Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume I Part 59

"You are to join him there immediately," continued he; "but here is a note from himself, which probably will explain everything." And with that he handed me a small sealed letter.

It was the first, save on purely regimental matters, I had ever received from him, and somehow I felt unusually anxious about its contents. It ran in these words:--

My dear B.,--His Majesty has just sent for me, and most graciously esteeming me not yet too old to serve him, has given me the command of a brigade,--late the Twelfth, now to be called 'D'Auvergne's Cavalry.' I would willingly have mentioned your name for promotion, to which your zeal and activity would well ent.i.tle you; but deemed it better to let your claim come before the Emperor's personal notice, which an opportunity will, I trust, soon permit of its doing. His Majesty, with a kindness which the devotion of a life could not repay, has also interested himself personally for me in a quarter where only his influence could have proved successful. But the explanation of this I reserve for your arrival. And now I request that you will lose no time in repairing to Paris, where I shall expect to see you by Tuesday.

Yours,

D'AUVERGNE, Lieut. 'General'

This strange paragraph puzzled me not a little; nor could I, by any exercise of ingenuity, find out even a plausible meaning for it. I read it over and over, weighing and canva.s.sing every word, and torturing each syllable; but all to no purpose. Had the general been some youthful but unhappy lover, to forward whose suit the Emperor had lent his influence, then had I understood the allusion; but with the old weather-beaten officer, whose hairs were blanched with years and service, the very thought of such a thing was too absurd. Yet what could be the royal favor so lavishly praised? He needed no intercession with the Empress; at least, I remembered well how marked the kindness of Josephine was towards him in former times. But to what use guessing? Thoughts, by long revolving, often become only the more entangled, and we lose sight of the real difficulty in canva.s.sing our own impressions concerning it. And so from this text did I spin away a hundred fancies that occupied me the whole road to Paris, nor left me till the din and movement of the great capital banished all other reflections.

Arrangement had been made for my reception at the Rue de Rohan; but I learned that the general was at Versailles with the Court, and only came up to Paris once or twice each week. His direction to me was, to wait for his arrival, and not to leave the city on any account.

With what a strange feeling did I survey the Palace of the Tuileries,--the scene of my first moment of delighted admiration of her I now loved, and, alas! of my first step in the long catalogue of my misfortunes! I lingered about the gardens with a fascination I could not account for; my destiny seemed somehow linked with the spot, and I could not reason myself out of the notion but that there, in that great pile, the fate of my whole life was to be decided.

My entire day was pa.s.sed in this way; and evening found me seated on one of the benches near the windows of the pavilion, where I watched the l.u.s.tres in the long gallery as one by one they burst into light, and saw the gilt candelabras twinkling as each taper was illuminated. It was an evening reception of the Emperor, and I could mark the vast a.s.semblage, in every variety of uniform, that filled the salons. At length the drums beat for strangers to leave the gardens; the patrols pa.s.sed on; and gradually the crowded walks became thinner and thinner; the sounds of the drum grew fainter; and finally the whole s.p.a.ce became still and noiseless,--not a voice was to be heard, not a step moved on the gravel.

I knew that the gates were now locked; and yet I stayed on, glad to be alone, and at leisure to dream away among the fancies that kept ever rising to my mind, and to follow out the trains of thought that ever and anon opened before me.

As the hour grew later, and the salons filled more and more, the windows were opened along the terrace to give air, and I could hear the continued murmur of hundreds of voices conversing, while at times the sound of laughter rose above the rest. What a rush of thoughts came on me as I sat! how did I picture to myself the dark intrigues, the subtle plots of wily diplomatists, the bold and daring aspirations of the brave soldiers, the high hopes and the ambitious yearnings that were all commingled there, grouped around him whose dreams were of universal empire! While I mused, the night glided on, and the solemn sound of the bell of Notre Dame proclaimed midnight. I now could mark that the salons were thinning, and the unceasing din of carriages in the Place announced the departure of the guests. In little more than half an hour the great gallery was empty, and but a few groups remained in the apartments adjoining. Even they soon departed; and then I could see the servants pa.s.sing from room to room extinguis.h.i.+ng the lights, and soon the great facade of the palace wac wrapped in darkness. A twinkling light appeared here and there for some time, but it too went out. The night was calm and still and sultry; not a leaf stirred; and the heavy tread of the sentinels as they paced the marble vestibule was heard plainly where I stood.

How full of thought to me was that vast pile, now shrouded in the gloom of night! What bold, ambitious deeds,--what dreams of empire,--had not been conceived there! The great of other days, indeed, entered little into my mind, as I remembered it was the home of him, the greatest of them all. How terrible, too, it was to think, that within that silent palace, which seemed sleeping with the tranquil quiet of an humble cottage, the dreadful plans which were to convulse the world, to shake thrones and dynasties, to make of Europe a vast battlefield, were now devising. The ma.s.ses of dark cloud that hung heavily in the air, obscuring the sky and shutting out every star, seemed to my fevered imagination an augury of evil; and the oppressive, loaded atmosphere, though perfumed with the odor of flowers, sunk heavily on the spirits.

Again the hour rang out, and I remembered that the gates of the garden were now closed for the night, and that I should remain where I was till daylight liberated me. My mind was, however, too full of its own thoughts to make me care for sleep, and I strolled along the gloomy walks lost in revery.

CHAPTER XL. A NIGHT IN THE TUILERIES GARDENS.

As the night wore on, I remembered that once, when a boy at the Polytechnique, I longed to penetrate one of the little enclosures which fenced the small flower-gardens beside the Palace, and which were railed up from the public promenades by a low iron railing. The bouquets of rich flowers that grew there, sparkling with the light dew of a little jet d'eau that fell in raindrops over them, had often tempted my young heart; but still in the daytime such a transgression would have been immediately punished. Now, with the strange caprice which so often prompts us in after years to do that which in youth we wished but could not accomplish, I wandered towards the gardens, and crossing over the low fence, entered the parterre; each step awoke the sleeping perfume of the flowers, and I strolled along the velvet turf until I reached a low bench, half covered with honeysuckle and woodbine. Here I threw myself down, and, wrapping my cloak around me, resolved to rest till daybreak.

The stillness of all around, the balmy air, and my own musings, gradually conspired to make me drowsy, and I slept.

My sleep could not have been long, when I was awakened by a noise close beside me. I started up and looked about, and for some seconds I could scarcely credit that I was not still dreaming. Not more than a dozen paces from where I lay, and where before the dark walls of the Palace rose in unbroken blackness, was now a chamber, brilliantly lighted up by several wax-lights that stood on a table. At the window, which opened to the ground and led into the garden, stood the figure of a man, but from his position before the light I could not remark more than that he wore epaulettes. It was the noise of the opening jalousies which awoke me; and I could see his hand stretched out, as if to ascertain whether or not it was raining. At the table I could perceive another person, on whose uniform the light fell strongly, displaying many a cross and star, which twinkled with every stir he made. He was busily engaged writing, and never lifted his head from the paper. The walls of the room were covered with shelves filled with books; and on the chairs about, and even on the floor, lay maps and drawings in every disorder; a sword and belt, as if just taken off, lay on the table among the writing materials, and a c.o.c.ked hat beside them.

While I noticed these details, my very heart was chill within me.

The dark figure at the window, which stirred not, seemed as if turned towards me, and more than once I almost thought I could see his eyes bent upon me. This was, however, but the mere suggestion of my own fears for in the shade of the seat no light whatever fell, and I was perfectly concealed. In the deep stillness I could hear the sc.r.a.ping sound of the pen on the paper, and scarcely dared to breathe lest I should cause discovery, when the figure retired from the window, and moved towards the table. For some minutes he appeared to stoop over a large map, which lay outstretched before him, and across which I could'

see his finger moving rapidly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Scene s.h.i.+fted 425]

Suddenly he stood erect, and in a voice which even now rings within my heart, said, "It must be so, Duroc; by any other route Bernadotte will be too late!"

What was the reply I know not, such terror now fell over me. It was the Emperor himself who spoke. It was he who the instant before was standing close beside me at the window; and thus, a second time in my life, did I become the unwilling eavesdropper of the man I most feared and respected of all the world. Before I could summon resolution to withdraw, Napoleon spoke again.

"Hardenberg," said he, in a tone of contemptuous pa.s.sion, "Hardenberg is but a Prussian! the event will satisfy his scruples. Besides, if they do talk about invasion of territory, you can reply: the Margraves were always open to belligerent parties; remind them of what took place in '96, and again in 1800,--though, _parbleu_, the souvenir may not be so pleasant a one. Protract the discussion, at all events, Duroc; time!

time! Then," added he, after a brief pause, "let them advance, and they 'll never pa.s.s the Danube. And if they wait for me, I 'll fall upon them here,--here, between Ulm and Augsburg. You must, however, start for Berlin at once."

At this instant a heavy hand fell upon my shoulder, and pa.s.sing down my arm, seized me by the wrist. I started back, and beheld a dragoon, for so his helmet and cloak bespoke, of enormous stature, who, motioning me to silence, led me softly and with noiseless step along the flower-beds, as if fearful of attracting the Emperor's notice. My limbs tottered beneath me as I went, for the dreadful imputation an accident might fix on me stared on me with all its awful consequences. Without a word on either side we reached the little railing, crossed it, and regained the open park, when the soldier, placing himself in front of me, said, in a deep, low voice,--

"Your name; who are you?"

"An officer of the huitieme regiment of hussars," said I, boldly.

"We shall see that presently," replied he, in a tone of disbelief. "How came you here?"

In a few words I explained how, having remained too late in the garden, I preferred to pa.s.s my night on a bench to the unpleasantness of being brought up before the officer on duty; adding, that it was only on the very moment of his coming that I awoke.

"I know that," interrupted he, in a less surly voice. "I found you sleeping, and feared to awake you suddenly, lest in the surprise a word or a cry would escape you. One syllable had cost your head."

In the tone of these last few words there was something I thought I could recognize, and resolving at a bold venture in such an emergency as I found myself placed, I said at a hazard,--

"The better fortune mine, that I fell into the hands of a kind as well as a brave soldier,--the Corporal Pioche."

"Sacristi! You know me then!" cried he, thunderstruck.

"To be sure I do. Could I be an aide-de-camp to the General d'Auvergne, and not have heard of Pioche?"

"An aide-de-camp of the general," said he, starting back, as he carried his hand to the salute. "Pardon, mon officier; but you know that duty--"

"Quite true; it was all my own indiscretion. And now, Pioche, if you 'll keep me company here till daybreak--it cannot be far off now--the light will soon satisfy you that my account of myself is a true one."

"Willingly, sir," said the gruff cuira.s.sier. "My patrol is, to watch the parterres from the pavilion to the alle yonder; and, if you please, we 'll take up our quarters on this bench."

They who know not the strange mixture of deference and familiarity of which the relation between officer and soldier is made up in the French service, will perhaps wonder a the tone of almost equality in which we conversed. But such is the case: the Revolutionary armies acknowledged no other gredations of rank than such as the service conferred, nor any degree of superiority save that derivable from greater ability of more daring heroism; and although the troops more implicitly obeyed the commands of their officers, the occasion of discipline over a perfect feeling of equality remained amongst all, whether they wore the epaulets of colones or carried a musket in the ranks. With time, and the changes the Consulate had introduced, much of this excessive familiarity was suppressed; still it was no uncommon thing to hear the humble rank and file address the general of division as "thou,"--the expression of closest friends.h.i.+p, probably dating from the hours of schoolboy attachment. Nor was the officer of rank thought less of because in the hours of off-duty, he mixed freely with those who had been his companions through life, and talked with them as brothers. It is probable that in no other nation such a course could have been practised without a total subversion of all respect and the ruin of all habits of order. The Frenchman is, however, essentially military; not merely warlike, like the inhabitants of Great Britain,--his mind ever inclines to the details of war as an art. It is in generals.h.i.+p he glories, not the mere conflict of force; and the humblest soldier in the army takes an interest in the great game of tactics, which in any other people would be quite incredible. Hence he submits to the control which otherwise he could not endure; for this, he yields to command at the hands of one, who, although his equal in all other respects, he here acknowledges as his superior. He knows, too, that the grade of officer is open to merit alone, and he feels that the epaulette may be his own one day. Such causes as these, constantly in operation, could not fail to raise the morale of an army; nor can we wonder that from such a source were derived many, if not most, of the great names that formed the marshals of France. Again, to this military spirit the French owe the perfection of their tirailleur force,--the consummate skill of independent parties, of which every campaign gave evidence. Napoleon found this spirit in the nation, and spared nothing to give it its fullest development. He quickly saw to what height of enthusiasm a people could be brought, to whom a cross or a decoration, an epaulette or a sabre of honor, were deemed the ample rewards of every daring and of every privation; and never in any age or in any country was chivalry so universally spread over the wide surface of a people. With them, rank claimed no exception from fatigue or suffering. The officer fared little better than the soldier on a march; in a battle, he was only more exposed to danger. By daring only could he win his way upwards; and an emulative ardor was continually maintained, which was ever giving to the world instances of individual heroism far more brilliant than all the famed achievements of the crusaders.

This brief digression, unnecessary perhaps to many of my readers, may serve to explain to others how naturally our conversation took the easy tone of familiar equality; nor will they be surprised at the abrupt question of the cuira.s.sier, as he said,--

"_Mille tonnerres!_ lieutenant! was it from your liking the post of danger you selected that bench yonder?"

"The choice was a mere accident."

"An accident, _morbleu!_" said he, with a low laugh. "That was what Lasalle called it at the Adige, when the wheel came off the eight-pounder in the charge, and the enemy carried off the gun. 'An accident!' said the Pet.i.t Caporal to him,--I was close by when he said it,--'will your friends in Paris call it an accident if the "ordre du jour" to-morrow condemn you to be shot?' I know him well," continued Pioche; "that I do. I was second bombardier with him at Toulon,--ay, at Cairo too. I mind well the evening he came to our quarters; poor enough we were at the time,--no clothes, no rations: I was cook to our division; but somehow there was little duty in my department, till one day the vivandiere's a.s.s, (a brave beast he was too, before provisions fell short),--a spent shot took him in the flank, and killed him on the spot.

"Sacristi!" what damage it did! All the canteens were smashed to atoms; horn goblets and platters knocked to pieces; but worst of all, a keg of true Nantz was broached, and every drop lost. Poor Madame Gougon! she loved that a.s.s as if he had been one of the regiment; and though we all offered her a.s.signats on our pay, for a month each, to give us the carca.s.s, she wouldn't do it. No, faith! she would have him buried, and with funeral honors! _Parbleu!_ it was a whim; but the poor thing was in grief, and we could not refuse her. I commanded the party," continued Pioche, "and a long distance we had to march, lest the shots might be heard in the quartier-gnral. Well, we had some trouble in getting the poor soul away from the grave. _Sacristi!_ she took it so much to heart, I thought she 'd have ma.s.ses said for him. But we did succeed at last, and before dawn we were all within the camp as if nothing had happened.

The whole of that day, however, the a.s.s was never out of our minds. It was not grief; no, no! don't think that. We were all thinking of what a sin it was to have him buried there,--such a fine beast as he was,--and not a pound of meat to be had if you were to offer a nine-pounder gun for it. 'He is never the worse for his funeral,' said I; 'remember, boys, how well preserved he was in brandy before he was buried: let's have him up again!' No sooner was night come, than we set off for the place where we laid him, and in less than two hours I was busily employed in making a delicious salmi of his haunch. _Mille bommbes!_ I think I have the smell of it before me; it was gibier, and the gravy was like a purie. We were all pleasantly seated round the fire, watching every turn of the roast, when--crack!--I heard the noise of the patrol bringing his gun to the present, and before we had time to jump up, the Pet.i.t Caporal was upon us; he was mounted on a little dark Arab, and dressed in his gray surtout.

"'What 's all this here?' cried he, pulling up short, while the barb sniffed the air, just as if he guessed what the meat was. 'Who has stolen this sheep?'

"'It is not a sheep, Gnral,' said I, stepping forward, and trying to hide the long ladle I was basting with.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The "Big Pioche" Indulging in Delicacies 430]

"'Not a sheep; then it is an ox, mayhap, or a calf," said he again, with an angry look.

"'Neither, Gnral,' said I; 'it was a--a--a beast of our division.'

"'A beast of your division! What does that mean? No trifling, mind! out with it at once. What's this? Where did it come from?'

"'An a.s.s, may it please you, sir,' said I, trembling all over, for I saw he was in a rare pa.s.sion. And as he repeated the word after me, I told him the whole story, and how we could not suffer such capital prog to be eaten by any other than good citizens of the Republic.

"While I was telling him so much, the rest stood round terrified; they could not even turn the joint, though it was burning; and, to say truth, I thought myself we were all in a bad way, when suddenly he burst into a fit of laughing, and said,--