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 355D
 
 The Grenadier
 
 A ROVING, ROARING, ROLLICKING BLADE WAS THE 
 CAPTAIN TARJEANTIRRE."
 
 The Grenadier 
 
 A STORY OF THE EMPIRE 
 
 JAMES EUGENE FARMER, M. A. 
 
 Author of " Essays on French History." 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 1898
 
 ' ' Le guerrier qui a suivi Napoleon sous tous les climats de 
 1'univers, le guerrier qui a combattu sous ses ordres en tant de 
 royaumes, qui tant de fois a pris sa part de la gloire et du triomphe, 
 qui a men6 cette vie tourmente pleine de privations, de souffrances, 
 de fatigues et de dangers mortels, ne peut pas, ne doit pas oublier 
 son grand g6n6ral." RAMBAUD, L'Allemagne sous Napoleon ler. 
 
 Copyright, 1896, 
 BY JAMES EUGENE FARMER 
 
 6e .Sorb (gafttmore 
 
 THE FRIEDENWALD COMPANY 
 BALTIMORE, MD., U. S. A.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF THOSE WHO WERE FAITHFUL 
 
 TO THE END, 
 LA GARDE IMPERIALE 
 
 2p2^G*7Q
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PREFACE, ......... 9 
 
 PROLOGUE THE POST-HOUSE OF BURGOS, . . .11 
 CHAPTER I. PIERRE PASQUIN, . . . . .17 
 
 II. HENRI JODELLE, 23 
 
 III. SARAGOSSA, 31 
 
 IV. THE SURRENDER, ..... 38 
 
 V. A LETTER FOR THE EMPEROR, . . 45 
 
 VI. DOLORES LA ZORILLO, . . . .49 
 
 VII. Aux TUILERIES, 58 
 
 VIII. THE IMPERIAL MAN OF BUSINESS, . . 68 
 
 IX. THE WIDOW PASQUIN, . . . .78 
 
 X. THE NIGHT BEFORE ECKMUHL, . .85 
 
 XL PLACE AUX DAMES ! .... 94 
 
 XII. THE WALLS OF RATISBON, . . .103 
 
 XIII. THE BOLD DUKE MAXIMILIAN, . .119 
 
 XIV. THE STREET OF ESSLING, . . .127 
 
 XV. IN THE ISLAND OF LOBAU, . . .141 
 
 XVI. THE DUKE OF MONTEBELLO, . . 146 
 
 XVII. THE DANUBE, 153 
 
 XVIII. WAGRAM, . . . . . .159 
 
 XIX. A MARSHAL OF FRANCE, . . .168 
 
 XX. THE STUDY OF THE EMPEROR, . .170 
 
 XXI. THE CROSS OF THE LEGION OF HONOR, 177 
 
 XXIL MARIE, 184 
 
 XXIII. THE MISSION OF THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM, 194
 
 8 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. AT THE ROYAL PALACE, DRESDEN, 207 
 
 XXV. THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN, . 219 
 
 XXVI. THE LION AT BAY, . . . 232 
 
 XXVII. LES ADIEUX DE FONTAINEBLEAU, . 247 
 
 XXVIII." VIVE LE Roi!" . . . .250 
 
 XXIX. A THUNDERBOLT ! . . . .256 
 
 XXX. THE EAGLE WITH THE TRICOLOR, . 271 
 
 XXXI. IN THE PLACE BELLECOUR, . . 278 
 
 XXXII. MAYOR GIROUETTE, . . . 284 
 
 XXXIII. PARIS AT LAST! . . . .294 
 
 XXXIV. A WATERLOO, . . . .305 
 
 XXXV. FACE TO FACE ! . . .308 
 
 XXXVI. GRENOBLE, ... . . .313 
 
 XXXVII. LA FRANCE DEMANDE ! . . . 322
 
 PREFACE 
 
 GOOD reader, I'll not burden you with a long preface; 
 nobody likes a long preface. This is a story of the 
 Empire. Follow with me, then, the French eagles, 
 from the towers of Saragossa to the Kremlin's gilded 
 dome at Moscow, in that stirring epoch which, as even 
 the Prince de Metternich was forced to admit, can 
 receive no more fitting appellation than " The Age 
 Napoleon." If when you have finished you feel that 
 you have derived some pleasure and some profit from 
 my labor, I shall say, like Gaspard in my story, " That 
 will be nice. I would like that " and so, good-bye.
 
 PROLOGUE 
 THE POST-HOUSE OF BURGOS 
 
 Is this the man of thousand thrones, 
 
 Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones? 
 
 BYRON, Ode to Napoleon. 
 
 IN the month of January, 1809, a dozen chasseurs of 
 the French army were gathered around a log-fire near 
 a post-house. This post-house of Burgos was a small 
 stone structure, one story high, and had upon either 
 side, in the rear, a long wooden barn, forming a 
 wing. Through the half-open door of one of these 
 barns might be seen a couple of rough traveling car- 
 riages; one of which, freshly covered with mud, and 
 with a broken wheel, showed that it had lately been in 
 service. 
 
 In the other barn, the one nearer the fire where the 
 chasseurs had gathered, were a number of horses; 
 some standing ready saddled and bridled; others be- 
 ing rubbed down by the grooms, while one in par- 
 ticular, a splendid bay animal whose saddle-cloths 
 were stamped with an N surmounted by an imperial 
 crown, was being led slowly up and down the narrow 
 paved court between the post-house and the barn. In 
 the door of the post-house stood a large man, dark and 
 swarthy, with long black hair and beard. On his 
 head he wore a broad, soft hat, around his waist a 
 wide, red sash, and a dark red cloak hung from his
 
 12 THE GRENADIER 
 
 shoulders to the tops of his long muddy boots. He 
 was the postmaster of Burgos. He was looking 
 earnestly down the road toward Valladolid; occasion- 
 ally he turned and looked toward Vittoria, and then 
 his eyes flashed as his gaze rested upon the little 
 group of chasseurs and upon the bay charger with the 
 imperial trappings. The day was cold and clear. It 
 had been raining hard the night before, but it was 
 freezing now, and a thin coat of ice was forming on 
 the water in the deep ruts cut in the roads by the 
 artillery and baggage trains that had passed over 
 them. 
 
 The wind blew more sharply and the chasseurs drew 
 nearer to the fire. 
 
 " It is true," said one, who showed from the manner 
 in which he had been giving orders that he was in 
 command of the little detachment, "it is true we are 
 to have war with Austria. I had it from De Viry, 
 who brought the dispatches from the War Minister in 
 Paris to the Emperor at Astorga. Austria is arming; 
 she thinks the present a good chance, since the Em- 
 peror and the Grand Army are off here in Spain, 
 where it must be allowed we have our hands full." 
 
 " Well," cried another, whose bronzed countenance 
 with its two ugly red scars showed that this was not 
 his first campaign, " let us hope it may be so if it will 
 take us out of here. Mon Dieu what a country! 
 Nothing but mountains to climb and rivers to cross, 
 and rain and mud always. And what a people ! Their 
 army is nothing the Guard alone could thrash that; 
 but every peasant is in arms, and they shoot out at 
 you from behind their houses, they lie in wait for you 
 in the mountain passes, they lurk behind every rock 
 We are not fighting an army, but a nation in arms."
 
 PROLOGUE 13 
 
 So it was. Spain, having" looked on while the vic- 
 torious armies of France traversed Italy and Austria 
 and Prussia and Poland, while the French eagles flew 
 from Milan to Vienna and from Vienna to Berlin 
 Spain had now met, face to face, the man of Ma- 
 rengo and of Austerlitz, and Spain would not soon 
 forget it. 
 
 What mattered it to the Spaniards if their govern- 
 ment was imbecile and debased? it was their govern- 
 ment; it was a Spanish government What mattered 
 it if their Prince of the Asturias, whom they admired 
 and who, they knew, was held prisoner in France, 
 was weak and corrupt? He was their Prince and he 
 was a Spaniard. Prince Joseph Bonaparte, whom the 
 French Emperor informed them he had chosen for 
 their king, might be a very good man; they knew 
 nothing about it; they did not want to know. The 
 priests told them that a Frenchman was a devil in 
 human form, and that whoever killed three of them 
 would receive the reward of heaven without purgatory. 
 Joseph Bonaparte was a Frenchman. That was 
 enough for them. Had he been an angel they would 
 have given him all the attributes of hell. 
 
 Therefore this proud nation the national pride of 
 Old Castile and Aragon leaping to its utmost height 
 rose as one man, drove King Joseph out of Madrid, 
 and proclaimed war to the death against him, and 
 against his brother, the great Emperor, who had com- 
 manded them to receive him. 
 
 But they reckoned not with whom they had to deal. 
 They were proud, but not so proud as the man who 
 had written, " I shall find the pillars of Hercules in 
 Spain. I shall not find there the limits of my power."
 
 14 THE GRENADIER 
 
 They could fight, but not so well as the victor of 
 Rivoli and Marengo and Austerlitz and Friedland. 
 So he came, with his genius and his glory, his Army 
 of the Rhine and his Old Guard. He beat them at 
 Vittoria; he routed them at Burgos; he drove them 
 from the pass of Somo Sierra ; he wheeled his thunder- 
 ing cannon about their capital ; and Madrid, like Cairo, 
 Vienna and Berlin, was compelled to open her gates 
 and bow before the conqueror. 
 
 Then the red-coated English, under Sir John Moore, 
 came from Portugal, and the French Emperor set off 
 promptly in pursuit of them, and pressed them hard 
 through the steep defiles of the Guadarrama, and 
 across the Seco, as far as Astorga. There he received 
 the news that Austria was arming against him, and, 
 leaving the pursuit to his Marshals Ney and Soult, he 
 returned to Valladolid, where for five days he worked 
 incessantly, giving his orders before setting out for 
 France. 
 
 Such was the position of affairs on this January 
 morning, 1809, and in the little group at the post- 
 house of Burgos each had his special role to play in 
 the great drama of Empires. 
 
 "They say that General Moore and the English 
 have escaped the Emperor," said one of the troopers, 
 addressing the captain. 
 
 " Not yet," replied the captain. " De Viry tells me 
 that Ney and Soult are to continue the pursuit, but 
 the Emperor must return to France." 
 
 "Again, I say," cried the old chasseur, who had 
 spoken before, " God grant we may all go with him. 
 Give me a good fight on the plains of Germany, and 
 no more chasing of these miserable banditti, who hide
 
 PROLOGUE 15 
 
 among their mountains and shoot you in the back. 
 If the Austrians want another Austerlitz, we'll give it 
 to them. I shall be glad to see Vienna again. I was 
 there in 1805, and I like the town." 
 
 At that moment the clatter of hoofs was heard upon 
 the road in the direction of Valladolid, and the chas- 
 seurs ran to the front of the post-house, which had 
 hidden their view in that direction, that they might 
 see who was coming. 
 
 It was Watteville, one of the Emperor's aides-de- 
 camp, riding at a furious pace. He drew rein at the 
 post-house door, and the captain of chasseurs ap- 
 proached him and saluted. 
 
 " Captain Duval," said Watteville, " the Emperor 
 will be here in less than a quarter of an hour; he does 
 not stop, but pushes on to Vittoria. Be ready." 
 With that he galloped on. 
 
 All was now movement and animation around the 
 little post-house. The grooms quickly brought the 
 horses out of their stables; Captain Duval inspected 
 them to see that their portmanteaus contained linen 
 maps, paper and telescopes, as the Emperor's orders 
 required; the bay charger was led in front of the 
 post-house door; the other horses were brought to the 
 courtyard gate, and the chasseurs drew up in line 
 beside them. Captain Duval was near the groom, 
 who held the Emperor's horse; all was ready. 
 
 They did not have to wait long. Suddenly, around 
 a bend in the road from Valladolid, came a company 
 of horsemen. They rode at a tearing gallop, and their 
 helmets with long horsehair crests, their busbys with 
 waving plumes, and their glittering, gold-laced uni- 
 forms made a brilliant show. But they attracted little
 
 16 THE GRENADIER 
 
 attention from the group gathered about the post- 
 house door. All eyes were fixed upon him who rode 
 at their head. All knew that short, square figure 
 beneath the plain cocked hat with the small tricolored 
 cockade; his gray greatcoat was buttoned closely over 
 his breast; his riding boots with silver spurs were 
 thickly splashed with mud; by his side was the sword 
 of Austerlitz; it was the Emperor Napoleon. His pale 
 face was calm, but his brow was knit, his lips com- 
 pressed, and his eyes flashed as he leaned forward, 
 jerking impatiently at his bridle reins as if to quicken 
 his already furious speed. 
 
 On arriving at the post-house the Emperor checked 
 his horse so suddenly that the beast was thrown upon 
 its haunches. He flung himself off, bringing his foot 
 heavily to the ground. One of the grooms, who stood 
 ready, led the horse quickly away; another brought 
 up the bay charger. The Emperor seized the reins, 
 sprang into the saddle and gave the highly mettled 
 animal a sharp cut with his whip, which made him 
 leap forward furiously. 
 
 "Vive 1'Empereur! " shouted the chasseurs. The 
 postmaster stood in his doorway, with his red cloak 
 wrapped about him. silently watching. The staff, 
 having changed horses as rapidly as possible, rode 
 hard after the Emperor; the chasseurs returned to their 
 quarters to await orders from Marshal Lannes, who 
 was in command at Valladolid, but the postmaster still 
 stood, gazing intently down the road toward Vittoria 
 after *he great apparition which he, for the first time, 
 had seen.
 
 CHAPTER I 
 PIERRE PASQUIN 
 
 I hate that drum's discordant sound, 
 
 Parading round, and round, and round ; 
 
 To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields, 
 
 And lures from cities and from fields, 
 
 To sell their liberty for charms 
 
 Of tawdry lace and glittering arms ; 
 
 And when Ambition's voice commands, 
 
 To march, and fight, and fall in foreign lands. 
 
 JOHN SCOTT, Ode on Hearing the Drum. 
 
 IN the Rue Montorge, Grenoble, not far from the 
 famous inn, the Hotel des Trois Dauphins, stood the 
 little house of Widow Pasquin. It was well known to 
 all persons living in the vicinity, and though used now 
 as a humble epicerie, showed signs that it had seen 
 better days. The plain stone faqade was broken by a 
 low doorway, above which ornamental consoles sup- 
 ported a circular stone balcony with a curiously 
 wrought iron railing, so common in the rococo archi- 
 tecture of the Louis Quinze period. Inside all was 
 neat and scrupulously clean, and a modest stock of 
 groceries and staples was arranged upon the counters 
 and shelves. 
 
 Jeanne Pasquin, or as she was called by her neigh- 
 bors, the Widow Pasquin, was a small, slender woman, 
 now nearly fifty. She had once, no doubt, possessed 
 beauty, but long years of struggle for subsistence and 
 
 2
 
 i8 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the terrors and anxieties of the Revolution had left 
 their marks in the careworn eyes and sad lines of her 
 face. Her hair, once black, was thickly streaked with 
 gray and her shoulders somewhat bent People said 
 she had never been the same since the day the news 
 reached her that her eldest son Robert had perished 
 in the war. 
 
 Her husband, Amand Pasquin, enjoyed some con- 
 sideration under the Old Regime, and had been at one 
 time directeur des pastes, but, unlike many of his fel- 
 lows, he embraced warmly the revolutionary doctrines 
 of 1789. On the outbreak of the war in 1792 he 
 entered the army, fought bravely at Valmy and Jem- 
 mapes, gained the rank of colonel, followed Bonaparte 
 to Italy and perished at the Bridge of Lodi. Robert 
 had entered the army in 1805 and had been killed at 
 Eylau. Left thus to struggle with the world, the 
 Widow Pasquin had managed to derive enough sup- 
 port from her epicerie to maintain herself and educate 
 her son Pierre, in whom all her love was centered; 
 Pierre, whose manly qualities won for him the hearts 
 of all, not only of the boys and girls who were his 
 companions, but of old Father Augustin who taught 
 at the college and of Father Morot who preached in 
 the chapel of St. Laurent. 
 
 On this day, the second of January, 1809, Pierre was 
 eighteen. The Widow Pasquin, sitting in her little 
 shop, was planning to arrange some surprise for him, 
 when the door opened suddenly. There was a merry 
 laugh, a joyful cry, " Ah ! there you are, la petite mere," 
 and Pierre sprang forward and caught her in his arms. 
 
 He was a fine-looking fellow as he stood there by her 
 side, with his well-built form, his dark eyes flashing
 
 PIERRE PASQUIN 19 
 
 brightly, his cheeks glowing with health and exercise, 
 and his thick black hair, which he still wore long in 
 fashion of the Directoire, tossed back from his fore- 
 head. So thought the fond mother as she looked 
 upon him; so too thought many a fair maiden of the 
 Rue Montorge. 
 
 "Why do you come so early to-day, Pierre?" in- 
 quired the Widow. 
 
 " News has come of the surrender of Madrid," an- 
 swered Pierre, " and the good Father Augustin has 
 gone to the cathedral to assist at the Te Deum. I 
 have hastened home to you because I have something 
 to ask of you. This is my birthday, you know. I am 
 eighteen to-day. Now, mother dear, grant me this 
 favor; it will be your greatest birthday gift to me, let 
 me enter the army." 
 
 The Widow Pasquin did not answer. She sank into 
 a chair and covered her face with her hands. For this, 
 then, she had so carefully watched and guarded her 
 only remaining child ! How she had trembled at each 
 decree of the senate which offered to the Emperor new 
 levies of troops! How she had hoped, in 1807, that 
 the Peace of Tilsit would bring repose to France! 
 Now this new war in Spain, with all its terrors; these 
 new levies of men ! He too would go like her Amand 
 and her Robert, and she would never see him again. 
 
 She raised her head and Pierre saw that her eyes 
 were full of tears. " Do not cry, petite mere," he 
 said gaily. " I shall fight for France and the Em- 
 peror. I shall win glory! Think how proud you will 
 be when one day you learn that Pierre has done some 
 brave deed and has received the cross, and he comes 
 back to you in a splendid uniform all covered with
 
 20 THE GRENADIER 
 
 gold, and tells you of all the adventures of the cam- 
 paign, and has enough money to make you happy 
 always! Oh, mother, you should have seen Jean 
 Deteau! You remember Jean who lived near the 
 Place St. Andre? He was here yesterday. He goes 
 to Spain, for he is aide-de-camp to Marshal Lannes. 
 You should have seen him with his beautiful uniform 
 and gold lace, his great plumed busby, his glittering 
 sword, and his cross which he won for capturing a 
 gun at Jena. The Emperor gave it him at the review 
 in the great square at Potsdam. He gave it with his 
 own hand, saying, ' For the brave Jean Deteau,' and 
 all the drums rolled. Think of that, mother! How 
 they crowded around him yesterday when he came into 
 the Hotel des Trois Dauphins! Old Monsieur Mont- 
 fort, the rich banker who lives in the Place Grenette, 
 got out of his carriage and talked to him hat in hand. 
 Think of that! You should have heard him tell how 
 they charged the Prussians at Jena! Forty thousand 
 of our cuirassiers, and at their head the Prince Murat; 
 his long hair streaming in the wind, his gold-em- 
 broidered uniform shining in the sun, and his great 
 white plume floating over all, as he waved his riding 
 whip and urged his war horse right into the midst of 
 the enemy, shouting, ' Forward, my brave boys ! Vive 
 I'Empereur!'" 
 
 " I cannot let you go, my son," said the Widow 
 Pasquin. " You are all that is left to me. The pere 
 Amand went; he too was to win fame and honor. One 
 day came news of a great victory Lodi. There were 
 bonfires in the streets and all the people danced and 
 sung, but no husband came back to me. He was lying 
 dead on the plain. Then Robert noble, brave
 
 PIERRE PASQUIN 21 
 
 Robert he too must go. Again I heard them cry- 
 ing, 'Glorious victory! Battle of Friedland! Peace 
 of Tilsit! ' There were bonfires in the streets, the 
 Mayor illuminated the Hotel de Ville, and the Arch- 
 bishop celebrated mass in the cathedral, but no Robert 
 came back. My brave boy was dead and cold amid 
 the snow in Poland ! Now you would go. For what? 
 To win glory, you say. Alas! some day I shall hear 
 of a famous victory, some Austerlitz, some Friedland, 
 but no Pierre will come back to me! I shall never 
 see my brave boy again ! " 
 
 " But, mother, " said Pierre. 
 
 " This man," continued the Widow, " this Napo- 
 leon ! What do I profit by his Austerlitz, by his Jena, 
 by his Peace of Tilsit! Has he not robbed me of 
 enough? No, No! I cannot let you go! How I have 
 trembled when I heard of each new levy ! How I have 
 rejoiced when you were not drafted! Now you come 
 to tell me that you want to leave me. I shall die per- 
 haps of want, for I am getting old to labor, and you 
 will go to perish." 
 
 The Widow Pasquin covered her face with her 
 hands and sobbed aloud. 
 
 " But, mother," cried Pierre, " I shall have better 
 luck than pere Amand and Robert. You shall never 
 die of want! I shall bring you all things! Everyone 
 should fight for la patrie, for the Emperor, the great 
 Emperor who governs all ; who gives our France such 
 glory!" 
 
 " You will fall like Robert and pere Amand," an- 
 swered the Widow. " The Pasquins are not lucky. 
 As for fighting for la patrie; why should they fight at 
 all now? They do not fight for France; they fight to
 
 22 THE GRENADIER 
 
 make his brother King of Spain. So, if you fight, 
 you do not fight for France, but for Napoleon alone." 
 
 " But, mother," said Pierre, " the good priest tells 
 us that the cause of France is just; that God will bless 
 our efforts for the country." 
 
 " My son," said the Widow Pasquin, raising her 
 eyes solemnly, " we cannot believe all that even priests 
 may tell us in these days. The Frenchmen of this age 
 no longer worship Father, Son and Holy Ghost. They 
 have created a new Trinity France, Napoleon and 
 Glory!"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 HENRI JODELLE 
 
 None but the brave deserves the fair. 
 
 DRYUEN, Alexander's Feast. 
 
 HENRI JODELLE had been a soldier. He gained some 
 distinction in the early wars of the Revolution; led a 
 charge at Valmy, and was in that famous company of 
 Pichegru's hussars who captured the Dutch fleet in 
 the winter of 1795. Later he entered the Army of 
 Italy, but lost a leg at Castiglione, and as misfortunes 
 never come singly, his wife died shortly afterwards. 
 Retired with a small pension, he had made a comfort- 
 able living as a restaurateur, and few places were 
 better known to the people of Grenoble than the 
 Cafe Jodelle. It faced the Place Grenette, and in 
 fine weather the little tables and chairs were placed out- 
 side about the door under a broad awning. The in- 
 terior was of modest dimensions. In the centre stood 
 a large shining urn for making coffee. Against the 
 walls and under the latticed windows were placed the 
 small tables, with four chairs to each. On one wall 
 hung a print of Hennequin's curious engraving repre- 
 senting General Bonaparte with a great plumed hat, 
 his hand on his sword, his horse at a gallop, and 
 underneath the title, " Bonaparte, General en chef de 
 1'armee d'ltalie." Between the windows hung a pic- 
 ture of the Battle of Castiglione, while above the
 
 24 THE GRENADIER 
 
 white wooden mantel was suspended a large colored 
 print entitled, " Napoleon distribue les aigles a 
 1'armee," a copy of David's painting which represented 
 the Emperor in his coronation robes giving the eagles 
 to the army on the Champ-de-Mars. 
 
 The cafe was famous for having the best liqueurs in 
 Grenoble, and doubly fortunate was that patron of the 
 place, who, in addition to the viands he received, could 
 obtain a smile from the host's daughter Marie. 
 Though only seventeen, Marie had had many suitors; 
 but Henri, in his double role of father and duenna, 
 had frowned upon them all. In Henri's eyes a man 
 who was not a soldier was nothing. To him the Em- 
 peror was a god, and the Garde Imperiale the apogee 
 of military glory. 
 
 If, among the many who had sought Marie's hand, 
 there was one on whom Henri looked with some favor, 
 it was Jean Deteau. He had known Jean from his 
 boyhood; had watched his career with interest; had 
 rejoiced at the bravery he displayed in the Prussian 
 campaign, and now that he saw him return decorated 
 with the Legion of Honor and aide-de-camp to Mar- 
 shal Lannes, he felt that here was one of whom, as a 
 possible son-in-law, he could be justly proud. 
 
 Marie, on the contrary, had never cared for Jean. 
 Perhaps the very reiteration of his praises by her 
 father had wearied her. She admired his bravery, but 
 she could never feel at ease when his keen, restless 
 black eyes were fastened upon her, as they always 
 were when he came to the Cafe Jodelle. He was 
 bright and gay. He laughed a great deal, but about 
 his laugh there was something so insincere, at times 
 so heartless, that it almost frightened her.
 
 HENRI JODELLE 25 
 
 As may be surmised, Jean would not leave Grenoble 
 without paying a visit to Marie and Henri, and about 
 seven in the evening on the day when Pierre had seen 
 him at the Hotel des Trois Dauphins, he entered the 
 Cafe Jodelle. 
 
 Henri gave him a warm welcome, and Marie smiled 
 as she extended her hand. 
 
 The clock was striking ten when Jean emerged 
 from the cafe. Something had evidently occurred to 
 mar the pleasure of his visit. His face was hard and 
 set; his eyes flashed fiercely; he pushed his busby 
 angrily down upon his forehead, and threw his mili- 
 tary cloak about his shoulders as he strode across the 
 Place Grenette. 
 
 There were few pedestrians in the Rue Montorge 
 when he reached it, and nothing disturbed the stillness 
 of the street save the clank of his sword and the click 
 of his spurs on the cobblestones as he hurried along. 
 As he came under one of the flickering lights that 
 faintly illuminated the gloom, {ie noticed, in the win- 
 dow of a shop before which he was passing, the 
 sign, " Jeanne Pasquin, Epicerie." He stopped, and 
 glanced up, surveying the fagade of the little house, 
 from its curved gables to the circular balcony above 
 the door. The glance was momentary, but it was full 
 of hatred and scorn. Then hurrying on, he reached 
 the Trois Dauphins, and in the gray dawn of the fol- 
 lowing morning mounted his horse and set out for 
 Spain. 
 
 It was four o'clock in the afternoon. Henri had 
 gone to the Place St. Andre, and there were few peo- 
 ple in the Cafe Jodelle when Pierre Pasquin entered it. 
 A couple of hussars were seated at one of the tables,
 
 26 THE GRENADIER 
 
 being served by the gargon Gaspard, while a young 
 fellow in a peasant's blouse and heavy wooden shoes 
 was staring at the engraving of Bonaparte as General 
 in Italy. 
 
 Pierre nodded to Gaspard, and passed through the 
 cafe with the air of one thoroughly familiar with the 
 place. He crossed a narrow side hall and was about 
 to knock at a door, leading into a small sitting room, 
 when he perceived that it was slightly open. Through 
 the crack he could see Marie Jodelle. He thought 
 she had never appeared more beautiful. Her soft 
 brown hair waved about her face, and her delicate 
 color was heightened by the little white cap she wore 
 and the bow of black ribbon about her throat. She 
 was sitting in a chair, her hands clasped in her lap, 
 looking thoughtfully out of the window. 
 
 Pierre watched her for a moment, but, as something 
 outside the window attracted her attention, she moved 
 her chair and turned her back toward the door. He 
 entered quietly, and slipping up behind her, put both 
 hands over her eyes, and then, quickly removing them, 
 kissed her on the cheek. 
 
 "Oh, Pierre!" cried Marie, jumping up, "I am so 
 glad you have come. I have been hoping you would 
 come to-day. I am so troubled." 
 
 " What has troubled you, Marie? " 
 
 " Close the door, Pierre," said Marie, " and I will 
 tell you." 
 
 He did so, and when he had seated himself, she 
 said, " Pierre, last night Jean was here. He came to 
 say good-bye before he went to Spain. Father was 
 very glad to see him. You know father always speaks 
 well of Jean."
 
 HENRI JODELLE 27 
 
 " Yes, I know," answered Pierre. 
 
 " Father went away before very long," continued 
 Marie, " and then Jean told me that he loved me, he 
 asked me to be his wife, he Why, Pierre, what's the 
 matter? " 
 
 Pierre was pale; he trembled. 
 
 "I told him I did not care for him, Pierre. Of 
 course you know that. I told him I could not marry 
 him." 
 
 The boy sprang forward and caught her in his 
 arms. 
 
 " He looked at me so strangely," said Marie. " He 
 was so angry when he went away," and she added 
 nervously, " he said he said he was determined to 
 marry me. I was afraid he would ask pere Henri, and 
 if he did I think father would consent, for he admires 
 Jean. I am so troubled about it all." 
 
 She had intended to tell him everything, but there 
 was one incident she forgot to mention. Jean had 
 tried to embrace her; she had sprung away from him, 
 and as she did so, her foot had caught in the folds of 
 a rug and she had fallen. A gold chain which she 
 wore about her neck caught in the fringe of the rug, 
 and, as she jumped quickly up again, it snapped, 
 leaving a little picture lying on the floor. Jean had 
 picked it up. It was a cheap miniature, the work of 
 some mediocre artist, but the likeness was fair enough. 
 He had recognized it at a glance and had handed it 
 back to her without a word. It was the picture of 
 Pierre. 
 
 " Do not worry, Marie," said Pierre, kneeling beside 
 her and putting his arm around her waist. " Jean has 
 gone to Spain. He will not be here soon again. You
 
 28 THE GRENADIER 
 
 know how I have longed to enter the army, to do 
 some brave deed, to win the cross, so that I could go 
 to the pere Henri and say, ' See, I am a soldier, I have 
 won honor, I am worthy of Marie ! ' Only this morn- 
 ing I asked the mere Pasquin to let me go, but she 
 felt so badly and cried so much that I cannot ask her 
 again. I fear I must stay and help at the epicerie. 
 Others will go to gain riches and honor. Oh, Marie, 
 none of them could love you more truly than I ! None 
 of them could fight better for France! None of 
 them " 
 
 " What are you doing here, sir? " came suddenly in 
 sharp imperative tones from the doorway. They had 
 been so occupied that they had not heard the door 
 open. Marie started to rise. Pierre sprang up and 
 faced the door. There, leaning upon his crutch, his 
 heavy gray mustache bristling fiercely and his eyes 
 flashing as they might have flashed when he led the 
 charge at Valmy, stood Henri Jodelle. 
 
 " Young Pasquin," said the old soldier, who was 
 evidently making an effort to control his temper, " I 
 have let you know before that you have been here too 
 often. What do you mean by being here to-day?" 
 
 Pierre saw that the moment which he dreaded had 
 come. He looked his interlocutor full in the face. 
 " I love your daughter, pere Henri," he said quietly. 
 " She has told me that she loves me, and I am come 
 to ask you for her hand." 
 
 He expected an outbreak. The old soldier's face 
 was very red, his eyes flashed, but he said nothing. 
 He looked at Pierre, a stern, steady glance which sur- 
 veyed him from the crown of his head to his feet. 
 Pierre did not weaken, and his bearing evidently made
 
 HENRI JODELLE 29 
 
 some impression upon Henri, for his glance softened 
 a little, but when he spoke his tone was sharp and 
 severe. 
 
 " What are you going to do to support a wife, 
 young Pasquin?" 
 
 Pierre colored a little, but replied firmly, " I am 
 going to manage my mother's epicerie in the Rue 
 Montorge." 
 
 " Mon Dieu! a noble occupation!" cried the old 
 soldier contemptuously. " Here is a brave young man 
 truly! A great, strong fellow, who when the country 
 needs men and thousands are winning glory under 
 the eagles of our glorious Emperor, stays at home to 
 sell butter and eggs! Young Pasquin, my child shall 
 never, with my consent, marry any one who is not a 
 soldier. It will be time enough for you to talk to me 
 when you can stand before me with the Legion of 
 Honor on your breast. Do you think I am going to 
 give my daughter to a poltroon? Now go, and do not 
 let me find you here again." 
 
 " Oh, father," cried Marie, " you are unjust! " 
 
 " Go, I say ! " cried Henri, who had by this time 
 worked himself into a passion. 
 
 Pierre, who had blushed while Henri sneered at his 
 occupation, turned pale at the word poltroon, and 
 clenched his hands. Marie had never before seen 
 such an expression on his face. She sprang up and 
 stood before her father and looked at Pierre, so earn- 
 estly, so beseechingly. She said nothing, but her eyes 
 said, Oh, go! go! 
 
 Pierre bowed his head and left the room. He 
 crossed the Place Grenette slowly, his head still bowed 
 and his eyes fixed on the ground. " Stand aside ! "
 
 30 THE GRENADIER 
 
 cried the driver of a cabriolet which was approaching 
 at a rapid pace. He called twice before Pierre heard 
 him, and then only in time to avoid being struck by 
 one of the large wheels. " Sacre ! " muttered the 
 driver, " these idle fellows deserve to be run down." 
 
 Pierre wandered on. Suddenly the sharp ring of 
 horses' hoofs and the clank of sabres made him look 
 up. He had reached the Place St. Andre. A squad- 
 ron of dragoons were crossing it. How grand they 
 looked, with their glittering cuirasses, their crested hel- 
 mets, their great boots and long military cloaks! 
 What a proud, determined, conquering air they had! 
 Pierre watched them as long as they were in sight, 
 then he turned and slowly made his way to the Rue 
 Montorge. 
 
 The Widow Pasquin could see, when he entered, 
 that something had happened. She had never seen 
 him look so sad. " What is the matter, Pierre? " she 
 asked. 
 
 The tears came to Pierre's eyes and then he told 
 her all. She listened without a word, but when he 
 told her of Henri's taunts and of the word " poltroon " 
 which he had used, the Widow Pasquin sat erect in 
 her chair and her eyes flashed. When he had finished 
 she looked at him long and earnestly, and in her look 
 he read the great love she bore him, and the effort the 
 words she was about to speak cost her. Then she took 
 his hand. " My son," she said, " I will not keep you 
 back. You cannot rest happy here. Go, since you 
 wish it, and may better fortune go with you than that 
 which went with Robert and pere Amand."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 SARAGOSSA 
 
 The voices are mighty that speak from the past, 
 
 With Aragon's cry on the shrill mountain blast, 
 
 The ancient Sierras give strength to our tread, 
 
 Their pines murmur song when bright blood hath been shed. 
 
 Fling forth the proud banner of Leon again, 
 
 And shout ye " Castile! to the rescue for Spain! " 
 
 MRS. HEMANS, Ancient Battle Song. 
 
 SINCE the loth of December, 1808, the French Army 
 had laid siege to Saragossa. This town was not regu- 
 larly fortified. Surrounded by a wall of brick and 
 granite, without either bastions or terraces, it was pro- 
 tected on one side by the river Ebro, and on the other 
 by the Castle of the Inquisition and the Convents of 
 the Capuchins, the Augustins, Santa Engracia, St. 
 Joseph and Santa Monica. These were in themselves 
 real fortresses which must be battered down, or taken 
 by assault, before entrance could be gained into the 
 town. 
 
 In every street were barricades bristling with 
 cannon. Great stores of corn, wine and cattle had 
 been collected in the city, whose population was now 
 swelled to more than 100,000 souls by the inhabitants 
 of the surrounding country. The impetuous Palafox 
 was their commander, assisted by his brothers Francis 
 Palafox and the Marquis de Lassan, and in every 
 public place a gallows warned all of the fate awaiting 
 those who should speak the word surrender.
 
 32 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Thus Saragossa, the last hope of the obstinately re- 
 sisting Spaniards, defied the power of Napoleon. 
 
 Toward evening on the 25th of January a detach- 
 ment of troops arrived in the French camp. They 
 were conscripts, mainly from the province of 
 Dauphine, and were destined to form part of one 
 of the newly raised regiments, the H5th of the Line. 
 Some of them now saw war for the first time, and 
 among this number was Pierre Pasquin. 
 
 The 26th of January began with a tremendous can- 
 nonade, as fifty guns of large calibre poured their shot 
 and shell into Saragossa. The H5th of the Line were 
 stationed in the trench between the Convents of Santa 
 Engracia and the Capuchins. Pierre, who had 
 climbed to the top of the escarpment, could see, far 
 on the left, the Castle of the Inquisition, where were 
 stationed the 4oth of the Line and the I3th cuiras- 
 siers, who were to repulse any sortie that might be 
 made from that side. Before the centre towered the 
 massive walls of Santa Engracia, now battered and 
 broken in many places by the heavy fire of the breach- 
 ing battery, and on the right was the Convent of St. 
 Joseph, from one of whose towers floated the tricolor 
 and about which were stationed the Grandjean divi- 
 sion, consisting of the I4th and 44th of the Line. In 
 the centre, next to the H5th, was massed the Morlot 
 division, and beyond it the Musnier division, which 
 consisted principally of Poles, fierce-looking men, with 
 their strange uniforms and shaggy beards, who had 
 been brought from the far north to battle here in 
 Spain under the banners of the modern Caesar. 
 
 " Down from that escarpment! " cried a corporal of 
 the 1 1 5th who was passing. Pierre obeyed.
 
 SARAGOSSA 33 
 
 " Will the Emperor be here to-day? " he inquired. 
 
 " The Emperor? No, he has gone to France," an- 
 swered the coq>oral. 
 
 This was a disappointment to Pierre. He had hoped 
 to see the Emperor and to fight under his eyes. All 
 day the cannonade continued, and the Spaniards, for- 
 tified behind their walls, endured it bravely. The sol- 
 diers in the trenches became restless and impatiently 
 awaited the order for a general attack. Pierre saw, 
 in the distance, a man on horseback, with a cocked hat, 
 and the broad red ribbon of the Legion of Honor 
 across his breast. He was followed by four aides-de- 
 camp, and Pierre was told that it was the Marshal 
 Lannes. 
 
 At noon on the 27th the order was given to assault 
 the town. A detachment of voltigeurs of the I4th and 
 44th, commanded by the chef-de-bataillon Stahl, and 
 having at their head a company of sappers, crossed 
 the Huerba beyond the Convent of St. Joseph and 
 occupied an oil mill, which stood somewhat isolated 
 not far from the wall. As they advanced, tremendous 
 explosions took place, for the Spaniards foreseeing 
 their approach from that direction, had mined the 
 ground over which they must pass. Then a hot fire 
 of musketry opened upon them from the houses and 
 batteries of the town. Stahl was severely wounded 
 and the detachment fell back. Some grenadiers of 
 the 44th now made their way toward the second 
 breach, mounted it, and, under the command of the 
 intrepid Guettemann, obtained possession of the 
 houses next the wall in spite of the furious fire of the 
 Spaniards. A column of voltigeurs hastened to their 
 aid and strove to enter the streets. The great houses, 
 
 8
 
 34 THE GRENADIER 
 
 loopholed and barricaded, flashed fire on every side, 
 as skilled marksmen, hidden behind their walls, shot 
 with deadly effect among the French troops. 
 
 The soldiers, opening interior passages from the 
 houses they had captured into those adjoining, were 
 enabled to proceed as far as the Calle Quemada, one 
 of the chief streets which opened into the great boule- 
 vard of the Cosso. Here a galling fire from the 
 cannon of the barricades rendered further advance im- 
 possible. Meanwhile a furious assault was being 
 made upon the Santa Engracia by the Poles of the 
 Musnier division and the soldiers and officers of the 
 engineers. They made themselves masters of the con- 
 vent, and pushing on across an open space, approached 
 the Convent of the Capuchins. The carabineers of the 
 5th light infantry at the same time made a charge upon 
 the Capuchins, and these two forces uniting speedily 
 took the convent and its battery. 
 
 And now the H5th of the Line, whose eagerness to 
 rush to the assistance of their comrades had long been 
 manifest, could no longer be restrained. " En avant! " 
 shouted the Major. They dashed forward to the long 
 wall between the Santa Engracia and the Convent of 
 the Capuchins, entered through the embrasures and 
 advanced into the interior of the town. They found 
 themselves in the street of Santa Engracia. On one 
 side stood the enormous Convent of the Nuns of Jeru- 
 salem, next to it the madhouse, and opposite, the Mon- 
 astery of St. Francis. The Spaniards concealed in 
 these great buildings opened a terrific fire upon the 
 French. 
 
 The head of the column halted and suddenly fell 
 back as the soldiers, crowded together in the narrow
 
 SARAGOSSA 35 
 
 street, endeavored to return the fire of their hidden 
 foes. Pierre was pushed against the wall of the Con- 
 vent of the Nuns of Jerusalem so tightly that he could 
 not move. The air was thick with smoke, through 
 which came the bright flashes of the enemy's fire. 
 On every side resounded the groans and curses of the 
 soldiers and the shouts of exultation of their adver- 
 saries. 
 
 Suddenly the doors of the Monastery of St. Francis 
 were flung open. The Spaniards infuriated by the 
 capture of their walls and the taking of the Capuchin 
 Convent, were no longer content to stand on the de- 
 fensive. They came to battle with their enemies. A 
 body of sharpshooters of Castanos' army, led by forty 
 monks of the order of St. Francis and a number of 
 Spanish women, whose religious fanaticism roused 
 them to frenzy, rushed out. Shouting, " Death to the 
 invaders!" they ran toward the French. The women 
 armed with long knives were even more violent than 
 the men and attacked the soldiers with unwonted fury. 
 It was a hand-to-hand conflict there in the street of 
 Santa Engracia, and all the time the musketry fire con- 
 tinued to pour upon French and Spaniards alike from 
 the Convent of the Nuns of Jerusalem. A part of the 
 monks, who remained grouped upon the steps of the 
 Monastery, shouted words of encouragement to their 
 followers, and the aged white-haired abbot held aloft 
 his great gilded crucifix as though the sight of this 
 holy emblem would paralyze the arms of his enemies. 
 
 The French, firing at short range, and using their 
 bayonets with deadly effect, cut their way to the mon- 
 astery steps, and a fierce contest took place between 
 them and the monks gathered there. As the first
 
 36 THE GRENADIER 
 
 grenadier dashed up the steps, the aged abbot beat 
 him on the head with the great crucifix and stretched 
 him lifeless on the stones. In a moment four soldiers 
 pierced the monk with their bayonets, and, dropping 
 the crucifix, he fell dead upon the body of his adver- 
 sary. The monks defended themselves with vigor, 
 but the soldiers, by this time wild with fury, cut and 
 stabbed them with ferocity, and rushing over their 
 dead bodies poured into the interior of the monastery. 
 When the first ranks of the French rushed forward, 
 Pierre was freed from the pressure which had held him 
 against the convent wall and charged with the other 
 soldiers. Just in front of him was a great voltigeur, 
 and, as they advanced, a Spanish woman with flying 
 hair, wild, haggard eyes and bare arms smeared with 
 blood, sprang forward and stabbed the soldier in the 
 arm. With a terrible oath the voltigeur turned, tore 
 the knife from her hand and, seizing her by her long 
 hair, forced her to her knees, as he stabbed her again 
 and again. Pierre felt sick at heart and rushed on 
 toward the monastery. The dense smoke choked and 
 blinded him, the tremendous firing almost deafened 
 him. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his right side, 
 everything swam around him and he fell to the 
 ground. As he gradually came to his senses, he real- 
 ized that he was lying on his face. He could not 
 move, a great weight seemed to press upon his legs. 
 He felt the pain in his side, and when he attempted to 
 struggle to sit up, it became so sharp that he fell back 
 helpless. " It is all up with me," thought Pierre. 
 " Soon some Spaniard will come and finish me." The 
 street was full of smoke, and it waa so dark that he 
 could see nothing; he thought night must have come.
 
 SARAGOSSA 37 
 
 The firing had ceased from the Convent of the Nuns 
 of Jerusalem. 
 
 How different it all was from what he had expected! 
 He had hoped for a grand charge, like the one Jean 
 had described, to the inspiring blast of the trumpet, 
 behind the white plume of Murat, and under the eyes 
 of the great Emperor. The Emperor was far away in 
 France, and here was war stripped of all its grandeur, 
 war in all its horror! Burning houses, women mas- 
 sacred in the streets, unseen enemies pouring forth 
 their deadly fire! Around him were the bodies of the 
 dead and the groans of the dying, and, as he lay there 
 on the rough stones, he remembered the words of his 
 mother, "You, too, will fall like Robert and pere 
 Amand. The Pasquins are not lucky! "
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 THE SURRENDER 
 
 The horrid war-whoop and the shriller scream 
 Rose still; but fainter were the thunders grown; 
 Of forty thousand who had manned the wall. 
 Some hundreds breathed, the rest were silent all! 
 
 BYRON, Don Juan. 
 
 A GHASTLY spectacle was the street of Santa Engracia 
 in the dawn of the morning of the 28th of January. 
 On every side lay heaps of dead, while guns, knap- 
 sacks, cartridge boxes, and battered timbers were 
 strewn thickly about the ground. 
 
 Before the Convent of the Nuns of Jerusalem the 
 fire had been fiercest, and there the bodies were most 
 numerous. The dead voltigeurs of the H5th lay 
 mingled with the brigands of Castanos' army, while 
 here and there among the slain might be seen the 
 corpse of some poor Spanish woman, who, roused to 
 fury by religious zeal, had perished in defense of all 
 she held most dear. 
 
 The Monastery of St. Francis, with its walls black- 
 ened by powder and stained with blood and its great 
 doors battered and torn from their hinges, remained 
 in the possession of the French. Before the main en- 
 trance lay the monks, and upon the top step the aged 
 abbot, his white hair stained with blood, while above 
 him was suspended the great crucifix which some sol- 
 dier had fastened to the casing of the door.
 
 THE SURRENDER 39 
 
 Two soldiers of the transport corps passed through 
 the Santa Engracia on the morning following the as- 
 sault. " There is a fine belt on that Spaniard," said 
 one, " I mean to have it." He went toward the wall 
 of the Monastery of St. Francis, where several bodies 
 were lying, and turned over the corpse of a burly 
 Spaniard. As he did so, a deep groan came from the 
 body of a French soldier, across whose legs the 
 Spaniard had fallen. 
 
 " Here is one not yet dead," said the transport man 
 to his companion. " We must carry him back to 
 camp. The Marshal has given orders to bring in all 
 the wounded." 
 
 " He is a young fellow," said the other. " From his 
 uniform he must belong to the H5th. He has been 
 shot in the side and has bled a good deal," he added, 
 raising Pierre. 
 
 The man who had first spoken had meanwhile 
 secured the brilliant belt which had attracted his atten- 
 tion. He joined his companion, and they lifted Pierre, 
 one supporting his head and shoulders, the other car- 
 rying his legs. They bore him slowly along the Santa 
 Engracia, out through the embrasures of the wall and 
 across the tete-de-pont of the Huerba. A stone 
 house, which stood opposite the Santa Engracia at 
 some distance from the Huerba, was used by the 
 French as a temporary hospital, and here the transport 
 men conveyed their burden and surrendered him to 
 the army surgeons. 
 
 The doctors gave the wounded man some nourish- 
 ment, and then probed his wound, extracting a bullet 
 which had fastened itself in the muscles of his side. 
 The operation gave Pierre much pain, for the surgeons
 
 40 THE GRENADIER 
 
 were in a hurry and did not handle him very gently. 
 At last it was over. They dressed the wound and 
 made him fairly comfortable upon a heap of straw. 
 For some days he suffered a great deal, but finally his 
 vigorous constitution got the better of his malady and 
 by the middle of February he was able to leave his 
 bed. 
 
 Meanwhile, the siege of Saragossa was pressed with 
 vigor. The French fought their way from street to 
 street, but every house was a fortress which must be 
 battered down or taken by assault, and there were 
 some houses which cost whole days. Still, Saragossa, 
 with her defenders stricken by fever, famine and the 
 sword, her dead rotting in her streets, and her living 
 wandering about like gaunt shadows, refused Mar- 
 shal Lannes' terms of capitulation and bade the French 
 defiance. 
 
 On the 1 8th of February, Pierre, who was able to 
 leave his bed, walked toward the Huerba. Near by 
 was a detachment of the Grand] can division. The 
 soldiers were gathered about an old red-faced corporal, 
 who stood gesticulating emphatically, upon a broken 
 cannon. Pierre stopped to listen. 
 
 " Was there ever such a war ! " cried the old cor- 
 poral. " Here after forty days' hard fighting we have 
 gained possession of only four or five streets ! Are we 
 to capture the whole town in this way? We shall all 
 perish!" 
 
 " What is the Marshal thinking of? " said another. 
 " Why does he not wait for reinforcements and bury 
 these devils under bombs instead of sending us to die 
 in taking a few houses? " 
 
 At this moment Pierre saw a horseman rapidly ap-
 
 THE SURRENDER 41 
 
 preaching, attended by a single aide-de-camp. It was 
 the Marshal Lannes. As he approached, the shout 
 was raised, "Vive le Marechal Lannes!" but, as he 
 reined in his horse, one voice cried "To France!" 
 
 " My friends," said the Marshal, looking over the 
 crowd of bronzed, scarred faces upturned towards 
 him, " my friends, you are suffering, but do you not 
 suppose the enemy suffers also? For every man we 
 lose they lose four. Do you suppose they will defend 
 all their streets as they have defended some of them? 
 They are at the end of their strength. Remember the 
 Emperor is awaiting impatiently the news of our suc- 
 cess. Come, my friends, a few more efforts and Sara- 
 gossa will be ours! " 
 
 " Vive le Marechal Lannes ! " cried the soldiers as 
 he rode away. 
 
 " Well, Ajax is right," said the old corporal. " Let 
 us finish these Spanish devils." 
 
 Pierre had been watching the Marshal intently dur- 
 ing the brief harangue, but, as Lannes rode away, the 
 aide-de-camp, who followed, passed near him, and 
 Pierre suddenly recognized Jean Deteau. His first 
 impulse was to spring forward and cry out the sight 
 of a familiar face was so pleasant but in a moment 
 Jean was gone, following the Marshal, who rode 
 rapidly toward the Musnier division. Pierre returned 
 to the stone hospital. He was still weak and walked 
 slowly. As he neared the building, Marshal Lannes 
 rode up alone. He flung himself off his horse, and 
 threw the reins to Pierre, remarking, " Hold my 
 horse." Then, entering the building, he dropped into 
 a chair near the door and passed his hand wearily 
 across his forehead, and Pierre heard him mutter, as
 
 42 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the old corporal had done, "Was there ever such a 
 war!" 
 
 Pierre watched him closely. This was the great 
 Marshal Lannes, the Emperor's right arm, " Ajax '" 
 the soldiers called him, the son of a poor mechanic, 
 by his military talents and the fortunes of the Emperor 
 made Marshal of France and Duke of Montebello. 
 The Marshal was well built and of middle size. His 
 gold-embroidered uniform and great boots were 
 stained with mud, across his breast was the red ribbon 
 of the Legion of Honor and the cross hung suspended 
 from his buttonhole. He had thrown his plumed hat 
 on the ground, and his usually open and pleasant 
 countenance, framed by his dark, curly hair and short 
 side whiskers, was now drawn and sad as he sat with 
 one leg crossed, supporting his head on his hand, ab- 
 sorbed in thought. Suddenly he raised his head and 
 looked at Pierre. " Boy, can you write? " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur le Marechal," answered Pierre. 
 How glad he was that the Father Augustin had taught 
 him well! 
 
 " Tell one of those men to hold my horse," said the 
 Marshal, pointing to four soldiers of the Grandjean 
 division who were approaching, " and come here." 
 
 Pierre did as he was ordered. 
 
 " What is your name? " asked Lannes. 
 
 " Pierre Pasquin, Monsieur le Marechal." 
 
 " What regiment? " 
 
 "The nsth of the Line." 
 
 The Marshal drew out a tablet and handed it to 
 Pierre, who seated himself upon a pile of straw and 
 wrote rapidly as Lannes dictated several orders. As
 
 THE SURRENDER 43 
 
 he finished, an aide-de-camp rode up. "Well," cried 
 the Marshal as he entered, "are the mines ready to 
 blow up the university? Have you seen General 
 Gazan?" 
 
 " The mines are ready, Monsieur le Marechal," an- 
 swered the aide-de-camp, " and General Gazan is 
 organizing the attack on the faubourg." 
 
 Pierre recognized the voice and looked quickly up. 
 "Oh, Jean!" he cried. 
 
 Jean started, a look of surprise, then of anger passed 
 over his face; it was gone in an instant; he smiled and 
 extended his hand. "Why, Pierre, what do you do 
 here?" 
 
 "You know him?" inquired the Marshal. 
 
 " Yes, sir, he comes from Grenoble, as I do," an- 
 swered Jean. 
 
 Pierre handed the orders to the Marshal, who re- 
 marked, as he signed them rapidly, " You write well, 
 young Pasquin." Then he turned to Jean. " Take 
 these at once to Colonel Rogniat and to General 
 Lacoste and rejoin me at headquarters." Jean saluted 
 and rode rapidly away. The Marshal rose, Pierre 
 sprang forward and picked up his hat. " Young man, 
 I thank you for serving me as secretary," said Lannes. 
 He motioned to the voltigeur to bring up his horse, 
 mounted and rode off toward General Gazan's division. 
 
 Soon the cannonade began upon the convent ad- 
 joining the bridge of the Ebro, and a tremendous ex- 
 plosion of 1600 pounds of powder announced that the 
 university had been blown up. The attack on the 
 faubourg by the Gazan division, led by Marshal 
 Lannes in person, was successful, while the Grandjean 
 division, grumbling no longer, rushed over the ruins
 
 44 THE GRENADIER 
 
 of the university and gained possession of the Boule- 
 vard of the Cosso. Thus the main street of Saragossa 
 was in the hands of the French. Before such a suc- 
 cession of disasters the Spaniards gave way, and sent 
 a flag of truce in the name of Palafox to propose terms 
 of capitulation. Marshal Lannes met the envoy near 
 the tete-de-pont of the Huerba and demanded an 
 unconditional surrender, adding that he would blow 
 up the centre of the town on the following day if his 
 terms were not complied with. 
 
 Of the 100,000 inhabitants who were in Saragossa 
 at the beginning of the siege, 54,000 had already per- 
 ished, and the remainder, stricken by fever, were on 
 the verge of starvation. The junta of defense could 
 hold out no longer. On the 2ist of February they 
 surrendered the city, and the garrison, passing out of 
 the Portillo gate, laid down their arms and became 
 prisoners of war. And when that crowd of soldiers, 
 peasants, monks, and women, gaunt, ragged, covered 
 with wounds and stained with blood, defiled before the 
 French army and the conquerors rode through the 
 bloody, ruined streets, filled with putrid corpses, they 
 felt there was little in which to glory. Here, at least, 
 the Spaniards had atoned for their cowardice in the 
 field, and maintained against their adversaries a con- 
 test memorable in history. It was even as one of her 
 defenders has expressed it, " Saragossa," cried the 
 Spaniard proudly, " has spit in the face of Napoleon ! "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 A LETTER FOR THE EMPEROR 
 
 Art thou a friend to Roderick? 
 
 SCOTT, Lady of the Lake. 
 
 THE envoys, who came to the French camp bringing 
 to Lannes the acceptance of his terms of surrender by 
 the junta of defense, were unable to find the Mar- 
 shal at headquarters. Colonel Rogniat informed them 
 that he had gone toward the Huerba. They made 
 their way slowly through the camp. The soldiers of 
 the Morlot and Grandjean divisions looked at them 
 sternly; at one point they were almost run down by a 
 squadron of the I3th cuirassiers coming to take up 
 position, but, finally, they found the Marshal in the 
 stone hospital opposite the Santa Engracia. He was 
 unattended and busy giving orders to the surgeons for 
 the care of the wounded, who had been brought in 
 after the bloody fight of the i8th. 
 
 Pierre, who was helping one of the surgeons carry 
 into the hospital a wounded Pole of the Musnier divi- 
 sion, passed near the Marshal and the Spanish envoys. 
 He saw that Lannes was listening to their statements 
 with evident satisfaction, and as he dismissed them he 
 remarked, " You may rely upon my word." 
 
 The Marshal came into the hospital just as the sur- 
 geon and Pierre were placing the Pole upon a heap 
 of straw. 
 
 " Young Pasquin, I have some work for you," said 
 Lannes. Pierre set down his burden and hurried for-
 
 46 THE GRENADIER 
 
 ward. " Come, write," said the Marshal, and he dic- 
 tated two letters, one to the Emperor at Paris, the 
 other to King Joseph at Madrid. 
 
 An aide-de-camp rode up and saluted the Marshal. 
 " Here, Deteau," said Lannes, folding the letter to 
 King Joseph which he had signed, "you are to take 
 this to Madrid at once. Saragossa has capitulated. 
 Where is d'Albuquerque? " 
 
 " He is coming, Monsieur le Marechal," replied the 
 aide-de-camp, "I left him near Santa Engracia. Ah! 
 there he is now," he added, as a horseman was seen 
 rapidly crossing the tete-de-pont of the Huerba. 
 
 " Good," said the Marshal, who was signing the 
 letter to the Emperor. Suddenly Deteau uttered an 
 exclamation and hurried forward. The horse, coming 
 rapidly through the works of the tete-de-pont, had 
 stumbled and thrown his rider. D'Albuquerque 
 struck his head with violence against one of the heavy 
 jagged timbers which covered the ground about the 
 tete-de-pont and lay stunned and bleeding. The aide- 
 de-camp, assisted by Pierre and two Poles, raised the 
 wounded man and carried him into the hospital. His 
 head was badly cut and several splinters of wood were 
 sticking in the gashes. 
 
 " What a misfortune ! " cried the Marshal, stamping 
 his foot impatiently. " D'Albuquerque was to have 
 gone to Paris. You cannot go; you must go to 
 Madrid, you know the road. Marbot is not yet over 
 his wound. This must go to Paris at once." 
 
 "Young Pasquin, are you strong enough to ride?" 
 he asked suddenly, turning to Pierre. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Pierre. 
 
 "Then you shall carry my letter to the Baron 
 Lejeune whom I sent yesterday to Tudela; he will take
 
 A LETTER FOR THE EMPEROR 47 
 
 it on to Paris. Deteau goes with you as far as Alagon, 
 from there you will go over the road you have already 
 come. Take d' Albuquerque's horse." He sat down 
 and wrote a few lines on his tablet. " There," said he, 
 " that will enable you to get relays at the post-houses. 
 Lose no time. Give my letter safe to the Baron 
 Lejeune and I answer for your promotion." 
 
 Pierre was trembling with excitement; his eyes were 
 fixed on the Marshal; the Marshal was engaged in 
 writing his order; had either of them looked at Deteau 
 they would have seen him standing with folded arms, 
 his brows knit in an angry scowl and his black eyes 
 glittering wickedly as he looked at Pierre. " I will 
 answer for that promotion," he muttered. 
 
 In a few moments they had mounted, and were 
 riding rapidly through the camp and out into the level 
 open country beyond. The road ran along the valley 
 of the Ebro, and on every side was a vast undulating 
 plain, dry and barren, enclosed in the distance by long 
 chains of reddish hills. Here and there were scattered 
 the ruins of a few miserable villages, whose inhabitants 
 had fled to Saragossa at the commencement of the 
 siege. Upon some of the heights stood the blackened 
 ruins of ancient castles. The Ebro wound in great 
 curves, sometimes near the road, sometimes far away, 
 and in the distance could be faintly seen the white 
 summits of the Pyrenees. 
 
 " Oh, Jean," said Pierre, as they rode rapidly along, 
 "to think that I should carry a letter for the Mar- 
 shal!" 
 
 " Yes," said Jean, " they will be glad to hear of it 
 in Grenoble," and he began to whistle the " Partant 
 pour la Syrie " of la reine Hortense which was so pop- 
 ular in the army.
 
 48 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " I had a letter from Henri Jodelle some days ago," 
 he said after a time; " Marie was ill," and he watched 
 Pierre narrowly. 
 
 Pierre grew pale. Jean saw that his hand trembled. 
 " I am very sorry to hear it," he said. 
 
 " She is to be married before long," continued Jean. 
 
 "To whom?" cried Pierre. 
 
 " I do not know; some officer of dragoons, I think." 
 
 They rode on for a long time in silence. " Marie is 
 to be married ! " the words kept ringing in Pierre's 
 ears louder than the clatter of the horses' hoofs upon 
 the hard road. The honor of his mission, the hope of 
 promotion, the eagerness for glory had all vanished 
 from his mind. 
 
 It was fast growing dark, and in the distance could 
 be seen the lights of Alagon. 
 
 " There is Alagon," said Jean, as they rode rapidly 
 up a rising ground. " I leave you there ; I go to 
 Madrid and you go on to Tudela with your letter for 
 the Emperor! " 
 
 As he spoke, he drew his pistol suddenly from his 
 holster and fired at Pierre. The rapid movement of 
 the horses and the darkness rendered his aim some- 
 what unsteady, but the ball grazed Pierre's forehead. 
 His horse sprang forward, he lost his seat, fell heavily 
 to the ground, and lay there stunned and senseless. 
 Jean reined in his horse, and riding back, dismounted, 
 and stood for a moment looking at the prostrate form. 
 Then he laughed quietly. " My fine fellow, I fancy 
 the Cafe Jodelle will not see you soon again, and the 
 Marshal will have one less promotion to make." He 
 stooped, and cut the wallet, which contained the Mar- 
 shal's letter; then springing on his horse he galloped 
 forward in the darkness toward Alagon.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 DOLORES LA ZORILLO 
 
 O woman! in our hours of ease 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
 And variable as the shade 
 By the light quivering aspen made; 
 When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
 A ministering angel thou! 
 
 SCOTT, Marmion. 
 
 POOR Dolores La Zorillo! Her thirteen years had not 
 been happy ones. She had never known a mother, for 
 the Francisca had died so soon after Dolores was 
 born that she could not remember her. She lived in 
 an old crumbling stone house in Alagon with her 
 granddame Matesca and her father Rafael. The little 
 house was only one story high, its floor was made of 
 baked earth, and about its walls hung coarse pictures 
 of the saints, strings of melons, crucifixes, and dried 
 herbs. When Dolores was younger she had slept in 
 a sack on the floor, but now she had a kind of bed of 
 straw, with a quilt of which she was quite proud. 
 
 She saw little of the father Rafael, and it was better 
 so, for when he did come home he quarreled always 
 with the Matesca, and that was hard to bear. What a 
 temper he had, the father Rafael, and how he did 
 swear! And how cross he was if he did not get his 
 mafiana, or morning dram of aguardiente flavored 
 with rosemary and a chew of garlic bulb, which could
 
 50 THE GRENADIER 
 
 be bought at the ventorillos or reed huts along the 
 road. 
 
 Sometimes he would take too much, and perhaps 
 when he came home the door would stick. How 
 angry he was then! " Carajo! " he would cry, kicking 
 the door, "you won't open, won't you! Dios mio 
 (my God) que poineterra! Santa Barbara bendita! 
 (Blessed be Saint Barbara). Come down with all the 
 saints in heaven and open this door! " And when, 
 finally, by Saint Barbara's aid, the door flew open, he 
 would cry, " Alavado sea Dios!" (God be praised.) 
 
 The Matesca was somewhat old to work, and so it 
 was always " Dolores, light the fire; Dolores, fetch the 
 water," for it was little indeed that the father Rafael 
 would ever do. " I prefer to smoke and eat and 
 sleep," said he. " For mi eso es bastante (that is 
 enough for me). Had I a stew with meat in it every 
 day of my life, then should I be happy! " 
 
 So little Dolores would rise early, when the whistle 
 of the sereno, or night-watchman, sounded to call the 
 peasants to pannier their donkeys, and laden with fruit, 
 be off to the nearest fruit market And she would go 
 to the small brick shelf with its two little holes, called 
 hornillas, or cooking-stoves, and put in the charcoal 
 and fan it into a flame by shaking to and fro a wisp in 
 front of the outlet from the hornilla. Then she would 
 mix together the oil, salt, red bird pepper, and water, 
 and pour it into the brown jar half full of beans or 
 potatoes to make the stew, for they were poor, pobre 
 de solemnidad (solemnly poor) and could afford only 
 the cheap stew called potaje, and not any of those finer 
 stews that some of their neighbors had. The stew 
 would go on simmering until it turned to a thick soup
 
 DOLORES LA ZORILLO 51 
 
 and then they would sit about and eat it out of the 
 same dish, each dipping in with a wooden spoon. 
 Thus there was always work for the little Dolores, and 
 some mornings, when the Matesca had had a bad 
 night or the father Rafael not enough to buy his 
 manana, there was the stick too. 
 
 So it was a hard life, and there was only one friend, 
 and that was Beppo the donkey. When the stick had 
 been laid on hard and the little back ached dreadfully, 
 Dolores would run out to the dirty stable and throw 
 her arms about Beppo's neck and say, " You love me, 
 don't you, Beppo? " Beppo never answered; he stood 
 meekly, as was his wont, occasionally wiggling his 
 long ears. But Dolores knew what he meant without 
 his answer. 
 
 She was a comely little girl, Dolores La Zorillo ; her 
 features were delicate, her small hands and feet beauti- 
 fully shaped, and she wore her thick hair rolled up at 
 the back in a square, spreading plait. And sometimes, 
 when she went to the Plaza de Fruta, or Market 
 Square, and saw the titerero, the comedian from the 
 capital, her pensive, melancholy face would be bright- 
 ened by a naive smile. 
 
 She liked to go to the Plaza de Fruta, and would 
 put on her tiny green shawl and short red gown and 
 go there sometimes to dance the bolero, hoping to 
 earn a few cuartos (farthings). And it often happened 
 that a majo, or dandy, who passed by in his tight black 
 jacket and trousers, crimson sash and plaited pigtail, 
 saw her dancing, and said, "There is a pretty girl, 
 dancing the bolero," and threw her a real. 
 
 It was a great place, that Plaza de Fruta. A wide- 
 spreading stone quadrangle divided into portions for
 
 52 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the tiendas, or shops of the venders of meats, dried 
 fish and vegetables. In the meat stalls were pork, 
 lamb, and goat's flesh cut into all manner of odds and 
 ends for stewing in the savory olla. There were bacon 
 and sausage in abundance, too, and in the grocers' 
 stalls were lentils, garbanzos, haricot beans, rice, garlic, 
 oil, dried figs, quinces, turnips, hard and stringy beet- 
 root, the acelga or white vert, gourds, tomatoes, sage, 
 mint and green parsley. 
 
 Though the Aragonese were mainly agriculturists, 
 yet some of them were soldiers and smugglers, and all 
 were guerrilleros par excellence. The men wore 
 breeches of common cotton, ornamented about the 
 pockets with filigree buttons and old medios reales in 
 silver, blue woolen stockings and sandals, and short 
 black waistcoats which showed the wide red cotton 
 faja, or sash. Gay-colored cotton or silk handker- 
 chiefs were tied about their heads, so that the two ends 
 hung down behind, and above all was the sombrero. 
 
 The women had sandals, short flannel skirts, shawls 
 of bright colors, and handkerchiefs tied about their 
 heads. Dolores liked to watch them all, coming and 
 going, stopping at the stalls and filling their baskets, 
 chatting, laughing, and passing on. Some of them 
 looked happy, she thought. She liked to see the wine- 
 seller, with his heavy boots of untanned leather, thick 
 woolen jacket and rusty brown trousers, who drove his 
 mules laden with skins of rich red wine (vino tinto) or 
 pale val de penas, which the peasants called " leche de 
 los ancianos " (old folks' milk), and above all she 
 liked to see the titerero, who came sometimes to play 
 his tricks in the Plaza. 
 
 But all that was over now, for terrible times had
 
 DOLORES LA ZORILLO 53 
 
 come, and the country was full of the dreadful soldiers 
 of the " frances." The father Rafael had gone to join 
 Castanos' army, and every peasant boy who was old 
 enough to wear the faja, or sash, and the navaja, or 
 clasp-knife, the signs of his manhood, had gone too. 
 
 Dolores could no longer go to the Plaza to dance 
 the bolero, for the Plaza was full of the frances sol- 
 diers. 
 
 Then the priest at the Church of San Antonio de 
 Padua taught Dolores her catechism. 
 
 " Child, what art thou? " 
 
 " A Spaniard, by the grace of God." 
 
 " Who is our enemy? " 
 
 "The Emperor of the French." 
 
 " What is the Emperor Napoleon ? " 
 
 " A wicked being, the source of all evils and the 
 focus of all vices." 
 
 " How many natures has he? " 
 
 "Two: the human and the diabolical." 
 
 " How many Emperors of the French are there? " 
 
 " One actually, in three deceiving persons." 
 
 "What are they called?" 
 
 " Napoleon, Murat, and Manuel Godoy." 
 
 " Which is the most wicked? " 
 
 " They are all equally so." 
 
 " What are the French? " 
 
 " Apostate Christians, turned heretics." 
 
 " What punishment does a Spaniard deserve who 
 fails in his duty?" 
 
 " The death and infamy of a traitor." 
 
 " Is it a sin to kill a Frenchman? " 
 
 " No, my father ; heaven is gained by killing one of 
 these heretical dogs."
 
 54 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Dolores learned it all carefully, but she didn't under- 
 stand it all. This much, however, she did know, that 
 it was harder now to get enough for the potaje, that 
 the Matesca was always in a tremor of terror or rage, 
 that the stick struck more often, that there was only 
 one friend and that was Beppo the donkey. 
 
 One evening the Matesca ordered Dolores to go 
 early in the morning with Beppo and the cart to 
 Casitas, not far away, and bring back a bag of beans 
 which old Pedro, the Matesca's brother, had promised 
 to send her. So early in the morning, just as the gray 
 dawn appeared upon the hills, even before the time 
 that the whistle of the sereno used to blow in past days, 
 Dolores started, driving Beppo in the little creaking 
 cart. They passed out of the town and on to the high- 
 road beyond. " Come, hurry, Beppo," said Dolores. 
 Beppo could not go very fast, for he had not had much 
 to eat for many days, but he trotted along as best he 
 could, and Dolores sat in the creaking cart. 
 
 " Why, Beppo ! There is a man lying in the road," 
 said Dolores, and, as they came nearer, she said, " He 
 is a dead frances." 
 
 The soldier was lying on his back, his uniform 
 splashed with mud, and his thick dark hair clustering 
 about his white forehead. Dolores stopped the cart 
 and looked at him. " He is nice-looking," she said. 
 " I am rather sorry he is dead. Come, Beppo." But 
 as Beppo started he struck his hoof against the foot of 
 the prostrate soldier, and the man groaned and opened 
 his eyes. "Why, you are not dead after all!" said 
 Dolores. " You are a wicked frances though, and so 
 I ought to wish you dead. But somehow I don't," 
 she added.
 
 DOLORES LA ZORILLO 55 
 
 " Qui etes-vous, mademoiselle? " asked the soldier 
 feebly. 
 
 " Yo se ninguno frances " (I know no French), said 
 Dolores, and so the conversation stopped. 
 
 " He is a nice-looking frances," said Dolores to her- 
 self. " What would the Matesca say if I should help 
 a frances? Beppo, would you help a frances if he 
 were nice-looking like this one?" But Beppo didn't 
 answer; he stood meekly, as was his wont, occasionally 
 wiggling his long ears. .,- 
 
 " Jusqu'ou est-il a Alagon? " said the soldier, raising 
 himself a little with one arm. 
 
 Dolores could only understand the one word 
 " Alagon." " You want to go to Alagon? " she asked, 
 pointing to the town. The soldier nodded. " Well," 
 said Dolores, " I will take you to Alagon." She 
 jumped down from the little cart and helped the soldier 
 clamber into it. Then she rolled up her small shawl 
 and slipped ft under his head. Beppo started and the 
 cart creaked slowly on while Dolores walked by the 
 side. " I don't know what the Matesca would do," 
 she said to herself, " if she knew I helped a frances." 
 
 They came to the stone fountain which stood near 
 the gate of the town, and Dolores filled the tin cup with 
 water and brought it to the soldier, saying, " Toma, 
 para echar un traguito " (here is something to drink). 
 He took it and smiled. " He is nice-looking," said 
 Dolores. 
 
 She drove Beppo on to the Plaza de Fruta, where a 
 detachment of French troops were quartered. Dolores 
 had seen the soldiers many times in the town, and as 
 they did not chase her with their bayonets as she had 
 supposed they would do, she had rather lost her fear
 
 56 THE GRENADIER 
 
 of them. She waited until the soldier was removed 
 from the cart and then she drove away. 
 
 Pierre lay on his straw and thought of his situation. 
 He was anxious to get back to Saragossa and see the 
 Marshal, but then how could he suppose that the Mar- 
 shal would credit his story? He fancied himself telling 
 it all and Lannes saying sternly, " Young Pasquin, do 
 you expect me to believe that my aide-de-camp Deteau 
 attempted to kill you? The thing is absurd! " Then 
 he thought of what Deteau had said regarding Marie 
 and wondered if it were true. Ah, those were three 
 wretched days he passed at Alagon. 
 
 His wound was not serious and he was soon able to 
 be about again, but he was stiff and lame from the fall 
 from his horse and lying all night on the damp ground. 
 He was preparing to go back to the Marshal and tell 
 his story as best he could, when the roll of drums was 
 heard in the direction of Saragossa. The captain com- 
 manding the detachment stationed at Alagon ordered 
 out his men, and Pierre hurried in the direction of the 
 sound. As he came to the end of the narrow street 
 at the outskirts of the town, he saw in the doorway of 
 a tumble-down stone house the little Spanish girl 
 whom he remembered so well and whom he had been 
 hoping to see again. Pierre went up to her and held 
 out a small gilt crucifix; it was all he had to give her. 
 " Merci, mademoiselle," he said. She could not 
 understand him, but she took the cross and smiled. 
 
 Along the road, with drums rolling, bugles sounding, 
 arms flashing, sabres clanking and plumed officers on 
 prancing steeds, came the H5th of the Line and the 
 1 3th cuirassiers. 
 
 " We are ordered back to France! " cried the Major
 
 DOLORES LA ZORILLO 57 
 
 as he passed the captain commanding the detachment 
 stationed at Alagon. 
 
 " A la France! a la France! Vive 1'Empereur! " the 
 soldiers of the H5th shouted joyfully. 
 
 The band of the regiment struck up " Le Chant du 
 Depart," Pierre fell in in the rear line, and they 
 marched on, the colors flying, the bayonets of the 
 infantry and the helmets of the cuirassiers glittering in 
 the sunshine. 
 
 Standing in the doorway of her crumbling home 
 and holding in her hand the small gilt crucifix, little 
 Dolores La Zorillo watched them as long as they were 
 in sight, saying softly, " Adios, Senor Frances."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 AUX TUILERIES 
 
 J'ai trouve la couronne de France par terre, et je 1'ai 
 ramassee avec la pointe de mon epee. Napoleon. 
 
 IT was half-past six in the morning when Constant 
 Very, premier valet-de-chambre to His Majesty, 
 dressed in his green and gold coat, white silk stockings 
 and black knee breeches, entered the bedroom of the 
 Emperor. He crossed the room, opened the tightly 
 closed shutters and let in the light. The walls of the 
 apartment were hung with heavy Lyons brocade. The 
 gilded ceiling was painted with figures of Mars, Jupiter 
 and Apollo, while the armorial bearings and cipher of 
 the Emperor decorated the cornice. 
 
 Opposite the windows, upon a platform covered with 
 velvet, stood the bed. A few chairs upholstered with 
 Gobelin tapestry and a large chiffonnier with brass 
 ornaments constituted the only furniture. This room 
 had been formerly the bedchamber of Louis XVI. 
 
 " Ah, Constant ! " said the Emperor, sitting up in 
 bed, " open the windows that I may breathe the good 
 air which God has made." 
 
 As soon as the apartment was aired, Napoleon 
 jumped out of bed, and still keeping on his head the 
 bandana in which he had slept, threw his dressing- 
 gown about him, thrust his feet into an old pair of 
 red slippers and sat down before the fire, saying to
 
 AUX TUILERIES 59 
 
 Constant, " Call Meneval." The private secretary en- 
 tered. 
 
 " Where are my letters? " said the Emperor. 
 
 Meneval handed them to him and Napoleon himself 
 broke the seals and went rapidly through their con- 
 tents. 
 
 " Here, Meneval," said the Emperor, " Gamier 
 wants to paint my portrait. Well, I give him leave, 
 but I have no time to give him sittings. He shall 
 paint me in my cabinet and you shall be there writing 
 from my dictation. What is this? Canova wants to 
 make another statue of me. Never ! I will go through 
 no more of those tedious sittings. The municipality of 
 Paris beg leave to give a ball at the Hotel de Ville. 
 Yes, let them give it, let it be magnificent. Josephine 
 shall go, but as for me, I have no time to dance." 
 
 " This from the King of Prussia," said the Emperor, 
 taking up another letter, " informs me that I am his 
 very dear brother. Oh, I know that already; I shall 
 continue to be so as long as I am lucky. I know the 
 Berlin cabinet. The Queen is sovereign there. Mar- 
 shal Victor writes me that Prince Augustus of Prussia 
 is behaving badly again. That does not surprise me. 
 He is a man of no intelligence. He spent his time in 
 making love to Madame de Stael at Coppet. He could 
 gain only bad principles there. He shall be informed 
 that the first time he says anything I will lock him up 
 in a fortress and send Madame de Stael to comfort 
 him. What is this? Here is a poor woman, the wife 
 of a soldier who fell at Friedland, who tells me that 
 she is perishing from want. Look you, Meneval, she 
 is to have a pension of a thousand francs. Date it 
 back two years and see that the arrears are given to
 
 60 THE GRENADIER 
 
 her at once. And as for these," said Napoleon, scat- 
 tering the other letters over the carpet, " there is my 
 answer. Come, Meneval, bring your papers." And 
 he rose hastily and went into his bathroom. 
 
 "Well, what is the news?" inquired the Emperor, 
 getting into his tub and turning on the hot water. 
 
 Meneval unfolding his papers began with the 
 " Moniteur." " His Imperial and Royal Majesty," 
 read the secretary, "returned yesterday from Spain, 
 where the glories of his arms have " 
 
 " Bah! " said the Emperor. " Pass over all that. I 
 know it already. They say only what they think will 
 please me. Read the English papers. I am well cut 
 up there, I warrant you." 
 
 " I do not find anything, Your Majesty." 
 
 "Nothing!" said the Emperor. "Well, there will 
 be plenty to-morrow, then. It is an intermittent fever, 
 but look carefully, Meneval. Look for the ' Corsican 
 Ogre ' or ' Bonaparte the Usurper,' you will find some- 
 thing. Perhaps now I have shot Lannes in Spain as 
 I shot Desaix at Marengo. Surely now I have poi- 
 soned some one or beaten Josephine. Look carefully, 
 Meneval." 
 
 " Here, sire," said Meneval, " is a short article 
 headed, ' Buonaparte and His Secretary.' ' The other 
 evening Buonaparte was seated in his cabinet and Lad 
 called in a young secretary named Meneval in whom 
 he had confidence. He told him to hold a light while 
 he read. The secretary put the light so close to Buon- 
 aparte's head that it caught fire, and Buonaparte, 
 thinking that an attack was being made on his life, 
 seized a pistol which he always carries about him and 
 fired point-blank at his secretary, killing him instantly. 
 Buonaparte showed no remorse for the deed.' "
 
 AUX TUILERIES 61 
 
 " Well, Meneval," said the Emperor, " that is a fine 
 obituary notice for you." 
 
 " ' It is further reported,' " continued the secretary, 
 " ' that a few days ago Buonaparte got in a furious pas- 
 sion with Maret, his Secretary of State, rushed at him, 
 knocked him down and dragged him about by the 
 hair of his head, kicking him shamefully. Then he 
 tried to hush the matter up by dictating to him a decree 
 giving him a large forest estate. Such is Buona- 
 parte.' " 
 
 " La verite seule blesse," said the Emperor, laughing 
 and again turning on the hot water. 
 
 The room was now so full of steam that Meneval 
 rose and opened the door. 
 
 "When are you going to be married, Meneval?" 
 inquired the Emperor, as he left the bath. 
 
 " I do not know, sire." 
 
 " Well, let it be soon, I will provide for you." 
 
 Napoleon slipped on a flannel waistcoat and dress- 
 ing-gown of white dimity and tied his handkerchief 
 around his head. Constant handed him a cup of 
 orange-flower water on a gilt salver from his great 
 traveling case, and the Emperor, sitting down by the 
 fire, dictated two letters to Meneval. Meanwhile the 
 valets had prepared the dressing-room. 
 
 "Who are in the salon?" asked Napoleon as he 
 finished. 
 
 " M. de Remusat, M. Corvisart and MM. Fontaine 
 and Barbier, sire," replied Constant. 
 
 " Admit them," said the Emperor, passing into his 
 dressing room. There he found the Mameluke Rous- 
 tan, who, dressed in his picturesque Oriental costume 
 with his crimson and gold turban, was holding the
 
 62 THE GRENADIER 
 
 shaving-mirror. Constant presented the basin and 
 soap. 
 
 " Well, big quack," cried the Emperor as Corvisart 
 entered, " how many people have you killed to-day? " 
 
 " As Your Majesty is my first patient," answered the 
 physician, " I have killed none so far." 
 
 The Emperor laughed and covered one side of his 
 face with the lather, splashing it all about him. He 
 picked up his razor, the pearl handle of which was 
 inlaid with gold, and shaved the side of his face rapidly 
 from the top downward. 
 
 " Fontaine," said he, addressing the architect, " how 
 is the Colonne Vendome progressing? " 
 
 " Rapidly, sire, your statue is nearly ready to be 
 raised to the top." 
 
 " If I had my way," said the Emperor, lathering the 
 other side of his face, " that part would be left to 
 posterity. The statues of a man put up in his lifetime 
 are likely to be pulled down. Am I well shaved, 
 Constant? " 
 
 " Yes, sire." 
 
 " Ah, you rogue," said the Emperor, pulling his ear, 
 " there are still some hairs on the chin. Why do you 
 say I am well shaved?" He quickly removed them 
 and plunged his head into the great basin of his silver 
 washing-stand. 
 
 " And what are you doing with the Arc de Triomphe 
 on the Carrousel? " continued the Emperor, picking 
 up a little pair of scissors and trimming his nails care- 
 fully. His hands were beautiful, and he took great 
 care of them. 
 
 " It is nearly finished, sire," said M. Fontaine. 
 
 "Triumphal arches," said Napoleon, "would be
 
 AUX TUILERIES 63 
 
 futile works and productive of no effect whatever and 
 I should not have ordered them had I not thought that 
 this was a means of encouraging architecture. I wish 
 to stimulate sculpture in France by means of these 
 triumphal arches for ten years. The Minister of the 
 Interior is to ertjt another at the Etoile. One must 
 be the Arch of Marengo and the other the Arch of 
 Austerlitz. I shall have another built in some other 
 part of Paris which will be the Arch of Peace and 
 another the Arch of Religion." 
 
 The Emperor's scissors did not cut well and he threw 
 them into the fire. Then he took off his flannel waist- 
 coat while Constant poured eau de cologne upon his 
 head and shoulders and two valets scrubbed him with 
 stiff brushes. " Come, harder, harder," cried the Em- 
 peror, " brush as though you were rubbing an ass! " 
 
 He rapidly put on his flannels, his white silk stock- 
 ings and his white kerseymere breeches. 
 
 " Barbier," said he to the librarian, " I have drawn 
 up a scheme for a portable library to carry with me on 
 campaign. There are many works on history, litera- 
 ture and science which do not exist in I2mo and 
 i8mo editions. I mean to have such translated and 
 reprinted and carry with me in boxes with compart- 
 ments. Have you examined carefully the data I sent 
 you from Marrac? " 
 
 " Yes, sire," replied Barbier. 
 
 At this moment Duroc, Grand Marshal of the 
 Palace, entered unannounced, for he had the entree 
 at all hours. 
 
 " Monsieur le Marechal," said the Emperor, " I want 
 to go over the budget for the Imperial household with 
 you this morning. Bring it to my cabinet We must
 
 64 THE GRENADIER 
 
 retrench on 1808. Three million five hundred thousand 
 francs are too much. There is waste somewhere. 
 How many pounds of sugar are consumed weekly by 
 my household? " 
 
 " I do not know, sire." 
 
 "Well, you ought to know. I must know this 
 morning. Three millions are all I shall allow for 1809. 
 I am determined to save that five hundred thousand 
 francs." 
 
 The Emperor had buckled on his sword-belt and 
 put on his white kerseymere waistcoat, and was now 
 putting on his green coat of the chasseurs a cheval of 
 the Guard with its red collar and cuffs. 
 
 " Remusat," said Napoleon, addressing the Grand 
 Master of the Wardrobe, "what do I pay for my 
 coats?" 
 
 " Two hundred and forty francs, Your Majesty." 
 
 " That is too much," said the Emperor, " that tailor 
 Chevalier is continually raising his prices. He thinks 
 no doubt that you are the officer of some great lord. 
 Why should I pay more than others? Moreover," he 
 added, "it is most unseemly that tradesmen should 
 present their bills to me. Not long ago at St. Cloud, 
 when I was in my caleche with the Empress at my 
 side and in the midst of an immense concourse of 
 people, I found myself called upon all of a sudden in 
 the Eastern fashion, as if I had been the Sultan going 
 to Mosque, by a man who had worked for my person 
 and claimed a considerable sum, the payment of which 
 had been long refused him. In future I will have 
 nothing more to do with my wardrobe. Take care, 
 M. de Remusat, that you allow no debts to accumu- 
 late."
 
 AUX TUILERIES 65 
 
 At a few minutes before nine the Chamberlain of the 
 day, in his scarlet coat embroidered in silver, his white 
 waistcoat and knee breeches, knocked at the door to 
 announce the lever. The Emperor, who never carried 
 watch or money, took from the hands of Constant his 
 handkerchief, his eye-glass, his bonbonnier, his snuff- 
 box, and finally his famous petit chapeau, and at nine 
 o'clock precisely the doors were thrown open, the 
 usher on duty announced " The Emperor," and he 
 entered the salon where were assembled the great offi- 
 cers of the Crown and the officers of the household on 
 duty. In front stood M. de Talleyrand, Grand Cham- 
 berlain, in his scarlet coat embroidered in silver; then 
 M. de Segur, Grand Master of Ceremonies, in violet; 
 the Grand Huntsman and Lieutenant of the Hunt in 
 green; M. Bausset, Prefect of the Palace, in purple; 
 the Equerry in blue; Cardinal Fesch, Grand Almoner, 
 in his ecclesiastical cassock; Daru, Intendant General, 
 the Crown Treasurer, and M. Pasquier, Prefect of 
 Police. The lever was short and formal. The Em- 
 peror passed about the circle, giving briefly to each one 
 his orders. He said nothing to M. de Talleyrand. As 
 he came to the Prefect of Police he inquired: 
 
 " How many bags of wheat are there now in the 
 grain market?" 
 
 " About 20,000, sire," replied M. Pasquier. 
 
 " You ought to know exactly, sir," said the Em- 
 peror, who demanded exact answers. In future M. 
 Pasquier, whose memory was somewhat defective, car- 
 ried a note-book. 
 
 In a few moments the lever was ended, and by a 
 slight bow the Emperor dismissed them, and then the 
 Chamberlain of the day announced the Grandes 
 Entrees. The persons who were entitled to this privi- 
 
 5
 
 66 THE GRENADIER 
 
 lege the great officers of the Empire, the presidents 
 of the various bodies of State, the chief authorities of 
 Paris had meanwhile alighted from their carriages at 
 the Pavilion de Flore, and entering the Palace, assem- 
 bled in the salon de service. The Arch-Chancellor 
 Cambaceres; Lebrun, Arch-Treasurer; Talleyrand, 
 Grand Chamberlain and Vice-Grand Elector; Regnier, 
 Minister of Justice; Clarke, Minister of War; Decres, 
 Minister of Naval Affairs; Gaudin, Minister of Fin- 
 ance; Mollien, Minister of the Public Treasury, sena- 
 tors, marshals, generals, the Princes of the Rhine Con- 
 federation, the Grand Duke of Baden, Prince William 
 of Prussia, the Prince of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the 
 Archbishop of Regensburg, the Prince of Mecklen- 
 burg-Schwerin all were waiting for the moment 
 which should admit them to the master. 
 
 The Grandes Entrees being summoned, the Chamber- 
 lain of the day admitted into the salon of the Emperor 
 all this glittering crowd in the order of their rank. 
 The Emperor, passing about the circle, spoke to every- 
 body, questioned them, interrogated them, and talking 
 only business administration, politics, war, the army, 
 finance demanded exact answers to his precise and 
 minute inquiries. The generals returned from distant 
 missions were assailed with a volley of questions and 
 the Emperor soon gained the information he desired. 
 In half an hour the lever was ended and the throng 
 of dignitaries retired, but the Emperor retained the 
 Ministers of Marine and Finance, to whom he gave a 
 private audience in the same apartment, standing, as 
 was his wont, before the fireplace and occasionally 
 kicking the andirons with his heels. 
 
 At ten this audience was finished ; the Emperor dis-
 
 AUX TUILERIES 67 
 
 missed them by a bow and ordered his dejeuner. 
 Dunan, Maitre d'Hotel, assisted by his valets, brought 
 in the small mahogany table upon which were placed 
 the dishes with silver covers. His Majesty seated him- 
 self and ate rapidly, for with him breakfast was an 
 affair of ten minutes. As he finished his coffee, the 
 Prefect of the Palace approached. 
 
 " Sire," said he, " there is a dispatch from Spain." 
 
 " Admit him," replied the Emperor. 
 
 The door was opened, and the Baron Lejeune 
 entered. 
 
 "From the Marshal Lannes?" inquired the Em- 
 peror, taking the letter. 
 
 " Yes, sire." 
 
 Napoleon tore the envelope with his finger. " You 
 have been long on the way, sir," he said suddenly, 
 looking up at Lejeune. " The surrender was on the 
 
 2ISt." 
 
 " Your Majesty, the Marshal's first dispatch to me 
 at Tudela was intercepted," said the Baron. " I did 
 not receive this until I had returned to Saragossa." 
 
 "To whom was the first dispatch entrusted?" in- 
 quired the Emperor. 
 
 " To a recruit by the name of Pasquin, I believe," 
 answered Lejeune. 
 
 " A recruit! " said Napoleon in surprise, " were there 
 no orderly officers?" 
 
 " I do not know, sire." 
 
 His Majesty made a sign that the interview was 
 ended, and pushing his chair back quickly from the 
 table, he rose and retired to his study. In his all- 
 retentive memory the word Pasquin had become syn- 
 onymous with failure.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE IMPERIAL MAN OF BUSINESS 
 
 Now, by St. Paul, the work goes bravely on. 
 
 GIBBER, Richard III. 
 
 How various his employments. 
 
 COWPER, The Task. 
 
 THE Emperor's study was a room of no great dimen- 
 sions and lighted by only one window, which looked 
 out upon the Tuileries garden. Around the walls 
 were high bookcases filled with volumes in plain bind- 
 ings, each carefully catalogued, and stamped " Cabinet 
 de 1'Empereur." On one side between the cases stood 
 a great regulator clock, and, opposite the fireplace, a 
 long closet with glass doors which contained boxes 
 for holding papers, and upon which was placed the 
 only work of art the Emperor ever desired personally 
 to have a bronze equestrian statue of the great Fred- 
 eric, the sovereign whom he most admired, and whom 
 he called the " great tactician." The paintings on the 
 walls and ceiling remained as in the days of Louis 
 XIV, and upon the dark canvases, almost black with 
 age, might be seen Maria Theresa under the guise of 
 Minerva. 
 
 In the centre of the room was a magnificent writing- 
 desk covered with gilt bronze, and an arm-chair of 
 antique shape, but the Emperor rarely used them ex- 
 cept to give his signature. His habitual seat was on
 
 IMPERIAL MAN OF BUSINESS 69 
 
 a small green-covered sofa near the fireplace, protected 
 from the fire by a screen, and having near it a little 
 table on which his letters were placed. One door of 
 the apartment opened into a small back study, deco- 
 rated, like the other, with paintings of the Louis XIV 
 period, and here the Emperor sometimes gave audience 
 to his ministers, for he rarely received people in his 
 study, and strangers never. 
 
 Adjoining was the topographic cabinet, with its 
 great tables and innumerable pigeon-holes in which 
 were arranged in perfect order the maps maps of the 
 world, of Europe, of all parts of Europe, maps in 
 detail and maps in relief mounted on strong, thick 
 linen and enclosed in cardboard cases covered with 
 sheepskin. The chief of this department was the 
 Baron Bacler d'Albe, who, assisted by two geometrical 
 engineers, was constantly employed in Paris and on 
 campaign in registering on the maps by means of 
 colored pins the movements of the various army corps 
 following the victorious eagles. 
 
 There was no luxury in these rooms; that was re- 
 served for the State apartments. Here all was for 
 work, and the necessary tools maps, books, secre- 
 taries and engineers were at the hand of the master. 
 
 When the Emperor entered he found M. de Meneval 
 already at his desk in the recess of the window. The 
 Emperor threw his hat and sword on a chair and sat 
 down on the sofa by the fireplace, where for a few 
 moments he ran over the letters placed on the small 
 table. Then rising he said, " Let us begin, Meneval," 
 and walking slowly to and fro across the room, some- 
 times twisting his right arm or pulling the cuff of his 
 coat, he began his dictation.
 
 70 THE GRENADIER 
 
 First, a letter to the King of Bavaria, in which he 
 informed him that he was about to assemble 150,000 
 French and Italians on the Po, 150,000 French on the 
 Upper Danube, and that he counted on 100,000 Ger- 
 mans; to prevent war if there was yet time; to secure 
 the prosperous issue of it should a conflict take place. 
 Another, in the same general terms, to the King of 
 Saxony, another to the King of Wurtemburg, another 
 to the King of Westphalia, another to the Duke of 
 Baden. He ordered them all to prepare themselves 
 and demanded the assemblage of their troops around 
 Munich, Dresden and Warsaw. 
 
 Then, to the King of Prussia, whom he informed 
 that if he levied a single man beyond the 42,000 author- 
 ized by the Treaty of Tilsit, he would declare war 
 against him; then to Murat, King of Naples, whom 
 he ordered to distribute his army in two divisions, one 
 between Naples and Reggio, the other between Naples 
 and Rome ; then to the Emperor Alexander, whom he 
 informed of his return from Spain, of the armaments 
 of Austria, and whom he called upon to fulfil the 
 terms of agreement made at Erfurt; then to General 
 Lauriston, whom he ordered to add 48 pieces of artil- 
 lery to the Guard and to purchase 1800 horses in 
 Alsace; then to Fouche, Minister of Police, whom he 
 commanded to make a census of the old noble families 
 living on their estates, enrol their sons and send them 
 to the military school. " If they complain," he added 
 " say that such is my good pleasure." 
 
 The Emperor continued to walk during his dicta- 
 tion, and as he became more interested he walked 
 faster, while Meneval's pen ran rapidly over the paper. 
 
 " To the Marshal Lannes," said he abruptly, picking 
 up Lannes' letter from the small table.
 
 IMPERIAL MAN OF BUSINESS 71 
 
 " Monsieur le Marechal: 
 
 " I have received your letter by the Baron Lejeune. 
 The Minister of War will send you my instructions 
 regarding the troops to be kept in Saragossa. It 
 would have been of great advantage to me to have 
 learned of the surrender sooner. In future send me 
 no more recruits. Your Pasquin was a pasquin 
 indeed. I am about to wage war with Austria. Come 
 to Paris at once." 
 
 Then the Emperor sat down on his sofa and began 
 to read the papers in the portfolio of the Minister of 
 Justice. All the Ministers were required to send their 
 portfolios to him; he read their papers, and wrote his 
 answers on the margins. Meneval, meanwhile, was 
 busy writing out clean copies of the letters upon the 
 thick, plain Imperial letter-paper and preparing them 
 for the Emperor's signature. 
 
 After a time, the Grand Marshal entered, bringing 
 the budget of the Imperial household for the ensuing 
 year. The Emperor took it and began going over the 
 items. 
 
 " Coffee costs me a great deal," said he, " let us see, 
 there are 155 cups of coffee consumed daily, each cup 
 costs 20 sous, coffee is 5 francs a pound and sugar 4 
 francs," and taking up a pen he began figuring on the 
 margin. " That amounts yearly to more than 56,000 
 francs. We will have no more coffee in kind. I will 
 give a money allowance. I shall save 30,000 francs." 
 The Emperor went on over the other items, cutting 
 here and retrenching there until Duroc declared that the 
 Imperial household could not be maintained upon its 
 present footing with so little. The Emperor laughed 
 and pulled his ear, saying, " We shall see. Three 
 million francs must do for 1809."
 
 72 THE GRENADIER 
 
 The Master of the Horse requested an audience and 
 the Emperor went into the back cabinet to receive 
 him. It was all about a certain coachman, Bonnat by 
 name, who, having been twice discharged for drunken- 
 ness and taken back, had committed the offense a 
 third time. " Yes," said the Emperor, " Bonnat is not 
 worth much. However," he added, for he was slow to 
 remove those who had been with him in the early days, 
 " let him remain. He drove an ammunition-wagon at 
 Marengo," and he went back to his study. 
 
 Meneval had prepared the letters for his signature, 
 and the Emperor, sitting at his writing-desk, signed 
 them rapidly; those to sovereigns in full, Napoleon; 
 the others simply N. or Nap. It was half-past one. 
 " It is time to go to the Council," said the Emperor, 
 taking a pinch of snuff. Duroc handed him his hat 
 and sword, and he went out into the salon, where he 
 found the chamberlain of the day and the aide-de- 
 camp on duty. Followed by them, he crossed the 
 Hall of the Guards, and the Salle de Marechaux, went 
 down the grand staircase and up another which led 
 to the Council Hall. The drums rolled, as he came up 
 the staircase, and gave notice of his approach. 
 
 The Hall of the Council of State was very large. 
 Its windows looked out upon the courtyard of the 
 Palace, and on its ceiling was Gerard's famous picture 
 of the battle of Austerlitz. At one end of the hall, on 
 a dais, were three writing-tables; the Emperor's in the 
 centre, the Arch-Chancellor's on the right, the Arch- 
 Treasurer's on the left. By the windows were the 
 tables of the Councillors of State and of the auditors, 
 while at the other end of the apartment were the desks 
 of the Masters of Requests.
 
 IMPERIAL MAN OF BUSINESS 73 
 
 Here were the men with whom the Emperor had 
 worked upon the Civil Code, the Code of Procedure, 
 the Code of Commerce, the Penal Code, the Code of 
 Criminal Administration the famous Tronchet, Por- 
 talis, Merlin, Segur, Real, d'Hauterive and Fourcroy; 
 also the directors-general Duchatel, Franc.ais, Beren- 
 ger, Pelet, Bergon and Laumond. At the Council of 
 State the former sous-lieutenant of La Fere, in spite 
 of his strictly military education, displayed a legal 
 erudition which astonished his hearers. He was 
 prouder of the Code Napoleon than of Austerlitz or 
 Jena, for, said he, " I shall go down to posterity with 
 the Code in my hand." 
 
 The Council, which met at half-past twelve, had 
 already been in session an hour when the Emperor 
 entered. He sat down at his writing-desk and con- 
 sulted the printed order of the day, which was placed 
 there, and then, calling up a subject which interested 
 him, invited discussion. He liked a free and general 
 discussion and provoked young auditors to contradic- 
 tion to make it so. At the Council he seemed to make 
 good his statement, " I do not feel any limit to my 
 power for work," and he kept everyone else up to the 
 same pressure. 
 
 M. Fourcroy rose to report on the affairs of Hol- 
 land; his report was long, and, as he read, the Em- 
 peror occasionally looked at him through his eye-glass, 
 then he cut grooves in the arm of his chair or wrote 
 mechanically upon a scrap of paper, " Mon Dieu, que 
 je vous aime," seven or eight times over, and took 
 large pinches of snuff, which he scattered on the floor 
 about him. When the report was finished, he called 
 for discussion, took part in it himself, and, with his
 
 74 THE GRENADIER 
 
 analytical penetration, summed up clearly complicated 
 questions. 
 
 The hours flew by, it was eight in the evening, and 
 still the Council sat. The Emperor's dinner-hour was 
 six, but he had forgotten all about it, and no one dared 
 to remind him, for nothing interfered with the Council 
 of State. 
 
 Since six o'clock, the Empress Josephine, dressed 
 with that taste she knew so well how to display, to 
 which she had accustomed the Emperor and which 
 made him very critical of other women's toilets, had 
 been waiting in her apartment. She always dined 
 alone with the Emperor and was always ready, 
 but she often had to wait. It did not make much 
 difference to her, however, for she ate little, and was 
 never annoyed if she dined at eight or at ten; but it 
 was a source of great anxiety to the Prefect of the 
 Palace and the maitre d'hotel, who had to renew the 
 boiling water in the dish- warmers and have a fresh fowl 
 put on the spit every quarter of an hour. In spite of 
 all their precautions the dishes generally suffered, but 
 the Emperor never noticed it. Finally, at half-past 
 eight, Napoleon dismissed the Council and entered the 
 apartments of the Empress. 
 
 There was no dining-room at the Tuileries, and the 
 Emperor dined one evening in the Empress's apart- 
 ments and another in his own. Everything except 
 the dessert was served at once, and the Emperor, sit- 
 ting down to table abstractedly, ate the first dish that 
 came to hand. He chatted with the Empress, admired 
 her toilet, and then asked for M. Barbier, who had 
 been summoned to read him the translation of a Ger- 
 man paper.
 
 IMPERIAL MAN OF BUSINESS 75 
 
 The Prefect of the Palace approached. " Sire," said 
 he, " there is a dispatch from Spain." 
 
 "Admit him," cried the Emperor, laying down his 
 fork. 
 
 The orderly officer, booted, and splashed with mud 
 from his hurried journey, entered and presented his 
 dispatch. To these dispatch-bearers all doors flew 
 open ; they were received at all hours. " It is from 
 Ney," said the Emperor to Josephine, " he is in pursuit 
 of the English." 
 
 He rose from table. The dinner had lasted fifteen 
 minutes, and, giving his hand to the Empress, Napo- 
 leon conducted her to his salon. There he took his 
 coffee, which Josephine herself sweetened, or he would 
 have forgotten it. 
 
 " Sire, you will come to-night to the ball at the 
 Minister of Marine's?" said the Empress. 
 
 " Yes, I will come," said Napoleon, "but ten o'clock 
 will be time enough. I am going to work at nine with 
 the Minister of Finance." 
 
 He went back to his study, and at nine precisely, 
 M. Gaudin was announced. He found the Emperor 
 lying at full length on the floor upon an immense map 
 of central Europe, in which he was sticking colored 
 pins; near him was the Baron d'Albe. "There," said 
 Napoleon, " I shall concentrate near Donauwerth, I 
 shall beat them at Abensburg, or Ratisbon, and there 
 lies the road to Vienna," and he pointed to the right 
 bank of the Danube. " However, my good Gaudin," 
 he added, " for all this we must have money, so let 
 us get to work." 
 
 He seated himself on the sofa, d'Albe rolled up the 
 map, and the Minister produced his papers.
 
 76 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " What is the amount of the budget for 1809? " in- 
 quired the Emperor. 
 
 " 730 millions for general expenses and 40 millions 
 for departmental ; a total of 890 millions with the costs 
 of collection," replied the Minister. 
 
 " In 1807 and 1808 the troops beyond the Rhine 
 were paid from the army treasury," said the Emperor. 
 " We must do the same in 1809." 
 
 "All the expenses of the army in Germany were 
 paid down to the 3ist of last December," said 
 M. Gaudin, " and there should be in the army treasury 
 about 300 millions ; 20 millions from the war in Austria 
 and 280 millions from the war in Prussia." 
 
 " But only forty millions of that will be available, 
 and I have reduced Prussia's contribution 20 millions 
 at the request of the Emperor Alexander," said Napo- 
 leon. 
 
 " The budget for 1809," remarked M. Gaudin, " has 
 quite enough to do to pay the armies in Spain and 
 Italy." 
 
 " True," said the Emperor, " there must not be a 
 deficit in the budget, and it will take 77 millions to 
 pay the troops in Germany for the year. Let us see 
 where to get them." And the Emperor and his Min- 
 ister began figuring. 
 
 Time passed and as the clock struck twelve there was 
 a knock at the door. " Who is there? " called the Em- 
 peror. It was a page from the Empress. The ball 
 was magnificent and all were impatiently awaiting the 
 Emperor's arrival. " All in good time," cried Napo- 
 leon, " tell the Empress I am at work with the Minister 
 of Finance. We are coming." 
 
 They continued their work, and an hour later there
 
 IMPERIAL MAN OF BUSINESS 77 
 
 was another knock at the door. It was again a page 
 from the Empress. " We are coming," cried the Em- 
 peror, continuing his writing. 
 
 " What time is that, Gaudin? " he inquired finally as 
 the clock struck. 
 
 " Three o'clock, sire." 
 
 "Ah, mon Dieu! it is too late for us to go to the 
 ball; what do you think about it? " 
 
 " That is quite my view, sire/' 
 
 " Then let us each go to bed," said the Emperor. 
 " Well," he added, as M. Gaudin took his hat to depart, 
 " many people think that we pass our lives in amusing 
 ourselves, and, as the Orientals say, eating sweetmeats. 
 Good night, Monsieur le Ministre."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 THE WIDOW PASQUIN 
 
 Smit with exceeding sorrow unto death. 
 
 TENNYSON, The Lover' 's Tale. 
 
 IT was the third of March, and Henri Jodelle stood in 
 his room reading a letter. He read it carefully, and 
 his face grew grave as he did so. " I am sorry for 
 the young Pasquin," said Henri. " He was not a bad 
 fellow, and I rather liked the boy's pluck when he 
 went off to the war. Now Deteau writes me that he 
 has been killed at Saragossa. So tout est fini." 
 
 The gargon Gaspard put his head in at the door. 
 "Pere Henri," said he, "it is four o'clock. You 
 wanted to go to the Trois Dauphins, didn't you? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Henri, taking up his cloak and 
 hat He went down into the cafe and out into the 
 Place Grenette. 
 
 "Ah, good day, Henri," said old Frederic Bonne- 
 ville. " Have you any news from Spain? " 
 
 " Yes. Jean Deteau, the aide-de-camp to Marshal 
 Lannes, you know, has written me a letter. Saragossa 
 has surrendered, but a nasty fight those Spanish devils 
 made of it Sixty days they kept us at it. The Em- 
 peror should have been there. Things would have 
 come to an end quickly then." 
 
 " Ajax is a good soldier," said old Bonneville. 
 
 " Of course he is," answered Henri, " but it takes
 
 WIDOW PASQUIN 79 
 
 the Little Corporal to hurry matters. Look how 
 quickly he brought Madrid to terms. Ah, if I had 
 the two good legs I had once, I would go again 
 and have a hand at it myself. Where are you going, 
 Frederic?" 
 
 " To the Cafe Jodelle." 
 
 " Well, go, and wait for me there. Gaspard will 
 give you a glass of wine. I am going to the Trois 
 Dauphins, but I'll be back at five o'clock. Adieu, 
 Frederic." 
 
 Henri went on his way and entered the Rue Mon- 
 torge. " I'll say nothing about the young Pasquin to 
 Marie to-day," he said to himself. " To-morrow will 
 be time enough. Now there is Widow Pasquin's 
 epicerie. I fancy she ought to know, so I will stop 
 and tell her." 
 
 He crossed the street and entered the shop. There 
 was no one in it, and Henri passed to the rear and 
 knocked at the door of the room in which Jeanne 
 Pasquin lived. 
 
 " Come in," said the Widow, and he entered. 
 
 The Widow Pasquin was sitting in her high-backed 
 chair before the little fireplace. The firelight played 
 over her white cap, heavy dark dress and curious 
 wooden shoes, and brought out more clearly the 
 wrinkles and lines of her sad face. 
 
 " Bon jour, mere Pasquin," said Henri. " I found 
 no one in your shop and so I knocked at your door." 
 
 " Come in, Henri Jodelle, and sit down by the fire," 
 said the Widow. And when he had done so she asked, 
 "What can I do for you? " 
 
 Henri seemed a little embarrassed. " Well, mere 
 Pasquin," he said, " what news do you have from your 
 son Pierre?"
 
 8o THE GRENADIER 
 
 There was something in his tone which made the 
 Widow grow pale and she looked at him nervously. 
 " I heard from him at Saragossa," she answered. " He 
 had been wounded, but was getting well fast. Tell 
 me, pere Henri, have you any news? " 
 
 Henri, with a soldier's bluntness, pulled Deteau's 
 letter out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took 
 it with trembling hands and read it hurriedly by the 
 firelight. Then with a low cry, " Ah, mon Dieu ! " 
 she sank forward in her chair and buried her face in 
 her hands. 
 
 The tears streamed from her eyes. " He is dead! " 
 she cried. " My brave Pierre ! my only boy ! My 
 God ! My God ! what will become of me ! " And her 
 wasted, trembling body shook with her sobs. 
 
 " This will never do," muttered Henri nervously, " I 
 must cheer her up a bit." " Le diable! good mere 
 Pasquin," he cried bluntly, " you son has had a gallant 
 death. Why, if I had twenty sons I'd send them all 
 to battle pour la patrie! Where can a brave man die 
 better than on the field of honor under the banners of 
 our glorious Emperor?" 
 
 " Stop, Henri Jodelle, stop ! " cried the Widow, rais- 
 ing her feeble hand. " You little know, you hard, 
 rough man, the grief that fills a mother's heart when 
 she has lost her only boy! As for that man, that 
 Napoleon whom you style ' glorious Emperor,' speak 
 no more of him! Have I not given him my all; my 
 Amand, my Robert, my Pierre! Go, Henri Jodelle, 
 and torture me no more ! " 
 
 Henri's face was a study as he walked along the 
 Rue Montorge toward the Hotel des Trois Dauphins. 
 " I didn't think she would take on like that," he said.
 
 WIDOW PASQUIN 81 
 
 " When one's son goes to war one should be prepared 
 to have him killed, and, after all, quelle difference if he 
 but die gloriously on the field of honor." 
 
 In her little room the Widow Pasquin sat sobbing 
 and moaning. The shades of evening came gradually 
 on, and then darkness, and only the faint light of the 
 fire illumined the sombre gloom of the room. The 
 sobs became softer and finally ceased. It was night, 
 and still the Widow Pasquin sat motionless in her 
 high-backed chair. The light of the fire died away, 
 and nothing remained but the dull gleam of the red 
 embers; gradually that died too, and all was darkness. 
 Then, on the lofty summits of the surrounding mount- 
 ains, appeared the first rays of the morning, faintly at 
 first, then brighter and brighter, and, at last, the sun 
 rose, bringing light and life and joy; a new day had 
 begun. 
 
 The bright rays shone into the little room, filling it 
 with a blaze of light and glory, but the Widow Pasquin 
 moved not; she still sat in her high-backed chair. The 
 homme du pcuple started to his daily toil, the portiere 
 took her broom and swept the doorways, the wretched 
 chiffonniers went with their baskets in search of gar- 
 bage, the pale-faced soeur de charite, with her white cap 
 and cross and beads, began her errands of mercy, the 
 bouquetiere arranged her flowers on the sidewalk, the 
 torn and tattered mendiants tramped about looking for 
 a few sous, the marchand de coco, with his long can 
 strapped on his back, his tin cups and curious round 
 hat, began to vend his wares, the porteur d'eau carried 
 his water-pails hung over his shoulder, the patissier 
 arranged his cakes for the boys going to school, the 
 fact cur de la poste delivered his letters, the modiste 
 
 6
 
 82 THE GRENADIER 
 
 dusted the articles in her pretty shop, the gendarmes 
 brought their prisoners before the commissaire de police, 
 the doulairiere commenced to tell her fortunes, the 
 maitresse de maison sipped her coffee, the white-headed 
 jardinier de cimetiere raked his gravel walks, the 
 commissionnaires ran about on people's errands, at the 
 Trois Dauphins the conducteur de diligence waited for 
 his horses to be put in. The life of the town had 
 begun, and still the Widow Pasquin sat motionless in 
 her high-backed chair. 
 
 Was she asleep, forgetting that she, too, must be 
 about and doing? Ah, no! That in the chair was 
 no longer Widow Pasquin: she had gone to join her 
 Robert and pere Amand. 
 
 When Henri came down into the room where he and 
 his daughter took breakfast, he found Marie crying 
 bitterly. Now, how can she have learned anything of 
 this? thought Henri. " Do not cry, Marie," he said, 
 "the young Pasquin was a plucky fellow and I am 
 sorry that he is dead, but " 
 
 " Why, father, he is not dead ! " exclaimed Marie. 
 
 "What!" cried Henri. "Why, only yesterday I 
 had a letter from Jean Deteau telling me so." 
 
 " And I have had a letter from Pierre this morning," 
 answered Marie. " But, oh, father! dreadful things 
 have happened! Jean tried to kill Pierre, and also 
 told him that I was to marry an officer of dragoons. 
 Ah, pere Henri!" And Marie's eyes were full of 
 tears. 
 
 Henri looked strangely puzzled. " Give me the 
 letter," he said. He read it slowly, his eyes growing 
 larger and larger and his face redder and redder as 
 he did so. " Le grand diable!" he roared as he
 
 WIDOW PASQUIN 83 
 
 finished, striking his thigh with his hand. Then, seiz- 
 ing his hat, he hurried from the room, leaving Marie 
 sad and bewildered. 
 
 Henri hastened along toward the Rue Montorge and 
 his crutch thumped vigorously on the cobblestones. 
 "The pere Henri is in a great hurry this morning," 
 said dame Bovard to her husband as he passed their 
 door. 
 
 The shop of the Widow Pasquin was quiet, and 
 Henri, passing through it, knocked at the door of her 
 room. There was no response. He tried the door, it 
 opened and he entered. Why, there she was before 
 the fireplace ! " Cheer up, mere Pasquin," he cried 
 
 gaily, "your son ." And then he stopped and 
 
 came slowly forward, looking at the pale face and 
 closed eyes. He lifted one of the thin hands, put 
 down his head and held his ear against the heart 
 some minutes. Then he went softly out and closed 
 the door. 
 
 As he came through the shop the facteur de la paste 
 entered. " Here is a letter for the Widow Pasquin," 
 he said. 
 
 " Good Andre," answered Henri slowly, " the 
 Widow Pasquin will receive no more letters. She is 
 dead." 
 
 "Well, that's a pity," answered Andre. "She's 
 been looking badly for a good while, I've been think- 
 ing." And he humed on. 
 
 Henri took up the letter and then drew from his 
 pocket Pierre's letter to Marie and compared them. 
 The handwriting was the same. He went back and 
 quietly placed the letter in the mere Pasquin's hand, 
 and as he came out and locked the door, there were 
 tears in the eyes of stern old Henri Jodelle.
 
 84 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " Marie," said he, when he reached the cafe, " the 
 mere Pasquin died last night You must write to the 
 young Pierre. Tell him I will attend to the funeral, 
 and tell him in the same letter, mind you that if he 
 proves himself a brave soldier and comes home safe 
 and sound, he shall marry you. Tell him Henri 
 Jodelle says that, and Henri Jodelle always keeps his 
 word!" 
 
 " I owe that much to la veuve Pasquin," he muttered. 
 
 When he was done he took Jean Deteau's letter 
 from his pocket, tore it into small fragments and threw 
 it into the fireplace, saying fiercely, " le grand diable ! " 
 
 In the cemetery of Grenoble there stands a small 
 gravestone, placed there by Henri Jodelle, and bearing 
 this inscription: 
 
 La Veuve Pasquin, 
 Nee a Vizille le 13 Avril 1758. 
 Morte a Grenoble le 3 Mars 1809.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE ECKMUHL 
 
 Tout soldat frangais porte dans sa giberne le baton de 
 Marechal de France. NAPOLEON. 
 
 GREAT events were in progress, for it was now evident 
 that war with Austria was imminent, and this time 
 they were to fight on the battlegrounds of Europe 
 under the eyes of the Emperor himself. 
 
 Leaving Alagon, the H5th of the Line had marched 
 to Bayonne, and then northeast across France, 
 through Mont de Marsan, Cahors, Aurillac and St. 
 Etienne, to Lyons. This city, situated at the conflu- 
 ence of the Saone and the Rhone, is, by reason of its 
 industry and commerce, next to Paris in municipal 
 importance. Here the H5th went into quarters, and 
 they were kept constantly at work. It was drill, drill, 
 drill, from morning till night, in the Place Bellecour. 
 The Boudet and Molitor divisions were there, too, and 
 Pierre began to know some of those old soldiers who 
 had followec the victorious French eagles on so many 
 battlefields. At that time a division of the corps 
 d'armee consisted of four regiments of infantry of the 
 Line (forming two brigades), one regiment of light in- 
 fantry and one regiment of chasseurs (forming the 
 vanguard), four regiments of cavalry, chasseurs and 
 cuirassiers, two companies of light artillery, eight 
 pieces of heavy artillery, twelve-pounders and eight-
 
 86 THE GRENADIER 
 
 inch howitzers, a park of reserve with the necessary 
 ammunition for heavy and light artillery, and cart- 
 ridges for infantry and cavalry. Then, too, there were 
 butchers, bakers, sutlers and all the baggage-train. 
 
 What tremendous enthusiasm there was among the 
 old soldiers of the Boudet and Molitor divisions! The 
 1 1 5th of the Line, who had been merged into the 
 Boudet division, quickly caught the spirit and longed 
 only for the day when the order should come to march. 
 Finally the order came, and, on a bright March morn- 
 ing, the Boudet and Molitor divisions left Lyons and 
 took the road to Strassburg. 
 
 The various Marshals of the Empire were not all at 
 the Emperor's service for the present campaign. Ney, 
 Soult, Victor, and Mortier were carrying on the war 
 in Spain; Murat, recovering from his indisposition, 
 caused mainly by his disappointment at being declared 
 King of Naples instead of King of Spain, was not 
 available. But the Emperor had three whom he 
 valued most highly; Davout, Massena, and the brave 
 Lannes, whom he had summoned after the fall of Sara- 
 gossa. To each of these he had assigned fifty thou- 
 sand men. 
 
 Davout, with the Morand, Friant and Gudin divi- 
 sions and the splendid St. Sulpice cuirassiers, was sta- 
 tioned between Bayreuth and Ratisbon. Massena, 
 with the Carra St. Cyr, Legrand, Boudet and Molitor 
 divisions, light cavalry, Hessians and Badens, was to 
 have his rendezvous at Ulm. The St. Hilaire division, 
 the three divisions of General Oudinot and the cuiras- 
 siers of General Espagne were at Augsburg, awaiting 
 Marshal Lannes, who had not yet arrived. At Munich, 
 Landshut and Straubing were the Bavarians, Wurtem-
 
 NIGHT BEFORE ECKMUHL 87 
 
 bergers and Saxons under Marshals Lefebvre, Auge- 
 reau and Prince Bernadotte. In reserve were the cav- 
 alry dragoons, carabineers and cuirassiers of General 
 Nansouty and the Imperial Guard, twenty thousand 
 strong, commanded by Marshal Bessieres. Prince 
 Berthier was Major-General, M. Daru, Commissary- 
 General, and over all was the Commander-in-Chief, the 
 Emperor Napoleon, delaying in Paris until the last 
 moment that he might better transmit his orders to his 
 armies in Spain and Italy, keeping his eyes constantly 
 fixed on the semaphore telegraph, and ready at the 
 first movement of the great Austrian army, 200,000 
 strong, commanded by the generalissimo, the Arch- 
 duke Charles to throw himself into his traveling 
 carriage and take the field. 
 
 The Boudet and Molitor divisions had not proceeded 
 far from Lyons when they received orders to turn to- 
 ward Belfort and take the shortest road through the 
 Black Forest to Ulm. From Ulm they were hastened 
 on to Augsburg, where Massena took command. 
 
 On the loth of April, the Austrians crossed the Inn. 
 The news was known in Paris on the evening of the 
 1 2th, and the same night Napoleon entered his car- 
 riage, and, driving furiously across France, reached 
 Strassburg on the 15th, and Donauwerth on the i/th, 
 outstripping his staff, aides-de-camp, and saddle-horses, 
 and none too soon to repair the blunders of Prince 
 Berthier, Major-General. In four days from the time 
 of the Emperor's arrival at Donauwerth the military 
 situation underwent a remarkable change. On the 
 1 7th the French forces were widely scattered, and the 
 united Austrian army was advancing between them. 
 By the 2ist the French had united, repulsed the Aus-
 
 88 THE GRENADIER 
 
 trian right, routed the Austrian centre and driven back 
 the wings, stormed and captured Landshut, and sent 
 the corps of Hiller and the Archduke Louis the 
 Austrian left flying across the Isar. Then with all 
 his united forces the French Emperor prepared to fall 
 upon the Archduke Charles and the Austrian right and 
 crush them at Eckmiihl. And during these four days 
 the Emperor Napoleon, galloping rapidly from one 
 point to another, never taking off his coat or his 
 boots, manoeuvring in a country of great obscurity, 
 dictating at all moments his orders, short, precise, 
 clear so clear that his lieutenants were never in doubt 
 for an instant as to their meaning had changed 
 a seemingly desperate situation into one of triumph. 
 Wherever galloped the white horse bearing the little 
 man in the gray coat and the cocked hat, there flew the 
 victory ! 
 
 The evening of April 2ist was cool and clear. The 
 camp-fires of the great host burned brightly, casting 
 their ever-shifting rays over the dark lines of huts, 
 gleaming on the bright bayonets and military trap- 
 pings, and throwing the shadows of the soldiers in 
 great silhouettes upon the ground. Eight o'clock 
 had come, soup had been served out, and the men, 
 gathered about the fires, were making their evening 
 meal. 
 
 Around one of these many centres of light and 
 warmth was clustered a characteristic group. There 
 was Andre Marceau, an old grenadier, whose face was 
 disfigured by a deep red scar that extended from the 
 bridge of his nose to the lower part of his jaw, and 
 which was the relic of a sabre-cut received at Auer- 
 stadt. This was by no means Andre's first campaign,
 
 NIGHT BEFORE ECKMUHL 89 
 
 for he had fought in Italy, at Arcola and at Rivoli; in 
 Austria, at Ulm and at Austerlitz; in Poland, at Pul- 
 tusk and at Preussisch-Eylau. 
 
 There was Gustave Lebon, who had made the cam- 
 paigns of Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena and Friedland. 
 There was Gerard Etienne, who had seen service in 
 Italy, Austria and Spain. There was Pierre Pasquin, 
 who had been at the siege of Saragossa, and who was 
 now, for the first time, seeing war on a large scale. 
 And, greatest of all, there was old Francois Legrand, 
 who wore proudly on his breast the Cross of the 
 Legion of Honor, who had fought in Italy at Castig- 
 lione and at the passage of the Tagliamento, had been 
 with General Bonaparte in Egypt at St. Jean d'Acre, 
 the Pyramids and Aboukir, had served at Marengo, 
 Austerlitz, and Jena, had entered Berlin in triumph, 
 had faced the Russian cuirassiers in the cemetery at 
 Eylau, and had witnessed the interview of the Em- 
 perors at Tilsit. A fierce old fellow was Francois 
 Legrand, with his tremendous mustache and shaggy 
 eyebrows, skilled with sword and pistol, and, from his 
 proverbial insolence, nicknamed by his comrades, " le 
 grand diable." 
 
 " We will have lively work to-morrow," said Andre 
 Marcear., as he finished his soup and stuck his big pipe 
 in his mouth. 
 
 " So much the better," said old Legrand. " This 
 time let us make a finish of these white-coated Aus- 
 trians. They'll wake up some fine morning and find 
 us in Vienna. Trust the Little Corporal for that ! He 
 took us there fast enough in 1805. ' Come, hurry, 
 boys,' said he, ' I fight with your legs now.' And we 
 hurried too! The Viennese thought we were still fool-
 
 90 THE GRENADIER 
 
 ing with Mack at Ulm, when, all at once, we marched 
 into Vienna and said, 'Bon jour, Viennese!' Par- 
 bleu ! but they were a surprised lot, those Viennese ! " 
 
 " Ajax is coming to command," said Gustave Lebon. 
 " Do you know what the Little Corporal said to Ajax 
 one day at parade? ' Lannes,' said the Little Corporal, 
 ' you never complain if the parade makes us late for 
 dinner.' ' Devil a bit! ' said Ajax. ' It's all the same 
 to me whether I eat my soup hot or cold provided you 
 make us work to warm up a good broth of those 
 d d English!'" 
 
 " You should have seen Ajax at Lodi," said Gerard 
 Etienne, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. " He 
 and the Little Corporal were the first men across the 
 bridge. I was not far behind, and hot work it was 
 too!" 
 
 " Vive le Marechal Lannes ! " cried old Marceau. 
 "He was only a poor fellow like us once; and Ney 
 and Murat too. Look at them now! Ajax is a Duke, 
 Ney is a Prince, and Murat is a King! However, our 
 time will come. Hasn't the Little Corporal said, 
 ' Every French soldier carries in his knapsack the 
 baton of a Marshal of France ! ' ' 
 
 "Egypt was the place!" said Francois Legrand, 
 throwing back his head and sticking out his feet nearer 
 the fire. " Diable! but it was hot there! We came 
 along to Cairo and saw the rascally Mamelukes wait- 
 ing under the Pyramids all ready to chew us up. The 
 Little Corporal rode along the ranks, reined in his 
 horse, and said, ' Soldats, des hauts de ces pyramides 
 quarante siecles vous contemplent! ' Mon Dieu, but 
 
 you should have seen us cut the throats of the d d 
 
 Mamelukes after that ! "
 
 NIGHT BEFORE ECKMUHL 91 
 
 " Do you remember the day we entered Berlin, Gus- 
 tave?" asked Andre Marceau. 
 
 " Ventrebleu, tut I do! " said Gustave. " That was 
 a fine sight! All Davout's corps in new uniforms! 
 How grand the Guard looked, and the Staff all blazing 
 with gold and jewels! The Germans could hardly be- 
 lieve that our little man with his old coat and one-sou 
 cockade was master of it all." 
 
 " Well, they found out soon enough," said Frangois 
 Legrand. " The Little Corporal told them he would 
 come if they didn't stop blowing so much about their 
 grand Frederic; but they wouldn't shut up and so he 
 came. He always does what he says, the Little Cor- 
 poral!" 
 
 " Indeed he does," said Gerard Etienne. " I'll never 
 forget when I was drafted. You see there was no one 
 to look after the mother but me, and I didn't know 
 what she was going to do. So, thought I, I'll tell 
 the Little Corporal and perhaps he'll help her. So I 
 wrote out a petition. Have any of you fellows ever 
 tried to write a petition? Maybe you can write 
 better than me. Sacre, but it was hard work for me, 
 and lots of pains I took with it! Well, the next decadi 
 when we went to parade at the Tuileries, I carried the 
 petition in my pocket. I was weak in the knees when 
 I saw the big crowd around the Little Corporal that 
 day! Two or three German Kings and a lot of aides- 
 de-camp, all plumes and gold! 'Brace up, Gerard,' 
 said I, ' or the poor mother will come to grief.' So I 
 went out of the ranks. Mon Dieu! but you should 
 have seen those aides-de-camp and German Kings look 
 at me as if to say, quelle effronterie! What did I care 
 for them! My business was with the Little Corporal,
 
 92 THE GRENADIER 
 
 and I went straight up to him and held out my paper. 
 He took it, and smiled and said, ' I will read it, mon 
 enfant' And he did too, and the mother got a pension 
 of 1200 francs! Don't you suppose I'll die for the 
 Little Corporal after that? " 
 
 " I have never seen the Emperor," said Pierre, who 
 had been listening with close attention to the reminis- 
 cences of the old campaigners. 
 
 " Well, don't be fool enough to get killed until you 
 have," said old Legrand. " You'll see him. He'll 
 come riding along the ranks and look at you and order 
 the charge, and you'll be ready enough to go wherever 
 he says and do whatever he wants. Ah! it was a fine 
 sight at Tilsit to see the Russian Emperor and the Ger- 
 man King and all those Princes, Counts, and Barons, 
 taking off their hats to the Little Corporal, and he the 
 greatest of all." 
 
 " They were all born on thrones," said Andre Mar- 
 ceau, " but our Little Corporal was only a poor sous- 
 lieutenant once, and that's the best of it. We've made 
 him Emperor, and he'll make us all Marshals and 
 Dukes as soon as we deserve it! Why, one day at 
 Milan, I remember it as though it were yesterday, we 
 were all in the great square. The Little Corporal was 
 there on his horse, and up came a dragoon with a dis- 
 patch. The Little Corporal read it and gave him an 
 answer and said, ' Hurry.' ' But,' said the dragoon, 
 ' my horse fell dead from hard riding, and I have no 
 other.' Well, what do you suppose the Little Corporal 
 did? He got off his own horse and said, ' Take mine.' 
 Mon Dieu, but that dragoon was amazed ! You could 
 have knocked him over with one finger! 'Perhaps 
 you think he's too fine,' said the Little Corporal.
 
 NIGHT BEFORE ECKMUHL 93 
 
 ' Never mind, comrade, there is nothing too good for 
 a French soldier! " 
 
 "Vive 1'Empereur!" shouted old Frangois Legrand 
 excitedly. The others took it up, and on the cool 
 night air rang out, in tumultuous chorus many times 
 repeated, the shout, " Vive 1'Empereur! " 
 
 It was nine o'clock and the tattoo sounded for the 
 soldiers to extinguish their fires, and soon the camp 
 of Boudet division was wrapped in darkness and 
 silence a silence broken only by the stamping of the 
 horses of the cuirassiers and the measured tread of the 
 sentries on their beats. As Pierre lay on his straw, he 
 reached out and felt the knapsack lying beside him, and 
 thought again of what Andre Marceau had told them 
 the Emperor said, " Tout soldat frangais porte dans sa 
 giberne le baton de Marechal de France ! " He won- 
 dered if there would be one in his, and, holding tightly 
 to its straps, he fell asleep, to dream that he too had 
 met " le petit caporal."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 PLACE AUX DAMES 
 
 Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, 
 That beat to battle where he stands; 
 
 Thy face across his fancy comes, 
 And gives the battle to his hands. 
 
 TENNYSON, The Princess. 
 
 WHAT were the women of France doing while their 
 husbands, brothers, sons, and lovers, high-hearted, 
 eager for glory, proud of their country's greatness, 
 marched onward toward Vienna? The women hoped 
 and waited. Hoped that this campaign, like that of 
 1805, would be short and glorious; hoped that fortune 
 would again grant France her favors ; hoped that death 
 once more would spare the dear ones upon whom 
 their thoughts were centered; waited for the bulletins 
 to tell them of hopes realized, or destroyed those bul- 
 letins which brought joy or sorrow to so many homes! 
 At the Tuileries Palace the Empress Josephine for- 
 got the multiplying demands of her toilet to scan 
 eagerly the short, hieroglyphic notes that, from camp 
 and battlefield, came to her from the Emperor. And 
 throughout France, the wives of Dukes, Princes, 
 Marshals, Generals, Majors, Barons, Captains, Corpo- 
 rals, Sergeants, Privates the grand lady of the Im- 
 perial Court, who lived in her great hotel on the 
 Avenue des Champs Elysees, and the humble peasant
 
 PLACE AUX DAMES 95 
 
 woman, who watched her children, planted her grain, 
 and did her chores in rustic Dauphine, or flowery 
 Touraine all watched, waited, and hoped. How 
 many widows there were ! One could see them every- 
 where. In the lofty aisles of Notre Dame, or before 
 the little altar of the Church of St. Etienne du Mont, 
 or in the grand cathedral of Tours, or at Amiens, 
 kneeling in that Gothic marvel of Robert de Luzarche, 
 where the arched and pinnacled facade, the flying 
 buttresses, the wealth of sculpture, and the great rose 
 windows purpling and gilding with their rays the 
 saints, apostles, martyrs, carved on every side with 
 wondrous skill set forth the Bible epic in a blaze of 
 glory. 
 
 There was in the France of 1809 an anxiety, a dis- 
 content, which was new to the France of the Empire. 
 Public opinion had, from the first, disapproved the 
 Spanish war, and the stubborn national resistance 
 encountered by the French in Spain a resistance 
 which could be summed up in the one word, Sara- 
 gossa could but deepen this disapproval. 
 
 The levy of 1809 had been called out, and also that 
 of 1810 required in advance, while, in addition, the 
 new levies upon the classes of 1806, 1807, 1808, which 
 had supposed themselves free, caused dismay in many 
 families. But for the present, although there were 
 signs of discontent and disapprobation among high 
 and low, France on the whole was hopeful, even cheer- 
 ful. For France was marching, and at her head the 
 greatest military captain of the world. 
 
 The Grand Army knew no doubts or fears ; they left 
 such things to diplomats, to merchants, to bankers, to 
 courtiers, or to women. They looked straight ahead,
 
 96 THE GRENADIER 
 
 eager to behold upon the crest of some hill the white 
 coats of the enemy ; to see in some valley the gleam of 
 their camp-fires. In the morning, as they faced the 
 Austrian cannon, or at evening, as they threw them- 
 selves upon the rain-soaked ground, they had but one 
 cry, which ever and always expressed their thoughts, 
 their hopes, and their devotion "Vive 1'Empereur!" 
 To Marie Jodelle it seemed the most natural thing 
 in the world to see France marching thus to war. She 
 could never remember any other state of affairs. 
 When she came into the world in 1792, the throne of 
 the Bourbons had fallen, the Revolution " that many- 
 headed monster thing " had looked forth with bloody 
 eyes upon the monarchies of Europe, the champions 
 of " Royalty by right divine " had cried " To arms ! " 
 and the youth of France, keeping time to the " Mar- 
 seillaise," were marching forth to battle for their new- 
 found tricolor. When Marie was five years old, the 
 pere Henri came back from Italy, minus the leg he 
 had lost at Castiglione. Then her mother died, and 
 she had only the pere Henri. He was a gruff old 
 soldier the pere Henri but he was a father good 
 and kind. When she was older, she passed many an 
 evening sitting on his knee before the fireplace in the 
 Cafe Jodelle, listening with wide-open eyes, while he 
 told her of the dangers and adventures through which 
 he had passed. As he talked, she heard the rolling 
 drums, sounding the charge at Valmy; she saw the 
 brave Jourdan, sword in hand at Fleurus; she heard 
 the " Allons enfants de la patrie " of the " Marseil- 
 laise"; and next, she saw upon the plains of Italy the 
 young recruits of France, hungry, ragged, lacking 
 everything but courage, to whom that little olive-
 
 PLACE AUX DAMES 97 
 
 tinted artillery officer came and said abruptly " For- 
 ward, march ! " And as they marched, above their 
 heads flew trumpet-blowing victory! 
 
 That Frenchmen should be always fighting, since 
 France had always enemies to combat, seemed, then, 
 to her natural enough. Sometimes, however, she 
 wished it were all over and that all this whirl and 
 bustle, roar and thunder, would settle down to peace. 
 She had been very sorry for the mere Pasquin when 
 the news came that Robert was killed, and for the 
 good dame Nevel, too, who lived near the Place St. 
 Andre, and whose husband had fallen at Friedland. 
 She was very sorry for them, very sorry, but she had 
 the pere Henri; he was all to her, then, and the pere 
 Henri was safe at home. But now how was it now, 
 when Pierre was marching, and each day might bring 
 her news that would end forever her little dream of 
 happiness, and that too just as the pere Henri had 
 given his consent? 
 
 There was one friend to whom Marie could always 
 turn, and that was the garden Gaspard. He was an 
 orphan the little Gaspard. His father had marched 
 and fought at Henri Jodelle's side, and when, torn by 
 the Austrian cannon, he lay dying in Italy, he had 
 said, " Henri, don't forget Gaspard! " Henri had not 
 forgotten. When he came home, Gaspard was 
 brought to the Cafe Jodelle and lived there like one 
 of the family. You might have searched Grenoble 
 through and through, and looked in all the shops in 
 the Rue Montorge and in the Grande Rue and in the 
 Place St. Andre and across the river, and you would 
 not have found a brighter, happier, handsomer little 
 lad than the garqon Gaspard of the Cafe Jodelle. He
 
 98 THE GRENADIER 
 
 had large brown eyes, and he opened them wide and 
 looked at you straight in the face. You always liked 
 him when he did that. He was neat about his dress 
 too; his jacket and trousers were coarse and common 
 enough, but they were always clean, and how well he 
 looked in them! He looked well in anything, but 
 suppose he had had a fine uniform with a jacket 
 trimmed with gilt braid, a military cap, and shiny 
 boots? Well, if he had had all that, he would have 
 been one of the most gallant little chaps ever seen. 
 What a merry smile he had ! He did not know much 
 as book-learning goes ; he could read a little and write 
 some, too, in a curious round hand that was anything 
 but legible but how quick he was! No matter how 
 many soldiers came into the Cafe Jodelle, Gaspard 
 could wait upon them all. 
 
 " Gaspard," said Marie one morning, " do you ever 
 worry? " 
 
 "Worry? What do you do when you worry?" 
 asked Gaspard. 
 
 "Well, you sit and think think about some one 
 very dear to you, who is far away and exposed to all 
 sorts of dangers. You think about all the dangers, 
 and you wonder if you will ever see the dear one 
 again." 
 
 " No," said Gaspard, " I never have time for all 
 that There is no one dear to me who is far away. 
 You and pere Henri are here. Why should I worry 
 about any one else? If I ever did sit down in a 
 corner, old Frederic Bonneville would come in and 
 shout, 'Gaspard, a glass of wine!' You can't worry 
 when you're running about, can you?" 
 
 " I suppose not," said Marie, " I always sit in my
 
 PLACE AUX DAMES 99 
 
 room and look out on the Place Grenette. Oh, Gas- 
 pard, I wish the wars were over!" 
 
 " So do I," said Gaspard. " Then all the soldiers 
 would come marching home through the town, the 
 drums would go rat, tat, tat! and the fifes would 
 blow. I like the fifes. Have you ever heard me play 
 one? Jacques le Page taught me. He has a fine 
 one. When I get large, I mean to have one, too." 
 
 " Gaspard," said Marie, " would you like to have 
 me tell you a secret? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I would like that," answered Gaspard. 
 
 " Well, then, the pere Henri has said I shall marry 
 Pierre. Isn't that fine? " 
 
 Gaspard's face grew grave. " No," said he, " it is 
 not fine. When you marry Pierre, you will go far 
 away to live. Me and pere Henri will be left all alone 
 at the cafe. There will be no one to take me on 
 Sundays for a picnic to Vizille. No, that will not be 
 fine at all!" 
 
 " But, Gaspard! " cried Marie, " I am not going far 
 away. Pierre and I are going to live right here. 
 Pierre will show you how to carry a gun, and Pierre 
 knows how to play the fife and he will play it for you, 
 and you can go with Pierre and me on picnics to 
 Vizille." 
 
 " Oh, good! good! " cried Gaspard. " That will be 
 nice! I would like that! Yes, you may marry 
 Pierre." 
 
 Marie had a pretty room in the Cafe Jodelle. It 
 was not a very large room, but it was very cosy. Her 
 small writing-desk stood in one corner, and before the 
 fireplace was a large, yellow-covered chair in which 
 she often sat and looked out on the Place Grenette
 
 ioo THE GRENADIER 
 
 when she "worried." One morning, when she was 
 sitting in the yellow-covered chair, Gaspard brought 
 her a letter, and, as soon as she saw it, she gave Gas- 
 pard a kiss she always did when he brought her that 
 sort of a letter, and so Gaspard was sorry they did 
 not come twice a day. Then Gaspard went down into 
 the cafe, and Marie opened her letter, and this was 
 what she read: 
 
 Straubing, Bavaria, April 25th, 1809. 
 Dear Marie, 
 
 I have seen him the great Emperor! This is how it was. 
 Three days ago the battle of Eckmiihl was fought. We got 
 up at four in the morning. Our division was echeloned to- 
 ward Landshut and was to guard the road. About noon the 
 order came to advance. Then we heard the cannon of Mar- 
 shal Davout's corps. He had already engaged the enemy. 
 Our corps came up. I never heard such a roar of cannon. 
 I could see nothing much for the rise in the ground and the 
 smoke. All our division was drawn up, and though we have 
 marched many hundred leagues, we looked as well as on 
 parade. If a fellow did not keep himself in trim, he would 
 hear of it Orderly officers galloped in all directions. A 
 squadron of the cuirassiers of the Imperial Guard passed us 
 at a trot. Never have I seen such men and horses! They 
 must always conquer; one could see that in their faces. We 
 gave them a cheer and their officer saluted us. Then they 
 moved us up on to the higher ground. Smoke was thick on 
 the plain, but we could see the Austrian fires. Marshal Da- 
 vout was fighting on our right. The balls whizzed over our 
 heads, some of the new ones ducked their heads, but the old 
 ones stood up straight and paid no attention at all to them. 
 I did not duck. We waited the order to advance. You may 
 believe it is no fun standing still hour after hour when every 
 one else is doing something. It was about four in the 
 afternoon. We heard the roll of drums on our left and the 
 soldiers of the Gudin division shouting " Vive 1'Empereur! " 
 He was coming! I was in the front rank on the right Near
 
 PLACE AUX DAMES 101 
 
 me was Francois Legrand. I have told you of him before. 
 How my heart beat the Emperor was coming! Four chas- 
 seurs of the Guard with green coats and on beautiful black 
 horses came first at a gallop, then the Emperor on a white 
 horse, and with him the Major-General, and Marshal Mas- 
 sena. Crack! We all presented arms and shouted "Vive 
 I'Empereur!" The Emperor saluted us. He stopped in 
 front of our division, drew out his spy-glass, rose in his 
 stirrups and looked to the right where Marshal Davout was 
 fighting. The Emperor does not look like the picture you 
 have in the Cafe Jodelle. He is stouter. He looks more like 
 the picture we used to see in the window of Simon Loisell's 
 book-shop on the Place St. Andre. The Emperor said some- 
 thing to the Major-Gencral and got off his horse. The 
 Major-General and the Marshal got off theirs. Roustan, the 
 Mameluke, held the Emperor's horse. They brought a drum 
 and spread a map on it. General Cervoni came up. Then 
 the Marshal, General Cervoni, and the Emperor bent over 
 the map. The Emperor was in the middle. While they 
 were talking, a cannon-ball struck General Cervoni and car- 
 ried him away. All our division groaned. The Emperor 
 passed his hand across his eyes and then bent over his map. 
 Two aides-de-camp came galloping up to the Emperor. He 
 gave them some orders, and the aides-de-camp whirled and 
 were off like a flash. The Emperor walked about and tapped 
 his boots with his riding-whip. He looked impatient. " All 
 does not go well," said Francois Legrand, " he is fretful." 
 An aide-de-camp came from Marshal Davout to say that the 
 Austrians were giving way. The Emperor sent for Marshal 
 Bessieres and ordered the charge of the cavalry of the Guard. 
 Then he called for his horse. Night was coming on. Soon 
 we saw the Austrians retreating up the high ground, and our 
 cuirassiers galloping after them and overthrowing them at 
 every step. We all clapped our hands and shouted, " Vivent 
 les cuirassiers! " So ended the battle. We bivouacked where 
 we were. I had no chance to engage. When I do, I hope 
 better luck will come to me than came to General Cervoni. 
 Anyway I will do the best I can. Last night I lay on the 
 ground and looked up at the bright stars. One was very 
 bright, and in it I seemed to see your face smiling down at 
 me. I remembered the words you wrote me the pere Henri
 
 102 THE GRENADIER 
 
 said: " If he proves himself a brave soldier and comes home 
 safe and sound, he shall marry you." I will try to prove a 
 brave soldier, and as for the rest, that remains with the good 
 God. I am so tired now that I cannot write any more. I 
 will write soon again, if I can, though, perhaps, it may be a 
 month. When I do, I will tell you how we took Ratisbon. 
 
 Your Pierre, 
 3rd Company, U5th of the Line, Grand Army. 
 
 Marie folded the letter, put it carefully away in her 
 little writing-desk, and sitting down in the old, yellow- 
 covered chair, looked thoughtfully into the fire.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON 
 
 You know, we French stormed Ratisbon; 
 
 A mile or so away, 
 On a little mound, Napoleon 
 
 Stood on our storming day. 
 ROBERT BROWNIN ? G, Incident of the French Camp. 
 
 " GOTT im Himmel ! Vat vill become of mein gar- 
 ten?" cried Heinrich Hauptmann, when he first saw 
 the French forces approaching the walls of Ratisbon. 
 This town, called by the Germans Regensburg (from 
 the small river Regen which here flows into the 
 Danube), is one of the oldest cities in Central Europe. 
 In 1809, it was surrounded on the south by a wall with 
 towers at regular intervals, but the fortifications were 
 old and poor, and the dry ditches outside the rampart 
 were used as kitchen gardens by some of the thrifty 
 inhabitants. 
 
 A stone bridge connected the town with the suburb 
 upon the left bank of the Danube called Stadt-am- 
 Hof, and by this bridge the Archduke determined to 
 transport his army after the disastrous battle of Eck- 
 miihl. When the 'Marshal Davout evacuated the city 
 to join the Emperor at Abensburg, he left, according 
 to Napoleon's orders, the 65th of the Line, com- 
 manded by Colonel Coutard, to garrison the place and 
 defend the bridge. To Ratisbon, then, came the 
 Archduke Charles of Austria and his defeated army.
 
 104 THE GRENADIER 
 
 seeking by the stone highway over the Danube their 
 only means of safety. The 65th fought bravely for 
 some hours, but could not hold out against the mass 
 of the Austrian forces, and Colonel Coutard surren- 
 dered the town. The Archduke led his troops across 
 the river, leaving in Ratisbon a garrison of some 
 6000 men, whom, however, he could reinforce rapidly 
 from the 60,000 soldiers that he had now assembled 
 beyond the suburb of Stadt-am-Hof. Save for the 
 means of retreat thus afforded him, the Archduke and 
 his army would have been compelled to surrender. 
 
 But the Emperor could not march upon Vienna 
 while the Austrians held Ratisbon, for, unless he took 
 the town, the Archduke could again cross the Danube 
 and attack him in the rear. Thus the capture of 
 Ratisbon became the sine qua non for the march to 
 Vienna. To Ratisbon, therefore, came the corps of 
 Davout, Lannes, and Massena, flushed with victory; 
 to Ratisbon, therefore, rode the Emperor Napoleon. 
 
 Just outside the wall of the town, near the Straubing 
 gate and built against the rampart, stood the house of 
 Heinrich Hauptmann. Heinrich was a vender of 
 garden truck, and in the ditches of the old fortifica- 
 tion he had his small kitchen-garden, where he raised 
 a varied assortment of beans, turnips, cabbages, horse- 
 radish, parsnips, and other delicacies which he sold in 
 the Ratisbon market Heinrich had been very loath 
 to leave his little property. During'Marshal Davout's 
 occupation he had remained in his house, but when the 
 Austrians, retreating from Eckmiihl, attacked the place 
 to wrest it from the 65th, Hauptmann was forced to 
 retreat behind the ramparts, where he spent his time 
 in cursing the " verderbt Oestreicher " (the wicked
 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON 105 
 
 Austrian) and the " schlecht Franzose " (the bad 
 French). After the Austrians obtained possession of 
 the town he went out again, but soon the approach 
 of the great army of Napoleon compelled him once 
 more to take refuge within the walls. In order to 
 enter the city it was necessary for the French to de- 
 scend into the deep ditch of the fortification, cross it 
 under fire from the Austrians, and scale the rampart 
 by means of ladders. The Emperor Napoleon, who 
 had dismounted upon a hillock about a cannon-shot 
 from the town, quickly perceived the house of Haupt- 
 mann near the Straubing gate and saw that it was 
 built against the rampart. At once His Majesty or- 
 dered up several twelve-pounders and howitzers, and 
 commanded their fire to be concentrated upon this 
 house, that its ruins, falling into the ditch, might form 
 an incline upon which the corps of Lannes could 
 mount to assault the wall. 
 
 The cannonade began. Heinrich, who was in the 
 Osten Casse near the Straubing gate, soon learned 
 that something was going on in the direction of his 
 cherished dwelling. Unable to restrain his anxiety, 
 he managed to get up upon the rampart, and the situ- 
 ation was instantly revealed to him in all its stern 
 reality, for at that moment a cannon-ball from one of 
 the French twelve-pounders crashed into his house and 
 tumbled part of it into the ditch. Heinrich nearly fell 
 off the rampart from terror and rage. 
 
 " Tausend Teufel ! " he yelled, " die franzosische 
 Verbrecher! dey are shootin der damt balls right in 
 mein house! Gott im Himmel! mein house vill be all 
 von damt ruin ! " 
 
 "Get down from here!" cried an Austrian soldier. 
 " What do I care about you or your house! "
 
 io6 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " Vat do you care about me or mein house? " roared 
 Heinrich, bursting with rage, " Veil, dat's all right vat 
 you care about me or mein house ! Vat for you come 
 in dis town und brought der schlecht franzosisch 
 Kaiser Napoleon after you, who goes und troes his 
 damt balls right in mein house, dat's vat I vant to 
 know?" 
 
 But the soldier ruthlessly dragged Heinrich off the 
 rampart, and as Heinrich continued to expostulate, 
 he was informed that if he didn't " shut up " he would 
 have his " head cracked " a mode of procedure which 
 did not leave much room for further argument. 
 
 Meanwhile the Morand and Boudet divisions had 
 been ordered forward to within a short distance of the 
 walls of Ratisbon and stationed in the rear of a large 
 stone store-house that stood close to the promenade 
 surrounding the town. Then Marshal Lannes, who 
 had conducted this manoeuvre, rode off to the little 
 hill to receive the Emperor's final orders. The H5th 
 of the Line were drawn up at the west side of the 
 store-house, while in front of them were massed the 
 85th of the Line, which belonged to the Morand divi- 
 sion. The twelve-pounders were thundering, the 
 house of Hauptmann had already fallen, and the 
 cannon-balls were now battering a breach in the ram- 
 part. Francois Legrand stamped his foot impatiently, 
 and Pierre, who stood near him, wondered why the 
 order did not come to advance. Suddenly they saw- 
 soldiers from the Friant, Gudin, Molitor, and Carra 
 St. Cyr divisions, breaking ranks and running quickly 
 toward the mound where the Emperor had taken his 
 stand. The crowd grew larger and larger, and the 
 Austrians, seeing that a part of the vast mass was
 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON 107 
 
 within cannon-shot, turned their guns in that direction. 
 The soldiers of the U5th and 85th wondered what it 
 all meant. Francois Legrand grew pale, and Pierre 
 heard him mutter, " 1'Empereur est mort!" But all 
 at once, as if in answer to his fearful exclamation, there 
 came from the dark mass of troops about the mound 
 a ringing shout, "Vive 1'Empereur! Vive 1'Em- 
 pereur! " 
 
 " Hurrah ! " shouted Francois Legrand. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " cried Pierre and all the other grena- 
 diers of the 1 1 5th and of the 85th, although they did 
 not understand why they were cheering. Up dashed 
 an orderly. 
 
 " The Emperor has been wounded ! " he cried. 
 
 "Where?" shouted the soldiers. 
 
 " In the right foot, but it is nothing! He is having 
 it dressed! He will come to review you presently! 
 He is all right!" and the orderly gave his horse the 
 spur. 
 
 "He'o all right! He exposes himself as we do! 
 Hurrah! Hurrah! " cried Frangois Legrand. 
 
 "Vive 1'Empereur!" roared the grenadiers of the 
 1 1 5th and 85th. They could see the dark mass break- 
 ing up and the soldiers running back to their respec- 
 tive regiments. And when a few moments later the 
 Emperor, his pale face still slightly drawn with pain, 
 galloped down the lines, throughout that vast host 
 the banners floated, the shakos and bearskins waved 
 in triumph on the bayonets, while thousands and thou- 
 sands of voices swelled louder and louder the mighty 
 shout, until it struck the ears of the inhabitants of 
 Ratisbon like a thunder peal and drowned for an in- 
 stant the salvos of the Austrian artillery " Vive 1'Em- 
 pereur! "
 
 108 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Then the Marshal Lannes rode up to the 85th and 
 called for fifty volunteers to carry forward the ladders. 
 More than one hundred soldiers ran out of the ranks, 
 but the Marshal reduced the number to fifty, and they 
 started on the double in close column. Hardly were 
 they clear of the store-house when a hail of balls from 
 the Austrian sharpshooters struck them, and the 
 grenadiers to a man were hurled dead and dying on 
 the plain. And still the Austrian cannon thundered 
 on! 
 
 Again the Marshal called for volunteers from the 
 85th, and again numbers of soldiers ran forward with 
 alacrity. Another ladder company was formed, and 
 they dashed forward in column. But again the storm 
 of bullets struck them and left them crushed and 
 mangled on the sand. And still the Austrian cannon 
 thundered on! 
 
 Once more the Marshal called for volunteers, but 
 this time no one came forward. It was certain death, 
 they thought, to pass the protecting angle of the store- 
 house. Lannes lost all patience and sprang from his 
 horse. " Well, I will let you see that I was a grena- 
 dier before I was a Marshal, and am one still! " he 
 cried, and seizing a ladder, he would have started out. 
 But his aides-de-camp surrounded him, crying out that 
 they would be forever disgraced if they allowed him 
 to carry out his purpose. Marbot and DeViry grasped 
 the ladder out of the Marshal's hands and put 
 it upon their shoulders. The sight of a Marshal of 
 France disputing with his aides-de-camp as to which of 
 them should rush into the face of death was too much 
 for Francois Legrand, and although no volunteers 
 had as yet been called for from the H5th, he sprang
 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON 109 
 
 forward shouting, " I, too, will go! " " And I! " cried 
 Pierre, following hard after Franqois. "And II" 
 " And I !" " And I ! " cried many of the grenadiers of 
 the iisth and of the 8sth. 
 
 The aide-de-camp Marbot took command of the 
 detachment. "Two men to each ladder!" he cried, 
 " we will run far apart, two and two. In that way we 
 shall more easily escape the fire than in column. 
 Some of us will get through alive. Dash into the 
 ditch and plant the ladders against the rampart! " 
 
 "Good!" cried Lannes, "that plan will succeed! 
 Off with you, boys, and Ratisbon is won! " 
 
 Out they dashed; the bullets whistled and the can- 
 non thundered, but the men, running like the wind 
 and far apart, were not an easy aim. 
 
 Pierre had seized a ladder with Francois, and as he 
 rushed across the open space he heard Franqois call- 
 ing, "To the right! Pierre, to the right!" Down 
 into the ditch they sprang and breathless climbed over 
 the debris of Hauptmann's house. They were ahead 
 of the others and might have been the first to scale the 
 wall, but Pierre, running over the ruins in the ditch, 
 tripped and fell his length, gashing his head on a 
 rough stone. He was up in an instant, and wiping 
 away, with the back of his hand, the blood that 
 trickled down into his right eye, he helped Frangois 
 place the ladder against the parapet. At that moment 
 they heard a tremendous cheer from the Grand Army, 
 for further on Marbot and Labedoyere had reached 
 the summit of the rampart, hand in hand. 
 
 Up the ladder ran Francois, calling, "Come on! 
 young Pasquin, come on! " Pierre climbed after him, 
 more grenadiers followed, and across the open space
 
 no THE GRENADIER 
 
 the 1 1 5th and 85th were hastening to the assault. 
 The Austrians, seeing the French pouring over the 
 rampart, ceased firing and drew back. One red- 
 whiskered artillery-man seized a pistol and fired at 
 Francois. The ball cut the plume on the grenadier's 
 lofty cap, and the next moment Frangois lowered his 
 bayonet and, dashing forward, struck the Austrian full 
 in the breast with such terrible force that the artillery- 
 man fell over with a thud, the bayonet point buried 
 itself in the floor of the rampart and the butt of the 
 gun shook with the vibration. The Austrian was 
 nailed like a fly to the floor. 
 
 " There ! That will teach you who I am ! " roared 
 Legrand. He seized another musket, and he and 
 Pierre and a dozen more of the grenadiers started 
 down into the town, for Lannes had ordered them, if 
 they were able to get into the city, to open the 
 Straubing gate that the Morand division might enter. 
 They rushed down into the Osten Casse and ran into 
 the dark archway before the gate, then all at once 
 stopped short, for massed in the gloom of the archway 
 stood an Austrian battalion! They were facing the 
 gate with their rear to the French, but their Major 
 saw Frangois and shouted, and the Austrians faced 
 about. Another than Frangois might have hesitated 
 with twelve or fourteen men at his back and an Aus- 
 trian battalion before him. But not Frangois! The 
 least hesitation would have been fatal. It was Fran- 
 gois' bravado that carried the day. 
 
 " Surrender ! " he roared as though he had had a 
 regiment behind him. " We have captured the town ! 
 Surrender!" 
 
 "We won't surrender!" shouted the Austrian sol- 
 diers. " You may go to hell first! "
 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON in 
 
 "Apres vous, Messieurs les Autrichiens ! " cried 
 Pierre. 
 
 The Austrian Major hesitated. In the gloom he 
 could not tell rightly how many men he had to en- 
 counter; he could hear on all sides the shouts of the 
 French. Still he hesitated. "Surrender, you fool!" 
 shouted Legrand, seizing him by the throat, " Surren- 
 der! or I will run you through! " 
 
 And now the ringing blows of axes upon the outer 
 side of the gate told the Austrian that in a moment he 
 would be between two fires. " I surrender! " he cried. 
 
 "Ah, do you!" said Legrand, "I thought you 
 would! You would have done so before had you 
 known that I am Francois Legrand ! " 
 
 The Major hurried his men out of the arch, and as 
 the last Austrian passed him, Legrand rushed forward, 
 seized a pick that lay near the further end of the arch, 
 and dashing it down through the fastenings, split them 
 asunder. The gates, bursting with pressure from 
 without, flew open with such fury that they crashed 
 against the sides of the arch as the Morand division, 
 entering like a torrent, caught up Frangois Legrand 
 in their midst and carried him far down the Osten 
 Casse, shouting in triumph, " Ratisbon is taken! 
 Vive 1'Empereur! " 
 
 The inhabitants of the town were all shut up in their 
 houses with windows fastened and doors barred, and 
 the Osten Casse was deserted. But. as the French 
 advanced, there came running out of a low stone door- 
 way a short, thick-set man who shook his fist in their 
 faces and cried, " Franzosische Verbrecher! ver ist 
 mein house? Vat for you shoot balls in mein house? 
 Ach! you are dogs of Frenchmen! To der Teufel
 
 ii2 THE GRENADIER 
 
 mit you und your damt Kaiser Napoleon ! " And 
 purple with rage he spit at the troops. Some muskets 
 were raised, for the grenadiers were in no mood to 
 receive such language, and it would have gone hard 
 with Herr Hauptmann had not the Marshal Lannes, 
 who led the division in person, rushed forward. 
 
 " Arrest him ! " cried Lannes. 
 
 Heinrich kicked, struck and struggled, yelling, 
 "Shoot! damt franzosische Verbrecher! Shoot your 
 damt balls in me now you have spoilt mein house! " 
 Two sturdy grenadiers of the Morand division soon 
 had Heinrich bound hand and foot. They tied a 
 handkerchief over his mouth and then Heinrich could 
 only snort his rage. 
 
 A number of houses fired by French shells were 
 blazing, and the sparks and bits of charred wood were 
 flying over and into the Osten Casse, where were some 
 thirty wagons abandoned by the Austrians. As the 
 French were passing these, one of the Austrian pris- 
 oners cried to the Marshal, "We are all lost! These 
 wagons are full of powder! " Lannes turned pale for 
 an instant, then sprang forward. " Open ranks ! " he 
 cried. " Pile your guns against the houses ! Push 
 these wagons along from hand to hand until they are 
 out under the arch! They are powder-wagons! 
 Quick! Quick!" 
 
 How they worked, those brave grenadiers, with 
 eyes set, straining every nerve as they pushed and 
 pulled the heavy dark masses that rumbled along 
 between their ranks. And the Marshal, how he 
 worked too! Dashing his plumed hat to one side, he 
 sprang forward and seized a wagon, crying, " Work 
 fast, boys! Quick! Quick!" This sturdy Lannes!
 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON 113 
 
 This brave "Ajax!" This Marshal of France who 
 was once a grenadier! 
 
 And Franqois Legrand, how he worked too! The 
 moment his great hands grasped the wheels of the 
 heavy wagons they seemed to fly past him! And 
 young Pierre Pasquin, with his bandaged head and 
 bloody face how he worked too ! Let but one spark, 
 whirled downward by the wind, set fire to one of those 
 dark carriages, and the grenadiers of the II 5th and of 
 the 85th, a Marshal of France, and half of Ratisbon 
 would be no more! 
 
 On, on they rolled, rumbling over the stones! One 
 by one they passed the arch! One by one they were 
 pushed outside the wall, and Ratisbon was saved! 
 " Now for the bridge ! " cried the Marshal. " Marbot, 
 make for the bridge across the Danube! " 
 
 Marbot headed a detachment comprising some two 
 hundred men of the iiSth and they started. None of 
 them had ever been in Ratisbon before, and soon, 
 lost in a maze of little narrow streets, they did not 
 know in which direction they were going west, 
 north, east, or south but they pushed on. In adjoin- 
 ing streets they could hear the rattle of musketry fire 
 as the troops of the Marshal drove back the Austrian 
 skirmishers. They were passing through a short 
 street at the end of which they could see the towers 
 of St. Peter's Cathedral, when a door opened suddenly 
 and a lady, charmingly dressed, ran toward them. 
 
 "I am French!" she cried. "Save me! Save 
 me!" 
 
 " Who are you? " inquired the aide-de-camp. 
 
 " I am Mile. Lelorge, modiste Parisienne. I have 
 been shut up in my shop all day, for I feared the 
 Austrians. Save me! Save me!" 
 
 8
 
 ii4 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " Of course you shall be saved," answered Marbot. 
 " Now tell me do you know where the stone bridge 
 is across the Danube? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly." 
 
 " Well then, show us the way." 
 
 " Mon Dieu! with all this shooting going on? No! 
 No! No! I am scared to death already! I wanted 
 you to give me some soldiers to defend my shop. I 
 shall run back at once ! " 
 
 "Pardon me, but you won't!" rejoined the aide- 
 de-camp. " You must show us the bridge first. 
 Pasquin, take the lady by the arm! Now, fonvard, 
 march! " 
 
 Poor Mile. Lelorge! She screamed with all her 
 might, but it was no use; Pierre marched her along. 
 
 "Where shall we go?" demanded Marbot as they 
 reached the corner of the street. 
 
 " To the right! To the right! " cried Mile. Lelorge. 
 "I shall be killed! I know it! Stop holding me so 
 tight! You hurt my arm! I shall be killed! I shall 
 be killed!" 
 
 The musketry fire continued, and as they came 
 nearer the river, the roar of cannon became deafening. 
 Mile. Lelorge sank on her knees and refused to budge. 
 Pierre was perplexed. 
 
 " Sergeant Legrand," commanded Marbot, " take 
 the lady's other arm and make her march!" 
 
 When Francois took hold of her, Mademoiselle was 
 lifted in a twinkling several feet from the ground and 
 on they went, Legrand's weathen-beaten face grave 
 and impassive, while Mademoiselle kicked him with 
 her heels and called him a " brute." 
 
 "Where shall I turn?" demanded Marbot.
 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON 115 
 
 "To the right! To the right!" screamed Mile. 
 Lelorge. 
 
 In a few moments they entered the square facing 
 the bridge, at the further end of which was stationed 
 an Austrian battalion that immediately opened fire. 
 Close by the square was the little Chapel of the Virgin, 
 and into it, by Marbot's orders, the grenadiers carried 
 Mile. Lelorge, who, trembling and thoroughly terri- 
 fied, crouched down behind the Virgin's statue. 
 "Legrand!" cried Marbot, as Francois and Pierre 
 came out of the chapel, " Guard the lady ! " Then 
 the detachment advanced, firing and receiving the 
 Austrian fire at every step. Suddenly, into the now 
 deserted square, ran four Austrian troopers, driven 
 back by Lannes' skirmishers. Seeing only one big 
 French grenadier upon the steps of the little chapel, 
 they dashed at him. Crack! crack! went Legrand's 
 musket and two of the troopers pitched forward on 
 their faces upon the stone pavement. The other two 
 came on, shouting and cursing with their swords 
 drawn. " Fools ! " cried Legrand, " do you fancy you 
 can get the best of a veteran of Eylau and Austerlitz? 
 Au diable with you both! " He drew his short sword, 
 and there they fought cut! slash! parry! thrust! The 
 swords rang sharp and clear, and the white steps of 
 the Chapel of the Virgin were spotted with blood. And 
 when, half an hour later, Marbot and the victorious 
 detachment, having routed the Austrian battalion, 
 surged back in triumph from the bridge, they found 
 Francois Legrand smeared with blood, standing erect 
 upon the steps of the little chapel, with four Austrian 
 troopers dead at his feet guarding the lady! 
 
 Thus it was that, on the 23rd of April, 1809, the
 
 n6 THE GRENADIER 
 
 town of Ratisbon was captured by the French. On 
 the same day the Emperor entered, and, as many 
 houses were still burning in various quarters, he 
 ordered his troops to assist the inhabitants in extin- 
 guishing the fires. As the Emperor, two of his aides- 
 de-camp, and the Marshal Lannes, were visiting the 
 northern quarter of the Osten Casse, His Majesty saw 
 two grenadiers marching along with a stout German 
 between them whose hands were tied behind his back. 
 
 "And what has he done?" inquired. the Emperor. 
 
 " His head is turned, sire, by the loss of his house, 
 which Your Majesty battered down near the Straubing 
 gate," answered the Marshal. 
 
 " Halt! " cried the Emperor. 
 
 The grenadiers stopped in their tracks and their 
 muskets clicked as they presented arms. The Em- 
 peror motioned to them to untie Heinrich's hands and 
 summoned one of his aides-de-camp who knew 
 German. 
 
 " What is your name? " inquired His Majesty. 
 
 " Heinrich Hauptmann, Herr Franzose General." 
 
 " And where do you live? " 
 
 " Ach ! Gott im Himmel ! I lif nowheres ! Mein 
 house is all von ruin ! " 
 
 "And who has destroyed your house?" 
 
 "Who has destroyed mein house? Vhy who but 
 your schlecht Franzose Kaiser, him you call der gross 
 Napoleon! He has sent his damt balls right in mein 
 house!" 
 
 " And you have lost all? " 
 
 "Have I lost all? Gott im Himmel! mein schones 
 garten is gone too ! " 
 
 " Then the great Napoleon must give you one hun-
 
 THE WALLS OF RATISBON 117 
 
 dred little napoleons to build your house again," an- 
 swered the Emperor. He motioned to his aide-de- 
 camp, who opened a purse and poured the gold into 
 the astounded Heinrich's hands. And thus came true 
 that saying of the soldiers, that no foeman, however 
 humble, could speak to His Imperial Majesty, the Em- 
 peror of the French, without receiving some reward. 
 
 Toward evening, after visiting the various quarters 
 of the city, the Emperor went to see the brave regi- 
 ments that had led in the assault, and when he came to 
 the square where the H5th were bivouacked, he said 
 to the Captain who saluted him : " Where is he who 
 opened the gate and guarded the lady?" 
 
 " Legrand ! " called the Captain, and the sturdy 
 grenadier came forward. 
 
 " Ah ! It is you ! " cried the Emperor. " You are 
 one of my old ' grumblers ' of Italy ! " And he pulled 
 Legrand's mustache. 
 
 " I may be a grumbler, sire, but I march always." 
 
 " Why, so you do, and fight too ! " said the Em- 
 peror. " Come, sit down here and tell me about your 
 old father. Does he not live at Chalons-sur-Marne? " 
 
 " He does, sire," answered the grenadier. 
 
 And so upon the blackened timbers of a half-burned 
 house in the Ratisbon Market they two sat down 
 the great, stalwart grenadier, with his towering plume 
 and bearskin, and the short, gray-coated Emperor, 
 kicking the debris with his boots and flicking the 
 sand with his riding-whip. Old Franqois Legrand 
 and his good friend the Little Corporal! And the 
 Emperor asked him many questions about himself 
 and about his family. 
 
 "Why! it seems you were with me in Italy and
 
 u8 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Egypt and at Austerlitz! Well, what have you gotten 
 for it all?" 
 
 " I have the cross, sire," answered Legrand proudly. 
 
 " And you have no commission? " 
 
 " It will come some time or other," replied the 
 soldier. 
 
 " It has come," rejoined the Emperor. He rose and 
 tapped the grenadier lightly with his riding-whip, 
 saying, " We'll march to-morrow to Vienna, Captain 
 Legrand ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE BOLD DUKE MAXIMILIAN 
 
 He who fights and runs away 
 May live to fight another day. 
 
 GOLDSMITH, The Art of Poetry. 
 
 ON the loth of May, the French appeared before 
 Vienna, that great city on the Danube, with its parks 
 and palaces, its Prater and its moated Laxenburg 
 Vienna the Kaiserstadt, or Imperial City, whose boule- 
 vards the Prater Strasse, the Karnthner Strasse, the 
 Tabor Strasse, and the Graben radiate from St. 
 Stephen's Platz, where towers the great Cathedral of 
 St. Stephen, upon whose roof of colored tiles a colossal 
 mosaic of the Austrian eagle looks with one head 
 toward Schonbrunn and with the other toward Aspern, 
 Essling, and Deutsch-Wagram. 
 
 Twenty-seven days had passed since the Emperor 
 set out from Paris; Tengen, Abensburg, Eckmiihl had 
 been fought; Landshut, Ratisbon, Ebersberg had been 
 stormed; 60,000 Austrians had been killed or taken 
 prisoners, more than one hundred cannon had been 
 captured, the Archduke's army had been driven back 
 into Bohemia, and for the second time the Viennese 
 saw Napoleon at their gates. 
 
 The good people of Vienna were much astonished 
 when they saw the French forces. " Don't be 
 alarmed," the Archduke Maximilian had been telling
 
 120 THE GRENADIER 
 
 them. " The French have been defeated. The Arch- 
 duke Charles stays a long time in Bohemia, it is true, 
 but it is a part of a series of skilful manoeuvres that he 
 is executing. The French may send a detachment to 
 Vienna, but I will thrash them fast enough if they 
 come ! Don't worry ! " And now here was the whole 
 French army pouring down upon Vienna Napoleon 
 at their head! 
 
 The people ran through the streets howling with 
 rage, and persons of quiet temperament got into their 
 houses and locked the doors. When a French sol- 
 dier bearing a flag of truce rode into the suburbs, the 
 people grabbed him; Hans Loibel, the butcher's boy, 
 who lived in Backer Strasse, ran him through, and the 
 greasy mob put Hans upon the soldier's horse and 
 trotted him about in triumph. " Down with the 
 French ! " they cried. " Where is our great Archduke 
 Maximilian, who promised to blow them into little 
 bits? Come out, Duke Maximilian, and keep your 
 word!" 
 
 In an apartment of the Hofburg sat the Archduke 
 Maximilian and his second in command, General 
 O'Reilly. 
 
 "Well, they are here!" said the Archduke Maxi- 
 milian. 
 
 "Indeed they are!" said General O'Reilly. 
 
 " We will show them a thing or two before we 
 finish with them ! " said the Archduke Maximilian. 
 
 " Indeed we will! " said General O'Reilly. 
 
 "What point shall we fortify against them?" asked 
 the Archduke Maximilian. 
 
 "I don't know!" said General O'Reilly. 
 
 In the bright May sunshine the Emperor Napoleon
 
 THE BOLD DUKE MAXIMILIAN 121 
 
 and the Marshal Massena rode round the fortifications 
 on the southern side of the city. Opposite Lusthaus 
 flows an arm of the river called the Danube canal, 
 beyond is the promenade of the Prater, and further 
 on the great Tabor bridge across the Danube. This 
 the Emperor determined to take, for then he could 
 prevent the Archduke Charles from marching to re- 
 lieve Vienna, could shut up the Archduke Maximilian 
 in the city and compel him to surrender. The Em- 
 peror and the Marshal rode near the bank of the 
 Danube canal, and the Emperor examined the posi- 
 tion. " There are some boats over there at the left 
 bank," said he, " Massena, send some swimmers after 
 them." 
 
 The Marshal dispatched his aide-de-camp Sigaldi to 
 the Boudet division, which was stationed not far away 
 toward Kaiser-Ebersdorf. Soon twenty-five sturdy 
 fellows from the H5th came marching up. There 
 were Andre Marceau, Pierre Pasquin, Robert Des- 
 pienne, Charles Roidot, Henri Vatel, and twenty more. 
 
 " Swim across and bring back those boats," said the 
 Marshal Massena. 
 
 They hurried down to the bank and stripped off 
 their clothes. Robert Despienne was in the water 
 first Robert was always quick. Pierre was second, 
 old Andre Marceau was third, and the rest followed 
 together. They struck out vigorously, but the Aus- 
 trians at the advanced posts had seen them and opened 
 fire. The balls splashed in the water about them. 
 Pierre was swimming hard after Robert Despienne, 
 whose black head was moving along before him. He 
 could hear Andre Marceau puffing not far away. A 
 musket-ball dropped into the water before him and
 
 122 THE GRENADIER 
 
 splashed it into his eyes. When he looked again, Rob- 
 ert's black head was gone. Poor Robert! a ball had 
 gone through his eye and he sank like a log. " If 
 they keep this up," said Andre Marceau, "we shall 
 none of us get over." "Ah!" cried Charles Roidot, 
 and down he sank. He had been shot in the neck. 
 He left a wife and two little ones at Besanqon. She 
 had had great faith in the glory that was to come to 
 Charles on this campaign this was the end of all 
 that. 
 
 "There are the boats!" cried Andre Marceau, spit- 
 ting the water out of his mouth. They swam rapidly 
 on and were soon among the low, black boats moored 
 at the side of the canal. Not all of them were there, 
 however, for six had perished on the way over. Pierre 
 undid the fastenings of the first boat with which he 
 came in contact, and climbing over the side, seized 
 the oars. How hard he rowed ! his wet body glisten- 
 ing in the sun. The others did the same, and nineteen 
 boats shot out into the stream. The Austrian fire 
 began again. Pierre sat up straight and rowed with 
 all his might. He remembered how the " old ones " 
 had laughed when the " new ones " ducked at Eck- 
 miihl. " If the ball is going to hit you, it will hit you 
 anyway," said Pierre, and on he went. But the Aus- 
 trians dropped Henri Vatel and five or six more, and 
 sent a ball that went through the port side of Pierre's 
 boat just at water-line. He turned his foot and stuck 
 his bare heel in the hole. That kept the water nearly 
 all out, and on he went. There was the shore, and he 
 gave a vigorous pull on the oars which sent the boat 
 swashing on the sand. Then jumping out, he pulled it 
 out of the water. He was the first to reach the shore.
 
 THE BOLD DUKE MAXIMILIAN 123 
 
 Andre Marceau came in a few moments later, the 
 others followed rapidly, and in a dozen minutes there 
 were as many boats in line at the Marshal's service. 
 
 " That's not bad," said Massena, who with the aide- 
 de-camp Sigaldi was standing on the bank. " Dress 
 fast and be ready to take over some voltigeurs." 
 
 They could see a company of voltigeurs from the 
 Boudet division coming up, and further on fifteen 
 twelve-pounders advancing at a trot, for the Emperor 
 was going to establish a battery on the side of the 
 canal to demolish the Lusthaus and enfilade the 
 avenue. Pierre slipped on his trousers and shirt and 
 was about to put on his shoes, when the soldiers, who 
 were dressing about him, sprang up, and, as they 
 were naked or half-dressed with shirts in their 
 hands stood at salute. Pierre jumped up and faced 
 about saluting, holding his shoe in his left hand. 
 
 There on their restless and richly-trapped chargers 
 were a dozen Imperial aides-de-camp in gorgeous uni- 
 forms covered with gold lace and jeweled decorations, 
 and wearing busbys with large white or red plumes, 
 while before them on his white horse sat the Emperor. 
 
 " You have done well," said His Majesty. " Which 
 of you brought over the first boat? " 
 
 Pierre stepped forward, his shoe in his hand. 
 
 " What is your name? " inquired the Emperor. 
 
 " Pierre Pasquin, sire." 
 
 " Pasquin? Pasquin? I have heard that name be- 
 fore. Are you he who lost the dispatch sent to me 
 from Saragossa?" 
 
 " It was stolen from me, sire." 
 
 "Stolen! How stolen? Were you not there to 
 defend it?"
 
 124 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Pierre had never before seen Napoleon face to face. 
 The tone of the Emperor's voice and the glance of the 
 Emperor's eye so confused him, that it is doubtful if 
 he could have answered anything which would have 
 been intelligible; but at that moment the Austrian 
 cannon beyond the Prater thundered. With a convul- 
 sive movement the Emperor wheeled his horse about 
 and set off at a gallop in that direction, drawing out 
 his spy-glass as he went, and followed furiously by his 
 glittering staff. 
 
 Pierre's legs seemed to give way under him. He 
 sank down and began to put on his shoes. That in- 
 fernal episode at Saragossa! He could never set it 
 right! If he could only explain to the Marshal Lannes 
 perhaps something might be done, but, although he 
 had seen the Marshal at Ratisbon, he had had no op- 
 portunity, and the Marshal had no doubt forgotten all 
 about him by this time. Well, it was just as the poor 
 mother had told him, " The Pasquins were not lucky." 
 He put on his shoes and his coat. " Perhaps my turn 
 will come some day," he said. " Anyway no one shall 
 say that Pasquin does not do his duty, even if he is 
 not lucky." 
 
 The battery established by the Emperor opened fire 
 on the Lusthaus, the voltigeurs were transported 
 across the river and captured the position ; a bridge of 
 boats was rapidly formed, and then the greater part of 
 the Boudet division marched over and occupied the 
 place. While this movement was being executed the 
 Emperor placed, near the end of the faubourg of the 
 Landstrauss, another battery of twenty howitzers which 
 commenced to throw shells into the city, and many 
 houses in the narrow streets were soon on fire.
 
 THE BOLD DUKE MAXIMILIAN 125 
 
 " It seems that Bonaparte has captured the Lust- 
 haus," said the Archduke Maximilian. 
 
 " That he has," said General O'Reilly. 
 
 "And he has placed a battery there, too," said the 
 Archduke Maximilian. 
 
 " He has indeed," said General O'Reilly. 
 
 " Well, I'll drive him out of there ! " said the Arch- 
 duke Maximilian. 
 
 " If you can," said General O'Reilly. 
 
 So during the night of the nth, the Archduke sent 
 two battalions of grenadiers to seize the Lusthaus and 
 break down the bridge of boats, but the Boudet volti- 
 geurs, entrenched behind cut timbers in the Lusthaus, 
 received them with a volley of musketry at short range, 
 the artillery from the French batteries riddled their 
 flanks, and the Austrians retreated beyond the Prater 
 in disorder. The Emperor was accomplishing his 
 purpose, and he would soon have the Tabor bridge. 
 
 " Now, there's one way left us," said the Archduke 
 Maximilian. 
 
 " What is that? " asked General O'Reilly. 
 
 "I shall march out of Vienna; break down the 
 Tabor bridge; go and find the Archduke Charles; 
 come back and give these French a thrashing!" said 
 the Archduke Maximilian. 
 
 " A good plan," said General O'Reilly. 
 
 " I shall leave you in command," said the Arch- 
 duke Maximilian. 
 
 " I am honored very greatly," answered General 
 O'Reilly. 
 
 " I must take the garrison with me, but I'll give you 
 five hundred men of Killer's corps and one battalion 
 of the Landwehr," said the Archduke Maximilian.
 
 126 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said General O'Reilly. 
 
 " Don't imagine I fear being taken prisoner! " said 
 the Archduke Maximilian. 
 
 " Surely not," said General O'Reilly. 
 
 "Make a firm stand, and I'll return in triumph!" 
 said the Archduke Maximilian. 
 
 " Certainly," said General O'Reilly. 
 
 On the morning of May I2th, therefore, the Arch- 
 duke at the head of the garrison marched out of 
 Vienna across the Tabor bridge, which he broke 
 down behind him. " Stand firm ! good people of 
 Vienna!" cried the Archduke Maximilian. "Be 
 united! Remember, I am before all else an Austrian! 
 I shall soon return in triumph to deliver you and make 
 the French repent their rashness! Meanwhile, obey 
 General O'Reilly." 
 
 The cannonade was still continuing, and the French 
 shells were flying into the city. 
 
 "Well, General," said Colonel Kahlenberg, "His 
 Imperial Highness has gone. What shall we do to 
 save Vienna?" 
 
 " Capitulate," said General O'Reilly.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE STREET OF ESSLING 
 
 For courage mounteth with occasion. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE, King John. 
 
 THUS Napoleon took possession of Vienna, and hav- 
 ing firmly established himself in a manner to use to 
 advantage the resources of that capital and to protect 
 his means of communication, he turned his attention 
 to the problem to be solved namely, to transport 
 across the river 1000 yards wide, an army of 150,000 
 men and 500 guns, in the face of an equal force, that 
 upon the great plain of the Marchfeld he might fight 
 a battle which should terminate the war. For this 
 operation he chose that part of the Danube nearest to 
 Vienna, where the river, wide rather than rapid and 
 deep, was studded with islands, and by this division 
 was made more manageable. Two leagues below 
 Vienna opposite Enzersdorf is the island of Lobau, 
 thickly wooded, a league long and a league and a half 
 wide. To reach it one must cross the two arms of the 
 great Danube, one 240 fathoms wide, the other 120, 
 with a sand-bank between them ; while a narrow branch 
 of the river, 60 fathoms wide, separates the island from 
 the left bank, where about the heights of Deutsch- 
 Wagram, beyond the plain of the Marchfeld, the Arch- 
 duke Charles was collecting his army corps. 
 
 It was a gigantic operation, this crossing of the
 
 128 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Danube; to hold in check the Austrian capital, t& 
 transport this mighty mass of men and guns and 
 horses and ammunition across this broad impetuous 
 river, to do battle on the plain beyond, with this river 
 in the rear; but the situation left no alternative. 
 Have not the eagles crossed the Alps, and shall they 
 not cross the Danube, wide and swift-flowing though 
 it be? To work then, soldiers of France! Collect the 
 boats that you can find in Vienna; raise and repair 
 those which the Austrians, foreseeing your need of 
 them, have sunk in the river; search Vienna for cord- 
 age from one end to the other; cut and saw the timbers 
 of the surrounding country to make planks, and, as 
 there is no time to forge anchors from the iron-works 
 of Styria, sink in the river heavy weights guns found 
 in the arsenals of Vienna and chests filled with cannon- 
 balls. And as you march, and work, and run, and 
 hammer, and saw, and lower, and hoist, and pull, and 
 push, and dig, and carry be sure of this; upon you 
 all from the white-plumed Marshal who gives com- 
 mands, and the embroidered aide-de-camp who carries 
 orders, to the humble pontonier who saws and ham- 
 mers, and the never-flagging sentinel who paces 
 through the thickets of Lobau rests the " eye of the 
 master! " 
 
 And so by the 2oth of May all was ready; the 
 Boudet and Molitor divisions passed over to the island 
 of Lobau, and Lasalle's division of light cavalry fol- 
 lowed with two artillery trains. They drove back and 
 captured the few Austrian outposts on the island and 
 crossed it to the narrow branch that lay between it and 
 the left bank. In a few hours time the bridge of 
 boats for this narrow arm of the river was prepared,
 
 THE STREET OF ESSLING 129 
 
 and MM. Sainte-Croix and Baudru, having been 
 rowed over with 200 voltigeurs, drove off the Austrian 
 sharpshooters and fastened the cable which was to 
 support the bridge. And after the bridge had been 
 put in place, General Lasalle crossed with four regi- 
 ments of cavalry. It was a fine sight to see them go 
 over, so Pierre thought, for the H5th were drawn up 
 near the bank, waiting their turn to cross, and Pierre 
 could see clearly the bridge, the river, and the open 
 plain beyond. 
 
 Lasalle came along on his beautiful black horse that 
 tossed his head and curveted and picked up and set 
 down his feet with springy precision. And Lasalle 
 with his great cocked hat and big twisted mustache, 
 clanking sword, prancing horse, and jingling bridle, 
 looked, as he was, a swashbuckler par excellence. 
 Don't fancy, however, that he was all waxed mustache 
 and hussar uniform, sabretache, and nothing more. 
 He was the best light cavalry officer in the army and 
 had the keenest eye. Pierre remembered a story that 
 Andre Marceau had told them one night about 
 Lasalle, how the Emperor had given Lasalle 200,000 
 francs to pay his debts before he was married, and how 
 Lasalle paid his debts with half and lost the other 
 half at cards. " And when is your wedding, Lasalle? " 
 said the Emperor when he saw him next 
 
 " As soon as I have some money to begin house- 
 keeping, sire," said Lasalle. 
 
 " What! Why, I gave you 200,000 francs last week! 
 What have you done with them?" 
 
 " Paid my debts with half and lost the other half at 
 cards." 
 
 And the Emperor, who would have scolded any 
 
 9
 
 130 THE GRENADIER 
 
 other general for such a statement, laughed, pulled 
 Lasalle's ear and gave him another 200,000 francs. 
 So much for having a keen eye ! thought Pierre. 
 
 When General Lasalle reached the opposite bank, he 
 drew his sword, gave that beautiful horse the spur and 
 made him go bounding off over the green Marchfeld, 
 which was a pretty sight to see. After him trotted the 
 lancers, with their long pennants fluttering, and then 
 came the hussars and chasseurs clattering over the 
 bridge the vanguard of Napoleon's great army had 
 passed the Danube! Then the Boudet division was 
 marched over and the other divisions followed, and 
 they advanced through the grain fields to the village 
 of Essling. Pierre trudged along and looked at the 
 fields and the little houses of Essling spread out on 
 the plain. Over to the left he could see the church 
 tower of Aspern. The sun became hot, and the in- 
 sects buzzed about among the growing corn and gar- 
 den truck of the Essling farmers. Pierre did not feel 
 very joyous that morning. He seemed so small and 
 insignificant among that great host massed in and 
 around Vienna; and sometimes he wondered how he 
 had ever come to imagine that any honor would come 
 to him. He had been up nearly all night, working 
 about the bridge and crossing to the island of Lobau; 
 then, two days before, he had lost a shoe and had had 
 to borrow one from Andre Marceau. It was too tight 
 and had rubbed his heel so that he could hardly walk. 
 And when they were crossing from the island of 
 Lobau, his tooth that wretched back tooth in his 
 lower right jaw had begun to ache, and now it was 
 making his head crack. His knapsack weighed a ton, 
 he thought, and his gun at least half a ton; the sun's
 
 THE STREET OF ESSLING 131 
 
 rays grew hotter, and the dust rolled up thick and 
 slowly settled in his ears and eyes. Things looked 
 peaceful enough about this little town of Essling. 
 There would probably be little done there that day; 
 and suppose there were fighting what chance for 
 him, an insignificant soldier? Look at all those 
 plumed officers, gold-laced aides-de-camp, jingling 
 hussar captains, and majestic marshals! The world 
 stood at salute when they went by! He was only a 
 poor chap who was " not lucky," who had a sore heel 
 and the toothache could he ever hope to be like 
 them? Ah! what was it that Andre Marceau, by the 
 camp-fire before Eckmiihl, had told them the Emperor 
 said? " Every French soldier carries in his knapsack 
 the baton of a Marshal of France ! " Every French 
 soldier? Yes, every French soldier! It would it 
 must prove true! It was the Imperial word! 
 
 The Boudet division was stationed in Essling, where 
 an enclosure with a large house of hewn stone formed 
 a citadel. The Molitor division was marched to As- 
 pern, and between Aspern and Essling were placed the 
 cavalry and artillery, while across the bridges and the 
 island of Lobau more troops infantry, cavalry, and 
 artillery were being hastened forward to reinforce 
 those corps already in Aspern-Essling. So the hours 
 of the morning passed quietly enough for the H5th of 
 the Line in Essling, but about noon, far in the distance 
 across the Marchfeld, they saw the advance guard of 
 the army of the Archduke Charles. Nearer and 
 nearer they came in a vast semicircle toward Aspern- 
 Essling, until their white uniforms and glittering arms 
 were seen clearly beyond the green corn-fields. The 
 Marshal Berthier, who had the best eye of any man
 
 132 THE GRENADIER 
 
 in the army for measuring extent of ground and num- 
 bers of men, calculated, from his post in the church 
 tower at Aspern, that they were 90,000 strong and sent 
 this word to the Emperor. As yet only six divisions 
 the infantry divisions of Molitor, Boudet, and Legrand, 
 and the cavalry divisions of Lasalle, Marulaz, and 
 Espagne in all about 23,000 men, had crossed the 
 river. But the Emperor determined to hold Aspern- 
 Essling, to recover which would cost too much; and 
 he hurried forward the passage of the army from the 
 right bank. So the Imperial aide-de-camp, Cesar de 
 Laville, came riding up to the Boudet division and 
 said to General Boudet, " The Emperor orders you to 
 hold Essling!" 
 
 Villages of Aspern-Essling, on you the sun shines 
 brightly, about you the waving corn-fields and the 
 quiet kitchen-gardens grow peacefully, and in your 
 white-walled streets the fluttering standards and the 
 many-colored uniforms glitter resplendent. But 
 before another sun shall rise your gardens will be 
 trampled in the mire, your walls be torn with shot and 
 shell, your towers fall, your houses burst with flame, 
 your streets run red with blood! 'Tis two o'clock! 
 Your hour has come! The cannon on the Marchfeld 
 thunders! Napoleon Bonaparte and the Archduke 
 Charles of Hapsburg have let loose on you " the dogs 
 of war!" 
 
 The Austrians directed their main attack on As- 
 pern, which was furiously assailed by the corps of 
 Hiller, Hohenzollern, and Lieutenant-General Belle- 
 garde. Prince Lichtenstein and the Austrian cavalry 
 charged the cavalry of Lannes posted between Aspern- 
 Essling, while the corps of Rosenberg advanced
 
 THE STREET OF ESSLING 133 
 
 against the latter place. Thus all the afternoon the 
 conflict raged. Again and again the Austrian grena- 
 diers charged through the streets of Aspern. Again 
 and again the French drove them back. Twice the 
 corps of Rosenberg advanced through the streets of 
 Essling, and twice the soldiers of the Boudet division 
 drove them back. Prince Lichtenstein's white-coated 
 horsemen and Lasalle's fur-jacketed hussars met in 
 full career, and reared, and pranced, and cut, and 
 slashed, and whirled away to the trumpet-blast. As- 
 pern was on fire in many places, and Essling smoked, 
 blackened and dismantled and all the time across the 
 bridges of the Danube and the island of Lobau came 
 the French army horse, man, and gun advancing to 
 the seat of war. So the French held their own, and 
 when night came, and the firing, charging, stabbing, 
 trampling ceased, Napoleon had transported 60,000 
 men across the Danube, ready for the battle of the 
 morrow. If with 30,000 men and fifty guns he had 
 held this great mass of Austrians in check, would he 
 not beat them on the morrow, now that he had trans- 
 ported 150 guns and 60,000 men? Beat them? Yes 
 if ammunition did not fail and the Danube bridge held 
 firm! 
 
 Night came. Pierre was on guard duty on the em- 
 bankment before Essling, and with his gun on his 
 shoulder he paced along the smooth, narrow path. 
 Around him was the broad, dark Marchfeld, and in 
 the distance the Austrian fires. Behind him was Ess- 
 ling, dark and silent, its weary defenders stretched in 
 sleep about the bivouacs in the streets or in the 
 houses. To his left was Aspern, its smoking ruins 
 still sending forth in some places a dull red glow.
 
 134 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Over the dark Marchfeld glittered here and there, like 
 busy fireflies, the lights of the ambulance corps pick- 
 ing up the wounded, and ever and anon upon the still 
 night air was heard the far-distant blast of a cavalry 
 bugle or an adjacent groan. And the moon came up 
 and shed her quiet light over the green Marchfeld, 
 making the lights of the ambulance corps grow dim, 
 covering the battered walls of Essling with hazy 
 romance, and drawing from the stacks of arms in 
 Essling's streets a glancing gleam. Shine on, silver 
 Diana, you are queen to-night! Your reign is peace! 
 The first beams of the morning will announce the 
 chariot of the Sun and crimson-crested Mars! 
 
 As Pierre paced thus in the moonlight, he saw a 
 man, wrapped in a long dark cloak, advancing along 
 the embankment. His head was somewhat bent and 
 his high cocked hat concealed his face. " Halt! " said 
 Pierre. The man raised his head abruptly, and at the 
 same instant Pierre recognized the Marshal Lannes. 
 He saluted and waited for the Marshal to speak. " Is 
 all quiet?" said Lannes. "All is quiet, Monsieur le 
 Marechal," answered Pierre. The Marshal saluted 
 him and was about to pass on, when Pierre, whose 
 heart was beating thump! thump! said suddenly, 
 " Monsieur le Marechal ! " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Do you remember, Monsieur le Marechal, at Sara- 
 gossa a soldier named Pasquin whom you sent to 
 Tudela with a letter for the Emperor? " 
 
 "Yes, well?" 
 
 " That letter was never delivered, Monsieur le 
 Marechal." 
 
 "I know it, and what of this soldier? "
 
 THE STREET OF ESSLING 135 
 
 " He is here before you, Monsieur le Marechal." 
 
 Lannes stepped quickly forward and looked closely 
 at Pierre. " And why did you not hand my letter to 
 the Baron Lejeune?" inquired the Marshal sternly. 
 Then on the embankment, in the quiet night, Pierre 
 told him the story; how he and Jean had ridden 
 out of Saragossa, and what had happened on the ris- 
 ing ground near Alagon, and how, when life seemed 
 dark indeed, there came a bright angel in a little creak- 
 ing cart. And the Marshal heard the story in silence, 
 wrapped in his cloak, looking out over the dark 
 Marchfeld. When Pierre had finished, quick as a 
 flash the Marshal whirled about, looked him in the 
 eyes and asked roughly, " Boy, are you telling me the 
 truth?" And Pierre looked back at him steadily and 
 said, " I am telling you the truth, Monsieur le 
 Marechal." 
 
 " Yes, so you are," said Lannes. 
 
 " And what has become of Jean Deteau, Monsieur 
 le Marechal? " 
 
 " Deteau? He was transferred to Marshal Soult's 
 staff. He is still in Spain. Well, justice shall be 
 done, young man, when we get back to Paris. Now 
 we have work. To-morrow strike your blows for 
 France! " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur le Marechal, for France and for the 
 Emperor! " 
 
 The Marshal passed on, and Pierre was left alone 
 upon the embankment. At four in the morning the 
 French and Austrian sharpshooters began to exchange 
 shots, and Napoleon, on horseback at the tile-yard be- 
 tween Aspern-Essling, gave his orders to his Mar- 
 shals. Massena with the Molitor, Legrand, and Carra
 
 136 THE GRENADIER 
 
 St Cyr divisions was to hold Aspern, and Lannes 
 with the Boudet, St. Hilaire, and Oudinot divisions 
 was to hold Essling, while between the towns were 
 the French cavalry and artillery, and in reserve toward 
 the Danube was the Imperial Guard. 
 
 The battle began furiously, and while Massena held 
 Aspern with stubborn tenacity and Boudet held Ess- 
 ling with cool firmness, Lannes, with 20,000 infantry 
 and 6000 cavalry, advanced into the plain against the 
 Austrian centre. The Austrians, assailed throughout 
 their whole line, began to fall back. Vainly the Arch- 
 duke Charles strove to rally his wavering centre; 
 vainly he seized the flag of Bach's division and led it 
 forward in person, giving to his soldiers the inspiring 
 example of an Imperial Prince of Hapsburg advanc- 
 ing under fire. The Austrian centre still fell slowly 
 back, when all at once the French halted, and their 
 eagles, a moment before flying victoriously, fluttered 
 in the midst of the Marchfeld with smoke and fire on 
 every side. For an Imperial aide-de-camp had 
 brought to Marshal Lannes the Emperor's orders to 
 suspend his forward movement and fall back gradually 
 to the line of Aspern-Essling, sparing his ammunition. 
 The great bridge across the Danube, owing to the 
 swelling of the flood and the timbers and burning 
 buildings which the Austrians floated down the stream, 
 had broken just as Davout's artillery regiments and 
 wagons were preparing to cross, and now the Em- 
 peror of the French, with 60,000 men, was cut off from 
 his main army on the right bank and from all his 
 ammunition! The Danube in his rear and 90,000 
 Austrians before him ! It was nine in the morning on 
 the 22d of May, and not until night could the French
 
 THE STREET OF ESSLING 137 
 
 hope to retreat over the single bridge uniting the left 
 bank to the island of Lobau. The corps of Marshal 
 Lannes fell back, and all along their line the Austrians 
 advanced with renewed vigor. In and about Aspern- 
 Essling the battle began again more furiously than 
 ever. To the left of Essling, Rosenberg brought up 
 fifty guns, and they began roar and thunder, thunder 
 and roar! Crash! crash! the roofs of the houses of 
 Essling, along the street leading to the citadel, fell 
 into, and beside the houses. Bricks, stones, and 
 mortar lay in heaps, and walls fell in, and houses 
 blazed, and timbers were hurled through the air, and 
 smoke and dust were on every side. The soldiers of 
 the usth barricaded themselves with wagons, ploughs, 
 beams and stones, and when the Hungarian grenadiers 
 came charging up the street, they gave them a volley 
 that sent them charging back again. A shell fell near 
 Francois Legrand and burst, knocking Francois 
 down. But Francois got up, covered with dirt, and 
 waved his sword and cried, " Your Captain is not 
 hurt! You may depend upon him! Aim straighter 
 next time, Austrian fools ! " 
 
 Again the Austrians charged and again were 
 beaten back. A cannon-ball struck a whole file and 
 knocked them on top of Captain Legrand, and under 
 the pile of wounded, bleeding men, they heard Fran- 
 c,ois shouting, "Close up the ranks!" Pierre helped 
 to drag him out and cried, " Captain, the hilt of your 
 sabre is gone!" "No matter," said Franqois, "the 
 battle is not over yet." 
 
 Now the cannon thundered faster and faster. The 
 balls came and rolled over three men at a time, and 
 sent the grenadiers' caps spinning twenty feet in the
 
 138 THE GRENADIER 
 
 air, but as soon as one file was down, there came from 
 Frangois the stern command, "Close the ranks!" 
 The file next Pierre was cut down, and something 
 struck him on the arm. He dropped his gun, think- 
 ing that his arm was cut off, for it had no feeling in 
 it. And then he saw a piece of flesh sticking to his 
 wrist, a piece of flesh of one of his brave comrades 
 which had been dashed against him with such violence 
 that it had adhered to his wrist! Andre Marceau came 
 up and shook his arm, and the piece of flesh fell off. 
 How glad Pierre was to find that his arm was only 
 stunned, and that he could use his fingers! "Leave 
 your gun and take your sabre," said Andre Marceau. 
 " I have none," said Pierre, " a ball carried it away." 
 So he took his gun in his left hand. Then a ball from 
 an Austrian twelve-pounder crashed into the roof of 
 the granary and sent the stones flying, and Charles 
 Varterre ducked his head. " You must not duck your 
 head!" shouted Francois Legrand, slapping him on 
 the knapsack with his sabre. "I won't!" cried 
 Charles, and up he stood. Again the Austrians came 
 in solid column, spitting flame. "Forward!" cried 
 Legrand. And over the debris in the street and the 
 dead bodies of their comrades they rushed and met 
 with a crash, and for a few moments there was shout- 
 ing, swearing, sabring, bayoneting, and pandemonium 
 supreme. Pierre received a cut from a bayonet over 
 his left eye, as he parried the thrust of an Austrian 
 grenadier. Then the Austrians fell back, and Pierre 
 saw Francois Legrand surrounded by three of them, 
 who had seized him and were shouting, " Surrender! " 
 Pierre ran up and, pointing his gun with his left hand, 
 he made it play see-saw with his right, and plunged 
 his bayonet into the bellies of first one and then
 
 THE STREET OF ESSLING 139 
 
 another of the Austrian grenadiers. The third was 
 thrown down by Frangois, who ran his sword into his 
 throat. Pierre was wet with sweat, and cov- 
 ered with dirt and bits of mortar, and his face was 
 red with blood from the cut in his forehead, and his 
 bayonet and the barrel of his gun were smeared with 
 blood and entrails. And so the fight went on. Again 
 the Austrians charged; Pierre saw an Austrian captain 
 leading, and, taking a cartridge, he made the sign of 
 the cross for good luck, rammed it in his gun, fired, 
 and hit the Austrian in the face. And so the fight 
 went on. 
 
 Now the Austrians brought up more artillery. 
 They must drive the French out of this little town of 
 Essling; they must get to the bridge, and if they did, 
 it would be all up with the French army, it would be 
 all up with the Emperor Napoleon. It was well 
 toward evening now. Essling was broken and bat- 
 tered from one end to the other; the houses were on 
 fire, and there were barricades of stone, great timbers, 
 dismantled guns, abandoned knapsacks and cartridge- 
 boxes, dead horses, dead Austrians, dead Frenchmen, 
 bloody corpses torn and mangled, bloody walls and 
 smoking ruins everywhere. When for the sixth time 
 the Austrians advanced, and the brave Boudet cried, 
 "Charge!" there were few left to respond to his call; 
 and at last they were driven back into the granary and 
 surrounded. As they fell back, Frangois Legrand saw 
 an Austrian battalion coming up through one of the 
 narrow streets amid the smoke and flame. If they 
 could pass this street, they could pass the granary, 
 they could penetrate Essling, they could reach the 
 bridge, they could "Forward!" shouted Francois, 
 and the 3rd company of the H5th ran after him to the
 
 140 THE GRENADIER 
 
 head of the narrow street. They seized a wagon, 
 threw it over, and when the Austrians were within 
 range, gave them a volley. The Austrians returned 
 their fire furiously, and they fired again, and the Aus- 
 trians returned it, and they fired again, and as they 
 were shot down, their comrades piled their dead 
 bodies beside the wagon and fought behind them as 
 from a rampart. Soldiers of the Boudet division, do 
 you know the work cut out for you? It is this con- 
 quer or die! Yes, they knew it, and as they saw the 
 Austrian cannon preparing to fire, they said to one 
 another, " That one is for me ! " " All right, I will get 
 behind you. That is a good place. Keep quiet." 
 
 So night settled down, but enveloped by smoke they 
 fought by the light of burning houses, and, when 
 they fired, the Austrians fell, and when the Austrians 
 fired, they fell, and the wall of bodies grew higher and 
 higher. And after a time there were leit behind that 
 wagon and that wall of bleeding corpses, only three 
 Frangois Legrand, Pierre Pasquin, Andre Marceau 
 and they were black with dirt, and singed with fire, and 
 red with blood from crown to heel. And alone against 
 that host they loaded their muskets and cried, " For 
 France!" and fired, and, when they fired, three Aus- 
 trians fell. Ah! not since the days of the Eternal 
 City, when the Spurius Lartius on his right and Her- 
 minius on his left, Horatius held the bridge against 
 Lars Porsena, had the world seen braver work than 
 this. And when some hours later General Mouton, 
 at the head of the fusileers of the Imperial Guard, came 
 charging into Essling, bringing relief, respite, and 
 rescue amid the blazing houses, the falling timbers, 
 and the crash of arms, still came from those three the 
 all-conquering shout, "Vive 1'Empereur!"
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 IN THE ISLAND OF LOBAU 
 
 What though the field be lost? 
 
 All is not lost; the unconquerable will 
 
 And courage never to submit or yield. 
 
 MILTON, Paradise Lost. 
 
 FOR thirty hours the battle had raged in and about 
 Aspern-Essling, and then the Archduke Charles, des- 
 pairing of driving the French into the river, and find- 
 ing that he was running short of ammunition, gradu- 
 ally withdrew his forces and sullenly waited for day. 
 
 Near the bank of the small arm of the Danube, 
 under a great fir-tree on the island of Lobau, the Em- 
 peror Napoleon paced to and fro, while at a little 
 distance stood the Marshals Bessieres and Massena 
 and the Prince of Neufchatel, wrapped in their cloaks. 
 The night was dark, and across the narrow bridge that 
 united the island to the left bank passed and repassed 
 the ambulance corps, carrying the wounded. No word 
 was spoken by those four. The Marshals stood in 
 silence, and the Emperor walked in silence, occasion- 
 ally striking his boots with his riding-whip, or opening 
 his snuff-box and, without making use of it, snapping 
 the lid mechanically again. What a day it had been! 
 Thousands and tens of thousands of the best soldiers 
 of France lay dead and dying in those villages of 
 Aspern-Essling, sacrificed by stern necessity to save
 
 142 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the balance of the army and repair the fault of having 
 with a presumption born of years of triumph, crossed, 
 on a single bridge, the widest river in Europe, in the 
 face of all the power of the Austrian Empire. 
 
 St Hilaire, the veteran of Italy, would lead the 
 charge no more; and Lannes, the old comrade of the 
 early days, struck by the cannon-ball at Essling, was 
 soon to close his glorious career of arms and perish, 
 " a giant," when giants were most needed to extricate 
 the army from its perilous position. In the heart of 
 the Austrian Empire, France and her victorious Em- 
 peror had received a check, and let it once be thought 
 that check had impaired their prestige, and Germany, 
 affrighted by Ratisbon and Eckmiihl, would recover 
 courage, Austria would awake to new vigor, Holland 
 would lift up her head, Spain would shout more 
 fiercely her guerilla war-cry, England would scatter 
 firebrands on every side, and from the Baltic to 
 Gibraltar one shout would reverberate through 
 Europe" On to Paris! " 
 
 So in silence the Emperor paced the bank, and the 
 Marshals awaited his pleasure. Soon the splash of 
 oars was heard, and a boat rowed by four voltigeurs 
 was seen nearing the shore; it contained the Marshal 
 Davout. When the Marshal had landed he joined the 
 Emperor, and together they went to the great fir-tree, 
 where the Emperor sat down on a log. Marshal 
 Davout sat on one side of him and Marshal Massena 
 upon the other, while Bessieres and the Prince of 
 Neufchatel stood wrapped in their cloaks. It was a 
 council of war. 
 
 " Well," said the Emperor to the Prince of Neuf- 
 chatel, " what is your opinion? "
 
 IN THE ISLAND OF LOBAU 143 
 
 " Sire, I do not see what we can do but cross to the 
 right bank as best we can. After the terrible losses 
 we have experienced to-day we certainly cannot remain 
 longer on the left bank. It seems to me that our 
 only hope lies in getting back into Vienna." 
 
 " And what do you think? " said the Emperor, turn- 
 ing to Marshal Bessieres. 
 
 " I am of the same opinion as the Prince of Neuf- 
 chatel, sire." 
 
 " Are you of the same opinion, Massena? " inquired 
 the Emperor. 
 
 " I think, sire, that it would be extremely dangerous 
 for us to attempt to maintain our position in Lobau. 
 Our losses to-day have been something " 
 
 " I know," said the Emperor quietly. 
 
 Davout said nothing, but his face was very sad. 
 " Gentlemen," said the Emperor, " the day has been 
 a severe one, but it cannot be considered a defeat, since 
 we remain masters of the field of battle. It is doing 
 a great deal to retire safe after such a conflict; sus- 
 tained with a huge river at our back and our bridges 
 destroyed. Our loss in killed and wounded is great, 
 greater than any we have before suffered in our long 
 wars, but that of the enemy must have been a third 
 greater. There is a retrograde movement, proper and 
 necessary, to recross the small arm of the Danube and 
 wait there for the water to subside and the bridge to 
 be rebuilt. This movement can be performed to-night 
 without losing a single wounded man, a single horse, 
 or a single gun; above all, without losing honor. But 
 there is another retrograde movement, dishonoring 
 and disastrous, to repass not only the small arm but 
 also the great arm of the Danube, scrambling over this
 
 144 THE GRENADIER 
 
 as best we can with boats that can carry only sound 
 men, abandoning our wounded, our cannon, and our 
 horses, and also the island of Lobau, which is the true 
 ground for ultimately effecting a passage. If we act 
 thus and present ourselves thus to the Viennese, they 
 will overwhelm us with scorn and soon summon the 
 Archduke Charles to expel us from the capital. In 
 that case it is not a retreat to Vienna for which we 
 must prepare, but a retreat to Strassburg. Prince 
 Eugene, now on the march to Vienna, will find the 
 enemy there and perish in the trap. Our allies, made 
 treacherous by weakness, will turn against us. The 
 fortune of the Empire will be at an end! The gran- 
 deur of France will be destroyed! Davout and Mas- 
 sena, Lannes is dying, but you live, you will save the 
 army! " 
 
 The impulsive Massena jumped up and seized the 
 Emperor's hand. 
 
 " You are a man of courage, sire, and worthy to 
 command us ! " he cried. 
 
 " No ! we must not fly like cravens who have been 
 beaten! Fortune has not been kind to us, but we are 
 victorious, nevertheless, for the enemy, who ought to 
 have driven us into the Danube, have fallen before our 
 positions. Let us cross only the small arm of the river, 
 and I pledge my word to drown in it every Austrian 
 who shall attempt to cross it in pursuit of us ! " 
 
 And Davout said in his quiet way, " I will defend 
 Vienna from any attack by way of Presburg, or 
 Krems, during the renovation of the bridges." 
 
 "Your Majesty is right," said the Prince of Neuf- 
 chatel. So the council broke up. The Marshal Mas- 
 sena returned to Aspern to superintend the passage of
 
 IN THE ISLAND OF LOBAU 145 
 
 the army to the island of Lobau, while Napoleon and 
 the Prince of Neufchatel entered a boat to cross the 
 main branch cf the river to the right bank. 
 
 It was twelve at night, and the darkness dense and 
 black, and the great flood rolled along the timbers 
 and debris, which the Austrians above Aspern kept 
 sending down the stream. 
 
 Row steadily, boatmen, be not dismayed by the 
 darkness of the night or the surging of the Danube! 
 You will reach the shore in safety you bear " Caesar 
 and his fortunes ! " 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 THE DUKE OF MONTEBELLO 
 
 The glories of our blood and state 
 Are shadows, not substantial things; 
 
 There is no armor against fate; 
 Death lays his icy hands on kings. 
 SHIRLEY, Contention of Aja.r and Ulysses. 
 
 FATIGUE clips the laurels of victory. After his exer- 
 tion at Essling, Pierre was greatly depressed; nature 
 demanded her due. But although he lacked rest, he 
 did not lack misfortune. He was frying a piece of 
 bacon with Andre Marceau when Frangois Legrand 
 came running toward them. " Here's a biscuit for 
 you, Frangois," said Andre. Frangois reached the fire 
 and stopped. He paid no attention to Andre's biscuit; 
 he swore. Now, there are different degrees of swear- 
 ing. There is the oath habitual, the oath circumstan- 
 tial, the oath terrible, and the oath artistic. Frangois' 
 swearing combined the last two. He cursed the Aus- 
 trians alive and dead ; he cursed them in monosyllables 
 and in sentences; he consigned them individually and 
 collectively to the depths of hell, while against the 
 gunners of Enzersdorf in particular he hurled a whirl- 
 wind of blasphemy. Pierre and Andre looked in 
 surprise. 
 
 "What's happened?" said Pierre. 
 
 " ' Ajax ' is killed ! " cried Frangois, and he sobbed.
 
 THE DUKE OF MONTEBELLO 147 
 
 "The devil!" cried Andre Marceau. Then he 
 swore; but he was no past-master in profanity, so his 
 attempt seemed tame after what had preceded. 
 
 Pierre's heart was chilled it meant so much to him. 
 Ajax! did he not say on the Essling embankment. 
 'Justice shall be done, young man, when we get 
 back to Paris "? Who would see now that justice was 
 done? Ajax, his friend, was gone! 
 
 In one point, however, Francois was mistaken, as 
 Pierre learned later. The Marshal Lannes was not 
 dead, but dying. He had been struck down at the 
 close of the day of the fight at Aspern-Essfing, when, 
 sitting down to await the carrying out of orders he had 
 given, a three-pound shot from a gun at Enzersdorf 
 had crashed into his knees, smashing the kneepan of 
 the one, and tearing the sinews of the other. He had 
 been carried to the tete-de-pont of the bridge, where 
 Dr. Larrey, against the advice of Dr. Yvan, had ampu- 
 tated one of his legs. There the Emperor had found 
 him, and knelt by the stretcher to embrace his old 
 comrade, whose blood stained his kerseymere waist- 
 coat. Then across the island of Lobau he had been 
 brought to Kaiser-Ebersdorf, and, when he was unable 
 to drink the muddy water of the Danube, Marbot had 
 filtered it through one of the Marshal's shirts and thus 
 relieved his thirst And now in a house at Ebersdorf, 
 with one leg gone and the other swathed in bloody 
 bandages, the Marshal Duke of Montebello lay dying 
 dying when France had need of him! 
 
 A brave man, this Marshal Duke of Montebello! 
 We, who have seen him in the breach at Saragossa and 
 before the walls of Ratisbon, have seen little of his 
 history. Let us look more closely at his brave career.
 
 148 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Jean was his name, and he was born in the Gascon 
 town, Lectoure, in April, 1769, and so was four months 
 older than his Emperor and friend. His father was a 
 dyer, and the young Lannes learned his trade, and 
 learned, too, from his elder brother, reading, writing, 
 and arithmetic. Then came the Revolution, and under 
 the banner of " Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite," shouting 
 " Ca ira!" and "Allons enfants de la patrie!" 
 monarch-terrifying, throne-shaking, people-rescuing, 
 young France began to march! 
 
 And Lannes marched, too, enrolling in the volun- 
 teers of Gers, and soon his comrades named him sous- 
 lieutenant. Why? Because they found him zealous, 
 brave, hard-working, and of ready wit. He served in 
 the Pyrenees with Augereau and was made a colonel, 
 and then was sent to Italy, where soon a greater than 
 Augereau came to take command. Firm friends they 
 were, the thin, sallow Bonaparte and the dashing 
 Gascon colonel, and side by side they fought across 
 the bridge at Lodi, in the marshes of Arcole, and on 
 the plain at Rivoli. And then in Egypt, where, amid 
 Mamelukes, pyramids, and Pharaohs, they traced at 
 St. Jean d'Acre the footprints of Richard the Lion- 
 hearted. Then through the i8th Brumaire, when 
 victory crowned the victor, and France, emerging 
 from chaos, raised aloft before astounded Europe her 
 talisman of triumph Bonaparte, First Consul! So 
 over the Alps to Montebello and Marengo, and on, 
 ever on, till the 2nd of December, 1804, when the son 
 of the Gascony dyer, become Marshal of France and 
 Duke of Montebello, advanced with the Imperial pro- 
 cession into Notre Dame and heard the white-robed 
 Pius VII exclaim, " Send down, O Lord, the treasures 
 of thy grace upon thy servant Napoleon, whom, in
 
 THE DUKE OF MONTEBELLO 149 
 
 spite of our unworthiness, we consecrate this day as 
 Emperor, in thy name! " 
 
 And now, in the house at Ebersdorf, the Marshal 
 Duke of Montebello lay dying dying when France 
 had need of him ! 
 
 " Marbot," said the Marshal, " is the army getting 
 across in safety to Lobau? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," replied the aide-de-camp. 
 
 " Oh ! there is so much to be done and here I am, 
 useless! My poor grenadiers how they fought at 
 Essling! What a slaughter! " 
 
 And the Marshal groaned. The aide-de-camp came 
 up to the bed and straightened the pillow. 
 
 " Marbot," said the Marshal, " I must get out of this. 
 Now I want you to write to Mesler. I have heard that 
 he made an artificial leg for Count Palfy and that the 
 Count can walk and ride as well as ever. Ask Mesler 
 to come and measure me for a leg." 
 
 But the Marshal Duke of Montebello was to walk 
 and ride no more. In a short time a raging fever 
 set in, the wounded man became delirious and 
 tossed upon his rough bed. "Bring up the guns!" 
 he cried. " Where are the guns? And Massena, how 
 long will he hold Aspern?" 
 
 Then the surgeons came and held a consultation. 
 
 "Well?" cried the Marshal, "am I going to 
 recover? Are you going to save me? " 
 
 "Alas! I fear not, Monsieur le Marechal," an- 
 swered Dr. Yvan, and the tears gathered in his eyes. 
 
 The Marshal tossed wildly. "What!" he cried, 
 " not save a Marshal of France and a Duke of Monte- 
 bello! Then the Emperor shall hang you! " 
 
 The fever grew, and the Marshal became more 
 delirious, thinking all the while that he was on the field
 
 ISO THE GRENADIER 
 
 of battle, holding the Austrians in check at Aspern- 
 Essling. 
 
 Whenever he could, Pierre came to the house in 
 Ebersdorf; he questioned the sentinels; he hung about 
 the door, endeavoring to obtain news ; he looked up at 
 the windows of the room where the Marshal lay those 
 sad windows with green shutters. Must Ajax die 
 now now, when they all needed him so much now, 
 when he needed him so much now, when justice was 
 to be done in Paris? He heard muskets, presenting 
 arms; turning, he saw Napoleon and Prince Berthier 
 advancing rapidly toward the house. They were on 
 foot. Although it was May, the weather was cool, 
 and the Emperor wore his gray greatcoat buttoned, 
 concealing his uniform. His gloves were white and 
 his face was equally colorless, but his eyes gleamed 
 like meteors. Pierre saluted. The Emperor raised 
 his hand to his hat, and entered the house, and Ber- 
 thier, glittering gold on every seam, followed him. 
 Then Pierre had a thought a foolish, childish, im- 
 probable, impossible idea but the thought grew, and 
 became a hope, and chained him there with his gaze 
 riveted on the windows of the Marshal's room. And 
 this was the thought, that perhaps the Marshal might 
 think of him and speak of him to the Emperor, and 
 so justice might be done in Kaiser-Ebersdorf instead 
 of Paris. 
 
 Poor boy! he was only a boy and this was so 
 large in his world-horizon; yet many men, touched by 
 time's silver wand, have had hopes equally chimerical, 
 and upon them have staked fame or fortune. 
 
 As Napoleon advanced to the bed, the aide-de-camp 
 said sadly, " He no longer recognizes any one, sire." 
 
 "' Lannes," said the Emperor, " do you know me?"
 
 THE DUKE OF MONTEBELLO 151 
 
 "They are coming!" cried the Marshal. "Bring 
 the guns to Essling! Boudet must hold his own! He 
 must! I say, he must! " 
 
 " Lannes! " cried the Emperor, " do you not recog- 
 nize me? It is Bonaparte! It is your friend! " 
 
 "Be off with you!" shouted the Marshal. "Take 
 my commands to Bessieres. Tell him the Emperor 
 has put him under my orders! Tell him I order him 
 to charge home! Do you hear! But for me the Mar- 
 shal Bessieres would fiddle about all day ! Why don't 
 you go? Obey! or the Emperor shall hang you!" 
 
 So he raved and tossed, while Yvan and Marbot 
 tried in vain to soothe him, and the Emperor went 
 sadly away. But in the night the fever weakened and 
 his delirium ceased. " Ah! Marbot," said the Marshal, 
 " you are here? How kind you are, Marbot." And 
 he took his aide-de-camp's hand. " Marbot," he con- 
 tinued, " when you go back to France you will see my 
 wife and my poor children and my old father. Tell 
 them I thought always of them. Tell him his son 
 died for France." Then he rested his head on the 
 aide-de-camp's shoulder and seemed to fall asleep. 
 The room was quiet enough now, and after an hour 
 there was a low sigh, and that was all. It was day- 
 break on the 3 ist of May, 1809. 
 
 Not long after the Emperor came, and the aide-de- 
 camp met him at the door. " Sire," said he, " it is all 
 over. The atmosphere of the room is already infected. 
 I advise Your Majesty not to enter." But the Em- 
 peror brushed him aside, and, entering, he went up to 
 the bed and embraced the dead body. And while the 
 tears stood in his eyes he said, " What a loss for 
 France and for me! " 
 
 Then the Prince of Neufchatel came and gently tried
 
 152 THE GRENADIER 
 
 to draw the Emperor away, but the Emperor waved 
 him aside. He remained for an hour, and at last when 
 the Prince of Neufchatel said, " Sire, General Bertrand 
 and the engineer officers are waiting for you you 
 have yourself fixed the time," the Emperor rose and 
 passed out into the open air. 
 
 It was soon known throughout the army that 
 " Ajax " was no more. Then the grenadiers came and 
 stood outside that doorway old, grizzled veterans 
 who in Italy and Egypt and Germany and Poland and 
 Austria had followed the plume of him who lay within. 
 And they stood outside that doorway and cried. The 
 tears streaked their weatherbeaten faces, and, rolling 
 down, were lost in their rough mustaches and beards. 
 And among those weeping veterans were Andre Mar- 
 ceau and Frangois Legrand and Gustave Lebon. 
 They wept for the loss to France and to themselves, for 
 they had marched behind him. There was also 
 another who stood there and wept, who wept for the 
 loss to France, and who thought of the mission to 
 Tudela and of the midnight talk on the embankment 
 before Essling, and wept for the loss to himself. 
 
 House of Kaiser-Ebersdorf, we do not know your 
 past, what Austrian peasants have been born, or mar- 
 ried, or have died within your walls. Near you are 
 palaces and churches, buildings which surpass you in 
 architectural beauty, in decoration and in embellish- 
 ment; but from this day, May 3ist, 1809, you out- 
 live them all; for History, recording the deeds of 
 heroes, stamps you with the seal of fame, when before 
 your doors she sees the weeping grenadiers, and within 
 your humble walls the mutilated corpse all that was 
 mortal of that sturdy Lannes, that brave " Ajax," that 
 Marshal of France who was once a grenadier!
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE DANUBE 
 
 Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt, 
 Nothing's so hard but search will find it out 
 
 HERRICK, Seeke and Finde. 
 
 IT was now the month of June, 1809, and this is how 
 the Emperor of the French and the Archduke Charles 
 of Austria passed it. He, for the first time in his life, 
 had stood before Napoleon and had not been defeated, 
 and for some days he enjoyed this unwonted sensation 
 and received congratulations upon his victory. Since 
 he was so satisfied with the battle of Aspern-Essling, 
 it would seem natural that he should endeavor 
 to use all his resources to make the coming conflict 
 even more disastrous to the French to construct 
 works which should render Wagram and Neusiedel 
 unassailable, to call Kollowrath's corps from Lintz to 
 Wagram, and Archduke John from Presburg, and 
 Archduke Ferdinand from Poland. This would have 
 added 50,000 men to his forces, and if the French, 
 crossing from Lobau, had found Wagram and Neu- 
 siedel impregnable, defended by 80,000 men, and 
 120,000 ready to attack them in flank what then? 
 This the Archduke Charles of Austria might have 
 done. This he did not do. Archduke Charles of 
 Austria, you are a brave soldier, but your name is 
 not enrolled with Conde, Turenne, Marlborough, or
 
 154 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Prince Eugene, much less with Caesar, Frederick, 
 Hannibal, and Napoleon. 
 
 The French Emperor was busy. He had materials 
 for building bridges prepared everywhere. Vienna 
 was full of timber. He ordered it to Ebersdorf, and 
 employed Vienna workmen, paying them with Aus- 
 trian paper money seized in the Imperial coffers. He 
 ordered all the ready-trained conscripts in France to 
 be put eii route for Strassburg; he ordered Prince 
 Eugene and General Macdonald to come from Italy; 
 he determined to connect Lobau \vith the right bank 
 by a bridge on piles, for the bridge of boats had again 
 been broken, and he employed in this work all the 
 engineer soldiers and carpenters. Sixty wooden piles 
 were placed in the river, and the bridge, laid upon 
 them, was above the highest flood-mark and furnished 
 a broad way for cavalry and artillery. The old bridge 
 of boats below was strengthened and served for the 
 infantry, so that all arms could pass at once. A great 
 weir was made at the sides of the bridge, planted 
 obliquely in the river, and seamen of the guard in 
 boats, moving about above the weir, hooked all float- 
 ing masses and drew them to the shore. He built 
 also a vast tete-de-pont in the island of Lobau to 
 defend the island and bridge in case of retreat. Over 
 the marshy parts of the island he had causeways raised 
 so that the troops could manoeuvre in any weather. 
 He built a powder magazine on the island, erected 
 ovens, laid in stores of flour, collected cattle from Hun- 
 gary, and wine from the convents on the Danube and 
 in Vienna. He made roads through the island of 
 Lobau and lighted them at night with lamps. He 
 gave a play to the Imperial Guard in the theatre at
 
 THE DANUBE 155 
 
 Schonbrunn and invited the ladies of Vienna. And 
 every week the Imperial auditors brought the reports 
 from the ministers in Paris, and he went over their 
 papers, and he sent orders to his armies in Spain and 
 France and Holland, and he wrote to his wife, and he 
 protected his lines of communication, and he watched 
 his foe, and his flanks, and his rear, and every morn- 
 ing he galloped from Schonbrunn to Lobau and went 
 about the island, over the bridges and under the 
 bridges, visited the wounded, examined the ovens, 
 tasted the soldiers' wine, watched the carpenters, in- 
 spected the tete-de-pont, climbed his pine-tree and 
 surveyed all the operations, came down and hurried 
 on the works, and every evening he galloped back to 
 Schonbrunn. Yes, the French .Emperor was busy! 
 And the H5th were busy, too, drilling and working on 
 the fortifications, and during the month they had two 
 additions to their number, one of whom brought them 
 no credit and remained only a short time with them, 
 but the other brought them honor and remained with 
 them always. This is the way it was. One morning 
 the Emperor received news that an Austrian spy was 
 in the island of Lobau. His Majesty came at a 
 gallop from Schonbrunn, ordered all the works 
 stopped, and every man on the island soldiers, offi- 
 cers, butchers, bakers, canteen-men, and pontoniers 
 to be drawn up on parade thirty thousand of them in 
 all. Then the Emperor said, " A spy has come among 
 us. Every man look at his neighbor to left and to 
 right." There was silence while every man did as he 
 was told. Pierre looked to his right, and there was 
 Andre Marceau looking at him good! Then he 
 looked to his left why! this was not Illar! This was
 
 156 THE GRENADIER 
 
 a strange fellow with an ugly eye, and there was Illar 
 further on and looking surprised too! So Pierre and 
 Illar cried out, " Here is a man we don't know ! " 
 He was arrested quickly enough after that, and a lovely 
 spy he proved, for he was a Frenchman who had 
 gambled away his property and gone to Austria to 
 escape his creditors, and there offered himself as a spy. 
 He used to come over at night in a boat and work 
 among the French soldiers during the day, and make 
 sketches of their works, and then go by night to the 
 Austrians. He wept a good deal when he found him- 
 self caught, something after the fashion of Sinon before 
 Troy, and they were thinking a little of pardoning him, 
 when he offered obligingly to go over and spy on the 
 Austrians and come back and tell the French. After 
 that the Emperor concluded that he would hardly be 
 a valuable addition to the Grand Army and had him 
 shot, and every one was satisfied. So much for the 
 one who brought no credit and left suddenly. Now 
 for the one who brought honor and remained always. 
 Pierre was finishing his supper one night, when, by 
 the light of the fire, he saw a dog. He was an old 
 dog, his ear was cut, he was dirty and ugly, and he had 
 only the stump of a tail. He looked at Pierre and 
 wagged the stump, and Pierre said " Good dog," and 
 gave him some bread and a little bone. And after 
 that he stayed always with the H5th and followed the 
 flag, for he remained faithful to a corps as long as 
 he was well treated. He had been with the St. Sulpice 
 cuirassiers before, but a colonel of that regiment had 
 struck him with the flat of his sabre, and that was 
 enough for him. His name was Corps-de-garde, he 
 had received a bayonet thrust at Marengo, and had
 
 THE DANUBE 157 
 
 had a paw broken by a shot at Austerlitz, and he was 
 the " bravest dog of the Empire! " 
 
 So passed the month of June, and by the beginning 
 of July all was ready and the French army, 150,000 
 strong, was massed in the island of Lobau. Colonel 
 Sainte-Croix was sent over and captured Enzersdorf, 
 the carefully prepared bridges were swung into place 
 across the small arm of the river, and during the night, 
 while the rain fell, the thunder crashed, and the light- 
 ning gleamed in bright flashes, the French army 
 artillery, cavalry, and infantry went steadily over 
 them tramp! tramp! tramp! 
 
 The sun rose brightly on the morning of the 6th of 
 July, and there on the plain of the Marchfeld was the 
 great host, 150,000 men and 600 guns. The pennons 
 fluttered, the arms gleamed, the heavy artillery came 
 up with rumbling wheels and clanking harness, the 
 orderly officers pranced in all directions, the gold- 
 embroidered hussars galloped into position, the crested 
 and shining-cuirassed cavalry advanced proudly into 
 the plain, the trumpets sounded, the drums beat, and 
 the bands played the air they all knew well: 
 
 On va leur percer le flanc, 
 
 Ran, ran, ran, rantanplan, tirelire, 
 
 Rantanplan tirelire en plan, 
 
 On va leur percer le flanc, 
 
 Que nous allons rire! 
 
 Ran, tan, plan, tirelire, 
 
 Que nous allons rire! 
 
 On a gently sloping eminence that overlooked the 
 Marchfeld stood the Emperor surrounded by his Mar- 
 shals, and near-by was Roustan, the Imperial Mame-
 
 158 THE GRENADIER 
 
 luke, holding the white Euphrates. And His Majesty 
 looked over his great army, and over the rolling 
 Danube with its island of Lobau bristling with forti- 
 fications. And then he looked toward Aspern-Essling 
 and Deutsch-Wagram where stretched the long lines 
 of the army of the Archduke Charles, and, as he 
 mounted his horse, he softly hummed: 
 
 Malbrouck s'en va-t'en guerre.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 WAGRAM 
 
 Battle's magnificently stern array! 
 
 BYRON, Childe Harold. 
 
 THE French army was drawn up in three lines. On the 
 left, Massena with the Boudet, Molitor, Legrand, and 
 Carra St. Cyr divisions; in the centre, Bernadotte with 
 the Saxons and the divisions of Oudinot; on the right, 
 Davout with the divisions of Friant, Gudin, and 
 Morand. In the second line, the Viceroy, Prince 
 Eugene, the divisions of Marmont and six regiments 
 of foot-guards in reserve. In the third line, four divi- 
 sions of light horse, three of dragoons, three of cuiras- 
 siers, the cavalry of the Saxons and the cavalry of the 
 Guard. Opposite the French lines from Neusiedel to 
 Wagram, and continuing in a semicircle from Gerars- 
 dorf to the Danube, stretched the Austrian army. On 
 its right, the corps of Klenau and the Prince de Reuss ; 
 in its centre Bellegarde and the Archduke Charles ; on 
 its left, Rosenberg and Hohenzollern, with Nord- 
 mann's advance-guard. Over the corn-fields of the 
 Marchfeld shone the summer sun of the 6th of July, 
 and, as far as the eye could see, from distant Neusiedel 
 the village of the Square Tower extending in great 
 curves by Aderklaa, Wagram, Gerarsdorf, and Aspern- 
 Essling, were floating banners, shining helmets, flut- 
 tering pennons, uniforms white, blue, and scarlet, crest
 
 160 THE GRENADIER 
 
 on crest of tossing plumes, line on line of flashing 
 sabres, row on row of gleaming bayonets, league on 
 league of black-mouthed guns! All the ladies of 
 Vienna had mounted to the roofs and towers of the city 
 to witness the spectacle, and they had seen many bril- 
 liant dramas in the Hofburg and at Schonbrunn, but 
 never one like this. Imperial France and Imperial 
 Austria battling d corps perdu face to face! While 
 high above Deutsch-Wagram, on a snow-white cloud 
 gilded by the first rays of the morning sun, stood 
 Victory, holding in her uplifted hand a laurel-wreath 
 waiting to crown the victor! 
 
 The first gun was fired, the curtain was up, and the 
 great Imperial drama had begun! 
 
 The Austrians began the attack on Aderklaa, while 
 Prince Rosenberg, descending with the left wing from 
 the heights of Neusiedel, advanced against Davout at 
 Grosshofen and Glinzendorf, and soon the artillery fire 
 was general all along the lines. The Emperor came 
 up to his threatened right wing with Nansouty's cuir- 
 assiers and some batteries of light artillery, which, tak- 
 ing the Austrians in the flank, compelled them to re- 
 cross the Russbach and fall back toward Neusiedel. 
 Then the Austrian cavalry charged the French centre 
 and drove back Bernadotte and the Saxons in confu- 
 sion. And Bernadotte, galloping back into the plain 
 to head off his men and restore order, met the Em- 
 peror, who had hastened up from the right wing. The 
 Emperor had learned of Bernadotte's remark after the 
 fight at Aspern-Essling, when the Marshal Prince of 
 Ponte Corvo had declared that if he were commanding 
 the French army he would, by a scientific manoeuvre, 
 have forced the Archduke Charles of Austria to sur-
 
 WAGRAM 161 
 
 render. When, then, in hot pursuit of his flying 
 troops, he encountered the Emperor, His Majesty 
 remarked coldly, " Is that your scientific manoeuvre 
 by which you were going to make the Archduke lay 
 down his arms?" Bernadotte attempted to reply, but 
 the Emperor continued, " I remove you, sir, from the 
 command of the army corps which you handle so 
 badly. Withdraw at once. A bungler like you is no 
 good to me." Then, riding among the Saxons, Napo- 
 leon restored order and sent them against the Austrian 
 line. 
 
 Meanwhile the Austrians were pushing forward their 
 right wing against the Boudet division, hoping to 
 break the French left and reach the island of Lobau 
 and the bridges over the Danube. The Austrian cav- 
 alry charged, a mass of shouting, swearing, plumed, 
 white-coated, galloping horsemen. On they came, 
 plunging and rearing, and Pierre thought he was in a 
 whirlwind. He fired as fast as he could, jumped aside 
 as an Austrian trooper's horse came by, stumbled and 
 fell into a low ditch that ran transversely toward the 
 Danube. There was a little water in the ditch, and 
 also a part of a broken wagon-wheel, which he struck 
 as he fell. He lay there and saw the Austrian cavalry 
 pass over him a cloud of legs, boots, spurs and scab- 
 bards, horses' tails and horses' bellies. In spite of all 
 their efforts the Boudet division were driven back, and, 
 through their glasses, the members of the Imperial 
 staff could see the ladies of Vienna, on the housetops 
 of the city, waving their handkerchiefs in triumph as 
 the Austrian right wing advanced. 
 
 Pierre climbed slowly out of the ditch and looked 
 around him. The Austrian cavalry were wheeling 
 n
 
 162 THE GRENADIER 
 
 about on the plain, preparing to charge the French left 
 wing again, while the batteries, which the Emperor's 
 forethought had placed about the island of Lobau, had 
 opened fire and were raking the Austrian ranks. As 
 he stood for a moment uncertain in what manner to 
 rejoin the H5th, there came bounding through the 
 long grass a dirty, bloody dog that jumped with joy 
 when he saw Pierre, and barked, and started to run, 
 and came back, and whined, and stood impatient. 
 " Go on, Corps-de-garde, I'll follow you," said Pierre. 
 Corps-de-garde gave a joyous yelp and started over 
 the Marchfeld toward Essling. But, before he had 
 gone far, he ran in among the trampled corn, and 
 Pierre heard him barking loudly. Pierre hurried after 
 him, and there on his back lay Colonel Hulot, colonel 
 of the H5th, with a sabre-cut across his forehead, 
 bleeding, but alive. Corps-de-garde was snuffing him 
 and wagging his stump of a tail. With his handker- 
 chief, which he found was wet from the water in the 
 ditch, Pierre wiped the colonel's face, and tied the 
 bloody rag about his head, while Corps-de-garde 
 looked on approvingly. He had dropped his gun on 
 the ground, and he now raised the wounded man in 
 his arms and got him partly on his shoulder, and, 
 staggering at first, for the colonel was a heavy load, 
 he started toward the French lines, intending to get 
 across the plain as best he might and, if there were 
 no other way, to go again into the ditch. Then it 
 suddenly occurred to him that by turning to the right 
 and going to the river he could follow it until he 
 reached the island of Lobau, while the corn, in that 
 direction not much trampled, and the bushes 
 would screen him largely from the plain. So he
 
 WAGRAM 163 
 
 turned toward the river, while Corps-de-garde, wearing 
 an air of importance, trotted before him. The ground 
 was rough, and twice Pierre was compelled to set 
 down the wounded man. He hated to do it, for the 
 colonel groaned each time, but there was no other 
 way. Each time, however, he raised him firmly again, 
 and the second time he got him well up on his 
 shoulder, and on they went. 
 
 The guns on the fortifications at Lobau were going 
 in earnest now, and making such a racket that Pierre's 
 head buzzed, when, all at once, the corn before him 
 on the left parted, and he saw an Austrian trooper, 
 sabre in hand. " Surrender! " said the Austrian. But 
 that was all he said, for, before Pierre could set down 
 his burden and draw his short sword since he had left 
 his gun where he had found the colonel there was 
 a growl, a bound, and a spring, and Corps-de-garde 
 had fastened his teeth in the trooper's throat, and 
 shaking himself violently, was tearing out the Aus- 
 trian's windpipe. The trooper threw up his arms and 
 fell, but Corps-de-garde never let go his hold until the 
 Austrian lay still and mangled. And so, while the 
 guns of Lobau thundered over them, and the Austrian 
 cavalry charged again upon the French left, and the 
 Viennese waved their handkerchiefs in premature re- 
 joicing, Pierre, carrying his wounded colonel, toiled 
 painfully along the bank of the Danube, while before 
 him marched the ever-alert Corps-de-garde, the 
 " bravest dog of the Empire! " At last he reached the 
 first bridge to the Island of Lobau, and placed Colonel 
 Hulot in the hands of the army surgeons. 
 
 The battle was raging furiously at Aderklaa, now, 
 where the Austrians, encouraged by the repulse of
 
 164 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Bernadotte, were striving to break the French lines, 
 and had already driven back slowly Massena's 18,000 
 men by sending against them the corps of Klenau, 
 Kollowrath, and Lichtenstein, 50,000 strong. 
 
 The Marshal Massena, the " Enfant cheri de la 
 victoire," injured by a fall from his horse, commanded 
 from an open four-horse carriage in which he lay ban- 
 daged, and upon which the Austrians, imagining that 
 it contained some person of importance, poured their 
 fire, until the ground about the Marshal's carriage was 
 covered with the wounded and the dead. The Carra 
 St. Cyr division, driven back from Aderklaa, threw 
 Massena's troops into some confusion, but the Em- 
 peror, coming up at that moment, got into the Mar- 
 shal's carriage, and His Majesty's presence at once 
 restored order. And now through Aderklaa the 
 Aspre grenadiers were advancing victoriously, led by 
 the Archduke Charles. The Emperor looked at them 
 through his glass and went on quietly talking to Mas- 
 sena and outlining the manoeuvres he desired him to 
 execute. He ordered the Marshal Duke of Rivoli, 
 with the Molitor and Legrand divisions formed in close 
 columns, to wheel to the right and advance to the 
 Danube to the aid of Boudet, already hard pressed by 
 the Austrian cavalry. Massena drove off to carry out 
 these orders, while the Emperor mounted his horse 
 and dispatched an aide-de-camp for General Mac- 
 donald and the army of Italy; a second for the fusileers 
 and mounted grenadiers of the Guard ; a third for the 
 cuirassiers of General Nansouty ; a fourth for Lauriston 
 with sixty guns from the Guard ; a fifth for Drouot with 
 forty guns from the French and Bavarian artillery. 
 For it was His Majesty's intention to shake the Aus-
 
 WAGRAM 165 
 
 trian centre with the fire of a hundred guns, and then 
 to pierce it with the infantry of Macdonald and the 
 cavalry of Nansouty. 
 
 The right wing of the French was driving back the 
 left wing of the Austrians; the right wing of the Aus- 
 trians was driving back the left wing of the French, 
 and about the ground quitted by Massena, slowly up 
 and down before the line of the Carra St. Cyr division, 
 waiting for the artillery he had ordered, rode the 
 Emperor on the white Euphrates, while behind him on 
 a coal-black stallion came the aide-de-camp Savary. 
 
 The Austrian cannon were firing as fast as musketry 
 now, and the white Euphrates, with his neck arched 
 and his red nostrils expanded, quivered a little at each 
 detonation, and snorted, and shook the foam from his 
 bits. Let us not forget them, those sturdy white 
 Arabians Marengo, AH, Bishop, Soliman, Euphrates 
 that upon so many battlefields bore, amid the shells 
 and cannon-smoke, the fate of France! 
 
 Thus they rode, and every moment came from the 
 officers of the Carra St. Cyr division the short words 
 of command, "Serrez les rangs!" as many a brave 
 man pitched forward on his face, struck by the Aus- 
 trian balls. But no ball struck the aide-de-camp 
 Savary, no ball struck the white Euphrates, no ball 
 struck the green-coated little Emperor! 
 
 So for an hour backward and forward before the line 
 rode the Emperor, his eyes fixed ever upon that far- 
 distant point across the Marchfeld where were sta- 
 tioned his artillery reserves, while with his hand he 
 patted the neck of his horse. There they came at last, 
 making the earth tremble sixty guns belonging to the 
 Guard, and forty from the French and Bavarian
 
 166 THE GRENADIER 
 
 artillery. They were wheeled into line a long dark 
 line of deep-booming, roar-fulminating, death-belching 
 mouths and then they fired, and the Austrian cannon 
 answered with a will, and the most terrific cannonade 
 of the Empire began in multisonous thunder. 
 
 Firing continually upon the double line of the Aus- 
 trian centre, the French guns pierced it with balls and 
 dismounted the Austrian artillery. But the Austrian 
 centre still stood firm, and then the Imperial tactician 
 prepared his coup de grace and ordered General Mac- 
 donald and the Army of Italy to charge. So into the 
 plain of the Marchfeld, with the Broussier and Seras 
 divisions in single file, Lamarque's divisions on the 
 wings, and, behind all, twenty-four squadrons of Nan- 
 souty's cuirassiers, advances Macdonald. Into them, 
 in front, and on the left, and on the right, the Aus- 
 trians pour their fire. The first ranks melt away, but 
 over their bodies, leaving behind them a long dark 
 trail of dead and dying, the gallant corps goes on. 
 And now at full speed come the horsemen of the 
 Prince John de Lichtenstein, swift-galloping, bent to 
 retrieve the fortunes of Imperial Austria. Macdonald 
 meets them with three lines of fire, and the proudly- 
 charging cuirassiers dash all in vain against his bayo- 
 nets. Have they not done enough, these grenadiers 
 of Italy, as they stand there far on the Marchfeld 
 among their heaps of dead, the horsemen of de Lich- 
 tenstein retreating, and a sea of fire all about them? 
 Ah, no! Their mission is yet unfulfilled. The Aus- 
 trian centre still stands firm. While life shall last, 
 march on ! And so, over the blazing Marchfeld and the 
 wrecks of the Austrian cavalry, over the debris of all 
 those brave soldiers who have perished there since
 
 WAGRAM 167 
 
 morning, closing their rent, torn, and bloody ranks, 
 bearing above them their eagle, and fixing their eyes 
 on the iron Macdonald, while upon them from every 
 side is poured a hail of shot and shell, they go to the 
 very heights of Deutsch-Wagram, where, through the 
 smoke and the flame they can see the white coats of 
 Imperial Austria. Shall they pause here? No! No! 
 The Austrian centre still stands firm! While life shall 
 last, march on ! 
 
 See! See! upon the right, beyond the towers of 
 Neusiedel appear the fires of Davout; Friant, Gudin, 
 and Morand are driving back the Austrian left. And 
 on the left, Massena, with Boudet, Legrand, and Moli- 
 tor, is crushing out the Austrian right. While in the 
 centre, far in advance, in the very heart of the Aus- 
 trian position, surrounded by the torn and bleeding 
 remnants of his regiments, under the tattered shreds 
 of a tricolor, floats the white plume of Macdonald. 
 The Emperor lowered his spy-glass, and turned to the 
 Prince of Neufchatel, saying, " The battle is won ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 A MARSHAL OF FRANCE 
 
 Great is the glory, for the strife is hard. 
 
 WORDSWORTH, To Hay don. 
 
 "Tis o'er! and France, foredoom'd to sway 
 
 Where'er her flashing eagle shone, 
 Hears the proud victor named that day 
 In victory's shout ' Napoleon! ' ' 
 
 ON the following morning the Emperor, surrounded 
 by his staff, rode over the battlefield to superintend, 
 according to his custom, the removal of the wounded. 
 Then he rode to the bivouac of Macdonald's corps, 
 and, when he saw the General Macdonald, he held out 
 his hand and said, " You have behaved valiantly and 
 have rendered me the greatest services. On the battle- 
 field of your glory, where I owe you so large a part 
 of yesterday's success, I make you a Marshal of 
 France." 
 
 " Sire," answered the Marshal Macdonald, " since 
 you are satisfied with us, let the rewards and recom- 
 penses be apportioned and distributed among my army 
 corps, beginning with Generals Lamarque, Broussier 
 and others, who so ably seconded me." 
 
 " Anything you please," replied the Emperor, " I 
 have nothing to refuse you." 
 
 So it was. And the Marshal Berthier, Prince of 
 Neufchatel, the Duke of Bassano, Secretary of State,
 
 A MARSHAL OF FRANCE 169 
 
 the Marshal Massena, the Viceroy Prince Eugene, 
 generals, colonels and Imperial aides-de-camp came 
 and grasped the hands of Macdonald and embraced 
 him. And some of these had, and would have, passed 
 coldly by the General Macdonald, but they threw their 
 arms about the neck of Macdonald, Marshal of 
 France. 
 
 So the rewards were distributed. Macdonald was 
 made Marshal, Oudinot was made Marshal, Marmont 
 was made Marshal, Massena was made Prince of Ess- 
 ling, Berthier was made Prince of Wagram, privates 
 became corporals, lieutenants became captains, cap- 
 tains became chefs-de-bataillon, Boudet rose in rank, 
 Andre Marceau got the cross, hundreds of others got 
 this and hundreds of others got that, and Pierre got 
 nothing! Well, it was just as the poor mother had 
 said, "The Pasquins were not lucky." 
 
 And after the summer had passed in diplomatic fen- 
 cing, the Treaty of Vienna was signed, and, in October, 
 Napoleon and his army bade adieu to the capital of 
 Imperial Austria and took the road to France.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE STUDY OF THE EMPEROR 
 
 This hath been 
 
 Your faithful servant; I dare lay mine honour 
 He will remain so. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE, Cymbeline. 
 
 THEY had a triumphal march through Bavaria, Wiirt- 
 emberg and the states of the Rhine Confederation. 
 The people in all the little towns turned out, hung flags, 
 erected arches and gave them as warm a welcome as 
 the French could have done. And their Majesties 
 of Bavaria and of Wurtemberg could well afford to 
 encourage such demonstrations, for both had been 
 gainers by the Treaty of Vienna in territory and in 
 population. So they reached Strassburg, where the 
 Boudet division took the route through Luneville and 
 Nancy. The Marshal Massena was with them, and 
 when they reached Luneville, about five o'clock in the 
 morning and sooner than they were expected, all the 
 people came out in a hurry in somewhat abbreviated 
 costumes. The red-faced sub-prefect stood by the 
 door of the Marshal's carriage with his coat under his 
 arm, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his feet in his slippers, 
 and his hat on his head. He was too busy to take it 
 off, for he was trying to get his sword in place, fasten 
 his necktie, and think of his speech of welcome. Pierre 
 laughed when he saw him in this predicament it was
 
 THE STUDY OF THE EMPEROR 171 
 
 the first time he had laughed for quite a while but 
 the Marshal spared the industrious prefect the trouble 
 of remembering his brilliant harangue, by ordering 
 the postillions to drive on. 
 
 For some months the Boudet division was stationed 
 at Metz, where life went slowly enough. Not that 
 there was not plenty to do drill and guard duty and 
 work of various kinds but they did the same things 
 over and over every day. Finally, on the 5th of Janu- 
 ary, the division was ordered to Paris and went into 
 barracks there. It was near the end of the month of 
 January, either the 3oth or the 3ist. The rain had 
 been falling hard all day, and the stone-paved court- 
 yard of the barrack was glistening and slippery, while 
 the gutters were running full of water. Pierre had 
 been on guard duty for three hours, and he had three 
 hours more. It was not cheerful work, pacing up and 
 down that wet courtyard, but he had become used to 
 things that were not cheerful. In fact, the whole 
 winter, gay enough for others, had seemed gloomy to 
 him. Yet he often reasoned with himself that it 
 should not be so. If he had failed to gain honor as a 
 reward of his labors, no matter he had done his duty 
 and had fought for France. 
 
 One thing he had tried to do and that was to send 
 cheerful letters to Marie. He had constantly alluded 
 to the hope he had that soon he could pay a visit to 
 Grenoble, if only for a day or two. But he thought 
 when he wrote it that his return would be rather differ- 
 ent from what he had anticipated when he set out. 
 To go away a simple private and come back one! 
 Why, it was like wearing a tag on your coat front 
 " The Pasquins are not lucky."
 
 172 THE GRENADIER 
 
 So he paced up and down in the wet, his gun on 
 his shoulder. It was growing dark now, for darkness 
 comes early in the January afternoons, when he saw 
 an officer wrapped in a dark blue cloak crossing the 
 courtyard toward him. When the officer reached him, 
 Pierre faced about and presented arms, and then he 
 recognized Colonel Hulot. 
 
 " Is your name Pasquin?" inquired the Colonel. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Pierre. 
 
 " Well, beau garqon," said the Colonel, " I've come 
 to thank you for pulling me out of a damned un- 
 pleasant situation at Wagram. You put my props 
 under me again, or I shouldn't be here to-day." 
 
 " And how did you know, sir, that it was I who 
 helped you? " said Pierre. 
 
 " Aie ! That I found out from the surgeons. 
 Michel knew you and told me you had brought me 
 in. I have heard other things about you, too, young 
 man." 
 
 " I hope they were good things," said Pierre. 
 
 " Good things ! Sacre ! They were fine things ! " 
 cried the Colonel. " I reached here only yesterday. 
 That cursed wound of mine laid me up and kept me 
 boxed like a setting hen. But I've been talking to 
 Captain Franqois Legrand. You know him, eh?" 
 And the Colonel slapped Pierre on the shoulder. 
 
 " Yes, I know him well, sir," said Pierre. 
 
 "Yes, I think you do! " cried the Colonel, " and he 
 knows you too. He has told me a few things. C'est 
 touche. Young man, you've struck your blows for 
 France. And you've saved my life, and you're a 
 friend of mine. And Hulot don't forget his friends. 
 General Boudet shall know of what you did at Essling
 
 THE STUDY OF THE EMPEROR 173 
 
 and at Ratisbon. His Majesty shall know of it, and 
 then you'll see." 
 
 " I thank you, sir, for all your interest in me," said 
 Pierre. 
 
 " Interest! " cried the Colonel, " Don't you see it's 
 due to you that Hulot isn't lying six feet deep in that 
 worm-eaten Austrian Empire? And if Hulot's services 
 are worth anything to France and I rather fancy they 
 are! they've got to reward you handsomely. If they 
 give you nothing, they as much as say, Well, Hulot 
 is not worth anything to us. Parbleu ! but I like that. 
 Hulot who fought at Marengo and chased the pot- 
 bellied Prussians at Jena and the beggarly Spaniards 
 at Somo Sierra! Hulot worth nothing! That's the 
 way I'll put it. Rather cleverly put, don't you 
 think, eh? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, very cleverly put," said Pierre. 
 
 " Well, you leave it to me, beau garqon, I'll find 
 Boudet and fix it up, never fear." And the Colonel 
 threw his cloak about him and tramped over the court- 
 yard into the barrack. 
 
 Pierre paced up and down again, and strange to say, 
 although the rain had not stopped, he thought it was 
 a jolly good evening just the evening for a nice cool 
 walk in the courtyard. And when the guard was 
 changed, he was astonished that three hours had passed 
 so soon. Curious, wasn't it? That night General 
 Boudet came to the barrack and sent for Pierre and 
 asked him many questions. And as they talked the 
 General referred to Saragossa and asked what Pierre 
 had done there. So Pierre related to him the story of 
 his mission to Tudela just as he had told it to the 
 Marshal Lannes. Then came a surprise, for General
 
 174 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Boudet drew out of his pocket a case and produced a 
 paper which he handed to Pierre. It was the copy of 
 a letter from the Marshal Duke of Montebello to the 
 Minister of War. The letter was full of matters per- 
 taining to military affairs, but under the Marshal's 
 signature were these words, written hurriedly: "Pri- 
 vate Pasquin (ii5th of the Line) has explained satis- 
 factorily his conduct at Saragossa." The letter was 
 dated at Essling the 22nd of May, 1809. Evidently it 
 had been ready to send off, and when the Marshal 
 returned from his midnight tour of inspection, he had 
 added the postscript. 
 
 " That was given me this afternoon at the Ministry 
 of War that I might look into the matter," said Gen- 
 eral Boudet, " and I think I have done so." 
 
 And Pierre looked at the letter and at General 
 Boudet, and when his eyes fell again on that bold 
 signature, Lannes, and he thought of the brave dead 
 Marshal, who, amid all the whirl and turmoil at As- 
 pern-Essling, had thought to put at the end of his 
 letter those few lines so full of meaning for himself, 
 the tears came to his eyes. 
 
 Two days later, on the evening of the ist of Feb- 
 ruary, the Grand Marshal Duroc, going to the Em- 
 peror's study to carry to him the list of, and particulars 
 concerning, those soldiers of Italy and Egypt who 
 were to be among the troops reviewed by His Majesty 
 on the morrow, met General Boudet and Colonel 
 Hulot leaving the Emperor's salon. 
 
 At two o'clock in the morning the Emperor, who 
 had gone to bed at eleven, woke up, rang for his 
 valet-de-chambre, and putting on his dressing-gown,
 
 THE STUDY OF THE EMPEROR 175 
 
 his drawers with feet, and his slippers, tied his hand- 
 kerchief about his head, and went into his study. 
 Then, turning up the lamp upon his large writing- 
 desk, he sat down in his chair and began going over 
 his papers. It was a common custom of his for he 
 seldom slept more than four hours to go at two or 
 .three o'clock into his study and work till dawn. The 
 Emperor picked up the list which Marshal Duroc had 
 brought him and read it over. He often had such 
 lists prepared before a review, containing the names of 
 old veterans in any particular corps, their position in 
 their company as first rank, third from the left also 
 any facts concerning their families. Then at parade 
 the Emperor, passing that company, would stop sud- 
 denly with all the air of an impromptu, and, glancing 
 at the man previously designated, exclaim " You here! 
 Why! I saw you at Aboukir. And your father, is he 
 well?" Thus throughout the army the conviction 
 grew that they were all personally known to the Em- 
 peror. It was true that he knew and remembered a 
 prodigious number of them, but, in the manner above 
 referred to, the Imperial actor gave them the impres- 
 sion that he knew them all. 
 
 So the Emperor read his list, and when he had 
 finished, he took a pen and added a name Pierre 
 Pasquin and under it he drew a line. Then he ex- 
 amined the reports of his ministers, making notes on 
 the margins, or read the returns on the situations of 
 his armies to him the most enjoyable books in his 
 library. He reckoned up his soldiers man by man, 
 company by company, division by division; he fol- 
 lowed them along the roads of Europe; he learned 
 exactly the positions of all their corps, where they
 
 176 THE GRENADIER 
 
 were marching, where they were halting, when they 
 would arrive. 
 
 Thus in the silent hours he worked. And without 
 was the dark facade of the Tuileries Palace, the deep 
 dense gloom of the Tuileries garden, the blackness of 
 the Place de la Concorde, and Paris wrapped in night 
 But in the dark fagade of that Tuileries Palace shone 
 the light from the Emperor's study, and the rays from 
 that light in the Emperor's study kept watch over 
 it all.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 THE CROSS OF THE LEGION OF HONOR 
 
 Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! 
 
 To all the sensual world proclaim, 
 One crowded hour of glorious life 
 
 Is worth an age without a name. 
 
 SCOTT, Old Mortality. 
 
 A REVIEW-DAY under the Empire! Would you see it? 
 Look on Bellange's canvas in the gallery at Versailles, 
 or follow with me now the gaily-dressed Parisians 
 wending their way along the Quay of the Tuileries 
 toward the great archway of the Louvre that opens 
 upon the Race du Carrousel. In this bright Sunday 
 sunshine of the 2nd of February, 1810, all Paris is 
 in the streets, and along the Rue de Rivoli and the 
 Rue St. Antoine, converging from the Place de la 
 Concorde and the Place de la Bastille, come regiments 
 of infantry, squadrons of cavalry, loud-rumbling artil- 
 lery trains, and all the pomp of war. 
 
 To the clear-toned blasts of blaring trumpets and the 
 sounding strains of martial music, with the clank of 
 arms, the clatter of hoofs, the roll of wheels, and the 
 gleam of polished steel, they come pouring into the 
 Place du Carrousel and into the great courtyard 
 of the Tuileries Palace where Napoleon, the world- 
 conqueror, reviews his army. There are the Boudet 
 and Legrand divisions, the St. Sulpice cuirassiers, the 
 12
 
 178 THE GRENADIER 
 
 divisions of Oudinot, Mortier and Carra St. Cyr, and, 
 last of all, the great Imperial Guard. How proudly 
 they march! their breasts decked with the insignia of 
 their valor, their faces scarred with their " quarterings 
 of nobility," their eagle-topped standards bearing the 
 record of their glory. How proudly they march ! For 
 them there is no god but Mars, and Napoleon is his 
 prophet. 
 
 What a setting for the martial scene ! The long faqade 
 of the Tuileries, with its massive dome, above which 
 floats the tricolor, the great palaces of the Louvre on 
 either hand, and, in the centre of the vast open square, 
 the majestic Rome-reflecting monument of Austerlitz 
 of Jena and of Friedland, upon whose summit stand 
 the famous horses of St. Mark, brought by General 
 Bonaparte from Italy to grace his Arch of Triumph on 
 the Place du Carrousel. 
 
 Tell us, bronze horses of St. Mark, you who were 
 made by the cunning hand of Lysippus for the great 
 Alexander, and, high on the triumphal arches of this 
 world, have seen pass beneath your feet the Mace- 
 donian phalanx, the armies of Constantine with their 
 motto " In hoc signo vinces," the legions of Rome, 
 the spoils of Gaul, and laurel-crowned Caesar have 
 you yet seen a conqueror like this? But the horses of 
 St. Mark return no answer, they are silent. All else 
 is activity. Aides-de-camp galloped in all directions, 
 while, under the command of the Colonel-General of 
 the Guard, the infantry regiments took up their posi- 
 tion in the palace courtyard; the cavalry and artillery 
 on the Place du Carrousel. As soon as the various 
 corps were in position, the flag and standard-bearers, 
 coming out of the ranks, assembled before the
 
 CROSS OF LEGION OF HONOR 179 
 
 Pavilion de 1'Horloge, the main entrance to the 
 Tuileries Palace, and, conducted by an officer, went 
 up the staircase to the salon of the Emperor. There 
 the chamberlain announced them, and, having made 
 a trophy of the flags and standards, they returned in 
 the same order, and as they marched out of the palace 
 doorway, the drums beat, and the officers saluted the 
 colors. By this time all the palace windows were filled 
 with people the court and the corps diplomatique 
 while against the railings that separated the courtyard 
 from the Place du Carrousel was packed an eager, 
 show-loving, glory-worshiping crowd. Before the 
 palace door stood Roustan, the Mameluke, holding 
 the white Euphrates, while behind him, held by ser- 
 vants in the green and gold livery of the Imperial 
 household, were a dozen other horses belonging to 
 members of the Emperor's staff, and, most conspicuous 
 among them, the gorgeously-bedecked cheval de 
 bataille of the King of Naples. 
 
 As the clock of the Tuileries Palace struck the hour 
 of one, the noise of boot-heels, spurs and trailing 
 scabbards was heard upon the staircase, and a moment 
 later, wearing his green coat of the mounted chasseurs, 
 his white knee-breeches, and his famous cocked hat, 
 the Emperor appeared in the doorway, while behind 
 him came his staff, 
 
 " Glittering in golden coats, like images; 
 As full of spirit as the month of May." 
 
 And instantly the drums rolled, the arms flashed, the 
 banners waved, the people shouted, and the proud 
 Imperial trumpets clamored crash!
 
 i8o THE GRENADIER 
 
 The Emperor mounted his horse and rode at a 
 gallop along the ranks, and after him rode his staff 
 four Colonels-General of the Guard; Duroc, Grand 
 Marshal of the Palace ; the Prince of Neufchatel, Vice- 
 Constable; the Grand Equerry Caulaincourt, the Min- 
 ister of War, the Governor of Paris, and Joachim 
 Murat, the King of Naples. A showy man, this King 
 of Naples, with his stalwart figure, large blue eyes and 
 long black hair, his Polish coat covered with gold, 
 his gilded belt holding the scabbard of his diamond- 
 hilted sabre, his trousers of aramanthine purple em- 
 broidered in gold, and his hat with its wind-blown 
 crest of heron's plumes. His war-horse, too, no less 
 magnificent, with sky-blue housings worked in gold. 
 Hungarian saddle and flashing stirrups. And what 
 did the veterans of the Grand Army think of this 
 Imperial popinjay, Murat, the King of Naples? 
 They thought well of him, for they had seen those 
 blue eyes burn with fire, that long hair flying in the 
 wind, that Polish jacket black with powder, that 
 mighty war-horse streaked with foam, that diamond- 
 hilted sabre red with blood. And, as at Jena, Eylau, 
 Friedland, they saw the charging squadrons pressing 
 hard after that heron's plume, that led them ever where 
 the fight was fiercest, that led them ever on to tri- 
 umph, they thought well of him, for they saw him as 
 he was Murat, the phenix-knight of chivalry, the 
 king of cavaliers! 
 
 After riding along the ranks at a rapid gallop, the 
 Emperor returned to the palace entrance, dismounted, 
 and began the manoeuvres. An officer of the Guard, 
 who possessed a strong voice, stood near to repeat 
 his commands. The Emperor put the Boudet and
 
 CROSS OF LEGION OF HONOR 181 
 
 Legrand divisions through the manual of arms, then, 
 taking the Legrand division, His Majesty said to the 
 commanding officer, " Order them to form a square 
 by divisions as you march, and do so with the fewest 
 manoeuvres." So the order was given : " Form a 
 square on the second division as you are marching; 
 first division by the left flank and by right file; quick 
 time! third division by the right flank and by left file; 
 quick time! fourth division by the left flank and by 
 left file; quick time! second division, slow time! " But 
 the Emperor did not like the way it was done, and 
 they had to do it a second, a third, and a fourth time. 
 Then His Majesty inspected each regiment man by 
 man, having all the knapsacks opened before him, 
 and, when he was satisfied that all was right, the 
 Legrand division marched out into the Place du 
 Carrousel. 
 
 The Boudet division now marched forward, and 
 were put through the manoeuvres, the knapsacks 
 opened, and the regiments inspected. Then, with his 
 staff following him, the Emperor walked down the 
 line and stopped before the H5th. It was very still 
 in the great Tuileries courtyard now, filled as it was 
 with row on row of silent statues holding guns with 
 long bright bayonets. The Emperor made a sign, and 
 the Captain Franqois Legrand called " Pasquin ! " 
 and Pierre, whose heart thumped so loudly that he 
 thought it must be heard by every one, stepped for- 
 ward two paces and presented arms. 
 
 " Sergeant Pasquin," said the Emperor (and he 
 placed special emphasis on the word Sergeant), " your 
 deeds are known to me. You were the fourth across 
 the walls at Ratisbon, you were the first to bring the
 
 r82 THE GRENADIER 
 
 boat across the Danube, you fought against great 
 odds at Essling, you saved your colonel on the field 
 of Wagram. I now give you the cross. You have 
 deserved it." As he spoke the Emperor detached the 
 Legion of Honor from his breast and held it against 
 the breast of the grenadier, while Marshal Duroc, who 
 was watching him closely, quickly pinned it there. 
 
 " Moreover," added His Majesty, " I appoint you to 
 the Guard," and he passed on down the line and 
 mounted his horse before the Pavilion de 1'Horloge. 
 
 And then, in the Tuileries courtyard, within the 
 shadow of the Arch of Triumph, Colonel Hulot 
 stooped and fastened a red ribbon about the neck of 
 Corps-de-garde. He was only a dog, but God made 
 him, and he was the " bravest dog of the Empire." 
 
 The bands of the regiments took their station before 
 the Pavilion de 1'Horloge and the march past began. 
 But of all that host, that with flying banners and 
 resounding shouts marched, to the stirring notes of 
 the " Veillons au Salut de 1'Empire," past their Impe- 
 rial War-Lord and out under the Arch of Triumph 
 into the Place du Carrousel, none carried his head 
 higher, none moved with lighter step, than the cross- 
 decked Pierre Pasquin of the Garde Imperiale. 
 
 That evening after the parade was over and the 
 1 1 5th had broken ranks, Pierre was surrounded by 
 his comrades. They all wanted to grasp his hand and 
 they all wanted to slap him on the back. " Parbleu ! " 
 cried Franqois Legrand, " don't tell me I can't keep 
 a secret. I knew this morning you were to get some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" cried Andre Marceau, embracing 
 Pierre, " to think of it ! A sergeant ! the cross ! and 
 the Guard!"
 
 CROSS OF LEGION OF HONOR 183 
 
 " None too much," said Colonel Hulot, elbowing 
 his way through the crowd. " He saved me Hulot 
 a man that France cannot afford to lose. If I had had 
 my way he'd have been lieutenant." 
 
 Pierre thought the handshakings and embracings 
 would never end, but finally he got away from all the 
 crowd and walked alone to the barrack, and as he 
 entered it, the sentinel in the doorway presented arms. 
 Pierre looked about to see if there were an officer 
 near. But no, he was alone. 
 
 "Is it to me that you are presenting arms?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes," said the sentinel, " we are ordered to pre- 
 sent arms before all those decorated with the cross 
 of the Legion of Honor." 
 
 Pierre went into the barrack, lit his candle, placed 
 it on the table, took his pen and paper and began to 
 write. When he had finished his letter it was very 
 late, and he had forgotten his supper, but that was 
 no matter, for the letter was to Marie, and it was 
 beautifully written, and these were the words with 
 which it ended " It was the finest day of my life! "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 MARIE 
 
 In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; 
 
 In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; 
 
 In halls, in gay attire is seen; 
 
 In hamlets, dances on the green. 
 
 Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
 
 And men below, and saints above; 
 
 For love is heaven, and heaven is love. 
 
 SCOTT, Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
 
 THE little dining-room in the Cafe Jodelle had never 
 presented so festive an appearance as on the ist of 
 March, 1810. Pierre had obtained leave of absence 
 and had come down from Paris a few days before. 
 Leave of absence was not so hard tc get now since 
 there was peace, and a fellow wanted to be married, 
 and beside the great Emperor himself was going to be 
 married before long. 
 
 What a welcome they had given him at the Cafe 
 Jodelle! Henri could hardly believe that this big 
 strapping fellow with the lofty bearskin cap was the 
 boy of the Rue Montorge whom he had known in the 
 past. And Marie this exceeded all she had ever 
 hoped. The cross! The rank of sergeant! The Im- 
 perial Guard ! The brave soldier home again safe and 
 sound ! It was almost too good to be true, yet true it 
 was, and there he stood before her eyes. How the 
 boys crowded round him! Gaspard brought a lot of
 
 MARIE 185 
 
 them every day, and they stood about with their large 
 eyes popping out of their heads in silent wonder. And 
 the old fellows too Frederic Bonneville and Philippe 
 Courteau they all wanted to take the cross in their 
 hands, and would insist upon hearing over and over 
 again the story of the walls of Ratisbon, the march 
 down the Danube, and the great fight upon the plain 
 at Wagram. But Pierre broke away from them when- 
 ever he could and went to find Marie, and one morn- 
 ing they walked to the little house in the Rue Mon- 
 torge it was Pierre's house now, and Henri had kept 
 it in good repair and they sat for a while in the room 
 where the mere Pasquin had died. Afterward they 
 walked to the cemetery and stood beside the small 
 gravestone. And then a curious thing happened, 
 for the grenadier of the Imperial Guard knelt down 
 and read the inscription, and then, leaning on the 
 gravestone, he buried his face in his hands and re- 
 mained there a long time. Marie stood beside him, 
 crying softly to herself. And after a while the grena- 
 dier got up and brushed his hand across his eyes. 
 Marie took his arm, and they went homeward. " If 
 mother were here now, I should be very, very happy," 
 said Pierre the grenadier. 
 
 How gay the dining-room in the Cafe Jodelle ap- 
 peared on the evening of the 1st of March, with the 
 candles on the table and in the two bright brackets 
 on the walls! How fine the table looked with the 
 best white cloth and the silver dish which once be- 
 longed to Marie's mother! Aunt Zirelle had loaned 
 them a couple of silver dishes also, and that made a 
 grand show. As for the feast Henri had surpassed 
 himself. There was a puree of chestnuts and a maca-
 
 i86 THE GRENADIER 
 
 roni soup, a brocket a la Chambord, beef garnished with 
 vegetables and cauliflowers au gratin; for entrees, filets 
 of duck au fumet de gibier; mutton cutlets a la Sou- 
 bise, a fricassee a la chevalier e; and for entremets a jelly 
 of oranges, gaufres a I'allemande and coffee cream 
 a la frangaise, also bottles of sealed wine. Surely it 
 was a festin pour le roi a feast for a king. 
 
 What a merry company they were ! At the head of 
 the table sat Henri, who had put on once more his old 
 regimentals of Italy. The coat was badly faded and 
 the braid was worn, but the coat had an imposing look 
 for all that and seemed to say, " I too have seen the 
 Austrian fire! " On Henri's right sat Marie in a pink 
 dress such a pretty dress, thought Pierre, much pret- 
 tier than the dresses he had seen on the gay Parisiennes 
 in the Tuileries garden. And next to Marie sat Pierre 
 in his blue coat with white lapels, his knee-breeches, 
 his vest and gaiters of white basine, and his shoes 
 with silver buckles the uniform of the Imperial 
 Guard. Then came Gaspard in a new coat made ex- 
 pressly for the great occasion, with bright buttons in 
 which Gaspard could see his face; and then Jacques le 
 Page. On Henri's left sat Philippe Courteau, who 
 kept the Hotel des Trois Dauphins a great big fellow 
 who had followed the tricolor upon the sands of Egypt 
 and lost an eye at St. Jean d'Acre. He wore a black 
 patch over his eye, but he was a fine-looking man in 
 spite of that. He also had an old coat with a rent 
 through one arm made by a Mameluke sabre on the 
 plain at Cairo, and it too seemed to say, " Look at me ! 
 I am better than all your fine new coats, for I have 
 been at the front amid the cannon-smoke, under the 
 eyes of the great general."
 
 MARIE 187 
 
 Then came old Frederic Bonneville, and next to him 
 the good dame Bovard and her stout husband Robert 
 Bovard, and at the end of the table Henri's sister, the 
 Widow Zirelle. A fascinating person was the Widow 
 Zirelle! She had already buried three husbands and 
 was now looking for a fourth. Her first was Gustave 
 Pepin. He was a round, fat, good-natured, moon- 
 faced, little man who kept a pie-shop near the Rue 
 Montorge. She could never complain of Gustave 
 Pepin. He was a good husband and not a bit jealous. 
 Sometimes on Sundays he put on his best clothes and 
 took her for excursions to Voreppe or Buisserade. 
 Some days, when he wanted to sit at home and smoke 
 his pipe, he allowed her to go with his good friend 
 Loredan Devienne. One night he went across the 
 river to a spread at the house of his friend Caboul 
 Lorette, and coming back over the bridge, he fell in, 
 and that was the end of him. She thought she would 
 cry her eyes out when she heard of it; she wanted to 
 drown herself too; but she rallied and married 
 Devienne six months afterward. Dear! dear! what a 
 man Devienne was after all! What a temper he had! 
 Why! the wretch actually commanded her one day to 
 pull off his boots. It was as bad as Lauzun and the 
 Duchess de Montpensier. And was he jealous? My! 
 My! If she as much as smiled at any cavalier who 
 came into the shop, Devienne turned green. His 
 jealousy finished him, though, and that was a good 
 thing, for one day she kissed her hand to the young 
 Sainte-Perme and Devienne challenged him and 
 Sainte-Perme ran him through, and so she was a 
 widow again. Then she married old Zirelle. He was 
 twenty years older than she, and had the gout so badly
 
 188 THE GRENADIER 
 
 that he rarely left the house, but sat all day in a 
 high-backed chair and grunted. Now, why did she 
 marry him? Why did the Maintenon marry Scarron? 
 Why did la grande Mademoiselle marry Lauzun? 
 Why do some women do anything? They never give 
 reasons. People did say, however, that he left her a 
 house in the Grand Rue and two thousand francs in 
 the bank when he died. Now she was perfectly happy, 
 for here was stout Robert Bovard on her right with 
 whom she could flirt. And if she enjoyed anything it 
 was flirting with a married man, and right under his 
 wife's nose too. How she managed her fan! Even 
 La Pompadour couldn't have beaten her at that 
 
 " I thought grenadiers' coats were all covered with 
 gold braid, Pierre," said Gaspard. 
 
 " Not in the Guards," answered Pierre. " We have 
 plain coats. The Emperor wears a coat like this on 
 Sundays and at fetes." 
 
 " I would rather have a coat like that than all the 
 gold-embroidered uniforms of Murat," said Henri 
 Jodelle. 
 
 " Won't you tell us again, Pierre, what the Emperor 
 said when he gave you the cross?" asked Frederic 
 Bonneville. 
 
 So Pierre related once more the scene in the Tuil- 
 eries courtyard. 
 
 " They didn't have crosses in my day," said Philippe 
 Courteau, "the Little Corporal hadn't established 
 them, but they had sabres of honor. When you come 
 to the Trois Dauphins, Pierre, I'll show you mine." 
 
 " I should like to see it very much," said Pierre. 
 
 " That was a lively scrimmage you had at Essling," 
 continued Philippe, " but I'll bet it wasn't anything to
 
 MARIE 189 
 
 the one we had at Cairo. Those Mamelukes are very 
 devils at riding. They used to rush up and rear their 
 horses right on our bayonets and sabre us if they 
 could, though they might as well have tried to chop 
 down the pyramids as one of our squares with the 
 Little Corporal in the middle of it." 
 
 " Robert! Robert! Give me some wine," said 
 dame Bovard, who was beginning to be annoyed at 
 the industry displayed by the stout Robert in helping 
 his fair neighbor the Widow Zirelle. 
 
 " Mon cher Robert," laughed the Widow Zirelle, 
 " will you not give me some gaufres and coffee cream? 
 Ah, merci, you are most kind, Robert, you are most 
 attentive." 
 
 "Robert! Robert! do you hear me?" demanded 
 dame Bovard, pulling his sleeve. " Give me some 
 wine." 
 
 " Ah ! How can I serve two at once ! " cried Robert, 
 as he passed her the coffee cream. 
 
 " No ! " cried dame Bovard, " attend to me, Robert. 
 I want some wine. Do you hear? " And the good 
 dame made her meaning more plain by giving him a 
 sharp pinch in the arm. And so they kept on until 
 stout Robert was soon muttering under his breath, 
 " Les femmes au diable! " 
 
 " Come, a song! a song! " cried Henri Jodelle, who 
 perceived that all was not peace at the other end of the 
 table. " We'll begin with Frederic, and each shall 
 sing a song in turn." 
 
 " I don't know any song," said Frederic. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do," cried Jacques le Page. " You 
 know the ' Marquis de Carabas.' That's a jolly song.
 
 190 THE GRENADIER 
 
 We'll all join in the chorus and rap with our knives 
 on the table. Begin! begin! " 
 
 So old Frederic got up and sang with his gruff 
 voice the " Marquis de Carabas." 
 
 " Hear me, ye vassals all, 
 Castellans, villeins, great and small: 
 Through me, through me alone 
 The King was set upon his throne. 
 
 If he should neglect 
 
 All the deep respect 
 
 Which I claim, to pay, 
 
 Then the deuce I'll play. 
 Chapeau bas! Chapeau has! 
 Hail to the Marquis of Carabas! " 
 
 " Bien! bien! Frederic," they cried, " another verse." 
 
 " That's all I know," said Frederic. 
 
 " Well, Philippe, it is your turn now," said Henri 
 Jodelle. 
 
 " I know only one song," said Phillippe, " ' le bon 
 roi Dagobert.' " 
 
 " And a good song too," cried Henri. 
 
 Philippe pushed his chair back from the table, and 
 rising, straightened himself to his full height and 
 roared out his favorite song: 
 
 " The good King Dagobert, so stout, 
 When fighting, flung his blows about. 
 
 Good Saint Eloi 
 
 Said: O mon roi 
 
 I fear they will 
 
 Your Highness kill. 
 
 Then said the king: They may, said he, 
 So clap yourself in front of me." 
 
 "Bravo! Philippe," cried Henri Jodelle.
 
 MARIE 191 
 
 " The good King Dagobert the great, 
 When he had tippled, walked not straight. 
 
 Good Saint Eloi 
 
 Said: O mon roi, 
 
 Your footsteps slide 
 
 From side to side. 
 
 Pooh! Monsieur, said the King, said he, 
 When you get drunk you walk like me." 
 
 " Tres-bien ! tres-bien ! Philippe," they all cried. 
 Philippe waved his hand to them and sat down. 
 
 "And now," cned Henri Jodelle, rising from his 
 chair, " a toast. Join me all. Good luck and happi- 
 ness to Marie and Pierre." 
 
 Up they rose, and little Gaspard stood on his chair 
 from very joy, and they held their glasses high, and 
 they all cried together, " Good luck and happiness to 
 Marie and Pierre! " 
 
 " Now, Pierre, a song from you," said Henri. 
 
 " Here! here! " cried Philippe Courteau and Frede- 
 ric Bonneville. " You have sung no song yet, Henri. 
 You cannot pass yourself in that manner. It is your 
 turn now." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" laughed Henri. "You have caught 
 me, have you? I know no songs." 
 
 " Ah, pere Henri," said Marie, " you know the song 
 the Emperor sings, ' si le roi m'eut donne, Paris sa 
 grande ville.' " 
 
 " Yes, I know that one," said Henri. " Well, you 
 shall have it" And old Henri in his faded uniform 
 sang in his deep bass voice: 
 
 " If the King had given to me 
 Paris his great town. 
 And if I were forced to flee 
 And leave my love alone,
 
 192 THE GRENADIER 
 
 To King Henry I would say: 
 ' Take your Paris back, I pray; 
 Better I love my love, O gay, 
 Better I love my love! ' " 
 
 "Bravo! bravo! Henri," cried Philippe Courteau. 
 ''That is a good song, and all the better because the 
 Emperor sings it. Now we will have the song from 
 Pierre." 
 
 " What shall I sing? " asked Pierre. 
 
 " Sing the ' Partant pour la Syrie ' of la reine Hor- 
 tense," said old Frederic Bonneville. 
 
 And so Pierre began: 
 
 " Partant pour la Syrie, 
 
 Le jeune et beau Dunois 
 
 Venait prier Marie 
 
 De benir ses exploits. 
 ' Faites, reine immortelle/ 
 
 Lui dit-il en partant, 
 ' Que j'aime la plus belle; 
 
 Et sois le plus vaillant.' " 
 
 " II trace sur la pierre 
 Le serment de 1'honneur, 
 Et va suivre a la guerre 
 Le comte, son seigneur. 
 Au noble voeu fidele, 
 II dit, en combattant, 
 ' Amour a la plus belle! 
 Honneur au plus vaillant! ' " 
 
 " ' Je te dois la victoire, 
 
 Dunois,' dit le seigneur, 
 ' Puisque tu fais ma gloire, 
 Je ferai ton bonheur. 
 De ma fille Isabella 
 Sois 1'epoux a 1'instant, 
 Car elle est la plus belle, 
 Et toi le plus vaillant.' "
 
 MARIE 193 
 
 " A 1'autel de Marie, 
 
 Us contractent, tous deux 
 
 Cette union cherie, 
 
 Qui seule rend heureux. 
 
 Chacun dans la chapelle 
 
 Disait, en les voyarit, 
 ' Amour a la plus belle! 
 
 Honneur au plus vaillant! ' ' 
 
 And when, on the following morning, Marie in her 
 simple white gown and Pierre in his splendid uniform 
 of the Garde Imperiale stood up before Father Morot 
 in the little Chapel of St. Laurent, old Henri Jodelle, 
 Frederic Bonneville, Philippe Courteau, Jacques le 
 Page and all the rest, cried 
 
 " Amour a la plus belle! 
 Honneur au plus vaillant! "
 
 . CHAPTER XXIII 
 THE MISSION OF THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM 
 
 Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven, 
 Before, behind thee, and on every hand, 
 Enwheel thee round. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE, Othello, 
 
 THEY spent the honeymoon in Grenoble in the 
 simplest, happiest way. Once they dined with dame 
 Bovard, and that day was memorable, because on their 
 way Eome they met Monsieur Montfort, the rich 
 banker, and he stopped and talked to them, hat in 
 hand. When they walked on, Pierre felt that he would 
 like to run again to the Rue Montorge and cry to the 
 dear mother, " Monsieur Montfort, the rich banker 
 who lives in the Place Grenette, has talked to me, hat 
 in hand. What do you think of that?" He was only a 
 boy, after all. Once they walked to the fortress called 
 La Bastille, from the old feudal castle which stood 
 there many, many years before. The bright March 
 sun was sinking and the gray walls glowed gloriously 
 in the ruddy light. They went up to the battlements. 
 At their feet, Grenoble with its ramparts and canals 
 lay spread out as though on a plain; the straight road 
 to Vizille stretched in front, and the winding valley of 
 the Isere ended in the barricades of Mont Blanc. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful, Pierre? " said Marie. 
 
 " Yes," said Pierre.
 
 THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM 195 
 
 He put his arm about her and drew her closely to 
 him. She nestled her head, and they stood, looking 
 out over the city the city of their youth, the city of 
 their love. Pierre drew himself up proudly, for Gren- 
 oble, glowing in the ruby rays, appeared to be doing 
 him honor ; the murmuring city seemed to say, " He 
 has won his fight; he has won his cross; he has won 
 his bride. Hurrah for the brave soldier! " 
 
 A great thrill of pride and joy swept over him. He 
 felt as he fancied the Little Corporal did when he 
 placed on his head the crown which had cost him so 
 much thought and effort. Pierre had no crown to 
 give the wife at his side, but he stooped and kissed her. 
 
 Honeymoons, however, like all else in this ever- 
 changing world, must end, and on the I5th of 
 March, Pierre was summoned to Paris to attend 
 another wedding a wedding amid Imperial pomp, a 
 wedding amid the acclamations of two nations, a wed- 
 ding amid a wondering world. For the Emperor 
 Napoleon, having been divorced, whom will he marry? 
 That was the great question agitating the minds of the 
 French statesmen aye and the statesmen of all 
 Europe, too in the early days of 1810. Come forth, 
 then, eligible princesses of Russia, Austria and Sax- 
 ony ; let us consider you to see which of you is worthy 
 to sit upon the Gallic throne and give sons to France. 
 For it is a son that the Emperor desires, who, bearing 
 the title King of Rome, may one day consolidate 
 his work, inheriting his diadem of France, his iron 
 crown of Lombardy, and his Empire of Charlemagne 
 rcdivivus. 
 
 Behold then in the early days of 1810, the Emperor 
 Napoleon, the King of Holland, the Viceroy of Italy,
 
 196 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the Cardinal Fesch, the great dignitaries, the ministers, 
 and the presidents of the Senate and of the Corps 
 Legislatif, assembled in solemn council in the Tuileries 
 Palace to decide this matter. 
 
 Saxony having been set to one side, there remained 
 but Russia and Austria a grandduchess and an 
 archduchess and all the momentous possibilities that 
 a choice of either of them implied. The pros and cons 
 were discussed at length. Fouche, and especially the 
 Arch-chancellor Cambaceres, favored the Russian 
 grandduchess, and each in turn expressed his views, 
 some saying much, some little, and finally it was M. 
 de Talleyrand's turn. Hear, then, Prince Machiavelli 
 de Talleyrand-Perigord as he rose nonchalantly from 
 his place at the council board, snuff-box in hand. 
 " Suppose," said he, " that the Emperor Napoleon 
 marries the grandduchess and that we are in a year's 
 time from now assembled in this room and at the same 
 table; the door is thrown open, the arrival of a messen- 
 ger is announced and this messenger brings the news 
 of the death of the Emperor Alexander. As a result 
 of this death the whole situation undergoes a complete 
 change. No longer are we sure of a Russian alliance; 
 the influence of Austria, Prussia and England becomes 
 paramount at St. Petersburg and all the advantageous 
 results of the marriage are a thing of the past. Let 
 us assume the contrary hypothesis. The Emperor 
 marries an archduchess; when after a year's time news 
 comes of the death of the Emperor Francis it is noth- 
 ing more than a case of family mourning. The politi- 
 cal interests of both countries are bound up together 
 and do not undergo any modification, and the Aus- 
 trian cabinet continues to be as anxious to preserve
 
 THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM 197 
 
 intact the alliance as does the French one. This con- 
 sideration is so potent a one in my estimation that it 
 does not suffer me to hesitate as to the advice which 
 I am not called upon to give." 
 
 All the world knows to what decision the council 
 came and whether it was a Russian grandduchess or 
 an Austrian archduchess whom Napoleon married. 
 
 " I am somewhat surprised, Monseigneur," said M. 
 Pasquier two days later to the Arch-chancellor Cam- 
 baceres, " that your opinion did not prevail." 
 
 " That need not surprise you," answered Camba- 
 ceres, " when a man has only one good reason to ad- 
 vance and when it is impossible to utter that, it is 
 natural that he should be beaten." 
 
 " What do you mean? " inquired M. Pasquier. 
 
 " Oh, no matter," replied the Arch-chancellor. 
 
 " But I assure you I am most anxious to know." 
 
 " You give me your word that you will keep it a 
 secret? " 
 
 " I give you my word." 
 
 " Well," said Cambaceres, " you will see that my 
 reason is so good that a single sentence will be enough 
 to make it understood. I am morally certain that ere 
 two years have gone by we shall be engaged in a 
 war with the power whose daughter the Emperor will 
 not have married. Now a war with Austria does not 
 give one the slightest anxiety, but I dread a war with 
 Russia, for its consequences are not to be calculated." 
 
 Merrily rang the bells of old Vienna on the 5th of 
 March, 1810; gaily the people thronged the avenues, 
 brightly the garlands floated from the house-fronts, 
 pompously the imperial carriages rolled out of the 
 Hofburg, for on this day the Marshal Berthier made
 
 198 THE GRENADIER 
 
 his solemn entry to ask, for his all-powerful friend and 
 sovereign, the hand of Marie Louise. Less than a 
 year before Prince Berthier had stood at Napoleon's 
 side before Vienna while the French shells crashed 
 into the city; less than a year before he had gained his 
 title, Prince of Wagram, upon the plain beyond the 
 Danube while the Austrian army of the Archduke 
 Charles fell back before the guns of Lauriston and the 
 bayonets of Macdonald. But now the court and peo- 
 ple rushed to greet him, for he rode no longer thunder- 
 ing in the Imperial train among the bayonets of the 
 Old Guard, but came bearing palms of peace and 
 hopes of friendship with Cupid victor as postillion. 
 The happy Viennese could hardly be restrained from 
 taking out the horses and drawing into their Imperial 
 Kaiserstadt the carriage of the Marshal Prince of 
 Wagram. 
 
 " My child," said the Emperor Francis, " you are to 
 go to France and marry Napoleon. The interests of 
 Austria demand it. The glory of the House of Haps- 
 burg requires it." 
 
 " Yes, papa," said the Archduchess Marie Louise. 
 
 Four years later, in the palace at Rambouillet, the 
 Austrian Emperor said to the wife of Napoleon and 
 the mother of the King of Rome : " My daughter, 
 you are to go back to Vienna. The interests of Austria 
 demand it. The glory of the House of Hapsburg re- 
 quires it." 
 
 " Yes, papa," said the Empress Marie Louise. 
 
 Ah! but why look ahead? Ring the bells merrily, 
 hang the windows with gay tapestries, rear the great 
 pavilion at Braunau, fire the guns of Munich, raise the 
 triumphal arches of Strassburg, light the illuminations
 
 THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM 199 
 
 of Luneville and Nancy, cover the walls of the Impe- 
 rial apartments at Compiegne with gorgeous cash- 
 meres. For Marie Louise, the daughter of the 
 Caesars, taken from her quiet Schonbrunn boudoir, 
 her birds, her embroidery and her spaniels, is en route 
 to wed the Man of the People, whom genius and 
 glory Rivoli, Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland, 
 Wagram have made the Jupiter Tonans of the 
 world's Olympus; is en route to mount the proudest 
 throne since the days of Alexander, of Caesar, or of 
 Charlemagne, and find Europe at her feet. 
 
 Loudly the poets Tissot, Sauzon, Gazelle, Arnault, 
 Emenard, Rougemont, Brugniere sang their peans. 
 Was not the Fourth Dynasty founded now ail- 
 gloriously, ail-immovably? Did not the Etoile Napo- 
 leonienne shed light on all the world? Sing, then, 
 melodious poets, strike the golden lyre, spring on 
 white-winged Pegasus and, soaring to the blue, 
 ethereal realm where glitters that bright Star Napo- 
 leonic, chant a glorious epic! Vincit amor omnial 
 France and Austria united by the hand of Marie 
 Louise ! 
 
 "Who will be dame d'honneur to the new Em- 
 press? " cried all the great court ladies, and the Morte- 
 marts, Montmorencies, Bouilles, Vintimilles, Canisys, 
 Rovigos, Duchatels and Lauristons bestirred them- 
 selves, and all the court feminine was in a flutter of 
 agitation. But one little lady sat apart from it all, 
 mourning in her widow's weeds. And the day came 
 when the Imperial decree was published, and in it the 
 Emperor said to all the world, " I'll not have a Morte- 
 mart, a Montmorency, a Bouille, or a Vintimille. The 
 rank of dame d'honneur, first lady in waiting to the
 
 200 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Empress, the highest court favor I have to bestow, I 
 give to the Duchess de Montebello, the widow of my 
 sturdy Lannes, my brave 'Ajax,' my Marshal of 
 France who was once a grenadier." 
 
 And now the Emperor, awaiting impatiently at Com- 
 piegne the arrival of his Austrian bride, received 
 news that she was approaching Soissons, would in 
 fact arrive at Compiegne upon the morrow, the 28th 
 of March. Upon the morrow? Why not to-day? 
 Why be held any longer by that tedious, people- 
 impressing, sensation-producing ceremonial against 
 which he had already railed? 
 
 "Constant! a carriage without livery and my gray 
 greatcoat of Wagram," cried the Emperor, and with 
 Murat, the King of Naples, he set out at a gallop in the 
 pouring rain for Soissons. And when the cortege of 
 the Archduchess came clattering over the stones and 
 pulled up at the post-house to change horses, he flung 
 open the door of her carriage, sprang in all wet and 
 muddy from his hurried journey and threw his arms 
 about her neck, while the Queen of Naples 'thus an- 
 nounced him, " Madame, it is the Emperor." 
 
 There was a splendid supper awaiting the Arch- 
 duchess and her suite at Soissons. The lights glit- 
 tered and the tables loaded with savory viands sent 
 forth tempting odors. Hungry ladies and gentlemen 
 of the Imperial cortege, do you fancy that you will 
 taste these good things to-night? If so, you greatly 
 err. Fresh horses have been put in, the postillions are 
 in the saddles, and the indisputable word is uttered, 
 " En avant! To Compiegne! " 
 
 So they went at a gallop from Soissons to Com- 
 piegne, through the mud and rain and cheering crowds
 
 THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM 201 
 
 of people, up the grand avenue by torchlight to the 
 very palace gates. Now, ladies and gentlemen, you 
 may rest and eat what the palace ctiefs at eleven 
 o'clock at night can find for you. The Imperial 
 Lochinvar has won his bride! 
 
 On the 3 ist of March the court set out for Saint 
 Cloud, and on the following day, Sunday, the ist of 
 April, 1810, in the grand Apollo Gallery adorned by 
 Mignard's brilliant frescoes, in the presence of Louis 
 Napoleon, King of Holland, Jerome Napoleon, King 
 of Westphalia, Joachim Murat, King of Naples, 
 Eugene, Viceroy of Italy, the Prince Borghese, the 
 Grand Duke of Wiirtzburg, the Grand Duke of 
 Baden, Hortense, Queen of Holland, Julia, Queen of 
 Spain, Catherine, Queen of Westphalia, Caroline, 
 Queen of Naples, Augusta, Vice-Queen of Italy, 
 Elisa, Grand Duchess of Tuscany, Pauline, Princess 
 Borghese, Stephanie, Grand Duchess of Baden, the 
 Imperial Mother, Madame Mere, the Prince Arch- 
 treasurer, the Prince Vice-Grand Elector, and the 
 Prince Vice-Constable, the Arch-chancellor of the Em- 
 pire, the Prince Cambaceres, rose before a richly-cov- 
 ered table upon which lay the marriage contract and 
 said, " In the name of the Emperor." And as he 
 spoke, Napoleon and Marie Louise rose from their 
 places and stood waiting the Arch-chancellor's word. 
 
 It was a far cry from that Sunday the ist of April, 
 1810, to the day when at the military school of Brienne 
 the little Corsican boy had led the attack upon the fort 
 of snow, and, with " Homer in his pocket and his 
 sword by his side, hoped to carve his way through the 
 world." Strange things had come to pass since then. 
 Until now in the Apollo Gallery of that beautiful Pal-
 
 202 THE GRENADIER 
 
 ace of Saint Cloud, once the palace of Louis the Grand 
 Monarque, now the palace of Napoleon, Emperor of 
 the French, surrounded by all those Kings and Queens 
 whom he had placed on thrones and whom he held 
 there by his victorious sword, he stood, waiting to say 
 the word which should unite him to the great Imperial 
 House of Hapsburg and found a dynasty Napoleonic, 
 with all Europe looking on. 
 
 " Sire," said the Arch-chancellor Cambaceres, " does 
 Your Imperial and Royal Majesty declare that he takes 
 in marriage Her Imperial and Royal Highness Marie 
 Louise, Archduchess of Austria, here present? " 
 
 And the Emperor answered, " I declare that I take 
 in marriage Her Imperial and Royal Highness Marie 
 Louise, Archduchess of Austria, here present." 
 
 " Madame," said the Arch-chancellor, " does Your 
 Imperial and Royal Highness declare that she takes in 
 marriage His Imperial and Royal Majesty Napoleon, 
 Emperor of the French, here present? " 
 
 And the Archduchess answered, " I declare that I 
 take in marriage His Imperial and Royal Majesty, 
 Napoleon, Emperor of the French, here present" 
 
 " Then in the name of the Emperor and of the law," 
 said the Arch-chancellor, " I declare that His Imperial 
 and Royal Majesty Napoleon, Emperor of the French 
 and King of Italy, and Her Imperial and Royal High- 
 ness Marie Louise, Archduchess of Austria, are united 
 in marriage." And the thunders of the artillery in the 
 palace park and at the Invalides in Paris shook the 
 windows of the Apollo Gallery in the Palace of Saint 
 Cloud. 
 
 At eight o'clock on the following morning, the day 
 of the public entry, every window on the line of march
 
 THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM 203 
 
 from Saint Cloud to the Tuileries was filled with men 
 and women. The people from all the surrounding 
 country had flocked to Paris, and from the iron rail- 
 ings of the courtyard of Saint Cloud, through the Bois 
 de Boulogne and the Avenue des Champs Elysees, a 
 vast concourse of humanity, joyous and expectant, 
 stretched to the doors of the Tuileries Palace. Flags, 
 bunting, portraits and monograms of the Emperor and 
 of the Empress abounded, and the Imperial eagles 
 flapped their wings on every side. All night the car- 
 penters and decorators had been busy putting the 
 finishing touches to the great temporary structure 
 erected upon the rising foundations of the Arc de 
 Triomphe, which bore in large letters, " To Napoleon 
 and Marie Louise, the City of Paris." At the top of 
 the arch were twelve medallions, and on one of these 
 which contained a portrait of the Empress was this 
 inscription, " She announces happy days to the world." 
 
 It was nine o'clock when the procession left Saint 
 Cloud. First came the cavalry of the Imperial Guard, 
 lancers, chasseurs, and dragoons; then the carriage of 
 the Empress, empty and drawn by eight gray horses; 
 then the gilded coronation coach with its crown and 
 eagles, in which were the Emperor and the Empress, 
 and by the side of which rode the Marshals of the 
 Empire. Then thirty gilded carriages containing the 
 court, and finally detachments of cavalry from all the 
 army corps. 
 
 And so while the cannon of the Invalides sounded, 
 and the bells of the city churches tolled and the people 
 shouted again and again the Imperial name, the glitter- 
 ing pageant advanced majestically through the Bois de 
 Boulogne and the Maillot gate, down the Avenue des
 
 204 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Champs Elysees and across the Place de la Concorde 
 that Place de la Concorde where seventeen years 
 before another Austrian Archduchess from the summit 
 of her scaffold had looked for the last time on earth 
 toward the dome of the Tuileries Palace. Shout, peo- 
 ple of Paris! The wars and revolutions are over. 
 The Dynasty Napoleonic is founded forever. France 
 and Austria are united. As a pledge of their sincerity 
 behold your Empress, a daughter of the Caesars 
 " She announces happy days to the world ! " 
 
 In the great gallery of the Louvre that stretched 
 from the Old Louvre to the Chapel at the end of the 
 Tuileries Pavilion, on the side next to the Pont Royal, 
 were three rows of benches crowded with the great 
 ladies of Paris. At regular intervals in this long gal- 
 lery were placed ninety-six canteens of refreshments, 
 served by fifty non-commissioned officers of the Impe- 
 rial Guard commanded by General Dorsenne. Pierre 
 was stationed at the third canteen from the great door 
 that led to the Imperial Chapel, and he had forty-eight 
 ladies to serve. And wonderful ladies they were with 
 their dresses cut so low in the front and back that 
 Pierre was almost embarrassed when he went to offer 
 them refreshments. Some were young and some were 
 old, some were beautiful and some were ugly, some 
 had clear white skins and some were yellow and 
 wrinkled like parchment, but they were all gorgeous 
 in necklaces, bracelets and tiaras of rubies, diamonds 
 and pearls. The men in their short breeches and 
 splendidly-embroidered coats with diamond-shaped 
 steel buttons, stood behind the ladies, and Pierre felt 
 that he had never known what clothes were until that 
 moment.
 
 THE PRINCE OF WAGRAM 205 
 
 When the shouts in the Tuileries courtyard an- 
 nounced that the Imperial couple had arrived, every- 
 one in the grand gallery rose, and soon Pierre saw the 
 pompous procession, framed by the gilded paintings of 
 the Louvre and the long lines of jeweled and em- 
 broidered dames de cour, advancing slowly to the 
 Chapel. The Empress Marie Louise, with her splen- 
 did diamond diadem and her train borne by the Queens 
 of Holland, Spain, Naples, and Westphalia, created a 
 profound impression, and the Emperor Napoleon ap- 
 peared happy and serene. But, as they reached the 
 door that led into the Chapel, Pierre saw the Queen of 
 Holland lift her handkerchief to her eyes. And when 
 all that imposing array of Kings and Queens, Grand 
 Dukes and Grand Duchesses, had passed by, General 
 Dorsenne collected the grenadiers and marched them 
 into the Chapel, where, in the solemn silence while all 
 the assembly remained standing, Pierre saw Napoleon 
 and Marie Louise kneeling on cushions decorated with 
 the golden bees, receiving the benediction of the 
 Church. 
 
 That night Paris was on fire with illuminations; 
 the Garde-Meuble, the Temple of Glory, the Tuileries 
 Palace, the Corps Legislatif, the Bridge Louis XV, 
 the Avenue des Champs Elysees, houses, palaces, and 
 churches even to their lofty towers, glittered with light 
 There were transparencies representing peace, and 
 genii carrying bucklers, and magistrates, warriors and 
 people presenting crowns to the Emperor and the Em- 
 press, and the Seine and the Danube surrounded by 
 children; there were orange-trees of flame, and gar- 
 lands of colored lamps, and columns of dazzling 
 brightness, and tripods of fire, while over all and above
 
 206 THE GRENADIER 
 
 all, from the dome of Sainte Genevieve, scintillating 
 like a diamond, blazed a great Imperial star. 
 
 Ah! shout, good people of Paris. Fire your guns 
 and light your illuminations. Your great War-Lord 
 has sheathed his sword. The Lion is in love, and 
 Marie Louise is Venus Vicirix. " She announces 
 happy days to the world ! " 
 
 What did Pierre think of this Austrian marriage? 
 We only know that when, a year later, the hundred 
 guns of the Invalides had announced the birth of a 
 King of Rome, and from all parts of the Empire depu- 
 tations were thronging the Tuileries Palace, bearing 
 their congratulations to the second Charlemagne, 
 Pierre received a letter from Grenoble, which said, 
 " Pierre, you have a little daughter. What shall we 
 name her? " 
 
 And Pierre sent back this answer: " Let us call her 
 Josephine."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 AT THE ROYAL PALACE, DRESDEN 
 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE, The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 " PIERRE," said Francois Legrand, coming one morn- 
 ing into the barracks at Courbevoie, " get yourself a 
 fur pelisse. We're going to Russia." 
 
 Pierre dropped the belt which he was cleaning and 
 looked up. " The devil we are! " said he. " How do 
 you know that?" 
 
 "Jovyac told me. His brother is an agent of 
 Fouche's; so he knows all state secrets." 
 
 " Well, what are we going to Russia for? " inquired 
 Pierre. 
 
 " What for? " exclaimed Francois. " To give them 
 
 a d d good licking, of course. What else should 
 
 we go for? " 
 
 " Oh, we'll lick them fast enough," said Pierre, 
 picking up the belt, "Cela va sans dire; but there's 
 politics mixed up with it, isn't there? " 
 
 " Pish ! " cried Francois, contemptuously, " who 
 cares for politics? March and fight, that's my politics. 
 Good politics, too. Look what it's done for the Little 
 Corporal. Sacre! I haven't smelled powder for two 
 years. This lazy life is killing me."
 
 208 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Frangois meant what he said. War is the soldier's 
 trade. In times of peace he is restless, for he has no 
 opportunity to practice his profession. Peace, so dear 
 to the heart of the civilian, means to him only the dull 
 routine of barrack life. He longs for the camp, the 
 combat and the crash of arms. 
 
 Soldier of the Empire, your wish shall be gratified. 
 Your great War-Lord marches with Western Europe 
 in his train; and in that far-distant Russia, where your 
 martial imagination beholds victory waiting to crown 
 her favorite son, you shall see the Kremlin's dome 
 and more! 
 
 There have been triumphal marches, but the march 
 of the Imperial Guard from Paris to Dresden was one 
 perpetual ovation. In every town they passed beneath 
 arches erected in their honor; in every town they ad- 
 vanced between lines of cheering people. The peas- 
 ant girls ran forward and threw flowers to them, or 
 fastened roses in their lofty bearskin caps ; and the men 
 cried, "See! it is the Imperial Guard." "How 
 proudly they march ! " " They have never been 
 beaten." " They can never be beaten." " They are 
 the Emperor's pride." Then from the throngs came 
 the shout repeated over and over again, " Vive la 
 Garde Imperiale ! " 
 
 Add to it all the music of a hundred bands, and no 
 wonder the veterans held their heads high. Pierre 
 was drunk with glory, while Frangois Legrand de- 
 clared he had never seen anything like it before, and 
 he had seen much. 
 
 Thus honored and acclaimed, the grenadiers reached 
 Dresden on the 28th of May, 1812, and swept with 
 a swinging stride into the crowded Zwinger. The
 
 THE ROYAL PALACE, DRESDEN 209 
 
 bands of the regiments played the warlike strain, 
 and the marching veterans sung their triumph-song: 
 
 Vive 1'Empereur! 
 
 It is our battle-cry. 
 
 With it we gaily face the foe; 
 
 With it we gladly die. 
 
 We love it like a wife or child, 
 
 And glory, its reward. 
 
 We're heroes of a hundred fights, 
 
 The great Imperial Guard. 
 
 En avant! En avant! 
 The conqueror goes to war; 
 The cannons loudly roar, 
 The eagles proudly soar. 
 En avant I En avant I 
 The conqueror goes to war. 
 Behold advance the flag of France, 
 Triumphant tricolor el 
 
 Vive 1'Empereur! 
 
 It is our battle-cheer. 
 
 With it we summon courage; 
 
 With it, inspire fear. 
 
 It burnishes for daring deeds, 
 
 Made glorious by the sword, 
 
 The cuirass of Napoleon, 
 
 The great Imperial Guard. 
 
 En avant! En avant! 
 The conqueror goes to war; 
 The cannons loudly roar, 
 The eagles proudly soar. 
 En avant! En avant! 
 The conqueror goes to war. 
 Behold advance the flag of France, 
 Triumphant tricolorel 
 
 The crowds took up the refrain and followed the 
 grenadiers. Dresden was a gallant sight that day, 
 
 14
 
 210 THE GRENADIER 
 
 for Dresden was en fete. Through the beautiful 
 Z winger of Augustus II and across the great Theater 
 Platz rolled long lines of gilded carriages, drawn by 
 splendid horses, crowded on the steps with laced 
 and powdered footmen and bearing the grand lords 
 of Germany to the Royal Palace. About the palace 
 gates was gathered a dense mass of people, pushing 
 and jostling each other in their eagerness to catch 
 a glimpse of the Dukes, Princes and high dignitaries 
 who passed by them in rapid succession. 
 
 One after another the carriages dashed into the 
 palace courtyard and drew up before the main en- 
 trance, and, as their occupants ascended the marble 
 staircase, the Royal Guards presented arms. In the 
 grand gallery were assembled the Prince of Saxe- 
 Weimar, the Grand Duke of Wurtzburg, the Grand 
 Duke of Baden, the Prince of Saxe-Coburg, the 
 Prince of Nassau, the Grand Duke of Hesse-Darm- 
 stadt, the Archbishop of Regensburg, the Prince of 
 Mecklenburg-Strelitz, M. de Metternich the Austrian 
 Ambassador, the Prince Primate of the Rhine Con- 
 federation, the Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, and 
 with them a great throng of Barons, Generals, Counts 
 and diplomats. 
 
 The King of Saxony had never held so brilliant a 
 levee. And as that numerous assembly, gathered in 
 groups, was engaged in animated conversation, the 
 folding doors at one end of the apartment were 
 thrown open and the voice of an usher resounded 
 through the gallery, " His Majesty the King of 
 Wurtemburg, His Majesty the King of Bavaria." 
 
 They too had come, then, to grace the King of 
 Saxony's levee. They mingled among the crowd of
 
 THE ROYAL PALACE, DRESDEN 211 
 
 courtiers, and the conversation went on. The King 
 of Saxony had grown great indeed when his brothers 
 of Wurtemburg and of Bavaria paid him such an 
 honor. Again the doors were opened, and again the 
 voice of the usher resounded through the gallery, 
 " His Majesty the King of Naples, His Majesty the 
 King of Westphalia." 
 
 But the conversation did not stop, and the Kings 
 of Naples and of Westphalia, like their brothers of 
 Bavaria and of Wurtemburg, mingled among the 
 crowd. They too had come to grace the King of 
 Saxony's levee. Again the doors were opened, and 
 again the usher's voice resounded through the gal- 
 lery, "His Majesty the King of Saxony." The 
 Saxon King had never held so brilliant a levee. 
 
 The King of Saxony entered slowly, and the Kings 
 of Wurtemburg and of Bavaria advanced to meet 
 him. But the conversation did not stop. The court 
 circle was not formed. It was evidently not to honor 
 the King of Saxony that all those sovereign Princes 
 had assembled. Whom then had all those sovereign 
 Princes come to honor in the Saxon capital, if not 
 the Saxon King? 
 
 Again the doors were opened, and again the usher's 
 voice resounded through the gallery, " His Majesty 
 the King of Prussia and His Royal Highness the 
 Crown Prince." 
 
 It was the King of Prussia, then, that all those 
 Princes, Dukes, and Barons had come from all parts 
 of Germany to honor. 
 
 As the King of Prussia entered, the King of 
 Saxony, M. de Hardenburg, and the Prince of Meck- 
 lenburg-Schwerin came forward. But the conversa-
 
 212 THE GRENADIER 
 
 tion did not stop, and the Kings of Bavaria, of Wur- 
 temburg, of Naples, and of Westphalia, hardly noticed 
 the Prussian monarch. He too, then, was a courtier. 
 Suddenly the roll of drums was heard upon the stair- 
 case, the folding doors were thrown open, and the 
 usher announced with becoming grandiloquence, 
 " His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Austria! " 
 
 Ah! he surely was the person for whom that bril- 
 liant assembly waited in the Royal Palace, Dresden. 
 
 The King of Saxony, the King of Bavaria, M. de 
 Metternich, and the Prince of Saxe- Weimar hurried 
 forward to meet the Austrian Emperor. But the 
 conversation did not stop. The court circle was not 
 formed. Nor did the Emperor of Austria appear to 
 expect it, for he quietly drew M. de Metternich into 
 a corner and began to talk earnestly with him. And 
 now, as the palace clock struck nine, the folding doors 
 at the other end of the grand gallery those doors 
 which until then had remained fast closed, those doors 
 toward which had been directed the glance of many 
 a King, sovereign Prince, Grand Duke and Grand 
 Elector were opened, and instantly the conversa- 
 tion stopped. 
 
 Upon the threshold appeared an Imperial cham- 
 berlain with his white waistcoat, knee-breeches, and 
 silver embroidered coat of scarlet silk, and, looking 
 at the assembled sovereigns, he said slowly, 
 "Messieurs, FEmpereur vous accorde les grandes 
 entrees" 
 
 Through the doorway passed the Emperor of 
 Austria, the King of Prussia, the King of Saxony, 
 the King of Bavaria, the King of Wurtemberg, the 
 Bang of Naples, the King of Westphalia, the Grand
 
 THE ROYAL PALACE, DRESDEN 213 
 
 Duke of Baden, the Grand Duke of Wiirtzburg, the 
 Prince of Saxe-Coburg, the Grand Duke of Hesse- 
 Darmstadt, the Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, 
 and all that crowd of Barons, diplomats and Grand 
 Electors. At the further end of the apartment into 
 which they entered, dressed in his plain uniform of 
 the chasseurs a cheval, with one hand thrust into his 
 v/aistcoat and holding in the other his famous little 
 hat, stood Napoleon. He it was who held the grand 
 levee. He had passed some days in the capital of 
 his friend the King of Saxony, and from all parts 
 of Europe his vassal and allied sovereigns had come 
 to do him homage, and on the morrow he was to 
 set out to place himself at the head of five hundred 
 thousand men and begin his march to Moscow. He 
 came forward, and the long lines of glittering Kings, 
 Princes, Dukes and Barons assumed an attitude of 
 respectful attention. 
 
 " And how is Your Majesty this morning? " said 
 he, smiling and addressing the Emperor of Austria. 
 
 " Quite well, sire, my son," answered Francis, " I 
 have very gratifying news for you." 
 
 "What is it?" asked the Emperor, with a look of 
 interest 
 
 " I trust it will give Your Majesty as much pleasure 
 as it has given me," said the Emperor of Austria. " I 
 have discovered that the Bonapartes were formerly 
 sovereigns at Treviso. There can be no doubt about 
 the matter. I have caused the authentic titles to be 
 procured and presented to me. I have already told 
 Marie Louise and she is enchanted at the news." 
 
 While the Emperor of Austria was speaking, Napo- 
 leon's face had lost its interested look, his eyes wan-
 
 214 THE GRENADIER 
 
 dered about the room and a faint smile appeared 
 upon his mouth. 
 
 " My dear father-in-law," said he, " it is really very 
 good of you to take this trouble on my account, 
 but I assure you I have no need of ancestors. I 
 am the Rudolph of Hapsburg of my family. My title 
 of nobility dates from the battle of Montenotte." 
 
 " Sire, my brother," said the King of Prussia, 
 dropping the tassels of his sword which he had been 
 nervously fingering and coming a step or two nearer 
 Napoleon, " my son is anxious to learn the art of 
 war. I am sure he can learn it nowhere better than 
 under your conquering eagles. Will Your Majesty 
 do me the honor to take him as aide-de-camp in the 
 Russian campaign? " 
 
 " My staff is very numerous now," replied the 
 Emperor. " He is rather young, but I will think 
 of it." 
 
 " Let me repeat to Your Majesty my assurances of 
 inviolable attachment to the system which unites us," 
 continued the King of Prussia. 
 
 "Yes, I feel confident that I can rely upon you," 
 rejoined Napoleon. "How are matters in Berlin?" 
 
 " Never better, sire. I must tell Your Majesty 
 about the new coat I have designed for my guards. 
 It has fourteen buttons on the front and is lined with 
 blue and red." 
 
 " It will be a splendid coat, no doubt," said Napo- 
 leon, looking at his snuff-box. 
 
 " I have fourteen buttons on the coats of my 
 guards too," said the Emperor of Austria. 
 
 " No, sire, my brother, your guards have only 
 twelve buttons on their coats," said the King of 
 Prussia.
 
 THE ROYAL PALACE, DRESDEN 215 
 
 " I am sure there are fourteen," answered Francis. 
 
 " Father-in-law," said Napoleon, " Your Majesty 
 cannot dispute the King of Prussia. He is au fait 
 in the matter of buttons. He knows the cut and 
 color of every uniform in Europe. I found that out 
 at Tilsit" His Prussian Majesty appeared much 
 flattered. 
 
 " You must come with me and make a tour of the 
 shops," said the Emperor Francis to the Prussian 
 King. " I always like to rummage about among the 
 shops when time hangs heavy on my hands." 
 
 " Your Majesty might visit the fortifications," re- 
 marked Napoleon. " The fortifications of a country 
 are always useful and never injurious when they are 
 well understood. If Vienna had been fortified in 
 1805, the battle of Ulm would not have decided the 
 issue of the war. Had Berlin been fortified in 1806, 
 the army beaten at Jena would have rallied there and 
 been joined by the Russian army." 
 
 The King of Prussia looked blankly at the floor, 
 but the Austrian Emperor grew red and quickly 
 changed the subject. 
 
 " What does Your Majesty think of Charles XII, 
 who like Your Majesty contemplated a march to 
 Moscow?" he inquired. 
 
 " Charles XII set out from his camp at Alstadt 
 near Leipzig in September, 1707," said Napoleon. 
 " He was in condition to have brought together 
 80,000 of the best troops in the world. In January, 
 1708, he arrived at Grodno, where he wintered. In 
 June he crossed the forest of Minsk and presented 
 himself before Borisov, defeated 20,000 Russians who 
 were strongly entrenched behind marshes, passed the
 
 216 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Borysthenes at Mohilov and vanquished a corps of 
 Muscovites near Smolensko. He was now advanced 
 to the confines of Lithuania. Until this time all his 
 movements were conformable to rule. He was mas- 
 ter of Poland and Riga and distant only ten days' 
 march from Moscow, and it is probable he would 
 have reached that capital had he not quitted the 
 highroad thither and directed his steps toward the 
 Ukraine in order to form a junction with Mazeppa, 
 who brought him only 6000 men. Had Charles XII 
 wished to reach Moscow his march was perfectly 
 well directed as far as Smolensko, and his line of 
 operations with Sweden and Riga was covered by 
 the Dwina as far as the Borysthenes and Mohilov; 
 but, if his design was to winter in the Ukraine and to 
 induce a rising among the Cossacks, he ought to have 
 passed the Niemen at Grodno and traversed Lithua- 
 nia. So much for Charles XII. How is Your 
 Majesty and what is the spirit of yor.r troops? " 
 And the Emperor turned to the King of Wurtem- 
 berg. 
 
 " They are already animated with ardor for the 
 great cause, sire, and I shall have them harangued 
 frequently." 
 
 " I would advise you not to do so," said the Em- 
 peror, "it is not harangues at the moment of attack 
 which render them brave; old soldiers dislike them 
 and the young forget them at the very first fire. It 
 is discipline which binds troops to their colors. 
 There is not a single harangue recorded by Livy 
 which was ever spoken by the general of an army, 
 because there is not one which has the characteristic 
 of an impromptu. Is it not so, Monsieur le Prince?"
 
 THE ROYAL PALACE, DRESDEN 217 
 
 The Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, thus sud- 
 denly appealed to, flushed, looked down and stam- 
 mered, " Really, sire I never having read I 
 should say ." 
 
 " And you would be quite right, too, Monsieur le 
 Prince," said Napoleon hastily, to extricate the 
 Prince from his embarrassment. " If harangues are 
 of any use it is during the course of campaign, to 
 dissipate false alarms, keep up good spirit in the 
 camp and furnish material for conversation in the 
 bivouac." 
 
 The Emperor took a pinch of snuff and turned to 
 the King of Bavaria. " I trust Your Majesty has 
 found little difficulty in collecting your supplies," he 
 said. 
 
 " On the contrary, I have had a good deal of diffi- 
 culty," said the King of Bavaria. " Your Majesty 
 shall find, however, that the difficulties have only in- 
 creased my zeal for the great cause. But sometimes 
 I wish that, like the generals of antiquity, we did not 
 have to pay attention to magazines." 
 
 " It is an error to suppose that the generals of 
 antiquity did not pay particular attention to their 
 magazines," said the Emperor. " It appears from 
 Caesar's Commentaries that in many of his campaigns 
 this subject occupied much of his attention. They 
 had only found out the art of not being slaves to, and 
 depending too much on, their supplies; an art which 
 has been that of all great captains, Hannibal, Tu- 
 renne, Conde, Prince Eugene. Frederick in his in- 
 vasions of Bohemia and Moravia, in his marches on 
 the Oder and on the banks of the Elbe and the Saale, 
 put into practice the principles of these great cap-
 
 218 THE GRENADIER 
 
 tains. For commanders-in-chief are guided by their 
 experience or genius; tactics, evolutions, the science 
 of engineering and gunnery, may be learned in 
 treatises like geometry; but the knowledge of other 
 parts of war is only to be acquired by experience and 
 by studying the history of the wars and battles of 
 great leaders." 
 
 " And when did Your Majesty find time to study 
 the campaigns of Caesar and the great Frederick?" 
 inquired the Austrian Emperor. 
 
 Napoleon glanced at the brilliant crowd before him, 
 at the Kings, the sovereign Princes, Grand Dukes 
 and Grand Electors, at the gold-embroidered uni- 
 forms blazing with diamond stars and crosses, and 
 answered his Imperial father-in-law, " When I was 
 sous-lieutenant in the regiment of La Fere."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN 
 
 No pitying voice commands a halt, 
 No courage can repel the dire assault; 
 Distracted, spiritless, benumbed and blind, 
 Whole legions sink and, in one instant, find 
 Burial and death. 
 
 WORDSWORTH, The French Artny in Russia. 
 
 ON the 24th of June, Napoleon crossed the Niemen 
 with his Grande Armee, four hundred and twenty 
 thousand men, seventy thousand horsemen and a 
 thousand guns. And as we see him standing on the 
 bank, watching that mighty host French, Austrians, 
 and Prussians defiling before him over the three 
 bridges, we may repeat the question put three years 
 later by the bluff von Bliicher, when with his muddy 
 boots he tramped across the Apollo Gallery at Saint 
 Cloud and looked about him: "Why should a man, 
 who had all these fine things at home, go running off 
 to Moscow?" Ah! let the grave historian answer; 
 that is his affair. 
 
 It was the evening of December 2oth, 1812, and a 
 boisterous evening it was. The snow had been fall- 
 ing since morning, and the sharp wind had been 
 whirling it about in thin, white clouds and driving it 
 into every chink and crevice. There were banks of 
 it about the front of the Hotel des Trois Dauphins, 
 and the banks kept growing. For every hour old
 
 220 THE GRENADIER 
 
 La Barre would come and shovel it off the steps, 
 throwing it to right and to left, and then he would 
 stamp his big wooden shoes and shake his rough 
 coat and go in to warm his wrinkled hands by the 
 fire; for when the mercury stands at four degrees 
 below zero and a sharp wind is blowing it is more 
 pleasant indoors than out Old La Barre was a 
 harmless soul, and he had helped Philippe Courteau 
 at the Trois Dauphins for many years. He was the 
 best man in that quarter to bed a horse or wash 
 windows. Henri Jodelle always used to say, when 
 he went to the stable and saw La Barre bedding a 
 horse, that "if he were the Crown Prince of Prussia 
 he would have envied that horse." 
 
 So La Barre was a useful soul, and being a harm- 
 less one he was in nobody's path, and picked up many 
 an odd sou, which he kept in a woollen sock in his 
 garret, until one day the rats, being on campaign, 
 and cut off from their base of supplies, and finding 
 the country about them rather unproductive, ate the 
 toe of La Barre's sock and spilled the money. There 
 never was a man so distressed as La Barre, for two 
 centimes rolled in a crack, where they could not be 
 gotten out without taking up the floor, and Philippe 
 didn't want that. So he gave La Barre two other 
 centimes, and also a tin box for the balance of his 
 money. La Barre got a rat-trap and put it at the 
 foot of his bed, then he got a mouse-trap and put it 
 at the head, and then he put the tin box under one 
 end of his pillow. But he was not easily consoled for 
 the loss of those two centimes, and often when he was 
 in his room he would light a candle and place it by 
 the crack and watch it carefully. No one knows
 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN 221 
 
 what he expected to see come out of the crack, but 
 that was what he did. So La Barre, like the rest of 
 the world, had his troubles. 
 
 Philippe Courteau and Henri Jodelle were sitting in 
 Philippe's room on the ground floor of the Trois 
 Dauphins. It was a comfortable room, but, as might 
 be expected, there was nothing gaudy about it. The 
 log fire was burning brightly in the fireplace, and 
 nearby was a pile of logs that La Barre had brought 
 in not long before and which were still moist from 
 melted snow. Philippe had stood some of the short 
 ones up on end about the fire to dry thoroughly before 
 he put them on. There were two pairs of Philippe's 
 boots beside the fireplace also, and over it hung the 
 sabre of honor which he had told Pierre he would show 
 him when he came to the Trois Dauphins. But Pierre 
 hadn't had time to come when he was getting mar- 
 ried, and now he was with the Grand Army at the 
 other end of the world, so Marie thought, and Heaven 
 knew when she would see him again, if ever. That 
 was not a cheering thought, but there were thousands 
 in France who had the same about others who were 
 charging the Russian guns at La Moscowa. Under 
 the sabre of honor hung a picture of the Little Cor- 
 poral, with thin cheeks and long hair a copy of one 
 of Gros's or David's pictures and that was the way 
 Philippe remembered him, for he had not seen him 
 since the days in Italy and Egypt, when he led them 
 with Victory at his right hand, and Glory at his left 
 
 About the round table in the middle of the room 
 sat Philippe and Henri. There were two bottles of 
 wine on the table, some cheese and a dozen slices of 
 thick, fine bread. There was also an empty chair at
 
 222 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the table, and that was a sign that they were expect- 
 ing some one, for Philippe never put chairs about that 
 table unless he expected to have his friends there to 
 put in them. The fire burned merrily and Philippe 
 and Henri drank their wine. Presently La Barre 
 came in and sat down to warm his hands. 
 
 " Is it still snowing? " inquired Philippe. 
 
 "Worse than ever," said La Barre. 
 
 " The diligence will be late to-night," said Philippe. 
 " Stout Matthieu will probably have his ears frozen, 
 and the roan mare will be stiffer than ever. You 
 must fix her up well, La Barre." 
 
 "They'll be lucky if they come at all," answered 
 La Barre. " They'll get blowed over in a gulley, 
 I'm thinking." 
 
 "Pish!" said Henri Jodelle. "Matthieu knows 
 the road too well for that." 
 
 They heard some one stamping and puffing in the 
 hall, and presently old Frederic Bonneville put his 
 head in at the door. His hat and his coat were cov- 
 ered with snow and there was snow on his eyebrows 
 and on his mustache, but that was always white and 
 so didn't look unnatural. His cheeks were red, and 
 so was his nose a nice bright red like a ruddy apple. 
 "Dame!" cried Frederic, shaking himself, "what 
 weather! I thought I should never get here. The 
 drifts are so deep that you are up to your knees. It's 
 slow work wading and my wind isn't what it was 
 once." 
 
 " Well, don't shake your snow all over us," said 
 Philippe. " La Barre, take Frederic's coat and hat." 
 
 Frederic gave his things to La Barre, who carried 
 them out of the room, and Frederic coming before
 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN 223 
 
 the fire stamped his feet and rubbed his hands, while 
 Philippe brought out another bottle of wine. "Ah! 
 that's the thing!" cried Frederic, sitting down at the 
 table. "Well, what's the news from Paris?" 
 
 "We don't know," said Henri Jodelle. "We're 
 waiting to hear. What time does the diligence come, 
 Philippe?" 
 
 "At nine o'clock, but it won't be here to-night at 
 any such hour, you may be sure." 
 
 " I should think not," said Frederic Bonneville. 
 " I'm glad I'm not driving it to-night. I'll bet you 
 five francs, Henri, that it does not come at all." 
 
 " Good," said Henri, " produce your five francs." 
 
 Frederic laid it on the table, and Henri took five 
 francs from his pocket and placed it also on the 
 table. 
 
 "Now," said Philippe, "I'll bet you each five 
 francs that it doesn't come before twelve." 
 
 " Trts-bien" said Henri, " where are your five 
 francs?" 
 
 "I won't do that," said Frederic, "for I have bet 
 it wouldn't come at all. If I take your bet, I bet that 
 it does come before twelve." 
 
 " Well, I'll bet that it comes at twelve, or later, and 
 you can bet it won't," said Philippe. 
 
 " All right," said Frederic, and so the twenty francs 
 were deposited on the table. 
 
 " Now, let us see," said the methodical Frederic, 
 " this five francs says to you, Henri, that it won't 
 come at all, and your five francs says it will. And 
 this five francs says to you, Philippe, that it won't 
 come at twelve, or later, and yours says it will." 
 
 " Yes," said Henri, " and my five francs says to you,
 
 224 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Philippe, that it will come before twelve, and yours 
 says it will not" 
 
 " Trts-bien," said Philippe, " there's no need for me 
 to say what my five francs say, for that's been told. 
 Come now, fill your glasses and drink with me this 
 toast To the success of the Grand Army! " 
 
 " Right," said Henri. So the glasses were filled 
 and held aloft. Then they cried, "To the success of 
 the Grand Army ! " and emptied them. 
 
 " Just the same," said Frederic, " the last news I 
 heard wasn't very good." 
 
 "The Emperor has captured Moscow," cried 
 Henri. " What more do you want? " 
 
 " Well, what the devil is he going to do now he 
 has captured Moscow?" said Frederic. 
 
 "Beat the Russians! fool," said Henri. 
 
 " But the damned Cossacks run away so fast that 
 our men can't get at them," said Frederic. " I was 
 talking to M. Montfort only yesterday. He has been 
 to Paris and every one there looks glum enough. 
 That fellow Malet made a fine stir. Why, Montfort 
 told me that his plan was all made to upset the gov- 
 ernment, and that he actually had the Due de Rovigo 
 under arrest for several hours." 
 
 " Parbleu! but what will the Emperor say to that? " 
 said Philippe. " There will be trouble for somebody." 
 
 " There's trouble enough now," said Frederic. 
 " Funds are way down in Paris, and M. Montfort 
 says there is a rumor there that Moscow has been 
 burned." 
 
 " By whom? " said Henri. 
 
 " Oh ! nobody knows ; probably by Russians." 
 
 " But the Russians have been driven out of
 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN 225 
 
 Moscow," said Henri, " and the Emperor has beaten 
 them thoroughly at La Moscowa, which was a 
 glorious victory for us. You always imagine bad 
 luck, Frederic. You were that way in 1809; y u 
 thought they would never get back from Vienna, and 
 yet the Austrian fools were licked out of their boots. 
 Leave it to the Little Corporal. He'll come out all 
 right, never fear." 
 
 " Yes, but Austria isn't Russia," said Frederic ; 
 " and if the weather there is like this weather, I say 
 God help France ! " 
 
 "You're right, Frederic," said Philippe slowly, 
 " Austria isn't Russia. There's no one in Grenoble 
 that would stick by the Little Corporal more than I, 
 unless it's you, Henri, but I've never thought well of 
 this Russian business, and God knows I wish he were 
 back in Paris this day, where he ought to be. Sacre! 
 and cutting the heads off those Malet people too." 
 
 " I wish so too," said Henri, " but we can't know 
 much about anything till we get news from Paris. 
 Suppose we play vingt-et-un." 
 
 " Now that's a good idea, Henri," said Frederic. 
 " How did you happen to think of it? " 
 
 " Well, you old white-whiskered rooster, you 
 needn't think you are the only one who has ideas," 
 said Henri. 
 
 Philippe produced the cards and, as there was 
 hardly room on the table for everything, he put the 
 bread and cheese on the mantel. He left the wine, 
 however; they would never have consented to have 
 had that removed. Frederic arranged the five-franc 
 pieces carefully and placed the candle on the side of 
 the table and the game began. The fire burned 
 
 15
 
 226 THE GRENADIER 
 
 cheerily, for La Barre came in from time to time and 
 put on a log of wood. 
 
 " You better open another bottle, La Barre," said 
 Philippe after a time. La Barre did so and placed it 
 on the table and then, going out into the kitchen, he 
 cut himself a slice of bread and a large piece of 
 cheese. Then he came back and, sitting down before 
 the fire, stretched out his hands, as usual, to warm 
 them. 
 
 La Barre had the bread in one hand and the 
 cheese in the other, and he looked first at the cheese 
 and then at the bread. He decided to eat one now and 
 take the other up to his room to eat later. Which 
 would taste best first? La Barre thought the bread 
 and then he thought the cheese. Then he remained 
 some time in doubt, looking from one to the other. 
 The cheese had the most tempting look, but if he ate 
 the cheese he would have only the bread, which 
 would not taste well without the cheese, and again, 
 the cheese might be improved with the bread. La 
 Barre decided that they should be eaten together. 
 But if he ate them now he would have nothing to eat 
 later in his room, which he desired. He might keep 
 both until later, but he wished for some now, es- 
 pecially since he could no doubt have a sip of wine 
 with which to wash it down. La Barre was per- 
 plexed. He held the cheese in one hand and the 
 bread in the other, and thought. The fire was warm, 
 it was very late, and La Barre grew drowsy. His 
 eyes gradually closed, his head nodded a little, his 
 fingers relaxed and the bread and cheese fell into 
 the fire. There never was a man so distressed as 
 La Barrel
 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN 227 
 
 "What time is that?" said Philippe as the clock 
 began to strike. They listened and counted the 
 strokes two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, 
 ten, eleven, twelve. 
 
 " Ah! " said Philippe, " I win if it comes at all" 
 
 " But it won't come now," said Frederic. 
 
 "Listen!" said Philippe. 
 
 " I can't hear anything," said Frederic. " They 
 wouldn't make any noise anyhow with all this snow." 
 
 Just then there came a loud rapping at the door of 
 the Trois Dauphins. "There they are!" cried 
 Philippe. "La Barrel" 
 
 But La Barre had already trotted out, and was 
 soon opening the door. 
 
 " Well, Matthieu," said La Barre, " I was thinking 
 you was blowed over in a gulley." 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! I wonder I'm not," cried the burly 
 Matthieu. " The black horse broke a trace and I 
 my lantern, and God knows how we ever got on, for 
 the roan mare is stiff in the knees." 
 
 " It's Matthieu's voice," said Philippe, " I win from 
 you, Frederic." 
 
 " I win, too, Frederic," said Henri. 
 
 " Le diable! " cried Frederic, " I lose all around" 
 
 "Have you any passengers, Matthieu?" said La 
 Barre at the door. 
 
 " Passengers? No! They know better such days 
 as these. I got the mails and papers from Paris." 
 
 "What news from Paris, Matthieu?" cried Philippe 
 coming to the door. 
 
 " The worst!" said Matthieu. "The army's in an 
 awful way, and what with this and what with that 
 we're all going to the devil sooner or later. Dame! 
 but I can't talk now. It's victuals I want"
 
 228 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " Bring in your bag and give us the ' Moniteur ' 
 and then La Barre will give you enough to eat after 
 you've put up the horses," said Philippe. 
 
 Matthieu brought in the bag and handed Philippe 
 the paper, and then went to the stable after La Barre. 
 
 " Here, Henri," said Philippe, " you can read best. 
 See what you can find." 
 
 Henri took the paper, opened it, and sat down at 
 the table. "Here it is," said he, "Twenty-Ninth 
 Bulletin," and drawing the candle near him he began 
 to read: 
 
 Stnorgoni, December 3, 1812. 
 
 Until the 6th of November the weather was perfect and 
 the movement of the army was carried out with the greatest 
 success. The cold began on the 7th; from that time we lost 
 each night many hundreds of horses which died at the 
 bivouac. Arriving at Smolensk we had already lost many 
 of the cavalry and artillery horses. The Emperor arrived at 
 Smolensk on the pth. He hoped to arrive at Minsk, or at 
 least upon the Beresina, before the enemy. He set out the 
 1 5th from Smolensk and the i6th slept at Krasnoe. The cold 
 which had begun on the 7th increased suddenly, and on the 
 I4th, isth and i6th the thermometer marked 16 and 18 de- 
 grees below zero. The roads were covered with ice; the 
 cavalry and artillery horses perished every night, not by 
 hundreds but by thousands, especially the horses of France 
 and Germany. More than thirty thousand horses perished 
 in a few days, and our cavalry was on foot. The army, so 
 fine on the 6th, was very different on the I4th, almost with- 
 out cavalry, without artillery, without transports. Without 
 cavalry we were not able to reconnoitre a quarter of a league, 
 meanwhile without artillery we were not able to risk a 
 battle. It was necessary to march not to be forced to a 
 battle which the want of munitions prevented us from desir- 
 ing; it was necessary to occupy a certain space not to be out- 
 flanked, and this without cavalry who should give informa- 
 tion to the columns. This difficulty joined to the sudden 
 and excessive cold rendered our situation perilous. Men
 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN 229 
 
 whom nature had not tempered so strongly as to be above 
 all the chances of fortune, became disturbed, lost their gaiety, 
 their spirits, and dreamt of nothing but misfortunes and dis- 
 asters. Those who were superior to everything preserved 
 their gaiety, their customary manners, and found new glory 
 in the difficulties to be overcome. The enemy, who saw 
 upon the roads the traces of the dreadful calamity which 
 had come upon the Franch army, sought to profit by it 
 They surrounded all the columns by Cossacks, who attacked 
 like the Arabs in the desert. Meanwhile the enemy occupied 
 all the passages of the Beresina, and their general placed 
 his four divisions in different points where he thought the 
 French army would wish to pass. The 26th at daybreak, 
 after having deceived the enemy by different manoeuvres 
 made during the day of the 25th, the Emperor went to the 
 village of Studzianca and immediately had two bridges 
 thrown over the river in spite of a division of the enemy. 
 The Due de Reggio passed, attacked the enemy and con- 
 tinued fighting two hours. The enemy retreated to the 
 tete-de-pont of Borisow. General Legrand, an officer of the 
 first merit, was severely wounded but not dangerously. All 
 the day of the 26th and of the 27th the army passed. In the 
 combat of the Beresina the Due de Reggio was wounded. 
 The day after we remained on the field of battle. We had 
 to choose between two routes, that of Minsk and that of 
 Wilna. The road to Minsk passed through the midst of a 
 forest and through untilled swamps. It would have been 
 impossible for the army to support itself there. The route 
 to Wilna on the other hand passed through a very good 
 country. The army, without cavalry, weak in munitions, 
 horribly fatigued after fifty days of marching, dragging in 
 its train its sick and the wounded of so many combats, had 
 need to arrive at its magazines. The 3Oth the quartier- 
 general was at Plechnitsi, the ist of December at Slaiki, and 
 the 3rd at Molodetschino, where the army received the first 
 convoys from Wilna. All the officers and wounded soldiers 
 and the baggage have been directed to Wilna. To say that 
 the army has need to re-establish its discipline, to refresh 
 itself, to remount its cavalry, its artillery and its materiel, 
 that is the necessary inference from the statement which has 
 been made. Rest is its first want. In all these movements
 
 230 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the Emperor has marched always in the midst of his Guard, 
 the cavalry commanded by the Due d'Istrie, the infantry 
 commanded by the Due de Dantzick. Our cavalry has been 
 so totally destroyed that there was difficulty in collecting 
 those officers to whom a horse remained in order to form 
 four companies of 150 men each. Generals took upon them- 
 selves the functions of captains, colonels those of under- 
 officers. This sacred squadron, commanded by General 
 Grouchy under the orders of the King of Naples, has not 
 lost sight of the Emperor in all his movements. His Maj- 
 esty's health was never better. 
 
 There was silence for a full half-minute when Henri 
 finished reading. Then Frederic Bonneville said: 
 
 " Well, I told you Russia wasn't Austria. ' Leave 
 it to the Little Corporal,' you said. Sacre! a fine 
 mess he's made of it. To think of all those losses, 
 all those soldiers, all those horses, and guns, and 
 baggage, gone to the devil, and what's to show for it? 
 Nothing! And now what, in God's name, will be- 
 come of France? There isn't a town in France but 
 will have widows and orphans howling, and where's 
 more men to come from? And what makes me 
 mad!" and Frederic brought down his fist on the 
 table " is to think that along with all this, when all 
 these soldiers are dead and dying, and all these 
 widows and orphans crying and howling, and all of 
 us at our wit's end, and France going to hell, he 
 sends us this message ' His Majesty's health was 
 never better.' Oh! he was well looked after, no 
 doubt. His Majesty's health, indeed!" 
 
 There was silence again for a quarter of a minute, 
 then Philippe said : " No, Frederic, that isn't it. 
 There's much to be said about this going to Moscow, 
 but that's done. He's gone, and he's had hard luck,
 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH BULLETIN 231 
 
 and he's stood by us, and now we've got to stand by 
 him. He hasn't spared himself. I know how it was 
 in Syria and I'll bet it was the same in Russia the 
 carriages and horses for the wounded and the Little 
 Corporal on foot And now mark my words. 
 They'll all come, Russia, and Austria, and Prussia, 
 and England, and who's to stop them? Not you, 
 Frederic, nor Henri, nor me, nor the King of 
 Naples, nor the Due de Reggio, nor the Prince of 
 Neufchatel, nor anybody else, but only he the Little 
 Corporal who can and will! And so he says to us 
 People of France, your Little Corporal has had 
 hard luck, and they've tried to down him, but they 
 can't. Keep up your courage, your Little Corporal 
 is in the fight yet, and his eye is as bright as it was 
 at Marengo, and his head is as clear as it was at 
 Austerlitz, and what he was then he'll be yet! 
 k conquer ant tou jours!" 
 
 "That's it! that's it!" cried Henri Jodelle. "I 
 didn't see it at first, but that's it. They'll all come 
 now. Well, let them come. They'll find France 
 ready and they'll find the Emperor ready, and His 
 Majesty's health thank God! was never better. 
 Join me now in a toast. Come, Frederic, come, 
 Frederic! To the health of His Majesty! Frederic! 
 Vive 1'Empereur!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 THE LION AT BAY 
 
 And dar'st thou then 
 
 To beard the lion in his den? 
 
 SCOTT, Marmion. 
 
 IT was the month of January, 1814. The year just 
 past had been one of victory and disaster. The bat- 
 tles of Lutzen, Bautzen, and Dresden had again as- 
 serted the supremacy of the French Emperor's arms, 
 but the disasters at Leipzig had rendered Lutzen, 
 Bautzen, and Dresden of no avail. Bavaria had 
 deserted France in her hour of need, Germany had 
 thrown off the yoke, and Austria her neutrality, and, 
 as von Sybel puts it, " Die Erhebung Europas gegen 
 Napoleon " had begun. 
 
 Sergeant Pasquin had undergone much during the 
 past two years, but, by a curious coincidence, his for- 
 tunes seemed to rise as those of his Imperial master 
 appeared more and more to decline. At La Mos- 
 cowa, where with Andre Marceau he captured a 
 Russian standard, Pierre was made sergeant-major, 
 and in that capacity entered Moscow. At the close 
 of the Russian campaign he was appointed sous- 
 lieutenant, and during the campaign of 1813 in Ger- 
 many he rose two steps higher, being made lieutenant 
 at Bautzen on the 22nd of May, and captain at Dres- 
 den on the 26th of August.
 
 THE LION AT BAY 233 
 
 But, says the inquisitive reader, let us see about all 
 this. Tell us about these campaigns, and let us judge 
 whether in three years Sergeant Pasquin should have 
 become Captain Pasquin or not Good reader, this 
 story is in one volume, not a dozen. Were it in a 
 dozen there would be room to tell you of all these 
 battles Smolensk, Witepsk, La Moscowa, the Bere- 
 sina, Lutzen, Bautzen, Wurtchen, Dresden, Leipzig, 
 Hanau, but after a while you shall see the certificate 
 of the Garde Municipale de Grenoble, which states that 
 these honors came to him just as you have been told; 
 and as to whether he should have had them or not 
 well, you will have to leave that to the one who gave 
 them to him, the Emperor Napoleon. 
 
 So at the beginning of this year 1814 Pierre Pas- 
 quin, ci-devant sergeant, has become Captain Pierre 
 Pasquin of the Garde Imperiale. 
 
 On the 25th of January, Napoleon set out to join 
 the army, this time not to lead them to Berlin, or 
 Madrid, or Vienna, or Moscow; not to fight on the 
 banks of the Danube, the Elbe or the Rhine; but 
 to defend France, invested, inroaded, invaded; to pre- 
 vent the Austrians, the Cossacks, and the Prussians 
 from riding in triumph down the Avenue des Champs 
 Elysees. But before leaving Paris he said two things, 
 and this is one of them: " J'appelle les Francois au 
 secours des Franqais " (" I call the Frencji to the 
 succor of the French ") ; and this is the other : " I 
 shall conduct this campaign as General Bonaparte." 
 
 Along the Marne and Seine the armies of Silesia 
 and Bohemia were advancing; the former com- 
 manded by the Prussian Blucher, the latter by the 
 Austrian Schwartzenberg. On the 2/th of January
 
 234 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the Emperor met the Prussians at St. Dizier. It was 
 a furious battle. When the enemy had been repulsed 
 and the French marched through the town, Pierre 
 counted thousands of bullets in the doors and shut- 
 ters of the windows, and as for the trees they were 
 cut to pieces. The army of Silesia fell back to the 
 heights of Brienne and took up position there. From 
 this situation they received the French with a heavy 
 artillery fire, which seemed to render useless the 
 efforts of the Emperor's soldiers. To the right of the 
 road was a redoubt defended by eight hundred men 
 and four pieces of cannon, which cut the ranks of the 
 French as they advanced to the attack. The Em- 
 peror, who was on his horse near a garden, sent for 
 the Captain Francois Legrand with a company of 
 grenadiers of the Guard, and when " le grand diable " 
 presented himself His Majesty remarked, "What 
 have you in your cheek?" 
 
 " My quid, sire." 
 
 " Ah! you chew tobacco? " 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 " Take your company and go and take that redoubt 
 which is doing me so much harm." 
 
 " It shall be done, sire." 
 
 They set off by the right flank on the double, and 
 when they were within a hundred feet of the barrier 
 of the redoubt Frangois halted them. Then he ran 
 alone to the barrier. There was an officer there hold- 
 ing the bar of the gates. Seeing Frangois advancing 
 alone, he may have thought that he was going to 
 surrender, or he may have thought something quite 
 different; but he had very little time to think of any- 
 thing, for Frangois ran that great sabre of his clear
 
 THE LION AT BAY 235 
 
 through him, and opening the gates he shouted, " En 
 avantl" 
 
 Did they come? They came in just three leaps! 
 And the Emperor, who had watched the whole pro- 
 ceeding through his glass, said, "The redoubt is 
 taken." 
 
 Again and again the French charged, but the 
 ground had become cut up by constant manoeuvring 
 and it seemed as though they could make little head- 
 way. Night was coming on. " I must put an end 
 to this business," said the Emperor. " I am going 
 to sleep to-night in the chateau of Brienne." 
 
 He put spurs to his horse, and, galloping out be- 
 fore the first line, pulled up before the central regi- 
 ment. " Soldiers," said he, pointing with his hand 
 toward the slope and Prussian batteries, " I am your 
 colonel. I shall lead you. Brienne must be taken." 
 
 There was one great shout of " Vive TEmpereur! " 
 and then no more breath was wasted. They closed 
 their ranks, they set their teeth and they pushed on 
 on past the staff, on past the Emperor, up the slope 
 into the main street of Brienne, driving back the Rus- 
 sians, charging into Bliicher's staff, capturing the 
 nephew of the Prussian Chancellor de Hardenberg, 
 and on past the chateau of Brienne the Russians 
 and Prussians flying before them even to Mezieres. 
 How was it done? Even as the simple chronicler of 
 the event has told us. The Imperial word was 
 spoken. " Each soldier became equal to four." 
 
 On the 3 1st of January the Prussians advanced 
 again to the field of La Rothiere near Brienne that 
 field of La Rothiere upon which the young Bona- 
 parte had drilled and played in his school days at
 
 236 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Brienne, and upon which he now stood, with twenty 
 thousand French soldiers about him and eighty 
 thousand Russians and Prussians before him, fighting 
 in the death-struggle of his Empire. 
 
 The combat at La Rothiere was disastrous to the 
 French, and the Emperor was compelled to fall back 
 on Troyes. So the month of February began, and 
 gloomily enough. The French Emperor had been 
 forced to retreat after a pitched battle, and the two 
 immense allied armies, advancing along the Marne 
 and the Seine, had almost united. Could they be 
 stopped now upon their triumphal march to Paris? 
 
 Every one said, " It is impossible." Impossible, 
 gentlemen? " Ce mot n'est pas Francois," General 
 Bonaparte had cried in the early days, and it is 
 General Bonaparte who leads you now. 
 
 And so, on the morning of the Qth of February, 
 the Due de Bassano, coming into the Emperor's 
 headquarters to bring the dispatches which had been 
 drawn up during the night to urge forward the peace 
 negotiations at Chatillon, found the Emperor lying on 
 his maps and planning with his colored pins. 
 
 " Ah ! it is you ! " cried the Emperor. " There is 
 no more question of that. See here, I want to thrash 
 Blucher; he has taken the Montmirail road. I shall 
 fight him to-morrow and the day after to-morrow. 
 The face of affairs is about to change and we shall 
 see. We won't precipitate anything; there will 
 always be time enough to conclude such a peace as 
 they propose to us." 
 
 An hour later the Emperor was on the march to 
 Sezanne. En avant! soldats des Frangais! The lion 
 has been crouching; he is roaring now!
 
 THE LION AT BAY 237 
 
 On the loth of February the Emperor beat the 
 Russians at Champaubert, on the nth he routed the 
 Prussians at Montmirail, on the I2th he beat them 
 again at Chateau-Thierry, and on the I4th he worsted 
 Bliicher at Vauchamps. Thus in five days the army 
 of Silesia, advancing proudly along the Marne, was 
 sent to the right-about, leaving five generals, four 
 flags, 68 cannon, and 28,000 men in the hands of the 
 conqueror. Messieurs les Prussiens, it is a hard road 
 to travel this road to Paris! 
 
 Now for the Austrians, advancing by Nogent, 
 Bray, and Montereau to Nangis, commanded by von 
 Schwartzenberg. On the i8th of Febmary the Em- 
 peror drove them back at Montereau and, entering 
 Troyes in triumph on the 24th, sent off to Paris 
 fourteen flags one Austrian, four Prussian and nine 
 Russian. Messieurs les Autrichiens, les Prussiens et 
 les Russes, it is a hard road to travel this road to 
 Paris! 
 
 Now for the Prussians again, who, led by Bliicher, 
 were descending the Marne toward Meaux. So the 
 Emperor left the army corps of Oudinot and Mac- 
 donald to hold the Austrians in check, and advanced 
 again, with diminished numbers but with undimin- 
 ished sang-froid, to meet the Prussians, and reached, 
 toward evening, the little village of Herbisse. 
 
 A learned man was Monsieur Valentine, the cure 
 of Herbisse, and his house the presbytery a modest 
 structure containing one apartment which Monsieur 
 le cure used as kitchen, salon, dining-room and bed- 
 chamber, and which had adjoining it a bake-house. 
 On the evening before mentioned, M. Valentine was 
 seated in his apartment of many uses, toasting his
 
 238 THE GRENADIER 
 
 toes by the fire, while his niece, the black-eyed Hen- 
 riette, was cutting a pie in the bake-house. The can- 
 dle on the table was lighted and supper was ready, 
 and when the fair Henriette had finished cutting the 
 pie, she would bring it in and they would have supper. 
 Then M. le cure would smoke his pipe, or read his 
 breviary until he grew drowsy, and Mile. Henriette 
 would wash the dishes and go to her small room over 
 the bake-house. And, finally, M. le cure, divested of 
 his cassock, would snore loudly in his bed in the 
 apartment of many uses. Such had been the life for 
 many evenings at the presbytery of Herbisse such 
 no doubt it would be to-night But before Mile. 
 Henriette had finished the delicate operation pre- 
 viously alluded to, a great noise of galloping horses 
 was heard in the village of Herbisse. Nearer they 
 came and stopped with a tumult unprecedented before 
 the presbytery door. Imagine then the surprise of 
 the worthy Valentine when, upon going hastily to 
 the door of his apartment, he found himself vis-a-vis 
 to His Majesty the Emperor of the French, behind 
 whom were Marshals, aides-de-camp and orderly- 
 officers, a seemingly endless crowd. 
 
 " Monsieur le cure," said His Majesty, " we have 
 come to ask your hospitality for one night. Don't let 
 this visit alarm you. We will make ourselves very 
 small so as not to crowd you." 
 
 M. Valentine, " perspiring with mingled eager- 
 ness and embarrassment," conducted the Emperor 
 into the apartment of many uses. The supper- 
 dishes were pushed away. His Majesty threw 
 his hat and sword on the table. The attend- 
 ants brought his maps and papers, the door
 
 THE LION AT BAY 239 
 
 was closed, and in five minutes the Emperor was 
 busily at work planning his march against von 
 Bliicher. The staff went into the bake-house, for on 
 campaign it was always loge-qui-peut. Well, the 
 bustling and going and coming and running to and 
 fro of M. Valentine and Mile. Henriette! It would 
 have made a sluggard active. Chairs were gotten 
 for the Marshals, and as for the aides-de-camp they 
 sat on the table, the window-sills and the floor. Then 
 nothing would do but that Mile. Henriette should 
 sing them a song. So Mile, made her best courtesy 
 and sang them some verses of Chenier's " Le Chant 
 du Depart," which begins thus: 
 
 " La victoire, en chantant, 
 Nous ouvre la carriere; 
 La liberte guide nos pas; 
 Et du nord au tnidi la 
 Trompette guerriere 
 A sonne 1'heure des combats!" 
 
 And she would have received a round of applause that 
 no doubt would have cracked the bake-house win- 
 dows, had they not feared to disturb the Emperor. 
 Then M. Valentine, rosy with joy and perspiration, 
 came in, bringing the best bottles from his cellar. 
 
 " Pax vobiscum ! M. le cure," cried the jolly 
 Lefebvre. " I studied for the priesthood myself in 
 my young days, but mille tonnerres! I've kept little of 
 all that but the coiffure." 
 
 " And why did you keep that, Monseigneur? " in- 
 quired M. Valentine. 
 
 " Because it was the soonest combed," said the 
 chuckling Lefebvre. The cure laughed. " Don't
 
 240 THE GRENADIER 
 
 imagine I have forgotten everything, however," con- 
 tinued the Marshal. " You shall see. I will quote 
 some Virgil for you: 
 
 " Tityre tu patulae parbleu ! sub tegmine fagi, 
 Recubans deus ex machina quid pro quo sacre! ad 
 finem." 
 
 --3 
 
 There was a burst of laughter, in which the worthy 
 cure joined. " Monseigneur," said he, " if you had 
 continued your studies for the priesthood you would 
 have become a cardinal at the least." 
 
 " Dame ! I confess my Latin is a bit rusty," said the 
 Marshal, " but gentlemen " and he looked toward 
 the laughing aides-de-camp " there is one expres- 
 sion I haven't forgotten. It is this Dulce et 
 decorum est pro patria mori and by God's name 
 that's what we've got to do now with the Cossacks 
 only twenty leagues from Paris!" 
 
 "Bah! Monseigneur," cried the aide-de-camp Le- 
 tort, " we shall chase them back." 
 
 " Yes," said the Marshal, setting his teeth, " we 
 shall see if they come." 
 
 At this moment the canteen mules arrived. A long 
 table was made by placing a door on four casks. The 
 Marshals sat down while the aides-de-camp ate stand- 
 ing. The worthy Valentine placed upon the table his 
 bottles of cherished wine, and was quite overcome 
 with surprise and delight at hearing the good-natured 
 Lefebvre say, " Come, M. le cure, sit down here and 
 take pot-luck with us." 
 
 Imagine then the worthy Valentine, sitting in his 
 bake-house at the table of boards and casks, with 
 Marshal Lefebvre, Duke of Dantzig, on his right, and
 
 THE LION AT BAY 241 
 
 Marshal Ney, Prince of the Moscowa, on his left, and 
 opposite him the Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neuf- 
 chatel and Wagram, while in a semicircle about the 
 table stood the Imperial aides-de-camp, booted, 
 spurred, embroidered, laced and plumed. Surely the 
 star of Valentine was in the ascendant. The worthy 
 cure felt himself enrolled among the gods. 
 
 Smile on, joyous Valentine! You are the lucky 
 one in that party. In little more than a year he who 
 sits at your left, Ney, Marshal of France, Duke of 
 Elchingen and Prince of the Moscowa, will have been 
 shot like a common malefactor. And he who sits op- 
 posite you, Berthier, Marshal of France and Prince of 
 Neufchatel and Wagram, will have committed suicide; 
 and many of those high-spirited aides-de-camp about 
 you will have laid down their lives at Mont St. Jean; 
 and he the great one who sits yonder in your apart- 
 ment of many uses, will have become England's cap- 
 tive, and the Empire with its crowns and its thrones, 
 its stars and its cresses, will have faded like a dream 
 but you will still retain your presbytery of Herbisse ! 
 
 And, when the supper was finished, some straw 
 was found in the barns nearby and each one made his 
 couch for the night The cure had also his bundle of 
 straw, and after the excitement of the evening, he 
 slept so well that he was still snoring when, at day- 
 break, the Emperor and his staff departed to pursue 
 the Prussians. Great was the mortification of M. 
 Valentine, cure of Herbisse, when he awoke and 
 found them gone, but when he went again into his 
 apartment of many uses he saw upon his table the 
 purse of gold the souvenir left in every peasant's 
 hut in Europe upon whose pillow had rested the Im- 
 perial brow. 
 
 16
 
 242 THE GRENADIER 
 
 The next four weeks were hard ones for the Im- 
 perial Guard. On the 28th of February there was a 
 battle at Sezanne. Then they pushed on to La Ferte- 
 sous-Jouarre, where to his delight the Emperor saw 
 the Prussians retreating toward Soissons. Bliicher 
 was now in a perilous position, the Aisne before him, 
 the Marne behind him, Marmont and Mortier on his 
 left and Napoleon on his right. The grenadiers said, 
 "We have got that old fighter." And they pressed 
 on, but, all at once, on the 3rd of March, Soissons 
 surrendered, and Bliicher made good his escape across 
 the Aisne. Fancy the rage of the Imperial Guard 
 after their days and nights of toil, fighting, and march- 
 ing! Pierre and Francois Legrand were in such a 
 temper that they forgot to eat their soup. " No 
 matter," said Francois, "we will have them yet." 
 The pursuit was ordered, and on the 7th of March 
 they met the Prussians at Craonne, but Bliicher had 
 been reinforced by Biilow and Wintzingerode it was 
 100,000 to 30,000 now. 
 
 No one stopped to think of that, however, and when 
 the Imperial Grenadiers were ordered to storm the 
 heights of Craonne they did it with a will. Captain 
 Pasquin had his plume and scabbard shot away, but he 
 fought so hard that he foamed at the mouth, and there 
 were many more who did likewise. Bliicher fell back, 
 sullen but not defeated. Then the same thing was 
 repeated at Laon on the Qth and loth of March. The 
 same display of valor, the same impetuous onset, the 
 same bloody losses, but this time the Emperor was 
 forced to retreat, conquered by numbers, leaving a 
 fourth of his army dead at Laon and Craonne. 
 
 So they came to Rheims, and found it occupied by 
 the Russians entrenched behind redoubts of casks and
 
 THE LION AT BAY 243 
 
 rubbish. Near the gate to Paris, on a level piece of 
 ground upon which stood a windmill, the Guard built 
 a fire, and the Emperor stretched himself near it on 
 his bearskin, for he was very tired. It was the I3th of 
 March and ten at night Suddenly the Russians made 
 a sortie, firing musketry on the left. The Emperor 
 jumped up from his bearskin. 
 
 " What is that? " he cried furiously. 
 
 " it is a ' hurrah,' sire," said the aide-de-camp Le- 
 tort. 
 
 " I will see about that," said the Emperor. " Bring 
 me Captain Reubelle and Captain Pasquin." They 
 were not long in coming. 
 
 " You," said he to Reubelle, " bring your pieces and 
 fire on those gates, and you, Pasquin, be ready to enter 
 the city. I must be in Rheims by midnight. You 
 are fools if you do not go through those gates." 
 
 " We will go through them, sire." 
 
 The battery was brought up and the shells fell in 
 the centre of the city. The cuirassiers of the Guard, 
 meanwhile, were drawn up behind the guns, prepared 
 to charge with the grenadiers. The Emperor ordered 
 the firing to cease, then he gave the signal. The 
 trumpets sounded, Pierre shouted "Forward!" and 
 they went, carrying all before them. 
 
 The cuirassiers dashed through the Rue de Vesle 
 and the Rue Libergier, sabring right and left, while 
 the grenadiers followed with their bayonets. The 
 people of Rheims, shut up in their houses, hearing the 
 tumult, lighted their windows, and Rheims was illu- 
 minated on all sides. By midnight the Emperor was 
 in the city and the Russians were routed. They had 
 found their " hurrah " a costly one. But it could not 
 go on for ever, this rushing from the valley of the
 
 244 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Marne to the valley of the Seine and from the valley of 
 the Seine to the valley of the Marne, this fighting 
 Bliicher one day and Wintzingerode another, and Bil- 
 low another, and Schwartzenberg another. The French 
 forces grew weaker and weaker, and the enormous 
 masses of the enemy advanced nearer and nearer to 
 Paris advanced slowly, though, and cautiously so 
 cautiously! for, though they outnumbered ten to one 
 the forces of their foe, they trembled lest at an unex- 
 pected moment they might see upon the brow of some 
 hill the eagle of France, the caps of the Guard, and the 
 terrifying cocked hat and greatcoat of the Little Cor- 
 poral. 
 
 Then the Emperor prepared his coup de maitre and 
 determined to march en St. Dizier, leaving Paris tem- 
 porarily exposed; determined to rally his garrisons in 
 the fortresses of Lorraine and Alsace, to join Auge- 
 reau advancing from the south, to cut the enemy's 
 lines of communication, and being in their rear with 
 150,000 men, compel them in self-defense to wheel 
 about and give him battle. 
 
 He set out, and his columns disappeared beyond 
 Vitry-sur-Marne. And then, while the Allies, aston- 
 ished by the boldness of this manoeuvre, paused in 
 surprise, hesitating between a further advance or a pre- 
 cipitate retreat, there came to the allied headquarters 
 Monsieur le Marquis de Vitrolles, bearing from the 
 Prince de Talleyrand head, shoulders, body, legs and 
 arms of the plotters in Paris this message : " You may 
 do everything and you dare do nothing. For once then 
 be daring." And when this assurance was given them, 
 Messieurs les Puissances Alliees tightened their sword- 
 belts, adjusted their plumes, counted their numbers, 
 and casting one frightened glance behind them,
 
 THE LION AT BAY 245 
 
 sounded their trumpets and gave the word " To 
 Paris!" 
 
 On the 28th of March at St. Dizier the Emperor 
 learned that he was not followed by the army of 
 Schwartzenberg but by the corps of Wintzingerode. 
 and more the Allies were marching on Paris. 
 Would it hold out until he could arrive? " Let us 
 march ! Let us march ! " And so by St Dizier, 
 Vitry-sur-Marne and Doulencourt, on in breathless 
 haste to Troyes, where they arrived in the night, the 
 panting grenadiers of the Imperial Guard having 
 marched forty miles in one day. But no stop here 
 on ! on ! If the grenadiers can do no more, on with the 
 cuirassiers! And so the Emperor hastened on, his 
 traveling-carriage rattling over the stones. But ere 
 long the wearied cuirassiers could no longer keep pace 
 with him, and he pushed on with only Caulaincourt 
 and Berthier in his carriage. At every post-house he 
 sent off couriers to announce his approach, at every 
 post-house he learned news more and more disastrous. 
 The Empress with the King of Rome had quitted 
 Paris, and Joseph, after issuing proclamations very 
 like the English skit of the period 
 
 ' ' Brave lads of Paris ! never fear, 
 Though Bliicher's force be drawing near ; 
 I, Joseph Buonaparte, am here." 
 
 Joseph had run off too! The enemy were before the 
 walls ! they were at the gates ! there was fighting on 
 the heights! 
 
 The traveling-carriage was abandoned, and spring- 
 ing into a light post-caleche, with Berthier and Cau- 
 laincourt, the Emperor dashed on. " Faster! faster! " 
 he cried. The postillions plied the whip and spur, the
 
 246 THE GRENADIER 
 
 horses galloped with bloodshot eyes and foaming 
 mouths, the caleche swayed from side to side, the 
 wheels struck fire from the pavements, but above the 
 whirling of the wheels, the shouts of the postillions, 
 the galloping hoofs and the cracking whips was heard 
 the Imperial voice crying ever " Faster! faster! faster! " 
 
 And so, at ten at night on the 3Oth of March, cov- 
 ered with dust and foam, panting, trembling, terrified, 
 hoping, doubting, mad with impatience, they dashed 
 into Fromenteau, five leagues from Paris, and pulled 
 up before the Cour de France to change horses. Up 
 and down in the darkness strode the Emperor, count- 
 ing the seconds till his horses should be put in. Then 
 some straggling soldiers passing in the gloom shouted, 
 " Paris has capitulated ! " 
 
 " These men are mad! " cried the Emperor. " The 
 thing is impossible ! My carriage ! my carriage ! " 
 
 Too late! Napoleon. The Czar of all the Russias, 
 lighted by the flames of Moscow, has found his way 
 to the doors of the Tuileries Palace. 
 
 So ended the campaign of France. Nothing like it 
 had been seen before. Nothing like it is likely to be 
 seen again. In the hour of disaster the World-Con- 
 queror disappears. There remains only the Champion 
 of France, who might have saved his crown had he 
 signed away her territory or her greatness. 
 
 "Peace at any price!" cried all about him his 
 ministers, his brothers, his marshals and his friends. 
 " Sign ! " cried the Allies, " and retain your crown." 
 
 What! sign a treaty that stripped France of prov- 
 inces on every hand and left her less great than he 
 found her? No! he would have none of it And so 
 he fell game to the last le Frangais des Franfais 
 battling pour la belle Francel
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 LES ADIEUX DE FONTAINEBLEAU 
 
 Twas thus that Napoleon left us; 
 
 Our people were weeping and mute, 
 As he passed through the lines of his Guard, 
 
 And our drums beat the notes of salute. 
 
 THACKERAY, The Chronicle of the Drum. 
 
 " MARCH ! " said General Petit, and the grenadiers of 
 the Imperial Guard advanced across the palace park, 
 through the great gates, into the Cour du Cheval 
 Blanc and on to the foot of the Horseshoe Staircase. 
 
 "Halt!" said General Petit. There they stood 
 motionless, those great grenadiers those veterans 
 who had faced the cannon in the marshes of Arcole, 
 who had battled at the pyramids while " forty centu- 
 ries looked down upon them," who had climbed the 
 wall of St. Jean d'Acre, who had charged the Austrian 
 centre on Marengo's plain, who had seen the sun rise 
 on the heights of Austerlitz, who had fought with fire 
 in the streets of Moscow. There they stood, hun- 
 dreds of statues made of bronze and crowned with 
 laurel. To reproduce them, France must have had 
 again a twenty years of victory. The light breeze 
 gently waved their plumes; the horses that stood har- 
 nessed to the carriage near the great curved staircase 
 champed their bits. Thus they waited. 
 
 How many Kings and mighty men of France had 
 gone up and down that Horseshoe Staircase 1 How
 
 248 THE GRENADIER 
 
 many Queens and gilded favorites had swept trium- 
 phant through that courtyard! Francis the First, 
 doing the honors to the Emperor Charles the Fifth; 
 Catherine of Medici, and by her side her craven son, 
 planning the Bartholomew; Henry of Navarre, with 
 his white plume of Ivry and his " charmante 
 Gabrielle"; Louis XIII and his scarlet-robed Prime 
 Minister, Richelieu the omnipotent; the Grand Mon- 
 arch and his stately court; " le Bien-Aime," and the 
 Pompadour. 
 
 But the traveler who stands to-day in that courtyard 
 of the Fontainebleau Chateau forgets the Valois and 
 the Bourbon, forgets Francis of Angouleme and 
 Henry of Navarre; for the old concierge who walks 
 by his side does not tell him of the hunts and tourneys 
 of the second Henry, or of the fetes and pompous 
 journeys of the Grand Monarque, but, stopping at the 
 foot of the Horseshoe Staircase, he says these words: 
 " Here Napoleon took leave of his Guard, April 2Oth, 
 1814. Since then this court has been called Cour 
 des Adieux." 
 
 Twelve o'clock ! The click of spurs was heard upon 
 the marble floor of the palace vestibule. The Em- 
 peror appeared in the great doorway. The Garde 
 Imperiale presented arms. 
 
 He came rapidly down the staircase and advanced 
 to where they stood, and then he said but everyone 
 knows what he said, for the words have been printed 
 again and again. They mean little now they are 
 mere words. But it was different when they were 
 first spoken on that April morning, by the Emperor 
 Napoleon to the soldiers of his Old Guard, in the 
 courtyard of the Palace Fontainebleau. They were
 
 LES ADIEUX DE FONTAINEBLEAU 249 
 
 his good friends, who had marched at his side and 
 camped about his tent, had stemmed the tide of defeat 
 and turned it into victory, and closed around him, like 
 a brazen wall, when the Russian guns swept the icy 
 plains at Moscow. 
 
 He was their Little Corporal, who, after twenty 
 years of triumph and of glory, had come to say good- 
 bye. 
 
 So they listened while he spoke, and they saw him 
 kiss the eagle, and they watched him as he entered his 
 carriage, and they followed the carriage with their 
 eyes as it drove along the courtyard, out of the gate, 
 and disappeared. Then slowly and sadly they 
 marched to their barracks. And all was quiet in the 
 courtyard of the Palace Fontainebleau.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 "VIVE LE ROI!" 
 
 " But what good came of it at last? " 
 
 Quoth little Peterkin. 
 "Why, that I cannot tell," said he; 
 " But 'twas a famous victory." 
 
 SOUTHEY, Battle of Blenheim. 
 
 BRIGHTLY shone the sun on the 3rd of May, 1814. 
 It was a lovely day, and surely if a day ought ever to 
 be lovely that day should have been so. Why? Had 
 not the sun and " Nee pluribus impar " been the em- 
 blem and motto of that wonderfully high-heeled and 
 big-wigged grandiloquent monarch, King Louis Qua- 
 torze? And in the old days at Versailles was it not 
 true that " the rain of Marly never wet one," and that 
 when the king had planned to go a hunting it was 
 always clear in deference to the royal will? What 
 could be more appropriate, therefore, than that the 
 sun should shine brightly on that 3rd of May, 1814, 
 when the Grand Monarque's descendant, Louis-Stan- 
 islas-Xavier de Bourbon, after a somewhat extended 
 foreign tour of twenty-four years, was to make, by the 
 kind assistance of Messrs. George of England, Alex- 
 ander of Russia, Francis of Austria, and Charles 
 Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord, his serio-comic 
 entree into his good city of Paris, and settle down in 
 the Tuileries Palace for the rest of his natural life. 
 Therefore shine brightly, sun; chirp gaily, little birds;
 
 VIVE LE ROI 251 
 
 run quickly from the sky, clouds! And the sun, 
 birds and sky, knowing that it was proper for them to 
 shine, sing, and be clear, did so, and the day was 
 lovely. 
 
 There had been great rejoicing a few days before at 
 Compiegne, where the Marshals and Generals of the 
 Empire had gone to welcome King Louis de Bourbon. 
 How happy they all were to see him, and the old cus- 
 tom of kissing the royal hands could not be revived 
 too quickly. But in this case it happened that the 
 royal hands were scrofulous ones, and as people are 
 not generally fond of kissing scrofulous hands, 
 although they may be royal, His Most Christian 
 Majesty kindly consented to put royal green gloves 
 on the royal scrofulous hands, and the Marshals, 
 Generals, Counts and Barons kissed the royal green 
 gloves and were happy. Then they all sat promptly 
 down to dinner, for His Most Christian Majesty was 
 always punctual. " L'exactitude est la politesse des 
 rois " (Punctuality is the politeness of kings) was his 
 motto, and, by the way, the only thing he ever said 
 worth remembering, for all those Latin sentences 
 which he used to rattle off so glibly were cribbed from 
 classic authors. 
 
 What a dinner it was! four soups, four removes, 
 four great dishes, four great entremets, and thirty-two 
 entrees. And when the Most Christian Majesty sent 
 some vermouth to Marshal Macdonald, and Marshal 
 Macdonald, who was much more at home facing 
 cannon-balls than eating big dinners of Most Chris- 
 tian Majesties, forgot to rise and cry " Vivat," the kind 
 King forgave him so gracefully and royally that it 
 touched the hearts of everybody, and even the marble 
 Apollo in the royal dining-room shed tears.
 
 252 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Then they came on to Saint-Ouen, leisurely enough, 
 for there was no hurry, and it was just as well to let 
 the good people of Paris get up on their tiptoes of 
 expectation before their eyes were gladdened by the 
 sight of a Most Christian and Royally Scrofulous 
 Majesty. 
 
 But finally the 3rd of May came round, and the 
 royal king was all dressed for the royal entry, with 
 beautiful green gloves on the royal scrofulous hands, 
 and bright red velvet gaiters on the fat, gouty legs, 
 and a blue coat with gold epaulettes, and on the royal 
 hat and this was the most touching of all a big 
 white cockade, which had been pinned there, when the 
 Most Christian Majesty was in London, by the fat 
 hands of no less a personage than Beau Brummers 
 friend, that worthless rake and puppy the Prince 
 Regent of England, alias " first gentleman in Europe," 
 whom Thackeray, skilfully dissecting in the " Four 
 Georges," found to consist mainly of scented hand- 
 kerchiefs, padded waistcoats, oily wigs, and wind. 
 
 Now to get King Punctuality into the carriage. 
 That was a trick indeed! And the Marshals and 
 Generals pushed and tugged, and, as a combination of 
 effort is generally successful, it was finally accom- 
 plished, and the Marshals and Generals could take off 
 their plumed hats and mop their brows and thank 
 their stars that Louis-Stanislas-Xavier de Bourbon 
 was not to get out again until he reached his jour- 
 ney's end, and hope that there would be a derrick at 
 the Tuileries Palace when he did so. And, in witness- 
 ing the difficulties experienced by His Most Christian 
 Majesty in mounting his coach to make his entree 
 into his good city of Paris, it is interesting to note the
 
 VIVE LE ROI 253 
 
 remarkable agility with which, a year later, this same 
 two hundred and odd pounds of royal scrofulous flesh 
 got into its royal traveling clothes, down the grand 
 staircase, into the royal coach, and packed off to 
 Ghent, when the 4 cocked hat and redingote grise of the 
 Little Corporal appeared before the gates of Lyons. 
 
 But, says the candid reader, you are hard on King 
 Louis XVIII. He was a stout king, it is true, but 
 then he was old and infirm; you should have some 
 respect for old age. Remember too what a hard time 
 he had had wandering about over Europe, and what 
 beautiful letters he had written to the First Consul, 
 full of touching allusions to Francis I. 
 
 Good reader, any sympathy expended on Louis- 
 Stanislas-Xavier de Bourbon would be a case of 
 pearls and pigs. If, when he was Count of Provence, 
 he had only eaten and grown fat he would have done 
 no more than many another, but he tried to blacken the 
 character of poor Marie Antoinette, and did it system- 
 atically too. And when the wind began to whistle and 
 the storm to howl, he jumped into a traveling carriage, 
 for he was more agile in those days, and hurried off 
 to Coblentz, leaving brother Louis XVI, who had a 
 good heart and an empty head, to get out of things as 
 best he could. Now, however, since kind foreign 
 friends had gotten brother Louis XVFs bed ready for 
 him, and a good dinner was cooking in the Tuileries 
 kitchen, he was naturally willing enough to come back 
 and enjoy it all. And so, with punctual King Cochon 
 in the carriage, the royal procession started at a trot. 
 At the right door of the carriage rode the Count 
 d'Artois, who had made his entry into Paris some 
 days before. On which occasion, when he had been
 
 254 THE GRENADIER 
 
 somewhat at a loss for something to say to the joyous 
 deputation sent out to meet him, the Prince de Talley- 
 rand or Count Beugnot had kindly invented for him 
 the famous phrase, " Nothing is changed ; there is only 
 one more Frenchman," which looked so nicely the 
 next morning in the " Moniteur." He rode along on 
 his prancing horse trained d la Franconi, looking as 
 gay as in the old days at Versailles, when his principal 
 occupations had been dancing on the tight rope and 
 seducing femmes de chambre. 
 
 By the left door rode the Due de Bern, the worthy 
 son of his worthy father the Count d'Artois; and in 
 front of the royal carriage and this might surprise 
 us if we did not know that, as the Due de la Rochefou- 
 cauld said, " Everything happens in France " rode 
 Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neufchatel and Wagram, 
 the man who during twenty years had been, in cabinet 
 and carriage, by the side of the Emperor Napoleon. 
 He rode along with the gayest possible air, and, 
 en passant, the reference to the Emperor Napoleon was 
 quite a slip in this connection, for the Marshal Ber- 
 thier, Prince of Neufchatel and Wagram, at that 
 moment knew no such person. He had a slight ac- 
 quaintance with Usurper Bonaparte, but it would have 
 been most mal d propos for any one to have men- 
 tioned it. 
 
 But it was not all comedy, this entree of Louis- 
 Stanislas-Xavier de Bourbon : there was tragedy about 
 it too. By the King's side in the royal carriage sat 
 the pale, melancholy Duchess d'Angouleme, the last 
 of the family of Louis XVI. She was entering again 
 this Paris of which she had such dreadful recollections, 
 this Paris where her little brother Louis had perished
 
 VIVE LE ROI 255 
 
 at the hands of Simon the shoemaker, and her father, 
 mother, and aunt Elizabeth upon the guillotine. 
 There was no joy in her face. 
 
 And look on ahead of the royal carriage. There, 
 lining the road on either side, dressed in their blue 
 coats and great bearskin caps, scarred with the sabre- 
 cuts and bayonet-thrusts of Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, 
 Eckmiihl, Wagram, Moscow, Lutzen, Bautzen, Mont- 
 mirail, stood the Grenadiers of the Garde Imperiale. 
 Among them were our old friends, Francois Legrand, 
 Gustave Lebon, and Andre Marceau. Their great 
 hairy caps were pushed down on their knit brows, their 
 lips were curled in angry scorn, their teeth showed 
 fiercely under their heavy mustaches; and when the 
 royal procession passed they all presented arms with 
 such a furious rattle of weapons that more than one 
 spectator trembled. 
 
 The comedy was in the fat king, the grinning Count 
 d'Artois, the foppish Due de Berri. The tragedy was 
 in the sad Duchess d'Angouleme and in those heroic, 
 war-worn veterans of the Garde Imperiale. And thus 
 they reached the Tuileries Palace, and thus was 
 Louis-Stanislas-Xavier de Bourbon installed not 
 par la grace de Dieu, but by the grace of England, 
 Russia, Prussia, Austria, Sweden and Dame Fortune 
 King of France pro tern.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 A THUNDERBOLT 
 
 On a sudden open fly, 
 With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, 
 The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 
 Harsh thunder. 
 
 MILTON, Paradise Lost. 
 
 THUS they reached the Tuileries Palace, and how 
 nice everything was! "Why, it must be confessed," 
 said His Majesty, "that Bonaparte was a very good 
 tenant. He has arranged everything excellently for 
 me." Why, it was perfectly charming! There were 
 a number of N's here and there, however, on the fur- 
 niture and on the walls, but that was easily managed. 
 A strip of velvet was pasted over them and the effect 
 was fine; and as for the eagles beside the throne why, 
 they looked so well that it was decided not to take 
 them down. Then there were some marble busts of 
 the Emperor about the Louvre, but they were soon 
 fixed. Clever workmen put some plaster of Paris on 
 the nose and made a nice plaster of Paris wig for 
 each, and there you were ! The simplest thing in the 
 world! Bonaparte? Not a bit of it Louis XVIII! 
 And now to business. The Imperial chefs were 
 kicked out of the Tuileries kitchen and the Royal 
 chefs put in, and the menus were carefully arranged 
 for the royal breakfasts, dinners and suppers, and, 
 this important matter being happily concluded, a
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 257 
 
 Charter was issued, dated " In the nineteenth year of 
 our reign," which was quite right and proper from 
 the point of view of His Most Christian Majesty, who, 
 whether living at Hartwell or wandering about in 
 Poland, believed himself always King of France 
 par la grace de Dieu. 
 
 Then Monsieur went smiling and bowing and cara- 
 coling along on his circus-trained charger to hold a 
 review in the Champ-de-Mars. And His Majesty 
 went in his wheeled chair to the opera to see 
 " Oedipe," and beamed like a big round moon over 
 the edge of the royal box at his faithful subjects And 
 Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme went up in the 
 Tuileries attic and hunted for an old spinnet which had 
 belonged to Marie Antoinette, and which had been 
 left in the palace, and which Madame la Duchesse 
 expected to find there in spite of all the moving and 
 house-cleaning that had taken place in that establish- 
 ment since 1792. 
 
 And then the Imperial Guard was cut up and 
 made Royal Grenadiers of France and Royal chasseurs 
 a pied of France, and Royal cuirassiers of France and 
 Royal chasseurs a cheval of France and Royal Light- 
 Horse Lancers of France and several other royal 
 things. And six companies of Royal gardes-du-corps 
 were instituted just as they had been in 1789, and more 
 companies of gardes-du-corps were made for Monsieur 
 and also some compagnies rouges. And the old ones 
 were kicked out and the new ones were put in. The 
 emigres and old noblesse got stars and ribbons and 
 were made captains and colonels and generals and 
 what-not And if you had fought at Austerlitz or 
 Wagr?m you were nobody, and if your grandfather 
 
 17
 
 258 THE GRENADIER 
 
 had held the king's shirt or tied the king's garter at 
 the petit lever you were a great man. And Napoleon's 
 profile was wiped off the Legion of Honor and the 
 profile of Henry IV was put in its place. Now 
 Henry IV was a jolly king and a brave one, and the 
 French have always been glad to sing his praises and 
 those of his " charmante Gabrielle," but no doubt you 
 will agree that his piquant physiognomy was as much 
 out of place on the Cross of the Legion of Honor as 
 it would have been upon the pyramid of Cheops. 
 
 And as may be supposed, with all this eating, and 
 prancing, and bowing, and kicking-out and hoisting- 
 in, and theatre-going, and proclamation-issuing, and 
 bust-decorating, the government of His Most Chris- 
 tian Majesty was much too busy to pay any attention 
 to the Treaty of Fontainebleau, or send to Bonaparte 
 the sums of money guaranteed him by that Treaty to 
 pay his bills in Elba. And so, before very long the 
 people of Paris and Lyons and Marseilles and Greno- 
 ble and Boulogne and Orleans and numberless other 
 places, witnessing the grand transformation scene ar- 
 ranged by the royal company, under the stage direc- 
 tion of M. de Blancas and His Most Christian Majesty, 
 began to ask themselves this question, "Where are 
 we at?" Good people, you are coming out of your 
 trance. You have been laboring under the absurd 
 delusion that you have had a revolution, a republic, 
 and an empire. No such thing! You are in the 
 nineteenth year of the reign of His Most August, Most 
 Serene, Most Glorious, Most Robust and Most Scrofu- 
 lous Majesty, Louis XVIII of France and Navarre, 
 King by the grace of God ! 
 
 It was a gloomy winter for our friends in Grenoble,
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 259 
 
 the winter of 1814-15. Marie was busy caring for the 
 little Josephine, who was three and a half now. She 
 wrote often to Pierre, and she wondered when she 
 would see Pierre again, for Pierre had been among 
 the 600 grenadiers chosen by the Emperor to accom- 
 pany him to Elba. It was hard to leave France and 
 all there after the years of separation that had already 
 passed, but Pierre had written, " It is hard, but I 
 must go. I owe him all." And Marie had written, 
 " Go, it is your duty." 
 
 So Marie cared for the little Josephine, and the 
 gargon Gaspard assisted the pere Henri at the Cafe 
 Jodelle. As may be supposed it was not a joyous 
 winter for the pere Henri, or for Philippe Courteau, or 
 for old Frederic Bonneville. They met often at the 
 Hotel des Trois Dauphins, and when the papers came 
 from Paris and they read of some new act of the 
 Royal Government which overturned the existing state 
 of things and threw contempt upon the old soldiers 
 of the Empire, Philippe would look at Frederic Bonne- 
 ville and say with a grave face, " Well, you wanted 
 peace. You've got it. What do you think of it? I 
 observe you don't go to the niairie to get your pension 
 any more." 
 
 Frederic's pension had been cut off, and so had 
 Philippe's and Henri's likewise. Thus the winter was 
 gloomy, for trade was bad, and each had to look 
 closely at his affairs or he would have found the 
 hungry wolf snuffing at his door. They formed a 
 club, Philippe, Henri and Frederic; they called it 
 "Club Violette," the Violet Club, and this was the 
 sign of membership. When they met one who they 
 thought was of their party they said, " Aimez-vous la
 
 260 THE GRENADIER 
 
 violette? " And if the answer was " Oui," then the 
 one so answering was not with them ; but if the answer 
 was " Eh bien," then the one so answering was of their 
 party. And they met often at the Trois Dauphins, 
 and while La Barre stood by the door and looked up 
 and down to watch who came, they toasted " Caporal 
 Violette " who lived on the island of Elba. And 
 there were many more in France who did likewise. 
 And so the winter passed. 
 
 One evening in the early days of March, 1815, the 
 diligence from Voreppe came clattering into Grenoble. 
 Burly Matthieu was still driving, but the black horse 
 and the roan mare the one having gone blind and 
 the other having broken a leg had been succeeded 
 by two shaky bays. There was only one passenger in 
 the diligence, a tall man with black hair and mustache 
 and keen dark eyes. He wore a round hat, boots 
 and gloves, and a long blue overcoat, and as he looked 
 out of the diligence window and saw the houses and 
 dimly-burning lamps of the Rue Montorge, his face 
 assumed a hard and bitter expression. So then, after 
 six years, Jean Deteau was in Grenoble once more. 
 And where had he been all this time? Oh! in Spain 
 fighting under Soult, Jourdan and Joseph Bonaparte, 
 where little had been experienced but disaster, and 
 where the Anglo-Portuguese army commanded by 
 Lord Wellington had been steadily driving them back 
 toward France, until finally after the battle of Vittoria 
 they had been compelled to cross the Bidassoa. Then 
 they fought to keep the enemy out of southern France 
 until the Empire fell, when, after the king's return, 
 Deteau found himself on half-pay and with no very 
 pressing call for his services either. So that his ex-
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 261 
 
 pectations for a great military career, expectations 
 which had assumed gigantic proportions in 1809, 
 could now all be put in a thimble, and not a very 
 large thimble at that. He had quickly discovered 
 during a two days' stay in Paris that his former 
 patrons could do nothing for him, so he became at 
 once a zealous supporter of the Bourbons and a reviler 
 of Bonaparte. But there were so many others doing 
 the same thing that he attracted no attention and was 
 given no opportunity to show his newly-acquired zeal. 
 Therefore he set out for Grenoble, nursing his disap- 
 pointment. And did he know of Marie's marriage 
 and Pierre's honors? Oh, yes, he knew all about it, 
 for at the time of the wedding stout Robert Bovard 
 had sent him full particulars, being totally ignorant 
 of what had occurred on the road to Tudela and sup- 
 posing that as he had known Pierre he would be glad 
 to hear. Thus he was sufficiently posted, and thus he 
 rode down the Rue Montorge, the hard look in his 
 eyes and rage in his heart. Jean Deteau, beaten in 
 love and defeated in war! 
 
 When they reached the Trois Dauphins old La 
 Barre came out. " Got any passengers, Matthieu? " 
 said he. 
 
 " One," said Matthieu. 
 
 Deteau opened the coach door and stepped out. 
 " I'm here for the night," said he to La Barre, " and 
 I want supper." 
 
 " Chenument (very well), Monsieur." 
 
 " You may bring in my luggage." 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 Deteau walked into the hall of the inn and sat 
 down. "Where do I lodge?" he inquired, without 
 getting up as La Barre came in with the luggage.
 
 262 THE GRENADIER 
 
 "You can stop in this room on the right," said 
 La Barre, depositing the bags and lighting a candle. 
 
 " Now," said Deteau, " I want supper." 
 
 La Barre bustled off, leaving Deteau to his own 
 meditations. At the end of twenty minutes he came 
 back and said, " It's ready, Monsieur." 
 
 Deteau found the dining-room comfortable, a good 
 fire was burning, and the supper was not unpalatable 
 it never was at the Trois Dauphins and so when he 
 had finished half a bottle of wine he felt more cheerful. 
 
 "And how are the times?" said he, as La Barre 
 came in with a fresh log for the fire. 
 
 "Malheur! very poor," said La Barre. "Trade's 
 none too good, and people in this house ain't over- 
 glad when they reads of the doings in Paris." 
 
 Deteau saw which way the wind blew. " Ah ! " 
 said he, sighing, " no doubt they, like me, regret the 
 downfall of the Emperor." 
 
 "Indeed they do," said La Barre. "I've often 
 heard M. Courteau and M. Jodelle tell that we was 
 all going to hell with the d d Bourbons." 
 
 " Mon oeil! Have you indeed?" said Deteau. 
 " And is M. Jodelle a friend of M. Courteau? " 
 
 " Yes, oh, yes, they are great friends. They drink 
 often to Caporal Violette." 
 
 " And who is Caporal Violette? " inquired Deteau. 
 
 " Well, seeing as how you're one of us who is 
 grieving because he ain't here, there's no harm in 
 saying it's the Little Corporal him as is at Elba." 
 
 " Bring another glass, good fellow," said Deteau, 
 " we must both drink to Caporal Violette." 
 
 La Barre did so and they drank. Then Deteau 
 plied him with questions and they drank again. La
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 263 
 
 Barre's tongue worked so beautifully in a short time 
 that Deteau was not long in learning all about the 
 " Club Violette " and its members. Then as La Barre 
 discovered that the stranger took a real interest in 
 him and in his statements, he grew eloquent and began 
 to pour forth his personal views on the state of 
 France. Deteau rose abruptly. " It is late," said he. 
 
 " C'est renversant! (wonderful). So it is," said La 
 Barre, looking around at the clock. " I must get the 
 mail-bag ready for morning. Parbleu ! but I've forgot 
 the letter M. Jodelle give me to put in it." 
 
 " M. Jodelle gave you a letter?" said Deteau. 
 
 " Yes, it's to M. Pasquin him as is with Caporal 
 Violette him as we've been drinking to." 
 
 " And where is your letter? " said Deteau quickly. 
 
 La Barre was fumbling in his pocket " Here it 
 is," said he, examining it by the candle. Then he 
 laid it on the table. Deteau picked it up. " Yes, it is 
 to M. Pasquin," he said, " fortunate M. Pasquin who 
 is with Caporal Violette. My friend, we must drink 
 again to Caporal Violette." And so they drank. 
 
 " Go and get your mail-bag," said Deteau. 
 
 La Barre went out with steps somewhat unsteady. 
 Deteau drew an envelope from his pocket and laid it 
 down beside the letter. " Not quite the size but near 
 enough," he said quietly, and slipping Henri Jodelle's 
 letter into his pocket, he left the envelope lying on the 
 table. Presently La Barre returned, mail-bag in 
 hand. 
 
 " Mon ami," said Deteau, " open your bag. Give 
 me the pleasure of starting on its way this letter to 
 the brave M. Pasquin who is so near him we both 
 honor Caporal Violette."
 
 264 THE GRENADIER 
 
 So La Barre hiccoughed and opened the bag, and 
 Deteau gracefully dropped the envelope within. 
 
 "There are quite a good many letters in it, are 
 there not?" said he. 
 
 " Yes, it's heavy," said La Barre. 
 
 " Fasten it up," said Deteau. " When does the dili- 
 gence go south in the morning? " 
 
 " Eight o'clock," said La Barre, swaying from side 
 to side. 
 
 " Foutre ! Stand up there, you fool ! " cried Deteau. 
 " You'll knock over the candle." 
 
 "D n candle!" said La Barre. "He! He! 
 
 We're pretty great friends, ain't we? We drink often 
 to Caporal Violette." 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course. Now see here, you are paf " 
 (drunk), and Deteau shook his arm. " I am going 
 at eight in the morning and shall want breakfast 
 before. Do you understand ? " 
 
 La Barre hiccoughed. " We're pretty great friends, 
 ain't we?" said he smiling placidly. 
 
 "Malheur! What's to be done with this ass?" 
 cried Deteau in disgust 
 
 " Je suis paf," mumbled La Barre. "He! He! je 
 suis paf! " He tripped over the rug, fell down on it, 
 curled himself up, and began to snore. 
 
 " Well, he may lie there for all I'll bother with 
 him," said Deteau, and blowing out the light he went 
 to his own room. Then closing his door he sat down 
 by the candle and opened the letter carefully. " I 
 don't know that anything will come of this," he said 
 casually, " but I thought I would find out what was 
 going on." So he began to read, and as he read he 
 smiled, a sneering smile, and then his eyes glittered.
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 265 
 
 He rose and waved the letter in the air. " I have 
 him ! I have him ! " he cried softly. " I can't get at 
 that diable Pasquin, but I can get at you, M. Henri 
 Jodelle. This will be good reading for M. de Vaudre- 
 court, procureur-du-roi, and then we shall see if I who 
 bring to light Bonapartist conspiracies am not entitled 
 to something from the Government." 
 
 In the morning Deteau stood on the steps awaiting 
 the diligence. It came, and so did La Barre, a trifle 
 the worse for wear, with luggage and mail-bag. 
 
 " My good fellow," said Deteau, after paying his 
 score, "when does M. Courteau return?" 
 
 " To-day," said La Barre. " He's been to Vizille." 
 
 " Well," said Deteau, with a sarcastic smile, " you 
 fill his place superbly. Here in this envelope you will 
 find something I wish to give you." 
 
 Old La Barre, overwhelmed with gratitude, stood 
 hat in hand by the diligence door. 
 
 " Monsieur," said he, " how can I ever thank you? " 
 
 " Oh ! don't mention it," said Deteau, looking out 
 over the top of La Barre's head. " Come, postillion, 
 en avant!" 
 
 The diligence started, but before they had proceeded 
 far Deteau put his head out of the window. " I have 
 changed my mind," said he. " I am not going south. 
 Stop at the Hotel des Ambassadeurs, Rue Montorge." 
 
 La Barre, meantime, had gone into the Trois Dau- 
 phins. He was much excited about the mysterious 
 envelope. What could it contain? It was not very 
 heavy, still there was something in it. What a fine 
 man the stranger was ! Suppose he were some famous 
 person in disguise, some Prince of the Empire. La 
 Barre had heard of such things. It was rumored that
 
 266 THE GRENADIER 
 
 the King of Naples had come disguised into France. 
 Suppose this were the King of Naples. Well, if that 
 were so the gift would be large, for the King of 
 Naples was a generous giver. And if the gift were 
 large La Barre would purchase a pig; he had always 
 wanted one, and there was a convenient stall in the 
 stable which could be made into a pen. He would 
 buy a sow and then he would raise young pigs and 
 sell them, and the tin box under the pillow would 
 become quite full. This was a happy thought and a 
 pleasant one. La Barre opened the envelope. There 
 was a good-sized piece of paper in it folded several 
 times, and upon unfolding it La Barre read thes^ 
 words you are a fool. There never was a man so 
 surprised as La Barre! 
 
 On the morning of the 6th of March, M. de Vaudre- 
 court, procureur-du-roi, was seated in his office on the 
 Grand Rue, Grenoble, preparing a document to send 
 to the Hotel de Ville, when his servant announced a 
 visitor, " M. Jean Deteau." 
 
 " Bon jour, monsieur," said Deteau as he entered. 
 The procureur-du-roi bowed. 
 
 " I am a military man, Monsieur, and desire to go 
 briefly to business. Here is a letter that chance has 
 put in my way. You know the parties, or know of 
 them. Read it and you will see why I am here." 
 
 M. de Vaudrecourt took the letter and read: 
 
 Mon cher Pierre. 
 
 I am writing from the Trois Dauphins. Marie is well 
 and Josephine also. Things in France as you know are no 
 better. What could one expect? Do you know what I 
 heard? It was whispered that before long the time for 
 violets will have come. " Elle reparaitra au printemps," they
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 267 
 
 said. God grant it may be so. Who has been appointed 
 procureur-du-roi in Grenoble, do you think? Vaudrecourtl 
 the biggest fool and the biggest scoundrel, too. He would 
 be glad to break up the Club Violette, but he shall not. 
 Once he sang the Little Corporal's praises, now he licks 
 the hand of the Bourbons. He is a chien hargncu. But no 
 matter, we shall continue to toast Corporal Violette and one 
 day we shall see. 
 
 Votre beau-pere affectionne", 
 S Mars, 1815. HENRI. 
 
 " Ah," said M. de Vaudrecourt, placing the letter 
 on his desk, " as it is directed to M. Pasquin, the signer 
 is, I fancy, M. Henri Jodelle." 
 
 " Exactly," said Deteau. 
 
 " Monsieur, you have rendered me a service," said 
 the procureur-du-roi. " I have been trying to get hold 
 of some of the members of the Qub Violette. Thanks 
 to you, they shall not escape me now." 
 
 " I can tell you all about them, Monsieur," replied 
 Deteau. 
 
 " Tres-bien, you shall do so, but in my carriage. 
 We will pay a visit to M. Henri Jodelle. If, as he 
 says, I am a ' snappish cur ' le diabk! he shall feel my 
 teeth." 
 
 The procureur-du-roi ordered his carriage, and when 
 it came there was a gendarme on the box beside the 
 coachman. M. de Vaudrecourt and Deteau entered. 
 
 " Tell him to drive to the Cafe Jodelle, Place Gre- 
 nette," said the procureur-du-roi to the gendarme. 
 
 Gaspard had gone to the Trois Dauphins that morn- 
 ing, and this is how he came to go there. After 
 breakfast Henri had said, " Gaspard, go to the Trois 
 Dauphins and find out if Philippe has come back 
 from Vizille." So Gaspard set out, and as the morn-
 
 268 THE GRENADIER 
 
 ing was bright he felt happy and occasionally looked 
 in the shop-windows as he went along. At the same 
 time that the carriage containing M. de Vaudrecourt 
 and Deteau reached the Cafe Jodelle, Gaspard reached 
 the Trois Dauphins, where a moment later the dili- 
 gence from Vizille came rattling up to the door and 
 Philippe Courteau jumped out. His arrival occasioned 
 the wildest excitement and demonstrations of joy on 
 the part of La Barre, who probably felt that the re- 
 sponsibility of the Trois Dauphins was too much for 
 him alone, or why should he have made such an ado? 
 As for Gaspard he set off for the Cafe Jodelle as fast 
 as his legs could carry him. Probably he was in 
 such a hurry because he thought he had wasted time 
 on the way thither. 
 
 " The little Gaspard is a swift runner," said dame 
 Bovard as she saw him speeding down the Rue Mon- 
 torge. 
 
 Ah! swift indeed! Run, little Gaspard! There are 
 some at the Cafe Jodelle whose safety is in danger. 
 There are some at the Cafe Jodelle who need you 
 and your message. Run, little Gaspard, run! 
 
 M. de Vaudrecourt and Deteau entered the Cafe 
 Jodelle with the gendarme. They passed to Henri's 
 sitting-room and knocked. " Come in," said Henri, 
 and they entered. Marie sat near the window sewing, 
 the little Josephine was playing on the floor and Henri 
 writing at the table. He looked up in surprise when 
 he saw the procureur-du-roi, and then rising he leaned 
 on his crutch and said briskly, " Well, sir? " 
 
 " M. Henri Jodelle, I believe," said Vaudrecourt. 
 
 " Of course," said Henri, " you know me well 
 enough. What do you want?" 
 
 Henri had been looking intently at the procureur-
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 269 
 
 du-roi, but Marie had been looking elsewhere, and 
 before M. de Vaudrecourt could answer she cried out, 
 "Father! father! it is Jean Deteau!" 
 
 " Le diable ! " cried Henri, " so it is." 
 
 " I am flattered to think that Madame Pasquin re- 
 members me," said Deteau, bowing. Ugh! what a 
 bow, and what a sneering accent on the words 
 " Madame Pasquin." 
 
 " So Rosbif de rat d'egout! (you skunk!) you've come 
 back, have you?" roared Henri. "They must have 
 damn-fool cannon-balls in Spain since they knock over 
 honest men and leave curs like you." 
 
 "You shall pay for that," snarled Deteau, ad- 
 vancing. 
 
 "Stop!" cried M. de Vaudrecourt, "stand back! 
 This is my affair." 
 
 The gendarme had meanwhile closed the door, and 
 little Josephine was regarding him with wondering 
 eyes. 
 
 " M. Jodelle," said the procureur-du-roi in a banter- 
 ing tone, " I have reason to believe that you are not 
 satisfied with the blessings showered upon you by 
 the Government of His Majesty. And more, that you 
 have in Grenoble talked in an outrageous manner re- 
 garding His Majesty's representatives. And in short, 
 sir, you have conspired and are conspiring with the 
 agents of the Usurper. Of this I have proof." 
 
 "What proof?" cried Henri. 
 
 " A letter of yours to M. Pasquin." 
 
 " Well, bring it out." 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! I am not fool enough to give it you 
 now. It shall be seen at the proper time." 
 
 "And how did you get it?" demanded Henri 
 fiercely.
 
 2/0 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " No matter how I got it. Let it suffice that I 
 have it" 
 
 "Well, what if you have!" cried Henri. "I have 
 never conspired. No letter of mine can prove it" 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you don't belong to the 
 Club Violette, and that you don't drink to Caporal 
 Violette, which is only another name for the 
 Usurper?" 
 
 " Yes," said Henri, " I belong and we drink to him. 
 We've fought under him and we wish him well. 
 There's no conspiracy in that. My God! if you are 
 going to arrest people for that, you will have to arrest 
 three-fourths of France." 
 
 " Indeed," said the procureur-du-roi. " We shall 
 see." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Marie, coming forward, " he has never 
 conspired. Believe me he has never conspired. He 
 has fought for the Emperor, and my Pierre is with 
 him, and he writes to him and wishes the Emperor 
 well. Oh! surely, surely, that cannot be wrong." 
 
 " Get out of the way," said the procureur-du-roi, 
 sternly. " Now mark me, Henri Jodelle. You've 
 reviled me long enough. I'm a 'snappish cur,' am 
 I? You shall feel my teeth. I ' lick the hand of the 
 Bourbons/ do I? You shall feel the weight of their 
 hand. I am procureur-du-roi in Grenoble, and by the 
 King's name I'll have you tried for abetting the 
 Usurper, and if we catch you, as we shall, you'll hang 
 on a gallows in Grenoble forty feet high." 
 
 And then something happened, for the door burst 
 open, and Gaspard, his big brown eyes blazing with 
 excitement, sprang into the room and cried with all his 
 little might: "What do you think? Napoleon has 
 landed in France! He is on the march to Paris! "
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 THE EAGLE WITH THE TRICOLOR 
 
 The imperial ensign, which full high advanced, 
 Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind, 
 
 MILTON, Paradise Lost. 
 
 THE procureur-du-roi turned pale, Marie uttered a 
 joyful cry, and Henri Jodelle stood erect and tossed 
 his head. 
 
 "You lie!" cried Jean Deteau, striding toward 
 Gaspard. 
 
 "Chiche!" cried Gaspard, "no I don't. The dili- 
 gence brought the news this morning. He's coming 
 and everybody is coming with him." 
 
 There was no doubt that something was up now, 
 for they heard shouts in the street, and through the 
 window they saw a company of the 7th of the Line 
 marching toward the Place Grenette. 
 
 M. de Vaudrecourt had grown terribly nervous. 
 He had oth^r matters to think of now beside revenge 
 on Henri Jodelle. "I don't believe a word of it!" 
 he exclaimed, but his face showed he lied. " Deteau, 
 come with me to the Hotel de Ville." And the 
 procureur-du-roi rushed to his carriage, followed by 
 Deteau and the bewildered gendarme. " To the Hotel 
 de Ville, d, toute bride! " cried M. de Vaudrecourt, and 
 they went at a gallop, but as they left the Place Gre- 
 nette they heard ominous shouts of "Vive 1'Em- 
 pereur!"
 
 272 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Poor Marie ! the excitement of the last half-hour had 
 nearly upset her. She didn't faint, but, dazed by her 
 conflicting emotions of fear and joy, she sank into a 
 chair. Why, if the Emperor was coming, Pierre was 
 coming too! Could it be true? Could it be true? 
 
 "What did they want here?" cried Gaspard. 
 
 " No good, you may be sure," said Henri, " but 
 I've no time to talk now. Fetch my hat. I must 
 see Philippe." Gaspard brought it. " Now Marie, 
 my dear," said Henri, kissing her, " don't worry. 
 We'll lead them a dance! Parbleu! I wish I had two 
 legs! " And old Henri thumped hastily out of the 
 cafe. 
 
 " Mamma," said the little Josephine, coming to 
 Marie's side, " is papa coming with Emperor? " 
 
 " Yes, dear," cried Marie, " papa is coming with 
 Emperor. Papa is coming, Josephine." 
 
 "Oh! nice! nice!" cried Josephine. "Gaspard! 
 Gaspard! Papa is coming with Emperor! Papa is 
 coming with Emperor ! " And seizing Gaspard's 
 hands, she danced up and down through the room. 
 And thus into the Cafe Jodelle, so lately filled with 
 rage and terror and anguish, came joy and hope and 
 rejoicing brought by the Imperial name! 
 
 And now, Authorities of Grenoble, what means have 
 you of resisting the Invader who is rapidly advancing? 
 Let us see. You have the 5th, the 7th and the nth 
 regiments of the Line, the 3rd engineers, the 4th 
 artillery and the 4th hussars, several thousands in all, 
 and he has but eleven hundred. Yes, you have 
 enough, place your men, load your cannon, fortify 
 your redoubts, you will crush him yet if your men 
 stand firm. So during the afternoon and evening of
 
 THE EAGLE WITH THE TRICOLOR 273 
 
 the 6th of March the redoubts were strengthened, the 
 cannon loaded, the city gates shut, and the 3rd engi- 
 neers and 4th artillery placed in position on the ram- 
 parts. During the night of the 6th and /th, the 5th 
 regiment commanded by Lessard was sent to meet 
 the enemy. They advanced beyond Vizille and took 
 up a position where the road was narrow on the right 
 a partly frozen lake, on the left a high hill. Behind 
 them lay the little village of Vizille, its inhabitants 
 even at that early hour gathering in the streets with 
 joy and wonder depicted on their faces, and farther 
 north was Grenoble, its ramparts bristling with can- 
 non, its gates shut, its redoubts bright with bayonets. 
 And still farther north was Lyons, all commotion with 
 regiments entering it from all directions and plumed 
 Marshals hastening from Paris to take command. 
 And Dijon was in consternation, and Chatillon up- 
 roarious, and Troyes wild with excitement, and be- 
 yond all was Paris, seething like a volcano, and in 
 the Tuileries Palace a Most Christian Majesty asking 
 advice to right and to left. Surely if Messieurs les 
 Autorites de Grenoble do their duty there is little need 
 for troops in Lyons or anxiety on the part of His 
 Most Christian Majesty. A usurper with eleven hun- 
 dred men! bah! You shall see. Thus with all 
 France behind them in uproar and before them the 
 road to Gap quiet and deserted, stood the soldiers of 
 the 5th of the Line, looking with fixed gaze ever to 
 the southward silently waiting. 
 
 So the hours of the morning passed, and near noon, 
 over the crest of the hill toward Gap, they saw the 
 eagle of France and the bearskin caps of the Imperial 
 Guard. Nearer and nearer they came; the white 
 cross-straps that held the knapsacks could be distin- 
 
 18
 
 274 THE GRENADIER 
 
 guished now, and the plumes in the bearskin caps. 
 And there was Marshal Bertrand on his horse, and 
 who was that riding beside him dressed in the gray 
 overcoat and the plain cocked hat? It was he, the 
 Little Corporal! Not a sound was heard but the 
 tramp of the grenadiers and the ring of the horses' 
 hoofs. Thus they advanced, and when they had come 
 within a hundred paces of the sphinx-like wall that 
 confronted them, they halted. " Mallet," said the Em- 
 peror, " tell them to put their guns under their arms." 
 Then dismounting, and with his overcoat unbuttoned 
 showing his green uniform of the chasseurs a cheval 
 with its star of the Legion of Honor, he advanced 
 alone, facing that phalanx of silent soldiers, those 
 serried rows of sharp, bright bayonets. 
 
 Do you see him, soldiers of the Fifth? That is 
 Bonaparte. He comes to raise civil war in France, 
 they say. He comes to drive the Bourbon Louis from 
 his par la grace de Dieu throne. He is an outlaw. 
 Les Puissances Alliees have set a price upon his head. 
 Which one of you now will pull the trigger of a well- 
 aimed musket, give the Usurper here a brigand's death, 
 and put an end to this Return from Elba? And for the 
 soldier who kills him, what reward? Why, gold and 
 glory! The cross of honor from the hand of His 
 Most Christian Majesty at the Tuileries Palace! 
 Fetes and decorations from les Puissances Alliees! 
 
 He comes nearer. Yes, it is Napoleon! It is the 
 Emperor! On his head the little hat he wore at Jena 
 and at Wagram, on his back the gray greatcoat of 
 Montmirail, by his side the sword of Austerlitz! 
 About him the glory of his victories, behind him the 
 grenadiers of his Garde Imperiale, above him the flag 
 of France! torn by balls, blackened by powder,
 
 THE EAGLE WITH THE TRICOLOR 275 
 
 proudly fluttering, ever advancing, ever victorious 1 
 Thus in the deathlike stillness he approaches, nearer 
 and nearer, step by step, step by step. See! he is here! 
 Now, soldiers of France, between Louis-Stanislas- 
 Xavier de Bourbon and Napoleon Bonaparte 
 choose! 
 
 " Well, how are you all in the 5th regiment? " said 
 the Emperor cheerfully. 
 
 " Quite well, sire," answered the soldiers. 
 
 " I am come again to visit you. Are there any 
 among you that would wish to kill me?" 
 
 "Certainly not, sire!" shouted the soldiers. 
 
 Up went the shakos on the bayonets, and on the 
 clear frosty air rang out the shout the old shout of 
 Austerlitz and of Wagram " Vive 1'Empereur ! " 
 
 The Bourbon commander put spurs to his horse, 
 the band struck up the " Marseillaise," the broad folds 
 of the Imperial banner fluttered in the breeze, the 5th 
 of the Line wheeling about formed the van, and on 
 they marched bands playing, flags flying, people 
 cheering, soldiers shouting in triumph to Grenoble! 
 
 And when they reached Grenoble it was nine at 
 night, the drawbridge was up, the gates fast barred, 
 the brazen guns frowning from the ramparts, and 
 all about was inky darkness. Small chance to enter 
 Grenoble to-night. And in the blackness the Em- 
 peror went and stood alone before the drawbridge, 
 facing the walls of Grenoble and the death-dealing 
 batteries. But none could see him in the darkness, 
 and there was silence. Then the brave Labedoyere 
 came and stood beside him, and out of the gloom and 
 the silence he cried to the soldiers on the ramparts, 
 "Soldiers, it is I, Labedoyere, Colonel of the 7th! 
 We bring you Napoleon I"
 
 276 THE GRENADIER 
 
 There was a great shout from the soldiers, lights 
 flashed on the ramparts, the drawbridge was lowered, 
 the gates fastened by the authorities were beaten in 
 twain by axes, and Grenoble with its walls and its 
 bastions, its redoubts and its ramparts, its guns and 
 its bayonets, fell before the Imperial name! 
 
 The garrison and the people came rushing out, and 
 on all sides were shouts and flaming torches. So they 
 went in triumph through the city a vast mass of 
 frenzied soldiers and vociferating people and waving 
 lights and strains of music, and in the centre the Em- 
 peror on his white horse. And the people sang the 
 chanson a I' air Charles VII: 
 
 "II faut combattre; 1'Empereur 1'ordonne, 
 Nous obeirons a ses lois; 
 Pour conserver sa couronne, 
 Nous chasserons tous les rois. 
 Aliens, enfants de la patrie, 
 Jurons tous a notre Empereur, 
 De lui bien conserver la vie, 
 Avec lui n'ayons jamais peur." 
 
 When they reached the Place Grenette all the houses 
 were bright with lights, but brightest of all shone the 
 Cafe Jodelle, with all its windows ablaze from floor to 
 roof, while in the door stood Marie, Gaspard, and the 
 little Josephine. And all at once from the crowd of 
 soldiers and people there came running a stalwart, 
 decorated Captain of the Imperial Guard, who threw 
 his arms about Marie's neck and kissed her and the 
 little Josephine, and that was the happiest night the 
 Cafe Jodelle had seen for many a year. 
 
 "And where will Your Majesty lodge?" said Mar- 
 shal Bertrand.
 
 THE EAGLE WITH THE TRICOLOR 277 
 
 " I will go to the Trois Dauphins," said the Em- 
 peror. " It is kept by one of my old soldiers." 
 
 So they went with all the crowd following. And 
 while the Emperor was getting supper, the crowd in 
 the Rue Montorge grew larger and larger and the 
 shouts redoubled. For there came forty workmen of 
 Grenoble carrying the' gates of the city, and at their 
 head old Henri Jodelle, his eyes flashing, and his 
 wooden crutch pounding the cobblestones. And the 
 people cried with a thousand voices, "Vive 1'Em- 
 pereur!" 
 
 " Sire," said Marshal Bertrand, " the people want 
 you." 
 
 So the Emperor came out and stood on the steps of 
 the Trois Dauphins, and beside him stood Marshal 
 Bertrand, and beside him Philippe Courteau. And 
 surely a Czar of all the Russias, when he put on his 
 crown in the Cathedral of the Assumption, never 
 looked more imposing than did Philippe Courteau that 
 night. And there too was old La Barre dancing for 
 joy, and there too was Gaspard, cap in hand, and there 
 too were Marie and Pierre holding the little Josephine, 
 and there too was old Frederic Bonneville beside 
 them. And the Rue Montorge was packed with 
 people, and every window of the Trois Dauphins was 
 full of them, and every window in the Rue Montorge 
 was illuminated. And when the Emperor appeared, 
 there was a great shout and then silence. And before 
 them all old Henri Jodelle advanced to the steps of 
 the Trois Dauphins, and while all held their breath to 
 listen, he said: 
 
 " Emperor, we could not bring you the keys of your 
 good town of Grenoble, but here are the gates!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 IN THE PLACE BELLECOUR 
 
 The ruling passion, be it what it will, 
 The ruling passion conquers reason still. 
 
 POPE, Moral Essays. 
 
 ON the Qth of March the Emperor set out for Lyons. 
 That city was full of troops and Monsieur le Comte 
 d'Artois had come from Paris to take command of 
 them, but he did not find their temper to his taste and 
 when, at ten at night on the Qth of March, the Mar- 
 shal Macdonald reached Lyons he found Monsieur in 
 a despondent mood. 
 
 "There is no reliance to be placed upon these 
 soldiers, Monsieur le Marechal," said the Count 
 d'Artois, as Macdonald entered the dining-room of the 
 Governor's house with the Count des Cars. " I have 
 given orders to evacuate the city in the morning." 
 
 " Abandon Lyons ! " cried the Marshal Macdonald. 
 " Where then will you stop after quitting the barrier 
 of the Rhone? " 
 
 "The troops have declared that they will offer no 
 resistance," said the Count d'Artois. 
 
 " Let us try something before giving up," replied 
 the Marshal. 
 
 " Well, take command," said the Count d'Artois, " I 
 give you full powers." 
 
 " Let us suspend our retreat, Monseigneur," said
 
 IN THE PLACE BELLECOUR 279 
 
 Macdonald. " We can always come back to that if 
 necessary, for, if Napoleon is within a march of the 
 town, let him make as much speed as he likes he 
 cannot arrive until between one and two o'clock in 
 the day, as he has to lead wearied soldiers. Let us 
 assemble our men at six in the morning, see them, 
 speak to them; we may gain something by it. We 
 will try to change their opinion by attacking them on 
 the subject of their honor, always a delicate point with 
 a Frenchman. We will explain to them the misfor- 
 tunes that must result from a civil war, and the danger 
 to France, no less great, of seeing all Europe raised 
 in arms against her for the second time." 
 
 To this the Count d'Artois agreed, so the Mar- 
 shal Macdonald ordered the Morand and la Guillo- 
 tiere bridges to be barricaded and summoned all the 
 garrison to assemble next morning in the Place Belle- 
 cour. Between three and four in the morning Gen- 
 eral Brayer was announced at the Marshal's hotel. 
 He found Macdonald seated in his apartment at a 
 table upon which lay his hat and numberless papers 
 and about which pieces of torn paper were strewn on 
 the carpet. The Marshal was writing an order. He 
 looked weary, for he had been up all night. 
 
 " Monsieur le Marechal," said General Brayer, " I 
 come to tell you that the troops have refused to be 
 reviewed by the Count d'Artois, but they will be de- 
 lighted to see you, their old General." 
 
 "Who can have put that idea into their heads?" 
 cried the Marshal in surprise. "Are we on the eve 
 of a fresh revolution? Is every bond of discipline 
 relaxed?" 
 
 " No," replied General Brayer, " but they have been
 
 280 THE GRENADIER 
 
 excited by speeches and their officers are not less ex- 
 cited. So many follies have already been committed, 
 so little interest has been taken in the soldiers, and 
 so much injustice has been done to make places for 
 the emigres upon whom rank, honors and distinctions 
 have been showered." 
 
 " From your manner, sir," said the Marshal curtly, 
 " I gather that you share these opinions." 
 
 " I do. I agree with them. But, Monsieur le 
 Marechal, it is getting late. It is more than time to 
 warn Monsieur not to appear before the troops, to 
 prevent him from being insulted." 
 
 "True," said the Marshal. He took his hat and 
 accompanied by General Brayer set out for the Gov- 
 ernor's house. 
 
 " His Royal Highness is asleep," said the Count 
 des Cars when the Marshal was ushered into the 
 antechamber of the Count d'Artois. 
 
 "That makes no difference," replied Macdonald, 
 " my business admits of no delay." 
 
 The Count d'Artois, therefore, was awakened, the 
 Marshal was announced, and the Count sat up in bed. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur le Marechal?" said he. 
 
 " Monseigneur," said Macdonald, " the reports I 
 have received during the night, regarding the state 
 of mind of the men, are no better. It is possible that 
 the presence of your Royal Highness may be a con- 
 straint upon them. Perhaps it would be better if I 
 saw them alone, for I am accustomed to war and, as 
 it were, one of themselves. They can express their 
 opinions more freely to me, and I will let you know 
 the result as soon as possible." 
 
 "As you please," answered the Count d'Artois.
 
 IN THE PLACE BELLECOUR 281 
 
 At six in the morning, therefore, the Marshal Mac- 
 donald rode alone to the review. The rain was 
 pouring, and the troops drawn up on parade filled the 
 great Place Bellecour, in the centre of which stood 
 an equestrian statue of the Grand Monarque, looking 
 haughtily down upon these soldiers of France who had 
 just refused to do honor to his descendant. 
 
 " Vive le Marechal Macdonald ! " shouted the sol- 
 diers as the hero of Wagram rode into the Place 
 Bellecour. The Marshal ordered them to form a 
 square and rode into the middle of it that he might 
 be better heard. 
 
 " My friends," said he, " I thank you for this recep- 
 tion. I flatter myself that it arises from a recollection 
 of the care, which from a sense of duty and of attach- 
 ment, I have always taken of your comfort. I recog- 
 nize your loyal services and your devotion in good 
 and bad fortune. Though we have succumbed at 
 last it has been with honor at any rate, and it has 
 required all the armies of Europe, and some great 
 blunders on our side, which cannot be imputed to us, 
 to put us down. You all know I have been the last to 
 submit. We have fulfilled our obligations, and re- 
 leased by the will of the nation we have contracted 
 others not less sacred. To these the Royal Govern- 
 ment will find us equally loyal. The invasion that 
 has collected us here at Lyons will let loose upon la 
 belle France even greater misfortunes than those of last 
 year, for then ancient France remained intact, but now 
 the Allies will make us pay dearly for a fresh appeal 
 to arms. I think too highly of your patriotism to 
 believe that you will refuse to do as I do, who have 
 never deceived you, and I am sure you will follow
 
 282 THE GRENADIER 
 
 me along the path of duty and honor. And now, my 
 friends, the only guarantee that I ask of you is to join 
 with me in crying, Long live the King ! " And rising 
 in his stirrups the Marshal Macdonald waved his hat 
 in the air and shouted three times as loud as he 
 could, " Vive le Roi! " Not a single voice joined him. 
 The Marshal Macdonald shouted alone. 
 
 Well, what was to be done now? The troops had 
 suddenly turned to stone. The Place Bellecour had 
 become a square of sphinxes. The Marshal sent for 
 the Count d'Artois, hoping, all reports to the con- 
 trary, that he would be received, if not with cordiality, 
 with respect at least. His Royal Highness soon came 
 followed by his staff, but there was the same stony 
 silence. Then dismounting, the Marshal and the 
 Count d'Artois walked down the lines, exhorting the 
 troops, but the soldiers stood motionless, impassive 
 and silent. There was a battalion of the Garde Im- 
 periale on the right of the Place, and as they reached 
 it the Count d'Artois went up to a " vieux moustache " 
 decorated with the Legion of Honor. It was Andre 
 Marceau. 
 
 " Surely a brave soldier like you," said the Count 
 d'Artois, placing his hand on Andre's shoulder, " will 
 cry Vive le Roi ! " 
 
 " No I won't! " said Andre bluntly. " I've only one 
 cry, and that's Vive 1'Empereur! " And he shouted it 
 out with all his might. In an instant it was taken up 
 by regiment after regiment, and in the face of His 
 Royal Highness the Count d'Artois, standing at the 
 foot of the statue of his proud ancestor Louis le 
 Grand, was hurled again and again that world-con- 
 quering shout, Vive 1'Empereur ! The Count d'Artois
 
 IN THE PLACE BELLECOUR 283 
 
 grew crimson with rage. " Monsieur le Marechal," 
 said he, "it is as I told you. Nothing can be done 
 with them. Send them away." There was therefore 
 no march past, but the troops were sent at once to 
 their barracks. 
 
 " We may be more successful with the officers, 
 Monseigneur," said the Marshal. " I will try them by 
 themselves. They may have felt some awkwardness 
 before their men." 
 
 " Do what you can," said his Royal Highness. " I 
 am going to see M. Girouette at the Hotel de Ville."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 MAYOR GIROUETTE 
 
 Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes, 
 Tenets with books, and principles with times. 
 
 POPE, Moral Essays. 
 
 THE Hotel de Ville at Lyons faced the Place des Ter- 
 reaux, and on the morning of the loth of March, 
 1815, the Mayor's study upon the second floor had 
 as its occupants a stout gentleman with a very bald 
 head who was busily engaged in writing at a desk, 
 and a small black poodle which was stretched com- 
 fortably before the fireplace. The stout gentleman 
 was no other than the most worshipful Mayor of 
 Lyons, M. Jacques Girouette, and the black poodle 
 was his dog Fidele. 
 
 Nothing was heard in the apartment save the crack- 
 ling of the fire and the squeak of M. Girouette's pen 
 as it ran rapidly over the paper. The worshipful 
 Mayor was engaged in drawing up two proclama- 
 tions, one of which, already nearly finished and lying 
 beside him on the desk, began as follows: " Citizens of 
 Lyons, the invader Bonaparte having been beaten 
 back and the legitimate authority of our glorious sov- 
 ereign Louis XVIII having been firmly established, 
 it behooves us to show our loyalty to His Majesty." 
 The other proclamation upon which the worthy Mayor 
 was working had this inception: " Citizens of Lyons,
 
 MAYOR GIROUETTE 285 
 
 once more our august sovereign the Emperor Napo- 
 leon arrives in triumph! Let us rally round the tri- 
 color, that glorious flag under which France has so 
 often marched to victory." 
 
 From time to time the honorable M. Jacques 
 scratched his head or pulled at the high black stock 
 about his neck. The honorable M. Jacques was evi- 
 dently in some perplexity, and well he might be, for 
 here was a trying situation truly! With, on the one 
 hand, a Most Christian King going but not yet gone, 
 and on the other a Most Imperial Ernperor coming 
 but not yet come, what was the proper course to be 
 pursued by a most prudent Mayor who desired to save 
 his official head? Why, like the Austrian eagle, look 
 both ways. And so, with a large and elegant white 
 cockade on his hat and an elegant and large tricolored 
 one in the drawer of his desk, M. Jacques Girouette, 
 Mayor of Lyons, was prepared for any freak of for- 
 tune. 
 
 Presently the door was opened and the gendarme 
 Laserre appeared. " Monsieur le Maire," said he, 
 " the Count des Cars brings you a message from His 
 Royal Highness the Count d'Artois." 
 
 " Admit him instantly," cried Mayor Girouette, slip- 
 ping into his desk the proclamation beginning " Once 
 more our august sovereign the Emperor Napoleon." 
 A moment later the Count des Cars entered, and the 
 worthy Mayor, who had advanced to the centre of the 
 apartment, made him a low bow. 
 
 " Monsieur le Maire," said the Count des Cars, 
 "His Royal Highness will be here shortly. He 
 wishes to have a conference with you." 
 
 "I am entirely at the service of His Royal High- 
 ness," answered the Mayor, bowing again.
 
 286 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " Do you know the result of Marshal Macdonald's 
 review of the troops?" inquired the Count 
 
 "No, Monsieur." 
 
 " Well, they refuse to march against the rascal Bon- 
 aparte." 
 
 " The more fools they," said Mayor Girouette. 
 
 The noise of a carriage was heard before the Hotel 
 de Ville, and the Count des Cars stepped to a window 
 and looked out upon the Place. " His Royal High- 
 ness has come," he cried. And the Count and the 
 Mayor hurried down the staircase. 
 
 For a few moments the Mayor's study was deserted, 
 only the black poodle Fidele lay before the fire. Then 
 Monsieur le Comte d'Artois entered, followed by the 
 Mayor and the Count des Cars. Monsieur, aged and 
 faded, was greatly changed from the dashing Count 
 d'Artois of former days who played the part of Figaro 
 to Marie Antoinette's Rosina in the " Barbier de Se- 
 ville," and was the gayest of the gay among the 
 brilliant cavaliers of Petit Trianon. Still he was 
 rather tall and slim, and with his gold-laced uniform 
 and blue ribbon was altogether the most presentable 
 male member of the Bourbon family. He sat down 
 in an armchair, while M. Jacques Girouette and the 
 Count des Cars stood respectfully before him. 
 
 " Monsieur le Maire," said he, in a tone that at- 
 tempted to be gracious, "you have heard no doubt 
 that the troops are not disposed to carry out our 
 wishes. I have just come from reviewing them. 
 They manifest a most unaccountable attachment to the 
 Usurper, and in this emergency we must look to the 
 good people of Lyons to do their duty to France and 
 to the King. Can I rely upon you, Monsieur le 
 Maire?"
 
 MAYOR GIROUETTE 287 
 
 "Upon me? Girouette?" cried the Mayor, "can 
 Your Royal Highness doubt it! Never have I 
 swerved from my loyalty to my legitimate King, even 
 when I was compelled to take my bread from the hand 
 of the Usurper. The villain! he dragged us about 
 over Europe and slaughtered us in endless numbers 
 to gratify his vile ambition. Now the wretch would 
 come again, but we have enjoyed peace for a year 
 and have seen once more our glorious and legitimate 
 King. The dastard Bonaparte will find that the peo- 
 ple of France will never again submit to him." 
 
 " Such sentiments do you honor, Monsieur le 
 Maire," answered the Count d'Artois, " but from what 
 I have seen I am frank to say I do not think they are 
 shared by the inhabitants of the city of Lyons." 
 
 "The more fools they!" cried the Mayor. "If 
 the Brigand ever approaches the walls of Lyons 
 which pray God he never may! I would be willing 
 to take a sword myself and go against him." 
 
 " I will not require such a proof of your devotion, 
 Monsieur le Maire, but can you find me twenty loyal 
 men who will disguise themselves as National Guards, 
 go to the Guillotiere bridge and fire upon the enemy? 
 If we can get some one to make an attack when the 
 Usurper's advance-guard appears, we may gain some- 
 thing yet." 
 
 " I will find them, Monseigneur, be assured I will 
 find them, and I will lead them myself if there is 
 need," cried the worthy Mayor. 
 
 " I shall not fail to inform His Majesty of your 
 loyalty, Monsieur le Maire," said the Count d'Artois 
 as he rose and left the room. 
 
 The Mayor, bowing obsequiously, followed him to
 
 288 THE GRENADIER 
 
 his carriage, saying in earnest tones, " Assure His 
 Majesty, Monseigneur, that Girouette was at his post." 
 
 The Count d'Artois entered his carriage and mo- 
 tioned M. des Cars to take the opposite seat. " To 
 the Place Bellecour," said His Royal Highness, and 
 the carriage rolled away. 
 
 As Mayor Giroutte returned to his study, he 
 encountered his wife upon the landing of the staircase. 
 Madame Girouette was a quick little woman, with 
 bright black eyes that snapped vivaciously. 
 
 " Well, Jacques Girouette," she cried, " what have 
 you been telling His Royal Highness?" 
 
 " I have promised to find him twenty men to go to 
 the Guillotiere bridge and resist the Invader." 
 
 "Idiot!" cried Madame Girouette. "Where will 
 you find them? Don't you know that everybody is 
 going over to Bonaparte? Don't you know that the 
 troops on the Place Bellecour refused to follow Mac- 
 donald? Don't you know that the Invader is carry- 
 ing all before him? What are you and your twenty 
 men going to do? You will lose your post by your 
 foolishness, Jacques Girouette." 
 
 "Simpleton!" cried the Mayor. "How do you 
 know I am going to find twenty men? That's what I 
 told His Royal Highness. Am I not Girouette the 
 politician? Have I not lived under a Monarchy, a 
 Republic, a Directory, and an Empire? I was not 
 born yesterday. Keep your eye on me, Madame, and, 
 in a crisis like the present, be thankful that you bear 
 the name of Girouette." 
 
 " Well, don't be a fool," answered his wife. " Man- 
 age affairs as you please, but come out of it with a 
 whole skin and keep your post."
 
 MAYOR GIROUETTE 289 
 
 By this time they had reached the Mayor's study. 
 "You may be sure I'll do that," said M. Jacques, as 
 they entered. " Whichever wins, heads or tails, Bona- 
 parte or Bourbon, Girouette will keep his post." The 
 Mayor put on his greatcoat and his hat with the white 
 cockade, and opening the drawer of his desk drew out 
 the tricolored one and slipped it into his pocket. 
 
 " And now," said he, " I'll go and try to find those 
 twenty men." 
 
 "You better not try too hard, Jacques Girouette," 
 said his wife. "You will get into trouble." 
 
 " Never fear, Madame," replied the Mayor. " The 
 twenty men will not be found, but none shall say that 
 Girouette failed in his duty to his King." 
 
 The stout Mayor bustled down stairs and out into 
 the street. Never had he felt so fully the importance 
 of his position. Lyons was now the point in which 
 the great events would culminate. He Girouette 
 was Mayor. A Royal Prince had come to ask his 
 aid. If all went well a Most Christian King would 
 recognize his loyalty. And then? Why then he 
 might become the Royal Prefect Girouette. Happy 
 thought! If on the other hand Bonaparte should tri- 
 umph? Well, he would know how to give him a 
 joyous welcome too. He would know how to display 
 his unswerving fidelity. And then? Why then he 
 might become the Imperial Prefect Girouette. Again 
 a happy thought! Oh! these great Kings and Em- 
 perors. They were clever and acute, no doubt, but 
 they were no match for Girouette the politician. He 
 had always felt that he was the man for a crisis. For- 
 tunate town of Lyons to have him Girouette for 
 Mayor! 
 id
 
 2QO THE GRENADIER 
 
 While reflecting upon these and other pleasant 
 thoughts of a kindred nature, he reached the corner 
 of the Cours du Midi. There he saw his friend M. 
 Pourchot, running toward him. 
 
 "Great news, Monsieur le Maire!" cried Pourchot. 
 " The Count d'Artois has left the city. Marshal Mac- 
 donald met him in the Place Bellecour, told him that 
 nothing could be hoped from the officers as well as 
 from the soldiers, and insisted on his immediate de- 
 parture to prevent his falling into Bonaparte's hands. 
 So the Count's carriage set off at a gallop, escorted 
 by some of the I4th dragoons. Everyone is now pre- 
 paring to welcome Bonaparte." 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " cried Mayor Girouette, " I must lose 
 no time," and he set off for the Hotel de Ville at a 
 trot. As he hurried along he pulled off his hat and 
 thrust the white cockade into his pocket, and put in 
 its place the tricolored one. On the Rue du Plat he 
 met a crowd of workmen carrying their picks. 
 
 "Vive 1'Empereur!" bawled M. Girouette as loud 
 as he could. 
 
 "Vive 1'Empereur!" shouted the workmen tumul- 
 tuously. 
 
 The Mayor, breathless and panting, came in sight 
 of the Hotel de Ville. Heavens! there was the white 
 flag of the Bourbons flying from its top. This would 
 never do. Up the stairs hurried M. Jacques Girou- 
 ette, ran into his study and pulled the bell violently. 
 The gendarme Laserre entered. 
 
 "How dare you?" cried Mayor Girouette as soon 
 as he could get breath enough to speak, " how dare 
 you leave that vile white flag flying? Take it down! " 
 
 " But, Monsieur le Maire," cried the bewildered
 
 MAYOR GIROUETTE 291 
 
 gendarme, "you yourself told me to have it raised 
 only two hours ago." 
 
 "Ass! dolt! idiot!" roared Mayor Girouette. 
 " Don't you know that the Bourbon Prince has fled 
 in terror? Don't you know that our glorious sov- 
 ereign, the great Napoleon, is approaching in triumph 
 from Grenoble? Get out, you fool! Put up the tri- 
 color at once." 
 
 Little Fidele, bounding forward from the fireplace, 
 barked joyfully, and stout Mayor Girouette sat down 
 to recover his breath. Suddenly some one was heard 
 running along the Place des Terreaux and shouting 
 "Vive leRoi!" 
 
 " What! what! what! " cried M. Girouette, springing 
 up and thrusting his tricolored cockade into a small 
 blue vase upon the table beside him. "Who cries 
 Long live the King? " 
 
 The Mayor hurried to the window, threw it up and 
 stuck out his head. "What news?" he yelled. 
 
 " Bonaparte is beaten back," cried the breathless 
 messenger. " His advance-guard has been repulsed 
 in the direction of La Tour du Pin." 
 
 "Long live the King!" shouted the Mayor, draw- 
 ing in his head. M. Jacques hastened across the room 
 and rang his bell, and soon Laserre entered. 
 
 "The Invader Bonaparte is beaten back," cried 
 Mayor Girouette, adjusting the white cockade in his 
 hat, " Down with the tricolor! Hoist the white flag 
 of our glorious sovereign King Louis XVIII!" 
 
 And now, after so much exertion and such unparal- 
 leled activity, surely stout Mayor Girouette was enti- 
 tled to a few moments repose. He stretched himself 
 in his armchair, and his double chin soon acquired an
 
 292 THE GRENADIER 
 
 extra fold by pressing down upon his high black 
 stock. Little Fidele lay again before the fire, and the 
 ticking of the clock alone disturbed the stillness of 
 the room. The worthy Mayor had not slept more 
 than half an hour, however, when the door burst open, 
 and Madame Girouette, pale and excited, rushed into 
 the room and seized him by the arm. 
 
 " Up! up, man! " she cried, " Bonaparte is here! " 
 
 " Long live the King," said M. Girouette drowsily. 
 
 "Bonaparte! Bonaparte! man!" shrieked Madame 
 Girouette, shaking him violently, "Bonaparte is here! 
 His advance-guard has passed the suburb of la Guil- 
 lotiere. They have appeared at the bridge. The offi- 
 cers, the soldiers, the people are raising deafening 
 shouts. The shakos are on the bayonets. The bar- 
 ricades are thrown down. Everyone is rushing for- 
 ward to welcome the new arrivals." Little Fidele 
 barked joyfully. 
 
 " Long live the Emperor ! " cried Mayor Girouette, 
 starting up, seizing his hat and ringing his bell. 
 
 " Down with the white flag and up with the tri- 
 color!" he roared to Laserre as he met him in the 
 hall. 
 
 Down the staircase hurried the stout Mayor and 
 Madame his wife. The people were rushing from ail 
 quarters crying "Vive 1'Empereur!" In the distance 
 could be heard the strains of the " Marseillaise." 
 
 " Mon Dieu! man," shrieked Madame Girouette as 
 they reached the doorway, "your cockade!" 
 
 The Mayor snatched off his hat. Heavens! there 
 was the white cockade of the Bourbons. Up the stair- 
 case three steps at a time ran stout Mayor Girouette, 
 dashed into his study and sprang to his desk. The
 
 MAYOR GIROUETTE 293 
 
 tricolored cockade was not there! Whisk went the 
 papers flying in all directions as M. Jacques rummaged 
 his desk. The strains of the " Marseillaise " sounded 
 louder and nearer. They were corning! 
 
 " Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! my official head!" cried 
 Mayor Girouette, careering about the apartment. 
 In came little Fidele barking joyfully and ran against 
 his legs. " Le diable ! " roared Mayor Girouette, giv- 
 ing poor Fidele a terrific kick that sent him flying 
 across the room. Crash went the dog into a little 
 mahogany table, over it fell, and the vase upon it was 
 broken into a thousand pieces, and there on the floor 
 lay the much-sought-for and ardently-desired tri- 
 colored cockade! "God be praised!" cried Mayor 
 Girouette, seizing it and rushing down stairs. Was 
 he in time? Yes, there they were! The band playing 
 the " Marseillaise," the people shouting, the Emperor 
 on his white steed. And Mayor Girouette, panting, 
 perspiring, waved above his head his hat with the 
 tricolored cockade and frantically shouted " Long life 
 to the great Napoleon ! Long life to the great Napo- 
 leon ! " Up in the study, under the overturned table, 
 among the broken glass little Fidele lay dead.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 PARIS AT LAST! 
 
 Hail to the Chief, who in triumph advances! 
 
 SCOTT, Lady of the Lake. 
 
 His Majesty King Louis XVIII held many confer- 
 ences during the early days of March, 1815, and he 
 asked much advice from Generals, Ministers, Marshals 
 and Princes. And some that he got was bad, some 
 good, and some indifferent. But upon one occasion 
 he heard a plain truth, and this was the nature of it. 
 
 " M. Fouche," said His Majesty, " I know you are 
 a man of great ability. Nobody knows France better 
 than you, and no one ever conducted the police with 
 greater vigor. Tell me, frankly, what is your opinion 
 of the system of government I have followed ? " 
 
 " My opinion, sire," replied Fouche, " is that Your 
 Majesty, on coming to the government of France, 
 ought not to have changed anything but the bed-linen 
 of the Emperor." Unfortunately for himself, His 
 Most Christian Majesty had changed that and much 
 beside. 
 
 At eleven at night on the iQth of March 1 the royal 
 traveling-carriages rolled into the courtyard, and His 
 Majesty left in haste the Tuileries Palace, where 
 four days before he had sworn, in presence of the 
 Senate, to die upon his throne. He did so in the
 
 PARIS AT LAST 295 
 
 end, but through no merit of his own. As soon as 
 the King had taken his departure, the servants in 
 livery removed the portraits of the Bourbons from the 
 private apartments, rolled the stout Louis's chair out 
 of the Imperial study, stripped the fleurs-de-lis from 
 the hangings in the Salle de Marechaux and replaced 
 the bees; the National Guards in the Place du Carrou- 
 sel tore off the white percale from their tricolored 
 cockades; the Imperial chefs, chamberlains, ushers 
 and valets donned their uniforms and resumed their 
 places; Excelmans raised the tricolor above the Tuile- 
 ries dome ; the crowd in the courtyard shouted " Vive 
 1'Empereur! " and all was ready for triumphant 
 Caesar. 
 
 There is a curious old house in Paris at No. 2 
 Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau. It is four stories high. 
 Over the windows on the ground floor hangs the 
 sign, "Vins, Liqueurs"; over the windows on the 
 second floor the sign, "Aux Petites Caves du 
 Louvre," and over the windows on the third, in larger 
 letters than the rest, "Hotel de Bernay." In this 
 house, on the second floor, Jean Jacques Rousseau 
 once lived and wrote, and so for him the street 
 was named Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau. Well, on the 
 2Oth of March, 1815, this curious old house stood just 
 as it stands to-day, save that it was not called " Hotel 
 de Bernay," but Hotel de Marbette. It was a great 
 resort for hussars and grenadiers, and as in Grenoble, 
 if you had asked a soldier who it was who kept the 
 best liqueurs, he would have told you Henri Jodelle at 
 the Cafe Jodelle, so in Paris, if you had asked a 
 dashing hussar or jack-booted cuirassier where the 
 best drinks were to be had, he would have directed
 
 296 THE GRENADIER 
 
 you to the jolly host of the Hotel de Marbette. And 
 a lively business was done by the Hotel de Marbette 
 on the 2Oth of March, 1815. From morning till night 
 the wine-room, on the ground floor, was filled to over- 
 flowing with veterans of the Grande Armee, all drink- 
 ing* gesticulating and talking at once. And as may 
 be surmised, there was but one topic of conversation 
 the Emperor's landing at Cannes and his triumphal 
 march to Paris. 
 
 There was terror in the Tuileries Palace, there was 
 alarm in official circles, there was uneasiness in Paris 
 and in many parts of France, there was dismay in 
 Berlin, there was consternation in Vienna, but there 
 was only joy in the Hotel de Marbette. The old 
 veterans knew but one thing the Little Corporal was 
 coming back. With him they were everything; with- 
 out him they were nothing. They had been reduced 
 in pay, degraded in rank, politely spit upon and 
 kicked out of doors by the royal government. Their 
 deeds and their scars were forgotten, and they had 
 been compelled to stand aside and see prance before 
 them the scions of a defunct nobility, who looked at 
 all the world through the " Hartwell telescope," and 
 wore lightly on their embroidered breasts that cross of 
 the Legion of Honor to earn which they had simply 
 taken the trouble to breathe, and for which these 
 scarred warriors had shed their blood at the Vistula, 
 the Niemen, the Danube, the Elbe and the Rhine. 
 
 But now wonder of wonders! he was coming 
 back again. Les journees de la gloire reveniraient ! 
 Once more the tricolor would wave, the sabres would 
 flash, the trumpets would sound, the white horse 
 would come galloping down the lines, and they would
 
 PARIS AT LAST 297 
 
 go, an pas de charge, to give them all Bourbon, Haps- 
 burg, Romanoff and Hohenzollern as Francois Le- 
 grand put it, " a d d good licking." What won- 
 der, then, that they were joyous. What wonder that 
 the jolly host of the Hotel de Marbette was joyous 
 too, for as fast as he opened a bottle it was emptied, 
 the silver clinked on the table, and rolling off, lodged 
 swiftly in the pocket of the jolly host. Under such 
 circumstances he would be a queer host who would 
 not be joyous and pray for a " Return from Elba " 
 every day. 
 
 So they were a merry company. There were hus- 
 sars in their brilliant uniforms, great shakos and trail- 
 ing sabres; grenadiers with their white leggings, belts 
 and bear-skin caps; cuirassiers with glittering breast- 
 plates; carabineers, chevaux-legers and artillerymen. 
 And they clinked their glasses and laughed and drank 
 and talked, telling stories and anecdotes of deeds that 
 were done in camp and trench and at the cannon's 
 mouth at Jena, Eckmuhl, Moscow, Marengo, the 
 Pyramids and Aboukir. If you had been there with a 
 note-book and had written down all you heard, you 
 would have had stories enough to write books for a 
 lifetime. 
 
 Frangois Legrand was the centre of an admiring 
 group, for few had seen so much as Frangois. Before 
 him on the table was an enormous bottle of strong 
 red wine, from which he filled his glass from time to 
 time. He was in the midst of a story. It had come 
 by the last post, and was an excellent one too, judg- 
 ing by the expressions on the faces of the crowd about 
 the table. 
 
 "Yes," cried Frangois, "Macdonald did his best,
 
 298 THE GRENADIER 
 
 but he couldn't get one word out of them not one. 
 So what does he do then? He sends for d'Artois to 
 come and talk too. Parbleu! he might have known 
 if they wouldn't cheer for him they wouldn't cheer for 
 d'Artois." 
 
 "D'Artois wouldn't even come to see the Guard 
 when he came to Paris," said Gustave Lebon, setting 
 down his glass. 
 
 " He won't want to see us soon again, I'm think- 
 ing," said old Barcoeur. There was a shout of assent 
 to that. 
 
 " So d'Artois comes," continued Francois, " you 
 know how, all smiles and bows and feathers and lace, 
 his horse jumping up and down and playing God 
 knows what circus tricks. Not a cheer did he get 
 Sacre! you bet your biscuit he was mad. So he tries 
 it on foot, up and down the lines. But he couldn't 
 get noise enough out of them to scare a gazelle, and 
 finally he comes to the Guard. What does he do 
 then? He goes up to one soldier and slaps him on 
 the back. ' Surely you, a brave fellow, will cry Long 
 live the King!? ' says he. And who did he ask that of, 
 think you? Who in God's name did he ask that of?" 
 
 " Who was it? " cried the crowd. 
 
 "Andre Marceau!" roared Francois, striking the 
 table a blow that made the bottle and glasses jump. 
 
 " Mille tonnerres!" cried stout Benoit, the lieuten- 
 ant, " I'd give a month's pay to have seen Andre's 
 face." 
 
 "Well, d'Artois got his answer," said Francois, 
 " ' To hell with the Bourbons,' or words to that effect, 
 and then they cried ' Vive 1'Empereur! ' Ah, the fel- 
 low who was at Lyons that day and saw that sight was
 
 PARIS AT LAST 299 
 
 a lucky dog! Imagine Andre's face when d'Artois 
 says, 'You will cry Long live the King!?' By my 
 sabre! imagine Andre's face." 
 
 " Vive Andre Marceau ! " shouted the crowd. 
 
 "That's right," cried Francois, "Vive Andre Mar- 
 ceau! But there's others here who would have done 
 the same if they had had the chance. Come now, 
 fill up and drink this toast, Long live the Imperial 
 Guard!" 
 
 " Oui! Oui! " cried all the rest, jumping up. Old 
 Barcoeur, who was so stiff in the knees that he could 
 hardly stand, didn't rise, but he waved his glass in 
 the air and drank as much as the next. When he 
 had finished, he lowered his glass and said solemnly, 
 as though he had reached the conclusion after pro- 
 found meditation, " D n d'Artois and all the other 
 
 Bourbons! " 
 
 "That's it!" cried a ringing voice, "D n 
 
 d'Artois and all the other Bourbons, and the Prus- 
 sians and the Austrians and the Russians, too! 
 La France tou jours! " 
 
 It was Pertelay, Captain of the Bercheny Hussars. 
 He was a big fellow, Pertelay, and well put up. He 
 wore his shako over one ear, his florid countenance 
 was marred by an enormous scar, his mustaches, half 
 a foot long, were waxed and turned up to his ears, 
 his hair, plaited in two long locks, fell from under 
 his shako upon his breast, his sabre trailed on the 
 floor. A typical hussar was Pertelay a hard drinker, 
 a brawler always ready to fight, a fellow ignorant of 
 everything that did not concern his horse, his accou- 
 trements and his service in the field. But brave? 
 he would ride a toute bride at the cannon's mouth and
 
 300 THE GRENADIER 
 
 think no more of it than you would of eating a hard- 
 boiled egg. 
 
 "That's it!" cried Pertelay, who had just come in, 
 elbowing his way to the table and slapping old Bar- 
 
 coeur on the back, " D n d'Artois! Long live the 
 
 Imperial Guard! Mes amis, the Emperor is at Fon- 
 tainebleau. He is expected in Paris by night." 
 
 Francois Legrand threw his arms about Pertelay's 
 neck and danced up and down. " By night? by 
 night?" he cried, "To-night? This night?" 
 
 " This night ! " cried Pertelay, and, freeing himself 
 from Francois' embrace, he filled a glass from the big 
 bottle, then jumping on a chair, he beat with his sabre 
 on the table to silence the din of voices. "Pertelay! 
 Pertelay ! " they roared, " Vive 1'Empereur ! Vive 
 Pertelay ! Vive la Garde Imperiale ! " Pertelay con- 
 tinued beating the table with his sabre, and finally 
 there was quiet. Then standing erect on the chair, 
 he held his glass above his head and cried, " My 
 friends, I have a toast for you. The health of him 
 who comes to-night the Little Corporal ! " At that 
 they roared with delight for five minutes. At last, 
 when they could roar no more, the toast was drunk 
 all standing, even old Barcoeur, who managed in some 
 way to get upon his legs and then they roared again. 
 God help the Bourbon royalist who put his nose in 
 at the Hotel de Marbette at that minute! 
 
 " Come, Pertelay, we want a song," cried Francois 
 Legrand. " We want to hear your sweet voice, Per- 
 telay." 
 
 It was perhaps excess of courtesy to call Pertelay's 
 voice " sweet," for it was a great thundering bass, but
 
 PARIS AT LAST 301 
 
 it was sweet to the ears of those who listened, and, 
 after all, they were the judges. 
 
 " And what will you have? " said Pertelay. He was 
 as jolly as brave, and his stock of songs knew no end. 
 
 " Partant pour la Syrie," said an old grenadier with 
 black hair and white mustache Floibert, I believe 
 they called him. 
 
 " No, no," cried Fra^ois, " we want a song with 
 a good chorus. We all want to come in. Sing the 
 song we all know well The Captain Tarjeantirre." 
 
 So Pertelay stood on a chair and beat time with his 
 sword, and the others crowded about him. And 
 Pertelay sang the verses in his own matchless way, 
 but when it came to the chorus they all drew their 
 swords and held their glasses high and made the 
 rafters ring. And so they sung the martial song, 
 The Captain Tarjeantirre. 
 
 "To horse! to horse, away! To horse! to horse, away!" 
 Then up we sprang, while the trumpet's clang 
 
 Was sounding deep and clear. 
 The month was May; the world was gay; 
 
 We rode with Tarjeantirre. 
 " Come, fill us up a stirrup-cup, 
 
 We'll quaff it with a tear; 
 Farewell, fair maids of Chenonceaux, 
 
 Our hearts stay with you here; 
 Farewell, best loved of Chenonceaux, 
 
 We ride with Tarjeantirre! " 
 
 A roving, roaring, rollicking blade was the Captain Tarjeantirre, 
 
 With his waxed mustache and his sabretache, 
 
 And his laughing black eyes clear; 
 
 With his handsome face and his martial grace, 
 
 And his heart that knew no fear. 
 
 The beau sabreur of the Grande Armee was the Captain Tar- 
 jeantirre.
 
 302 THE GRENADIER 
 
 "To horse! to horse, away! To horse! to horse, away!" 
 Our squadrons came, like lines of flame, 
 
 With thund'ring rush and roar; 
 
 Carabineer, and cuirassier, and gleaming-gold hussar. 
 The bridles, rang; the sabres' clang 
 
 Was music to our ear; 
 And proud were we, that day, to be 
 
 Behind our leader dear. 
 Yes, proud were we that day to be 
 
 The train of Tarjeantirre. 
 
 A roving, roaring, rollicking blade was the Captain Tarjeantirre, 
 
 With his waxed mustache and his sabretache, 
 
 And his laughing black eyes clear; 
 
 You wonder why we longed to die, 
 
 And faced death with a cheer? 
 We knew our captain loved his men, and we loved Tarjeantirre. 
 
 "To horse! to horse, away! To horse! to horse, awayl" 
 Ah! ne'er again shall sound that strain 
 
 Upon my eager ear; 
 I've had my day; the world is gray; 
 
 Alas for Tarjeantirre! 
 In Jena's dell he fighting fell, 
 
 But still I hear his cheer: 
 'Twas " En avant! Vive 1'Empereur! 
 
 My snow-white plume is here! " 
 'Twas " En avant! Vive 1'Empereur! 
 
 Who dies with Tarjeantirre?" 
 
 A roving, roaring, rollicking blade was the Captain Tarjeantirre, 
 
 With his waxed mustache and his sabretache, 
 
 And his laughing black eyes clear; 
 
 With his handsome face and his martial grace, 
 
 And his heart that knew no fear. 
 
 The beau sabreur of the Grande Armee was the Captain Tar- 
 jeantirre. 
 
 The chorus ended in one mighty roar, and I ven- 
 ture to say the old house in the Rue Jean Jacques 
 Rousseau never heard anything like it before or since.
 
 PARIS AT LAST 303 
 
 Then they gave three cheers for the Emperor, three 
 for the Imperial Guard, three for the Bercheny Hus- 
 sars, three for Pertelay, and there is no knowing how 
 long they would have continued, but they saw Gautier 
 of the 1 3th cuirassiers coming in, and they cried out 
 for news. Gautier was gruff and of few words. 
 " Ma foi," said he, " you read the ' Moniteur,' don't 
 you? The news is short. The Tiger has escaped 
 from his den. The Monster was three days at sea. 
 The Brigand has landed at Cannes. The Invader has 
 arrived at Grenoble. General Bonaparte has entered 
 Lyons. Napoleon slept last night at Fontainebleau. 
 His Imperial Majesty enters the Tuileries this day." 
 
 So it was. And on the evening of the 2oth of 
 March the faqade of the Tuileries was lighted from the 
 Marsan Pavilion to the Pavilion of Flora, while in the 
 Salle de Marechaux the Queen Hortense, the Arch- 
 chancellor Cambaceres, Count Regnault de Saint-Jean 
 d'Angely, ministers, prefects, generals, colonels, court- 
 ladies, senators and officials of one kind or another 
 awaited the Emperor's arrival. 
 
 At a quarter to nine a carriage came at a gallop 
 along the Quai of the Tuileries, surrounded by hun- 
 dreds of officers from all the cavalry corps, riding 
 venire & terre, waving torches and shaking the night 
 with thunder-pealing vociferations. Across the Place 
 du Carrousel they dashed, under the Arch of Triumph, 
 and halted with snorting horses, flashing bridles, jing- 
 ling spurs, clattering sabres and peals of exultation 
 before the Tuileries Palace. The carriage door was 
 flung open, and the ministers, senators, prefects, gen- 
 erals and marshals, pouring down the grand staircase, 
 beheld Napoleon, borne aloft above the heads of the
 
 304 THE GRENADIER 
 
 excited throng, who, to his repeated exclamation, 
 " Gentlemen, gentlemen, let me walk!" returned no 
 other answer than " Vive 1'Empereur! " And so up 
 the grand staircase, through the Salle de Marechaux 
 and the Gallerie de Diane, wearing his petit chapeau 
 and his travel-stained gray greatcoat, surrounded by 
 tumultuous shouts and glittering uniforms and wav- 
 ing handkerchiefs and wreaths of flowers, the great 
 Imperial Conqueror was borne to the doors of his 
 apartment. And thus was fulfilled the prophecy of 
 the Imperial bulletin : " La victoire marchera au pas 
 de charge. L'Aigle avec les Couleurs Nationales 
 volera de clocher en clocher, jusqu'aux tours de Notre 
 Dame ! " And thus was Louis-Stanislas-Xavier de 
 Bourbon dethroned, and thus was the Emperor Napo- 
 leon re-established, to reign one hundred days.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 A WATERLOO 
 
 To arms! to arms! ye men of might; 
 
 Away from home, away; 
 The first and foremost in the fight 
 
 Are sure to win the day! 
 
 BENJAMIN, To Arms. 
 
 CAPTAIN PIERRE PASOUIN had followed the Emperor 
 on his surprisingly triumphant march from Grenoble 
 to Paris, and then, after the Guard had been reorgan- 
 ized, he was stationed for a time in barracks at Cour- 
 bevoie. There were three battalions at the barracks 
 and every month a battalion took its turn on duty in 
 Paris. The duty was an active one too eight hours 
 on guard, two hours on patrol, and the grand rounds 
 at night. But as may be surmised, a captain did not 
 have all that. 
 
 On the 4th of June they were ordered to Avesnes, 
 and on the I3th they advanced to Charleroi. It was 
 a glorious morning when they left Avesnes, one of 
 those mornings when the blood leaps lightly, the heart 
 beats hopefully, and nature sings her paeans. The 
 grenadiers wound along the road, a long blue line 
 checkered by white belts and shaded by tassel-tossing 
 shakos. The crests of the cuirassiers flared crimson 
 and their corselets burned and blazed; the white- 
 horsed artillery racked and rumbled ; the chevaux-tegers 
 with light hoofs champed the highway; while in the 
 20
 
 306 THE GRENADIER 
 
 van, rubricking the green horizon with a dash of gold 
 and blood, rode those glorious, dauntless braggarts, 
 the Bercheny Hussars. Pierre watched their flutter- 
 ing pennons, now lost amid the boughs and branches 
 of the ravine, now war-welcoming upon the white 
 road of the ridge. From time to time their song 
 swelled to him, and his heart caught the cadence : 
 
 Strap the saddles! bit the bridles! toss the fetlocks in the sun! 
 Let the clarions loudly clamor! let the bugles sternly stun! 
 Like the banging, bellowing bison now we roaring ramping 
 
 run, 
 And we'll fight for fame with fury for the great Napoleon. 
 
 En avant the voltigeurs! en avant the grenadiers! 
 En avant the chevaux-legers ! en avant the cuirassiers! 
 For our mighty monarch militant bids us dashing daring don, 
 And we'll glut our graves with glory for the great Napoleon. 
 
 Strap the saddles! bit the bridles! toss the fetlocks in the sun! 
 Let the clarions loudly clamor! let the bugles sternly stun! 
 Like the banging, bellowing bison now we roaring ramping 
 
 run, 
 And we'll war with hell or heaven for the great Napoleon. 
 
 " Francois," cried Pierre, " the Bercheny have it! 
 The Emperor or death ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Frangois, shifting his quid, "we want 
 the Little Corporal. Europe says No. To hell with 
 Europe ! " 
 
 A statesman would have expressed it differently, but 
 Frangois was no statesman. 
 
 Thus these brave fellows, one hundred and twenty 
 thousand hearts, epic in fidelity to the man who spent 
 their lives, marched to Waterloo. Plain of Belgium 
 near Brussels, the deeds done on you upon the i8th of
 
 A WATERLOO 307 
 
 June, 1815, have made you world-famous through all 
 ages. For England you are a synonym of glory, 
 triumph and " king-making victory," and they call 
 you Waterloo. For France you are a synonym of 
 ruin, rout, annihilation, and chaos universal, and they 
 call you Mont St. Jean. 
 
 " And while, in fashion picturesque, 
 
 The poet rhymes of blood and blows, 
 The grave historian at his desk 
 Describes the same in classic prose." 
 
 And so of you great men have writ and poets sung. 
 And through the pages of Sibourne, Charras, Chesney, 
 Jomini, Alison, Ropes, Thiers, and Dorsey Gardner 
 through the mighty Hugo's " Les Miserables," and 
 the " Childe Harold " of that great " Napoleon of the 
 realms of Rhyme," George Gordon, world-thrilling 
 as Lord Byron the earthquaking shouts of your con- 
 tending hosts resound. Read them, good reader, if 
 you would see Napoleon on the heights at Ligny, or 
 Ney at Quatre-Bras, or Jerome's battalions battling at 
 Hougomont, or the Scotch Grays charging, or the 
 brave Picton Brigade under fire, or the " Iron Duke " 
 holding his wavering lines, or the wildly-dashing on- 
 sets of the Imperial cuirassiers, or the Old Guard, with 
 their " Ave! Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutamus," 
 making their " vainly-glorious charge." 
 
 Waterloo! Who thinks of it as a victory? It has 
 become a synonym for defeat, because the vanquished 
 was greater than the victor.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 FACE TO FACE! 
 
 La fortune est toujours pour les gros bataillons. 
 
 SVIGN. 
 
 WHAT has become of Jean Deteau whom we last saw 
 in the carriage of M. de Vaudrecourt, procureur- 
 du-roif He had transformed himself into a Bona- 
 partist again by the time he reached the Hotel de 
 Ville, and through the influence of two friends in 
 Paris MM. de Vilette and de Romontte he got 
 himself appointed to the staff of General de Bour- 
 mont, an ancient royalist, who had been vouched for 
 by the Marshal Ney. The Marshal found himself 
 mistaken in his protege, however, for at the opening 
 of the campaign, de Bourmont deserted to the enemy, 
 carrying all his staff with him. 
 
 " Eh bien ! Monsieur le Marechal, what have you to 
 say for your General de Bourmont? " said the Em- 
 peror when he heard the news. 
 
 " I would have vouched for him as for myself, 
 sire." 
 
 " Blue is always blue and white is always white," 
 replied His Majesty. 
 
 Nor did de Bourmont and his staff receive a cordial 
 greeting from the Prussians, for the blunt von Bliicher, 
 when an aide-de-camp called his attention to de Bour- 
 mont and his white cockade, exclaimed, " Einerlei,
 
 FACE TO FACE 309 
 
 was das Volk fur einen Zettel ansteckt, Hundsfott 
 bleibt Hundsfott!" ("All the same, whatever ticket 
 one stitches on him, a scoundrel stays a scoundrel!") 
 And this remark of the plain-spoken Bliicher applies 
 not only to de Bourmont, but to Jean Deteau as well. 
 After the battle of Ligny on the i6th of June the 
 Marshal Grouchy was sent with 30,000 men to follow 
 up the Prussians, while the Emperor Napoleon with 
 the balance of his army pursued the English on the 
 1 7th to the heights of Mont St. Jean, where they halted 
 to give him battle on the morrow, Sunday, the i8th 
 day of June. At half-past one the battle began when 
 the Emperor from his position at La Belle Alliance 
 ordered forward the corps of D'Erlon. Then the 
 action became general, and erelong Hougomont was 
 torn and riddled by balls, La Haye Sainte and Pape- 
 lotte the scenes of bloody conflicts, and Mont St Jean 
 a hill of fire. But at three o'clock, instead of Grouchy 
 whom the French Emperor expected, came the Prus- 
 sians whom he did not, and the corps of Biilow attack- 
 ed Planchenoit on the right and rear to cut the French 
 line of retreat. The Prussians drove back and forced 
 out of Planchenoit the 6th corps of Lobau and the 
 Young Guard with its three batteries. Then His 
 Majesty sent three battalions of the Old and Middle 
 Guard with two batteries to retake the town. He 
 could send no more, for the rest of the Guard was 
 forming for the great attack on the English lines 
 those lines which had not been broken despite the furi- 
 ous charges of the now foaming, bloody, breathless, 
 hors de combat Imperial cuirassiers. The three bat- 
 talions advanced on Planchenoit and it was a quarter 
 to seven in the evening. Pierre was at the head of
 
 310 THE GRENADIER 
 
 his company, sword in hand, and at the head of the 
 second company marched Franqois Legrand with his 
 sword in his hand likewise. And so they charged on, 
 their batteries advancing before them and answering 
 the Prussian fire with a storm of shot and shell. They 
 drove the Prussians out of Planchenoit and supported 
 the Young Guard, but the Prussians, reinforced by the 
 corps of Pirch I, advanced- again. The farmhouses 
 of Planchenoit were burning now, the cannonade 
 shook their foundations, and the Prussians came in 
 force, shouting madly through the smoke and flame. 
 
 And if you had been in Planchenoit that night you 
 would have seen blazing timbers, smoking roofs, 
 loading, firing, bayoneting, slashing, stabbing, charg- 
 ing; you would have heard noises, air-filling, sky- 
 rending, clangorous, thundering, deafening, piercing, 
 trumpet-tongued, multisonous; you would have wit- 
 nessed sights terrible, terrific, tremendous; you would 
 have beheld deeds shocking, revolting, appalling, gal- 
 lant, courageous, intrepid, valorous, high-spirited, 
 chivalrous, magnificent, homage-compelling, world- 
 inspiring! 
 
 And as they fought thus, those grenadiers of France, 
 they heard a shout which swelled ever louder and 
 louder from the plain of Waterloo until it was dis- 
 tinguishable amid the thunder of the cannon and the 
 shock of charging hosts " The Guard recoils ! the 
 Guard recoils ! " And then another even more terrific, 
 " Sauve qui peut ! Sauve qui peut ! " 
 
 Did they know what it meant for them, those grena- 
 diers in Planchenoit? Yes, they knew. If they would 
 prevent the Prussians from rushing in upon the rear 
 of the French army as it fell back from Waterloo,
 
 FACE TO FACE 311 
 
 there they must stand, there they must fight, there 
 and there only must they die! 
 
 "' Mille tonnerres!" roared Francois Legrand, his 
 cap gone, his hair singed with fire, his eyes bloodshot, 
 " En avant! en avant! " 
 
 "Forward! Forward!" cried Pierre, his uniform 
 torn and rent, his scabbard gone, his forehead bleed- 
 ing, his eyes flashing wildly, "Charge them, I say! 
 Charge them! Sacre! but they shall rest in hell before 
 we go! " 
 
 So they dashed on, but at every step the Prussian 
 fire cut their ranks and strewed them like leaves 
 bloody leaves indeed! upon the ground. They 
 foamed and fought, but the fire raked them and raked 
 them clean. They were only a handful now, but they 
 stood shoulder to shoulder, and through the drifting 
 smoke the Prussians saw their eyes gleaming and 
 heard, weaker in volume but with the same ring and 
 awe-compelling power of days long passed by, their 
 defiance "Vive 1'Empereur!" 
 
 Mark them, good reader, as they stand there, that 
 little band Pierre Pasquin, Francois Legrand, Andre 
 Marceau, Gustave Lebon, Gerard Etienne and forty 
 more coarse, rough men the most of them, it is true, 
 but in their eyes is courage, in their mouths truth, in 
 their hearts loyalty! Of how many, more refined than 
 they, can you say that? 
 
 Then a cannon-ball came, tearing away Francois 
 Legrand's right arm so that it hung only by bleeding, 
 quivering shreds. But as the Prussian cavalry charged 
 he wrenched that mangled limb loose from his bloody 
 shoulder and hurled it at the Prussians and cried, 
 "Vive 1'Empereur!" They came with a dash, that
 
 312 THE GRENADIER 
 
 Prussian cavalry, and among the first, on a proudly 
 galloping horse, rode an officer who waved his sword 
 and shouted, " No quarter for these wretches! " And 
 as he spoke, he drew rein and plunged his sabre 
 through the brave heart of helpless Franqois Legrand. 
 Pierre saw him as he came and he gave a great cry 
 " My God! it is Jean Deteau! " With a bound and a 
 spring he seized that horse by the bridle. 
 
 "Do you know me?" he roared. "It is Pasquin! 
 Pierre!" 
 
 " D n you ! " the black eyes blazed defiance. 
 
 At the same instant Pierre struck him with his 
 sword with such force that Deteau's head, half cut off, 
 fell forward, blood gushed from his mouth, and his 
 cocked hat rolled on the ground. Then a shot struck 
 Deteau's horse and it fell, bearing Pierre down with 
 it, and all was darkness. 
 
 Along the road to Genappe, on the panting, foam- 
 flecked steed Marengo, with Montholon on one side 
 and Bertrand on the other, in the midst of a howling 
 mass of fugitives, fled Napoleon. With him, more 
 truly than with Francis I at Pavia, " All was lost but 
 honor." For France the Heroic Age had ended; the 
 Reign of the Commonplace had begun.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 GRENOBLE 
 
 Parlez-nous de lui. 
 BfeRANGER, Souvenirs du Peuple. 
 
 TWENTY-FIVE years have passed away. The turf 
 grows green on Waterloo, and the Belgian Lion on 
 the Memorial Mount stands the silent guardian of an 
 " Empire's dust." And kings have come and kings 
 have gone. Louis XVIII has ended his career in 
 his state bed at the Tuileries Palace, and Monsieur, 
 the once gay d'Artois, has had his day also as Charles 
 X, and been forced to abdicate and flee in the July 
 days of 1830. And now we are in the reign of the 
 ci-devant Duke of Orleans, at present the " Citizen 
 King," Louis Philippe I. " C'est le treizieme! " (" It 
 is the thirteenth!") said M. de Talleyrand as he took 
 the oath to Louis Philippe. And no doubt the Devil 
 thought that was a good number with which to stop, 
 for he gathered M. de Talleyrand in, not long after. 
 And so M. de Talleyrand departed this life, leaving 
 behind him a large fortune and an unpleasant odor. 
 
 And what has become of our friends in Grenoble? 
 Come, then, to the Cafe Jodelle and see. Who is 
 that old man seated by the fire, holding that bright- 
 eyed little girl upon his knee, and with that plainly- 
 dressed but fair-faced woman standing beside him? 
 That old man is grand-pere Pasquin, once Captain
 
 3H THE GRENADIER 
 
 Pierre Pasquin of the Garde Imperiale, once the boy 
 Pierre of the Rue Montorge. Old man? you say. 
 Why, he is not so very old; he is about fifty now. 
 True, but he is old before his time. The years gone 
 by have been hard ones and their marks remain. He 
 lost a leg at Waterloo. The horse which fell on him, 
 in that wild night of ruin and Empire-destroying con- 
 vulsion, crushed it, and when he was found a day later 
 and brought in by the peasant Piramme, who returned 
 to his ruined home in Planchenoit, the leg had to come 
 off. There was a bayonet wound which he received 
 in the chest that left its mark also, and for years he 
 could not use a hoe or spade without coughing fits. 
 And yet he wanted so much to use the spade and hoe, 
 for there was a garden in which he was much inter- 
 ested. 
 
 And who is that fair-faced woman beside him? 
 That is Josephine, the little Josephine, grown to be a 
 woman now, and such a helpful one. And the 
 bright-eyed child? Ah! that is the best of all. That 
 is Susanne, the little Susanne, who looks just as Jose- 
 phine did in the days gone by. And why should she 
 not? for she is Josephine's daughter and her father is 
 Gaspard no longer the little Gaspard, but Gaspard 
 the vigorous, Gaspard the hard-working, Gaspard the 
 devoted, Gaspard the prosperous, who cares for the 
 garden in which grand-pere Pasquin takes such in- 
 terest, and sells vegetables from it in the Pasquin 
 epicerie in the Rue Montorge, and manages also the 
 Cafe Jodelle upon the Place Grenette. 
 
 And Marie, why is she not here? Ah! that is the 
 sad part of the story. Marie is yonder in the ceme- 
 tery of Grenoble, with the mere Pasquin on one side
 
 GRENOBLE 
 
 315 
 
 of her and the pere Henri on the other. And at her 
 head is a white stone which has but one word, 
 " Marie," and at her feet are flowers placed there every 
 Sunday by the little Susanne, and at her side the turf 
 is worn away where the old grenadier is wont to come 
 and kneel. So Marie has gone, but her picture above 
 the mantel has a wreath of flowers, and her influence 
 lives with them always, and will till life shall end. 
 
 And on the wall of the sitting-room in the Cafe 
 Jodelle hangs the sabre of honor which was once 
 brave Philippe Courteau's; for Philippe, when he 
 passed away, left it by his will to grand-pere Pasquin, 
 and these were the words with which he left it, "To 
 him who is worthy of it Pierre Pasquin." Now that 
 was a kind thought and a fitting one. And under the 
 sabre of honor hangs the certificate of the Garde 
 Municipale de Grenoble, and to this the old soldier often 
 turns his eyes. And you were promised long ago 
 that you should see it, and here it is. 
 
 GARDE MUNICIPALE DE GRENOBLE 
 
 SERVICES DE M. PASQUIN (PIERRE), CAPITAINE. 
 
 NE A GRENOBLE (DEPARTEMENT DE L'ISERE) LE 2 JANVIER, 1791, 
 
 FII.S D'AMAND BT DE JEANNE-LOUISE. 
 
 GRADES 
 
 SUCCESSIFS 
 
 CORPS DANS LESQUELS IL A 
 8BRVI 
 
 DATES 
 DE8 PROMOTIONS A 
 CHAQUE GRADE 
 
 Enrolc volontaire 
 Serpent 
 
 115* r6g de la ligne 
 
 5 Janvier, 1809 
 2 feVrier, 1810 
 8 septembre, 1813 
 28 decembre, 1812 
 22 mai, 1818 
 26 aout, 1818 
 
 3e rg. de la Garde I mperiale 
 id. 
 id. 
 id. 
 id. 
 
 Serpent- major . . . 
 Sous-lieutenant .. 
 Lieutenant 
 
 Capitaine 

 
 THE GRENADIER 
 
 CAMPAGNES DANS CHAQUE GKADE 
 
 ANNEES 
 
 ARMEES 
 
 GENERAUX EN CHEF 
 QUI LES 
 COMMANDAIENT 
 
 ACTIONS D'ECLAT 
 OU SEBVICES SIGNALES 
 
 1809 
 
 Espagne . . . 
 
 Mar6chal due de 
 Montebello 
 
 Blesse d'un coup de feu 
 
 1809 
 
 Allemagne 
 et Autriche 
 
 L'Empereur 
 
 a Saragosse. 
 Bless6 d'un coup de bai- 
 
 1812 
 
 Russie 
 
 id. 
 
 onnette a la bataille 
 d'Essling, 22 mai, 
 1809. 
 11 sauva le colonel Hu- 
 
 1813 
 
 Saxe et 
 Prusse. . . 
 
 id. 
 
 lot a la bataille de 
 Wagram, 6 juillet, 
 1809. 
 A pris un drapeau & 
 
 1814 
 
 France .... 
 
 id. 
 
 1'ennemi en septem- 
 bre 1812, & la Mos- 
 cowa. 
 Bless d'un coup de feu 
 
 1815 
 
 Waterloo . . 
 
 id. 
 
 a la bataille de Dresde, 
 26 aout, 1813. 
 Bless6 d'un coup de bai- 
 
 
 
 
 onnette a la bataille 
 de Waterloo, 18 juin, 
 1815. 
 
 Observations, litres et Decorations. Legionnaire, 2 f^vrier, 1810. 
 
 So it hangs, in its official dryness, a record of self- 
 sacrifice, fatigue, privation, courage, valor, loyalty; a 
 record of which he who made it and they who look 
 daily at it may feel justly proud. 
 
 Now if there is one thing which children enjoy more 
 than another it is a story. And who could tell stories 
 like grand-pere Pasquin? wonderful grand-pere 
 Pasquin who had been everywhere and seen everything, 
 they thought, and had spoken to kings and queens, 
 and had been in the great wars and at the famous
 
 GRENOBLE 317 
 
 battles, which were printed in large letters in the 
 school histories, and, best of all, had been decorated 
 by the great Emperor whose picture was in every 
 house in Grenoble, and whose glass and the cup 
 which he had used at the Trois Dauphins were still 
 preserved there by the good M. Fontlebelle who 
 owned it now. So in the winter evenings they would 
 gather about the white wooden fireplace in the Cafe 
 Jodelle little Susanne and her friends, Louise, 
 Adolphe, Jules, Octave and Jeannette and they 
 would come and stand about grand-pere Pasquin's 
 chair and say, like Beranger's children in the " Souve- 
 nirs du Peuple," " Parlez-nous de lui," (" Tell us of 
 him "). 
 
 Well, grand-pere Pasquin was always ready to tell 
 them, for he was fond of them all, and so he would 
 take the little Susanne on his knee, and while Louise 
 sat upon a stool and Jeannette stood beside the chair 
 and Adolphe and Jules sat upon the floor, looking up 
 with large, interested eyes, and young Octave now and 
 then poked the fire, the grand-pere Pasquin would live 
 his past again. One night when they were all so 
 gathered, this was the story he told them. 
 
 " Now, mes enfants," said he, " do you all remember 
 Andre Marceau?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, we do remember him," said Susanne, 
 " he was a nice man." 
 
 " And who was other nice man with big mustache, 
 grand-pere?" said small Louise. 
 
 " Oh ! that was Frangois Legrand ! " cried Octave. 
 " I remember him well. He went with grand-pere 
 over the walls at Essling." 
 
 "That is right, Octave," said grand-pere Pasquin.
 
 3 i8 THE GRENADIER 
 
 " It is fine that you all remember so well. Now you 
 shall hear of Andre Marceau. You must know that 
 Andre and I marched side by side for a long time, and 
 we ate soup out of the same pot, and there is nothing 
 like that for friendship, for the Emperor used to say 
 that those soldiers who stood shoulder to shoulder the 
 best in battle were those who had eaten their soup 
 together for a long time. Now, one day my friend 
 Andre Marceau got into trouble, and this is how it 
 was. We were in Germany, and in one of the towns 
 we had captured was a fine avenue which was nearly 
 ruined by our cavalry. Now, to prevent more dam- 
 age being done, the Emperor stationed guards with 
 orders to allow no one to pass. One of these guards 
 was Andre Marceau." 
 
 " Did Andre Marceau have large mustache like 
 Fran9ois?" inquired Louise. 
 
 " Be quiet, Louise," said Susanne, " Andre Marceau 
 was a nice man." 
 
 " Pretty soon along came General Vandamme. 
 ' Halt ! ' cried Andre. ' Sacre ! ' cried General Van- 
 damme, ' what do you mean? ' ' No one can pass,' 
 said Andre. ' Indeed ! ' cried Vandamme, ' Learn, 
 fool, that General Vandamme passes anywhere. Take 
 that for your impertinence ! ' And General Van- 
 damme struck Andre with his riding-whip." 
 
 " Oh ! I do not like General Vandamme," cried 
 Louise. " He was not a nice man." 
 
 " Be quiet, Louise," said Susanne. " You shall 
 hear." 
 
 " Now as soon as General Vandamme had done 
 that," continued grand-pere Pasquin, " Andre Mar- 
 ceau, who was big and strong, knocked him down,
 
 GRENOBLE 319 
 
 and there was the great General Vandamme with his 
 plumed hat and all, lying on the ground." 
 
 " Good ! good ! " cried Adolphe. 
 
 " Be quiet, Adolphe," said Susanne. 
 
 " Well, you may imagine that there was trouble 
 then. Poor Andre was arrested and shut up in the 
 citadel, and General Vandamme was going to hold a 
 court-martial and have Andre shot, for when one 
 strikes his superior officer it is no slight matter which 
 two days in the guard-house will rectify. Now it so 
 happened that the Emperor returned that night to the 
 town, and on passing the citadel he saw a string hang- 
 ing out of a window with a piece of paper on which 
 was written ' Pardon ! pardon ! ' ' 
 
 " Now, who had written that? " cried small Louise. 
 
 "Why, Andre Marceau, of course," said Octave. 
 
 " Be quiet," said Susanne. 
 
 " So the Emperor said, ' Find out what that means 
 and have the man brought before me on parade.* 
 There was a parade next day, and when the Emperor 
 came walking along to our company, Andre Marceau 
 went down on his knees and remained there. The 
 Emperor stopped short and asked the meaning of 
 this. Our colonel said it was the soldier who had 
 asked pardon in the citadel, and that when intoxicated 
 he had struck a superior officer. You see the colonel 
 was a friend of General Vandamme, and so he said 
 Andre was intoxicated and did not give the real 
 cause." 
 
 " He was a bad colonel," said Louise. 
 
 " Now, as you know, Andre Marceau was not in- 
 toxicated, for though he often drank, he was not 
 drunk then, nor ever that I know of, and on this
 
 320 THE GRENADIER 
 
 occasion I have told you just why he struck his gen- 
 eral. This, however, the Emperor did not know." 
 
 " But, grand-pere, why did not you shout out, ' He 
 is not drunk! he is not drunk! '?" cried Jules. 
 
 " Ecoute s'il pleut! (be quiet), Jules," said Susanne. 
 
 " Now have patience, mes enfants, and you shall 
 know all. The Emperor stood before our line and 
 said to us all, ' Is he a gallant fellow? ' ' Yes, yes, 
 sire/ we all cried, ' he is an excellent soldier. We 
 know him well. He will never remain behind when 
 any fighting is going on.' Then the Emperor came 
 up to Andre, who was still kneeling, took him by the 
 ears and shook his head, saying, ' How is it that you, 
 who are a good soldier, could be guilty of such im- 
 proper conduct? Tell me, what would have become 
 of you if my arrival had been delayed a single day?' 
 Then he slapped him on the cheeks and said, ' Go 
 back to your regiment and never forget this lesson.' " 
 . "Tres-bien! tres-bien!" cried Adolphe, "then he 
 was not shot! Oh! the Emperor was a nice man." 
 
 " But, mes enfants," said old Pasquin, " the best is 
 yet to come." 
 
 " Good! good! " cried Octave. " Do you hear that, 
 Louise, the best is yet to come." 
 
 " Best is yet to come," repeated Louise gleefully. 
 
 "That night the Emperor found out why Andre 
 struck his General, for some one told M. Savary and 
 he told the Emperor. What do you think the Em- 
 peror did then?" 
 
 "What did he do? What did he do?" they cried. 
 
 " Patience, and you shall hear. Next morning the 
 Emperor sent for Andre Marceau, and Andre, all fear 
 and trembling, went up to the Emperor's tent. There
 
 GRENOBLE 321 
 
 was the Emperor, looking stern enough, and there too 
 were four or five Marshals and as many aides-de-camp, 
 and, if you had seen as many of them as I have, you 
 would know, by my simply saying they were there, 
 what an imposing lot they were, all stars and plumes 
 and gold. Then General Vandamme came forward, 
 and with a very pale, set face he said to Andre, ' I 
 apologize for having struck you. I am sorry for it' 
 Think of that! A great general apologizing before 
 them all to a common soldier, and the Emperor made 
 him do it, and he was the best friend the common sol- 
 dier ever had! Now, children, give a cheer for the 
 Emperor! " And old Pierre, fired by his recollections, 
 was up on his legs of flesh and wood. So they gave 
 it old Pierre, little Susanne, and Louise and Jean- 
 nette and Adolphe and Jules and Octave. And 
 through the Cafe Jodelle, as it had rung in days gone 
 by, sounded again the shout "Vive 1'Empereur!" 
 
 Long live the Emperor? How can they cry that? 
 when beneath the willows at St. Helena, under a plain 
 white stone, rest the ashes of a mighty dead, gone and 
 forgotten. 
 
 Forgotten? Listen to what follows. 
 
 21
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 LA FRANCE DEMANDE 
 
 Home they brought her warrior dead. 
 
 TENNYSON, The Princess. 
 
 IN the year 1840, the Duke of Orleans, the eldest son 
 of King Louis Philippe, was sent with the French 
 army into Africa to check the growing power of 
 Abd-el-Kader, and with him went his younger brother, 
 the Duke d'Aumale. It was with much chagrin that 
 the Prince de Joinville, third son of Louis Philippe, 
 saw his brothers depart to this new field of glory to 
 " break their lances right brilliantly." And then he 
 fell ill with the measles and disappointment, for he too 
 had hoped to have a mission of honor and renown. 
 You shall have one, Prince de Joinville, and one far 
 greater than your brothers. Their African campaigns 
 are long ago forgotten, but the memory of your mis- 
 sion endures, and will endure while time shall last. 
 And so, as he lay in a high fever, there came to his 
 bedside his father, King Louis Philippe, and M. de 
 Remusat, the Minister of the Interior, and the King 
 said these words: "Joinville, you are to go out to 
 St. Helena and bring back Napoleon's coffin." On 
 the 2nd of July the Prince de Joinville left Paris, and 
 on the 6th he embarked at Toulon on board his frigate, 
 the " Bellepoule," and set out for St. Helena. 
 
 Well, the news of this mission was known before
 
 LA FRANCE DEMANDE 323 
 
 long in Grenoble and it created no little sensation 
 there. The old veterans who met at the Trois Dau- 
 phins talked it over and arranged to go in a body to 
 take part in the procession in Paris. They came also 
 to the Cafe Jodelle to see grand-pere Pasquin and to 
 know if grand-pere Pasquin was going too. Yes 
 indeed! grand-pere Pasquin was going. So they all 
 remained with him during the afternoon, the best 
 bottles in the Cafe Jodelle were opened, and they 
 talked over the days gone by. 
 
 " Ah," said old Pasquin, looking up at the sabre of 
 honor, " if only brave Philippe Courteau could have 
 lived to see this day, and Henri Jodelle, too, for during 
 many years they would not believe him dead, but said 
 always, ' It is false rumor to deceive us. He will 
 come again.' " 
 
 So the summer passed, but in the last days of 
 November the grand-pere Pasquin fell ill and this was 
 the way of it. He had been to the cemetery one 
 Sunday, for he went often on Sundays to see the three 
 white stones bearing the names, " La Veuve Pasquin," 
 " Marie," " Henri Jodelle." And on this Sunday it 
 was late when he came, and after he had remained 
 some time beside the stones, he went slowly to the 
 gates, but they were fastened and there was no one 
 near them. He shook the gates and cried, " Open! " 
 But no one came, for the custodian had gone away 
 to eat a supper with his friend Le Rolle at the Place 
 St. Andre. Then old Pasquin tried to climb the wall, 
 but he slipped and fell. The wall was not iow, so 
 the fall stunned him and he lay on the ground. It 
 was dark now, and the wind blew more strongly and 
 shook the leafless trees. Presently the rain came, a
 
 324 THE GRENADIER 
 
 sharp, cold rain, that fell hard and chill and made the 
 water run in rivulets along the sides of the path. After 
 some hours the rain stopped, but the night was damp 
 and cold, and through it all the grand-pere Pasquin 
 lay upon the ground. When morning came the 
 jardinier Simon Benoit found him there, close to the 
 wall, soaked with water and stiff with cold. Benoit 
 in haste gave him some brandy and had him taken 
 home to the Cafe Jodelle, where Gaspard, Josephine 
 and Susanne soon arrived, for they had been to 
 Vizille. Worried enough they were, you may be sure, 
 and he was rubbed and warmed and put to bed. But 
 he grew very ill, and the skilful doctor, M. Sardique, 
 who was summoned, shook his head and said, " He is 
 very sick, Josephine, he is very sick." 
 
 Then fever set in; he was often delirious and he 
 would cry, " Doctor, Doctor, shall I live to go to 
 Paris? Shall I live to go to Paris? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, grand-pere, you shall go to Paris," said 
 M. Sardique, to quiet him. When the fever left him 
 he was very weak, but when the doctor came again 
 he repeated his question, " Doctor, shall I go to 
 Paris?" 
 
 " Grand-pere," said M. Sardique, " you have been 
 very ill, you are very ill now. You must not think 
 of that." 
 
 Old Pasquin was silent for a moment, then he 
 looked fixedly at M. Sardique and said, " Doctor, I 
 will go to meet the Emperor. I will go to Paris." 
 
 He grew somewhat better after that, but it was all 
 in vain that Josephine and Gaspard strove to show 
 him that he was not strong enough to travel. He let 
 them say what they thought right, and then he said
 
 LA FRANCE DEMANDE 325 
 
 briefly, and each time with more determination than 
 before, " I will go to Paris! " 
 
 So in December they set out; Josephine, Susanne 
 and Gaspard, watching and tending the old soldier. 
 He stood the journey better than they anticipated, and 
 when he saw once more the towers of Notre Dame, 
 the dome of the Tuileries Palace and the Arc de 
 Triomphe, the fire came again into the old soldier's 
 eyes. 
 
 Paris was all expectant when they reached it, for 
 on the 2Qth of November the royal frigate " Belle- 
 poule" had arrived at Cherbourg, bearing the Em- 
 peror's remains. And when on the 8th of December 
 the Imperial barge started up the Seine, Cherbourg 
 saluted with one thousand guns. Gaspard took them 
 to the Cafe Bovard, on the Avenue des Champs 
 Elysees, for Jules Bovard who owned it was a son of 
 stout Robert Bovard who had been at Pierre's wed- 
 ding feast, and they knew him well. 
 
 The 1 5th of December drew near. All day the 
 workmen labored on the decorations of the city, and 
 all night they worked, too, by the light of torches, for 
 the " Bellepoule " had come ten days sooner than she 
 was expected, and there was need to hurry. The 
 weather was bitter cold, but the sturdy workmen 
 labored on by day and by night. 
 
 The 1 5th of December came, and on either side of 
 the Avenue des Champs Elysees were statues of 
 victory, eagle-topped standards and tripods and 
 arches. About the Arc de Triomphe were masts bear- 
 ing banners inscribed with the names of all the armies 
 of the Republic and of the Empire ; garlands of flowers 
 hung from the top of the Arch to the basement, and
 
 326 THE GRENADIER 
 
 upon the summit was a statue of the Emperor in his 
 Imperial robes, at his right hand an equestrian statue 
 of Glory, at his left an equestrian statue of Victory, 
 and all about tripods of colored flame. Over the Pont 
 de la Concorde were statues of Wisdom, Justice, 
 Strength, War, Commerce, Agriculture, Eloquence, 
 while before the portals of the Chambre des Deputes 
 Palace loomed a colossal statue of Immortality. On 
 the Esplanade des Invalides were statues of Kings 
 and famous Captains of France, who had given their 
 country honor and renown, from Clovis to Macdonald. 
 Between them all were tripods sending forth bright 
 flames, and they stood thus, in long white rows, await - 
 1 ing the great one soon to pass before them. 
 
 The Avenue des Champs Elysees was lined with 
 National Guards on either side, and behind them were 
 five hundred thousand people, and there were forty 
 thousand more upon the great stands on the Invalides 
 Esplanade and thousands more within the Invalides 
 Church and upon every housetop, while in a window 
 of the Cafe Bovard were Gaspard, Josephine, Susanne, 
 and, in a chair, the grand-pere Pasquin, and so the 
 march began. 
 
 At the head of the procession came the Gendarmerie 
 of the Seine with their trumpets and their colonel, 
 then the Garde Municipale a cheval with trumpets and 
 standard; two squadrons of the 7th Lancers, the 
 Commandant of Paris and his staff, a battalion of 
 infantry of the Line, the Garde Municipale a pied with 
 flag and drums and colonel, the General of Division 
 and his staff, the Ecole Militaire of St. Cyr, the Ecole 
 Polytechnique, the Ecole Etat-Major, battalions of 
 infantry, cavalry and artillery, squadrons of cuiras-
 
 LA FRANCE DEMANDS 327 
 
 siers of the National Guard, a carriage containing M. 
 I'Abbe Coquereau, chaplain of the St. Helena Expedi- 
 tion, the white horse covered with violet crape em- 
 broidered with the golden bees and bearing the ama- 
 ranth velvet and gold-embroidered saddle used by the 
 Emperor when First Consul, and then the banners of 
 the 86 Departments of France borne by mounted 
 cuirassiers. Thus they passed on with pealing music, 
 a blaze of variegated color amid tricolored balconies, 
 funereal urns and golden eagles. Ah! what was that 
 shining in the distance, high above all? The old 
 soldier sat erect in his chair. Down the Avenue des 
 Champs Elysees, crowned with flags, surrounded by 
 gleaming bayonets, amid waving plumes, enveloped 
 by clouds of incense, girt by a sea of upturned faces, 
 rolled the great Imperial Car, golden-glittering, awe- 
 inspiring, memory-awakening, glory-recalling, tri- 
 umph-typifying! bearing the ashes of Napoleon! 
 
 The old soldier trembled; his sight grew dim, and 
 his blood, with a rush of recollection, leaped to his 
 brain. Faint, yet clear, and heard by him alone, 
 sounded the battle-song of other days: 
 
 En avant! En avant! 
 The conqueror goes to war; 
 The cannons loudly roar; 
 The eagles proudly soar. 
 
 En avant I En avant! 
 The conqueror goes to war. 
 Behold advance the flag of France, 
 
 Triumphant tricolore! 
 
 "See! grandpa, see!" cried little Susanne, as the 
 veterans of the Vieitte Garde, in their faded uniforms
 
 328 THE GRENADIER 
 
 passed by, "the Guard! Your Guard, grandpa, the 
 Old Guard!" 
 
 There was no response, and Josephine turned 
 quickly from the window. He had sunk back in his 
 chair, one hand lay in his lap, and the other hung 
 listless beside him. On his breast was the Cross of 
 the Legion of Honor. Pierre had followed the 
 Emperor. 
 
 THE END.
 
 'II II I I I II I II 
 
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