O'Brien fights a duel with a French officer, and proves that the great
art of fencing is knowing nothing about it--We arrive at our new
quarters, which we find very secure.
At night we arrived at a small town, the name of which I forget. Here we
were all put into an old church for the night, and a very bad night we
passed. They did not even give us a little straw to lie down upon: the
roof of the church had partly fallen in, and the moon shone through very
brightly. This was some comfort; for to have been shut up in the dark,
seventy-five in number, would have been very miserable. We were afraid
to lie down anywhere, as, like all ruined buildings in France, the
ground was covered with filth, and the smell was shocking. O'Brien was
very thoughtful, and would hardly answer any question that I put to him;
it was evident that he was brooding over the affront which he had
received from the French officer. At daybreak, the door of the church
was again opened by the French soldiers, and we were conducted to the
square of the town, where we found the troops quartered, drawn up with
their officers, to receive us from the detachment who had escorted us
from Toulon. We were very much pleased with this, as we knew that we
should be forwarded by another detachment, and thus be rid of the brutal
officer who had hitherto had charge of the prisoners. But we were rid of
him in another way. As the French officers walked along our ranks to
look at us, I perceived among them a captain, whom we had known very
intimately when we were living at Cette with Colonel O'Brien. I cried
out his name immediately; he turned round, and seeing O'Brien and me, he
came up to us, shaking us by the hand, and expressing his surprise at
finding us in such a situation. O'Brien explained to him how we had been
treated, at which he expressed his indignation, as did the other
officers who had collected round us. The major who commanded the troops
in the town turned to the French officer (he was only a lieutenant) who
had conducted us from Toulon, and demanded of him his reason for
behaving to us in such an unworthy manner. He denied having treated us
ill, and said that he had been informed that we had put on officers'
dresses which did not belong to us. At this O'Brien declared that he was
a liar, and a cowardly _foutre_, that he had struck him with the back of
his sabre, which he would not have dared do if he had not been a
prisoner; adding, that all he requested was satisfaction for the insult
offered to him, and appealed to the officers whether, if it were
refused, the lieutenant's epaulets ought not to be cut off his
shoulders. The major commandant and the officers retired to consult,
and, after a few minutes, they agreed that the lieutenant was bound to
give the satisfaction required. The lieutenant replied that he was
ready; but, at the same time, did not appear to be very willing. The
prisoners were left in charge of the soldiers, under a junior officer,
while the others, accompanied by O'Brien, myself, and the lieutenant,
walked to a short distance outside the town. As we proceeded there, I
asked O'Brien with what weapons they would fight.
"I take it for granted," replied he, "that it will be with the small
sword."
"But," said I, "do you know anything about fencing?"
"Devil a bit, Peter; but that's all in my favour."
"How can that be?" replied I.
"I'll tell you, Peter. If one man fences well, and another is but an
indifferent hand at it, it is clear that the first will run the other
through the body; but, if the other knows nothing at all about it, why
then, Peter, the case is not quite so clear: because the good fencer is
almost as much puzzled by your ignorance as you are by his skill, and
you become on more equal terms. Now, Peter, I've made up my mind that
I'll run that fellow through the body, and so I will, as sure as I am an
O'Brien."
"Well, I hope you will; but pray do not be too sure."
"It's feeling sure that will make me able to do it, Peter. By the blood
of the O'Briens! didn't he slap me with his sword, as if I were a clown
in the pantomime. Peter, I'll kill the harlequin scoundrel, and my
word's as good as my bond!"
By this time we had arrived at the ground. The French lieutenant
stripped to his shirt and trousers; O'Brien did the same, kicking his
boots off, and standing upon the wet grass in his stockings. The swords
were measured, and handed to them; they took their distance, and set to.
I must say, that I was breathless with anxiety; the idea of losing
O'Brien struck me with grief and terror. I then felt the value of all
his kindness to me, and would have taken his place, and have been run
through the body, rather than he should have been hurt. At first,
O'Brien put himself in the correct attitude of defence, in imitation of
the lieutenant, but this was for a very few seconds; he suddenly made a
spring, and rushed on to his adversary, stabbing at him with a velocity
quite astonishing, the lieutenant parrying in his defence, until at last
he had an opportunity of lungeing at O'Brien. O'Brien, who no longer
kept his left arm raised in equipoise, caught the sword of the
lieutenant at within six inches of the point, and directing it under his
left arm, as he rushed in, passed his own through the lieutenant's body.
It was all over in less than a minute--the lieutenant did not live half
an hour afterwards. The French officers were very much surprised at the
result, for they perceived at once that O'Brien knew nothing of fencing.
O'Brien gathered a tuft of grass, wiped the sword, which he presented to
the officer to whom it belonged, and thanking the major and the whole of
them for their impartiality and gentlemanlike conduct, led the way to
the square, where he again took his station in the ranks of the
prisoners.
Shortly after, the major commandant came up to us, and asked whether we
would accept of our parole, as, in that case, we might travel as we
pleased. We consented, with many thanks for his civility and kindness;
but I could not help thinking at the time, that the French officers were
a little mortified at O'Brien's success, although they were too
honourable to express the feeling. O'Brien told me, after we had quitted
the town, that had it not been for the handsome conduct of the officers,
he would not have accepted our parole, as he felt convinced that we
could have easily made our escape. We talked over the matter a long
while, and at last agreed that there would be a better chance of success
by and by, when more closely guarded, than there would be now, under
consideration of all circumstances, as it required previously concerted
arrangements to get out of the country.
I had almost forgotten to say, that on our return after the duel the
cutter's midshipman called out to O'Brien, requesting him to state to
the commandant that he was also an officer; but O'Brien replied, that
there was no evidence for it but his bare word. If he was an officer he
must prove it himself, as everything in his appearance flatly
contradicted his assertion.
"It's very hard," replied the midshipman, "that because my jacket's a
little tarry or so I must lose my rank."
"My dear fellow," replied O'Brien, "it's not because your jacket's a
little tarry; it is because what the Frenchmen call your _tout ensemble_
is quite disgraceful in an officer. Look at your face in the first
puddle, and you'll find that it would dirty the water you look into.
Look at your shoulders above your ears, and your back with a bow like a
_kink_ in a cable. Your trowsers, sir, you have pulled your legs too far
through, showing a foot and a half of worsted stockings. In short, look
at yourself altogether, and then tell me, provided you be an officer,
whether, from respect to the service, it would not be my duty to
contradict it. It goes against my conscience, my dear fellow; but
recollect that when we arrive at the depot, you will be able to prove
it, so it's only waiting a little while, until the captains will pass
their word for you, which is more than I will."
"Well, it's very hard," replied the midshipman, "that I must go on
eating this black rye bread; and very unkind of you."
"It's very kind of me, you spalpeen of the Snapper. Prison will be a
paradise to you, when you get into good commons. How you'll relish your
grub by-and-by! So now shut your pan, or by the tail of Jonah's whale,
I'll swear you're a Spaniard."
I could not help thinking that O'Brien was very severe upon the poor
lad, and I expostulated with him afterwards. He replied, "Peter, if, as
a cutter's midshipman, he is a bit of an officer, the devil a bit is he
of a gentleman, either born or bred: and I'm not bound to bail every
blackguard-looking chap that I meet. By the head of St Peter, I would
blush to be seen in his company, if I were in the wildest bog in
Ireland, with nothing but an old crow as spectator."
We were now again permitted to be on our parole, and received every
attention and kindness from the different officers who commanded the
detachments which passed the prisoners from one town to another. In a
few days we arrived at Montpelier, where we had orders to remain a short
time until directions were received from Government as to the depots for
prisoners to which we were to be sent. At this delightful town, we had
unlimited parole, not even a gendarme accompanying us. We lived at the
table d'hote, were permitted to walk about where we pleased, and amused
ourselves every evening at the theatre. During our stay there we wrote
to Colonel O'Brien at Cette, thanking him for his kindness, and
narrating what had occurred since we parted. I also wrote to Celeste,
inclosing my letter unsealed in the one to Colonel O'Brien. I told her
the history of O'Brien's duel, and all I could think would interest her;
how sorry I was to have parted from her; that I never would forget her;
and trusted that some day, as she was only half a Frenchwoman, we should
meet again. Before we left Montpelier, we had the pleasure of receiving
answers to our letters: the colonel's letters were very kind,
particularly the one to me, in which he called me his dear boy, and
hoped that I should soon rejoin my friends, and prove an ornament to my
country. In his letter to O'Brien, he requested him not to run me into
useless danger--to recollect that I was not so well able to undergo
extreme hardship. I have no doubt but that this caution referred to
O'Brien's intention to escape from prison, which he had not concealed
from the colonel, and the probability that I would be a partner in the
attempt. The answer from Celeste was written in English; but she must
have had assistance from her father, or she could not have succeeded so
well. It was like herself, very kind and affectionate; and also ended
with wishing me a speedy return to my friends, who must (she said) be so
fond of me, that she despaired of ever seeing me more, but that she
consoled herself as well as she could with the assurance that I should
be happy. I forgot to say, that Colonel O'Brien, in his letter to me,
stated that he expected immediate orders to leave Cette, and take the
command of some military post in the interior, or join the army, but
which, he could not tell; that they had packed up everything, and he was
afraid that our correspondence must cease, as he could not state to what
place we should direct our letters. I could not help thinking at the
time, that it was a delicate way of pointing out to us that it was not
right that he should correspond with us in our relative situations; but
still, I was sure that he was about to leave Cette, for he never would
have made use of a subterfuge. I must here acquaint the reader with a
circumstance which I forgot to mention, which was that when Captain
Savage sent in a flag of truce with our clothes and money, I thought
that it was but justice to O'Brien that they should know on board of the
frigate the gallant manner in which he had behaved. I knew that he would
never tell himself, so, ill as I was at the time, I sent for Colonel
O'Brien, and requested him to write down my statement of the affair, in
which I mentioned how O'Brien had spiked the last gun, and had been
taken prisoner by so doing, together with his attempting to save me.
When the colonel had written all down, I requested that he would send
for the major, who first entered the fort with the troops, and translate
it to him in French. This he did in my presence, and the major declared
every word to be true. "Will he attest it, colonel, as it may be of
great service to O'Brien?" The major immediately assented. Colonel
O'Brien then enclosed my letter, with a short note from himself, to
Captain Savage, paying him a compliment, and assuring him that his
gallant young officers should be treated with every attention, and all
the kindness which the rules of war would admit of. O'Brien never knew
that I had sent that letter, as the colonel, at my request, kept the
secret.
In ten days we received an order to march on the following morning. The
sailors, among whom was our poor friend the midshipman of the Snapper
cutter, were ordered to Verdun; O'Brien and I, with eight masters of
merchant vessels, who joined us at Montpelier, were directed by the
Government to be sent to Givet, a fortified town in the department of
Ardennes. But, at the same time, orders arrived from Government to treat
the prisoners with great strictness, and not to allow any parole; the
reason of this, we were informed, was that accounts had been sent to
Government of the death of the French officer in the duel with O'Brien,
and they had expressed their dissatisfaction at its having been
permitted. Indeed, I very much doubt whether it would have been
permitted in our country, but the French officers are almost
romantically chivalrous in their ideas of honour; in fact, as enemies, I
have always considered them as worthy antagonists to the English, and
they appear more respectable in themselves, and more demanding our
goodwill in that situation, than they do when we meet them as friends,
and are acquainted with the other points of their character, which
lessen them in our estimation.
I shall not dwell upon a march of three weeks, during which we
alternately received kind or unhandsome treatment, according to the
dispositions of those who had us in charge; but I must observe, that it
was invariably the case, that officers who were gentlemen by birth
treated us with consideration, while those who had sprung from nothing
during the Revolution, were harsh, and sometimes even brutal. It was
exactly four months from the time of our capture that we arrived at our
destined prison at Givet.
"Peter," said O'Brien, as he looked hastily at the fortifications, and
the river which divided the two towns, "I see no reason, either English
or French, that we should not eat our Christmas dinner in England. I've
a bird's eye view of the outside, and now, have only to find out
where-abouts we may be in the inside."
I must say that, when I looked at the ditches and high ramparts, I had a
different opinion; so had a gendarme who was walking by our side, and
who had observed O'Brien's scrutiny, and who quietly said to him in
French, "_Vous le croyez possible!_"
"Everything is possible to a brave man--the French armies have proved
that," answered O'Brien.
"You are right," replied the gendarme, pleased with the compliment to
his nation; "I wish you success, you will deserve it; but--" and he
shook his head.
"If I could but obtain a plan of the fortress," said O'Brien, "I would
give five Napoleons for one," and he looked at the gendarme.
"I cannot see any objection to an officer, although a prisoner, studying
fortification," replied the gendarme. "In two hours you will be within
the walls; and now I recollect, in the map of the two towns, the
fortress is laid down sufficiently accurately to give you an idea of it.
But we have conversed too long." So saying, the gendarme dropped into
the rear.
In a quarter of an hour, we arrived at the Place d'Armes, where we were
met, as usual, by another detachment of troops, and drummers, who
paraded us through the town previous to our being drawn up before the
governor's house. This, I ought to have observed, was, by order of
Government, done at every town we passed through; it was very
contemptible, but prisoners were so scarce, that they made all the
display of us that they could. As we stopped at the governor's house,
the gendarme, who had left us in the square, made a sign to O'Brien, as
much as to say, I have it. O'Brien took out five Napoleons, which he
wrapped in paper, and held in his hand. In a minute or two, the gendarme
came up and presented O'Brien with an old silk handkerchief, saying,
"_Votre mouchoir, monsieur_."
"_Merci,"_ replied O'Brien, putting the handkerchief which contained the
map into his pocket, "_voici à boire, mon ami_;" and he slipped the
paper with the five Napoleons into the hand of the gendarme, who
immediately retreated.
This was very fortunate for us, as we afterwards discovered that a mark
had been put against O'Brien's and my name, not to allow parole or
permission to leave the fortress, even under surveillance. Indeed, even
if it had not been so, we never should have obtained it, as the
lieutenant killed by O'Brien was nearly related to the commandant of the
fortress, who was as much a _mauvais sujet_ as his kinsman. Having
waited the usual hour before the governor's house, to answer to our
muster-roll, and to be stared at, we were dismissed; and in a few
minutes, found ourselves shut up in one of the strongest fortresses in
France.