A Modern Legionary

On a January morning in the early eighties I found myself in Paris with less than a dozen francs in my purse, or rather my pockets, for I have always had a habit of distributing my money between waistcoat and trousers, so that if one pocket be picked the contents of the others may have a chance of remaining still in my possession.

How I arrived in Paris is easily explained. After two years and a half in a boarding-school I had become so tired of its monotonous routine and, indeed, of the idleness which prevailed there--for the masters never tried to teach, and, naturally, the boys never tried to learn--that I resolved, when the Christmas vacation came to an end, to leave my home in the south of Ireland and seek my fortune through the world. Accordingly, instead of going back to school, I set out for Dublin, whence I started for London by the first boat. In London I spent a day, and then came on to Paris, filled with vague hopes and vaguer misgivings as to my future. Thus it happened that I at the age of sixteen was walking the streets of Paris on the 6th of January 188-.

I considered anxiously what lay before me. I could not go home, even if pride did not forbid. True, I could write for money, having enough to maintain myself until it came, but that would be too great a humiliation. To dig I was not able, and to beg I was ashamed, so I saw but one course open to me--to enlist. Having made up my mind, which I did the more easily as I had been brought up in a garrison town, and like most boys loved to follow the soldiers in their bright uniforms and to march along with head erect, keeping step to the music of the band, I at once set about carrying my resolve into effect. I was not long in beginning. As I walked along the streets I saw a soldier with a gold chevron on his arm, and, going across the road, I addressed him. I did not speak French very well, but had something more than the usual schoolboy knowledge of it, as I had read a good many French books and papers when I should have been at Greek or Mathematics in the study hall. Very soon, therefore, he learned my purpose, and a conversation ensued, somewhat as follows:--

"You are English; is it not so?"

"No; I am Irish, from the south of Ireland."

"Very well, my friend; but you must go to the Foreign Legion, and that will not be very pleasant, you may well believe. Always in Algeria, except when serving in Tonquin and other devil's colonies on the earth."

"I do not mind that; in the English army one has to go to India and South Africa, so what matter?"

"Ah! and you are doubtless without money, and one has to live."

"Let us go in here," said I, pointing to a wine shop. "We can talk better over a glass."

"Good comrade! good comrade!" he cried, slapping me on the shoulder; "I see that you will be a soldier after my own heart. Have no fear," he continued; "I will tell you all, and you may rely on me as a loyal friend."

When we entered the shop my new-found friend asked me whether I should drink eau-de-vie or vin ordinaire, and, on my refusing the brandy, commended my discretion, saying that young soldiers should never touch brandy as it interfered with their chances of promotion, and, moreover, they did not usually have money enough to pay for it. Thereupon he called for eau-de-vie for himself and some wine, rather sour I thought it, for his young friend, and when we had clinked glasses and drunk, our conversation was resumed.

I shall not try to reproduce the dialogue, which would, indeed, be wearisome, as we sat and talked for full two hours, with many repetitions. During this time I drank little, and the sergeant, though he had his glass filled more than once, took no more than he could safely bear. One thing I must say of him, that although he painted the soldier's life in glowing colours yet he always kept me in mind of the fact that he spoke of the French army in general and his own regiment in particular. What he said had no reference to the Foreign Legion. That corps was not to be compared to his. There were in it men who had fled from justice; from Russia, though, indeed, the offences of these were in most cases political; from Germany, and yet many were Alsatians and Lorrainers who wished to become French citizens; from Austria, Belgium, Spain; from every country in the world. And, whatever their crimes had been, they were of a surety being punished, for their stations were on the borders of the great desert, where were sand and sun and tedium so great that an Arab raid was a pleasant relief.

"But there were French soldiers also there, were there not?"

"Oh yes; the zephyrs, the bad ones who could not be reclaimed to duty, to discipline, or even to decency, and who were sent to form what one might call convict battalions in places to which no one wished to send good soldiers--men who respected themselves and the flag."

"But the Foreign Legion could not be always in Algeria, on the borders of the desert?"

"Oh no; there were many of them in Tonquin on active service, and these, of course, were just as well or as ill-off as the regular French troops, but still they were rascals, though, he would confess, very good fighting men. There was a war in Tonquin against great bands of marauders who carried a variety of flags, by the colours of which they were known: I must have heard of the principal ones--the infamous Black Flags, who gave no quarter to the wounded and who mutilated the dead. These were helped by the regular Chinese soldiers, and had among them many Europeans, dogs that they were, who gave them advice and instruction, because these Europeans were Prussians or English who hated the great French Republic and viewed its expansion with dislike and distrust."

"But was there not a good chance of promotion in the Legion?"

"Oh yes; if one did one's duty and willingly obeyed orders and did not get into trouble. Oh yes; there was always justice for the good as well as for the bad. If one was not a corporal in five years there was little use in staying; one could take his discharge and go away."

That decided me. I was sixteen--in five years I should be twenty-one--better spend the time learning experience in the world than in the dull, dreary idleness to which I was accustomed, and which filled me with disgust. I said so to the sergeant. He looked me up and down, and said:

"How old?"

"Sixteen," I replied.

"You cannot enlist; the recruit must be at least eighteen."

I thought a moment. "I will be eighteen; they cannot see the registers of my parish."

"Very well, very well, my son; you are resolved. I will say no more to prevent you--I will help you--you shall be a soldier of the Republic to-morrow."

He kept his word. We spent the day together; he showed me his barrack, his room in it, where to dine and sleep, and leaving me at nine o'clock, with a parting injunction to meet him at eight in the morning at the barrack gate, went away saying:

"Poor devil! poor devil!"

On the following morning at ten minutes to eight I was at the gate. Indeed, I might easily have been there at six, but as the morning was cold and nothing could be gained by being out and about too soon I remained snugly between the sheets until seven. Punctually at eight the sergeant appeared, and we walked towards one another smiling. I asked him to join me at breakfast. He readily consented, and soon we were seated together in a small restaurant before a table at which we appeased the hunger induced by the sharp morning air with eggs, bread and butter, and coffee. Breakfast over, the sergeant asked, as he said, for the last time, if I were still resolved to join the Foreign Legion. I replied that I was, if I should be accepted.

"Very good; we have half-an-hour, let us walk about until it is time to meet the doctor."

While strolling through the streets he gave me much advice. I was to be respectful, alert, step smartly, and, above all, be observant.

"Watch the others," he said, "and you will very soon learn soldiers' manners."

I promised to do so, and reminded him that I had grown two years older in a single night. He smiled, and said encouragingly:

"Good child! good child!--alas! poor devil!"

I asked him what he meant by alluding to me as a poor devil, and again he abused the Foreign Legion with a vocabulary as insulting as it was extensive. I had never heard or read one-tenth of the words, but it was not hard to guess the meaning. I stopped him by laying my hand upon his arm, and said:

"You forget that I may be one of the Foreign Legion before noon."

"True, true; but I do not apply the expressions to you, only to those who are already there." And he pointed with his finger towards the south.

"Very good; but surely not to all? What can you say against the political refugees from Russia?"

"Ah! they are different; they----"