I went to bed at night in all apparent health; save from the flurry and
excitement of an anxious mind, I was in no respect different from my
usual mood; and yet, when I awoke next morning, my head was distracted
with a racking pain, cramps were in all my limbs, and I could not turn
or even move without intense suffering. The long exposure to rain, while
my mind was in a condition of extreme excitement, had brought on
an attack of fever, and before evening set in, I was raving in wild
delirium. Every scene I had passed through, each eventful incident of my
life, came flashing in disjointed portions through my poor brain, and
I raved away of France, of Germany, of the dreadful days of terror,
and the fearful orgies of the ‘Revolution.’ Scenes of strife and
struggle--the terrible conflicts of the streets--all rose before me;
and the names of every blood-stained hero of France now mingled with the
obscure titles of Irish insurrection.
What narratives of my early life I may have given--what stories I may
have revealed of my strange career, I cannot tell; but the interest my
kind hosts took in me grew stronger every day. There was no care nor
kindness they did not lavish on me. Taking alternate nights to sit up
with me, they watched beside my bed like brothers. All that affection
could give they rendered me; and even from their narrow fortunes they
paid a physician, who came from a distant town to visit me. When I was
sufficiently recovered to leave my bed, and sit at the window, or stroll
slowly in the garden, I became aware of the full extent to which their
kindness had carried them, and in the precautions for secrecy I saw
the peril to which my presence exposed them. From an excess of delicacy
towards me, they did not allude to the subject, nor show the slightest
uneasiness about the matter; but day by day some little circumstance
would occur, some slight and trivial fact reveal the state of anxiety
they lived in.
They were averse, too, from all discussion of late events, and either
answered my questions vaguely or with a certain reserve; and when I
hinted at my hope of being soon able to appear before a magistrate and
establish my claim as a French citizen, they replied that the moment
was an unfavourable one: the lenity of the Government had latterly been
abused, their gracious intentions misstated and perverted--that, in
fact, a reaction towards severity had occurred, and military law and
courts-martial were summarily disposing of cases that a short time back
would have received the mildest sentences of civil tribunals. It was
clear, from all they said, that if the rebellion was suppressed, the
insurrectionary feeling was not extinguished, and that England was the
very reverse of tranquil on the subject of Ireland.
It was to no purpose that I repeated my personal indifference to all
these measures of severity, that in my capacity as a Frenchman and an
officer I stood exempt from all the consequences they alluded to. Their
reply was, that in times of trouble and alarm things were done which
quieter periods would never have sanctioned, and that indiscreet and
over-zealous men would venture on acts that neither law nor justice
could substantiate. In fact, they gave me to believe, that such was the
excitement of the moment, such the embittered vengeance of those whose
families or fortunes had suffered by the rebellion, that no reprisals
would be thought too heavy, nor any harshness too great, for those who
aided the movement.
Whatever I might have said against the injustice of this proceeding, in
my secret heart I had to confess that it was only what might have been
expected; and coming from a country where it was enough to call a man an
aristocrat, and then cry _à la lanterne!_ I saw nothing unreasonable in
it all.
My friends advised me, therefore, instead of preferring any formal claim
to immunity, to take the first occasion of escaping to America, whence I
could not fail, later on, of returning to France. At first, the counsel
only irritated me, but by degrees, as I came to think more calmly and
seriously of the difficulties, I began to regard it in a different
light; and at last I fully concurred in the wisdom of the advice, and
resolved on adopting it.
To sit on the cliffs, and watch the ocean for hours, became now the
practice of my life--to gaze from daybreak almost to the falling of
night oyer the wide expanse of sea, straining my eyes at each sail, and
conjecturing to what distant shore they were tending. The hopes which at
first sustained at last deserted me, as week after week passed over,
and no prospect of escape appeared. The life of inactivity gradually
depressed my spirits, and I fell into a low and moping condition, in
which my hours rolled over without thought or notice. Still, I returned
each day to my accustomed spot, a lofty peak of rock that stood over the
sea, and from which the view extended for miles on every side. There,
half hid in the wild heath, I used to lie for hours long, my eyes bent
upon the sea, but my thoughts wandering away to a past that never was to
be renewed, and a future I was never destined to experience.
Although late in the autumn, the season was mild and genial, and the
sea calm and waveless, save along the shore, where, even in the stillest
weather, the great breakers came tumbling in with a force independent of
storm; and, listening to their booming thunder, I have dreamed away
hour after hour unconsciously. It was one day, as I lay thus, that my
attention was caught by the sight of three large vessels on the very
verge of the horizon. Habit had now given me a certain acuteness, and I
could perceive from their height and size that they were ships of war.
For a while they seemed as if steering for the entrance of the lough,
but afterwards they changed their course, and headed towards the west.
At length they separated, and one of smaller size, and probably a
frigate from her speed, shot forward beyond the rest, and, in less
than half an hour, disappeared from view. The other two gradually
sank beneath the horizon, and not a sail was to be seen over the
wide expanse. While speculating on what errand the squadron might be
employed, I thought I could hear the deep and rolling sound of distant
cannonading. My ear was too practised in the thundering crash of the
breakers along shore to confound the noises; and as I listened I fancied
that I could distinguish the sound of single guns from the louder roar
of a whole broadside. This could not mean saluting, nor was it likely
to be a mere exercise of the fleet. They were not times when much powder
was expended un-profitably. Was it then an engagement? But with what or
whom? Tandy’s expedition, as it was called, had long since sailed, and
must ere this have been captured or safe in France. I tried a hundred
conjectures to explain the mystery, which now, from the long continuance
of the sounds, seemed to denote a desperately contested engagement. It
was not till after three hours that the cannonading ceased, and then I
could descry a thick dark canopy of smoke that hung hazily over one spot
in the horizon, as if marking out the scene of the struggle. With what
aching, torturing anxiety I burned to know what had happened, and with
which side rested the victory!
Well habituated to hear of the English as victors in every naval
engagement, I yet went on hoping against hope itself, that Fortune might
for once have favoured us; nor was it till the falling night prevented
my being able to trace out distant objects, that I could leave the spot
and turn homewards. With wishes so directly opposed to theirs, I did not
venture to tell my two friends what I had witnessed, nor trust myself
to speak on a subject where my feelings might have betrayed me into
unseemly expressions of my hopes. I was glad to find that they knew
nothing of the matter, and talked away indifferently of other subjects.
By daybreak the next morning I was at my post, a sharp nor’-wester
blowing, and a heavy sea rolling in from the Atlantic. Instinctively
carrying my eyes to the spot where I had heard the cannonade, I could
distinctly see the tops of spars, as if the upper rigging of some
vessels beyond the horizon.
Gradually they rose higher and higher, till I could detect the yard-arms
and cross-trees, and finally the great hulls of five vessels that were
bearing towards me.
For above an hour I could see their every movement, as with all canvas
spread they held on majestically towards the land, when at length a
lofty promontory of the bay intervened, and they were lost to my view.
I jumped to my legs at once, and set off down the cliff to reach the
headland, from whence an uninterrupted prospect extended. The distance
was greater than I had supposed, and in my eagerness to take a direct
line to it, I got entangled in difficult gorges among the hills, and
impeded by mountain torrents which often compelled me to go back a
considerable distance; it was already late in the afternoon as I gained
the crest of a ridge over the bay of Lough Swilly. Beneath me lay the
calm surface of the lough, landlocked and still; but farther out seaward
there was a sight that made my very limbs tremble, and sickened my heart
as I beheld it. There was a large frigate, that, with studding-sails
set, stood boldly up the bay, followed by a dismasted three-decker, at
whose mizzen floated the ensign of England over the French tricolour.
Several other vessels were grouped about the offing, all of them
displaying English colours.
The dreadful secret was out. There had been a tremendous sea-fight, and
the _Hoche_, of seventy-four guns, was the sad spectacle which, with
shattered sides and ragged rigging, I now beheld entering the bay. Oh,
the humiliation of that sight! I can never forget it. And although on
all the surrounding hills scarcely fifty country-people were assembled,
I felt as if the whole of Europe were spectators of our defeat. The
flag I had always believed triumphant now hung ignominiously beneath the
ensign of the enemy, and the decks of our noble ship were crowded with
the uniforms of English sailors and marines.
The blue water surged and spouted from the shot-holes as the great hull
loomed heavily from side to side, and broken spars and ropes still
hung over the side, as she went, a perfect picture of defeat. Never was
disaster more legibly written. I watched her till the anchor dropped,
and then, in a burst of emotion, I turned away, unable to endure more.
As I hastened homeward I met the elder of my two hosts coming to meet
me, in considerable anxiety. He had heard of the capture of the _Hoche_,
but his mind was far more intent on another and less important event.
Two men had just been at his cottage with a warrant for my arrest.
The document bore my name and rank, as well as a description of my
appearance, and significantly alleged that, although Irish by birth, I
affected a foreign accent for the sake of concealment.
‘There is no chance of escape now,’ said my friend; ‘we are surrounded
with spies on every hand. My advice is, therefore, to hasten to Lord
Cavan’s quarters--he is now at Letterkenny--and give yourself up as a
prisoner. There is at least the chance of your being treated like the
rest of your countrymen. I have already provided you with a horse and a
guide, for I must not accompany you myself. Go, then, Maurice. We shall
never see each other again; but we’ll not forget you, nor do we fear
that you will forget us. My brother could not trust himself to take
leave of you, but his best wishes and prayers go with you.’
Such were the last words my kind-hearted friend spoke to me; nor do I
know what reply I made, as, overcome by emotion, my voice became
thick and broken. I wanted to tell all my gratitude, and yet could say
nothing. To this hour I know not with what impression of me he went
away. I can only assert, that in all the long career of vicissitudes of
a troubled and adventurous life, these brothers have occupied the chosen
spot of my affection for everything that was disinterested in kindness
and generous in good feeling.
They have done more; for they have often reconciled me to a world
of harsh injustice and illiberality, by remembering that two such
exceptions existed, and that others may have experienced what fell to my
lot.
For a mile or two my way lay through the mountains, but after reaching
the highroad I had not proceeded far when I was overtaken by a
jaunting-car, on which a gentleman was seated, with his leg supported by
a cushion, and bearing all the signs of a severe injury.
‘Keep the near side of the way, sir, I beg of you,’ cried he; ‘I have a
broken leg, and am excessively uneasy when a horse passes close to me.’
I touched my cap in salute, and immediately turned my horse’s head to
comply with his request.
‘Did you see that, George?’ cried another gentleman, who sat on the
opposite side of the vehicle; ‘did you remark that fellow’s salute? My
life on’t he’s a French soldier.’
‘Nonsense, man; he’s the steward of a Clyde smack, or a clerk in a
counting-house,’ said the first, in a voice which, though purposely low,
my quick hearing could catch perfectly.
‘Are we far from Letterkenny just now, sir?’ said the other, addressing
me.
‘I believe about five miles,’ said I, with a prodigious effort to make
my pronunciation pass muster.
‘You’re a stranger in these parts, I see, sir,’ rejoined he, with a
cunning glance at his friend, while he added, lower, ‘Was I right,
Hill?’
Although seeing that all concealment was now hopeless, I was in nowise
disposed to plead guilty at once, and therefore, with a cut of my
switch, pushed my beast into a sharp canter to get forward.
My friends, however, gave chase, and now the jaunting-car,
notwithstanding the sufferings of the invalid, was clattering after me
at about nine miles an hour. At first I rather enjoyed the malice of
the penalty their curiosity was costing, but as I remembered that the
invalid was not the chief offender, I began to feel compunction at the
severity of the lesson, and drew up to a walk.
They at once shortened their pace, and came up beside me.
‘A clever hack you’re riding, sir,’ said the inquisitive man.
‘Not so bad for an animal of this country,’ said I superciliously.
‘Oh, then, what kind of a horse are you accustomed to?’ asked he, half
insolently.
‘The Limousin,’ said I coolly, ‘what we always mount in our hussar
regiments in France.’
‘And you are a French soldier, then,’ cried he, in evident astonishment
at my frankness.
‘At your service, sir,’ said I, saluting; ‘a lieutenant of hussars; and
if you are tormented by any further curiosity concerning me, I may
as well relieve you by stating that I am proceeding to Lord Cavan’s
headquarters to surrender as a prisoner.’
‘Frank enough that!’ said he of the broken leg, laughing heartily as he
spoke. ‘Well, sir,’ said the other, ‘you are, as your countrymen would
call it, _bien venu_, for we are bound in that direction ourselves, and
will be happy to have your company.’
One piece of tact my worldly experience had profoundly impressed upon
me, and that was, the necessity of always assuming an air of easy
unconcern in every circumstance of doubtful issue. There was quite
enough of difficulty in the present case to excite my anxiety, but I
rode along beside the jaunting-car, chatting familiarly with my new
acquaintances, and, I believe, without exhibiting the slightest degree
of uneasiness regarding my own position.
From them I learned so much as they had heard of the late naval
engagement. The report was that Bompard’s fleet had fallen in with Sir
John Warren’s squadron; and having given orders for his fastest sailers
to make the best of their way to France, had, with the _Hoche_, the
_Loire_, and the _Resolve_, given battle to the enemy. These had all
been captured, as well as four others which fled, two alone of the whole
succeeding in their escape. I think now, that, grievous as these tidings
were, there was nothing of either boastfulness or insolence in the tone
in which they were communicated to me. Every praise was accorded to
Bompard for skill and bravery, and the defence was spoken of in terms
of generous eulogy. The only trait of acrimony that showed itself in the
recital was a regret that a number of Irish rebels should have escaped
in the _Biche_, one of the smaller frigates; and several emissaries of
the people, who had been deputed to the admiral, were also alleged to
have been on board of that vessel.
‘You are sorry to have missed your friend the priest of Murrah,’ said
Hill jocularly.
‘Yes, by George, that fellow should have graced a gallows if I had been
lucky enough to have taken him.’
‘What was his crime, sir?’ asked I, with seeming unconcern.
‘Nothing more than exciting to rebellion a people with whom he had no
tie of blood or kindred! He was a Frenchman, and devoted himself to the
cause of Ireland,* as they call it, from pure sympathy----’
‘And a dash of Popery,’ broke in Hill.
‘It’s hard to say even that; my own opinion is, that French Jacobinism
cares very little for the Pope. Am I right, young gentleman--you don’t
go very often to confession?’
‘I should do so less frequently if I were to be subjected to such a
system of interrogatory as yours,’ said I tartly.
They both took my impertinent speech in good part, and laughed heartily
at it; and thus, half amicably, half in earnest, we entered the little
town of Letterkenny, just as night was falling.
‘If you’ll be our guest for this evening, sir,’ said Hill, ‘we shall be
happy to have your company.’
I accepted the invitation, and followed them into the inn.