Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume I

“Let them march past in salute,” said he, at length. “The poor fellows have had enough of it; I must not encroach on the entire holiday.”

A unanimous cheer was the reply to this kind speech, and we formed in sections and marched by him at a quickstep. The chef d'école had now approached the staff, and was making his report on the boys, when the general again interrupted him by saying, —

“Madame has expressed a wish to see the boys at their usual exercise of the play hour. If the request be admissible – ”

“Certainly, mon général; of course,” said he. And stepping forward, he beckoned to one of the drummers to come near. He whispered a word, and the tattoo beat out; and, like magic, every one sprang from his ranks, caps were flung into the air, and vivas rung out from every quarter of the court.

The sudden transition from discipline to perfect liberty added to our excitement, and we became half wild with delight. The first mad burst of pleasure over, we turned, as if by instinct, to our accustomed occupations. Here were seen a party collecting for a drill, officers gathering and arranging their men, and sergeants assisting in the muster; there, were others, armed with spades and shovels, at work on an entrenchment, while some were driving down stockades and fixing a palisade; another set, more peaceful in their pursuits, had retired to their little gardens, and were busy with watering-pots and trowels.

The section I belonged to were the seniors of the school, and we had erected a kind of fort which it was our daily amusement to defend and attack, the leadership on either side being determined by lots. On this day the assault had fallen to my command, and I hurried hither and thither collecting my forces, and burning for the attack.

We were not long in assembling; and the garrison having announced their readiness by the display of a flag from the ramparts, the assault began. I know not why nor wherefore, but on this day my spirits were unusually high; it was one of those chance occasions when my temperament, heated and glowing, had elevated me in my own esteem, and I would have given my life for some opportunity of distinguishing myself.

I led my party on, then, with more than common daring, and though repulsed by the besieged, we fell back only for a moment, and returned to the assault determined to succeed; the others, animated by the same spirit, fought as bravely, and the cheers that rose from one side were replied to by shouts as full of defiance from the other. Heated and excited, I turned round to order an attack of my whole force, when to my surprise I beheld that the general and his staff, accompanied by the ladies, had taken their places a short distance off, and were become interested spectators of the siege. This alone was wanting to stimulate my efforts to the utmost, and I now returned to the fight with tenfold impetuosity. But if this feeling animated me, it also nerved my antagonists, for their resistance rose with every moment, and as they drove us back from their walls, cheers of triumph rang out and proclaimed the victory.

Already the battle had lasted nearly an hour, and all that was obtained was a slight breach in one of the outworks, too small to be practicable for assault. In this state were matters, when the sound of a cavalry escort turned every eye towards the entrance to the courtyard, where we now beheld a squadron of the Landers rouges following a numerous and brilliant staff of general officers.

Scarcely had they entered the gates when a loud cry rent the air, and every voice shouted, “C’est lui! c’est lui!” and the next moment, “Vive Bonaparte! vive le Premier Consul!” All that I ever heard from poor De Meudon came rushing on my mind, and my heart swelled out till it seemed bursting my very bosom. The next instant my eye turned to the little fort; the moment was propitious, for there every cap was waving, every look bent towards him, I seized the opportunity, and pointing silently to the breach, stole forward. In a second I was beneath the grassy rampart; in another, I reached the breach; the next brought me to the top, where, with a shout of victory, I called on my men to follow me. On they came rushing, – but too late; already the garrison were upon me, and overcome by numbers, I fought alone and unsupported. Step by step they drove me to the edge of the rampart; already my foot was on the breach, when with a spring I dashed at the flagstaff, and carried it with me as I fell headlong into the ditch. In a moment I was on my legs, but so stunned and crushed that I fell almost immediately again; cold perspiration broke over my face and forehead, and I should have fainted but that they dashed some water over me.

As I lay sick and faint I lifted my eyes; and what was my amazement to see, not the little companions of the school about me, but the gorgeous uniform of staff officers, and two elegantly-dressed ladies, one of whom held a cup of water in her hand and sprinkled it over my brow. I looked down upon my torn dress, and the sleeve of my coat, where the marks of my rank were already half effaced, and I felt the tears start into my eyes as the remembrance of my late failure crossed my mind. At the instant the crowd opened, and a pale but handsome face, where command was tempered by a look of almost womanly softness, smiled upon me.

[Illlustration: C'était bien fait, mon enfant 223]

“C'était bien fait, mon enfant,” said he, “trés bien fait; and if you have lost a coat by the struggle, why I must even see if I can’t give you another to replace it. Monsieur Legrange, what is the character of this boy in the school? Is he diligent, zealous, and well-conducted!”

“All of the three. General,” said the chef, bowing obsequiously.

“Let him have his brevet, – to date from to-day. Who are his friends?”

A whispered answer replied to this inquiry.

“Indeed!” said the first speaker; “reason the more we should take care of him. Monsieur,” continued he, turning towards me, “to-morrow you shall have your epaulettes. Never forget how you gained them; and remember ever that every grade in the service is within the reach of a brave man who does his duty.”

So saying, he passed on, while, overcome by emotion, I could not speak or move.

“There, he is much better now,” said a soft voice near me; “you see his color is coming back.”

I looked up, and there were two ladies standing beside me. The elder was tall and elegantly formed; her figure, which in itself most graceful, looked to its full advantage by the splendor of her dress; there was an air of stateliness in her manner, which had seemed hauteur were it not for a look of most benevolent softness that played about her mouth whenever she spoke. The younger, who might in years have seemed her daughter, was in every respect unlike her: she was slight and delicately formed; her complexion and her black eyes, shaded by a long dark fringe, bespoke the Provençal; her features were beautifully regular, and when at rest completely Greek in their character, but each moment some chance word, some passing thought, implanted a new expression, and the ever-varying look of her flashing eyes and full round lips played between a smile and that arch spirit that essentially belongs to the fair daughters of the South. It was not until my fixed gaze had brought a deep blush to her cheek, that I felt how ardently I had been looking at her.

“Yes, yes,” said she, hurriedly, “he’s quite well now;” and at the same moment she made a gesture of impatience to pass on. But the elder held her arm close within her own, as she whispered, with something of half malice, “But stay, Marie; I should like to hear his name. Ah,” cried she, starting in affected surprise, “how flushed you are! there must be something in the air here, so we had better proceed.” And with a soft smile and a courteous motion of her hand, she passed on.

I looked after them as they went. A strange odd feeling stirred within my heart, – a kind of wild joy, with a mingled sense of hope too vague to catch at. I watched the drooping feather of her bonnet, and the folds of her dress as they fluttered in the wind; and when she disappeared from my sight, I could scarce believe that she was not still beside me, and that lier dark eyes did not look into my very soul. But already my companions crowded about me, and amid a hundred warm congratulations and kind wishes, I took my way back to the college.

Scarcely was breakfast over the following morning, when the order arrived for my removal from the scholar quarter of the Polytechnique to that occupied by the cadets. A small tricolored cockade affixed to my hat was the only emblem of my new rank; but simple as it was, no decoration ever attracted more envy and admiration from the beholders, nor gave more pride to the wearer, than that knot of ribbon.

“At number thirteen you ‘ll find your quarters, Monsieur le Cadet,” said a sergeant, as he presented me with the official order.

I remember at this very hour what a thrill his military salute sent through me. It was the first acknowledgment of my grade; the first recognition that I was no longer a mere schoolboy. I had not much time granted me to indulge such sensations, for already my schoolfellows had thronged round me, and overwhelmed me with questions and felicitations.

“Ah, what a fortunate fellow! No examination to go through; has his grade given him without toiling for it.” – “Is it the cavalry, Burke” – “Are you a cheval?” – “When do you join?” – “Where is your regiment?” – “Shall we see you again?” – “Won’t you write to us all about the corps when you join them?” – “Who is your comrade?” – “Yes, tell us that; who is he?”

“Ma foi,” said I, “I know not more than yourselves. You are all aware to what an accident I owe my promotion. Where I am destined for, or in what corps, I can’t tell. And as to my comrade – ”

“Ah! take care he ‘s no tyrant,” said one.

“Yes, yes,” cried another; “show him you know what a small sword is at once.”

“Burke won’t be trifled with,” cried a third.

And then followed a very chorus of voices, each detailing some atrocity committed by the cadets on their newly-joined associates. One had a friend wounded in the side the very day he joined; another knew some one who was thrown out of a window: here was an account of a delicate boy who passed an entire night in the snow, and died of a chest disease three weeks after; there, a victim to intemperance met his fate in the orgy that celebrated his promotion. This picture, I confess, did somewhat damp the ardor of my first impressions; and I took leave of my old friends with not less feeling of affection, that I doubted how much kindness and good feeling I had to expect from my new ones.

In this mood of mind I shook their hands for the last time, and followed the soldier who carried my baggage to the distant quarter of the école. As I entered the large court by the richly ornamented gate, whose bronzed tracery and handsome carving dated from the time of Louis the Fourteenth, my heart swelled with conscious pride. The façade of the square, unlike the simple front of the scholars’ quarters, was beautifully architectural; massive consoles supported the windows, and large armorial insignia, cut on stone, surmounted the different entrances. But what most captivated my spirits and engaged my attention was a large flag in the centre, from which waved the broad ensign of France, beside which a sentinel paced to and fro. He presented arms as I passed; and the click of his musket, as he stood erect, sent a thrill through me, and made my very fingers tingle with delight.

“This is number thirteen, sir,” said the soldier, as we arrived in front of one of the doorways; and before I could reply, the door opened, and a young officer, in the uniform of an infantry regiment, appeared. He was about to pass out, when his eye resting on the luggage the soldier had just placed beside him, he stopped suddenly, and, touching his cap, asked in a polite tone, —

“Not Mr. Burke, is it?”

“Yes,” said I, bowing in return.

“Eh, mon camarade,” said he, holding out his hand, “delighted to see you. Have you breakfasted? Well, you ‘ll find all ready for you in the quarters. I shall be back soon. I ‘m only going to a morning drill, which won’t last half an hour; so make yourself at home, and we’ll meet soon again.”

So saying, he once more saluted me, and passed on. “Not very like what I feared,” thought I, as I entered the quarters, whose look of neatness and comfort so pleasantly contrasted with my late abode. I had barely time to look over the prints and maps of military subjects which ornamented the walls, when my new friend made his appearance.

“No parade to-day, thank Heaven,” said he, throwing down his cap and sabre, and lolling at full length on the little camp sofa. “Now, mon cher camarade, let us make acquaintance at once, for our time is likely to be of the shortest. My name is Tascher, a humble sous-lieutenant of the Twenty-first Regiment of Foot. As much a stranger in this land as yourself, I fancy,” continued he, after a slight pause, “but very well contented to be adopted by it.”

After this opening, he proceeded to inform me that he was the nephew of Madame Bonaparte, – her sister’s only son, – who, at his mother’s death, left Guadaloupe, and came over to France, and became an éleve of the Polytechnique. There he had remained five years, and after a severe examination, obtained his brevet in an infantry corps; his uncle Bonaparte having shown him no other favor nor affection than a severe reprimand on one occasion for some boyish freak, when all the other delinquents escaped scot-free.

“I am now under orders for service,” said he; “but where for, and when, I can’t tell. But this I know, that whatever good fortune may be going a-begging, I, Lieutenant Tascher, am very likely to get only the hem of the garment.”

There was a tone of easy and frank good-nature in all he said, which at once disposed me to like the young Creole; and we spent the whole afternoon recounting our various adventures and fortunes, and before night came on were sworn friends for life.

CHAPTER XXII. THE TUILERIES IN 1803

The life of the cadet differed little from that of the schoolboy. The same routine of study, the same daily round of occupation and duty, were his. Until drafted to the particular corps to which he might be appointed, he only could absent himself from the college by special leave; and the most rigid of all military discipline prevailed during the brief interval which was to fit him for the arduous life of a soldier. The evenings, however, were at our disposal; and what a pleasure it was, the fatigue of the day over, to wander forth into the city, – that brilliant Paris, near which I had lived so long, and yet had seen so little of!

At first the splendor of the shops, the unceasing flow of population, the might and grandeur of the public buildings, attracted all my attention; and when these wore off in novelty, I could still wander with delight through the gay gardens of the Tuileries, and watch the sparkling fountains as they splashed in the pale moonlight, and look upon the happy children who played about them, their merry laughter ringing through the water’s plash. What a fairy scene it was to watch the groups as they passed and repassed – came and went and disappeared – amid those dark alleys where the silent footstep did not mar the sounds of happy voices! and then, how have I turned from these to throw a wistful glance towards the palace windows, where some half-closed curtain from time to time would show the golden sparkle of a brilliant lustre or the rich frame of a mirror, – mayhap an open sash would for a moment display some fair form, the outline only seen as she leaned on the balcony and drank in the balmy air of the mild evening, while the soft swell of music would float from the gorgeous saloon, and falling on my ear, set me a-dreaming of pleasures my life had never known!

My utter loneliness pressed deeper on me every day; for while each of my companions had friends and relatives, among whom their evenings were passed, I was friendless and alone. The narrowness of my means – I had nothing save my pay – prevented my frequenting the theatre, or even accepting such invitations as the other cadets pressed upon me; and thus for hours long have I sat and watched the windows of the palace, weaving to myself stories of that ideal world from which my humble fortune debarred me.

It had been years since the Tuileries exhibited anything resembling the state that formerly prevailed in that splendid palace; but at the period I speak of Bonaparte had just been chosen Consul for life, and already the organization of his household had undergone a most considerable alteration. In the early years of the Consulate a confused assemblage of aides-de-camp, whose heavy gait and loud speech betokened less the court than the camp, were the only attendants on his person; he lived in the centre pavilion, as if in a tent in the midst of his army. But now he inhabited the splendid suite of rooms to the left of the pavilion, —de l’horloge, as it is called, – which stretches away towards the river. The whole service of the palace was remodelled; and without wounding those prejudices that attached to the times of the deposed Monarchy by adopting the titles of chamberlain, or gentlemen of the chamber, he gradually instituted the ceremonial of a Court by preferring to the posts about his person those whose air and manners savored most of the higher habitudes of society, and whose families were distinguished among the noblesse of the kingdom.

Duroc, the chief aide-de-camp of the General, was appointed governor of the palace; and it was said that the Consul himself studied all the ancient ceremonial of the old Court, and ordained that every etiquette of royalty should be resumed with the most unerring accuracy. The chamberlains were represented by prefects of the palace; and Josephine had her ladies of honor, like any princess of the blood royal.

The Consul, still imitating the observances of the Bourbons, had his petits levers and his grand receptions; and if the new-created functionaries possessed little of the courteous ease and high-bred habitudes of the old Court, there was in their hard-won honors – most of them promoted on the very field of battle – that which better suited the prejudices of the period, and scarcely less became the gilded saloons of the Tuileries.

Like all newly-organized societies, the machinery worked ill at first. Few if any of them had ever seen a Court; and the proud but yet respectful obedience which characterized the French gentleman in the presence of his sovereign was converted into an obsequious and vulgar deference towards Bonaparte, equally opposite to the true type, as it was foreign to the habits, of the blunt soldier who proffered it.

But what, after all, signified these blemishes? There was beauty: never in the brighter annals of France had more lovely women filled those gorgeous saloons. There was genius, heroism: the highest chivalry of the great nation could scarce vie with the proud deeds of those grouped around him, – the mighty one on whom each eye was fixed. And if, as M. Talleyrand remarked, there were those who knew not how to walk on the waxed floor of a palace, few could tread more finely the field of battles, and step with firmer foot the path that led to glory. Yet, with all the First Consul’s pride in those whose elevation to rank and dignity was his own work, his predilections leaned daily more and more towards the high and polished circles of the Faubourg St. Germain. The courteous and easy politeness of Talleyrand, the chivalrous and courtly bearing of the Comte de Narbonne, and the graceful elegance of Ségur’s manners, formed too striking a contrast with the soldierlike rudeness of the newly-promoted generals, not to make a profound impression on one who could, in the deepest and weightiest concerns of life, take into calculation the most minute and trivial circumstances.

This disparity, remarkable as it was among the men, was still more so in the ladies of the Court, – few of those newly elevated having tact enough either to imitate successfully the polished usages of the old nobility, or resolution sufficient to maintain their original habits without blushing at their own want of breeding.

If I have been led somewhat from the current of my own story by this digression, it is merely that I may passingly note down some of the features of the period, – one of the most remarkable in the history of Modern Europe, and one which already, to the far-seeing eye of some, betokened the speedy return to those very institutions of Monarchy to uproot which cost the best blood of France, and a revolution the most terrific the world has ever witnessed.

And now, looking back on the great career of that great man, no portion of his history can, perhaps, present anything to compare with the splendor of the Consulate. A long succession of victories, the spoils of half Europe, glory to very satiety, had intoxicated the nation. A country flourishing in every element of prosperity; social order restored; a high position amid surrounding nations; and everything that could gratify national ambition obtained, – France stood at the very pinnacle of her greatness. Even the splendor of those names who represented the various states of Europe at her Court seemed to attest her supremacy. The stately and polished Whitworth, conspicuous by the elegance of his appearance and the perfection of his aristocratic bearing; the Russian Ambassador, Marcoff; the Chevalier Azara, the Minister of Spain, the courtier of Europe; Baron de Cetto, the Envoy of Saxony, one of the most distinguished, both by manners and ability, m the whole diplomatic circle, were among those who frequented the First Consul’s levies, which already, in the splendor of costume and the gorgeous display of uniform, rivalled the most sumptuous days of the Monarchy.

All the long-forgotten ceremonial of a Court was restored. Dinners, most splendid in all the array of pomp and grandeur, were given every week; fêtes, that vied with the luxurious era of Louis the Fourteenth himself, took place frequently; and Paris became the rendezvous for all Europe, curious to behold the rich trophies of successful wars, and mix in the delight of a capital where pleasure reigned triumphant.

The theatre presented an array of genius and talent hitherto unequalled. Talma and Mademoiselle Mars were in the very zenith of their fame, and obtained a large share of Bonaparte’s favor, whose tastes were eminently dramatic. In a word, a new era had commenced, and every class and walk, every condition of man, seemed resolved to recompense itself, by the pursuit of pleasure, for the long and dark night of trouble through which it had passed.

While, therefore, the Court of the First Consul partook of such features as those, the circle of Josephine possessed attractions totally different. There, amid her intimate friends, all the charm and fascination of French society held sway. Each evening saw assembled around her the wittiest and most polished persons of the day, – the gay and spirited talkers who so pre-eminently gave the tone to Parisian society: the handsomest women, and the most distinguished of the litterateurs of the period, found ready access to one whose own powers of pleasing have left an undying impression on some, who even still can recall those delightful moments.

Such were, in brief, the leading features of the Court then held in the Tuileries; and such the germ of that new order of things which was so soon to burst forth upon astonished Europe under the proud title of The Empire.

CHAPTER XXIII. A SURPRISE

I WAS sitting one evening alone in my quarters, an open volume before me, in which I persuaded myself I was reading, while my thoughts were far otherwise engaged, when my comrade Tascher suddenly entered the room, and throwing himself into a chair, exclaimed, in a tone of passionate impatience, —

“Pardieu! it is a fine thing to be nephew to the first man in France!”

“What has happened?” said I, when I perceived that he stopped short without explaining further.

“What has happened! – enough to drive one mad. Just hear this. You know how fond I am of Paris, and how naturally I must wish to be near the Tuileries, where I have the entrée to my aunt’s soirees. Well, there was a vacancy occurred yesterday in the huitieme hussars, – a corps always stationed here or at Versailles, – and as I am longing to have a cavalry grade, I waited on Madame Bonaparte to solicit her interest in my favor. She promised, of course. The General was to breakfast with her, and it was all settled: she was to ask him for the promotion, and I had not a doubt of success; in fact, if I must confess, I told two or three of my friends, and actually received their congratulations.