CHAPTER XII. THE RETURN OF THE WOUNDED
A few mornings after this occurrence, when, as Duchesne himselfprophesied, all memory of it was completely forgotten, the _ordre dujour_ from the Tuileries commanded all the troops then garrisoned inParis to be under arms at an early hour in the Champs Elysees, when theEmperor would pass them in review. The spectacle had, however, anotherobject, which was not generally known. The convoys of the wounded fromAusterlitz were that same day to arrive at Paris, and the display oftroops was intended at once to honor this _entree_, and give to the sadprocession of the maimed and dying the semblance of a triumph. Such werethe artful devices which ever ministered to the deceit of the nation,and suffered them to look on but one side of their glory.
As I anticipated, the chevalier was greatly out of temper at thewhole of this proceeding. He detested nothing more than those militarydisplays which are got up for the populace; he despised the exhibitionof troops to the vulgar and unmeaning criticism of tailors and barbers;and, more than all, he shrank from the companionship of the NationalGuard of Paris,--those shop-keeping soldiers, with their umbrellas andspectacles, who figured with such pride on these occasions.
"Another affair like this," said he, passionately, "and I'd resign mycommission. A procession at the Porte St. Martin,--the _boeuf gras_ onEaster Monday,--I'm your man for either: but to sit bolt upright on yoursaddle for three, maybe four hours; to be stared at by every _bourgeois_from the Rue du Bac; to be pointed at with pink parasols and comparedwith some ribbon-vender of the Boulevards,--_par Saint Louis!_ I can'teven bear to think of it! Look yonder," said he, pointing to the courtof the Palace, where already a regiment was drawn up under arms,and passing in inspection before the colonel; "there begins thedress-rehearsal already. His Majesty says mid-day; the generals ofdivision draw out their men at eleven o'clock; the colonels take alook at their corps at ten; the _chefs de bataillon_ at nine; and,_parbleu!_the corporals are at work by daybreak. Then, what confoundeddrilling and dressing up, as if Napoleon could detect the slightestwaving of the line over two leagues of ground; while you see theluckless adjutants flying hither and thither, cursing, imprecating,and threatening, and hastily reiterating at the head of each company,'Remember, men, be sure to remember, that when the drums beat to arms,you shout "Vive l'Empereur!"' Rely upon it, Burke, if we had but onehalf of these preparations before a battle, we 'd not be the dangerousfellows those Russians and Austrians think us."
"Come, come," said I, "you shall not persuade me that the soldiers feelno pride on these occasions. The same men who fight so valiantly fortheir Emperor--"
"Stop there, I beg of you," said he, bursting into a fit of laughter."I must really cry halt now. So long as you live, my dear friend, letnothing induce you to repeat that worn cant, 'Fight for their Emperor!'Why, they fought as bravely for Turenne, and Villars, and Marechal Saxe;they were as full of courage under Moreau, and Kleber, and Desaix, andHoche; ay, and will be again when the Emperor is no more, and Heavenknows who stands in his place. The genius of a French army is fighting,not for gain, nor plunder, nor even for glory, so much as for fightingitself; and he is the best man who gives them most of it. What reducedthe reckless hordes of the Revolution to habits of discipline andobedience but the warlike spirit of their leaders, whose bravery theyrespected? And think you Napoleon himself does not feel this in hisheart, and know the necessity of continual war to feed the insatiableappetite of his followers? In a word, my friend," added he, in a tone ofmock solemnity, "we are a great people; and Nature intended us to be soby giving us a language in which _Gloire_ rhymes with _Victoire_. Andnow for the march, for I fancy we are late enough already."
There are few sources of annoyance more poignant than to discover anyillusion we have long indulged in assailed by the sneers and sarcasmsof another, who assumes a tone of superior wisdom on the faith of adifference of opinion. The mass of our likings and dislikings find theirway into our heart more from impulse than reason, and when attacked arescarcely defensible by any effort of the understanding. This very factrenders us more painfully alive to their preservation, and we shrinkinstinctively from any discussion of them. While such is the case, wefeel more bitterly the cruelty of him who, out of mere wantonness, cansport with the sources of our happiness, and assail the hidden storesof so many of our pleasures; for unhappily the mockery once listened tolies associated with the idea forever.
Already had Duchesne stripped me of more than one delusion, and made mefeel that I was but indulging in a deceptive happiness in my dream oflife; and often did I regret that I ever knew him. It is not enough tofeel the sophistry of one's adversary, you should be able to detect andexpose it, otherwise the triumphant tone he assumes gives him an airof victory which ends by imposing on yourself. And of this I now feltconvinced in my own case.
These thoughts rendered me silent as we wended our way towards theTuileries, where the various officers of the staff and the _corpsd'elite_ were assembled. Here we found several of the marshals inwaiting for the Emperor, while the Mameluke Guard, in all the splendorof its gay equipments, stood around the great entrance to the Palace.Many handsome equipages were also there; one, conspicuous above therest for its livery of white and gold, with four outriders, belonged toMadame Murat, the Grand-Duchess of Berg, whose taste for splendor andshow extended to every department of her household.
At last there was a movement in those nearest the Palace; the drumsbeat to arms, the guard within the vestibule presented, and the Emperorappeared, followed by a brilliant staff. He stood for a few seconds onthe steps, his hands clasped behind his back, and his head a little bentforwards as if in thought; then, drawing himself up, he looked witha gaze of proud composure on the crowd that filled the court of thePalace, and where now all was silent and still. Never before had Iremarked the same imperious expression of his features; but as hiseye ranged over the brilliant array, now I could read the innateconsciousness of superiority in which he excelled. Ney, Murat, Victor,Bessieres,--how little seemed they all before that mighty genius, whoseglory they but reflected!
Oh, how lightly then did I deem the mocking jests of Duchesne, or allthat his sarcasm could invent! There stood the conqueror of Italyand Egypt, the victor of Marengo and Austerlitz, looking every inch amonarch and a soldier. Whether from thoughtless inattention or studiedaffectation I cannot say, but at that moment, when all stood inrespectful silence before the Emperor, Duchesne had approached thegrille of the Palace, next to the Place du Carrousel, and was busilychatting with a pretty-looking girl, who, with a number of others, satin a hired caleche. A hearty burst of laughter at something he said rangthrough the court, and turned every eye in that direction. In an instantthe Emperor's eagle glance pierced the distance, and fastened on thechevalier, who, seated carelessly on one side of his saddle, paid noattention to what was going forward; when suddenly an aide-de-camptouched him on the arm, and said,--
"Monsieur le Capitaine Duchesne, his Majesty the Emperor would speakwith you."
Duchesne turned; a faint, a very faint flush, covered his cheek, andputting spurs to his horse, he galloped up to the front of the terrace,where the Emperor was standing. From the distance at which I stood,to hear what passed was impossible; but I watched with a most painfulinterest the scene before me.
The Emperor's attitude was unchanged as the chevalier rode up; and whenDuchesne himself seemed to listen with a respectful manner to the wordsof his Majesty, I could see by his easy bearing that his self-possessionhad never deserted him. The interview lasted not many minutes, when theEmperor waved his hand haughtily; and the chevalier, saluting with hissabre, backed his horse some paces, and then, wheeling round, rapidlygalloped towards the gate, through which he passed.
"This evening, then, Mademoiselle," said he, with a smile, "I hope tohave the honor." And, with a courteous bow, rode on towards the archwayopening on the quay.
"What has happened?" said I, eagerly, to the officer at my side.
He shook his head as if doubtful, and half fearing
even to whisper atthe moment.
"His privilege of the _elite_ is withdrawn, sir," said an old generalofficer. "He must leave Paris to join his regiment in twenty-fourhours."
"Poor fellow!" muttered I, half aloud, when a savage frown from theveteran officer corrected my words.
"What, sir!" said he, in a low voice, where every word was thickened toa guttural sound--"what, sir! is the court of the Tuileries no more thana canteen or a bivouac? _Pardieu!_ if it was not for his laced jacket hehad been degraded to the ranks; ay, and deserved it too!"
The coarse accents and underbred tone of the speaker showed me at oncethat it was one of the old generals of the Republican army, who nevercould endure the descendants of aristocratic families in the service,and who were too willing always to attribute to insolence andpremeditated affront even the slightest breaches of military etiquette.
Meanwhile the Emperor mounted, and accompanied by the officers of hisstaff, rode forward towards the Champs Elysees, while all of lesser notefollowed at a distance. From the garden of the Tuileries to the Barrierede l'Etoile the troops were ranged in four lines, the cavalry of theGuard and the artillery forming the ranks along the road by which theconvoy must pass. It was a bright day, with a clear, frosty atmosphereand a blue sky, and well suited the brilliant spectacle.
Scarcely had the Emperor issued from the Tuileries, when ten thousandshouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" rent the air; the cannon of the Invalidesthundered forth at the same moment; and the crash of the military bandsadded their clangor to the sounds of joy. He rode slowly along theline, stopping frequently to speak with some of the soldiers, and givingorders to his suite concerning them. Of the officers in his staff thatday, the greater number had been wounded at Austerlitz, and still borethe traces of their injuries. Rapp displayed a tremendous scar from asabre across his cheek; Sebastiani wore his sword-arm in a sling; andFriant, unable to mount his horse, followed the Emperor on foot, leaningon a stick, and walking with great difficulty. The sight of these bravemen, whose devotion to Napoleon had been proved on so many battlefields,added to the interest of the scene, and tended to excite popularenthusiasm to its utmost. But on Napoleon still all eyes were bent. Thegeneral who led their armies to victory, the monarch who raised Franceto the proudest place among the nations, was there, within a few pacesof them. Each word he spoke was sinking deeply into some heart, prouderof that moment than of rank or riches.
So slow was the Emperor's progress along the ranks that it was nearthree o'clock before he had arrived at the extremity of the line. Thecavalry were now ordered to form in squadrons, and move past inclose order. While this movement was effecting, a cannon-shot at the_barriere_ announced the approach of the convoy. The cavalry were haltedin line once more, and the same moment the first wagon of the trainappeared above the summit of the hill. So secretly had the whole beenmanaged that none, save the officers of the various staffs, knew whatwas coming. While each look was turned, then, towards the _barriere_in astonishment, gradually the wagon rolled on, another followed, andanother: these were, however, but the ambulances of the hospitals. Andnow the wounded themselves came in sight,--a white flag, that well-knownsignal, waving in front of each wagon, while a guard of honor,consisting of picked men of the different regiments, rode at eitherside.
One loud cheer--a shout echoed back from the Tuileries itself--rang out,as the soldiers saw their brave companions restored to them once more.With that impulse which, even in discipline, French soldiers neverforget, the men rushed forward to the wagons, and in a moment officersand men were in the arms of their comrades. What a scene it was tosee the poor and wasted forms, mangled by shot and maimed of limb,brightening up again as home and friends surrounded them,--to hear theirfaint voices mingle with the questions for this one or for that, whilethe fate of some brave fellow met but one word in elegy!
On they passed,--a sad train, but full of glorious memories. There werethe grenadiers of Oudinot, who carried the Russian centre; elevenwagons were filled with their wounded. Here come the voltigeurs ofBernadotte's brigade; see how the fellows preserve their ancientrepute, cheering and laughing,--ever the same, whether roistering atmidnight in the Faubourg St. Antoine or rushing madly upon the ranks ofthe enemy! There are the dragoons of Nansouty, who charged the ImperialGuard of Russia; see the proud line that floats on their banner, "Allwounded by the sabre!" And here come the cuirassiers of the Guard, witha detachment of their own as escort; how splendidly they look in thebright sun, and how proudly they come!
As I looked, the Emperor rode forward, bareheaded, his whole staffuncovered. "Chapeau bas, Messieurs!" said he, in a loud voice. "Honor tothe brave in misfortune!"
Just then the escort halted, and I heard a laugh in front, close towhere the Emperor was standing; but from the crowded staff around him,could not see what was going forward.
"What is it?" said I, curious to learn the least incident of the scene.
"Advance a pace or two, Captain," said the young officer I addressed;"you can see it all."
I did so, and then beheld--oh, with what delight and surprise!--my poorfriend, Pioche, seated on the driving-seat of a gun, with his hand insalute as the Emperor spoke to him.
"Thou wilt not have promotion, nor a pension. What, then, can I do forthee?" said Napoleon, smiling. "Hast any friend in the service whom Icould advance for thy sake?"
"Yes, _parbleu!_" said Pioche, scratching his forehead, with a sort ofpuzzle and confusion even the Emperor smiled at, "I have a friend. Butmayhap those wouldn't like--"
"Ask me for nothing thou thinkest I could not, ought not to grant," saidthe Emperor, sternly. "What is't now?"
The poor corporal seemed thoroughly nonplussed, and for a second ortwo could not reply. At last, as if summoning all his courage for theeffort, he said,--
"Well, thou canst but refuse, and then the fault will be all thine. Sheis a brave girl, and had she been a man--"
"Whom can he mean?" said Napoleon. "Is the man's head wandering?"
"No, _mon general!_ all right there; that shell has turned many a sabre'sedge. I was talking of Minette, the vivandiere of ours. If thou art sobent on doing me a service, why, promote _her_, and thou'lt make thewhole regiment proud of it."
This speech was lost in the laugh which, beginning with the Emperor,extended to the staff, and at last to all the bystanders.
"Dost wish I should make her one of my aides-de-camp?" said Napoleon,still laughing.
"_Parbleu!_ thou hast more ill-favored ones among them," said Pioche,with a significant look at the grim faces of Rapp and Dam, whose hardand weather-beaten features never deigned a smile, while every otherface was moved in laughter.
"But thou hast not said yet what I am to do," rejoined the Emperor.
"Thou used not to be so hard to understand," grumbled out Pioche. "Ihave seen the time thou 'd have said, 'Is it Minette that was wounded atthe Adige? Is that the girl stood in the square at Marengo? _Parbleu!_ I'll give her the cross of the Legion!'"
"And she shall have it, Corporal Pioche," said Napoleon, as he detachedthe decoration he wore on the breast of his coat. "Give the order forthe vivandiere to advance."
Scarce were the words spoken, when the sound of a horse pressed to hisspeed was heard, and mounted upon a small but showy Arab, a present fromthe regiment, Minette rode up, in the bloom of health, and flushedby exercise and the excitement of the moment. I never saw her lookso handsome. Reining in her horse short, as she came in front of theEmperor, the animal reared up, almost straight, and pawed the air withhis forelegs; while she, with all the composure in life, raised her handto her cap, and saluted the Emperor with an action the most easy andgraceful.
"Thou hast some yonder," said Pioche, with a grim smile at the staff,"would be sore puzzled to keep their saddles as well."
Minnette 170]
BrowneMinnette105]
"Minette," said the Emperor, while he gazed on her handsome featureswith evident pleasure, "your name is well known to me for many actionsof kindness and
self-devotion. Wear this cross of the Legion of Honor;you will not value it the less that until now it has been only worn byme. Whenever you find one worthy to be your husband, Minette, I willcharge myself with the dowry."
"Oh, Sire!" said the trembling girl, as she pressed the Emperor'sfingers to her lips,--"oh, Sire, is this real?"
"Yes, _parbleu!_" said Pioche, wiping a large tear from his eye as hespoke; "he can make thee be a man, and make me feel like a girl."
As Duroc attached the cross to the buttonhole of the vivandiere's frock,she sat pale as death, totally overcome by her sensations of pride, andunable to say more than "Oh, Sire!" which she repeated three or fourtimes at intervals.
Again the procession moved on; other wagons followed with their bravefellows; but all the interest of the scene was now, for me at least,wrapped up in that one incident, and I took but little notice of therest.
For full two hours the cortege continued to roll on,--wagon afterwagon, filled with the shattered remnants of an army. Yet such was theindomitable spirit of the people, such the heartfelt passion for glory,all deemed that procession the proudest triumph of their arms. Nor wasthis feeling confined to the spectators; the wounded themselves leanedeagerly over the sides of the _charrettes_ to gaze into the crowds oneither side, seeking some old familiar face, and looking through alltheir sufferings proudly on the dense mob beneath them. Some triedto cheer, and waved their powerless hands; but others, faint andheart-sick, turned their glazed eyes towards the "Invalides," whoselofty dome appeared above the trees, as though to say, that was nowtheir resting-place,--the only one before the grave.
He who witnessed that day could have little doubt about the guidingspirit of the French nation; nor could he distrust their willingness tosacrifice anything--nay, all--to national glory. Suffering and misery,wounds, ghastly and dreadful, were on every side; and yet not one wordof pity, not a look of compassion was there. These men were, in _their_eyes, far too highly placed for sympathy; theirs was that path to whichall aspired, and their trophies were their own worn frames and mangledbodies. And then how they brightened up as the Emperor would draw near!how even the faintest would strive to catch his eye and gaze with partedlips on him as he spoke, as though drinking in his very words,--the balmto their bruised hearts,--and the faint cry of "l'Empereur! l'Empereur!"passed like a murmur along the line.
Not until the last wagon had defiled before him did the Emperor leavethe ground. It was then nearly dark, and already the lamps were lightedalong the quays, and the windows of the Palace displayed the brilliantlustre of the preparations for a grand dinner to the marshals.
As we moved slowly along in close order, I found myself among a groupof officers of the Emperor's staffs eagerly discussing the day and itsevents.
"I am sorry for Duchesne," said one; "with all his impertinences--andhe had enough of them--he was a brave fellow, and a glorious leader at amoment of difficulty."
"Well, well, the Emperor has perhaps forgiven him by this time; andit is not likely he would mar the happiness of a day like this bydisgracing an officer of the _elite_."
"You are wrong, my friend; his Majesty is not sorry for the occasionwhich can prove that he knows as well how to punish as to reward.Duchesne's fate is sealed. You are not old enough to remember, as I can,the morning at Lonado, where the same _ardre du jour_ conferred a markof honor on one brother, and condemned another to be shot."
"And was this, indeed, the case?"
"Ay, was it. Many can tell you of it, as well as myself. They were bothin the same regiment--the fifteenth demi-brigade of light infantry. Theyheld a chateau at Salo against the enemy for eight hours, when at lengththe elder, who commanded at the front, capitulated and laid down hisarms; the younger refused to comply, and continued to fight. They werereinforced an hour afterwards, and the Austrians beaten off. The dayafter they were both tried, and the result was as I have told you; theutmost favor the younger could obtain was, not to witness the executionof his brother."
As I heard this story, my very blood curdled in my veins, and I lookedwith a kind of dread on him who now rode a few paces in front ofme,--the stern and pitiless Napoleon.
At last we entered the court of the Tuileries, when the Emperor,dismissing his staff, entered the Palace, and we separated, to followour own plans for the evening. For a moment or two I remained uncertainwhich way to turn. I wished much to see Duchesne, yet scarcely hoped tomeet with him by returning to the Luxembourg. It was not the time to beaway from him, at a moment like this, and I resolved to seek him out.
For above an hour I went from cafe to cafe, where he was in the habit ofresorting, but to no purpose. He had not been seen in any of them duringthe day; so that at length I turned homeward with the faint hope that Ishould see him there on my arrival.
Somehow I never had felt more sad and depressed; and the events of theday, so far from making me participate in the general joy, had left megloomy and desponding. My spirit was little in harmony with the gay andmerry groups that passed along the streets, chanting their campaigningsongs, and usually having some old soldier of the "Guard" amongstthem; for they felt it as a fete, and were hurrying to the cabarets tocelebrate the day of Austerlitz.
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume II Page 12