CHAPTER VIII. 'TRONCHON'
My duties in the riding-school were always over before mid-day, and asnoon was the hour appointed by the young lieutenant to present me to hiscolonel, I was ready by that time, and anxiously awaiting his arrival. Ihad done my best to smarten up my uniform, and make all my accoutrementsbright and glistening. My scabbard was polished like silver, the steelfront of my shako shone like a mirror, and the tinsel lace of my jackethad undergone a process of scrubbing and cleaning that threatened itsvery existence. My smooth chin and beardless upper-lip, however, gaveme a degree of distress that all other deficiencies failed to inflict.I can dare to say, that no mediaeval gentleman's bald spot ever cost himone-half the misery as did my lack of moustache occasion me. 'A hussarwithout beard, as well without spurs or sabretache'; a tambour majorwithout his staff, a cavalry charger without a tail, couldn't be moreridiculous; and there was that old serjeant of the riding-school,'Tron-chon,' with a beard that might have made a mattress! How the goodsof this world are unequally distributed! thought I; still why might henot spare me a little--a very little would suffice--just enough to givethe 'air hussar' to my countenance. He's an excellent creature, thekindest old fellow in the world. I 'm certain he 'd not refuse me. Tobe sure, the beard is a red one, and pretty much like bell-wire inconsistence; no matter, better that than this girlish smooth chin I nowwear.
Tronchon was spelling out the _Moniteurs_ account of the Italiancampaign as I entered his room, and found it excessively difficult toget back from the Alps and Apennines to the humble request I preferred.
'Poor fellows!' muttered he--'four battles in seven days, without storesof any kind or rations--almost without bread; and here comest thou,whining because thou hasn't a beard.'
'If I were not a hussar----'
'Bah!' said he, interrupting, 'what of that? Where shouldst thou havehad thy baptism of blood, boy? Art a child--nothing more.'
'I shared my quarters last night with one, not older, Tronchon, and hewas an officer, and had seen many a battlefield.'
'I know that, too,' said the veteran, with an expression ofimpatience--'and that General Bonaparte will give every boy hisepaulettes before an old and tried soldier.'
'It was not Bonaparte. It was----'
'I care not who promoted the lad; the system is just the same with themall. It is no longer, "Where have you served?--what have you seen?"but, "Can you read glibly?--can you write faster than speak?--have youlearned to take towns upon paper, and attack a breastwork with a ruleand a pair of compasses?" This is what they called "_le genie_" "_legenie_"--ha! ha! ha!' cried he, laughing heartily; 'that's the name oldwomen used to give the devil when I was a boy.'
It was with the greatest difficulty I could get him back from thesedisagreeable reminiscences to the object of my visit, and, even then,I could hardly persuade him that I was serious in asking the loan of abeard. The prayer of my petition being once understood, he discussed theproject gravely enough; but to my surprise he was far more struck by theabsurd figure _he_ should cut with his diminished mane, than _I_ with mymock moustache.
'There's not a child in Nancy won't laugh at me--they'll cry, "Theregoes old Tronchon--he's like Kleber's charger, which the German cut thetail off, to make a shako plume!"'
'I assured him that he might as well pretend to miss one tree in theforest of Fontainebleau--that after furnishing a squadron like myself,his would be still the first beard in the Republic; and at last heyielded, and gave in.
Never did a little damsel of the nursery array her doll withmore delighted looks, and gaze upon her handiwork with moreself-satisfaction, than did old Tronchon survey me, as, with the aidof a little gum, he decorated my lip with a stiff line of his iron-redbeard.
'_Diantre!_' cried he, in ecstasy, 'if thou ben't something like a manafter all. Who would have thought it would have made such a change? Thoumight pass for one that saw real smoke and real fire, any day, lad. Ay!thou hast another look in thine eye, and another way to carry thyhead, now! Trust me, thou'lt look a different fellow on the left of thesquadron.'
I began to think so too, as I looked at myself in the small triangleof a looking-glass which decorated Tronchon's wall, under a picture ofKellermann, his first captain. I fancied that the improvement was mostdecided. I thought that, bating a little over-ferocity, a somethingverging upon the cruel, I was about as perfect a type of the hussaras need be. My jacket seemed to fit tighter--my pelisse hung morejauntily--my shako sat more saucily on one side of my head--my sabrebanged more proudly against my boot--my very spurs jangled with apleasanter music--and all because a little hair bristled over my lip,and curled in two spiral flourishes across my cheek! I longed to see theeffect of my changed appearance, as I walked down the 'Place Carriere,'or sauntered into the cafe where my comrades used to assemble. What willMademoiselle Josephine say, thought I, as I ask for my _petit verre_,caressing my moustache thus! Not a doubt of it, what a fan is to awoman a beard is to a soldier!--a something to fill up the pauses inconversation, by blandly smoothing with the finger, or fiercely curlingat the point.
'And so thou art going to ask for thy grade, Maurice?' broke inTronchon, after a long silence.
'Not at all. I am about to petition for employment upon active service.I don't seek promotion till I have deserved it.'
'Better still, lad. I was eight years myself in the ranks before theygave me the stripe on my arm. _Parbleu!_ the Germans had given me somethree or four with the sabre before that time.'
'Do you think they 'll refuse me, Tronchon?'
'Not if thou go the right way about it, lad. Thou mustn't fancyit's like asking leave from the captain to spend the evening in a_guinguette_, or to go to the play with thy sweetheart. No, no, boy.It must be done _en regle_. Thou'lt have to wait on the general at hisquarters at four o'clock, when he "receives," as they call it. Thou'ltbe there, mayhap, an hour, ay, two or three belike, and after all,perhaps, won't see him that day at all! I was a week trying to catchKellermann, and, at last, he only spoke to me going downstairs with hisstaff--
'"Eh, Tronchon, another bullet in thy old carcass; want a furlough toget strong again, eh?"
'"No, colonel; all sound this time. I want to be a sergeant--I'm twelveyears and four months corporal."
'"Slow work, too," said he, laughing; "ain't it, Charles?" and hepinched one of his young officers by the cheek. "Let old Tronchonhave his grade; and I say, my good fellow," said he to me, "don't comeplaguing me any more about promotion till I'm General of Division. Youhear that?"
'Well, he's got his step since; but I never teased him after.'
'And why so, Tronchon?' said L
'I'll tell thee, lad,' whispered he, in a low, confidential tone, as ifimparting a secret well worth the hearing. 'They can find fellows everyday fit for lieutenants and _chefs d'escadron. Parbleu!_ they meetwith them in every cafe, in every "billiard" you enter; but a sergeant!Maurice, one that drills his men on parade--can dress them like awall--see that every kit is well packed, and every cartouch wellfilled--who knows every soul in his company as he knows the buckles ofhis own sword-belt--that's what one should not chance upon in haste.It's easy enough to manoeuvre the men, Maurice; but to make them,boy, to fashion the fellows so that they be like the pieces of a greatmachine, that's the real labour--that's soldiering indeed.'
'And you say I must write a petition, Tronchon?' said I, more anxiousto bring him back to my own affairs than listen to these speculations ofhis. 'How shall I do it?'
'Sit down there, lad, and I'll tell thee. I've done the thing somescores of times, and know the words as well as I once knew my "Pater."_Parbleu!_ I often wish I could remember that now, just to keep me fromgloomy thoughts when I sit alone of an evening.'
It was not a little to his astonishment, but still more to his delight,that I told the poor fellow I could help to refresh his memory, knowing,as I did, every word of the litanies by heart; and, accordingly, it wasagreed on that I should impart religious instruction in exchange for thesecular knowledg
e he was conferring upon me.
'As for the petition,' said Tronchon, seating himself opposite to me atthe table, 'it is soon done; for mark me, lad, these things must alwaysbe short; if thou be long-winded, they put thee away, and tell someof the clerks to look after thee--and there's an end of it. Be brief,therefore, and next--be legible--write in a good, large, round hand;just as, if thou wert speaking, thou wouldst talk with a fine, clear,distinct voice. Well, then, begin thus:--"Republic of France, one andindivisible!" Make a flourish round that, lad, as if it came freely fromthe pen. When a man writes--"France!" he should do it as he whirls hissabre round his head in a charge! Ay, just so.'
'I 'm ready, Tronchon, go on.'
'"_Mon General!_" Nay, nay--_General_ mustn't be as large as_France_--yes, that's better. "The undersigned, whose certificatesof service and conduct are herewith inclosed." Stay, stop a moment,Tronchon; don't forget that I have got neither one nor t'other. Nomatter; I'll make thee out both. Where was I?--Ay, "herewith inclosed;and whose wounds, as the accompanying report will show----"'
'Wounds! I never received one.'
'No matter, I'll--eh--what? _Feu d'enfer!_ how stupid I am! What haveI been thinking of? Why, boy, it was a sick-furlough I was about to askfor--the only kind of petition I have ever had to write in a life long.'
'And _I_ am asking for active service.'
'Ha! That came without asking for in my case.'
'Then what's to be done, Tronchon?--clearly this won't do!'
He nodded sententiously an assent, and, after a moment's rumination,said--
'It strikes me, lad, there can be no need of begging for that whichusually comes unlooked for; but if thou don't choose to wait for thybillet for t'other world, but must go and seek it, the best way will beto up and tell the general as much.'
'That was exactly my intention.'
'If he asks thee, "Canst ride?" just say, "Old Tronchon taught me"; he'll be one of the young hands, indeed, if he don't know that name! And,mind, lad, have no whims or caprices about whatever service he namesthee for, even were 't the infantry itself! It's a hard word, that--Iknow it well; but a man must make up his mind for anything andeverything. Wear any coat, go anywhere, face any enemy thou 'rt ordered,and have none of those newfangled notions about this general, or thatarmy. Be a good soldier and a good comrade. Share thy kit and thy purseto the last sou, for it will not only be generous in thee, but that solong as thou hoardest not, thou'lt never be over-eager for pillage. Mindthese things, and with a stout heart and a sharp sabre, Maurice, _tuiras loin_. Yes, I tell thee again, lad, _tu iras loin_.'
I give these three words as he said them, for they have rung in my earsthroughout all my life long. In moments of gratified ambition, in theglorious triumph of success, they have sounded to me like the confirmedpredictions of one who foresaw my elevation in less prosperous hours.When fortune has looked dark and lowering, they have been my comforterand support, telling me not to be downcast or depressed, that the seasonof sadness would pass away, and the road to fame and honour again openbefore me.
'You really think so, Tronchon? You think that I shall be somethingyet?'
'_Tu iras loin_, I say,' repeated he emphatically, and with the air ofan oracle who would not suffer further interrogation. I therefore shookhis hand cordially, and set out to pay my visit to the general.
Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune Page 8