where Lefebvre had
his headquarters. I cannot stay to speak of the terrible scenes of that
period, the most fearful in the spirit of resistance that ever our
arms encountered. Detachments were cut off every day; whole columns
disappeared, and never again were heard of; no bivouac was safe from a
nightly attack, and even the sentinels at the gates of Innspruck
were repeatedly found dead on their posts. But, worse than all, daily
instances occurred of assassination by peasants, who sometimes dressed
as sutlers entered the camp, and took the opportunity to stab or shoot
our officers, caring nothing, as it seemed, for the certain death that
awaited them. These became of such frequent occurrence that scarce a
report did not contain one or two such casualties, and consequently
every precaution that could be thought of was adopted; and every peasant
taken with arms--in a country, too, where none are unarmed--was shot
without trial of any kind whatever. That little mercy, or indeed
justice, was meted out to the people, I need only say that Girardon
was commandant of the garrison, and daily inspected the executions on
parade.

'It happened that one morning this savage old officer was stabbed by
an Austrian peasant, who had long been employed as a camp servant
and trusted in situations of considerable confidence. The man was
immediately led out for execution to the Platz, where was another
prisoner,--a poor boy found rambling within the lines, and unable to
give any account of his presence there. Girardon, however, was only
slightly wounded, and countermanded the the execution of his assassin,
not from motives of forgiveness, but in order to defer it till he was
himself able to be present and witness it. And upon me, as next in
command, devolved the melancholy duty of being present on the parade.
The brief note I received from Girardon, reminded me of a former
instance of weakness on my part, and contained a sneering hope that I
'had learned some portion of a soldier's duty, since I was reduced to
the ranks at Strasbourg.'

"When I reached the Platz, I found the officers of the Staff in the
middle of the square, where a table was placed, on which the order for
the execution was lying, awaiting my signature.

"'The prisoner begs a word with the officer in command,' said the
orderly serjeant.

"'I cannot accede to his request.' said I, trembling from head to foot,
and knowing how totally such an interview would unman me.

"'