CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CUIRASSIER.
Although my arrest was continued with all its strictness, I neverheard one word of my transmission before the military tribunal; anda fortnight elapsed, during which I passed through every stage ofexpectancy, doubt, and at last indifference, no tidings having everreached me as to what fortune lay in store for me.
The gruff old invalid that carried my daily rations seemed butill-disposed to afford me any information, even as to the common eventswithout, and seldom made any other reply to my questioning than anerect position as if on parade, a military salute, and "Connais pas,mon lieutenant,"--a phrase which I actually began to abhor from itsrepetition. Still, his daily visits showed I was not utterlyforgotten; while from my window I had a view of all that went on in thebarrack-yard. There--for I had neither books nor newspapers--I spent myday watching the evolutions of the soldiers: the parade at daybreak,the relieving guards, the drill, the exercise, the very labors of thebarrack-square,--all had their interest for me; and at length I began toknow the very faces of the soldiers, and could recognize the bronzed andweather-beaten features of the veterans of the republican armies.
It was a cuirassier regiment, and one that had seen much service; mostof the _sous-officiers_ and many of the men were decorated, and theirhelmets bore the haughty device of "Dix centre un!" in memory of somebattle against the Austrians, where they repulsed and overthrew a forceof ten times their own number.
At first their heavy equipments and huge unwieldy horses seemed strangeand uncouth to my eyes, accustomed to the more elegant and trim style ofa hussar corps; but gradually I fancied there was something almost moresoldierlike about them. Their dark faces harmonized too with the greatblack cuirass; and the large massive boot mounting to the middle of thethigh, the long horsehaired helmet, the straight sword, and peculiar,heavy, plodding step, reminded me of what I used to read of the Romancenturion; while the horses, covered with weighty and massive trappings,moved with a warlike bearing and a tramp as stately as their riders.
When evening came, and set the soldiers free from duty, I used to watchthem for hours long, as they sat in little groups and knots about thebarrack-yard, smoking and chatting,--occasionally singing too. Eventhen, however, their distinctive character was preserved: unlike thenoisy, boisterous merriment of the hussar, the staid cuirassier deemedsuch levity unbecoming the dignity of his arm of the service, and therereigned a half-solemn feature over all their intercourse, which struckme forcibly. I knew not then--as I have learned full well since--howevery department of the French army had its distinctive characteristic,and that Napoleon studied and even encouraged the growth of thesesingular manners to a great extent; doubtless, too, feeling a pridein his own thorough intimacy with their most minute traits, and thatfacility with which, by a single word, he could address himself tothe cherished feeling of a particular corps. And the tact by whichthe monarch wins over and fascinates the nobles of his court was hereexercised in the great world of a camp,--and with far more success too;a phrase, a name, some well-known battle, the date of a victory, wouldfall from his lips as he rode along the line, and be caught up withenthusiasm by thousands, who felt in the one word a recognition ofpast services. "Thou"--he always addressed the soldiers in the secondperson--"thou wert with me at Cairo," "I remember thee at Arcole," wereenough to reward wounds, suffering, mutilation itself; and he to whomsuch was addressed became an object of veneration among his fellows.
Certain corps preserved more studiously than others the memories ofpast achievements,--the heirlooms of their glory; and to these Bonapartealways spoke with a feel ing of friendship most captivating to thesoldier's heart, and from them he selected the various regiments thatcomposed his "Guard." The cuirassiers belonged to this proud force; andeven an unmilitary eye could mark, in their haughty bearing and assuredlook, that they were a favored corps.
Among those with whose faces I had now grown familiar there was one whomI regarded with unusual interest; he seemed to me the very type of hisclass. He was a man of gigantic size, towering by half a head above thevery tallest of his fellows, while his enormous breadth of chest andshoulder actually seemed to detract from his great height. The lowerpart of his face was entirely concealed by a beard of bright red hairthat fell in a huge mass over the breast of his cuirass, and seemed byits trim and fashion to be an object of no common pride to the wearer;his nose was marked by a sabre-cut that extended across one entirecheek, leaving a deep blue welt in its track. But saving these traits,wild and savage enough, the countenance was singularly mild andpleasing. He had large and liquid blue eyes, soft and lustrous as anygirl's,--the lashes, too, were long and falling; and his forehead, whichwas high and open, was white as snow. I was not long in remarkingthe strange influence this man seemed to possess over the rest,--anascendency not in any way attributable to the mark on his sleeve whichproclaimed him a corporal. It seemed as though his slightest word, hisleast gesture, was attended to; and though evidently taciturn and quiet,when he spoke I could detect in his manner an air of promptitude andcommand that marked him as one born to be above his fellows. If heseemed such in the idle hours, on parade he was the beau ideal ofa cuirassier. His great warhorse, seemingly small for the immenseproportions of the heavy rider, bounded with each movement of his wrist,as if instinct with the horseman's wishes.
I waited with some impatience for the invalid's arrival, to ask who thisremarkable soldier was, certain that I should hear of no common man. Hecame soon after, and as I pointed out the object of my curiosity, theold fellow drew himself up with pride, and while a grim effort at asmile crossed his features, replied,--
"That 's Pioche,--le gros Pioche!"
"Pioche!" said I, repeating the name aloud, and endeavoring to rememberwhy it seemed well known to me.
"Yes,--Pioche," rejoined he, gruffly. "If monsieur had ever been inEgypt, the name would scarcely sound so strange in his ears." And withthis sarcasm he hobbled from the room and closed the door, while I couldhear him grumbling along the entire corridor, in evident anger at theignorance that did not know "Pioche!"
Twenty times did I repeat the name aloud, before it flashed across me asthe same Madame Lefebvre mentioned at the soiree in the Palace. Itwas Pioche who shouldered the brass fieldpiece, and passed before thegeneral on parade. The gigantic size, the powerful strength, the strangename,--all could belong to no other; and I felt as though at once I hadfound an old acquaintance in the great cuirassier of the Guard.
If the prisoner in his lonely cell has few incidents to charm hissolitary hours, in return he is enabled by some happy gift to make thesethe sources of many thoughts. The gleam of light that falls upon thefloor, broken by the iron gratings of his window, comes laden withstoried fancies of other lands,--of far distant countries where menare dwelling in their native mountains free and happy. Forgetful of hisprison, the captive wanders in his fancy through valleys he has seenin boyhood, and with friends to be met no more. He turns gladly to thepast, of whose pleasures no adverse fortune can deprive him, and livesover again the happy hours of his youth; and thinks, with a melancholynot devoid of its own pleasure, of what they would feel who loved himcould they but see him now. He pictures their sympathy and their sorrow,and his heart feels lighter, though his eyes drop tears.
In this way the great cuirassier became an object for my thoughts by dayand my dreams by night. I fancied a hundred stories of which he was thehero; and these imaginings served to while away many a tedious hour,and gave me an interest in watching the little spot of earth that wasvisible from my barred window.
It was in one of these reveries I sat one evening, when I heard thesounds of feet approaching along the corridor that led to my room;the clank of a sabre and the jingle of spurs sounded not like my gruffvisitor. My door was opened before I had time for much conjecture, andGreneral d'Auvergne stood before me.
"Ah! mon lieutenant," cried he, gayly, "you have been thinkingvery hardly of me since we met last, I 'm sure; charging me withforgetfulness, and accusing me
of great neglect."
"Pardon me, General," said I, hurriedly; "your former kindness, forwhich I never can be grateful enough, has been always before my mind. Ihave not yet forgotten that you saved my life; more still,--you rescuedmy name from dishonor."
"Well, well; that's all past and gone now. Your reputation stands clearat last. De Beauvais has surrendered himself to the authorities atRouen, and made a full confession of everything, exculpating youcompletely in every particular; save the indiscretion of yourintercourse with Mehee de la Touche, or, as you know him better, theAbbe, d'Ervan."
"And poor De Beauvais, what is to become of him?" said I, eagerly.
"Have no fears on his account," said he, with something like confusionin his manner. "She (that is, Madame Bonaparte) has kindly interestedherself in his behalf, and he is to sail for Guadaloupe in a fewdays,--his own proposition and wish."
"And does General Bonaparte know now that I was guiltless?" cried I,with enthusiasm.
"My dear young man," said he, with a bland smile, "I very much fear thatthe general has little time at this moment to give the matter muchof his attention. Great events have happened,--are happening while wespeak. War is threatening on the side of Austria. Yes, it is true: thecamp of Boulogne has received orders to break up; troops are once moreon their march to the Rhine; all France is arming."
"Oh, when shall I be free?"
"You are free!" cried he, clapping me gayly on the shoulder. "Anamnesty against all untried prisoners for state of offences has beenproclaimed. At such a moment of national joy--"
"What do you mean?"
"What! and have I not told you my great news? The Senate have presentedto Bonaparte an address, praying his acceptance of the throne of France;or, in their very words, to make his authority eternal."
"And he?" said I, breathless with impatience to know the result.
"He," continued the general, "has replied as became him, desiring themto state clearly their views,--by what steps they propose to consolidatethe acquired liberties of the nation. And while avowing that no higherhonor or dignity can await him than such as he has already received atthe hands of the people, 'Yet,' added he, 'when the hour arrives thatI can see such to be the will of France,--when one voice proclaims itfrom Alsace to the Ocean, from Lisle to the Pyrenees,--then shall I beready to accept the throne of France.'"
The general entered minutely into all the circumstances of the greatpolitical change, and detailed the effect which the late conspiracy hadhad on the minds of the people, and with what terror they contemplatedthe social disorders that must accrue from the death of their greatruler; how nothing short of a Government based on a Monarchy, with theright of succession established, could withstand such a terrific crisis.As he spoke, the words I had heard in the Temple crossed my mind, and Iremembered that such was the anticipation of the prisoners, as they saidamong themselves, "When the guillotine has done its work, they 'll patchup the timbers into a throne."
"And George Cadoudal, and the others?" said I.
"They are no more. Betrayed by their own party, they met death likebrave men, and as worthy of a better cause. But let us not turn to sosad a theme. The order for your liberation will be here to-morrow; andas I am appointed to a brigade on active service, I have come to offeryou the post of aide-de-camp."
I could not speak; my heart was too full for words. I knew how great therisk of showing any favor to one who stood in such a position as I did;and I could but look my gratitude, while the tears ran down my cheeks.
"Well," cried he, as he took my hand in his, "so much is settled. Now toanother point, and one in which my frankness must cause you no offence.You are not rich,--neither am I; but Bonaparte always gives usopportunities to gather our epaulettes,--ay, and find the bullion tomake them, too. Meanwhile, you may want money--"
"No, General," cried I, eagerly; "here are three thousand francs somekind friend sent me. I know not whence they came; and even if I wanted,did not dare to spend them. But now--"
The old man paused, and appeared confused, while he leaned his finger onhis forehead, and seemed endeavoring to recall some passing thought.
"Did they come from you, sir?" said I, timidly.
"No, not from me," repeated he, slowly. "You say you never found out thedonor?"
"Never," said I, while a sense of shame prevented my adding what rose tomy mind,--Could they not be from Mademoiselle de Meudon?
"Well, well," said he, at length, "be it so. And now till to-morrow: Ishall be here at noon, and bring the minister's order with me. And so,good-by."
"Good-by," said I, as I stood overcome with happiness. "Let what willcome of it, this is a moment worth living for."
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I Page 41
