CHAPTER XIV. A BOYISH REMINISCENCE
"I believe I have already told you, Burke, that my family were most ofthem Royalists. Such as were engaged in trade followed the fortunesof the day, and cried 'Vive la Republique!' like their neighbors. Somedeemed it better to emigrate, and wait in a foreign land for the happyhour of returning to their own,--a circumstance, by the way, which musthave tried their patience ere this; and a few, trusting to their obscureposition, living in out-of-the-way, remote spots, supposed that inthe general uproar they might escape undetected; and, with one or twoexceptions, they were right. Among these latter was an unmarried brotherof my mother, who having held a military command for a great many yearsin the Ile de Bourbon, retired to spend the remainder of his days ina small but beautiful chateau on the seaside, about three leaguesfrom Marseilles. The old viscount (we continued to call him so amongourselves, though the use of titles was proscribed long before) had metwith some disappointment in love in early life, which had prevented hisever marrying, and turned all his affections towards the children of hisbrothers and sisters, who invariably passed a couple of months ofeach summer with him, arriving from different parts of France for thepurpose.
"And truly it was a strange sight to see the mixture of look,expression, accent, and costume, that came to the rendezvous: thelong-featured boy, with blue eyes and pointed chin,--cold, wary,and suspicious, brave but cautious,--that came from Normandy; thehigh-spirited, reckless youth from Brittany; the dark-eyed girl ofProvence; the quick-tempered, warm-hearted Gascon and, stranger thanall, from his contrast to the rest the little Parisian, with his airsof the capital and his contempt for his rustic brethren, nothing dauntedthat in all their boyish exercises he found himself so much theirinferior. Our dear old uncle loved nothing so well as to have us aroundhim; and even the little ones, of five and six years old, when notliving too far off, were brought to these reunions, which were to us thegreat events of each year of our lives.
"It was in the June of the year 1794--I shall not easily forget thedate--that we were all assembled as usual at 'Le Luc.' Our party wasreinforced by some three or four new visitors, among whom was a littlegirl of about twelve years old,--Annette de Noailles, the prettiestcreature I ever beheld. Every land has its own trait of birth distinctlymarked. I don't know whether you have observed that the brow and theforehead are more indicative of class in Frenchmen than any otherportion of the face: hers was perfect, and though a mere child,conveyed an impression of tempered decision and mildness that was mostfascinating; the character of her features was thoughtful, and wereit not for a certain vivacity in the eyes, would have been even sad.Forgive me, if I dwell--when I need not--on these traits: she is nomore. Her father carried her with him in his exile, and your loweringskies and gloomy air soon laid her low.
"Annette was the child of Royalist parents. Both her father and motherhad occupied places in the royal household; and she was accustomed fromher earliest infancy to hear the praise of the Bourbons from lips whichtrembled when they spoke. Poor child! how well do I remember herlittle prayer for the martyred saint,--for so they styled the murderedking,--which she never missed saying each morning when the mass was overin the chapel of the chateau. It is a curious fact that the girls of afamily were frequently attached to the fortunes of the Bourbons, whilethe boys declared for the Revolution; and these differences penetratedinto the very core, and sapped the happiness of many whose affection hadstood the test of every misfortune save the uprooting torrent of anarchythat poured in with the Revolution. These party differences enteredinto all the little quarrels of the schoolroom and the nursery; and thetaunting epithets of either side were used in angry passion by those whoneither guessed nor could understand their meaning. Need it bewondered at, if in after life these opinions took the tone of intenseconvictions, when even thus in infancy they were nurtured and fostered?Our little circle at Le Luc was, indeed, wonderfully free from suchcauses of contention; whatever paths in life fate had in store for usafterwards, then, at least, we were of one mind. A few of the boys,it is true, were struck by the successes of those great armies theRevolution poured over Europe; but even they were half ashamed toconfess enthusiasm in a cause so constantly allied in their memory witheverything mean and low-lived.
"Such, in a few words, was the little party assembled around thesupper-table of the chateau, on one lovely evening in June. The windows,opening to the ground, let in the perfumed air from many a sweet andflowery shrub without; while already the nightingale had begun her layin the deep grove hard by. The evening was so calm we could hear theplash of the making tide upon the shore, and the minute peals of thewaves smote on the ear with a soft and melancholy cadence that madeus silent and thoughtful. As we sat for some minutes thus, we suddenlyheard the sound of feet coming up the little gravel walk towards thechateau, and on going to the window, perceived three men in uniformleading their horses slowly along. The dusky light prevented our beingable to distinguish their rank or condition; but my uncle, whose fearswere easily excited by such visitors, at once hastened to the door toreceive them.
"His absence was not of many minutes' duration; but even now I canremember the strange sensations of dread that rendered us all speechlessas we stood looking towards the door by which he was to enter. He cameat last, and was followed by two officers; one, the elder, and thesuperior evidently, was a thin, slight man, of about thirty, with apale but stern countenance, in which a certain haughty expressionpredominated; the other was a fine, soldierlike, frank-looking fellow,who saluted us all as he came in with a smile and a pleasant gesture ofhis hand.
"'You may leave us, children,' said my uncle, as he proceeded towardsthe bell.
"'You were at supper, if I mistake not?' said the elder of the twoofficers, with a degree of courtesy in his tone I scarcely expected.
"'Yes, General. But my little friends--'
"'Will, I hope, share with us,' said the general, interrupting; 'and I,at least, am determined, with your permission, that they shall remain.It is quite enough that we enjoy the hospitality of your chateau for thenight, without interfering with the happiness of its inmates; and I begthat we may give you as little inconvenience as possible in providingfor our accommodation.'
"Though these words were spoken with an easy and a kindly tone, therewas a cold, distant manner in the speaker that chilled us all, andwhile we drew over to the table again, it was in silence and constraint.Indeed, our poor uncle looked the very picture of dismay, endeavoringto do the honors to his guests and seem at ease, while it was clear hisfears were ever uppermost in his mind.
"The aide-de-camp--for such the young officer was--lookedlike one who could have been agreeable and amusing if the restraint ofthe general's presence was not over him. As it was, he spoke in a low,subdued voice, and seemed in great awe of his superior.
"Unlike our usual ones, the meal was eaten in mournful stillness, thevery youngest amongst us feeling the presence of the stranger as a thingof gloom and sadness.
"Supper over, my uncle, perhaps hoping to relieve the embarrassmenthe labored under, asked permission of the general for us to remain,saying,--
"'My little people, sir, are great novelists, and they usually amuse meof an evening by their stories. Will this be too great an endurance foryou?'
"'By no means,' said the general, gayly; 'there's nothing I like better,and I hope they will admit me as one of the party. I have something of agift that way myself.'
"The circle was soon formed, the general and his aide-de-camp makingpart of it; but though they both exerted themselves to the utmost to winour confidence, I know not why or wherefore, we could not shake off thegloom we had felt at first, but sat awkward and ill at ease, unable toutter a word, and even ashamed to look at each other.
"'Come,' said the general, 'I see how it is. I have broken in upon avery happy party. I must make the only _amende_ in my power,--I shall bethe story-teller for this evening.'
"As he said this, he looked around the little circle, and by someseeming magi
c of his own, in an instant he had won us every one. We drewour chairs close towards him, and listened eagerly for his tale. Fewpeople, save such as live much among children, or take the trouble tostudy their tone of feeling and thinking, are aware how far realitysurpasses in interest the force of mere fiction. The fact is with themfar more than all the art of the narrative; and if you cannot say 'thiswas true,' more than half of the pleasure your story confers is lostforever. Whether the general knew this, or that his memory suppliedhim more easily than his imagination, I cannot say; but his tale wasa little incident of the siege of Toulon, where a drummer boy waskilled,--having returned to the breach, after the attack was repulsed,to seek for a little cockade of ribbon his mother had fastened on hiscap that morning. Simple as was the story, he told it with a subdued andtender pathos that made our hearts thrill and filled every eye aroundhim.
"'It was a poor thing, it's true,' said he, 'that knot of ribbon, but itwas glory to him to rescue it from the enemy. His heart was on the timewhen he should show it, blood-stained and torn, and say, "I took it fromthe ground amid the grapeshot and the musketry. I was the only livingthing there that moment; and see, I bore it away triumphantly."' As thegeneral spoke, he unbuttoned the breast of his uniform, and took fortha small piece of crumpled ribbon, fastened in the shape of a cockade.'Here it is,' said he, holding it up before on? eyes; 'it was for thishe died.' We could scarce see it through our tears. Poor Annette heldher hands upon her face, and sobbed violently. 'Keep it, my sweetchild,' said the general, as he attached the cockade to her shoulder;'it is a glorious emblem, and well worthy to be worn by one so pure andso fair as you are.'
"Annette looked up, and as she did, her eyes fell upon the tricolor thathung from her shoulder,--the hated, the despised tricolor, the badgeof that party whose cruelty she had thought of by day and dreamed ofby night. She turned deadly pale, and sat, with lips compressed andclenched hands, unable to speak or stir.
"'What is it? Are you ill, child?' said the general, suddenly.
"'Annette, love! Annette, dearest!' said my uncle, trembling withanxiety, 'speak; what is the matter?'
"'It is that!' cried I, fiercely, pointing to the knot, on which hereyes were bent with a shrinking horror I well knew the meaning of,--' itis that!'
"The general bent on me a look of passionate meaning, as with a hissingtone he said, 'Do you mean this?'
"'Yes,' said I, tearing it away, and trampling it beneath myfeet,--'yes! it is not a Noailles can wear the badge of infamy andcrime; the blood-stained tricolor can find slight favor here.'
"'Hush, boy! hush, for Heaven's sake!' cried my uncle, trembling withfear.
"The caution came too late. The general, taking a note-book from hispocket, opened it leisurely, and then turning towards the viscount,said, 'This youth's name is--'
"'Duchesne; Henri Duchesne.'
"'And his age?'
"'Fourteen in March,' replied my uncle, as his eyes filled up; while headded, in a half whisper, 'if you mean the conscription, General, he hasalready supplied a substitute.'
"'No matter, sir, if he had sent twenty; such defect of education as hisneeds correction. He shall join the levies at Toulon in three days; inthree days, mark me! Depend upon it, sir,' said he, turning to me, 'youshall learn a lesson beneath that tricolor you'll be somewhat longin forgetting. Dumolle, look to this.' With this direction to hisaide-de-camp he arose, and before my poor unhappy uncle could recoverhis self-possession to reply, had left the room.
"'He will not do this, sir; surely, he will not,' said the viscount tothe young officer.
"'General Bonaparte does not relent, sir; and if he did, he 'd nevershow it,' was the cold reply.
"That day week I carried a musket on the ramparts of Toulon. Here begana career I have followed ever since; with how much of enthusiasm I leaveyou to judge for yourself."
As Duchesne concluded this little story he arose, and paced the roombackwards and forwards with rapid steps, while his compressed lips andknitted brow showed he was lost in gloomy recollections of the past.
"He was right, after all, Burke," said he, at length. "Personal honorwill make the soldier; conviction may make the patriot. I fought asstoutly for this same cause as though I did not loathe it: how manyothers may be in the same position? You yourself, perhaps."
"No, no; not I."
"Well, be it so," rejoined he, carelessly. "Goodnight" And with that hestrolled negligently from the room, and I heard him humming a tune as hemounted the stairs towards his bedroom.