The Letter-Bag of Lady Elizabeth Spencer-Stanhope Part 20

Among the _detenus_ he soon observed a young man of more fortune than wit, whom he at once recognised as a victim ready to his hand. He accordingly sent for this youth one morning, and informed him that he would give him leave to reside in a village a little way beyond the limits, for so the imaginary boundary was always designated within which the prisoners were confined by their parole. Although surprised at a permission for which he had not even applied, the young _detenu_ naturally was delighted, and, utterly devoid of suspicion, he lost no time in availing himself of his increased liberty.

Shortly afterwards, the Governor caused a bogus order to be posted in the office in Verdun to which the prisoners went at fixed periods to sign their names. It announced that the Minister of War had issued a decree commanding that all prisoners found out of the limits should be shot.

This notice the young prisoner in question either did not see, or ignored, thinking that in view of his having received special permission for his departure from the Governor, it could not apply to his individual case.

From this false security, however, he was suddenly awakened one morning by the appearance of a detachment of _gendarmerie_, who, without any circ.u.mlocution, presented him with a copy of the order, and informed him that, as he had been found out of the limits, he was included in the number of those to whom the decrees applied, and that their orders were to carry the sentence into immediate execution.

So sudden, so unexpected an announcement of instant death might well have shaken a man of stronger nerve. As it was, the condition of the poor youth was pitiable. In vain he protested his ignorance of the notice and his innocence of any intentional disobedience to the Government; to all such representations his captors turned a deaf ear. Still more, no means were neglected by them, no note of preparation omitted, that could tend to increase the agony of his terror.

At last, at the very moment when not a hope of life remained to him, a Gallo-Irishman, the chosen confidant of the Governor, made his appearance, as if by accident. At the sight of this man, one last chance of escape presented itself to the miserable youth, and he entreated the fellow to save him. The Irishman replied decisively that he could hold out no hope; the orders of the Minister of War had been imperative, and any chance of eluding them was impossible.

"But I have the General's permission to reside beyond the limits!" pleaded the youth eagerly.

"True, but the General exceeded his powers in giving you that permission; you cannot expect him to sacrifice himself for you. It is unfortunate, but you must be the victim!"

"Is there no possibility of your doing anything? You are so intimate with him, cannot you save me?"

"I fear not."

"But at least make _one_ effort!"

"It is a hopeless case!" the Irishman a.s.sured him. Then, after consideration, he said: "Well, I will _try_, but upon one condition, and one only."

"Name it!" was the eager reply.

"That you give me _carte-blanche_ to act as I see fit!"

The condemned man did not hesitate. He agreed readily to all the Irishman suggested; and the villain having given orders to the _gendarmes_ to await his return, departed triumphantly. After an interval which appeared sufficiently long for him to have journeyed to Verdun and back, he reappeared and informed the poor youth, who meanwhile had been awaiting his verdict in a state of indescribable anxiety, that the mission had been successful. This had not, however, he explained, been accomplished without the greatest difficulty, as General Wirion trembled at the serious responsibility which he was about to incur in disobeying the Minister's express orders; nevertheless, the Governor would consent to spare the Englishman's life on condition of his paying down immediately the sum of 5000. The young man was startled by the largeness of the amount, but in the position in which he was placed, it required few arguments to convince him of the worthlessness of money when his existence was at stake. He accordingly consented to the proposal, signed a draft for the specified amount, and was set at liberty. When, however, in a calmer frame of mind he came to consider the transaction and to discuss it with his friends, he felt convinced that some trickery had been employed towards him. He thereupon wrote to his banker, cancelling the order for the money. But this only made matters worse for him; for the General, furious at such an attempt to defeat his machinations, enforced payment, not merely of the 5000 originally demanded, but of an additional 200, under pretext of having incurred that latter expense in trying to substantiate his lawful claim to the larger sum!

Needless to say, robberies of this description were perpetrated without the knowledge of the Ministers; but a rumour of some disgraceful transaction on the part of Wirion having at last reached them, he was summoned to Paris to undergo examination before a court of inquiry. In consequence of what then came to light, upon the next public occasion at which he was present, the Emperor turned his back upon the General. The latter understood the hint. He left the presence of Napoleon, got into a hackney coach, drove to the Bois de Boulogne, and there shot himself.

Occasionally, however, Napoleon himself was outwitted by the cunning of the villains in his employment. Wirion's successor at Verdun, Colonel Courcelles, a less daring but more clever scoundrel, found favour with the Emperor by a very simple expedient. He had lost one of his legs in _partie de cha.s.se_, a loss which gave him the valuable air of a gallant veteran, and of which he knew how to take the best advantage. Pa.s.sing through Verdun to join his army, the Emperor spied the apparently maimed hero, and at once honoured him with a special notice. "_Monsieur le Colonel_" he inquired with a note of respect, "_ou avez-vous perdu la jambe?_"

Courcelles, sufficiently quick-witted to convey the impression he desired without risking the utterance of any lie, replied truthfully: "_Sire, j'etais a la bataille de Marengo!_"

Courcelles succeeded in robbing the prisoners who were in his charge in a more cautious manner than his predecessor; he, in short, contrived to subtract something for himself from any remittances which reached them, and paid them francs for livres. But if in many instances the prisoners suffered at the hands of the French authorities, on one occasion the position was reversed, and a French commandant became the victim of a prisoner's cunning.

The hero of this incident was Lord Blayney, the Irishman before referred to. A certain General c.o.x, formerly Governor of Almeida, owned a very nice little Andalusian horse, Sancho, which had distinguished itself as one of the first racers in Verdun. Lord Blayney offered a challenge for Sancho to run against a horse which he promised to produce for the event, and his bet was accepted with alacrity. He thereupon sent to an Englishman who was in young Talleyrand's service, and who was a recognised connoisseur in horseflesh, instructing this man to send him a particular English race- horse which had formerly figured at Verdun, and in the capabilities of which Lord Blayney still apparently had confidence, although it was now pretty well advanced in years.

Nevertheless, when the animal reached Lord Blayney's stables, sundry alterations were made in its appearance which would prevent its being recognised as an old acquaintance by those who had seen it formerly; and thus when the date for the race arrived, an unknown beast entered the lists against Sancho.

It was soon patent to all that the age of this compet.i.tor made its chance of success but small; and, in fact, General c.o.x's fleet little horse won in a canter. Everyone laughed loudly at Lord Blayney's folly in imagining that so obviously incompetent an animal could run against the beautiful little racer Sancho; only Lord Blayney himself seemed stupidly surprised at his own failure. None the less, he bore his loss with amiability, and as he had previously invited his antagonists to dine with him that night he did not omit to make them welcome.

General c.o.x and the backers of Sancho were, not unnaturally, in the highest spirits that evening; and when wine had loosened their tongues, they expressed their triumph rather incautiously in loud praises of their favourite horse. Lord Blayney likewise appeared to drink heavily, and at last, seemingly elated by this fact, or stung past endurance by the taunting remarks of his adversaries, he swore that he would again match his horse against Sancho and for a yet larger sum of money. c.o.x, delighted, instantly closed with the offer, and Lord Blayney shortly afterwards, as though overcome by the wine he had drunk, fell asleep.

His guests sat on drinking till at length their host awoke, when it became evident to them that, sobered by his nap, he was ready to view matters in a more cautious light. "c.o.x" he observed anxiously, "I will give you a good sum down to be off the bet I made just now." "Oh, no! no!" cried General c.o.x. "It is too late to withdraw it--you cannot show the white feather." "Well, then," shouted Lord Blayney, with apparent angry recklessness, "I'll double the first bet!" "Done!" cried the General, enchanted at the certainty of extracting a still larger sum from the pockets of the foolish peer. So delighted was he, in fact, that he generously arranged for several of his most intimate friends to share his prospective good fortune, and seeing an unparalleled opportunity for currying favour with the Commandant, he invited the latter to partic.i.p.ate in such exceptional luck.

One man alone saw through the whole transaction. This was a certain friend of Lord Blayney's who is mentioned in John Stanhope's letters by his nickname of "Paddy Boyle," [8] which had apparently been conferred upon him on account of his exhibiting certain characteristics which are more usually ill.u.s.trative of an Irish than a Scottish nationality. Lord Boyle went to Lord Blayney with the unwelcome announcement: "By Jove, my Lord, I'll tell of you!"

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" rejoined Lord Blayney; "I'll give you a hundred pounds to hold your tongue!" The bargain was struck and the secret was kept.

The eventful day arrived. So large a bet had attracted universal attention. "I will not attempt to describe," writes John Stanhope, "the intense interest felt by all present at the commencement of the race, nor the confusion and dismay of the c.o.x party when they saw the previously incompetent animal now cantering away from Sancho with all the ease and style of a true English racehorse; nor will I attempt to give the crimination and recrimination that followed. I will content myself with transcribing the observation with which the poor Commandant consoled himself for his loss. '_Les Anglais pretendent que Lord Blayney est fou; je reconnais a mes depens qu'il est plus fin que les autres!_'"

With regard to Lord Boyle, who so intelligently fathomed the intended ruse in this instance, Stanhope subsequently relates some amusing anecdotes.

"During the time of our races," he writes, "Lord Blayney had invited a large party to dine with him on the race ground. Instead of putting myself in the path of the prospective host, as did most of my friends, I studiously avoided him, and thus escaped an invitation, as I was anxious to do, for I had little doubt that there would be a profusion of wine which would lead to its inevitable consequences at Verdun--a good deal of quarrelling. I rode to the course with Lord Boyle, who congratulated me on my prudence. I never heard a man talk more reasonably or eloquently than he did upon the state of the society at Verdun, and particularly upon the reprehensible consequences which invariably arose from successive drinking. The first thing I heard next morning was that Paddy Boyle had, after dinner, _insulted every man at the table but one_, uttering sarcasms founded doubtless upon truth, but as biting as they were clever. _From every individual except the one who had escaped his attacks he had just received a challenge_, which he had been forced to meet by sending round a circular apology. He had thus given a pretty practical ill.u.s.tration of the truth of the remarks with which he had favoured me on the previous evening!"

Subsequently Lord Boyle afforded another ill.u.s.tration of his "strange admixture of shrewdness and muddle-headedness." On an occasion when, it must be emphasized, he was entirely sober, he was discovered going out into the garden at twelve o'clock at night with a hand-candle in order to ascertain what was the correct time by the sun-dial!

But in a society which comprised men of so many different types and varying calibre, there were not wanting some of the survivals of a France which was rapidly becoming extinct An inhabitant of Verdun frequently referred to by Stanhope was the Chevalier de la Lance, an aristocrat of the _ancien regime_, who piqued himself upon possessing the peculiar grace of manner belonging to a bygone day, and which he carried to such a point of exaggeration as often to render himself ridiculous. "He is nevertheless a kind-hearted, gentlemanlike and amiable old man. Like most others of his rank who are still alive, he emigrated at the beginning of the Revolution.

He retired to Germany, where he lived for some time under the a.s.sumed character of a humble music-master. He tells me that one of his most pleasant experiences was the surprise of his various pupils when, upon leaving the place of exile, he sent them back all the tickets for lessons which they had given him, and for which he no longer required payment He did not, however, return to France alone; in the country-house of some of his pupils he had met a lady whose heart was touched by the misfortunes of the exile. She was related to one of the leading families of the Austrian Empire, but had learnt to feel compa.s.sion for the unfortunate emigrant, and as compa.s.sion is akin to love, it soon grew into a warmer sentiment, and she at length agreed to unite her destiny to his."

On an occasion, destined to be momentous in the life of another friend of Stanhope, did the Chevalier have an opportunity of displaying his exquisite manners to the full. One day young Stanhope was walking through the streets of Verdun with a friend of his, Captain Strachey, [9] when they met a young Frenchman of their acquaintance, "one, indeed," he remarks, "of the few _ancienne n.o.blesse_ of Verdun."

'Ah, Monsieur Stanhope,' said the Frenchman, 'you must go to the Cathedral, my cousin is the Queteuse [10] to-day; you must give her a Napoleon at least!' Strachey announced that he would like to go with me, and together accordingly we went.

"At the appointed time the Queteuse made her appearance. She proved to be a most lovely girl, dressed in black silk, with a garland of snow-white marguerites on her head. As a mark of particular attention from the ecclesiastical authorities, she was permitted the escort of the Chevalier de la Lance, who, thoroughly enjoying the situation, held the tips of her fingers and conducted her with all the airs and graces of the olden time through the crowd a.s.sembled in the church. At length, preceded by the beadle in full costume, she approached the place where we were standing.

The graceful simplicity of her manners formed an admirable contrast to the affectation of the old chevalier. With a low courtsey, and with a smile which united the sweetest expression to the most perfect modesty, she presented her purse to each of us in our turn. I was no longer at the happy age when the heart is carried away by every sweet glance; but I own that, for the moment, I was bewildered by the beautiful sight which the young girl presented, as, engaged in so holy a cause, and with her extraordinary loveliness framed by the picturesque surrounding of Gothic arches, she might well have been mistaken for the vision of an angel. All the money in my pocket was at once transferred to the little silk purse of the fair pet.i.tioner; but to Captain Strachey's peace that smile was far more fatal. It was decisive of the destiny of his life. A copy of French verses which he penned to the beautiful Queteuse was the first proof of the impression produced upon his heart. Many were the obstacles with which he had to contend; but at length the lovely Mlle, de la Roche became the bride of the English prisoner."

There was, however, but little intercourse between the English and the French families at Verdun. "There is one set," Stanhope writes, "who keep themselves very select and consider themselves _par excellence_ the society of the town. Almost the only English admitted into their circle are the Marine officers. It is said that they obtained this preference by persuading the French that they are distinguished by the t.i.tle of _Royal_ Marines entirely because they rank highest in the British service!"

Only a certain Mr and Mrs S. who belonged to the cla.s.s of _detenus_ were allowed, on sufferance, occasionally to mingle with the French families; and in this connection Stanhope relates one more story.

"My fair countrywoman, who is sharing the captivity of her husband, formerly an officer in the army, is singularly attractive. If her features were not too p.r.o.nounced and her form much too thin, she would be a very pretty woman. As it is, there is something remarkably airy and graceful in her figure, and very lively in her countenance. Still more lively is she in her manners. She is, indeed, one of the cleverest and most sarcastic women I ever knew, very agreeable when you are not yourself the object of her satire. In order to preserve her character for wit, she is not very scrupulous in her language; and in consequence of this an Englishman once ventured to make her an insulting proposal, upon which she very quietly caught up the poker and knocked him down, thus establis.h.i.+ng her reputation in such a forcible manner that, whatever she has subsequently been bold enough to say, she is quite certain of being considered a perfect Diana.

"An adventure occurred to her which would be amusing if I could tell it in her own language. On one of the coldest nights of a severe winter she left her apartments to go to one of our Verdun b.a.l.l.s. Her husband pleaded a severe headache as an excuse for not accompanying her; and, that her amus.e.m.e.nt might not be disturbed by any disagreeable suspicions, he actually retired to bed and enacted the part of a sick man so well that he eluded even her penetrating glance. No sooner, however, had the carriage driven off which conveyed her to the ball, than up jumped the sick man, dressed himself and set off to the club in order to indulge his darling pa.s.sion for play. At an hour rather earlier than he had calculated upon, his wife left the ball, doubtless anxious to look after her invalid husband. She was driven home by a friend, and in order to inconvenience the latter as little as possible, she got out of the carriage without waiting for the house-door to be opened, and allowed her friend to drive away. It was a piercingly cold night, the ground was covered with snow, and she picked her way carefully up the steps and then felt in her pocket for her _pa.s.se-partout_. To her horror she discovered it was not there, she had forgotten to take it out with her! She used all her efforts to rouse her sleeping husband or some of the inmates, but in vain. No resource remained but for her to walk, quarterdeck, in her satin shoes and ball dress, the bodice of which, to make matters worse, was generally very decollete.

"While engaged in this truly miserable occupation, who should come up but her husband, returning from his club! Had he had the key in his pocket much might have been forgiven him, but he, too, had forgotten it. He was obliged, therefore, to join his wife's promenade before the door of their lodgings, and submit to a snowy curtain-lecture, till dawn broke, and the miserable, s.h.i.+vering couple were at last able to make themselves heard by the inmates of the house."

Many years afterwards John Stanhope related a yet more extraordinary meeting which occurred to this same couple.

"When the allied troops entered France, the hope of that liberty of which he had so long been deprived was again kindled in the breast of Captain S., and at length rose to such a pitch as to overpower all other considerations, till he made his escape _en garcon_ from the _depot_. The unpleasant situation of his wife when she found herself thus abandoned in the midst of a foreign land may be imagined; but she was not the type of woman to give herself up to despair. After some time had elapsed she set off with the intention of making her solitary way to England. During her journey she encountered a detachment of the Russian army, and on finding herself surrounded by troops, nothing daunted, she demanded to be taken to the General commanding them. She was conducted to his presence and was received by him and his aide-de-camp, who stood beside him. Something in the appearance of the latter attracted her attention--she looked again and again--did her eyes deceive her, or was that figure in a Russian uniform, with an order at his b.u.t.ton-hole and his face partly concealed by heavy moustachios, indeed her husband? Another look converted her doubts into certainty, and she was in her husband's arms. He had directed his course towards the Russian army, been of great service to the General--probably by giving him information on the state of the country--and had been rewarded by the situation he now held.

"He subsequently re-entered the English army, having obtained a commission in the Horse Guards. Later, I often saw the fair heroine of this story riding in Hyde Park, in a costume which resembled the uniform of her husband's regiment, and accompanied by a daughter whose grace as an equestrian was set off by her personal beauty, whilst an orderly enacting the part of a groom completed the singular appearance of the group."

Meanwhile, amongst the men of all nationalities who were to be found among the prisoners, certain of these, like Captain S., from time to time succeeded in effecting their escape. One brazenly went as a courier carrying despatches to the _grande armee_; another cleverly pa.s.sed himself off as a Custom House officer and actually accompanied a battalion of French soldiers, during the whole time receiving the utmost civility from the unsuspecting officers and men. But all studiously avoided Naval disguises, for the French believed that there was some peculiar predisposition in English blood to the Naval Service; indeed, on this account, all English foundlings were sent to Ma.r.s.eilles or Toulon to be brought up as sailors!

Once, during John Stanhope's residence at Verdun, did Napoleon pa.s.s through the town. When this occurred, the young _detenu_ made his way so close to the carriage and inspected its occupant with such determined scrutiny that, he adds with satisfaction, "I can boast that I made Napoleon himself draw back!" His description, entered in his journal, of the Man of Destiny, then approaching the reverse of his fortunes, is of peculiar interest.

"How shall I describe him? He was in a coloured nightcap, not a very Imperial, nor, at any time, a becoming costume; he had travelled all night, which, also, is neither calculated to improve a man's beauty, nor to shed a ray of good-humour over his countenance. His face looked swollen, his complexion sallow and livid; his eyes--but it is impossible to describe the expression of those eyes; I need only say that they were the true index of his character. There was in them a depth of reflection, a power of intention (if I may so call it) of seeing into the souls of men; there was a murkiness, a dark scowl, that made me exclaim-' Nothing in the world would tempt me to go one hour in that carriage with that man!' I could understand the power of that eye, under the glance of which the proudest heart in France shrank abashed; but still the whole countenance rather brought to my memory the early impressions I had formed of a moody schoolmaster, than those of a Caesar or an Alexander." [11]

The days were then long past, however, when Napoleon's a.s.sumption of regal magnificence had provoked merriment among those as yet unfamiliar with it.

In 1804 Lady Louisa Stuart had recorded how the unaccustomed deference with which the first consul elected to be treated was viewed in the nature of a farce by those surrounding him. Everyone of any rank who employed the t.i.tles by which the parvenu monarch desired to be called, did so as a recognised jest. "_Sa Majeste Imperiale et puis du rire_!" But if that phase had now gone by and the boldest in France had learnt to quail before the piercing glance of the usurper, there remained apparently a few stout English hearts in whom he still failed to inspire awe. John Stanhope relates:--

"An incident occurred during Napoleon's pa.s.sage through Verdun, which, however difficult to describe with full effect, is yet too good to be omitted. An old British merchant captain went up to the window and presented a pet.i.tion. This the Emperor refused to receive, observing--'I take no pet.i.tions from the English.' 'Then--d----n your eyes, you b----y son of a ----!' exclaimed the old sailor with engaging frankness, as, turning on his heels, he strode disgustedly away. Napoleon did not appear to understand this comment, but probably he had some shrewd suspicion of its nature."

So profound a sensation, however, did the countenance of the Emperor make upon John Stanhope that he could never afterwards recall it without a shudder. That sense of an all-dominant will, of a boundless egoism, of a villainy which refused to be limited and could not be gauged by any of the ordinary restrictions applicable to normal humanity, was never subsequently erased from his recollections. It must be emphasised, moreover, that John Stanhope was by temperament and training singularly cosmopolitan in his outlook, and free from insular prejudice even with regard to his country's foe, so much so that, when he again had an opportunity of observing Napoleon, he readily acknowledged the strange magnetism of the man whose personality yet filled him with such instinctive repugnance.

On this latter occasion Bonaparte was already past the meridian of his glory, and had met with reverses which enforced a more careful cultivation of his popularity with the ma.s.ses. "He was," relates John Stanhope, "most gracious in his manner to the surrounding crowd, greeting them with a smile; and that smile was strikingly beautiful; there was a fascination about it, which, even in spite of my previous impressions, I could not resist."

Still more, he records with obvious pleasure an instance of the Emperor's magnanimity:--