After the war our regiment was garrisoned in the capital, the least
dull, perhaps, of all the towns of Prussia: but that does not say much
for its gaiety. Our service, which was always severe, still left many
hours of the day disengaged, in which we might take our pleasure had we
the means of paying for the same. Many of our mess got leave to work
in trades; but I had been brought up to none: and besides, my honour
forbade me; for as a gentleman, I could not soil my fingers by a manual
occupation. But our pay was barely enough to keep us from starving; and
as I have always been fond of pleasure, and as the position in which we
now were, in the midst of the capital, prevented us from resorting to
those means of levying contributions which are always pretty feasible in
wartime, I was obliged to adopt the only means left me of providing
for my expenses: and in a word became the ORDONNANZ, or confidential
military gentleman, of my captain. I spurned the office four years
previously, when it was made to me in the English service; but the
position is very different in a foreign country; besides, to tell the
truth, after five years in the ranks, a man’s pride will submit to many
rebuffs which would be intolerable to him in an independent condition.
The captain was a young man and had distinguished himself during the
war, or he would never have been advanced to rank so early. He was,
moreover, the nephew and heir of the Minister of Police, Monsieur de
Potzdorff, a relationship which no doubt aided in the young gentleman’s
promotion. Captain de Potzdorff was a severe officer enough on parade or
in barracks, but he was a person easily led by flattery. I won his heart
in the first place by my manner of tying my hair in queue (indeed,
it was more neatly dressed than that of any man in the regiment),
and subsequently gained his confidence by a thousand little arts and
compliments, which as a gentleman myself I knew how to employ. He was a
man of pleasure, which he pursued more openly than most men in the stern
Court of the King; he was generous and careless with his purse, and he
had a great affection for Rhine wine: in all which qualities I sincerely
sympathised with him; and from which I, of course, had my profit. He was
disliked in the regiment, because he was supposed to have too intimate
relations with his uncle the Police Minister; to whom, it was hinted, he
carried the news of the corps.
Before long I had ingratiated myself considerably with my officer,
and knew most of his affairs. Thus I was relieved from many drills and
parades, which would otherwise have fallen to my lot, and came in for a
number of perquisites; which enabled me to support a genteel figure and
to appear with some ECLAT in a certain, though it must be confessed very
humble, society in Berlin. Among the ladies I was always an especial
favourite, and so polished was my behaviour amongst them, that they
could not understand how I should have obtained my frightful nickname of
the Black Devil in the regiment. ‘He is not so black as he is painted,’
I laughingly would say; and most of the ladies agreed that the private
was quite as well-bred as the captain: as indeed how should it be
otherwise, considering my education and birth?
When I was sufficiently ingratiated with him, I asked leave to address a
letter to my poor mother in Ireland, to whom I had not given any news of
myself for many many years; for the letters of the foreign soldiers were
never admitted to the post, for fear of appeals or disturbances on the
part of their parents abroad. My captain agreed to find means to forward
the letter, and as I knew that he would open it, I took care to give it
him unsealed; thus showing my confidence in him. But the letter was, as
you may imagine, written so that the writer should come to no harm were
it intercepted. I begged my honoured mother’s forgiveness for having
fled from her; I said that my extravagance and folly in my own country
I knew rendered my return thither impossible; but that she would, at
least, be glad to know that I was well and happy in the service of the
greatest monarch in the world, and that the soldier’s life was most
agreeable to me: and, I added, that I had found a kind protector and
patron, who I hoped would some day provide for me as I knew it was out
of her power to do. I offered remembrances to all the girls at Castle
Brady, naming them from Biddy to Becky downwards, and signed myself,
as in truth I was, her affectionate son, Redmond Barry, in Captain
Potzdorffs company of the Bulowisch regiment of foot in garrison at
Berlin. Also I told her a pleasant story about the King kicking the
Chancellor and three judges downstairs, as he had done one day when I
was on guard at Potsdam, and said I hoped for another war soon, when I
might rise to be an officer. In fact, you might have imagined my letter
to be that of the happiest fellow in the world, and I was not on this
head at all sorry to mislead my kind parent.
I was sure my letter was read, for Captain Potzdorff began asking me
some days afterwards about my family, and I told him the circumstances
pretty truly, all things considered. I was a cadet of a good family, but
my mother was almost ruined and had barely enough to support her eight
daughters, whom I named. I had been to study for the law at Dublin,
where I had got into debt and bad company, had killed a man in a
duel, and would be hanged or imprisoned by his powerful friends, if I
returned. I had enlisted in the English service, where an opportunity
for escape presented itself to me such as I could not resist; and
hereupon I told the story of Mr. Fakenham of Fakenham in such a way as
made my patron to be convulsed with laughter, and he told me afterwards
that he had repeated the story at Madame de Kamake’s evening assembly,
where all the world was anxious to have a sight of the young Englander.
‘Was the British Ambassador there?’ I asked, in a tone of the greatest
alarm, and added, ‘For Heaven’s sake, sir, do not tell my name to him,
or he might ask to have me delivered up: and I have no fancy to go to
be hanged in my dear native country.’ Potzdorff, laughing, said he would
take care that I should remain where I was, on which I swore eternal
gratitude to him.
Some days afterwards, and with rather a grave face, he said to me,
‘Redmond, I have been talking to our colonel about you, and as I
wondered that a fellow of your courage and talents had not been advanced
during the war, the general said they had had their eye upon you: that
you were a gallant soldier, and had evidently come of a good stock; that
no man in the regiment had had less fault found with him; but that no
man merited promotion less. You were idle, dissolute, and unprincipled;
you had done a deal of harm to the men; and, for all your talents and
bravery, he was sure would come to no good.’
‘Sir!’ said I, quite astonished that any mortal man should have formed
such an opinion of me, ‘I hope General Bulow is mistaken regarding my
character. I have fallen into bad company, it is true; but I have only
done as other soldiers have done; and, above all, I have never had a
kind friend and protector before, to whom I might show that I was worthy
of better things. The general may say I am a ruined lad, and send me to
the d---l: but be sure of this, I would go to the d---l to serve YOU.’
This speech I saw pleased my patron very much; and, as I was very
discreet and useful in a thousand delicate ways to him, he soon came to
have a sincere attachment for me. One day, or rather night, when he
was tete-a-tete with the lady of the Tabaks Rath von Dose for instance,
I--But there is no use in telling affairs which concern nobody now.
Four months after my letter to my mother, I got, under cover to the
Captain, a reply, which created in my mind a yearning after home, and
a melancholy which I cannot describe. I had not seen the dear soul’s
writing for five years. All the old days, and the fresh happy sunshine
of the old green fields in Ireland, and her love, and my uncle, and Phil
Purcell, and everything that I had done and thought, came back to me
as I read the letter; and when I was alone I cried over it, as I hadn’t
done since the day when Nora jilted me. I took care not to show my
feelings to the regiment or my captain: but that night, when I was
to have taken tea at the Garden-house outside Brandenburg Gate, with
Fraulein Lottchen (the Tabaks Rathinn’s gentlewoman of company), I
somehow had not the courage to go; but begged to be excused, and went
early to bed in barracks, out of which I went and came now almost as I
willed, and passed a long night weeping and thinking about dear Ireland.
Next day, my spirits rose again and I got a ten-guinea bill cashed,
which my mother sent in the letter, and gave a handsome treat to some of
my acquaintance. The poor soul’s letter was blotted all over with tears,
full of texts, and written in the wildest incoherent way. She said
she was delighted to think I was under a Protestant prince, though she
feared he was not in the right way: that right way, she said, she had
the blessing to find, under the guidance of the Reverend Joshua Jowls,
whom she sat under. She said he was a precious chosen vessel; a sweet
ointment and precious box of spikenard; and made use of a great number
more phrases that I could not understand; but one thing was clear in the
midst of all this jargon, that the good soul loved her son still, and
thought and prayed day and night for her wild Redmond. Has it not come
across many a poor fellow, in a solitary night’s watch, or in sorrow,
sickness, or captivity, that at that very minute, most likely, his
mother is praying for him? I often have had these thoughts; but they are
none of the gayest, and it’s quite as well that they don’t come to you
in company; for where would be a set of jolly fellows then?--as mute as
undertakers at a funeral, I promise you. I drank my mother’s health that
night in a bumper, and lived like a gentleman whilst the money lasted.
She pinched herself to give it me, as she told me afterwards; and Mr.
Jowls was very wroth with her. Although the good soul’s money was very
quickly spent, I was not long in getting more; for I had a hundred ways
of getting it, and became a universal favourite with the Captain and
his friends. Now, it was Madame von Dose who gave me a Frederic-d’or for
bringing her a bouquet or a letter from the Captain; now it was, on
the contrary, the old Privy Councillor who treated me with a bottle of
Rhenish, and slipped into my hand a dollar or two, in order that I might
give him some information regarding the liaison between my captain and
his lady. But though I was not such a fool as not to take his money, you
may be sure I was not dishonourable enough to betray my benefactor; and
he got very little out of ME. When the Captain and the lady fell out,
and he began to pay his addresses to the rich daughter of the Dutch
Minister, I don’t know how many more letters and guineas the unfortunate
Tabaks Rathinn handed over to me, that I might get her lover back again.
But such returns are rare in love, and the Captain used only to laugh at
her stale sighs and entreaties. In the house of Mynheer Van Guldensack
I made myself so pleasant to high and low, that I came to be quite
intimate there: and got the knowledge of a state secret or two, which
surprised and pleased my captain very much. These little hints he
carried to his uncle, the Minister of Police, who, no doubt, made
his advantage of them; and thus I began to be received quite in a
confidential light by the Potzdorff family, and became a mere nominal
soldier, being allowed to appear in plain clothes (which were, I warrant
you, of a neat fashion), and to enjoy myself in a hundred ways, which
the poor fellows my comrades envied. As for the sergeants, they were as
civil to me as to an officer: it was as much as their stripes were worth
to offend a person who had the ear of the Minister’s nephew. There was
in my company a young fellow by the name of Kurz, who was six feet high
in spite of his name, and whose life I had saved in some affair of
the war. What does this lad do, after I had recounted to him one of my
adventures, but call me a spy and informer, and beg me not to call
him DU any more, as is the fashion with young men when they are very
intimate. I had nothing for it but to call him out; but I owed him no
grudge. I disarmed him in a twinkling; and as I sent his sword flying
over his head, said to him, ‘Kurz, did ever you know a man guilty of
a mean action who can do as I do now?’ This silenced the rest of the
grumblers; and no man ever sneered at me after that.
No man can suppose that to a person of my fashion the waiting in
antechambers, the conversation of footmen and hangers-on, was pleasant.
But it was not more degrading than the barrack-room, of which I need not
say I was heartily sick. My protestations of liking for the army were
all intended to throw dust into the eyes of my employer. I sighed to be
out of slavery. I knew I was born to make a figure in the world. Had I
been one of the Neiss garrison, I would have cut my way to freedom
by the side of the gallant Frenchman; but here I had only artifice to
enable me to attain my end, and was not I justified in employing it? My
plan was this: I may make myself so necessary to M. de Potzdorff, that
he will obtain my freedom. Once free, with my fine person and good
family, I will do what ten thousand Irish gentlemen have done before,
and will marry a lady of fortune and condition. And the proof that I
was, if not disinterested, at least actuated by a noble ambition, is
this. There was a fat grocer’s widow in Berlin with six hundred thalers
of rent, and a good business, who gave me to understand that she would
purchase my discharge if I would marry her; but I frankly told her that
I was not made to be a grocer, and thus absolutely flung away a chance
of freedom which she offered me.
And I was grateful to my employers; more grateful than they to me. The
Captain was in debt, and had dealings with the Jews, to whom he gave
notes of hand payable on his uncle’s death. The old Herr von Potzdorff,
seeing the confidence his nephew had in me, offered to bribe me to know
what the young man’s affairs really were. But what did I do? I informed
Monsieur George von Potzdorff of the fact; and we made out, in concert,
a list of little debts, so moderate, that they actually appeased the old
uncle instead of irritating, and he paid them, being glad to get off so
cheap.
And a pretty return I got for this fidelity. One morning, the old
gentleman being closeted with his nephew (he used to come to get any
news stirring as to what the young officers of the regiment were doing:
whether this or that gambled; who intrigued, and with whom; who was at
the ridotto on such a night; who was in debt, and what not; for the King
liked to know the business of every officer in his army), I was
sent with a letter to the Marquis d’Argens (that afterwards married
Mademoiselle Cochois the actress), and, meeting the Marquis at a few
paces off in the street, gave my message, and returned to the Captain’s
lodging. He and his worthy uncle were making my unworthy self the
subject of conversation.
‘He is noble,’ said the Captain.
‘Bah!’ replied the uncle (whom I could have throttled for his
insolence). ‘All the beggarly Irish who ever enlisted tell the same
story.’
‘He was kidnapped by Galgenstein,’ resumed the other.
‘A kidnapped deserter,’ said M. Potzdorff; ‘la belle affaire!’
‘Well, I promised the lad I would ask for his discharge; and I am sure
you can make him useful.’
‘You HAVE asked his discharge,’ answered the elder, laughing. ‘Bon Dieu!
You are a model of probity! You’ll never succeed to my place, George, if
you are no wiser than you are just now. Make the fellow as useful to you
as you please. He has a good manner and a frank countenance. He can lie
with an assurance that I never saw surpassed, and fight, you say, on a
pinch. The scoundrel does not want for good qualities; but he is vain, a
spendthrift, and a bavard. As long as you have the regiment in terrorem
over him, you can do as you like with him. Once let him loose, and the
lad is likely to give you the slip. Keep on promising him; promise to
make him a general, if you like. What the deuce do I care? There are
spies enough to be had in this town without him.’
It was thus that the services I rendered to M. Potzdorff were qualified
by that ungrateful old gentleman; and I stole away from the room
extremely troubled in spirit, to think that another of my fond dreams
was thus dispelled; and that my hopes of getting out of the army,
by being useful to the Captain, were entirely vain. For some time
my despair was such, that I thought of marrying the widow; but the
marriages of privates are never allowed without the direct permission
of the King; and it was a matter of very great doubt whether His Majesty
would allow a young fellow of twenty-two, the handsomest man of his
army, to be coupled to a pimplefaced old widow of sixty, who was
quite beyond the age when her marriage would be likely to multiply the
subjects of His Majesty. This hope of liberty was therefore vain; nor
could I hope to purchase my discharge, unless any charitable soul would
lend me a large sum of money; for, though I made a good deal, as I
have said, yet I have always had through life an incorrigible knack of
spending, and (such is my generosity of disposition) have been in debt
ever since I was born.
My captain, the sly rascal! gave me a very different version of his
conversation with his uncle to that which I knew to be the true one; and
said smilingly to me, ‘Redmond, I have spoken to the Minister regarding
thy services,[Footnote: The service about which Mr. Barry here speaks
has, and we suspect purposely, been described by him in very dubious
terms. It is most probable that he was employed to wait at the table
of strangers in Berlin, and to bring to the Police Minister any news
concerning them which might at all interest the Government. The great
Frederick never received a guest without taking these hospitable
precautions; and as for the duels which Mr. Barry fights, may we be
allowed to hint a doubt as to a great number of these combats. It will
be observed, in one or two other parts of his Memoirs, that whenever he
is at an awkward pass, or does what the world does not usually consider
respectable, a duel, in which he is victorious, is sure to ensue; from
which he argues that he is a man of undoubted honour.] and thy fortune
is made. We shall get thee out of the army, appoint thee to the police
bureau, and procure for thee an inspectorship of customs; and, in fine,
allow thee to move in a better sphere than that in which Fortune has
hitherto placed thee.
Although I did not believe a word of this speech, I affected to be very
much moved by it, and of course swore eternal gratitude to the Captain
for his kindness to the poor Irish castaway.
‘Your service at the Dutch Minister’s has pleased me very well. There is
another occasion on which you may make yourself useful to us; and if you
succeed, depend on it your reward will be secure.’
‘What is the service, sir?’ said I; ‘I will do anything for so kind a
master.’
‘There is lately come to Berlin,’ said the Captain, ‘a gentleman in
the service of the Empress-Queen, who calls himself the Chevalier de
Balibari, and wears the red riband and star of the Pope’s order of the
Spur. He speaks Italian or French indifferently; but we have some
reason to fancy this Monsieur de Balibari is a native of your country of
Ireland. Did you ever hear such a name as Balibari in Ireland?’
‘Balibari? Balyb--?’ A sudden thought flashed across me. ‘No, sir,’ said
I, ‘I never heard the name.’
‘You must go into his service. Of course you will not know a word of
English: and if the Chevalier asks as to the particularity of your
accent, say you are a Hungarian. The servant who came with him will be
turned away to-day, and the person to whom he has applied for a faithful
fellow will recommend you. You are a Hungarian; you served in the Seven
Years’ War. You left the army on account of weakness of the loins. You
served Monsieur de Quellenberg two years; he is now with the army in
Silesia, but there is your certificate signed by him. You afterwards
lived with Doctor Mopsius, who will give you a character, if need be;
and the landlord of the “Star” will, of course, certify that you are an
honest fellow: but his certificate goes for nothing. As for the rest of
your story, you can fashion that as you will, and make it as romantic
or as ludicrous as your fancy dictates. Try, however, to win the
Chevalier’s confidence by provoking his compassion. He gambles a great
deal, and WINS. Do you know the cards well?’
‘Only a very little, as soldiers do.’
‘I had thought you more expert. You must find out if the Chevalier
cheats; if he does, we have him. He sees the English and Austrian envoys
continually, and the young men of either Ministry sup repeatedly at his
house. Find out what they talk of; for how much each plays, especially
if any of them play on parole: if you can read his private letters, of
course you will; though about those which go to the post, you need not
trouble yourself; we look at them there. But never see him write a note
without finding out to whom it goes, and by what channel or messenger.
He sleeps with the keys of his despatch-box on a string round his neck.
Twenty Frederics, if you get an impression of the keys. You will, of
course, go in plain clothes. You had best brush the powder out of your
hair, and tie it with a riband simply; your moustache you must of course
shave off.
With these instructions, and a very small gratuity, the Captain left me.
When I again saw him, he was amused at the change in my appearance.
I had, not without a pang (for they were as black as jet, and curled
elegantly), shaved off my moustaches; had removed the odious grease and
flour, which I always abominated, out of my hair; had mounted a demure
French grey coat, black satin breeches, and a maroon plush waistcoat,
and a hat without a cockade. I looked as meek and humble as any servant
out of place could possibly appear; and I think not my own regiment,
which was now at the review at Potsdam, would have known me. Thus
accoutred, I went to the ‘Star Hotel,’ where this stranger was,--my
heart beating with anxiety, and something telling me that this Chevalier
de Balibari was no other than Barry, of Ballybarry, my father’s eldest
brother, who had given up his estate in consequence of his obstinate
adherence to the Romish superstition. Before I went in to present
myself, I went to look in the remises at his carriage. Had he the Barry
arms? Yes, there they were: argent, a bend gules, with four escallops of
the field,--the ancient coat of my house. They were painted in a shield
about as big as my hat, on a smart chariot handsomely gilded, surmounted
with a coronet, and supported by eight or nine Cupids, cornucopias, and
flower-baskets, according to the queer heraldic fashion of those days.
It must be he! I felt quite feint as I went up the stairs. I was going
to present myself before my uncle in the character of a servant!
‘You are the young man whom M. de Seebach recommended?’
I bowed, and handed him a letter from that gentleman, with which my
captain had taken care to provide me. As he looked at it I had leisure
to examine him. My uncle was a man of sixty years of age, dressed
superbly in a coat and breeches of apricot-coloured velvet, a white
satin waistcoat embroidered with gold like the coat. Across his breast
went the purple riband of his order of the Spur; and the star of the
order, an enormous one, sparkled on his breast. He had rings on all his
fingers, a couple of watches in his fobs, a rich diamond solitaire in
the black riband round his neck, and fastened to the bag of his wig; his
ruffles and frills were decorated with a profusion of the richest lace.
He had pink silk stockings rolled over the knee, and tied with gold
garters; and enormous diamond buckles to his red-heeled shoes. A sword
mounted in gold, in a white fish-skin scabbard; and a hat richly laced,
and lined with white feathers, which were lying on a table beside him,
completed the costume of this splendid gentleman. In height he was
about my size, that is, six feet and half an inch; his cast of features
singularly like mine, and extremely distingue. One of his eyes was
closed with a black patch, however; he wore a little white and red
paint, by no means an unusual ornament in those days; and a pair of
moustaches, which fell over his lip and hid a mouth that I afterwards
found had rather a disagreeable expression. When his beard was removed,
the upper teeth appeared to project very much; and his countenance wore
a ghastly fixed smile, by no means pleasant.
It was very imprudent of me; but when I saw the splendour of his
appearance, the nobleness of his manner, I felt it impossible to keep
disguise with him; and when he said, ‘Ah, you are a Hungarian, I see!’ I
could hold no longer.
‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I am an Irishman, and my name is Redmond Barry, of
Ballybarry.’ As I spoke, I burst into tears; I can’t tell why; but I had
seen none of my kith or kin for six years, and my heart longed for some
one.