Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume I

It was evening; the faint wind that follows sunset scarce filled the sails as we glided along through the waveless sea. I had been listening to the low, monotonous song of one of the sailors as he sat mending a sail beside me, when suddenly I heard a voice hail us from the water. The skipper jumped on the halfdeck, and immediately replied. The words I could not hear, but by the stir and movement about me I saw something unusual had occurred, and by an effort I raised my head above the bulwark and looked about me. A long, low craft lay close alongside us, filled with men, whose blue caps and striped shirts struck me as strange and uncommon, not less than their black belts and cutlasses, with which every man was armed. After an interchange of friendly greetings with our crew, – for such they seemed, although I could not catch the words, – she moved rapidly past us.

“There’s their flotilla, sir,” said the helmsman, as he watched my eye while it wandered over the water.

I crept up higher, and followed the direction of his finger. Never shall I forget that moment. Before me, scarce as it seemed a mile distant, lay a thousand boats at anchor, beneath the shadow of tall sandhills, decorated with gay and gaudy pennons, crowded with figures whose bright colors and glittering arms shone gorgeously in the setting sunlight. The bright waves reflected the myriad tints, while they seemed to plash in unison with the rich swell of martial music that stole along the water with every freshening breeze. The shore was covered with tents, some of them surmounted with large banners that floated out gayly to the breeze; and far as the eye could reach were hosts of armed men dotted over the wide plain beside the sea. Vast columns of infantry were there, – cavalry and artillery, too, – their bright arms glittering, and their gay plumes waving, but all still and motionless, as if spellbound. As I looked, I could see horsemen gallop from the dense squares, and riding hurriedly to and fro. Suddenly a blue rocket shot into the calm sky, and broke in a million glittering fragments over the camp; the deep roar of a cannon boomed out; and then the music of a thousand bands swelled high and full, and in an instant the whole plain was in motion, and the turf trembled beneath the tramp of marching men. Regiment followed regiment, squadron poured after squadron, as they descended the paths towards the beach; while a long, dark line wound through the glittering mass, and marked the train of the artillery, as with caissons and ammunition wagons they moved silently over the grassy surface.

All that I had ever conceived of warlike preparation was as nothing to the gorgeous spectacle before me. The stillness of the evening air, made tremulous with the clang of trumpets and the hoarse roar of drums; the mirror-like sea, colored with the reflection of bright banners and waving pennants; and then the simultaneous step of the mighty army, – so filled up every sense that I feared lest all might prove the mere pageant of a dream, and vanish as it came.

“What a glorious sight!” cried I, at length, half wild with enthusiasm. “Where are we?”

“Where are we?” repeated the skipper, smiling. “Look out, and you ‘ll soon guess that. Are those very like the uniforms of King George? When did you see steel breastplates and helmets before? This is France, my lad!”

“France! France!” said I, stupefied with the mere thought.

“Yes, to be sure. That ‘s the Army of England, as they call it, you see yonder; they are practising the embarkation. See the red rockets! There they go, – three, four, five, six, – that’s the signal. In less than half an hour thirty thousand men will be ready to embark. Mark how they press on faster and faster! and watch the cavalry, as they dismount and lead their horses down the steep! See how the boats pull in shore! But, hallo there! we shall get foul of the gunboats, – already we ‘ve run in too close. Down helm, my lad; keep the headland yonder on your lee.”

As he spoke, the light craft bent over to the breeze, and skipped freely over the blue water. Each moment wafted us farther away from the bright scene, and soon a projecting point shut out the whole, save the swell of the brass bands as it floated on the breeze, and I might have believed it a mere delusion.

“They practise that manoeuvre often enough to know it well,” said the skipper, “sometimes at daybreak, now at noonday, and again, as we see, at sunset; and no one knows at what moment the attack that seems a feint may not turn out to be real. But here we are now alongside; our voyage is ended.”

The anchor plashed from our bow, while a signal was made from the shore and answered by us; and in an instant we were surrounded with boats.

“Ha, Antoine!” cried a sous-officier in a naval uniform, who sat on the gunwale of a long eight-oar gig, and touched his hat in recognition of our skipper; “what news outre mer? what are we doing in Ireland?”

“My young friend here must tell you that,” replied the skipper, laughingly, as he laid his hand on my shoulder. “Let me present him to you: Mr. Burke, – Lieutenant Brevix.”

The lieutenant saluted me politely; and then, springing up, he jumped gayly on board of us, and shook our hands with great appearance of cordiality.

“They ‘ll want to see you ashore, Antoine, as soon as may be; there are despatches going off to-night for Paris, and they ‘ll be glad to send the last accounts of the state of the Channel.”

“Light winds and no cruisers are all I have to tell them, then,” said the skipper.

The lieutenant now took him aside, and they conversed for some time in a low tone, during which I occupied myself by watching the sentinels who paraded incessantly to and fro along a low wooden pier that stretched out into the sea, and formed, with a promontory at some distance, a small harbor. Their watch seemed of the most vigilant, if I might judge from the low but continued cry which passed from mouth to mouth of “Sentinelle, prenez garde a vous;” while from each boat across the harbor a sing-song note chanted in response the monotonous sounds, “Bon quart!” as each quarter of an hour stole past.

These precautions against the approach of any strange craft extended, as I afterwards learned, along the entire coast from Dieppe to Ostend; yet were they not sufficient to prevent frequent visits from the English spies, who penetrated into every quarter of the camp, and even had the hardihood to visit the theatre of the town, and express loudly their disapprobation of the performance.

“You ‘d better come ashore with me, sir,” said the lieutenant; “Colonel Dorsenne will be glad to ask you some questions. What papers have you got?”

“None, save a few private letters,” said I, somewhat confused at the question.

“No matter,” said he, gayly. “I hear from Antoine you wish to join the service here. That wish is your best recommendation to the colonel; he ‘ll not trouble you for reasons, I warrant you. Conduct monsieur to the quartier-général,” said the lieutenant to a corporal, who, with his party of four men, stood awaiting at the landing-place the arrival of any one from the boats; and in an instant, the men falling to each side of me, took their way along the pier.

I could mark as we went that more than once their looks were bent on me with an expression of compassion and pity, which at the time I was at a loss to explain. I knew not then that the road we were taking was that which so often led to death; and that it was only on the very day before, two Englishmen were shot for having ventured on shore without authority.

The consigne of the corporal passed us through one post after another, until we reached the open plain, over which now the night was falling fast. A lantern at some distance off marked the quarters of the officer on duty; and thither we directed our steps, and at last reached a small wooden hut, from within which the sounds of mirth and revelry proceeded. The voice of the sentinel who challenged us brought an officer to the door, who the moment his eyes fell on me stepped back, and passing his hand hurriedly across his forehead muttered, half inaudibly, “Another already!”

While he retired into an inner apartment, I had time to look at the singular decorations which adorned the walls of the antechamber. Around on every side, and arranged like trophies, were grouped the weapons of different arms of the service, surmounted with some device emblematic of their peculiar character; or sometimes the mere record of some famous battle in which they had pre-eminently distinguished themselves. Here were the long, straight swords of the cuirassier crossed above the steel breastplate, and surmounted by the heavy helmet half hid in leopard skin, and bearing the almost effaced word “Arcole” in front; there was the short carbine of the voltigeur, over which hung the red cap and its gay gold tassel, with the embroidered motto “En avant” in gold letters. The long and graceful weapon of the lancer, the curved sabre of the chasseur à cheval, even the axe of the pioneer was not wanting, – displaying at a glance some trait of every branch of the mighty force that bore the proud designation of “La Grande Armée.”

I was busily engaged inspecting these when the door opened, and an officer in full uniform appeared. His figure was above the middle size, strongly and squarely built; and his bronzed features, and high, bold forehead, gave him a soldier-like air.

“Your name, sir,” said he, quickly, as he drew himself up before me, and looked sternly in my face.

“Burke, – Thomas Burke.”

“Write it down, Auguste,” said he, turning to a young officer, who stood, pen in hand, behind him.

“Your rank or profession?”

“Gentilhomme,” said I, not knowing that the word expressed nobility.

“Ah, pardieu,” cried he, as he showed his white teeth in a grin; “produce your papers, if you have any.”

“I have nothing save those letters,” said I, handing him those of De Meudon.

Scarce had his eye glanced over them, when I saw his color heighten and his cheek tremble.

“What!” cried he, “are you the same young Irishman who is mentioned here, the constant companion and friend of poor Charles? He was my schoolfellow; we were at Brienne together. What a mistake I was about to fall into! How did you come, and when?”

Before I could reply to any of his many questions, the naval officer I had met at the harbor entered, and delivered his report.

“Yes, yes; I know it all,” said Dorsenne, hurriedly throwing his eye over it. “It ‘s all right, perfectly right, Brevix. Let Capitaine Antoine be examined at the quartier-général. I ‘ll take care of monsieur here. And, to begin; come and join us at supper.”

Passing his arm familiarly over my shoulder, he led me into the adjoining room, where two other officers were seated at a table covered with silver dishes and numerous flasks of wine. A few words sufficed for my introduction; and a few glasses of champagne placed me as thoroughly at my ease as though I had passed my life amongst them, and never heard any other conversation than the last movement of the French army, and their projects for future campaigns.

“And so,” said the colonel, after hearing from me a short account of the events which had induced me to turn my eyes to France, – “and so you’d be a soldier? Eh bien! see nothing better going myself. There ‘s Davernac will tell you the same, though he has lost his arm in the service.”

“Oui, pardieu,” said the officer on my right; “I am not the man to dissuade him from a career I ‘ve ever loved.”

“À vous, mon ami,” said the young officer who first addressed me on my arrival, as he held out his glass and clinked it against mine. “I hope we shall have you one of these days as our guide through the dark streets of London. The time may not be so distant as you think; never shake your head at it.”

“It is not that I would mean,” said I, eagerly.

“What then?” said the colonel. “You don’t suppose such an expedition as ours could fail of success?”

“Nor that either,” replied I; “I am not so presumptuous as to form an opinion on the subject.”

“Diantre, then! what is it?”

“Simply this: that whatever fortune awaits me, I shall never be found fighting against the country under whose rule I was born. England may not be – alas! she has not been – just to us. But whatever resistance I might have offered in the ranks of my countrymen, I shall never descend to in an invading army. No, no; if France have no other war than with England, – if she have not the cause of Continental liberty at heart, – she ‘ll have no blood of mine shed in her Service.”

“Sacristi!” said the colonel, sipping his wine coolly, “you had better keep these same opinions of yours to your self. There ‘s a certain little General we have at Paris who rarely permits people to reason about the cause of the campaign. However, it is growing late now, and we ‘ll not discuss the matter at present. Auguste, will you take Burke to your quarters? And to-morrow I ‘ll call on the general about his brevet for the Polytechnique.”

I felt now that I had spoken more warmly than was pleasing to the party; but the sentiments I had announced were only such as in my heart I had resolved to abide by, and I was pleased that an opportunity so soon offered to display them. I was glad to find myself at rest at last; and although events pressed on me fast and thick enough to have occupied my mind, no sooner had I laid my head on my pillow than I fell into a sound sleep.

CHAPTER XXI. THE ÉCOLE MILITAIRE

Let me now skip over at a bound some twelve months of my life, – not that they were to me without their chances and their changes, but they were such as are incidental to all boyhood, – and present myself to my reader as the scholar at the Polytechnique. What a change had the time, short as it was, worked in all my opinions! how completely had I unlearned all the teaching of my early instructor, poor Darby! how had I been taught to think that glory was the real element of war, and that its cause was of far less moment than its conduct!

The enthusiasm which animated every corps of the French army, and was felt through every fibre of the nation, had full sway in the little world of the military school. There, every battle was known and conned over; we called every spot of our playground by some name great in the history of glory; and among ourselves we assumed the titles of the heroes who shed such lustre on their country; and thus in all our boyish sports our talk was of the Bridge of Lodi, Arcole, Rivoli, Castiglione, the Pyramids, Mount Tabor. While the names of Kleber, Kellerman, Massena, Desaix, Murat, were adopted amongst us, but one name only remained unappropriated; and no one was bold enough to assume the title of him whose victories were the boast of every tongue. If this enthusiasm was general amongst us, I felt it in all its fullest force, for it came untinged with any other thought. To me there was neither home nor family; my days passed over in one unbroken calm, – no thought of pleasure, no hope of happiness, when the fête day came round. My every sense was wrapped up in the one great desire, – to be a soldier; to have my name known among those great men whose fame was over Europe; to be remembered by him whose slightest word of praise was honor itself. When should that day come for me? When should I see the career open before me? These were my earliest waking thoughts, my last at nightfall.

If the intensity of purpose, the strong current of all my hopes, formed for me an ideal and a happy world within me, yet did it lend a trait of seriousness to my manner that seemed like melancholy; and while few knew less what it was to grieve, a certain sadness in me struck my companions, on which they often rallied me, but which I strove in vain to conquer. It was true that at certain times my loneliness and isolation came coldly on my heart; when one by one I saw others claimed by their friends, and hurrying away to some happy home, where some fond sister threw her arm around a brother’s neck, or some doting mother clasped her son close to her bosom and kissed his brow, a tear would find its way down my cheek, and I would hasten to my room, and locking the door, sit down alone to think, till my sad heart grew weary, or my sterner nature rose within me, and by an effort over myself, I turned to my studies and forgot all else.

Meanwhile I made rapid progress; the unbroken tenor of my thoughts gave me a decided advantage over the others, and long before the regular period arrived, the day for my final examination was appointed.

What a lasting impression do some passages of early life leave behind them! Even yet, – and how many years are past! – how well do I remember all the hopes and fears that stirred my heart as the day drew near! how each morning at sunrise I rose to pore over some of the books which formed the subjects of examination: how, when the gray dawn was only breaking, have I bent over the pages of Vauban and the calculations of Carnot! and with what a sinking spirit have I often found that a night seemed to have erased all the fruit of a long day’s labor, and that the gain of my hard-worked intellect had escaped me, – and then again, like magic, the lost thought would come back, my brain grow clear, and all the indistinct and shadowy conceptions assume a firm and tangible reality which I felt like power! At such times as these my spirits rose, my heart beat high, a joyous feeling throbbed in every pulse, and an exhilaration almost maddening elevated me, and there was nothing I would not have dared, no danger I would not have confronted. Such were the attractions of my boyish days, and such the temperament they bequeathed to my manhood.

It was on the 16th of June, the anniversary of Marengo, when the drum beat to arms in the court of the Polytechnique; and soon after the scholars were seen assembling in haste from various quarters, anxious to learn if their prayer had been acceded to, – which asked permission for them to visit the Invalides, the usual indulgence on the anniversary of any great victory.

As we flocked into the court we were struck by seeing an orderly dragoon standing beside the headmaster, who was eagerly perusing a letter in his hands; when he had concluded, he spoke a few words to the soldier, who at once wheeled round his horse and trotted rapidly from the spot.

Again the drums rolled out, and the order was given to form in line. In an instant the command was obeyed, and we stood in silent expectation of the news which we perceived awaited us.

“Messieurs les élèves,” he began, when stillness was restored, “this day being the anniversary of the glorious battle of Marengo, the General Bonaparte has decreed that a review should be held of the entire school. Lieutenant-General d’Auvergne will arrive here at noon to inspect you, and on such reports as I shall give of your general conduct, zeal, and proficiency will recommendations be forwarded to the First Consul for your promotion.”

A loud cheer followed this speech. The announcement far surpassed our most ardent hopes, and there was no limit to our enthusiasm; and loud vivas in honor of General Bonaparte, D’Auvergne, and the headmaster himself were heard on all sides.

Scarcely was the breakfast over when our preparations began. What a busy scene it was! Here were some brushing up their uniforms, polishing their sword-hilts, and pipeclaying their cross-belts; there might be seen others conning over the directions of field manoeuvres, and refreshing their memory of the words of command; some practised marching in groups along the corridor; others, too much excited by the prospect before them, jumped madly from place to place, shouting and singing snatches of soldier songs; but all were occupied. As for me, it was only two days before I had obtained my grade of corporal; my new uniform had only just come home, and I put it on for the first time with no inconsiderable pride; indeed, I could scarce turn my eyes as I walked from the stripes upon my arm that denoted my rank.

Long before the appointed time we were all assembled, and when the clock struck twelve and the drum beat out, not a boy was absent. We were drawn up in three columns according to our standing, spaces being left between each to permit of our wheeling into line at the word of command. The headmaster passed down our ranks, narrowly inspecting our equipments and scrutinizing every detail of our costume; but a stronger impulse than ordinary was now at work, and not the slightest irregularity was anywhere detectable.

Meanwhile the time passed on, and although every eye was directed to the long avenue of lime-trees by which the general must arrive, nothing moved along it; and the bright streaks of sunlight that peeped between the trees were unbroken by any passing shadow. Whispers passed along the ranks, – some fearing he might have forgotten the whole appointment; others suspecting that another review elsewhere had engrossed his attention; and at last a half murmur of dissatisfaction crept through the mass, which only the presence of the chef restrained within due bounds.

One o’clock struck, and yet no rider appeared; the alley remained silent and deserted as before. The minutes now seemed like hours; weariness and lassitude appeared everywhere. The ranks were broken, and many wandered from their posts, and forgot all discipline. At last a cloud of dust was seen to rise at a distance, and gradually it approached the long avenue, and every eye was turned in the direction, and in an instant the stragglers resumed their places, and all was attention and anxiety, while every look pierced eagerly the dense cloud, to see whether it was not the long-wished-for staff which was coming. At length the object burst upon our sight; but what was our disappointment to see that it was only a travelling carriage with four post-horses that approached. No appearance of a soldier was there, – not one solitary dragoon. A half-uttered shout announced our dissatisfaction, for we at once guessed it was merely some chance visitor, or perhaps the friends of some of the scholars, who had thus excited our false hopes.

The chef himself participated in our feelings; and passing down the lines, he announced that if the general did not arrive within ten minutes, he would himself dismiss us, and set us at liberty. A cheer of gratitude received this speech, and we stood patiently awaiting our liberation, when suddenly, from the guard-house at the gate, the clash of arms was heard, and the roll of drums in salute, and the same instant the carriage we had seen rolled into the courtyard and took up its station in the middle of the square. The next moment the door was opened and the steps lowered, and an officer in a splendid uniform assisted three ladies to alight. Before we recovered from the surprise of the proceeding, the master had approached the party, and by his air of deference and deep respect denoted that they were no ordinary visitors. But our attention was quickly drawn from the group that now stood talking and laughing together, for already the clank of a cavalry escort was heard coming up the avenue, and we beheld the waving plumes and brilliant uniform of a general officer’s staff advancing at a rapid trot. The drums now rolled out along the lines; we stood to arms; the gallant cortege turned into the court and formed in front of us. All eyes were fixed on the general himself, the perfect beau ideal of an old soldier. He sat his horse as firmly and gracefully as the youngest aide-de-camp of his suite; his long white hair, dressed in queue behind, was brushed back off his high broad forehead; his clear blue eye, mild yet resolute, glanced over our ranks; and as he bowed to the headmaster, his whole gesture and bearing was worthy of the Court of which once he was a brilliant member.

“I have kept my young friends waiting for me,” said he in a low but clear voice, “and it now remains for me to make the only amende in my power, – a short inspection. Dorsenne, will you take the command?”

I started at the name, and looked round; and close beside him stood the same officer who had so kindly received me the day I landed in France. Though he looked at me, however, I saw he did not remember me, and my spirits sank again as I thought how utterly friendless and alone I was.

The general was true to his word in making the inspection as brief as possible. He rode leisurely down the ranks, stopping from time to time to express his satisfaction, or drop some chance word of encouragement or advice, which we caught up with eagerness and delight. Forming us into line, he ordered his aide-de-camp to put us through some of the ordinary parade manoeuvres, which we knew as thoroughly as the most disciplined troops. During all this time the group of ladies maintained their position in front, and seemed to watch the review with every semblance of interest. The general, too, made one of the party, and appeared from time to time to explain the intended movement, and direct their attention to the scene.