The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1850-09-03 00:00:00

THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD.

A SURPRISE AND AN ESCAPE. I
•
From " Maurice Tierney, tlid Soldier of Fortune," in the
Dublin University Magazine.

It is a very common subject of remark in newspapers,
and as invariably repeated with astonishment by the read-
ers, how well and soundly such a criminal slept on the
night before his execution. It reads like a wonderful
evidence of composure, or some not less surprising proof
of apathy or indifference. I really believe it has as little
relation to one feeling as the other, and is simply the na-
tural consequence of faculties over-strained, and a brain
surcharged with blood ; sleep being induced by causes
purely physical in their nature. For myself, I can say
that I was by no means indifferent to life, nor had I any
contempt for the form of death that awaited me. As lo-
calities, which have failed to inspire a strong attachment,
become endowed with a certain degree of interest when
we are about to part from them for ever, I never held life
so desirable as now that I was going to leave it ; and vet.
wiih all this, I fell into a sleep so heavy and profound.
that I never awoke till late in the evening. Twice was I
shaken by the shoulder ere I could throw off the heavy
weight of slumber; and even when I looked up and saw
the armed figures around me, I could have lain down once
more and composed myself to another sleep.
The first thing which thoroughly aroused me, and at
once brightened up my slumbering senses, was missing my
jacket, for which I searched every corner of my cell, for-
getting that it had been taken away as the nature of my
sentence was declared " infamante." The next shock
was still greater, when two sapeurs came forward to tie
my wrists together behind my back ; I neither spoke nor
resisted, but in silent submission complied with each or-
der given me.

All preliminaries being 'completed, I was led forward,
preceded by a pioneer, and guarded on either side by two
sapeurs of " the guard ;" a muffled drum, ten paces in
advance, keeping up a ow monotonous rumble as we
went.

Our way led along the ramparts, beside which ran a
row of little gardens, in which the children of the officers
were at play. They ceased their childish gambols as we
drew near, and came closer up to watch us. I could mark
the terror and pity in their little faces as they gazed at me;
I could see the tr-;t- of compassion with which they
pointed me on:, to each other, and my heart swelled with
gratitude for oven so slight a sympathy. It was with dif-
ficulty I could restrain the emotion of that moment, but
with a great effort I did subdue it, and marched on, to
all seeming, unmoved. A little further on, as we turned
the angle of the wall, I locked back to catch one last look
at them.. Would that I had never done so! They had
quitted the railings, and were now standing in a group, in
the act of performing a mimic execution. One, without
hl jacket, was kneeling on the grass. But I could not
bear the sight, and in scornful anger I closed my eyes,
and saw no more.

A low whispering conversation was kept up by the sol-
diers around me. They were grumbling at the long dis-
tance they had to march, as the " affair" might just as well
have taken place on the glacis as two miles away. How
different were my feelings—how dear to me w ,s now every
minute, every second of existence ; how my heart leaped
at each turn of the way, as I still saw a space to traverse
and some little longer to live.
"And ma yhap after all," muttered one dark-faced fellow,
`t we shall have come all this way for nothing. There can
be no fusillade' without the general's signature, so I
heard the adjutant say ; and who's to promise that he'll
be at his quarters ?"

" Very true," said another ; " he may be absent, or at
table."

" At table !" cried two or three together; " and what
if he were ?"

" If he be," rejoined the former speaker, " we may go
back again for our pains! I ought to know him well; I
was his orderly for eight months, when I served in the
Legers,' and can tell you, my lads, I wouldn't be the
officer who would bring him a report or a return to sign
once he had opened out his napkin on his knee ; and it's
not very far from his dinner hour now."

What a sudden thrill of hope ranihrough me ! Perhaps I
should be spared for another day.
" No, no, we're all in time," exclaimed the serjeant ;
" I can see the general's tent from this ; and there he
stands, with all his staff around him."
" Ye 3 ; and thei-e go the other escorts—they will be up
before us if we don't make haste; quick time, lads. Come
along, mon cher," said he, addressing me—" thou'rt not
tired, I hope."

" Not tired !" replied I ; " but remember, serjeant,
what a long journey I have before me."
" Pardie ! I don't believe all that rhodomontade about
another world," said he gruffly ; " the Republic settled
that question." _ _

I made no reply, for such words, at such a moment,
were the most terrible of tortures to me. And now we
moved on at a brisker pace, and crossing a little wooden
bridge, entered a kind of esplanade of closely-shaven turf,
at one corner of which stood the capacious tent of the
commander-in-chief, for such, in Moreau's absence, was
General Berthier. Numbers of staff-officers were riding
about on duty, and a large travelling carriage, from which
the horses seemed recently detached, stood before the
tent.

We halted as we crossed the bridge, while the adjutant
advanced to obtain the signature to the sentence. My
eyes followed him till they swam with rising tears, and I
could not wipe them away, as my hands were fettered.
How rapidly did my thonzhts travel during those few mo-
ments. The good old Pere Michel came back to me in
memory, and I tried to think of the consolation his pre-
sence would have afforded me; but I could do no more
than think of them.

Which is the prisoner Tierney ?" cried a young aid-
de-camp, cantering up to where I was standing.
" Here, sir, replied the serjeant, pushing me forward.
" So," rejoined the officer, angrily, " this fellow has
been writing letters, it would seem, reflecting upon the
justice of his sentence, and arraigning the conduct of his
judges. Your epistolary tastes are like to cost you
dearly, my lad ; it had been better for you if writing had
been omitted in your education. Reconduct the others,
serjeant, they are respited; this fellow alone is to undergo
his sentence."

The other two prisoners gave a short and simultaneous
cry of joy as they fell back, and I stood alone in front of
the escort.

" Parbleu! he has forgotten the signature," said the
adjutant, casting his eye over the paper : " he was"chatter-
ing and laughing all the time, with the pen in his hand,
and I suppose fancied that he had signed it."
" Nathalie was there, perhaps," said the aid-de-camp,
significantly.

.14 She cuss, and I never saw her looking better. It's
something like eight years since I saw her last ; and I vow
she seems not only handsomer, but fresher and more
youthful, to-day, than then."
" Where is she going—have you becrd ?"
" Who can tell ? Her passport is like a firman—she
may travel where she pleases. The rumour of the day
says Italy."
" I thought she looked provoked at Moreau's absence ;
it seemed like want of attention on his part, a lack of cour-
tesy she's not used to." _

Very truo ; and her reception of Berthier was anything
but gracious, although, he certainly displayed all his civi.
lilies in her behalf.'

" Strange days wo live in !" sighed the other, "when a
man's promotion hangs upon the favourable word of

" Hush !—take care !—be cautious !" whispered. the
other. " Let us not forget this poOr fellow's business.
How are you to settle it? Is the signature of any conse-
quence ? The whole sentence is all right and regular."
" I shouldn't like to omit the signature," said the other,
cautiously ; " it looks like carelessness, and might involve
us in trozble hereafter."

" Then .we must wait some time, for r see they are
gone to dinner,"
__

" So I perceive," replied the former, ES he lighted his
cigar, and seated himself on a bank. " You may let the
prisoner sit down, serjeant, and leave his hands free; he
looks wearied and exhausted."

I was too weak to speak, but I looked my gratitude ;
and sitting down upon the grass, covered my face and
wept heartily.
Although quite close to where the officers sat together
clotting and jesting, I heard little or nothing of what they
said. Already the things of life had ceased to have any
hold upon me; and I could have heard of the greatest
victory, or listened to a story of the most fatal defeat,
without the slightest interest or emotion. An occasional
word or a name would strike upon my ear, but leave no
impression nor any memory behind it.
The military band was performing various marches and
opera-airs before the tent where the general dined, and in
the melody, softened by distance, I kit a kind of calm
and sle3py repose that lulled me into a species of ecstasy.
At last the music ceased to play. and the adjutant, start-
ing hurriedly up, called on the serjeant to move forward.
" By Jove 1" cried he, " they seem prepared for a pro-
menade, and we shall get into a scrape if Berthier sees us
here. Keep your party yonder, serjeant, out of sight, till
I obtain the signature."

And so saying, away he went to the tent at a sharp
gallop.

- A -few seconds, and I watched him cross the espla-
nade; he dismounted and disappeared. A terrible chok-
ing sensation was over me, and I scarcely was conscious
that they were 'again tying my hands. The adjutant
came cut again. and made a sign with his sword.

"We are to move on!" said serjeant, half in doubt.
" Not at all," broke in the aid-de-camp ; " he is mak-
ing a sign for you to bring up the prisoner ! There he is
repeating the signal—lead him forward."
I knew very little of how—less still of why—but we
moved on in the direction of the tent, and in a few mi-
nutes stood before it. The sounds of revelry and laugh-
ter—the crash of voices, and the clink of glasses—toge-
ther with the hoarse bray of the brass band, which again
struck up—all were co-mingled in my brain, as, taking me
by the arm,.l was led forward within the tent, and found
myself at the foot of a table covered with all the gorgeous-
ness of silver plate, and glowing with bouquets of flowers
and fruits. In the one hasty glance I gave, before my lids
fell over my swimming eyes, I could see the splendid uni-
forms of the guests as they sat around the board, and the
magnificent costume of a lady in the place of honour next
the head.

Several of those who sat at the lower end of the table
drew back their seats as I came forward, and seemed as if
desirous to give the general a better view of me.
Overwhelmed by the misery of my fate, as I stood
awaiting my death, I felt as though a mere word, a look,
would have crushed me but one moment back ; but now,
as I stood there before that group of gazers, whose eyes
scanned me with looks of insulting disdain, or still more
insulting curiosity, a sense of proud defiance seized me, to
confront and dare them with glances haughty and scorn-
ful as their own. It seemed to me so base and unworthy
a part to summon a poor wretch before them, as if to whet
their new appetite for enjoyment by the aspect of his mi-
sery, that an indignant anger took possession of me, and
I drew myself up to my full height, and stared at them
calm and steadily.
" So, then !" cried a deep soldier-like voice from the

far end of theitable, which I at once recognised as the ge-
neral-inNclilers—" no then, gentlemen, we have now the
honour of seeing amongst us the hero of the Rhine! This
is the distinguished individual by whose prowess the pas-
sage of the river was effected, and the Swabian infantry
cut off in their retreat 1: Is it not true, sir ?" said he, ad-
dressing me with a savage scowl.
" I have had my share in the achievement !" said I,
with a cool air of defiance.
" Parbleu! you are modest, sir. So had every drum-
mer.boy that beat his tattoo ! But your's was the part
of a great leader, if I err not ?"
I made no answer, but stood firmand unmoved.
" How do you call the island which you have immor-
talised by your valour ?"
" The Fels Insel, sir."
" Gentlemen, let us drink to the hero of the Fels Insel,"
said he, holding up his glass for the servant to fill it. "A
bumper—a full, a flowing bumper ! And let him also
pledge a toast, in which his interest must be so brief.
Give him a glass, Contard."
" His hands are tied, mon general."

" Then free them at once.'Y
The order was obeyed in a second ; and I, summoning
tip all my courage to seem as easy and indifferent as they
were, lifted the glass to my lips, and drained it off.
" Another glass, now to the health of this fair lady,
through whose intercession we owe the pleasure of your
company," said the general.
" Willingly," said I ; " and may one so beautiful sel-
dom find herself in a society so un ;worthy of her !"
A perfect roar of laughter succeeded the insolence pf
this speech, amid which I was half pushed, half dragged,
up to the end of the table, where the general sat.
" How s ), coquin, do you dare to insult a French gene-
ral, at the head of his own staff!"
" If I did, sir, it were quite as brave as to mock a poor
criminal en the way to his execution !"
" That is the boy !—I know him now !—the very same
lad !" cried the lady, as, stooping behind Berthier's chair,
she stretched out her hand towards me: "-Come here ;
are you not Colonel Mahon's godson 1"
I looked her full in the face ; and whether her own
thoughts gave the impulse, or that something in my stare
suggested it, she blushed till her cheek grew crimson. •
" Poor Charles was so fond of him !" whispered she in
Berthier's ear ; and as she spoke, the expression of her
face at once recalled where I had seen her, and I now per-
ceived that she was the same person I had seen at table
with Colonel Mahon, and whom I believed to be his wife.
" A low whispering conversation now ensued between
the general and her, at the close of which he turned to
me and said—

" Madame Merlancourt has deigned to take an interest
in you ; you are par toned. Remember, sir, to whom
you owe your life, and be grateful to her for it."
I took the hand she extended towards me, and pressed
it to my lips. _ _

" AlLlaine," said I. " there is but one favour more I
would ask in this •vorid, and with it I could think myself
haupv."
`• But can I grant it,'rstoti cher," said she, smiling.
" if I am to judge from the influence I have seen you
wield, madame, here and elsewhere, this petition will
easiiy be accorded."
A slight flush coloured the lady's cheek, while that of
the general became dyed red with anger. I saw that I
had committed some terrible blander, but how, or in
what, I knew not.

" Well, sir," said Madame Merlancourt, addressing me
with stately coldness of manner, very different from her
former tone, " Let us hear what you ask, for we are al-
ready taking lip a vast deal of time that our host would
prefer devoting to his friends—what is it you wish ?"
" My discharge from a service, madame, where zeal and
enthusiasm are rewarded by infamy and disgrace ; my
freedom to be anything but a French soldier."
" You arc resolved, sir, that I am not to be proud of
my protege," said she haughtily : " what words are these
to speak in the presence of a general and his officers ?"
" I am bold, madame, as you say, but I am wronged."
" How so, sir—in what have you been injured ?" cried
the General, hastily, " except in the excessive condescen-
sion which has stimulated your presumption. But we are
really too indulgent in this long parley. Madame, per-
mit me to offer you some coffee under the trees. Con-
tardo, tell the band to follow us. Gentlemen, we expect
the pleasure of your society."
And so saying, Berthier presented his arm to the lady,
who swept proudly past without deigning to notice me.
In a few minutes the tent was cleared of all, except the
servants occupied in removing the remains of the dessert,
and I fell back unremarked and unobserved, to take my
way homeward to the barracks, more indifferent to life
than ever I had been afraid of death.

As I am not likely to recur at any length to the some-
what famous person to whom I owed my life, I may as well
state that her name has since occupied no inconsiderable
share of attention in France, and her history, under the
title of " Memoires d'une Contemporainc," excited a de-
gree of interest and anxiety in quarters which one might
have fancied far above the reach of her revelations. At
the time I speak of, I little knew the character of the age
it which such influences were all powerful, nor how des-
tinies very different from mine hung upon the favouritism
of "La belle Nathalie." Had I known these things, and
still more, had I known the sad fate to which she brought
my poor friend, Colonel Mahon, I might have scrupled to
accept my life at such hands, or involved myself in a debt
of gratitude to one for whom I was subsequently to feel
nothing but hatred and aversion. It was indeed a terrible
period, and in nothing more so than the fact, that acts of
benevolence and charity were blended up with features of
falsehood, treachery, and baseness, which made one des-
pair of humanity, and think the very worst of their species.