Produced by Martin Robb
WON BY THE SWORD
A STORY OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR
By G.A. Henty
PREFACE.
MY DEAR LADS,
In my preface to the Lion of the North I expressed a hope that I might
some day be able to continue the history of the Thirty Years' War. The
deaths of Gustavus and his great rival Wallenstein and the crushing
defeat of the Swedes and their allies at the battle of Nordlingen
brought the first period of that war to a close. Hostilities, indeed,
never ceased, but the Swedes no longer played the leading part on the
Protestant side that they had hitherto occupied. Oxenstiern, the great
chancellor of Sweden, saw that the only hope of eventual success lay in
engaging France in the struggle, and he and the Duke of Weimar went
to Paris and pointed out to Richelieu that unless France intervened,
Austria must become the master of all Germany, and as the ally of Spain
would have it in her power to completely dominate France. Richelieu
perceived the opportunity, made a treaty with the Swedes and Weimar, and
engaged to grant large subsidies to the former, and to send an army to
cooperate with the latter. Then began the second period of this long and
terrible struggle, France now taking the place that Sweden had hitherto
occupied, and bearing the brunt of the conflict. She emerged triumphant
with her territories largely increased, while Austria was crushed and
humiliated, and Spain was dethroned from her position as the dominating
power of Europe. The success of France was greatly due to the fact that
her armies were led by two of the greatest military geniuses of all
times, viz., Conde and Turenne, men of very different types, but equally
great as commanders, and equally at the time of which we are speaking
devoted to the cause of France. Both were men of extraordinary personal
courage, and although one was as prudent and careful of the lives of his
troops as the other was impetuous and careless at what cost he won his
victories, they worked together with a harmony that could have hardly
been expected among men so differently constituted. Although, in
the subsequent wars of the Fronde they took different sides, their
friendship, except during a short period of alienation, was never
shaken, and their admiration for each other's genius never abated.
Yours sincerely,
G.A. HENTY
CHAPTER I: A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE
A mounted officer, followed by two orderlies, was proceeding at a brisk
trot from Paris to St. Denis, in October, 1639, when he came upon a
large party of boys, who, armed with sticks, were advancing in something
like military order against a wall on the top of a low hill.
“What are you doing?” he asked the lad who appeared to be the leader.
“We are playing at war, sir. We are advancing against the fortress of La
Motte. This is the regiment of Turenne.”
“And who are you at other times?” the officer asked with a smile.
“My name is Hector Campbell, sir.”
“Then you are not French?”
“No, sir; my father was an officer in the Scotch regiment. He was killed
at the siege of La Rochelle.”
“And who is taking care of you?”
“I live with Angus MacIntosh. He was a sergeant in my father's company.
He was badly wounded at La Rochelle, and not being fit for further
service, he took a cabaret near the barracks. The officers are very
kind. They allow him a sum for taking care of me. Of course I am often
in barracks, and have learned the drill, and I have heard and read about
battles and sieges, so I am chosen to command.”
“And so you know something of the battles in which Turenne was engaged?”
“I think I know about them all, sir, both in Holland and on the Rhine,
and have seen plans of the battles. Of course this is not at all like
La Motte, which was on the top of a high rock, so that when Turenne was
ordered to attack with his regiment after the general's son had failed,
he had to pass not only through a heavy fire, but through the huge
stones that the enemy hurled down. It was grand; and he did well at
all the other sieges. Then, again, there was Saverne. See how he
fought there, and stormed the place when even the Swedes, who are good
soldiers, had failed. I think he is going to be the greatest of our
captains.”
“Turenne is only a learner in the art of war,” the other said gravely.
“I think he has learnt more than any of the rest,” the boy said boldly;
“and all the soldiers love him more than any of the other generals, for
he takes such care of them, and does not treat them as if they were dirt
under his feet, only meant to obey orders, and go and get killed when
told.”
“You have heard him very much over praised,” the officer said quietly.
“I think that he does his best; but he is a young man yet, not older
than I am. His advance has been due to fortune rather than to his own
merits.”
“I don't think so,” the boy said sturdily. “Do you think that he would
be a lieutenant general at twenty-eight, and that all the soldiers would
speak of him as they do, if it were only fortune? Look how he captured
Landrecies and Solre, and drove the Austrians back from Maubeurge, and
aided the Duke of Weimar to thrash them at Weilenweir, and stormed the
main fort of Breisach! He has been successful in all his enterprises,
and now it is said he is to command in Italy, where things have been
going on badly. The cardinal would not have chosen him had he not
considered that no one could do better than he.”
The officer laughed. “Well, young sir, I see that you are so well
acquainted with the sieges and battles of our time that I cannot argue
with you.”
“I did not mean that, sir,” the boy said in some confusion. “I was only
saying what our soldiers think, and it is natural that I, being only a
boy, should make him my hero, for he went to the wars when he was a year
younger than I am, and at fourteen carried a musket as a volunteer
under Maurice of Nassau, and for five years he was in all the battles in
Holland, and raised the first battery that opened on Bois-le-duc.”
“And do you receive no pension as the son of an officer killed in
battle?”
“No, sir. When the living soldiers often have to go months without their
pay, the sons of dead ones can hardly expect to be thought of. But I
don't care; in two years I shall be old enough to enlist, and I shall go
to the frontier and join Hepburn's Scottish brigade, who are now, they
say, in the French service.”
“They are fine soldiers--none better,” the officer said. “But why does
not the colonel of your father's regiment ask for a commission for you?”
“The regiment is not in favour with the cardinal,” the boy replied with
a smile. “They are too Protestant for his eminence, and the colonel is
not a man to ask favours if he is likely to be refused.”
“Well,” the officer said, “it is clear to me that you are a lad of
spirit, and that you have done your best to prepare yourself for your
profession as a soldier by studying military history, and I think it
hard that, as the son of an officer who died in battle for France,
France should have done nothing for you. I have some little influence
myself. What is the name of this cabaret that Sergeant MacIntosh keeps?”
“The Scottish Soldier, sir. It is near the gate of the barracks of St.
Denis.”
“Do not go out tomorrow afternoon. I will have a talk with him, and
maybe I can be of some assistance to you.”
So saying, he touched his horse's flank with his heel and rode on, while
the boys continued their play. The next afternoon the lad remained at
home, to the surprise of the sergeant.
“What keeps you in today, Hector? It is rare indeed that you are indoors
in the afternoon.”
“An officer came along while we were playing,” the lad said, “and
asked me some questions. I told him who I was. He said that he had some
influence, and might be able to assist me.”
“What sort of assistance?” the sergeant grumbled. “He must have
influence indeed if he can get you a pension.”
“I don't think it was that,” the boy said. “I said that I should like to
enlist as a volunteer.”
The sergeant laughed. “Well, they do take volunteers as young as you
are, Hector, but they must be cadets of a noble family. You will have to
wait another couple of years before they will enlist you, much less take
you as a volunteer.”
There were a good many Scottish soldiers sitting in the room, when an
officer rode up to the door and dismounted.
“It is a general officer,” one of the men said, looking out of the
window, and as the door opened and the officer entered, all stood up and
saluted.
“Sit down, men,” he said. “I am not here to disturb you, but to have a
talk with Sergeant MacIntosh. Have you a room, sergeant, where we can
speak privately?”
“Yes, general,” the sergeant said, saluting again, and led the way into
a little room generally devoted to the use of noncommissioned officers.
The officer caught Hector's eye, and beckoned to him to follow.
“Do you know me, sergeant?”
“Yes, general, you are Viscount Turenne.”
Hector gave an involuntary exclamation of horror at the thought of the
freedom with which he had the day before discoursed with this famous
commander. Military officers at that time did not wear any set uniforms,
and indeed there was very considerable latitude among the soldiers, and
it was only because he was followed by two attendants that the boy had
taken him to be an officer, probably a young captain. The quietness of
his dress had not even led him to believe that he belonged to a noble
family.
“This lad tells me that he is the son of Captain Campbell of the
Scottish regiment?”
“That is so, general.”
“And also that you were a sergeant in his father's company, and have
since taken care of him.”
“I have done the best I could for him, general; but indeed the officers
of the regiment allow me quite as much as the lad's food costs.”
“He seems to be a careful student of military history, sergeant?”
“That he is, sir. I don't think there has been a battle, or even a
skirmish, in the past ten years which he cannot tell you the ins and
outs of. He will sit here for hours as quiet as a mouse when some
soldiers from the wars come in, and sometimes he gets books lent him
with the plans of battles and sieges, and when he is not doing that he
is in the barrack yard watching the men drill. I believe he knows all
the words of command as well as any captain in the Scottish regiment. As
to handling his musket, I have taught him that myself, and the use of
a sword, too, since he was ten years old, and the men of his father's
company have taken pleasure in teaching the lad all they knew in that
way.”
“He reminds me of my own boyhood,” the general said. “I like his looks,
and it seems to me that he has the making of a good officer. All the
officers of the regiment are men of good Scottish families, and as such
can serve in any capacity. I have often need of a young officer who can
carry my messages on a field of battle, and can be trusted to understand
their import and deliver them faithfully. Now, Campbell,” he said,
turning to the lad, who was standing with flushed face and eyes beaming
with delight and gratitude, “I will give you the choice. I will either
appoint you a volunteer for a year, in which time, if your conduct is
satisfactory, I will name you lieutenant, or I will take you directly
into my own household. My object in either case would be to produce an
officer likely to be useful to his Majesty.
“I should certainly not have adopted that course had it not been that
you appear already to have learned the duties of a soldier, and to
be acquainted with the ordinary drill and with the necessities of a
soldier's life. If you enter my household you will find it no child's
play, certainly no life of ease and comfort. I do not spare myself, nor
do I spare the officers immediately under me. In a regiment you would
learn better, perhaps, the duties of a regimental officer, but with me
you will have more opportunities of learning the art of war, and of some
day becoming a distinguished officer, always supposing that you are
not shot down in battle or die of fatigue and hardship. Which do you
choose?”
“Oh, sir, how can I thank you for your goodness? There is nothing in the
world that I should like so much as to be in your service.”
“So be it,” the general said. “I shall obtain an appointment for you as
lieutenant attached to my household. At first, you will simply have to
carry messages for me; but when I have learnt more of your character I
shall employ you as one that I can trust.
“Sergeant, here is a purse, use the contents in furnishing the lad with
clothes suitable for his position, and let him call on me in three days
at the hotel of the Duc de Bouillon, where I am staying.
“Can you ride?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes, sir.”
“I will see to the matter of a horse for you. I shall be leaving at the
end of a week to join the army in Italy. And remember always, lad,” he
added with a smile, “that I am still but a learner in the art of war.”
So saying he nodded kindly to him and the sergeant, went out, returned
the salute of the soldiers, mounted his horse, which his orderly was
holding for him, and rode off.
“Well, well,” said the sergeant, who with Hector had followed him out,
“the like of this I never saw before: to think that the Viscount of
Turenne should visit the cabaret of a soldier, and should have deigned
to offer you a position in his household! I can scarce believe that I
am not dreaming. How did it all come about, and how have you thus gained
his favour?”
“I am ashamed to say, sergeant, that I gained it by my presumption; now
that I know who he was, I may say by my insolence. A party of us were
having a mimic battle. We were acting as the regiment of Turenne at the
storming of La Motte. I was in command, and so acting as Turenne, when
a gentleman, who, by his appearance and age, and by the fact that two
troopers rode behind him, I took to be a captain in the army, came up
and questioned me as to what we were doing. I told him, then he talked
about Turenne. I said I thought he was our greatest general. He, that
Turenne was only a learner in the art of war. I upheld him, and spoke
of the battles and sieges in which he had taken part. Then he asked me
about myself, and I told him my birth and bringing up, and he said he
might be of assistance to me, and would call here and see you.”
“Well, well, it almost passes belief, Hector, that a boy like you should
have dared to enter into an argument with an officer, even if only, as
you believed, a captain. And to think that this has come of it, instead
of his having laid his whip across your back, as you deserved. Your
fortune is made, lad, that is, if you behave yourself. Turenne is a
great soldier; and more than that, from what I have heard he is loved by
his men more than any other general, and they will do anything for
him. His regiment here, though he was but nineteen when he obtained
his command, was admitted to be one of the best drilled and the best
disciplined of any in the service.
“He saw to everything himself, spent his whole time in drilling them
as if he had been only a lieutenant with nothing but his sword for his
fortune, instead of a great noble. When he was with de la Valette
and Weimar, and the army had to fall back and were well nigh starved,
Turenne sold his plate and his carriages to buy food for the men. He had
his own baggage thrown out of the wagons to make room for those who
were too weak to march; and on one occasion gave up his own horse to a
soldier who was sinking from fatigue and hunger, and himself marched on
foot. He always leads his troops in battle, and wherever he goes they
will follow. He was right in saying that he does not spare himself. The
soldiers believe that he does without any sleep when on a campaign, for
he is for ever going round seeing that everything is in order, that the
outposts are properly placed and vigilant, and that the soldiers have
food, and such comfort as can be obtained. Now let us go in and tell my
comrades of your good fortune. There is not a man in the regiment who
will not be glad to hear of it. I will go across with you myself to the
colonel's lodging.”
“But please, sergeant, do not say a word about my folly; only say that
the general, coming across a party of us playing at war, questioned me,
and finding that I was the son of a Scottish officer who had been killed
at La Rochelle, and that I had worked hard at getting up the history
of the wars, and longed much to go into the army, had promised to come
round the next day, and said that he might be able to aid me.”
“I understand, lad. Yes, it is better that your foolishness should not
be known.”
The colonel was greatly pleased when he heard of what had happened.
“I had intended myself to have asked for a commission for you when you
were a couple of years older,” he said to Hector, “but I was by no means
sure of getting it, for the cardinal is not partial to the regiment.
Turenne, however, stands high in his favour--in spite of the fact that
his brother, the Duc de Bouillon, has left Richelieu's party, and is
regarded by him as an enemy--so we may be sure that your commission will
be at once signed. You must sup with me and the officers of the regiment
tonight. There is not one who will not rejoice that your father's son
has met with such good fortune, for assuredly you could not have entered
the army under better auspices.
“It is just like Turenne to have thus come forward to assist the son of
a brave soldier killed in action. As a rule, I am sorry to say that the
officers of our army concern themselves but little with the affairs
of the soldiers under their command. Of course in our regiment it is
different, as we have many gentlemen of well known Scottish families
serving in the ranks, and most of the others are our own clansmen,
or come from our dales. We all cling together as countrymen among
strangers, though indeed we can hardly regard them as strangers, seeing
that Scotland and France have ever been allies, and that our Queen Mary
was a French princess. And now that Scotland has given kings to England,
and English troops fought side by side with the French under Henry of
Navarre against the Spaniards and Guises, and, although not in strict
alliance, are alike enemies of the Spaniards, we can scarce feel
ourselves as strangers here. Besides, is not a French princess wife of
King Charles?
“I do not say that either England or France has altogether forgotten the
long wars between them, but that is a very old story now, and as long
as Spain threatens to extend her power over all Europe, so long are we
likely to remain good friends. If the power of Spain is once broken, old
quarrels may break out again, but I trust that that will not be in my
time, for assuredly the regiment, although willing to fight against all
other enemies of France, would refuse to march against our countrymen.
Now, Sergeant MacIntosh, I know that you must be anxious to get back to
your inn. You will have a busy time this afternoon unless I am greatly
mistaken. Leave Campbell with me.
“In the first place, it will be as well that he should not be down
there, for the fun is likely to get fast and furious. There is not a
man in the regiment who knew his father but will be drinking the lad's
health, and it were better that he should go tomorrow through the
barracks and shake their hands, than that he should be among them there.
You can tell them that I have taken the boy off, so that they may not
think that he stayed away on his own account. We will see him fitted
out. It is a matter that touches the honour of the regiment that the
son of our old comrade should make a fair show in the household of the
viscount.”
“The general has left me a purse for that purpose, colonel.”
“It was a kindly thought, but let the lad start with it in his pocket.
It is our duty to see that he has everything befitting his father's
son.”
As soon as the sergeant left, the colonel said, “Now, Campbell, do you
go into the anteroom. I shall be ready to go out with you in half an
hour.”
Orderlies were then despatched to the various officers' lodgings, and in
a few minutes they assembled. The colonel told them what had happened,
and said that in his opinion it concerned the honour of the regiment to
see that their comrade's son was properly equipped.
All those who had known Captain Campbell were greatly pleased with the
news, and there was not a dissenting voice when the colonel proposed
that there should be a general subscription of two days' pay. He
himself, however, and Captain Campbell's friends, gave a much larger
amount, and the total was amply sufficient for the equipment of a young
man of good family joining the army. Hector was then called in and
informed of what had taken place, and heartily congratulated by the
officers. He was greatly affected by their kindness and the proof of the
estimation in which his father had been held.
“We had always intended to do this,” the colonel said, “when the time
came for your entering the army, for we felt that it would indeed be
a discredit to the regiment were you to go into the world without the
equipment that a Scottish gentleman should have. Now, Captain Mackenzie
and Captain Home, I will ask you to act as furnishers. You know what
is required for a young officer on the staff of a general like Viscount
Turenne, who would be called upon to accompany him to court, and must
do him no discredit; besides which, he must of course have clothes for
a campaign. He will not need arms, for I have kept for him his father's
sword and pistols. See that the tailors undertake to get his clothes
ready quickly, for he is to accompany Turenne to Italy in four or five
days. One suit at least must be finished in two days, for on the third
he is to wait upon Turenne, who is staying at the hotel of the Duc de
Bouillon, and he may possibly be presented to the cardinal.”
The dress of a French gentleman in the reign of Louis XIII differed but
slightly from that worn at the same time by the cavaliers of Charles
I. It consisted of a loose cloak of cloth, silk, satin, or velvet,
according to the occasion and the wealth of the wearer. It generally
hung loosely on the shoulders, but two or three of the top buttons were
sometimes fastened; the sleeves were loose and open from the elbow.
Sometimes the cloak was richly embroidered. Over it fell a collar of
rich lace, with Vandyke border. Beneath it was worn a short tightly
fitted doublet embroidered in front, with puffed sleeves, and with a
belt or sash round the waist. The breeches were very full, reaching to
the knee. For walking or riding, loose high boots turned down at the top
and trimmed with lace or frillings joined the breeches; while in court
dress, silk stockings and shoes with rosettes were worn. The swords hung
from a richly embroidered baldrick going over the right shoulder.
Officers of the different regiments were distinguished by the colour of
their sashes, which was the only point of regimental uniformity. When on
a campaign doublets were usually worn of thick buff leather; armour was
still used, but was far less cumbrous than it had been, consisting
for the most part solely of shoulder pieces and cuirass, with plates
covering the upper part of the arm, thick buff leather gauntlets being
considered sufficient protection below the elbow. Four suits were
ordered for Hector: one for court, another for general use when in Paris
or other large towns, the third for travelling and when in attendance
with the general, the fourth for actual service in the field.
Almost as expensive as the suits were the shirts, with their deep lace
collars and ruffle; while for service in the field half a dozen plain
shirts were purchased. The headdress on ordinary occasions was a broad
beaver hat with plumes, and in the field a close fitting helmet with
cheek pieces. Visors had been almost entirely given up. On the third day
Hector presented himself at the appointed hour at the hotel of the Duc
de Bouillon. He was dressed in the second best of his costumes, and
wore for the first time his father's sword. In the hall were numbers of
soldiers and lackeys. One of the latter came up to him.
“I am here to see the Viscount Turenne by appointment,” he said.
The lackey led the way to a large chamber, where several officers and
gentlemen were waiting. Here Hector gave his name to a chamberlain, who
took it into another apartment. He waited for half an hour, and observed
that while the officers, one by one, were taken into the room where the
lackey had carried his name, the nobles and gentlemen, who were
much more numerous, were shown into another, which was evidently the
principal reception room. He guessed at once that it was here that the
Duc de Bouillon was receiving visitors, while his brother was engaged in
giving interviews to officers, who perhaps desired appointments in his
army, or in arranging details of stores, arms, and ammunition required
for its use. At last his turn came; and on his name being called, he
followed the usher into a small apartment, where Turenne was sitting at
a table covered with letters. The general looked at him critically.
“You make a very good figure,” he said, “and better, I can tell you,
than I did at your age, for I was but weakly, while you are well grown
and strong. Among your other exercises you have not neglected the use of
your sword. I could tell that as soon as my eyes fell upon you.”
“No, general, I have practised for two or three hours a day since I was
ten years old, and I think that almost every soldier in the regiment
has been my instructor in turn, and the maitre-d'armes of the regiment
himself gave me lessons twice a week.”
“I have managed your business for you,” the viscount said. “I saw the
cardinal yesterday and asked for a commission for you. He simply asked
for what regiment, and I said that at present I intended to keep you
about my own person, as I thought you would make a good officer and
would some day do me credit. He was busy at the time, so he simply
signed an appointment as a lieutenant and gave it to me to fill in your
name. I asked if I should bring you to his levee tomorrow, but he said,
'There is no occasion, viscount, we have both plenty on our hands;
neither you nor I can waste time on young lieutenants. You can present
him to me when you return from the war.' You know the cardinal by sight,
I suppose?”
“Yes, general, I have seen him many times.”
“He is a great man,” Turenne said thoughtfully, rather as if speaking to
himself than to Hector; “the greatest that France has ever known--he is
the soul of France. It is well, indeed, that we have at present a king
who recognizes how great a man he is, and is wise enough to know that
although he himself is somewhat overshadowed, France is made greater and
stronger and his own reign more glorious by his genius.” Then he broke
off with a smile. “I was talking to myself rather than to you. I shall
ride to St. Denis at two o'clock today; be here at that time. I will
order the horse, that I have purchased for you, to be brought round
here.”
Hector was about to express his gratitude, but the general at once
stopped him. “I need no thanks,” he said. “I perceived in the ardour
with which you have studied military matters that you would make a good
officer, and you remind me of my own boyhood. I always like to help
forward officers who I see ready, not only to do their actual business
but to go beyond it, in order to acquire knowledge, and I doubt not that
I shall find this in you. But you must remember, lad, that you are now
no longer a civilian, but a soldier, that you must be not only obedient
but respectful to those above you in rank, that discretion as well as
courage is necessary for success, that you must be thoughtful for
the comfort of the soldiers, ready to expose your life in battle
to encourage them, and also to set them an example of endurance,
cheerfulness, and good spirits in times of hardship and distress.
Remember that, to the soldier, there is no such thing as party; he
fights for France and for France only, and should hold himself aloof
from even the smallest expression of opinion on political matters. Then,
at two o'clock.”
Hector bowed deeply and left the room. When he returned to the hotel
at two o'clock, six grooms were standing with the horses before the
entrance; he waited outside until the viscount, followed by four
officers, came out.
“Oh, here you are, lieutenant!” he said, as his eye fell on Hector; “I
was afraid that punctuality was not among your virtues. Gentlemen, this
is Lieutenant Hector Campbell, son of a brave officer of the Scottish
regiment who fell at La Rochelle; he is, for the present, attached to
my household, and will ride with us for Italy the day after tomorrow.
Campbell, this gentleman is Colonel d'Estampes, who is the head of
my staff; this Major Mutton, who will have the control of all matters
connected with the artillery; these are Messieurs de Lisle and Emile de
Chavigny, who are my aides-de-camp. Now, gentlemen, let us mount.”
As the Scottish regiment was a mounted one, Hector had had ample
opportunities to learn to ride well, and he now fell in with the two
aides-de-camp, who were both young men of eighteen or nineteen years of
age, members of good families, and together they followed the Viscount
Turenne, who rode on ahead with the two staff officers. While they
were making their way through the narrow streets of Paris they rode but
slowly, but as soon as they passed through the gates they went on at a
brisk pace.
“You are fortunate,” de Lisle said, “in having obtained a commission so
young, although I do not say that there are not many of similar age in
the army.”
“I am fortunate indeed,” Hector replied, “fortunate beyond anything
that I could have believed possible, thanks to the goodness of Viscount
Turenne.”
“You could not enter the army under better patronage,” de Chavigny said.
“We have both served under him for two years on the Rhine, and had we
been his brothers he could not have been more kind; but the work, ma
foi, was tremendous. The soldiers may well say that the general is
sleepless. Happily he does not expect us to go altogether without rest.
Frequently he is away all night by himself in the saddle, sometimes
he takes one or other of us with him, but at any rate we get a night's
sleep by turns. Much as he has to worry him--what with the ignorance
of some and the carelessness of others--I have never seen him out of
temper; but then a reproof, however mildly spoken, by him, is more
dreaded than a volley of abuse from any other general. He was telling us
before he came out that you are already well up in drill, and in the use
of arms.”
“Yes; I have been brought up, I may say, in the Scottish regiment, and
after my father's death the officers and men were all very kind to me,
and I learnt my drill both as a soldier and an officer, to fence, use
my pistols, and ride. The officers lent me books on military history and
tactics.”
“The viscount said you were wonderfully well read in such matters,” de
Lisle said. “I own that beyond the campaigns that I have taken part in I
have a very vague idea of such things. My time before I joined was taken
up with learning the use of arms, equitation, and certain dry studies
under an abbe. I wish now that instead of Latin I had learned something
of military history; it seems to me that when one is intended for the
army it is a good deal more important than Latin or theology.”
“I fancy, de Lisle,” his companion said laughing, “that from what I know
of you your objection was not so much to the course of study as to study
altogether. I know that that was my case.”
“Well, perhaps so; still, I might as well have been whipped into
learning something useful, instead of something that, so far as I can
see, will never be of any value whatever. Were you born over here,
lieutenant?”
“No, I was born in Scotland; but my father, who was a younger son, saw
no chance of making his way by his sword at home. It was certain that
James would never go to war, and as there was no regular army, there
seemed no opening for a penniless cadet in England or Scotland, so he
came over here and obtained a commission, and as soon as he did so sent
for my mother and myself. She died two years later; he kept me with him.
When he went on service I was left in the charge of a Huguenot family,
and it was well that it was so, for otherwise I might have grown up
unable to read or write. The last time that I saw him was before he rode
to La Rochelle. After his death I was adopted by the regiment, for the
good people I was with left Paris to join their friends in the south.
Had it been otherwise I should have stayed with them. The good man would
probably have brought me up to be, like himself, a minister, and I am
afraid I should have made a very poor one.”
The two young men laughed. “Just at present,” de Lisle said, “the two
religions get on quietly together. The cardinal, churchman as he is,
knows that if France is to be great religious enmities must cease, and
that the wars of the last reign cost tens of thousands of lives, and
drove great numbers of men to take refuge in Holland or England, to the
benefit of those countries and our loss. Still, his successor, whoever
he may be, may think more of party and less of France, and in that case
you might have found your vocation of a Huguenot minister as full of
danger as that of a soldier.”
“It would have been much worse,” Hector said, “for it would not have
been a question of fighting, but of being massacred. I know nothing of
either religious disputes or of politics. In the regiment these things
were never talked about, either among the men or the officers; all were
for the king. But at the same time, as it seemed to them that it was the
cardinal who had stopped the persecution of the Huguenots, and who had
now gone to war with the Austrians to prevent the Protestant princes
of Germany being altogether subjugated by the Imperialists, they felt
grateful to him; for of course Scotchmen are all on the side of the
princes, and nigh half the army of Gustavus Adolphus was composed of my
countrymen.”
“I do not suppose,” Chavigny laughed, “that the cardinal would have
cared very much for the destruction of all the Protestant princes
of Germany, had it not been that their ruin would make Austria more
formidable than ever. As long as Gustavus lived and the Swedes were able
to hold their own against the Imperialists, France troubled herself
in no way in the matter; but when the Swedes were finally routed
at Nordlingen, and it seemed that the Imperialists would triumph
everywhere--for most of the Protestant princes were leaving the
Confederacy and trying to make the best terms they could for
themselves--Richelieu stepped in; and now we see France, which for the
past hundred years has been trying to stamp out Protestantism, uniting
with Protestant Holland and Sweden to uphold the Protestant princes of
Germany, and this under the direction of a cardinal of the Church of
Rome. And here are we riding behind a Huguenot general, who perhaps more
than any other possesses the cardinal's confidence.”
“It seems strange,” de Lisle said, “but it is assuredly good policy.
While fighting Austria we are fighting Spain, for Austria and Spain are
but two branches of one empire. Spain is our eternal enemy. True, she is
not as formidable as she was. Henry of Navarre's triumph over the Guises
half emancipated us from her influence. The English destroyed her
naval power. Holland well nigh exhausted her treasury, and brought such
discredit on her arms as she had never before suffered. Still, she and
Austria combined dominate Europe, and it is on her account that we have
taken the place of the Swedes and continued this war that has raged for
so many years.”