Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XXXVIII. A ROYALIST 'DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE'

  On a hot and sultry day of June I found myself seated in a country cart,and under the guard of two mounted dragoons, wending my way towardsKuffstein, a Tyrol fortress, to which I was sentenced as a prisoner. Aweary journey was it; for in addition to my now sad thoughts I had tocontend against an attack of ague, which I had just caught, and whichwas then raging like a plague in the Austrian camp. One solitaryreminiscence, and that far from a pleasant one, clings to this period.We had halted on the outskirts of a little village called 'Broletto,'for the siesta, and there, in a clump of olives, were quietly dozingaway the sultry hours, when the clatter of horsemen awoke us; and onlooking up, we saw a cavalry escort sweep past at a gallop. The corporalwho commanded our party hurried into the village to learn the news, andsoon returned with the tidings that 'a great victory had been gainedover the French, commanded by Bonaparte in person; that the army was infull retreat; and this was the despatch an officer of Melas' staff wasnow hastening to lay at the feet of the emperor.'

  'I thought several times this morning,' said the corporal, 'that I heardartillery; and so it seems I might, for we are not above twenty milesfrom where the battle was fought.'

  'And how is the place called?' asked I, in a tone sceptical enough to beoffensive.

  'Marengo,' replied he; 'mayhap, the name will not escape your memory.'

  How true was the surmise, but in how different a sense from what heuttered it! But so it was; even as late as four o'clock the victorywas with the Austrians. Three separate envoys had left the field withtidings of success; and it was only late at night that the general,exhausted by a disastrous day, and almost broken-hearted, could write totell his master that 'Italy was lost.'

  I have many a temptation here to diverge from a line that I set down formyself in these memoirs, and from which as yet I have not wandered--Imean, not to dwell upon events wherein I was not myself an actor; butI am determined still to adhere to my rule, and, leaving that gloriousevent behind me, plod wearily along my journey.

  Day after day we journeyed through a country teeming with abundance:vast plains of corn and maize, olives and vines, everywhere--on themountains, the crags, the rocks, festooned over cliffs, and spreadingtheir tangled networks over cottages; and yet everywhere poverty,misery, and debasement, ruined villages, and a half-naked, starvingpopulace, met the eye at every turn. There was the stamp of slavery onall, and still more palpably was there the stamp of despotism in the airof their rulers.

  If any spot can impress the notion of impregnability it is Kuffstein.Situated on an eminence of rock over the Inn, three sides of the baseare washed by that rapid river. A little village occupies the fourth;and from this the supplies are hoisted up to the garrison above bycranes and pulleys--the only approach being by a path wide enough fora single man, and far too steep and difficult of access to admit of hiscarrying any burthen, however light. All that science and skill could dois added to the natural strength of the position, and from every surfaceof the vast rock itself the projecting mouths of guns and mortars showresources of defence it would seem madness to attack.

  Three thousand men, under the command of General Urleben, held thisfortress at the time I speak of, and by their habits of disciplineand vigilance showed that no over-security would make them neglect thecharge of so important a trust. I was the first French prisoner that hadever been confined within the walls, and to the accident of my uniformwas I indebted for this distinction. I have mentioned that in Genoa theygave me a staff-officer's dress and appointments, and from thiscasual circumstance it was supposed that I should know a great deal ofMassena's movements and intentions, and that by judicious management Imight be induced to reveal it.

  General Urleben, who had been brought up in France, was admirablycalculated to have promoted such an object were it practicable. Hepossessed the most winning address as well as great personal advantages,and although now past the middle of life, was reputed one of thehandsomest men in Austria. He at once invited me to his table, andhaving provided me with a delightful little chamber, from whence theview extended for miles along the Inn, he sent me stores of books,journals, and newspapers, French, English, and German, showing by thevery candour of their tidings a most flattering degree of confidence andtrust.

  If imprisonment could ever be endurable with resignation, mine ought tohave been so. My mornings were passed in weeding or gardening a littleplot of ground outside my window, giving me ample occupation in thatway, and rendering carnations and roses dearer to me, through all myafter-life, than without such associations they would ever have been.Then I used to sketch for hours, from the walls, bird's-eye views,prisoner's glimpses, of the glorious Tyrol scenery below us. Earlyin the afternoon came dinner; and then, with the general's pleasantconverse, a cigar, and a chess-board, the time wore smoothly on tillnightfall.

  An occasional thunderstorm, grander and more sublime than anything Ihave ever seen elsewhere, would now and then vary a life of calm but notunpleasant monotony; and occasionally, too, some passing escort, onthe way to or from Vienna, would give tidings of the war; but except inthese, each day was precisely like the other, so that when the almanactold me it was autumn, I could scarcely believe a single month hadglided over. I will not attempt to conceal the fact, that the ingloriousidleness of my life, this term of inactivity at an age when hope, andvigour, and energy were highest within me, was a grievous privation;but, except in these regrets, I could almost call this time a happyone. The unfortunate position in which I started in life gave me littleopportunity, or even inclination for learning. Except the little PereMichel had taught me, I knew nothing. I need not say that this was buta sorry stock of education, even at that period, when, I must say, thesabre was more in vogue than the grammar.

  I now set steadily about repairing this deficiency. General Urleben lentme all his aid, directing my studies, supplying me with books, andat times affording me the still greater assistance of his counsel andadvice. To history generally, but particularly that of France, he mademe pay the deepest attention, and seemed never to weary while impressingupon me the grandeur of our former monarchies, and the happiness ofFrance when ruled by her legitimate sovereigns.

  I had told him all that I knew myself of my birth and family, andfrequently would he allude to the subject of my reading, by saying, 'Theson of an old "Garde du Corps" needs no commentary when perusing suchdetails as these. Your own instincts tell you how nobly these servantsof a monarchy bore themselves--what chivalry lived at that time in men'shearts, and how generous and self-denying was their loyalty.'

  Such and such like were the expressions which dropped from him from timeto time; nor was their impression the less deep when supported by thetestimony of the memoirs with which he supplied me. Even in deeds ofmilitary glory the Monarchy could compete with the Republic, and Urlebentook care to insist upon a fact I was never unwilling to concede--thatthe well born were ever foremost in danger, no matter whether the bannerwas a white one or a tricolour.

  'Le bon sang ne peut pas mentir' was an adage I never disputed, althoughcertainly I never expected to hear it employed to the disparagement ofthose to whom it did not apply.

  As the winter set in I saw less of the general. He was usually muchoccupied in the mornings, and at evenings he was accustomed to godown to the village, where, of late, some French _emigre_ familieshad settled--unhappy exiles, who had both peril and poverty to contendagainst! Many such were scattered through the Tyrol at that period, bothfor the security and the cheapness it afforded. Of these, Urleben rarelyspoke; some chance allusion, when borrowing a book or taking away anewspaper, being the extent to which he ever referred to them.

  One morning, as I sat sketching on the walls, he came up to me and said,'Strange enough, Tiernay, last night I was looking at a view of thisvery scene, only taken from another point of sight; both were correct,accurate in every detail, and yet most dissimilar--what a singularillustration of many of our prejudices and opinions! The sketc
h I speakof was made by a young countrywoman of yours--a highly gifted lady, wholittle thought that the accomplishments of her education were one dayto be the resources of her livelihood. Even so,' said he, sighing, 'amarquise of the best blood of France is reduced to sell her drawings!'

  As I expressed a wish to see the sketches in question, he volunteeredto make the request if I would send some of mine in return; and thusaccidentally grew up a sort of intercourse between myself and thestrangers, which gradually extended to books and music, and, lastly, tocivil messages and inquiries of which the general was ever the bearer.

  What a boon was all this to me! What a sun-ray through the bars ofa prisoner's cell was this gleam of kindness and sympathy! The verysimilarity of our pursuits, too, had something inexpressibly pleasing init, and I bestowed ten times as much pains upon each sketch, now that Iknew to whose eyes it would be submitted.

  'Do you know, Tiernay,' said the general to me, one day, 'I am about toincur a very heavy penalty in your behalf--I am going to contravene thestrict orders of the War Office, and take you along with me this eveningdown to the village.'

  I started with surprise and delight together, and could not utter aword.

  'I know perfectly well,' continued he, 'that you will not abuse myconfidence. I ask, then, for nothing beyond your word, that you willnot make any attempt at escape; for this visit may lead to others, and Idesire, so far as possible, that you should feel as little constraint asa prisoner well may.'

  I readily gave the pledge required, and he went on--'I have no cautionsto give you, nor any counsels--Madame d'Aigreville is a Royalist.'

  'She is madame, then!' said I, in a voice of some disappointment.

  'Yes, she is a widow, but her niece is unmarried,' said he, smilingat my eagerness. I affected to hear the tidings with unconcern, but aburning flush covered my cheek, and I felt as uncomfortable as possible.

  I dined that day as usual with the general, adjourning after dinner tothe little drawing-room, where we played our chess. Never did heappear to me so tedious in his stories, so intolerably tiresome inhis digressions, as that evening. He halted at every move--he had somenarrative to recount, or some observation to make, that delayed ourgame to an enormous time; and at last, on looking out of the window, hefancied there was a thunderstorm brewing, and that we should do well toput off our visit to a more favourable opportunity.

  'It is little short of half a league,' said he, 'to the village, and inbad weather is worse than double the distance.'

  I did not dare to controvert his opinion, but, fortunately, a gleam ofsunshine shot, the same moment, through the window, and proclaimed afair evening.

  Heaven knows I had suffered little of a prisoner's durance--my life hadbeen one of comparative freedom and ease; and yet, I cannot tell theswelling emotion of my heart with which I emerged from the deep archwayof the fortress, and heard the bang of the heavy gate as it closedbehind me. Steep as was the path, I felt as if I could have boundeddown it without a fear! The sudden sense of liberty was maddening inits excitement, and I half suspect that had I been on horseback in thatmoment of wild delight, I should have forgotten all my plighted word andparole, though I sincerely trust that the madness would not have enduredbeyond a few minutes. If there be among my readers one who has knownimprisonment, he will forgive this confession of a weakness, which toothers of less experience will seem unworthy, perhaps dishonourable.

  Dorf Kuffstein was a fair specimen of the picturesque simplicity ofa Tyrol village. There were the usual number of houses, with carvedgalleries and quaint images in wood, the shrines and altars, the little'platz,' for Sunday recreation, and the shady alley for rifle practice.

  There were also the trellised walks of vines, and the orchards; in themidst of one of which we now approached a long, low farmhouse, whosegalleries projected over the river. This was the abode of Madamed'Aigreville.

  A peasant was cleaning a little mountain pony, from which a side-saddlehad just been removed as we came up, and he, leaving his work, proceededto ask us into the house, informing us, as he went, that the ladies hadjust returned from a long ramble, and would be with us presently.

  The drawing-room into which we were shown was a perfect picture ofcottage elegance; all the furniture was of polished walnut-wood, andkept in the very best condition. It opened by three spacious windowsupon the terrace above the river, and afforded a view of mountain andvalley for miles on every side. An easel was placed on this gallery, anda small sketch in oils of Kuffstein was already nigh completed on it.There were books, too, in different languages, and, to my inexpressibledelight, a piano!

  The reader will smile, perhaps, at the degree of pleasure objects sofamiliar and everyday called forth; but let him remember how removedwere all the passages of my life from such civilising influences--howlittle of the world had I seen beyond camps and barrack-rooms, and howignorant I was of the charm which a female presence can diffuse overeven the very humblest abode.

  Before I had well ceased to wonder, and admire these objects, themarquise entered.

  A tall and stately old lady, with an air at once haughty and gracious,received me with a profound curtsy, while she extended her hand to thesalute of the general She was dressed in deep mourning, and woreher white hair in two braids along her face. The sound of my nativelanguage, with its native accent, made me forget the almost profoundreserve of her manner, and I was fast recovering from the constraint hercoldness imposed, when her niece entered the room. Mademoiselle, who wasat that time about seventeen, but looked older by a year or two, was thevery ideal of brunette beauty; she was dark-eyed and black-haired, witha mouth the most beautifully formed; her figure was light, and her foota model of shape and symmetry. All this I saw in an instant, as shecame, half-sliding, half-bounding, to meet the general; and then turningto me, welcomed me with a cordial warmth, very different from thereception of Madame la Marquise.

  Whether it was the influence of her presence, whether it was a partialconcession of the old lady's own, or whether my own awkwardness waswearing off by time, I cannot say--but gradually the stiffness of theinterview began to diminish. From the scenery around us we grew to talkof the Tyrol generally, then of Switzerland, and lastly of France. Themarquise came from Auvergne, and was justly proud of the lovely sceneryof her birthplace.

  Calmly and tranquilly as the conversation had been carried on up tothis period, the mention of France seemed to break down the barrier ofreserve within the old lady's mind, and she burst out in a wild floodof reminiscences of the last time she had seen her native village. 'TheBlues,' as the revolutionary soldiers were called, had come downupon the quiet valley, carrying fire and carnage into a once peacefuldistrict. The chateau of her family was razed to the ground; her husbandwas shot upon his own terrace; the whole village was put to the sword;her own escape was owing to the compassion of the gardener's wife, whodressed her like a peasant boy, and employed her in a menial station, acondition she was forced to continue so long as the troops remained inthe neighbourhood. 'Yes,' said she, drawing off her silk mittens, 'thesehands still witness the hardships I speak of. These are the marks of myservitude.'

  It was in vain the general tried at first to sympathise, and thenwithdraw her from the theme; in vain her niece endeavoured to suggestanother topic, or convey a hint that the subject might be unpleasingto me. It was the old lady's one absorbing idea, and she could notrelinquish it. Whole volumes of the atrocities perpetrated by therevolutionary soldiery came to her recollection; each moment as shetalked, memory would recall this fact or the other, and so she continuedrattling on with the fervour of a heated imagination, and the wildimpetuosity of a half-crazed intellect. As for myself, I suffered farmore from witnessing the pain others felt for me, than from any offencethe topic occasioned me directly. These events were all 'before mytime.' I was neither a Blue by birth nor by adoption; a child during theperiod of revolution, I had only taken a man's part when the country,emerging from its term of anarchy and blood, stood at bay against thewh
ole of Europe. These consolations were, however, not known to theothers, and it was at last, in a moment of unendurable agony, thatmademoiselle rose and left the room.

  The general's eyes followed her as she went, and then sought mine withan expression full of deep meaning. If I read his look aright, itspoke patience and submission; and the lesson was an easier one than hethought.

  'They talk of heroism,' cried she frantically--'it was massacre!And when they speak of chivalry they mean the slaughter of women andchildren!' She looked round, and seeing that her niece had left theroom, suddenly dropped her voice to a whisper, and said, 'Think of hermother's fate, dragged from her home, her widowed, desolate home, andthrown into the Temple, outraged and insulted, condemned on a mocktrial, and then carried away to the guillotine! Ay, and even then, onthat spot which coming death might have sanctified, in that moment wheneven fiendish vengeance can turn away and leave its victim at libertyto utter a last prayer in peace, even then, these wretches devised ananguish greater than all death could compass. You will scarcely believeme,' said she, drawing in her breath, and talking with an almostconvulsive effort, 'you will scarcely believe me in what I am now aboutto tell you, but it is the truth--the simple but horrible truth. When mysister mounted the scaffold there was no priest to administer the lastrites. It was a time, indeed, when few were left; their hallowed headshad fallen in thousands before that. She waited for a few minutes,hoping that one would appear; and when the mob learned the meaning ofher delay, they set up a cry of fiendish laughter, and with a blasphemythat makes one shudder to think of, they pushed forward a boy, one ofthose blood-stained _gamins_ of the streets, and made him gabble a mocklitany! Yes, it is true--a horrible mockery of our service, in the earsand before the eyes of that dying saint.'

  'When? in what year? in what place was that?' cried I, in an agony ofeagerness.

  'I can give you both time and place, sir,' said the marquise, drawingherself proudly up, for she construed my question into a doubt of herveracity. 'It was in the year 1703, in the month of August; and as forthe place, it was one well seasoned to blood--the Place de Greve atParis.'

  A fainting sickness came over me as I heard these words; the dreadfultruth flashed across me that the victim was the Marquise d'Estelles, andthe boy on whose infamy she dwelt so strongly, no other than myself.For the moment, it was nothing to me that she had not identified me withthis atrocity; I felt no consolation in the thought that I was unknownand unsuspected. The heavy weight of the indignant accusation almostcrushed me. Its falsehood I knew, and yet could I dare to disprove it?Could I hazard the consequences of an avowal, which all my subsequentpleadings could never obliterate. Even were my innocence established inone point, what a position did it reduce me to in every other!

  These struggles must have manifested themselves strongly in my looks,for the marquise, with all her self-occupation, remarked how ill Iseemed. 'I see sir,' cried she, 'that all the ravages of war have notsteeled your heart against true piety; my tale has moved you strongly.'I muttered something in concurrence, and she went on. 'Happily for you,you were but a child when such scenes were happening. Not, indeed, thatchildhood was always unstained in those days of blood; but you were, asI understand, the son of a "Garde du Corps," one of those loyal men whosealed their devotion with their life. Were you in Paris then?'

  'Yes, madam,' said I briefly.

  'With your mother, perhaps?'

  'I was quite alone, madam--an orphan on both sides.'

  'What was your mother's family name?'

  Here was a puzzle; but at a hazard I resolved to claim her who shouldsound best to the ears of La Marquise. 'La Lasterie, madam,' said I.

  'La Lasterie de la Vignoble--a most distinguished house, sir. Provencal,and of the purest blood. Auguste de la Lasterie married the daughter ofthe Duke de Miriancourt, a cousin of my husband's, and there was anotherof them who went as ambassador to Madrid.'

  I knew none of them, and I suppose I looked as much.

  'Your mother was, probably, of the elder branch, sir?' asked she.

  I had to stammer out a most lamentable confession of my ignorance.

  'Not know your own kinsfolk, sir--not your nearest of blood!' cried she,in amazement. 'General, have you heard this strange avowal? or is itpossible that my ears have deceived me?'

  'Please to remember, madam,' said I submissively, 'the circumstances inwhich I passed my infancy. My father fell by the guillotine.'

  'And his son wears the uniform of those who slew him!'

  'Of a French soldier, madam, proud of the service he belongs to;glorying to be one of the first army in Europe.'

  'An army without a cause is a banditti, sir. Your soldiers, withoutloyalty, are without a banner.'

  'We have a country, madam.'

  'I must protest against this discussion going further,' said the generalblandly, while in a lower tone he whispered something in her ear.

  'Very true, very true,' said she; 'I had forgotten all that. Monsieurde Tiernay, you will forgive me this warmth. An old woman, who has lostnearly everything in the world, may have the privilege of bad temperaccorded her. We are friends now, I hope,' added she, extending herhand, and, with a smile of most gracious meaning, beckoning to me to sitbeside her on the sofa.

  Once away from the terrible theme of the Revolution, she conversed withmuch agreeability; and her niece having reappeared, the conversationbecame animated and pleasing. Need I say with what interest I nowregarded mademoiselle--the object of all my boyish devotion, the samewhose pale features I had watched for many an hour in the dim half-lightof the little chapel, her whose image was never absent from my thoughtswaking or sleeping, and now again appearing before me in all the graceof coming womanhood!

  Perhaps to obliterate any impression of her aunt's severity--perhaps itwas mere manner--but I thought there was a degree of anxiety to pleasein her bearing towards me. She spoke, too, as though our acquaintancewas to be continued by frequent meetings, and dropped hints ofplans that implied constant intercourse. Even excursions into theneighbourhood she spoke of; when, suddenly stopping, she said, 'Butthese are for the season of spring, and before that time Monsieur deTiernay will be far away.'

  'Who can tell that?' said I. 'I would seem to be forgotten by mycomrades.'

  'Then you must take care to do that which may refresh their memory,'said she pointedly; and before I could question her more closely as toher meaning, the general had risen to take his leave.

  'Madame la Marquise was somewhat more tart than usual,' said he to me,as we ascended the cliff; 'but you have passed the ordeal now, and thechances are, she will never offend you in the same way again. Greatallowances must be made for those who have suffered as she has.Family--fortune--station--even country--all lost to her; and even hopenow dashed by many a disappointment.'

  Though puzzled by the last few words, I made no remark on them, and heresumed--

  'She has invited you to come and see her as often as you are at liberty;and, for my part, you shall not be restricted in that way. Go and comeas you please, only do not infringe the hours of the fortress; and ifyou can concede a little now and then to the prejudices of the old lady,your intercourse will be all the more agreeable to both parties.'

  'I believe, general, that I have little of the Jacobin to recant,' saidI, laughing.

  'I should go further, my dear friend, and say, none,' added he. 'Youruniform is the only tint of "blue" about you.' And thus chatting, wereached the fortress, and said good-night.

  I have been particular, perhaps tiresomely so, in retelling these brokenphrases and snatches of conversation; but they were the first matchesapplied to a train that was long and artfully laid.