And their white oxen, heavy with day-long flight, Crouched and couched together, on the cold ground, Gashed and tattered the gloom like a blood-red wound. It splashed, and now on the waggons that shadowed them round. But the great black eyes of the oxen, forgetting the yoke, While the women lay resting against them; and the smoke Rolled with the cloud; and Johann, with a heart running wild, And he thought of the child and the oxen of Bethlehem. VIII. Back, they fell back before the guns, Johann looked down, in a wild dream, O, like a ghost, he saw once more A ghost on guard among the dead The cup of cold water That Love would change to wine Then all the black unguarded woods A thousand rifles shattered the night; The moonlit bayonets came. Hurled to the trench by the storm of steel Like one quick nerve in that welter of death, He crept out in the ghastly moon He stood alone on the moaning height Down by the little white moon-lit thread, A living man in a world of the dead, To the place where his own home stood. For War had "trained" him, strengthened his heart To bear that glory agen : And he was pitted to play his part At last, in a "world of men." FATE is more often ruled by character than chance, and history furnishes many instances of humble persons who, unexpectedly involved in a momentous crisis, turn the scale one way or the other by their independent action. Flashing thus into evanescent prominence, they set a course of events in motion which continue to influence the future long after they themselves, sinking back into their original obscurity, have become as completely forgotten as their deeds were unforeseen. these determining characters in a critical situation was Suzanne l'Hopital, wife of the postmaster of the little Norman town of Nonancourt. The drama in which she played her part was that of the secret and adventurous flight of the Chevalier St George across France, on his way to join Lord Mar's Rebellion in 1715. To effect or prevent his safe arrival in Scotland was, at this juncture, the object upon which the friends and enemies of his cause were concentrating their utmost efforts. Important historical personages were engaged in the struggle, acting on one side or the other, but none of these decided the issue of the event: it was the postmistress of Nonancourt who, appearing on the stage at the crisis, took command of the situation and played the part of fate. VOL. CXCIV.-NO. MCLXXVI. The story is told by the writers of various contemporary memoirs, all of them obviously following the racy version given by that inimitable raconteur, the Duc de SaintSimon. The latter heard it more than once, he says, from Madame l'Hopital herself, yet his account, starting from a mistaken supposition, varies in almost every detail from the official deposition, legally attested, taken from the postmistress's own lips at the time of the occurrence. This deposition, together with that of her husband's cousin, l'Hopital de la Cunelle, and of a soldier named Aubry, associated with her in the affair, was suppressed at once for reasons of State. The documents remained hidden for a century; they were then brought to light by Lémontey, who published them in the appendix to his 'Histoire de la Régence.' They are supplemented in this paper by unpublished information collected and written down, about fifty years ago, by the Abbé Ledanois, curé of la Madeleine in Nonancourt, and are completed by further facts courteously supplied for this article by the postmistress's lineal descendant in the fourth degree, the present head of the l'Hopital family. Madame l'Hopital's maiden name was Suzanne de la Cour. She was born in 1671 at la 2 G Queue-les-Yvelines, a small village half-way between Versailles and Dreux, whose only claim to importance lay in the fact that it was the third poststation on the main road from Paris to the west. A constant current of business and news flowed through it, not only to and from the capital, but between the royal châteaux lying westward of Paris, where the splendour of of the "Grand Règne" displayed itself in the light of the "Roi Soleil." Near by was Versailles, the meridian of his glory; Marly, the sumptuous palace-heritage; Saint-Cloud, where Philippe d'Orléans, the future Regent, held his gay court; and SaintGermain, where the exiled Stuarts were sheltered by the magnanimous hospitality of the king. Suzanne de la Cour, in her girlhood, must have been familiar with the dark, sad face of James II. and the queenly presence of MaryBeatrice, and have often seen the gallant little Prince of Wales and his baby sister, for they were well-known figures in the neighbourhood, stirring the popular imagination to the liveliest sympathy and interest. When Suzanne married and went to live at Nonancourt she still remained in touch with her old home, for her new one lay but a day's journey farther west, a post town on the same road. Nonancourt, upon the northern slope of the valley of the Avre, bars the great highway to the coast with its ancient fortifications. Under the last remnant of the castle walls, and close to the site of the vanished Porte de Verneuil, one can still see the venerable post-house to which Suzanne de la Cour came as a bride. It has probably hardly changed since that day, except in so far as it has been transformed by time. There are old houses that possess a charm like that of old faces, aged in witnessing many happenings. Though they lose their freshness, become time-worn and weather-beaten, they mellow into a new beauty, touched by the sympathy of experience and the gentle sadness of ancient memories. It has been said that walls have ears,—one often wishes that they had tongues as well to tell us of the past, but the mystery and dignity of silence is theirs! They keep their counsel while we guess at their romance. it is with the old post-house of Nonancourt. It stands between the present post-office and the Hôtel du Cerf, a seventeenth-century building of considerable distinction and excellent proportions. The only indication of its former use are the half - obliterated words, "Chevaux de Poste," glimmering faintly through coats of recent whitewash. So Pierre l'Hopital, Suzanne de la Cour's husband, combined the profession of master tanner with his charge as postmaster. This double occupation resulted in his leaving much of the management of the post-house in his wife's hands. His confidence in her was fully justified, and she proved that she |