They say that “a frank confession is good for the soul,” but who ever said it was good for a military body? Even the confessors themselves, enthusiastic as they may be about the salvation of souls, through the means of contrition and atonement, show but little disposition to trouble the army, or expect that the army will ever trouble them by kneeling at their confessionals. However, the military in France are subject to the civil laws; and, as a holy order has been issued from the Court of Charles X., imposing the necessity of confession as a preparatory step to the celebration of marriage, the soldier who wishes to enter into the bonds of Hymen, must, like his civil brethren, confess his naughty doings to his pastor. Without a certificate of having duly done this, he must be contented with single cursedness.

A Colonel who fought for France in the days of her triumph—a pupil of that revolutionary school which gave its best moral lesson in its downfall—presented himself at the house of the Priest who held the sacerdotal command of the town in which the militaire was quartered, and informed him that he was desirous of entering into the married state next day; adding, that he wished to give his reverence the preference in the performance of the ceremony. Monsieur le PrÊtre bowed, and thanked the Colonel for the honour conferred upon him, and the hour was appointed for the marriage. The Colonel, not aware that anything more was officially required of him, than to present himself with his intended cara esposa, before the altar on the following day, was about to take his leave, when the Priest informed him that he must confess before he could be eligible to the dignity of wearing the matrimonial collar.—Only fancy a tall, bony, mustachioed Colonel of French Infantry, about forty-five years of age—a sort of half devil, half republican,—with ear-rings and bald temples—a ruddy brown face, that spoke of many a hot sun and strong vintage—with an eye like Mars, and an air like Robin Hood:—only fancy such a man called upon by a Priest, to kneel down and confess his sins in an audible voice, that he might be qualified to enter into the holy state of marriage;—and then fancy his gaze of astonishment at the holy man’s summons! For such a rough personage as this was the Colonel;—a fellow who, during his military life, had little to do with priests, except to lay them under contribution, and knew no more about the merits of confession than he did about the Evidences of Christianity, or the Decalogue itself.

“Sacre!” replied the Colonel; “What’s the meaning of this? Confession! what have I to do with confession?”

The Priest, who was a man as liberal as might be, consistent with his office, informed the Colonel that by a late law, no marriage could be celebrated in France between Catholics, unless the parties had first obtained a certificate of confession; but gave him to understand that he would make it easy to him.

“Eh bien!—very well, very well,” said the Colonel; “but what am I to do?”

“Very little, very little. Merely sit down, and tell me what sins you have committed in your life-time.”

“Parbleu!” replied the Colonel; “How am I to do that? I don’t know that I ever did any great harm.”

“Well then,” returned the Priest, “merely speak to the best of your recollection.”

Here he gave the Colonel his benediction.

“I never injured any one in my life—except, perhaps, running a few dozen Prussians and Spaniards through the body.—I have killed a few Englishmen too.”

“Ce n’est rien! that’s nothing.”

“I assisted in pillaging several towns, and burnt one or two villages.”

“Ce n’est rien! that’s nothing at all.”

“I have sometimes had an affair with the ladies.”

“Oh, pour cela, ce n’est rien—ce n’est rien! All in the way of your profession. Did you ever kill a priest?”

“No!—I—a—a—don’t think I ever killed one.”

“Very well—very well! Did you ever assault a nun?”

“O never,—no necessity! Always found the nuns very agreeable women.”

“You never robbed a church, Colonel?”

“We melted down the golden candlesticks, and removed a few of the pictures; but this was by our General’s orders.”

“You did not rob anybody?”

“Never—except the Spaniards and Portuguese.—O—yes, we did a little amongst the Prussians.”

“Ah! that was, as I said before, merely in the way of your profession. Very good—very good, Colonel, I think that will do. Now I will give you absolution, and your certificate of purity.”

The Colonel received the paper, and was about to depart, when the Priest informed him that there was something more to be done:—A small fee was necessary. The Colonel cheerfully put his hand in his pocket, and presented the clergyman with two Napoleons, one of which his reverence returned, observing that he was amply remunerated for his trouble by the other. “Yet,” said he, “there is something more to be done: you must have a mass celebrated, to complete the marriage and render it legal.”

“Parbleu! mass!” exclaimed the Colonel, “what is the use of mass to me?”

He was again told that it was necessary, and he agreed to have it performed; “But,” said he, “what is the expense?”

“You can have it done in a superior manner—full high-mass—for two hundred francs.”

“Ah, mon Dieu! two hundred francs! what!—for a mass?”

“Yes; but, Colonel, you can have it done so low as ten francs.”

“Can I?” said the Colonel, “and is the ten franc-mass equally good in point of law, with that for two hundred?”

“Yes, Colonel; but not so respectable.”

“Sacre! never mind the respectability of the matter; I’l have ten francs worth of mass—that will do for me.”

The marriage was accordingly celebrated next day in due form, the Colonel having purchased the confessor’s certificate and ten francs worth of mass; and he solemnly declared, on the day after his wedding, that he could not have felt more happy, even if he had purchased the highest priced mass in France.11