Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume II

“Come, François, it’s no use; all your flattery won’t make me desert. I ‘ll try and join my brigade to-morrow; that is, if I can find them.”

“You never told me in what way you first became separated from your corps. How was it?”

“There’s something of a secret there, François; you mustn’t ask me.”

“Ah, I understand,” said he, with a knowing look, and a gesture of his hand, as if making a pass with his sword. “Did you kill him?”

“No, not exactly,” said I, laughing.

“Merely gave him that pretty lunge en tierce you favored me with,” said he, putting his hand on his side.

“Nor even that.”

“Diable! then how was it?”

“I have told you it was a secret.”

“Secret! Confound it, man, there are no secrets in a campaign, except when the military chest is empty or the commissary falls short of grub; these are the only things one ever thinks of hushing up. Come, out with it!”

“Well, if it must be, I may as well have the benefit of your advice. So draw closer, for I don’t wish the rest to hear it.”

In as few words as I was able, I explained to François the circumstances of the night march, and the manner of my meeting with the Emperor at the ravine, where the artillery train was stopped. But when I came to the incident of the picket, and mentioned how, in rescuing the Emperor, my horse had been killed under me, he could no longer restrain himself, but turned to the rest, who, to the number of fifteen or sixteen, sat around the fire, and burst forth, —

“Mille tonnerres! but the boy is a fool!” And then, before I could interpose a word, blurted out the whole adventure to the company.

There was no use now to attempt any concealment at all; neither was there to feel anger at his conduct. One would have been as absurd as the other; and so I had to endure, as best I could, the various comments that were passed on my behavior, on the prudence of which certainly no second opinion existed.

“You must be right certain of promotion, Captain,” said an old sergeant, with a gray beard and mustache, “or you wouldn’t refuse such a chance as that.”

“Diable!” cried François; “don’t you see he wouldn’t accept of it. He is too proud to wait on the Petit Caporal, though he asked him to do so.”

“He ‘d have given you the cross of the Legion anyhow,” said another.

“Ay, by Jove!” exclaimed the riding-master of a dragoon regiment, “and sent him a remount from his own stud.”

“And you think that modesty!” said Francois, whose indignation at my folly knew no bounds. “Par Saint Joseph! if I’d been as modest, it’s not maître d’armes of a voltigeur battalion I ‘d be to-day; though I may say, without boasting, I’m not afraid to cross a rapier with any man in the army. No, no; that’s not the way I managed.”

“How was that, Maître Francois?” said a young officer, who felt curious to learn the circumstance to which he seemed to attach a story.

“If the honorable society cares to hear it,” said François, uncovering, and bowing courteously to all around, “I shall have great pleasure in recounting a little incident of my life.”

A general cry of acclamation and “bravo” met the polite proposal; while Francois, accepting a goutte from a canteen presented to him, began thus: —

“I began my soldier’s life at the first step of the ladder. I was a drummer-boy at Jemappes; and, when I grew old enough to exchange the drumstick for the sword, I was attached to the chasseurs à cheval, and went with them to Egypt. I could tell you some strange stories of our doings there, – I don’t mean with the Turks, mark you, but amongst ourselves, – for we had little affairs with the sword almost every day; and I soon showed them I was their master. But that is not to the purpose; what I am about to speak of happened in this wise.

“At break of day, one morning, the picket to which I was joined received orders to mount, and accompany the general along the bank of the Nile to the village of Chebrheis, where we heard that a Mameluke force were assembling, whose strength and equipment it was important to ascertain. Our horses were far from fresh when we started; the day previous had been spent in a fatiguing march from Rhemanieh, crossing a dreary desert, with hot sands and no water. But General Bonaparte always expected us to turn out, as if we had got a general remount; and so we made the best of it, and set out in as good style as we could. We had not gone above a league and a half, however, when we found that the slapping pace of the general had left the greater part of the escort out of sight; and of a score of four squadrons, not above twenty horsemen were present.

“The Emperor – you know he was only general then, but it ‘s all the same – laughed heartily when he found he had outridden the rest; indeed, for that matter, he laughed at our poor blown beasts, that shook on every limb, and seemed like to push their spare, gaunt bones through the trappings with which, for shame’s sake, we endeavored to cover them. But his joke was but shortlived; for just then, from behind the wall of an old ruined temple – whiz! – there came a shattering volley of musketry in the midst of us; the only miracle is how one escaped. The next moment there was a wild hurrah, and we beheld some fifty Mameluke fellows, all glittering with gold, coming down full speed on us, on their Arab chargers. Mille cadavres! what was to be done? Nothing, you’d say, but run for it. And so we should have done, if the beasts were able: but not a bit of it; they couldn’t have raised a gallop if Mourad Bey had been there with his whole army. And so we put a good face on it, and drew up across the way, and looked as if going to charge. Egad! the Turks were amazed. They halted up short, and stared about them to see what infantry or artillery there might be coming up to our assistance, so boldly did we hold our ground.

“‘We’ll keep them in check, General,’ said the officer of the picket. ‘Lose no time now, but make a dash for it, and you’ll get away.’ And so, without more ado, Bonaparte turned his horse’s head round, and, driving his spurs into him, set out at top speed.

“This was the signal for the Mameluke charge; and down they came. Sacristi! how the infidels rode us down! Over and over our fellows rolled, men and horses together, while they slashed with their keen cimeters on every side; few needed a second cut, I warrant you.

“By some good fortune, my beast kept his legs in the mêlée, and, with even better luck, got so frightened that he started off, and struck out in full gallop after the general, who, about two hundred paces in front of me, was dashing along, pursued by a Mameluke, with a cimeter held over his head. The Turk’s horse, however, was wounded, and could not gain even on the tired animal before him, while mine was at every stride overtaking him.

“The Mameluke, hearing the clatter behind, turned his head. I seized the moment, and discharged my only remaining pistol at him, – alas! without effect. With a wild war-cry the fellow swerved round and came down upon me, intending to take my horse in flank, and hurl me over. But the good beast plunged forward, and my enemy passed behind, and only grazed the haunches as he went; the moment after he was at my side. Parbleu! I did n’t like the companionship. I knew every turn of a broadsword or a rapier well; but a curved cimeter, keen as a razor, of Damascus steel, glittering and glistening over my head, was a different thing: the great dark eyes of the fellow, too, glared like balls of fire, and his white teeth were clenched. With a swing of his blade over his head, so loosely done I thought he had almost flung the weapon from his hand, he aimed a cut at my neck; but, quick as lightning, I dropped upon the mane, and the sharp blade shaved the red feather from my shako, and sent it floating in the air, while, with a straight point, I ran him through the body, and heard his death-shout as he fell bathed in blood upon the sands. The general saw him fall, and cried out something; but I could not hear the words, nor, to say truth, did I care much at the time: my happiest thought just then was to see the remainder of the escort, which we had left behind, coming up at a smart canter.

“The Turks no sooner perceived them than they wheeled and fled; and so we returned to the camp, with a loss of some twenty brave fellows, and none the wiser for all our trouble.

“‘What shall I do for you, friend?’ said the general to me, as I stood by his orders at the door of his tent, ‘what shall I do for you?’

“Ma foi! said I, with a shrug of my shoulders, ‘I can’t well say at a moment; perhaps the best thing would be to promise you ‘d never take me as one of your escort when you make such an expedition as this morning’s.’

“‘No, no, I ‘ll not say that. Who are you? What’s your grade?’

“‘François, maître d’armes of the Fourth Chasseurs of the Guard,’ said I, proudly. And, indeed, I thought he might have known me without the question.

“‘Ah, indeed!’ replied he, gravely. ‘Promotion is then of no use here; a maître d’armes, like a general of division, is at the top of the tree. Come, I have it; a fellow of your sort is never out of scrapes, – always duelling and quarrelling, under arrest three days in every week; I know you well. Now, Maître François, I ‘ll forgive you the first time you ask me for any offence within my power to pardon. Go; you are satisfied with that promise, – is it not so?’

“‘Yes, General; and I’ll soon jog your memory about it,’ said I, saluting and retiring from the tent.

“I see some old ‘braves’ of the Pyramids about me now,” continued François, “and so I need not dwell on the events of the campaign. You all know how General Bonaparte left the army to Kléber, and went back to France; and somehow we never had much luck after that. But so it was, I came back with the regiment, and was at the battle of Marengo when our brigade captured four guns of Skal’s battery, and carried off eleven of their officers our prisoners. You’d wonder now, Comrades, how that piece of good fortune should turn out so ill for me; but such was the case. After the battle was gained, General Bonaparte retired to Gerofola with his staff, and I was ordered to proceed after him, with the Hauptmann Klingenswert of the Austrian army, – one of our prisoners who had served on Melas’s staff, and knew everything about the effective strength of the army and all their plans.

“We set off at daybreak. It was in June, and a lovely morning too; and as my prisoner was an officer and a man of honor, I took no escort, but rode along at his side. We halted at noon to dine in a little grove of cedars, where I opened my canteen and spread the contents on the grass: and after regaling ourselves pleasantly, we lighted our meerschaums and chatted away like old comrades over the war and its chances. A more agreeable fellow than the Austrian I never met. He told me his whole history, and I told him mine; and we drank Brüderschaft together, and swore I don’t know how many eternal friendships. The devil was just amusing himself with us all this time though, as you ‘ll see presently; for we soon got into an argument about the charge in which our brigade captured the guns. He said that if the ammunition had not failed we never would have dared the attack; and I swore that the discharges were pouring in while we rode down on the battery.

“We grew warm with the dispute, and drank deeper to cool us; and, what between the wine and our own passion, we became downright angry, and went so far as to interchange something not like Brüderschaft.

“‘Ah, how unfortunate I always am!’ said I, sighing. ‘If I had only the good luck to be the prisoner now, and you the escort – ’

“‘What then?’ said he.

“‘How easily, and how pleasantly too, could we settle this little affair. The ground is smooth as velvet; there is no sun; all still, and quiet, and peaceful.’

“‘No, no,’ said the Austrian; ‘I couldn’t do what you propose, – I should be dishonored forever if I took such an advantage of you. You must know, François,’ for he called me so, recurring at once to his tone of kindliness, ‘I am the first swordsman of my brigade.’

“I could scarcely avoid throwing myself into his arms as he spoke; never was there such a piece of fortune. ‘And I,’ cried I, in ecstasy, ‘I the first of the whole French army!’ You know, Comrades, I only said that en gascon, and to afford him the greater pleasure in our rencontre.

“We soon measured our swords and threw off our jackets. ‘François,’ said he, ‘I ought to mention to you that my lunge en tierce is my famous stroke; I rarely miss running my adversary through the chest with it.’

“‘I know the trick well,’ said I; ‘take care of my “pass” outside the guard.’

“‘Oh! if that’s your game,’ said he, laughing, ‘I’ll make short work of it. Now, to begin.’

“‘All ready,’ said I; ‘en garde!’ And we crossed our weapons. For a German he was a capital swordsman, and had a very pretty trick of putting in his point over the hilt, and wounding the sword-arm; but if it had not been for all the wine I drank the affair would have been over in a second or two. As it was, we both fenced loose, and without any judgment whatever.

“‘Ah! you got that,’ said I, ‘at last!’ as I pierced him in the back, outside the guard.

“‘No, no!’ cried he, passionately; for his temper was up, and he would not confess a touch.

“‘Well, then, that’s home!’ said I, thrusting beneath his hilt, till the blood spurted out along my blade and even in my eyes.

“‘Yes, that’s home,’ said he, staggering back, while one of his legs crossed over the other, and he fell heavily on the grass. I stooped down to feel his heart; and as I did so my senses failed, my limbs tottered, and I rolled headlong over him. Truth was, I was badly wounded, though I never knew when; for his sword had entered my chest, beneath a rib, and cut some large vessels in the lungs.

“The end of it all was, the Austrian was buried, and I was broke the service without pay or pension, my wound being declared by the doctors an incapacity to serve in future.

“Comrades, we often hear men talk of the happy day before them when they shall leave the army and throw off the knapsack, and give up the musket for the mattock. Well, trust me, it’s no such pleasure as they deem it, after all. There was I, turned loose upon the world, with nothing but a suit of ragged clothes my comrades made up amongst them, my old rapier, and a bad asthma. Such was my stock-in-trade, to begin life anew, at the age of forty-seven. And so, I set out on my weary way back to Paris.”

“Didn’t you try your chance with the Petit Caporal first?” asked one of the listeners.

“To be sure I did. I sent him a long petition, setting forth the whole circumstance, and detailing every minute particular of the duel; but I received it back, unopened, – with Duroc’s name, and the word ‘Rejected,’ on the back.

“It is strange-how unfit we old soldiers are for any occupation in a civil way, when we ‘ve spent half a lifetime campaigning. When I reached Paris, I could almost have wedged myself into the scabbard of my sword. Long marches and short rations had told heavily on me; and the custom-house officer at the barrier told me to pass on, without ever stopping to see that I carried no contraband goods about me.

“I had a miserable time enough of it for twelve or fourteen months. The only way of support I could find was teaching recruits the sword exercise; and you know they could n’t be very liberal in their rewards for the service. But even this poor trade was soon interdicted, as the police reported that I encouraged the young soldiers to fight duels, – a great offence, truly! But you see everything went unluckily with me at that time.

“What was to become of me now I couldn’t tell; when an old comrade, pensioned off from Moreau’s army, had interest to get me appointed supernumerary, as they call it, in the Grand Opera, where I used to perform as a Roman soldier, or a friar, or a peasant, or some such thing, for five francs a week. Not a sou more had I, and the duty was heavier than on active service.

“After two years, the ‘big drum’ died of a rheumatic fever, from beating a great solo in a new German Opera, and I was promoted to his place; for by this time I was quite recovered from the effects of my wound, and could use my arms as well as ever.

“Some of the honorable company may remember the first night that Napoleon visited the Grand Opera after he was named Emperor. It was a glorious sight, and one can never forget it. The whole house was filled with generals and field-marshals: it was a grand field-day, by the glare of ten thousand wax-lights. And the Empress was there, and her whole suite, and all the prettiest women in France. Little time had I to look at them, though; for there was I, in the corner of the orchestra, with my big drum before me, on which I was to play the confounded thing that killed the other fellow.

“It was a strange performance, sure enough: for in the midst of a great din and crash, came a dead pause; and then I was to strike three solemn bangs on the drum, – to be followed by a succession of blows, fast as lightning, for five minutes. This was the composer’s notion of a battle, – distant firing! Heaven bless his heart! I was wishing he ‘d seen some of it. This was to come on in the second act, up to which time I had nothing to do.

“Why do I say nothing? I had to gaze at the Petit Caporal, who sat there in the box over my head, looking as stern and as thoughtful as ever, and not minding much what the Empress said, though she kept prattling into his ear all the time, and trying to attract his attention. Parbleu! he was not thinking of all the nonsense before him, – his mind was on real battles: he had seen real smoke, – that he had! He was fatter and paler than he used to be; and I thought, too, his frown was darker than when I saw him last: but, to be sure, that was at Marengo, and he ever looked pleased on the field of battle. I could n’t take my eyes from him: his fine thoughtful face, so full of determination and energy, reminded me of my old days of campaigning. I thought of Areola and Rivoli, of Cairo and the Pyramids, and the great charge at Marengo when Desaix’s division came up, – and my heart was nigh bursting when I remembered that I wore the epaulette no longer. I forgot, too, where I was; and expected every instant to hear him call for one of the marshals, or see him stretch out his hand to point to a distant part of the field. And so absorbed was I in my reveries, that I had neither eyes nor ears for anything around me; when suddenly all the din of the orchestra ceased, – not a sound was heard; and a hand rudely shook me by the arm, while a voice whispered, ‘Now! now!’

“Mechanically I seized the drumsticks. But my eyes still were riveted in the Emperor, – my whole heart and soul were centred in him. Again the voice called to me to begin; and a low murmur of angry meaning ran through the orchestra.

“I sprang to my legs, and in the excitement of the moment, losing all memory of time and place, I rolled out the pas de charge!

“Scarce had the first roulade of the well-known sounds reverberated through the house, when one cry of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ burst forth. It was not a cheer; it was the heart-given outbreak of ten thousand devoted followers. Marshals, generals, colonels, ambassadors, ministers, all joined; and the vast assembly rocked to and fro like the sea in a storm, while Napoleon himself, slowly rising, bent his proud head in acknowledgment, and then sat down again amid the thundering shouts of acclamation. It was full twenty minutes before the piece could proceed; and even then momentary outbreaks of enthusiasm would occur to interrupt it, and continued to burst forth till the curtain fell.

“Just then an aide-de-camp appeared beside the orchestra, and ordered me to the Emperor’s box. Satristi!how I trembled! I did n’t know what might come of it.

“‘Ah, coquin! said he, as I stood ready to drop with fear at the door of the box, ‘this has been one of thy doings, eh?’

“‘Yes, Sire,’ muttered I in a half whisper.

“‘And how hast thou dared to spoil an opera in this fashion?’ said he, frowning fiercely. ‘Answer me, sirrah!’

“‘It was your Majesty’s fault,’ said I, becoming reckless of all consequences. ‘You did n’t seem to care much for all their scraping and blowing, and so I thought the old roulade might raise you a bit. You used to like it once; and might still, if the times be not altered.’

“‘And they are not,’ said he, sternly. ‘Who art thou, that seem’st to know me thus well?’

“‘Old François, that was maître d’armes of the Fourth in Egypt, and who saved you from the stroke of a Mameluke sabre at Chebrheis.’

“‘What! the fellow who killed an Austrian prisoner after Marengo? Why, I thought thee dead.’

“‘Better for me I had been!’ said I. ‘You would n’t read my petition. (‘Yes, you may frown away, General,’ said I to Duroc, who kept glowering at me like a tiger.) I began life at the tambour; I have come down to it again. You can’t bring me lower, parbleu!

“The Emperor whispered something to the Empress, who turned round towards me and laughed; and then he made a sign for me to withdraw. Before I had got a dozen paces from the box, an aide-de-camp overtook me.

“‘François,’ said he, ‘you are to appear before the medical commission to-morrow; and if their report be favorable, you are to have your old grade of maître d’armes.’

“And so it was. Not only was I restored, but they even placed me in the same regiment I served in during the campaigns of Egypt and Italy. The corps, however, was greatly changed since I knew it before; and so I asked the Emperor to appoint me to a voltigeur battalion, where discipline is not so rigid, and pleasant comrades are somewhat more plentiful. I had my wish, gentlemen. And now, with your permission, we’ll drink the ‘Faubourg St. Antoine,’ the cradle of our arm of the service.”

In repeating Maître Francois’s tale, I could only wish it might have one half the success with my reader it met with from his comrades of the bivouac. This, however, I cannot look for, and must leave it and him to their fortunes, and now turn to follow the course of my own.

François was not the only one who felt surprised at my being able to resist the pleasures of a voltigeurs life; and my companion the corporal looked upon my determination to join the hussar brigade as one of those extraordinary instances of duty predominating over inclination. “Not,” said he, “but there may be brave fellows and good soldiers among the dragoons; though having a horse to ride is a sore drawback on a man’s courage. And when one has felt the confidence of standing face to face, and foot to foot, with the enemy, I cannot see how he can ever bring himself to fight in any other fashion.”

“A man can accustom himself to anything, Corporal,” said an old, hardy-looking soldier, who sat smoking with the most profound air of thoughtful reflection. “I remember being in the ‘dromedary brigade’ at Cairo. Few of us could keep our seats at first; and when we fell off, it was often hard enough to resist the Mamelukes and hold the beasts besides; but even that we learned with time.”

This explanation, little flattering as it was to the cavalry, seemed to convince the listeners that time, which smoothes so many difficulties, will even make a man content to be a dragoon.

“Well, since you will not be ‘of ours,’” said François, “let us drink a parting cup, and say good-by, for I hear the bugle sounding the call.”

“A health to the ‘Faubourg St. Antoine,’ boys!” cried I, and a hearty cheer re-echoed the toast; and with many a shake-hands, and many a promise of welcome whenever I saw the error of my ways sufficiently to doff the dolman for the voltigeur’s jacket, I took leave of the gallant Twenty-second, and set out towards Weimar.

CHAPTER XXV. BERLIN AFTER “JENA.”

As the battle of Austerlitz was the deathblow to the empire of Austria, so with the defeat at Jena did Prussia fall, and that great kingdom became a prey to the conquering Napoleon. Were this a fitting place, it might be curious to inquire into the causes which involved a ruin so sudden and so complete; and how a vast and highly organized army seemed at one fell stroke annihilated and destroyed.

The victories of Jena and Auerstadt, great and decisive as they were, were nevertheless inadequate to such results; and if the genius of the Emperor had not been as prompt to follow up as to gain a battle, they never would have occurred. But scarcely had the terrible contest ceased, when he sent for the Saxon officers who were taken prisoners, and addressing them in a tone of kindness, declared at once that they were at liberty and might return to their homes, first pledging their words not to carry arms against France or her allies. One hundred and twenty officers of different grades, from lieutenant-general downwards, gave this promise and retired to their own country, extolling the generosity of Napoleon. This first step was soon followed up by another and more important one; negotiations were opened with the Elector of Saxony, and the title of king offered to him on condition of his joining the Confederacy of the Rhine; and thus once more the artful policy already pursued with regard to Bavaria in the south, was here renewed in the north of Germany, and with equal success.