long,
though not in qtieue behind, bespoke them as the most accurate types
of the m$cle.

The appearance of a youth in the simple uniform of the Poly-
technique in such a place seemed to excite universal astonishment.
Such a phenomenon apparently had never been witnessed before ; and
as they turned fully round to stare at me, it was clear they never
deemed that any mark of rudeness could be felt by one so humble as
I was. Monsieur Crilla himself, who was sipping his glass of eau
Sucre with one arm leaning on the chimney-piece, never deigned to
pay me other attention than a half smile, as with a voice [of most pa-
tronizing softness he lisped out

" What can we do for you here, monsieur ?"

Apparently the answer to this question was a matter of interest to
the party, who suddenly ceased talking to listen.

" I wish to order a uniform," said I, summoning up all my resolution
not to seem abashed. " This is a tailor's, if I don't mistake."

" Monsieur is quite correct," replied the imperturbable proprietor,
whose self-satisfied smile became still more insulting, **but perhaps
not exactly what you seek for. Gentlemen who wear your cloth
seldom visit us."

" No, Crilla9," interrupted one of the bystanders ; " I never heard
that you advertised yourself as fashioner to the Polytechnique, or
tailor in ordinary to the corps of Pompiers."

"You are insolent, sir," said I, turning fiercely round upon
the speaker. The words were scarce spoken, when the party sprung
to their legs ; some endeavouring to restrain the temper of the youn^

166 OUB MS8S.

man addressed, others, pressing around, called on me to apologize
on the spot for what I had said.

" No, no ; let us have his name his name," said three or four in a
a breath. " Beauvais will take the punishment into his own hands.**

" Be advised, young gentleman ; unsay your words, and go your
way," said an elder one of the party, while he added, in a whisper,
" Beauvais has no equal in Paris with the small sword.*'

* There is my address," said I, seizing a pen, and writing on a piece
of paper before me.

" Ha !** said Beauvais, as he threw his eye on the writing, " he has
got his grade it seems all the better that ; I half shrunk from the
ridicule of an affair with a cadet. So you are serious about this."

" Sir !" said I ; all my efforts being barely enough to repress my rising
passion.

" Well, well, enough about it. To-morrow morning the Bois de
Boulogne the rapier : you understand me, I suppose."

I nodded, and was about to leave the place, when I remembered
that, in my confusion, I had neither asked my antagonist's name nor
rank. " And you, sir," said I, " may I have the honour to learn who
you are ?"

" Pardieu ! my young friend," cried one of the others, " the infor-
mation will not strengthen your nerves ; but if you will have it, he is
the Marquis de Beauvais, and tolerably well known in that little
locality where he expects to meet you to-morrow."

" Till then, sir," replied I, touching my cap, as I turned into the
street not, however, before a burst of laughter rung through the
party at a witticism of which I was the object, and the latter part
of which only could I catch. It was Beauvais who spoke. " In
which case, Crilla9, another artist must lake his measure." The allusion
could not be mistaken, and, I confess, I did not relish it like the others.

I should, I fear, have fallen very low in the estimate of my com-
panions and associates, could the real state of my heart at that moment
have been laid open to them. It was, I freely own, one of great
depression. But an hour ago, and life was opening before me with
many a bright and cheerful hope ; and now, in an instant, was my
fortune clouded. Let me not be misunderstood : among the rules of
the Polytechnique duelling was strictly forbidden; and although
numerous transgressions occurred, so determined was the head of the
government to put down the practice, that the individuals thus erring
were either reduced in rank, or their promotion stopped for a con-
siderable period ; while the personal displeasure of General Bonaparte
rarely failed to show itself with reference to them. Now, it was clear
to me that some unknown friend, some secret well-wisher, had interested
himself in my humble fate that I owed my newly-acquired rank to his
kindness and good offices. What then might I not be forfeiting by
this unhappy rencontre ? Was it not more than likely that such an
instance of misconduct, the very day of my promotion, might deter-
mine the whole tenor of my future career ? What misrepresentation
might not gain currency about my conduct? These were sad reflec-
tions indeed, and every moment but increased them.

TOM BUBKE OF " OUBS.** 167

When I reached the college, I called on one of my friends;. but
liot finding him in his quarters, I wrote a few lines, begging he would
come over to me the moment he returned. This done, I sat down
alone, to think over my adventure, and devise, if I could, some means
to prevent its publicity, or if not that, its being garbled and misstated.
Hour after hour rolled past, my wandering thoughts took no note of time,
and the deep-tolled bell of the Polytechnique struck eight before I was
.aware the day was nearly over. Nine was the hour mentioned on my
card of invitation : it flashed suddenly on me. What was to be done ?
I had no uniform, save that of the " ecole" Such a costume in such a
place would, I feared, be considered too ridiculous ; yet to absent my-
self altogether was impossible. Never was I in such a dilemma. AH
mv endeavours to rescue myself were fruitless ; and at last, worn out
with the conflict of my doubts and fears, I stepped into the fiacre and
set out for the palace.

CHAPTER XXIV.

TILE " PAVILION DE FLOEE.*'

As my humble carriage slackened its pace to a walk on approaching
the Place Carousel, I for the first time perceived that the open space
around was thronged with equipages, moving slowly along in line
towards the gate of the palace. A picquet of dragoons was drawn up
at the great archway, and mounted gens d^armes rode up aod down to
preserve order in the crowd. Before me stretched the long fagade
of the Tuileries, now lighted up in its entire extent. The rich
hangings and costly furniture could be seen, even where I was.

What a sinking sense of shame overwhelmed me as I thought of my
humble position amid that mighty concourse of all that was great and
illustrious in France ! and how I shrunk within myself as I thought of
the poor scholar of the Polytechnique, for such my dress proclaimed
me, mixiuff with the most distinguished diplomates and generals oi*
Europe. The rebuke I had met with from my colonel in the morning
was still fresh in my recollection, and I dreaded something like a
repetition of it.

Oh ! why had I not known that this was a grand reception ? wai^
the ever-rising thought of my mind. My card of invitation said a
oir6e : even that I might have dared ; but here was a regular levee.
Already I was near enough to hear the names announced at the foot g
the grand staircase, where ambassadors, senators, ministers of state,

168 OCB 1IS8S.

and officers of the highest rank,'8ucceecled each other in quick succes*
sion. My carriage stood now next but two. I was near enough to see
the last arrival hand his card to the huissier in waiting, and hear his
title called out, Le Ministre de la Guerre," when the person in the
carriage before me cried to his coachman * To the left the Pavilion
de Flore," and at the same moment the carriage turned from the line,
and drove rapidly towards a distant wing of the palace.

" Move up ! move up V* shouted a dragoon, " or are you for
the soirie de Madame ?"

** Yes, yes !" said I hastily, as I heard his question.

** Follow that carriage, then," said he, pointing with his sabre ; and
in a moment we left the dense file, and followed the sounds of the
retiring wheels towards a dark corner of the palace, where a single
lamp over a gate was the only light to guide us. Never shall I forget
the sense of relief I felt as I lay back in the cairiage, and listened to
the hum and din of the vast crowd growing each moment fainter,
' Thank heaven," said I, " it's no levee." Scarce half a dozen equipages
stood around the door as we drove up, and a single dragoon was the
guard of honour.

" Whom shall I announce, sir ?" said a huissier in black, whose
manner was as deferential as though my appearance bespoke an am-
bassador. I gave my name, and followed him up a wide stair, where
the deep velvet carpet left no foot-fall audible. A large bronze can-
delabra, supporting a blaze of wax-lights, difiused a light like day on
every side. The doors opened before us as if by magic, and I found
myself in an antechamber, where the huissier^ repeating my name to
another in waiting, retired. Passing through this, we entered a small
drawing-room, in which sat two persons engaged at a chess-table, but
who never looked up, or noticed us, as we proceeded. At last the two
wings of a wide folding-door were thrown open, and my name was
announced in a low but audible voice.

The salon into which I now entered was a large and splendidly-
furnished apartment, whose light, tempered by a species of abat-Jottr^
gave a kind of soft mysterious efiect to every thing about, and made
even the figures, as they sat in little groups, appear something almost
dramatic in their character. The conversation, too, was maintained in
a half-subdued tone a gentle murmur of voices, that, mingling with
the swell of music in another and distant apartment, and the plash of a
small fountain in a vase of gold-fish in the room itself, made a strange
but most pleasing assemblage of sounds. Even in the momentary
glance which, on entering, I threw around me, I perceived that no
studied etiquette or courtly stateliness prevailed. The guests were
disposed in every attitude of lounging ease and careless abandon ; and
it was plain to see that all, or nearly all, about, were intimates of the
place.

As the door closed behind me, I stood half uncertain how to proceed.
Unhappily, I knew little of the habitudes of the great world ; and
every step I took was a matter of difiiculty.

" I think you will find Madame Bona))arte in that room," said a

TOM BVRKE OF " OURS,** ' 169

middle-aged and handsome man, whose mild voice and gentle smile did
much to set me at my ease ; ^^ but perhaps you don't know her."

1 muttered something I meant to be a negative, to which he imme-
diately replied

" Then let me present you. There is no ceremony here, and I
shall be your groom of the chambers but here she is. Madame ^la
Consulesse, this young gentleman desires to make his respects."

" Ha ! our friend of the Polytechnique Monsieur Burke, is it
not ?"

" Yes, madame," said I, bowing low, and blushing deeply as I re-
cognised, in the splendidly-attired and beautiful person before me, the
lady who so kindly held the water to my lips the day of my accident at
the school.

" Why, they told me you were promoted a hussar, I think."

" Yes, madame but but "

You are too fond of old associations to part from them easily,'' said
she, laughing. ^' Come here, Stephanie, and see a miracle of manhood,
that could resist all the clinquant of a hussar, for the simple costume
of the Ecole Militaire. Monsieur de Custipe, this is my young friend
of whom I told you the other day."

The gentleman, the same who had so kindly noticed me, bowed
politely.

" And now I must leave you together, for I see they are teasing
poor Madame Lefebvre ;" and with a smile she passed on into a small
boudoir y from which the sounds of merry laughter were proceeding.

" You don't know any one here ?" said Monsieur de Custine, as he
motioned me to a place beside him on a sofa ; " nor is there any very
remarkable person here to point out to you this evening. The first
consul's levee absorbs all the celebrities but by-and-by they will
drop in to pay their respects, and you'll see them all. The handsome
woman yonder with her fan before her, is Madame Beauharnois
Lavalette, and the good-looking young fellow in the staff uniform is
Monsieur de Melcy, a step-son of General Rapp."

" And the large handsome man with the embroidered coat who
passed through so hurriedly ?"

" Yes, he is somebody that's Decr^, the Ministre de le Marine
he is gone to the levee ; and there, next the door, with his eyes cast
down, and his hands folded, that is the Abb6 Maynal, one of the most
*spirituer men of the day ; but I suppose you'd much rather look at the
beauties of the court than hear long stories about literature and
politics ; and there is the gem of loveliness among them."

I turned my eyes as bespoke, and close beside me, engaged in an eager
conversation with an old lady, stoiod a young and most beautiful girl.
Her long hair, through which, in the then mode, violets were wreathed and
interwoven, descended in rich masses of curl over a neck white as
marble. The corsage of her dress, which, in imitation of Greek
costume, was made low, displayed her well-rounded shoulders to the
greatest advantage ; and though rather below, than above the middle
size, there was a dignity and grace in the air of her figure, and a cer-

170 OUR MESS.

tain elegance about her slightest movements, that was most fasci-
nating.

" And the * Rose de Provence' how is she this evening?" said my com-
panion, rising suddenly, and presenting himself with a smile before her.

"Ah, you here. Monsieur de Custine? we thought you had been at
Nancy.'*

The accent, the tone of voice in which she said these few words
sent a thrill through me, and as I locked again, I recognized the
young lady who stood at Madame Bonaparte's side on the memorable
day of my fall. Perhaps my astonishment ; made me start; for she
turned round towards me, and with a soft! and most charming smile
saluted me.

"How they are laughing in that room," said she, turning towards her
other companion. " Monsieur de Custine has deserted his dear friend
this evening, and left her to her unassisted defence."

" Ma foii* replied he, " I got ill rewarded for my advocacy. It
was only last week when I helped her out through one of her blunders
in grammar she called me a * ganache' for my pains."

" How very ungrateful. You that have been interpreter to her
her tutor for the entire winter without whom, she could neither have
obtained an ice, nor a glass of water."

" So is it ; but you are all ungrateful but I think I had better go
and pay my respects to her pray come along with me."

I followed the party into jt small room, fitted up like a tent, where,
amid some half-dozen persons assembled around, like an audience, sat
a large, florid, and good-looking person her costume of scarlet velvet
turban and robe, adding to the flushed and high-coloured expression
of her features. She was talking in a loud voice, and with an accent
of such patois as I should much more naturally have expected in a
remote faubourg, than in the gilded salons of the Tuileries. She
had been relating'lTOe anecdotes of military life, which came within
her own experience, and evidently amused her auditory as much by
her manner, as the matter of her narrative.

" Oui parbleuy* said she, drawing a long breath, " I was only the
wife of a sergeant in the * Gardes Francaises* in those days ; but they
were pleasant times, and the men one usied to see were men indeed.
They were not as much laced in gold, nor had not so much finery on
their jackets ; but they were bold, bronzed, manly fellows. You'd not
see such a poor miserable little fellow as De Custine there, in a whole
demi-brigade." When the laugh this speech caused, and in which her
own merry voice joined, subsided, she continued " Where will you
find now any thing like the twenty-second of the line ? Pioche was
in that poor Pioche I tied up his jaw in Egypt when it was smashed
by a bullet. I remember, too, when the regiment came back : your
husband, the general, reviewed them In the court below, and poor Pioche
was quite offended at not being noticed. * We were good friends,' quoth
he, * at Mount Thabor, but he forgets all that now : that's what comes
of a rise in the world. " Le Petit Caporal" was humble enough once I
warrant him, but now he can't remember me.* Well, they were ordered

c -'Ar- ,' 7,A^.' r/ . .v.v,"'

TOM BUBKE aP "OUBS." 171

to march past in line, and there was Pioche, with his great dark eyes
fixed on the general, and his big black beard flowing down to his waist ;
but no, he never noticed him no more than the tambour that beat the
rappel. He could bear it ho longer his head was twisting with
impatience and chagrin, and he sprung out of the lines, and seizing a
brass gtm a Apiece de quatr^ he mounted it like a fusee to his
shoulder, and marched past, calling out * Tw* he always tu-toyed
him ' tu me rappelle maintenant n^est ce pas petit ?* "

No one enjoyed this little story more than Madame Bonaparte
herself, who laughed for several minutes after it was over. Story
after story did she pour forth in this way : most of them, however, had
their merit in some personality or other, which, while recognised by
the rest, had no attraction for me. There was in all she said the
easy self-complacency of a kind-hearted but vulgar woman, vain of her
husband, proud of his services, and perfectly indifferent to the habits
and usages of a society, whose manners she gave herself no trouble to
imitate, nor of whose ridicule was she in the least afraid.

I sauntered from the room alone, to wander through the other apart-
ments, where objects of art and curiosities of every kind were profusely
scattered. The marbles of Greece and Rome, the strange carvings of
Egypt, the rich vases of Sevres were there, amid cabinet pictures of the
rarest and most costly kind. Those delicious landscapes of the time
of Louis XV., where every charm of nature and art was conveyed
upon the canvas the cool arbours of Versailles, with their terraced
promenades and hissing fountains, the subjects which Vanloo loved to
paint, and which that voluptuous court loved to contemplate ^the
long alleys of shady green, where gay groups were strolling in the
mellow softness of an autumn sunset those proud dames whose sweep-
ing garments brushed the velvet turf, and at whose sides, uncovered,
walked the chivalry of France, how did they live again in the bright
pencil of Moucheron, and how did they carry one in fancy to the great
days of the monarchy. Strange place for them too : the boudoir of her,
whose husband had uprooted the ancient dynasty they commemorated
had erased from the list of kings that proudest of all the royal stocks
in Europe. Was it the narrow-minded glory of the usurper that loved
to look upon the greatness he had humbled, that brought them there, or
was it rather the well-spring of that proud hope just rising in his heart
that he was to be successor of those great kings, whose history formed
the annals of Europe itself? As I wandered on, captivated in every
sense by the charm of what to me was a scene in fairy land, I came
suddenly before a picture of Josephine, surrounded by the ladies of her
court. It was by Isabey, and had aU the delicate beauty and transpa-
rent finish of that delightful painter. Beside it was another
portrait by the same artist, and I started back in amazement at the
resemblance. Never had colour better caught the rich tint of a
southern complexion : the liquid softness of eye, the full and sparkling
intelligence of ready wit and bright fancy all beamed in that lovely
face. It needed not the golden letters in the frame which called it
** La Rose de Provence.'* I sat down before it unconsciously, delighted

172 OUR MESS.

that I might gaze on such beauty unconstrained. The white hand leaned
on a ballustrade, and seemed almost as if stretching from the very can-
vas. I could have knelt and kissed it. That was the very look she
wore the hour I saw her first it had never left my thoughts day or
night the half-rising blush, the slightly-averted head, the mingled look
of impatience and kindness ^all were there ; and so entranced had I
become, that I feared each instant lest the vision would depart, and
leave me dark and desolate. The silence of the room was almost
unbroken a distant murmur of voices, the tones of a harp, were all I
heard, and I sat, I know not how long, thus wrapped in ecstacy.

A tall screen of Chinese fabrique separated tlie part of the room I
occupied from the rest, and left me free to contemplate alone those
charms which each moment grew stronger upon me. An hour might
perhaps have thus elapsed, when suddenly I heard the sound of voices
approaching, but in a different direction from that of the salons. They
were raised above the ordinary tone of speaking, and one in particular
soimded in a strange accent of mingled passion and sarcasm, which I
shall never forget. The door of the room was flung open before I
could rise from my chair, and two persons entered, neither of whom
could I see from my position behind the screen.

" I ask you, again and again, is the treaty of Amiens a treaty, or
is it not ?*' said a harsh imperious tone, I at once recognised as that
of the first consul, while his voice actually trembled with anger.

" My Lord Whitworth observed, if I mistake not," replied a
measured and soft accent, where a certain courtier-like unction
prevailed, " that the withdrawal of the British troops from Malta would
follow, on our making a similar step as regards our forces in Switzer-
land and Piedmont."

" What right have they to make such a condition ? They never
complained of the occupation of Switzerland at the time of the treaty, I
will not hear of such a stipulation. I tell you, Monsieur de Talleyrand,
rd rather see the English in the Faubourg St. Antoine, than in the
Island of Malta. Why should we treat with England as a continental
power ? Of India, if she will and as to Egypt, I told my Lord
that sooner or later it must belong to France."

*' A frankness he has reason to be thankful for," observed M. de
Talleyrand, in a voice of sarcastic slyness.

" Que voulez rotw," replied Bonaparte, in a raised tone, " they
want a war, and they shall have it : what matter the cause such
treaties of peace as these had better be covered with black crape."
Then dropping his voice to a half whisper, he added, " You must see
him to-morrow. Explain how the attacks of the English press have
irritated me how deeply wounded I must feel at such a licence per-
mitted under the very eyes of a friendly government plots against my
life encouraged assassination countenanced. Repeat that Sebastiani's
mission to Egypt is merely commercial. That although prepared for
war, our wish, the wish of France is peace. That the armaments in
Holland are destined for the colonies. Show yourself disposed to
treat, but not to make advances. Reject the word ultimatum, if he

TOM BURKE OF " OURS.** 173-

employ it. The phrase implies a parley between a superior and
an inferior. This is no longer the France that remembers an English
commissary at Dunkirk. If he do not use the word then remark on its
absence say, these are not times for longer anxiety ^that we must
know, at last, to what we are to look. Tell him the Bourbons are
not still on the throne here. Let him feel with whom he has to deal."
" And if he demand his passport," gravely observed Talleyrand,
" you ,can be in the country for a day at Plombieres at St.
Cloud."

A low subdued laugh followed these words, and they walked
forward towards the salons^ still conversing, but in a whispered tone.

A cold perspiration broke over my face and forehead, the drops fell
heavily down my cheek, as I sat an unwilling listener of this eventful
dialogue. That the fate of Europe was in the balance, I knew full
well and, ardently as I longed for war, the dreadful picture that rose
before me damped much of my ardour ^while a sense of my personal
danger, if discovered where I was, made me tremble from head to
foot. It was then, with a sinking spirit, that I retraced my steps
towards the salonsy not knowing if my absence had not been remarked
and commented on. How little was I versed in such society where
each came and went b^ it pleased him ; where the most brilliant beauty,
the most spiritual conversationalist, left no gap by absence and where
such as I were no more noticed than the statues that held the wax
lights.

The salons were now crowded ministers of state, ambassadors,
general officers, in their splendid uniforms, filled the apartments in
which the din of conversation and the sounds of laughter mingled.
Yet, through the air of gaiety which reigned throughout the tone of
light and flippant smartness which prevailed I thought I could
mark here and there, among some of the ministers, an appearance of
excitement, and a look of pre-occupation, little in unison with the
easy intimacy which all seemed to possess. I looked on every side for
the first consul himself, but he was no where to be seen. Monsieur
Talleyrand, however, remained I recognised him by his soft and
measured accent, as he sat beside Madame Bonaparte, and was relating
some story in.^ a low voice, at which she seemed greatly amused. I
could not help wondering at the lively and animated character , of
features, beneath which were concealed the dark secrets of state affairs,
the tangled mysteries of political intrigue. To look on him, you would
Have.saia there sits one, whose easy life flows on, unruffled by this
world's chances. Not so the tall and swarthy man, whose dark
moustache hangs far below his chin, and who leans on the chimney-
piece yonder the strong veins of his forehead are swollen and knitted,
and his deep voice seems to tremble with strong emotion as he speaks.

" Pray, Monsieur, who is that officer yonder ?" said I, to a gentleman
beside me, and whose shoulder was half turned away.

" That,*' said he, raising his glass " that is Savary, the minister
of police. And, pardon, you are Mr. Burke ^is't not so ?"

I started as he pronounced my name, and looking fixedly at him,

174 OUB MESS.

recognised the antagonist with whom I was to measure swords the next
morning in the Bois de Boulogne, I coloured at the awkwardness of
my situation ; but he, with more ease and self-possession, resumed

" Monsieur, this is, to me at least, a very fortunate meeting. I have
called twice, in the hope of seeing you this evening and am overjoyed
now to find you here. I behaved very ill to you this morning I feel
it now I almost felt it at the time. If you will accept my apology
for what has occurred, I make it most freely. My character is in no
need of an affair, to make me known as a man of courage ^yours,
there can be no doubt of. May I hope you agree with me ? I see
you hesitate ^perhaps I anticipate the reason you do not know how
far you can, or ought to receive such an amende." I nodded, and
he continued " Well, I am rather a practised person in these matters,
and I can safely say, you may."

" Be it so then," said I, taking the hand he proffered, and shaking
it warmly " I am too young in the world to be my own guide, and I
feel you would not deceive me."

A gratified look, and a renewed pressure of the hand, replied to my
speecli.

" One favour more you musn't refuse me. Let us sup togethear
my caleche is below people are already taking their leave here ^
and if you have no particular reason for remaining ^

" None rknow no one."

" AllonSf then," said he, gaily taking my arm and I soon found
myself descending the marble stairs, beside the man I had expected
to stand opposed to in deadly conflict a few hours later.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE SUPPER AT " BEAUYILHERS.**

" Where to ?" asked the coachman, as we entered the caleche.

" Beauvilliers," said the marquis, throwing himself back in his seat,
and remaining for some minutes silent. At last, as if suddenly recol-
lecting that we were strangers to each other, he said " You know
Beauvilliers of course."

" No," replied I with hesitation ; " 1 really have not any acquaintance."

^^ParhleuT said he, laughing, "you ought at least to have his
friendship. He is the most celebrated restaurateur of this or any
other age ; no one has carried the great art of the cuisine to a higher
perfection, and his cellars are unequalled in Paris ^but you shall
pronounce for yourself."

" Unhappily my judgment is of little value. Do you foi^et that the
diet roll of the Polytechnique is a bad school for gastronomy.**

TOM BURKE OF * OURS.*' 175

" Bi;t a glorious preparation for it,** interrupted he. " How delight-
ful must be the enjoyment to the unsophisticated palate of those first
impressions which a * carpe h la ckambordy a pheasant * truffei,* a disk
of * or talons a la provengale^ inspire : but here we are. Our party is ^
small one an old prefet of the south, an abb6, a secretary of the
Russian embassy, and ourselves." This information he gave me as we
mounted a narrow and winding stair, dimly lighted by a single lamp.
On reaching the landing, however, a waiter stood in readiness to usher
us into a small apartment decorated with all the luxury of gold and
plate glass, so profusely employed in the interior of all cafSa. The
guests already mentioned were there, and evidently awaiting our arri-
val with no small impatience.

As usual, Alfred," said the old man, whom I guessed to be the
prefet " as usual an hour behind your appointment."

" Forgive him, monsieur," said the abb6, with a simper. " The
fascinations of a court **

The grimace the old man made at this last word threw the whole
party into a roar of laughter, which only ceased by the marquis pre-
senting me in all form to each of his friends.

" A table, h table, for heaven's sake," cried the prefet, ringing the
bell, and bustling about the room with a fidgety impatience.

This was, however, unneeded ; for in less than five minutes the
supper made its appearance, and we took our places at the board.

The encomiums pronounced as each dish came and went, satisfied
me that the feast was unexceptionable. As for myself, I eat away,
only conscious that I had never been so regaled before, and wondering
within me how far ingenuity had been exercised to produce the endless
variety that appeared at table. The wine, too, circulated freely ; and
Champagne, Bourdeaux, and Chambertin ToUowed each other in suc-
session, as the different meats indicated the peculiar vintage. In the
conversation I could take no part : it was entirely gastronomic ; and
no man ever existed more ignorant of the seasons that promised well
for truffles, or the state of the atmosphere that threatened acidity to
the vines.

" Well, Alfred,'* said the prefet, when the dessert made its appear-
ance, and the time for concluding the gourmand dissertation seemed
arrived " Well, and what news from the Tuileries ?"

" Nothing absolutely nothing," said he, carelessly. " The same
people ; the same topics ; the eternal game of tric-trac with old Ma-
dame d'Angerton ; Denon tormenting some new victim with a mummy
or a map of Egypt ; Madame Lefevbre relating camp anecdotes **

" Ah, she is delightful," interrupted the prefet.

" So thinks your chief at least, Askoff*," said Beauvais, turning to
the Russian. *' He sat on the sofa beside her for a good hour and
a half."

Who sat near him on the other side ?" slyly asked the other.

** On the other side. I forget no, I remember it was Monsieur de
Talleyrand and Madame Bonaparte ; and now I think of it^ he must
have overheard what they said."^

17'6 OUA 1CBS8.

Is it true then that Bonaparte insulted the English ambassador at
the reception ? Askoff heard it as he left the Rue St. Honore. **

*^ Perfectly true. The scene was a most outrageous one ; and Liord
Whitworth retired, declaring to Talleyrand at least so they say
that without an apology being made, he would abstain from any
future visits at the Tuileries."

" But what 'is to come of it ? tell me that ; what is to be the
result?"

*' Pardieu ! I know not. A reconciliation to-morrow ; an article in
the Moniieur; a dinner at the court; and then another rupture, and
another article."

' Or a war,** said the Russian, looking cautiously about, to see if his
opmion met an/ advocacy.

* What say you to that, mon amiP*' said Beauvais, turning to me.
" Glad enough I suppose you'll be to win your epaulettes as colonel.**

^'^That, too, is on the cards," said the abb^, sipping his glass
quietly : " one can credit any thing these times."

'* Even the Catholic religion, abb^" said Beauvais, laughing.

" Or the Restoration," replied the abb^, with a half-malicious look
at the prefet, which seemed greatly to amuse the Russian.

" Or the Restoration !" repeated the pr^fet solemnly after him " or
the restoration," and then filling his glass to the brina, he drained it to
the bottom

" It is a hussar corps you are appointed to," said Beauvais, hastily
turning towards me, as if anxious to engage my attention.

" Yes ; the huitieme,^ said I : "do you know them ?* .

" No ; I have few acquaintances in the army."

His father, sir," said the pr^fet, with a voice of considerable
emphasis, " was an old garde du ccrjpa in those times when the sword
wag only worn by gentlemen."

" So much the worse for the army,'* whispered the abb^ in an under
tone, that was sufficiently audible to the rest to cause an outbreak
of laughter.

"And when," continued the prefet, undisturbed by the interruption,
" birth had its privileges."

"Among the rest, that of being the first beheaded," murmured the
inexorable abb^.

" Were truffles dear before the Revolution, prefet ?" said Beauvais,
with a half-impertinent air of simplicity.

" No, sir ; nothing was dear save the king's favour."

" Which could also be had for paying for," quoth the abb^.

" The Moniteur of this evening, gentlemen," said the waiter, ^tering
with the paper, whose publication had been delayed some two hours
beyond the usual period. .

"Ah, let US' see what have we here," said Beauvais, opening the
journal and reading aloud

" * General Espinasse is appointed to the command of the foui'th
corps, stationed at LiUe, and Major-general Lannes to the fortress of
Montreil, vacant by' No matter ^here it is. * Does the English

'TOM BURKE OF " OURS.'* 1/7

government suppose that France i3 one of her Indian possessions^
without the means to declare her wrongs, or the power to avenge
them? can they believe that rights are not reciprocal, and that the
observance of one contracting party, involves nothing on the part of
the other?'"

" There, there, Beauvais ; don't worry us with that tiresome non-
sense.**

" * Or,' " continued the marquis, still reading aloud, " * do they pre-
sume to say, that we shall issue no commercial instructions to our
agents abroad, lest English susceptibility should be wounded by any
prospect of increased advantages to our trade/ "

" Our trade !" echoed the pr^fet, with a most contemptuous into-
nation on the word.

" Ah ! for those good old times, when there was none !" said the
abb^, with such a semblance of honest sincerity as drew an approving
smile from the old man.

" Hedr this, prefet," said Beauvais : " * From the times of Colbert to
the present* what think you ? the allusion, right royal, is it not ?-i
* From the times of Colbert our negociations have been always con-
ducted in this manner.' ".

** Sir, I beseech you read no more of that intolerable nonsense.**

" And here," continued the marquis, " follows a special invocation
of the benediction of heaven on the just efforts which France is called
on to make, to repress the insolent aggression of England abb^,
this concerns you."

" Of course," said he, meekly, " I am quite prepared to pray for
the party in power : if heaven but leaves them there, I must conclude
they deserve it."

A doubtful look, as if he but half understood him, was the only
reply the old prefet made to this speech ; at which the laughter of the
others could no longer be repressed, and burst forth most heartily.

"But let us read on. Whose style is this think you? * France
possessed within her dommion every nation from the North-sea to the
Adriatic, and how did she employ her power ? in restoring to Batavia
self-government, in giving liberty to Switzerland, and in ceding Venice
to Austria, while the troops at the very gates of Vienna are halted
and repass the Rhine once more. Are these the evidences of am-
bitionare these the signs of that overweening lust of territory with
which England dares to reproach us ? And if such passions prevailed,
what easier than to have indulged them ? Was not Italy our own ?
Were not Batavia, Switzerland, Portugal, all ours ? But no, peace
was the desire of the nation peace at any cost. The colony of St.
Domingo, that immense territory, was not conceived a sacrihce too
great to secure such a blessing.' "

" Pardieu ! Beauvais, I can bear it no longer."

" You must let me give you the reverse of the medal. Hear now
what England has done."

" He writes well, at least for the taste of newspaper readers," said
the abb^, musingly; "but still he only understands the pen as he
does the sword ; it must be a weapon of attack "

MFSS, NO. XIX. VOL. II. N

178 OUB MB88.

^ Who is the writer, then ?" said I, in a half whisper.

Who I can you doubt it? Bonaparte himself. What other man
in France would venture to pronounce so authoritatively on the pros-
pects and intentions of the nation."

" Or who," said the abb^, in his dry manner, " could speak with
such accuracy of the * lUustrious and Magnanimous Chief* that rules
her destinies."

*' It is growing late," said the pr^fet, with the air of one who took
no pleasure in the conversation, *' and I start for Rouen to-morrow
morning"

*' Come, come, prefet, one bumper before we part," said Beauvais ;
' something has put you out of temper this evening ; yet I thfnk I know
a toast can restore you to good humour again."

The old man lifted his hand with a gesture of caution^ while he sud-
denly directed a look towards me.

** No, no ; don't be afraid," said Beauvais, laughing ; " I think you'll
acquit me of any rashness : fill up, then, and here let us drink one
in the old palace of the Tuileries who, at this moment, can bring us
back in memory to the most glorious days of our country."

^^Pardieu! that must be the first consul, I suppose," whispered
the abb^ to the pr6fet, who dashed his glass with such violence on
tbe table as to smash it in a hundred pieces.

* See what comes of impatience," cried Beauvais, laughing; "and
now you have not wherewithal to pledge my fair cousin the ^ Rose of
Provence.'"

^ The Rose of Provence," said each in turn, whiles excited by
the wine, of which I had drank freely, and carried away by the
enthusiasm of the moment, I re-echoed the words in such a tone aa
drew every eye upon me.

" Ah ! you know my cousin then," said Beauvais, looking at me with
a strange mixture of curiosity and astonishment.

" No," said I, " I have seen her . I saw her this evening at the

palace."

'* Well^ I must present yon," said he, smiling good-naturedly.
Before I could mutter my acknowledgment, the party had risen, and
were taking leave of each other for the night.

" I shall see you soon again, Burke," said Beauvais, as he pressed my
hand warmly 5 " and now, adieu." With that we parted ; and I took my
way back towards the Poly technique, my mind full of the strange
incidents of this, the most eventful night in my quiet and monotonous
existence.

TOM BUBKE OF " OURS." l79

CHAPTER XXVI.

T H E " T W O TI S I T S.'*

Amib all the stirring duties of the next day ^-amid all the excitetfient of
a new position, my mind recurred continually to the events of the
pfrevious twenty-four hours. Now dwelling on the soiree at the palace^
the unaccustomed splendour, the rank, the beauty I had witnessed ; now
on that eventful moment I spent behind the screen ; then on my strange
rencontre with my antagonist, and that still stranger supper that
followed it.

It was not indeed without certain misgivings which I could neitlier
account for nor dismiss from my mind^ that I reflected on the character
and conversation of my new associates.

The tone of levity in which they dared to speak of him whose name
was to me something bordering on idolatry the liberty with which
they ventured to canvass his measures and his opinions, even to ridi-
culing them, were so many puzzles to my mind, and I half reproached
myself for having tamely listened to language which now, as I thought
over it, seemed to demand my notice. Totally ignorant of all political
intrigue ^unconscious that any party did or could exist in France, save
that of the first consul himself, I could find no solution to the enigma,'
and at last began to think that I had been exaggerating to myself the
words I had heard, and permitting my ignorance to weigh with me,
where, with more knowledge, I should have seen nothing reprehensible ;
and if the spirit in which they discussed the acts of Bonaparte differed
from what I had been accustomed to, might it not rather proceed from
my own want of acquaintance with the usages of society, than any
deficiency in attachment on their sides. The prefet was, of course, as
an officer of the government, no mean judge of what became him
the abbe, too, as a man of education and in holy orders, was equally
unlikely to express unbecoming opinions ; the Russian scarcely spoke
at all ; and as for Beauvais, his careless and headlong impetuosity
made me feel easy on bis score ; and so I reasoned myself into the
conviction that it was only the ordinary bearing and every-day habit
of society, to speak thus openly of one, who, in the narrower limits
of our little world, was deemed something to worship.

Shall I own what then I could scarcely have confessed to myself,
that the few words Beauvais spoke at parting the avowed cousinship
with her they called " La Rose de Provence" did much to induce this
conviction on my mind ; while his promise to present me, was a pledge
I could not possibly believe consistent, with any but right loyal thoughts
and honest doctrines. Still I would have given any thing for one friend
to advise with one faithful counsellor to aid me : but again was I alone

180 OUB MESS*

in the world, and, save the short and not over-flattering receptioo of
my colonel, I had neither seen nor spoken to one of my new corps.

That evening I joined my regiment and took up my quarters in the
barracks, where already the rumour of important political events had
reached the officers ; and they stood in groups discussing the chances
of a war, or listening to the Moniteury which was read out by one of
the party. What a strange thrill it sent through me to think that I
was privy to the deepest secret of that important step on which the
peace of Europe was resting that I had heard the very words as they
fell from the lips of him on whom the destiny of millions then depended.
With what a different interpretation to me came those passages in the
government journal which breathed of peace, and spoke of pain-
ful sacrifices to avoid a war, for which already his very soul was
thirsting ; and how, to my young heart, did that passion for glory exalt
him who could throw all into the scale. The proud position he occu-
pied the mighty chief of a mighty nation the adulation in which he
daily lived the gorgeous splendour of a court no country in Europe
equalled : all these, and more ^liis future destiny did he set upon the
cast, for the great game his manly spirit gloried in.

In such thoughts as these I lived as in a world of my own ; com-
panionship I had none. My brother officers, with few exceptions, had
risen from the ranks, and were of that class which felt no pleasure
save in the coarse amusements of the barrack-room, or the vulgar jests
of the service. The better class lived studiously apart from these, and
made no approaches to intimacy with any newly-joined officer with
whose family and connections they were unacquainted ; and I, from my
change of country, stood thus alone, unacknowledged and unknown.
At first tliis isolation pained and grieved me, but gradually it became
less irksome ; and when at length they who had at first avoided and
shunned my intimacy, showed themselves disposed to know me, my
pride, which before would have been gratified by such an acknowledg-
ment, was now wounded, and I coolly declined their advances.

Some weeks passed in this manner, during which I never saw or
heard of Beauvais, and at length began to feel somewhat offended at
the suddenness with which he seemed to drop an intimacy begun at his
own desire ; when one evening, as I had returned to my barrack-room
after parade, I heard a knock at my door. I rose and opened it, when,
to my surprise, I beheld Beauvais before me ; he was much thinner
than when I last saw him, and ^his dress and appearance all betokened
far less of care and attention.

" Are these your quarters ?" said he, entering and throwing a cau-
tious look about " Are you alone here ?*'

Yes," said I, " perfectly.''

" You expect no one ?"

" Not any," said I again, still more surprised at the agitation of his
manner, and the evident degree of anxiety he laboured under.

" Thank heaven," said he, drawing a deep sigh as he threw himself
on my little camp-bed, and covered his face with his hands.

Seeing that something weighed heavily on him, I half feared to inter-

TOM BURKE OF " CUES.'* 181

fere with the current of his thoughts, and merely drew my chair and
sat down beside him.

^ I say, Burke, vnon cher^ have y/fu any wine ? Let me have a glass
or two, for, save some galette, and that not the best either, I have
tasted nothing these last twenty-four hours." I soou set before him
the contents of my humble larder, and in a few moments he rallied a
good deal, and, looking up with a smile, said " I think you have
been cultivating your education as gourmand since I saw you. That
pasty is worthy our friend in the palais royale. Well, and how
have you been since we met ?"

" Let me rather ask yow,'* said I. " You are not looking so well as
the last time I saw you. Have you been ill ?"

'' 111 ! no, not ill. Yet I can't say so ; for I have suffered a good deal
too. No, my friend : I have had much to harass and distress me. I
have been travelling, too, long distances and weary ones met some
disappointments, and altogether the world has not gone so well with
me as I think it ought; and now of you. What of yourself?"

" Alas I" said I, " if you have met much to annoy, I have only lived
a dull life of daily monotony. If it has had little to distress, there is
fully as little to cheer ; and I half suspect the fine illusions I used to
picture to myself of a soldier's career, had very little connexion with
reality."

As Beauvais seemed to listen with more attention than such a theme
would naturally call for, I gradually was drawn into a picture of my
barrack life, in which I dwelt at length on my own solitary position,'
and the want of that companionship which formed the chief charm of
my school-boy life. To all this he paid a marked attention now
questioning me on some unexplained point now agreeing with me in
what I said by a word, or a gesture.

" And do you know, Burke," said he, interrupting me in my descrip-
tion of those whose early coldness of manner had chilled my first
advances "and do you know," said he, impetuously, "who these
aristocrats are ? The sons of honest bourgeois of Paris. Their fathers
are worthy men of the Rue Vivienne or the Palais excellent people,
I've no doubt; but very far better judges of point lace and pate de
perigord than disputed precedence and armorial quarterings. Far
better the others, the humble soldiers of fortune, whose highest pride is
their own daring, their own undaunted heroism. Well, well," added
he, after a pause, " I must get you away from this I can manage it
in a day or two. You shall be sent down to Versailles with a
detachment."

I could not help starting with surprise at these words, and through
all the pleasure they gave me, my astonishment was still predominant.

" I see you are amazed at what I say, but it's not so wonderful as
you think. My cousin has only to hint to Madame Bonaparte, who is
at present there, and the thing is done."

I blushed deeply as I thought of the agency through which my
wishes were to meet accomplishment, and turned away to hide my
embarrassment.

182 OUR M$8.

''By-the-by, I have not presented you to her yet. I've had no
opportunity ; but now I shall do so at once."

' Pray, tell me your cousin's name/' said I, anxious to say any thing
to conceal my confusion. " I've only heard her called * la Rose de
Provence.' "

" Yes, that was a silly fancy of Madame la Consulesse, because
Marie is a Provencal. But her name is De Rochfort, at least her
mother's name ; for, by another caprice, she was forbidden by Bona-
parte to bear her father's name. But this is rather a sore topic with
me. Let us change it. How did you like my friends the other
evening ? The abbe is agreeable, is he not ?"

* Yes," said I, hesitating somewhat ; '* but I am so unaccustomed to
hear General Bonaparte discussed so freely ^'

" That absurd Polytechnique l" interrupted Beauvais. " How
many a fine fellow has it spoiled with its ridiculous notions and foolish
prejudices !"

Come, come," said I, " you must not call prejudices the attachment
which I, and all who wear an epaulette, feel in our glorious chief. There,
there don't laugh, or you'll provoke me ; for if I, an alien, feel this,
how should you, who are a Frenchman born, sympathize with such a
proud career ?"

" If you talk of sympathy, Burke, let me ask you have you ever,
heard speak of a certain old family of these realms, who have been
driven forth and expatriated to seek a home among strangers, them-
selves the descendants of the fairest chivalry of our land the proud
scions of Saint Louis ? and has your sympathy never strayed across sea,
to mingle with their sorrows." His voice trembled as he spoke, and a
large tear filled and tracked its way along his cheek, as the last word
vibrated on his tongue ; and then, as if suddenly remembering how far
he had been carried away by momentary impulse, he added, in an
altered voice "But what have we to do with these things? Our
road is yet to be travelled by either of us. Yours a fair path enough,
if it only fulfil its early promise. The fortunate fellow that can win
his grade while yet a school-boy "

" How came you to know '- ?"

'^ Oh ! I know more than that, Burke ; and believe me, if my foolish
conduct, the first day we met, had led to any thing disastrous, I should
have passed a life of sorrow for it ever after ; but we shall have time
enough to talk over all these matters in the green alleys of Versailles,
where I hope to see you before a week be over. Great events may
happen ere long, too. Burke, you don't know it, but I can tell you,
a war with England is at this moment on the eve of declaration."

" Perhaps," said I, somewhat piqued by the tone of superiority in
which he had spoken for some minutes, and anxious to assume for my-
self a position which, I forgot, conferred no credit by the manner of its
attainment, " I know more of that than you are aware of."

Oh," replied he carelessly, ' the gossip of a mess is but little to
be relied on. The ^sabreurs' will always tell you that the order to
march is given."

TOM BURKE OP " OURS." . 183

" I don't mean that," said I, haughtily. '* My information has a
higher source the highest of all General Bonaparte himself."

" How ! what! Bonaparte himself!*'

' Listen to me," said I ; and, hurried on by a foolish vanity, and a
strange desire, I cannot explain, to make a confidant in what I felt
to be a secret too weighty for my own bosom, I told him all that I
had overheard when seated behind the screen in the salon at the
Tuileries.

" You heard this you yourself?" cried he, as his eyes flashed, and he
grasped my arm with an eager grip.

" Yes, with my own ears I heard it," said I, half trembling at the
disclosure I made, and ready to give all I possessed to recall my
words.

"My friend, my dear friend," said he impetuously, "you must
hesitate no longer ^be one of us."

I started at the words, and, growing pale with agitation as the very
thought of the importance of what I had related flashed across me, I
stammered out " Take care what you propose to me, Beauvais. I
do not, I cannot fathom your meaning now ; but if I thought that any
thing like treachery to the first consul that any thing traitorous to the
great cause of liberty for which he has fought and conquered was me-
ditated, rd go forthwith and tell him, word for word, all I have spoken
now, even though the confession would, as it might, humble me for ever,
and destroy all my future hope of advancement."

"And be well laughed at for your pains, foolish boy," said he,
throwing himself back in his chair, and bursting out intx) a fit of
laughter. " No, no, Burke, you must not do any thing half so ridicu-
lous, or my pretty cousin could never look at you without a smile ever
after ; and apr6pos of that when shall I present you ? That splendid
jacket and all that finery of Dolman there will make sad work of her
poor heart."

I blushed deeply at the silly impetuosity I had betrayed myself into,
and muttered some equally silly apology ibr it ; still, young as I was, I
could perceive that my words made no common impression on him,
and would have given my best blood to recall them.

" Do you know, Beauvais," said I, affecting as much of coolness as I
could " do you know, I half regret having told you this. The manner
in which I heard this conversation though, as you will see, quite
involuntary on my part should have prevented my ever having re-
peated it ; and now the only reparation I can make is, to wait on my
colonel, explain the whole circumstance, and ask his advice."

" In plain words, to make public what at present is only confided to
a friend. Well, you think the phrase too strong for one you have
seen but twice the first time not exactly on terms such as warrant
the phrase. But come, if you can't trust me. Til see if I can't trust
you."

He drew at these words a roll of paper from his pocket, and was
proceeding to open it on the table, when a violent knocking was heard
at my door.

184 oun 1IES8.

*^ What's that who can it be ?' said he, starthig ap, and growing
pale as death.

The look of terror in his face appalled me, and I stood, not able to
reply, or even move towards the door, when the knocking
was repeated much louder, and I heard my name called out ;
pointing to a closet which led from the room, and without speaking a
word, I walked forward and unlocked the door ; a tall man, wrapped
in a blue cloak, and wearing a cocked hat covered with oil skin, stood
before me, accompanied by a sergeant of my troop.

This is the sous lieutenant, sir," said the sergeant, touching his cap.

" That will do," replied the other ; " you may leave us now."
Then turning to me, he added " May I have the favour of a few
minutes' conversation with you, Mr. Burke ? I am Monsieur Gisquet,
chef de police of the department."

A trembling ran through me at the words, and I stammered out
something scarce audible in reply. Monsieur Gisquet followed me as
I led the way into my room, which already had been deserted by
Beauvais, and casting a quick glance around, he leisurely took off his
hat and cloak and drew a chair towards the table.

" Are we alone, sir ?" said he, in a measured tone of voice, while his
eye fell with a peculiar meaning on a chair which stood opposite to
mine, on the opposite side of the stove.

'^ I had a friend with me when you knocked," I muttered in a broken

and uncertain accent ; " but perhaps " before I could finish my

sentence the door of the cabinet slowly opened, and Beauvais appeared,
but so metamorphosed, I could scarcely recognise him ; for short as the
interval was, he had put on my old uniform of the Polytechnique,
which, from our similarity in height, fitted him perfectly.

" All safe, Tom," said he, stealing out, with an easy smile on his
countenance. ^^ Par St. Denis/ I thought it was old Legrange
himself come to look for me. Ah, monsieur, how d'ye do? You
have given me a rare fright to-night. I came to spend the day with
my friend here, and as ill luck would have it, have outstaid my
time. The ecole closes at nine, so that I'm in for a week's arrest at
least."

" A cool confession this, sir, to a minister of police," said Gisquet,
sternly, while his dark eyes surveyed the speaker from head to foot.

^' Not when that minister is called Monsieur Gisquet," said he,
readily, and bowing courteously as he spoke.

" You know me then ?" said the other, still peering at him witii a
sharp look.

'* Only from your likeness to a little boy in my company," said he ;
*' Henri Gisquet ; a fine little fellow he is, and one of the cleverest
in the school."

'* You are right, sir ; he is my son," said the minister, as a pleased
smile passed over his swarthy features. ** Come, I think I must get
you safe tlirough your dilemma. Take this ; the officer of the night
will be satisfied with the explanation, and Monsieur Legrange will not
hear of it."

TOM BURKE OF f'OURS." 186

So saying, be.seiaed a pen, and writing a few lines rapidly on a
piece of paper, lie folded it note fashion and handed it to Beauvais. .

A handsonie ring, sir," said he, suddenly, and holding the fingers
within his own ; " a very costly one too."

" Yes, sir," said Beauvais, blushing scarlet. " A cousin of mine '^

'* Ha, ha ! an amourette too. Well, well, young gentleman, no
need of further confessions. Lose no more time here bon soir,** -

** Adieu, Burke," said Beauvais, shaking my hand with a peculiar
pressure.

'* Adieu, Monsieur Gisquet. This order will pass me through the
barrack, won't it f"

" Yes ; to be sure. You need fear no interference with my people
either, go where. you will this evening."

" Thanks, sir, once more," said he, and departed.

" Now for our business, Mr. Burke," said the minister, opening his
pacquet of papers before him, and commencing to con over its con-
tents. '^ I shall ask you a few questions, to which you will please to
reply with all the accuracy you can command, remembering that you
are liable to be called on to verify any statement hereafter on oath.
With whom did you speak on the evening of the second of May, at
the soiree of Madame Bonaparte ?"

*' I scarcely remember if I spoke to any one save madame herself ;
a strange gentleman, whose name I know not, presented me ; one or
two others also unknown to me may have spoken a passing word or
so ; and when coming away I met Monsieur de Beauvais."

" Monsieur de Beauvais ! who is he ?"

' Mafoii I can't tell you. I saw him the day before for the first
time : we renewed our acquaintance, and. we supped together."

" At Beauvilliers'," said he, interrupting ?

"Pardieu! monsieur," said I, somewhat stung at the 'espionage'
on my movements, " you seem to know every thing so well already, it
is quite needless to interrogate me any further."

*' Perhaps not," replied he coolly. " 1 wish to have the names of
the party you supped with."

" Well, there was one who was called the prefet, a large, full,
elderly man."

'* Yes, yes, I know him," interrupted Gisquet again ; " and the
others r"

" There was an abb^, and a secretary of the Bussian mission."

" No other ?" said he, in a tone of disappointment.

" No one, save Beauvais and myself we were but five in all."

" Did no one come in during the evening ?"

" No, not any."

" Nor did any leave the party r"

" No ; we separated at the same moment."

" Who accompanied you to the barracks ?"

" No one. I returned alone."
' * And this JVf onsieur Beauvais ; you can't tell any thing of him ?
What age is he? what height?"

186 OUR ME68.

About my own/' said I, blushing deeply at the thought of the
events of a few moments back. " He may be somewhat older ; but
he looks not much more than twenty-one or two."

* Have you mentioned any of these circumstances to any of your
brother officers or to your colonel ?**

" No, sir, never."

" Very right, sir. These are times in which discretion is of no com-
mon importance. I have only to recommend similar circumspection in
future. It is probable that some of these gentlemen may visit you and
write to you ^they may invite you to sup or to dine ; if so, sir, accept
the invitation ; be cautious, however, not to speak of this interview to
any one. Remember, sir, I am the messenger of one who never for-
gave a breach of trust, but who also never fails to reward loyalty and
attachment. If you be but prudent, Mr. fiurke, your fortune is certain."

With these words, Monsieur Gisquet threw his cloak over his
shoulder, and raising his hat, he bowed formally to me, and withdrew,
leaving me to meditations which, I need not say, were none of the
happiest.

If my fears were excited by the thought of the acquaintances I had
so rashly formed; so also was my pride insulted by the system of
watching to which my movements had been subjected : and deeper still,
by the insulting nature of the proposal the minister of police had not
scrupled to make to me, and which only, on reflecting over, did I
perceive how base and dishonourable it was.

" What !" asked I of myself, " is it a spy is it a false underhand
betrayer of the men into whose society I have been admitted on terms
of friendly intercourse he would make of me ? What saw he in me or
in my actions, to dare so far ? Was not the very cloth I wear enough
to guard me against such an insult ?" Then came the maddening
reflection " Why had I not thought of this sooner ? Why had I not
rejected his proposal with scorn, and told him, that I was not of the
stuff he looked for ?"

But, what was it that he wished to learn ? and who were these men,
and what were their designs ? These were questions that flashed across
me, and I trembled to think how deeply implicated I might become at
any moment, in plans of which I knew nothing merely from the
imprudence with which I had made their acquaintance the escape of
Beauvais, if discovered, would also inevitably involve me, and thus
did I seem hurried along by a train of incidents, without will or concur-
rence, each step but increasing the darkness around me.

That Gisquet knew most of the party w&s clear, Beauvais alone
seemed personally unknown to him. What then did he want of me ?
Alas ! it was a tangled web I could make nothing of and all I could
resolve on, was to avoid in future all renewal of intimacy with Beauvais,
to observe the greatest circumspection with regard to all new acquain-
tance and since the police thought it worth their while to set spies
upon my track to limit my excursions, for some time at least, to the
routine of my duty, and the bounds of the barrack-yard. These were
wise resolutions and if somewhat late in coming, yet not without

TOM BUBKE OF " 0UE8.*' 187

their comfort ; above all because, in my heart I felt no misgivings
of affection, no lack of loyalty to him who was still my idol.

Well, well, thought I, something may come of this perhaps a
war if so, happy shall I be to leave Paris and all its intrigues
behind me, and seek distinction in a more congenial sphere, and under
other banners than a police minister would afford me.

With thoughts like these I fell asleep, to dream over all the events
of the preceding day, and wake the next morning with an aching
head, and confused brain my only clear impression being, that some
danger hung over me, but from what quarter, and how, or in what
way it was to be met or averted, I could not guess.

The whole day I felt a feverish dread lest Beauvais should appear.
Something whispered me that my difficulties were to come of my
acquaintance with him, and I studiously passed my time among my
brother officers, knowing that, so long as I remained among them, he
was not likely to visit me ; aad when evening came, I gladly accepted
an invitation to a barrack-room supper, which, but the night before^
I should have declined without hesitation.

This compliance on my part seemed well taken by my companions,
and in their frank and cordial reception of me, I felt a degree of
reproach to myself, for my having hitherto lived estranged from them.
We had just taken our place at table, when the door was flung wide
open, and a young captain of the regiment rushed in, waving a paper
over his head, as he called out

" Good news, mes braves^ glorious news for you 1 Listen to this
the English ambassador has demanded his passports, and left Paris ;
expresses are sent off to the fourth corps, to move towards the coast \
twelve regiments have received orders to march ; so that before my
lord leaves Calais, he may witness a review of the army."

" Is this true ?"

" It is all certain."

" Read it, here's the Moniteur^ with the official announcement."

In an instant a dozen heads were bent over the paper, each eager to
scan the paragraph so long and ardently desired.

" Come, Burke, I hope you have not forgotten your English,*' said
the major ; ^* we shall want you soon to interpret for us in London,
if, pardieUf we can ever find our way through the fogs of that
ill-starred island."

I hung my head without speaking ^the miserable isolation of him
who has no country, is a sad and sickening sense of want, no
momentary enthusiasm, no impulse of high daring can make up for.
Happily for me, all were too deeply interested in the important news
to remark me, or pay any attention to my feelings.

188 OUR MC88.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MARCH TO VERSAlIiLES.

They who remember the excited state of England on the rupture of
the peace of Amiens ^the spirit of military ardour that animated every
class and condition of life the national hatred, carried to the highest
pitch by the instigations and attack of a violent press, can yet form
but an imperfect notion of the mad enthusiasm that prevailed in
France on the same occasion.

The very fact that there was no determinate and precise cause of
quarrel, added to the exasperation on both sides. It was less like the
warfare of two great nations, than the personal animosity of two
high-spirited and passionate individuals, who, having interchanged
words of insult, resolve on the sword as the only arbiter between
them.

All that the long rivalry of centuries, national dislike, jealousy in
every form, and ridicule in a thousand shapes, could suggest, were added
to the already existing hate, and gave to the coming contest a character
of the blackest venom. In England, the tyrannic rule of Bonaparte
gave deep offence to all true lovers of liberty, and gave rise to fears of
what the condition of their own country would become, should he con-
tinue to increase his power by conquest. In France, the rapid rise to
honour and wealth, the career of arms so singularly favoured, made
partizans of war in every quarter of the kingdom. The peaceful arts
were but mean pursuits compared with that royal road to rank and
riches, the field of battle; and their self-interest lent its share in
forming the spirit of hostility, which wanted no element of hatred to
make it perfect.

Paris, where so lately nothing was heard save the roll of splendid equi-
pages the din of that gay world whose business is amusement ^where
amid gilded salons the voluptuous habits of the Consulate, mixed with the
less courtly but scarce less costly display of military splendour, became
now like a vast camp. Regiments poured in daily to resume their
march the next morning ; the dull rumble of ammunition-waggons and
caissons the warlike clank of mounted cavalry awoke the citizen at
day-break ; the picquets of hussar corps and the dusty and travel-
stained infantry soldiers filled the streets at nightfall: yet through all,
the mad gaiety of this excited nation prevailed. The caf^s were
crowded with eager and delighted faces ; the tables spread in the open
air, were occupied by groups, whose merry voices and ready laughter
attested that war was the pastime of the people, and the very note of
preparation a toscin of joy and festivity. The walls were placarded
with inHamuiatory addresses to the patriotism and spirit of France.

TOM BUHKfi OP " OURS." 1 8$

The papers teemed with artful and cleverly-written explanations of
the rupture with England, in which every complaint against that coun-
try was magnified, and every argument put forward to prove the
peaceful desires of that nation, whose present enthusiasm for war
was an unhappy commentary on the assertion. The good faith of
France was extolled ^the moderation of the first consul dwelt upon ;
and the treachery of that " perfidious Albion that respected not the
faith of treaties," was displayed in such irrefragible clearness, that the
humblest citizen thought the cause his own, and felt the coming contest
the ordeal of his own honour.

All the souvenirs of the former wars were invoked to give spirit to
the approaching struggle ; and they were sufficiently numerous to let
no week pass over without at least one eventful victory to com-
memorate.

Now it was Kellerman's cuirassiers, whose laurel-wreathed helmets
reminded the passing stranger, that on that day eight years they tore
through the dense ranks of the Austrians, and sabred the gunners at the
very guns. Now it was the Polish regiments the steel-clad lancers
who paraded before the Tuileries, in memory of the proud day they
marched through Montebello with that awful sentence on tlieir banners,
" Venice exists no longer." Here were corps of infantry, inter-
mingled with dragoons, pledging each other as they passed along;
while the names of Castiglione, Bassano, and Roveredo rang through
the motley crowd the very children, " les enfants de troupe,'* seemed
fiUed with the warlike enthusiasm of their fathers ; and each battalion,
as it moved past, stepped to the encouraging shouts of thousands, who
gazed with envious admiration on the heroes of their country.

Never did the pent-up feelings of a nation find vent in such a
universal torrent of warlike fervour as now filled the land. The clank
of the sabre was the music that charmed the popular ear ; and the
*' coquette vivandiere," as she tripped along the gravel avenues of the
Tuileries gardens, was as much an object of admiration as the most
splendidly-attired beauty of the "Faubourg St. Germain." The
whole tone of society assumed the feature of the political emergency.
The theatres only represented such pieces as bore upon the ancient
renown of the nation in arms ^its victories and conquests. The artists
painted no other subjects ; and the literature of the period appealed to
few other sympathies than are found in the rude manners of the
guard-room, or around the watch-fires of the bivouac. Pigualt Lebrun
was the popular author of the day ; and his works are even now no
mean indication of the current tastes and opinions of the period.

The predictions too hastily made by the English journals that the
influence of Bonaparte in France could not survive the rupture of
that peace which had excited so much enthusiasm, were met by a burst
of national unanimity, that soon dispelled the delusive hope. Never
was there a greater error than to suppose that any prospect of com-
mercial prosperity, any vista of wealth and riches, could compensate to'
Frenchmen for the intoxication of that glory on whieh they lived as in
an orgie. Too many banners floated from the deep aisles of the

190 OUR MEfi.

** Invalides ;" too many cannon, the spoOs of the Italian and German
wars, bristled on the rampart, not to recall the memory of those feie
days when a bulletin threw the entire city into a frenzy of joy. The
Louvre and the Luxembourg, too, were filled with the treasures of con*
quered states, and these are not the guarantees of a long peace.

Such in brief was the state of Paris, when the declaration of war by
Great Britain once more called the nation to arms. Every regiment
was at once ordered to make up its full complement to the war stan-
dard, and the furnaces were employed in forging shot and casting
cannon throughout the length and breadth of France. The cavalry
corps were stationed about St. Omer and Compeigne, where a rich
corn country supplied forage in abundance. Among the rest the order
came for the huitihme to march, one squadron only was to remain behind^
chosen to execute le service des depichea from St. Cloud and Versailles
to Paris, and to this I belonged.

From the evening of Monsieur Gisquet's visit I had never seen or
heard of Beauvais, and at last the hope grew in me that we were to
meet no more, when suddenly the thought flashed across my mind ;
this is what he spoke of! he promised 1 should be sent to Versailles!
Can it be chance, or is this his doing ? These were difficult questions
to solve, and gave me far more embarrassment than pleasure* My
fears that my acquaintance with him was in the end to involve me in
some calamity, was a kind of superstition which I could not combat,-
and I resolved at once to see my colonel, with whom happily I was now
on the best of terms, and endeavour to exchange with some
other officer, any, being willing to accept a post so much more agreeable
than a mere country quarter. I found the old man busied in the pre-
parations for departure, he was marking out the days of march to the
adjutant as I entered.

'* Well, Burke," said he, " you are the fortunate fellow this time j
your troop remains behind.'*

It is on that account, sir, I am come. You'll think my request a
strange one, but if it be not against rule, would you permit me ta
exchange my destination with another officer."

" What eh ! the boy's mad. W^hy it's to Versailles you are going.'*^

" I know, sir, but somehow I'd rather remain with the regiment."

" This is very strange, I don't understand it," said he leisurely.
" Come here." With that he drew me into the recess of a window where
we could talk unheard by others. " Burke," continued he, " I'm not
the man to question my young .fellows about secrets which they'd
rather keep for themselves ; but there is something here more than
common. Do you know that in the order, it was your squadron was
specially marked out, all the officers' names were mentioned, and yours
particularly, for Versailles ?"

A deadly paleness and a cold sick chill spread over my face ; I tried
to say some commonplace, but I could not utter more than the words,
" I feared it." Happily for me he did not hear them, but taking my
hand kindly said

I see it all, some youthful folly or other would make you better

TOM BUBKB OF " OUES." 191

pleased to leave Paris just now. Never mind, stormy times are coming,
you'll have enough on your hands presently, and let me advise you to
make the most of your time at Versailles, for if Fm not mistaken,
you'll see much more of camps than courts for some time to
come."

The rest of that day left me but little time for reflection ; but in
such short intervals as I could snatch from duty, one thought ever
rose to my mind. Can this be Beauvais' doing ? Has he had any
share in my present destination, and with what object ? Well, said I
to myself at last, these are but foolish fears after all, and may be
causeless ones. If I but follow the straight path of my duty, what-need
I care if the whole world intrigued and plotted around me. And after
all, was it not most likely that we should never see each other again ?

The day was just breaking when we left Paris ; the bright beams of
a May morning's sun were flickering and playing in the rippling river
that ran cold and grey beneath the tall towers of the Tuileries threw
their long shadows across the Place Carousel, where a dragoon regi-
ment was encamped : they were already astir, and some of the men
were standing around the fountains with their horses, and others were
looking after the saddles and accoutrements in preparation for the
march ; a-half expiring fire here and there marked where some little
I party had been sitting together, while the jars and flasks about bespoke

I a merry evening. A trumpeter sat, statue-like, on his white horse,

his trumpet resting on his knee, surveying the whole scene, and as if
^ deferring to the last the wakeful summons that should rouse some of

his yet sleeping comrades. I could see thus much as we passed. Our
road led along the quay towards the Place Louis XV. where an
[ infantry battalion with four guns were picquetted. The men were

breakfasting and preparing for the route. They were part of the
grande arm^e under orders for Boulogne.

We soon traversed the Champs Elys^es, and entered the open
I country ; for some miles it was merely a succession of large corn fields,

and here and there a small vineyard that met the eye on either side ; but
j as we proceeded farther we were girt in by rich orchards in full blossom,

I the whole air loaded with the perfume. Neat cottages peeped from the

L woody enclosures, the trelliced walls covered with honeysuckles and

' wild roses ; the surface, too, was undulating and waved in every ima-

ginable direction, offering every variety of hill and valley, precipice
and plain, in even the smallest space. As yet no peasant was stirring,'
no smoke curled from a single chimney, and all, save the song of the
\ lark, was silent. It was a peaceful scene, and a strong contrast to

ithat we left behind us ; and whatever ambitious yearnings filled my
heart, as I looked upon the armed ranks of the mailed cuirassiers, I felt
, a deeper sense of happiness as I strayed along those green alleys,

I through which the sun came slanting sparingly, and where the leaves

i only stirred as their winged tenants moved among them.

We travelled for some hours through the dark paths of the Bois
de Boulogne, and again emerged in a country wild and verdant
as before. And thus passed our day, till the setting sun rested on

102 OCn MRSS.

the tall roof of the great palace, and lit up every window in golden
splendour as we entered the town of Versailles.

I could scarce avoid halting as I rode up the wide terrace of the
palace ; never had I felt before the overcoming sense of grandeur
which architecture can bestow; the great fa^de in its chaste and
simple beauty^ stretched away to a distance, where dark lime trees
closed the back-ground, their tall summits only peeping above the lofty
terrace in which the chateau stands. On that terrace, too, were walk-
ing a crowd of persons of the court the full dress costume showing'
that they had but left the scdons to enjoy the cool and refreshing air of
the evening. I saw some turn and look after our travel-stained
and dusty party, and confess I felt a half sense of shame at our way-
worn appearance. I had not long to suffer such mortification, for ere
we marched more than a few minutes we w^ere joined by ^Marechalde
Logis^ who accompanied us to our quarters, one of the buildings
adjoining the palace, where we found every thing in readiness for our
arrival ; and there I, to my surprise, discovered that a most sump-
tuous supper awaited me a politeness I was utterly a stranger to, not
being over cognizant of the etiquette and privilege which await the
officer on guard at a royal palace.

TOM BUBKE OF ** OURS." )93^

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE PA?vK OF VERSAILLES.

The instructions delivered to me soon after my arrival in Versailles
convinced me that the transmission of despatches was not the service
we were called on to discharge, but merely a pretence to blind others
as to our presence, the real duty being the establishment of a cordoii
around the royal palace, permitting no one to enter or pass withiii
the precincts who was not provided with a regular leave, and empower-'
ing us to detain all suspected individuals, and forward them for exa-
mination to St. Cloud.

To avoid all suspicion as to the true object, the men were ordered to
pass from place to place, as if with despatches, many being stationed
in different parts of the park, my duty requiring me to be continually
on the alert to visit these picquets, and make a daily report to the
prefet of police at Paris,

What the nature of the suspicion, or from what quarter Monsieur
Savary anticipated danger, I could not even guess ; and though I
well knew that his sources of information were unquestionable, I began
at last to think that the whole was merely some plot devised by the
police themselves to display uncommon vigilance and enhance their
own importance. This conviction grew stronger as, day by day, I
remarked that no person more than ordinary had even approached
near the town of Versailles itself, while the absurd exactitude of in-
quiry as to every minute thing that occurred, went on just as before.

While my life passed on in this monotonous fashion, the little court
of Madame Bonaparte seemed to enjoy all its accustomed pleasure.
The actors of the Fran9ais came down expressly from Paris, and
gave nightly representations in the palace ; fourgons continued to
arrive from the capital with all the luxuries for the table ; new guests
poured in day after day, and the lighted-up saloons, and the sounds
of music that filled the court, told each evening that whatever fear
prevailed without, the minds of those within the palace had little to
cause depression.

It was not without a feeling of wounded pride I saw myself omitted
in all the invitations ; for although my rank was not sufficient of itself
to lead me to expect such an attention, my position as the officer on
guard would have fully warranted the politeness, had I not even
already received marks of civility while in Paris. From time to time,
as I passed through the park, I came upon Isome of the court party,
and it was with a sense of painful humiliation J observed that Madame
Bonaparte had completely forgotten me, while from one, whose indif-
ference was more galling stilly I did not even obtain a look in passing.^
ipcss, NO. XX, voii. n, O

194 oint MESS.

How had I forfeited the esteem which voluntarily they had bestowed
on me the good opinion which had raised me from an humble cadet of
the Poly technique to a commission in one of the first corps in the service?
Under what evil influence was I placed ? Such were the questions
that forced themselves on me night and day ^that haunted my path as
2 walked, and my dreams at night. As the impression grew on me I
imagined that every one I met regarded me with a look of distance
and distrust that each saw in me one who had forfeited his fair name
by some low or unworthy action, till at last I actually avoided the
walks where I was likely to encounter the visitors of the palace, and
shunned the very approach of a stranger like a guilty thing. All the
brilliant prospects of my soldier's life that a few days back shone out
before me, were now chsnged into a dreamy despondence ; the service
I was employed on, so different from what I deemed became a chival-
rous career, was repugnant to all my feelings ; and when the time for
visiting my picquets came, I shrunk with shame from a duty that suited
rather the spy of the police, than the officer of hussars.

Every day my depression increased : my isolation, doubly painful
from the gaiety and life around me, seeming to mark me out as one
unfit to know, lessened me in my own esteem ; and as I walked the
long, dark alleys of the park, a weighty load upon my heart, I envied
the meanest soldier of my troop, and would willingly have changed
his fortune with ray own. It was a relief to me even when night
came the shutters of my little room closed ; my lamp lighted ^to think
that there at least I was free from the dark glances and side-long looks
of all I met ; that I was alone with my own sorrow, no contemptuous eye
to pierce my sad heart, and see in my gloom a self-convicted criminal.
Had I one, but one friend to advise with, to pour out all my sufferings
before him and say, " Tell me how shall I act ? am I to go on endure
ing ? or where shall I where can I vindicate my fame ?"

yiith such sad thoughts for company, I sat one evening alone ; my
mind now recurring to the early scenes of my childhood, and to that
harsh teaching which even in infancy had marked me for suffering ; now
straying onward to a vision of the future I used to paint so brightly
to myself, when a gentle tap at the door aroused me.

'* Come in," said I carelessly, supposing it a sergeant of my
troop. The door slowly opened, and a figure wrapped in a loose
horseman*s cloak entered.

" Ah ! lieutenant, don't you know me ?" said a voice, whose peculiar
tone struck me as well known. " The Abbe D'Ervan, at your service."

^ Indeed !" said I, starting with, surprise, not less at the unexpected
visitor himself than at the manner of his appearance. " Why, abb^
you must have passed the sentineL"

And so I did, my dear boy," replied he, as he folded up iiis cloak
' leisurely on one chair, and seated himself on another opposite me*
^ Nothing wonderful in that, I suppose."

" But the countersign ^they surely asked you for it ?"

^* To be sure they did, and I gave it : Vincennes,' an easy word
enough , But gom^ ooia%. you are not going to play the police witk

TOM BTTRKE OF " OUBS.'* 195

me. I have taken you in on my way back to St. Cloud, where I am
stopping just now, to pay you a little visir and talk over the news."

" Pardon me once more, my dear abbe, but a young soldier may
eem over punctilious. Have you the privilege to pass through the
royal park after nightfall ?"

" I think I have shown you that already, my most rigid inquisitor^
otherwise I should not have known the password. Give me your re-
port for to-morrow. Ah, here it is. What's the hour now ? A quarter
to eleven. This will save you some trouble," so saying, he took a pen
and wrote in a large, free hand, " The Abb^ D'Ervan from the Chateau
D'Ancre to St. Cloud." " Monsieur Savary will ask you no further
questions, trust me. And now, if you have got over all your fears and
disquietudes, may I take the liberty to remind you that the chateau ii
ten leagues off that I dined at three, and have eaten nothing since.
Abb6s, you are aware, are privileged gastronomists ; and the family of
D'Ervan have a most unhappy addiction to good things. A poulet,
however, and a flask of chablis will do for the present ; for I long to
talk with you."

While I made my humble preparations to entertain him, he rambled
on in his usual free and pleasant manner that mixture of smartness
and carelessness which seemed equally diffused through all he said,
imparting a sufficiency to awake, without containing any thing to engage
too deeply, the listener's attention.

" Come, come, lieutenant, make no apology for the fare : the patS
h excellent ; and as for the Burgundy, it is easy enough to see your
chambertin comes from the consul's cellar. And so you tell me that
you find this place dull, which I own Tm surprised at. These little
soiries are usually amusing; but perhaps at your age the dazzling
gaiety of the ball-room is more attractive."

* In truth, abbi, the distinction would be a matter of some difficulty
to me, I know so little of either ; and, indeed, Madame la Consulesse
is not over likely to enlighten my ignorance. I have never been asked
to the palace."

" You are jesting, surely."

" Perfectly in earnest, I assure you. This is my third week of
being quartered here; and not only have I not been invited, but
stranger still, Madame Bonaparte passed and never noticed me ; and
another, one of her suite, did the same : so you see there can be no
accident in the matter."

" How strange," said the abbe, leaning his head on his hand ; and
then, as if speaking to himself, muttered " But so it is, there is no
Sttch tyrant as your parvenu. The caprice of sudden elevation knows
no guidance. And you can't even guess at the cause of all this ?"

** Not with all my ingenuity could I invent any thing like a
reason."

" Well, well, we may find it out yet. These are strange times
ftltogether, lieutenant. Men's minds are more unsettled than ever they
Wei'e. The Jacobin begins to feel he has been labouring for nothing }
that all he deems the rubbish of a monarchy, has been removed^

196 OUB BiESS.

only to build up a greater oppression. The soldier sees his conquests
have only made the fortune of one man in the army, and that one not
over-mindful of his old companions. Many begin to think, and they
may have some cause for the notion, that the old family of France
knew the interests of the nation best after all ; and certain it is, they
were never ungrateful to those who served them. Your countrymen
had always their share of favour shown them. You do surprise me,
when you say you've never been invited."

" So it is though ; and worse still, there is evidently some secret
reason. Men look at me as if I had done something to stain my
character and name.**

" No, no, you mistake all that. This new and patchwork court does
but try to imitate the tone of its leader. When did you see Beauvais ?"

" Not for some months past. Is he in Paris ?"

" No. The poor fellow has been ill. He's in Normandy just now,
but I expect him back soon. There is a youth who might be any thing
he pleased: his family, one of the oldest in the south; his means
abundant ; his own ability first-rate ; but his principles are of that
inflexible material that won't bend for mere convenience sake. He
does not like he does not approve of the present government of
France."

" What would he have then ? Does not Bonaparte satisfy the am-
bition of a Frenchman ? Does he wish a greater name than that at
the head of his nation ?"

" That's a brilliant lamp before us ; but see there," cried the
abbe, as he flung open the shutter, and pointed to the bright moon
that shone pale and beautiful in the clear sky " see there. Is there
not something grander far in the glorious radiance of the orb that
has thrown its lustre on the world for ages? Is it not a glorious
thought to revel in the times long past, and think of those, our fathers,
who lived beneath the same bright beams, and drank in the same
golden waters. Men are too prone to measure themselves with one of
yesterday. They find it hard to wonder at the statue of him, whom
they have themselves placed on the pedestal. Feudalism too seems a
very part of our nature."

" These are thoughts I've never known, nor would I now wish to
learn them," said I ; " and as for me, a hero needs no ancestry to
make him glorious in my eyes."

All true," said the abbe, sipping his glass, and smiling kindly on
me ; ''a young heart should feel as yours does ; and time was when
such feelings had made the fortune of their owner ; but even now the
world is changed about us. The gensdarme have the mission that
once belonged to the steel-clad cuirassiers, and, in return, the hussar
is little better than a * mouchardJ "

The blood mounted to my face and temples, and throbbed in every
vein and artery of my forehead, as I heard this contemptuous epithet
applied to the corps I belonged to a sarcasm that told not less
poignantly on me^ that I felt how applicable it was to my present
position.

TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 197

He saw how deeply mortified the word had made me ; and putting
his hand in mine, and with a voice of winning softness he added
" One who would be a friend must risk a little now and then ; as he
who passes over a plank before his neighbour, will sometimes spring
to try its soundness, even at the hazard of a fall. Don't mistake me,
lieutenant, you have a higher mission than this. France is on the eve
of a mighty change. Let us hope it may be a happy one. And now
it's getting late far later indeed than is my wont to be abroad and
so I'll wish you good night. I'll find a bed in the village. And since
I have made you out here, we must meet often."

There was something I could not define what exactly that alarmed
! me in the conversation of the abbe ; and lonely and solitary as I was,

I it was with a sense of relief I saw him take his departure.

[ The pupil of a school where the consul's name was never men-

' tioned without enthusiasm and admiration, I found it strange that any

one should venture to form any other estimate of him than I was used
to hear ; and yet in all he said, I could but faintly trace out any thing
to take amiss. That men of his cloth should feel warmly towards the
exiled family was natural enough. They could have but few sympathies
with the soldier's calling, and, of course, felt themselves in a very dif-
ferent position now from what they once had occupied. The restora-
l tion of Catholicism was, I well knew, rather a political and social than

I a religious movement; and Bonaparte never had any, the slightest

intention of replacing the church in its former position of ascendancy,
but rather of using it as a state engine, and giving a stability to the
new order of things, which could only be done on the foundation of
prejudices and convictions, old as the nation itself.

In this way the rising generation looked on the priests ; and in this
way had I been taught to regard the whole class of religionists. It
was then nothing wonderful if ambitious men among them, of whom
D'Ervan might be one, felt somewhat indignant at the post assigned
them, and did not espouse with warmth the cause of one who merely
condescended to make them the tool of his intentions. " Yes, yes,"
said I to myself, " I have divined my friend the abbe ; and though not
a very dangerous character after all, it's just as well I should be on
my guard. His being in possession of the password, and his venturing
to write his name in the police report, are evidences that he enjoys
the favour of the prefet of police. Well, well, I'm sure I am
heartily tired of such reflections. Would that the campaign were once
begun. The roll of a platoon and the deep thunder of an artillery
tire would soon drown the small whisperings of such miserable
plottings from one's head."

About a week passed over after this visit, in which, at first, I was
rather better pleased that the abbe did not come again ; but as my
solitude began to press more heavily on me, I felt a kind of regret at
not seeing him. His lively tone in conversation, though spiced with
that " moqueur** spirit which Frenchmen nearly all assume, amused
me greatly ; and little versed as I was in the world or in its ways, I saw
that he knew it thoroughly. Such were my thoughts as I returned

198 OtTS ME88.

home one evening along the hroad alley of the park, when I heard a
foot coming rapidly up behind me.

* I say, lieutenant,'' cried the voice of the very man I was thinking^
of, *^ your people are terribly on the alert to-night : they refused to let
me pass, until I told them I was coming to you; and here are
two worthy fellows who won't talce my word for it without your
corroboration."

I then perceived that two dismounted dragoons followed him at the
distance of a few paces.

' All right, men," said I, passing my arm beneath the abbe's, and
turning again towards my quarters. " Wouldn't they take the pass
word then ?'' continued I, as we walked on.

" Mafoi ! I don't know, for I haven't got it."

How not got it?"

" Don't look so terribly frightened, my dear boy, youll not be put
under arrest or any such mishap on my account ; but the truth is, I've
been away some days from home, and have not had time to write to
the minister for the order ; and as I wanted to go over to St. Cloud
this evening, and as this route saves me at least a league's walking, of
course I availed myself of the privilege of our friendship both to rest
my legs and have a little chat with you. Well, and how do you get on
here now ? I hope the chateau is more hospitable to you eh not
so ? that is most strange. But I have brought you a few books whi(Jh
may serve to while away the hours ; and as a recompense, I'll ask you
for a supper."

By this time we were at the door of my quarters, where having
ordered up the best repast my cuisine afforded, we sat down to await
its appearance. Unlike the former evening, the abbe now seemed low
and depressed spoke little, and tlien moodily over the unsettled state
of men's minds, and the rumours that pervaded Paris of some momen-
tous change men know not what. And thus by a stray phrase, a chance
word, or an unfinished sentence, gave me to think that the hour was
approaching for some great political convulsion.

"But, lieutenant, you never told me by what accident you came first
amongst us. Let me hear your story. The feeling with which I ask is not
the fruit of an impertinent curiosity. I wish sincerely to know more j

about one in whose fortunes I have taken deep mterest. Beauvais told
me the little anecdote which made you first acquainted ; and though the
event promised but little of future friendship, the circumstances have
turned differently. You have not one who speaks and thinks of you more
highly than he does. I left him this morning not many miles from
this. And now that I think of it, he gave me a letter for you here
it is ;* so saying, he threw it carelessly on the chimney-piece, and con-
tinued " I must tell you a secret of poor Beauvais, for I know you feel
interested in him. You must know, then, that our friend is desperately
in love with a very beautiful cousin of his own, one of the suite of
Madame Bonaparte. She's a well-known court beauty ; and if you
had seen more of the Tuileries, you'd have heard of La Rose de
Provence."

O^OM BtJRkE OP "OTTRS.** , \^

" I have seen her, I think,** muttered I, as my cheek grew crimson,
and my lips trembled.

" Well/' resumed the abb6, and without noticing my embarrass-
ment, 'Hhis love affair, which I believe began long ago, and might
have ended in marriage ^for there is no disparity of rank, no want
of wealth, nor any other difficulty to prevent it has been interrupted
by General Bonaparte, because, and for no other reason, mark ye, than
that Beauvais' family were Bourbonists. His father was a captain of
the Garde du Corps, and his grandfather a grand falconer, or something
or other, with Louis XV. Now, the young marquis was well
enough inclined to go with the current of events in France. The
order of things once changed, he deemed it best to follow the crowd,
and frequented the Tuileries like many others of his own politics I
believe you met him there. Till one morning lately he resolved to try
his fortune where the game was his all: and he waited on Madame
Bonaparte to ask her consent to his marriage with his cousin for I
must tell you that she is an orphan, and in all such cases the parental
right is exercised by the head of the government. Madame referred
him coldly to the general, who received him more coldly still, and
instead of replying to his suit, as he expected, broke out into invectives
against Beauvais' friends^called them chauans and assassins said
they never ceased to plot against his life with his most inveterate
enemies, the English ^that tlie exiled family maintained a corps of
spies in Paris, of whom he half suspected him to be one, and in a word
contrived to heap more of insult on him in one quarter of an hour
^an, as he himself said, his whole family had endured from the days
of St. Louis to the present Beauvais from that hour absented himself
from the Tuileries, and indeed almost entirely from Paris : now living
with his friends in Normandy, now spending a few weeks in the
south ; but at last he has determined on his course, and means to leave
France for ever. I believe the object of his coming here at this moment
is to see his cousin for the last time. Perhaps his note to you has
some reference to it."

I took the letter with a trembling hand a fear of something unde-
fined was over me and, tearing it open, read as follows :

Dear Friekd The Abbe D'Ervan will deliver this into your
hands, and, if you wish it, explain the reason of the request it con-
tains, which is simply'that you will afford me the shelter of your quarters
for one day in the park at Versailles. I know the difficulty of your posi-
tion; and if any other means under heaven presented itself I should not
ask the favour, which, although I pledge my honour not to abuse, I
shall value as the dearest a whole life's gratitude can repay. My heart
tells me that you will not refuse the last wish of one you will never see
after this meeting. I shall wait at the gate below the Trianon at
eleven o'clock, on Friday night, when you can pass me through the
gentries,

** Yours, ever and devoted,

Henri de Beauvais/'

200 OUB MX88*

The tliing is impossible/' said I, laying down the letter on the
table, and staring over at D'Ervan.

* No more so, dear friend, than what you have done for me this
evening, and which, I need not tell you, involves no risk whatever.
Here am I now, without pass or countersigni your guest the partaker
of as good a supper, and as excellent a glass of wine as man need care
for. In an hour hence ^say two at most I shall be on my way over
to St. Cloud. Who is then, I ask you, to be the wiser ? You'll not
put me down in the night report don*t start I repeat it ^you can't
do it ; for I had no countersign to pass through : and as the consul
reds these sheets every morning, you are not going to lose your
commission for the sake of an absurd punctilio that nobody on earth
will thank you for. Come, come, my worthy lieutenant, these same
excellent scruples of yours savour far more of the scholar at the rigid
old Polytechnique than the young officer of hussars. Help me to that
ortolan there, and pass the bottle. There a bumper of such a
vintage is a good reward for so much talking."

While the abb6 continued to exert himself by many a flippant
remark, and many a sraturt anecdote, to dissipate the gloom that now
fell over my spirits, I grew only more and more silent The one false
atep I had taken already presented itself before me as the precedent
for further wrong, and I knew not what course to take, nor how to
escape from my dilemma.

*Isay, lieutenant," said D'Ervan, after a pause of some minutes,
during which he had never ceased to regard me with a fixed, steady
stare^ ^ you are about as unlike the usual character of your country-
men as one can well conceive."

' How so," said I, half smiling at the remark.

"All the Irishmen I have ever seen," replied he, "and I have
.known some scores of them, were bold, dashing, intrepid fellows, that
cared nothing for an enterprise if danger had no share in it ^who
loved a difficulty as other men love safety who had an instinct for
where their own reckless courage would give them an advantage over
all others, and took life easily, under the conviction that every day
could present the circumstance where a ready wit and a stout heart could
make the way to fortune. Such were the Irish I knew in the Brigade ;
and though not a man of the number had ever seen what they called
the green island, they were as unlike English, or French, or Germans,
or any other people, as as the old court of Louis XIV. was like the
guard-room style of reception that goes on now-a-days yonder."

" What you say may be just," said I coolly ; " and if I seem to have
few features of that headlong spirit which is the gift of my nation,
the circumstances of my boyhood could well explain, perhaps excuse
them. From my earliest years I have had to struggle against ills that
many men, in a long lifetime, do not meet with. If suspicion and
distrust have crept or stolen into my heart, it is from watching the
conduct of those I daemed high-spirited and honourable, and seeing
them weak, and vacillating, and faithless. And lastly, if every early
hope that stirred my heart does but wane and pale within me, as stars

TOM BURKB OF *^ OURS." 201

^go oat when day is near, you cannot wonder that I who stand alone
here, without home or friend, should feel a throb of fear ut aught
which may tarnish a name that has as yet no memory of past services
to rely upon. And if you knew how sorely such emotions war against
. the spirit that lives here, believe me you had never made the reproach
my punishment is enough already."

" Forgive me, my dear boy, if I said any thing could wotma you
for a moment," said the abb^. " This costume of mine, they say,
gives a woman's privilege, and truly I believe it does something of
the sex's impertinence, also. I ought to have known you better, and I do
. know you better by this time. And now let me press a request I made
some half an hour ago tell me this same story of yours. I long to
learn something of the little boy where I feel such affection for the
man."

The look of kindness and the tone of soothing interest that accom-
panied these words I could not resist; so, drawing my chair close
towards him, I began the narrative of my life. He listened with the
most eager attention to my account of the political condition of Ire*
land, questioned me closely as to my own connection with the
intrigues of the period ; and when I mentioned the name of Charles de
Meudon, a livid paleness overspread his features as he asked in a
low hollow tone if I were with him when he died ?

Yes," replied I, by his bed-side."

** Did he ever speak to you of me ? did he ever tell you much of his
early life when in Provence?"

" Yes, yes, he spoke often of those happy days in the old chateau,
where his sister, on whom he doated to distraction, was his companion.
Hers was a sad story too. Strange, is it not, I have never heard of
her since I came to France ?"

A long pause followed these words, and the abb^ leaned his head
upon his hand, and seemed to be lost in thought.

" She was in love with her cousin," I continued, " and Charles
unhappily refused his consent. Unhappily I say, for he wept over his
conduct on his death-bed."

Did he ?" cried the abbe, with a start, while his eye flashed fire,
and his nostrils swelled and dilated like a chafed horse. " Did he do
this?"

" Yes, bitterly he repented it ; and although he never confessed it, I
could see that he had been deceived by others, and turned from liis
own high-souled purpose respecting his sister. I wonder what
became of Claude he entered the church."

" Ay, and lies there now," replied the abbe, sternly

" Poor fellow ! is he dead^ too ? and so young."

" Yes. He contrived to entancrle himself in some Jacobite plot."

" Why, he was a royalist."

" So he was.. It might have been another conspiracy then some
Chouan intrigue. Whatever it was the go^'e^nnlent heard of it ; he
was arrested at the door of his own presbiftere; the grenadiers were

202 OVK Mftsd.'

drawn up in his own garden ; and he was tried, condemned, and shdt
in less than an hour. The officer of the company eat the dinner tlU^t
was preparing for him "

" What a destiny 1 and Marie de Meudon "

Hush 1 the name is proscribed. The De Meudons professed strong
royalist opinions, and Bonaparte would not permit her beariAg her
family name. She is known by that of her mother's family, except by
those poor minions of the court, who endeavour with their fade affec-
tation to revive the graceful pleasantries of Marie Antoinette's time,
and they call her La Rose de Provence."

" La Rose de Provence," cried I, springing up from my chair, " the
sister of Charles !** while a thrill of ecstacy ran through my frame,
followed the moment after by a cold, faint feel; and I sank almost
breathless in the chair.

* Ha V cried the abbe, leaning over me, and holding the lamp close

to my face, " what %" and then, as he resumed his place, he slowly

muttered between his teeth, " I did not dream of this."

Not a word was now spoken by either. The abb^ sat mute and
motionless, his eyes bent upon the floor, and his hands -clasped before
him. As for me, every emotion of hope and fear, joy and sorrow,
succeeded each other in my mind ; and it was only as I thought of
Beauvais once more that a gloomy despair spread itself before me,
and I remembered that he loved her, and how the abb6 hinted his
passion was returned.

" The day is breaking," said D*Ervan, as he opened the shutter and
looked out ; " I must away. Well, I hope I may tell my poor friend
Beauvais, that you'll not refuse his request. Charles de Meudon's
sister may have a claim on your kindness too."

" If I thought that she "

" You mean, that she loved him. You must take his word for
that. She is not likely to make a confidant of you ; besides, he tells
you it's a last meeting. You can scarcely say nay. Poor girl, he is the
only one remaining to her of all her house. With his departure you
are not more a stranger here, than is she in the land of her fathers."

" I'll do it, I'll do it," cried I, passionately. " Let him meet me
where he mentioned. I'll be there."

" That's as it should be," said the abbe, grasping my hand, and
pressing it fervently ; " but come, don't forget you must pass me through
tliis same cordon of yours."

With a timid and shrinking heart I walked beside the abb^ across
the open terrace, towards the large gate, which with its bronzed and
gilded tracery was already shining in the rich sunlight.

" A fine-looking fellow that dragoon yonder ; he's decorated, I see."

" Yes ; an old hussar of the guard."

"What's he called?"

'* Pierre Dulong ; a name well known in his troop."

Hdlte' la /" cried the soldier, as we approached,

Your officer," eaid L

TOM BURUK OP OURS." ^208

"The word?"

Arcole."

' Pass, * Arcole,' and good morrow."

" Adieu, lieutenant adieu, Pierre," said the abb^, as he waved his
liand and passed out.

I stood for a minute or two uncertain of purpose; why, I know
not. The tone of the last few words seemed uttered in something
like a sneer. " What folly though !*' said I to myself. " D'Ervan is a
strange fellow, and it is his way."

" We shall meet soon, abb^," I cried out, as he was turning the
corner of the park wall.

* Yes, yes, rely on it we shall meet and soon."

He kept bis word.

CHAPTER XXXI.

LA ROSE DE PROVENCE.

The one thought that dwelt in my mind the entire day was, that Marie
de Rochfort was Charles de Meudon's sister. The fact once known,
seemed to explain that secret power she exercised over ray hopes and
longings. The spell her presence threw around ever as she passed me
in the park ; that strange influence with which the few words I had
heard her speak still remained fast-rooted in my memory : all these
did I attribute to the hold her name had taken of my heart, as I sat
night after night listening to her brother's stories. And then why had
I not guessed it earlier ? why had I not perceived the striking resem-
blance which it now seemed impossible to overlook ? the dark eye beam-
ing beneath a brow squarely chiselled like an antique cameo ; the
straight nose and short up-turned lip, where a half-saucy look seemed
struggling with a sweet smile ; and then the voice, was it not his own
rich southern accent, tempered by her softer nature ? Yes ; 1 should
have known her. In reflections like these I made my round of duty ;
my whole heart wrapped up in this discovery. I never thought of
Beauvais, or his letter. It seemed to me as though I had known her
long and intimately; she was not the Rose de Provence of the
court ; the admired of the Tuileries ; the worshipped belle of Ver-
sailles, but Marie de Meudon, the sister of one who loved me as a
brother.

There was a dark alley near the Tnanon that led along the side of
a little lake, where rocks and creeping plants rudely grouped together.

204 OCTB MES8.

gave a half-wild aspect to the scene. The tall beech and the drooping
ash trees that grew along the bank threw their shadows far across the
still water ; and here I had remarked that Mademoiselle de Meudon
came frequently alone. It was a place, from its look of shade and gloom^
little likely to attract the gay visitors of the court, who better loved
the smoothly-shaven grass of the palace walks, or the broad terraces
where bright fountains were plashing. Since I discovered that ghe
avoided me when we met, I had never taken this path on my roimds,
although leading directly to one of my outposts, but preferred rather
a different and longer route. Now, however, I sought it eagerly, and
as I hurried on, I dreaded lest my unwonted haste might excite sus-
picion. I resolved to see and speak to her. It was her brother's wish
that I should know her ; and till now I felt as though my great object
in coming to France was unobtained, if I knew not her whose name
TiTis hallowed in my memory. Poor Charles used to tell me she would
be a sister to me. How my heart trembled at the thought. As I drew
near I stopped to think how she might receive me ; with what feelings
hear me speak of one who was the cause of all her unhappiness ; but
then they said she loved Beauvais. What ! was poor Claude forgotten ?
was all the love-dream of her first affection past ? My thoughts ran
wild as different impulses struggled through them, and I could resolve
on nothing. Before me, scarcely a dozen paces and alone, she stood,
looking on the calm lake, where the light in golden and green patches
played, as it struggled through the dense foSage. The clattering of
my sabre startled her, and without looking back, she dropped her veil,
and moved slowly on.

Mademoiselle de Meudon," said I, taking off my shako, and bowing
deeply before her.

" What ! how ! Why this name, sir ? Don't you know it's forbidden
here?"

" I know it, madame ; but it is by that name alone I dare to speak
to you ; it was by that I learned to know you ^from one who loved
you, and who did not reject my humble heart one who, amid all the
trials of hard fate, felt the hardest to be the wrong he did his swter."

" Did you speak of my brother Charles ?" said she, in a voice low
and tremulous.

'* I did, madame. The last message his lips ever uttered was given
to me, and for you. Not until last night did I know that I was
every hour of the day so near to one whose name was treasured in my
heart."

" Oh, tell me of him ^tell me of my dear Charles," cried she, as
the tears ran fast down her pale cheeks. " Where was his death ?
Was it among strangers that he breathed his last ? Was there one
there who loved him?"

" There was, there was," cried I passionately, unable to say more.

" And where was that youth that loved him so tenderly ? I heard
of him as one who never left his side ^tending him in sickness, and
watching beside him in sorrow. Was he not there ?"

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TOM BUBKE OF " OUBS." 205

*^ I was ; I was. My hand held his. In my ear his last sigh was
breathed."

" Oh ! was it you indeed who were my brother's friend ?*' said she,
seizing my hand and pressing it to her lips. The hot tears dropped
heavily on my wrist, and in my ecstacy I knew not where I was.
" Oh !*' cried she passionately, " I did not think that in my loneliness
such, a happiness as this remained for me. I never dreamed to see
and speak, to one who knew and loved my own dear Charles ; who
could tell me of his solitary hours of exile. What hopes and fears
stirred that proud heart of his ; who could bring back to me in all
their force again the bright hours of our happy youth, when we were
all to each other ; when our childhood knew no greater bliss, than that
we loved. Alas ! alas ! how shor.t-lived was it all. He lies buried
beyond the sea in the soil of the stranger, and I live on to mourn
over the past, and shredder at the future ; but come, let us sit down
upon this bank. You must not leave me till I hear all about him.
Where did you meet first ?*'

We sat down upon a grassy bench beside the stream, where I at once
began the narrative of my first acquaintance with De Meudon. At
first the rush of sensation that came crowding on me made me speak
with difficulty and effort. The flutter of her dress as the soft wind
waved it to and fro ; the melody of her voice, and her full, languid eye,
where sorrow and long-buried affection mingled their expression, sent
thrilling through my heart thoughts that I dared not dwell upon.
Gradually, as I proceeded, my mind recurred to my poor friend, and
I warmed as I spoke of his heroic darings and his bold councils. All
his high-souled ardour ; all the liobleness of his great nature ; his self-
devotion and his suffering were again before me, mingled with those
traits of womanly softness which only belong to those whose courage
is almost fanaticism. How her dark eyes grew darker as she listened,
and her parted lips and her fast-heaving bosom betrayed the agitation
that she felt ; and how that proud look melted into sorrow when I told
of the day when his outpouring heart recurred to home, and her the
loved one of his boyhood. .

Every walk in that old terraced garden ; each grassy alley, and each
shady seat I knew as though I saw them. Although I did not mention
Claude, nor even distantly allude to the circumstances which led to their
unhappiness, I could see that her cheek became paler and paler, and
that despite an increased efibrt to seem calm, the featm-es moved with
a slight jerking motion ; her lip trembled convulsively, and with a
low, sad sigh she fell back fainting.

I sprang down the bank towards the lake, and in an instant dipped
my shako in the water, and as I hastened back, she was sitting up
her eyes staring madly round her her look wild almost to insanity,
while her outstretched finger pointed to the copse of Jow beech near us.
" There, there ; I saw him," said she. " He was there now. Look,
look." Shocked at the terrified expression of her features, and alarmed
lest my story had conjured up before her disordered imagination the
Image of her lost brother, I spoke to her in words of encouragement.

906 OUB 1CZ88.

No, no," replied she to my words, " I saw him ; I beard his voice,
too. Let us leave this. Bring me to the Trianon ; and " The terri-
fied and eager look she threw around at each word did not admit of longer
parley, and I drew her arm within mine to lead her forward. " This
is no fancy, as you deem it," said she, in a low and broken tone, to
which an accent of bitterness lent a terrible power, " nor could the J

grave give up before me one so full of terror to my heart as him I saw i

there.** Her head sank heavily as she uttered this, and notwithstanding I

every effort I made, she spoke no more, nor would give me any answer
to my questions regarding the cause of her fears. As we walked for-
ward, we heard the sound of voices, which she at once recognised as
belonging to the court party, and pressing my hand slightly, she
motioned me to leave her. I pressed the pale finger to my lips, and
darted away. My every thought bent on discovering the cause of her
late fright. In an instant I was back beside the lake ; I searched every
copse and every brake ; I wandered for hours through the dark woods,
but nothing could I see. I stooped to examine the ground, but could
not even detect the pressure of a footstep. The dried branches lay
unbroken, and the leaves unpressed around, and I at last became con-
vinced that an excited brain, and a mind harassed by long sorrow,
had conjured up the image she spoke of. As 1 approached the picquet,
which was one of the most remote in my rounds, I resolved to ask the
sentry had he seen any one.

" Yes, lieutenant," said the soldier; "a man passed some short
time in an undress uniform ; he gave the word, and I let him proceed.'*

" Was he old or young ?"

** Middle-aged, and of your height."

" Which way did he take ?"

'' He turned towards the left as he passed out, I lost sight of him then.**

I hurried immediately onward, and entered the wood by the path
in the direction mentioned. My mind painfully excited by what I
heard, and resolved to do every thing to probe this matter to the bottom ;
but though I walked miles in every direction, I met none save a few
faggot-gatherers, and they had not seen any one like him I sought for.
With a weary and a heavy heart I turned towards my quarters. All
the happiness of my morning dashed by the strange event I have re-*
lated ; my night was feverish and disturbed ; for a long time I could
not sleep, and when I did, wild and terrible fancies came on me, and I
started up in terror. A horrible face recurred at every instant to my
mind's eye; and even when awake the least noise, the slightest rustling
of the leaves in the park, agitated and excited me. At last, worn out
with the painful struggle between sleep and waking, I arose and dressed.
The day was breaking, and already the birds were carolling to the rising
sun. I strolled out into the park. The fresh and bracing air of
morning cooled my burning brow ; the mild influences of the sweet
hour when perfumes float softly in the dew-loaded breeze soothed and
calmed me ; and I wandered back in thought to her who already had
^ven a charm to my existence I never knew before.

^The long-wished-for dream of my boyhood was realized at last. 1

TOM BUBKX OV ** OUBs/' 207

l^new the sister of my friend. I sat beside her, and heard her speak i
me in tones so like his own. I was no longer the friendless alien,
without one to care for one to feel interested in his fortunes. Tl:e
isolation that pressed so painfully on me, fled before that thought; and
now I felt raised in my own esteem by those dark eyes that thanked
me as I spoke of poor Charles. What a thrill that look sent through
my heart. Oh, did she know the power of that glance ! Could she
foresee what seeds of high ambition her very smile was sowing I The
round of my duty was to me devoid of all fatigue, and I returned to-
my quarters with a light step, and a lighter heart.

The entire day I lingered about the Trianon, and near the lake, but
Marie never came, nor did she appear in the walks at aU. Was she
ill had the vision, whatever it was, of yesterday preyed upon her
health were my first thoughts ; and I inquired eagerly if any doctor
had been seen about the chateau ; but no ^nothing unusual seemed to
have occurred, and a ball was to take place that very evening. I
would have given worlds, were they mine, even to know in what part
of the palace she was lodged ; and fifty times did I afiect to have some
duty, as an excuse to cross the terrace, and steal a cautious glance
towards the windows ^but in vain 1

So engrossed was my mind with thoughts of her, that I forgot all
else. The picquets too I had not visited since day-break, and my
report to the minister remained unfilled. It was late in the evening
when I sallied forth to my duty, and night, with scarce a star, was
falling fast. My pre-occupation prevented my feeling the way as I
walked along ; and I had already visited all the outposts except one,
when a low, faint whistle, that seemed to issue from the copse near me.
i^tarted me ; it was repeated after a moment, and I called out
" Who's there ? Advance."

" Ah I r thought it was you, Burke," said a voice, I at once knew to
be Beauvais'. *^ You broke faith with me at the town-gate yonder,
and so I had to come down here."

" How ? you surely were not there when I passed ?"
^ Yes, but I was, though. Did you not see the wood-cutter with hit'
blouse on his arm^ lighting his pipe at the door of the guard-house ?"
*' Yes ; but you can't mean that it was you."

^ Do you rememb^ his saying Buy a cheap eharette of wood
lieutenant. I'll leave it at your quarters ? "

" Beauvais," said I gravely, " these risks may be fatal to us.
both. My orders are positive, and if I disobey them, there are no
powerful friends nor high relatives to screen me rom a deserving
punishment."

" What folly you speak, Burke. K I did not know you better I
should say you grudged me the hospitality I have myself asked you
for. One night to rest and I need it much, if you knew but all and
one day to speak to Marie, and you have done with me. Is that too
much?"

'^ No ; not if I did not betray a trust in sbeltering you, far too littler
to spesd^ of, much less thank me for ; bu t "
** Do spare me these icruplesi and let us take the shortest way to

2jQ8 OUB MB88.

your quarters : a supper, and three chairs to sleep on, are worth all
your arguments, eloquent though they be.*

We walked on together, almost in silence : I overwhelmed with
fear for the result should my conduct ever become known ; he evi*
dendy chagrined at my reception of him, and littie disposed to make
allowances for scruples he would not have respected himself.

*' So here we are at last,*' said he, as he threw himself on my little
sofa, seemingly worn out with exhaustion. I had now time to look at
him by the light, and almost started back at the spectacle that pre-
sented itself: his dress, which was that of the meanest peasant, was
ragged and torn ; his shoes scarce held together with coarse thongs,
and his beard unshaven for weeks past, increased the haggard look of
features, where actual want and starvation seemed impressed. ^* You
are surprised at my costume," said he, with a sad smile ; *^ and
certes, Crillac would not court a customer habited as I am just now ;
but what will you say when I assure yor that the outward man and
you will not accuse him of any voluptuous exjtravagance has a very
great advantage over the inner one ? In plain words, lieutenant, you'd
hurry your cook, if you knew 1 have not tasted food, save what the
hedges afford, for two days ; not from poverty neither ; there's where-
withal there to dine, even at BeauvilUers*." He rattled a well-filled
purse as he spoke.

" Come, come, Beauvais, you accuse me of doing the honours with a
bad grace; and in truth, I wish I were your host outside the picquets;
but let me retrieve my character a little. Taste this capon."

' If you never dined with a wolf, you shall now," said he, drawing his
chair to the table and filling a large goblet with burgundy. For ten or
fifteen minutes he eat on like a man whom long starvation had ren-
dered half savage ; then ceasing suddenly, he looked up and said-w-
" Lieutenant, the cuisine here might tempt a more fastidious man than I
am ; and if these people are not hospitable enough to invite you to
their soirieSy they certainly do not starve you at home."

" How knew you that I was not asked to the chateau ?" said I, ted-
denlng with a sense of ofiended pride I could not conceal.

^Know it! Why, man, these things are known at once ; people talk of
them in saloons and morning visits, and comment on them in prome-
nades ; and though I seem not to have been keeping company with the
beau monde latterly, I hear what goes on there too. But trust me,
boy, if your favour stands not high with the court of to-day, you may
perhaps be preparing the road to fortune with that of to-morrow."

' Though you speak in riddle, Beauvais, so long as I suspect that
what you mean would offer insult to those I serve, let me say, and I
say it in all temper, but in all firmness, you'll find no ready listener in
me. The highest favour I aspire to, is the praise of our great chief
General Bonaparte, and here I pledge his health."

I'll drink no more wine to-night," said he, sulkily pushing his glass
before him. Is this to be my bed ?"

" Of course not; mine is ready for you ; 111 rest on the sofa there ;
for I shall have to visit my picquets by day-break."

In heaven's name, for what?" said he with a half sneer,. What

TOM BUEKB OF *'0UE8.'* 209

can that poor Savary be dreaming of? Is there any one about to
steal the staircase of the Louvre, or the clock from the pavilion of the
Tuileries or is it the savans of the Institute he's afraid of
losing ?"

" Rail on, my good friend, you'll find it very hard to make an old
scholar of the Polytechnique think poorly of the man that gains
battles."

"Well, well, I give up my faith in physiognomy. Do you remember
that same evening in the Tuileries, when I asked your pardon, and
begged to be your friend, I thought you a different fellow then from
what I see you now ; that silly hussar pelisse has turned many a head
before yours."

" You wish to make me angry, BeaUvais, and you'll not succeed.
A night s rest will bring you to better temper with aU the world."

Will it, faith ! in that case a tolerably large portion of it must
take leave of it before morning; for I promise you, my worthy hussar,
there are some I don't expect to feel so very charitably towards as you
expect." t

" Well, well, what say you to bed ?"

^ril sleep where I am," said he, with some harshness in his tone.

" Good night." The words were scarcely uttered when he turned on
his side, and, shading his eyes from the light with his hand, fell fast
asleep.

It was abeady past midnight, and as I was fatigued with my day's
walking, I soon retired to my bed, but not to rest. Whenever I closed
my eyes, Beauvais* pale and worn face seemed before me ^the
haggard expression of suffering and privation ; and then I fell to think-
ing what enterprise of danger could involve him in such necessities as
these. It must be one of peril, or he had not become what now I saw
him : his very voice was changed ; its clear, manly tone was now
harsh and dissonant ; his frank and cheerful look was downcast and
suspicious.

At last, worn out with thinking, I fell asleep, but was suddenly
.awakened by a voice shouting from the outer room. I sat up and
listened. It. was Beauvais, calling wildly for help; the ory grew
fainter, and soon sank into the long-drawn respiration of repose. Poor
fdlow ! even in his dreams his thoughts were of strife and danger.

MS% KO. XX. ^VOL. II.

$10 o^ Mei

CHAPTER XXX.

A "WABKING."

Thb day was just breaking when I was up and stirring), resolving to
visit the picquets before Beauvais awoke, for even still the tone of
ridicule he assumed was strong before me. I passed stealthily through
the room where he was still sleeping : the faint light streamed through
the half*closed shutters, and fell upon a face so pale, so haggard, and
so worn, that I started back in horror. How altered was he, indeed,
from what I had seen him first ! The eheek once ruddy with the flush
of youth, was now pinched and drawn in ; the very lips were bloodless,
as if not illness alone, but long fasting from food, had prised upoti
him. His hair, too^ which used to fall upon his shoulders and on his
neck in rich and perfumed locks, silky and delicate as a girl's, was now
tangled and matted, and hung across his face and temples, wild jeind
straggling. Even to his hands his changed oondition was apparent ;
for they were torn and bleeding : while in the attitude of sleep, yoU
could trace the heavy unconseious slumber of one utterly wofn out
and exhausted. His dress was of the coarse stuff the peasants wew ib
their blouses, and eveik that seemed old and worn. What strange
career had brought him down to this I could not think ; for poor as
all seemed about him, his well-stocked purse showed that this oostuine
was worn rather for disguise than necessity. Such was my first
thought; my second, more painful still, recurred to her he loved, by
whom he was, perhaps, beloved in turn. Oh I if any thing can add to
the bitter smart of jealousy, it is the dreadful conviction that she for
whom our heart's best blood would flow to ensure one hour of hap-
^piness, has placed her whole life's fortune on the veriest chace be*
stowing her love on one whose life gives no guarantee for the ftltur^
no hope, no pledge, that the world's wildest scheme of daring and
ambition are not dearer to his eyes than all her charms and affeetions.
How does our own deep devotion come up before us contrasted with
this ! and how, in the consciousness of higher motives and more en-
nobling thoughts, do we still feel inferior to him, who, if poor in all
besides, is rich in her love. Such envious feelings filled my heart as I
looked on him; and with slow, sad step I moved on, when by accident I
came against a chair, and threw it down. The noise awoke him, and
with a spring he was on his l^s, and, drawing a pistol from his bosom,
cried out
Hal what is't ? Why, Burke, it's you I What hour is it ?"
" Not four yet. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Beauvais ; but the

chair here "

^ Yes, yes, I placed it so last night. I felt so very heavy that I

TOM BQRKS 3f9 *^OVKB.*' Jill

teidd not truQt myself with waking to a slight noise. Where to, so
early ? Ah I these picquets I forgot." And with that he lay dowm
again, aad before I left the house, was fast asleep once more.

Some trifling details of duty detained me at one or two of the oat-
poets, and it was beyond my usual time when I turned homeward. I
bad but just reached the broad alley that leads to the foot of the great
terrace, whi I saw a figure before me hastening onward towards the
chateau. The flutter of the dress showed it to be a woman, and then
l^e thotigbt flashed on me it was Mademoiselle de Meudon. Yes, it
was her step I knew it well. She had left the palace thus early to
meet Bea;avais Without well knowing what I did, I had increased my
speed, and was now rapidly overtaking her, whi the noise of my foot-
steps on the ground made her turn about and look back. I stopped
short suddenly. An indistinct sense of something culpable on my part,
in thus pursuing her, flitted across my mind, and I could not move.
There she stood, too^ motionless ; but for a second or two only, and
thra beckoned to me with her hand, i could scarcely trust my
eyes, nor did I dare to stir till she had repeated the motion twice or
Ibriee.

As I drew ner, I remarked that her eyes were red with weeping,
and h^ face pale as death. Fcnr a moment she gazed steadfastly at me
and then, with a voice whose aecent I can never forget, she said

*^ And you, too, the dearest friend of my own Charles, whose very
df athobed spoke of loyalty to him, how have you been drawn from your
allegiance?"

I stood amased and aatonnded, traable to utter a word in reply,
whm she resnmed

* For them thwe is reason, too. They lived, or their fathers did,
in the sunshine of the old monarchy. Wealth, rank, riches, power
ail were theirs ; but you, who eame amongst us with high hopes of
greatoese, where others have earned them on the field of battle--^
whose very youth is a guarantee that base and unworthy thoughts
should form no part of his motives, and whose high career began under
the very eyes irf him, the idol of every soldier^s heart oh, why turn
from such a path as this, to dark and crooked ways, where low intrigue,
and plot, and treachery, are better weapons than your own stout heart,
and your own bright sword ?**

* Hi^ur me, I pray you," said I, bursting into impatience ^^ hear me
but one word, and know that you accuse me wrongfully. I have no
part, nor have I knowledge of any treason."

Oh, apeak not thus to me. There are those who may call their acts
by high-sounding titles, and say * We are but restoring our own so-
vereigns to the land they owned ;' but you are free to think and feel.
No prestige of long years blinds your reason, or obstructs your sense
of right"

^ Onc^ mH*e I swear, that though I can but guess at where your
suspicions point, my faith is now as true, my loyalty as firm, as when I
pledged myself at your dear brother's side to be a soldier."
'" Tbw. why hve you mixed yourself with their intrigues? Why

mS OUB BfltSS.

fee you already suspected? Why has Madame Bonaparte received
orders to omit your name in all the invitations to the chateau ?"

* Alas ! I know not. I learn now, for the first time, that suspicion
ever attached to me."

" It is said, too ^for already such things are spoken of that yon
know that dreadful man, whose very presence is contamination. Oh !
does it not seem like fate, that his dark path should traverse every
portion of my destiny ?'*

The sobs that burst from her at tnese words seemed to rend her very
bosom.

" They say," continued she, while ner voice trembled with strong
emotion * they say he has been here."

" I know not of whom you speak," said I, as a cold chill ran through
my blood.

" Meh6e de La Touche," replied she, with an effort.

" I never heard of him till now the very name is unknown to me.**

" Thank God for this," muttered she between her teeth. " I thought
perhaps that Beauvais had made you known to each other."

* No : Beauvais never introduced me, save to some friends of his
.one evening at a supper, several months back ; and only one of them
have I ever seen since, an Abbe D'Ervan : and indeed if I am guilty
of any breach of duty, I did not think the reproach was to come
from you."

The bitterness of these last words was wrung from me in a moment
of wounded pride.

" How ! what mean you ?" said she impetuously. " No one has dared
to call my fidelity into question, nor speak of me, as false to those
who cherish and protect me."

You mistake my meaning," said I, sadly and slowly : then hesi-
tating how far I should dare allude to Beauvais' affection, I
stopped, when suddenly her face became deeply flushed, and a tear
started to her eye. * Alas, she loves him," said I to my heart, and a
sickness like death passed over me.

** Leave me ^leave me quickly," cried she. " T see persons watch-
ing us from the terrace :" and with that, she moved on hastily towards
the chateau, and I turned into one of the narrow walks that led into
the wood.

Two trains of thought struggled for mastery in my mind ^how had
I become suspected, how should I wipe out the stain upon my honour.

There was not an incident of my life since my landing in France
I did not call to niind ; and yet, save in the unhappy meeting with
Beauvais, I could see not the slightest probability that even malevo-
lence could attach any thing to my reputation. From D*Ervan, it is
true, I heard more than once opinions that startled me ; less, however, by
any thing direct in their meaning, than that they were totally new and
strange ; and yet, the abb6 I had every reason to believe was a friend of
the present government, at least it was evident he was on terms of
close intimacy with Monsieur Savary.

Beauvab must clear up some of these doubts for me, thought I-^

TOM BURKE OP * OURS/" felS

he must inform me more particularly as to those to whom he intro^
duced me. I shall endeavour to learn, too, something of their schemes,
and thus guard myself against the mere chances of suspicion, for
unquestionably he is not in ignorance of the movement, whatever it
be; And with such intentions I hurried onwards, eager to reach my
quarters.

As I entered my room, a low heavy sob broke on my ear ; I started
back with surprise. It was Beauvais, who sat, his head buried in hb
hands, leaning on the table.

' Ha !" said he, springing up, and passing his hand hurriedly across
bis eyes " so soon back. I scarcely expected you."

" It is past ten o'clock a full hour later than my usual return."

^ Indeed !" rejoined he, with an air of impertinent surprise. " So
then your picquets have been arresting and detaining some poor devils
gathering faggots or acorns ; or have you unfathomed the depth of
this terrible plot your pref^t of police has become insane about?"

.'Neither," said I, affecting a careless tone. " The government of the
consul is sufficiently strong to make men's minds easy on that score.
Whatever intrigues are at work, they are as little likely to escape his
kten eye$ as their perpetrators are, when taken, the fire of a grenadier
.430anpany."

^,Mai foif sir, you speak confidently," replied he, in an accent of
pride, totally different from his former tone. " And yet I have heard
of cficfBans just as confident too, who afterwards confessed they had
been mistaken. But perhaps it seems less strange to you that a sous
Heabenant of artillery should rule the destinies of France, than that
:liiel king of the country should resume the throne of bis ancestors."
. " Take care, Beauvais, with whom you speak. I warn you ; and be
OGEBured I'll not be trifled with. One word more, and I put you under
arrest.''

" Not here, surely," replied he, in a low and searching voice. " Not
hare Let us walk out into the park ^let it be in the great alley, or
on the terrace yonder ; or better still, let the capture take place in
ihe wood : but do not let your loyalty violate the hospitality of your
homer"

*t Forgive me, I pray. I knew not what I said. You tempted me
sorely, though. Think but for a moment, Beauvais, how I stand here,
and let your own heart judge me. I am an alien ^a friendless stranger.
There lives not one in all the length and breadth of France who
would raise a finger, or speak one word to save me, were my head in
periL My sword and my fidelity are all my hope : that both should
remain pure and unblemished is all my ^h. The grade I have, I
owe to him "

" Great cause for gratitude, truly,'* he broke in. " The chief eleve
of the Poly technique is made a sous-lieutenant of cavalry, with functions
of a sergeant of the gensdarmerie, with orders to stop all travellers,
and search their pockets. Shame on it ! It was not thus the rightful
sovereigns of France regarded those who wore their epaulettes not

S14 Otfft MMI.

thus did they esteem the soldier's part. Think, for a second, what yott
lare, and then reflect what you might be. Cold and unimpassioned as
you call yourself, I know your heart better. There lives not one
treasures a higher ambition in bis breast than you. Ah I your eyes
sparkle already. Think, then, I say, what a career opens before you,
if you have courage to embrace it. It's a great game that enables a
man to spripg fr^m sous? lieutenant to colonel of a regiment. Come,
Burke, I can have no reason, save your welfare, tp press these con-
siderations on you. What are you writing there ?"

*^ A report to the prefet of polioe. I see now, however late it is,
the unworthiness of the part I've acted* in remaining in a service where
I've listened to statements such as these. I shall ask to have my grade
withdrawn, and be reduced to the ranks; there, perhaps, I may be
permitted to carry a soldier's musket without a stain upon my
honour."

* You can do better, sir," interrupted he, as his face grew purple
with passion, and his eyes flashed fire ^* far better: call up your
dragoons yonder, and place me, where you threatened, under arrest i
forward your report to the minister, that Henri de Beauvais, Marquis et
Pair de France, when such things were, has been taken with the ' Croix
de St. Louis' and the cordon in his possession." Here he took iron)
his bosom the decoration, and waved it above his head. '' Add, too,
that he came prepared to tempt your loyalty with this." Hq
drew forth at the words a parchment docuipent, and dashed it on the
table before me.

* There, sir, read it ; it is the king's own hand-writing ^your brevef
of colonel to a regiment of the gardes. Such proofs of your devotion
can scarcely go unrewarded. They may raise you to the rank of
police spy. There is a lady yonder, too,, who should also share in your
elevation, as she does in your loyal sentiments Mademoiselle d^
Meudon may be too quick for you. Lose no time, sir ; such chances
as these are not the Iruit of every day. After all, I can scarcely go tQ
the guillotine under better auspices, than with my cousin and my frienti
as my betrayers. Mayhap, too, they'll do you the honour to make you
mount guard beside the scaflbld. Such an occasion to display your
devotion should not escape you. David found it profitable to calcK
the expiring agonies pf his own friends, as with easel and brush he sat
beside the guillotine. The hint should not be lost."

The insulting emphasis with which he spoke the last words cut me
to the very heart, and I stood speechless before him, trembling Uke a
criminal.

. ' Let us p^t, Beauvjais," said I, at length, as I held my hand to-
wards him. " Let us say adieu to each other, and for ever. I can
forgive all you have, said to me far better than I could myself, had I
listened to your perftuasions. What may be honourable and just in
you, would be black ingratitude and dark treachery in me. I shall
now endeavour to forget we haY ever met, and once mvare^-^go^*
lyre!"

tOM JdUilltE O^ "OURS.** 215

** You Ate right," replied he, after a pause of some seconds, and ia
a tone of great sadness. " We never should have met. Adieu !"

** One word more, Beauvais I find that I have been suspected of
some treasonable intercourse, that even here I am watched and spied
upon ; tell me, I beseech you, before you go, from what quarter comes
this danger, that L may guard against it."

" In good truth, you give me credit for quicker perceptions than I
have any right to. How so loyal a gentleman should lie under such
an imputation, I cannot even guess.'^

" Your sneers shall not provoke me. The fact is as I state it ; and
if you will not help me to the discover}', tell me, at least, who are tho
persons to whom you introduced me formerly at Beauvilliers' ?"

" Very excellent company ! I trust none of them has cheated you at
eearte. "

" Pray, have done with jesting, and answer me. Who is your
abb^r

*' Ma foil He is the AbbS D'Ervan. What part of France he
comes firom^-who are his family, friends, and resources, are all queoh
tions I have never thought proper to ask him, possibly because I am
not so scrupulous on the score of my acquaintances as you are. He is
a very clever, amusing, witty person knows almost every one has the
entrSe into every house in the Faubourg St, Germain can compose a
couplet, and sing it ^make a mayonaise or a madrigal better than any
man I know and, in fact, if he were one of these days to be a minister
of France, 1 should not be so very much surprised as you appear this
moment, at my not knowing more about him. As to the other, the
Russian secretary, or spy, if you like the phrase better, he was un-
lucky enough to have one of his couriers robbed by a party of brigands,
which,' scandal says, were sent out for the purpose by Monsieur de
Talleyrand. His secret despatches were opened and read: and as
they were found to implicate the Russian government in certain in-
trigues carrying on, the c2ar had only one course open, which was to
recall the sec. and disavow his whole proceedings the better to evince
his displeasure. I hear they have slit his nose, and sent him to pass
the winter at Tobolsk. Lastly, the -prefet what shall I say of him,
save that he was a prefet in the south, and wants to be one again. His
greatest endeavours in any cause will be to pledge its success in
Burgundy, or, if you wish, drink the downfall of its enemy ; and as to
his enthusiasm, he cares a devilish deal more for a change of weather
than a change of dynasty, particularly in the truffle season, or when
the vines are ripening. Such are the truly dangerous associates you
have kept company with. It now only remains to speak of my humble
self, whose history, I need scarcely say, is far more at your service
than worth the hearing. Are you satisfied ?"

" Quite so, as regards me ; by no means so, however, as to your
fate. Short as our intimacy has been, I have seen enough of you to
know that qualities like yours should not be wasted in a mad or
hopeless enterprise."

* Who told you it was either ?" interrupted he, impetuously, ' Who

J

216 0C7B IICSS,

dares to say, thai the f ule of a usurper is more firmly placed than th^
prestige of a monarchy, that goes back to Hugues Capet ? Come !
come ! I will not discuss these questions with you, nor have I temper
now left to do so. Give me the countersign to pass the sentry, and let
us part,"

" Not in anger, though, Beauvais."

"Not in friendship J MrJ*'* replied he, proudly, as he waved back,
with his, my proffered hand. " Adieu T' said he, in a softened tone,
as he moved from the *Voom, and then turning quickly round, he
added ' We may meet again hereafter, and scarcely can do so on equal
terms. If fortune stand by you I must be a beggar : should I win
^yours is indeed a sorry lot. When that time comes, let him with

whom the world goes best, not forget the other. Good-bye !" And

with that he turned awa}', and left the house.

I watched him as he strode along the silent alleys, careless and free
as though he had no cause for fear, till he disappeared in the dark
wood, and then I sat down at the door to think over our interview.
Never had my heart felt more depressed. My own weakness in
having ever admitted the intimacy of men whose dangerous designs
were apparent, had totally undermined the strong principle of rectitude
I should have relied upon in such a trial, and on which I could have
thrown myself for support What had I to guide me after all, save
my devotion to the cause of Bonaparte himself. The prejudices of
education the leanings of family opinion ^the inclinations of friends
exist not for the alien. He has to choose his allegiance it is not
born with him ; his loyalty is not the growth of a hundred different
sympathies, that have twined round his heart in childhood, and grown
with him to manhood, speaking of home and infancy of his own
native streams and mountains of a land that was his father's. No !
with him it is not a conviction it is but a feeling. Such was the
substance of my reverie ; and as I arose, and strolled out into tlie
park, it was with a deeply-uttered vow to be true to him and his
fortunes, whose name first lit the spark of ambition in my heart, and
through weal or woe to devote myself to him.

TOM BUH KE 0# ' 6U B S, 2 17

CHAPTER XlfiXIi u

THE "CHATEAU."

The same day that Beauvais left me, the court took its departure from
Versailles. A sudden resolution of the consul to visit the camp at
Boulogne, in which he was to be accompanied by Madame Bonaparte,
was announced as the reason for this change, while a dark rumour ran,
that some detected scheme for his assassination had induced his friends
to advise this step. Certain it was, the preparations were made \iith
the utmost speed, and in less than an hour after the despatch arrived
from Paris the court was on its way back to the capital.

It was not without a sense of sadness that I watched the equipages as
they rolled one by one from beneath the deep colonnade, and traversed
the wide terrace, to disappear in the recesses of the dark forest. I
strained my eyes to catch even a passing look at one, who to me had
made every walk and every alley a thing to love. But I could not see
her ; and the last roll of the retiring wheels died away in the distance
without one friendly voice to say adieu one smile at parting.

Though I had not participated in the festivities of the chateau, nor
even been noticed by any of the guests, the absence of its gay world,
the glitter of its brilliant cortege^ the neighing steeds in all their
bright panoply, the clank of military music, the gorgeously-dressed
ladies who strolled along its terraced walks, made the solitude that
followed appear dark and desolate indeed ; and now, as I walked the
park, whose avenues at noonday were silent as at midnight, the deser-
tion imparted a melancholy feeling to my heart I could not explain.
How often had I stopped beneath that balcony, striving to distinguish
the soft tones of one gentle voice amid the buzz of conversation ! How
had I watched the crowded promenade that every evening poured upon
the terrace, to see one figure there among the rest ! and when my eye
had fallen upon her, how has it followed and traced her as she went I
And now I frequented each spot where I had ever seen her, pacing at
sunset the very walk she used to take, dwelling on each word she ever
spoke to me. The chateau, too, of which before I had not passed the
door, I now revisited again and again, lingering in each room where I
thought she had been, and even resting on the very chairs, and calling
up before me her image as though present.

Thus passed over weeks and months. The summer glided into the
mellow autumn, and the autumn itself grew cold and chill, with greyish
skies and sighing winds that swept the leaves along the dark walks, and
moaned sadly among the tall beech trees. The still, calm waters of
the little lake, that reflected the bright foliage and the deep blue sky,

218 auA iii6a

motionless as in a mirror, was now ruffled by the passing breeze, and
surged with a low sad sound against its rocky sides ; and as I watched
these changes, I sorrowed less for the departing season, than that every
trace of her I loved was fading from before me. The bare and
skeleton branches now threw their gaunt shadows where I had seen
her walk at noondav, enveloped in deep shade. Dark, watery clouds
were hurrying act;o)& ^e surface of the stream where I had seen her
fair form mxndfSSi Th^' cold winds of coming winter swept along
the princely terrace, where not a zephyr mstlied her dress as she moved;
and somehow I could not help connecting these changes with my own
iensations, and feeling tliat a gloomy winter was approachm^ to my
0wn most cherished hopes.

Months passed over with me thus, in which, save on my round of
Auty, I never spoke to any one. lyErvau did not return as he pro-
miseda dreumstanoe which, with all my BoUtude, I siaeerely rejoiced
atr-^and of Beauvais I heard nothing ; and yet, en one account, I could
have wished much to learn where he was. Unhappily, in the excite-
ment of the numing I last saw him, he forgot on the table at my
^uart^ the commission of colonel, by whiok he had endeavoured to
tempt my ambition, and wbioh I never notieed tall several hours after
his .departure. Unwilling to destroy, and yet fearfUl of retaining it in
my possession, I knew not well what to do, and had looked it up in my
writing-pdesk, anxiously looking for an opportunity to forward it to him.
Nona such, however, presented itself, nor did 1 ever hear from him
from the hour he left mc

The unbroken solitude in which I lived disposed me to study, and I
leesumed the course which, in earlier days, hsid afforded me so much
interest and amusement ; and by this, not only was my mind drawn off
from the contemplation of the p^inM circumstances of my own loneli-
ness, but gradually my former ardour for military distinction came
back in all its force $ and thus did I learn, for the first time, how many
of the griefs that our brains beget, find their remedies in the source
jthey spring from^-^the exercise of the intellect being like that of the
body, an essential to a healthy state of thinking and feeling. Each
day imparted fresh energy to me in the path I followed ; and hi these
iiolitary hours I made those acquisitions in knowledge, wMoh in after-
life were to render me the most important services, and prepare me for
the contingencies of a, soldier^s career.

While &US engaged, time rolled over, and already the dark and
gloomy month of January set in with clouded skies and nights of ntorm
and rain. Every thing wore its most cheerless aspeot. Not only were
the trees leaflesa and bare, the roads broken up and fissured with
streamy of water, but the neglected look of the chateau itself bespoke
the sad and gloomy season. The dosed shutt^ars, the olosely-barred
doors, the statues covered up with mats to proteot them from the
weather, the conservatories despoiled of all their gay habitants, betrayed
that the time was past when, in the warm air of sunset, haf^y groups
wandered hither and thither, inhaling the rioh odours of the fiowerSi
mid gaxing on the brilliaiit laadsoitpe. . .

ii9

It was about nine o'dock at night. The storm that usually began each
evening at the same hour ^as already stirring in fitful gusts among
the bare branches of the trees, or sending a sudden plash of rain
against the windows ; when as I drew closer to my fire, and was pre-
paring to enjoy myself for the evening over my book^ I heard the
regular trampinff sound of a cavalry horse .^PP^gg.s'^AOg along the
terrace the jingle of the accoutrements was ^^^]^^hJi^9^% J^oi mis-
take. I arose, but before I reached the ,4oMTT^ ^ISoifliff^*^ voice
call out " The sous-lieutenant Burke a diespatifsh ^^Sffl^jfirA?*

I took the pi^er, which was seale4 and folded, j^ yi9 mo9t forma}
manner, and jreturning to the room opened it, 1^ he contents r^n
thus :

Sous-lieutenant On receipt of this you ar commanded Uk
station four dragoons oi your party, with a corporal, on Iba road
leading from Chaillot tq Varsaill^, who shall detain all persons
passing that way, unable to account satisfactorily for their presence.
You will also station a piequet of two dragoons at the eross-road
from the Tron to St. Cloud for the like purpose. The remainder el
your party to be under arms during the night, and, if requisite* at the
disposal of Captain Lepelletier. For the exeeution of whieh the
present order will be your responsibility.

(Signed) Sawamx,

Cotoaol ds QeaOaiSMris d* fiUlt*

Givea at th Toilsries, January 14, 1804.'*

So, thought I, there is then something astir after all. These precautions
eU indicate minute and accurate information ; and ngw to perform my
part Just at that instant I perceived at my feet a small note, which
apparently had fallen from the envelope as 1 opened it I took it up'.
It was addressed" Sous-lieutenant Burke," with the words " in haste''
written in the corner. Tearing it open at once I read the following :-^

"All is discovered Pichegru arrested Moreau at the Templq.
A party have left this to capture the others at the Chateau d'Ancre ;
they cannot be there before midnight : you may then yet be in time
\o save H. de B. who is among them, jsot an instant must be lost."

There was no signature to this strange epistle, but I knew at once
from whom it came. Marie alone could venture on such a step to
save her lover. My own determination was taken at once ; should my
head be on it, I'd do her bidding. While I sent for the sergeant to
give him the orders of the colonel, I directed my servant to bring
round my horse to the door as lightly equipped as possible, and save
the holgters, nothing of his usual accoutrements. Meanwhile I pre-
pared myself for the road by loading my pistols and fastening on my
swgrd; the commission, too, which Ue Beauvais left behind, 1 did not
forjjet; l)ut taking it from my desk; I placed it safely in my bosom i

i

.^26 oult iiKdd*

nor was the brief billet omitted, which having read and re-read, I
placed in tlie lining of my cap for safety. One difficulty still pre-
sented itself where was the chateau, and how in the darkness of a
winter's night should I find it. I just then remembered that my troop
sergeant, a sharp intelligent fellow, had been for some weeks past
engaged in procuring forage about the neighbourhood for several
miles round. I sent for him at once and asked him if he knew it.

"Yes, lieutenant, perfectly. It was an old seigneurie once; and
though much dismantled, has a look of respectability still about it.
Tve often been there to buy corn ; but the gruff old farmer, they say,
hates the military, and it's not easy to get him to deal with us at all."

" What's the distance from here ?**

*' Two leagues and a half, almost three indeed you may count
it as much, the road is so bad.**

" Now then for the way describe it ^be brief as you can.**

" You know the cross on the high road beyond Ypres."

"I do. Proceed."

Passing the cross and the little shrine, go forward for a mile
or something more, till you come to a small cabaret on the road side, at
the end of which you 11 find a * chemin de traverse^ a clay road, which
will lead you up the fields about half a league, to a large pond, where
they water the cattle, cross this and continue till you see the lights of
a village to your left ; the barking of the dogs will guide you if the
lights be out ; don't enter the village, but go on till you meet an old
gateway covered with ivy, enter. there, and you are in the avenue of the
chateau ; the high road is full five leagues about, but you'll easily find
this way. There's a mastiff there you should be on your guard against,
though you must not fire on him either ; they were going to tsdke my
life once, that I half drew a pistol from my holster against him^
and I heard one of the fellows say to another, that monseigneur's dog
was well worth a * hUvi! any day, whatever he meant by that."

Very few minutes sufiiced to give my orders respecting the picquet, and
I was in my saddle and ready for the road ; and although my departure
excited no surprise among my men, coupled as it was with the orders
I had just given, I overheard the troop sergeant mutter to another
as I passed out " Parhleu^ I always suspected there was something
wrong about that old chateau yonder come what weather it would,
they'd never let you take shelter within the walls of it."

The night was so dark, that when I turned into the road I could
not even distinguish my horse's head ; heavy drifts of rain, too, went
sweeping along, and the wind roared through the forest with a noise
like the sea in a storm.

I now put spurs to my horse, and the animal fresh from long pam-
pering, sprang forward madly, and dashed onward. The very beating
of the rain, the adverse wind, seemed to chafe his spirit, and excite his
courage. With head bent down, and hands firmly grasping the reins,
I rode on, till the faint glimmering of a light caught my eye at a
distance. A few miles brought me beside it. It was a little candle
that burned in the shrine above the image of the Virgin. Some piou8|

tdii Btmiue ot " OURS." 221

liut titiiiiBie hand had placed it there, regardless of the rain and storm ;
Slba there it now was burning secure from the rude assaults of the
harsh night, and throwing its yellow light on the few cheap trinkets
which village devotion had consecrated to the beloved saint. As I
looked at the little altar, I thought of the perilous enterprise I was
engaged in. I could have wished my heart to have yielded to the
influence of a superstition, which for every moment of life seems to
have its own apt consolation and succour. For, Ivhen ks way-worn
travellers Refresh their parched lips at some road-side well, and bless
the charity that carved the little basin in the rock so, .followers of
this faith have ever and anon before their eyes some m^^erta/ evidences
of their church's benevolence now arming them against the sorrows
of the world ^now rendering them grateful for benefits received now
taxing their selfishness by sacrifices which elevate them in their own
esteem now comforting them by examples which make them proud
of their afflictions. It is this direct appeal from the human heart to the
hourly consolations of religion, that forms the great stronghold of
belief in Catholic countries.

These thoughts were passing through my mind long after I left the
little shrine behind me. So, said I, here must be the cabaret the
sergeant spoke of, as I heard the sound of a voice issuing from a small
house on the road side. For a second or two I hesitated whether I
should not dismount, and ask the way ; but a moment's consideration
satisfied me it were better to risk nothing by delay ; and cautiously
advancing, I heard by the sound of my horse's feet that we had left
the high road, and were now on the clay path I looked for.

Again I dashed onward at a gallop, my powerful horse splashing
through the deep ground,' or striding boldly across the heavy furrows:
now breasting some steep and rugged ascent, where the torn-up way
gave passage to a swollen rivulet; now plunging down into some
valley, where the darkness seemed thicker and more impenetrable still.
At last I could see, far down beneath me, the twinkling light of the
village, and began to deliberate with myself at what point I should
turn off leftwards. Each moment the path seemed to lead me in the
direction of the light, while I felt that my road led onwards straight.
I drew my rein to deliberate what course I should take, when directly
in front ef me I thought I could detect the clank of a sabre flapping
against the flank of a horse. I lowered my head on a level with my
horse's mane, and could now distinctly hear the sound I suspected, and
more stiU, the deep tones of a soldier's voice interrogating some one,
who, by the patois of his answer, I guessed to be a peasant.

^' You are certain, then, we have not come wrong ?** said the
horseman.

* Ahl I know the way too well for that ^travelling it daylight and
dark since I was a boy. I was born in the village below. We shaH
soon reach the little wooden bridge, and then, turning to the left
beside Martin Guichard's ^"

"What care I for all that?* interrupted the other, roughly. *?Hoir
far are we now from the chateau ? Is it still a league ofi?'^

MS Cmi MSMU

ParhUtt /No ! nor the half of it. When you rise the hfll y onderi
yoQ*ll see a light ; they always have one burning in the tourdle there
and that's the chateau.''

Thank heaven for that,*' mattered I ; ' and now only let me pase
them, and all's safe." The figures before me, whom I could now diinly
trace in the darkness, were descending step by step a rugged and narrow
path, where a tall hedge formed a wall on either side. To get before
them here, therefore, was out of the question ; my only chance was by
a detour through the fields to come down upon the village, and, if
possible, gain the bridge he spoke of before them. Quick as the
thought, I turned from the deep road to the still deeper earth of the
ploughed field beside it. My horse-^-^a strong and powerful Normau'^-*
needed but the slightest movement of the hand to plunge hotly on*
My eyes bent upon the twinkle of the few lights that stiU marked the
little hamlet, I rode fearlessly forward : now tearing madly through
some low ozier fence ^now slipping in the wet and plashy soil, where
each stride threatened to bring us both to the earth. The descent
became soon almost precipitous ; but the deep ground gave a footing,
and I never slackened iny speed. At length, with a crashing sound
I found that we had burst the little enclosure of some village garden,
and could dimly trace the outline of a cottage at some ^stance in
front. Dismounting now, I felt my way cautiously for the path that
usually conducts at the end of the cabin to the garden : this I sooa
made out, and the next minute was in the street Happily, the storm,
which raged still as violently as before, suffered no one to be without
doors; and save the rare glimmer of a b'ght all was sunk im
darknessi

I walked on beside my horse for some nunntes, and at last I heard
the rushing sotmd of a sn^oUen river, as it tore along in its narrow bed $
end ai^voaching step by step discovered the little bridge, whieli
simply consisted of two planks, unprotected by any railing at either
side. With a little difficulty I succeeded in leading my horse across,
and was just about to mount, when the sound of the trooper's voice
^m the village street again reached me.

A sudden thought flashed through my mind. -aeh moment might
DOW be precious : and stooping down, I lifted the end of the plank,
And 9ent it with a crash into the stream ; the other soon followed it ;
l^nd before 1 was in my saddle again the torrent was carrying them
along amid the rocks of the stream.

. * Here is a misfortune," cried the peasant, in a tone of misery
' the bridge has been carried away by the flood."

" T^nnerre ds del I and is their no other way across," said the
dragoon, in a voice of passion.

I waited not to hear more, but giving the spur to my horse, dashed
up the steep bank, and the next moment saw the light of the chateau,
for such I guessed to be a bright star that twinkled at a distance.
Speed now will do it, said I, and put my strong Norman to his ut-
most. The wind tore past me scarce faster than I went, while the
beating rain came round me* The footway soon altered, and I feutti

i

^ / L^^^f/ys^r/ rr- ^Y^i.

$24 OUR MEM.

, I did not dare to take the merit of an act I had no daim to, still
less to speak of her for whose sake I risked my life, and leaned on him
without speaking, as he led me within the porch

" Sit down here for a moment ^but one moment," said he, m a whis-
per, " and I'll return to you."

I sat down upon a bench, and looked about me. The place had all
the evidence of being one of consequence in former days : the walls,
wainscotted in dark walnut wood, were adorned with grotesque carv-
ings of hunting scenes and instruments of ^* venerie ;" the ceiling, in the
same taste, displayed trophies of weapons, intermingled with different
emblems of the " chasse," while in the centre, and enclosed within a
garter, were the royal arms of the Bourbons : the gilding that once
shone on them was tarnished and faded ; the^eur de lysy too, were
broken and dilapidated, while but a stray letter of the proud motto
remained, as if not willing to survive the downfall of those on whom
it was now less a boast than a sarcasm. As I sat thus, the wide hall
was gradually filled with men, whose anxious and excited faces be-
tokened the fears my presence had excited, while not one ventured to
speak or address a word to me. Most of them were armed with
cutlasses, and some carried pistols in belts round their waists ; while
others had rude pikes, whose coarse fashion betokened the handiwork
of a village-smith. They stood in a semicircle round me ; and while
their eyes were rivetted upon me with an expression of most piercing
interest, not a syllable was spoken. Suddenly a door was openea
at the end of a corridor, and Beauvais called out

" This way, Burke come this wav.**

\

TOM BXmKE OF " OUBS." 225

CHAPTER XXXIL

" THE CHATEAU D*ANCRE."

Before I had time to collect myself I was hurried on by Beauvals
into a room, when, the moment I had entered, the door was closed
and locked behind me. By the light of a coarse and rudely-formed
chandelier that occupied the middle of a table, 1 saw a party of
near a dozen persons who sat around it the head of the board being
filled by one, whose singular appearance attracted all my attention.
He was a man of enormous breadth of chest and shoulders, with a
lofty massive head, on either side of which a quantity of red hair fell
in profusion ; a beard of the same colour descended far on his bosom,
which, with his overhanging eyebrows, imparted a most savage and
ferocious expression to features, which of themselves were harsh
and repulsive. Though he wore a blouse in peasant fashion, it was
easy to see that he was not of the lower walk of society. Across his
brawny chest a broad belt of black leather passed, to support a strong
straight sword, the heavy hilt of which peeped above the arm of his
chair. A pair of handsomely-mounted pistols lay before him on the
table.; and the carved handle of a poniard could be seen projecting
slightly from the breast-pocket of his vest. Of the rest who were
about him, I had but time to perceive that they were peasants ^but
all well armed, and most of them wearing a knot of white ribbon at
the breast of their blouses.

Every eye was turned towards me, as I stood at the foot of the
table astonished and speechless ^while De Beauvais quitting my arnr
hastened to the large man's side, and whispered some words in hifc
ear. He rose slowly from his chair, and in a moment each face was
turned to him. Speaking in a deep guttural tone, he addressed them
for sonaie minutes in a patois of which I was totally ignorafit every
word he uttered seemed to stir their very hearts, if I were to judge
from the short and heavy respiration the deep-drawn breath the
flushed faces and staring eyes around me. More than once, some
allusion seemed made to me at least, they turned simultaneously to
look at me : once, too, at something he said, each man carried his
hand round to his sword-hilt, but dropped it again, listlessly, * as he
continued. The discourse over, the door was unlocked, and one by
one they left the room, each man saluting the speaker with a reverence
as he passed out. De Beauvais closed the door, and barred it, as the
last man disappeared, and then turning hastily rounds called out :

"What now?"

The large man bent his head down between his hands, and spoke
not in reply ^then suddenly springing up, he said

MESS, wo. XXI. VOL. II. Q

230: ovM w&sfu

" Take my horse, he is fresh, and ready for the road, and make for
Quille-boBof : the ford at Montgorge will be swollen ^but he'll take the
stream for you ; at the farmer's house, that looks over the river, you
can stop."

" I know it, I know it," said Beauvais ; " but what of you, are you
to remain behind ?"

" I'll go with him," said he, pointing towards me. * As his com- -^
panion, I can reach the Bois de Boulogne ^in any case^ as his prisoner
once there, you may trust me for the rest.*'

De Beauvais l6oked at me for a reply I hesitated what to say,
and at last said: "For your sake, Henri de Beauvais, and yours only,
have I ventured on a step, ^hich may, in all likelihood, be my ruin.
% neither know, nor wish to know, your plans--nor will I associate
myself with any one, be lie who he may, in your enterprise.*'

"Jacques 'usserend, the tanner," continued the large man, as if
not hee^g nor caring for my interruption, " wiM warn Armand do
Folignac of what has happened ^and Charies de la Reviire had better
remain near Biville f^ the English cutter she'll lie off the coast
to-morrow or next day. Away lose not a moment."

"And my dear friend here," said Beauvais, turning to me, ^who
has risked his very life to rescue me, shall i leave him thus P"

" Can you save him by remaining ?" said the other, as he coolly
examined the priming of Ms pistols* " We shall all escape, if you but
be quick/'

A look from Beauvais jdrew me towards him, when be threw his
arms around my neck, and in a low broken voice, muttered ^ When
I tell you, that a]l I lived for, exists to me no longer ^the love I
aought, refused m^ my dearest ambition thwarted ^you will not think
that a selfish 4esire for life prompts me now ; but a solemn oath, to
obey the slightest command of that man, sworn before my sovereign,
lifk6 ;ne, and I musi; nt break it."
*' Away, away, I hear voices at the gate below," cried the ether.
" Adieu ! adieu for ever," said Beauvais, as he kissed my cheek, and
sprang through a woiall doorway in the wainsco^ wliich dosed after
luxn as he went*

" Now, for our movements," said the large man, unhooking a cloak
that hmg against the wall. " You must tie my hands with this cord, in
such a w^j, that although seemingly secure, I can free myself at a
moment place me on a horse, a fast one too, beside you and order
your troopers to ride in front and rear of us. When we readi the
Ibois de Boulogne, leave the all6e de Chasseurs, and turn towards St.
Cloud* . Tonnere de del, they're firing yonder!^* An irregular dis-
charge of small arms, followed by a wild cheer, rung out above the
sound of the torm* "Again, did you hear that? there are the car-
bines of cavalry I know their ring. Accursed dogs, that would not
do my bidding," oried he, stamping with passion on the ground, while
throwing off his blouse, he stuck his pistols in a belt around his waist,
A&d prepared &r mortal combat Meanwhile, pistol shots mingled with
savage shouts and wild hurras, were heard approaching nearer and

TOM BUBKB OP "0UB8." 227

nearer* and at length a loud knocking at the front door, mih a cry of
^* they're here ^they're here."

The large man, now fully armed, and with his drawn sword in his
hand, unlocked the door. The passage without was full of armed
peasants, silent and watchful for his commands. A few words in the
former patois seemed sufficient to convey them, and their answer was
a cheer that made the walls ring.

The chief moved rapidly from place to place through the crowds,
who, at his bidding, broke into parties ^some of them occupied door-
ways which enfiladed the hall others knelt down, to suffer some to
fire above their heads 'here were two posted, armed with hatchets, at
the very entrance itself and six of the most determined-lookiug were
. to dispute the passage with their muskets. Such was the disposition
of the force, when suddenly the light was extinguished, and all left in
utter darkness the deep breathing of their anxious breasts alone
marked their presence ^when, without door, the sounds of strife gra*-
dually died away, and the storm alone was heard*

As for me, I leaned against a doorway, my arms folded on my
bosom, my head sunk while I prayed for death, the only exit I could
see to my dishonour.

There was a terrible pause the very hurricane seemed to abate iis
violence, and only the heavy rain was heard as it fell in torrents
when, with a loud crash, the door in front was burst open, and fell
with a bang upon the fioor not a word from those within, not a motion
betrayed their presence, while the whispered tones of a party without
showed that the enemy was there. ^^ Bring up the torches quickly here,"
called out a voice like that of an officer ; and as he spoke, the red
flare of lighted pine branches was seen moving through the misty
atmosphere. The light fell upon a strong party of dismounted dra-
goons and gendarmerie, who, carbine in hand, stood waiting for the
word to dash forward. The officer, whose figure I could distinguish
as he moved along the front of his men, appeared to hesitate, and for
a few seconds all stood motionless. At length, as if having resolved
on his plan, he approached the doorway, a pine torch in his hand
another step, and the light must have disclosed the dense array of
armed peasants that stood and knelt around the hall when a deep,
low voice within uttered the one word " now :" and quick, as if by his
breath the powder had been ignited, a volley rang out, pattering
like hail on the steel breast-plates, and through the branches of. the
trees a mingled shout of rage and agony rose from those without,
and without- waiting for a command they rushed onward. The pea-
sants, who had not time to re-load their pieces, clubbed them in their
strong hands, and laid wildly about them. The fight was now hand to
hand ^for, narrow as was the doorway, some three or four dragoons
pressed every moment in, and gradually the hall became a dense mass
of indiscriminate combatants. The large man fought like one possessed,
and cleft his way towards the entrance with a long straight dagg^, as
if regardless of friends or foes. " A mot ! a moi /" cried a tall and
powerful man, as he sprang at his throat, this is he f the wiords

I

"^

228 OITB MESS.

were his last, as, stabbed to the very heart, he sprang backward in his
death agony but at the moment, a perfect shower of ballets rattled
around the large man, one of which alone took effect in his shoulder.
Still he strove onwards, and at last, with a spring like a savage tiger,
he lowered his head, and bounded clean out into the court. Scarcely,
however, had his foot touched the wet grass, when he slipped forward,
and fell heavily on his back. A dozen swords flashed above him as he
lay, and only by the most immense efforts of the officer, was he spared
death in a hundred woxmds. The defeat of their leader seemed to
subdue all the daring courage of his party : the few who were able to
escape, dashed hither and thither, through passages and doorways they
were well acquainted with ; while the flagged floor was bathed in blood
from the rest, as they lay in mangled and frightful forms, dead and
dying on every side.

Like one in some dreadful dream, I stood spectator of this savage
strife, wishing that some stray bullet had found my heart, yet ashamed
to die with sucl^. a stain upon my honom*. I crossed my arms before
my breast, and waited for my doom: Two gendarmes passed quickly
to and fro with torches, examining the faces and lopks of those who
were still likely to live, when suddenly one of them cried out, as he
stood before me ,

" What's this ? An officer of hussars here !"

The exclamation brought an officer to the spot, who, holding a
lantern to my face, said quickly

" How is this, sir ? how came you here ?

" Here is my sword, sir," said I, drawing it from the scabbard. " I
place myself under arrest. . In another place, and to other judges, I
must explain my conduct."

" Parbleu ! Jacques," said the officer, addressing another who sat,
while his wounds were being bound up, on a chair near, " this affair
is worse than we thought of. Here's one of the "huitieme^' in the thick
of it."

" I hope, sir," said I, addressing the young man, whose arm was
bleeding profusely from a sabre wound " I hope, sir, your wound may
not be of consequence."

He looked up suddenly, and, while a smile of the most insulting
sarcasm curled his bloodless lip, answered

" I thank you, sir, for your sympathy ; but you must forgive me if,
one of those days, I cannot bandy consolations with you."

" You are right, lieutenant," said a dragoon, who lay bleeding from a
dreadful cut in the forehead. " I'd not exchange places with him
myself this minute for all his epaulettes."

With an overwhelming sense of my own degraded position, when to
such taunts as these I dared not reply, I stood mute and confounded.
Meantime the soldiers were engaged in collecting together the scattered
weapons, fastening the wrists of the prisoners with cords, and ransacking
the house for such proofs of the conspiracy as might criminate others
at a distance. By the time these operations were concluded, the day
began to break, and I could distinguish in the court-yard severaHarge

'-^(^t/cc^le^ ^Me^' J^a^-4^^t^.

^

4

TOM BURK Ot *' OURS.^ 229

covered carU or eharretiea destined to convey the prisoners. One of
these was given up entirely to the chief, who, although only slightly
wounded, would never assist himself in the least, but lay a heavy inert
mass, suffering the others to lift him and place him in the cart. Such
as were too badly wounded to be moved were placed in a room in the
chateau, a guard being left over them.

A sergeant of the gendarmerie now approached me as I stood, and
commenced, without a word, to examine me for any papers or docu-
ments that might be concealed about my person.

" You are in error," said I quietly. " I have nothing of what you
suspect."

" Do you call this nothing ?" interrupted he triumphantly, as he drew
forth the parchment commission I had placed in my bosom, and forgot
to restore to Beauvais. " Parbleu ! you'd have had a better memory
had your plans succeeded."

Give it here," said an ofEcer, as he saw the sergeant devouring the
document with his eyes. " Ah T' cried he, starting, " he was playing
a high stake, too. Let him be closely secured."

While the orders of the officer were being followed up, the various
prisoners were secured in the carts, mounted dragoons stationed at
either side, their carbines held unslung in their hands. At last my
turn came, and I was ordered to mount into a charrette with two
gendarmes, whose orders respecting any effort at escape on my part
were pretty clearly indicated by the position of two pistols carried at
either side of me.

A day of heavy, unremitting rain, without any wind or storm, suc-
ceeded to the night of tempest. Dark inky clouds lay motionless near
the earth, whose surface became blacker by the shadow. A weighty
and louring atmosphere added to the gloom I felt; and neither in
my heart within, nor in the world without, could I find one solitary
consolation.

At first I dreaded lest my companions should address me : a single
question would have wrung my very soul ; but happily they maintained
a rigid silence nor did they even speak to each other during the
entire journey. At noon we halted at a small road-side cabaret^ where
refreshments were provided, and relays of horses in waiting, and again
set out on our way. The day was declining when we reached the Bois
de Boulogne, and entered the long avenue that leads to the Barriere de
TEtoile. The heavy wheels moved noiselessly over the even turf; and,
save the jingle of the troopers' equipments, all was hushed. For above
an hour we had proceeded thus, when a loud shout in front, followed
by a pistol shot, and then three or four others quickly after it, halted the
party ; and I c ould mark through the uncertain light the mounted
figures dashing wildly here and there, and plunging into the thickest of
the wood.

" Look to the prisoners !" cried an officer, as he galloped down the
line ; and at the word every man seized his carbine, and held himself
on the alert. Meanwhile the whole cavalcade was halted, and I could
^e that something of consequence had occurred in front, though of

230 OUB MESS.

what nature I could not even guess. At last a sergeant of the gen-
darmes rode op to our side splashed and heated.

" Has he escaped ?" cried one of the men beside me.

" Yes !" said he, with an oath, " the brigand has got away, though
how he cut the cords on his wrists, or by what means he sprung from
the charrette to the road, the devil must answer. Ha ! there they are
firing away after him. The only use of their powder is to show the
fellow where they are."

"I would not change places with our captain this evening,'' cried one
of the gendarmerie. " Returning to Paris without the red beard **

" Ma foi ! you're not wrong there. It will be a heavy reckoning
for him with dark Savary ; and as to taking a Breton in a wood "

The word to march interrupted the colloquy, and again w'e moved
forward.

By some strange sympathy I cannot account for, I felt glad that
the chief had made his escape. The gallantry of his defence,
the implicit obedience yielded him by the others, had succeeded in
establishing an interest for him in my mind ; and the very last act of
daring courage, by which he effected his liberty, increased the feeling.
By what an easy transition, too, do we come to feel for those whose fate
has any similarity with our own. The very circumstance of common
misfortune is a binding link ; and thus I was not without an anxious
hope that the chief might succeed in his escape, though, had I kno^vai
his intrigue or his intentions, such interest had scarcely found a place
in my heart.

Such reflections as these led me to think how great must be the
charm to the human mind of overcoming difficulty or confronting danger,
when even for those of whom we know nothing, we can feel, and feel
warmly, when they stand before us in such a light as this. Heroism
and bravery appeal to every nature ; and bad must be the cause in
which they are exerted, before we can venture to think ill of those who
possess them.

The lamps were beginning to be lighted as we reached the Barriere,
and halted to permit the officer of the party to make his report of who
we were. The formality soon finished, we defiled along the Boule-
vard, followed by a crowd that, increasing each moment, at last occu-
pied the entire road, and made our progress slow and difficult. While
the curiosity of the people to catch sight of the prisoners demanded all
the vigilance of the guards to prevent, a sad and most appalling still-
ness pervaded the whole multitude, and I could hear a murmur as they
went, that it was Generals Moreau and Pichegru who were taken. At
length we halted, and I could see that the foremost charrette was
entering a low archway, over which a massive portcullis hung. The
gloomy shadow of a dark vast mass, that rose against the inky sky,
loured above the wall, and somehow seemed to me as if well known.

" This is the * Temple,' " said I to the gendarme on my right

A nod was the reply, and a half expressive look that seemed to say,
** In that word you have said yoiu" destiny."

About two years previous to the time I now speak of^ I remember

I

TOM BUMfi O* *0UR8.** .53ft

one evening, when retorning from a solitary walk along the Boulevard,
stopping in front of a tall and weather-beaten tower, the walls black with
age, and pierced here and there with narrow windows, across which
strong iron stanchions ran transversely. A gloomy fosse, crossed by a
narrow drawbridge, surrounded the external wall of this dreary build-
ing, which needed no superstition to invest it with a character of crime
and misfortune. Tliis wa&the Temple, the ancient castle of the knights
whose cruelties were written in the dark oubliettes and the noisome dun-
geons of that dread abode. A teorrace. ran along the tower on three
sides. There, for hours long, walked in sadness and in sorrow the
last of France's kings, Louis XYI., his ehildren at his sider In that
dark turret the dauphin suffered deaths At the low casement yonder^
Madame Royale sat hour by hour,, the stone on which she leaned wet
with her tears. The place was one of gloomy and sinister repute : the
neighbourhood spoke of the hesvy roll of carriages that passed the
drawbridge at the dead of nighty of strange sounds and cries, of secret
executions, and even of tortures that were inflicted there. Of these
dreadful missions a corps called the '* gendarmes d^eHte" were vul-
garly supposed the chosen executors,, and their savage looks and
repulsive exterior gave credibility to the surmise, while some affirmed
that the Mameluke guard the oonsul had brought back with him froAi
Egypty had no other fGnctkntli8D: the murder of the prisoners confined
there.

Little thought I then,, that in a few brief months I should pasift
beneath that black portcidlis a prisons. Little did I anticipate, as I
wended my homeward way^ my heart heavy and my step slow, that the
day was to come when, in my own perso% 1 was to feel the s6rr6wt
over which I then wept for others.

232 otTR Mfisa.

CHAPTER XXXni.

THE " TEMPLE.

This was the second morning of my life which opened in the narrow eel
of a prison ; and when I awoke and looked upon the bare, bleak walls,
the barred window, the strongly-bolted door, I thought of the time
when, as a boy, I slept within the walls of Newgate. The same sad
sounds were now about me ; the measured tread of sentinels ; the
tramp of patrols ; the cavernous clank of door-closing, and the grating
noise of locking and unlocking heavy gates, and then that dreary
silence more depressing than all, how they came back upon me now,
seeming to wipe out all space, and bring me to the hours of my boy-
hood's trials. Y^ what were they to this ? what were the dangers I
then incurred to the inevitable ruin now before me ? True I knew
neither the conspirators nor th^ir c^me ; but who would believe it ?
How came I among them ? Dare I tell it, and betray her whose
honour was dearer to me than my life? Yet St was hard to face death
in such a cause ; no sense of high though unsuccessful daring to sup-
port me ; no stronglyHroosed passion to warm my blood, and teach me
bravely to endure a tarnished name. Disgrace and dishonour were all
my portion, in that land, too, where I once hoped to win fame and
glory, and make for myself a reputation among the first and greatest.
The deep roll of a drum, followed by the harsh turning of keys in the
locks along the corridor interrupted my sad musings ; and the next
minute my door was unbolted, and an official, dressed in the uniform
of the prison, presented himself before me.

^' Ah ! monsieur, awake and dressed already T said he in a gay and
smiling tone, for which the place had not prent&red me. ^ At eight
we breakfast here ; at nine you are free to promenade in the garden
or on the terrace, at least all who are not en secrets and I have to
felicitate monsieur on that pleasure."

" How then ; I am not a prisoner ?"

" Yes, parhleu I you are a prisoner, but not under such heavy im-
putation as to be confined apart. All in this quarter enjoy a fair share
of liberty : live together ; walk, chat, read the papers ; and have an easy
time of it : but you shall judge for yourself. Come along with me."

In a strange state of mingled hope and fear I followed the gaoler
along the corridor, and across a paved court-yard into a low hall, where
basins and other requisites for a prison 'toilet were arranged around
the walls. Passing through this we ascended a narrow stair, and
finally entered a large, well-lighted room, along which a table, plenti-
fully but plainly provided, extended the entire length. The apartment

\

n

*

.iil

.. ; *i

.0 --

-^^ai

Vv. *

TOM BUSKS OF "OUBS." 233

^as crowded with persons of evyy age and apparently every condition,
all conversing noisily and eagerly together, and evidencing as little
seeming restraint as though within the walls of a cafi.

Seated at table, I could not help feeling amused at the strange
medley of rank and country about me. Here were old militaires
with bushy beards and moustachios side by side with ruddy-faced
peasants, whose long, yellow locks bespoke them of Norman blood ;
hard, weather-beaten sailors from the coast of Bretagne, talking fami-
liarly with venerable seigneurs in all the pomp of powder and a queue ;
priests, with shaven crowns ; young fellows, whose easy looks of un-
abashed effrontery betrayed the careless Parisian : all were mingled
up together, and yet not one among the number did I see whose ap-
pearance denoted sorrow for his condition or anxiety for his fate.

The various circumstances of their imprisonment, the imputation
they lay under, the acts of which they were accused, formed the topics
of conversation in common with the gossip of the town, the news of
the theatres, and the movements in political life. Never was there a
society with less restraint : each man knew his neighbour's history too
well to make concealment of any value^ and frankness seemed the
order of the day. .While I was initiating myself into so much of the
habit of the place, a large, fat, florid personage^ who sat at the head
of the table, called out to me for my name.

V The governor desires to have your name and rank for his list,*'
said my neighbour at the right hand.

Having given the required information, I could not help expressing
my surprise how, in the presence of the governor ef the prison, they
ventur^d to speak so freely.

*^ Ha T' said the person I addressed, " he is not the governor of the
Temple ; thaf s merely a title we have given him among ourselves. The
office is held always by the oldest detenu. Now he has been here ten
months, and succeeded to the throne about a fortnight since. The abb^
yonder, with the silk scarf round liis waist, will be his successor in a
few days."

'^ Indeed ! Then he will be at liberty so soon. I thought he seemed
N in excellent spirits."

Not much, perhaps, on that score," replied he. ^ His sentence is
hard labour for life at the Bagnes de Toulon."

I started back with horror, and could not utter a word.

" The abb^" continued my informant, " would be right happy to
,take his sentence. -But the governor is speaking to you."

*' Monsieur le sdbs-lieutenant," said the governor in a deep, solemn
accent, " I have the honour to salute you, and bid you welcome to the
Temple ii^ the name of my respectable and valued friends here about
me. We rejoice to possess one of your cloth amongst us. The last
was, if I remember aright, the Captain De Lornie, who boasted he could
hit the consul at sixty paces with a pistol bullet."

^ Pardieuy governor," said a handsome man in a braided frock, ^' we
had Ducaisne since."

So we had, cooEimandant," said the governor bowing politelyi

I

234 Ot

^and A very pleasdiit fellow he was; but 1m oidf stj^pped oat sii^
here."

" A single night ! I rememt^ it weH," graotfiicl out s tfakk-lippe^
rosy-faced little fdlow near the bottom of the table. *^ YovHl vmet
him^soon, governor ; M at Tolon. Pray preseot my respects^-.^^

^'A fine, a fine,'* shouted out a doz^ vcnees in a- breath.

** I deny it, I deny it," replied the roey-^faced maii, rising from his
chair. I appeal to the gov^nor if I am not invoeent. i ask him if
there were any thing whieh conld possibly oflfend his feelings in my
aUnsion to Toulon ; whither for the benefit of bis preeioiuB faei^th 1m
is about to repair.**

^' Yes^" replied the governor eoleBm^y, ^you are fined tfar^franos*
I always pr^erred Brest. ToaIo& is not to my taste."

** Pay, pay," cried out the others^ while a pewter dish, ob which some
twenty pieces of money were lying, was passed down the table.

" And to resume," said the governor turning towards me : " the se*
cretary will wait on you after ^eakfast to receive the fees of initiation^
and such information as you desire to afford him for your coming
amongst us, both being perfectly discretionary wkh you. He who
desires the privilege of our amiable te-miiou soon leaina the conditiofn
on which to obtain it. The enjoyments of our exist^ice here are cheap
at any price. Le P^re lyOiigny yonder will tell yoa life is shorts
very few here are likely to dispute the assertion ; and perhaps
the Abb^ Thomas may give you a strong hint how to make the
best of it."

** Parbleuy governor, yoa forget the Pere left ua this morning. ~

True, true ; how my memory is failing me. The dear abM did
leave us, sure enough."

" Where for ?" said I in a whisper.

*^ La Plaine de Grenelle," said the person beside nw in a low tone^
" He was guillotined at five o'clock."

A sick shudder ran through me ; and though the govmior eonthmed
his oration, I heard not a word he spoke, nor could I arouse mysetf
from the stupor until the cheers of the party at the conclusion of the
harangue awoke me.

*' The morning looks fine enough for a walk/' said the man Jbe^ide
me. " Wihat say you to the gardens ?"

I followed him without speaking across the court, and down a flight
of stone steps into a large, open space planted tastefully wHh trees,
and, adorned by a beautiful fountain. Various walks and alleys trai^
versed the garden in every direction, along which parties were to be
fieen walking; some laughing; some reading aloud the morning
pa2)ers; but all engaged, and, to all seeming, pleasantly. Yet did
their reckless imiifference to life, their horrible careleswiess of each
other's fate, seem to me far more dreadful than any expression of sorrow,
however painful, and I shrunk from them as though the eontaminatioti
of their society might impart that terrible state of unfeeling apdthy
they were given up to. Even guilt itself had seemed less repulsive
than thift shocking and unnatural recklessness. Pondering thud, I

TOM BtmBTfi' Ot " OURS." 235

harried from the crowded path, and sought a lonely, unfrequented walk
which led along the wall of the garden. I had not proceeded far when
the low, but solemn notes of church music struck on my ear. I has-
tened forward and soon perceived through the branches of a beech
hedge a party of some sixteen or eighteen persons kneeling on the
grass, their hands lifted as if in prayer, while they joined in a psalm
tune, one of those simple but touching airs which the peasantry of the
south are so attached to. Their oval faces, bronzed with the sun ;
their long, flowing hair divided on the head, and falling loose on either
shoulder ; their dark eyes and long lashes bespoke them all from that
land of Bourbon loyalty La Vendee; even had not their yellow jackets,
covered with buttons along the sleeves, and their loose hose, evinced
their nationality. Many of the countenances I now remembered to
have seen the preceding night ; but some were care-worn and emaciated,
as if from long imprisonment.

I cannot tell how the simple piety of these poor peasants touched
me, contrasted too with the horrible indifference of the others. As I
approached them, I was recognised ; and whether supposing that I was
a well-wisher to their cause, or attracted merely by the tie of common
misfortune^ they saluted me respectfully, and seemed glad to see me.
While two or three of those I had seen before moved forward to speak
to me, I remarked that a low, swarthy man, with a scar across his
upper lip, examined me with marked attention, and then whispered
something to the rest. At first he seemed to pay little respect to
whatever they said an incredulous shake of the head, or an impatient
motion of the hand, replying to their observations. Gradually, however,
he relaxed in this, and I could see that his stern features assumed a
look of kinder meaning.

" So, friend," said he, holding out his tanned and powerful hand
towards me, ^' it was thou saved our chief from being snared like a
wolf in a trap. Le Bon Dieu will remember the service hereafter ; and
the good king will not forget thee, if the time ever comes for his better
fortune."

" You must not thank me," said I, smiling : " the service I rendered
was one instigated by friendship only. I know not your plans ; I. never
knew them. The epaulette I wear I never was false to.*'

A murmur of dissatisfaction ran along the party, and I could mark
that in the words they interchanged, feelings of surprise were mingled
with displeasure. At last, the short msm, commanding silence with a
slight motion of the hand, said, " I am sorry for it ; your courage
merited a better cause ; however, the avowal was at least an honest
one 5 and now tell us, why came you here ?'

** For the very reason I've mentioned : my presence at the chateau
last night, and my discovery during the attack, were enough to impute
guilt. How can I clear myself, without criminating those I would not
name?"

" That matters but little. Doubtless, you have powerful friends-
rich ones, perhaps, and in office : they will bear you harmless."

Alaj9 1 you are wrong. I have not in all the length and breadth of

236 OUR MESS.

France one who if a word would save me from the scaffold, would care
to speak it. I am a stranger and an alien/'

" Ha !" said a fair-haired, handsome youth, starting from the grass
where he had been sitting, " what would I not give now your lot was
mine. They'd not make my heart tremble, if I could forget the cabin
I was born in."

" Hush ! Philippe,*' said the other, " the weapon is not in their
armoury to make a Vende&n tremble ^but, hark ! there is the drum
for the Inspection. You must present ypurself each day, at noon, at
the low postern yonder, and write your name ; and mark me, before
we part, it cannot serve w^, it may ruin you^ if we are seen to speak
together. Trust no one here. Those whom you see yonder are haL
of them but * moutons^ "

How/' said I, not understanding the phrase.

" Ay, it was a prison word I used," resumed he. " I would say
they are but spies of tlie police, who, as if confined for their offences,
are only here to obtain confessions from unguarded, unsuspecting
prisoners. Their frankness and sincerity are snares that have led many
to the guillotine : beware of them. You dare not carry your glass
to your lip, but the murmured toast might be your condemnation.
Adieu !" said he ; and as he spoke, he turned away and left the place,
followed by the rest.

The disgust I felt at first for the others was certainly not lessened
by learning that their guilt was stained by treachery the blackest that
can disgrace humanity ; and now, as I walked among them, it was with
a sense of shrinking horror I recoiled from the very touch of the
wretches, whose smiles were but lures to the scaffold.

" Ha ! our lost and strayed friend," said one, as I appeared** come
hither and make a dean breast of it. What amiable weaknesses
have introduced you to the Temple !"

" In truth," said I, endeavouring to conceal my knowledge of my
acquaintances' real character, " I cannot even guess, nor do I believe,
that any one else is wiser than myself."

" Parbleu ! young gentleman," said the abbe, as he spied me imper-
tinently through his glass, " you are excessively old-fashioned for your
years. Don't you know that spotless innocence went out with the
Bourbons ? . Every one since that dies in the glorious assertion of his
peculiar wickedness, with certain extenuating circumstances which
he calls human nature."

" And now then," resumed the first speaker, " for your mishap
what was it ?"

" I should only deceive you were I to give any other answer than
my first. Mere suspicion there may be against me there can be no
more. "

" Well, well, let us have the suspicions. The Moniteur is late this
morning, and we have nothing to amuse us."

*f Who are you?" cried another, a tall, insolent-booking fellow, with
a dark moustache. " That's the first question. I've seen a " mouton^' in
a hussar dress before now,"

TOM BURKE OF " OURS.'* 237

**I am too laite a resident here," answered T, "to guess how far
insolence goes unpunished ; but if I were outside these walls, and you
also, I'd teach you a lesson you have yet to learn, sir."

" Parbleu /" said one of the former speakers, " Jacques, he has you
there, though it was no great sharpness to see you were a blanc-bec. "

The tall fellow moved away, muttering to himself, as a hearty laugh
broke forth among the rest.'

"And now," said the abbd, with a simper, "pardon the liberty;
but have you had any trifling inducement for coming to pass a few
days here? Were you making love to Madame la Consulesse? or
did you laugh at General Bonaparte^s grand dinners? or have you
been learning the English grammar ? or what was it ?"

I shook my head, and was silent.

" Come, come, be frank with us : unblemished virtue fares very ill
here. There was a gentleman lost his head this morning, who never
did any thing all his life, other than keep the post-office at Tarbes ; but
somehow, he happened to let a letter pass into the bag, addressed to an
elderly gentleman in England, called the Count D'Artois, not knowing
that the count's letters are always * to the care of Citizen Bonaparte.'
Well, they shortened him by the neck for it. Cruel ! you will say ;
but so much for innocence."

" For the last time then, gentlemen, I must express my sincere sor-
row that I have neither murder, treason, nor any other infamy on my
conscience, which might qualify me for the distinguished honour of
associating with you. Such being the case, and my sense of my
deficiency being so great, you will, I'm sure, pardon me, if I do
not obtrude on society of which I am unworthy, and which I have now
the honour to wish a good-day to;" with this, and a formal bow,
returned equally politely by the rest, I moved on, and entered the
tower.

Sombre and sad as were my own reflections, yet did I prefer their
company to that of my fellow-prisoners, for whom already I began to
conceive a perfect feeling of abhorrence.

Revolting, indeed, was the indifference to fame, honour, and even
life, which 1 already witnessed among them ; but what was it compared
with the deliberate treachery of men who could wait for the hour when
the heart, overflowing with sorrow, opened- itself for consolation
and comfort, and then search its every recess for proofs of guilt that
should bring the mourner to the scaffold.

How any government could need how they could tolerate such
assassins as these, I could not conceive. And was this his doing were
these his minions, whose high-souled chivalry had been my worship
and my idolatry ? No, no ; Til not believe it. Bonaparte knows not
the dark and terrible secrets of these gloomy walls. The hero of
Areola, the conqueror of Italy, wots not of the frightful tyranny of
those dungeons : did he but know them, what a destiny would wait
on those who thus stain with crime and treachery the fame of that
" Belle France" he made so great.

Oh ! that in the hour of my accusation ^in the very last of my life.

238 ouji MSias.

wer it on HtB step of the gmHotine^ I could but fipttk with words to

reach him, and say, bow glory like his must be tarnished, if such

deeds went on unpunished ; that while thcmsaads and thousands were

welcoming his path with cries of wild enthusiasm and joy, in the

cold cells of the Temple there were breaking hearts, whose boftqW' ,

wrung confessions were registered whose prayers wre canvassed for -J

evidences of desires, that might be converted into Reason. He eoakd ^

have no sympathy with men like these : not such the brave who f

followed him at Lodi ; not kindred souls were they who died for him

at Marengo^ Alas I alas I how might men read of him hereafter, if by

such acts the splendour of his greatness was to BvifEer stain. While

thoughts like liiese filled my mind, and in the excitemient of awakened

indignation, I trod my little cell backwards and forwards, the gaoler

ent^edj and, having locked the door behind him, ap{*oached me.

** You are the Sous-lieutenant Burke : is it not so ? Well, I have a

letter for you ; I pronused to deliver it on the one condition only

which is, that when read, you shall tear it in pieces : were it known

that I did this, my head would foil in the Phune de Grenelle before

daybreak to-morrow. I also promised to put you on your guard:

speak to few here ; confide in none ; and now here is your letter."

I opened the billet hastily, and read the few lines it contained,
which evidently were written in a feigned hand " Your life is in
danger all delay may be your ruin ^address the minister at once, as
to the cause of your detention, and for the charges under wluch you
are committed ; demand permission to consult an advocate, and wh^i
demanded, it can't be refused. Write to Monsieur Baillot, of 4, Hue
Chantereine, in whom you may trust implicitly, and who has already
instructions for your defence. Accept the enclosed, and believe in the
faithful attadiment of a sincere friend.*' A billet de banque for three
thousand francs was folded in the note, and fell to the ground as I
jread it.

" Parbleu I III not ask you to tear this, though," said the gaoler, as
he handed it to me ; " and now let me see you destroy the other.''

I read and re-read the few lines over and over, some new meaning
striking me at each word, while I asked myself from whom it could
havo come. Was it De Beauvais ? or dare I hope it was one dearest
to me of all the world ? Who then, in the saddest hour of my exist-
i^oe, could step between me and my sorrow, and leave hope as my
companion in the dreary solitude of a prison.

' Again, I say, be quick," cried the gaoler ; my being here so long
Xf^y be remarked. Tear it at once."

He followed with an eager eye every morsel of paper as it fell from
my hand, and only seemed at ease as the last dropped to the ground ;
and then, without speaking a word, unlocked the door and withdrew.

The shipwrecked sailor, clinging to some wave-tossed raft, and
watching with bloodshot eye the faUing day, where no friendly sail has
once appeared, and at last, as every hope dies out one by one within
him, he hears a cheer break through the plashing of the sea, calling
Qfk hiw to^ Uku,^ mnjr ie^l itomething like ythvi w^e my liensatiOnSi as

'r

TOM BUHm: OJ ^^OURS." |!^

oace more ajone in my cell I thought of the friendly vjoip^ that poj^^
arouse nae from my cold despair, and hid me hope again.

What a change came over the world to my eyes : the vmr cell itself
no longer seemed dark and dreary ; the faint sun-light that tell tbro.ugh
the narrow wijodow seemed soft and mellow ; the voices I heard withoui
struck me not as dissonant and harsh ; the reckless gaiety I shuddered
at ; the dark treachery I abhorred. I could compassiojiate the one^
and openly despise the other ; and it was with that stout determination
at my heart that I sallied forth into the garden where still the others
lingered^ waiting for the drum th^ ^ummoQed them to dinner.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

When night cm^ and all was sileoit in ^he i^json, I sat down to
^vrke my letter to the minister. I juoew enough (^ such matters to be
aware that brevity is the great requisite ; aod, therefore, without any
at^^Qdpt to inticipste my accusation, by a d^ei^ce of my m^otives, I
simply^ but respectfully, demanded Ihe charges alleged against me^ and
prayed for the earUest and most speedy investigiUion ixito my conduct.
Such were the instructions of my unkoown friend, and, as 1 proceeded
to foUOw th^n, thdr meaning at onoe becim^e .apparent to me. Haste
was recommended, evidently to prevent such explanados and inqiurks
into my eonduet, as more time might ajiord. My japp^ear ance at the
chateau might still be a myst^y to th^n, and one whi(^ might rem^
unfathomable, if any plausible reason were put forward. And what more
could be laid to my charge ? True the brevet of colonel fouid on my
person \ but this I could with truth allege had sever been accepted by
me. They would scarcely condemn me on such testimony, unsupt-
p(H*ted by any direct chargq^ ^d who coidd hri^ such save
De Beauvais. Flimsy and weak as such pretexts were, yet were thejr
enough in my then frame of mind to support my courage ajid nerve
my he9ft$ Jiut more than all, I trusted in liie meere loyalty I felt for
the cause of the government smd its great chief ^a sentiment which,
however ditHoult to prove, gave myself that inward sense of safety, which
only can flow from strong conviction of hcmesty. It may ao happen,
thought I, that circumstances may appear a^nst me, )^ut I know
and feel niy heart is true and firm, and even at the worst such a oon-
sciousness will enable me to bear whatever may he my fortune*

The next morning my altered mann^ and happier look, excited
the attentipn of the others, who by various endeavours tried to fathom
the caue^ px learu apy parttcubu*s o{s^S^i but in vaiiB* for akeady

240 OUB lfE8S

I was on my guard against even a chance expression, and, save on the
most common-place topics, held no intercourse with any. Far from
being offended at my reserve, they seemed rather to have conceived a
species of respect for one, whose secrecy imparted something of interest
to him ; and while they tried, by the chance allusion to political events
and characters, to sound me, I could see that though baffled, they
by no means gave up the battle.

As time wore on, this half persecution died away each day brought
some prisoner or other amongst us, or removed some of those we had
to other places of confinement, and thus I became forgotten in the
interests of newer events. About a week after my entrance we wexe
walking as usual about the gardens, when a rumour ran, that a pri-
soner of great consequence had been arrested the preceding night,
and conveyed to the Temple ; and various surmises were afloat as to
who he might be, or whether he should be " en secret," or at large.
While the point was eagerly discussed, a low door from the house was
opened, and the gaoler appeared, followed by a large powerful man,
whom in one glance I remembered as the chief of the Vendean party
at the chateau, and the same who effected his escape in the Bois de
Boulogne. Pie passed close to where I stood, his arm folded on his
breast his clear blue eye bent calmly on me ^yet never by the
slightest sign did he indicate that we had ever met before. I divined
at once his meaning, and felt grateful for what I guessed might be a
measure necessary to my safety.

" I tell you," said a shrivelled old fellow, in a worn dressing gown
and slippers, who held the Moniteur of that day in his hand " 1 tell
you it is himself; and see his hand is wounded though he does his
best to conceal the bandage in his bosom."

" Well, well read us the account : where did it occur ?" cried two
or three in a breath.

The old man seated himself on a bench, and, having arranged his
spectacles, and unfolded the journal, held out his hand to proclaim
silence, when suddenly a wild cheer broke from the distant part of
the garden, whither the newly-arrived prisoner had turned his steps
a second louder followed, in which the cry of " Vive le Roi *' could
be distinctly heard.

" You hear them," said the old man. " Was I right now ? I knew
it must be him."

" Strange enough, too, he should not be en iecret^ said another.
" The generals had never been suffered to speak to any one since their
confinement. But read on, let us hear it."

" On yesterday morning," said the little man, reading aloud, ^* Picot,
the servant of George, was arrested, and although every endeavour
was made to induce him to confess where his master was j ' ?

"Do you know the meaning of that phrase, Duchos?" said a tall,
melancholy-looking man, with a bald head " that means the torture ;
thumb screws and flint vices are the mode once more; see here."
As he spoke he undid a silk handkerchief that was wrapped around his
wrist, and exhibited a hand that seemed actually mashed into frag-

TOM BUBKE OF " ODBS." 241

ments the bones were forced in many places through the flesh, which
hung in dark-coloured and blood-stained pieces about.

** I would show that hand at the tribunal," muttered an old
soldier in a faded blue frock. I'd hold it up when they'd ask me to
swear.**

' Your head would only fare the worse for doing so/* said the abbe.

" Read on, Monsieur Duchos."

I' " Oh, where was I ? Pardieuy colonel, I wish you would cover that

[ up : I shall dream of that terrible thumb all night. Here we are

^ Though nothing could be learned from Ficot, it was ascertained that

the brigand **'

* Ha, ha," said a fat little fellow in a blouse, ^ they call them all
I ,* brigands Moreau is a brigand Pichegru is a brigand too."

^' That the brigand had passed Monday night near Chaillot, and on
Tuesday, towards evening, was seen at St. Genevieve, where it was
suspected he slept on the mountain ; on Wednesday the police traced
him to the cabriolet stand at the end of the Rue de Cond^ where he
took a carriage and drove towards the Odeon."

" Probably he was going to the spectacle. What did they play that
night ?" said the fat man. " * La mart de Barherouas^ perhaps."

The other read on. ^* The officer cried out, as he seized the bridle,
je vous an^etCy when George levelled a pistol and shot him through the
forehead, and then springing over the dead body dashed down the
k street. The butchers of the neighbourhood, who knew the reward

offered for his apprehension, pursued and fell upon him ^nth their
hatchets ; a hand-to-hand encounter followed, in which the brigand's
wrist was nearly severed from his arm, and thus disabled and over-
powered he was secured and conveyed to the Temple."

' And who is this man ?" said I in a whisper to the tall person
near me.

'^ The General George Cadoudal a brave Breton, and a faithful
follower of his king," replied he ; " and may heaven have pity on him
now." He crossed himself piously as he spoke, and moved -slowly
away.

George Cadoudal, repeated I to myself the same whose description
figured on every wall of the capital, and for whose apprehension
immense rewards were offered ; and with an inward shudder I thought
of my chance intercourse with the man to harbour whom was death-^-
the dreadful chief of the Chouans ^the daring Breton of whom Paris
rung with stories. And this was the companion of Henri de Beauvais.
Revolving such thoughts, I strolled along unconsciously, until I
reached the place where, some days before, I had seen the Vendeans
engaged in prayer. The loud tone of a deep voice arrested my steps.
I stopped and listened. It was George himself who spoke ; he stood,
drawn up to his full height, in the midst of a large circle who sat
around on the grass. Though his language was 9^ patois of which I
was ignorant, I could catch here and there some indication of his mean-
ing, as much perhaps from his gesture and the look of those he addressed,
as from the Mords themselves. It was an exhortation to them to endure

MESS, KO. XXI. VOL. II. B

t

242 OUB MESS.

with fortitade the lot that had befallen them^-to meet death when
it came without fear, as they could do so without dishonour ^to
strengthen their courage by looking to him, who would always give
them an exmnple of what they should be. The last words he spoke
were in a plainer dialect, and almost these " Throw no glance on the
past We are where we are we are where God in his wisdom, and
for his own ends, has placed us. K this cause be just, our martyr-
dom is a blessed one ; if it be not so, our death is our punishment ; and
never forget that you are permitted to meet it from the same spot where
our glorious monarch went to meet his own.**

A cry of Vive le Roi, half stifled by sobs of emotion, broke from
the listeners, and they rose, and pressed around him.

There he stood in the midst, while, like children, they came to kiss
his hand- 'to hear him speak one word even to look on him. Their
swarthy faces, where hardship and suffering had left many a deep line
and furrow, beamed with smiles as he turned towards them ; and many a
proud look was bent on the rest by those to whom he addressed a single
word. One I could not help remarking above the others, a sUght, pale,
and handsome youth, whose almost girlish cheek the first down of
youth was shading. George leaned his arm round his neck, and called
him by his name^ and in a voice almost tr^nulous from emotion.
** And you, Bouvet de Losir, whose infancy wanted nothmg of luxury
and enjoyment^^for whom all that wealth and affection could bestow
were in abundance^-*how do you bear these rugged reverses, my dear
boyP*

The youth looked up with eyes bathed in tears ; the hectic spot in
his face gave way to the paleness of death, and his lips moved without
a sound.

** He has been ill the count has," said a peasant in a low voice.

** Poor fellow," said George. " He was not meant for trials like
these ; the cares he used to bury in his mother*8 lap met other conso-
lations than our roder ones. Look up, Bouvet, my man, and remember
you are a man.*

The youth trembled from head to foot, and looked fearfully around,
as if dreading something, while he clutched the strong arm beside him,
as though for protection.

Courage, boy courage," said George. We are together h^e
-what can harm yon."

Then dropping his voice, and turning to the rest he added

** They have been tampering with his reason his eye betrays a
wandering intellect. Take him with you, Claude ^he loves you and
do not leave him for a moment.''

The youth pressed George's fingers to his pale lips, and, with head
Wat down and listless gait, moved slowly away.

As I wandered from the spot, my heart was full of all I witnessed.
The influence of their chief had surprised me the night of the attack
on the chateau. But how much more wonderful did it seem now,
when confined wtthia the walls of a prison the only exit to which was
^e ]^ath that led to the guillotiQe. Yet was their reliance on all he

1?0M BURKK OF OURS." 243

said as great, as implicit their faith in him, as warm their affection
as though success had crowned each effort he suggested, -and that
fortune had been as kind, as she had proved adverse to his enterprise.

Such were the Chouans in the Temple. Life had presented to ibeir
hardy natures too many vicissitudes to make them quail beneath the
horrors of a prison death they had confronted in many shapes, and
they feared it not even at the hands of the executioner. Loyalty to the
exiled family of France was less a political than a religious feeling
one inculcated at the altar, and carried home to the fire-side of the
cottage. Devotion to their king was a part of their faith. The sove-
reign was but a saint the more in their calendar. The glorious
triumphs of the revolutionary armies the great conquests of the con-
sulate ^found no sympathy within their bosoms ; they neither joined
the battle nor partook of the ovation. They looked on all such as the
passing pageant of the hour. and muttered to each other, that the ban
Dieu could not bless a nation that was false to its king.

Who could see them, as they met each morning, and not feel deeply
interested in these brave but simple peasants. At day-break they
knelt together in prayer, their chief officiating as priest ; thdr deep
voices joined in the hymn of their own native valleys, as with tearfu
eyes they sang the songs that reminded them of lKme. The service
over, George addressed them in a short speech some words of advice
and guidance for the coming day ^reminding them that ere another
morning shone, many might be summoned before the tribunal to be
examined, and from thence led forth to death ; exhorting them to
fidelity to each other, and loyalty to their glorious cause. Then came the
games of their country, which they played with all the enthusiasm of
liberty and happiness. These were again succeeded by hours passed
in hearing and relating stories of the beloved Bretagne of its tried
faith and its ancient bravery. While through all, they lived a com-
munity apart from the other prisoners, who never dared to obtrude
upon them ; nor did the most venturesome of the police spies ever
transgress a lindt that might have cost him his life.

Thus did these two so diiBTerent currents run side by side within the
walls of the Temple, and each regarding the other with distrust and
dislike.

While thus I felt a growing interest for these bold but simple
children of the forest, my ansdety for my own fate grew hourly
greater. No answer was ever returned to my letter to the minister,
nor any notice taken of it whatever ; and though each day I heard of
spme one or other being examined before the ** Tribunal Special,* or
the Prefet de Police^ I seemed as much forgotten as though the grave
enclosed me. My dread of any thing like acquaintance or intimacy
with the other prisoners prevented my learning much of what went
forward each day, and of which, from some source or other, they
seemed well informed. A chance phrase an odd word now and then
dropped':r-would tell me of some new discovery by the police, or some
recent confession by a captured conspirator ; but of what the crime

244 OUB MESS.

consisted, and who were they principally implicated, I remained totally
Ignorant.

. It was well known that both Moreau and Pichegru were confined
in a part of the tower that opened upon the terrace ; but neither suf-
fered to communicate with each other, nor even to appear at large like
the other prisoners. It was rumoured too, that each day one or both
were submitted to long and searching examinations, which it was
said had hitherto elicited nothing from either, save total denial of
any complicity whatever, and complete ignorance of the plots and
. machinations of others.

So much we could learn from the Monileur, which reached us each
day ; and, while assuming a tone of open reprobation regarding the
Chouans, spoke in terms the most cautious and reserved respecting the
two genersds, as if probing the public mind how far their implication
in treason might be credited, and with what faith the proofs of their
participation might be received.

At last the train seemed laid ; the explosion was all prepared, and
nothing wanting but the spark to ignite it. A letter from Moreau to
the consul appeared in the columns of the government paper, in which,
after recapitulating in terms most suitable the services he had ren-
dered the republic while in command of the army of the Rhine, the
confidence he had always possessed of the convention, the frequent
occasions which had presented themselves to him of gratifying ambi-
tious views ^had he conceived such ^he adverted in brief but touching
terms to his conduct on the 18th Brumaire, in seconding the adven-
turous step taken by Bonaparte himself, and attributed the neglect his
devotion had met with, rather to the interference and plotting of his
enemies, than to any real estrangement on the part of the consul.
Throughout the whole of the episUe there reigned a tone of reverence
for the authority of Bonaparte most striking and remarkable ; there
was nothing like an approach to the equality which might well be
supposed to subsist between two great generals: albeit, the one was
at the height of power, and the other sunk in the very depth of mis-
fortune. On the contrary, the letter was qi^thing more than an appeal
to old souvenirs and former services ^to one who possessed the power,
if he had the will, to save him; it breathed throughout the senti-
ments of one who demands a favour, and that favour, his life and
honour, at the hands of him who already had constituted himself the
fountain of both.

While such was the position of Moreau, a position which resulted in
his downfall^ chance informed us of the different ground occupied by
his companion in misfortune, the Greneral Pichegru.

About three days after the publication of Moreau's letter, we were
walking as usual in the garden of the Temple, when a huissier came
up, and beckoning to two of the prisoners, desired them to follow him.
Such was the ordinary course by which one or more were daily sum-
moned before the tribunal for examination, and we took no notice of
what had become a matter of every-day occurrence, and went on con-

i

l^OM fitJRKE of OURS.'^ 245

versing as before about the news of the morning. Several hours
elapsed without the others having returned, and at last wo began to feel
anxious about their fate, when one of them made his appearance ; his
heightened colour and agitated expression betokening that something
more than common had occurred.

"We were examined with Pichegru," said the prisoner, who was an
old quarter-master in the army of the Upper Rhine, as he sat down
upon a bench, and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

' Indeed !" said the tall colonel, with the bald head : " before
Monsieur R6al, I suppose?"

, ' Yes, before R^aL My poor old general there he wa8 as I used
to see him formerly, with his hand in the breast of his uniform, his
pale, thin features as calm as ever, until at last, when roused, his eyes
flashed fire, and his lip trembled before he broke out into such a
torrent of attack."

" Attack, say you," interrupted the abbe " a bold course, my faith 1
in oHe who has need of all his powers for defence."

"It was ever his tactique to be the assailant," said a bronzed,
soldier-like fellow, in a patched uniform, " he did so in Holland "

" He chose a better enemy to practise it with then, than he has
done now," resumed the quarter-master, sadly.

" Whom do you mean ?' cried half a dozen voices together.

"The consul!"

" The consul I Bonaparte ! Attack him /" repeated one after the
other, in accents of surprise and horror, " Poor fellow, he is de-
ranged."

" So I almost thought myself, as I heard him," replied the quarter*
master ; " for, after submitting with patience to a long and tiresome
examination, he suddenly, as if endurance could go no farther, cried
out assez /' The prel^t started, and Thuriot who sat beside him
looked up terrified, while 'Pichegru went on. * So, the whole of the
this negotiation about Cayenne is then a falsehood. Your promise to
make me governor there, if I consented to quit France for ever, was
a trick to extort confession, or a bribe to silence. Be it so. Now
come what will. 111 not leave France ; and more, still, I'll declare
every thing before the judges openly at the tribunal. The people shall
know, all Europe shall know, who is my accuser, and what he is.
Yes, your consul himself treated with the Bourbons in Italy : the ne-
gotiations were begun, continued, carried on, and only broken off by
his own excessive demands. Ay, I can prove it: his very return
from Egypt through the whole English fleet, ^that happy chance,
as you were wont to term it, ^was a secret treaty with Pitt for the
restoration of the exiled family on his reaching Paris. These facts,
and facts you shall confess them, are in my power to prove; and
prove them I will in the face of all France.' "

"Poor Pichegru," said the abb^ contemptuously. "What an ill-
tempered child a great general may be after all ! Did he think the
hour would ever come for him to realize such a dream ?"

" What do you mean ?* cried two or three together.

246 OUB MESS.

The Corsican never forgets a vendettat'' was the cool reply, as h^
walked away.

" True," said the colonel, thoughtfully, "q[uite true.**
To me these words were riddles. My only feeling towards Pichegru
was one of contempt and pity, that in any depth of misfortune he
could resort to such an unworthy attack upon him who still was the
idol of all my thoughts ; and for this the conqueror of Holland stood
now as low in my esteem as the most vulgar of the rabble gang that
each day saw sentenced to the galleys.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE BXiaV OF TEBBOB TJNDEB THE CONStTLATE.

On the morning that followed the scene I have spoken of came the
news of the arrest, the trial, and the death of the Due d'Enghein.
That terrible tragedy, which yet weighs, and will weigh for ever on the
memory of the period, reached us in our prison with all the terrible
force of circumstances to make it a day of sorrow and mourning.
'Such details as the journals afforded but little satisfied our curiosity.
The youth, the virtues, the bravery of the prince had made him the
idol of his party ; and while his death was lamented for his own sake,
his followers read in it the determination of the government to stop at
nothing in their resolve to exterminate that party. A gloomy silence
sat upon the Chouans, who no longer moved about, as before, regardless
of their confinement to a prison. Their chief remained apart ; he
neither spoke to any one, nor seemed to notice those who passed : he
looked stunned and stupified, rather than deeply affected, and when he
lifted his eyes their expression was cold and wandering. Even the
other prisoners, who rarely gave way to feeling of any kind, seemed at
first overwhelmed by these sad tidings ; and doubtless many who before
had trusted to rank and infiuence for their safety, saw how little
dependence could be placed on such aid, when the blow had fallen
upon a " Cond6" himself.

I, who neither knew the political movements of the time, nor the
sources of the danger the consul's party anticipated, could only mourn
over the unhappy fate of a gallant prince whose daring had cost him
his life, and never dreamed for a moment of calling in question the
honour or good faith of Bonaparte in an affair of which I could have
easily believed him totally ignorant. Such, indeed, was the repre-
sentation of the Moniteur; and whatever doubts the hints about me

\

TOM BURKE OF ^'OURS.'* 247

might have excited, were speedily allayed by the accounts I read of tfa#
consul's indignation at the haste and informality of the trial, and his
deep anger at tlie catastroi^e that followed it*

'^Savary will be disgraced for this," said I to the abb^ who leaned
over my shoulder while I read the paper. *' Bonaparte can never
forgive him."

" You mistake, my dear sir," replied he, with a strange eiq)re8f ion I
could not fathom ; ** the consul is the most forgivii^ of men $ he never
bears malice."

But here was a dreadful event a crime perhaps.'*

*Only a faulty" resumed he* By-the*bye colonel, this order
about closing the barriers will be excessively inconvenient to the good
people of Paris.**

I have been thinking over that, tooi** said an overdresBed, affected*
looking youth, whose perfumed curls and rtudied costume formed a
strange contrast with the habits of his fellow-prisoners. " If they shut
up the barrier de I'Etoile, what are they to do for Longchamps ?*'

FarbkUf that did not strike me," interposed the colond, tapping
his forehead with his finger* ' 111 wager a crown they haven't
thought of that themselves.

^ The Champs Elysees are surely long enough for siich tomfoolery,**
said the quarter-master, in a gruff, savage tone.

Not one half," was the importurhable replv of the youth : and
Longchamps promised admirably this year. I had ordered a caleche
flight blue, with gilt drcles on the wheds, and a bronxed carving to
the pole ^like an antique chariot"

^^ Parbleu, you are more likely to take your next airing in a simpler
conveyance,'* said the quarter-master, with a grin,

" I was to have driven la Comtesse de Beauflers to the Bois de

Boulogne *'

. " You must content yourself with the Count de la Marque*' ^the
prison name of the executioner " instead," growled out the other.

I turned away, no less disgusted at the frivolity that could only ^ee
in the dreadful event that took place the temporary interruption to a
vain and silly promenade, than at the savage coarseness that could revel
in the pain common misfortune gave him the privUege of inflicting.

Such, however, was the prevalent tone of thinking and speaking
there. The death of friends ^the ruin of those best loved and cared
for ^the danger that each day came nearer to themselves were all
casualties to which habit, red^Iessness of life, and libertinism had
accustomed them ; while about former modes of life, the pleasures of
the capital, its delights and dissipation, they conversed with the most
eager interest. It is thus, while in some natures misfortunes will call
forth into exercise the best and noblest traits that in happier circum-
stances had never found the necessity that gave them birth, so, in
others, adversity depresses and demoraliees those weaker tempera*-
ments, that seem formed to sail safely in the calm wat^s, but never
destined to brave the stormy seas of life.

With such associates I could have neither sympathy nor friendship ;

248 OUR MKSS.

and my life passed on in one unbroken and dreary monotony day
succeeding day, and night following night ^till my thoughts, turned
ever inward, had worn as it were a track for themselves, in wfaidi the
world without and its people had no share whatever. Not only was
my application to the minister unanswered, but I was never examined
before any of the tribunals ; and sometimes the dreadful fate of those
prisoners who, in the reign of terror, passed their whole life in prison,
their crimes ^their very existence forgotten, would cross my mind, and
strike me with terror unspeakable.

If, in the sombre atmosphere of the Temple a sad and dieerless
monotony prevailed, events followed fast on each other in that world
from which its gloomy walls excluded us : every hour was some new
feature of the dark conspiracy brought to light; the vigilance of
Monsieur Il6al slept not night or day ; and all that bribery, terror, or
torture could effect, was put into requisition to obtain full and precise
information as to every one concerned in the plot

It was a bright fresh morning in April, the sixth of the month ^the
day is graven on my memory ^when, on walking forth into the garden,
I was surprised to see the prisoners standing in a circle round a tree
on which a placard was fastened, with glances eagerly turned towards
the paper, or bent sadly to the ground. They stood around, sad and
silent : to my question of what had occurred^ a significant look at the
tree was the only reply I received, while in the faces of all I perceived
that some dreadful news had reached them. Forcing my way with
difficulty through the crowd, I at length approached near enough to
read the placard, on which, with large letters^ it was written

' Charles PichegrUy ex^Giniral li^publicain, s*est dlrangU dans sa
prison*

**AYra6. Lo Temple."

*^ And did Pichegru, the great conqueror of Holland, die by his own
hand ?'' said I, as my eyes rested on the fatal bulletin.

Don't you read it, young man Y* replied a deep solemn voice
beside me, which I at once knew was that of General George himself.
Can you doubt the accuracy of information supplied by the police ?*'

The by-standers looked up with a terrified and frightened expression;
as if dreading lest the very listening to his words might be construed
into an acquiescence in them.

^ Trust me, he is dead,'' continued he : '' they who have announced
his fate here have reason to be relied on. It now only remains to be
seen how he died : these prison maladies have a strange interest for us
who live in the Infected climate ; and if I mistake not, I see the
Moniteur yonder, a full hour before its usual time. See what a
blessing) gentlemen, you enjoy in a paternal government, which in
asoments of public anxiety ean feel for your distress, and hasten to
alleviate if'

The tone of sareasoi he spoke in -the measured fall of every word.

TOM BURKE OF '^OURS.' 249

sank into the hearers' minds, and thougk they stood mute, they did not
even move from the spot.

* Here is the Moniteur now/' said the quarter-master, opening the
paper and reading aloud.

'* To his oft-repeated assurances that he would make no attempt
upon his life "

A rude burst of laughter from George interrupted the reader here.

' I ask your pardon, sir," said he, touching his cap : '^ proceed, I
promise not to interrupt you again."

^ That he would make no attempt upon his life. General Pichegru
obtained permission that the sentries should be stationed oujtside his
cell during the night. Having provided himself with a faggot, which
he secreted beneath his bed, he supped as usual in the evening of
yesterday; eating heartily at eleven o'clock, and retiring to rest by
twelve. When thus alone he placed the stick within the folds of the
black silk cravat he generally wore round his neck in such a manner
as when twisted to act like a tourniquet ; and having turned it with
such a degree of force as to arrest the return of blood from the head,
he fastened it beneath his head and shoulder, and in this manner,
apoplexy supervening, expired.'*

*Par St. Louis, sir," cried George, '^ the explanation is admirable, and
most satisfactorily shows how a man may possess life long enough to
be certain he has killed himself. The only thing wanting is for the
general to assist in dressing the proves verbal, when doubtless his own
views of his case would he equally edifying and instructive ; and see,
already the ceremony has begun."

As he spoke, he pointed to a number of persons who crossed the
terrace, preceded by Savary, in his uniform of the gendarmes d'elite,
and who went in the direction of the cell where the dead body lay.

The prisoners now fell into little knots and groups, tajking beneath
their breath, and apparently terrified at every stir about them each
compared his sensation of what he thought he heard during the night
with the other. Some asserted that they distinctly heard the chains of
the drawbridge creak long aflter midnight; others vouched for the
quick tramp of feet along the corridors, and the sounds of strange
voices ; and one whose cell was beneath that of Pichegru, said that he
was awoke before day by a violent crash overhead, followed by a harsh
sound like coughing, which continued for some time, and then ceased
entirely. Tl^se were vague uncertain signs, yet what horrible
thoughts did they not begeC % each listener's mind!

As I stood terror-strud^ and speechless I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I, turned, it was the abbe, who, with a smile of peculiar irony, stood
behind me.

" Poor Savary," said he in a whisper ; " how will he ever get over
this blunder, and it so very like the former one ?"

He did not wait for a reply, but moved away.

^ Who is to be the next, sir ?" cried George, with a deep voice, as he
saw the assemblage thus accidentally collected about to break up
^ Morean, perhaps. One thing I bid you all bear witness to : suicide

350 OUR MESS.

18 a crime I'U never commit. Let no narrative of a cravat and a
faggot -'

Do you never eat moshrooms, general?* said the abb^ drily ; and
whether from the manner of the speaker, or the puzaded ]o^ of him
to whom the speech was addressed, the whole crowd burst into a fit of
laughter ^the emotion seemed like one in which relief was felt by aU.
They laughed long and loud and now the faces that a minute before
were marked by every character of deep affliction, looked merry and
happy. Each had some story, some apropos to tell, or some smart
witticism to let off against his neighbour ; and to hear them you would
say that never was there a subject more suggestive of drollery than the
one of suicide and sudden death.

And thus was it ever : no event however dreadful no circumstance
however shocking, could do more than momentarily affect those
whose life offered no security, nor was governed by any principle.
Levity and unbelief- unbelief that extended not only to matters of
religion, but actually penetrated every relation of life, rendering them
sceptical of friendship, love, truth, honour, and charity ^were the
impulses under which they lived ; and they would have laughed him to
scorn who should have attempted to establish another code of acting or
thinking. Such feelings, if they made them but little suited to all the
habits and charities of life, certainly rendered them most indifferent to
death ; and much of that courage so much lauded and admired on the
scaffold, had no other source than in the headlong recklessness the
prison had inculcated the indifference to every thing, where every thing
was questionable and doubtful.

I struggled powerfully against the taint of such a consuming malady.
I bethought me of my boyhood and its early purpose of him who first
stirred my soul to ambition and asked myself, what would he have
thought of me had I yielded to such a trial as this ? I pictured before
me a career, when such devotion as I felt, aided by a stout heart, must
win its way to honour : and when roused to thought, these low depress-
ing dreams, these dark hours of doubt and despair vanished before it.
But gradually my health yielded my lethargic apathy increased upon
me the gloomy walls of my cell had thrown their shadow over my
spirit, and I sank into a state of moping indifference, in which I
scarcely marked the change of day and night ; and at length felt that
had the sentence been pronounced, which condemned me for life to the
walls of the Temple, I could have heard it without emotion.

" Come, sous-lieutenant, if s your turn now I" said the turnkey, enter-
ing my cell one morning, where I sat alone at breakfast; ** I have just
received the orders for your appearance.''

"How ! where?" said I, scarcely able to do more than guess at the
meaning of his words ; "before the prefi^t, is it ?"

" No, no, a very different affair, indeed : you are summoned with
the Chouan prisoners to appear at the Palais de Justice."

** The Palais r* said I, as for the first time for weeks past a sentiment
of fear crept through me. " Are we to be tried without having a list of
the charges alleged against us ?^'

TOM BURKS OF ''OURS." 251

" You'll hear them time enough in court/'

" Without an advocate to defend us ?''

** The president will name one for that purpose."

" And can the jury **

"Jury! there is no jury; the consul has suspended trial by jury
for two years. Come, come, don't be downhearted^-your mends
without are singing away as gaily as though it were a festivaL My
faith, that General George is made of iron I believe. He has been
confined^ en secret^ these ten days ^his rations diminished to almost a
starvation level ; and yet there is he now, with his countenance as calm,
and his look as firm as if he were at large on the hills of La Vended
Cheer up, then ^let the example of your chief **

" Chief I he is no chief of mine^"

That's as it may, or may not be," replied he gruffly, as though
wounded by what he deemed a want of confidence in his honour;
" however, make haste and dress,^ for the carriages will be here to
convey you to the Palais ^and there now are the gendarmes dt elite
assembling in the court."

As I proceeded to dress, I could see from the window of my cell
that a squadron of gendarmes, in full uniform, were drawn up in the
square of the prison, along one side of which were several carriages
standing, each with two gendarmes seated on the box. The prisoners
were confined to their walls ; but at every window some face appeared
peering anxiously at the proceedings beneath, and watching, with inqui-^
sitive gaze, every even the slightest movement.

Just as the clock struck nine the door of my cell was opened, and a
grefRer of the court entered; and, taking from a black portmanteau at
his side a roll of paper, began without delay to repeat in a sing-song
recitative tone, a formal summons of the Grand Tribunal for the
* surrender of the body of Thomas Borke, sous-lieutenant of the
huitiime hussars, now in the prison of the Temple, and accused of the
crime of treason."

The last word made me shudder as it fell from him ; and not all my
stoical indifference of weeks past was proof against such an accusation.
The gaoler having formally listened to the )cument, and replied by
reading aloud another, delivered me over to the ofiicer, who desired
me to follow him.

In the court beneath the greater number of the prisoners were
already assembled. Creorge, among the number, was conspicuous, not
only by his size and proportions, but by a handsome uniform, in the
breast of which he wore his decoration of St. Louis, from which
descended a bright bow of crimson ribbon. A slight bustle at one of
the doorways of the towei* suddenly seemed to attract his attention, and
I saw that he turned quickly round, and forced his way through the
crowd to the place. Eager to learn what it was, I followed him at
once. Pushing with some difficulty forward, I reached the doorway, on
the step of which lay a young man in a fainting fit. His face, pale as
death, had no colour save two dark circles round the eyes, which,
though open, were upturned and filmy. His cravat had been hastily

i

252 OXJR M8S.

removed by some of the by-standen, and showed a purple welt around
his neck, on one side of which a mass of blood escaped beneath the
skin, made a dreadful-looking tumour. His dress denoted a person of
condition, as well as the character of his features ; but never had I
looked upon an object so sad and woe-begone before. At his side knelt
George his strong arm round his back, while his great massive hand
patted the water on his brow. The stern features of the hardy Breton^
which ever before had conveyed to me nothing but daring and impe-
tuous passion, were softened to a look of womanly kindliness ^his blue
eye beaming as softly as though it were a mother leaning over her
infant.

Bouvet, my dear, dear boy, remember thou art a Breton orally
thyself, my child ^bethink thou of the cause."

The name of the youth at once recalled him whom I had seen some
months before among the Chouan prisoners ; and who, sad and sickly
as he then seemed, was now much further gone towards the tomb.

"Bouvet," cried George, in an accent of heart-rending sorrow,
" this will disgrace us for ever."

The youth turned his cold eyes round till they were fixed in the
other's face; while his lips, still parted, and his cheek pale and
flattened, gave him the appearance of a corpse suddenly called back
to life.

" There, my own brave boy," said George, kissing his forehead
"there, thou art thyself again." He bent over till his lips nearly
touched the youth's ear, and then whispered Dost thou forget the
last words monseigneur spoke to thee, Bouvet? * Conserve toi pour
tes amis, et contre nos ennemis communs.' "

The boy started up at the sounds, and looked wildly about him,
while his hands were opened widely with a kind of spasmodic motion.

" Tonnerre de del,* cried George, with frantic passion, " what have
they done with him his mind is gone. Bouvet Bouvet de Lbzier ^
knowest thou this ?" He tore from his bosom a miniature^ surrounded
with large brilliants, and held it to the eyes of the youth. .
. A wild shriek broke from the youth as he fell back in strong con-
vulsions. The dreadful cry seemed like the last wail of expiring
reason so sad, so piercing was its cadence.

' Look, see," said George, turning a savage scowl upon the crowd
' they have taken away his mind ^he is an idiot"

" The General George Cadoudal," cried a loud voice from the ceptre
of the court.

" Here," was the firm reply.

" This way, sir the carriage yonder.**

" Monsieur Sol de Gisolles."

^^Here," replied a tall, aristocratic looking personage, in deep
mourning.

Sous-Heutenant Burke was the next name called, and I followed
the others, and soon found myself seated in a close caleche, with a
gendarme beside me, while two mounted men of the corps sat at either
side of the carriage with drawn swords. Picot, the servant of George,

*rOM BUBKE OF OURS.'* 253

the faithful Breton, was next summoned, and Lebourgeois, an old but
handsome man, in the simple habit of a farmer, with his long white
lutir, and soft kind countenance. Many other names were called over,
arid nearly an hour elapsed before the ceremony was concluded, and
t)ie order was given to move forward.

At last the heavy gates were opened, and the procession issued
forth. I was surprised to see that the entire Boulevard was lined with
troops, behind which thousands of people were closely wedged all the
windows, and even the housetops, being filled with spectators.

When we reached the quays, the crowd were even greater still ; and it
required all the efforts of the troops to keep them back sufficiently to
permit an open space for the carriages while at all the streets that
opened at the quays mounted dragoons were stationed to prevent any
(irriage passing down. Never had I beheld such a vast multitude of
people; and yet, through all that crowded host, a deep, solemn silence
prevailed ^not a cry, nor a shout, was heard in all the way. Once
only, at the corner of the Pont Neuf, a cry of " Vive Moreau" was
given by some one in the crowd ; but it was a solitary voice and the
moment after I saw a gendarme force his way through the mass, and
seizing a miserable-looking creature by the neck, hurry him along
beside his horse towards the guard-house.

On crossing the bridge, I saw that a company of artillery and two
guns were placed in position beside Desaix's monument, so as to com-
mand the Pont Neuf : all these preparations clearly indicating that the
government felt the occasion such as to warrant the most energetic
measures of security. There was something in the earnest look of the
cannouiers, as they stood with their lighted matches beside the guns,
that betrayed the resolve of one whose quick determination was ever
ready for the moment of danger.

The narrow streets of the Isle St. Louis, more densely crowded than
any part of the way, slackened our pace considerably, and frequently
the gendarmes were obliged to clear the space before the carriages
could proceed. I could not help feeling struck, as we passed along
these miserable and dark alleys, where vice and crime, and wretched-
ness of every type, herded together to hear, at every step, some ex-
pression of pity or commiseration from those who, themselves, seemed
the veriest objects of compassion. "-4A, voila" cried an old creature in
rags, on whose cotton bonnet a faded and dirty tri-coloured ribbon
was fastened " Voila, Moreau. Td know his proud face any day.
Poor general, I hope it will not go hard with you to-day."

" Look there," screamed a hag, as the carriage in which Bouvet sat
passed by. " Look at the handsome youth that's dymg Holy Virgin,
he'll not be living when they reach the gate of the Palais." " And
there," cried another " there's a hussar officer, pale enough, I trow
he is : come, I'll say a prayer or two for him there, it can do him no
harm any how "

The hoarse rattle of a drum in front mingled with the noise of the
cavalcade, and I now could hear the clank of a guard turning out.
The minute after we stood before a colossal gateway, whose rich

264 OUB MS8S.

tracery shone in the most gorgeons gilding; it was in the splendid
taste of Louis XIV., and weU became Uie entrance of what once had
been a royal palace. Alas, thought I, how unlike those who once trod
this wide court is the melancholy cortege that now enters it.

As each carriage drew up at the foot of a wide flight of stone
steps, the prisoners descended, and, escorted by gendarmes on each
side, were led into the building. When all had reached the hall, the
order was given to move forward, and we walked on till we came to a
long gallery. On either side was a range of massive pillars, between
which views were obtained of various spacious, but dimly -lighted
chambers, apparently neglected and unused ; some benches here and
there, an old cabinet, and a deal table, were all the furniture. Here
we halted for a few moments, till a door opening at the extreme end, a
sign was made for us to advance, and now we heard a low rushing
sound, like the distant breaking of the sea in a calm night. It grew
louder as we went, till we could mark the mingling of several hundred
voices, as they conversed in a subdued and under tone.

Then, indeed, a dreadful thrill ran through me, as I thought of the
countless mass before whom I was to stand forth a criminal, and it
needed every effort in my power to keep my feet.

A heavy curtain of dark cloth yet separated us from a view of the
court, but we could hear the jroice of the president commanding
silence, and the monotonous intonation of the clerk reading the order
for the proceedings. This concluded, a deep voice called out, " Intro-
duce the prisoners," and the words were repeated still louder by a
huissier at the entrance ; and at a signal the line moved forward, the
curtain was drawn back, and we advanced into the court.

The crowd of faces that filled the vast space from the body of the
court below, to the galleries above, turned, as we passed on, to the
bench, at one side of the raised platform, near the seat of the judges.
A similar bench, but unoccupied, ran along the opposite side, while'
directly in front of the judges were ranged the advocates in rows
closely packed as they could sit ; a small desk, somewhat advanced from
the rest, being the seat reserved for the Procureur-g^n^ral of the
court

The vast multitude of spectators- the pomp and circumstance of a
court of justice -the solemn look of the judges arrayed in their dark
robes and square black caps, reminding one of the officers of the In
quisition, as we see thraoi in old paintyigs ; the silence where so many
were assembled all struck me with awe and I scarcely dared to
look up, lest in the glances bent upon me I should meet some whose
looks miffht seem to condemn me.

** ProdTaim the sSeance" said the president

And with a loud voice the huissier of the court made proclamation
that the tribunal had commenced if6 sitting. This concluded, the
Procureur-g^n6ral proceeded to read the names of the accused, be-
ginning with General Moreau, Armand de Polignac, Charles de Riviere,
Sol de Gisolles, George Cadoudal, and some twenty others of less
note, among which I heard with a sinking heart my own name pro-

TOM BUAKS OV ^ OUR8." 255

nouaced. Some enstomarj formalities seemed now to oeeupy the
court for a considerable time ; after which the huissier called silence
once more.

General Moreau," said the presidmit, in a deep voice that was
heard throughout the entire court ^ Rise up, sir," added he, after a
few seconds' pause. I looked down the bench, at the farthest end of
which I saw the tall and well-knit figure of a man in the uniform of a
general of the republic^ his back was turned towards me, but his bear-
ing and carriage weiyB quite enough to distinguish the soldier.

' Your name and surname," said the president*

Before an answer could be returned, a dull sound, like something
heavy falling, resounded through the court, and in an instant severid
persons around me stood up. I bent forward to see, and beheld the
figure of Bouvet de Lozier stretched insensible upon the ground ; be-
side himnhis faithful friend George was stooping, and endeavouring to
open his vest and give him air. Bring some water here quickly,"
cried the hardy Breton, in a tone that showed tittle respect for where
he stood. ** Your absusd ceremonial has frightened the poor boy out
of his senses."

" Respect the court, sir, or I commit you," said the .]esident, in a
voice of anger.

A contempttipus look, followed by a still more contemptuous shrug
of the shoulders, was his reply.

Remove the prisoner," said the president, pointing to the still
fainting youth, ** and proclaim silence in the court."

The officers of the. tribunal carried the death-like figure of the boy
down the steps, and bore him to some of the chambers nearr

This little incident, slight and passing as it was, seemed much to
affect the auditory, and it was some time before perfect silence could
be again restored.

So much for the regime of the Temple," said George^ aloud, as
he looked after the insensible form of his fHend.

Silence, sir," cried one of the judges, M. Thuriot, a harsh and
severe-looidng man, whose hatred to the prisoners was the subject of
much conversation in the prison.

Ah, it is you, Tue-Roi,'' cried George, punning upon his name, for
he had been one of the regicides. ** You, there ^I thought they had
found yon out long ere this."

A burst of laughter that nothing could repress broke through the
crowded court, and it was not until some five or six persons were
forcibly removed by the gendarmes that order was again restored.

Read the act of accusation," said the president, in a deep solemn
voice.

" In the name of the republic, one and indivisible "

Monsieur le President,'' interrupted the Procureur-g^n^ral, 'I
would submit to the court that, as in the first, act of accusation there
are several of the prisoners not included, they should not remain
during the recital of the indictment."

A conversation of some minutes now took place between the judges,
during which again the silence was unbroken in the court. I turned

256 OUR ME88,

gladly from the gaze of the thousand spectators to the bench where
my fellow-prisoners were seated ; and* however varied by age, rank,
and occupation, there seemed but one feeling amongst them a hardy
and resolute spirit to brave every danger without flinching.

"Which of the prisoners are not accused under the first act?^ said
Thuriot.

" Charles Auguste Rebarde," dit le Noir, " Guillaume Lebarte, and
Thomas Burke, sous-lieutenant in the eighth regiment of hussars."

" Let them withdraw," said the president,,

A slight bustle ensued in the body of the court as the gendarmes
adv&nced to make a passage for our exit ; and for a moment I could
perceive that the attention of the assembly was drawn towards us. One
by one we descended from the platform, and, with a gendarme on either
side, proceeded to pass out, when suddenly the deep mellow voice of
Cadoudal called aloud

" Adieu, my friends, adieu I If we are not to be better treated than
our prince, we shall never see you again."

"Silence, sir!" cried the president, severely; And then, turning
towards the bar of advocates, he continued " If that man have an
advocate in this court, it would well become him to warn his client that
such continued insult to the tribunal can only prejudice his cause."

" I have none, and I wish for none," replied GeorgCwin a tone of de-
fiance. " This mockery is but the first step of the guilrotine, and I can
walk it without assistance."

A renewed call of " Silence !" and a deep murmur through the as-
sembly, was all I heard, as the door of the court opened and closed
behind us. As we marched along a low vaulted corridor, the sounds of
the court grew fainter and fainter ; and at last the echoes of our own
steps were the only noises.

The room to which we were conducted was a small whitewashed
chamber, around which ran a bench of unpainted wood. A deal table
stood in the centre, on which was a common-looking earthenware jar
of water, and some tin goblets. The window was several feet from the
ground, and strongly barred with iron.

" La Salle d'attente is gloomy enough," said one of my companions,
" and yet some of us may be very sorry to leave it."

" Not I, at least," cried the other, resolutely. " The basket be-
neath the guillotine will be an easier couch than I have slept on these
three months."

TOM BURKE OP *' OUBS.** 257

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE "PALAIS DE JUSTICE."

" It will go hard with Moreau to-day,** said the elder of the two
prisoners a large, swarthy-looking Breton, in the dress of a sailor;
" the consul hates him."

" Whom does he not hate ?*' said the younger a slight and hand-
some youth. " Whom does he not hate that ever rivalled him in
glory ? What love did he bear to Kleber or Dessaix ?"

" It is false," said I, fiercely. " Bonaparte's greatness stands far
too high to feel such rivalry as theirs the conqueror of Italy and of

Egypt "

" Is a Corsican," interrupted the elder.

" And a tyrant," rejoined the other, in the same breath.

" These words become you well," said I, bitterly ; " would that no
stain lay on my honour, and I could make you eat them."

" And who are you that dare to speak thus ?" said the younger ;
" or how came one like you mixed up with men, whose hearts were in
a great cause, and who came to sell their lives upon it ?"

" I tell you, boy," broke in the elder, in a slow and measured tone,
* I have made more stalwart limbs than thine bend, and stronger
joints crack, for less than thou hast ventured to tell us ; but sorrow
.and suffering are hard masters, and I can bear more now than I was
wont to do. Let us have no more words."

As he spoke, he leaned his head upon his hand, and turned towards
the wall ; the other, too, sat down in a corner of the cell, and was
silent, and thus we remained for hours long.

The dreary stillness, made more depressing by the presence of the
two prisoners, whose deep-drawn breathings were the only sounds
they uttered, had something unspeakably sad and melancholy in it,
and more than once I felt sorry for the few words I had spoken, and
which separated those whose misfortunes should have made them
brothers.

A confused and distant hum, swelling and falling at intervals, now
filled the air ; and gradually I could distinguish the shouts of people
at a distance. This increas'ed as it came nearer, and then I heard the
tramping noise of ipany feet, as of a great multitude of people passing
in the street below^ and suddenly a wild cheer broke forth " Vive le
Consul!" "Vive Bonaparte!" followed the next instant by the
clanking sound of a cavalry escort, while the cry grew louder and
louder, and the vivas drowned all other sounds.

" You hear them, GuiUaume, you hear them," said the sailor to the
other prisoner. " That shout is our death-cry. Bonaparte comes
not here to-day but to see his judges do his bidding."

MBSSy NO. XXII. VOL. n. 8

25B ouB

" What care I?" said the other, fiercely. " The guillotine or the
sabre, the axe or the bayonet it is all one. We knew what must
come of it.**

The door opened as he spoke, and a greffier of the tribunal
appeared with four gendarmes.

Come, messieurs,** said he, " the court is waiting for you.*'

And how go matters without, sir ?'* said the elder, in an easy
tone.

Badly for the prisoners," said the greffier, shaking his head*
Monsieur Moreau, the general's brother, has done much injury ^he
has insulted the consul.*'

' Bravely done T* cried the younger man with enthusiasm. ** It is
weU he should hear truth one day, though the tongue that uttered it
should be cold the next"

Move on, sir," said the greffier, sternly. Not you,*' added he,
as I pressed forward after the rest Your time has not come."

" Would that it had,*' said I, as the door closed upon me, and I was
left in total solitude.

The day was over, and the evening already late, when a turnkey
appeared, and desired me to follow him. A moody indifference to
every thing had settled on me, and I never spoke as I walked behind
him down corridor after corridor, and across a court, into a large
massive-looking building, whose grated windows and strongly-barred
doors reminded me of the Temple.

*^ Here is your cell," said he roughly, as he \mlooked a loW door
near the entrance.

It is gloomy enough,** said I, with a sad smile.

^ And yet many have shed tears to leave it before now,'*rqoined he^
with a savage twinkle of his small eyes.

I was glcMl when the hoarse crash of the closed door told me I was
alone, and I threw myself upon my bed, and buried my face in my
hands.

There is a state which is not sleep and yet is akin to it, into which
grief can bring us ^a half dreary stupor, where only sorrows are felt,
and even they come dulled and blunted, as if time and years had
softened down their sting. But no ray of hope shines there ^
dreary waste, without a star ; the cold dark sea boundless and bkak,
is not more saddening than does life then seem before us. There is
neither path to follow nor goal to reach, and an apathy worse than
death creeps over all our faculties } and yet when we awake we wish,
for this again. Into this state I sank, and when morning came feU
sorry that the light should shine into my narrow cell, and rouse me
from my stupor. When the turnkey entered to bring me breakfast, I
turned towards the wall, and trembled lest he shoidd speak to me ;
and it was with a strange thrill I heard the donr close as he went out
The abandonment to one^s scmtow that daily, hourly indulgenee ki
grief, which the unche^red solitude of a f^rison begets^-HWCMi brings the
mind to the narrow range of one or two topics. With the death of
hope all fancy and imagination pmsh the springs of all specoUtioii

TOM BtmXfi Of **OJJtiB.^^ 259

are dried up-^nd every faculty bent towards one poini^-the reason,
Hke a limb unexercised, wastes, and pines, and becomes paralysed.

Now and then the thought would flash across- me Vhat if this were
madness, and I shuddered not at the thought : such had my pcison
made me.

' Four days and nights passed over thus^-a long, monotonous dream,
in which I counted not the time, and I lay upon my straw bed watch-
ing the expiring light of the candle with that strange interest one
attaches to every thing within the limits of a prison-celL The flame
waned and flickered: now lighting up for a second the cold grey
walls, scratched with many a prisoner's name ; now subsiding, it threw
strange and fitful shapes upon them-^figures that seemed to move and
beckon to each other ^goblin outlines, wild and fanciful ; then came a
bright flash as the wick fell, and all was dark.

If the dead do but sleep ^Was the first thouglit that crossed my
mind as the gloom of total night wrapped every object about me, and
a stillness most appalling prevailed. Suddenly I heard the sounds of
a heavy bolt withdrawn, and a door opening, then a low rushing noise,
like wind blowing through a narrow corridor, and at last the marching
sounds of feet, and the accents of men speaking together ; nearer
and nearer they came, and at length halted at the door of my cell.
A cold faint feeling ^the sickness of the heart' crept over me ; the
hour ^the sounds reminded me of what so often I had heard men
speak of in the Temple, and the dread of assassination made me trem
ble from head to foot. The light streamed from beneath the door,
and reached to my bed ; and I calculated the number of steps it would
take before they approached me. The key grated in the lock, and the
door opened slowly, and three men stood at the entrance. I sprang
up wildly to my feet ^a sudden impulse of self-defence seized me
and with a wild shout for them to come on, I rushed forward i my
foot, however, caught the angle of the iron bedstead, and I fell head-=
long and senseless to the ground. Some interval elapsed ; and when
next I felt consciousness, I was lying full length on my bed-^the cell
lit up by two candles on the table, beside which sat two men, their
heads bent eagerly over a mass of papers before them. One was an
old and venerable-looking man, his white hair and long queue so
bespeaking him; he wore a loose cloth cloak that covered his entire
figure, but I could see that the brass scabbard of a sword projected
beneath it; on the chair beside him, too, there lay a foraging-cap.
The other much yoimger, though still not in youth, was a thin, pale,
care-worn man; his fcu'ehead was high, and strongly marked; and
there was an intensity and determination in his brow and about the
angles of his mouth most striking; he was dressed in black, with
deep ruffles at his wrist.

^ It is quite clear, general,*' said he, in a low and measured voice,
where each word fell with perfect distinctness Mt is quite dear that
they can press a conviction here if they wilL The allegations are so
contrived^ as rather to vindicate complidtyi than actually establish it.

260 OUR MESS*

The defence in such cases has to combat shadows, not overturn facts ;
and believe me, a procureur-g^n^ral, armed by a police, is a dex-
terous enemy."

" I have no doubt of it," said the general, rapidly, " but what are
the weak points ? where is he most assailable ?"

" Every where," said the other. " To begin the secret informa-
tion of the outbreak between Lord Whit worth and the consul ^the
frequent meetings with Count de Beauvais ^the false report to the
ch^ de police the concealment of this abbe by-the-by, I am not
quite clear about that part of the case ; why have the prosecution
not brought this abbe forward. It is evident they have his evidence,
and can produce him, if they will: and I see no other name in
the act of accusation than our old acquaintance Mehee de La
Touche "

* The villain I" cried the general, with a stamp of indignation,
while a convulsive spasm seemed to shake every fibre of his frame.

Meh^e de La Touche !" said I to myself. 'I have heard that name
before ;" and like a lightning-flash it crossed my mind that such was
the name of the man Marie de Meudon charged me with knowing.

" But still," said the general, * what can they make of all these ?
that of indiscretion ^folly ^breach of discipline, if you will ; but "

" Wait a little," said the other, quietly ; " then comes the night of
the chateau, in which he is found among the Chouan party in their very
den, taking part in the defence."

*' No ! no ! Lamorciere, who commanded the cuirassiers, can
establish the fact beyond question that Burke took no part in the
affray, and delivered his sword at once when called on."

' At least they found him there, and on his person the brevet of
colonel, signed by monsieur himself."

" Of that I can give no explanation," replied the general ; " but I
am in possession of such information as can account for his presence
at the chateau, and establish his innocence on that point."
"/* Indeed," cried the advocate, for such he was; " with that much
may be done."

** Unhappily, however," rejoined the general, " if such a disclosure
is not necessary to save his life, I cannot venture to give it ; the ruin
of another must follow the explanation."

Without it he is lost," said the advocate, solemnly.

" And would not accept of life with it," said I boldly, as I started
up in my bed, and looked fixedly at them.

The general sprang back astonished and speechless ; but the advo
cate, with more command over his emotions, cast his eyes upon the
paper before him, and quickly asked, "And the commission ^how do
you account for that ?"

" It was offered to, and refused by me. He who made the proposal
forgot it on my table, and I was about to restore it when I was made
prisoner.*'
. "^ What condition was attached to your acceptance of it ?"

TOM BUKKE OP *^ OUB8.'* 261

Some vague, indistinct proposals were made to me to join a con-
spiracy of which I was neither told the object nor intentions. Indeed
I stopped any disclosure by rejecting the bribe."

" Who made these same proposals ?'*

' I shall not tell his name."

* No matter," said the advocate, carelessly : ^' it was Count de
Beauvais ;" and then, as if affecting to write, I saw his sharp eyes
glance over towards me, while a smile of gratified cunning twitched
his lip. *^ You will have no objection to say how first you became
acquainted with him ?"

The dexterity of this query, by replying to which I at once esta-
blished his preceding assumption, completely escaped me, and I gave
an account of my first meeting with De Beauvais without ever dream-
ing of the inferences it led to.

"An unhappy rencontre, sir," said the adovcate, as if musing: "better
have finished the intimacy, as you first intended, at the Bois de
Boulogne."

" It may be as you say, sir," said I, irritated by the flippancy of
his remark ; " but, perhaps, I may ask the name of the gentleman who
takos such interest in my affairs^ and by what right he meddles in
them?"

The general started back in his chair, and was about to speak, when
the advocate laying his hand gently on his arm to restrain him, and in a
voice of the most imruffled smoothness, replied " As to my name, sir,
it is Laurence BaiUot ; my rank is simple avocat of the Cour de
Tribunal ; and the ' right' by which I interfere in matters personal to
you is the consideration of fifty louis which accompanied this brief."

" And my name, young man, is Lieutenant-general d'Auvergne,"
said the old man proudly, as he stared me steadfastly in the face.
I arose at once, and saluted the general with a deep and respectful
obeisance. It was the same ofiicer who reviewed us at the Polytech-
nique the day of my promotion. " You are now, I hope, satisfied
with the reasons of our presence, and that nothing but considerations
of your interest can have influenced our visit," said the avocat with calm-
ness: "such being the case, sit down here, and relate all you can of your
life since your leaving the Polytechnique ; be brief too, for it is now
three o'clock; the court opens at ten, your case will be called
the second, and I must at least have three hours of sleep."

The general pointed to a seat beside him ; I sat down, and without
any delay proceeded to give a rapid account of all my adventures and
proceedings, to the hour we were then assembled, only omitting all
mention of Mademoiselle de Meudon's name, and such allusions to
Beauvais as might lead to his crimination.

The advocate wrote down, as rapidly as I spoke them, the principal
details of my history, and when I had concluded, perused the notes he
had taken with a quick eye. " This will never do,*' said he, with more
impatience in his manner than I had yet witnessed ; " here are a mass
of circumstances all unexplained, and all suspicious. It is now
entirely a question of the feeling of the court. The charges if pressed.

282 otm KBSB.

must lead to a oooTictlon. Your innocenoe, sir, may satisfj indeed it
has satisfied General d' Auvergne, who eke had not been here this night
but the proo& are not before us." He paused for a moment, and then
continued in a lower tone, addressing himself directly to the general,
We must entreat a delay ; a day ^two days, certainly, will establish
the proofs against George and his accomplices; they will be con-
demned and executed at once. It is most likely that the court will
not recur to capital punishment again. The example being made any
further demonstration will be needless* I see you put little faith in
this manoeuvre ; but trust me, I know the temper of the tribunal ;
beudes the political stroke has already succeeded. Bonaparte has
conquered all his enemies; his next step will be to profit by the
victory/' These words were riddles to me at the time though the day
soon came when their meaning was palpable. Yes, two days wiU
do it," said he, confidently raising his voice as he spoke ; ^ and then
whether there be a hussar the more, or one the less in France^ will little
trouble the current of events."

** Then, how to obtain the time ; that is the question," said the

^ Oh, we shall try something ; there can always be a witness to be
called ; some evidence all essential, not forthcoming ; some necessary
proof not quite unravelled. What if we summoned this same abbl.
The court will make proclamation for him. D'Ervan's the name."

* Yes ; but if by so doing he may be involved."

** Fear nothing on that score ; he'll never turn up, believe me. We
can afiect to show that his evidence is all important. Yes, well
make the Abb^ D'&van our first witness. Where shall we say he
resides? Rouen I suppose will do. Yes, Rouen;" and so, without
waiting for reply, he continued to write. " By this, you perceive,"
he remarked with a look of gratified cunning, ^* we shall disconcert
their plans. They are evidently keeping this abb^ up for some
greater occasion ; they have a case against himself, perhaps, in which
the proofs are not yet sufficient for conviction. We'll trouble their
game, and they may be glad to compromise with us."

The general looked as much confounded as myself at these schemes
of the lawyer, but we both were silent.

A few questions more followed, to which he wrote down my answers
as I gave them, and then starting up, he said '* And now, general, I
must hasten home to bed. Be ready, at all events, for appearing be-
fore the tribunal, Mr. Buri^e ; at ten you will be called, and so good
night." He bowed formally to me^ as he opened the door to permit the
general to pass out first

'' rU follow you in a moment," said the general, while he closed
the door after him, and remained behind with me in the cell. *^ It
was only this evening, sir," said he, in a low voice, at the return of
Madame Bonaparte from Boulogne, that Mademoiselle de Meudon
learned you were not at liberty. She has made me acquainted with the
circumstances by which your present risk has been incurred, and has
put me in possession of wherewithal to establish your innocence as

TOM BVSKX or ** 0.UK8.'* ^263

regards the adventure at the Chateau d'Ancre. This disclosure, if it
exculpates pouy will of course criminate her^ and among those too,
whare she has been received and admitted on terms of the closest
friendship. The natural desire to save her cousin's life will not cover
the act by which so horrible a conspiracy might have escaped punish-
ment. Bonaparte never forgives I Now, I am in possession of this
proof, and if you demand it, it shall be in your keeping. I have no
hesitation in saying that the other charges against you can easily be got
over ^this one bemg refuted. What do you say ?'*

Nothing could make me accept of such an exculpation," said I,
resolutely; "and were it offisred in spite of me, I'll plead guilty to
the whole act, and suffer with the rest."

The old tnan's eyes glistened with pleasure^ and I thought I saw a
a tear fall on his cheek. " Now," cried he, as he grasped my hand in
both his "now I feel that you are innocent, my brave boy, and come
what will, I'll stand by you." With that he hurried from the cell
and followed the advocate, who was already calling with some impatience
io have the doors unlocked.

I was again alone. No, not alone ^for in my narrow cell hope was
^th me now.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THK "raiAL."

So doubtful was the government of the day in what way the people
of Paris would be disposed to regard the trial of the Chouan pri-
soners, how far public sympathy might side with misfortune and
heroism, and in what way they would regard Moreau, whose career in
arms so many had witnessed with pride and enthusiasm, that for seve-
ral days they did not dare to strike the decisive blow which was to
establiish th^ guilt, but advanced with slow and cautious steps, gra*
dually accumulating a mass of small circumstances, on which the
Moniteur each day commented, and the other journals of less authority
expatiated, as if to prepare the public mind for further and more
important revelations.

At last, however, the day arrived in which the mine was to be sprung.
The secret police whose information extended to all that went on in
every class of the capital, who knew the chit-chat of the highest circles,
equally as they did the grumblings of the Faubourg St. Antoine *
pronounced the time had come when the fatal stroke might no longer
be withheld, and when the long-destined vengeance shouM descend on
their devoted heads.

2d4 Ot7R MfeSd.

The want of energy on the part of the prosecution ^the absence of
important witnesses, and of all direct evidence whatever, which marked
the first four days of the trial, had infused a high hope and a strong
sense of security into the prisoners' hearts. The proofs which they
60 much dreaded, and of whose existence they well knew, were not
forthcoming against them. The rumoured treachery of some of their
party began, at length, to lose its terror for them ^while in the lax
and careless proceedings of the procureur-general they saw, or fan-
cied they saw, a desire on the part of government to render the public
uninterested spectators of the scene, and thus prepare the way for an
acquittal, while no danger of any excitement existed.

Such was the state of matters at the close of the fourth day a tire-
some and desultory discussion on some merely legal question had occu-
pied the court for several hours ; and many of the spectators, wearied
and tired out, had gone home disappointed in their expectations, and
secretly resolving not to return the following day.

This was the moment for which the party in power had been wait-
ing the interval of false security, as it would seem, when all danger
was past, and no longer any apprehension existed. The sudden shock of
the newly -discovered proofs would then come with peculiar force, while,
no matter how rapid any subsequent step might be, all charge of pre-
cipitancy or undue haste had been disproved by the tardy nature of
the four first days' proceedings.

For the change of scene about to take place an early edition of the
Moniteur prepared the public ; and by day-break the walls of Paris
were placarded with great announcements of the discoveries made by
the government how, by their untiring efibrts, the whole plot, which
was to deluge France with blood, and invert the glorious institutions
of freedom they had acquired by the revolution, had been laid open.
That new and convincing evidence of the guilt of the Chouans had
turned up and a frightful picture of anarchy and social disorganiza-
tion was displayed, all of which was to originate in an effort to restore
the Bourbons to the throne of France.

While, therefore, the galleries of the court were crowded to suffo-
cation at an early hour, and every avenue leading t^ the tribunal
crammed with people, anxious to be present at this eventful crisis,
the prisoners took their places on the ** bench of the accused," totally
unaware of the reason of the excitement they witnessed, and strangely
puzzled to conceive what unknown circumstance had re-invested the
proceedings with a new interest.

As I took my place among the rest I stared with surprise at the
scene ^the strange contrast between the thousands there whose strained
eyes and feverbh faces betokened the highest degree of excitement,
and that little group on which every look was tm*ned calm, and even
cheerful. There sat George Cadoudal in the midst of them, his hands
clasped in those at either side of him ; his strongly-marked features
perfectly at rest, and his eyes bent with a steady sfare on the bench
where the judges were seated. Moreau was not present, nor did I see
some of the Chouans whom I remembered on the former day

TOM BUAKS OP " ODBS." 265

The usual formal proclamation of the court being made, silence
was called by the crier a useless precaution, as throughout that vast
assembly not a whisper was to be heard. A conversation of some
minutes took place between the procureur and the counsel for the
prisoners, in which 1 recognised the voice of Monsieur Baillot my
own advocate, which was interrupted by the president, desiring that
the proceedings should commence.

The procureur-gen6ral bowed, and took his seat, while the presi-
dent, turning towards George, said

' George Cadoudal, you have hitherto persisted in a course of blank
denial regarding every circumstance of the conspiracy with which you
are charged. You have asserted your ignorance of persons and places
with which we are provided with proof to show you are well acquainted.
You have neither accounted for your presence in suspected situations,
nor satisfactorily shown what were the objects of your intimacy with
suspected individuals. The court now desires to ask you, whether at
this stage of the proceedings you wish to offer more explicit revela-
tions, or explain any of the dubious events of your career ?"

" I will answer any question you put to me," replied George, sternly ;
" but I have lived too long in another country not to have learned
some of its usages, and I feel no desire to become my own accuser.
Let him there (he pointed to the procureur-general) do his office ^
he is the paid and salaried assailant of the innocent."

" I call upon the court," said the procureur, rising ^when he was
suddenly interrupted by the president saying, " We wiU protect you,
monsieur le procureur , and once again we would admonish the accused,
that insolence to the authorities of this court is but a sorry plea in vin-
dication of his innocence, and shall be no recommendation to our
mercy."

"Your mercy!" said George, in a voice of scorn and sarcasm.
" Who ever heard of a tiger's benevolence or a wolf's chiurity ? And
even if you wished it, he whose slaves you are **

" I call upon you to be silent,*' said an advocate, rising from a bench
directly behind him " another interruption of this kind and I shall
abandon the defence."

" What I" said George, turning quickly round and staring at him
with a look of withering contempt, " and have they bought i/ou over
too r*

" Call the first witness," said the president, and an indistinct mur-
mur was heard, and a slight confusion seen to agitate the crowd, as the
gendarmes opened a path towards the witness bench ; and then I saw
two men carrying something between them, which 1 soon perceived to
be a man. The' legs, which were alone apparent, hung down listlessly
like those of a corpse, and one arm, which fell over the shoulder of the
bearer, moved to and fro, as they went, like the limb of a dead man.
Every neck was stretched from the galleries above, and along the benches
beneath, to catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure, which seemed like
an apparition from the grave come to give evidence. His face, too, was
concealed by a handkerchief; and as he ivas placed in a chair provided

OUB

for the purpoM^ the Mtistante stood at ether side to support his
drooping figare.

Let the witness be swom,** said the president i and with the aid of
an officer of the court, a thin white hand was held up, on which the
flesh seemed almost transparent from emaciation a low muttering^
sound followed, and the president spoke again : * Let the witness be
uncovered. George Cadoudal, advance P

As the hardy Chouan stepped forward the handkerchief fell from
the witness's face, while his head slowly turned round towards the pri-
soner. A cry, like the yell of a wounded animal, broke from the stout
Breton, as he bounded into the air and held up both his arms to their
full height. ^' Tot, tot," screamed he, in accents that seemed the very
last of a heart wrung to agony, while he leaned forward, and fixed his
eyes on him, till the very orbs seemed bursting fVom their sockets.
" Out/' added he, in a lower tone, but one which was felt in every
corner of that crowded assemblage " Owe, c^ luV* Then clasping
his trembUng hands together, as his knees bent beneath him, he turned
his eyes upwards, and said *^Le ban Dieth that makes men's
hearts and knows their thoughts, deals with us as he will; and I
must have sinned sorely towards him when such punishment as this
has fallen upon me oh, my brother, my child, my own Bouvet de
Lozier."

" Bouvet de Lozier," cried the other prisoners, with a shout wild as
madness itself, while every man sprung forward to look at him. But
already the head had fallen back over the chair, the limbs stretched
out rigidly, and the arm fell heavily down. ** He is dying" he is
^ead" ^w^e the exclamations of the crowd, and a general cry for a
doctor was heard around. Several physicians were soon at his side,
and by the aid of restoratives he was gradually brought back to anima-
tion, but cold and speechless he lay, unable to understand any thing,
and was obliged to be conveyed back again to his bed.

It was some time before the excitement of this harrowing scene was
over 5 and when order at length was restored in the court, George
Cadoudal was seen seated, as at first, on the bench, while around him
his faithful followers were grouped. Like children round a beloved
father, some leaned on his neck, others clasped his knees some covered
his hands with kisses, and called him by the most endearing names.
But though he moved his head from side to side, and tried to smile
upon them, a cold vacancy was in his face, his lips were parted, and his
eyes stared wildly before him, his very hair stood out from his forehead,
on which the big drops of sweat were seen.

" Father, dear father, it is but one who is false see, look how many
of your children are true to you ^think on us who are with you here,
and will go with you to death without shrinking."

" He is but a child, too, father, and they have stolen away his
reason from him," said another.

" Yes, they have brought him to this by sufiering," cried a third, as
with a clenched hand he menaced the bench where sat the judges.

*^ Order in the court/' cried the president, but the command wa!i

I ::

TOM BURKS OV OUBS.** 267

reiterated again and again before silence conld be obtained ; and yfhen
again I could observe the proceedings, I saw the procureur-g^6ral
addressing the tribunal, to demand a poatponement, in consequence of
the illness of the last witness, whose testimony was pronounced all
conclusive.

A discussion took place on the subject between the counsel for the
prisoners and the prosecution, and at length it was ruled that this
trial should not be proceeded with till the following morning.

" We are, however, prepared to go on with the other cases," said
the procureur, "if the court will permit"

" Certainly," said the president.

" In that case," continued the procureur, " we shall call on the ac*
cused Thomas Burke, lieutenant of the huitiime hussars, now present."
For some minutes nothing more could be heard, for the crowded gal-
leries, thronged with expectant hundreds, began now to empty. Mine
was a name without interest for any ; and the thronged masses rose to
depart, while their over-excited minds found vent in words which
drowned all else. It was in vain silence and order were proclaimed
the proceedings had lost all interest, and with it all respect,
and for full ten minutes the uproar lasted. Meanwhile M. Baillot
taking his place at my side, produced some most voluminous papers,
in which he soon became deeply engaged. I turned one look through-
out the now almost deserted seats, but not one face there was known
to me. The f^w who remained seemed to stay rather from indolence
than any other motive, as they lounged over the vacant benches, and
yawned listlessly ; and much as I dreaded the gaze of that appalling
multitude, I sickened at the miserable isolation of my lot, and felt
overwhelmed to think that for me there was not one who should pity
or regret my fall. At last order was established in the court, and the
procureur opened the proceeding by reciting the act of my accusation,
in which all the circumstnuccs already mentioned by my advocate were
dwelt and commented oJPdth the habitual force and exaggeration of
bar oratory. The address was short, however, scarcely fifteen minutes
long ; and by the tone of the speaker, and the manner of the judges, I
guessed that my case excited little or no interest to Uie prosecution,
either from my own humble and insignificant position, or the certainty
they felt of my conviction.

My advocate rose to demand a delay, even a short one, pleading
most energetically against the precipitancy of a proceeding in which
the indictment was but made known the day previous. The president
interrupted him roughly, and with an assurance that no circumstance
short of the necessity to produce some important evidence not then
forthcoming, would induce him to grant g postponement.

M. Baillot replied at once " Such, sir, is our case a wit-
ness, whose evidence is of the highest moment, is not to be found
a day or two might enable us to obtain his testimony it is upon
this we ground our hope, our certainty of an acquittal The court
will not. I am certain, refuse its clemency in such an emergency as
this?"

268 OUR ME8S.

Where is this same witness to be found ^is he in Paris ^is he in
France ?"

" We hope in Paris, monsieur le president.'* ,

" And his name ?"

The AbW D'Ervan."

A strange murmur ran along the bench of judges at the words, and
I could see that some of them smiled in spite of their efforts to seem.
grave, while the procureur-g^n^ral did not scruple to laugh outright.

' I believe, sir,^ said he, addressing the president, that I can ac-
commodate my learned brother with this so-much-desired testimony
perhaps more speedily I will not say than he wishes but than he
expects.*'

" How is this ?' said my advocate, in a whisper to me " they Lave
this abb^ then has he turned against his party ?"

I know nothing of him," said I, recklessly : falsehood and trea-
chery seem so rife here, that it can well be as you say."

" The Abbe D'Ervan," called a loud voice, and with tlie words the
well-known figure moved rapidly from the crowd and mounted the
steps of the platform.

"You are lost," said Baillot, in a low, solenm voice. ^"It is
Mehee de La Touche himself."

Had the words of my sentence rung in my ears I had not felt them
more ; that name by some secret spell had such terror in it.

You know the prisoner before you, sir," said the president, turn-
ing towards the abb6 ?

Before he coujld reply my advocate broke in.

^ Pardon me, sir, but previous to the examination of this respectable
witness I would ask under what name he is to figure in this process ?
Is he here the Abbe D'Ervan ^the agreeable and gifted frequenter of the
Faubourg St. Germain ? is he the Chevalier Maupret the companion and
associate of the house of Bourbon? or is he the no less celebrated and
esteemed citizen Meh6e de La Touche, whos^e active exertions have
been of such value in these eventful times, that we should think no
recompense sufficient for them, had, he not been paid by both parties.
Yes, sir," continued he in an altered tone, " I repeat it, we are prepared
to show that this man is unworthy of all credit that he, whose testi-
mony the court now calls, is a hired spy, a bribed calumniator ^the
instigator to the treason he prosecutes ^the designer *oi the schemes
for which other men's blood has paid the penalty. Is this abbe with-
out and gendarme within to be at large in the world, ensnaring the
unsuspecting youth of France by subtle and insidious doctrines dis-
guised under the semblance of after-dinner gaiety ? Are we to^eel that
on such evidence as this, the fame, the honour, the life of every man is
to rest ? He who earns his livelihood by treason, and whose wealth
is gathered in the bloody sawdust beneath the guillotine !"

" We shall not hear these observations longer," said the president,
with an accent of severity. " You may comment on the evidence of
the witness hereafter, and, if you are able to do 80 disorove it. His
character is under the protection of the court "

TOM BURKB OP "OURS." 269

(

" No, sir," said the advocate, with energy ; " no court however
high no tribunal, beneath that of heaven itself whose decrees we
dare not question can throw a shield over a man like this. There
are crimes which stain the nation they occur in ^which, happening in
our age, make men sorry for their generation, and wish that they had
Jived in other times."

" Once more, sir, I command you to desist/* interrupted the presi-
dent.

If I dare to dictate to the honourable court," said the so-called
abbe, in an accent of the most honied sweetness, and with a smile of
the most winning expression*' I would ask permission for the learned
gentleman to proceed. . These well-arranged paragraphs this indig-
nation got by heart, must have vent, since they're paid for ; and it
would save the tribunal the time which must be consumed in listening
to them hereafter.",

"If,"said the advocate, "the coolness and indifference to blood which the
headsman exhibits, be a proof of guilt in the victim before him, I could
congratulate the prosecution on their witness. But," cried he, in an accent
of wild excitement, *' great heavens ! are we again fallen on such times
as to need atrocity like this. Is the terrible ordeal of blood, through
which we have passed to be renewed once more? Is the accusation to
be hoarded the calumnious evidence secreted ^the charge held back-
till the scaffold is ready and then the Indictment, the slander, the
sentence, and the death to follow on one another like the flash and
the thunder? Is the very imputation of having heard from a Bourbon,
to bear its prestige of sudden death ?"

" Silence, sir,** cried the president, to whom the allusion to the Due
D'Enghein was peculiarly offensive, and who saw in the looks of the
spectators with what force it told. " You know the prisoner P* said he,
turning towards D'Ervan.

' I have that honour, sir,** said he, with a bland smile.

* State to the coiurt the place and the occasion of your first meeting
him.**

" If I remember correctly, it was in the Palais Royale, at Beauvil-
liers. There was a meeting of some of the Chouan party arranged
for that evening, but from some accident only three or four were pre-
sent. The sous^ieutenant, however, was one."

' Repeat, as far as your memory serves you, the conduct and con-
versation of the prisoner during the evening in question ?**

In reply the abbe recapitulated every minute particular of the
supper ; scarcely an observation the most trivial he did not recall and
apply, by some infernal ingenuity, to the scheme of the conspiracy.
Athough, never even in the slightest instance falsifying any speech, he
tortured the few words I did say into such a semblance of criminality,
that I started, as I heard the interpretation which now appeared so
naturally to attach to them.

During all this time my advocate never interrupted him once,
but occupied himself in writing as rapidly as he could follow the
evidence.

i

S70 otm Mssfl.

The chance expression which concluded the evening, Che hope of
meeting soon, was artfully construed into an arranged and recognised
agreement that I had accepted companionship amongst them, and
formally joined their ranks* From this he passed on to the second
charge, respecting the conversation I had overheard at the Tuileriesy
and which I so unhappily repeated to Beauvais. This the abb6 dwelt
upon with great minuten^s, as evidencing my being an accomplice,
showing how I had exhibited great zeal in the new cause I had em-
barked in, and affecting to mark how very highly the service was rated
by those in whose power lay the rewards of such an achievement

Then followed the account of my appointment at Versailles, in which
I heard, with a sinking heart how thoroughly even there the toils
were spread around me* It appeared, that the reason of the neglect I
then experienced, was an order from the minister that I should not be
noticed in any way ; that the object of my being placed there was to
test my fidelity, which already was suspected ; that it was supposed
such neglect might naturally have the effect of throwing me more
willingly into the views of the conspirators, and, as I was watched
in every minute particular, of establishing my own guilt and leading
to the detection of others. Then came a narrative of his visits to my
quarters, in which the omission of all mention of his name in my
report was clearly shown as an evidence of my conscious culpability ;
and to my horror and confusion a new witness was produced, the
sentinel Pierre Dulong, who mounted gulu'd at the gate of the chateau
on the morning when I passed the abb6 through the paric.

With an accuracy beyond my belief he repeated all our conver-
sations, making the dubious hints and dark suggestions which he him-
self threw out as much mine as his own; and having at length given
a full picture of my treacherous conduct, he introduced my intimacy
with Beauvais as the crowning circumstance of my guilt. " I shall
pause here," said he^ with a cool malignity, but ill concealed beneath
a look of afibeted sorrow " I shall pause here, and, with the permis-
sion of the court, allow the accused to make, if he will, a full confes*
sioH of his criminality | Or, if he refuse this, I shall proceed to the
disclosure of other circumstances, by which it will be seen that these
dark designs met favour and eount^ance in higher quarters, and
among those, too, whose sex, if nothing else, should have removed
them beyond the contamination of confederacy with assassination.''

" The court," said the president, sternly^ " will enter into no com-
promise of this kind. You are here to give such evidence as you
possess fully, frankly, and without reserve ; nor can we permit you
to hold- out any promises to the prisoner that his confession of gdlt
can afford a screen to the culpability of others.'^.

*' I demand," cried the procureur-gen^ral, a full disclosure firom
the witness of every thing he knows concerning this conspiracy*"

In that case I shall speak," said the abb6.

At this instant a noise was heard in the hfdl without ; a half murmur
ran through the court ; and suddenly the heavy curtain was drawn
afiidey and a loud voice called out^-^

TOM BUBKB OV ^^OCItS." 271^

In the name of the republic one and indivisible an order of
counciL"

The messenger, splashed and covered with mud, advanced through
the court, and delivered a packet into the hands of the president,
who, having broken the large seals, proceeded leisurely to read it over.
At the same moment I felt my arm gently touched, and a small pencil
note was slipped into my hand. It ran thus :

'' Deab Sib Burke is safe. An order for his transmission before a
military tribunal has just been signed by the first consuL Stop all the
evidence at once, as he is no longer before the court. The court-
martial will be but a formality, and in a few days he will be at
liberty. Your^

" D' AUVEEGNE,

'* Lieutenant- General.**

Before I could recover the shock of such glad tidings the president
rose, and said

^ In the matter of the accused Burke this court has no longer
cognizance, as he is summoned before the tribunal of the arniv. Let
him withdraw, and call on the next case ^Auguste Leconisset.

D'Ervan stooped down and whispered a few words to the
procureur-gen6ral, who immediately demanded to peruse the order of
counciL To this my advocate at once objected, and a short and
animated discussion on the legal question followed. The president,
however, ruled in favour of my defender; and at the same instant a
corporal's guard appeared, into whose charge I was formally handed
over, and marched from the court

Such was the excited state of my mind-in such a confused whirl
were all my faculties, that^I knew nothing of what was passing around
me ; and save that I was ordered to mount into a carriage, and driven
along at a rapid pace, I remembered no more. At length we reached
the quay Voltaire, and entered the large square of the barrack.
The tears burst out and ran down my cheeks, as I looked once more
on the emblems of the career I loved. We stopped at the door of a
large stone building, where two sentries were posted ; and the moment
after I found myself the occupant of a smjdl barrack-room, in which,
though under arrest, no feature of harsh confinement appeared, and
from whose windows I could survey the movement of the troops in the
court, and hear the sounds which for so many a day had been the
most weloome to my existence.

272 OUR MESS

CHAPTER XXXVIIL

*THE CUIBASSIEB/'

A1.THOUOH my arrest was continued with all its strictness, I never
heard one word of my transmission hefore the military tribunal; and a
fortnight elapsed, during which I passed through every stage of ex-
pectancy, doubt, and at last indifference ; no tiding having ever
reached me as to what fortune lay in store for me.

The gruff old invalid that carried my daily rations seemed but ill-
disposed to afford me any information, even as to the common events
without, and seldom made any other reply to my questioning than an
erect position as if on parade, a military salute, and Connais pas^
man lieutenant* a phrase which I actually began to abhor from its
repetition. Still his daily visits showed I was not utterly forgotten ;
while from my window I had a view of all that went on in the barrack
yard. There ^for I had neither books nor newspapers I spent my
entire day watching the evolutions of the soldiers : the parade at day-
break, the relieving guards, the drill, the exercise, the very labours of
the barrack square all had their interest for me, and at length I began
to know the very faces of the soldiers, and could recognise the bronzed
and weather-beaten features of the veterans of the republican armies.

It was a cuirassier regiment, and one that had seen much service :
most of the sous officiers and many of the men were decorated ; and
their helmets bore the haughty device of ^^ Dix cantre unT' in
memory of some battle against the Austrians, where they repulsed and
overthrew a force of ten times their own number.

At first their heavy equipments and huge unwieldy horses seemed
strange and uncouth to my eyes, accustomed to the more elegant and
trim style of a hussar corps, but gradually I fancied there was some-
thing almost more soldierlike about them; their dark faces harmonised
too with the great black cuirass ; and the large massive boot mounting
to the middle of the thigh, the long horse-hmred helmet, the straight
sword, and peculiar, heavy, plodding step, reminded me of what I used
to read of the Roman centurion; while the horses, covered with
weighty and massive trappings, moved with a warlike bearing, and a
tramp as stately as their riders.

When evening came, and set the soldiers free from duty, I used to |

Yi'atch them for hours long, as they sat in little groups and knots about the
barrack yard, smoking and chatting occasionally singing too. Even
then, however, their distinctive character was preserved; unlike the
noisy, boisterous merriment of the hussar, the staid cuirassier deemed
such levity unbecoming the dignity of his arm of the service, and there
reigned a half solemn feature over all their intercourse, which struck

TOM BVBKE OF " OUES. 273

me forcibly. I knew not then as I have learned full well since ^how
every department of the French army had its distinctive characteristic,
and that Napoleon studied and even encouraged the growth of these
singular manners to a great extent ; doubtless, too, feeling a pride in
his own thorough intimacy with their most minute traits, and that
facility with which, by a single word, he could address himself to the
cherished feeling of a particular corps. And the tact by which the
monarch wins over and fascinates the nobles of hb court, was here
exercised in the great world of a camp, and with far more success
too : a phrase, a name, some well-known battle, the date of a victory,
would fall from his lips as he rode along the line, and be caught up
with enthusiasm by thousands, who felt in the one word a recognition
of past services. " Thou" he always addressed the soldiers in the
second person " thou wert with me at Cairo f ' I remember thee at
Areola," were enough to reward wounds, suffering, mutilation itself;
and he to whom such was addressed became an object of veneration
among his fellows.

Certain corps preserved more studiously than others the memories of
past achievements the heir-looms of their glory ; and to these Bona-
parte always spoke with a feeling of friendship most captivating to the
soldier's heart, and from them he selected the various regiments that
composed his ^ guard." The cuirassiers belonged to this proud force ;
and even an unmilitary eye could mark, in their haughty bearing and
assured look, that they were a favoured corps.

Among those with whose faces I had now grown familiar there was
one whom I regarded with unusual interest : he seemed to me the very
type of his class. He was a man of gigantic size, towering by
half a head above the very tallest of his fellows, while his enormous
breadth of chest and shoulder actually seemed to detract from his
great height. The lower part of his face was entirely concealed by a
beard of bright red hair that fell in a huge mass over the breast of his
cuirass, and seemed by its trim and fashion to be an object of no
common pride to the wearer ; his nose was marked by a sabre cut that
extended across one entire cheek, leaving a deep blue welt in its track:
but saving these traits ^wild and savage enough ^the countenance was
singularly mild and pleasing ; he had large and liquid blue eyes, soil
and lustrous as any girl's ; the lashes, too, were long and falling ; and
his forehead, which was high and open, was white as snow. I was not
long in remarking the strange influence this man seemed to possess
over the rest an ascendancy not in any way attributable to the mark
on his sleeve, which proclaimed him a corporal. It seemed as though
his slightest word, his least gesture, was attended to; and though
evidently taciturn and quiet, when he spoke I could detect in iUs
manner an air of promptitude and command that marked him as one
born to be above his fellows. If he seemed such in the idle hours, on
parade he was the beau ideal of a cuirassier. His great war-horse,
seemingly small for the immense proportions of the heavy rider,
bounded with each movement of his wrist, as if instinct with the horse-
man's wishes.

M6S, NO. XXU. VOL. U. T

Vl4 OUR KC8t

I waited with some impatience for the invalid's arrival^ to ask who
this remarkable soldier was, certain that I should hear of no common
man. He came soon after ; and as I pointed out the object of my
curiosity^ the old fellow drew himself up with pride, and, while a grim
effort at a smile crossed his features, replied-^

That's Ploche Xe gros Pioche /"

^ Pioche P said I, repeating the name aloud, and endeavouring to
remember why it seemed well known to me.

" Yes, Pioche," rejoined he, gruffly. " If monsieur had ever been in
Egypt, the name would scarcely sound so strange in his ears." And
with this sarcasm he hobbled from the room and closed the door,
while I could hear him grumbling along the entire corridor, in evident
anger at the ignorance that did not know Pioche."

Twenty times did I repeat the name aloud, before it flashed aoroeuf
me as the same Madame Lefebvre mentioned at the soiree in the
palace* It was Pioche who shouldered the brass field-piece, and passed
before the general on parade. The gigantic size, the powerful strength^
the strange name ^all could belong to no other ; and I felt as though
at once I had found an old acquaintance in the great cuirassier of the
guard.

If the prisoner in his lonely cell has few incidents to diarm his
solitary hours, in return he is enabled by some happy gift to make these
the sources of many thoughts. The gleam of light that falls upon the
floor, broken by the iron gratings of his window, comes laden with
storied fancies of other lands of far distant countries, where men are
dwelling in their native mountains free and happy; forgetful of hi9
prison, the captive wanders in his fancy through vaUeys he has seen in
boyhood^ and with friends to be met no more. He turns gladly to the
past, of whose pleasures no adverse fortune can deprive him, and lived
over again the happy hours of his youth ; and thinks, with a melancholy
not devoid of its own pleasure, of what they would feel who loved him,
could they but see him now: he pictures their sympathy and their
sorrow, and his heart feels lighter, though his eyes drop tears*

In this way the great cuirassier became an object for my thoughts by
day and my dreams by night. I fancied a hunted stories, of which he
was the hero; and these imaginings served to while away many a tedious
hour, and gave me an interest in watching the little spot of earth that
was visible from my barred window. It was in one of these reveries I
sat one evening when I heard the sounds of feet approaching along the
corridor that led to my room ; the clank of a sabre and the jingle of spura
sounded not like my gruff visitor. My door was opened before I had
time for much conjecture, and General D'Auvergne stood before me.

Ah I mon lieutenants^* cried he, gaily, you have been thinkings
very hardly of me since we met last, I'm sure; charging me with
forgetfulness, and accusing me of great neglect."

" Pardon me, general," said I, hmriedty ; " your former kindness^
for which I never can be grateful enough, has been always before my
mind. I have not yet forgotten that you saved my life ; more stiUr-*
you rescued my name from dishonour."

TOM BtmWB Of **0XJB8/* 275

, *' Wfell well; that's all past and gone now: your reputation stands
clear at last. Beauvais has surrendered himself to the authorities at
Rouen, and made a full confession of every thing, exculpating you
completely in every particular, save the indiscretion of your inter-
course with Mehte de La Touche or, as you know him better, the
Ahh6 D'Ervan.''

" And poor Beauvais, what is to become of him ?" said I eagerly.

' " Have no fears on his account," said he, with something like con^
fusion in his manner ; " she ^that is, Madame Bonaparte has kindly
interested herself in his behalf, and he is to sail for Guadaloupe in a
few days ^his own proposition and wish."

" And does General Bonaparte know now that I was guiltless ?"
cried I, with enthusiasm.

" My dear young man," said he, with a bland smile, " I very much
fear that the general has little time at this moment to give the matter
much of his attention. Great events have happened are happening
while we speak : war is threatening on the side of Austria. Yes, it is
true ; the camp of Boulogne has received orders to break up ; troops
are once more on their march to the Rhine ; all France is arming."

Oh, when shall I be free ?"

** You are free !" cried he, clapping me gaily on the shoulder : " an
amnesty against all untried prisoners for state offences has been pro-
claimed. At such a moment of national joy **

" What do you mean ?"

" What ! and have I not told you my great news ? The senate have
presented to Bonaparte an address, praying his acceptance of the throne
of France -or, in their very words, to make his authority eternal."

" And he ?" said I, breathless with impatience to know the result.

** He," continued the general, " has replied as became him, desiring
them to state clearly their views by what steps they propose to
consolidate the acquired liberties of the nation ; and while avowing that
no higher honour or dignity can await him than such as he has already
received at the hands of the people * yet,* added he, * when the hour
arrives that I can see such to be the will of France, when one voice
proclaims it from Alsace to the ocean ^from Lisle to the Pyrenees,
then shall I be ready to accept the crown of France.' "

The general entered minutely into all the circumstances of the great
political change, and detailed the effect which the late conspiracy had
had on the minds of the people, and with what terror they contemplated
the social disorders that must accrue from the death of their great ruler ;
how nothing short of a government based on a monarchy, with the
right of succession estabUshed, could withstand such a terrific crisis.
As h spoke, the words I had heard in the Temple crossed my mind,
and i remembered that such was the anticipation of the prisoners, as
they said among themselves " When the guillotine has done its work,
they'll patch up the timbers into a throne.

** And George Cadoudal and the others?" said I.

" They are no more. Betrayed by their own party, they met death
like brave men, and as worthy of a better cause. But let us not turn to

276 OUR MBSSU

80 and a theme. The order for your liberation will be here to-morrow;
and as 1 am appointed to a brigade on active service, I have come to
offer you the post of aide-de-camp."

I could not speak ; my heart was too full for words. I knew how
great the risk of showing any favour to one who stood in such a
position as I did, and I could but look my gratitude, while the tears
ran down my cheeks.

** Well," cried he, as he took my hand in his, ^' so much 'is settled.
Now to another point, and one in which my frankness must cause you no
offence. You are not rich ^neither am I ; but Bonaparte always gives
us opportunities to gather our epaulettes ay, and find the bidlion
to make them too. Meanwhile you may want money "

' No, general,'' cried I eagerly ; ^ here are three thousand francs
some kind friend sent me. I know not whence they came ; and even if
I wanted, did not dare to spend them ; but now **

The old man paused, and appeared confused, while he leaned his
finger on his forehead, and seemed endeavouring to recall some passing
thought.

" Did they come from you, sir ?" said I, timidly.

" No, not from me," repeated he slowly. " You say you never found
out the donor ?"

^ Never," said I, while a sense of shame prevented my adding what
rose to my mind-could they not be from Mademoiselle de Meudon ?

" Well, well," said he, at length, " be it so. And now till to-
morrow: I shall be here at noon, and bring the minister's order
with me. And so, good-bye."

' Good-bye," said I, as I stood overcome with happiness. *Let
what will come of it^ this is a moment worth living for."

TOM BUSKS or 0UR8.* 277

CHAPTER XXXIX.

A MORNING AT "THB TUILEBIES."

Taue to his appomtment, the general appeared the following diy as
the hour of noon was striking. He brought the official papers from
the minist^ of war, as well as the formal letter naming me his aide-de-
camp. The documents were all perfectly regular, and bemg read over
by the military commission, I was sent for, when my sword was
restored to me by the colonel oS the regiment in garrison, and I was
free once more.

You have received a severe lesson, Burke," said the general, as he
took my arm to lead me towards his carriage, ' and all owing to the
rashness with which, in times of difficulty and danger, you permitted
yourself to form intimacies with men utterly unknown to you. There
are epochs when weakness is the worst of .evils. You are very young,
to be sure, and I trust the experience you have acquired here wiU serve
for a life-time."

' Still, sir, in all this sad buaness my faith never wavered ; my
attachment to the consul was unshaken."

" Had it been othearwiae, do you think you had been here now ?"
said he, drily. Were not the evidences of your fidelity set off against
your f(41y what chance of escape remained for you ? No, no ; she
who befriended you so steadily throughout this tangled scheme for your
ruin, had never advocated your cause were there reason to suppose you
were involved in the conspiracy against her husband's life."

" Who do you mean ?" said I. " I scarcely understand."

" The consulesse, of course. But for Madame Bonaparte you were
lost : even since I saw you last, I have learned how deeply interested
she became in your fortunes. The letter you received in the Temple
came from her, and the enclosure also. And now, with your leave, we
can do nothing better than pay our respects to her, and make our
acknowledgments for such kindness. She receives at this hour, and
will, I know, take your visit in good part."

While I professed my readiness to comply with the suggestion, we
drove into the court of the Tuileries. It was so early that, except
the officers of the consul's staff, and some of those on guard, we were
the only persons visible.

" We are the first arrivals," said the general, as we drew up si the
door of the pavilion. "I am not sorry for it; we shall have our
audience over before the crowd assembles."

Giving our names to the usher, we mounted the stairs, and passed
on from room to room until we came to a large saloUf in which seats
were formally arranged in a semicircle, an arm-chair somewhat higher
than the rest occupying the centre. Several full-length portraits of

278 OUR MKM.

the generals of the revolutionary armies adorned the walls, and a
striking likeness of the consul himself on horseback held the prinapal
place. I had but time to see thus much, when the two sides of the
folding-doors were flung open, and Madame Bonaparte, followed by
Mademoiselle de Meudon, entered. Scarcely were the doors closed
when she said, smiling

" I heard of your arrival, general, and guessed its purport, so came
at once. Monsieur Burke, I am happy to see you at liberty once
more."

" That I owe it to you, madame, makes it doubly dear to me^^ said
I, faltering.

** You must not overrate my exertions on your behalf," replied the
consulesse in a hurried voice. There was an amende due to you for
the treatment you met with at Versailles all Savary's fault ; and now
I am sincerely sorrv I ever suffered myself to become a party to his
schemes. Indeed 1 never guessed them, or I should not. General
D*Auvergne has made you his aide-de-camp, he telb me."

" Yes, madame ; my good fortune has showered favours on me most
suddenly. Your kindness has be^i an augury of success in every
thing.*'

She smiled, as if pleased, and then said " I have a piecd of advice
to give you, and hope youll profit by it." Then turning towards the
general, who all this time was deeply engaged in talking to Made-
moiselle de Meudon, she added

** Don't you think, general, that it were as well Monsieur Burke
should not be in the way of meeting the consul for some short time to
come. Is there any garrison duty, or any s^vice away from Paris,
where for a week or so he could remain ?"

I have thought of that, madame," said the general. *^ Two of the
regiments in my brigade are to march to-morrow for the east of
France, and I intend my young friend to proceed to Strasbourg at
once."

^' This is not meant for banishment," said she to me, with a look of
much sweetness ; *^ but Bonaparte will now and then say a severe
thing, likely to dwell in the mind of him to whom it was addressed long
after the sentiment which dictated it has departed. A little time will
efface all memory of this sad affair, and then we shall be happy to see
you here again."

** Or events may happen soon, madame, by which he may make his
own peace with Generd Bonaparte."

" True, very true,** said she, gravely. " And as to that, general,
what advices are there from Vienna ?**

iShe drew the general aside into one of the windows, leaving me
alone with Mademoiselle de Meudon. But a minute before, and I had
given the world for such an opportunity, and now I could not speak a
syllable. She, too, seemed equally confused, and bent over a large
vase of moss roses, as if totally occupied by their arrangement. I drew
nearer, and endeavoured to address her, but the words would not come,
while a hundred gushing thoughts pressed on me, and my heart beat

TOM BVmMM 09 ' OUBS.** 3/jQ

loud enough for me to hear it. At let I saw her lipe move, and
thought I heard my name ; I hent down my head lower ; it waa her
voice, but so low as to be scarcely audible.

I cannot thank you^ bit, aa I could wish/' said ah^ ^^ for the senrice
you rendered me, at the risk of your own life and honour. And
though I knew not the dangers you were to incur by my request, I
asked it as of the only one I knew who would brave such danger at my
asking.'' She paused fore second, then continued ^^^The friend of
Charles could not but be the fiiend of Marie de Meudon, There is
now another iavour I would b^g at your, hands," said she, while a livid
paleness overspread her features.

* Oh, name it V said J, passionately.. ^' Say, how can I serve you?"

" It is this," said she, with an accent whose solemnity sank into the
vary recesses of my heart* *' We have ever been an unlucky race.
De Meudon is but a name for misfortune : not only have we met little
else in our own lives, but all who have befriended us have paid the
penalty of their friendship. My dear brother knew this well; and

I ** She paused, and then, though her lips moved, the words that

followed were inaudible. ' There i but one on earth," continued she, as
her eyes, brimful of tears, were turned towards Madame Bonaparte, who
still stood talking in the window, ^^ over whose fortunes my affection has
thrown no blight. Heaven grant it may be ever so I" Then suddenly, as
if remembering herself, she added ^^ What I would ask is this that
we should meet no more. Nay, nay, look not so harshly at me. If I,
alone in the worlds ask to be deprived of his friendship who loved my
brother so ''

^ Oh, if you be alone in the world, feel for one like me, who has not
even a country he can call his own ? Take not the one hope from my
heart, I ask yoa. Leave me the thought that there is one but one in
all this land, to whom my name, if ever mentioned with praise, can
bring one moment's pleasure; who can say, I knew him* Do not
forget that Charles, with his dying breath, said you would be my
sister"

The door of the saion op^ied suddenly, and a name was announced,
but in my confusion I heard not what. Madame Bonaparte, however,
advanced towards the new arrival with aii air c^ welcome, as she aaid

We were jiist wishing for you, generals Pray teU us all the news
of Paris?"

The person thus addressed was a very tall and singularly handsome
man, whose dark eyes and dark whiskers, meeting in the middle of his
chin, gave him the appearance of an Italian. He was dressed in a
hussar uniform, whose gorgeous braiding of gold was heightened in
effect by a blaze of orders and stars that covered the entire breast ; the
scarlet p&ntaloons, tight to the leg, displayed to advantage the perfect
symmetry of his form ; while his boots of yellow morocco, bound and
tasselled with gold, seemed the very coquetry of military costume : a
sabre, the hilt actually covared with precious stonas, clanked at his
aide, and the aigrette of his plumed hat was a large diamond. There
was something almost theatrical in the manner of hia approaebi as with

2S0 OtTB VES8*

a stately step and a deep bow he took Madame Bonaparte's hand and
kissed it; a ceremony he repeated to Mademoiselle de Meudon^
adding as he did so

^* And my fan: Rose de Provence ^more beautiful than ever ! how is
she?"

' What flattery is he whispering, Marie?" said the consulesse laugli
ing. ** Don't you know, general, that I insist on all the compliments
here being paid to myself. What do you think of my robe ? your
judgment is said to be perfect ?"

^ Charming absolutely charming !'' said he, in an attitude oF
ajSected admiration. ^^It is only such taste as yours could hare
devised any thing so beautiful. Yet the roses I half think I should
have preferred them white."

You can scarcely imagine that vain fellow, with the long ringlet8
the boldest soldier of the French army," said the general in a lour
whisper, as he drew me to one side.

" Indeed ! and who is he then ?"

'* You a hussar, and not know him ! Why, Murat, to be sure."

'So then, madame, all my news of Monsieur Talleyrand's bal^
it seems, is stale already. You've heard that the Russian and Austriaa
ministers both sent apologies ?"

'0h, dearl'' said she, sighing, "have I not heard it a thousand
times, and every reason for it canvassed, until I wished both of their
excellencies at at Madame Lefebvre's dinner party."

" That was perfect," cried Murat aloud ; " a regular bivouac in a
sedan. You'd think that the silver dishes and the gilt candelabras had
just been captured from the enemy, and that the cuisine was made by
beat of drum."

"The general is an honest man and a brave officer," said
D'Auvergne, somewhat nettled at the tone Murat spoke in.

" No small boast, either," replied the otheri sfarugging^his shoulders
carelessly, " in the times and the land we live in."

"And what of Cambaceres' soiree ? how did it go off P' interposed
Madame Bonaparte, anxious to relieve the awkward pause that
followed.

" Like every thing in his hotel ombre, stately, and stupid ; the
company all dull, who would be agreeable every where else ; the tone
of the reception laboured and affected ; and every one dying to get
away to Fouche's. It was his second night for receiving."

" Was that pleasanter then ?"

" A hundred times. There are no parties like his : one meets
every body. It is a kind of neutral territory for the Faubourg and the
Jacobin ^the partizan of our people, and the followers of heaven
knows who. Fouche slips about, whispering the same anecdote in
confidence to every one, and binding each to secrecy. Then, as every
one comes there to spy his neighbour, the host has an- excellent oppor-
tunity of pumping all in turn ; and while they all persist in telling him
nothing but lies, they forget that with him no readier road could lead
to the detection of truth."

-A

T

i

TOM BVBXX "09 OVRB** 7l

/** The donsul !^ said a servant alond, as the door opened and closed
with a crash, and Bonaparte, dressed in the umform of the chasseurs
of the guard, and covered with dust, entered.

^ *' Was Decr^ here ?" and then, without waiting for a reply, con-?
tinned It is settled all finally arranged ; I told you, madame, the
pear was ripe.' I start to-morrow for Boulogne. You, Murat, must
acccHnpany me D'Auvergne, your division will march the day after.
Who is tMs gentleman P'

This latter question, in all its abruptness, was addressed to me, while
a dark and ominous frown settled m his features.

** My aide-de-camp, sir," said the old general hastily, hoping thus to
escape further inquiry.

*^ Your name, sir ?" said the consul harshly, as he fixed his piercing
eyes upon me.

Burke, sir; sous lieutenant-'-'-^**

^ Of the eighth hussars," continued he. ^ I know the rest, sir.
Every conspiracy is made up of knaves and fools : you figured in the
latter capacity. Mark me, sir ; your name is yet to make ^the time
isi approaching when you may have the of^rtunity : still, General
D* Auvergne^ it is not in the ranks of a Chouan plot I should have gone
to select my stafil"
^ Pardon me, air ; but this young man's devotion to you "

'^Is on record, genei^ ; I have seen it in Meh6e de La Touche's own
writing," added Bonaparte, with a sneer. Give me the fidelity, sir,
that has no tamish-^ike your own, D'Auvergne. Go, sir," said he,
turning to me, while he waved his hand towards the door. ' It will
need all your bravery and all your heroism to make me acquit General
^D'Auvergne of an act of folly."

I hung my head Jn shame, and with a low reverence and a tottering
step moved from the room and dosed the door behind me.

I had just reached the street when the general overtook me.

** Come, come, Burke," said he, ^ you must not mind this. I heard
Lannes receive a heavier reproof, because he only carried away three
guns of an Austrian battery, when there were four in all."

" Bonaparte never forgets, sir," muttered I between* my teeth, as the
well-remembered phrase crossed my mind.

** Then there's but one thing to do, my boy ; give him a pleasanter
souvenir to look back upon. Besides," added he in a lower tone,
** the general is ever harsh at the moment of victory ; and such is the
present. In a few days more France will have an Emperor: the
senate has declared, and the army wait but for the signal to salute
their monarch. And now for your own duties. Make your arrange-
ments to 'start to-night by post for Mayence : I shall join you there in
about ten days. . You are on your arrival, to report yourself to the
general in command, and receive your instructions from him. A great
movement towards the Rhine is in contemplation, but of course every
thing awaits the course of political changes in Paris."

Thus conversing^ we reached the corner of the Rue de Rohan,
where the general's quarters were.

282 omt

Yoall be han tben pmiotnally at eight to-niglity'' laid he^ and we
parted.

I walked on for some time without knowing which way I wen^
the strange conflict of my mind so completely absorbed me -hope aad
fear, pri&, shame, and sorrow alternately swaying me with their im-
pu)se*-I noticed not the gay and splendid streets through which I
passed^ nor the merry groups which poured along. At length I
remembered that but a few hours remained for me to make some piv-
ehases necessary for my journey. My new uniform as aide-de-camp too
was yet to be ordered ; and by some strange hazard I was exactly at th
comer of the Rue de Richelieu on the Bouvelard* at the very shop of
Monsieur ^Crillac, where, some months before, began the singular cnrreat
of ill luck that had followed me ever since. A half shuddw of fear
passed across me for a second as I thought of all the dangers I hi|d
gone through, and the next moment I felt ashamed of my cowardice,
and pushing the glass door before me, walked in. I looked about me
for the well-known face of the proprietor, but he was no where to be
seen. A lean and waited little old man, hung round with tapes and
measures, was the only person there. Saluting me with a most re-
spectful bow, he asked my orders.

I thought this was Ciillac's," said I, hesitatingly.

A shrug of the shoulders and a strange expression of the eyebrows
was the only reply.

I remember he lived here some eight or ten months ago," said I
again, curious to find out the meaning of the man's ignorance of bis
predecessor.

" Monsieur has been away from Paris for some time then P' was the
cautious question of the little man, as he peered curiously at me.

** Yes ; I have been away,** said I, after a pause.

Monsieur knew Crillao probably when he was here?"

I never saw him but once,** said I.

*' Ha !" cried he, after a long silence. ^' Then you probably never
heard of the Chouan conspiracy to murder the chief consul and over^
throw the government, nor of their trial at the Palais de Justice?"

I nodded slightly, and he went on.

Monsieur Crillac's evidence waa of ereat value in the proceeding:
he knew Jules de Polignac and Charles de la Riviere well; and but for
him San Victor would have escaped."

** And what has become of him aince?**

** He is gone back to the south ; he has been promoted."

Promoted I what do you mean ?"

^ Parbleu / it is easy enough to understand t he was made ehrf de
bureau in the department o f '* *

Wliat 1 ^was he not a tailor then T*

^ A tailor I ^no,'' said, the little man, laaghhig heartily i ^ he was a
fHOfwhardf a police spy, who knew all the n^alist party well at
Bourdeaux, and Fouch^ brought him up here to Paris, and established
him in this house. Ah, ftumlMeur* said he, sighing, *' he had a better
and a pleasaater occupation than cutting out paoMdoont/^ .

TOM BVftXB OV ^^OURS.'' 283

Withoat heeding the rdterated profeidons of the little tailor of his
desire for my patronage^ I strolled out again, lost in reflection, and
iok to the heart of a system based on such duplicity and deception.

At last in Mayence. What a change of life was this to me. A
large fortress garrisoned by twelve thousand men, principally artillery,
awaited here the orders of the consul ; but whither the destination before
-them, or what the hour when the word to march was to summon them,
none could tell. Meanwhile the activity of tlie troops was studiously
kept up ; battering trains of field artillery were exercised day after
day ; the men were practised in all the movements of the field ; wliile
the foundries were unceasingly occupied in casting guns, and the
furnaces rolled forth their myriads of shell and shot. Stafi* officers
came and went ; expresses arrived from Paris, and orderlies, travel-
stained and tired, galloped in from the other fortified places near, but
still no whisper came to say where the great game of war was to open
for what quarter of the globe the terrible carnage was destined. From
daylight till dark no moment of our time was unoccupied; reports
innumerable were to be furnished on every possible subject, and fre-
quently it was far in the night ere I returned to rest. To others this
unbroken monotony may have been wearisome and uninteresting ; to
me each incident bore upon the great cause 1 gloried in the dull
rumble of the caissons, the heavy clattering of the brass guns, were
music to my ear, and I never wearied of the din and clamour that
poke of preparation* Such was indeed the.pre-occupation of my
thoughts, that r scarcely marked the course of events which were even
then passing, or the mighty changes that ahready moved across the
destinies of France. To my eyes the conqueror of Lodi needed no
title what sceptre could equal his own sword ? France might desire
in her pride to unite her destinies with such a name as his, but he
the general of Italy and Egypt could not be exalted by any dignity.
Such were my boyish fancies ; and as I indulged them, again there
grew up the hope within me that a brighter day was yet to beam on
my own fortunes, when I should do that which even in his eyes might
seem worthy. His very reproaches stirred my courage and nerved my
heart There was a combat there was a battle-field before me, in
which my whole fame and honour lay ; and eould I but succeed in
making him confess that he had wronged me, what pride was in the
'thought. Yes, said I again and again, a devotion to him such as I
can offer must have success : one who like me has neither home, nor
friends, nor country to share his heart, must have room in it for one pas-
sion, and that shall be glory. She whom alone I could have loved I
'dared not confess I did love h^-^oiever could be mine. Life must have
its object, and what so noble as that before me My vary dreams caught
up the infatuation of my Waking thoughts and images of battle,
deadly contests, and terrific skirmishes were constantly passing before
tnei and I actually wat mf i^j rounds of duty buiried in tbete

284 OUR MM

tboughts, and lost to every thing save what ministered to my exdted
imagination.

We wlio lived far away on the distant frontier coold but collect from
the journals the state of excitement and enthusiasm into which every
class of the capital were thrown by Napoleon's elevation to the
monarchy. Never, perhaps, in any country did the current of popular
favour run in a stream so united. The army bailed him as their
brother of the sword, and felt the proud distisotioR that the chief of
the empire was chosen from their ranks. The civilian saw the restora-
tion of monarchy as the pledge of that security which alone was want-
ing to consolidate national prospmty. The clergy, however they may
have distrusted his sincerity, could not but acknowledge that to his
influence was owing the return of the ancient faith ; and save the
Vendeaus broken and discomfited, and the scattered remnants of the
Jacobin party, discouraged by the fate of Moreau, none raised a
voice against him. A few of the old r^ublicans, among whom was
Carnot, did, it is true, proclaim their dissent ; but so moderately, and
with so little of partizan spirit, as to call forth an eulo^um on their
honourable conduct from Napoleon himself.

The mighty change which was to undo all the long and arduous
struggles for liberty, which took years in their accomplishment, was
effected in one burst of national enthusiasm. Surrounded by nations
on whose friendship they dared not reckon-^t war with their most
powerful enemy, England, France saw herself dependent on the genius
of one great man ; and beheld, too^ the formiddle consphracy for
his assassination^ coupled with the schemes against her own indepen-
dence. He became thus indissalubly linked with her fortunes self-
interest and gratjtude pdnted both in tlie same direction 4o secure his
services ; and the imperial crown was indeed less the reward of the
past, than the price of the future. Even they who loved him least,
felt that in his guidance there was safety ; and that, without him, the
prospect was dark} and dreary, and threatening. Another element
which greatly contributed to the same effect, was the social ruin caused
by the revolution ^the destruction of all commerce-*-the forfeiture of
property had thrown every class into the service of the government.
Men gladly advocated a change by which the ancient forms of a
monarchy might be restored, and with them the long train of patronage
and appointments, their inevitable attendants. Even the old families
of the kingdom hailed the return of an order of things which might
include them in the favours of the crown ; and the question now was,
what rank or class should be foremost in tendering their allegiance to
the new sovereign. We should hesitate ere we condemn the sudden
impulse by which many were driven at this period. Confiscation and
exile had done much to break the s{Mrit of even the hardiest ; and the
very return to the institutions in which all their ancient prejudices were
involved, seemed a pledge against the tyranny of the mass.

As for Napoleon himself, each step in his proud career seemed to
evoke the spirit necessary to direct it the resources of his mighty
intellect appeared with every new drain on them, only the more

TOM BIIBKE 07 CUBS.** 86^

inexhaustible. Animated through his whole life by the one great prin*
ciple, the aggrandizement of France his vast intelligence gathering
strength with his own increase of power, enabled him to cultivate
every element of national greatness, and mould their energies to his
will, till at length the nation seemed but one vast body, of which he
was the heart, the- impnlse, that sent the life*blood bounding through
all its arteries, and with whose beating pulses every, even the most
remote portion throbbed in unison.

The same day that established the empire, declared the rank and
dignity accorded to each member of the royal family, with the titles to
be borne by the ministers and other high oiBcers of the crown. The
next step was the creation of a new order of nobility one which,
without ancient lineage or vast possessions, could still command the
respect and admiration of all the marshals of France. The names of
Berthier, Murat, Augureau, Mass^na, Banadotte, Ney, Soult, Lannes,
Mortier, Davoust, Bessi^es, were enough to throw a blaze of lustre on
the order ; and had it not been for the omission of Macdonald's name
in this glorious list, public enthusiasm had been complete ; but then he
was the friend of Moreau, and Bonaparte did not forgive."

The restoration of the old titles^ so long in abeyance, the return to
the pomp and state of monarchy, seemed like a national y^, and Paris
became the scene of a splendid festivity and a magnificence unknown
for many years past. It was necessary for the new court to make its
impression on the world, and the Bideavour was made by luxury and
splendour, to eclipse the grandeur which in the days of the Bourbons
was an heirloom of royalty. To this end functionaries and officers of
the palace were appointed in myriads brilliant and costly uniforms
adopted*-'4M)urtly titles and ceremonial observances increased without
end--and etiquette, carried to a pitch of strictness which no former
reign had ever exhibited, now regulated every department of the state.

Wfadle, however, nothing was toe minute or too trivial, provided
that it bore even in the remotest way on the re-establishment of that
throne be had so long and so ardently desired. Napoleon's great mind
was eageriy bent upon the necessity of giving to the empire one of those
astounding evidences of his genius, which marked him as above all
other men. He wished to show to France that the crown had devolved
upon the rightful successor to Charlemagne, and to prove to the army
that the purple mantle of royalty could not conceal the spur of the
warrior ; and thus while all believed him occupied with the ordinary
routine of the period, his ambitious thoughts were carrying him away
across the Pyrenees, or beyond the Danube, to battle-fields of even
greater glory than ever, and to conquests prouder than all his former
ones.

The same power of concentrativeness that he so eminently possessed
himself, he imparted, as if by magic, to his government. Paris was
France. To the capital flocked all whose talent or zeal prompted them
to seek for advancement The emperor was not only the fountain of
all honour, but of all emolument and place. No patronage was exer-
cised without his permission, and none was conferred without the convio-

968 oxm um^

lion that some staunch adherent was secured, whose friendship was
ratified, or whose former enmity was conciliated.

Thus passed the year that followed his accession to the throne ^that
brilliant pageant of a nation's enthusiasm rendering tribute to the
majesty of intellect. At length the period of inaction seemed drawing
to a close ; and a greater activity in the war department, and a new
levy of troops, betokened the approach of some more energetic mea-
sures. Men whispered that the English expedition was about to sail,
and reinforcements of ammunition and artillery were despatched to the
coast ; when suddenly came the news of Trafalgar : Yillaneuve was
beaten his fleet annihilated ^the whole combination of events destroyed
-and England, again triumphant on the element she had made her own,
hurled defiance at the threats of her enemy. The same despatch that
brought the intelligence to Mayence told us to be in readiness for a
movement, but when or where to none of us could surmise. Still
detachments from various corps stationed about were marched into the
garrison, skeleton regiments commanded to make up their deficiencies,
and a renewed energy was every where perceptible. At last, towards
the middle of August, I was sent for by the general in command of
the fortress, and informed that General D*Auvergne had been promoted
to the command of a cavalry brigade stationed at Coblentz.

" You are to join him there immediately," continued he ; "but here
is a note from himself, which probably will explain every thing.**

And with that he handed me a small sealed letter. It was the first,
save on purely regimental matters, I had ever received from him, and
somehow I felt unusually anxious about its contents. It ran in these
words :

"My deak B. His majesty has just sent for me, and, most graciously
esteeming me not yet too old to serve him, has given me the com-
mand of a brigade ^late the 12th, now to be called * D'Auvergne's
Cavalry.' I would willingly have mentioned your name for promotion,
to which your zeal and activity would well entitle you, but deemed
it better to let your claim come before the emperor's personal notice
which an opportunity will, I trust, soon permit of its doing. His
majesty, with a kindness which the devotion of a life could not repay,
has also interested himself personally for me in a quarter where only
his influence could have proved successful ^but the explanation of
this I reserve for your arrival. And now request that you will lose no
time in repairing to Paris where I shall expect to see you by
Tuesday. Yours,

'D'AUVEEGNB,

^*Lieut.-Gennpal.*

This strange paragraph puzzled me not a little ; nor could I by any
exercise of ingenuity find out even a plausible meaning for it. 1 read
it over and over, weighing and canvassing every word, and torturing
each syllable but all to no purpose. Had the general been some
youthful but unhappy lover, to forward whose suit the emperor had

lent his iniiience, then had I lindentood the ftlluiion, but with the old
weather-beaten officer, whose hairs were blanched with years and
aervice, the very thought of such a thing wa^ too absurd. Yet what
could be the royal favour so lavishly praised : he needed no intercest
sion with the empress at least I remembered well how marked the
kindness of Josephine was towards him in former times. But to what
use guessing! Thoughts by long revolving, often become only the
more entangled, and we lose sight of the real difficulty in canvassing
our own impressions concerning it And so from this text did I spin
away a hundred fancies that occupied me the whole road to Paris, nor
left me till the din and movement of the great capital banished all other
reflections.

Arrangement had been made for my reception at the Rue de Rohan,
but I learned that the general was at Versailles with the court, and
only came up to Paris once or twice each week. His direction to me
was, tb wait for his arrival, and not to leave the city on any account.

With what a strange feeling did I survey the palace of the Tuileries
^the scene of my first moment of delighted admiration of her I now
loved and alas, of my first step in the long catalogue of my misfor-^
tunes. I lingered about the gardens with a fascination I could not
account for ; my destiny seemed somehow linked with the spot, and I
could not reason myself out of the notion but that there, in that great
pile, the fate of my whole life was to be decided.

My entire day was passed in this way, and evening found me seated
on one of the benches near the windows of the paviUon, where I
watched the lustres in the long gallery as one by one they burst into
light, and saw the gilt candelabras twinkling as each taper was illumi-
nated. It was an evening reception of the emperor, and I could mark
the vast assemblage, in every variety of uniform, that filled the salons.
At length the drums beat for strangers to leave the gardens, the patrols
passed on, and gradually the crowded walks became thinner and
thinner, the sounds of the drum grew fainter, and finally the whole
space became still and noiseless ; not a voice was to be heard, not a
step moved on the gravel. I knew that the gates were now locked,^
and yet I staid on, glad to be alone, and at leisure to dream away
among the fancies that kept ever rising to my mind, and follow out the
trains of thought that ever and anon opened before me.

As the hour grew later, and the salo7is filled more and more, the
windows were opened along the terrace to give air, and I could hear
the continued murmur of hundreds of voices conversing, while at times
the sound of laughter rose above the rest. What a rush of thoughts
came on me as I sat ; how did I picture to myself the dark intrigues,
the subtle plots of wily diplomatists, the bold and daring aspirations
of the brave soldiers, the high hopes, and the ambitious yearnings, that
were all commingled there ^grouped around him whose dreams were
of universal empire. While I mused the night glided on, and the
solemn sound of the bell of Notre Dame proclaimed midnight. I now
could mark that the salons were thinning, and the unceasing din of car-
riages in the place*' announced the departure of the guests. In little

M8 oom uMas.

more than half an honr the great gaUery was empty, and but a few
groups remained in the apartments adjoining ; even they soon departed,
and then I could see the servants passing from room to room extin-
guishing the lights, and soon the great facade of the palace was
wrapped in darkness : a twinkling light appeared here and there for
some time, but it too went out. The night was calm, and stiil, and
sultry ; not a leaf stirred, and the heavy tread of the sentinels, as they
paced the marble vestibule, was heard plainly where I stood.

How full of thought to me was that vast pile, now shrouded in the
gloom of night What bold ambitious deeds ^what dreams of empire
had not been conceived there. The great of other days, indeed,
entered little into my mind, as I remembered it was the home of him,
the greatest of them all. How terrible, too, it was to think, that
within that now silent palace, which seemed sleeping with the tranquil
quiet of an humble cottage, the dreadful plans which were to convulse
the world, to shake thrones and dynasties, to make of Europe a vast
battle-field, were now devising. The masses of dark cloud that hung
heavily in the air, obscuring the sky, and shutting out every star, seemed
to my fevered imagination an augury of e^l ; and the oppressive, loaded
atmosphere, though perfumed with the odour of flowers, sunk heavily
on the spirits. Again the hour rung out, and I remembered that the
gates of the garden were now closed for the night, and that I should
remain where I was till daylight liberated me. My mind was, how-
ever, too full of its own thoughts to make me care for sleep, and I
stroUed along the gloomy walks lost in revene.

TOM BPRKE OP ^ OCUS/* 280

^ CHAPTER XL.

A NIGHT IN THE TUIIRIS GABBENS.

As the night wore on, I remembered that once when a boy at the

i Poly technique, I longed to penetrate one of the little enclosures which

I fenced the small flower-gardens beside the palace, and which were

! railed up from the public promenades by a low iron railing. The

bouquets of rich flowers that grew there, sparkling with the light dew

of a little jet cTeau that fell in rain drops over them, had often

tempted my young heart ; but still, in the day-time such a transgression

would have been immediately punished* Now, with the strange

caprice which so often prompts us in after years to do that which in

youth we wished, but could not do, I wandered towards the gardens,

and crossing over the low fence, entered the parterre: each step

awoke the sleeping perfume of the flowers, and I strolled along the

velvet turf until I reached a low bench, half covered with honeysuckle

and woodbine. Here I threw myself down, and, wrapping my cloak

I around me, resolved to rest till daybreak. The stillness of all around,

^ the balmy air, and my own musings, gradually conspired to make me

drowsy, and I slept.

My sleep could not have been long, when I was awakened by a noise
close beside me. I started up, and looked about, and for some
seconds I could scarcely credit that I was not still dreaming. Not
more than a dozen paces from where I lay, and where before the dark
walls of the palace rose in unbroken blackness, was now a chamber,
brilliantly lighted by several wax-lights that stood on a table. At the
window, M'hich opened to the ground, and led into the garden, stood
the figure of a man, but from his position before the light I could not
remark more than that he wore epaulettes. It was the noise of the
I ' opening jalousies which awoke me ; and I could see his hand stretched

out, as if to ascertain whether or not it was raining. At the table
I could perceive another person, on whose uniform the light fell
strongly, displaying many a cross and star, which twinkled with every
stir he made. He was busily engaged writing, and never lifted his
head from the paper. The walls of the room were covered with
shelves, filled with books ; and on the chairs about, and even on the
floor, lay maps and drawings in every disorder ; a sword and belt, as
if just taken ofl*, lay on the table among the writing materials, and a
cocked hat beside them. While I noticed these details my very heart
was chill within me. The dark figure at the window, which stirred
not, seemed as if turned towards me^ and more than once I almost
MESS, no. xxixid VOL. n. u

290 oira mbss.

thought I could see his eyes bent upon me. This was, however, but
the mere suggestion of my own fears, for in the shade of the seat no
light whatever fell, and I was perfectly concealed.

In the deep stillness I could hear the scraping sound of the pen on
the paper, and scarcely dared to breathe, lest I should cause discovery,
when the figure retired from the window, and moved towards the
table ; for some minutes he appeared to stoop over a large map, which
lay outstretched before him, and across which I could see his finger
moving rapidly. Suddenly he stood erect, and in a voice which even
now rings within my heart, said " It must be so, 'Duroc ; by any
other route Bernadotte will be too late !" . What was the reply J
know not, such terror now fell over me. It was the emperor himself
who spoke. It was he who the instant before was standing close
beside me at the window; and thus, a second time in my life, did I
become the unwilling eavesdropper of the man I most feared and
respected of all the world.. Before I could summon resolution to
withdraw. Napoleon Spoke again. " Hardenberg V* said he, in a tone
of contemptuous passion " Hardenberg is but a Prussian ; the event
will satisfy his scruples ; besides, if they do talk aboUt invasion of
territory, you can reply, the Sf argrayes were alwkys open to belli-

ferent piarties; remind them of what took place in '96, and again in
800; though, parbleu, the souVenir may not be so pleasant a one";
protract the discussion, at all events, l)uroc time! time!*' Then
added he, after a brief pause ** Let them advance, and they'll never
repass the Danube ; and if they Wait for me. 111 fall upon them here
-here between Ulm and Augsburg. You must, however, start for
Berlin at once." At this instant? a heavy hstod fell upon my shoul-
der, and, passing down my jarm, seized me by the wrist. I started
back, and beheld a dragoon, for so his helmet and cloak bespoke him,
of enormous staturei, who, motioning me to silence, led me softly and
with noiseless step along the flower-beds, as if fearful of attracting the
emperor's notice. My limbs tpttbred beneath me as I went, for the
. dreadful hnputation an accident might fix oh me, stared me with all
its awful consequences. Without a word on either side we reached
the little railing, crossed it, and regained the open t)ark, when the
soldier, placing himself in front of me, said in a deep low voice

" Your natne-^who are you ?"

* An officer of the huiti^me regiment of hussars,* said I,
boldly.

We shall see that presently," replied he, In a tone 6'f disbelief.
"How came you here ?" .

In a few words I explained how, having remained too late in the
garden, I preferred to pass my night on a bench, to tiie unpleasantness
of being brought up before the officer on duty, adding, that it was only
oh the very moment of his coming that I awoke.

" I know that," interrupted he, in a less surly voice. ** I found you
sleeping, and feared to awake you suddenly, lest in the surprise a word
or a cry should escape you one syllable had cost your head."

In the tone of these last few words there ^vas something I thought

_.!-/: I- :..' - :Ag:T:.i,i:

i

t- y^//^, j^^/t^iiy yiA^/i^^.PU.

f

TOM BinilKti G9 "^UES." ^91

Ycoiold recognise, and resolving at a bold venture in such an emer-
gency as I found myself placed, I said at a hazard

*^ The better fortune mine, that I fell into the hands of a kind as
well as of a brave soldier the Corporal Pioche."

" Sacristi ! You know me then I" cried he, thunderstruck.

" To be sure I do. Could I be an aid-de-camp to the General
D'Auvergne, and not have heard of Pioche?"

"An aid-de-camp of the general,** said he, starting back, as he
carried his hand to the salute. ." Pardon, mon officier; but you know
that duty *"

" Quite true ; it was all my own indiscretion. And now, Pioche, if
you'll keep me company here till daybreak ^it cannot be far off now
the light will soon satisfy you that my account of myself is a true
t)ne."

" Willingly, sir," said the gruff cuirassier : " my patrol is, to watch
the parterres from the pavilion to the alle^ yonder; and, if you please,
we'll take up our quarters on this bench."

They who know not the strange mixture of deference and familiarity
of which the relation between officer and soldier is made up in the
French service, will perhaps wonder at the tone of almost equality in
. which we now conversed. But such is the case ; the revolutionary
armies acknowledged no other gradations of rank than such as the
service conferred, nor any degree of superiority save that derivable
from greater ability, or more daring heroism ; and although no troops
more implicitly obeyed the commands of their officers, the occasion of
discipline over, a perfect feeling of equality reigned amongst all,
"whether they wore the epaulettes of colonel, or carried a musket in the
ranks. With time, and the changes the consulate had introduced,
much of this excessive familiarity was suppressed; still it was no
uncommon thing to hear the humble rank and file address the general
of division as " thou" the expression of closest friendship, probably
dating from the hours of schoolboy attachment : nor was the officer of
rank thought less of, because in the hours of off-duty he mixed freely
with those who had been his companions through life, and talked with
them as brothers. It is probable that in no other nation such a
course could have been practised, without a total subversion of all
respect, and the ruin of all habits of order. The Frenchman is,
however, essentially military ^not merely warlike, like the inhabitants
of Great Britain, his mind ever inclines to the details of war as an art.
It is in generalship he glories, not the mere conflict of force ; and the
humblest soldier of the army takes an interest in the great game of
tactics, which in any other people would be quite incredible. Hence,
he submits to the control which otherwise he could not endure ; for
this, he yields to command at the hands of one, who, although
his equal in all other respects, he here acknowledges as his superior.
He knows, too, that the grade of officer is open to merit alone, and he
feels that the epaulette may be his own one day. Such causes as
these, constantly in operation, could not fail to raise the ^* morale^ of
tn army ; nor can we wonder that from such a source were derived

J292 CUB MB88.

jnany, if not most of the great names that formed the marshals of

France.

Again, to this military spirit the French owe the perfection of thefr
tirailleur force the consummate skill of independent parties, of
which every campaign gave evidence. Napoleon found this spirit in
tlie nation, and spared nothing to give it its fullest development. He
quickly saw to what height of enthusiasm a people could be brought^
to whom a cross or a decoration, an epaulette or a sabre of honour,
were deemed the ample rewards of every daring and of every priva-
tion ; and never in any age, or in any country, was chivalry so univer-
sally spread over the wide surface of a people. With them, rank
claimed no exemption from fatigue or severing. The officer fared
little better than the soldier, on a march ; in a battle, he was only mor6
exposed to danger; by daring only could he win his way upwards;
and an emulative ardour was continually maintained, which was ever
giving to the world instances of individual heroism, far more brilliant
than all the famed achievements of the crusaders.

This brief digression, unnecessary perhaps to many of my readers,
may serve to explain to others how naturally our conversation took the
easy tone of familiar equality ; nor will they be surprised at the abrupt
question of the cuirassier, as he said

" Milles tonnerres ! lieutenant, was it from your liking the post of .
danger you selected that bench yonder ?"

" The choice was a mere accident."

" An accident, morbleu r* said he, with a low laugh. " That was
what Lasalle called it at the Adige, when the wheel came off the
eight-pounder in the charge, and the enemy carried off tlie gun.
*An accident,' said the * petit caporal' to him. I was close by when
he said .it. Will your friends in Paris call it an accident if the
Ordre du Jour* to-morrow, condemn you to be shot ? I know him
well," continued Pioche " that I do ; I was second bombardier with
him at Toulon ay, and at Cairo too. I mind well the evening he came
over to our quarters poor enough we were at the time no clothes-
no rations. I was cook to our division, but somehow tliere was little
duty in my department, till one day the vivandiere's ass a brave
beast he was, too, before provisions fell short a spent shot took him
in the flank, and killed him on the spot. Sacristi ! what damage it
did all the canteens were smashed to atoms horn goblets and
platters knocked to pieces ; but worst of all, a keg of true Nantz
was broached, and every drop lost. Poor Madame Gougon, she
loved that ass as if he had been one of the regiment ; and though we
all offered her assignats on our pay, for a month each, to give us the
carcase, she wouldn't do it. No, faith ! she would have him buried,
and with funeral honours. Parbleu ! it was a whim ! but the poor
thing was in grief, and we could not refuse her. I commanded the
party," continued Pioche, "and a long distance we had to march,
lest the shots might be heard in the quartier general. Well, we had
some trouble in getting the poor soul away from the grave. Sacristi I
phe took it so much to heart, I thought she'd have masses said for

m^'^m^m^f

i

II

^J

TOM BU&KE OF ' OUBS.'' 2!!)3

Kim ; but we did succeed at last, and before dawn we were all within
the camp as if nothing had happened. The whole of that day, how-
ever, the ass was never out of our minds. It was not grief ^no I no I
-^on*t think that we were all thinking of what a sin it was to have
him buried there such a fine beast as he was and not a pound of
meat, to be had, if you were to offer a nine-pounder gun for it. * He is
never the worse for his funeral,' said I ; * remember, boys, how well
preserved he was In brandy before he was buried. Let'a have him up
again! No sooner was night come, than we set off for the place
where we laid him, and in less than two hours I was busily employed
in making a delicious salmi of his haunch. MtUes bomhes I \ think I
have the smell of it before me ; it was gibier, and the gravy was
like a purie. We were all pleasantly seated round the fire, watching
every turn of the roast, when, crack ! I heard the noise- of the patrol
bringing his giin to the present, and before we had time to jump up, the
* petit caporal * was upon us -he was mounted on a little dark Arab,
and dressed in his grey surtout.

" What's all this here ?' cried he, pulling up short, while the barb
sniffed the air, just as if he guessed what the meat was. Who has
stolen this sheep P

It is not a sheep, general,' said I, stepping forward, and trying
to hide the long ladle I was basting with.

*^ Not a sheep ^then it is an ox, mayhap, or a calf,' said he
again, with an angry look.

"* Neither, general,' said I; *it was a a a beast of our di-
vision.*

" * A beast of your division ! what does that mean ? No
trifling, mind. Out with it at once. What's this? Where did it
coniie from ?* '

^ An ass, may it please you, sir,* said I, trembling all over, for I
saw he was in a rare passion ; and as he repeated the word after me,
I told him the whole story, and how we could not suffer such
capital prog to be eaten by any other than good citizens of the
republic.

While I was telling him so much, the rest stood round terrified ;
they could not even turn the joint, though it was burning, and to say
truth, I thought myself we were all in a bad way, when suddenly he
burst into a fit of laughing, and said

" * What part of France do these fellows come from ?*

" * Als(i^, mon general,' was the answer from every one

** * I thought so I thought so,' said he. * Sybarites all.

*' * No, mon general grenadiers of the fourth Millmiid'a
brigade,' said I ; and with that he turned away, and we could lif ::r
him laughing long after he galloped off. I saw he mistook us," suid
Pioche, " and that he could not be angry with the old fourth."

" You must have seen a great deal of hardship, Pioche?" said I, as
be came to a pause ; and wishing to draw him on, to speak more of hid
campaigns.
^ ** Ma foi / there were few who saw service from '92 to '97, hud pot

2Si OXJft MS88.

tbdr ahare of it ; but they were brave times too ; ev^y battle bad itm
day of paromotion afterwards. Le petit caporal would ride dowxb
the ranks with his staff, looking for this one and asking for
that Where's the adjutant of the sixth ?' Dead mon general/
* Where's the colonel of the voltigeurs P * Badly wounded,' Carry
him this sabre of honour/ 'Who fell over the Austrian stan^
dard, and carried away the fragment of the drapeau ?' One of my
fellows, general ; here he 1&' And what is your name, my brave
fellow?"'

The corporal paused here^ and drew a deep breath ; and after a few
seconds' pause^ added in altered tone ' Swristi I they were fine
times."

But what did he say to the soldier that took the colours?" asked
I, impatiently. " Who was he ?"

** It was I," replied Pioche himself, in a deep voice, where pride and
devotion struggled powerfully together.

" You, Pioche ^indeed ! Well, what said the general when he saw
you?'

" * Ah, Pioche,' said he, gaily * my old friend of Toulouse.'

" * Yes, general,' said I, ' we've had some warm work together.*

** True, Roche, and may again, perhaps ; but you've been made a
corporal since that ; what am I to do for you now ?*

*' This was a puzzling question, and I did not know how to an-
swer it ; and he repeated it before I could make up my mind.

' Is there nothing, then, in which I can be of use to Corporal
Pioche ?'

" * Yes, mon general,' said I, * there is.*

^* ' Speak it out, man, then ; what is it?'

" * I wish, then, you'd rate the commissary-general of our division
for one blunder he's ever making. The powder they serve us out is
always wet, and our bread is as hard as mitrailU.: neither bayonets
nor teeth will last for ever, you know, general.' And he burst out a \

laughing before I finished.

" * Rest assured, Pioche, I'U look to this,' said he, and he kept his"
word."

"But why didn't you ask for promotion?" said I ; "what folly, was
it not, to throw away such a chance ? You might have been an officer
ere this."

" No," replied he, ndth a sorrowful shake of the head ; " that was
impossible."

"But why so? Bonaparte knew you wellj he often noticed j

you." \

" True all true," said he, more sadly than before ; " but then ^" |

" What, then ?" asked I, with more of interest than delicacy at tlie I

moment

" I never learned to read," said Pioche, in a low voice, which trem-
bled with agitation, while he drew his swarthy hand across his eyes^
and was silent. i

The few words so spoken thrilled most powerfidly within me. I {

i

TOM BUBKE OF OURS." 28$

saw that I had awakened the saddest thoughts of the poor fellow'^
heart, and would have given worlds to be able to recall my question.
Here then was the corroding sorrow of his life the grief that left
its impress on his stern features, and tinged with care the open brow
of the brave soldier. Each moment our silence was prolonged^, made
it still more poignant, but I made an effort to break it, and happily
with success.

" After all, Pioche," said I, laying my hand on his arm, " I would
willingly exchange my epaulettes for these stripes on your sleeve: to
have had Bonaparte speak to me as he Jias done to you, that was a
prouder distinction than any other, and will be a fonder recollection,j
too, hereafter."

" Do you think so, mon lieutenant ?" said the poor fellow,
turning round quickly, as a faint smile played about his features.
" Do you think so ? Sacristi ! I have said as much to myself some-
times, when I've been alone ; and then IVe almost thought I covdd
hear his kind soft voice ringing in my ears for it is kind and soft as
a woman's, when he pleases, though, par bleu ! it can call like ^
trumpet at other times, ay, and tingle within your heart, till it sets
your blood boiling, and makes your hands twitch. I mind well the
campaign in the Valais the words keep dinning in my ears to this
hour."

" What was that, Pioche," said I, pleased to see him turn from the
remembrance of his own regrets.

" It is a good while past now I forget the year exactly but we
were marching on Italy, and it was in spring ; still the ground was
covered with snow ; every night came on with a hail-storm, that lasted
till nigh daybreak ; and when we arose from the bivouac, we were so
stiff and frozen we could not move. They said, at the time, something
"went wrong with the commissariat, but when did it ever go right, I
wonder ? Ammunition and provisions were always late ; and though
the general used to drive away a commissary every week OT ten days
for misconduct, the new ones that came turned out just as bad* The
petit caporal kept sending them word to Paris not to send down any
more ' savants,* but a good honest man, with common sense and active
habits ; h\iiparhlev I birds of that feather must have been rare just
then, for we never could catch one of them. Whatever was the cause,
we never were so ill off ; our shakos were like wet paper, and took
any shape j and out of ridicule we used to come upon parade with
them fashioned into three- cocked hats, and pointed caps, and slouched
beavers. The officers couldn't say a word, you know, all this time :
it was not our fault if we were in such misery. Then, as to shoes a
few could boast of th^ upper leathers, but a sole, or a heel, was not to
be found in a company. Our coats were actually in rags, and a pivot
sentry looked, for all the world, like a flag staff, as he stood fluttering
in the wind.

" We bore up, however, as well as we could for some time, grum-
))ling occasionally over our condition, and sometimes laughing at it,
irhen we had the heart, till at last, when w saw the new convoy

296 OUft BfESS.

arrive, and all the biscuits distributed among the young regiments
and the new conscripts, we could endure it no longer, and a terrible
outcry arose among the troops. We were all drawn up on parade
it was an inspection ; for, parbleu ! though we were as ragged as
scarecrows, they would have us out twice a week to review us, and
put vA through the manoeuvres. Scarcely had the general ^it was
Bonaparte himself got half way down the line, when a shout ran
from rank to rank Bread I shoes ! caps ! biscuits !'

'^ What do I hear ?' said Bonaparte, standing up in his stirrups,
bnd frowning at the line. ' Who are the malcontents, that dare to
cry out on parade ? Let them stand out. Let me see them.'

And at once more than half the regiment of grenadiers sprang
forward, and shouted louder than before Bread ! bread ! Let us
have food and clothing! If we are to fight, let us not die of
hunger !'

" Gi;enadier8 of the fourth,* cried he, in a terrible voice, to your
ranks ! Second division, and third I' shouted he, with his hand up,

form in square ! carry arms I ^present arms ! front rank, kneel !
^kneel I' said he again, louder ; for you know we never did that in
those days. However, every word was obeyed, and down dropped the
leading files on their knees, and there we were rooted to the ground.
Not a man spoke all silent as death.

* He then advanced to the front of the staff, and pointing his hand
to a convoy of waggons that could just be seen turning the angle of
the road, with white flags flying, to show what they were, called out
Commissary-general, distribute full rations and half ammuni-
tion to the young regiments half rations and full ammunition td
the veterans of Egypt!' A shout of applause burst out, but he
cried louder than before * Silence in the ranks !' Then taking off
his chapeau, he stood bare-headed before us ; and in a voice, like the
bugle that blows the charge, he read from a large paper in his hand

* In the name of the French republic one and indivisible. The
directory of the nation decrees that the thanks of the government
be given to the grenadiers of the fourth, who have deserved well of
their country. Vive la republique !'

" * Vive la republique 1' shouted the whole square in a roar, like the
sea itself. Who thought more of hardships or hunger then ? Ouf
only desire was, when we were to meet the enemy ; and many a jest
and many a laugh went round, as we loaded our pouches with the new
ammunition.

" * Who's that fellow yonder ?* said Bonaparte, as he rode slowly
down the line. * I should know him, I think. Isn't that Pioche ?'

*^ *' Yes, mon general,' said I, saluting him. * It is what remains of
poor Pioche ; parbleu/ very little more than half, though.'

" ' Ah ! glutton,' said he laughing, I ought to have guessed
you were here ; one such gourmand is enough to corrupt a whole
brigade.'

" * Pioche is a good soldier, citizen general/ said my captain, wbd
was an old schoolfellow of mine

TOM BU^KE OF '*OURS." 29^

" ' I know it, captain,' said the general.

" * You were in Excellraaii's dragoons, Pioche, if I mistake not ?'

" * Two years and ten months, citizen general.'

t Why did you leave them, and when ?'

" * At Monte Bello, with the coloneVs permission.'

" * And the reason ?'

" * Morbleu ! it was a fancy I had. They killed two horses under
me that day, and 1 saw I was not destined for the cavalry.'

" Ha ! ha I' said he, with a sly laugh ; * had they been asses, the
thing might have been different eh ?'

" * Yes, mon general,' said I, growing red, for I knew what he
meant.

" * Come, Pioche, you must go back again to your old corps ; they
want one or two like you-^though, parbieu / you'll ruin the republic
in remounts.'

" * As you please it, general.'

" ' Well, what shall 1 do for you besides ? Any more commissaries
to row eh ? Methinks no bad time to gratify you in that way.'

" * Ah, mon general, if you would only hang up one, now and then.'

* * So I intend, the next time I hear of any of my soldiers being
obliged to eat the asses of the vivandieres,' and with that he rode on
laughingj though none, save myself, knew what he alluded to, and
fnafoi I I was not disposed to turn the laugh against myself by telling;
but there goes the r6veillee, and I must leave you, mon lieutenant,
the gates will be open in a few minutes."

" Good-bye, Pioche," said I, " and many thanks for your pleasant
company, I hope We shall meet again and soon."

' 1 hope so, mon lieutenant ; and if it be at a bivouac fire, all the
better."

The gallant corporal made his military salute, wheeled about, stiff
as if on parade, and departed; while I, throwing my cloak over
my arm, turned into the broad alley and left the garden.

^8 CMJ

CHAPTER XLL

A 8TOBT OF THE .'g^.

^ FOUND every thing in the Rue de Rohan as I had left it the day
before. General D'Auvergne had not been there during my absence^
but a messenger from Versailles brought intelligence that the court
would arrive that evening in Paris, and in all Ukelihood the general
would accompany them.

My day was then at my own disposal^ and having dressed, I strolled
out to enjoy all the strange and novel sights of the great capital. They
who can carry their memories back to Paris at that period, may remem-
ber the prodigious amount of luxury and wealth so prodigally ex-
hibited the equipages, the liveries, the taste in dress, were all of
the most costly character ^the very shops, toOi vied with each other
in the splendour and richness of their display, and court uniforms
and ornaments of jewellery glittered in every window. Hussar jackets
in all their bravery chapeaus covered with feather trimming and
looped with diamonds sabres with ivory scabbards encrusted with
topaz and torquoise, replaced the simple costumes of the revolutionary
era, as rapidly as did the high-sounding titles of '^ excellei^ee" and
" monseigneur," the unpretending designation of * citoyen." Still the
military feature of the land was in the ascendant ; in the phrase of the
day, it was the ^ moustache" that governed. Not a street had not its
group of officers, on horseback or on foot ^regiments passed on duty,
or arrived from the march at every turn of the way. The very rabble
kept time and step as they followed, and the warlike spirit animated
every class of the population. All these things ministered to my en-
thusiasm, and set my heart beating the stronger for the time, when the
career of arms was to open before me. Thi% if I were to judge from
all I saw, could not now be far distant. The country for miles around
Paris was covered with marching men, their faces all turned eastward
^-orderlies, booted and splashed, trotted rapidly from street to street,
and general officers, with their aid-de-camps, rode up and down with
a haste that boded preparation.

My mind was too full of its own absorbing interests to make me
care to visit the theatre, and having dined in a cafS on the Boulevard,
I turned towards the general's quarters, in the hope of finding him
arrived. As I entered the Rue de Rohan, I was surprised at a crowd
collected about the door, watching the details of packing a travelling
carriage which stood before it. A heavy fourgon loaded with mili-
tary chests and boxes, seemed also to attract their attentioDy and call
forth many a surmise as to its destination..-

TOM BUSKB CF ' OURS." 299

** Le petit oaporal has something in his head, depend upon it." said a
thin dark-whiskered fellow with a wooden leg, and whose air and
gesture bespoke the old soldier- the staff never move oiF, extra post,
without a good reason for it."

" It is the English are about to catch it this time,'* said a miserable-
looking decrepid creature, who was occupied in roasting chestnuts over
an open stove. *^ Hot, all hot, messieurs and mesdames, real mar-
rons de Nancy' ^the true and only veritable chestnuts with a truffle
flavour. Sacristi I now the sea wolves will meet their match. It is
such brave fellows as you, monsieur le grenadier, can make them
tremble."

The old pensioner smoothed down his moustache and made no
reply.

' The English indeed," said a fat, ruddy-faced woman, with a slight
line of dark beard on her upper lip: my husband's a pioneer in the
twenty-second, and says they're nothing better than poltroons how
we made them run at Arcola^-wasn't it Areola ?" said she, as a buzz
of laughter ran through the crowd.

* Tonnerre de guerre," cried the little man, " if I was at them." A
loud burst of merriment met this warlike speech, while the maimed
soldier, apparently pleased with the creature's courage, smiled blandly
on him as he said " Let me have two sous worth of your chestnuts."

Leaving the party to their discussion, I now entered the house, and
edging my way up stairs between trunks and packing-cases, arrived at
the drawing-room. The general had just come in ; he had been the
whole morning at court, and was eating a hurried dinner in order to
return to the Tuileries for the evening reception. Although his man-
ner towards me was kind and cordial in the extreme, I thought he
looked agitated and even depi'essed, and seemed much older and more
broken than before.

" You see, Burke you'll have little time to enjoy Paris gaieties we
leave to-morrow."

" Indeed, sir ; so soon."

" Yes, Lasalle is off' already ; Dorsenne starts in two hours ; and we
three, rendezvous at Coblentz. I wished much to see you," continued
he. after a minute's pause ; " but I could not get away from Ver-
sailles even for a day. Tell me, have you got a letter I wrote to you
when at Mayence. I mean, is it still in existence ?"

" Yes, sir," said I, somewhat astonished at the question.

" I wrote it hurriedly," added he, with something of confusion in his
manner " do let me see it."

I unlocked my writing desk at once and handed him his own letter.
He opened it hastily, and having thrown his eyes speedily across it,
said, and in a voice far more at ease than before

" That will do. I feared lest perhaps but no matter. This is

better than I thought"

With this he gave the letter back into my hands, and appeared
for some moments engaged in deep thought ; then with a voice and

300 bntL MS8S.

manner which showed a different channel was given to his thoughtSy
he said

^' The game has opened the Austrians have invaded Bavaria. The
whole disposable force of France is on the march a hurried move-
ment but so it is Napoleon always strikes, like his own emblem,
the eagle."

" True, sir ; but even that serves to heighten the chivalrous feeling
of the soldier, when the swurd springs from the scabbard at the call
of honour, and is not drawn slowly forth at the whispered counsel of
some wily diplomats"

He smiled half mournfully at the remark, or at my impetuosity ia
making it, as he said

" My dear boy, never flatter yourself that the cause of any war can
enter into the calculation of the soldier. Tiie liberty he fights for, is
often the rankest tyranny ^the patriotism he defends, the veriest op-
pression. Play the game as though the stake were but your own
ambition, if you would play it manfully. As for me, I buckle on the

harness for the last time come what will of it. The emperor

feels, and justly feels, indignant that many of the older officers have
declined the service by which alone they were elevated to rank, and
weakh, and honour. It was not then at the moment when he distin-
guished me by an unsought promotion, still more, conferred a personal
favour on me, that I coiSd ask leave to retire from the army.'*

By the tone in which he said these last few words I saw that the
general was now approaching the topic I felt so curious about, and did
not venture by a word to interrupt or divert his thoughts from it.
My calculation proved correct; for after meditating some eight or ten
minutes, he drew his chair closer to mine, and in a voice of ill-
repressed agitation spoke thus :

" You doubtless know the history of our great revolution, the causes
that led to, the consequences that immediately sprung from it the terri-
ble anarchy, the utter confiscation of wealth, and worse still, the social
disorganization that invaded every family, however humble, or however
exalted ; setting wives against their husbands, children against their
parents, and making brothers sworn enemies to each other. It was in
vain for any man once engaged in the struggle, to draw back ; the least
hesitation to perform any order of the convention the delay of a
moment, to think, was death ; some one was ever on the watch to de-
nounce the man thus deliberating, and he was led forth to the guillo-
tine like the blackest criminal. The immediate result of all this was
a distrust that pervaded the entire nation. No oud knew who to speak
to, nor dared any confide in him Avho once had been his dearest fidend.
The old royalists trembled at every stir the few demonstrations they
forced themselves to make of concurrence in the new state of things,
were received with suspicion and jealousy. The * Blues,' for so the
revolutionary party was called, thirsted for their blood ; the aristo-
tracy had been, as they deemed, long their oppressors ; and where
vengeance ceased, cupidity begun. They longed to seize upon th^
confiscated estates, and revel as masters in the halls where so oft they

TOM BimKE or " OURS." 301

had waited as lacqueys. But the evil ended not here ^wherever pri-
vate hate, or secret malice lurked, an opportunity for revenge now
offered, and for one head that fell under the supposed guilt of treason
to France, a hundred dropped beneath the axe, from causes of personal
animosity and long-nurtured vengeance ; and thus many an idle word
uttered in haste or carelessness, some passing slight, some chance
neglect, met now its retribution, and that retribution was ever death.

^ It chanced that in the south, in one of those remote districts, where
intelligence is always slow in arriving, and where political movements
rarely disturb the quiet current of daily life, there lived one of those
old seigneurs who, at that period, were deemed sovereign princes in
the little locale they inhabited. The soil had been their. own for cen-
turies ^long custom had made them respected and looked up to while
tiie acts of kindness and benevolence in which from father to son their
education consisted, formed even a stronger tie to the affections of the
peasantry. The church, too, contributed not a little to the maintenance
of this feudalism, and the '* chateau" entered into the subject of the vil-
lage prayers, as naturally as though a very principle of their faith.
There was something beautifully touching in the intercourse between
the lord of the soil and its tillers in the kindly interest of the one
repaid in reverence and devotion by the others : his foresight for their
-benefit their attachment and fidelity; the paternal care, the filial
love, made a picture of rural happiness such as no land ever equalled,
such as perhaps none will ever see again. The seigneur of whom I
speak, was a true type of this class he had been, in his boyhood, a
page at the gorgeous court of Louis XV., mixed in the voluptuous fasci-
nations of the period but early disgusted by the sensuality of the
day, retired to his distant chateau, bringing with him a wife, one of
the most beautiful and accomplished. persons of the court, but one who,
like himself, preferred the peace and tranquillity of a country life to
the whirl whid pleasures of a vicious capital. For years they lived
childless ; but at last, after a long lapse of time, two children were
born to this union, a boy and girl, both lovely, and likely, in every
respect, to bless them with happiness. Shortly after the birth of the
girl, the mother became delicate, and after some months of suffering,
died. The father, who never rallied from the hour of her death, and took
little interest in the world, soon followed her, and the children were
left orphans, when the eldest was but four years of age, and his sister
but three. Before the count died he sent for his steward you know
that the steward, or intendant, in France, was formerly the person
of greatest trust in any family, the faithful adviser in times of diffi-
culty, the depository of secrets, the friend, in a word, who in humble
guise offered his counsel in every domestic arrangement, and without
whom no project was entertained or determined on, and usually the
office was hereditary, descending from father to son for centuries.

' In this family such was the case, his father and grandfather be-
fore him had filled the office, and Leon Guichard well kneV every
tradition of the house, and from his infancy his mind had been stored
with tales of its ancient wealth and former greatness. His father had

302 OUR

died but a (fthwi time previous, and when the count^s last ilhieiss seized
him, Leon was only in the second year of his stewardship. Brief as
the period was, however, it had sufficed to give abundant proof of his
zeal and ability. New sources of wealth grew up under his judicious
management ^improvements were every where conspicuous; and while
the seigneur himself found his income increased by nearly one half,
the tenants had gained in equal proportion, such was the result of his
activity and intelligence. These changes, marvellous as they may
seem, were then of frequent occurrence-^the lands of the south had
been tilled for centuries without any effort at improvement sons were
content to go on as their fathers had done before them ^increased civi-
lization, with its new train of wants and luxuries, never invaded this
remote, untravelled district, and primitive tastes and simple habits
succeeded each other generation after generation unaltered and un-
changed. Suddenly, however, a new light broke on the world, which
penetrated even the darkness of the far-off valleys of La Provence.
Intelligence began to be more widely diffused ^men read and reflected
the rudiments of every art and every science were put within the
reach of humble comprehensions ; and they who before were limited to
memory or hearsay for such knowledge as they possessed, could now
apply at the fountain for themselves. Leon Guichard was not slow in
cultivating these new resources, and applying them to the circum-
stances about him ; and although many an obstacle arose, dictated by
stupid adherence to old customs, or fast-rooted prejudice against new-
fashioned methods by perseverance he overcame them all, and actually
enriched the people in spite of themselves.

" The seigneur, himsefr a man of no mean intellect, saw much of this
with sorrow ^he felt that a mighty change was accomplishing, and that
as one by one the ancient landmarks by which men had been guided
for ages were removed, none could foresee what results might follow,
nor where the passion for alteration might cease. The superstitions of
the church, harmless in themselves, were now openly attacked ; its
observances, before so deeply venerated, were even assailed as idle
ceremonies, and it seemed as if the strong cable that bound men to
faith and loyalty had parted, and that their minds were drifting over
a broad and pathless sea. Such was the ominous opening of the revo-
lution, such the terrible ground swell before the storm.

*^ On his death-bed, then, he entreated Leon to be aware that evil
days were approaching that the time was not distant when men
should rely upon the affection and love of those around them, on the
ties that attached them to each other for years long, on the mutual
interests that had grown up from their cradles ^he besought him to
turn the people's minds, as far as might be, from the specious theories
that were afloat, and fix them on their once-loved traditions and,
above all, he charged him, as the guardian of his orphan children, to
keep them aloof from*the contamination of dangerous doctrines^ and
to train them up in the ancient virtues of their house, in charity and
benevolence.

' Scarce had the old count's grave closed over himi when men began

TOM mntKE OP "OUES." 303

i to perceive a marked change In Leon Goicliard ; no longer htunble

! even to subserviousness as before, he now assumed an air of pride and

{ haughtiness that soon estranged his companions from him. As guar-

I dian to the orphan children* he resided in the chateau, and took on

j him the pretensions of the master. Its stately equipage, with great

emblazoned panels, the village wonder at every fete-day, was now

' replaced by a more modem vehicle, newly arrived fVom Paris, in which

Monsieur Guichard daily took his airings. The old servants, many of

them bom in the chateau, were sent adrift, and a new and very different

class succeeded them ; all was changed, even the little path that led

up from the presbyt^re to the chateau, and along which the old cure

was seen wending his way on each Sunday to his dinner with the

seigneur, was now closed ^the gate walled up while the Sabbath itself

was only dedicated to greater festivities and excess, to the scandal of

{ the villagers.

" Meanwhile, the children grew up In strength and beauty ; like
wild flowers, they had no nurture, but they flourished in all this neglect,
ignorant and ^mconscious of the scenes around them. They roved about
the live-long day through the meadows, or that wilderness of a gar-
den, en which no ' longer any care was bestowed, and where rank
luxuriance gave a beauty of its own to the rich vegetation. With the
unsuspecting freshness of their youth, they enjoyed the present, without
a thought of the future they loved each other, and were happy. To
1 them the vague reports and swelling waves of the revolution, which

I each day gained ground, brought neither fear nor apprehension ; they

^ little dreamed that the violence of political strife could ever reach their

quiet valleys ; nor did they think the hour was near when the tramp of
soldiery, and the ruffian shout of predatory war were to replace the song
of the vigneron, and the dance of the villager. The revolution came
at last, sweeping like a torrent over the land ^it blasted as it went
beneath its baneful breath every thing withered and wasted ^loyalty,
religion, affection, and brotherly love all died out in the devoted
I country anarchy and bloodshed were masters of the scene. The first

dreadful act of this fearful drama passed like a dream to those, who,
I at a distance from Paris, only read of the atrocities of that wretched

' capital ; .but when the wave rolled nearer, when crowds of armed men,
wild and savage in look, with ragged uniforms and blood-stained
[ " hands, prowled about the villages, where in happier times a soldier

[ had never been seen when the mob around the guillotine supplied the

place of the gathering at the market ^when the pavement was wet
and slippery with human blood men's natures suddenly became
changed, as though some terrible curse from on high had fallen on
them ^^their minds caught up the fearful contagion of revolt, and a
mad impulse to deny all they had once held sacred and venerable,
seized on all. Their blasphemies against religion went hand in hand
with their desecration of every thing holy Iri social life, and a ]re-
eminence in guilt became the highest object of ambition. . Sated with
slaughter, bloated with crime, the nation reeled like a dmnken savag^
'over the ruin it created, and ^ith the i&sane hist 6f blood, poured

304 am MESS.

forth its armed ihoasands througliout the whole of Europe. Then
began the much-boasted triumphs of the revolutionary armies ^the
lauded victories of those great assertors of liberty say, rather, the
carnage of famished wolves the devastating rage of blood-thirsty
maniacs. The conscription seized on the whole youth of France, as
if fearful that in the untarnished minds of tlie young the seeds of
better things might bear fruit in season. They carried them away to
scenes of violence and rapine, where, amid the shoiM^of battle and
the cries of the dying, no voice of human sympathy might touch their
hearts, no trembbng of remorse should stir within them.

*^ ' You are named in the conscription, monsieur,' said Leon, in a
short, abrupt tone, as one morning he entered the dressing-room of his
young master.

'* * Me ! I named in the conscription V replied the other, with a look
of incredulity and anger. This is but a sorry jest^ Master LeoD,
and . not in too good taste, either/ .

" ' Good or bad,' answered the steward, * the fact is as I say, here
is the order from the municipale ; you were fifteen, yesterday, you
know.'

" * True ; and what then ; am I not Marquis de Neufchatel, Count
de Rochefort, in right of my mother?'

" * There are no more marquises, no more counts,' said the other
roughly ; ' France has had enough of such cattle ; the less you allude
to them the safer for your head.'

" He spoke truly, the reign of the aristpcracy was ended; and while
they were yet speaking, an emissary of the convention, accompanied
by a party of trooos, arrived at the .ch9teau to fetch away the newly-
drawn conscript.

" I must not dwell on the scene which followed. The heart-rending
sorrow of those who had lived but for each other, now torn asunder
for the first tinie, not knowing when, if ever, they were to meet again.
His sister wished to follow him, but even had he permitted it, such
would have been impossible. The dreadful career of the revolu-
tionary soldier was an obstacle insurmountable. The same evening
the battalion of infantry to which he was attached began their march
towards Savoy, and the lovely orphan of the chateau fell danger-
ously ill.

"Youth, however, triumphed over her malady, which indeed was
brought on by grief; and after some weeks, she was again restored to
health. During the interval, nothing could be more kind and atten-
tive than Leon Guichard ; his manner, of late years rough and uncivil,
became softened and tender; the hundred little attentions which ill-
ness seeks for, he paid M'ith zeal and watchfulness ; every thing which
could alleviate her sorrow or calm her afflicted mind, was resorted to,
with a kind of instinctive delicacy, and she began to feel that in her
long-cherished dislike of the intendant, she had done him grievous
wrong.

" This change of manner at tracte^The' attention of many besides the
Inhabitants of the chateau* They "remarked his alter^ looks ai^d

TOM BUEKB Ot **OUBS.'* 305

bearing) the more studied attention to his dress and appearance, and
the singular difference in all his habits of life; no longer did ho pass
his time in the wild orgies of debauchery and excess, but in careful
management of the estate, and rarely or never left the chateau after
nightfall.

" A hundred different interpretations were given to this line of act-
ing : some said that the more settled condition of political affairs had
made him cautious and careful, for it was now the reign of the
Directory, and the old excesses of the '92 were no longer endured ;
others, that he was naturally of a kind and benevolent nature, and
that his savage manner and reckless conduct were assumed merely in
compliance with the horrible features of the time. None, however
suspected the real cause. Leon Guichard was in love! Yes, the
humble steward, the coarse follower of the vices of that detestable
period was captivated by the beauty of the young girl, now springing
into womanhood. The freshness of her artless nature, her guileless
innocence, her soft voice, her character so balanced between gaiety and
tiioughtfulness, her loveliness, so unlike all he had ever seen before,
had seized upon his whole heart; and, as the sun darting from behind
the blackest clouds will light up the surface of a bleak landscape,
touching every barren rock and tipping every bell of purple heath
with colour and richness, so over his rugged nature the beauty of this
fair girl shed a very halo of light, and a spirit awoke within him to
seek for better things, to endeavour better things, to ily the coarse de-
praved habits of his former self, to conform to the tastes of her he
worshipped. Day by day his stem nature became more softened.
No longer those terrible bursts of passion, to which he once gave way,
escaped him ; his voice, his very look, too, was changed in its expres-
sion, and a gentleness of manner almost amounting to timidity, now
characterised him who had once been the type of the most savage
Jacobin.

' She to whom this wondrous change was owing knew nothing of
the miracle she had worked ; she would not, indeed, have believed,
had any one told her. She scarcely remarked him when they met, and
did not perceive that he was no longer like his former self; her whole
soul wrapped up in her dear brother's fate, she lived from week to
week in the thought of his letters home. It is true her life had many
enjoyments which owed their source to the intendant's care ; but she
knew not of this, and felt more grateful to him when be came letter in
hand from the little post of the village, than when the fair moss roses
of spring filled the vases of the salon, or the earliest fruits of summer
decked her table. At times, something in his demeanour would strike
her a tinge of sorrow it seemed rather than aught else ; but as she
attributed this, as every other grief, to her brother's absence, she paid
no further attention to it, and merely thought good Leon had more feel-
ing than they used to give h'^xA credit for.

" At last, the campaign of Areola over, the young soldier obtained a
short leave to see his sister* How altered were they both : she from
the child had become the beautiful girl ; her eyes flashing with the

M8S NO. XXIII. VOL. II. X

^

\

SOS WM

brilliant sparkle of youthi her step elastic, her colour changing with i

every passing expression. He was already a man, bronzed and sun- \

burnt ; his dark eyes darker, and his voice deeper, but still his former
self in all the warmth of his affection to his sister.

" The lieutenant, for so was he always called by the old soldier who
accompanied him as his servant, and oflentimes by the rest of tbe
household, had seen mach of the world in the few years of his
absence.

' The chances and changes of a camp had taught him many things
which lie far beyond its own limits, and he had learned to scan men's
minds and motives, with a quick eye and ready wit. He was not
long therefore in observing the alteration in Leon Guicbard's manner^
nor was he slow in tracing it to its real cause. At first, the sudden
impulse of his passion would have driven him to any length ; the pre-
sumption of such a thought was too great to endure but then the
times he lived in taught him some strong lessons ; he remembered
the scenes of social disorder and anarchy of his childhood; how
every rank became subverted, and how men's minds were left to their
own unbridled influences to choose their own position, and he bethought
him, that in such trials as these, Leon had conducted liimself with
moderation ; that to his skilful management it was owing, if the property
had not suffered confiscation like so many others, and that it was per-
haps hard to condemn a man for being struck by charms, which, how-
ever above him in the scale of rank, were still continually before his
eyes. Reasoning thus, he determined as the wisest course, to remove
his sister to the house of a relative, where she could remain during
his absence. This would at once put a stop to the steward's folly
for so he could not help deeming it and what was of equal conse-
quence in the young soldier's eyes prevent his sister being offended
by ever suspecting the existence of such a feeling towards her. The
plan once resolved on, met no difficulty from his sister ; his promise to.
return soon to see her was enough to compensate for any arrange-
ment, and it was determined that they should set out towards the south
by the first week in September.

" When the intimation of this change first reached Leon, which it
did from the other servants, lie could not believe it, and resolved to
hasten to the lieutenant himself, and ask if it were true. On that day,
however, the young soldier was absent shooting, and was not to return
before night. Tortured with doubt and fear, trembling at the very
thought of her departure ^whose presence had been the load-star of
his life ^he rushed from the house and hurried into the wood. Every
spot reminded him of her, and he shuddered to think that in a few
hours h\h existence would have lost its spring. That ere the week
was past, he would be alone without the sight of her, whom, even to
have seen, constituted the happiness of the whole day. Revolving
such sad thoughts, he strolled on, not knowing whither, and at last,on
turning the angle of a path, found himself before the object of his
musings ; she was returning from a farewell visit to one of the
cottagers, and was hastening to the chateau tp dre$s for dinner.

1

nar

TOM BUJIKE Oy "OUBS.** 30T

? '** Ah '.Monsieur Leon,' said she, suddenly, I am gUd to meet

** you here these poor people at the wooden bridge wiU miss me, I

^*- fear; you must look to them in my absence and, there is old

Jeanette she fancies she can spin still I pray you let her have her

*** little pension regularly. The children at Calotte, too, they are too far

fsi from the school ^mind that they have their books.'

P- ' And are you indeed going from hence, mademoiselle ?' said he, in

a tone and accent so unlike his ordinary one, as to make her start with

sfl[: surprise.

iai " Yes, to be sure. We leave the day after to-morrow.'

it I ' And have you no regret, mademoiselle, to leave the home of your

fii childhood and those you have ^known there ?'

M . " ' Sir r replied she haughtily, as the tone of his voice assumed a

; s; meaning which could not be mistaken, *you seem to have forgotten your-

s self somewhat, or you had not dared *

m " ' Dared I' interrupted he, in a louder key * dared I have dared

i\ more than that. Yes,' cried he in a voice where passion could be no

j; longer held under* Leon Guichard, the steward, has dared to love

i, his master's daughter. Start not so proudly back, madame. Time

i( was when such an avowal had been a presumption death could not repay,

but these days are past. The haughty have been well humbled ; they

j^ who deemed their blood a stream too pure to mingle with' the current

^ in plebeian veins, have poured it lavishly beneath the guillotine. Leon

Guichard has no master now I'

The fire flashed from his eyes as he spoke, and his colour, pale at
is^ first, grew darker and darker, till his face became almost purple, while
1;^.' his nostrils, swelled to twice their natural size, dilated and contracted like
f those of a fiery charger. Terrified at the frightful paroxysm of passion
^ before her, the timid girl endeavoured to allay his anger, and replied

1 ** * You know well, Leon, that my brother has ever treated you as a
i friend '

I " * He ^a friend I' cried he, stamping on the ground, while a look of

I demoniac malice lit up his features. * He, who talks to me as though

I were a vassal, a slave ; he, who deems his merest word of approval a
recompense for all my labour, all my toil ; he, whose very glance shoots
into my heart like a dagger. Think you, I forgive him the contemp-
tuous treatment of nineteen years, or that I can pardon insults because
. ' they have grown into habits. Hear me,' he grasped her wrist rigidly

f as he spoke, and continued, * I have sworn an oath to be revenged on

him from the hour when a boy, scarce eight years old, he struck me
on the face and called me canaille. I vowed his ruin. I toiled for
' it, I strove for it, and I succeeded ay, succeeded. I obtained from

the Convention the confiscation of your lands all every thing you
possessed. I held the titles in my possession, for I was the owner of
this broad chateau ay Leon Guichard even so. You were but my
guest here. I kept it by me many a day, and when your brother was
drawn in the conscription, I resolved to assert my right before the
world.' He paused for a moment, while a tremendous convulsion
shook his frame, and made him tremble like one in ^n %gmi then

%

308 OUB MESS.

suddenly rallying, he passed bis hand across his brow, and in a lowtf
voice resumed * I would have done so but for you/

' For me ! what mean you?* said she, almost sinking with terror.

"^ I loved you Gloved you as onlv he can love who can surrender all
his cherished hopes his dream of ambition ^his vengeance even, to
his love. I thought too that you were not cold to my advances ; and
fearing lest any hazard should apprise you of my success, and thus run
counter to my wishes,' I lived on here as your servant, still hoping for
the hour when I might call you mine, and avow myself the lord of this
chateau. How long I might have continued thus I know not. To see
you, to look on you, to live beneath the same roof with you, seemed
happiness enough, but when I heard that you were to leave this, to go
away, never to return perhaps, or if so, not as her I loved and wor-
shipped, then . But why look you thus ? Is it because you doubt

these things? Look here see this. Is that in form? Are these
signatures authentic ? Is that the seal of the National Convention ?
what say you now? It is not the steward Leon that sne^, but the
Citizen Gmchardpropri^taire de Rochefort. Now metl^ks that
makes some difference in the proposition.' '^'

" * None, sir,' replied she, with a voice whose steady utterance made
each word sink into his heart; 'save iLs it adds to my confetnpt for
him who has dared to seek nay affection in the ruin of my family. I
did but despise you before ^ * . '

" * Beware,' said he in a voice of menace^ but in which no violence
of passion entered, *you are in my power. I ask you again^ will you
consent to be my wife ? Will you save your brother from the scaffold,
and yourself from beggary arid riiin I caii accomplish both.' * ''

** A look of ineffable scorn was all her reply ; when he sprang
forward and threw his arm round her waist . j

^* * Qr would you drive me to the worst *^ " '

"A terrific shriek broke from her as she felt his hand around her,
when the brushwood crashed behind her, and her brother's dogs sprang
from the thicket. With a loud cry she called upon his name ; he
answered from the wood, and dashed towards her just aB she sank
fainting to the ground. Leon was gone.

" As soon as returning strength permitted, she told her brother the
fearful story of the steward ; but bound him by every entreaty not to
come himself in contact with a monster so depraved. When they
reached the chateau, they learned that Guichard had been there and
leflb it again; and from that hour they saw him no more.

' I must now conclude in a few words, and to do so, may mention,
that in the year '99 I became the purchaser of Haute Rochefort, at a
sale of forfeited estates, it having been bought by government on
some previous occasion, but from whom, and how, I never learned. The
story I have told I learned from the notaire of Hubane, the village in
the neighbourhood) who was conversant with all its details, and knew
well the several actors in it, as well as their future fortunes.

The brother became a distinguished officer, and rose to some rank
in the service, but embarking in &e expedition to Ireland, wa reported

TOM B^RKE OF " OURS." 309

4o Bonaparte as l^^ing betrayed the French cdu$e. The result was,
he was struck off the list of the ariny, and pronounced degraded ; he
died in some unknowp place.

" The sLster became attached to her cousin, but the brother oppos*
ing the union, she was taken away to Paris; the lover returned to
Bretagn^ wliere having heard a false report of her marriage at court,
he assumed holy 9rde:r8} and being subsequently charged, but it is now
believed falsely, of corresponding with tlie Bourbons, was sho^ in
ins own garden by a platoon of infantry. But how is this ; are you
ill ; has my story so affected you ?"

" That brother was my friend my dearest, my only friend Charles
de Meudon.'*

" What ! and did you know ppor Charles ?*' . .
But I could not speak' ; the tears ran fast 4own my cheeks,^ as I
thought of all his sorrows sorrows far greater than ever he had
told me^

' Poor Marie," said the general, as he wiped a tear from his eve ;
/' few have, met such an enemy as she did : every misfortune of her life
has sprung from one hand; Ijier brother her lover's death, were both
bis acts." .

* Leon Guichard! And who is he?, or how co\ild lie have done
these things ?*^. .,,... .

" Methinks you might yourself reply to ypup own q^uesUon.*'
"J! how could that be? I knojw him not'^^ ' ,
" Yes,, but you do ; Leop Guichard .is Meh^e'^e l.a 'I*buche !*'
Had a thunderbolt fallen between us, 1 cout^ not liaye. felt more
terror. That name spoken .but twice or, thrice in my hearing, had
each time brought its pmen oif evil. It was thie fjame .with whose ac-
quaintance Marie de Meudpn charged me in the garden at Versailles,
the same who brought the Chpuaps to the ^guillotine; and liad so
nearly involved myself in their ruin; and now 1, l^^ard of him as one
who^e dreadful .liie bad been a course of perfidy and crime, one who
blasted all around him, and scattered ruin as he went.

." I have littlQ more to add," resumed the general, after a long
pause, and in a voice whose weakened accents evinced how fearfully
the rexneaibrance .h^ called up, affected him. *^ What i;^mains, too,
more immediately concerns myself than others. I am the last of my
house ^an ancient family, and one not undistinguished in the annals
of France, hangs but on the feeble thread of a withered and t)roken
old man's life, with whom it dies ; my only brother fell in the Austrian
campaign. I never had a sister ; uncles and cousins I have had in
numbers, but death and exile have been rife these last twenty years,
and save myself, none bears the name of D'Auvergne. Yet once I
nourished the hope of a family of a ra^e who should hand down the
ancient virtues of our house to after years. I thought of those gallant
ancestors whose portraits graced the walls of the old chateau I was
born in, and fancied myself leading my infant boy from picture to
picture, as 1 pointed put th^ "brave and the gpod, who had beisn his

810 OtTB

forefathers. But thii is a dream long since dispelled* I was then *
youth, scarce older than yourself, rich, and with every prospect of
happiness before me ; I fell in love, and the object of my passion
seemed one created to have made the very paradise I sought for.
She was beautiful, beyond even the loveliest of a handsome court ;
highborn and gifted ; but her heart was bestowed on another, one
who unlike myself, encouraged no daring thoughts, no ambitious long-
ings but who, wholly devoted to her he loved, sought in tranqml
quiet the happiness such spirits can give each other. She told me
herself, frankly, as I speak now to you, that she could not be mine^
and then placed my hand in her husband's* Tins was Marie de Roche-
fort the mother of Mademoiselle de Meudon.

The world's changes seem ever to bring about these strange vi-
cissitudes by which our early deeds of good and evil are brought more
forcibly to our memories, and we are made to think over the past by
some accident of the present. After twenty years I came to live in that
chateau where she, whom I once loved, had lived and died. I became
the lord of that estate which her husband once possessed, and where in
happiness they had dwelt together. I will not dwell upon the
thoughts such associations ever give rise to ; I dare not, old as I am,
evoke them.*' He paused for some minutes, and then went on
* Two years ago I learned that Mademobelle de Meudon was the
daughter of my once loved Marie; from that hour I felt no longer
childless ; I watched over her, without however attracting notice on her
part, and followed her everywhere 5 the very day I saw you first at
the Polytechnique I was beside het. From all I could learn and
hear, her life had been one of devoted attachment to her brother,
and then to Madame Bonaparte ; her heart, it was said, was buried
with him she once loved, at least none since had ever won even the
slightest acknowledgment from her, bordering on encouragement.

' Satisfied that she was every thing I could have wished my own dangh
ter, and feeling that with youth the springs of affection rarely dry up,
I conceived the idea of settling all my property on her, and oitreating
the emperor to make me her guardian, with her own consent of course.
He agreed ; he went further ; he repealed, so far as it concerned her^
the law by which the daughters of royalists cannot inherit, and made
her eligible to succeed to property, and placed her hand at my
disposal.

*^ Such was the state of matters when I wrote to you ; since that
I have seen her, and spoken to her in confidence ; she has consented
to every portion of the arrangement, save that which involves her
marrying ; but some strange superstition being over her mind that her
fate is to ruin all with whom it is linked, that her name carries an
evil destiny with it, she refuses every ofier of marriage, and will not
yield to my solicitation.

^ I thought,** said the general, as he leaned on his hand, and mat*
feted half aloud, that I had conceived a plan whic& must bring
liappmess with it ; buty however^ one part ctf my design is accomplished^

TOM BintKlS OF ''OUBS.'' 311

she is my heir the daughter of my own loved Marie i^ the child of
my adoption, and for this I have reason to feel grateful. The cheer-
less feeling of a death-bed, where not one mourns for the dying, haunts
me no longer, and I feel not as one deserted and alone. To-mor-
row I go to wish her adieu ; we are to be at the Tuileries by noon.
The emperor holds a levee, and our final orders will then be given."

The old general rallied at the last few words he spoke, and
pressing my hand affectionately, wished me good night, and with-
drew. While I, with a mind confused and stunned, sat thinking
over the melancholy story he had related, and sorrowing over the
misfortunes of one whose lot in life had been far sadder than my
own.

CHAPTER XLU.

THE HALL OF THE MABSHALS.

Some minutes before noon we entered the Place de Carousel, now
thronged with equipages and led horses. Officers, in the rich uniforms
of every arm of the service, were pressing their way to the palace,
amid the crash of carriages, the hvaz of recognitions, and the thun-
dering sounds of the brass band, whose echo was redoubled beneath
the vaulted vestibule of the palace.

Borne along with the torrent, we mounted the wide stair and passed
from room to room, until we arrived at the great antechamber where
the officers of the household were assembled in their splendid dresses.
Here the crowd was so dense, we were unable to move on for some
time, and it was after nearly an hour's waiting, that we at last found our-
selves within that gorgeous gallery, named by the emperor, ' La salle
des Marechaux^" At any other moment my attention had been rivetted
upon the magnificence and beauty of this great salouy its pictures, its
gildings, the richness of the hangings, the tasteful elegance of the
ceiling, with its tracery of dull gold, the great works of art in bronze
and marble that adorned it on every side ; but now my mind took
another and very different range. Here around me were met the
greatest generals and warriors of Europe. The names, second alone
to his, who had no equal. There stood Ney, with his broad, retiring
forehead, and his eyes black and flashing, like an eagle's. With wha^
energy he spoke, how full of passionate vigour that thick and rapid-
utterance, that left a tremulous quavering on his lip even when he
ceased to speak. What a contrast to the bronzed unmoved features of

\

3.12 OUR MEBS.

the large lotn he addressed, and who listened to him with such defe*
rence of manner ; his yellow moustache bespeaks not the Frenchman,
he is a German, by blood at least, for it is Kellerman, the colonel of
the cuijra^iers of the gttard And yonder w&s Soalt, with his strong
features seamed by many a day of hardship, the centre of a group of
colonels of the, staff, to whom he was rapidly communicating their
orders. Close beside him stood LanneS) his arm fn a sling ; a gun-
shot wound that defied the art of his surgeons, still deprived him of
Ills left hand. And there leaned Savary against the window, his dark
eyes rivetted on the corps of gendarmerie in the court beneath. Full
taller, by a head thaa the largest about him, he seemed almost gigantic
in the massive accoutrements of his service. The fierce Davoust, the
gay and splendid Murat, with his waving plumes and jewelled dol-
man. Lefpbvre, the very type of his class, moving with difficulty from
a \yound in his hip^^U were th^-e^^while passing rapidly from place
to place, I remarked a young and handsome man, whose uniform of
Qoloi)^, bore the deeoration of the legion ^he appeared to know and
ble knPiWQ to all tbds was Eugene Beauhamais, the stepson of the
emperor. " Ah, General D'Auvergne," cried he, approaching with
a^ smiJe, ** his majesty desires to see you after the levee ^}'ou leave
to-ijiigjit,.! beJieve." " ' '

**Ye$pi coUm^U.all ts in readiness,'* said the general, while I thought
a look of anxiety at the emperor's summons seemed to agitate his
features., . . . ,, i

",Oi?ei ot.jQut ftaff," said Beiiilhtt?aai5 bowing, as he lookei'
towards me.

" JtX.aid-de^Qftwp^ Lientenaint Burkej* replied the general, prcr
se^tiqgmef ..,

** Ah, l^'em^i^bevv .^^.the ^olonel^ as l^8 dre\^ himself proudly
upi. and 8eeiedia though' the vecoUection were any thing but favour-
ably to ?pe^: But just then the wide folding doors were thrpwn open,
and a }oud ymofi pftoclftimed ^ sa Majestd L'Empereur." In an instant
every voice was hushed, the groups broke up, and thfe persons fell back
into twp long Ijnes, between whi^ lay a passage, along this the officers
of the palace retired slowly, ^sicing the emperor, who came step by
step after them. I could but see the pale face, massive and regular,
likQ the head of an antique eameo ; the hair straight combed upon his
fine forehead, and his large full eyes, as they turned hither and
thither among that crowd, once his equals, now how immeasurably
his inferiors. He stopped every now and then to say a word or two
to son^e one as he passed, but in so low a tone, that even in the dead
silence aroundi nothing was audible save a murmur. It was a relief
to my ,own excited feelings, as with high beating heart, I gazed on
the greatest monarch of the world ^that 1 beheld the others around, the
oldest generals,, the time-worn companions of his battles, not less
moved than myself.

While the emperor passed slowly along, I could mark that Eugene
Beauharnais moved rapidly through tho galley, whispering now to this
one, now to that,, among the officers of superior grade, who imrne^

TOM BTOXC OF "OUB8.** 313

di;itely after, Jeft the salon by a door at the end At length he ap-
proached General D'Auvergne, saying, "The audience of the mar-
shals will not occupy more than half an hour, pray be in readiness to
wait on his majesty when he. calls; you can remain in the blue drawing*
room next the gallejry."

The general bowed, and taking my arm moved slowly from the spot
in the direction mentioned, and in a few minutes we found ourselves
in the small room where the empress used to receive her morning
visitors during the copsidate. .

" You remember this a/on, Burke?" said the general, carelessly.

" Yes, sir, but too w^l it was here that his majesty gave me that
rebuke *'

" True, true, my dear boy, I fei^ot that completely ^but come,
there has been time enough to forget it since. I wonder what
can mean this summona to attend here I have received my orders
there has been, so far as I understand, no change of plan. Well,
well, we shall soon know-^^-see, the levee has begun to break u^
already ^there goes the staff of the ariillery-^tlitft roll of the drum is
for some general of division."

And now the crash of carriages^, and the souods of cavalry escorts,
jingling beside them, mingled with the deep beating of the drums,
made a mass of noises that filled the air, and continued without inter-
ruption for above an houi:. , . ' '

" Sacristi P* cried the general, " the crowd seems to pouf in as
fast as it goes out ; this may last for the entire day i Iharve scarce two
hours left me now.'*

He walked th^ roqm^jln^pati^iltly^ nenr mnttcilngiscmie broken .words
to himself, now stopping to listen to the sounds without. Still the din
continu/^d, and the ,d^tj3t^roU of equipage8, Rowing louder as they
came, told that tl^,. ti4Q. was yet pressings onMrards t?6wards the
palacei ** Three o^clock," cried the ^en^al, as the-^bell of the' pavllibn
sounded; "at four I was to leave; such were my wrftlen orders,
signed by the minister.**

His impatience now became extreme: he knew how difficult it was
in a matter of military discipline to satisfy Napoleon that any breach,
even when caused by his direct orders^ was not a fault. Besides, his
old habits had taught him to respect a command from the minfster-at-
war, as something above all oth^s.

" Beauharnais must have mistaken,'' said he, angrily. "His mnjesty
gave me my final directions ; 111 wait no IcHiga^.''

Yet did he hesitate to leave, and seemed actually to rely on me for
some hint for his guidance* r I did not dare to offer a suggestion, and
while thus we both stood uncertain, the -door opened, and a hnissier
called out

" Lieut-General D'Auvergne this way, sir,'* said the official, as he
threw open a folding door into a long gallery that looked into the
garden. They passed out together^ and I was alone.

The agitation of the general at this unexpected summons, had
communicated itself to me^ but in a far different way, for I imagined

1

314 ouft idsss.'

that his ^majesty desired only to confer some mark of favour on the
gallant old general before parting with him. Yet did I not venture to
Suggest this to liim, for fear I should be mistaken.

While I revolved these doubts in my mind, the door was flung
open with a crash^ and a page, in the uniform of the court rushed in.
" May I ask, sir," cried he, breathless, " can you inform me where is
the sdd-de-camp of the General D' Auvergne. I forget the name un-
fortunately."

I am the person Lieutenant Burke."

** The same, that is the name come after me with all haste, this
way ;" and so saying, he rushed down a flight of stone stairs, clearing
six or seven at a spring.

'A hurried business this, lieutenant," said the page laughingly.
** Took them all by surprise I fancy."

" What is it ? What do you mean ?" asked I, eagerly.

**HushI" said he, placing his finger on his Ups; "here they
come."

We had just time to stand to one side of the gallery, as the officers
of the household came up, two and two, followed by the Chancellor of
France, and the Dean of St. Roch, in his full canonicals. They
approached the table, on which several papers and documents were
lying, and proceeded to sign their names to diflTerent writings before
them. While I looked on, puzzled and amazed, totally unable to
make the most vague conjecture of the nature of the proceedings, I
perceived that General D' Auvergne had entered the room, and was
standing among the rest at the table.

" Whose signature did you propose here, general ?" said the chan-
cellor, as he took up a paper before him.

" My aid-de-camp, Lieutenant Burke."

" He is here, sir," said the page, stepping forward.

" You are to sign your name here, sir, and again oathis side,*' said
the chancellor, " with your birth-place annexed, age, and rank in the
service."

"I am a foreigner," said I; "does that make any difference
here ?"

" None," said he, smiling ; " the witness is but a very subordinate
personage here."

I took the pen, and proceeded -to write as I was desired ; and while
thus engaged, the door opened, and a short heavy step crossed the
room. I did not dare to look up ; some secret feeling of terror ran
through me, and told me it was the emperor himself.

" Well, D' Auvergne," said he, in a frank bold way, quite different
from his ordinary voice, " you seem but half content with this plan of
mine. Pardieu I there's many a brave fellow would not deem the
case so hard a one."

" As your wish, sire ."

" As mine, diantre ! my friend ; do not say mine only ; you
forget that the lady expressed herself equally satisfied. Come I is the
acte completed ?"

TOM B17RKB OF ^OURS." 315

^ It wants but your majesty's signature/' said tlie chancellor.

The emperor took the pen, and dashed some indescribable scroll
across the paper ; then turning suddenly towards the general, he con-
versed with him eagerly for several minutes, but in so low a voice as
not to be audible where I stood. I could but catch the words
"Darmstadt ^Augsburg ^the fomrth corps," from which it seemed
the movements of the army were the subject ; when he added in a
louder voice

"Every hour now is worth a day, ay, a week, hereafter ^remember
that, D'Auvergne.**

"Every thing is finished, sire," said the chancellor, handing the
folded papers to the emperor.

"These are for your keepmg, general," said he, delivering diem
into D'Auvergne's hand.

" Pardon, sire,*^ said the chancellor, hastily. " I have made a great
error hare. Madame la Comtesse has not appended her signature to
the consent."

" Indeed I" said the emperor, smiling. " We have been too hasty,
it would seem ; so thinks our reverend father of Saint Roch, I
perceive, who is evidently not accustomed to officiate *u coup de
tambour.' "

"Hisr majesty the empress!" said the huissier, as he opened the
doors, to permit her to enter. She was dressed in full court-dress,
covered with jewels. She held within her arm the hand of another,
over whose figure a deep veil was thrown^ that entirely concealed her
from head to foot.

" Madame la Comtesse wiU have the kindness to sign this," said the
chancellor, as he handed over a pen to the lady. She threw back her
veil as he spoke. As she turned towards the table, I saw the pale,
almost deathlike features of Marie de Meudon. Sudi was the shock,
I scarce restrained a cry from bursting forth, and a film fell before my
eyes as I looked, and the figures before me floated like masses of
vapour before my sight.

The empress now spoke to the general, but no longer could I take
notice of what was said. Voices there were, but they conveyed no-
thing to my mind. A terrible rush of thoughts, too quick for percep-
tion, chased each other through my brain, and I felt as though my
temples were bursting open from some pressure within. Suddenly the
general moved forward, and knelt to kiss the empress' hand ; he then
took that of Mademoiselle de Meudon, and pressed it to his lips. I
heard the word " Adieu !" faintly uttered by her low voice ; the veil
fell once more over her features : that moment a stir followed, and
in a few minutes more we were descending the stairs alone, the
genial leaning on my arm ^his right hand pressed across his eyes.
When we reached the court, several officers of rank pressed forward,
and I could hear the buzz of phrases, implying congratulations and
joy, to which the old general replied briefly, and with evident depres-
sion of manner*^ The dreadful oppression of a sad dream was over

316 OUR MESS.

me stilly and I felt as though to awake were impossible, when to
some remark near him, the general replied*

" True! quite true, monseigneur ; I have made her my wife. There
only remains one reparation for it, which is to make her my widow/'

** His wife !" said I, aloud, re-echoing the word without knowings*

^ Even so, man amiy" said he, pressing my hand softly. *^ My name
and my fortune are both hers. As for myelf--**we shciU never meet
again/' He turned away his head as he spoke, nor uttered anotber
word during the remainder of the way. _

When we arrived at the Rue de Rohan, the horses were harnessed
to the carriage, and all in readiness for our departure; The ramour of
expected war had brought a crowd of idlers about the door, through
which we passed with some difficulty into the house. Hastily throwing^
an eye over the now dismantled room, the old general approached the
window that looked out on the Tnileries. ** Adieu V* muttered h^ to
himself. ^^ Je ne vous reverrai jamais T And with that he pressed
his travelling-cap over his brows, and descended the stairs.

A cheer burst from the mob the postfllimi's whip cracked loudly
the horses dashed over the pavement and ere the fir5^ flurry of mad
excitement had subsided from my mind, Paris was some miles behind
us, and we were hiistening on towards the frontier.

Almost every man has experienced at least one period in his life,
when the curtain seems to drop, and the drhma in which he has hitherto
acted to end ; when a total change appeairs to pass over the interests
he has lived among, and a new and veiy different kind of existence to
open before him. Such is the case when the death of friends has left;
us lone and companionless ; wheii they, into whose ears we pbured our
whole thoughts of sorrow or of joy, are gone, and we look around
upon the bleak world, without a tie to existence, without one hope to
cheer us. How naturally then do we turn from every path and place,
once lingered over ; how do we fly the thoughts wherein once consisted
our greatest happiness, and seek from other sources, impressions less
painful, because unconnected with the past. Still the bereavement of
death is never devoid of a sense of holy calm, a sort of solemn
peace connected with the memory of the lost one. In the sleep that
knows not waking, we see the end of earthly troubles ^in the silence of
the grave, come no sounds of this world's contention ^the winds that
stir the rank grass of the churchyard breathe, at least, repose. Not so
when fate has severed us from those we loved beat during lifetime ;
when the fortunes we hoped to link with our own are torn asunder
from us ; when the hour comes when we must turn from the path we
had followed with pleasure and happiness, and seek another road in life,
bearing with us not only all the memory of the past, but all the specu-
lation on the future. There is no sorrow, po affliction, like this.

It was thus I viewed my joyless fortune with such depressing reflec-
tions I thought over the past, . Whajt mattered it now how my career
might turn : there lived not one to care whether rank or honour, dis-
grace or deathj were to be my portion. The glorious path I often

TOM BURK.B OF OUBS.*' 31T

t iii longed to tread opened for me now, without exciting one spark of

enthusiasm : so is it even in our most selfish desires, we live less for
i ]i ourselves than others.

nk If my road in Hfe seemed to present few features to hang hopes on

Ni( he who sat beside me appeared still more depressed. Seldom speaking,

Vri and then but in mencyUabies, he remained sunk in reverie. And thus

n passed the days o our journey, when on the third evening we came in

M sight of Coblentz. Then indeed there burst upon my astonished sight

one of those scenes which once aeen, are never forgotten. From the

If gentle declivity which we w^e now descending, the view extended

^ several miles in every , direction. Beneath us lay the city of CoblentsE,

y its spires and domes shilling Eke gilded bronze as the rays of the setting

jg sun fell upou them ; the MoseUe swept along one side of the town till

^^ it mingled its eddies with the broad Rhine, now one sheet ^f liquid

^,, gold ; the long pontoon bridge, against whose dark cut-waters the

bright streapi broke in sparkling cirdes, trembled beneath the doU roll

of artillery and |)aggage-waggons, which might be s^en issuing from

^ the town, and serpentining their course along the river's edge for miles

till tkey were lost in the narrow glen by which the Lahn flows, into the

J Rhine ; beyond rose the great precipice of rock, with its crowning

' fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, along whose battlemented walls, almost lost

in the heavy clouds of evening, might be seen dark specks aoving from

' place to place the soldiers of the garrison looking down from their

' eyrie on the war-tide that flpwed beneath. Lower down the river

' ; many boats were crowing* in whlch| as the sunlight shon^ one could

, mark th^ glancing of arms and the glitter of uniforms ; while farther

^ again, and in deep shadpwjjrose the solitary towers of the ruined castle

of Lahneck, its shattered walls and grass-grown battlements standing

clearly out against the evening sky.

Far as we were oi5 every breeze that stirred Bore towards us the
softened swell of military music, which, even when too faint to trace,
made the air tremulous with its martial sounds./ Along the ramparts
of the city were crowds of townspeople gazing "with anxious wonder-
ment at the spectacle, for none knew, save the generals in command of
divisions, the destination of that mighty force the greatest, Europe had
ever seen up to that period. Such indeed were the measures taken to
I ensure secrecy, that none were permitted to cross the frontier without

I ' a special authority from the minister for foreign affairs ; the letters in

the various post-ofRces were detained, and even travellers were denied
post-horses on the great roads to the eastward, lest intelligence might
be conveyed to Germany of the movement in progress. Meanwhile
at Manheini, at Spire, at Strasbourgh, and at Coblentz, the long
columns streamed forth, whose eagles were soon destined (b meet in
the great plains of southern Germany. Such was the gorgeous spec-
tacle that each bioment grew more palpable to our astonished senses-
grander far than any thing painting could realise more spirit-stirring
than the grandest words that poet ever sung.

* The cuirassiers and the dragoons of the guard are yonder," said
the general, as he durected bis glass to large square of the town.

318 OUB BIBSS.

where a vast mass of dismounted cavalry were standing : '^ you see
how punctual they are ; we are but two hours behind our time, and
they are awaiting our arrival."

" And do we move forward to-night, general ?" asked I, in some
surprise.

" Yes, and every night. The marches are to be made fourteen
hours each day. There go the lancers of Berg ^you see their scarlet
dolmans, don't you ? and yonder, in the three large boats, beyond the

point, there are the sappers of the guard What axe the shouts I

hear ^whence comes that cheering ?"

" Oh, I see ; it's a vivandiere, her horse has backed into the river*
See see ^she is going to swim him over. Look how the current

takes him down Bravely done, faith. She heads him to the stream

^it won't do though, she must be carried down." Just at this critical
moment a boat shoots out from under the cli^T a few strokes of the
oars, and they are alongside there's a splash and a shout, and the
skiflp moves on ; " and now I see they have given her a rope^ and are
towing her and her horse across."

'* See how the old spirit comes back with the first blast of the
trumpet," said the old general, as his eyes flashed with enthusiasm.
" That damsel there, I'll warrant ye, she'd have thought twice about
stepping over a rivulet in the streets of Paris yesterday, and look at
her now. Well done gallantly done. See how she spurs him up the
bank! Mafoi, mademoiselle, you'll have no lack of lovers for that
achievement."

A few minutes more and we entered the town, whose streets were
thronged with soldiers hurrying on to their different corps, and eager
townsfolk asking a hundred questions, to which of course few waited
to reply.

This way, general," said an officer in undress, who recognised
General D'Auvergne. " The cavalry of the third division is stationed
in the square."

Passing through a narrow street, through which the caleche had
barely room to pass, we now found ourselves in the Place, a handsome
space surrounded with a double row of trees, under which the dragoons
were lying, holding the bridles of their horses.

The general had scarcely put foot to ground, when the trumpets
sounded the call. The superior officers came running forward to
greet him. Taking the arm of a short man, in the uniform of the
cuirassiers, the general entered a cafd, near, while I became the centre
of some dozen officers, all eagerly asking the news from Paris ; and
whether the emperor had yet left the capital. It was not without con-
siderable astonishment I then perceived how totally ignorant they all
were of the destination of the army : many alleging it was destined
for Russia ; and others equally positive that the Prussians were the
object of attack ; the argun^ents in support of each opinion being
wonderfully ingenious, and only deficient in one respect, having not a
particle of fact for their foundation. In the midst of these conjectur-
ings came a new subject for discussion ; fo^ one of the group who had;

TOM BOSKS OF OUSS/' 319

just received a letter from his brother, a page at the Tuileries, was
reading the contents aloud for the benefit of the rest

" * Jules says that they are all astray as to the emperor's movements ;
Duroc4ias left Paris suddenly, but no one knows for where ; the only
thing certain is, a hot campaign is to open somewhere one hundred
and eighty thousand men '

'^ Bah r' said an old white*moustached major, with a look of evident
unbelief; ** we never had forty with the army of the Sambre."

'^ And what then P' said another, fiercely ; *^ do you compare your
army of the Sambre, your sans culottes republicans, with the imperial
troops ?"

The old major's face became deeply crimponed, and with a muttered
a demainy he walked away.

" Go after him, Amed^e," said another; "you had no right to say that.*-

" Not I, faith," said the other, carelessly ; " there is a grudge be-
tween us these three weeks past, and we may as well have it out. Go
on \dth the letter, Henri."

" Oh, it is filled with court gossip/' said the reader, negligently.
" Ha ! what's this, though the postscript

" I have just time to tell you the strangest bit of news we have
chanced upon for some time past. The emperor has this moment mar-
ried old General D'Auvergne to the very handsomest girl in the
empress's suite, Mademoiselle de Meudon. There is a rumour afloat
about the old man having made her his heir, and desiring to confer her
hand on some young fellow of his own choosing ; but this passion to
make court matches, which has seized his majesty lately, stops at
nothing ; and it is whispered that old Madame d'Orvalle is actually
terrified at every levee, lest she should be disposed of, to one of the new
marshals. I must say that the general looks considerably put out by
the arrangement ; not unnaturally, perhaps, as he is likely to pass the
honeymoon in the field ; while his aid-de-camp, a certain Monsieur
Burke, whose name you may remember figuring in the afiair of Pichegru
and George *

" Perhaps it were as well, sir," said I quietly, " that I should tell
you the person alluded to is myself. I have no desire to learn how
your correspondent speaks of me ; nor, I take it for granted, do these
gentlemen desire to canvass me in my own hearing ; with your leave,
then, I shall withdraw."

" A word, monsieur, one word, first," said the ofiicer, whose insolent
taunt had already offended the veteran major; "we are most of us
here staff ofiicers, and I need not say accustomed to live pretty much
tc^ether. Will you favour us, then, with a little explanation as to the
manner in which you escaped a trial in that business : your name, if I
mistake not, did not figure before the tribunal after the first day ?"

" Well, sir ; apd then ?"

" And then ? why, th^e is one only explanation in such a circum-
stance."

. " An4 that is, if I way make so bold-r *\

" That the * mauchard' fares better than his victim,"

330 OUB MS8.

' I believe, sir,'' said I, *^ I comprehend your meaning ; I hope there
will be no fear of your mistaking mine." With that I drew off the
long gauntlet glove I wore, and struck him across the face.

Every man sprang backwards as I did so, as though a shill had
fallen in the midst of us ; while a deep voice called out from behind

" Le Capitaine Amed^e Pichot is under arrest."

I turned, and beheld the prevost marshal with his guard approacli^
and take my adversary's sword from him.

'* What charge is this, marshal?*' said he, as a livid colour spicad
over his cheek.

" Your duel of yesterday, capitaine ; you seem to forget all about it
already."

" Whenever, and wherever you please, sir," said I, passing close
beside him, and speaking in a whisper.

He nodded, without uttering a word in reply, and moved after the
guard ; while the others dispersed silently, and lefl me standing alone
in the Place.

What would I not have given at that moment for but one friend to
counsel and advise me : and yet, save the general, to whom I dared not
speak on such a subject, I had not one in the whole world. It was,
indeed, but too true, that life had little value for me ; yet never did I
contemplate a duel with more abhorrence. The insult I had inflicted,
however, could have no other result. While I reasoned thus, the door
of the caje opened, and the general appeared.

" Burke," cried he, ** come in here, and make a hasty supper ; you
must be in the saddle in half an hour."

" Quitje ready, sir,"

"I know it, my lad. Your orders are there: ride forward to
Ettingen, and prepare the billets for the fourth demi-brigade, which
will reach that village by to-morrow evening ; you'll have time for
something to eat, and a glass of wine, before the orderly arrives. This
piece of duty is put on you, because a certain Captain Pichot, the only
one of the commissaries' department who can speak German, has just
been put under arrest for a duel he fought yesterday. I wish the court
martial would shoot the fellow, with all my heart and soul ; he's a per-
fect curse to the whole division. In any case, if he escape this time,
rU keep my eye on him, and he'll scarce get clear through my hands,
I warrant him."

It may be supposed that I heard these words with no common emo-
tion, bearing as they did so closely on my own circumstances at the
moment : but I hung down my head and affected to eat, while the old
general walked hastily up and down the salouy muttering, half aloud,
heavy denunciations on the practice of duelling, which, at any cost of
life, he resolved to put down in his command.

" Done already ; why, man, you've eaten nothing. Well, then, I see
the orderly without : you've got a capital moonlight for your ride ; and
80, au revoirJ*

*' Good-bye, sir," said I, as I sprang inio the saddle ; ^^and now for
Ettingen.**

TOM mrHKB OF * OtJEft.** 321

CHAPTER XLIIL

THE M AHCH ON TBB DANUBE,

Thcbe is a strange, unnatural kind of pleasure felt sometimes in the
continued attacks of evil fortune : the dogged courage with which we
bear up against the ills of fate, swimming strongly as the waves grow
rougher, has its own meed of consolation. It is only at such a time,
perhaps, that the really independent spirit of our natures is in the
ascendant, and that we can stand amid the storm, conscious of our
firmness, and bid the winds ^blow and crack their cheeks." Yet,
through how many sorrows must one have waded, ere he reach this
point through what trials must he have passed how must hope
have paled, and flickered, and died out ^how must all self-love, all
ambition, all desire itself have withered within us till we become
like the mere rock amid the breakers, against which the waves beat
in vain ! When that hour comes, the heart has grown cold and callous'
the affections have dried up-^^nd man looks no more upon his fellow-
men as brothers. Towarcb this sad condition I found myself rapidly
verging the isolation of my homeless, friendless state ^the death of
my hopes ^the uncheered path in which I walked all conspired to
make me feel depressed and I perceived that a half recklessness was
already stealing over me and that, in my indifference as to fortune,
now lay my greatest consolation. There was a time when such a
rencontre as lately befel me had made me miserable, till the hour
came when I should meet my adversary : now, my blood boiled with
no indignant passion no current of angry vengeance stirred through
my veins ^a stupid sullenness was over me, and I cared nothing what
might happen. And if this state became not permanent, I owe it to
youth alone the mainspring of many of our best endeavours.

We bad travelled some seven or eight miles, when we stopped for
a few seconds at the door of a cabaret, and then I discovered for the
first time that my old friend Piocbe was the corporal of our little
party. To my slight reproach for his not having sooner made himself
known to me, the honest fellow replied, " That he saw I was low in
spirits about something, and did not wish to obtrude upon me. Not
but, after all, mon Lieutenant, the best way is always to ' face front'
against bad luck, and charge through saperminty that* s the way we
did at Marengo, when Desaix' corps was cut off from the left but,
pardon, mon Ojfficier, I forgot you were not there.** There was some-
thing so pleasant in the gruff courtesy of the hardy cuirassier, that I
willingly led him in to speak of his former life a subject which, once
entered on, he followed as fancy or memory suggested*

MESSy NO. XXiy. ^VOL. IZ. t

,322 OUB UEBS*.

" I used to feel low-spirited myself, once," said Pioche, as he
smoothed down his great moustache with a complacent motion of iiis
fingers " I used to be very low in heart when I entered the service
first, and saw all my old schoolfellows and companions, winning their
epaulettes, and becoming captains and colonels ay, parbleu and
Mar^chals too ; while, because I could not read, I was to remain
all my life in the ranks-^-as if one could not force a pallisade, nor
break through a square, till he had stuffed his head with learning.
All this made me very sad, and I would sit )rpQding over it for hours
long ; but at last I began to think my own lot was not the worst after
.all HBj duty was easily done, and, when over, I could sleep sound
till the revetlUe blew. I ran no danger of being scolded by the petit
.Caporalj because my division was not somewhere yesterday, nor In
some other place to-day. He never came with a frown to ask me
why I had not captured another howitzer, and taken more prisoners I
No, faith. It was always, * Well done, Pioche ^bravely done, mon
enfant here'ei a piece of twenty francs to drink my health ;' or
perhaps he*d mutter between his teeth, That honest fellow there would
make a bet.ter general than one half of them' ^not that he was in
earnest, you know ^but still it was pleasant just to hear it."

" And yet, Pioche," said J, "it does surprise me, why, seeing that
this wj^nt of learning was the bar to your promotion, you did not "

"And so { did," mon Lieutenant; "at least, I tried to learn to. re^d.
Jllorbleu / it was a weary time for me. I'd rather be under arrest
.three days a week, than be at it again. Mademoiselle Mipette, she
- was the ' Vivandiere' of ours, undertook to teach me ; and I used to go
over to the canteen every evening after drill. Many a sad heart I had
.over these same lessons. Saperlotey I could learn the look of every
man in a brigade, before I could know the letters in the alphabet,
they looked so confoundedly alike when they stood up all in a line.
The only fellows I could distinguish were the big ones, that were
probably the sergeants and sous qfficiers ; and when my eye was fixed
on one column, it would stray away to another, and then mademoiselle
would laugh and that would lead to something else. ^^Et mafoi,'^ the
,spellii)g-book was soon thrown aside, and lessons given up for that
evening."

" I suppose Madeipoiselle Minette was pretty, Pioche."

" Was ! ay, and is too. What I mon Lieutenant, did you never see
her on parade ? She's the handsomest girl in the army, and rides so
well milles canons I She might have been a great lady before this,
if she'd have left the regiment but no, she'd die first; her father
was tambour-major with us, and killed at Groningen, when she was
only an infant and we used to carry her about in our arms on the
march, and hand her from one to another. I have seen her pass from
the leading files tp the baggage-guard, on a long summer's day that
I have* liC petit Ctmoral knows her well she gave him a gourd full
of eau de vie at Cairo, when he was so faint, he could scarcely
speak. It was after thstt he saw her in the breach at Acre one of our
fellows was lying wounded in the ruins, and mademoiselle waited till th^

TOM BPBK Oi* ''OUBS." 32^

storming party fell back, and then ran up to him with her flask in her
hand. * Whose pretty ancles are these ? I think I ought to know
tliem,' said an officer, as she passed along. * No flattery will do with
me, monsieur,' cried Minette : * it's hard enuugh to get one's living here,
without givipg Nantz brandy for nothing.' Sacristi! when the laugh
made her turn about, she saw it was the petit Caporal himself who
spoke to her. Poor Minette, she blushed scarlet, and nearly dropped
with shame ; but that did not prevent her dashing up the breach towards
the wounded man, not that it was of any use though he was dead whefi
she got up."

I should like much to see mademoiselle. Is she still with the
fourth ?"

*^ Yes, man Lieutenant I parted with her a few hours ago ;" a
half-suppressed sigh that followed these words showed that the worthy
corporal was touched on the most tender key of his nature and fo|r
some time he lapsed into a silence I could not venture to break. At
length, desiring to give the conversation a turn, I asked if he knew
the Capitaine Pichot.

" Know him 1" cried Pioche, almost bounding in his saddle as he spoke.
" That I do. Peste ! I have good reason to know him. See there."
With that he lifted the curled moustache from his upper lip, and
disclosed to my view a blue scar that marked one side of his mouth*
" That was his doing."

"Indeed! How so, pray?"

" I'll tell you : we were in garrison at Metz, where, as you know, the
great cpnmiissariat station is held- thousands of cannon and mortars,
shells and shot, and tons of powder without end. Well, the orders
were very strict against smoking any man found with a pipe in bis
mouth was sentenced to a week in the *salle de police,* and I can't
say what else beside. When we marched into the town this order
stared us every where in the face a great placard, with big letters,
which they who could read said was against smoking. Now, mpst of
us came from Alsace, and it was pretty much like setting a flsh to live
on dry land, bidding us go without tobacco. As for me, I smoke just
as I breathe, without knowing or thinking of it. My pipe lies in mj
^louth 48 naturally as my foot crests in the stirrup : and so, although
I intended to obey the order, I knew well the time might come when,
just from not thinking, I should be caught smoking away for if I were
on guard over a magazine, it would be all the same I could not help
it. So I resolved, as the only way not to be caqgbt tripping, to leave
all my pipes in a secret place, till the time came for us to leave Metz

an hour, I need not say, we all anxiously longed for. This I did,"

f continued Pioche, " that same evening, and all went on favourably for

some time, when one night as I was returning to quarters, the devil,
who meddles with every thing in this world, made me stick my hands
into the pocket of my undress jacket, and I there discovered a little bit
of a pipe about the length (f one joint of your thumb a poor scrubby
thing of clay, sure enough but there it was, and, worse still, ready
filled with tobacco* Had it been a good-sized meerschaum, with a tassel

324 OXTft HE88.

and an amber mouth-piece, I had resisted like a man ; but the tempta-
tion came in so humble a shape, I thought I was only guilty of a
small sin in transgressing, and so I lit my little friend, and went gaily
along towards the barracks. Just as I passed the corner of the market-
place, I heard a great noise of voices and laughing in a caf(, and
recognised the tones of our major and some of the officers, as they sat
sipping their wine in the verandah. Before I could raise my hand to
my mouth, Le Capitaine Pichot cried out * Halte, Ik ! ^right about
face attention! ^left wheel eyes front.' This I did, as if on parade^
and stood stock still ^when suddenly crack went a noise, and a
pistol bullet smashed the pipe in two, and grazed my. lip, when a
roar of laughing followed, as he called out louder than before ' quick
march !' and I stepped out to my quarters, never turning my bead
right or left, not knowing what other ball practice might be in store for
me. Tannerre de Dieuf a little windage of the shot might have cost
me every tooth I have in the world !"

'^ It was a cruel jest, Pioche, and you're a good-humoured fellow to
take it so easily."

*^ Not so. Lieutenant I had no punishment afterward^ and waa
well content to be quit for the fright !"

With such stray memories of his campaigning days, did Pioche
beguile the way now moralizing over the chances and changes of a
soldier's fortune now comforting himself with some pleasant reflection*
that, even in his own humble walk, he had assisted at some of the
greatest triumphs of the French armies. Of the future he spoke with
the easy confidence of one, who felt that in the Emperor's guidance
there could be full trust both of the cause being a just one, and the
result victorious. A perfect type of his class, his bravery was only to
be equalled by the implicit confidence he felt in his leader. That the
troops of any country, no matter how numerous and well equipped,
could resist a French army, was a problem he could not even entertain.
The thing was too absurd : and if Napoleon did not at that moment
wield undisputed sway over the whole of Europe, it was simply owing
to his excess of moderation, and the willing sacrifice of his ambition to
his greater love of liberty.

I confess, if I were sometimes tempted to smile at the simplicity of the
honest soldier, I was more often carried away by his warm enthusiasm ;
so frequently, too, did he interweave in his narrative the mention of
those great victories, whose fame was unquestionable, that in my assent
to the facts, I went a great way in my concurrence with the inferences
he deduced from them. And thus we travelled on for several days, in
advance of the division, regulating the halting-places and the billets,
according to the nature and facilities of the country. The towns and
villages in our " route" presented an aspect of the most profound
peace ; and however strange it seemed, yet each day attested how com-
pletely ignorant the people were of the advance of that mighty army
that now, in four vast columns of march, was pouring Us thousands
into the heart of Germany. The Princes of Baden and Darmstadt,
through whose territories we passed, had not as yet given in their

TOM BURKS OF *' OXJRS/' 325

adherence to the Emperor ; and the inhabitants of those countries
seemed perplexed and confused at the intentions of their powerful
neighbour, whose immense trains of ammunition, and enormous parks
of artillery, filled every road, and blocked up every village.

At length we reached Manheim, where a portion of the corps of
Marechal Davoust were in waiting to join us ; and there we first learned
by the imperial bulletin, the object of the war, and the destination of
the troops. The document was written by Napoleon himself, and bore
abundant evidence of his style. After the usual programme, attesting
his sincere love for peace, and his desire for the cultivation of those
hkppy and industrious habits which make nations more prosperous
than glorious, it went on to speak of the great coalition between
Russia and Austria, which, in union with the ^^perjide Albion," had no
other thought nor wish, than the abasement and dismemberment of
France. "But, soldiers!" continued he,^"your Emperor is in the
midst of you. France itself, in all its majesty, is at your back, and
you are but the advanced guard of a mighty people! There are
fatigues and privations, batdes and forced marches, before you ; but
let them oppose to us every resistance they are able we swear never
to cry, halt ! tiU we have planted our eagles on the territory of our

enemies

!'

We halted two days at Manheim to permit some regiments to come
up, and then marched forward to Nordlingen, which place the Emperor
himself had only quitted the night before. Here the report reached us that
a smart affair had taken place the previous morning, between an Austrian
division and a portion of Ney's advanced guard, in which we had
rather the worst of it, and had lost some prisoners* The news excited
considerable discontent among the troops, and increased their impa-
tience to move forward to a very great degree* Meanwhile, the dif-
ferent divisions of the French army were converging towards Ulm,
from the north, south, and west ; and every hour brought them nearer
to that devoted spot, which as yet, in the security of an enormous
garrison, never dreamed of sudden attack.

The corps of Soult was now pushed forward to Augsburg, and
extended by a line of communication to Meiningen, the only channel
of communication which remained open to the enemy. The quartier-
general of the Emperor was established at Zummerhausen, Ney was
at Guntzbourg, Marmont threatened in the west, and Bemadotte, arriv-
ing by forced marches from Prussia, hovered in the north, so that

I? Ulm was invested in every direction at one blow, and that in a space

of time almost inconceivable.

While these immense combinations were being effected, requiring,

' as they did, an enormous extent of circumference to march over, before

the fortress could be thus enclosed, as it were, within our grasp, our
astonishment increased daily, that the Austrians delayed to give battle;
but, as if terror-stricken, they waited on, day after day^ while the
measures for their ruin were accomplishing. At length a desperate
sortie was made from the garrison, and a large body of troops escaping
by the left bank of the Danube, directed their course towards Bohemia ;

326 6nB MS98.

while another corpd^ in the opposite direction, forced back Key's ad-
vanced guard, atid took the road towards Nordlingen. Having di-
rected a strong detachment in pursuit of this latter corps, which was
commanded by the Archduke Frederick himself, the Emperor closed
in around Ulm, and, forcing the pUssagls of the river at Elchingen,
prepared for the final attalsk.

While these dispositions were being eifected, the cavalry brigade
under General D'Auvergne, consisting of three regiments of heavy dra-
goons, the fourth cuirassiers and eighth hussars, continued to descend
. the left bank of the Danube iti pursuit of a part of the Austrian gar-
rison which had taken that line in retreat towards Vienna. We fol-
lowed as far as Guntzbourg without coming up with them, and there
the news of the capitulation of Meiningeu, with its garrison of six
thousand men^ to Milr6chal Soult, reached us, along with an order to
return to Ulm.

Up to this timcj all I had seen of war was forced marches, bi-
vouacks hastily broken up, hurried movements in advance and retreat,
the fatigue of night parties, and a continual alert. At first the
hourly expectation of coming ih sight of the enemy kept up our spirits ;
but when day after day passed, and the same pursuit followed, where
the pursued never appeared the younger soldiers grumbled loudly
at fatigues undertaken without object, and, as it seemed to them, by
mistake.

. On the night of the 1 7th of October we bivouacked within a league
of Ulm. Scarcely were the picquets formed for the night, when orders
came for the whole brigade to assemble imder arms at daybreak. A
thousand rumours were abroad as to the meaning of the order, but
none came near the true solution $ indeed, the difHculty was increased
by the added command, that the regiments should appear "e grande
tenuef* or in full dress. I Saw that my old commander made a point
of keeping me in suspense as to the morrow, and affected, as much as
po$fsible, an aiir of indifference on the subject. He had himself arrived
late from Ulm, where he had sfeen the Eitiperor, and amused me
by mentioning the surprise of an Austrian aid-de-camp, who, sent
to deliver a letter, found his majesty sitting with his boots off, and
stretched before a bivouac fire.

" Yes," said Napoleon, divining at once his astonishment, " it is
even so. Your master wished to remind me of my old trade,
and I hope that the imperial purple has not made me forget its
lessons."

By daybreak the next morning our brigade was iti the saddle, and
\a motion towards the quartier-g^n^ral a gently rising ground, sur-
mounted by a farm-house, where the Enipferor had fixed his quarters.
As we mounted the hill we came in sight of the whole army drawn
up in battle array. They stood in columns of divisions, with artillery
and cavalry between them, the bands of the various regiments in
front.

The day was a brilliant one, and heightened the effect of the scene.
Beyond us lay Ulm silent as if untenanted. Not a sentinel appeared'

TOM BDR&fe Ot *" OUItS." S2t

on the walls; the very flag had disappeared from the battlements;
our surprise was great at this; but how was it increased, as the
rumour fled from mouth to mouth Ulm has capitulated thirty-five
thousand men have become prisoners of war. Ere the first moments
of wonder had ceased, the staif of the emperor was seen passing along
the line, and finally taking up its station on the hill, while the regi-
mental bands burst forth into one crash the inost spirit-stirring and
exciting. The proud notes swelled and filled the air, as the sun,
bursting forth with increased brilliancy, tipped every helmet and ban-
ner, and displayed the mighty hosts in^ all the splendour of their-
pageantry. Beneath the hill, stretched a vast plain in the direction
of Neubourg, and here we at first supposed it was the emperor^s
intention to review the troops ; but a very different scene was destined
to pass on that spot.

Suddenly, a single gun boomed out, and as the lazy smoke moved
heavily along the earth, the gates of Ulm opened, and the head of an
Austrian column appeared : not with beat of drum, or colours Ayr
ing, did they advance but slow in step, with arms reversed, and their
heads downcast, they marched on towards the mound ; defiling beneath
this, they moved into the plain, and corps by corps, piled their arms,
and resumed their " route,'* the white line serpenting along the vast
plain, and stretching away into the dim distance. Never was a sight
so sad as this ! All that war can present of suffering and bloodshed,
all that the battle-field can show of dead and dying, were nothing
to the miserable abasement of those thousands, who from daybreak
till noon poured on their unceasing tide.

On the hill beside the Emperor stood several officers in white
uniform, whose sad faces and sufiering looks, attested the misery of
their hearts. " Better a thousand deaths than such humiliation !" was
the muttered cry of every man about me; while in very sorrow
at such a scene, the tears coursed down the hardy cheeks of many
a bronzed soldier, and some turned away their heads, unable to behold
the spectacle.

Seventy pieces of cannon, with a long trdn of ammunition waggons,
and four thousand cavalry horses, brought up the rere of this melan-
choly procession the spoils of the capitulation of Ulm. Truly, if
that day were, as the imperial bulletin announced it, "one of the
most glorious for France," it was also the darkest in the history
of Austria when thirty-two regiments of infantry and fifteen of
cavalry, with artillery and siege defences of every kind, laid down
their arms and surrendered themselves prisoners. Thus in fifteen
days from the passing of the Rhine, was the campaign begun and ended,
and the Austrian empire prostrate at the feet of Napoleon.

8U otm Mtss*

CHAPTER XLVI.

TBS CAKTE1I

The Emperor returned that night to Elchingen, accompanied by a
numerous staffs among whom was the General lyAuvergne. I re-
member well the toilsome ascent of the steep town, which, built on a
cliff above the Danube, was now little better than a heap of ruins,
from the assault of Ney's division two days before. Scrambling our
way over fallen houses and massive fragments of masonry, we reached
the square that forms the highest point of the city ; from thence we
looked down upon the great plain, with the majestic Danube winding
along for miles ; in the valley lay Ulm ^now sad and silent ; no watch-
fires blazed along its deserted ramparts, and through its open gates
there streamed the idle tide of soldiers and camp followers, curious to
see the place which once they had almost deemed impregnable. The
quartier-general was established here, and the different staflb disposed
of themselves, as well as they were able, throughout the houses near.
Most of these, indeed, had been deserted by their inhabitants, whose
dread of the French was a feeling ministered to by every artifice in
the power of the Austrian government. As for me, I was but a
young campaigner, and might from sheer ignorance have passed my
night in the open air, when by good fortune I caught sight of my
old companion, Pioche, hurrying along a narrow street, carrying a basket
well stored with bottles on his arm.

" Ah, mon Lieutenant, you here, and not supped yet, I'd wager
a crown?"

" You'd win it too, Pioche ; nor do I see very great chance of my
doing so.''

' Come along with me, sir ; Mademoiselle Minette has just opened
her canteen in the flower-market such it was once, they tell me;
but there is little odour left there now, save such as contract
powder gives. But, no matter, you'll have' a roast capon and sau-
sages, and some of the Austrian wine I have just secured half a
dozen bottles here*"

I need scarcely say that this was an invitation there was no declining,
and I joined the corporal at once, and hurried on to mademoiselle's
quarters. We had not proceeded far, when the noise of voices speak-
ing and singing in a loud tone^ announced that we were approaching
the canteen.

You hear thenii mon Lieutenant," said Pioche, with a look of de-

SS9

light ** you heap the rogues. Par St. Jacques^ they know where to
make themselves merry. Good wine for drinkhig, lodging for no-
thing, fire for the trouble of lighting it, are brave inducements to
enjoy life."

*' But it's a canteen ; surely, mademoiselle is paid ^

" Not the first night of a campaign, I suppose," said he with a
voice of rebuke. ^^Parhleu! that would be a pretty affair. No, no;
each man brings what he can find, drinks what he is able, and
leaves the rest which, after all, is a very fair stock in trade to begin
with ; and so now, mon Lieutenant, to commence operations regularly,
just sling this ham on your sabre over your shoulder, and take
this turkey carelessly in your hand- that's it ^here we are ^follow
me."

Passing through an arched gateway we entered a little courtyard,
where several horses were picquetted, the ground about them being
strewn with straw knee-deep; cavalry saddles, holsters, and sheep-
skins, lay confusedly on every side, along with sabres and carbines ;
a great lamp, detached from its position over the street entrance, was
suspended from a lance out of a window, and threw its light over the
scene. Stepping cautiously through this chaotic heap, we reached a
glass door, from within which the riotous sounds were most audibly
issuing. Pioche pushed it open, and we entered a large room, full
fifty feet in length, at one end of which, under a species of canopy,
formed by two old regimental colours, sat Mademoiselle Minette ^for
so I guessed to be a very pretty brunette, with a most decidedly Pa-
risian look about her air and toilette ; a table, covered with a snow-
white napkin, was in front of her, on which lay a large bouquet and
an open book, in which she appeared to be writing as we came in.
The room on either side was filled by small tables, around which sat
parties drinking, card-playing, singing, or quarrelling, as it might be,
with a degree of energy and vociferation only campaigning can give
an idea of.

The first thing which surprised me was, that all ranks in the ser-
vice seemed confusedly mixed up together, there being no distinction
of class whatever: captains and corporals, sergeants, lieutenants,
colonels, and tambour majors, were inextricably commingled, hob-
nobbing, hand-shaking, and even kissing in turn ; that most fra-
ternal and familiar *' Tu " of dearest friendship, being heard on every
side.

Resisting a hundred invitations to join some party or other as he
passed up the room, Pioche led me forward towards Mademoiselle
Minette, to present me in due form ere I took my place.

The honest corporal, who would have charged a square without
blinking, seemed actually to tremble as he came near the pretty Vi-
vandiere, and when, with a roguish twinkle of her dark eye, and a
half smile on her saucy lip, she said, " Ah. dest toiy Gros JPioche F'*
the poor fellow could only mutter a Out, mademoUelk^ in a voice
scarce loud enough to be heard.

330 OUR MESS.

" And, monsieur," said she, " whom have I the honour to
see ?**

" Is my Lieutenant, mademoiselle ; or he is aid-de-camp of my ge-
neral, which comes to the sam^ thing/'

With a few words of gracious civility, well and neatly expressed,
mademoiselle welcomed me to the canteen, which she said had often
been graced by the presence of General D'Auvergne himself.

" Yes, by St Denis," cried Pioche, with energy, " Prince Murat,
and Mar^chal Davoust, too, have been here" dropping his voice to H
whisper, he added something that called a faint blush to mademoi-
selle's cheek as she replied

" You think so, do you ?** Then turniiig to ine, asked If I were not
disposed to sup.

" Yes, that he is,** interrupted Pioche, " and here ii3 the materiel^*
with which he displayed his pannier of bottles, and pointed to the
spoils which, following his directions, I carried in my hands. The
corporal having despatched the fowls to the kitchen, proceeded to
arrange a little table at a short distance from where mademoiselle sat
an arrangement, I could perceive, which called forth some rather angry
looks from those around the room, and I could overhear more than
one muttered Sucre ! as to the ambitious pretension of the " Gros
Pioche."

He himself paid little, if any, attention to these signs of discontent,
but seemed wholly occupied in perfecting the table arrangements, which
he did with the skill and despatch of a tavern waiter.

" Here, mon Lieutenant, this is your place," said he with a bow,
as he placed a chair for me at the head of the board, and then with
a polite obeisance to the lady, he added, "-4vcc permission, Mademoi'
selle,* aiid took his own seat at the side.

A very appetizing dish made its appearance at this moment, and
notwithstanding my curiosity to watch the proceedings of the party,
and my admiration for mademoiselle herself, hunger carried the day,
and I was soon too deeply engaged In the discussion of my supper to
pay much attention to aught else. It was just then, that, forgetting
where I was, and unmindfUl that I was not enjoying the regular fare
of an inn, I called out, as if to the waiter, for "bread" a roar of
laughter ran through the room at nly mistake, when a dark-whiskered
little fellow, in an undress frock, stuck his small sword into a loaf,
and handed it to me from the table where he sat.

There was something in the act which rather puzzled me, and might
have continued longer to do so, had not Pioche whispered me in a low
voice" Take it, take it."

I reached out mv hand for the purpose, when just as I had caught
the loaf, with a slignt motion of his wrist he disengaged the point of
;the weapon, and gave me a scratch on the back of my hand. The
gesture I made called forth a renewed peal of laughing, and I now
perceived, fr*om the little man's triumphant look at his companions,
that the whole thing was intended as an insult Kesolving, however, to

TOM BXJEkE OP "ours." 331

go quietly in the matter, I held out my hand when it was still bleeding,
and said " You perceive, sir,"

" Ah, an accident, morhleu,^* said he, with a careless shrug of his
shoulders, and a half leer of impertinent indifference.

" So is this also," replied I, as, springing up, I seized the sword he
was returning to its scabbard, and smashed the blade across my knee.

** Well done, well done,'* cried twenty voices in a breath, while
the whole room rose in a confused manner to take one side or other
in the contest several vcrowding around the little man, whose voice
had suddenly lost its tone of easy impertinence, and was now heard
swearing away, with the tnost guttural intonation.

" What kind of a swordsman are you?*' whispered Pioche in
my ear.

" Sufficiently expert to care little for an enemy of his calibre."

* Ah, you don't know that," replied he ; "it's Francois, the Maitre
d'armes of the fourth."

" You must not fight him, monsieur," said mademoiselle, as she
laid her hand on mine, and looked up into my face with a most
expressive glance.

* They are waiting for you without, mon Lieutenant," said an old
sergeant-major, touching his cap as he spoke.

" Come along," said Pioche, with a deeply muttered oath ; " and,
by the blood of St. Louis, it shall be the last time Maitre Fran9ois
shows his skill in fence, if I cost them the tire of a platoon
to-morrow."

I was hurried along by the crowd to the court, a hundred different
advisers whispering their various counsels in my ears as I went.

" Take care of his lunge in tierce mind that," cried one.

" Push him outside the arm outside, remember take my advice,
young man," said an old sous cfficier ; " close on him at once, take his
point when he gives it, and make sure of your own weapon."

** No bad plan either," cried two or three " Monsieur Auguste is
right ; Francois can't bear the cold steel and if he- sees it close, he
loses his head altogether."

The courtyard was already cleared for action the horses picquetted
in one corner, the straw removed, and a blaze of light from all the
lamps and candles of the supper-room showed the ground as clearly
as at noon-day. While my antagonist was taking off his coat and vest,
an operation I did not chbose to imitate, I took a rapid survey of the
scene and, notwithstanding the rush of advisers around me, was
sufficiently collected to decide on my mode of acting.

" Come, mon Lieutenant, off with J^our frock," said an officer at my
side " even if you don't care for the advantage of a free sword-arm,
those fellows yonder won't believe it all fair, if you do not strip."

" Yes, yes, take it off," said a fellow in the crowd, "your fine
epaulettes may as well escape tarnishing and that new coat, too, wiU
be all the better without a hole in it."

I hastily threw off my coat and waistcoat, wher the crowd fell back
knd the Maitre cTarmes advancing into the open space with a light and

332 OVB MX88.

I

nimble step, cried out, Vt garde^ monsieur? I stood my groatily
and crossed my sword with his.

For a few seconds I contented myself with merely observing my
adversary, who handled his weapon not only with all the skill of an
accomplished swordsman, but with a dexterity that showed me he was .

playing off his art before his companions. I

As if to measure his distance, he made two or three slight passes
over the guard of my sword, and then grating his blade against mine
with that peculiar motion which bodes attack, he fixed his eyes on
mine, to draw off my attention from his intended thrust. The
quickness and facility with which his weapon changed from side to side
of mine, the easy motion of his wrist, and the rigid firmness of his '*

arm, all showed me I was no match for him although one of the
best pf my day at the military school and I did not venture to proceed
beyond mere defence. He saw this, and by many a trick endeavoured
to induce an attack ^now dropping his point carelessly, to address a
monosyllable to a friend near now throwing open h;s guard, as if
from negligence. At length, as if tired with waiting, he called out

Que celajinisse!* and rushed in on me.

The rapidity of the assault for a second or so, completely overcame
me; and though I defended myself mechanically, I could neither follow
his weapon with my eye, nor anticipate his intended thrust. Twice,
his point touched my sword-arm above the wrist, and by a slight
wound there, saved my lungs from being pierced. At last, after a despe-
rate rally, in which he broke in on my guard, he made a fearful lunge
at my chest ; I bent forward, and received his blade in the muscles of
my back when, with a wheel round, I smashed the sword in me, and
buried my own, up to the hilt in his body. He fell, bathed in blood ;
and I, staggering backwards, was caught in Pioche's arms, at the
moment when all consciousness was fast leaving me.

A few minutes after, I came to myself, and found that I was lying
on a heap of straw in the yard, while two regimental surgeons were
most industriously engaged in trying to stop the hemorrhage of my
wounds. - i

With little interest in my own fate, I could not help feeling anxious
about my antagonist. They shook their heads mournfully in reply to
my question, and desired me to be as calm as possible, for my life hung
on a very thread. The dressing completed, I was carried into the
house, and laid on a bed in a small, neat-looking chamber, which I '
heard, as they carried me along, mademoiselle had kindly placed at my
disposal. She herself assisted to place the pillow beneath my head,
and then with noiseless gesture closed the curtains of the window, and
took her seat at the bedside.

The moment the others had left the room, I turned to ask for the
Maitre d^armes : but she could only say that his companions of the
fourth had carried him away to the ambulance, refusing all offers of
aid, except from the surgeons of their own corps.

" They say,** added she, with a naive simplicity, " that Fran9oi8 is
not made like other folk, and that the only doctors who understand him

TOM BViiu OF ** oims.** 333

are in the fourth regiment. However that may be, it will puzzle them
sadly this time you have given him his coup de cmg6P

* I hope not, sincerely," said I, with a shudder.

" And why not," cried mademoiselle in astonishment ; * is it not a
good service you render to the whole brigade ? Would not the division
be all the happier if such as he, and Pichot, and the rest of them '*

" Pichot Amed^ Pichot?"

"Yes, Amedee Pichot, to be sure But what's that knocking

outside ? Ah, there's Pioche at the window !"

Mademoiselle arose and walked towards the door, but before she
reached it, it was opened, and General d'Auvergne entered the room.

" Is he here ?'* asked he in a low voice.

'^ Yes, general," said mademoiselle, with a curtsey, as she placed
the chair for him to sit down. "He is much better I'll wait
outside till you want me," added she, as she left the room and closed
the door.

" Come, come, my boy," said the kind old man, as he took my hand
in his, " don't give way thus. I have made many inquiries about this
affair, and they all tend to exculpate you. This fellow, Francois, is
the mauvaise tete of the regiment, and I only wish his chastisement
had come from some other hand than yours."

" Will he live, general ?" asked I, with a smothering fulness in my
throat, as I uttered the words.

" Not if he be mortal, I believe : the sword pierced his chest from
side to side."

I groaned heavily as I heard these words ; and burying my head
beneath the clothes, became absorbed in my grief. What would I not
have endured then of insult and contumely, rather than suffer as I did
the terrible load upon my conscience, of a fellow-creature's blood shed
in passion and revenge. How willingly would I have accepted the most
despised position among men, to be void of this crime.

" It matters not," cried I in my despair " it matters not how I
guide my path, misfortunes beset me at every turn of the way ^"

" Speak not thus," said the general sternly. " The career you have
embarked in, is a stormy and a rough one. Other men have fared
worse than you have in it and without repining too. You knew
of one such yourself, who in all the saddest bereavements of his hopes,
cherished a soldier's heart and a soldier's courage."

The allusion to my poor friend, Charles de Meudon, brought the
tears to my eyes, and I felt that all my sufferings were little, compared
with his.

" Let your first care be to get well as soon as you can : hiappily your
name may escape the Emperor's notice in this affair, by appearing in the
list of wounded our friend the Maitre d'armes is not likely to dis-
cover on you. ' The campaign is begun, however, and you must try
to have your share of it. The Emperor's staff starts for Munich
to-morrow. I must accompany them ^but I leave you in good
hands here ; and this detachment will occupy Elchingen at least ten
days longer .*

334 pUR MESS

Scarcely had the general left me when mademoiselle re-entered the
room.

" So, monsieur," said she, smiling archly, " you have been left in my
care, it seems. Morbleu ! it's well the Vivandiere of the regiment is
not a prude, or I should scarcely know how to act. Well, well, one
can only do their best. And now, shall I read for you, or shall I leav^
you quiet for an hour or two ?**

"Just so, leave him alone for a little while," said a gruff voice from
the end of the bed, at the same time that the huge beard and red
moustache of Pioche appeared peeping above the curtain.

" Is he not stupid, that great animal of a cuirassier," said mademoi-
selle, starting at the voice so unexpectedly heard. " I say, mon capa-
roly right face march. Do you hear, sir ? YouVe got the feuille de
route. What do you stay for ?"

" Ah, mademoiselle," said the poor fellow, as he smoothed down his
hair on his forehead, and looked the very impersonation of sheepish
admiration.

" Well," replied she, as if not understanding his appeal to her feeL-
ings " well."

A look of total embarrassment an expression of complete bewilder-
ment was his only reply ; while his eyes wandered round the room till
they met mine, and then as if suddenly conscious that a third party
was present, he blushed deeply, and said

" Too true, mon Lieutenant, she does with me what she will."

" Don't believe him, monsieur," interposed she quickly. " I told
him to get knocked on the head a dozen times, and he's never done so.**

" I would though, and right soon too, if you were only in earnest,"
said he, with a vdiemence that bespoke the truth of the assertion.

" There, there," said she, with a smile, as she held out her hand to
him, " we are friends."

The poor fellow pressed it to his lips with the respectful devotion of
a Bayard ; and with a muttered " This evening," left the room.

" It is no small triumph, mademoiselle," said I " that you have in-
spired such a passion in the hardy breast of the cuirassier."

A saucy shake of the head, as though she did not like the compli-
ment, was the only reply. She bent her head down over her work, and
seemed absorbed in its details : while I, reverting to my own ciu-es,
became silent also.

" And so, monsieur," said she, after a long pause " and so, yoii
deem this conquest of mine a very wonderful thing."

" You mistake me," said I, eagerly " you mistake me much. My
surprise was rather that one like Pioche, good-hearted, simple fellow
as he is, should possess the refinement of feeling "

"xi clever flank movement of yours. Lieutenant," interposed she,
with a pleasant laugh ; " and I'll not attack you again. And, after all,
I am a little proud of my conquest.**

" The confession is a flattering one, from one who doubtless has had
a great many to boast of."

"A great many, indeed I" replied she naively. " So many that I

TOM BURKE OF " OUBS/* 335

can't reckon them not to boast of, however, as you term it. Parbleu,

some of them had little of that -But here comes the doctor, and I

must not let him see us talking. JIfa foiy they little think when their
backs are turned, how seldom we mind their directions."

The surgeon's visit was a matter of a few seconds ; he contented
himself with feeling my pulse and reiterating his advice as to quiet.

" You have got the best nurse hi the army, monsieur," said he, as he
took his leave ; " I have only one caution to give you take care,
if an affection of the heart, be not a worse affair than a thrust of a
small sword. I have known such a termination of an illness before
now/*

Mademoiselle made no reply, save an arch look of half anger, and
left the room J and I, wearied and exhausted, sank into a heavy
slumber.

CHAPTER XLV.

THE "VIVANDIERE OF THE FOURTH.**

For three entire weeks my wound confined me to the limits of my
chamber; and yet, were it not for my impatience to be up and stirring,
my life was not devoid of its happiness.

Every movement of the army, in its most minute detail, was daily
reported to me by Mademoiselle Minette. The bulletins of the Em-
peror, the promotions, the " on dits** of the bivouac and the march,
brought by the various battalions, as they moved on towards the east,
were all related by her, with such knowledge of military phrase and
soldiers* style, as to amuse me, equally by her manner, as by what
she told.

The cuirassiers marched soon after I received my wound, and though
attached to the corps, she remained behind at Elchingen, having pledged
lierself, as she -said, to the general, t^ restore me safe and sound
before she left me. The little window beside my bed offered a widely
extended view over the great plain beneath, and there I have sat the
entire day, watching the columns of cavalry and infantry, as they
poured along, seemingly without ceasing, towards the Lower Danube.
Sometimes the faint sounds of the soldiers* songs would reach me the
rude chorus of a regiment timing their step to some warrior*s chaunt
and set my heart a beating to be with them once more. Sometimes
my eye would rest upon the slow train of waggons surmounted with a
white flag, that wound their way heavily in the rear, and my spirit sunk
tts I thought over the poor wounded fellows that were thus borne

S36 ovn MX88.

onward with the tide of war, as the crushed serpent trails his wounded
folds behind him.

Mademoiselle seldom left me. Seated at her work, often for hours
without speaking, she would follow the train of her own thoughts, and
when by chance she gave a passing glance through the window at the
scene beneath, some single word would escape her, as to the regi-
ments or their officers, few of which were unknown to her, at least by
reputation.

I could not but mark that within the last twelve or fourteen days
she seemed more sad and depressed than before the lively g^aiety of
her character had given place to a meek and suffering melancholy,
which I could not help attributing to the circumstances in which she
was placed, away from all her ordinary pursuits, and the companions
of her daily life. I hinted: as much one day, and was about to insist on
her leaving me ^when she sud_denly interrupted me, saying r-** It is
all true. I am sad ; and know not why ^for I never felt happier ; yet,
if you wished me to be gay, as I used to be, I could not for the world.
It is not because I am far from those I have learned to look on as my
brothers. Not so my changeful fortune has often placed me thus.
Perhaps it's your fault, mon Lieutenant," said she, suddenly turnings her
eyes full upon me.

* Mine, Minette ! Mine !" said I, in amazement.

She blushed deeply, and held down her head, while her bosom heaved
several times convulsively ; an^ then, while a deathly paleness spread
over her cheek, she said, in a low broken voice :

"Perhaps it is because I am an orphan, and never knew what it
was to have those, whose dispositions I should imitate, and whose
tastes I should study ; but somehow I feel even as though I could not
help becoming like those I am near to, following them ^ay, and out-
stripping them in all their likings and dislikings."

** And so, as you. seem sad and sorrowful, it is more than
probable that you took the colour of my thoughts. I should feel sorry,
Minette, to think it were thus I should ill repay all your kindness to
me I must try and wear a happier countenance."

" Do so and mine will soon reflect it," said she, laughing ; " but,
perhaps you have cause for sorrow," added she, as she stole a glance at
me beneath her eyelashes.

" You know, Minette ! that I am an orphan like yourself," said I,
half evading the question.

" Ah !" cried she passionately, ^f if I had been a man, I should like to
be such a one as Murat there See how his black' eyes sparkle, and his
proud lip curls, when the roll of artillery, or the clattering of a platoon
is heard how his whole soul is in the light. I remember once it was
at, the Iser his brigade was stationed beneath the hill, and had no
orders to move forward for. several ^ours he used to get off his horse,
and walk about, and, endeavoiur, by pushing the smoke away thus with
his hand, and almost kneeling to the ground, to catch a view of the
battle, and then he would spring into the saddle, and for sheer.pas-
sion dash the spurs into his horse's flanks, till he reared and

iriari
ki
ni

tat
lir

ietrii'

m

Iti

;

r

^OM BIJBKG OF " OUttS * 337

plunged-iigain. I watched him thus for hours. I'loved to look on him,
chafing and fretting, like liis own mettled charger, he was so handsome !

" * A 4rink, Minette ! Something to cool my lips, for heaven's sake/
said he at last, as he saw me standing near him. I filled the little cup you
see here with wine, and handed it to him. Scarcely had he raised it to
his lips, when an aid-de-camp galloped up^ and whispered some words
in haste.

" * Ha, ha I' cried he, with a shout of joy *they want us, then
the squadrons will advance by sections and charge ! charge V and
with that he flung the goblet from him to the ground, and when I took
it up, I found that with the grasp of his strong fingers he had crushed
it nearly together. See here. I never would, let it be changed. It
is just as at the time he clasped it, and I keep it as a souvenir of the
prince." She took from a little shelf the cup, as she spoke, and held it
up before me, with the devoted admiration with which some worship-
per would regard a holy relic. " And that," said Minette, as she
pressed to her lips a faded cockade, Mhose time-worn tints still
showed the tri-colored emblems of the republic "that do I value
above the cross of the Legion itself."

" Whose was it, Minette ? Some brave soldier's, Fm sure."

" And you may be sure, that was the cockade of Le Premier Grena-
dier de la France La Tour d'Auvergne. The cousin of your own
general." Seeing that I had not heard before of him, she paused for a
few seconds in amazement, and then muttered^ "A. brave school to
train the youth of France it must be, where the name of La Tour
d'Auvergne was never mentioned.''

Having thus vented her indignation, she proceeded to tell me of her
hero, who, though descended from one of the most distinguished families
of France, yet persisted in carrying his musket in the ranks of the
republican army never attaining to a higher grade, nor known by any
other title than the " Premier Grenadier de la France" foremost in
every post of danger the volunteer at every emergency of more than
ordinary peril ^he refused every proffer of advancement, and lived
among his conurades the simple life of a soldier.

" He fell at Neubourg," said. mademoiselle, "scarce a day's march
from here ; they buried him on the field, and placed him dead, as he
had been ever while living, with his face towards the enemy. And you
never heard of him bon Ciel ! it is almost incredible. You never
brigaded with the forty-fifth of the line ^that's certain."

" And why so ?"

' Because they call his name at every parade muster, as though he
were still alive and well. The first man called is La Tour d'Auvergne,
and the first soldier answers, ^mort sur le champ de bataille*
That's a prouder monument than your statues and tomb-stones*
Is it not?"

" Indeed is it," said I, to whom the anecdote li^as then new, though
I afterwards lived to hear it corroborated in every respect. With
many such traits of the service did mademoiselle beguile the time-
now telling of the pleasant liib of the cantonment now of the wild

MESS, I70. XXIV, VOL. II. Z

iS8 OUR MESS.

scenes of the battle-field. Young as she was, she had seed itiucfi'.^f
both, and learned around the bivouac fires, the old traditibris of "Hie
revolutionary armies, and the brave deeds of the iflrsV veterans^ 'of
France* In such narratives, too, her own enthusiastic natui'e "burst
forth in all its vehemence her e3'es would sparkle, and h^ Wt'ds
come rapidly, as she described some fierce attack, or h^adlon^ JhiVgfe4i-
and it was impossible to listen without catching up a portioh '6f Hi^r
ardour, so wrapt up did she herself become in the excitement ttFher
story. Thus, one evening, while describing the p'ask%e df the ^^%|
after detailing most circumstantially the position and streh^th'oftne
attacking columns, and describing how each successive kdvi4ji(iSwi&
repulsed by the murderous fire of the artillery, she pi'o^e^dfi t6 ryi'tfe
the plan of a flank movement, effected by some light Wantiy'reiiiaent'[J,
thrown across the river a considerable distance up the stream. ^.W'e
came along," said she, " under the shade of some willows, arid at
last re^;ched the fbrd the leading companies bailed, tw6 officers
sounded the river, and fbund that it was passable. I was dlofe'e l)jf at
the time ^it was the colonel Lajolais who commanded th'e fcrigadji^,
and he asked me for a *goutee.* *It may be XM last ydit*fl ^f^'r j^vii
mC) Minette,' said he, *I don't expect to see you kgiin? " '; . |

** * Are you going to remain at this side, colonel ?* Siifl l. ^ J" ' !

* No, pttrhleuy said he, * not when the twenty-second croiss w
the other.' * ' '^'

" Neither am I, then,' said I, * my placr is with the head tif tUe
battalion.' Well, well, they all pressed me to stiiy buck they &jil4
a thousand kind things too but that only deci !(?(! rue ihe more to gd
on and as the Signal -rocket was fired, the uord was givcii* and ciii
we went. For the first eight or ten paces, it was mere ivudinff h\\i
suddenly a grenadier, in the front called out, * Gurc^ lift jour muskiitk
it's deep here ;'' and so it was with one pluuge do^vn I T^ent, bu*
they seized me ^^ff the larnis, and can*iedme along and some way. of
other we reached the bailk. 3I6rhleu! I felt half -drowned byt
thewe was Ikile time to think over these things, for scarcely h:id' tTie
column formed, Wheh the cry of 'feavalry' was given, and down cami^
the lancers with a swoopi but we were all ready. The flank con^-
panies Mi back, arid fbrmed in square, and a tremendous volley scn^
them off fasted thtm they came. 'Now, then, pa^h forward doiib!e;
quiek^' said the Old colonel ^* the jjajr de charge.' Alas! the ptvr
little drummer was lying dead at 'his feet. The thought suddenly
seized me, I sprang forward, unstrung his drum, threw the strap o\ er
ray shoulder, and beat the ^pas de charged a cheer ran along the
whole battalion, and on we went Mori de del ! I was never so near
the fire before. There was the enemy, scarce two hundred yards off-
two great columns, with artillery between, waiting for us. * Keep her
back ^keep back, Minette brave JiUe' I heard no more a shot
came whizzing past, and struck me here." She pulled down her dress,
as she spoke, and disclosed the scar of a bullet's track on her white
shoulder then, as if suddenly recollecting, she blushed deeply, drew
her kerchief closely around her^ and muttered in alow voicoi ^^Ma

TOM BUBki 6ip ** duBS." i)39

.^li how. these things make one forget to be a woman." And with
that she hung down her head, and despite all I could say would not

; utter another word.

, . Such was the " Vivandiere" of the fourth ^blending in her character
the woman's weakness, and the soldier's ardour the delicacy of feeling
which not even the life of camps and bivouacks could eradicate, with
th.e wild enthusiasm for glory the passion of her nation. It needed

^nqt her dark eyes, shaded with their long black fringe her oval face,
whose freckles but displayed the transparent skin beneath-^her graceful
figure, and her elastic step, to make her an object of attraction iii tha
raiment nor could I be surprised to learn as I did, how many a high
offer of marriage had been made to her, by those soldiers of fortune,
whose gallantry and daring had won them rank and faonoars in tho
[service.

. To value at their real price such attractions, one should meet them
far away, and remote from the ordinary habits of the world, in the
.wild, reckless career of the camp--^n the long maro^^^beside the
weary watch*(ire ay, on the very field of battle^-ramid the din, the
piamour, and the smoke the cheers, the cries of carnage : then,
indeed, such an apparition had something magical in it. To see tliat
tender girl tripping along . fearlessly from rank to rank, as though she
had a charmed life now saluting with her hand some brave soldier, as
he rode by to the charge ^now stooping beside the wounded, and
hplding to his bloodl^ lips the longed-for cup : to watch her as she
rode gracefully at the head of the regiment, or lay besida Uie lire of
tiie bivouac relating with a woman's grace some story of the canw
paign while the grey-bearded veteran and the raw youths Imng on
eadh word, and wondered how tlie scenes in whldi they mingled aitj
acted, could bear such interest, when told by . rosy lips* .Who w^il4
tironder, if she had many Ipvers ? who would not rath^ be surprised
lit those who remained coldly indifferent tojBuch charms as hers ?

Ij^et my confession, then, excite neither astonishment no?- suspicion-^
wheii i acknowledge that, in such companionship, the days slipped
rapidly over. I never wearied of hearing her tell of the scenes she
had witnessed'-^nor did she of recounting them ; and although a isense
of reproach used now and then to cross me, for the life of inactivity and
indolence I was leading, Mademoiselle Minette promised me many a
brave opportunity of distinction to come-^and campaigns of as great
glpry as even those of Italy and Egypt.

d40 ootium.

CHAPTER XLVI.

IHE SICK LEAVE.

* What is it, Mineite?" said I, for the third time, as I saw her kifn
her head from pat the narrow casement, and look down into the valley
beside the river" what do you see there ?" / ,

I see a regiment of infantry coining along the road from Ulm/' ^id
she, after a pause, "and now I perceive the lancers are foUpwine tbcim,
and the artillery too. Ah ! and farther^ again, I see a great c!ou4 9^
dust. Mere de Ciell how tlted and weary they all look ! }t- surely
cannot be march in retreat ; and now that I tlunk of D:f th^;^ have no
baggage, nor any wagons with them."

" That was a bugle call, Minette ! Did yoy not hear it?"

" Yes ^it's a halt for a few minutes JPoor fellows, they are sadly
exhausted ; they cannot ev#n reach the side of the i^ay, but are Jying
down on the very road. I can bear it no lonoer. I mtist ^nd out wh^t
it all means." So string, she threw a mantle which, Spai^jsh f^sl^op,
she wore round her head, over ker, and hurried from the loom.

For some time I waited patiently for her return ; but ^hen half an
hour elapsed, I arose and crept to the window. A succession Qf rcM^y
precipices descended from the terrace on which the house stooll^ oowti
to the veiy edge of the Danube, and from the point where tiaif the
view extended for ifdles in every direction. What then was iky. asto-
nishment, to see the wide plain, not marked by regular columtiqu in
marching array, but covered with straggling; detachments, huj^^g '
onward as if without ordef or discipline. HeJre, w^ au infantry ba$a-.
lion mjxed up with a cavah^ corps the foot soldiejAs.end^vouriM to
keep up with the ambling trot of the dragoons ; tt^e, the'ammtuiition
wagons were covered with weary soldiers. Up tured to. march. Most
of the men yere without their foelocks, which were^ pi]^ Ui B'MnfuSel
heap on the limbers of the guns. No merry cb&ot)^ burst q( vat* .
like music cheered them on. They seemed Uke the scattered flragments
of a routed army hurrvi^g op ward in search of some place, of relug^^
sad and spiritless. ' , , ' '

" Can he have been beaten ?" was the fearful thought that iashed
across ihe, as I gazed. " Have the bold legions that were never van-
quished saccunA)ed at last! Oh, no! nol ^tU not believe it i^ hnd
while a glow of fever warmed my whole blood, I buckled i;^ iaf sabr^',
and taking my shako/ prepared to issue forth^ Scarcely haA I reaped
the door, with tottering limbs, when I saw Minette dashlAg up ilie
steep street at the top speed of her pony, while she flourisbed aboVe
her head a great placard, and w&ved. it tq and fro.

"The news ! the news !** cried I, bursting with anxiety. "^Are thqr
advancing i or is it a retreat f*^ ' '

t I

tOM Bimu OT ^^OOBS^" 341

^ IfteadHhat P said she, throwing die a large sheet of papfer, headed
with the words, " Pbocuimation a jla Qramde Armee,*^ in huge
letters. " Read that ! for I've no bl*eath left to tell you."

* SoiiDiERS The campaign so gloriously begun ^vill soon be com-
pleted. One victory, and 'the Austrian empii-e, so great but a week
since, will be humbled in the dust. Hasten on, then : forc^ marches,
by day and night, will attest your eagerness to meet the enemy ; and
let the endeavour of each regiment be to arrive soonest on the field of
battle."

"Minette! dearest MinetteV said I, as I threw my arms around
her neck, " this is, Indeed, good news."

" Gently, gently, monsieur V said she, smiling, while she iclisengagcd
herself from my sudden embrace. " Very good news, without doubt ;
but I don't think (hat there is any mention jn the bulletin about em-
bracing the vivandieries of the army.'*

" At a moment like this, Minette ! '*

" The best thing to do is, to make up one's baggage, and join the
march," said she, very stefidilv, proceeding at the same time to put her
plan into execution. ' "While i gave her all assistance in my power, the
doctor entered to inform us, that all the wounded wl^ were then
not sufficiently Restored to return to duty, weVe to be conveyed to
Munich, where general military hospitals had been established, and that
he himself hadteceived Orders to repair thither, with his sick detach-
ment, in which my name was enrolled.

* You'll keep your old friend, Fran9ois, company. Lieutenant Burke
^he is able to move at last."

"Francois !" said I, in ecstacy ; ** and will he, indeed, recover?"

** I have' little doubt of it ; though certainly he's hot likely to prac-
tise as Maitre darmes again. You've spoiled his * tierce* though
not befyreit cost the army some of the prettiest fellows I ever saw;
but as to yourself "

* As for me 5 Til march with the* army. I feel perfectly recovered ;
my MTflu *-"

* Oh I as for monsieur's arms," said mademoiselle, I'll answer for
it, they are quite at his majesty's service.'' ,

** indeed 1" sidd the doctor, knowingly. * I thought it would come
to that. Well, well ! mademoiselle, don't look saucy. Let us part
good friends, for once in oiu* lives."

* 1 hat^ beingf reconciled to a surgeon," saidi she^ pettishly.

Why so, I pray ?*

^ Oh I you know, when one duarrels with an officer, the poor fellow
may be kiHed before one sees him again, and it's ^ways a sad thought,
that *bul your doctor^ nothing ever happens to him \ you're sure to sec
him, with' Us white apron, and His ho:ririd weapons, a hundred times
after, and one'is always sorry foi^ having forgiven such a cruel wretch."

^ Gome, com^ ! Mademoiselle I you bear us all an ill-will for the
ikult of onOi and thitt's not fain It was the hospital aid of the sixth.

342 QUB H83.

Monsieur, a handsome fellow, too, who i\d npt fall in love jj^i^ ]ief,
rft^iiet^ trbuhd. A slight scratch/'

** A slight scratch, do you call it?" said I, indignantly, as I, perceiyed ..
the poor girl's eyes fill at the raillery of her tormentor.

* Ah r Monsieur has seen it, then," said he maliciously. " A. Aou- .
sand pardons: I have the honour to wish you both adieu ;*' ana wttl) ,
that, and a smile of most impertinent meaning, he took his leave. , ,

" How silly to be vexed for so little, Minette,** said J, approadbiqg
and endeavouring to console her. , ,

** Well ! but to call my wound a scratch," said she. * Was it not too ,,.
bad, and I the only vivandiere of the army that ever felt a tipUet " and .
with that she turned away her head, but I could see as she wijpe^ her
eyes, that she cared less for the sarcasm on her wounded shoulder than ,
the insult to her wounded heart. Poor girl, she looked 9ick and pale
the whole day after.

We learned in the course of the day that some cavalry detgcbmeuts ,
would pass early on the morrow, thus allowing us sui&cient time to
provide ourselves with horses, and make our other arrangements for
the march. These we succeeded in doing to our satisfaction : I beifi^
fortunate enough to secure the charger of an Austrian prisoner ; Made-
moiselle being already admirably mounted with her palfrey. Pccupied
with these details the day passed rapidly over, and the hour for suppef
drew near without my feeling how the time slipped past. At last the *
welcome meal made its appearance, and with it Mademoiselle lierself*
I could not help remarking that her toilette displayed a more than
common attention : her neat Parisian cap her collar^ witli its deep
Valenciennes lace, and her tablier, so coquettishly embroidered, were
all signs of an unusual degree of care, and though she was pale and in
low spirits, 1 never saw her look so pretty.

All my efforts to make her converse were however, in vain. Some
secret weight lay heavily on her spirits, and not evep. the stirring lo|Ae .
of the coming campaign could awaken one spark of her eotboaiaani.
She evaded, too, every allusion to the following day's march, of anaw^ed
my questions *about it with evident constraint. Tired' at laat wilk
endeavouring to overcome her silent mood, I aifeded an air odiagHiy
thinking to pique her by it ; but she merely remarked* that I i^puNired
weary, and that as { ba^ a long journey before me, h were at weU I -
should retire early.

The marked coolness of her manner at this moment, struiek me so
forcibly, that I began really to {eel some portion of the ill temper I
aifected, and with the crossness of an over-petted child, 1 arose to
withdraw at once.

Good-by. monsieur good-night, I mean," said she, blushing slightly.

Good-night, mademoiselle," said I, taking her hand cMly as I
spoke. ^' I trust I may find you m better spirits to-iqorrow."

' Good-night adieu," said she, hastily ; and before I oould add a
word she was gone.

She 19 a strange girV ^thought I, ai I found myself alone; and

TOM BUEKE O? ^'OURS/' 34^

tortured my iniiid to think whether any thing I could |iave drQppe4 bad
offended^ her. But no j we had parted a few hours before the best
friends ' iri' the' wdrT4 : nothing had then occurred to which X cpuld
attribute this sudden change, t had often remarked the variaVl
character of heir disposition ; the flashes o^ gaiety, minjgled with ou^:
bursts of s6rr6\e the playful moods of fancy, alternating wi^|i n^om^^nts
of deep melancholy ; ana, after all, this might be one of tjiem.

With theUe thdughts I threw myself on my bed, but could not sleep*
At one niinute my brain went on puzzling about Minette, and her sorrow;
at^he next^ I reproached myself for my own harsh, unfeeling mannei^
to4hGp66 girl, and was actually on the eve of arising to seek her^
and asK hf^t* pardon. At last sleep came, and" dreams too ; but, strange
enBu^h," thfey were of the distant land of my boyhood, and the hours of
my* ybuth^^of the" old house in wliich I was born, and its well-remem-
bered rooms. I thought I was standing before my father, while he
scdlddd me' for Sbmn youthful transgression ; I heard his words as
th6ligh'they\H'ere' feally spoken, as he told me that I should be an
outcast -and i Wanderer, without a friend, a house, or home; that while
others r^p^d "wealth ^nd honours, I was destined to be a castaway :
and in the torrent of niy grief I awoke.

It ^as'ifight klark, silent night ; a few stars were sjiining in the
8ky,'!j^t the earth was wrapped in shadow; and as I opened my window,
to let the fresh breeze calm my fevered forehead, the deep precipice
benefttli toe seemed a vast gulph of yawning blackness. At a great
distance' Off, I could see the watch-fires of some soldiets bivouacking in
thf plain ; and even that much comforted my saddened heart, as it
aroosdd Ine to the thoughts of the campaign before me. But again my
thcmghts recurred to my dream, which I could hot help feeling as a sort
of prediction. -

When our deep leaves it strong track in our waking moments, we
drejid to- sleQ again, for fear the whole vision should come back;
and tbtis 1 aattlowh beside the window, and fell into a long train of
th(mght. The inaages of my dream were uppermost in my mind, and
every little incicfent 6f childhood, long lost to memory, came now fresh
befoi^ nle ^thfe sorrows of my school-boy years, unrelieved by the
sefise of )ovb bwaitlngtne at home; the clinging to all who seemed to
feel or care for me, and the heart-sickening sorrow when 1 found that
what I mistook for aifectlon was merely pity ; all save one my mother.
Her mild, sad looks, so seldom cheered by a ray of pleasure, I remem-
ber well how they fell on me ! with such a thrilling sensation at my
heart, and such a gtish of thankfulness as I have felt then. Oh ! if
they who live with children knew how needful it is to open their hearts to
all tlie little sorrows aiid woes of infant life ; to teach confidence, and
to feed hope ; to train up the creeping tendrils of young desire, and
not to suffer them to lie straggling and tangled on the earth ^^'bat a
happier destiny would fall to the lot of many whose misfortunes in life
date from the crushed spirit of childhood.

My mother I I thought of her, as she would bend over me at night,
her last kiss pressed on my brow the healing balm of some sorrow,
for which my sobs were stiU breaking ; her pale, worn cheek j her white

944 OVA

dr0a( her band so bloodless and transparent^ the very ^Uem of her
malady the tears started to my eyes, and rolled heavify ialoi^ my
cheek, my chest heaved, and my heart beat, tUl I oeuld hear h At
this moment a slight rustle stirred the leaves. I listened, for the ni^ht
%vas calm and still; not a breeze moved. Again I heard it close
beside the window, on the little terrace which ran akmg the building,
and occupied the narrow space beside the edge of the roofed . .Before- 1
could imagine what it meant, a figure in white glided from the shade
of the trees, and approached the window. So excited was .my miod,
so wrought up my imagination by the ckonmstances of mydream, md
the thoughts that followed, that I cried out in voice of ecslaoy^^^My
mother T Suddenly the apparition stood still, and thenasrapid^ ire-
treated, 4Jid was lost to view in the dark foliage. Maddened with intense
excitement, I sprang from the window, and leaped mt on the terract?.
I called aloud I ran about wildly, unmindful of the fearful pred-
pice that yawned beside me. I aearched every bush^ I -crept beiieath
each tree, but nothing could I detect. The iccdd perspiration' poured
down myfaoe,my Hmhs trembled with a strange dreadCof Iknew not what;
1 felt as if madness was creeping over me and. I slriiggled wtb the
thought, and tried to calm my troubled brain* Wearmd and feint, I
gave up the pursuit t last, and throwing myself on my bed, I shhk ex-
hausted ipto i^e heavy slumber which oidy tired nature knowsi -'

^ The sous-Lieutenant Burke," said a gruff vmoe, awakening me
suddenly from my sleep, while by the light of a lantern he- held an liis
haiMlI itecognised the figure of aa (derly sergeant, in full equipnfent.

Yes- what then ?" said I, in some amaiaament at .the aummeniik !

' This is the order of march, sir, for the invalid detachinent,iunder
your ,qqpi|iand'' .1

^Bp^ ^Or-nK have no lordera ?^ *

" They are here, sir.* * .._::

. SotSl^yingy.he^^piies^fid me with a letter Arom I2|e assistantisidj^tant
of U^ GOFp^i.witl^ JnstJmotions for the oonduetof forty^n^en^ iavidiftled,'
^fi:op[i.di3erent419giment,,iand'n0woa their.waylto LId^z^ .Tbe^ipaper
was perfectly regular, setting forth the names of the soldiers, imd 'their
.several' corpst to^eliber .with the daily 'marches, the htibsymid dwtelhces.
My. only ^u^ri^Q was.. how this service so suddenly* devolved on tm^,
whose recovery, could only have beai report^ a few hbura before -
, , " When, ^all X muster the detachment, sir," said the sergetot inter-
rupting me in the. midst of my speculations^' . '

" Now at once. It is past five o'clock. I see Lauganau is men-
tioned as the first halting-place ; we can reach it by eight."

The moment the sergeant withdrew, I arose and dressed for the
road, anxious to inform mademoiselle as early as possible of this sudden
order of march. When I entered the salon, I found to my surprise
that the breakfast-table was all laid and every thing ready. What can
this mean, said I ; has she heard it already ? At the same instant I
caught sight of the door of her chamber lying wide open. T approached
and looked in ; the room was empty : the various trunks and boxes
the little relics of military glory I remembered to have seen with her,
were all gone. Minette had departed. When or whither, I knew not!
I hurried through the building, from room to room, without meeting

TOM Bran OV ** 0UR8." Sii

any one. Th door was open and I patged out into the dark
breet where all was still and silent as the grave. I hastened to the
stable; my honey ready equipped and saddled, was feeding, but the
: stall beside him was empty^-the pony of the vivandiere was gone.
While many a thought flashed on my brain as to bear fate, I tortured
my mind to remember each circumstance of our last meeting-^-every
. wiood and every look ; and as I called to my memory the pettish anger of
my maimer towttrds her, I grew sick at heart, and hated myself for my
iowa oold ingratitude. All her little acts of kindness, her tender care,
I her unwearying good^-nature, were before me. I thought of her as I
had seen, her often in the silence of the night, when waking from some
sleep of pain, she sat beside my bed, her hand pressed on my heated
forehead ; h&f low, clear voice was in my ear ; her soft, mild look,
beaiming with hope and tender pity. Poor Minette, had I then ofleuded
you-^was such the return I miuie for all your kindness ?

* The men are ready, sir,^ said the sergeant, entering at the moment.

" She is gone," said I, following out my own sad train of thought,
and pointing td the vacant stall where her pony used to stand.

" Mademoiselle Minette'*

" Yes, whet of her where is she ?^

H Marched with the ccdrassier brigade that passed here last night at
twelve o'clock. She seemed very ill| sir, and the officer made her sit
on one of the wagons.*'

Which road did they take ?*
. ^^They crossed the river, and moved away towards the forest. I
think I heard the troop sergeant say something about Salzbourg and
-the.TyroL"

I made no answer, but stood mute and ^tupified ; when I was again
recalled to thought by his asking, if my baggage were ready for the
wagons.

. : 'With a sullen apathy I pointed out my trunka in silence, and throwing
..one last look on the room, the scene of my former suffering, and of
.nniGh pleasure too, I mounted my horse, and gave the word to move
1 forward.

As we passed from the gate, I stopped to question the sous^officier as.
to the route of the cuirassier division ; but he could only repeat what the
sergeant had already told me ; adding there were several men slightly
wounded in the squadrons, for they had been engaged twice within the
week. The gates closed, and we were on the high road.

- ... . ' . : 1 ... ,':tsf

. ' ' r III" 1

CHAPTER XLVIL '...'.'/'',' |V ..'.'..

As day was breaking, we came up with a strong de^adiwnt otMtb^lQlHiM-
valry of the guard, proceeding to join Bessiere^* divis^o^ 4t..l4Qtz,(ii/.
from them we learned that the main body of jfhe aymy.wery aJr^dy; At
far in advance, several entire corps having march^ froia. Jjflkta^ withi -
the supposed intention of occupying Vienna, Ney's division \i wa* ,
said was also bearing down from the Tyrol ;. Davofjsf a^djMorMQriwefe^ *
advancing by the leu bank of the Danube, whilst Lannes.ftpd Mura^.
with an overwhelming force of light troops^had |)us)^(|.Aw^war4 ^^^'^ ^
days* march in advance on their way to the capital. Tne fate of Uipa,,...
was already predicted for the Austrian city, ^nd each day.'^ iptelfin

fence seemed to make it only the more inevitable. Meanwhile, \i^^ /
imperor Francis ^ad abandoned the capital, and retreated on ^kuj^^^ .-
fortified town in Moravia, there to await the ari;ival of his ally, Af^V .*
ander, hourly expected from Berlin. ,.:.,. .^

As day after day we pressed forward, pur numbers continue4 tO; iu-*. i
crease : a motley force, indeed, did we present cavalry of every soji^, ...
from the steel-clad cuirassier to the gav hussar, dragpoqs, chasseups, . ,,
gui'des,*arid light cavalryi all niixed up' together, and all eagerly Tg-, . .
counting the several experiences of the campaign, as il fell undejr.f|i|yi^
eyes in different quarters. From none, however, qould | ,learu .-^^X.t .
tidfngs of Mfcette; for though known to many there,' tlve 4^ta9hmg8Jfc^ \.
she had joined had taken a southerly direction, and was not cr9J;s^d^^ ^
by any of the others on' their march. 'The General D*Auvergn^j |
heard, was with the head-quarters of the emperor, tlien establisfie^ at .
the mortastery of Mojft; On tbe Danube. . ,

Oh the eVtehing of' the 18th November we arrived at luintz,^ tte.
capital of Upper Austria ^but at the time I speak of, one vas| bar^
rack : 't!iirtif-^ght tfaou^^hd troops of aU arms were within its walls ^
not subject to the rigid discipline and regular command of a g&rrison
town, but bivouacking in the open streets and squares; tables were
spread in the thoroughfares, at which the divisions, as they arrived,
took their places, and after refreshing themselves, moved on to make
way for others. The great churches were strewn with forage, and
filled with the horses of the cavalry : there, might be seen the lumbering
steeds of the cuirassier, eating their com from the richly-carved box of a
confessional ; here, lay the travel-stained figure of a dragoon, stretched
asleep across the steps of the altar ; the little chapelries, where the
foot of the penitent awoke no echo as it passed, now rung with the
ooarse jest and reckless ribaldry of the soldier ; parties caroused in

TOM BVSK^ OF "otJBS.*' 34'J

the little sacristies ; and the rude chorus of a drinking song now vi*
brated through the gfoined roof, where only the sacred notes of
the organ had been heard to peal. The Hotel de Ville was the
quartier-gen^ral, where the generals of divisions were assembled, and
from which the orderlies rode forth at every moment with despatches.
The one cry " forward" was heard every where. They who before
had claimed leave for slight wounds or illness, were now seen among
their comrades, with bandaged arms and patched faces, eager to press
oh. Many whose regimients were in advance became incorporated for
the time with other corps, and dismounted dragoons were often to be
met with, marching with the infantry and mounting guard in turn.
Every thing bespoke haste. The regiments whicli arrived at night, fre-
queritly moved off before day broke. The cavalry often were provided
with IVesh horses to press forward, leaving iheir own for tne corps
that were to follow. A great flotilla, provided with all the neces-
saries for an army on the march, moved along the Danube, and accom-
panied the troops each day; jn a word, every expedient was prac-
tised which could hasten tne movement of the army, justifying the
remark so often repeated among the soldiers at the time "Ze
petit Capbral makes more use of our legs than our bayonets in this
campaign."

On the Same evening we arrived, came the news of the surprise of
Vienna by Murat. Never t^as there such joy as this announcement
spread through the army. The act itself was one of those daring
feats which only such as he could venture on,, and) indeed, fit first
seemed so miraculous, that many refused to credit it. Prince ^x^er^"
berg, to whom the great bridge of the Danube wa^ jntrusted, had
prepared every thing for its destruction in the even^ of attack. The
whole line of wood-work was laid with combustibles ; trains were $et
the matches burning ; a strong battery of twelve guns, posted to com-
mand the bridge, occupied the height on the right bank, and the Aus-
trian gunners lay, match in hand, beside their pieces : )tut. a word was
needed, and the whole work was in a blaze. Sucli was the state of mutiera
when Sebastian! pushed through the Faubourg of the t'eopoldstadt
at the head of a strong cavalry detachment, supported by ^ome gre-
nadiers of the guard) and, by Murat's orders^ concea)e4 bis fqrce. among
the narrow street^ which lead to the bridge from the l^t bank of the
Danube. '

This done Lannes and Murat advanced carelessly akmg the bsidge^
which, from the frequent passage of couriers between the two head*
quarters, had become a speciei^ of promenade, where the officers of
either side met to converse on the fortunes of the campaign : dressed
simply as officers of the staff, they strolled along: till they eame
actually beneath the Austrian battery, and then entered into conver-
sation with the Austrian officers, assuring them that the armistice was
signed) and already peace proclaimed between the two countries. The
Austrians, trusting to their story, and much interested by what they
heard) descended from the mound, and, joining them, proceeded to
walk backwards and forwards along the brid^^ contenuagvon the

S48 oi^ ims.

probable eons^quencea of the treatjr wben sndd^ly tumti^ round by
chancy as' they walked iowarda the right bank, \Hf aaw the head of
ft geiladier column approaching at the quick step*

' The thought of treachery crossed their minds, and one of them rush^
ing te the side of the bridge called out to the artillerymeii to fire. A
movement was seen in the battery, the matches were lipliftied, when
Murat hashing forward, cried aloud, ^* Reserve your fire, therp is no-
thing to fear." The same instant the Austrian officers Were sur-
rounded I the sappers rushing on the bridge cleared away the combus-
tibles, and cat off the trains ; and the cavalry, till now in concealment,
pushing forward at a gallop, crossed the bridge, followed by the grena-
diers in a run, before the Austrians, who saw their own officers mingled
with the French, could flecide on what was to be done ; while Mitrat,
springing on his horse, dashed onward at the head of the dragoons, and
before five minutes elapsed the battery was stormed, the gjinners Rap-
tured, and Vienna won.

' Never was there a coup de main more hardy than this^^whether '
we look. to the danger of the deed itself, or the insignifieant force by-
which it was accomplished : a few horsemen, and some companies of*
foot, led on by a heroic chief, thus turned the whole fortune of
Europe ; for, by securing this bridse. Napoleon enabled l^mself, . as
circumstances might warrant, to unite the difibrent corps of his army
OB the right or left banks of the Danube and either direct, his opera-
tions ag|tin8t the Russians, or the Austrians under Hhe* Archduke
Charles^ as he pleased. , ^ i .*

The treachery by which the bold deed was made successful, was,
alas I deemed no stain on the achievement. But one rule of judgment
existed i|i the itaiperial army was the advantage on the side of ^anoe,
and to the honour of hfr arms ^that covered every flaw, no matter
whether inflicted by duplicity or breach of faith. The habit of
healing all wounds of conscience by a bulletin had'hecomie so geberal,
that men wobld not trust tcf the guidance df their own reason, till
confirmed by some Imperial proclamation : and when the !mperor
declared a battlegained) and glory achieved, who would gainsay him ?
If this blind, headlong confidence, tedded to lower the morale of
the nation, in an equal -degree' did it inake th^m ponquerf)rs in the
field: and thus, by a' stijange decree of Providence, wou^d'it seem,
were they preparing for themselves the terrible reverse oS fortune,
which ^when the destinies of their leader became clouded, and their
confidence in him sbaken-^was to fall on a people^ who lived only in
the mad intoxication of victory, and knew not the sterner virtues, that
can combat with defeat.

But so was it, Napoleon eommanded the legions, and described
their aehievements : he led them to the charge, mad he apportioned
their glory : the heroism of the soldier had no existence, until acknow-
ledged by the proolamation after the battle $ the valour of the general
wanted confirmation, till sealed by his approvaL To fight beneath his
eyes was the greatest glory a regiment could wish for ^to whione word
from him was fame itself for even

TOM e|t|lt Of ^ 0UB8.* 349

Ift dw^ ii itkese iloughts here it isbecaaset fiWfttt for the
iirBt tine the tad deception I had practised on myself and hoV little
could I hQpe to realise in mj soldier's life, the treasured aspirations of
tnj boyJtood. Was thiS) then, indeed the career I had pictured to my
mind^-^^he chivalrous path of honourswas this thtf bcM assertion
of freedom I so often dreimedof? How few of that armed host
kiiew any thing of the causes of the war ^how much fewer still car^d
ftr theoki No sentiment of patilotism no devotion to the interests
of libertji or humanity ^prompted us on. Yet these were the thoughts
first, led me to the career of' arms : stlch ambitious promptings first
made myl hea^t glow with the enthusiasm of a soldier. '

i This glooniy disappointment made tie low-spirited and sad ; nor
can I Bliy where sueh reflections might not have ledmc, ti^hen sudd^ily
a ohaage came over- my thcftightt^ by seeing i wounded soldier, who
had just arpved from Mortier's division, with news of a fierce
encounter they had sustained agaii^t Kutusof's Russians. The poor
feltow was earried past in a litter ^his arm had been amputated that
same mrnlngi and a frightful shot-wound had carried away 'part of
his cheek ; still, amid al) his suffering, 'his eye was brilliaiit, and a smfle
of proud meaning wfts on hia Spa*

Lift it up, Guillaume^ let me see it agaiui'' aaid he a| they bore
him along the erowded street.

What is it he wishes?^ said I* ^ The poor fellow Is asking for
something."

** Yes, mon Lieuten^int. It is the sabre dhormeur the emperor
gave him this morning ^he likes to look at it every now and tl^
he says he doesn't mind the paiui when he sees that before him and
iCs natural too** f '

i ^^ Such is glory/' said I to myself; ''and he who feels this in hie
heart, has no i^om for other thoughts*'

^ Oh, give to me tike trumpet's blast.

And the champ of the charger prancing;
Or the whiz of the grape-shot flying pas^
That's musig meet for dmoiog^

Tralararala/*

sang a wild-looking voltiffeur, as he capered along the street, keeping
time to his rtftde song with the tramp of hia feet.

' Ha! there goes a fellow from the Faubourg," 6ai4 an officer
near me.
*^ The FauijourgP' repeated I, asking for exphmation*
^ Yes, to be sure. The Faubourg St. Antoine supplies all the
reeklesi devils of the army one of them would corrupt a regiment i
and so, the best thbg to do is, to keep then as much together as
pOBBible. The voltigeurs have little else and ^oof is, they are the
cleverest corps in the service} and if they could be kept from plcldng
and stealing, lying, drinking, and gambling there's not a man might
not be ft general of division in time. There goea another.*' As

350 OUB MESS.

he spoke, a fellow passed by with ^ goose under his arm, follow^ by
woman most vociferously demanding restitution while he only amus^
himself by replying with a mock courtesy deploring in saji term^ the
unhappy necessities of war, and the cruel hardships of a campaign. ,

It*s no use punishing tliose fellows," said the officer: "they d^ert
in whole companies, if you send one to the salle de police i .and sp,
we have only one resource, which Js, to throw them pretty much in
advance, and leave their chastisement to the enemy : and sooth to ;Say,
they ask for nothing better themselves," . , ,

Thus, even these fellows seemed to have their own sentiment ^ ^f
riory a problem which the more I reasoned over^ the naore puzzled
lid I become.

While a hundred conjectures were hourly in elrculatiou, none, save
those Immediately about the person of Napoleoiij could possibly divine
the quarter where the great blow was to be struck aUhougli all were
in expectation of the orders to prepare for battle. News would i^fjjcU
us of marchings and counter-march ings^-of smart skirnvishes here, and
prisoners taken there yet could we not form tlje slig^itefit conception
of where the chief force of the enemy liay nor ^\ hat the direction to
which our own anny was pointed. Indeed, our troops^ seetued to
scatter on every side. Marmont, with a strong ft^rce^ was despatched
towards Gratz, where it was said the Archduke Charles was at the head
of a considerable army. Davoust moved on Hungary, and occupied
Presbourg. Beraadotte retraced his steps towards the Upper Danube,
to hold the Archduke Frederick in check, who had escaped from UIji^
with ten thousand men. Mortier's corps, haraissed and broken by iti'e
engagement with Kutusof, were barely sufficient to garrfsoTj Vjenna*
"While Soult, Lannes, and Murat pushed forward ti\iaids Moravia,
with a strong cavalry force, and some battalions of the guard, Iri
fact, the whole army was scattered like an exploded elrell^ nor couTl
we see the means by which its wide-extended fragment?! w(^re to be
united at a moment much less, divine the spot to which their com-
bined force was to be directed.

Had these Russians been fabulous creatures of a legend, Instead of
men of mortal mould, they could scarcely have been endowed wltli
moi% attributes of ubiquity than we conferred on them : sometimes we
believed them at one side of the Danube sometimes at the other i^
now, we heard of them as retreating by forced marches into their,
native fastnesses now, as encamped iti the mountain regions of
Mora^'ia. Yeisterday, came the news that they laid down their arfi^,
and surrendered as prisoners of war : to-day, we heard of Ihem .as
having forced back our advanced posts, and carried off several
squadrons prisoners. At length came the positive information, th^t.
the allied armies w^re in cantonments around Olmutz, while Napotepn,
liad pushed forwAt*d to Brunn, a place of considerable strength, com-
municating by the high road with the Russian head-quarters. ][t.\y;a|
no longer doubtful, then, where the great game was to be^ decide^.
and thither the various battalions wiere now directed, by marches day
and night.

TOM BCBKIS 07 OUBS.** 3^1

On the 29th of November, our united detachments^ now numbering
several hundred men, arrived at Brunn. I lost no time in repairing to
the head-quarters, where I fouud General D'Auvergne deeply engaged
with the details of the force under his command his brigade had been
placed under the orders of Murat and it was well known, the prince
gave little rest or respite to those in his command. From liim I
learned that three days of unsuccessful negociation had just passed
Over, and that the Emperor had now resolved on a great battle.
Indeed', every moment was critical. Russia had assumed a decidedly
hostile suspect : the Swedes were moving to the south : the Archduke
Charles, "by a circuitous route, was on the march to join the Russian
army, to whose aid fresh reinforcements were daily arriving i and
Benningsen was hourly expected with more. Under these circum-
stances a oattle was inevitable and such a one as^ by its result, must
conclude the war.

This much did I learn from the old general as we rode over the field
together, examining with caution the nature of the ground, and where
It offered facilitiesi and where it presented obstacles, to the movements
of cavalry. SucH were the orders issued that morning by Napoleon to
the generals of brigadej who might now be seen traversing the plain
with their staffs, in every direction. As we moved along we could dis-
cover in the distance the dark columns of the enemy, marching not
towards us, but in a southerly direction towards our extreme right.
This movement attracted the attention of several others, and more than
one aid-de-camp was dispatched to Bruon, to bring the iutelligeiace to
the Emperor.

The same evening couriers departed in every direction to Bernadotte
and Ds^voust, to hasten forward at once; even Mortier, with, his nian^
gl^d division, was ordered to abandon Vienna to a division of Marmont'
^rmy, and move on to Bruun, and now the great work of coocenlraftioil
be^gan. Meanwhile the Russians advanced, and on the 30th drove
in an advanced post, and compelled our cavalry to fall back behind
our position.

., Xhe following lnor^ing the allies resumed their fitoik mofvement,
and now no doubt could be entertained of theii* plan, which was, by
turning our right, to cut us off from our supportiiig oolumns resting at
Viemia, and throw our retreat baek upon the mountainous districts of
Bohemia. In this way five massive columns moved past us scarce
half a league distant from oor advanced posts, muubecing eighty thou-
sand men, of which fifteen were cavalry in the most pecfeet cooditioiL

Our position was in advance of the fortress of .Bruon.; the head^
quarters of the Emperor occupied a rising piece of ground, at the base
of which flowed a small stream, a tributary to ome of the num^oua
ponds by which the field was intersected. The entire ground in our
front was indeed a succession of these small lakeS) with villiges inter*
spersed, and occasionally some stunted wood^ ; great morasses eatteoded
around these ponds, through which the highroads le^ or such by-paSths
as conducted from one village to another. Here and there were plains
where cavalry might act with safety, but rarely in large bodies*

^ ovn MISS.

. Our right rested on the lake of Moeritz, where Soult's divfaton was
stationed, behind which, thrown back in such a manner as to escape the
observation of the enemy, was Davoost's corps, the reserve ocenpying a
cliff of ground beside the convent of Reygem* Our left, under Lamies,
occupied the hill of Santon, a wooded eminence, the last of a long
chain of mountains running east and west. Above and on the crest of
the height a powerful park of artillery was posted, and defended by
strong, intrenchments. A powerful cavalry corps was placed at the
bottom of the mountain ; next came Bernadotte's division, separated by
the high road from Brunn to Olmutz from the division under Murat,
which, besides his own cavalry, contained Oudinot's grenadiers, and
Bessiere's battalions of the imperial guard ; the centre and right being
formed of Soult's division, the strongest of all } the reserve, consisting
of several battalions of the guard and a strong force oi artiUery, being
under the immediate orders of Napoleon, to be employed wherever cir-
cumstances demanded. These were the dispositions for the coming
battle, made with all the precision of troops moving on parade ; and such
was the discipline of the army at Boulogne, and so perfectly arranged
the plans of the Emperor, that the ground of every regiment was marked
out, and each corps moved into its allotted space with the regularity of
some piece of mechanism.

TOM BVRKB OF " QVM." ^5^

: CHAPTER XLVIir.

AVSTERLTTZ.

TttE 1Ii!lp()^icions for the battle of Austerlitz occupied the entire day.
From sunrise Nhpoleon was on horseback, visiting e^'ery position :
he examined each battery with the skill of an old officer of artillery
andfreiqaehtly dfemoUilting fVom his horse, carefully noted the slightest
peculiarities of the ground ^remarking to his staff, with an accuracy
, whicti the event showed to be prophetic, the nature of the struggle, as
the various circumstances Of the field indicated them to hb practised
mind.

It was alfeady late, when he turned bis horse's head towards his
bivouac-hut a rude shelter of straw- and rode slowly through the
midst of that great army. The Ordre dn Jour^ written at his own
dictation, had just been distributed among the soldiers ; and now around
every watch-fire, the groups were kneeling to read tlie spirit-stirring lines
by which he so well knew how to excite the enthusiasm of his followers.
They were told " that the enemy were the same Russian battalions
they had already beaten at Hollabrunn, and on whos^ flying traces they
had been marching ever since." *They will endeavour,* said the
proclamation, '' to turn our right ; but, in doing so, they must open
their flank to us need I say what will be the result? Soldiers, so
long as with your accustomed valour, you deal death and destruction in
their ranks, so long shall I remain beyond the reach of fire ; but let
the victory prove, even for a moment, doubtful, your Emperor shall be
in the midst of you. This day must decide for ever the honour of the
infantry of France. Let no man leave his ranks to succour the
wounded they shall be cared for, by one, who never forgot his soldiers;
and with this victory the campaign is ended !**

Never were lines better calculated to stimulate the energy, and flatter
the pride of those, to whom they were addressed. It was a novel tbing
in a general to communicate to his army the plan of his intended
battle, and, perhaps, to any other than a French army, the disclosure
would not have been rated as such a favour ; but their warlike spirit
and military intelligence have ever been most remarkably united,
and the men were delighted with such a proof of confidence and
esteem.

A dull roar, like the sound of the distant sea, swelled along the line
from the far right, where the convent of Reygern stood, and, growing
louder by degrees, proclaimed that the Emperor was coming.

It was already dark, but he was quickly recogniased by the troops
and with one burst of enthusiasm they seized updn the straw of their
bivouacs, and setting Are to it, held the blazing masses above their

MESS, KO. XXV. VOL. 11. 2 A

354 ouB insss.

heads, waving them wildly to and fro, amid the cries of " Vive
rEmpereor." For above a leagae along the plain, the red light flashed
and glowed, marking out beneath it, the dense squares and squadrons
of armed warriors. It was the anniversary of Napoleon's coronation,
and such was the fete by which they celebrated the day.

The Emperor rode through the ranks uncovered. Never did a
prouder smile light up his features, while, thronging around him, the
veterans of the Guard struggled to catch even a passing glance at
him. " Do but look at us to-morrow, and keep beyond the reach of
shot," said a ^^gtognard,** stepping forward, ^^ well bring their cannon
and their colours, and lay them at thy feet." The manshals themselves^
the hardened veterans of so many flghts, could not restrain their
enthusiasm ; and proffers of devotion unto death accompanied him as
he went.

At last, all was silent in the encampment ; the soldiers slept beside
their watch-fires, and, save the tramp of a patrol, or the ^guivive'* of the
sentinels, all was still. The night was cold and sharp a cutting wind
blew across the plain, which gave way to a thick mist o thick, the
sentries could scaf cely see a dozen paces o^

I sat in my little hovdl of straw my mind far too much excited for
sleep watching the stars as they peeped out one by one, piercing the
grey misty until, at last, the air boeame thiu and dear, and a frosty
atmosphere succeeded to the weighty fog i and now, I could trace out
the vast columns, as they lay^ thickly strewn along the plain. The old
general, wri^ped in his doak, slept soundly on his straw couch ; his
deepwbawii breathing showed that his rest was unbroken. How slowly
did the time seem to creep aloz^ I thought it must be nigh morning,
and it was only a little more than midnight. Our position was a
small rising ground about a mile in froat of the left centre, and com-
municating with the enemy's line by a narrow road between the
marshes. This had been defended by a battery of four guns, with a
stockade in froctt ; and along it now, ios a considerable distance, a
chain of aentinels were placedi who should communicate any movement
that they observed in the Russian lines^ of which I was charged to
convey the earliest intelligeRee to the Quartier^geniraL This duty
alone would have kept me in a state of anxiety, had not the frame of
my mind already so* disposed me ; and I could not avoid creeping out,
from time to time, to peer through the gloom, in the direction of the
enemy's camp^ and listen w4)h an eager ear for any sounds from that
quarter. At last, I heard the sound of a voice at some distance off
then, a few minutes after, the hurried step of feet, and a voltigeur came
up, breathless with haste

" The Russians were in motion towards the right. Our advanced
post could hear the roll of guns and tumbrils moving along the plain,
and it was evident their columns were in march."

I knelt down and placed my ear to the ground, and almost started
^t the distinctness with which I could hear the dull sound of the
large guns as they were dragged along \ ^the earth seemed to tremble
beneath them*

TOM BUBKE OF OVBS." 355

I awoke the General at once, who, resting on his arm, coolly heard
my reporti and having directed me to hasten to bead-quarters with the
news, lay back again, and was asleep before I was in my saddle. At
the top speed of my horse, I galloped to the rear, winding my way
between the battalions, till I came to a gentle rising sround, where, by
the light of several large fires, that blazed in a circle, I cquld see th^
dismounted troopers of the Chasseurs a cheval^ who always formed the
imperial body*guard. Having given the word, I was aesired by the
officer of the watch to dismount, and, following him, I passed forward
to a space in the middle of the circle, where, under shelter of sofne
sheafs of straw piled over each other, sat three officers, smoking beside
afire.

^* Ha ! here comes news of some sort,*' said ^ voice I knew lit once
to be Murat's. " Well, sir, what is't ?**

** The Russian columns are in motion, Monsieur le Mar^chal the
artillery moving rapidly towards our right."

^ Ditmtre I it's not much more than midnight. Davoust, shall we
awake the Emperor ?'*

" No, no," said a harsh voice, as a shrivelled, hardfeatured mati
turned round from the blaze, and showing a head covered by a coarse
woollen cap, looked far more like a pirate, than a marshal of France
^ they'll not attack before day breaks. Go back^" said he, addressing
me, ^^ observe the position well, and if there be any general movement
towards the southward, you may report it."

By the time I regain^ my post, all was in silence once more
either the Russians had arrested their march, or already their oolumiia
were out of hearing ^not a gleam of light could I perceive along their
entire position, and now, worn out with watching, I threw myself down
among the straw, and slept soundly.

"There there that's the third," said General D'Auvergne, shaking
me by the shoulder, "there again-^on't you hear the guns ?"

I listened, and could just distinguish the faint booming sound of far-
oif artillery, coming up from the extreme right of our position. It was
still but three o'clock, and, although the sky was thick with stars, per-
fectly dark in the valley. Mean^iliile, we could hesa the galloping of
cavalry, quite distinctly, in the same direction.

" Monnt, Burke, and back to the Quartier-gSnirtd but yoii need
not, here come some of the staff."

" So, D'Auvergne," cried a voice whose tones were strange to me,
" they meditate a night-attack it would seem or is it only trying the
range of their guns ?"

" I think the latter, Monsieur le Mar^chal ; for I heard no small
arms, and, even now, all is quiet again."

" I believe you are right," said he, moving slowly forwjard, while a
number of officers followed at a little distance. " You see, D'Auvergne,
how correctly the Emperor judged their intentions. The brunt of the
battle will be about Reygern. But there don't you hear bugles in
the valley ?"

As he spoke, the music of our tirailleurs' bugles arose from the gleh

35d OUR MESS.

in front of our centre, where, in a thick beech wood* the light infantry
regiments were posted. ;

"What is it, D'Esterre?" said he to an officer who galloped up
at the moment,

" They say the Russian guard, sir, is moving to the front : our skir-^
mishers have orders to fall back without firing.''

As he heard this, the Marshal Bernadotte for it was he turned
his horse suddenly round, and rode back, followed by his staff. And
now the drums beat to quarters along the line, and the hoarse trum-
pets of the cavalry might be heard summoning the squadrons through-
out the field ; while between the squares, and in the intervals of the
battalions, single horsemen galloped past with orders. Soult*s division,
which extended for nearly a league to our right, was the first to move,
and it seemed like one vast shadow creeping along the earth, as column
Reside column marched steadily onward. Our brigade had not as yet
received orders, but the men were in readiness beside the horses, an4
pnly waiting for the word to mount

The suspense of the moment was fearful all that I had ever dreamed
or pictured to myself, of a soldier's enthusiasm, was faint and weak,
compared to the rush of sensations I now experienced. There must
be a magic power of ecstasy in the approach of danger some secret
sense of bounding delight, mingled with the chances of a battle that
render one intoxicated with excitement. Each booming gun I heard,
sent a wild throb through me, and I panted for the word, " forward."

Column after column moved past us, and disappeared in the dip of
ground beneath ; and as we saw the close battalions filling the wide plain
in front, we sighed to think that it was destined to be the day of glory,
peculiarly to the infantry. Wherever the nature of the field permitted
shelter, or the woods afforded cover, our troops were sent immediately
to occupy. The great manoeuvre of the day was to be the piercing of
the enemy's centre, whenever he should weaken that point, by the
endeavour to turn our right flank.

A faint streak of grey light was marking the horizon, when the single;
guns which we had heard at intervals, ceased, and then, after a short
pause, a long, loud roll of artillery issued from the distant right, fol-
lowed by the crackling din of small arms, which increased at every mo-
ment, and now swelled into an uninterrupted noise, through which the
large guns pealed from time to time. A red glare, obscured now and
then, by means of black smoke, lit up the sky in that quarter, where
already the battle was raging fiercely.

The narrow causeway between the two small lakes in our front, con-
ducted to an open space of ground, about a cannon-shot from the Rus-
sian line, and this, we were now ordered to occupy, to be prepared to
act as support to the infantry of Soult's left, whenever the attack began.
As we debouched into the plain, I beheld a group of horsemen, who,
MTapped up in their cloaks, sat motionless in their saddles, calmly
regarding the squadrons as they issued from the wood : these were
Murat and his staff, to whom was committed the attack on the Russian
guard. His division consisted of the hussars and chasseurs under

TOM BtRKE 6P "OURS." 357

Kellermann, the cuifixssiers of D*Auvergne, and the heavy dragoons of
Nansouty, making a force of eight thousand sabres, supported by
twenty pieces of field artillery. Again were we ordeted to dismount, for
although the battle contiimed to rage on the right, the whole of the
centre and left were unengaged.

Thus stood we as the sun arose that " Sun of Austerlitz* so often
appealed to, and apostrophized by Napoleon, as gilding the greatest of
his glories. The mist from the lakes, shut out the prospect of the enemy's
lines at first, but gradually this moved away, and we could perceive the
dark columns of the Russians, as they movea rapidly along the side of the
Pratzen, and continued to pour their thousands towards Reygern,

At last the roar of the musketry swelled louder and nearer, and an
officer galloping past, told us that Soult's right had been called up to sup*
port Davoust's division. This did not look well : it proved the kussiaus
had pressed our lines closely, and we waited impatiently to hear further
intelligence. It was evident, too, that our right was suffering severely,
otherwise the attack on the centre would not have been delayed. Just
then, a wild cheer to the front drew our attention thither, and we saw
the heads of three immense columns, Soult's division, advancing at a
run towards the enemy.

" Par St. Louis,** cried the General D*Auvergne, as he directed his
telescope on the Russian line, ** those fellows have lost their senses ; see
if they have not moved their artillery away from the Pratzen, and
weakened their centre more and more. Soult sees it mark how he
presses his columns on. There they go, faster and faster ; but look,
there's a movement yonder the Russians perceive their mistake."

^' Mount !*' was now heard from squadron to squadron : while dashing
along the line like a thunderbolt, Murat rode far in advance of his
staff* ^the men cheering him as he went.

" There V* cried D'Auvergne, as he pointed with his finger, " that
column with the yellow shoulder-knots that's Vandamme's brigade of
light infantry ; see how they rush on, eager to be filrst up with the
enemy, but St. Hilaire's grenadiers have got the start of them, and
are already at the foot of the hill it is a race between them.*'

And so had it become the two columns advanced, cheering wildly,
while the officers, waving their caps, led them on, and others rode along
the flanks urging the men forward. The order now came for our squa-
drons to form in charging sections, leaving spaces for the light artillery
between ; this done, we moved slowly forward at a walk the guns
keeping, step by step, beside us. A few minutes after, we lost sight of
the attacking columns, but the crashing fire told us they were (en-
gaged, and that already the great struggle had begun. For above an
hour we remained thus : every stir, every word loud spoken, seeming
to our impatience like the order to move* At last, the squadrons to
our right were seen to advance, and then a tremulous motion of the
whole line showed that the horses themselves participated in the
eagerness of the moment ; and, at last, the word came for the cuirassiers
to move up. In less than a hundred yards^we were halted again, and
1 heard an aide-de-camp telling General D'Auvergne that Davoust had

358 0X7B ifcss

suffered immensely on the right ^that his division, although reinforced,
had fallen back behind Reygern and all now depended on the attack
of Soult's columns. I hea^ no more ^for now the whole line ad-
vanced in trot, and as our formation'showed an unbroken front, the word
came " faster^ and " faster." As we merged from the low ground,
we saw Soult's column already half-way up the ascent ; ^they seemed
like a great wedge driven into the enemy's centre, which opening as
they advanced, presented two surfaces of fire to their attack.

** The battery yonder has opened its fire on our line,** said D'Auvergne
" we cannot remain where we are."

"Forward!" " charge T' came the word from front to rear, and
squadron after squadron dashed madly up the ascent. The one word
only " charge" kept ringing through my head all else was drowned in
the terrible din of the advanoe. An Austrian brigade of light cavalry
issued forth as we came up, but soon fell back under the overwhelming
pressure of our force, and now we came down upon the squares of the
red-brown Russian infantry. Volley after volley, sent back our leading
squadrons wounded and repulsed, when, unlimbering with the speed of
lightning, the horse artillery poured in a discharge of grape*shot.
The ranks wavered, and through their cleft spaces of dead and dying,
our cuirassiers dashed in, sabring all before them. In vain the infantry
tried to form again : successive discharges of grape, followed by
cavalry attacks, broke through their firmest ranks, and at last retreating,
they fell back under cover of a tremendous battery of field-guns, which,
opening their fire^ compelled us to retire into the wood. Nor were
we long inactive. Bemadotte's division was now engaged on our left,
and a pressing demand came for cavalry to support them. Again
we mounted the hill, and came in sight of the Russian guard, led on
by the Arch-duke Constantine himself, a splendid body of men, con-
spicuous for their size, and the splendour of their equipment. Such,
however, was the impetuous torrent of our attack, that they were bro-
ken in an instant, and, notwithstanding their courage and devotion,
fresh masses of our dragoons kept pouring down upon them, and they
^ere sabred, almost to a man. While we were thus engaged, the battle
became general from left to right, and the earth shook beneath the
thundering sounds of two hundred great guns. Our position,
for a moment victorious, soon changed, for having followed the
retreating squadrons too far, the waves closed behind us, and we now
saw that a dense cloud of Austrian and Russian cavalry were forming
in our rear. An instant of hesitation would have been fatal. It was then
that a tall and splendidly dressed^horseman broke from the line, and with
a cry to " follow," rode straight at the enemy. It was Murat himself,
sabre in hand, who clearing his way through the Russians, opened a
path for us : a few minutes after, we had gained the wood, but one-
third of our force had fallen.

" Cavalry !"-^" cavalry !" cried a field ofiicer, riding down at head-
long speed, his face covered with blood from a sabre-cut " to the front."
The order was given to advance at a gallop, and we found ourselves
next instant, hand to hand with the Russian dragoons, who having

TOM BUBKE OV ^' OUBS." 3tf9

ftwept along the flank of Bernadotte's division, were sabring them on
all sides. On we went, reinforced by Nansouty and his carbineers, a
bodyof nigh seven thousand men. It was a torrent no force oould
stem the tide of victory was with us, and we swept along, wave after
wave, the infantry advancing in line, for miles at 'either side, while
whole brigades of artillery kept up a murderous fire without ceasing*
Entire columns of the enemy surrendered as prisoners guns were cap-
tured at each instant, and only by a miracle did the Arch Duke escape
our hussars, who followed him, till he was lost to view, in the flying
rapks of the allies. As we gained the crest of the hill, we were in time
to see Soult's victorious columns driving the enemy before thena, while
the imperial guard, up to that moment unengaged, reinforced the
grenadiers on the right, and broke through the Russians on every side*

The attempt to outflank us on the right, we had perfectly retorted on
the left, where Lannes' division, overlapping the line, pressed them on
two sides, and drove them back, still fighting, into tbe plain, which,
with a lake, separated the allied armies from the village of A^sterlitz;
and here took place tbe most dreadful occurrence of the day. The
two roads which led through the lake, were soon so encumbered and
blocked up, by ammunition waggons and carts, that they became im-
passible; and as the masses of the fugitives thickenedi they spread
Over the lake, which happened to be frozen.

It was at this time that the Emperor came up and seeing the cavalry
halted, and no longer in pursuit of the flying columns, ordered up
twelve pieces of the artillery of the Imperial Guard, which, from tbe
crest of the hill, opened a murderous Are on them. The sUughte*
was fearful, as the discharges of grape and round shot^ cut cjiannele
through the jammed-up mass, and tore the dense columns, as it were^
into fragments. Dreadful as the scene was, what followed far exceeded
it in horror; fpr soon the shells began to explode beneath the ice,
which now, with a succession of reports louder than thunder, gave way.
In an instant, whole regimraits were engulphedi and amid the wildest
cries of despair, thousands sank, never to appear again, while the
deafening artillery mercilessly played upon them, till over that broad
surface no living thing was seen to move, while beneath, was the sepul-
chre of five thousand men. About seven thousand reached Austerlitz
by another road to the northward ; but even these had not escaped,
save for a mistake of Bernadotte, who most unaccountably, as it was
said, halted his division on the heights. Had it not been for this, not
a soldier of the Russian right wing had been saved.

The reserve cavalry and the dragoons of the ^' Guard," were now called
up from the pursuit, and I saw my own regiment pass close by me, as I
stood amid the stafl*, round Murat. The men were fresh, and eager for
the fray ; yet how many fell in that pursuit, even after a victory. The
Russian batteries continued their fire to the last. The cannoneers were
cut down beside their guns, and the cavalry made repeated charges on
our advancing squadrons; nor was it till late in the day they fell
back, leaving two-thirds of their force dead or wounded on the field of
battle.

360 onu ikfttss.

On every side now, were to be seen the flying colamns of the allies,
hotly followed by the victorious French. The guns still thundered at
intervals ; but the loud roar of battle was subdued to the crashing din
of charging squadrons, and the distant cries of the vanqubhers and the
Vanquished. Around, and about, lay the wounded, in all the fearful
attitudes of suffering ; and as we were fully a league in advance of our
original position, no succour had yet arrived for the poor fellows whose
courage had carried them into the very squares of the enemy.

Most of the staff myself among the number were despatched to
the rear for assistance. I remember, as I rode along at my fastest
speed, between the columns of infantry and the fragments of artillery,
which covered the ground, that a peloton of dragoons came thundering
past, while a voice shouted out ^-^Placey Place ;^ supposing it was the
Emperor himself, I drew up to one side, and uncovering my head,
sat in patience till he had passed, when, with the speed of four horses
urged to their utmost, a cal^he flew by, two men dressed like couriers
seated on the box : they made for the high-road towards Vienna, and
soon disappeared in the distance.

"What can it mean?" said I, to an oflficer beside me "not his Ma-
jesty, surely ? "

** No, no," replied he, smiling ; * it is General Lebrun on his way to
Paris, with the news of the victory. The Emperor is down at Reygern
yonder, where he has just written the bulletin. I warrant you, he fol-
lows that cal^he with his eye ; he'd rather see a battery of guns carried
off by the enemy^ than an axle break there this moment.**
' Thus closed the great day of Austerlitz a hundred cannons, forty-
three thousand prisoners, and thirty-two colours, being the spoils of
this ^the greatest of even Njt^leon's victories.

rfdL
oor !

Ik

"^

I .,.-

''W^ v:' ''M^

TOM BUKKB OF ** OURS." 361

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE FIELD AT MIDNIGHT.

We passed the night on the field of battle a night dark and starless :
the heavens were, indeed, clothed ^vith black, and a heavy atmosphere,
louring and gloomy, spread like a pall over the dead and the dying ! Not
a^breath of air moved; and the groans of the wounded sighed through the
stillness, with a melancholy cadence no words can convey ! Far away in
the distance, the moving lights marked where fatigue-parties went in
search of their comrades. The Emperor himself did not leave the
saddle till nigh morning ; he went, followed by an ambulance, hither
and thither over the plain, recalling the names of the several regiments,
enumerating their deeds of prowess, and even asking for many of the
soldiers by name. He ordered large fires^ to be lighted throughout the
fields and where medical assistance could not be procured, the officers
of the staff might be seen covering the wounded with great-coafa and
cloaks, and rendering them such aid, as lay in their power. Dreadful
as the picture was fearful reverse to the gorgeous splendour of that
vast army the morning sun had shone upon, in all the pride of strength
and spirit yet even here was there much to make one feel, that warjs
not berefl of its humanizing influences. How many a soldier did I see
that night, blackened with powder his clothes torn and ragged with
shot, sitting beside a wounded comrade, now wetting his lips with a
cool draught ^now cheering his heart with words of comfort. Many,
themselves wounded, were tending others, less able to assist themselves.
Acts of kindness and self-devotion not less in number than those of
heroism and courage were met with at every step ; wliile among the
sufierers, there lived a spirit of enthusiasm, that seemed to lifhten the
worst pangs of their agony. Many would cry out, as I passed, to know
the fate of the day, and what became of this regiment, or of that bat-
talion. Others could but articulate a faint " Vive rJSmpereur/' which
in the intervals of pain they kept repeating, as though it were a charm
against sufiering ; while one question met me every instant " What
says Le petit Capwal? is he content with us ? " None were insensible
to the glorious issue of that day ; nor amid all the agony of death,
dealt out in every shape of horror and misery, did I hear one word of
anger or rebuke to him, for whose ambition they had shed their hearts'
blood.

Having secured a fresh horsey I rode forward in the direction of
Austerlitz, where our cavalry, met by the chevaliers of the Russian
Imperial Guard, sustained the greatest check, and the most considerable
loss of the day. The old dragoon who accompanied me, warned me I

J

363 ouB

should find few, if any, of our comrades living there. ' Venire bleu !
Lieutenant ! you can't expect it ; the first four squadrons went down
like one man ; for when our fellows fell wounded from their horses, they
always sabred or shot them as they lay."

I found his information but too correct. Lines of dead men lay
beside their horses, ranged as they stood in battle, while before them
lay the bodies of the Russian guard, their gorgeous uniform all slashed
with gold, marking them out, amid the dull russet costumes of their
comrades. In many places were they intermingled, and showed where
a hand-to-hand combat had been fought ; and I saw two, clasped rigidly
in each other's grasp, who had evidently been shot by others, while
struggling for the mastery.

' I told yeu, mon Lieutenant, it was useless to come here ; this wsfl
'a la mart* while it lasted; and, if it had continued much longer,
in the same fashion, it's hard to say which of us had been going over
the field now with lanterns."

Too true, indeed. Not one wounded man did we meet with, nor did
one human voice break the silence around us. Perhaps," said I,
** they may have already carried up the wounded to the village yonder*
I see a great blaze of light there : ride forward, and learn if it be so."

When I had dismissed the orderly, I dismounted from my horse, and
walked carefully along the ridge of ground, anxious to ascertain if any
poor fellow still remained alive, amid that dreadful heap of dead. A
low brushwood covered the ground in certain places, and here I per^
ceived but few of the cavalry had penetrated, while the infantry were
all tirailleurs of the Russian guard, bayoneted by our advancing eolamna.
As I approached the lake, the ground became more rugged and uneven,
and I was about to turn back, when my eye caught the ^edut glimmer-
ing of a light reflected in the water. Picqueting my horse where he
stood, I advanced alone towards the light, which I saw now was at the foot
of a little rocky crag beside the lake. As I drew near, I stopped to
listen, and could distinctly hear the deep tones of a man's voice, as if
broken at intervals by pain, while in his accents I thought I could trace
a tone of indignant passion, rather than of bodily suffering*

" Leave me, leave me where I am," cried he peevishly, " I thought
I miffht have had my last few moments tranquil, when I staggcnned
thus far."

" Come, come, comrade,'* said another in a voice of comforting
" come, thou wert never faint-hearted before. Thou hast had thy
share of bruises, and cared little about them too. Art dry?"

' Yes, give me another drink. Ah ! " cried he in an excited tona^
" they can't stand before the ^ Cuirassiers of the Guard.' Sacre bleu !
how proud * Le petit Caporal ' will be of this day." Then, dropping \a
voice, he muttered, " What, care I, who's proud. I have my billet
and must be going.'*

" Not so, tnaiv^ enfant ; thou'lt have the cross for thy day's woric;
he knows you well $ I saw him smile to-day, when thou mad'st the
salute in passing."

Didst thou that ?" said the wounded man with eagerness ; 'did he

TOM BURUB OF ^'OVRS." 363

smile ? Ahy villain ! how you can allure men to shed their heart's-blood
by a smile. He knows me ! That he ought, and if he but knew how I
lay here now, he'd send the best surgeon of bis staff to look after me."
, *^ That he would, and that he will ; courage and cheer up.''

" No, no ; I don't care for it now ; I'll never go back to the regi*
ment again I couldn't do it !**

As he spoke the last words, his voice became fainter and fainter,
and, at last, was lost in a hiccup ^partly, as it seemed, from emotioDy
and partly from bodily suffering.

* Qui viveP** cried his companion, as the dash of my sabre
announced my approach.

An officer of the eighth hussars," said I in a low voice, fearing to
disturb the wounded man as he lay with his head sunk on his knees.

* Too late, comrade, too late," said he in a stifled tone ; " the order
of route has come I must away."

** A brave cuirassier of the guard should never say so while he
has a chance left to serve his mperor in another field of battle."

'* Vive VEmpereur^ vive rEmpereur P^ shouted he madly, as he lifted
his helmet and tried to wave it above his head; but the exertion brought
on a violent fit of coughing which choked his utteranoet while a
torrent of red blood gushed from his mouth, and deluged his neck and
chest.

* Ah, num Dieu^ that cry has been his death," said the other,
wringing his hands In utter misery.

* Where is he wounded?" said I, kneeling down beside the sick many
who now lay, half on his face, upon the grass.

In the chest, through the lung," whispered the other he doesn't
know the doctor saw him; it was he told me; there was so hope.
You may leave him,' said he, ^ an hour or two more are all that's
left him' as if I could leave a comrade we all loved. My poor
fellow, it is a sad day for the old fourth when thou are taken from
them."

* Ha, was he of the fourth, then ?" said I, remembering the regiment.
^* Yes, parbleu I and though but a corporal, he was well known

throughout the army Pioche "

" Pioche," cried I in agony, " is this Pioche ?"
' Here," said the wounded man, hearing the name, and answering
as if on parade, ' here, mon Commandant, but too faint, I'm afraid,
for duty ; I feel weak today," said he, as he pressed his hand upon hia
side, and then slowly sank back against the rock, and dropped his arms
at either side.

* Come," said I, " we must lose no time ; let us carry him to the
rear. If nothing else can be done he'll meet with care "

' Hush ! mou Lieutenant, don't let him hear you speak of that ; he
stormed and swore so much when the 'ambulance' passed, and l^ey
wanted to bring him along, that it brought on a coughing fit, just like
what you saw, and he lay in a faint for half an hour after ; he vows
he'll never stir from where he is truth is, Commandant," said he in the
lowest whisper, " he is determined to die ; when his squadron fell back
from the Russian square, he rode on their bayonets, and cut at the men

364 OUR MEdS.

while the artillery was playing all about him. He told me this
morning he'd never leave the field."

^ Poor fellow, what was the meaning of this sad resolution ?**

^^Mafoi! a mere trifle after all," said the other, shrugging his
shoulders, and making a true French grimace of contempt ; ^ you'll
smile when I'll tell you ; but he takes it to heart, poor fellow. His
mistress has been false to him ; no great matter that, youM say ; but
so it is, and nothing more ; see, how still he lies now \ is he sleeping ?**

I fear not, he looks exhausted from loss of blood ; come, we must
have him out of this ; here comes my orderly to assist us ; if we carry
him to the road. Til find a carriage of some sort''

I said this in a tone of command, to silence any scruples he might
still have about obeying his comrade, in preference to the orders of
an officer. He obeyed with the instinct of discipline, and proceeded
to fold his cloak, in such a manner that we could carry the wounded
man between us.

The poor corporal, too weak to resist us, faint from bleeding, and
semi-stupid, suffered himself to be lifted upon the cloak, and never
uttered a word or a cry, as we bore him along between us.

We had not proceeded far when we came up with a convoy
conducting several carts with the wounded to the convent of Reygern,
which now had been fitted up as an hospital. On one of these we
secured a place for our poor friend, and walked along beside him
towards the convent. As we went along, I questioned his comrade
closely on the point, and he told me, that Pioche had resolved never
to survive the battle, and had taken leave of his friends the evening
before. " AH, parhleu /" added he with energy', " mademoiselle ia
pretty enough; there's no denying that, but her head is turned by
flattery and soft speeches ; all the gay young fellows of the hussar
regiment, the aide-de-camps ^ay, and some of the Generals too ^have paid
h^ so much attention, that it could not be expected she'd dare for a
poor corporal uot but that Pioche is a brave fellow and a fine soldier
9acristi ! he'd be no discredit to any girl's choice ; but Minette ^

" Minette, the Vivandiere -"

* Ay, to be sure, m&n Lieutenant ^I'd warrant you must have known
her ?"

* What of her ^where is she?" said 1, burning with impatience.

" She's with the wounded, up at Reygern yonder. They sent for
her to Heilbrun yesterday where she was with the/eserve battalions.
Ma fox ! you don't think our fellows would do without Minette, at the
" ambulance," where there was a battle to be fought. They say, they'd
hard work enough to make her come up, after all she's a strange
girl ^that she is.

" How was that? has she taken offence with the fourth?"

No, that is not it ; she likes the old regiment in her heart. I'd

never believe she didn't, but ^' Here he dropped ^his voice to a low

whisper, as if dreading to be overheard by the wounded man " but
they say who knows if it's true that when she was left behind at
Ulm or Elchingen, or somewhere up there on the Danube, that there
was a young fellow I heard his name, too, but I forget it who was

TOM BURSE OF QUBS.'* 365

brought ID) badly wonnded, and that mademoiselle was left to wat^h
and nurse him ; he got well in time, for the thing was not so serious
as they thought ; and, what do you think was the return he made the
poor girl he seduced her !"

It's false, false as hell r cried I, bursting with passion; 'who
has dared to spread such a calumny ?"

Don't be angry, mon Lieutenant ;' there are plenty to answer for
%he report; and if it was yourself "

*^ Yes ; it was by my bed-side she watched ; it was to me she gave
that care and kindness by which I recovered from a dangerous wound ;
but so far from this base requital '*

Why did she leave you, then, and march night and day with the
chasseur brigade into the Tyrol ? ^why did she tell her friends, that
she'd never see the old fourth again ? why did she fret herself into aQ
illness **

" Did she do this ? poor girL"

Ay, that she did ; but, mayhap, yon never heard of all this, I
pan only say, mon Lieutenant, that you'd be safer in a broken square,
charged by a heavy squadron, than among the fourth, after what you've
done."

I turned indignantly from him without a reply, for whUe my pride
revolted at answering an accusation from such a quarter, my mind
was harassed by the sad fate of poor Minette, and perplexed how to
account for her sudden departure. My silence, at once arrested iny
pompanion's speech, and we walked along the remainder of the way,
without a word on either side.

The day was just breaking when the first wagon of the convoy
entered the gates of the convent, It was an enormous mass of building,
originally destined for the reception of about three thousand persons,
for, in addition to the priestly inhabitantsp there were two great
hospitals, and several schools, included within the walls. This, before
the battle, had been tenanted by the staffs of many general officers, and
the corps of engineers and sappers, but now was entirely devoted to
the wounded of either army, for Austrians and Bussians were every
where to be met with, receiving equal care and attention, with our own
troops.

It was the first time I had witnessed a military hospital after a battle,
and the impression was too fearful to be ever forgotten by me.

The great chambers, and spacious rooms of the convent, were soon
found inadequate for the numbers who arrived ; and already the long
corridors and passages of the building, were crowded with beds, between
which a narrow path scarcely permitted one person to pass. Here,
promiscuously, without regard to rank, officers in command of regi-
ments, lay side by side with the meanest privates, waiting the turn of
medical aid ; as no other order was observed than the necessities
of each case demanded. A black mark above the bed, indicating that the
patient's stase was hopeless, proclaimed that no further attention need
be bestowed ; while the same mark, with a white bar across it, implied
that it was a case for operation. In this way, the surgeons whq

366 OUB MBS9.

arrived at each moment from different corps of the army, ^scovered,
at a glance, where their services were required, and not a minute^s
time was lost.

The dreadful operations of surgery, for which, in the events of every
day life, every provision of delicate secrecy, and every minute detail
which can alleviate dread, are so rigidly studied, were here going for-
ward on every side ^the horrible preparations moved from bed to bed,
with a rapidity which showed that where suffering so abounded, there
was no time for sympathy ; and the surgeons, with arms barfed to the
dhoulder, and bedaubed With blood, toiled away, as though life no longer
moved in the creeping flesh beneath the knife, and human agony spoke
not aloud, with every motion of their hand.

"Place there move forward,** said an hospital-surgeon, a^ they
carried up the litter on which Pioche lay stretched and senseless.

" What's this ?'* cried a surgeon, leaning forward, and placing hitf
hand on the sick man's pulse. " Ah ! take him back again ^it's all
over there."

" Oh, no !*' cried I in agony, " it can scarcely be they lifted him
alive from the wagon."

** He's not dead, sir," replied the surgeon in a whisper, "but he
will soon be ^there's internal bleeding going on from that wound, and
a few hourfe, or less, perhaps, must close the scene."

*^ Can ndthihg be done nothing ?"

" I fear not." He opened the jacket of the wounded man as he
Spoke, and slitting the inner clothes asunder with a quick stroke of hid
scissors, disclosed a tremendous sabre-wound in the side. " That h
not the worst," said he ; " look here," pointing to a 6mall bluish mark
6f a bullet-hole, above it " here lies the mischief.*'

An hospital-aid whispered something at the instant in the surgeon's
ear, to which he quickly replied " When ?"

" This instant, sir, the ligature slipped, and **

" Remove him," was the reply. " Now, sir, I have a bedfor your
poor fellow here; but I have little hope to give you: his pulse is
stronger, otherwise the endeavour would be lost time."

While they carried the litter forward, I perceived that another
party were lifting from a bed near, a figure, over whose face the sheet
^as carelessly thrown. I guessed fVom the gestures that the form they
lifted was lifbless ; the heavy sumph of the body upon the ground,
showed it beyond a dolibt. The bearers replaced the dead man, by the
dying body of poor Pioche, and from a vague feeling of curiosity, I stooped
down and drew back the sheet from the face of the corpse. As I did
So, my limbs trembled, and I leaned back almost fainting against the
wall. Pale with the palor of death, but scarcely altered from* life,
I beheld the dead features of Amedee Pichot, the captain, whose inso-
lence had left an unsettled quarrel between us. The man, for whose
coming I waited, to expiate an open insult, how lay cold and lifeless at
my feet. What a rush of sensations passed through my mind as I
gazed on that motionless mass ; and oh, with what gratitude my heart
gushed, to think that he did not fall by nt^ hand !

TOM BUBlUe OF OUR8.** 36?

" A brave soldier, but a quarrelsome friend," said the surgeon,
stooping down to examine the wound, with all the indifference of a man
who regarded life as a mere problem. *^ It was a cannon-shot carried
it off."

As he said this, he disclosed the mangled remains of a limb, torn
from the trunk, too high to permit of amputation. *\ Poor Amed^e, it
was the death he always wished for. It was a strange horror he had
of falling by the hand of an adversary, rather than being carried off,
thus and now for the cuirassier."

So saying, he turned towards the bed on which Piodie lay) still as
death itself. A few minutes' careful investigation of the case, enabled
him to pronounce that although the chances were many against reco-
very, yet it was not altogether hopeless.

*' All will depend on the care of whoever watches him," said the sur-*
geon. '^ Symptoms will arise, requiring prompt attention, and a change
in treatment, and this is one of those cases where a nurse is worth a
hundred doctors. Who takes charge of this bed ?" he called aloud.

** Minette, Monsieur," said a sergeant. She has lain down to take
a little rest, for she was quite worn out with fatigue."

*^Me void !" said a silvery voice I knew at once to be. hers ; and the
same instant she pierced the crowd around the bedy and approached
the patient. No sooner had she beheld the features of the sick man^
than she reeled back, and grasped the arms of the persons on either
side. For a few seconds she stood, with her hands pressed upon her
face, and when she withdrew them, her ^features were alHiost ghastly iu
their hue, while with a great effort over her emotion, she said in a low
voice " Can he recover ?'*

k *^ Yes, Minette," replied the surgeon^ ^ and will, if ^re avail any
thing. Just hear me for a moment."

With that he drew her to one side, and commenced to explain the
treatment he proposed to adopt. As he spoke, her cloak, which up to
this instant she wore, dropped from her shoulders^ and she, stood there
in the dress of the Vivandiere a short frock coat, of light blue, with a
thin gold braid upon the collar and the sleeve^ loose, trowsers of white
jean, strapped beneath her boots. A silk sash of scarlet and gold en-
twined, was fastened round her waist, and fell in a long fringe at her
side ; while a cap of blue cloth, with a gold band and tassel, hung by
a hook at her girdle. Simple as was the dress, it displayed to perfec-
tion the symmetry of her figure aud her carriage, and suited the cha-
racter of her air and gesture, which, abrupt and impatient at times,
was almost boyish in the wayward freedom of her action.

The surgeon soon finished his directions, the crowd separated, and
Minette alone remained by the siek man's bed. For some minutes her
cares did not permit her to look up, but when she did a slight cry
broke from her, and she sank down upon the seat at the bed-side.

** Minette, dear Minette, you are not angry with me,'' said I in a
low and trembling tone ; ' I have not done aught to displease you
have I so?"

368* OVn MB88*

She answered not a word, but a blush of the deepest scarlet suffused
her face and temples, and her bosom heaved almost convulsively.

" To you I owe my life," continued I with earnestness ; " nay more,
I owe the kindness which made of a sick bed a place of pleasant
thoughts and happy memories* Can I then have offended you, while
my whole heart was bursting with gratitude ?"

A paleness more striking than the blush, that preceded it now
stole over her features, but she uttered not a word* _Her eyes turned
from me, and fell upon her own iigurcy and I saw the tears fill up and
roll slowly along her cheeks,

" Why did you leave me, Minette," said I, wound up by her obstinate
silence beyond further endurance'^ Did the few words of impa^

tience '*

" No no no," broke she in, " not that not that."
* What then ; tell me, for heaven's sake, how have I earned your
displeasure : believe me, I have met with too little kindness in my way
through life, not to feel poignantly the loss of a friend. What was it,
I beseech you ?"

** Oh, do not ask me P cried she, with streaming eyes ^' do not, I beg
of you ; enough that you know, and this I swear to you, that no fault
of yours was in question. You were always good and always kind to me
too kind too good but not even your teaching could alter the way*
wardness of my nature. Speak of this no more, I ask you, as the
greatest favour you can bestow on me* See here," cried she, while her
lips trembled with emotion, ^* I have need of all my courage to be of
use to him, and you will not, I am sure, render me unequal to my task."
^' But we are friends, Minette ^friends as before," said I, taking her
hand, and pressing it within mine.

* Yes, friends," muttered she in a broken voice, while she turned
her head from me. * Adieu ! Monsieur, adieu I"

** Adieu, then, since you wish it so, Minette ; but whatever your
secret reason for this change towards me, you never can alter the deep-
rooted feeling of my heart, which makes me know myself your friend
for ever."

The more I thought of Minette's conduct, the more puzzled I was.
No jealousy on the part of Pioche could explain her abrupt de-
parture from Elchingen, and her resolve never to rejoin the fourth*
She was indeed a strange girl, wayward and self-willed, but her im-
pulses all had their source in high feelings of honour, and exalted pride*
It might have been, that some chance expression had given her offence f
yet she denied this but still, her former frankness was gone, and a
sense of coldness, if not dbtrust, had usurped its place. I could make
nothing of it. One thing alone did I feel convinced of -she did not
love Pioche. Poor fellow, with all the fine traits of his honest nature,
the manly simplicity and openness of his character, he had not those
arts of pleasing,' which win their way with a woman's mind ; besides, that
Minette, from habit and tone of thought, had imbibed feelings and
ideas of a very different class in society, and, with a feminine tact, had

TOM BOBKE OF * OUBS."

contrived to form acquaintance with, and a relish for, the tastes and
^* pleasures of the cultivated world. The total subversion of all social
4 order, effected by the Revolution, had opened the path of ambition in life
^!^ ^uallv to women, as to men ; and all the endeavours of the Consulate, and
P the Empire, had not sobered down the minds of France to their former
^ " condition. The sergeant, to-day, saw no reason why he might not wear
his epaulettes, to-morrow, and in time exchange his shako even for a
^ crown ; and so the Vivandiere, whose life was passed in the intoxicating
I teM atmosphere of glory, might well dream of greatness which should be
!i|P hers, hereafter, and of the time, when, as the wife of a marshal or a peer
of France, she would walk the salons of the Tuileries, as proudly as the
tfw daughter of a Bohan or a Tavanne.

iflp There was then nothing vain or presumptuous in the boldest flight

of ambition. However glittering the goal, it was beyond the reach of
none ; and the hopes, which in better-ordered communities had been
I jd deemed absurd, seemed here but fair and reasonable ; and from this
f ni element alone, proceeded some of the greatest actions, and by far the
mi; greatest portion of the unhappiness of the period. The mind of the
nation was unfixed : men had not as yet resolved themselves into those
[JKK grades and classes, by the means of which public opinion is brought to
fiiijt bear upon individuals, from those of his own condition. Each was a
)DK law unto himself, suggesting his own means of advancement, and esti-
nj. mating his own powers of success $ and the result was, a general scram-
tbe ble for rank, dignity, and honours, the unfitness of the possessor for
ber which, when attained, brought neither contempt nor derision. The
of epaulette was noblesse the shako, a coronet. What wonder, then,
i.' if she, whose personal attractions were so great, and whose manners
er and tone of thought were so much above her condition, had felt the stir-
rings of that ambition within her heart, which now appeared to be the
i I moving spirit of the nation.

Lost in such thoughts, I turned homewards towards my quarters,
J and was already some distance from the convent, when a dragoon gal-

loped up to my side, and asked, eagerly, if I were the surgeon of the
sixth grenadiers. As I replied in the negative, he muttered something
between his teeth, and added louder, " The poor General it will be
too late after all ;'' so saying, and before I could question him further,
he set spurs to his horse, and dashing onwards, soon disappeared in
the darkness of the night. A few minutes afterwards I beheld a num-
j ber of lanterns straight before me, on the narrow road, and as I came
nearer, a sentinel called out,
"Halt there; stand."

I gave my name and rank, when the man[^advancing towards me, said
in a half whisper,

" It is our General, sir they say he cannot be brought any farther,
and they must perform the operation here."

The soldier's voice trembled at every word, and he could scarcely
falter out, in reply to my question, the name of the wounded officer.

" General St. Hilaire, sir, who led the grenadiers on the Pratzen,"
said the poor fellow, his sorrow struggling with bis pride.

MESS, NO. XXV. VOL. 11. 2 B

370 ^ ovn iisfis*

I pressed forward, and there, on a litter, lay the figure of a large
and singularly fine-looking man. His coat, which was covered with
orders, lay open, and discovered a shirt, stained and clotted with blood ;
but hb most dangerous wound was from a grape shot in the tbigh,
which shattered the bone, and necessitated amputation. A young staff
surgeon, the only medical man present, was kneeling at his side, and
occupied in compressing some wounded vessels to arrest the bleeding,
which, at the slightest stir of the patient, broke out anew. The re-
mainder of the group were grenadiers of his own regiment, in whose
aad and sorrow*struck faces, one might read the idfection his men
invariably bore him.

*Is he coming? Can^you hear any one coming?** said die young
surgeon, in an anxious whisper to the soldier beside him.

* No, sir, but he cannot be far off now," replied the man.

** Shall I ride back to Reygerh for assistance ?*' said I, in a low voice,
to the surgeon.

" I thank you, sir,'* said the wounded man, in a low, calm tone ^for
with the quick ear of sufi)ering he had overheard my question ^* I
thank you, but my orderly has already been sent thither. If you could
relieve my young friend here from his fatiguing duty for a little, you
would render us both a service I am truly grieved to see him so
much exhausted.**

' No, no, sir,'* stammered the youth, as the tears ran fast down his
cheeks, ^^ this is my place, I will not leave it."

* Kind fellow,** muttered the General, as he pressed his hand gently
on the young man's arm, ^ I can bear this better than you can.**

" Ah, here he comes now,** said the sentinel, and the same moment
a man dismounted from his horse, and came forward towards us. It
was Louis, the surgeon of the Emperor himself, despatched by Napo
Icon the moment he heard of the event.

^At any other moment, perhaps, the abrupt demeanour of this cele
brated surgeon would have savoured little of delicacy or feeling, nor
even then, could I forgive the sudden announcement in which he con-
veyed to the sufierer, that immediate amputation must be performed.
|:. ** No chance left but this, Louis ?'* said the General.

" None, sir,** replied the doctor, while he unlocked an instrument
case, and busied himself in preparation for the operation.

*^ Can you defer it a little an hour or two I mean ?**

** An hour perhaps, not more certainly **

" But am I certain of your services, then, Louis ?*' said the General,
trying to smile. " You know I always promised myself your aid,
when this hour came.**

*' I shall return in an hour,** replied the doctor, pulling out his
watch, ^ I am going to Rapp's quarters.**

** Poor Rapp ; is he wounded ?**

*'A mere sabre cut; but Sebastiani has suffered more severely.
Now, then, Lanusse,** said he, addressing the young surgeon, " you
remain here continue as you are doing and in an hour* *

*^ In an houTi" echoed the wounded man, with a shudder, as though

TOM BVRRE OF *' OVRS.*' 371

" the anticipation of the dreadful event had thrilled through his very

heart; nor was it till the retiring sounds of the surgeon's horse
bad died away in the distance, that his features recovered their former
calm and tranquil expression.

A prompt fellow is Louis," said he, after a pause, " and though
one might like somewhat more courtesy in the Faubourg, yet on the
field of battle it is all for the best this is no place, nor time, for com-
pliments."

The young man answered not a word, either not daring to criticise

too harshly his superior ; or, perhaps, his emotion at the moment was

^ too strong for utterance. In reply to my offer to remain with him,

however, he thanked me heartily, and seemed gratified that he was

not to be left alone in such a trying emergency.

" Come," said St Hilaire, after a pause, " I have asked for time,
and am already forgetting how to employ it*'

Who can write here ? can you, Guilbert ?'*

" Alas I no, sir," said a dark grenadier, blushing'to'the very eyes.

" If you will permit a stranger, sir," said I, " I will be but too
proud and too happy to render you any assistance in my power. I am
on the staff of General D'Auvergne, and "

" A French officer, sir," interrupted he ; ** quite enough ; I ask for
no other guerdon of your honour. Sit down here, then, and but first
^ try if you can discover a pocket-book in my sabertasch ; I hope it has

not been lost."

" Here it is, General," said a soldier, coming forward with it ; ^ I
found it on the ground beside you."

' Well, then, I will a|j^ you to write down from my dictation, a few

lines, which, should this affair " he faltered slightly here ; " this

affair prove unfortunate, you will undertake to convey, by some means
or other, to the address I shall give you in Paris. It is not a will, I as-
sure you," continued he, with a faint smile ; " I have no wealth to leave ;
but I know his majesty too well to fear any thing on that score ; but my

k children, I wish to give some few directions " Here he stopped

* for several minutes, and then, in a calm voice, added, ' Whenever you
are ready **

It was with a sufiering spirit, and a faltering hand, I wrote down
from his dictation, some short sentences, addressed to each member of
his family. Of these, it is not my intention to speak, save in one in-
stance, where St Hilaire himself evinced a wish that his sentiments,
should not be a matter of secrecy.

^ I desire," said he, in a firm tone of voice, as he turned round and
addressed the soldiers on either side of him ; " I desire that my son,
now at the Polytechnique, should serve the Emperor better than, and
as faithfully as his father has done ; if his majesty will graciously per-
mit him to do so, in the grenadier battalion, which I have long com-
manded ; it will be the greatest favour I can ask of him " A low

murmur of grief, no longer repressible, ran through the little group
around the litter. ' The grenadiers of the sixth," continued he,
proudly, while for an instant his pale features flushed up, " will not
love him the less for the name he bears. Come, come^ men do not

372 OUR MESS.

give way, thus ; what will my kind young friend here say of us, when
he joins the hussar-brigade. This is not their ordinary mood, believe
me, ' said he, addressing me ; ' the Russian guard would give a very
different account of them ^they are stouter fellows at the ^pas de
charge,* than around the litter of a wounded comrade."

While he was yet speaking, Louis returned, followed by two officers,
one of whom, notwithstanding his efforts at concealment, I recognised
to be Marshal Murat. .

We must remove him, if it be possible," said the surgeon^ in a
whisper ; ^^ and yet the slightest motion is tp Jbe dreaded."

* May I speak to him ?" said Murat, in a low voice.

" Yes, that you may," replied Louis, who now pushed his way for-
ward and approached the litter.

" Ah, so soon !" said the wounded man, looking up ; "a man of your
word, Louis and how is Rapp? nothing in this fashion, I hope,"
added he, pointing to his fractured limb with a sickly smile.

No, no," replied the surgeon ; but here is Marshal Murat come
to inquire after, you, from the Emperor."

A flush of pride lit up St Hilaire's features as he heard this ; and he
asked eagerly " Where, where ?"

" We must remove you, St. Hilaire," said Murat, endeavouring to
speak calmly, when it was evident .his feelings were highly excited;
'Louis says you must not remain here."

'As you like, Marshal ; what says his majesty ? is the affair as de-
cisive as he looked for ?*'

" Far more so : the allied army is destroyed the campaign is
ended."

^*Come, then, this is not so bad as I deemed it," r^oined St.
Hilaire, with a tone of almost gaiety ; *' I can afford to be invalided
if the Emperor has no further occasion for me."

While these few words were interchanging, Louis had applied a
tourniquet around the wounded limb, and having given the soldiers di-
rections how they were to step, so as not to disturb or displace the
shattered bones, he took his place beside the litter and said

" We are ready now, General."

They lifted - the litter as he spoke, and moved slowly forward.
Murat pressed the hand St. Hilaire extended to him, without a word ;
and then, turning his head away, suffered the party to pass on.

Before we reached Reygern, the wounded general had fallen into a
heavy sleep, from which he did not awake, as they laid him on the bed
in the hospital.

"Good night, sir, or, rather, good morning," said Louis to me, as I
turned to leave the spot ; " we may chance to have better news for you
than we anticipated, when you visit us here again."

And so we parted.