CHAPTER XVI. AN OLD FRIEND UNCHANGED
They who took their tone in politics from the public journals of Francemust have been somewhat puzzled at the new and unexpected turn ofthe papers in Government influence at the period I now speak of. Thetremendous attacks against the "perfide Albion," which constitutedthe staple of the leading articles in the "Moniteur," were graduallydiscontinued; the great body of the people were separated from the"tyrannical domination of an insolent aristocracy;" an occasional eulogywould appear, too, upon the "native good sense and right feeling of JohnBull" when not led captive by appeals to his passions and prejudices;and at last a wish more boldly expressed that the two countries, whosemission it should be to disseminate civilization over the earth, couldso far understand their real interest as to become "fast friends,instead of dangerous enemies."
The accession of the Whigs to power in England was the cause of thissudden revolution. The Emperor, when First Consul, had learned toknow and admire Charles Fox,--sentiments of mutual esteem had grown upbetween them,--and it seemed now as if his elevation to power werethe only thing wanting to establish friendly relations between the twocountries.
How far the French Emperor presumed on Fox's liberalism,--and the strongbias to party inducing him to adopt such a line of policy as would rundirectly counter to that of his predecessors in office, and thus disposethe nation to more amicable views towards France,--certain it is that hemiscalculated considerably when he built upon any want of true Englishfeeling on the part of that minister, or any tendency to weaken, byunjust concessions, the proud attitude England had assumed at thecommencement and maintained throughout the entire Continental war.
A mere accident led to a renewal of negotiations between the twocountries. A villain, calling himself Guillet de la Grevilliere, hadthe audacity to propose to the English minister the assassination ofNapoleon, and to offer himself for the deed. He had hired a house atPassy, and made every preparation for the execution of his foul scheme.To denounce this wretch to the French minister of foreign affairs,Talleyrand, was the first step of Fox. This led to a reply, in whichTalleyrand reported, word for word, a conversation that passed betweenthe Emperor and himself, and wherein expressions of the kindest naturewere employed by Napoleon with regard to Fox, and many flatteringallusions to the times of their former intimacy; the whole concludingwith the expression of an ardent desire for a good understanding anda "lasting peace between two nations designed by nature to esteem eachother."
Although the whole scheme of the assassination was a police stratagemdevised by Fouche to test the honor and good faith of the Englishminister, the result was eagerly seized on as a basis for newnegotiations; and from that hour the temperate language of the Frenchpapers evinced a new policy towards England. The insolent allusions ofjournalists, the satirical squibs of party writers, the caricatures ofthe English eccentricity, were suppressed at once; and by that magicinfluence which Napoleon wielded, the whole tone of public feelingseemed altered as regarded England and Englishmen. From the leadersin the "Moniteur" to the shop windows of the Palace an Anglomaniaprevailed; and the idea was thrown out that the two nations had dividedthe world between them,--the sea being the empire of the British, theland that of Frenchmen. Commissioners were appointed on both sides:at first Lord Yarmouth, and then Lord Lauderdale, by England; GeneralClarke and M. Champagny, on the part of France. Lord Yarmouth, at thattime a _detenu_ at Verdun, was selected by Talleyrand to proceed toEngland, and learn the precise basis on which an amicable negotiationcould be founded.
Scarcely was the interchange of correspondence made public, when thenew tone of feeling and acting towards England displayed itself in everycircle and every _salon_. If a proof were wanting how thoroughly thedespotism of Napoleon had penetrated into the very core of society, herewas a striking one: not only were many of the _detenus_ liberated andsent back to England, but were feted and entertained at the varioustowns they stopped at on their way, and every expedient practised tomake them satisfied with the treatment they had received on the soilof France. An English guest was deemed an irresistible attraction ata dinner party, and the most absurd attempts at imitation of Englishhabits, dress, and language were introduced into society as the last"mode," and extolled as the very pinnacle of fashionable excellence.
It would be easy for me here to cite some strange instances of this newtaste; but I already feel that I have wandered from my own path, and owean apology to my reader for invading precincts which scarce become me.Yet may I observe here,--and the explanation will serve once for all,--Ihave been more anxious in this "true history" to preserve some passingrecord of the changeful features of an eventful period in Europe, thanmerely to chronicle personal adventures, which, although not devoid ofvicissitudes, are still so insignificant in the great events by whichthey were surrounded. The Consulate, the Empire, and the Restorationwere three great tableaux, differing in their groupings and color, buteach part of one mighty whole,--links in the great chain, and evidencingthe changeful aspect of a nation crouching beneath tyranny, or dwindlingunder imbecility and dotage.
I have said the English were the vogue in Paris; and so they were, butespecially in those _salons_ which reflected the influence of the Court,and where the tone of the Tuileries was revered as law. Every member ofthe Government, or all who were even remotely connected with it, at onceadopted the reigning mode; and to be _a l'Anglaise_ became now as muchthe type of fashion as ever it had been directly the opposite. Only suchas were in the confidence of Fouche and his schemes knew how hollow allthis display of friendly feeling was, or how ready the Governmentheld themselves to assume their former attitude of defiance whencircumstances should render it advisable.
Among those who speedily took up the tone of the Imperial counsels,the _salons_ of the Hotel Glichy were conspicuous. English habits, asregarded table equipage; English servants; even to English cookery didFrench politeness extend its complaisance; and many of the commonesthabitudes and least cultivated tastes were imported as the dailyobservances of fashionable people _outremer_.
In this headlong Anglomania, my English birth and family (I say English,because abroad the petty distinctions of Irishman or Scotchman arenot attended to) marked me out for peculiar attention in society; andalthough my education and residence in France had well-nigh rubbed offall or the greater part of my national peculiarities, yet the flatterersof the day found abundant traits to admire in what they recognized asmy John Bull characteristics. And in this way, a blunder in French, amistake in grammar, or a false accentuation became actually a _succesde salon_. Though I could not help smiling at the absurdity of a voguewhose violence alone indicated its unlikeliness to last, yet I hadsufficient of the spirit of my adopted country to benefit by it while itdid exist, and never spent a single day out of company.
At the Hotel Clichy I was a constant guest; and while with Mademoisellede Lacostellerie my acquaintance made little progress, with the countessI became a special favorite,--she honoring me so far as to take me intoher secret counsels, and tell me all the little nothings which Foucheusually disseminated as state secrets, and circulated twice or thricea week throughout Paris. From him, too, she learned the names of thevarious English who each day arrived in Paris from Verdun, and thuscontrived to have a succession of those favored guests at her dinner andevening parties.
During all this time, as I have said, my intimacy with mademoiselleadvanced but slowly, and certainly showed slight prospect of verifyingthe prophecy of Duchesne at parting. Her manner had, indeed, lost itscold and haughty tone; but in lieu of it there was a flippant, halfimpertinent, _moqueur_ spirit, which, however easily turned to advantageby a man of the world like the chevalier, was terribly disconcerting toa less forward and less enterprising person like myself. Dobretski stillcontinued an invalid; and although she never mentioned his name noralluded to him in any instance, I could see that she suspected I knewsomething more of his illness and the cause of it than I had everconfessed. It matters little what the subject of it be,
let a secretonce exist between a young man and a young woman,--let there be thetacit understanding that they mutually know of something of which othersare in ignorance,--and from that moment a species of intelligence isestablished between them of the most dangerous kind. They may not bedisposed to like each other; there may be attachments elsewhere; theremay be a hundred reasons why love should not enter into the case; yetwill there be a conscious sense of this hidden link which binds them;strangely at variance with their ordinary regard for each other,eternally mingling in all their intercourse, and suggesting modesof acting and thinking at variance with the true tenor of theacquaintanceship.
Such, then, was my position at the Hotel Clichy, at which I was almostdaily a visitor or a guest, in the morning, to hear the chit-chat of theday,--the changes talked of in the administration, the intended plans ofthe Emperor, or the last modes in dress introduced by the Empress, whosetaste in costume and extravagant habits were much more popular with thetradespeople than with Napoleon.
An illness of a few days' duration had confined me to the Luxembourg,and unhappily deprived me of the Court ball, for which I had receivedmy invitation several weeks before. It seemed as if my fate forbade anychance of my ever seeing her once more whose presence in Paris was thegreat hope I held out to myself when coming. Already a rumor was afloatthat several officers had received orders to join their regiments; andnow I began to fear lest I should leave the capital without meeting her,and was thinking of some plan by which I could attain that object, whena note arrived from Mademoiselle de Lacostellerie, written with morethan her usual cordiality, and inviting me to dinner on the followingday with a very small party, but when I should meet one of my oldestfriends.
I thought of every one in turn who could be meant under the designation,but without ever satisfying my mind that I had hit upon the right one.Tascher it could not be, for the very last accounts I had seen fromGermany spoke of him as with his regiment. My curiosity was sufficientlyexcited to make me accept the invitation; and, true to time, I foundmyself at the Hotel Clichy at the hour appointed.
On entering the _salon_, I discovered that I was alone. None of theguests had as yet arrived, nor had the ladies of the house made theirappearance; and I lounged about the splendid drawing-room, where everyappliance of luxury was multiplied: pictures, vases, statues, andbronzes abounded,--for the apartment had all the ample proportions ofa gallery,--battle scenes from the great "vents of the Italian andEgyptian campaigns; busts of celebrated generals and portraits ofseveral of the marshals, from the pencils of Gerard and David. Butmore than all was I struck by one picture: it was a likeness of Paulineherself, in the costume of a Spanish peasant. Never had artist caughtmore of the character of his subject than in that brilliant sketch,--forit was no more. The proud tone of the expression; the large, full eye,beaming a bright defiance; the haughty curl of the lip; the determinedair of the figure, as she stood one foot in advance, and the armshanging easily on either side,--all conveyed an impression of highresolve and proud determination quite her own.
I was leaning over the back of a chair, my eye steadfastly fixed on thepainting, when I heard a slight rustling of a dress near me. I turnedabout: it was mademoiselle herself. Although the light of the apartmentwas tempered by the closed jalousies, and scarcely more than a meretwilight admitted, I could perceive that she colored and seemed confusedas she said,--
"I hope you don't think that picture is a likeness?"
"And yet," said I, hesitatingly, "there is much that reminds me of you;I mean, I can discover--"
"Say it frankly, sir; you think that saucy look is not from mere fancy.I deemed you a closer observer; but no matter. You have been ill; Itrust you are recovered again."
"Oh, a mere passing indisposition, which unfortunately came at themoment of the Court ball. You were there, of course?"
"Yes; it was there we had the pleasure to meet your friend, the general:but perhaps this is indiscreet on my part; I believe, indeed, I promisedto say nothing of him."
"The general! Do you mean General d'Auvergne?"
"That much I will answer you,--I do not. But ask me no more questions.Your patience will not be submitted to a long trial; he dines with usto-day."
I made no reply, but began to ponder over in my mind who the general inquestion could be.
"There! pray do not worry yourself about what a few moments will revealfor you, without any guessing. How strange it is, the intense feeling ofcuriosity people are afflicted with who themselves have secrets."
"But I have none, Mademoiselle; at least, none worth the telling."
"Perhaps," replied she, saucily. "But here come our guests."
Several persons entered the _salon_ at this moment, with each of whom Iwas slightly acquainted; they were either members of the Governmentor generals on the staff. The countess herself soon after made herappearance; and now we only waited for the individual so distinctivelytermed "my friend" to complete the party.
"Pauline has kept our secret, I hope," said the countess to me. "I shallbe sadly disappointed if anything mars this surprise."
"Who can it be?" thought I. "Or is the whole thing some piece ofbadinage got up at my expense?"
Scarcely had the notion struck me, when a servant flung wide thefolding-doors, and announced "le General" somebody, but so mumbled wasthe word, the nearest thing I could make of it was "Bulletin." Thistime, however, my curiosity suffered no long delay; for quickly afterthe announcement a portly personage in an English uniform enteredhastily, and approaching madame, kissed her hand with a most gallantair; then turning to mademoiselle, he performed a similar ceremony. Allthis time my eyes were riveted upon him, without my being able to makethe most remote guess as to who he was.
"Must I introduce you, gentlemen?" said the countess: "Captain Burke."
"Eh, what! my old friend, my boy Tom! This you, with all that mustache?Delighted to see you," cried the large unknown, grasping me by thehands, and shaking them with a cordiality I had not known for many ayear.
"Really, sir," said I, "I am but too happy to be recognized; but a mostunfortunate memory--"
"Memory, lad! I never forgot anything in life. I remember the doctorshaking the snow off his boots the night I was born; a devilish coldDecember. We lived at Benhungeramud, in the Himalaya."
"What!" cried I; "is this Captain Bubbleton, my old and kind friend?"
"General, Tom,--Lieutenant-General Bubbleton, with your leave," said he,correcting me. "How the boy has grown! I remember him when he was scarceso high."
"But, my dear captain--"
"General, lieutenant-general--"
"Well, Lieutenant-General,--to what happy chance do we owe the pleasureof seeing you here?"
"War, boy,--the old story. But we shall have time enough to talk overthese things; and I see we are detaining the countess."
So saying, the general gave his arm to madame, and led the waytowards the dinner; whither we followed,--I in a state of surpriseand astonishment that left me unable to collect my faculties for aconsiderable time after.
Although the party, with the exception of Bubbleton, were French,he himself, as was his wont, supported nearly the whole of theconversation; and if his French was none of the most accurate, he amplymade up in volubility for all accidents of grammar. It appeared that hehad been three years at Verdun, a prisoner; though how he came there,whence, and at what exact period, there was no discovering. And nowhis arrival at Paris was an event equally shrouded in mystery, for nonegotiations had been opened for his exchange whatsoever; but he hadhad the eloquence to persuade the prefet that the omission was a mereaccident,--some blunder of the War-Office people, which he would rectifyon his arrival at Paris. And there he was, though with what prospectof reaching England none but one of his inventive genius could possiblyguess. He was brimful of politics, ministerial secrets, state news, andGovernment intentions, not only as regarded England, but Austria andRussia: and communicated in deep confidence a grand scheme by which theFox ministry were to im
mortalize themselves,--which was by giving upMalta to the Bourbons, Louis the Eighteenth to be king, Goza to be akind of dependency to be governed by a lieutenant-general whom "he wouldnot name;" finishing his glass with an ominous look as he spoke.Thence he wandered on to his repugnance to state, and dislike to anygovernment, function,--illustrating his quiet tastes and simple habitsby recounting a career of Oriental luxury in which he described himselfas living for years past; every word he spoke, whatever the impressionon others, bringing me back most forcibly to my boyish days in the oldbarrack, where first I met him. Years had but cultivated his talents;his visions were bolder and more daring than ever; while he hadchastened down his hurried and excited tone of narrative to a quiet flowof unexaggerated description, which, taking his age and appearance intoaccount, it was difficult to discredit.
Whether the Frenchmen really gave credit to his revelations, or onlyfrom politeness affected to do it at first, I cannot say, but assuredlyhe put all their courtesy to a rude test by a little anecdote before heleft the dinner-room.
While speaking of the memorable siege of Valenciennes in '93, at whichone of the French officers was present and in a high command, Bubbletonat once launched forth into some very singular anecdotes of thecampaign, where, as he alleged, he also had served.
"We took an officer of one of your infantry regiments prisoner in asortie one evening," said the Frenchman. "I commanded the party, andshall never forget the daring intrepidity of his escape. He leaped fromthe wall into the fosse, a height of thirty feet and upwards. _Parbleu!_we had not the heart to fire after him, though we saw that after theshock he crawled out upon his hands and feet, and soon afterwards gainedstrength enough to run. He gave me his pocket-book with his name; Ishall not forget it readily,--it was Stopford."
"Ah, poor Billy! He was my junior lieutenant," said Bubbleton; "anactive fellow, but he never could jump with me. Confound him! he hasleft me a souvenir also, though a very different kind from yours,--acramp in the stomach I shall never get rid of."
As this seemed a somewhat curious legacy from one brother officer toanother, we could not help calling on the general for an explanation,--ademand Bubbleton never refused to gratify.
"It happened in this wise," said he, pushing back his chair as he spoke,and seating himself with the easy attitude of your true story-teller."The night before the assault--the 24th of July, if my memory servesme right--the sappers were pushing forward the mines with all despatch.Three immense globes were in readiness beneath the walls, and some minordetails were only necessary to complete the preparations. The stormersconsisted of four British and three German regiments,--my own, the WelshFusiliers, being one of the former. We occupied the lines stretchingfrom L'Herault to Damies."
The French officer nodded assent, and Bubbleton resumed.
"The Fusiliers were on the right, and divided into two parties,--anassaulting column and a supporting one; the advanced companies at halfcannon-shot from the walls, the others a little farther off. Thus wewere, when, about half-past ten, or it might be even eleven o'clock (wewere drinking some mulled claret in my quarters), a low, swoopingkind of a noise came stealing along the ground. We listened,--it grewstronger and stronger; and then we could hear musket-shot and shouting,and the tramp of men as if running. Out we went; and, by Jove! therewe saw the first battalion in full retreat towards the camp. It was asortie in force from the garrison, which drove in our advanced posts,and took several prisoners. The drums now soon beat to quarters; themen fell in rapidly, and we advanced to meet them,--no pleasant affair,either, let me remark, for the night was pitch dark, and we could noteven guess the strength of your force. It was just then that I wasrunning with all my speed to come up with the flank companies, that mycover-sergeant, a cool, old Scotch fellow, shouted out,--
"'Take care, sir! Stoop there, sir! stoop there!'
"But the advice came too late. I could just discern through the gloomsomething black, hopping and bounding along towards me; now striking theground, and then rebounding again several feet in the air.
"'Stoop, sir! down!' cried he.
"But before I could throw myself flat, plump it took me here. Over Iwent, breathless, and deeming all was finished; but, miraculous to say,in a few minutes after I found myself coming to, and except the shock,nothing the worse for the injury.
"'Was that a shell, Sergeant?' said I; 'a spent shell?'
"'Na, sir,' said he, in his own broad way, 'it was naething o' the kind;it was only Lieutenant Stopford's head that was snapped aff up there.'"
"His head!" exclaimed we all of a breath,--"his head!"
"Yes, poor fellow, so it was; a damned hard kind of a bullet-head, too!The blow has left a weakness of the stomach I suppose I shall neverrecover from; and the occurrence being so singular, I have actuallynever asked for a pension,--there are people, by Jove! would throwdiscredit on it."
This latter observation seemed so perfectly to sum up our own thoughtson the matter that we really had nothing to remark on it; and after asilence of a few seconds, politely relieved by the countess hinting atcoffee in the drawing-room, we arose and followed her.
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume II Page 16
