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fell in the attack on Martinique or the storm- |ments or MacGhie's musketeers, might have ing of Guadaloupe ; and Jack Oswald, who been pardoned for supposing that poor
Adam was a strange and excitable character, be- White of ours, and the dark days of Ticoncoming disgusted with the slowness of pro- deroga, were alike forgotten—as indeed they motion, after being “rowed” one morning were ; for time, the consoler, was fast smoothfor absence from parade, sold out, left the ing over the terrible memories of three years service in a 'pet, became an amatory poet, ago; and ain Lucy could listen with a and then a dangerous political writer, under downcast eye and a half-smiling blush to the the well-known nom de plume of Sylvester voice that spoke of love and admiration. Otway.
Thrice the Comte de Montmorin asked her Long, sadly, and sorely did Lucy Fleming hand in marriage, and thrice she refused pine for the lost ļove of her youth. The him ; but again Monseigneur returned to the mystery that involved his fate, and the snap- charge. ping asunder of the hopes she had cherished “ Ah ! Mademoiselle," said he,“ I am lured for
years, the shattering of the fairy altar on towards you as the poor moth is luredotowhich she had garnered up these hopes, and wards the light—as an eaglet soars towards all the secret aspirations of her girlish heart, the glorious sun-soars, but to sink panting affected her deeply. She had all the appear- and hopeless down to earth again. Never ance of one who was dying of a broken- did a Guebre wership the sacred fire with heart;
and yet she did not so die. Many half the tremulous ardour I worship you ; have perished of grief and of broken-hearts, for mine is a worship of the heart and soulbut our fair friend with the black ringlets the love of father, lover, husband, and and the black eyes was not one of these. brother-all combined in one!”
In time she shook off her grief, as a rose “ And so, M. le Comte, you do admire me,” shakes off the dew that has bent it down, said Lucy, trembling. and like the rose she raised her head again “ In that, Mademoiselle Fleming, I would inore beautiful and bright than ever ; for her only be as other men.” beauty was now chastened by a certain pen- 66 Well” sive sadness which made her very charming ; 'I love
Mademoiselle." and thus it was, that in the year 1761—three “But so do many more.” years after the fatal repulse of the British • “Mon Dieu! I know that too well; but troops before Ticonderoga--she attracted none love as I do." especial attention at the Hague, whither her It was not in bombast like this that poor father, the amiable old minister, had gone Adam White had wooed and won her love; for a season, leaving his well-beloved flock yet in six months after her arrival at the and sequestered manse upon the Scottish Hague, to the dismay and discomfiture of six border, to benefit the health of his pale and entire battalions of the Scots brigade—at drooping daughter. Being furnished with least the officers thereof—she became the introductory letters from his friend Home, wife of M. le Comte Montmorin, peer of the author of " Douglas,” who was then con- France, knight of St. Louis, and all the royal servator of Scottish privileges at Campvere, orders—he who in former days had been the the best society was open to them.
trusty grenadier of Philipsburg and the resoAt the balls and routs of the Comte de lute general at Ticonderoga ; and though the Montmorin, the French resident, Lucy soon old minister sorrowed in his heart, for the eclipsed all the blue-eyed belles of Leyden brave and leal-hearted lad she had loved in and the Hague. Enchanted by the charms other days, and who was buried in his solof the beautiful brunette, their countrywoman, dier's grave so far away; and though he a crowd of gay fellows belonging to the Scots deemed too that the old manse by Tweedside brigade in the Dutch service followed her would be lonely now, without her, as the wherever she went; and those who saw her count belonged to an ancient Protestant dancing the last cotillion, by M. Brieul of house in Lillebonne, and had a magnificent Versailles, the fashionable composer of the fortune, et cetera, he had no solid objection to day, or the stately and old-fashioned minuet offer; and so he pronounced the irrevocable de la cour, with the bucks of Stuart's reġi- nuptial blessing, and handed over his last tie DCCXIII.
on earth-the last flower of a little flock who ! The flower of the French nobles either were all sleeping “in the auld kirkyard at perished on the scaffold or fled for safety and hame,” to the titled stranger
foreign aid ; the king himself became a fugiOn the occasion the Scots brigade consoled tive, but was arrested on the frontiers and themselves by giving a magnificent ball; and brought back to Paris. The streets of that none danced more merrily thereat, than the city swam in blood, and the son of Lucy friend of the lost lover, Jack Oswald, late of Fleming, a brave young chevalier, perished ours, who had been taken prisoner during at the head of his company in defending the some of his wanderings, and sent to France; beautiful Marie Antoinette, and his head was but had made his escape in the disguise of a made a foot-ball by the rabble along the Rue poissard, and was wandering home, via the St. Jacques. A thousand times Lucy urged Hague and Rotterdam.
her husband to fly, for Paris had become a “Poor Adam fell at Ticonderoga," said he mere human shambles, but the determined in a pause of the dancing — "I saw him old soldier of Ticonderoga and Quebec stood knocked on the head—'tis well he lived not by his miserable king, and coolly proceeded to see this day!”
each day to the foreign office on foot ; for the “But the count is so rich!” said a disap- mobs systematically murdered every aristopointed man of the Scots brigade.
crat who dared to appear in a carriage, sacri“Tush!” snarled Oswald,“ the fellow is a ficing even the valets and horses to their mad mere Frenchman-a heartless fool, who would resentment. laugh in the face of a corpse, as old Inveraw In July, a vast armed multitude assailed of ours used to say."
the Bastille, and foremost among the asLet us change the scene to a period of sailants was a Scottish gentleman-known by twenty-eight years after.
many as the notorious Sylvester Otway; by It is now the
others as Jack Oswald of the Black Watch. M. le Comte de Montmorin, a venerable After quitting the regiment, this remarkpeer, was then the secretary of state for the able man (whose father was the keeper of foreign department under Louis XVI. Ma- John's coffee-house at Edinburgh) had made dame la Comtesse, after being long the mir- | himself perfect master of the Greek, Latin, ror of Parisian fashion, had become a staid and Arabic languages; and he became a and noble matron, with a son in the French vegetarian, in imitation of the Brahmins, guards, and two marriageable daughterss the some of whose opinions he had imbibed durbelles of Paris. The old minister, their ing service in India. He became a violent grandsire, had long since been gathered to political pamphleteer, and on the outbreak his fathers, and was sleeping far away, among of the French Revolution repaired at once to the long grass and the mossy headstones of Paris where his furious writings procured his old grey kirk on bonny Tweedside. An- him immediate admission into the Jacobin other occupied his humble manse, another club, in all the transactions of which lie took preacher his pulpit, and other faces filled the a leading part, and was appointed to the comold oak pews around it.
mand of a regiment of infantry, which was The horrors of the French Revolution were raised from the refuse, the savage and inbursting over Paris !
famous population of the purlieus of Paris; The absolute power of the crown of the and they marched sans breeches, shoes, and Louis; the overweening privileges of a proud often sans shirts, with their hair loose, and nobility and of a dissipated clergy with their their arms, faces, and breasts smeared with total exemption from all public burdens, and red paint, blood, and gunpowder. the triple tyranny under which the people At the head of this rabble, on the evening groaned, had made all Frenchmen mad. A of the 14th of July, Oswald appeared with determined and fierce contest among the other leaders before the walls of the terrible different orders of society ensued ; the mobs Bastille; and bearing in his hand a white rose in arms, and the troops joined them. A fag of truce, summoned the governor, the new constitution was demanded, and equality Marquis de Launay, “ to surrender in the of ranks formed its basis ; for the cry was, name of the sovereign people ;” but that
“Vire the people! down with the rich, the noble proudly and recklessly despised this noble, and the aristocrats!”
motlcy rout of armed citizens, and opened a fire upon them. The cannon taken from the White and Lord Mazarine were two out of Hotel des Invalides soon effected a breach, that number. The first gentleman, a native and a private of the French guards, with of Scotland, was in durance for the space of John Oswald, the ci-devant lieutenant of the twenty-eight years ; he had never in that Black Watch, were the two first men who time been heard of by his friends, nor in the entered the place. The poor garrison were least expected thus to be enthralled. When all slaughtered or taken prisoners; among restored to liberty, he appeared to have lost the latter were De Launay, his master-gunner, his mental powers, and even the vernacular and two veteran soldiers, who were dragged sounds of his own language. The Duke of to the Place de la Grève and ignominiously Dorset has taken him under his direct probeheaded.
tection ; this is unasked. and therefore the The terrible Bastille, for centuries the scene more honorable.” of so many horrors, and the receptacle of So this miserable wreck, aged, pale, and broken hearts, was demolished, sacked, and wan, worn almost to a skeleton, nearly nude, ruined! The most active in that demolition with his limbs fretted by iron fetters, and all was the author of “ Euphrosync" and the but fatuous ; insane, and with scarcely a “Cry of Nature ”—the wild enthusiast, John memory of his native tongue or past existOswald. Intent on releasing the suffering ence; in whose eyes the light of life and captives who were believed to be immured intelligence seemed dead, and who had forthere, he hurried, sword in hand, from tower gotten the days when he could weep or feel, to tower, from cell to cell, and vault to vault; was our long-lost comrade, the soldier of through staircases and corridors, dark, damp, Ticonderoga! and horrible, where for ages the bloated Inspired by just indignation, and deterspider had spun her web, and the swollen mined to unravel this terrible mystery, the rat squattered in the danıp and slime that Duke of Dorset took him in a fiacre to the distilled from the massive walls to make a hotel of the Comte de Montmorin, the only hideous puddle on the floors of clay, amid minister then in Paris, to demand the reason which the bones of many a lapless wretch, of this outrage upon the laws of war, of forgotten and nameless now, lay steeping peace, and of common humanity; but the with their rusted chains.
official of the unfortunate Louis could only In one of these, the darkest, lowest, and shrug his shoulders, make the usual grimaces most pestilential--for it was subject to the and apologies, and plead, that as the records tides of the Seine, where the oozing water of the Bastille had perished in the sack of dropped from the vaulted roof, where the that prison, it was totally beyond his power cold slimy reptiles crawled, and where the to explain the affair, for not a scrap of
paper massive walls were wet with dripping slime- remained to show how or why this brave he found a human being, almost an idiot, officer of the Black Watch, who had been
chained to a block of stone. He was old; wounded and taken prisoner in action in · his hair and beard were wbite as the thistle 1758, should have been found in that dread
down; he seemed a living corpse; his aspect ful place thirty-one years after. The Duke was terrible, for existence seemed a miracle, of Dorset perceived, with surprise, that while a curse in such a place; and on being brought speaking the Comte de Montmorin was to upper earth and air, by these blood-steeped ghastly pale, and that his eyes were filled men of the people, he became senseless and with terror. It would have made a fine subswooned.
ject for a painter, but a finer still for a novelThree other prisoner
hers were found, and ist—the delineation of this interview, as it then, to its lowest vaults, the infamous took place in the drawing-room of the Hotel Bastille was levelled to its base, and its de Montmorin, on the morning after the derecords of tyranny, torture, suffering, human molition of the Bastille. crime, and inhuman horror perished with it.
The unfortunate victim of a government “ The only state prisoners, where so many which had long made that infamous prison were supposed to have entered,” says the an engine of tyranny, was introduced by our Edinburgh Magazine for that year, “the proud and determined ambassador, who spoke only prisoners that were forthcoming in the for him in no measured tones, for alas ! the general delivery, amounted to four! Major I poor major could scarcely put three words
together, and for some hours seemed to have see this poor old man, whose wandering forgotten the sound of his own voice. faculties were waking to a new existence
In the stately and now elderly French after the long and dreamless sleep of eight-and lady seated on the gilt fauteuil, between her twenty years, and to whom the upper air, the shrinking and pitying daughters, clad in her blessed sunshine, and the twitter of the happy high stays, hooped petticoat, and figured birds, were all as strange and new as if he satin, with an esclavage round her neck, and had never know em. her white hair powdered and towered up “ Your name, monsieur le prisonnier ? " into a mountain of curls, flowers, and feathers, asked her husband, coldly, and with averted à la Marquise de Pompadour, it was impossi- eye. ble for Adam White to recognize the once “ Adam White-yes, yes—I am sure it was beautiful and black-eyed Lucy of his youth— 50—Adam White; once a major in the 42nd the simple Scottish girl of the quiet old Regiment of his Britannic Majesty George manse on Tweedside, for whom his sorrowing II.,” he replied, with great difficulty and long heart had yearned with agony, in the long pauses. and dreary days of captivity, and in the George II. has been dead these twentylonger watches of the silent night, until love eight years, sir," replied the Duke of Dorset, and youth and blessed hope all passed away kindly placing an arm upon his shoulder, together.
while, with outspread hands and eyes dilated It was as difficult for her to trace in that with terror, the countess started back as if a wan, aged, and resuscitated man, the hand- spectre had risen before her. some young officer who had left her side to “ Dead ! dead !” muttered the major. “I fight Britain's battles under Amherst and the too have been dead, I think-and who now hero of Quebec. She was now a white is on the throne ?" haired matron, and he a wild-eyed, haggard “ His grandson, George III." old man-old by premature years, for eight- “Know you the crime for which you were and-twenty in the Bastille had crushed him arrested, monsieur ? " asked the count, who by a load of unavailing care and sorrow. did not seem to notice the agitation of the How many seasons had passed over that countess. dark and vaulted solitude, during which his The sunken eyes of Major White flashed, weary and pining eyes had never met a but the emotion died at once, for his heart friendly smile, or his ear welcomed a kindly seemed broken and his spirit crushed. greeting.
“ Crime !” said he ; “I was wounded and Eight-and-twenty summers had bloomed taken in the assault on Ticonderoga by the and withered, and eight-and-twenty winters Comte de Montmorin.” had spread their snows upon the hills ! In “I commanded there, and I am he.” that long space of time, how many had been “ This was thirty-one years ago—my God! wedded and given in marriage, or been laid oh, my God!” in their last homes ?-how many of the “Be calm, dear sir," said the Duke of brave and good, the noble and the beautiful, Dorset. had gone to "the Land of the Leal,” where “And you have been all that time in the there is no dawning or glooming, where the Bastille ? " sun shines forever, and the flowers never " Yes, monseigneur." die !
“ Horrible!” exclaimed the duke. For eight-and-twenty years all the pulses “ You were arrested ”_ of life had seemed to stand still; and now, “ One night in the streets of Paris, near under their changed aspect and character, the Port St. Antoine, when I was at liberty and ignorant of each other's presence, Lucy upon parole, as a prisoner of war.” Fleming and Adam White stood within the 6 When was this?" same apartment, without a glance of recog
“ In 1761—three years after Ticonderoga." nition. Weak, tottering, and frail, White
Ah, we had peace with Britain in 1763," was placed in a chair, and the countess said the count, averting his eyes, and enbrought wine to him from a side-table. His did not feel under the keen scrutiny of Dor
deavoring to assume a composure which he aspect was that of
dying man ; her eyes set's eye. “ And so we meet again-fortune were full of pity, and her daughters wept to l has cast us together once more."
“Fortune-say rather fatality,” replied countess turned away in horror from her husWhite, as some old memory shook his with- band, and fainted in the arms of her terrified ered heart.
daughters. “Did you ever hear how or why you were
The inquiry threatened by our ambassador
was never nade. Paris was then convulsed, arrested ?" “Once and once only—I was told—I was anarchy, even as the weak Louis trembled on
and France was trembling on the brink of told that it was on the authority of a lettre de his crumbling throne. The exertions of his cachet, filled up by King Louis in the name grace of Dorset to unravel more of the mysof the Comte de Montmorin.”
tery, and the fears of the Comte de Mont“It is an infamous falsehood !” exclaimed morin, were alike futile, for next morning the count, passionately.
the poor major was found dead in his bed.
He had expired in the night. The sudden "Perhaps so," sighed White, meekly; "the revulsion of feeling produced by a release, man who told me so has been dead twenty- after so many years of blank captivity, had three years."
proved too much for his weak frame and “And this arrest was
shattered constitution. He was buried in “On the anniversary of Ticonderoga—the the church of St. Germain de Prez; and
when Oswald's sans-culottes lifted the dead night of the 15th of July, 1761." *** The 15th of July!” exclaimed the coun- shell provided by the curé of the parish,
man from the bed, to lay him in the humble tess, wildly, and in a piercing voice ;
there dropped from his breast a locket. It morning of that very day my desk was rified contained a miniature and a withered tress of your letters, and your miniature, Adam of black hair—the last mementos left to him White!–O my friend—I see it all—I see of all that he had loved in the pleasant days this horrible mystery!”.
of youth and hope, and prized beyond even White turned his hollow eyes and haggard of the long years that had followed Ticon
blessed hope itself, in the solitude and horror visage towards her in wonder. He passed a deroga. The ruffians who had desecrated hand repeatedly across his eyes, as if to clear the regal sepulchres of St. Denis respected his thoughts, then shook his white head, and the heritage of the dead soldier, so that the relapsed into dreamy vacancy. After a pain- locket was buried with him; and there, in ful pause,
“ That voice," said he,“ is like one the ancient church of St. Germain, Oswald, which used to come to me often—very often the political enthusiast, interred his old and
long-lost comrade with all the honors of war. in the Bastille; in my dreams it used to
The stone which was erected in the church, mingle with the rustle of the straw 1 slept and of which I have given the brief inscrip
tion, is said, traditionally, to have been the He smiled with so ghastly an expression gift of a lady—who, need scarcely be menthat the Duke of Dorset grew pale with tioned. How long this lady and the count anger and compassion. He had gleaned her husband survived the disclosures consefrom White the story of his life, and discov- quent on the destruction of the Bastille, I ered in a moment that the countess was the have no means of knowing ; but French his* Lucy Fleming of his early love; and that the tory has recorded the fate of Jack Oswald. count, on discovering the wounded and long- His two sons left Edinburgh and joined missing major to be in Paris in 1761, to pre- him at Paris, where, to illustrate the comclude all chance of the lovers ever meeting plete system of equality and fraternity, he again, had consigned him to the Bastille. made them both druminers in his regiment, there to be detained for life, as it was termed among the soldiers of which his severe disci“IX SECRET."
pline soon rendered him unpopular; and on Monseigneur,” said he, sternly, “I see a his attempting to substitute pikes for musclue to this dark story; and believe me, that kets, the whole battalion refused to obey, the king whom I have the honor to repre- and then officers and men broke out into sent, will take sure vengeance for this act of open mutiny. more than Italian jealousy, and for an atro- “ Colonel Oswald's corps,” corutinues the city which cannot be surpassed in the annals editor of the “Scottish Biographical Dictionof yonder accursed edifice, which the mob of ary;” “ was one of the first employed against yesterday have happily hurled to the earth.
.” the royalists in La Vendée, where he was With these words he retired, taking with killed in battle. It is said that his men took him Adam White, who seemed reduced to advantage of he occasion to rid themselves mere childhood, for recollection and anima- of their obnoxious commander, and to destion came upon him only by gleams and at patch also his two sons, and an Englislı genunexpected iimes. As ihey withdrew theileman who was serving in his regiment.”