Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

  CHAPTER XIII. A FAREWELL LETTER

  It was in something less than a week after that I entered upon my newcareer as orderly in the staff, when I began to believe myself themost miserable of all human beings. On the saddle at sunrise, I neverdismounted, except to carry a measuring chain, 'to step distances,'mark out intrenchments, and then write away, for hours, longenormous reports, that were to be models of caligraphy, neatness andelegance--and never to be read. Nothing could be less like soldieringthan the life I led; and were it not for the clanking sabre I wore atmy side, and the jingling spurs that decorated my heels, I might havefancied myself a notary's clerk. It was part of General Moreau's plan tostrengthen the defences of Kehl before he advanced farther into Germany;and to this end repairs were begun upon a line of earthworks, abouttwo leagues to the northward of the fortress, at a small village called'Ekheim.' In this miserable little hole, one of the dreariest spotsimaginable, we were quartered, with two companies of sapeurs and some ofthe waggon-train, trenching, digging, carting earth, sinking wells, andin fact engaged in every kind of labour save that which seemed to becharacteristic of a soldier.

  I used to think that Nancy and the riding-school were the most drearyand tiresome of all destinies, but they were enjoyments and delightcompared with this. Now it very often happens in life that when a mangrows discontented and dissatisfied with mere monotony, when he chafesat the sameness of a tiresome and unexciting existence, he is rapidlyapproaching to some critical or eventful point, where actual peril andreal danger assail him, and from which he would willingly buy his escapeby falling back upon that wearisome and plodding life he had so oftendeplored before. This case was my own. Just as I had convinced myselfthat I was exceedingly wretched and miserable, I was to know there areworse things in this world than a life of mere uniform stupidity. I waswaiting outside my captain's door for orders one morning, when atthe tinkle of his little hand-bell I entered the room where he sat atbreakfast, with an open despatch before him.

  'Tiernay,' said he, in his usual quiet tone, 'here is an order from theadjutant-general to send you back under an escort to headquarters. Areyou aware of any reason for it, or is there any charge against you whichwarrants this?'

  'Not to my knowledge, _mon capitaine_,' said I, trembling with fright,for I well knew with what severity discipline was exercised in thatarmy, and how any, even the slightest, infractions met the heaviestpenalties.

  'I have never known you to pillage,' continued he, 'have never seen youdrink, nor have you been disobedient while under my command; yet thisorder could not be issued on light grounds; there must be some graveaccusation against you, and in any case you must go; therefore arrangeall my papers, put everything to rights, and be ready to return with theorderly.'

  'You'll give me a good character, _mon capitaine_,' said I, tremblingmore than ever--'you'll say what you can for me, I'm sure.'

  'Willingly, if the general or chief were here,' replied he; 'but that'snot so. General Moreau is at Strasbourg. It is General Regnier that isin command of the army, and unless specially applied to, I could notventure upon the liberty of obtruding my opinion upon him.'

  'Is he so severe, sir?' asked I timidly.

  'The general is a good disciplinarian,' said he cautiously, while hemotioned with his hand towards the door, and accepting the hint, Iretired.

  It was evening when I re-entered Kehl, under an escort of two of my ownregiment, and was conducted to the 'Salle de Police.' At the door stoodmy old corporal, whose malicious grin, as I alighted, revealed the wholestory of my arrest; and I now knew the charge that would be preferredagainst me--a heavier there could not be made--was, 'disobedience in thefield.' I slept very little that night, and when I did close my eyes, itwas to awake with a sudden start, and believe myself in presence ofthe court-martial, or listening to my sentence, as read out by thepresident. Towards day, however, I sank into a heavy, deep slumber, fromwhich I was aroused by the reveille of the barracks.

  I had barely time to dress when I was summoned before the 'TribunaleMilitaire'--a sort of permanent court-martial, whose sittings were heldin one of the churches of the town. Not even all the terror of my ownprecarious position could overcome the effect of old prejudices in mymind, as I saw myself led up the dim aisle of the church towards thealtar rails, within which, around a large table, were seated a number ofofficers, whose manner and bearing evinced but little reverence for thesacred character of the spot.

  Stationed in a group of poor wretches whose wan looks and anxiousglances told that they were prisoners like myself, I had time to seewhat was going forward around me. The president, who alone wore his hat,read from a sort of list before him the name of a prisoner and that ofthe witnesses in the cause. In an instant they were all drawn up andsworn. A few questions followed, rapidly put, and almost as rapidlyreplied to. The prisoner was called on then for his defence: if thisoccupied many minutes, he was sure to be interrupted by an order to bebrief. Then came the command to 'stand by'; and after a few seconds'consultation together, in which many times a burst of laughter might beheard, the Court agreed upon the sentence, recorded and signed it, andthen proceeded with the next case.

  If nothing in the procedure imposed reverence or respect, there was thatin the despatch which suggested terror, for it was plain to see that theCourt thought more of the cost of their own precious minutes than of theyears of those on whose fate they were deciding. I was sufficiently nearto hear the charges of those who were arraigned, and, for the greaternumber, they were all alike. Pillage, in one form or another, was theuniversal offending, and from the burning of a peasant's cottage, to thetheft of his dog or his _poulet_, all came under this head. At last camenumber 82--'Maurice Tiernay, hussar of the Ninth.' I stepped forward tothe rails.

  'Maurice Tiernay,' read the president hurriedly, 'accused by LouisGaussin, corporal of the same regiment, "of wilfully deserting his postwhile on duty in the field, and in the face of direct orders to thecontrary, inducing others to a similar breach of discipline." Make thecharge, Gaussin.'

  The corporal stepped forward, and began--

  'We were stationed in detachment on the bank of the Rhine, on theevening of the 23rd----'

  'The Court has too many duties to lose its time for nothing,'interrupted I. 'It is all true. I did desert my post, I did disobeyorders; and, seeing a weak point in the enemy's line, attacked andcarried it with success. The charge is, therefore, admitted by me, andit only remains for the Court to decide how far a soldier's zeal for hiscountry may be deserving of punishment. Whatever the result, one thingis perfectly clear, Corporal Gaussin will never be indicted for asimilar misdemeanour.'

  A murmur of voices and suppressed laughter followed this impertinent andnot over-discreet sally of mine, and the president, calling out, 'Provenby acknowledgment,' told me to 'stand by.' I now fell back to myformer place, to be interrogated by my comrades on the result of myexamination, and hear their exclamations of surprise and terror at therashness of my conduct. A little reflection of the circumstances wouldprobably have brought me over to their opinion, and shown me that I hadgratuitously thrown away an opportunity of self-defence; but my tempercould not brook the indignity of listening to the tiresome accusationand the stupid malevolence of the corporal, whose hatred was excited bythe influence I wielded over my comrades.

  It was long past noon ere the proceedings terminated, for the list was afull one, and at length the Court rose, apparently not sorry to exchangetheir tiresome duties for the pleasant offices of the dinner-table. Nosentences had been pronounced, but one very striking incident seemedto shadow forth a gloomy future. Three, of whom I was one, were marchedoff, doubly guarded, before the rest, and confined in separate cells ofthe 'Salle,' where every precaution against escape too plainly showedthe importance attached to our safe keeping.

  At about eight o'clock, as I was sitting on my bed--if that inclinedplane of wood, worn by the form of many a former prisoner, could deservethe name--a sergeant entered with the prison allowance of brea
d andwater. He placed it beside me without speaking, and stood for a fewseconds gazing at me.

  'What age art thou, lad?' said he, in a voice of compassionate interest.

  'Something over fifteen, I believe,' replied I.

  'Hast father and mother?'

  'Both are dead!'

  'Uncles or aunts living?'

  'Neither.'

  'Hast any friends who could help thee?'

  'That might depend on what the occasion for help should prove, for Ihave one friend in the world.'

  'Who is he?'

  'Colonel Mahon, of the Cuirassiers.'

  'I never heard of him--is he here?'

  'No, I left him at Nancy; but I could write to him.'

  'It would be too late, much too late.'

  'How do you mean--too late?' asked I tremblingly.

  'Because it is fixed for to-morrow evening,' replied he in a low,hesitating voice.

  'What? the--the----' I could not say the word, but merely imitated themotion of presenting and firing. He nodded gravely in acquiescence.

  'What hour is it to take place?' asked I.

  'After evening parade. The sentence must be signed by General Berthier,and he will not be here before that time.'

  'It would be too late then, sergeant,' said I, musing, 'far too late.Still I should like to write the letter; I should like to thank him forhis kindness in the past, and show him, too, that I have not been eitherunworthy or ungrateful. Could you let me have paper and pen, sergeant?'

  'I can venture so far, lad; but I cannot let thee have a light, it isagainst orders; and during the day, thou 'll be too strictly watched.*

  'No matter; let me have the paper, and I'll try to scratch a few linesin the dark; and thou 'lt post it for me, sergeant? I ask thee as a lastfavour to do this.'

  'I promise it,' said he, laying his hand on my shoulder. After standingfor a few minutes thus in silence, he started suddenly and left thecell.

  I now tried to eat my supper, but although resolved on behaving with astout and unflinching courage throughout the whole sad event, I couldnot swallow a mouthful. A sense of choking stopped me at every attempt,and even the water I could only get down by gulps. The efforts I madeto bear up seemed to have caused a species of hysterical excitement thatactually rose to the height of intoxication, for I talked away loudly tomyself, laughed and sung. I even jested and mocked myself on this suddentermination of a career that I used to anticipate as stored with futurefame and rewards. At intervals, I have no doubt that my mind wanderedfar beyond the control of reason, but as constantly came back again to afull consciousness of my melancholy position, and the fate that awaitedme. The noise of the key in the door silenced my ravings, and I satmotionless as the sergeant entered with the pen, ink, and paper, whichhe laid down upon the bed, and then as silently withdrew.

  A long interval of stupor, a state of dreary half consciousness, nowcame over me, from which I aroused myself with great difficulty to writethe few lines I destined for Colonel Mahon. I remember even now, longas has been the space of years since that event, full as it has been ofstirring and strange incidents, I remember perfectly the thought whichflashed across me, as I sat, pen in hand, before the paper. It was thenotion of a certain resemblance between our actions in this world withthe characters I was about to inscribe upon that paper. Written indarkness and in doubt, thought I, how shall they appear when brought tothe light! Perhaps those I have deemed the best and fairest shall seembut to be the weakest or the worst! What need of kindness to forgive theerrors, and of patience to endure the ignorance! At last I began: 'MonColonel,--Forgive, I pray you, the errors of these lines, penned in thedarkness of my cell, and the night before my death. They are writtento thank you ere I go hence, and to tell you that the poor heart whosebeating will soon be still, throbbed gratefully towards you to the last!I have been sentenced to death for a breach of discipline of which I wasguilty. Had I failed in the achievement of my enterprise by the bulletof an enemy, they would have named me with honour; but I have had themisfortune of success, and to-morrow am I to pay its penalty. I have thesatisfaction, however, of knowing that my share in that great day canneither be denied nor evaded; it is already on record, and the time mayyet come when my memory will be vindicated. I know not if these linesbe legible, nor if I have crossed or recrossed them. If they are blottedthey are not my tears have done it, for I have a firm heart and a goodcourage; and when the moment comes----' Here my hand trembled so much,and my brain grew so dizzy, that I lost the thread of my meaning,and merely jotted down at random a few words, vague, unconnected, andunintelligible, after which, and by an effort that cost all my strength,I wrote 'Maurice Tiernay, late Hussar of the 9th Regiment.'

  A hearty burst of tears followed the conclusion of this letter; all thepent-up emotion with which my heart was charged broke out at last, andI cried bitterly. Intense passions are, happily, never of long duration,and, better still, they are always the precursors of calm. Thus,tranquil, the dawn of morn broke upon me, when the sergeant came totake my letter, and apprise me that the adjutant would appear in a fewmoments to read my sentence, and inform me when it was to be executed.

  'Thou'It bear up well, lad; I know thou wilt,' said the poor fellow,with tears in his eyes. 'Thou hast no mother, and thou 'lt not have togrieve for her.'

  'Don't be afraid, sergeant; I'll not disgrace the old 9th. Tell mycomrades I said so.'

  'I will. I will tell them all! Is this thy jacket, lad?'

  'Yes; what do you want it for?'

  'I must take it away with me. Thou art not to wear it more?'

  'Not wear it, nor die in it! and why not?'

  'That is the sentence, lad; I cannot help it. It's very hard, verycruel; but so it is.'

  'Then I am to die dishonoured, sergeant; is that the sentence?'

  He dropped his head, and I could see that he moved his sleeve across hiseyes; and then, taking up my jacket, he came towards me.

  'Remember, lad, a stout heart; no flinching. Adieu--God bless thee.' Hekissed me on either cheek, and went out.

  He had not been gone many minutes, when the tramp of marching outsideapprised me of the coming of the adjutant, and the door of my cell beingthrown open, I was ordered to walk forth into the court of the prison.Two squadrons of my own regiment, all who were not on duty, weredrawn up, dismounted, and without arms; beside them stood a companyof grenadiers and a half battalion of the line, the corps to which theother two prisoners belonged, and who now came forward, in shirtsleeveslike myself, into the middle of the court.

  One of my fellow-sufferers was a very old soldier, whose hair andbeard were white as snow; the other was a middle-aged man, of a dark andforbidding aspect, who scowled at me angrily as I came up to his side,and seemed as if he scorned the companionship. I returned a glance,haughty and as full of defiance as his own, and never noticed him after.

  The drum beat a roll, and the word was given for silence in theranks--an order so strictly obeyed, that even the clash of a weapon wasunheard, and, stepping in front of the line, the Auditeur Militaire readout the sentences. As for me, I heard but the words '_Peine afflictiveet infamante'_; all the rest became confusion, shame, and terrorcommingled; nor did I know that the ceremonial was over when the troopsbegan to defile, and we were marched back again to our prison quarters.