CHAPTER XII. 'A GLANCE AT STAFF-DUTY'
Although the passage of the Rhine was but the prelude to the attack onthe fortress, that exploit being accomplished, Kehl was carried at thepoint of the bayonet, the French troops entering the outworks pell-mellwith the retreating enemy, and in less than two hours after the landingof our first detachments, the tricolour waved over the walls of thefortress.
Lost amid the greater and more important successes which since that timehave immortalised the glory of the French arms, it is almost impossibleto credit the celebrity attached at that time to this brilliantachievement, whose highest merits probably were rapidity and resolution.Moreau had long been jealous of the fame of his great rival, Bonaparte,whose tactics, rejecting the colder dictates of prudent strategy, andthe slow progress of scientific manouvres, seemed to place all hisconfidence in the sudden inspirations of his genius, and the indomitablebravery of his troops. It was necessary, then, to raise the morale ofthe army of the Rhine, to accomplish some great feat similar in boldnessand heroism to the wonderful achievements of the Italian army. Such wasthe passage of the Rhine at Strasbourg, effected in the face of a greatenemy, advantageously posted, and supported by one of the strongest ofall the frontier fortresses.
The morning broke upon us in all the exultation of our triumph, and asour cheers rose high over the field of the late struggle, each heartbeat proudly with the thought of how that news would be received inParis.
'You 'll see how the bulletin will spoil all,' said a young officer ofthe army of Italy, as he was getting his wound dressed on the field.'There will be such a long narrative of irrelevant matter--such detailsof this, that, and t' other--that the public will scarce know whetherthe placard announces a defeat or a victory.'
'_Parbleu!_' replied an old veteran of the Rhine army, 'what would youhave? You'd not desire to omit the military facts of such an exploit?'
'To be sure I would,' rejoined the other. 'Give me one of our younggeneral's bulletins, short, stirring, and effective:--"Soldiers! youhave crossed the Rhine against an army double your own in numbers andmunitions of war. You have carried a fortress, believed impregnable, atthe bayonet. Already the great flag of our nation waves over the citadelyou have won. Forward, then, and cease not till it floats over thecities of conquered Germany, and let the name of France be that ofEmpire over the continent of Europe.'"
'Ha! I like that, cried I enthusiastically; 'that's the bulletin to myfancy. Repeat it once more, mon lieutenant, that I may write it in mynote-book.'
'What! hast thou a note-book?' cried an old staff-officer, who waspreparing to mount his horse; 'let's see it, lad.'
With a burning cheek and trembling hand I drew my little journal fromthe breast of my jacket, and gave it to him.
'_Sacrebleu!_' exclaimed he, in a burst of laughter, 'what have wehere? Why, this is a portrait of old General Moricier, and although acaricature, a perfect likeness. And here comes a plan for manoeuvring asquadron by threes from the left. This is better--it is a receipt foran "Omelette a la Hussard"; and here we have a love-song, and amoustache-paste, with some hints about devotion, and diseased frogin horses. Most versatile genius, certainly!' And so he went on,occasionally laughing at my rude sketches and ruder remarks, till hecame to a page headed 'Equitation, as practised by Officers of theStaff,' and followed by a series of caricatures of bad riding, in allits moods and tenses. The flush of anger which instantly colouredhis face soon attracted the notice of those about him, and one of thebystanders quickly snatched the book from his fingers, and, in the midstof a group all convulsed with laughter, proceeded to expatiate uponmy illustrations. To be sure, they were absurd enough. Some wererepresented sketching on horseback, under shelter of an umbrella;others were 'taking the depth of a stream' by a 'header' from their ownsaddles; some again were 'exploring ground for an attack in line,' by ameasurement of the rider's own length over the head of his horse.Then there were ridiculous situations, such as 'sitting down before afortress,' 'taking an angle of incidence,' and so on. Sorry jests all ofthem, but sufficient to amuse those with whose daily associations theychimed in, and to whom certain traits of portraiture gave all the zestof a personality.
My shame at the exposure, and my terror for its consequences,gradually yielded to a feeling of flattered vanity at the success ofmy lucubrations; and I never remarked that the staff-officer had riddenaway from the group till I saw him galloping back at the top of hisspeed.
'Is your name Tiernay, my good fellow?' cried he, riding close up to myside, and with an expression on his features I did not half like.
'Yes, sir,' replied I.
'Hussar of the Ninth, I believe?' repeated he, reading from a paper inhis hand.
'The same, sir.'
'Well, your talents as a draughtsman have procured you promotion, myfriend; I have obtained your discharge from your regiment, and you arenow my orderly--orderly on the staff, do you mind; so mount, sir, andfollow me.'
I saluted him respectfully, and prepared to obey his orders. AlreadyI foresaw the downfall of all the hopes I had been cherishing, andanticipated the life of tyranny and oppression that lay before me. Itwas clear to me that my discharge had been obtained solely as a meansof punishing me, and that Captain Discau, as the officer was called,had destined me to a pleasant expiation of my note-book The savageexultation with which he watched me, as I made up my kit and saddledmy horse--the cool malice with which he handed me back the accursedjournal, the cause of all my disasters--gave me a dark foreboding ofwhat was to follow; and as I mounted my saddle, my woeful face andmiserable look brought forth a perfect shout of laughter from thebystanders.
Captain Discau's duty was to visit the banks of the Rhine and the Eslarisland, to take certain measurements of distances, and obtain accurateinformation on various minute points respecting the late engagement;for, while a brief announcement of the victory would suffice for thebulletin, a detailed narrative of the event in all its bearings must bedrawn up for the minister of war, and for this latter purpose variousstaff-officers were then employed in different parts of the field.
As we issued from the fortress, and took our way over the plain, westruck out into a sharp gallop; but as we drew near the river, ourpassage became so obstructed by lines of baggage-waggons, tumbrils, andammunition-carts, that we were obliged to dismount and proceed on foot;and now I was to see for the first time that dreadful picture which, onthe day after a battle, forms the reverse of the great medal of glory.Huge litters of wounded men, on their way back to Strasbourg, were drawnby six or eight horses, their jolting motion increasing the agony ofsufferings that found their vent in terrific cries and screams; oaths,yells, and blasphemies, the ravings of madness, and the wild shouts ofinfuriated suffering, filled the air on every side. As if to give theforce of contrast to this uproar of misery, two regiments of Swabianinfantry marched past as prisoners. Silent, crest-fallen, andwretched-looking, they never raised their eyes from the ground, butmoved, or halted, wheeled, or stood at ease, as though by some impulseof mechanism; a cord coupled the wrists of the outer files one withanother, which struck me less as a measure of security against escape,than as a mark of indignity.
Carts and charrettes with wounded officers, in which oftentimes theuniform of the enemy appeared side by side with our own, followedin long procession; and thus were these two great currents--the onehurrying forward, ardent, high-hearted, and enthusiastic; the otherreturning maimed, shattered, and dying!
It was an affecting scene to see the hurried gestures, and hear the fewwords of adieu, as they passed each other. Old comrades who were neverto meet again, parted with a little motion of the hand; sometimes a merelook was all their leave-taking, save when, now and then, a halt wouldfor a few seconds bring the lines together, and then many a bronzed andrugged cheek was pressed upon the faces of the dying, and many a tearfell from eyes bloodshot with the fury of the battle! Wending our way onfoot slowly along, we at last reached the river-side, and having secureda small skiff, made for the Eslar
island--our first business being toascertain some details respecting the intrenchments there, and the depthand strength of the stream between it and the left bank. Discau, whowas a distinguished officer, rapidly possessed himself of the principalfacts he wanted, and then, having given me his portfolio, he seatedhimself under the shelter of a broken waggon, and opening a napkin,began his breakfast off a portion of a chicken and some bread-viandswhich, I own, more than once made my lips water as I watched him.
'You've eaten nothing to-day, Tiernay?' asked he, as he wiped his lipswith the air of a man that feels satisfied.
'Nothing, _mon capitaine?_ replied I.
'That's bad,' said he, shaking his head; 'a soldier cannot do his dutyif his rations be neglected. I have always maintained the principle:Look to the men's necessaries--take care of their food and clothing. Isthere anything on that bone there?'
'Nothing, _mon capitaine_.'
'I'm sorry for it--I meant it for you. Put up that bread, and theremainder of that flask of wine. Bourdeaux is not to be had every day.We shall want it for supper, Tiernay.'
I did as I was bid, wondering not a little why he said 'we,' seeing howlittle a share I occupied in the copartnery.
'Always be careful of the morrow on a campaign, Tiernay--no squandering,no waste; that's one of my principles,' said he gravely, as he watchedme while I tied up the bread and wine in the napkin. 'You'll soon seethe advantage of serving under an old soldier.'
I confess the great benefit had not already struck me, but I held mypeace and waited; meanwhile he continued--
'I have studied my profession from my boyhood, and one thing I haveacquired that all experience has confirmed--the knowledge that men mustneither be taxed beyond their ability nor their endurance. A Frenchsoldier, after all, is human; eh, is't not so?'
'I feel it most profoundly, _mon capitaine_,' replied I, with my hand onmy empty stomach.
'Just so,' rejoined he; 'every man of sense and discretion must confessit. Happily for you, too, I know it; ay, Tiernay I know it, and practiseit. When a young fellow has acquitted himself to my satisfaction duringthe day--not that I mean to say that the performance has not its fairshare of activity and zeal--when evening comes and stable duty finished,arms burnished, and accoutrements cleaned, what do you think I say tohim?--eh, Tiernay--just guess now?'
'Probably, sir, you tell him he is free to spend an hour at the canteen,or take his sweetheart to the theatre.'
'What! more fatigue! more exhaustion to an already tired and worn-outnature!'
'I ask pardon, sir, I see I was wrong; but I had forgotten howthoroughly the poor fellow was done up. I now see that you told him togo to bed.'
'To bed! to bed! Is it that he might writhe in the nightmare, or sufferagony from cramps? To bed after fatigue like this! No, no, Tiernay; thatwas not the school in which I was brought up; we were taught to think ofthe men under our command; to remember that they had wants, sympathies,hopes, fears, and emotions like our own. I tell him to seat himselfat the table, and with pen, ink, and paper before him, to write up theblanks. I see you don't quite understand me, Tiernay, as to the meaningof the phrase, but I'll let you into the secret. You have been kindenough to give me a peep at your note-book, and you shall in return havea look at mine. Open that volume, and tell me what you find in it.'
I obeyed the direction, and read at the top of a page the words,'Skeleton, 5th Prarial,' in large characters, followed by severalisolated words, denoting the strength of a brigade, the number of gunsin a battery, the depth of a fosse, the height of a parapet, and suchlike. These were usually followed by a flourish of the pen, or sometimesby the word 'Bom.,' which singular monosyllable always occurred at thefoot of the pages.
'Well, have you caught the key to the cipher?' said he, after a pause.
'Not quite, sir,' said I, pondering; 'I can perceive that the chieffacts stand prominently forward, in a fair round hand; I can also guessthat the flourishes may be spaces left for detail; but this word "Bom."puzzles me completely.'
'Quite correct, as to the first part,' said he approvingly; 'and as tothe mysterious monosyllable, it is nothing more than an abbreviation for"Bombaste," which is always to be done to the taste of each particularcommanding officer.'
'I perceive, sir,' said I quickly; 'like the wadding of a gun, which mayincrease the loudness, but never affect the strength of the shot.'
'Precisely, Tiernay; you have hit it exactly. Now I hope that, with alittle practice, you may be able to acquit yourself respectably in thiswalk; and now to begin our skeleton. Turn over to a fresh page, andwrite as I dictate to you.'
So saying, he filled his pipe and lighted it, and disposing his limbs inan attitude of perfect ease, he began:--
'"8th Thermidor, midnight--twelve battalions, and two batteriesof field--boats and rafts--Eslar Island--stockades--eightguns--Swabian infantry--sharp firing, and a flourish--strongcurrent--flourish--detachment of the 28th carried down--'Bom.
'"Let me see it now--all right--nothing could be better--proceed. "The10th, 45th, and 48th landing together--more firing--flourish--first guncaptured--Bom.--bayonet charges--Bom. Bom.--three guns taken--Bom. Bom.Bom.--Swabs in retreat--flourish. The bridge eighty toises in length--flanking fire--heavy loss--flourish."'
'You go a little too fast, _mon capitaine_,' said I, for a sudden brightthought just flashed across me.
'Very well,' said he, shaking the ashes of his pipe out upon the rock,'I'll take my doze, and you may awaken me when you've filled in thosedetails--it will be a very fair exercise for you'; and with this hethrew his handkerchief over his face, and without any other preparationwas soon fast asleep.
I own that, if I had not been a spectator of the action, it would havebeen very difficult, if not impossible, for me to draw up anything likea narrative of it from the meagre details of the captain's note-book.My personal observations, however, assisted by an easy imagination,suggested quite enough to make at least a plausible story, and I wroteaway without impediment and halt till I came to that part of the actionin which the retreat over the bridge commenced. There I stopped. Was Ito remain satisfied with such a crude and one-sided explanation asthe notebook afforded, and merely say that the retreating forces wereharassed by a strong flank fire from our batteries? Was I to omit thewhole of the great incident, the occupation of the 'Fels Insel,' and thedamaging discharges of grape and round shot which plunged through thecrowded ranks, and ultimately destroyed the bridge? Could I--to usethe phrase so popular--could I, in the 'interests of truth,' forget thebrilliant achievement of a gallant band of heroes who, led on by a younghussar of the 9th, threw themselves into the 'Fels Insel,' routedthe garrison, captured the artillery, and directing its fire upon theretiring enemy, contributed most essentially to the victory. Ought I,in a word, to suffer a name so associated with a glorious action to sinkinto oblivion? Should Maurice Tiernay be lost to fame out of any neglector false shame on my part? Forbid it all truth and justice! cried I, asI set myself down to relate the whole adventure most circumstantially.Looking up from time to time at my officer, who slept soundly, Isuffered myself to dilate upon a theme in which somehow I felt a morethan ordinary degree of interest. The more I dwelt upon the incident,the more brilliant and striking did it seem like the appetite,which the proverb tells us comes by eating, my enthusiasm grew underindulgence, so that, had a little more time been granted me, I verilybelieve I should have forgotten Moreau altogether, and coupled onlyMaurice Tiernay with the passage of the Rhine, and the capture of thefortress of Kehl. Fortunately, Captain Discau awoke, and cut short myhistoric recollections by asking me how much I had done, and telling meto read it aloud to him.
I accordingly began to read my narrative slowly and deliberately,thereby giving myself time to think what I should best do when I came tothat part which became purely personal To omit it altogether would havebeen dangerous, as the slightest glance at the mass of writing wouldhave shown the deception. There was, then, nothing left, but to inventat the moment another version, in
which Maurice Tiernay never occurred,and the incident of the 'Fels Insel' should figure as unobtrusively aspossible. I was always a better improvisatore than amanuensis; so thatwithout a moment's loss of time I fashioned a new and very differentnarrative, and detailing the battle tolerably accurately, minus theshare my own heroism had taken in it. The captain made a few, a veryfew corrections of my style, in which the 'flourish' and 'bom.' figured,perhaps, too conspicuously; and then told me frankly, that once upon atime he had been fool enough to give himself great trouble in framingthese kind of reports, but that having served for a short period in the'bureau' of the minister of war, he had learned better--'In fact,' saidhe, 'a district report is never read! Some hundreds of them reachthe office of the minister every day, and are safely deposited in the"archives" of the department. They have all, besides, such a familyresemblance, that with a few changes in the name of the commandingofficer, any battle in the Netherlands would do equally well for onefought beyond the Alps! Since I became acquainted with this fact,Tiernay, I have bestowed less pains upon the matter, and usually deputedthe task to some smart orderly of the staff.'
So, thought I, I have been writing history for nothing; and MauriceTiernay, the real hero of the passage of the Rhine, will be unrecordedand unremembered, just for want of one honest and impartial scribeto transmit his name to posterity. The reflection was not a veryencouraging one; nor did it serve to lighten the toil in which I passedmany weary hours, copying out my own precious manuscript. Again andagain during that night did I wonder at my own diffuseness--again andagain did I curse the prolix accuracy of a description that cost suchlabour to reiterate. It was like a species of poetical justice on mefor my own amplifications; and when the day broke, and I still sat at mytable writing on, at the third copy of this precious document, I vowed avow of brevity, should I ever survive to indite similar compositions.
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