CHAPTER XLIV. AN EPISODE OF '94
When the French army fell back across the Sambre, after the battle ofMons, a considerable portion of the rear, who covered the retreat,were cut off by the enemy, for it became their onerous duty to keep theallied forces in check, while the Republicans took measures to secureand hold fast the three bridges over the river. In this service manydistinguished French officers fell, and many more were left badlywounded on the field; among the latter was a young captain of dragoons,who, with his hand nearly severed by a sabre-cut, yet found strengthenough to crawl under cover of a hedge, and there lie down in thefierce resolve to die where he was, rather than surrender himself as aprisoner.
Although the allied forces had gained the battle, they quickly foresawthat the ground they had won was untenable; and scarcely had nightclosed in when they began their preparations to fall back. With strongpickets of observation to watch the bridges, they slowly withdrewtheir columns towards Mons, posting the artillery on the heights aroundGrandrengs. From these movements, the ground of the late struggle becamecomparatively deserted, and before day began to dawn, not a sound washeard over its wide expanse, save the faint moan of a dying soldier, orthe low rumble of a cart, as some spoiler of the dead stole stealthilyalong. Among the demoralising effects of war, none was more strikingthan the number of the peasantry who betook themselves to this infamoustrade, and who, neglecting all thoughts of honest industry, devotedthemselves to robbery and plunder. The lust of gain did not stop withthe spoil of the dead, but the wounded were often found stripped ofeverything, and in some cases the traces of fierce struggle, and thewounds of knives and hatchets, showed that murder had consummated theiniquity of these wretches.
In part from motives of pure humanity, in part from feelings of a moreinterested nature--for the terror to what this demoralisation wouldtend was now great and widespread--the nobles and gentry of the landinstituted a species of society to reward those who might succour thewounded, and who displayed any remarkable zest in their care for thesufferers after a battle. This generous philanthropy was irrespective ofcountry, and extended its benevolence to the soldiers of either army. Ofcourse, personal feeling enjoyed all its liberty of preference, butit is fair to say that the cases were few where the wounded man coulddetect the political leanings of his benefactor.
The immense granaries, so universal in the Low Countries, were usuallyfitted up as hospitals, and many rooms of the chateau itself were oftendevoted to the same purpose, the various individuals of the household,from the 'seigneur' to the lowest menial, assuming some office inthe great work of charity. And it was a curious thing to see how theluxurious indolence of chateau life became converted into the zealousactivity of useful benevolence; and not less curious to the moralist toobserve how the emergent pressure of great crime so instinctively, as itwere, suggested this display of virtuous humanity.
It was a little before daybreak that a small cart drawn by a mule drewup beside the spot where the wounded dragoon sat, with his shatteredarm bound up in his sash, calmly waiting for the death that his sinkingstrength told could not be far distant. As the peasant approached him,he grasped his sabre in the left hand, resolved on making a last andbold resistance; but the courteous salutation, and the kindly look ofthe honest countryman, soon showed that he was come on no errand ofplunder, while, in the few words of bad French he could muster, heexplained his purpose.
'No, no, my kind friend,' said the officer, 'your labour would only belost on me. It is nearly all over already! A little farther on in thefield, yonder, where that copse stands, you'll find some poor fellow orother better worth your care, and more like to benefit by it. Adieu!'
But neither the farewell, nor the abrupt gesture that accompanied it,could turn the honest peasant from his purpose. There was somethingthat interested him in this very disregard of life, as well as in thepersonal appearance of the sufferer, and, without further colloquy, helifted the half-fainting form into the cart, and disposing the strawcomfortably on either side of him, set out homeward. The wounded man wasalmost indifferent to what happened, and never spoke a word nor raisedhis head as they went along. About three hours' journey brought them toa large old-fashioned chateau beside the Sambre, an immense stragglingedifice which, with a facade of nearly a hundred windows, looked outupon the river. Although now in disrepair and neglect, with ill-trimmedalleys and grass-grown terraces, it had been once a place of greatpretensions, and associated with some of the palmiest days of Flemishhospitality. The Chateau d'Overbecque was the property of a certain richmerchant of Antwerp, named D' Aerschot, one of the oldest families ofthe land, and was, at the time we speak of, the temporary abode of hisonly son, who had gone there to pass the honeymoon. Except that theywere both young, neither of them yet twenty, too people could not easilybe found so discrepant in every circumstance and every quality. Hethe true descendant of a Flemish house, plodding, commonplace, andmethodical, hating show and detesting expense. She a lively, volatilegirl, bursting with desire to see and be seen, fresh from the restraintof a convent at Bruges, and anxious to mix in all the pleasures anddissipations of the world. Like all marriages in their condition, ithad been arranged without their knowledge or consent. Circumstances offortune made the alliance suitable; so many hundred thousand florins onone side were wedded to an equivalent on the other, and the young peoplewere married to facilitate the 'transaction.'
That he was not a little shocked at the gay frivolity of his beautifulbride, and she as much disappointed at the staid demureness of herstolid-looking husband, is not to be wondered at; but their friends knewwell that time would smooth down greater discrepancies than even these.And if ever there was a country, the monotony of whose life could subdueall to its own leaden tone, it was Holland in old days. Whether engagedin the active pursuit of gain in the great cities, or enjoying theluxurious repose of chateau life, a dull, dreary uniformity pervadedeverything--the same topics, the same people, the same landscape,recurred day after day; and save what the season induced, there wasnothing of change in the whole round of their existence. And what a dullhoneymoon was it for that young bride at the old Chateau of Overbecque!To toil along the deep sandy roads in a lumbering old coach with twolong-tailed black horses--to halt at some little eminence, and strainthe eyes over a long unbroken flat, where a windmill, miles off, was anobject of interest--to loiter beside the bank of a sluggish canal, andgaze on some tasteless excrescence of a summer-house, whose owner couldnot be distinguished from the wooden effigy that sat, pipe in mouth,beside him--to dine in the unbroken silence of a funeral feast, and dozeaway the afternoon over the _Handelsblatt_, while her husband smokedhimself into the seventh heaven of a Dutch Elysium--poor Caroline! thiswas a sorry realisation of all her bright dreamings! It ought to beborne in mind, that many descendants of high French families, who wereeither too proud or too poor to emigrate to England or America, hadsought refuge from the Revolution in the convents of the Low Countries;where, without entering an order, they lived in all the discipline of areligious community. These ladies, many of whom had themselves mixed inall the elegant dissipations of the Court, carried with them the mostfascinating reminiscences of a life of pleasure, and could not readilyforget the voluptuous enjoyments of Versailles, and the gracefulcaprices of 'Le Petit Trianon.' From such sources as these the youngpupils drew all their ideas of the world, and assuredly it could havescarcely worn colours more likely to fascinate such imaginations.
What a shortcoming was the wearisome routine of Overbecque to a mindfull of all the refined follies of Marie Antoinette's Court! Even warand its chances offered a pleasurable contrast to such dull monotony,and the young bride hailed with eagerness the excitement and bustle ofthe moving armies--the long columns which poured along the highroad, andthe clanking artillery heard for miles off! Monsieur d'Aerschot, likeall his countrymen who held property near the frontier, was too prudentto have any political bias. Madame was, however, violently French. Thepeople who had such admirable taste in toilet could scarcely be wro
ng inthe theories of government; and a nation so invariably correct in dress,could hardly be astray in morals. Besides this, all their notions ofmortality were as pliant and as easy to wear as their own well-fittinggarments. Nothing was wrong but what looked ungracefully; everythingwas right that sat becomingly on her who did it--a short code, andwonderfully easy to learn. If I have dealt somewhat tediously on thesetendencies of the time, it is that I may pass the more glibly over theconsequences, and not pause upon the details by which the young Frenchcaptain's residence at Overbecque gradually grew, from the intercourseof kindness and good offices, to be a close friendship with his host,and as much of regard and respectful devotion as consisted with theposition of his young and charming hostess.
He thought her, as she certainly was, very beautiful; she rode toperfection, she sang delightfully; she had all the volatile gaiety ofa happy child, with the graceful ease of coming womanhood. Her verypassion for excitement gave a kind of life and energy to the dull oldchateau, and made her momentary absence felt as a dreary blank.
It is not my wish to speak of the feelings suggested by the contrastbetween her husband and the gay and chivalrous young soldier, nor howlittle such comparisons tended to allay the repinings at her lot.Their first effect was, however, to estrange her more and more fromD'Aerschot, a change which he accepted with the most Dutch indifference.Possibly, piqued by this, or desirous of awakening his jealousy, shemade more advances towards the other, selecting him as the companionof her walks, and passing the greater part of each day in his society.Nothing could be more honourable than the young soldier's conductin this trying position. The qualities of agreeability which he hadpreviously displayed to requite, in some sort, the hospitality of hishosts, he now gradually restrained, avoiding as far as he could,without remark, the society of the young countess, and even feigningindisposition to escape from the peril of her intimacy.
He did more--he exerted himself to draw D'Aerschot more out, to makehim exhibit the shrewd intelligence which lay buried beneath his nativeapathy, and display powers of thought and reflection of no mean order.Alas! these very efforts on his part only increased the mischief, byadding generosity to his other virtues! He now saw all the danger inwhich he was standing, and, although still weak and suffering, resolvedto take his departure. There was none of the concealed vanity of acoxcomb in this knowledge. He heartily deplored the injury he hadunwittingly done, and the sorry return he had made for all theirgenerous hospitality.
There was not a moment to be lost; but the very evening before, as theywalked together in the garden, she had confessed to him the misery inwhich she lived by recounting the story of her ill-sorted marriage. Whatit cost him to listen to that sad tale with seeming coldness--to hearher afflictions without offering one word of kindness; nay, to proffermerely some dry, harsh counsels of patience and submission, whilehe added something very like rebuke for her want of that assiduousaffection which should have been given to her husband!
Unaccustomed to even the slightest censure, she could scarcely trust herears as she heard him. Had she humiliated herself, by such a confession,to be met by advice like this? And was it he that should reproach herfor the very faults his own intimacy had engendered? She could notendure the thought, and she felt that she could hate, just at the verymoment when she knew she loved him!
They parted in anger--reproaches, the most cutting and bitter, on herpart; coldness, far more wounding, on his! Sarcastic compliments uponhis generosity, replied to by as sincere expressions of respectfulfriendship. What hypocrisy and self-deceit together! And yet deepbeneath all, lay the firm resolve for future victory. Her woundedself-love was irritated, and she was not one to turn from an unfinishedpurpose. As for him, he waited till all was still and silent in thehouse, and then seeking out D'Aerschot's chamber, thanked him mostsincerely for all his kindness, and, affecting a hurried order to joinhis service, departed. While in her morning dreams she was fancyingconquest, he was already miles away on the road to France.
*****
It was about three years after this, that a number of French officerswere seated one evening in front of a little cafe in Freyburg. The townwas then crammed with troops moving down to occupy the passes of theRhine, near the Lake of Constance, and every hour saw fresh arrivalspouring in, dusty and wayworn from the march. The necessity for a suddenmassing of the troops in a particular spot compelled the generals toemploy every possible means of conveyance to forward the men to theirdestination, and from the lumbering old diligence with ten horses, tothe light charrette with one, all were engaged in this pressing service.
When men were weary, and unable to march forward, they were taken upfor twelve or fourteen miles, after which they proceeded on theirway, making room for others, and thus forty and even fifty miles werefrequently accomplished in the same day.
The group before the cafe were amusing themselves criticising thestrange appearance of the new arrivals, many of whom certainly madetheir entry in the least military fashion possible. Here came a greatcountry waggon, with forty infantry soldiers all sleeping on the straw.Here followed a staff-officer trying to look quite at his ease in adonkey-cart. Unwieldy old bullock-carts were filled with men, and ahalf-starved mule tottered along with a drummer-boy in one pannier, andcamp-kettles in the other.
He who was fortunate enough to secure a horse for himself was obligedto carry the swords and weapons of his companions, which were all hungaround and about him on every side, together with helmets and shakos ofall shapes and sizes, whose owners were fain to cover their head withthe less soldierlike appendages of a nightcap or a handkerchief. Nearlyall who marched carried their caps on their muskets, for in such timesas these all discipline is relaxed, save such as is indispensable to themaintenance of order; and so far was freedom conceded, that some were tobe seen walking barefoot in the ranks, while their shoes were suspendedby a string on their backs. The rule seemed to be 'Get forward--itmatters not how--only get forward!'
And with French troops, such relaxation of strict discipline is alwayspracticable; the instincts of obedience return at the first call of thebugle or the first roll of the drum; and at the word to 'fall in!' everysymptom of disorder vanishes, and the mass of seeming confusion becomesthe steady and silent phalanx.
Many were the strange sights that passed before the eyes of the party atthe cafe, who, having arrived early in the day, gave themselves all theairs of ease and indolence before their wayworn comrades. Now laughingheartily at the absurdity of this one, now exchanging some good-humouredjest with that, they were in the very full current of their criticism,when the sharp, shrill crack of a postillion's whip informed them thata traveller of some note was approaching. A mounted courier, all slashedwith gold lace, came riding up the street at the same moment, and ashort distance behind followed a handsome equipage, drawn by six horses,after which came a heavy fourgon, with four.
One glance showed that the whole equipage betokened a wealthy owner.There was all that cumbrous machinery of comfort about it that tellsof people who will not trust to the chances of the road for their dailywants. Every appliance of ease was there; and even in the self-satisfiedair of the servants who lounged in the rumble might be read habits ofaffluent prosperity. A few short years back, and none would have daredto use such an equipage. The sight of so much indulgence would haveawakened the fiercest rage of popular fury; but already the high feverof democracy was gradually subsiding, and, bit by bit, men were foundreverting to old habits and old usages. Still each new indication ofthese tastes met a certain amount of reprobation. Some blamed openly,some condemned in secret; but all felt that there was at least impolicyin a display which would serve as pretext for the terrible excesses thatwere committed under the banner of 'Equality.'
'If we lived in the days of princes,' said one of the officers, 'Ishould say there goes one now. Just look at all the dust they arekicking up yonder; while, as if to point a moral upon greatness, theyare actually stuck fast in the narrow street, and unable, from their ownunwieldines
s, to get farther.'
'Just so,' cried another; 'they want to turn down towards the "Swan,"and there isn't space enough to wheel the leaders.'
'Who or what are they?' asked a third.
'Some commissary-general, I'll be sworn,' said the first. 'They are themost shameless thieves going; for they are never satisfied with robbery,if they do not exhibit the spoils in public.'
'I see a bonnet and a lace veil,' said another, rising suddenly, andpushing through the crowd. 'I'll wager it's a danseuse of the GrandOpera.'
'Look at Merode!' remarked the former, as he pointed to the lastspeaker. 'See how he thrusts himself forward there. 'Watch, and you'llsee him bow and smile to her, as if they had been old acquaintances.'
The guess was so far unlucky, that Merode had no sooner come withinsight of the carriage-window, than he was seen to bring his hand tothe salute, and remain in an attitude of respectful attention till theequipage moved on.
'Well, Merode, who is it?--who are they?' cried several together, as hefell back among his comrades.
'It's our new adjutant-general, _parbleu!_' said he, 'and he caught mestaring in at his pretty wife.'
'Colonel Mahon!' said another, laughing. 'I wish you joy of yourgallantry, Merode.' 'And, worse still,' broke in a third, 'she is nothis wife. She never could obtain the divorce to allow her to marryagain. Some said it was the husband--a Dutchman, I believe--refused it;but the simple truth is, she never wished it herself.'
'How not wish it?' remarked three or four in a breath.
'Why should she? Has she not every advantage the position could giveher, and her liberty into the bargain? If we were back again in the olddays of the Monarchy, I agree with you she could not go to Court; shewould receive no invitations to the _petits soupers_ of the Trianon, norbe asked to join the discreet hunting-parties at Fontainebleau; but welive in less polished days; and if we have little virtue, we have lesshypocrisy.'
'_Voila!_' cried another; 'only I, for one, would never believe that weare a jot more wicked or more dissolute than those powdered and perfumedscoundrels that played courtier in the king's bedchamber.'
'There, they are getting out, at the "Tour d'Argent!"' cried another.'She is a splendid figure, and what magnificence in her dress!'
'Mahon waits on her like a lackey,' muttered a grim old lieutenant ofinfantry.
'Rather like a well-born cavalier, I should say,' interposed a younghussar. 'His manner is all that it ought to be--full of devotion andrespect.'
'Bah!' said the former; 'a soldier's wife, or a soldier's mistress--forit's all one--should know how to climb up to her place on thebaggage-waggon, without three lazy rascals to catch her sleeve or herpetticoats for her.'
'Mahon is as gallant a soldier as any in this army,' said the hussar;'and I'd not be in the man's coat who disparaged him in anything.'
'By St. Denis!' broke in another, 'he's not more brave than he isfortunate. Let me tell you, it's no slight luck to chance upon so lovelya woman as that, with such an immense fortune, too.'
'Is she rich?'
'Enormously rich. He has nothing. An _emigre_ of good family, I believe,but without a sou; and see how he travels yonder!'
While this conversation was going forward, the new arrivals had alightedat the chief inn of the town, and were being installed in the principalsuite of rooms, which opened on a balcony over the 'Place.' The activepreparations of the host to receive such distinguished guests--thehurrying of servants here and there--the blaze of wax-lights that shonehalf-way across the street beneath--and, lastly, the appearance of aregimental band to play under the windows--were all circumstances wellcalculated to sustain and stimulate that spirit of sharp criticism whichthe group around the cafe were engaged in.
The discussion was, however, suddenly interrupted by the entrance of anofficer, at whose appearance every one arose and stood in attitudesof respectful attention. Scarcely above the middle size, and moreremarkable for the calm and intellectual cast of his features, than forthat, air of military pride then so much in vogue amongst the Frenchtroops, he took his place at a small table near the door, and called forhis coffee. It was only when he was seated, and that by a slight gesturehe intimated his wishes to that effect, that the others resumed theirplaces, and continued the conversation, but in a lower, more subduedtone.
'What distinguished company have we got yonder?' said he, after abouthalf an hour's quiet contemplation of the crowd before the inn, and theglaring illumination from the windows.
'Colonel Mahon, of the Fifth Cuirassiers, general,' replied an officer.
'Our Republican simplicity is not so self-denying a system, after all,gentlemen,' said the general, smiling half sarcastically. 'Is he veryrich?'
'His mistress is, general,' was the prompt reply.
'Bah!' said the general, as he threw his cigar away, and, with acontemptuous expression of look, arose and walked away.
'_Parbleu!_ he's going to the inn!' cried an officer, who peered outafter him. 'I'll be sworn Mahon will get a heavy reprimand for all thisdisplay and ostentation.'
'And why not?' said another. 'Is it when men are arriving half dead withfatigue, without rations, without billets, glad to snatch a few hours'rest on the stones of the "Place," that the colonel of a regiment shouldtravel with all the state of an eastern despot?'
'We might as well have the Monarchy back again,' said an oldweather-beaten captain; 'I say far better, for their vices satgracefully and becomingly on those essenced scoundrels, whereas they butdisfigure the plainness of our daily habits.'
'All this is sheer envy, comrades,' broke in a young major ofhussars--'sheer envy; or what is worse, downright hypocrisy. Not one ofus is a whit better or more moral than if he wore the livery of a king,and carried a crown on his shako instead of that naked damsel thatrepresents French Liberty. Mahon is the luckiest fellow going, and, Iheartily believe, the most deserving of his fortune! And see if GeneralMoreau be not of my opinion.
There he is on the balcony, and she is leaning on his arm.'
'_Parbleu!_ the major is right!' said another; 'but, for certain, it wasnot in that humour he left us just now; his lips were closely puckeredup, and his fingers were twisted into his sword-knot--two signs of angerand displeasure there's no mistaking.'
'If he's in a better temper, then,' said another, 'it was never thesmiles of a pretty woman worked the change. There's not a man in Franceso thoroughly indifferent to such blandishments.'
'_Tant pis pour lui,_' said the major; 'but they're closing thewindow-shutters, and we may as well go home.'