The audience received this declaration of the physician with a murmur of satisfaction; and in its frivolous cruelty prepared to devour the scandal, of which for a few moments it feared it would have been deprived. Transported with rage, Monsieur Gorsay would have clambered up the steps of the stand to drag down his wife, but the gen d'armes prevented his passing, and he fell back upon a bench, where he remained with face hid in his hands, apparently insensible. Arthur, upon whom Lucia kept her eyes ardently fixed, besought her by a look not to betray any farther a love, the avowal of which must cover her with disgrace. In reply to this mute prayer, he only obtained an impassioned gesture, which expressed her unshaken resolution to save him or perish with him.
Meanwhile, a lively discussion was going on among the judges,whose sagacity had not foreseen this romantic incident. For the sake of public morals, the president wished to suppress the interrogation of Madame Gorsay, who could throw no light on the main fact of the assassination. He succeeded in bringing his colleagues over to this opinion; but the public prosecutor, whose consent was necessary, was not a man to give up, from motives of humanity, the prospect of a development of additional crime, which being ingrafted by him upon an accusation already capital, promised to make it one of the most interesting criminal trials which the court of Bordeaux had ever known. On being consulted by the president of the court, the red-gowned accuser therefore briefly declared that the testimony of the witness appeared to him to be indispensable.
During this discussion, Madame Gorsay remained upright and motionless, earnestly gazing upon Arthur. The proudness of her bearing at this moment might have seemed the effect of a masculine, or rather a super-human energy, were it not for a tremor, almost imperceptible, which forced her to lean her hand for support upon the chair which had been placed for her.
To the questions of form which were addressed her by the president, she replied in a clear and it might be said a composed manner; but when he requested her to tell the jury what she knew relating to the attempt made upon the person of her husband, she paused for a few moments; not that vulgar timidity caused the heroic determination of her heart to falter, but as if to collect at this decisive moment her physical energies, which seemed almost ready to abandon her.
'I have entered this place respected; I shall leave it disgraced!' said she at length, in an altered but thrilling voice. 'It matters little. Betweenmyhonor andhislife I cannot hesitate. For ten months Arthur d'Aubian has been my lover; Arthur d'Aubian is my lover!' repeated she, with incredible energy, repressing with a commanding gesture the murmuring which these words produced; 'for ten months I have received his visits in my apartment, frequently at night. At the moment the crime was committed, I was awaiting him; if he was found in the park, it was because there was no other way to come to me. Arthur, I repeat, is my lover; who will dare say that he is an assassin?'
'I will!' exclaimed Monsieur Gorsay, rising in a transport of ungovernable fury.
'Then do you lie!' cried Lucia, whose look seemed to wither the old man. 'This man lies!' continued she, pointing with her finger to her husband. 'I have betrayed him; he knows it; and to revenge himself, he accuses Arthur of a crime. I have myself proposed to him to accuse me of the deed. I should not have denied it; but he would not. The blood of a woman would not suffice him; he must have that of Arthur; of Arthur whom I love, I do not say more than my life—that would be but little—but more than my honor!'
Lucia here interrupted herself, and cast her sparkling eyes toward that part of the hall occupied by the female part of theaudience, among whom a lively agitation was manifested, and whose whisperings clearly condemned an avowal so contrary to all received usages.
'You speak of immodesty,' said she to them, with a bitter smile. 'Spite of your want of pity, I would not wish any one of you to become so wretched as to learn that there is yet one thing more powerful than shame; and that is, despair. Think you, if the scaffold were not in view, I should thus hold up my disgrace for your contempt? They are about to kill him, I tell you; and must I let him die, that your blushes for me may be spared?'
As she pronounced these last words, Lucia reeled and closed her eyes, while a death-like paleness took the place of the burning hue with which fever had colored her cheeks. The supernatural energy which had thus far sustained her, suddenly gave way, as the flame of a torch is extinguished by a blast of wind. Doctor Mallet, who stood at the foot of the stand, watching with vigilant anxiety the slightest movement of the young woman, threw himself forward and received her in his arms the moment she fell. Others ran to his assistance, and Lucia was speedily carried into the witnesses' hall. She remained there for some time, apparently lifeless; but soon there followed this swoon a succession of convulsions more dreadful than any she had ever before experienced.
'The court is adjourned for half an hour,' said the president, despairing of obtaining immediate silence or attention.
These words completely let loose the storm; and the audience-chamber suddenly assumed the appearance of a tempestuous sea. A hundred conversations, equally lively, took place at once. The conduct of Madame Gorsay became the inexhaustible text for comments the most violent and contradictory. Some thought her crazy, others frightful, while a third class pronounced her sublime. In general, the old men were of the first opinion, the women of the second, and the young men of the third.
'How happy must this d'Aubian be!' exclaimed one of these latter, in an extatic tone.
'Happy! to be on the culprit's seat!' replied with a sneer a man of more mature years.
'And what matters that? Is there a humiliation which may not be effaced, or a grief which cannot be consoled, by the happiness of inspiring such a passion? Spite of its ignominy, even the culprit's seat becomes a throne for him who reigns over such a noble heart. Oh! to be loved thus—and die!'
The kindling eyes of the young enthusiast addressed this sentimental exclamation to a pretty blonde, whose coquetry had kept him for six months on the culprit's seat, while waiting for the throne of love.
'To be loved is no doubt vastly agreeable,' replied the matter-of-fact man; 'but to die! and upon the scaffold! Rather you than I, my fine fellow!'
On resuming the sittings, the president gave notice that the very critical situation of Madame Gorsay having rendered it necessarythat she should be removed home, both the accusation and the defence might have the benefit of her deposition, and that it would remain for the jury to decide upon its value. 'The list of witnesses is exhausted,' added he; 'Monsieur the Public Prosecutor has the floor.'
In legislative and judicial discussions, those incidents which sometimes turn up in a manner completely unexpected, are the rocks on which ordinary speakers, whose presence of mind is disturbed as soon as they are taken unawares, usually make shipwreck; but which master minds, practised in debate, have the power of adroitly turning to their own advantage. On the present occasion, the public prosecutor, a native of Bordeaux, although in other respects a superficial lawyer, possessed in common with many of his countrymen the faculty of improvisation, which seems, by one act of the mind, to combine thought and its expression. The reverse of the Abbe de Verlot, he would have recommenced the siege, and taken Malta, watch in hand, in ten different ways. Without the least appearance of embarrassment at an event which seemed to have changed the whole aspect of the proceedings, this able tactician gradually developed the plan of the accusation, as he had prepared it in the silence of his chamber. With the unwearied patience of the ant, adding little by little, grain of sand upon grain of sand, he heaped upon d'Aubian a mountain of proofs, under which the strength of Hercules would have given way; and then, when the mass seemed already sufficiently weighty, overwhelming, and unmovable, he suddenly added, as a terrible and unexpected crowning of the work, the deposition of Madame Gorsay.
'In an excess of despair,' exclaimed he, in a pathetic tone, 'a respectable old man, a husband cruelly outraged, tells you, 'This woman is deranged.' A noble and a mournful untruth, which I cannot blame, but which is still a falsehood! No, gentlemen; this woman is not deranged; her physician tells you she is not. She is not mad, unless you term madness the unbridled phrenzy of an adulterous passion, which, with bold front and audacious eye, unveils itself in the very sanctuary of justice, there to enact the deplorable scene with which all hearts seem yet filled. By trampling under foot all reserve, all modesty, Madame Gorsay thought that she could save him whom she dares to call her lover. Unhappy woman! Who did not see, that far from being a justification, her disclosure only adds another proof to the accusation; a proof perhaps the most overwhelming of all! What, in fact, does this unheard of declaration prove? It proves this; that before carrying murder into the house of Monsieur Gorsay, the accused had commenced by the dishonor of his wife; thus making one crime the prelude of another. And so it always happens: 'Nemo repente turpissimus.' And what! is it pretended that this disgraceful stain which has just been brought to the glare of day, can cover over the shed blood? No, gentlemen; the blood still remains beneath themire, and nothing shall prevent our tracking it from the victim directly to the assassin!'
The public prosecutor continued a long time in this strain, adding weight to his words by impassioned gestures, and fervent declamation. Proceeding from inductions to oratorical displays, from arguments to appeals to the passions, he succeeded in making the guilt of the accused a sort of luminous and baleful star, the existence of which none but a blind man or an idiot could deny. At the close of the peroration, Arthur stood convicted of having attempted to assassinate Monsieur Gorsay, not only for the purpose of getting possession of his money, but also that he might espouse the unfaithful wife, who by her widowhood would become a desirable object for a ruined gambler.
This eloquent piece of pleading produced upon the assemblage an overwhelming and decided impression, which the advocate of d'Aubian in vain endeavored to counteract. In vain he urged in favor of his client the confession of Lucia, which explained so naturally the circumstances metamorphosed by his opponent into additional proofs of guilt. In vain he essayed to prove that the deposition of Monsieur Gorsay was but a calumny inspired by vengeance. In his rejoinder, more withering even than his first speech, the prosecutor prostrated irrevocably in the dust every position and argument of the defence.
The jury, who counted among their number but two unmarried men, finding in the accused the seducer of a married woman, were not on that account disposed to be more lenient. In their eyes the offence against conjugal rights, instead of a palliation seemed an increase of crime. After a long and serious deliberation, they declared, by a majority of nine out of twelve, that Arthur d'Aubian was guilty of a premeditated attempt to murder, followed by an attempt at robbery. Bonnemain, against whom the prosecutor had abandoned proceedings, was unanimously acquitted.
In spite of the lateness of the hour, almost all the audience had remained in their places, that they might be present at the dénouement of the drama. The two prisoners, who had been removed from the hall while the foreman of the jury read their verdict, were presently brought back, and listened with a sort of impassive silence to the reading of the verdict, the requisition of the public prosecutor for the pronouncing of sentence, and finally the double decree pronounced by the judge. The only sign of joy manifested by the galley-slave on being acquitted, was a guttural sound produced by the eagerness with which he once more resumed the free use of his respiration.
'I should like devilish well to have a cup of water, or even of wine,' said he to the gen d'arme at his right.
Arthur received the verdict of the jury with firmness; but when the president pronounced the sentence of the court, which condemned him to twenty years hard labor in the galleys, his head sunk upon his breast, and he remained for some time apparently stupefied.
'Alphonse,' said he at length, in a low voice to his defender, who was sitting in front of him, 'you have done what you could for me, and I thank you; but the moment has come: remember your promise.'
'It is not a decree of death!' replied the young advocate, turning deadly pale.
'It is the decree of a thousand deaths!' replied the condemned, with energy; 'would you have me go to the galleys? Remember your oath; you could not save my life—at least preserve my honor.'
He bent forward toward his friend; their hands met and interchanged a long and mysterious embrace. On resuming his position, Arthur saw, rising from the midst of the dense crowd, a lean and sinister figure, whose devouring eyes were fastened upon him with an expression of ferocious triumph. He replied to the fury of this look with the calm and disdainful smile of a man who rises superior to his fate.
'Monsieur Gorsay,' said he, in a firm tone, 'look at me well, that you may not forget me at your hour of death!'
With these words, Arthur applied to his breast the point of the dagger which his friend had just given him, and with a firm hand buried it in his heart. He remained for a moment upright, his eyes wide open and fixed upon the old man, whom their terrible fascination filled with involuntary dread, and then suddenly fell like a tree severed by the axe.
A cry of horror arose on all sides. 'Dead!' exclaimed Doctor Mallet, who was among the first to hasten to him. 'She mad, and he dead! My God! may Thy judgment be more merciful for them than that of men!'
'Dead! very dead indeed!' said Bonnemain, in his turn leaning over the body of the young man stretched at his feet. 'To stick himself in that fashion because he was sentenced for twenty years! What a fool!'
Threemonths after the trial, on a gloomy winter's evening, Doctor Mallet entered the house of Monsieur Gorsay, to which, since their return from Bordeaux, he had been a daily visitant. Without asking for the old man, he ascended immediately to the apartment of Lucia, whose alarming situation required the assiduous attentions which the physician bestowed upon her with untiring devotion. He gently opened the door of her chamber, and approached the bed of the young woman, who seemed lying in a lethargic slumber. Without awaking her, he placed his finger on her throbbing pulse, and then with anxious hand gently pressed her forehead, which he found to be burning like the alabaster of an ever-lighted lamp.
'The fever increases, and the brain is becoming more and more affected,' said he to himself, shaking his head with a care-worn aspect. He then stood for some time, contemplating with mournful compassion the sufferer whose life he still hoped to save, but of whose reason he despaired.
'I am sure that something has happened here since yesterday,' said he at length, in a low voice, to a female somewhat advanced in years, and of a masculine exterior, who stood before the fire-place awaiting the doctor's orders.
'I have taken care of many sick persons,' replied the nurse, with uplifted hands and eyes, 'but have never seen such things as are going on here. In the first place, last night Madame gets up fast asleep, as she often does, but this time she tried to throw herself out of the window. She had got herself half over the balcony before I could get her in again.'
'You have been asleep then?' said Monsieur Mallet, in a tone of anger.
'Why I might have had a little sand in my eyes; one is not made of iron. But it was lucky I had a strong arm; if it hadn't been for that, this poor lady would not now have had any need of a doctor. But this is nothing to what took place here this morning.'
'Has Monsieur Gorsay been up here?' asked the doctor quickly.
'You have hit it. And Madame, as soon as she saw him, fell into convulsions which lasted more than two hours. It took four of us to hold her; and then we could hardly do it. When her strength was all gone she fell asleep from weakness; but I have an idea that this sleep bodes nothing good.'
The recital of the nurse was here interrupted by a slight noise which the door made as it was partly opened. The physician briskly turned his head, and saw Monsieur Gorsay, who had stopped at the threshold. Hastening toward him, he thrust him back into the other apartment.
'You must not enter here!' said he to him in a tone of command. 'This morning you took advantage of my absence; but now you must obey me. What is it that you wish? Would you complete your work by killing her?'
'She is asleep,' replied the old man, in a submissive voice. I beseech you, doctor, let me enter. What do you fear? she sleeps; she will not see me.'
'Do you not know the strange lucidness of her slumbers? Even though sleeping, she will be aware of your presence.'
'Let me but look at her for a single moment,' said Monsieur Gorsay. 'This morning I had scarcely a glimpse of her; and you have kept me so long from her! Am I condemned never to see her again?'
'Your presence would kill her,' replied the doctor; 'as long as I am her physician, I shall oppose an interview for which there is no good object, and which cannot be other than injurious. In her present deplorable condition, the least increase of excitement would prove fatal. Spare her then, for Heaven's sake! Does not the blood of Arthur d'Aubian suffice you? Must you also have that of this unhappy woman?'
The old man bowed his head with a mournful air, and remained some moments before replying. Then turning toward Monsieur Mallet a look of the deepest despair:
'Doctor,' said he, in a tremulous voice, 'could my death save her, most willingly would I die this moment. But what can I, a miserable old man, do upon the earth? An object of horror and affright, without family, without friends, without children! She was all these to me; she was my joy, my happiness, my treasure. Ah! why was she not my daughter? Perhaps she then would have loved me!'
'But of what use are regrets, when the evil is past remedy?'
'Past remedy! I know of one, but it requires a courage which I no longer possess; for old age has weakened my spirit, and leaves it only the strength to suffer. Do you believe me, doctor? I have never been a coward; but now—I dare not kill myself. Think not that it is religion that restrains me; it is fear. I have the desire for suicide, but not the courage.Hehad it. He! young and beloved—heknew how to die. And I, so near the tomb that I have but to raise the stone to descend into it, I hesitate, and tremble! Weakness and cowardice—these are man's last companions!'
Monsieur Gorsay seemed to forget the presence of the physician, and re-descended to his apartment with slow and painful steps. He there passed the remainder of the evening motionless in his arm-chair, with head sunk upon his breast, eyes fixed, and draining drop by drop the inexhaustible sadness in which for many months his heart had been steeped. At eleven o'clock a domestic entering the room, he arose and permitted himself to be undressed with the passiveness of a machine: then, after swallowing a narcotic draught, which his sleeplessness had rendered necessary, he got into bed.
The most profound silence reigned throughout the house; the domestics had long since retired to their apartments. The lethargic sleep of Lucia still continued; and despite the occurrence of the preceding night, the nurse, according to her custom, was slumbering in the arm-chair. At length Monsieur Gorsay fell asleep. Suddenly the old man was aroused by the sound of the window-blind turning upon itself. Opening his eyes, he perceived with amazement, mingled with terror, a large band of silver which the moon projected through the shutters of the Venetian blinds upon the carpet. In a moment this was obscured by the figure of a man, who leaped into the room, and proceeded directly toward the bed with the rapid and stealthy tread of a tiger. Monsieur Gorsay endeavored to rise, but before he could utter a cry, or seize the bell-rope, he was assailed and thrown down by the robber, who with one hand grasped him by the throat, and with the other brandished a long knife, which he had carried open between his teeth.
'Mercy!—Bonnemain!' murmured the old, man, who by the light of the moon had just recognized the murderer.
'Not a word! or I strike!' replied the galley-slave, in a low voice. 'Listen to me: you must get up, open the secretary, and give me the money. If you hold your tongue I will do you no harm; but if you attempt to speak a single word, I will let out your blood like that of a fowl! Do you understand me?'
Frozen with terror, Monsieur Gorsay made a sign of assent. He then arose, with the assistance of Bonnemain, who by way of precaution kept fast hold of his arm, took a key from the pocket of his riding-coat, opened the secretary and drew from the secret cavity the casket filled with gold, upon which, for the last five months, the galley-slave, by night and by day, had not ceased thinking.
'Is this the whole?' said he, as his eyes gloated over the prey.
'It is all that I have here,' replied Monsieur Gorsay, in a half articulate voice; 'but I have some silver in the library; must I go and bring it?'
'Thank you; you might alarm the servants, which would not be so pleasant. Too much appetite is hurtful. I must be content with the rouleaus.'
'Take them then; I give them to you; and I swear never to betray you.'
'I believe you; before an hour the beaks will be on my haunches, as the other time; not such a fool!'
With these words, the galley-slave, by a movement as rapid as unforeseen, passed behind Monsieur Gorsay, grasped him tightly, closed his mouth with his left hand, while with the other he stabbed him in the side with anatomical precision. Stricken to the heart, the old man bit convulsively the fingers of the assassin, uttered a stifled groan, and expired. Bonnemain laid him upon the floor in silence, and assured himself that no pulse beat any longer. Certain then of never being denounced by his victim, he arose and plunged his hand into the casket which stood upon the secretary. At this instant, the noise of a door opening sent an icy chill through his veins. He turned in confusion, and by the light of the moon, which alone illuminated the scene of murder, he discerned at the entrance of the chamber a figure in white, which to a superstitious mind might have seemed the avenging spirit of the murdered man. This apparition moved directly up to the assassin, who in his fright dropped both the dagger and the rouleaus of gold. Crawling on his hands and knees, he succeeded in regaining the window, through which he sprung with a desperate effort. He traversed the garden, scaled the wall of the inclosure, and fled across the country, bearing on his hands, as on the former occasion, blood but no gold.
Two hours after this, the attendant of Madame Gorsay awoke, and perceived that the bed of her charge was empty. Alarmed, she ran to the window but found it closed; she then saw that the door was partly open. Lighting a taper, she followed from chamber to chamber the tracks of the somnambulist, who in her progress had not closed any of the doors behind her. She at length came to the threshold of the chamber of Monsieur Gorsay, where she suddenly stopped, uttering a shriek of horror, which aroused and terrified the whole household.
In the full moonlight which illuminated part of the room, Lucia, with dishevelled hair and closed eyes, was sitting by the dead body of her husband. The childish amusement in which she seemed to be seriously engaged told that the wanderings of madness werejoined to those of somnambulism. She held the casket on her knees, turned out the rouleaus, one after the other, and scattered the pieces of gold upon the carpet, arranging them in symmetrical figures. The blood which flowed profusely from the old man's wound was mingled with this sport, and the fingers of the smiling idiot were dabbled in the purple gore.
Lucia, dragged from the fatal chamber, awoke only to fall into terrible convulsions, during which the last rays of reason seemed to be extinguished. The scene which had been enacted five months before on this spot was now repeated in a more fatal manner. The judicial inquest established in a positive manner that Madame Gorsay, in a fit of somnambulism, had assassinated her husband, against whom, since the death of Arthur d'Aubian, she had cherished an implacable hatred. It also appeared clearly demonstrated that she had only perpetrated during sleep a murder which had been long contemplated during her waking hours. Among the parties who held the inquest there were more than one who thought that even sleep was not a sufficient excuse for the deed, and that the matter ought to be brought before a jury; but the insanity of the accused having been legally proven, took away all pretext for a criminal procedure. Instead, therefore, of being incarcerated in a prison, the wretched widow was placed in a lunatic asylum; a step which to many seemed too lenient.
Oneday in the year 1838, among the persons whom curiosity had brought to the Institution at Charenton, might be seen a citizen of some fifty years of age, fat, well-conditioned, ruddy, and with clothes very well brushed. He gave his arm to a buxom female bedecked in full suit of holiday attire, and a finger to a child of about four years of age, whom maternal vanity had equipped in the martial uniform of an artillery officer. This group, a type of city felicity, the last reflex of patriarchal manners, was one which might have brought a smile of malice to the lip of an artist, or have furnished food for more serious reflection to a philosopher.
The head of this interesting family, who was about taking his son in his arms to give him a better view of the inmates of the establishment, suddenly stopped at sight of a female patient, still young and beautiful, who, without paying attention to any one, was walking up and down the small inclosure, repeating in a plaintive tone the name of 'Arthur.'
'What on earth ails you, Monsieur Bonnemain?' said the tawdry lady to her spouse. 'Why, you are as white as a sheet, and are all in a tremble!'
'It is from hunger then,' replied the old galley slave, as he recovered his sang froid, who, thanks to the dowry of his wife, had become the head of a flourishing commercial establishment; 'let us go to dinner. Achille is sleepy. These fools amuse me no longer. We have had enough of this stuff!'
THIS BEAUTIFUL REPLY WAS MADE DURING THE RECENT DEBATES CONCERNING THE REGENCY OF FRANCE.
Withinthe palace walls they wept,The mother and her son;She, the young widow of a prince,And he, her first-born one:The stamp of royalty was setUpon his broad, fair brow;He was the kingdom's pride and boast—Heir of its glory now.
Withinthe palace walls they wept,The mother and her son;She, the young widow of a prince,And he, her first-born one:The stamp of royalty was setUpon his broad, fair brow;He was the kingdom's pride and boast—Heir of its glory now.
Wo for the doom of Orleans' line!Wo for the loved one dead:Wo for the king whose hope lies low—The land whose peace has fled!Already are dark threats breathed forth,And others claim the placeThat should be his, that princely boy's,The noblest of his race!
Wo for the doom of Orleans' line!Wo for the loved one dead:Wo for the king whose hope lies low—The land whose peace has fled!Already are dark threats breathed forth,And others claim the placeThat should be his, that princely boy's,The noblest of his race!
They come to ask his mother's rights,His mother's and his own;The widow and the fatherless,They stand in grief alone!It was in honied tones they spoke,Yet 'twas a bitter word:'The Regent of our France must knowTo wear and wield a sword!'
They come to ask his mother's rights,His mother's and his own;The widow and the fatherless,They stand in grief alone!It was in honied tones they spoke,Yet 'twas a bitter word:'The Regent of our France must knowTo wear and wield a sword!'
The spirit of a line of kings,The Bourbon's race of pride,Flashed from the boy's bright eye, and thusHis fearless voice replied:'I have a sword; my mother's handCan wave a banner bright,And France will fight for both of us,And for our holy right!'
The spirit of a line of kings,The Bourbon's race of pride,Flashed from the boy's bright eye, and thusHis fearless voice replied:'I have a sword; my mother's handCan wave a banner bright,And France will fight for both of us,And for our holy right!'
God shield thee on thy doubtful path,Heir of a fickle throne!A bloody race, an early doomIts noblest ones have known;The hand that should have guarded thee,Hath mouldered to decay;God save thee in thy peril's hour,And guide thine onward way!
God shield thee on thy doubtful path,Heir of a fickle throne!A bloody race, an early doomIts noblest ones have known;The hand that should have guarded thee,Hath mouldered to decay;God save thee in thy peril's hour,And guide thine onward way!
A. R.
New-York, July, 1843.
'OFFICER OF THE NIGHT.'
I havefew antipathies, but there are some that I do battle with at sight or smell. Whether persons or things, Iappreciatethem at once; as some persons of keen perceptions will tell immediately when a cat is near them. You will hear people talk of what they call a 'presentiment of evil.' This is all humbug. If they would look about them, they would find, each one, his respective cat; or, to speak magnetically, his 'opposite pole.'
Corporal F—— was my antipathy, my 'opposite pole,' my cat; and for that matter, aTom-cat, and a very saucy one. We had never spoken, and knew nothing of each other; our eyes had never met, but we had stolen glances, each way, giving strong confirmation of what the mere presence of each sufficiently indicated; to wit, a decided hostility. I had felt uncomfortable some mornings before, and knew perfectly well that I had a cat to find; but I didnotknow, till afterward, that Corporal F—— had reached town that very day. It was a common fancy with me, subsequently, that I knew what part of the town he was in at any given time; and this may have been fancy only, or it may have been a fact magnetical.
Our first meeting was in ——, East Florida. I had been in that warm-bath of a climate just long enough to get well soaked through, and was beginning to act out that dreamy languor of body and soul that fits one so exactly for the cigar-life—the lounging, easy nonchalance of that sunny land; in short, without that excess of high spirits which is an irritation, I was superlatively happy—till I met Corporal F——. He was to me immediately a large spot on the sun; and although I couldn't alwaysseethe spot, I knew it was there, and keeping off so much sunshine. His arrival, as I viewed it, was impertinent, and not at all in aid of the object I had in coming a thousand miles to that delicious climate. With a generous ingenuity, I thought at first of proposing to him to draw cuts, to decide which of us should leave town. He had not the look of being cared for, and I could not imagine his absence would be missed at all, except by me; while as to myself, to say nothing of the party I was with, I rather thought that the girls who had taken so much pains to teach me their waltzes and Spanish dances——But that's no matter. The risk to me would be an unrighteous one, and the project was abandoned.
We were a party of half a dozen, who had left New-York as the severe winter of '35 and '36 was setting in, and reached —— by way of Picolata, making the last safe passage over that road. TheIndian war had just broken out, and the whole country was in arms. Shortly after our arrival, the north part of the town was picketed off at about half a mile from the outskirts, with a guard, here and there; and a cordon of military posts stretched along the western side, around to the sea. A large gun was then placed in the middle of H——'s bridge, pointing into the pine barrens; the usual night patrol of southern cities was doubled, and the place declared under 'martial law.' Every able-bodied man was expected to do service; and if that expectation failed to be met by any one, that 'individual' was assisted by a corporal and guard. I was an 'able-bodied man;' sound in every particular. The hot sun had already browned my face so that there were no delicate indices of ill health; and if I had been a shade darker, I might have been knocked off at the market for at least seven hundred dollars. I was full of 'tusymusy,' and ready for any thing, but wished to be myself the master of the 'how and when' of any enterprise that I was to engage in.
I was anticipated. Happening to criticise the appearance of the different companies about town, in too public a manner, the sovereigns were offended, and it was resolved that I should be victimized. I was ordered to appear at the Fort, armed and equipped for immediate service, as one of a small guard of Minorcans and Spaniards, posted a mile and a half out of town; of which guard, Bravo was corporal, and —— captain; precisely as I should like to have put them in a shipping-bill for the East-Indies. Well, I declined the invitation. I was from the 'mountain-land,' and for some days, my blood had been going up with the thermometer, at the strange goings-on about town. There appeared to me a quite unnecessary preparation of powder for mere home consumption. Beside, what didIknow about war, that they should select me, when the streets were full of Uncle Sam's men, and hardly room enough for them at the outskirts to spread their tents? I didnotcall at the Fort. I didn't even send my card, or my regret. Of course I was not surprised the next morning, at parade hours, to see Corporal Bravo and guard coming down the street with apparently hostile intentions. It might be accident that they approached so near the house; but people in that climate never move without an object; and I accordingly passed through a gate in the rear, merely to air myself in a different direction. Bravo enquired for me very particularly at the house, breathed a few moments his men, who were in a high excitement; made a rapid revolution, and marched back to the Fort, a mile distant, to report that I was not to be found. At afternoon parade, the same military movement was repeated, and I had again the same charming view of the H—— turkey-buzzards and small snipes on the beach, with fiddlers innumerable, and in the back-ground the pine woods of the wilderness.
After a few days, I was trapped by mere civility; a veryforciblething, by the way, as all women know very well, but there are men who never can learn it. A polite note came from the captain, asking me to call at his quarters; and I was very soon ushered into a room that was lined with muskets and swords and men to use them. Thecaptain received me pleasantly, complimenting me upon my 'esprit du corps' in being master of my own company, etc; but I saw the game at once; and bursting into a laugh at the savage looks of the guard, surrendered at once, merely asking the courtesies of a prisoner of war. I was immediately gratified—with three muskets, one for myself, the others to protect me on either wing, carried by friends who insisted on an arm each side; and so with a strong support in the rear by the rest of the guard, and Bravo in front, cutting the way with a drawn sword, we marched to the Fort. When we entered the walls, and came in sight of the commandant, I expected to be 'cut in sunder at the waist,' but was merely noticed with a careless severity, and told to look on, and be ready at the next parade. We then assumed the form of a rhomboid, in which I was at equal distances from the respective angles, and marched a mile and a half to the camp. After showing me 'the fortifications,' which consisted of a pine-board enclosure of about ten feet by twelve, I was taken into the hot sun to be drilled privately. This was a very short operation. I handled the musket with a kind of desperation, which very soon convinced the corporal that I had the 'real stuff' in me; especially in my last manœuvre, which consisted in cocking the piece suddenly, and lowering the muzzle to his breast; upon which, with military abruptness, he declared the drill over, and myself perfectlyau faitat all military operations.
I was now instructed in other arts and mysteries of war; and was told, among other things, that an officer from town generally visited each camp during the night, and that then every man was to be belted and ready for inspection. When the sentry received, in answer to his challenge, 'Officer of the Night,' his duty was to cry out, for timely notice at the camp: 'Corporal of the Guard—Grand Rounds—Officer of the Night.' This, in Bravo's opinion, was the grandest of all military affairs that were executed without waste of powder. The officer of the night had not been round, for a week, but he was always to be expected. Bravo and myself were very soon on excellent terms. I rather liked him, in spite of the burlesque of his name; for as such men generally do, he had contrived to assume something so like his translation, that it passed very well for the real article. If he did not fulfill his full meaning, his efforts were at least well-meant, and he had a saucy good humor that was quite companionable. That night we had two sentries out, stationed some hundred yards each side of the camp; and somewhere about the 'small hours' I took my first 'stand at arms' on the northern pass, and challenging noises all night, without reply, acquitted myself very much to the corporal's satisfaction. A few days passed very pleasantly away, and I was enjoying my military life so much that I had entirely forgotten Corporal F——. It should be premised, that I knew nothing of his being a corporal, and cared as little. I had no objection to his being a perfect Nabob, if he would only keep out of my way. I now learned that he had command of the next post north of us, and only about half a mile distant.
One charming morning, after an 'off night,' when I was allowedto stay in town, I sallied into the street,en routeto the parade-ground, humming to myself in mocking-bird style, my belt snug and faultlessly white, and musket leaning with an off-duty obliquity that was not pardonable merely, but quite the thing, when I suddenlyfeltthat Corporal F—— was in the street! He was not to be seen, but I knew perfectly well that he was standing in a shop-door, only a short distance ahead. The streets in that old town are very narrow, so that on meeting a cart, the safest way is to post yourself flatwise against the wall, and admire the prospect in the opposite direction till the cart is cleverly by. Of course the foot-paths, such as they are, are close to the wall, and give no room for steps to houses, where, as in most cases, they are built directly on the street. I was on the same side with Corporal F——. If in passing, the corporal should attempt the street, there would be a collision. These mathematical problems suggested that I could cross over, as it was only a long straddle, but I had no desire to do so. Almost unconsciously, however, my musket went to the perpendicular, my eyes fixed where I thought the north star ought to be, (magnetic coincidence!) and my marching-foot was coming down with extra emphasis, at a point just abreast of him, when I thought—it might be imagination—but I thought his foot moved out slightly from the threshold. Quick as the thought, which was lightning in my then state of the brain, I wheeled, brought my musket with a ring upon the lime-stone, and looked Corporal F—— dead in the face! He returned the look with less interest than I expected, but he didn't waver a hair, and our eyes fixed upon each other as steadily as though we had been playing at small-swords. There was barely breathing room between us; and at one time his lips moved as about to speak, but he said nothing. Of course,Ihad nothing to say, but ifhehad any explanation to make, I was then ready to hear it; and if not——I was going on in this manner to myself, when it occurred to me that he was unarmed, and I had a musket, with a tremendous bore, (especially a great bore of a hot day) and a ball then in it, that I would not have dared to have sent within three points of the most distant vessel in the offing. Without taking my eye from him, I resumed my up-street facing; the accenting foot forward, musket to shoulder, and immediately marched up street.
If Bravo had seen this evolution, and my march up the street, how smoothly he would have rolled out his Spanish braggadocia upon my military training! As I passed under balconies loaded down with gay girls, fingers may have been kissed at me; quite likely; I never knew, for I went 'right on' with set teeth to the Fort.
And now, would Corporal F—— challenge? I certainly had given him a chance, and I was in a perfect fever to bring matters to a crisis. I am not a fighting man. I never eat veal, or any thing that's killed young; preferring to wait till I am convinced that from wet days and cold winters the beast must have become indifferent to a knock on the head: but who could refuse his antipathy? Who could live in the same air with his tom-cat?
The day passed—and I was not challenged.
That night, as we lay about the camp-fire, I was possessed of a sudden inspiration, and immediately gave a loud shout. Bravo looked up enquiringly, and Boag, who was privy to my antipathy, sprang to his feet, ready for any emergency. Boag knew that something was in the wind. I paid no attention to either of them, but called up Tom, my errand-boy, and gave him the requisites, with a pass, for a gallon of Santa Cruz, sugar, etc; and all the eggs he could find in town, and then despatched a few men with a boat, for a load of oysters.
Boag was the only other American in our camp. He happened in Florida, in what manner I don't know, from Charleston, South-Carolina, and fell an easy victim, having been captured before I had that pleasure. He was the happiest man I ever knew; happy in every thing he undertook, and careful not to undertake too much. His sagacity upon that point alone would have made a character of any ordinary man. The mere motion of the man seemed to be a high enjoyment, and his bowling at nine-pins was the very perfection of carelessness. He was never guilty of a 'spare,' and would have shuddered at the nicety and precision of hitting any particular pin. But Boag's highest happiness, literally and technically, was in his composition of egg-nogg. Egg-nogg from Boag was irresistible; a smooth, and chaste production: the white of a pullet's egg, deliciously flavored, was all you could think of, until—some time after taking it.
About nine o'clock, the roast and 'nogg were ready; and then, as we grouped about the fire you should have looked in upon us, to have seen happy faces. The Spaniards in a perfect sputter of talk and gesticulation as though every oyster burnt to the stomach; Boag presiding every where with his stick; and myself, the Mephistophiles of the occasion, lying on a board, the windward side of the group, taking just enough of the 'nogg to digest each particular oyster, and no more. Toward midnight, they had worried themselves sleepy, and crept off to their berths. Bravo bringing up the rear, and laying himself out in a very grand manner, his legs and arms indicating all points of the compass, to signify, I suppose, that he ruled in all directions. After waiting a suitable time for the sentries to become careless, I beckoned to Boag, whose intuition was as perfect as a woman's, and he followed me stealthily into the long salt grass bordering the beach. The sentries were ordered to fire immediately upon any one who refused to answer their challenge; and knowing that the sentry we had to pass was only half-drunk, I had a painful apprehension that the egg-nogg was after all a questionable fore-thought. We had gained but a short distance, when the quick challenge sent us headlong in the grass. The sentry couldn't leave his post, and probably concluded that some wild fowl had risen between him and the sky, and settled down again. Emerging again, at about the same distance on the other side of the sentry, we were again challenged, and made our salaam, as before, in the same unhesitating manner. Presently the challenge was repeated, and we thought we heard the click of his musket. The night was painfullystill, and it might be the sharp cry of a disturbed snipe, or the snapping of a brand at the camp-fire. We were breathless 'for a space,' and the musketoes seemed to know perfectly well that we durst not raise a finger to brush them off. Then creeping along till we were sure of being within the shade of the forest, we came to the perpendicular again, and walked on rapidly to the camp of Corporal F——. I hinted to Boag to keep calm, and ready for any thing that might turn up; at which he looked amazed, but said nothing; no doubt wondering that I had not yet learned to appreciate him. At this moment, we received an abrupt challenge from the advanced guard of Corporal F——. I shouted back, with all the strength of egg-nogg, the magic words, 'Officer of the Night!' And oh! what a relief to that sentry, as he made the pine woods ring with 'Corporal of the Guard—Grand Rounds—Officer of the Night!'
Turkey-buzzards flew about on the tree-tops, and the whole family of wild fowl, coughed and wheezed out their disturbance upon the still night. Then arose the hum of the camp. A dozen sleepy Spaniards sprang from their berths, swearing vociferously; lights waved, swords clattered to the hip, and down came Corporal F——, with his men superbly belted, their heads leaning back to the north star, and muskets flashing in the torch-light of three negroes coming on before.
At a short distance from us, Corporal F—— gave a tremendous 'Halt!' upon which, I made two steps forward, and waving off the little niggers to the right and left, stood in bold relief—the Officer of the Night.
'Well, of course Corporal F—— drew his sword, and 'cut you in sunder at the waist?'
Not at all; but if that column of men, together with Corporal F——, had immediately fallen over backward, I could not have been better satisfied of their astonishment. The short silence was so terrible to Boag, that feeling he must say something, he suggested a want of candles, in a feeble way; and then, with a hurried 'Right about face—march!' the Corporal and guard vanished in the darkness.
Reader, I am sorry to hoax you, but there was no catastrophe. An antipathy looked dead in the face is alwayspointless. I was not challenged by Corporal F——; and as corporal, I never saw him after that night. I never knew his name; and it is quite probable that five years afterward I passed my wine to him in that same old antiquated town. There was a face at our hotel that reminded me very much of Corporal F——; but with five years, my antipathy had gone, and my tom-cat was a very clever companion.