“Go, Joseph, follow him.”
We reached the square just as the battalion filed out of the broad street at the corner by the mayor’s, behind the drummers, who had their drums over their shoulders. A great crowd followed them. When they reached the great lindens, the drums recommenced, and the soldiers hurriedly got into their ranks, and almost immediately the Commandant Gémeau, who was suffering from his wounds and had not been out for two months appeared on the steps of the “Minque.” A sapper held his horse by the bridle, and gave him his shoulder to mount. Everybody was looking on, and the roll commenced. The commandant crossed the square, and the captains went quickly up to meet him; he said a few words to them, and then passed in front of the battalion, followed by a sergeant with three chevrons, who carried a flag in its oil-cloth case. The crowd increased every moment. Mr. Goulden had mounted on the stone posts in front of the arch of the guard-house. After the roll was called, the commandant waited a moment and then drew his sword and gave the order to form a square. I tell you these things in a simple way, because they were simple and terrible.
The commandant was very pale, and we could see, though it was almost night, that he had fever. The gray lines of soldiers in the square, the commandant on horseback, the officers around him in the rain, the listening citizens, the profound silence, the opening of the windows in the vicinity, all are present to my mind though fifty years have passed since then. Not a word was said, for we all felt that we were going to learn the fate of France.
“Carry arms! shoulder arms!”
After this nothing was heard but the voice of the commandant, that voice which I had heard on the other side of the Rhine at Lutzen and Leipzig, saying:
“Close the ranks.”
The words went through my very marrow.
“Soldiers!” said he, “Louis XVIII. left Paris on the 20th of March, and the Emperor Napoleon made his entry into the capital the same day.”
A sort of shiver went through the crowd, but it lasted for a moment only, and the commandant continued:
“Soldiers, the flag of France is the flag of Arcola, of Rivoli, of Alexandria, of Chébreisse, of the Pyramids, of Aboukir, of Marengo, of Austerlitz, and of Jena, of Eylau, of Friedland, of Sommo-Sierra, of Madrid, of Abensberg, of Eckmül, of Essling, of Wagram, of Smolensk, of Moscowa, of Weissenfels, of Lutzen, of Bautzen, of Wurtschen, of Dresden, of Bischofswarda, of Hanau, of Brienne, of Saint Dizier, of Champaubert, of Chateau-Thierry, of Joinvilliers, of Méry-sur-Seine, of Montereau, and of Montmirail. It is the flag which we have dyed with our blood, and it is that which makes it our glory.”
The old sergeant had drawn the torn flag from its case, and the commandant continued:
“Here is the flag! you recognize it; it is the flag of the nation, it is that flag which the Russians and Austrians and Prussians took from us on the day of their first victory, because they feared it.”
A great number of the old soldiers, on hearing these words, turned away their heads to hide their tears; while others, deathly pale, looked and listened with flashing eyes.
“I,” said the commandant, raising his sword, “know no other. Vive la France! Vive l’Empereur!”
The words had hardly left his mouth when from every window, from the square, from the streets, rose the shouts, “Vive la France! Vive l’Empereur!” like the blast of a trumpet. The people and the soldiers embraced each other, you would have thought that everything was safe, that we had found all that France lost in 1814. It was almost dark, and the people went away in companies of threes, sixes, and twenties, shouting, “Vive l’Empereur!” When near the hospital a red flash lighted up the sky, the cannon thundered, another responded from the rear of the arsenal, and so they continued to roar from second to second.
Mr. Goulden and I left the square arm in arm, crying, “Vive l’Empereur!” also, and as at each discharge of cannon the flash lighted up the square, in one of them we saw Catherine, who was coming to meet us with old Madelon Schouler. She had put on her little cloak and hood, protecting her rosy little nose from the mist, and she exclaimed, on seeing us:
“There they are, Madelon! The Emperor is master, is he not, Mr. Goulden?”
“Yes, my child,” he replied, “it is decided.”
Catherine took my arm, and I kissed her two or three times as we were going home. Perhaps I felt that we should soon be forced to part, and that then, it would be long before I should kiss her again. Father Goulden and Madelon were before us, and he said:
“Come up, Madelon; I want to drink a good glass of wine with you.” But she declined, and left us at the door. I can only say that the joy of the people was as great as on the return of Louis XVIII., and perhaps still greater.
Father Goulden took off his cloak and sat down in his place at table, as supper was waiting. Catherine ran down to the cellar and brought up a bottle of good wine, we laughed and drank while the cannon made our windows rattle. Sometimes people’s heads are turned, even those who love nothing but peace. So the sound of the cannon made us happy, and we went back in a measure to our old habits.
“The commandant,” said Mr. Goulden, “spoke well, but he might have kept on till to-morrow with his victories, commencing with Valmy, Hundschott, Wattignies, Fleurus, Neuwied, Ukerath, Fröeschwiller, Geisberg, to Zurich and Hohenlinden. These were also great victories, and even the most splendid of all, for they preserved liberty. He only spoke of the last ones, that was enough for the moment. Let those people come! let them dare to move! The nation wants peace, but if the allies commence war woe be unto them. Now we shall again talk of liberty, equality, and fraternity. All France will be roused by it, I warn you beforehand. There will be a national guard, and the old men like me and the married men will defend the towns, while the younger ones will march, but no one will cross the frontiers. The Emperor, taught by experience, will arm the artisans, the peasants, and the bourgeoisie, and when we are attacked, even if they are a million, not one shall escape. The day for soldiers is past, regular armies are for conquest, but a people who can defend themselves do not fear the best armies in the world. We proved that to the Prussians and Austrians, to the English and the Russians from 1792 to 1800, and since then the Spaniards have shown us the same thing, and even before that, the Americans demonstrated it to the English. The Emperor will speak to us of liberty, be sure of that; and if he will send his proclamations into Germany, many Germans will be with us; they were promised liberty in order to make them rise against France, and now the sovereigns in conference at Vienna mock at their own promises. Their plan is fixed. They divide the people among themselves as they would a flock of sheep. Those who have good sense will unite, and in that way peace will be established by force. The kings alone have any interest in war, the people do not need to conquer themselves, provided that they arrange for the freedom of commerce, that is the principal thing.”
In his excitement everything looked bright to him. And all that he said seemed to me so natural, that I was sure that the Emperor would direct matters as we had supposed. Catherine believed it too. We thanked God for what had come, and about eleven o’clock, after having laughed and drank and shouted, we went to bed with the brightest hopes. All the city was illuminated, and we had put lamps in our windows also. Every moment we heard the crackers in the street and the children were shouting, “Vive l’Empereur!” and the soldiers were coming out of the inns, singing, “Down with the émigrés.” This lasted till very late, and it was one o’clock before we slept.
CHAPTER XIII
This general satisfaction continued for five or six days. The old mayors and their assistants were replaced as well as the field-guards, and all those who had been displaced a few months before. The whole city, even the women, wore little tri-colored cockades, and all the seamstresses were busily at work making them, of red, white, and blue ribbon; and those who railed so bitterly against the “ogre of Corsica,” never spoke of Louis XVIII. except as the “Panada King.” On the 25th of March a Te Deum was sung, t
he garrison and all the civil authorities joining in the service with great ceremony. After the Te Deum, the authorities gave a grand dinner to the officers of the garrison at the “Ville de Metz.” The weather was fine and the windows were open, and the hall was lighted by clusters of lamps hanging from the ceiling. Catherine and I went out in the evening to enjoy the spectacle. We could see the uniforms and the black coats sitting side by side around the long tables, and first the mayor would rise, and then his assistants, or the new commandant of the post, Mr. Brandon, to drink to the health of the Emperor or of his ministers, of France, to peace or to victory, etc., etc., and this they kept up till midnight.
Inside the glasses jingled, and outside the children fired crackers. They had erected a climbing pole before the church, and wooden horses and organ-grinders had come from Saverne, and there was a holiday at the college. In Klein’s Court, at the “Ox,” there was a fight between dogs and donkeys; in short, it was just as it was in 1830 and in 1848, and afterward. The people never invent anything new to glorify those who rise, or to express their contempt for those who fall.
But they soon found out that the Emperor had no time to lose in rejoicings. The gazette said that “his Majesty wished for peace, that he made no demands, that he was on good terms with his father-in-law the Emperor Francis, that Marie Louise and the King of Rome were to return, they were daily expected,” etc.
But meanwhile the order arrived to arm the place. Two years before Pfalzbourg was a hundred leagues from the frontier. The ramparts were in ruins, the ditches filled up, and there was nothing in the arsenal but miserable old muskets of the time of Louis XIV., which were discharged with matches; and the guns were so unwieldy on their heavy carriages, that horses were required to move them. The arsenals were really at Dresden and Hamburg and Erfurt; but though we had not stirred, we were ten leagues from Rhenish Bavaria, and it was upon us that the first shower of bombs and bullets would fall. So, day after day, we received orders to restore the earthworks and to clear out the ditches and to put the old ordnance in good condition. At the beginning of April a great workshop was established at the arsenal for repairing the arms, and skilful engineers and artillerists arrived from Metz to repair the earthworks of the bastions and make terraces around the embrasures. The activity was very great—greater than in 1805 and in 1813, and I thought more than once that these extensive frontiers had their good side, because we might in the interior live in peace, while they took the blows and bombardments.
But we had great anxiety, for naturally when the palisades were newly planted on the glacis, and the half-moons filled with fascines, when cannon were placed in every nook and corner, we knew that there must be soldiers to guard and serve them.
Often as we heard these decrees read at night, Catherine and I looked at each other in mute apprehension. I felt beforehand that instead of remaining quietly at home, cleaning and mending clocks, I would be obliged to be again on the march, and that always made me sad; and this melancholy increased from day to day. Sometimes Father Goulden, seeing this, would say cheerfully:
“Come! Joseph, courage! all will come right at last.”
He wished to raise my spirits, but I thought: “Yes, he says that to encourage me, but any one who is not blind can see what turn affairs will take.”
Events followed each other so rapidly, that the decrees came like hail, always with sounding phrases and grand words to embellish them.
And we learned too that the regiments were to take their old numbers, “illustrious in so many glorious campaigns.” Without being very malicious, we could understand that the old numbers which had no regiments would soon find them again. And not only that, but we learned that the skeletons of the third, fourth, and fifth battalions of infantry, the fourth and fifth squadrons of cavalry, and thirty battalions of artillery trains were to be filled up, and twenty regiments of the Young Guard, ten battalions of military equipages, and twenty regiments of marines were to be formed, ostensibly to give employment to all the half-pay officers of both arms of the service, land and naval. That was very well to say; but when they are created they are to be filled up, and when they are full the soldiers must go. When I saw that, my confidence vanished, but yet everybody cried, “Peace, peace, peace! We accept the treaty of Paris. The kings and emperors convened at Vienna are our friends. Marie Louise and the King of Rome are coming.”
The more I heard of these things, the more my distrust increased. In vain Mr. Goulden would say, “He has taken Carnot into his counsels. Carnot is a good patriot; Carnot will prevent him from going to war, or if we are forced to go to war, he will show him that the enemy must come here to find us, the nation must be roused, declare the country in danger, etc.”
In vain did he tell me these things, I always said to myself, “all these new regiments are to be filled; that is certain.” We heard also that ten thousand picked men were to be added to the Old Guard, and that the light artillery was to be reorganized. Everybody knows that light artillery follows the army. To remain behind the ramparts or for defence at home, it is useless.
I came to this conclusion at once, and though I was generally careful to conceal my anxiety from Catherine, yet this night I could not help telling her so. She said nothing, which shows plainly that she had good sense and that she thought so too.
All these things diminished my enthusiasm for the Emperor very much indeed, and I sometimes said to myself as I was at work, “I would rather see processions going past my windows, than to go and fight against people whom I never saw.” At least the sight would cost me neither leg nor arm, and if it annoyed me too much I could make an excursion to Quatre Vents. My vexation increased the more, as since the dispute with Mr. Goulden, Aunt Grédel did not come to see us. She was a very wilful woman and would not listen to reason, and would hold resentment against a person for years and years. But she was our mother, and it was our duty to yield something to her as she wished us only good. But how could we be reconciled to her ideas and those of Mr. Goulden?
This was what embarrassed us, for if we were bound to love Aunt Grédel, we owed also the most profound respect to him, who looked upon us as his own children, and who loaded us every day with his benefits.
These thoughts made us sad, and I had resolved to tell Mr. Goulden, that Catherine and I were Jacobins like himself, but without doing injustice to Jacobin ideas, or abandoning them, we ought to honor our mother, and go and inquire after her health.
I did not know how he would receive this declaration, when one Sunday morning, as we went down about eight o’clock, we found him dressed, and in excellent humor. He said to us, “Children, here it is more than a month since Aunt Grédel has been to see us. She is obstinate. I wish to show her that I can yield. Between friends like us, there should not be even a shadow of difference. After breakfast we will go to Quatre Vents, and tell her that she is prejudiced, and that we love her in spite of her faults. You will see how ashamed she will be.” He laughed, but we were quite touched by his generosity.
“Ah! Mr. Goulden, how good and kind you are,” said Catherine, “they who do not love you, must have very bad hearts.”
“Ha!” he exclaimed, “is not what I have done quite natural? must we let a few words separate us? Thank God! age teaches us to be more reasonable and to be willing to take the first step,—that you know is one of the principles of the Rights of Man,—in order to maintain concord between reasonable persons.”
Everything was summed up, when he had quoted the “Rights of Man.” You can hardly imagine our satisfaction. Catherine could hardly wait till breakfast was over, she was here and there and everywhere, to bring his hat and cane and his shoes and the box which held his beautiful peruke. She helped him on with his brown coat, while he laughed as he watched her, and at last he kissed her saying, “I knew this would make you happy, so do not let us lose a minute, let us go.”
We all set off together, Father Goulden gravely giving his arm to Catherine, as he always did in the street, and I ma
rched on behind as happy as possible. Those I loved best in the world were here before my eyes, and as I went on I thought of what I should say to Aunt Grédel.
The weather was splendid, and on we went beyond the wall and the glacis, and in twenty minutes, without hurrying, we stood before Aunt Grédel’s door. It might have been ten o’clock, and as I had gained a little on them at the “Roulette” I went in by the alley of elders that ran along the side of the house, and looked into the little window to see what aunt was doing. She was seated right opposite me near the fireplace, in which a little fire was smouldering, she had on her short skirt, striped with blue, with great pockets on the outside, and her linen corsage with shoulder-straps, and her old shoes. She was spinning away, with her eyes cast down, looking very sober, her great thin arms naked to the elbow, and her gray hair twisted up in her neck without any cap. “Poor Aunt Grédel,” thought I, “she is thinking of us no doubt—and she is so obstinate in her vexation. It is sad though, all the same, to live alone and never see her children.” It made me sad to see her.
At that moment the door opened on the side next the street, and Father Goulden walked in with Catherine, as happy as possible, exclaiming:
“Ha! Mother Grédel, you do not come to see us any more, therefore I have brought your children to see you, and have come myself to embrace you. You will have to get us a good dinner, do you hear? and that will teach you a lesson.” He seemed a little grave with all his joy.
On seeing them, aunt sprang up and embraced Catherine, and then she fell into Mr. Goulden’s arms and hung on his neck:
“Ah! Mr. Goulden, how happy I am to see you. You are a good man; you are worth a thousand of me.”
Seeing that matters had taken a pleasant turn, I ran round to the door and found them both with their eyes full of tears. Father Goulden said:
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