The Adventures of Gerard Chapter 7 - How the Brigadier Slew the Fox, Part 1

**Arthur Conan Doyle** (0:00)
Section 7 of The Adventures of Gerard This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
How the Brigadier Slew the Fox In all the great hosts of France, there was only one officer toward whom the English of Wellington's army retained a deep, steady and unchangeable hatred.
There were plunderers among the French and men of violence, gamblers, duelists and rose. All these could be forgiven, for others of their kidney were to be found among the ranks of the English. But one officer of Massena's force had committed a crime which was unspeakable, unheard of, abominable, only to be alluded to with curses late in the evening when a second bottle had loosened the tongues of men. The news of it was carried back to England, and country gentlemen who knew little of the details of the war grew crimson with passion when they heard of it, and yeoman of the shires raised freckled fists to heaven and swore. And yet who should be the doer of this dreadful deed but our friend the brigadier, Etienne Gerard of the Hussars of Conflans, gay riding, plume tossing debonair, the darling of the ladies and of the six brigades of light cavalry.
But the strange part of it is that this gallant gentleman did this hateful thing and made himself the most unpopular man in the peninsula without ever knowing that he had done a crime for which there is hardly a name amid all the resources of our language. He died of old age and never once in that imperturbable self-confidence which adorned or disfigured his character, knew that so many thousand Englishmen would gladly have hanged him with their own hands. On the contrary, he numbered this adventure among those other exploits which he has given to the world, and many a time he chuckled and hugged himself as he narrated it to the eager circle who gathered round him in that humble cafe where, between his dinner and his dominoes, he would tell, amid tears and laughter, of that inconceivable Napoleonic past when France, like an angel of wrath, rose up splendid and terrible before a cowering continent. Let us listen to him as he tells the story in his own way and from his own point of view. You must know, my friends, said he, that it was toward the end of the year 1810 that I and Messina and the others pushed Wellington backward until we had hoped to drive him and his army into the Tagus.
But when we were still twenty-five miles from Lisbon, we found that we were betrayed, for what had this Englishman done but build an enormous line of works and forts at a place called Torres Vedras, so that even we were unable to get through them? They lay across the whole peninsula, and our army was so far from home that we did not dare to risk a reverse, and we had already learned at Boussarco that it was no child's play to fight against these people. What could we do then but sit down in front of these lines and blockade them to the best of our power? There we remained for six months, amid such anxieties that Massena said afterward that he had not one hair which was not white upon his body. For my own part I did not worry much about our situation, but I looked after our horses, who were in much need of rest and green fodder. For the rest we drank the wine of the country and passed the time as best we might. There was a lady at Santa Em, but my lips are sealed. It is the part of a gallant man to say nothing, though he may indicate that he could say a great deal. One day Massena sent for me, and I found him in his tent with a great plan pinned upon the table. He looked at me in silence, with that single piercing eye of his, and I felt by his expression that the matter was serious. He was nervous and ill at ease, but my bearings seemed to reassure him. It is good to be in contact with brave men.
Colonel Etienne Gerard, said he, I have always heard that you are a very gallant and enterprising officer.
It was not for me to confirm such a report, and yet it would be folly to deny it, so I clinked my spurs together and saluted. You are also an excellent rider. I admitted it. And the best swordsman in the six brigades of light cavalry?
Messina was famous for the accuracy of his information. Now, said he, if you will look at this plan, you will have no difficulty in understanding what it is that I wish you to do. These are the lines of Torres Vedras. You will perceive that they cover a vast space, and you will realize that the English can only hold a position here and there. Once through the lines, you have 25 miles of open country which lie between them and Lisbon. It is very important to me to learn how Wellington's troops are distributed throughout that space. And it is my wish that you should go and ascertain.