In obedience to an order which arrived at Saumur one morning in the July
of 1788,1 was summoned before the commandant of the school, when the
following brief colloquy ensued:--
‘Maurice Tiernay,’ said he, reading from the record of the school, why
are you called _l’Irlandais?_’
‘I am Irish by descent, sir.’
‘Ha! by descent. Your father was, then, an _émigré?_
‘No, sir--my great-grandfather.’
‘_Parbleu!_ that is going very far back. Are you aware of the causes
which induced him to leave his native country?’
‘They were connected with political trouble, I’ve heard, sir. He took
part against the English, my father told me, and was obliged to make his
escape to save his life.’ ‘You, then, hate the English, Maurice?’ ‘My
ancestor certainly did not love them, sir.’
‘Nor can you, boy, ever forgive their having exiled your family from
country and home; every man of honour retains the memory of such
injuries.’
‘I can scarcely deem that an injury, sir, which has made me a French
citizen,’ said I proudly.
‘True, boy--you say what is perfectly true and just; any sacrifice of
fortune or patrimony is cheap at such a price; still you have suffered a
wrong--a deep and irreparable wrong--and as a Frenchman you are ready to
avenge it.’
Although I had no very precise notion, either as to the extent of the
hardships done me, nor in what way I was to demand the reparation, I
gave the assent he seemed to expect.
‘You are well acquainted with the language, I believe?’ continued he.
‘I can read and speak English tolerably well, sir.’
‘But I speak of Irish, boy--of the language which is spoken by your
fellow-countrymen,’ said he rebukingly.
‘I have always heard, sir, that this has fallen into disuse, and is
little known save among the peasantry in a few secluded districts.’
He seemed impatient as I said this, and referred once more to the paper
before him, from whose minutes he appeared to have been speaking.
‘You must be in error, boy. I find here that the nation is devotedly
attached to its traditions and literature, and feels no injury deeper
than the insulting substitution of a foreign tongue for their own noble
language.’
‘Of myself I know nothing, sir; the little I have learned was acquired
when a mere child.’
‘Ah, then, you probably forget, or may never have heard the fact; but
it is as I tell you. This, which I hold here, is the report of a highly
distinguished and most influential personage, who lays great stress
upon the circumstance. I am sorry, Tiernay, very sorry, that you are
unacquainted with the language.’
He continued for some minutes to brood over this disappointment, and at
last returned to the paper before him.
‘The geography of the country--what knowledge have you on that subject?’
‘No more, sir, than I may possess of other countries, and merely learned
from maps.’
‘Bad again,’ muttered he to himself. ‘Madgett calls these “essentials”;
but we shall see.’ Then addressing me, he said, ‘Tiernay, the object of
my present interrogatory is to inform you that the Directory is about
to send an expedition to Ireland to assist in the liberation of that
enslaved people. It has been suggested that young officers and soldiers
of Irish descent might render peculiar service to the cause, and I
have selected you for an opportunity which will convert these worsted
epaulettes into bullion.’
This at least was intelligible news, and now I began to listen with more
attention.
‘There is a report,’ said he, laying down before me a very capacious
manuscript, ‘which you will carefully peruse. Here are the latest
pamphlets setting forth the state of public opinion in Ireland; and here
are various maps of the coast, the harbours, and the strongholds of that
country, with all of which you may employ yourself advantageously; and
if, on considering the subject, you feel disposed to volunteer--for as a
volunteer only could your services be accepted--I will willingly support
your request by all the influence in my power.’
‘I am ready to do so at once, sir,’ said I eagerly; ‘I have no need to
know any more than you have told me.’
‘Well said, boy; I like your ardour. Write your petition and it shall be
forwarded to-day. I will also try and obtain for you the same regimental
rank you hold in the school’--I was a sergeant--‘it will depend upon
yourself afterwards to secure a further advancement. You are now free
from duty; lose no time, therefore, in storing your mind with every
possible information, and be ready to set out at a moment’s notice.’
‘Is the expedition so nearly ready, sir?’ asked I eagerly.
He nodded, and with a significant admonition as to secrecy, dismissed
me, bursting with anxiety to examine the stores of knowledge before me,
and prepare myself with all the details of a plan in which already I
took the liveliest interest. Before the week expired, I received an
answer from the Minister, accepting the offer of my services. The reply
found me deep in those studies, which I scarcely could bear to quit even
at meal-times. Never did I experience such an all-devouring passion
for a theme as on that occasion. ‘Ireland’ never left my thoughts; her
wrongs and sufferings were everlastingly before me; all the cruelties of
centuries--all the hard tyranny of the penal laws--the dire injustice
of caste oppression--filled me with indignation and anger; while, on
the other hand, I conceived the highest admiration of a people who,
undeterred by the might and power of England, resolved to strike a great
blow for liberty.
The enthusiasm of the people--the ardent daring of a valour whose
impetuosity was its greatest difficulty--their high romantic
temperament--their devotion--their gratitude--the childlike trustfulness
of their natures, were all traits, scattered through the various
narratives, which invariably attracted me, and drew me more strongly to
their cause--more from affection than reason.
Madgett’s memoir was filled with these; and he, I concluded, must know
them well, being, as it was asserted, one of the ancient nobility of the
land, and who now desired nothing better than to throw rank, privilege,
and title into the scale, and do battle for the liberty and equality
of his countrymen. How I longed to see this great man, whom my fancy
arrayed in all the attributes he so lavished upon his countrymen, for
they were not only, in his description, the boldest and the bravest, but
the handsomest people of Europe.
As to the success of the enterprise, whatever doubts I had at first
conceived, from an estimate of the immense resources of England, were
speedily solved, as I read of the enormous preparations the Irish had
made for the struggle. The Roman Catholics, Madgett said, were three
millions, the Dissenters another million, all eager for freedom and
French alliance, wanting nothing but the appearance of a small armed
force to give them the necessary organisation and discipline. They were
somewhat deficient, he acknowledged, in firearms--cannon they had
none whatever; but the character of the country, which consisted
of mountains, valleys, ravines and gorges, reduced war to the
mere chivalrous features of personal encounter. What interminable
descriptions did I wade through of clubs and associations, the very
names of which were a puzzle to me--the great union of all appearing to
be a society called ‘Defenders,’ whose oath bound them to ‘fidelity to
the united nations of France and Ireland!’
So much for the one side. For the other, it was asserted that the
English forces then in garrison in Ireland were beneath contempt; the
militia, being principally Irish, might be relied on for taking the
popular side; and as to the Regulars, they were either ‘old men or
boys,’ incapable of active service; and several of the regiments being
Scotch, greatly disaffected to the Government. Then, again, as to
the navy, the sailors in the English fleet were more than two-thirds
Irishmen, all Catholics, and all disaffected.
That the enterprise contained every element of success, then, who
could doubt? The nation, in the proportion of ten to one, were for the
movement. On their side lay not alone the wrongs to avenge, but the
courage, the energy, and the daring. Their oppressors were as weak as
tyrannical, their cause was a bad one, and their support of it a hollow
semblance of superiority.
If I read these statements with ardour and avidity, one lurking sense
of doubt alone obtruded itself on my reasonings. Why, with all these
guarantees of victory, with everything that can hallow a cause, and give
it stability and strength--why did the Irish ask for aid? If they were,
as they alleged, an immense majority--if there was all the heroism and
the daring--if the struggle was to be maintained against a miserably
inferior force, weakened by age, incapacity, and disaffection--what
need had they of Frenchmen on their side? The answer to all such doubts,
however, was ‘the Irish were deficient in organisation.’
Not only was the explanation a very sufficient one, but it served in a
high degree to flatter our vanity. We were, then, to be organisers of
Ireland; from us were they to take the lessons of civilisation, which
should prepare them for freedom--ours was the task to discipline their
valour, and train their untaught intelligence. Once landed in the
country, it was to our standard they were to rally; from us were to go
forth the orders of every movement and measure; to us this new land
was to be an El Dorado. Madgett significantly hinted everywhere at the
unbounded gratitude of Irishmen, and more than hinted at the future fate
of certain confiscated estates. One phrase, ostentatiously set forth in
capitals, asserted that the best general of the French Republic could
not be anywhere employed with so much reputation and profit. There was,
then, everything to stimulate the soldier in such an enterprise--honour,
fame, glory, and rich rewards were all among the prizes.
It was when deep in the midst of these studies, poring over maps and
reports, taxing my memory with hard names, and getting off by heart
dates, distances, and numbers, that the order came for me to repair at
once to Paris, where the volunteers of the expedition were to assemble.
My rank of sergeant had been confirmed, and in this capacity, as
_sous-officier_, I was ordered to report myself to General Kilmaine, the
adjutant-general of the expedition, then living in the Rue Ghantereine.
I was also given the address of a certain Lestaing--Rue Tailbout--a
tailor, from whom, on producing a certificate, I was to obtain my new
uniform.
Full as I was of the whole theme, thinking of the expedition by day, and
dreaming of it by night, I was still little prepared for the enthusiasm
it was at that very moment exciting in every society of the capital. For
some time previously a great number of Irish emigrants had made Paris
their residence; some were men of good position and ample fortune; some
were individuals of considerable ability and intelligence. All were
enthusiastic, and ardent in temperament--devotedly attached to their
country--hearty haters of England, and proportionally attached to
all that was French. These sentiments, coupled with a certain ease of
manner, and a faculty of adaptation, so peculiarly Irish, made them
general favourites in society; and long before the Irish question had
found any favour with the public, its national supporters had won over
the hearts and good wishes of all Paris to the cause.
Well pleased, then, as I was with my handsome uniform of green and gold,
my small chapeau, with its plume of cock’s feathers, and the embroidered
shamrock on my collar, I was not a little struck by the excitement my
first appearance in the street created. Accustomed to see a hundred
strange military costumes--the greater number, I own, more singular than
tasteful--the Parisians, I concluded, would scarcely notice mine in the
crowd. Not so, however; the print-shops had already given the impulse to
the admiration, and the ‘Irish Volunteer of the Guard’ was to be seen in
every window, in all the ‘glory of his bravery.’ The heroic character of
the expedition, too, was typified by a great variety of scenes, in which
the artist’s imagination had all the credit. In one picture the _jeune
Irlandais_ was planting a national flag of very capacious dimensions on
the summit of his native mountains; here he was storming _Le Château de
Dublin_, a most formidable fortress, perched on a rock above the sea;
here he was crowning the heights of _La Citadelle de Cork_, a very
Gibraltar in strength; or he was haranguing the native chieftains,
a highly picturesque group--a cross between a knight crusader and a
South-sea islander.
My appearance, therefore, in the streets was the signal for general
notice and admiration, and more than one compliment was uttered,
purposely loud enough to reach me, on the elegance and style of my
equipment. In the pleasant flurry of spirits excited by this flattery,
I arrived at the general’s quarters in the Rue Chantereine. It was
considerably before the time of his usual receptions, but the glitter
of my epaulettes, and the air of assurance I had assumed, so far imposed
upon the old servant who acted as valet, that he at once introduced
me into a small saloon, and after a brief pause presented me to the
general, who was reclining on a sofa at his breakfast. Although far
advanced in years, and evidently broken by bad health, General Kilmaine
still preserved traces of great personal advantages, while his manner
exhibited all that polished ease and courtesy which was said to be
peculiar to the Irish gentleman of the French Court. Addressing me in
English, he invited me to join his meal, and on my declining, as having
already breakfasted, he said, ‘I perceive, from your name, we are
countrymen, and as your uniform tells me the service in which you are
engaged, we may speak with entire confidence. Tell me then, frankly, all
that you know of the actual condition of Ireland.’
Conceiving that this question applied to the result of my late studies,
and was meant to elicit the amount of my information, I at once began
a recital of what I had learned from the books and reports I had been
reading, My statistics were perfect--they had been gotten off by heart;
my sympathies were, for the same reason, most eloquent; my indignation
was boundless on the wrongs I deplored, and in fact, in the fifteen
minutes during which he permitted me to declaim without interruption, I
had gone through the whole ‘cause of Ireland,’ from Henry n. to George
n.
‘You have been reading Mr. Madgett, I perceive,’ said he, with a smile;
‘but I would rather hear something of your own actual experience. Tell
me, therefore, in what condition are the people at this moment, as
regards poverty?’
‘I have never been in Ireland, general,’ said I, not without some shame
at the avowal coming so soon after my eloquent exhortation.
‘Ah, I perceive,’ said he blandly, ‘of Irish origin, and a relative
probably of that very distinguished soldier, Count Maurice de Tiernay,
who served in the Garde du Corps.’
‘His only son, general,’ said I, blushing with eagerness and pleasure at
the praise of my father.
‘Indeed!’ said he, smiling courteously, and seeming to meditate on my
words. ‘There was not a better nor a braver sabre in the corps than your
father--a very few more of such men might have saved the monarchy--as it
was, they dignified its fall. And to whose guidance and care did you owe
your early training, for I see you have not been neglected?’
A few words told him the principal events of my early years, to which he
listened with deep attention. At length he said, ‘And now you are about
to devote your acquirements and energy to this new expedition?’
‘All, general! Everything that I have is too little for such a cause.’
‘You say truly, boy,’ said he warmly; ‘would that so good a cause had
better leaders. I mean,’ added he hurriedly, ‘wiser ones. Men more
conversant with the actual state of events, more fit to cope with
the great difficulties before them, more ready to take advantage of
circumstances, whose outward meaning will often prove deceptive. In
fact, Irishmen of character and capacity, tried soldiers and good
patriots. Well, well, let us hope the best. In whose division are you?’
‘I have not yet heard, sir. I have presented myself here to-day to
receive your orders.’
‘There again is another instance of their incapacity,’ cried he
passionately. ‘Why, boy, I have no command, nor any function. I did
accept office under General Hoche, but he is not to lead the present
expedition.’
‘And who is, sir?’
‘I cannot tell you. A week ago they talked of Grouchy, then of Hardy;
yesterday it was Humbert; to-day it may be Bonaparte, and to-morrow
yourself! Ay, Tiernay, this great and good cause has its national
fatality attached to it, and is so wrapped up in low intrigue and
falsehood, that every Minister becomes in turn disgusted with the
treachery and mendacity he meets with, and bequeaths the question to
some official underling, meet partisan for the mock patriot he treats
with.’
‘But the expedition will sail, general?’ asked I, sadly discomfited by
this tone of despondency.
He made me no answer, but sat for some time absorbed in his own
thoughts. At last he looked up, and said, ‘You ought to be in the army
of Italy, boy; the great teacher of war is there.’
‘I know it, sir, but my whole heart is in this struggle. I feel that
Ireland has a claim on all who derived even a name from her soil. Do you
not believe that the expedition will sail?’
Again he was silent and thoughtful.
‘Mr. Madgett would say yes,’ said he scornfully, ‘though, certes, he
would not volunteer to bear it company.’
‘Colonel Cherin, general!’ said the valet, as he flung open the door for
a young officer in a staff uniform. I arose at once to withdraw, but the
general motioned to me to wait in an adjoining room, as he desired to
speak with me again.
Scarcely five minutes had elapsed when I was summoned once more before
him.
‘You have come at a most opportune moment, Tiernay,’ said he; ‘Colonel
Cherin informs me that an expedition is ready to sail from Rochelle at
the first favourable wind. General Humbert has the command; and if you
are disposed to join him I will give you a letter of presentation.’
Of course I did not hesitate in accepting the offer; and while the
general drew over his desk to write the letter, I withdrew towards the
window to converse with Colonel Cherin.
‘You might have waited long enough,’ said he, laughing, ‘if the affair
had been in other hands than Humbert’s. The delays and discussions of
the official people, the difficulty of anything like agreement, the want
of money, and fifty other causes, would have detained the fleet till the
English got scent of the whole. But Humbert has taken the short road in
the matter. He only arrived at La Rochelle five days ago, and now he is
ready to weigh anchor.’
‘And in what way has he accomplished this?’ asked I, in some curiosity.
‘By a method,’ replied he, laughing again, ‘which is usually reserved
for an enemy’s country. Growing weary of a correspondence with the
Minister, which seemed to make little progress, and urged on by the
enthusiastic stories of the Irish refugees, he resolved to wait no
longer; and so he has called on the merchants and magistrates to
advance him a sum on military requisition, together with such stores and
necessaries as he stands in need of.’
‘And they have complied?’ asked I.
‘_Parbleu!_ that have they. In the first place, they had no other
choice; and in the second, they are but too happy to get rid of him and
his ‘Legion Noir,’ as they are called, so cheaply. A thousand louis and
a thousand muskets would not pay for the damage of these vagabonds each
night they spent in the town.’
I confess that this description did not tend to exalt the enthusiasm
I had conceived for the expedition; but it was too late for
hesitation--too late for even a doubt. Go forward I should, whatever
might come of it. And now the general had finished his letter, which,
having sealed and addressed, he gave into my hand, saying--‘This will
very probably obtain your promotion, if not at once, at least on the
first vacancy. Good-bye, my lad; there may be hard knocks going where
you will be, but I’m certain you’ll not disgrace the good name you bear,
nor the true cause for which you are fighting. I would that I had youth
and strength to stand beside you in the struggle!
‘Good-bye.’ He shook me affectionately by both hands; the colonel,
too, bade me adieu not less cordially; and I took my leave with a heart
overflowing with gratitude and delight.